by K'wan
“What I tell you about making sales out in the open like that?” Li’l Monk walked up on him.
“Man, ain’t no cop gonna catch me in them flat-ass shoes they gotta wear.” Droopy gave him dap. “Besides that, ain’t been no signs of police in the hood for the last few hours unless they’re just passing through on their way downtown. They got their hands full.”
“What’s going on downtown that made it legal to sell drugs in Harlem today?” Li’l Monk asked.
“Some teacher at a school on 108th Street lost his job and didn’t take too kindly to it, so he came back with a machine gun and took the school hostage,” Droopy informed him.
“With the kids in it?” Li’l Monk asked in shock.
“Word life,” Droopy confirmed. “I heard they got SWAT teams out there and all that. Because it ain’t been no cops it’s been like Candy Land in the hood all day. The block been jumping! No disrespect to them kids, but I’m trying to get this money while I can.”
“You got a point,” Li’l Monk agreed. “You seen Omega and them out here?”
“I seen that bitch-ass nigga Tut ride off in a cab about an hour ago, but Omega is on the stoop.” Droopy pointed across the street.
“I’m about to go check him in a few. How things been looking out here? Any problems?”
“Nah, everything been quiet. It’s so much money flowing ain’t nobody had time to beef.”
Li’l Monk nodded. “That’s a good thing. Beef is always bad for business. I’m gonna slide over here and check O right quick. You gonna be good over here by yourself?”
“I’m straight, my nigga. I’m on this money,” Droopy assured him.
“A’ight, but still keep your eyes peeled. Anybody roll through the hood you don’t recognize, let me know,” Li’l Monk told him.
Droopy laughed. “If a nigga come through here I don’t recognize the only thing I’m gonna let you know is where to find the body.” Droopy lifted his oversized jersey and showed Li’l Monk the Beretta shoved in his pants. From the oversized clip he estimated it held about thirty rounds.
“Where the fuck did you get that?” Li’l Monk questioned.
“Don’t ask questions you really don’t want the answers to.” Droopy winked and disappeared down the block.
Just as Droopy had said, Li’l Monk found Omega sitting on the stoop of one of the buildings they kept a stash apartment in. He was sitting on the steps between the legs of a chocolate-colored girl who was braiding his dreads into plaits. Li’l Monk thought he knew her face, but couldn’t place it.
Flanking the stoop were three young shooters who Omega had taken to running with lately. There was a time when Omega was a cat who moved with as few people as possible, but lately he kept an entourage around him. Dudes in the streets were getting murdered left and right and he wasn’t taking any chances. The dudes with him were cruddy cats who would let their guns blast on command.
The eyes of the young shooters turned in Li’l Monk’s direction as he approached. He nodded in greeting before giving Omega dap. “Sup wit’ you, O?”
“Ain’t shit, just out here enjoying life.” Omega smiled, taking a sip from the Hennessy bottle that had been resting on the step near his leg. He wiped a bit of spillage from his chin with the back of his hand and offered the bottle to Li’l Monk.
Li’l Monk accepted the bottle and took a deep swig. It was his first drink of the day and the cognac’s slow burn made his nerves come alive. “I needed that.” He handed the bottle back to Omega.
“I imagine so after this morning. That funeral was sad as hell,” Omega said.
“Yeah, death is never easy, especially when it hits so close to home.” Li’l Monk thought back to seeing Karen in a casket.
“Man, I heard they did shorty dirty, hit her like twenty times,” a young man wearing a blue Dodge cap said. This was Blue; he was new to the fold and had a bad habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.
“Nah, it wasn’t twenty times; it was only like five,” a kid who wore his hair in braids corrected him. His name was Paulie and he was just as ignorant as Blue.
Li’l Monk gave them a dirty look that expressed his displeasure with the nature of their conversation.
“My fault, I forgot that was ya peeps,” Blue offered by way of an apology.
“Blue, you always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.” A bald youth spoke up. His name was Dre and he had arguably the most common sense out of the knuckleheads Omega kept around him. “No disrespect, my nigga,” he told Li’l Monk.
“It’s all good. If I felt disrespected you’d know about it,” Li’l Monk assured him.
Dre smirked, but didn’t reply to the statement. “I’m about to go to the store to get something to drink.” He stepped off the stoop and started up the block. Blue and Paulie looked to Omega for the nod of approval before falling in step behind Dre.
“The blind leading the blind.” Li’l Monk shook his head. “Where did you dig those knuckleheads up again?”
“Ramses recruited them. I just put the niggas to work. Blue is kind of a dick, but Dre and Paulie are okay,” Omega said.
“I don’t like either one of them,” Li’l Monk said.
Omega laughed. “That’s no surprise. You don’t like anybody. You need to learn to relax.”
“That’s kinda hard to do when niggas are getting their wigs pushed back on a nightly basis. How shit been looking out here today?”
Omega shrugged. “All quiet, except for the crackheads running back and forth. The streets been good to us today.”
“Droopy told me. How much we clock?” Li’l Monk asked.
“Enough for us to call it an early night and have a little fun.” Omega gave him a wink and rested his hand on the thigh of the girl who was braiding his hair. “This is a friend of mine, Stacy,” he said, introducing the girl.
Li’l Monk nodded in greeting.
“Stacy dances at that new spot they got down on 116th Street, the after-hours joint. I was thinking we could go through and pop a bottle or two,” Omega told him.
Li’l Monk knew just what Omega meant by that. “Nah, I’m good. You go do ya thing.”
“Stop acting like that, Li’l Monk. The block ain’t gonna go anywhere if you leave it for a few hours. You been wound up tighter than a thong on a fat bitch lately and you need to blow off some steam before you hurt somebody. Let’s go look at some ass and titties.”
“Yeah, Li’l Monk. Tonight is amateur night and I got a friend named Tiffany who’s coming through to do her thing. I think you’ll like her,” Stacy said as if she knew Li’l Monk well enough to know what he liked and he didn’t.
“I got a girl,” Li’l Monk told her.
“And she’s got a man so it’s an equal playing field,” Stacy shot back.
Li’l Monk still didn’t look convinced.
“Stacy, baby, do me a solid and go upstairs to the spot and grab my jacket. I need to holla at my man for a minute,” Omega said.
Stacy quickly caught on. “Okay, Omega.” She got up and went into the building.
“What’s up with you lately, dawg?” Omega asked once Stacy had gone.
“I just got a lot on my mind lately, O. That’s all,” Li’l Monk responded.
“Li’l Monk, I dig it, since the bodies started dropping things been tense for all of us. But you know what? Death is a part of the game we chose to play. For as long as we out here on these corners there’s always gonna be somebody gunning for us. Stressing ain’t gonna change shit. What that nigga Jay-Z said? ‘Fuck tomorrow, as long as the night before was sweet!’” He hoisted his bottle of Hennessy, splashing liquor on himself and Li’l Monk.
For the first time all day Li’l Monk laughed. “You wild as hell, O.”
“Call me what you want, but you know I’m right, Li’l Monk. Man, we ain’t little niggas hustling no more; we run the block! These are supposed to be some of the best times of our lives. It’s time we started living accordingly, and that m
eans having some fucking fun. Besides, I been trying to fuck this bitch Stacy for weeks and I need you to run interference with her homegirl while I crack.”
Li’l Monk shook his head. “I knew you had an agenda.”
“Don’t I always?” Omega asked with a smirk. “Not for nothing, you might even enjoy yourself. I’ve seen her friend Tiffany and that’s a bad little bitch!”
“O, I’ll hold you down, but I ain’t cheating on Sophie, especially with no stripper bitch,” Li’l Monk told him.
“It’s only cheating if you get caught.” Omega laughed. “But on some G shit, I don’t care if you fuck her or read the bitch bedtime stories as long as you keep her busy long enough for me to get mine.”
Omega and Li’l Monk continued to sip Hennessy on the stoop and lay plans for the rest of their night. They were deep in conversation when Li’l Monk spotted a man with a hood pulled over his head walking in their direction.
“On point,” Li’l Monk whispered to Omega, before drawing his trusty Desert Eagle. He didn’t point it, but made sure that it was visible. Li’l Monk kept his eyes on the hooded man as he drew closer.
The hooded man drew to a stop when he saw the gun in Li’l Monk’s hand. “Easy, fellas,” he said with the faintest trace of an accent. He raised his hands to show they were empty. The backs of them were covered in tattoos written in a foreign language. Moving very slowly he pushed the hood from his head and revealed the face hiding beneath. He was an attractive man with an angular chin, and skin the color of unprocessed chocolate. The same kind of tattoos that covered his hands also covered his neck from collar to jaw. Kinky hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in a while covered his head. On both his cheeks, just below his eyes, were what looked like small burns but upon closer inspection you could see that they were brands of some kind. Eyes so dark that they reflected no light drank in Li’l Monk and Omega. “I’m not looking for any trouble.”
Omega rose from the stoop and regarded the man. “What you’re looking for and what you’ve found are two different things. State your business, or make your peace with God.” He glanced at Li’l Monk, who was ready to pop off at a moment’s notice.
The dark-skinned man assessed both of them and deduced they were both killers, but being that Li’l Monk was the only one who appeared to be armed he was the immediate threat so it was him who he addressed. “I’m looking for a dude named Monk.”
“Well you’ve found him.” Li’l Monk stepped forward. “Whether that’s a good or bad thing remains to be seen.”
The dark-skinned man sized him up and smirked. “Unless time moved in reverse while I was away, you’re a little young to be the Monk I’m looking for. Sorry to have wasted your time.” He turned to walk away, but Li’l Monk stopped him.
“What you want with my pops?” Li’l Monk called after him. “He owe you money or something?”
The dark-skinned man stopped and turned back. “Nah, nothing like that. I just came home from a bid and a mutual friend on the inside suggested I look Monk up when I got back into the world.”
“My daddy ain’t got no friends,” Li’l Monk said.
“Well, Face seems to think different,” the dark-skinned man said.
Face was a name that hadn’t been spoken on the streets in quite a while. Face was Persia’s father and had been like an uncle to Li’l Monk. He had been Big Monk’s best friend and business partner back in the days. When Face was on the streets he ran the neighborhood, but he was currently serving fifteen to life for killing a man. It had been a self-defense shooting but because of Face’s reputation the jury rejected that defense and he blew trial, which was what led to his lengthy sentence.
“You know my uncle?” Li’l Monk asked.
“We shared a cell for a time,” the dark-skinned man said, but you could tell there was something more to it. “One day when you ain’t feeling so aggressive,” he said, and glanced at the gun, “I’ll give you the rundown, but for right now I need you to get word to your dad that I need to holla at him. It’s important.”
“And who should I say is looking for him?” Li’l Monk asked.
“Tell him Kunta came calling,” the dark-skinned man told him and headed back the way he came.
“What was that all about?” Omega asked.
Omega watched Kunta hit the corner and vanish. “I don’t know, but I’m gonna find out.”
CHAPTER 8
Chucky cruised in his candy red BMW through the crowded New York streets with all the windows down. A slight chill had settled over the city when the sun went down, but it didn’t bother him. He needed to smell the stale city air and hear the sounds of the streets to let him know that he was officially home.
He knew that he was taking a big risk by parading himself out in the open like that, but it was a necessary evil. He had something that he needed to deal with that would require a personal touch. To accomplish his task, he needed to put his ear to the ground and gather a bit of information. There was a time when he could’ve tapped any number of resources for information, but these days there was only one person he could depend on to keep him abreast of what was going on. This was what made him desperate enough to gamble with his life and venture back into the lion’s den.
Maggie sat in the passenger seat, in and out of a nod. After their earlier session Chucky had gone out and scored them a bottle of cheap cognac and some beers. He told her it was a reward for how she had put it down when they were fucking, but it was really a way for him to keep her more under control. Maggie could smoke or snort up anything you put in front of her and still walk a straight line, but she had no head for liquor.
His newest accomplice had been talking real reckless lately and Chucky wasn’t feeling it. Maggie had a sharp tongue whether she was drunk or sober and Chucky normally ignored her, or slapped her around to remind her who was running the show, but when she started kicking dirt on Persia it got under his skin. In truth, the game he was playing with Persia was a dangerous one. By coming back to New York and playing her so close, Chucky was putting himself as well as his traveling companions in jeopardy. She was the missing link between Chucky and all the dirt he’d done before fleeing New York; and she was the only living person who could link him to some of his most heinous crimes. The smart thing would’ve been for Chucky to take the money they’d ripped off from Mr. D and get in the wind, but he couldn’t. There was too much he had left undone and he meant to finish what he started.
Chucky had convinced Maggie and Rissa that he had come back to settle old scores, which in part was true, but Chucky also still had designs on Persia. For as bad as Chucky treated Persia he loved her in his own twisted way. Of all the girls he had run through in his young life, Persia was the one who was most unlike the rest. She was fine, had an education, and was totally down for him. Persia loved Chucky more than he loved himself and instead of nurturing and appreciating that love, Chucky corrupted it and bent Persia’s will to his own fucked-up ways. To those on the outside looking in, Chucky probably appeared to be a devil and, in part, they were right, but Chucky really didn’t know any better. The only way he knew to express his love was through control.
In trying to control Persia he brought her down to his level instead of him elevating to hers. As a result, he pushed her away and possibly out of his reach. Still Chucky was determined to try to rope her back in. He would either win back Persia’s heart or cut it from her chest. If Chucky couldn’t have her, no one would . . . especially Vaughn.
A car blaring its horn behind him let Chucky know that he had slipped into a daze. He managed to floor it through the intersection as the light was turning from yellow to red. Their destination was coming up so Chucky parked in the first spot he saw, which was several blocks from where they’d agreed to meet. He was sure he could’ve found a more convenient place to park that was closer to the spot, but he’d be expected to drive up. If he arrived on foot he’d be better equipped to see trouble before it saw him.
“Wake u
p.” Chucky hit Maggie with a sharp elbow.
Maggie snapped up as if she had just been electrocuted and looked around frantically. “Where the hell are we?” She wiped a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth.
“We are where we need to be. Now get yourself straightened out and try not to look so much like a damn junkie,” Chucky snapped and got out of the car. He took a minute to shake the loose cigarette ashes from his black suit jacket that had accumulated there during the ride over. The shoulders and sleeves of the jacket, which had at one time been tailored to fit him, now seemed frumpy and loose, reflecting his recent weight loss. Chucky was overdressed for his meeting, but appearances went a long way and he wanted to project the illusion that he was still doing well.
Chucky had his arm hooked in Maggie’s trying to keep her standing upright. The whole time his eyes darted this way and that, in search of signs of danger. He was a man with a price on his head and there was no telling who could be enticed to try to collect, including the person he was meeting. As planned Chucky spotted him way early. He was standing outside, pacing and sucking the life out of a cigarette, still wearing the ill-fitting suit from earlier.
“Sup wit’ it?” Chucky crept on Charlie, startling him to the point where he dropped his cigarette.
“Damn, you scared the shit out of me. I didn’t see you walk up,” Charlie said, fishing out his pack of cigarettes and lighting another one.
“Then maybe you need to be paying more attention to your surroundings.” Chucky took the cigarette from Charlie and started smoking it.
Charlie took out a third cigarette and lit it. “Got a lot on my mind.”
Chucky nodded in understanding. “I’ll bet. Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t make it to your sister’s funeral. You know mine ain’t the most welcome face in the hood.”
“So I been hearing,” Charlie told him. “They say Ramses dropped a bag on your head.”
“Something like that.” Chucky laughed it off. “I’d kick double to the family of anybody fool enough to try to collect. They gonna need it to bury him.” He looked Charlie in the eyes when he said it. He wanted to make sure Charlie picked up on the threat he had laid down.
