Block Party

by Al-Saadiq Banks

  Sunday is family day. First I’m going to take them out to eat, and then we’re going to a movie. Love only asks for one day out of the week, Sunday. That’s the least I can do. The rest of the week I can do me.

  When I pick up the newspaper, the headline shocks me. It reads: “MAN BRUTALLY MURDERED ON CITY STREET”

  This is the kid from yesterday. As I read further it states, he died in the hospital at 4 am. He struggled for his life all night long. They saved him three times, but the fourth time there was no coming back. The motive stated was a drug deal gone bad, but they also say they don’t have a clue who the shooter is. It feels crazy reading this story, knowing I witnessed the whole ordeal, but that’s the game.

  As I’m walking out of the store, the first thing I see is the burgundy Crown Victoria coming up the block. When they reach me, they pull over. It’s the same three from last night.

  They all jump out and walk toward me. The closer they get to me, the crazier my dogs go. They’re barking loud and hard. I guess they hate cops as much as I do.

  The black cop speaks. “Hey Donald, what’s up?”

  Then the white one speaks. “Welcome home! You did just come home right?”

  “Yeah,” I answer confidently.

  “Seven years of FED prison,” says the black cop.

  “A man was killed out here yesterday. What do you know about it?” the white cop asks.

  “I don’t know shit about it!”

  “Watch your mouth!” says the black cop. “You don’t know anything? You have four years of parole left, right?” he asks sarcastically. “I would hate to see you go back for conspiracy of a murder.”

  Now I’m getting nervous. “Conspiracy?”

  “Yeah, conspiracy! We talked to a few people last night and they told us you had something to do with the murder. They said you ordered the hit. They said something about you wanting your old block back.”

  “That’s bullshit!” I yell.

  “And they told us about a confrontation you had the other day, with some guys in front of your house. Something about they can’t be out here no more cause you’re home and this is your old block,” the white cop explains.

  Now they’re putting shit in the game. Somebody’s trying to jam me up. One of these dope heads probably told them about the beef I had with Junebug’s boys, about them being on my porch. So now they’re trying to play on me to see if I know anything.

  “I had a confrontation with them about selling drugs on my stoop. I’m a changed man. I’m totally against drug dealing.” They want to play; I’m going to play right along with them.

  “Yeah, we know all about the change,” says the black cop. “By the way, that’s a beautiful wife you have. Doesn’t she work at the high school around the corner?”

  “I don’t know. Does she?” I ask, as I look him dead in the eyes.

  “Here, take my card just in case you hear anything. I’ll give you some time. Just think, four years. Can your pretty young wife stand to be alone for four more long years?”

  They jump in their car and pull off slowly. I throw the card onto the ground and proceed to my house. You see, I’m hip to their game. When someone gets murdered and they need information, they dig through the files of the criminals from that area. Then they determine which ones have the most to lose; the fugitives, the three- time losers, or the major felons. Then they come up with a bogus story about how they heard you’re wrapped up in it so you can tell who really done it. It might work with these young boys, but they can’t run that on me. I’m from the old school.

  CHAPTER 9

  After the movie, I drop my boys off at home. While Love and me are riding home I decide to ask her to go to the bank in the morning and take $20,000 out of my account. My sister has some dough stashed for me also. I’ll get $20,000 from her too. This way, I can pay for the kilos tomorrow night, even if they’re not finished. Then the Mexican boy won’t think twice about hitting me again. I owe him $48,000. I have some money lying around the house because Love made a withdrawal for me when I first came home.

  The $20,000 from my sister will be no problem. I’ll just tell her I’m about to start paying for the big wedding me and Love are planning. As for Love, this is going to be a problem. She doesn’t want me back on the streets, drug dealing. I told her I was done.

  “How much?” she asks.

  “Twenty thousand.”

  “Twenty thousand! For what?”

  “I got some things I want to do.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Come on Love, don’t do this.”

  “No, you don’t do this! I thought you said you were done? You made me a promise.”

  “Love, please. I need to get right!”

  “You already right! You got money saved up.”

  “Love, how long do you think that little bit of money is going to last if I’m not doing anything to put some back in?”

  “Well, do something to put some back in! Get a job!” she shouts. “What happened to you opening up the store you wanted?”

  “I, I,” I stutter.

  “It was all a dream. You sold me a dream!”

  “Love, I swear I’m not going to make a career out of it. All I need is a 90-day run. After that ain’t no looking back. I promise!”

  “Oh boy, another promise!” Love shouts.

  “Please love.”

  “What the hell am I going to tell them at the bank?” she asks. “I just took out $25,000 not even a month ago. Now you need another $20,000.”

  “What the hell do you mean, what are you going to tell them? Tell them you want your money!” I reply.

  “Anytime you take out $10,000 you have to tell them what you’re using it for,” she explains.

  “They don’t ask you why you’re putting $10,000 in!” I shout ignorantly.

  “Last time I told them I was doing construction on the house.”

  “Well, tell them you’re still doing construction!”

  “All right Donald. It’s your money. I’ll take it out. But listen to this. If you get into trouble and go to jail again, you’re on your own. I’m not doing anymore jail time. I did seven years with you! That was the worst seven years of my life, but I held you down. I was lonely, but never did I get lonely enough to search for companionship. Do you know why?” she asks.

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you.” The tears are running down her face. “Donald, I know for a fact I can’t do no more time,” she cries. “I have goals and dreams, and visiting my husband on the weekend isn’t one of them. My mother and my sisters called me a fool when I married you in jail. They said you were never going to be anything but a drug dealer. I don’t speak to my older sister today behind that. Please Donald, please don’t prove them right.”

  I hug her tight and whisper, “Love, 90 days. I promise, just 90 days. Whatever I don’t get in three months, I won’t get. After all that’s over, we’ll have a big wedding and I’ll open my store and we’ll live happily ever after. I promise.” All of her crying must be contagious because I begin crying harder than she is.

  I know I’ve made a lot of promises to her, but I need just one more run. After that, I’m done.

  When I was knocked off it seemed so simple. I thought I was never going to hustle again, but once I got back on the street and started seeing the pretty cars and the glamour, the reality set in. I’m a hustler. I have an addiction for the game.

  CHAPTER 10

  Today is Tuesday, September18, the second official day of my 90- day run. Yesterday didn’t go too well. I just gave out a few samples and passed my beeper number around. Oh, and I called Little Wu. He told me he’d be ready for me today. He wants to buy 300 grams. That’s what I’m talking about.

  Love and my sister withdrew the money for me yesterday. I didn’t call my man yet. If I don’t have to touch my money, I don’t want to. But if I don’t make any moves by tomorrow, I’ll have to. I don’t want him to think I can’t move the wor
k. Hopefully things will pick up by the end of the week.

  After dropping Love off, I immediately go to pick up Slim and my sons. They’re on the porch and ready to go. Today, they’re looking real slick. They have on matching Polo jean suits and all white Air Force Ones. Desire is really mad at me now. I took the boys school shopping myself. She had the nerve to ask me for $2,000, to get their school clothes. I knew what she wanted to do. She would have spent about $900 on them and kept the other $1,100 for herself. She tries to be so slick. Sometimes she’s too slick for herself. When I first went away and she stopped accepting my calls and stopped returning my letters, I was crushed. I almost didn’t want to live anymore. But after two years, I got over it. Then I realized that was the best thing she could have done for me. Now she wants to get back in the picture. No way. She’s the kind of chick whose love stops when your money stops.

  “Dad, we’re trying out for the school basketball team today,” says Ahmad. “I hope we make it.”

  “Hope, it ain’t no hope. Ya’ll are going to make it!” I shout.

  “Daddy, when I grow up, I’m going to be a pro basketball player. You’re not going to have to do nothing but come to my games.”

  “Do anything,” I correct.

  “You’re not going to have to do anything,” he revises. “I’m going to take care of you.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, I’m going to buy you a big house and everything.”

  “What about you Ahmir?”

  “I don’t know,” he mumbles.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I know, but I don’t want to tell you,” he admits.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Ahmir replies.

  “Go ahead and tell me.”

  He pauses for about five seconds. “I want to be a big-time drug dealer like you,” he says with a stupid grin on his face as if he has just said the coolest shit in the world.

  “What?” I ask, hoping I heard him wrong.

  Me and Slim lock eyes. He shakes his head in despair. Hearing this breaks my heart. The last thing I want is to see my kids running the streets. What can I tell him about this lifestyle when all his life he’s been hearing the glamorized stories of the things I’ve done. All these years he’s been hearing “that’s Cashmere’s son.” Now I have to explain to him that this is not a good thing.

  “Listen Mir. Don’t ever let me hear you say that again! Do you hear me?”

  “Yes,” he whispers. Right now he has a confused look on his face. I really don’t think he realizes he just said something wrong. Drug dealing is so common; maybe he thinks it’s all right to be a drug dealer.

  “You will not be a hustler or any other kind of criminal!” I shout. “Hustlers are bad guys.”

  “But you’re not a bad guy,” Ahmir interrupts.

  “No, but I’ve done some bad things. Things that have sent me to jail for seven years. Do you want to be away from the people you love for all those years?”

  “No,” he replies.

  “All right then. Mir, I grew up with no daddy. That’s why I’ve made so many mistakes. I didn’t have a man around to teach me right from wrong. You have a daddy, and I’m not going to let you make the same mistakes I made. You can learn from my mistakes. Will you ever kill me?” I ask.

  “No Daddy!” Ahmir replies.

  “How about you Mod?”

  “Ah, ah, I love you Daddy!”

  “Well that’s what ya’ll will have to do if ya’ll turn to the streets. Ya’ll will have to kill me because if I find out that ya’ll are hustling or doing anything else that’s wrong, I’m going to kill ya’ll. And I’m holding both of ya’ll responsible for the other one. So ya’ll better make sure the other one is doing right. Because if one is doing wrong, I’m going to kill both of ya’ll. Ya’ll hear me?”

  “Yes!” they reply.

  “Now give me five and get out of my car!” I shout, with a playful grin on my face. I’m laughing on the outside but crying on the inside. The shit Mir just said really breaks my heart. “Ya’ll got money?”

  “No!” they shout.

  “Here, take five apiece!” I say, as I hand Ahmir a $10 bill. “Never go anywhere without money!” I try to make them keep money in their pockets. This way, hopefully they won’t be tempted to sell their souls for money being that they’ve always had. Maybe me having a deprived childhood is the reason I resorted to the streets. Maybe that won’t work, but it’s worth a try.

  I wait for them to go through the entrance of the building. Ahmir is something. I know I’m going to have problems with him. Ahmad is all right-a little nerdy and quiet but he’s all right. But when I look at Ahmir, I see myself. He’s the spitting image of me. He walks like me, talks like me, and thinks like me. I’m just afraid he might be like me!

  “Bang Man, I like the way you just handled that!” “Damn Slim, that’s the last thing I expected to hear come out of his mouth.”

  “Not me!” Slim answers. “He’s been saying that for a couple of years now. I checked him about it, but a couple of months later he slipped up again. He has pictures of you standing next to your cars with fur coats on and shit. Pictures with you sitting on a bed with money and guns spread out over the whole bed. That’s all he sees is the glamour. He didn’t see them seven years of prison.”

  “You know what Slim? You are absolutely right,” I admit.

  I have to take Slim to get his morning dose. He is really doing good. Ever since the talk we had, his habit has really decreased. Now he’s down to three bags a day. He went from nine bags a day to only three a day.

  “Stop right here, Big Time!”

  The block is extra crowded today being that the other block is shut down. They haven’t been out there since the shooting. Now all the customers from over there come all the way across town. They love that Block Party.

  Ring, ring! My phone is ringing. “Hello?”

  “Yo, Cash!”

  “Yeah, who is this?”

  “This is Wu!”

  “Oh, what’s up baby?” I question.

  “You!” he replies. “I’m ready when you are.”

  “All right, give me about a half hour!”

  “All right bet. I want 300 grams!”

  “Ho, ho, not on my phone baby!”

  “Oh my bad man, I apologize.”

  That’s one thing I learned, not to talk business over the phone. We learned that lesson the hard way.

  “So where are you going to be?” I ask.

  “Come to my house. I live on James Street. In the middle of the block. I’ll be on the porch waiting for you. Be careful, it’s hot as hell out here!”

  “All right, I’ll see you in a half,” I state.

  “All right one!”

  “Peace!” I shout.

  As I’m sitting double-parked, a black Grand Prix pulls up on the side of me. The window rolls down slowly. It’s Junebug.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asks.

  “I’m waiting for my old head,” I reply.

  “Oh.”

  “Yo, it’s hot over there,” I shout.

  “I know, they ride through all day long,” Junebug replies. “I’m going to let it cool down for a while. I’m just going to bang from this spot. It’ll be all right. You see I had to change cars, right? I didn’t want to do it like that, but that kid done some shitty shit he shouldn’t have did. You feel me?”

  I hate that little Black kid. Every time I see him we get into a staring contest.

  “You know that thing me and you were talking about?” I ask.

  “What?” he questions.

  “The powder,” I whisper.

  “Oh yeah!”

  “I’m in position.”

  “Oh, all right! What are your numbers looking like?”

  “What have you been paying?” I ask. I have to ask him that. I don’t want to underbid myself.

  “Like $20,000 for the whole thing,” he admi
ts.

  “Well I got em for $18,000.”

  “Yeah?” he questions. “Yo, bring something through,” he instructs. “I’ll get it and let my little niggas bang it! I’m going to buy it for them, let them keep the profit off it.”

  “All right then,” I interrupt. Later for the big-time shit. He’s going to buy it for his little niggas, whatever. “What time do you want me to come through?”

  “Whenever! The cash is always there,” he brags. “Shit, I’ll support you. Anything to help you get out of that old ass car!” he shouts sarcastically. Everyone in the car laughs.

  Slim gets back in the car. “Pop!” Junebug yells out. “I see you rolling with Cash, huh?”

  Slim doesn’t answer he just smiles.

  “Later ya’ll!” Junebug hollers, as he pulls off. I pull off right behind him.

  “I can’t stand that kid!” I shout.

  “Who, the Mayor?” Slim questions.

  “Nah, the kid you were beefing with,” I reply.

  “Oh, you talking about Spook,” says Slim.

  “Yeah. Whatever his name is, I’m ready to see him,” I admit.

  “You have to watch him. He’s sneaky,” says Slim. “He does most of the shooting. They say that little nigga got like eight or nine bodies.”

  Make that ten. He’s the one who killed the kid the other day. I pause for a second.

  “He ain’t but 18 years old!” Slim shouts.

  “Well, he’s playing a grown man’s game. If he crosses my path, I’m going to bring it to him like a grown man!”

  CHAPTER 11

  It takes me approximately 15 minutes to get the 300 grams for Little Wu. Big Wu is my man. He would probably be hurt if he knew I was serving his son. I feel crazy doing it, but shit, he’s going to get it from somewhere. Anyway, this is only temporary. After I get right, I’ll let him be my lieutenant. Then all he has to do is make my drop-offs for me. I’ll pay him like $2,500 a week. That’s easy money.