Thugs Cry

by Ca$H

  “Umm-hmm,” says Bri as if to say, how many times have I heard this before?

  We just let our Mom Dukes scream and cuss; we all know how she do. She be talkin’ shit but in her own way she’s proud of us. Done heard her tell a bitch, “I ain’t got no boys, I raised two men. Both of ’em know how to get what they want, and it don’t matter if I smoke crack or not, let a bitch violate and see don’t CJ and Eric make the muthafuckin’ coroner file a report. And my baby, Brianna, their pride and joy, smartest girl in her whole school. Gonna be like Condoleesa Rice.”

  The love in our fam ain’t text book but it’s the love that we know and understand; it’s gully, nothin’ fake about it. Sociologist might call it dysfunctional, but “dis” functioning good as a muhfucka.

  Since we’re not paying Mama’s tirade no attention she puts me and Eric out.

  Eric goes to check on my spots in Little Bricks. I go fuck with Cujo, he has some work for me. Cujo’s cohorts knocked off a big shipment of coke down in VA last week so I’m about to get broke off. Plus, Cujo has twenty-five keys of heroin for me.

  I go handle business then begin dispersing the work to my most trusted people who, in turn, are responsible for getting it to the street team that pump it. Everything is gravy until one of my spots on Springfield Avenue gets robbed and all three of the lil niggaz that were pumpin’ from the house are found bodied in the basement. Two days later, another one of my spots gets hit and I lose another lil nigga.

  Word on the street is that U-God is coming for my crown.

  A’ight, nigga, you think you’re built for this? Yo’ team ain’t strong enough to fuck wit’ mine! I’ma show you why they call me The Young Don.

  I get my team together and tell ’em, “We gunnin’ fo’ them niggaz wherever we see ’em, wherever they rest at. I want U-God and all them bitch niggaz that call themselves The Goon Squad. We killin’ mamas, girlfriends, babies, dogs and cats, anybody and anything connected to their squad is fair game!”

  We are in the main room of my after hours joint, which I’ve closed down for business with all this shit going on. My top niggaz and a coupla dozen of our most tenured street soldiers are present. I let Kareem finish giving my directions to the team while I pull Flip to the side.

  “Let’s take a walk, yo. I need to holla at you,” I say to him, zipping up my black leather Rocawear bomber coat as I lead him outside. “Let’s sit in your whip,” I suggest.

  Inside Flip’s money green Escalade, with the peanut butter leather interior, I look out the rolled up the passenger window to make sure our enemies ain’t on the creep. In the driver’s seat Flip does the same then starts the engine and turns the heater on full blast. Ironically, Biggie’s joint “Warning” is bumpin’ from the system.

  I turn the music off and speak to Flip in a tone that’s like a banger pressed against his temple.

  “Flip, I’m suspicious of you, yo, shit ’bout to get crucial and I can’t afford to have a nigga up under me that can’t be trusted.”

  “Fuck you talking about, fam?” he asks, genuinely looking like he has no clue.

  “Nah, son, you don’t get to ask any questions.” My hand comes out of my coat pocket grippin’ a tool, and it’s not the kind that you make repairs with. “I’ma talk, you gon’ listen, until I tell you to speak, nah mean?” I grit with the fo-five ready to do what it do.

  I assume Flip is strapped too, but his ass bet’ not reach or I’ma seal his fate.

  “I’m listening, yo,” he says.

  I look him in the eye.

  “Those kids KD and Ghetto jacked five muhfuckaz that shopped with you. They didn’t fuck with nobody elses people on our team but yours. So I been wondering, how them thirsty niggaz get all in yo’ mix like that? Convince me that you wasn’t down with the licks or I’ma rewrite that ass with KD!”

  Flip looks me back in the eye.

  “Fam, why would I make a dope fiend move like that? You got a nigga eatin’ hella good. What them niggaz lick for, two or three joints each time? Like twelve altogether? All coke?” I don’t answer, I just let him go on. “Man, that’s trick-off gaup compared to all the heroin I’m touching through you. If I was gonna stick you I’d stick you when you hit me with ten or fifteen of these joints, but that ain’t how I’m gettin’ down.”

  I’m not convinced. I click-clack one into the chamber.

  Flip sighs and adds, “CJ, you lookin’ at me sideways because of that shit with Kendall way back. But yo, nigga was handling me like a peon! Wouldn’t give me what I had earned, then got real breezy when I complained about it. Nigga didn’t have no love or respect for me so I didn’t have no loyalty to him. With you it’s different, you give a nigga whatever he earns. I done put in mad work for the team, yo. Ain’t never violated, not one time, and that’s on my dead Mom Dukes. The snake ain’t me, my nigga. Be careful of the dog that brought you the bone.”

  I’m looking in Flips eyes, weighing his words, reading his body language, using my street-honed ability to see into the hearts of men. If what I’m reading is true, that can only mean one thing, because I don’t believe in coincidences.

  I ponder that for a sec’ then extend my fist.

  Flip puts his to mine.

  I’m a street warfare strategist so when I strike at U-God and nem I hit hard, merciless, and in three different spots at once.

  I send a ten-man crew, headed by Snoop, to smash U-God’s stash spot on Hawthorne Avenue. They do a kick-door, bodying four niggaz and a bitch, and coming back with eight keys of coke, a whole block of heroin, and seventy-three stacks in cash.

  Hit dat ass in the pocket!

  While that was going down, Eric and Flip snatched up U-God’s baby’s mama coming out of a hair salon on Park Avenue. Left the bitch face down with red streaks in her new hairdo that her stylist didn’t put there.

  “Shorty stiff in the snow,” Eric quipped.

  Hit that ass in the heart.

  You feel me now, U-God? Not yet? Okay, now I’m ’bout to fuck with ya head.

  Like I said, I’m a street warfare strategist, so I’ve done my homework.

  Me and Kareem park at the curb in front of the old woman’s house in Elizabeth on a quiet side street. We get out of the nondescript Chevy truck carrying shovels and a snow blower. We go to the side door and ring the doorbell.

  “Coming,” says a voice that sounds elderly.

  Granny comes to the door and asks, “Who is it?” her voice is polite.

  “Mrs. Lowdell, we’re here from A Helping Hand, an agency that assists senior citizens.”

  “A what?”

  “A Helping Hand,” I repeat, speaking louder in case she’s hard of hearing. “We’re volunteers who assist elderly people like yourself with chores that you may not be able to do anymore.”

  “Oh, isn’t that nice,” she declares and opens the door, greeting us with a grandmotherly smile, reminding me of Rah’s Big Ma with her short wide frame and salt and pepper hair wrapped in a bun.

  “Yes, ma’am. We’re going to plow your driveway and walk for you today. Can I please come inside and call the agency to let them know where we are?”

  “Sure.”

  Me and Kareem step inside and close the door behind us. Gospel music is playing throughout the downstairs.

  Minutes later, I’m smoking a vanilla Black-n-Mild, leaned against the mantelpiece in the old woman’s living room. Kareem is seated on the plastic-covered sofa next to Granny, burner in hand.

  Although I did my homework and knew that Mrs. Lowdell, a widow, lived alone, I still checked the house to make sure that no one was in any of the other rooms or the basement. When I returned back to the living room I had a smirk on my face as I thumped ashes from the “Black” into my gloved hand.

  Kareem shut off the gospel music so I didn’t have to speak over that annoying shit.

  “Well, well, well! Guess what I found down in the basement, Mrs. Lowdell?” Her eyes got big as eggs.

  “That’s not mine,
” she quickly declared.

  “Yeah, I know that. But you know what’s in it,” I say, in reference to the safe that I found.

  “I don’t! I asked my grandson not to put it down there. If that’s what you came for please take it and leave.”

  “Uh, I’ma do that but first you’re gonna call your grandson and tell him that someone wants to talk to him.”

  “Look here, young man! You can’t come in my house and order me around,” she protests.

  “Oh naw?” I walk over and slap a proverb outta her mouth.

  “The Lord is my shepherd…”

  “Shut da fuck up! Call your grandson or the Lord gon’ be more than your shepherd, he gon’ be ya Landlord!”

  Granny makes the call from her cordless.

  “Somebody here wants to speak to you,” I hear her say into the phone before passing it to me.

  “What it do, baby boy?” I say, like me and him cool.

  “Who dis?” asks U-God.

  “N.W.A.”

  “Who!?”

  “Nigga Wit’ an Attitude aka the Young Don. You think this shit is a game, homey? I take it personal.” I hang up the phone and leave the bitch nigga stressing over whether or not I’ma body his grandma.

  Fuckin’ wit’ his mind!

  We don’t do Granny but we snatch up the safe, leaving U-God another three hundred stacks lighter in the grip.

  A war is costly, nigga.

  Two days later, U-God retaliates. The Goon Squad bodies two of my lil niggaz that pumped from my spots on Berger Street and Elizabeth Avenue.

  The next day, I’m knocked to my knees; Brianna gets shot down in broad daylight while visiting a friend in the projects where we used to live. Murdered like she was a street thug, not a fourteen-year old innocent child.

  At her funeral a week later, I cry like a baby as I look down in the coffin at my precious little sister. Tamika does too. Rah walks up and puts a hand on my shoulder.

  “I’m here for you, fam, just give me the game plan,” he whispers.

  “Nah, go on back to the A after the funeral. I got this.” I give him a gangsta hug, appreciating that he was down to ride even though he’s sworn off the streets.

  Halfway through the funeral service Mama faints and has to be rushed to the hospital. Eric sheds a few silent tears but he hasn’t said a single word since the day Brianna got killed. I know that revenge is on his mind.

  “Stay outta the streets, it’s about to get real ugly,” I warn Tamika a few days later.

  Bodies drop on both sides but we’re gunnin’ them niggaz down three to one, and since The Goon Squad was only twenty-something strong in numbers to start with, before long there’s only U-God and three others left standing, and I haven’t lost any of my top niggaz.

  But the streets are an inferno! Jake all over the place; niggaz gettin’ sntached up and questioned like it’s the 60’s.

  “This ain’t fuckin’ Columbia! You can’t do all of this killing. I told you that once before,” Cujo snaps at me.

  We’re inside the vacant warehouse where we often meet.

  “White nigga, don’t tell me what da fuck I can’t do! I handle the streets, you handle your ilk. Nigga killed my sister; the blood ain’t gon’ stop flowing ’til I wipe out every last one of those bitches!” I spazz on him.

  “You’re killing innocent people! Aunts, cousins, neighbors, people that don’t have anything to do with this!” Cujo barked back.

  “My sister didn’t have nothing to do with it either!” I remind him. Yeah, what about dat? That’s why I bodied anything close to them niggaz. Would’ve banged the niggaz grandmom, too, but the bitch was ghost when we went back to do her.

  “I’m sorry about your sister but all of these unnecessary murders won’t bring her back.”

  “I’m not tryna hear that shit!” I spit and turn around and walk out of the warehouse.

  “You’re becoming uncontrollable!” Cujo yells at my back.

  “Suck my dick!”

  One of U-God’s mans has a sister who is a school teacher at Shabazz High. Me and Eric leave the bitch nodded inside her Honda Civic in the school’s parking lot.

  Now U-God’s man’s mama has to bury a daughter just like my Mom Dukes had to do.

  “I see you’re gonna do shit your way!” Cujo snarls as he cuffs me and shoves me into the backseat of a police cruiser being driven by a jake in uniforn. The jake has to be down with Cujo because Cujo ain’t watching his mouth. “Lock his ass up and make sure that he don’t get a bond! Charge him with assault on a police, attempted murder, attempted escape, anything that will keep him in jail while we settle our problem. Otherwise, he’s going to fuck up a good thing!”

  I’m taken to jail, where I remain for twenty days, on those bogus charges. It’s only after U-God’s and the remaining three Goon Squad niggaz bodies are found inside a vacant warehouse that I’m released.

  I know that Cujo and nem dealth with them niggaz because their bodies were found inside the same warehouse where I’ve often met Cujo.

  The victory seems bittersweet because I didn’t get to smash U-God myself. But the next squad will think hard and long before coming for my crown.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TAMIKA

  Things had gotten so crazy after Brianna got killed I was afraid to venture out of the house. CJ, Eric and nem was turning all of Newark into one big cemetery, and Miss Wanda lost what little piece of mind that she had before tragedy claimed her daughter.

  While all of this was going on, Nee Nee called me to say, “Cuz, I know we’ve had our run-ins but we’re still family.”

  “And?” I’d interrupted the bitch.

  “I think you need to leave CJ’s ass alone before he gets you killed.”

  “Really?” I’d laughed. “Why? So you can try to fuck him again? Bitch puhleeze!”

  “No, for real. I don’t wanna end up having to come to your funeral.”

  “Ha! Trust, you won’t be coming to my funeral because there’s no way that your cum guzzling ass will out live me.” I’d laughed at her again.

  “See, that’s why I don’t fuck with you. Bitch, you ain’t all of that!” Nee Nee said like the hater that she is.

  “Maybe I’m not, but I’m more than you. I would rather die by my man’s side than turn my back on him. Jump offs like you can’t relate to that,” I said and hung up on her ass.

  But I admit to being afraid that loving CJ was going to end up costing a bitch her life.

  Then CJ got locked up and held without bail for two or three weeks. I was really shook with my man not being out here to protect me. Still, I went down to the jail to visit him every visitation day. That’s how I ran into one of his other bitches!

  Oh, so he’s pulling this shit again? I’d said to myself, but I didn’t even confront him this time.

  Two can play that game.

  While visiting CJ at the jail I met this chick named Lamora who was also visiting her man. Lemora and I became friends fast, but I didn’t tell her who my man was, not then. Her and I went out partying in New York and guess what?

  I got me some dick!

  It was good, too. My “revenge fuck”, I call it.

  Now that CJ is out of jail and whatever beef that he had in the streets seems to be settled. I’ma see how he acts. I’ve been hollerin’ at this young nigga named Nard, on the low. He’s a cutie with potential. I’m headed to meet his young ass at the movie theater now.

  As I back out of my driveway, I turn on the radio and they’re playing the hottest single in the land by this new rapper out of ATL named Scare Me.

  You won’t believe who is on the song with him!

  TWENTY-FIVE

  RAHEEM

  Allah is truly the most beneficent, I think as I look in the mirror one last time before peeking over at Kayundra who is in the doorway of our bathroom, all ready to go. I’m wearing a black and charcoal gray pinstripe Armani tux, black gator square-toe shoes. Kayundra looks beautiful in a long s
ilk Prada dress. Her hair is pinned up, allow the tear drop diamond earrings that she’s wearing to flaunt their magnificence. A limo awaits outside to take us to “Sparkle’s” album release party.

  Yep, you heard me! Kayundra is in the game!

  Ever since her record with Scare Me topped the charts four months ago and critics acclaimed the collab’ an instant classic the likes of that joint Mary J and Method Man hooked up on back in the day, the music world has been anticipating Sparkle’s solo project. One mag’ predicted she’ll have the year’s hottest R&B album. Her lable mate, Scare Me, already has the rap game on smash with his triple-platinum selling debut CD, fueled by the single “Through Whateva” on which Sparkle first appeared.

  “Through Whateva” has been nominated for a Grammy in the rap category, and numerous BET music awards. That alone has Sparkle’s name bubblin’ and her own CD hasn’t even hit the stores yet.

  Preston Myers, the CEO of Platinum Entertainment, the record label to which my girl is signed, is a young brother who seems to have the astuteness of Diddy or a Damon Dash. Before Kayundra signed with Platinum Entertainment she had been close to signing with Universal, but she backed out of the deal when the A&R at Universal wanted to “create” a different background in regards to Kayundra’s past, than what is true. He also wanted her to sing pop instead of R&B.

  Preston promised us that if Kayundra aka Sparkle signed with Platinum, the label would not try to hide her past or change her style. So far, Preston has been true to his word and he’s going all out for Kayundra with her debut CD. Preston hired a team of superstar producers to work on Sparkle’s joint, including Pharell Williams. Scare Me appears on one song and T.I. appears on another.