Block Party

by Al-Saadiq Banks

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” he shouts. “Your little man got a hell of a handle, and he can shoot from anywhere. I sat in at one of his practices last week. I was really impressed.” He sat in at a practice? “It’ll be a shame if he can’t make it to the championship game. The whole team is depending on him.”

  “Listen motherfucker, don’t threaten my kids! They don’t have shit to do with this!”

  “Yes they do, they’re your sons,” he replies. “They’re your sons just like little Sean is my son.”

  “Listen!” I shout. Click! The sound of the dial tone interrupts me.

  “Slim, we have to deal with this nigga! He just threatened Ahmir! He said he watched Ahmir at a basketball practice,” I shout hysterically.

  “Bang Man, this is what I was worried about,” Slim yells, as he punches the dashboard.

  “Slim, we gotta get this nigga!” Ring! Ring! My phone rings again. “Hold on Slim, this is probably him again. Hello!” I scream. No one responds. “Hello,” I repeat.

  “Is this Cash?” the caller asks. This isn’t Junebug. I don’t recognize the voice.

  “Yeah, this Cash. Who is this?”

  “This Ricky,” the caller replies.

  “Ricky who?”

  “Pretty Ricky!” the caller shouts.

  “Pretty Ricky? Oh, what up baby?” This is my man Ricky. I haven’t heard from him ever since I went away. I wonder what he’s calling me for? This is one of the most dangerous old motherfuckers on the planet. He’s what you call a born killer. He’s somewhere in his mid 40s. They call him Pretty Ricky because every time you see him, he’s dressed up with a trench coat and alligator shoes. He keeps a sawed-off shotgun underneath his trench coat. This motherfucker isn’t to be played with.

  “Nothing much,” Ricky answers.

  “Long time no hear from Rick. How you been?”

  “I’ve been all right. You know me, just trying to lay low, trying to stay out of the way,” Ricky claims.

  “I hear that.”

  “Cash, I heard about that shit that happened to Mike.”

  “Yeah, he all right now. He’s still in the hospital though.”

  “Check it out,” says Ricky. “I got the drop on the kid Spook. I know everything, where he lives, where his momma lives, and where each of his little bitches live. I even know what barbershop, and what carwash he goes to. I even know what church his grandmother goes to. He picks her up every Sunday at 2 o’clock.”

  “Oh yeah?” I question.

  “Yeah. How much is it worth to you?”

  “Huh?” I question.

  “How much is he worth?” he asks. That’s what he’s calling me for. He wants me to pay him to take the kid Spook out.

  Umm, I debate with myself before speaking. Should I or should I not? I really don’t want to bring Ricky in on this. I want to handle it myself. But Slim did make a good point; we are outnumbered. I don’t know. If I let him handle this beef for me, he might think I’m scared to put in my own work. It won’t be long after that before he tests me. I’ve seen it done a million times before. You pay a guy to do your dirty work, and then eventually he starts extorting you; making you pay for protection. I can’t go out like that! But if Ricky handles Spook, that should about even everything out. Fuck it. I’m going to let him handle it. I’ll deal with that other shit later. If he tries to play me later on down the line, I’ll have to bust his head wide open

  “I got a dime ($10,000) on it.”

  “A dime?” he questions. “I was expecting a little more, but I guess that’s cool. I already did all the homework on him. It’ll be easy. It’ll be over before the weekend. All right Cash, I’ll holler at you later!”

  “Later,” I reply. Click!

  How the hell did he get my number? Oh well, it really doesn’t matter.

  I’m not going to tell Slim. It’s not that I don’t trust him; I just don’t want to put too much pressure on the old man. I would hate for us to get caught up and have the old man crack.

  At 2:30, I go to pick up the kids from school. I didn’t let them go to practice. I don’t know if Junebug will pop up there. I don’t know how I’m going to get him, but I will get him! I’m totally in the dark. I don’t know where he lives or anything. Somehow, some way, I have to catch him slipping.

  CHAPTER 37

  Later that night

  It’s 3:30 in the morning. Me and Love are having it out. She hasn’t let me get a wink of sleep.

  “Listen Donald, all I asked you was when you’re going to get fitted for your tuxedo?”

  “I told you this weekend!”

  “You told me that last weekend and the weekend before that.”

  “I’ve been busy as hell!”

  “Don’t scream at me!”

  “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to do,” I reply.

  “Not to me you won’t!” Love shouts.

  “Yes the fuck, I will,” I challenge.

  “No the fuck you won’t!”

  “Love, stop cursing at me!”

  “Motherfucker, you cursing at me,”she replies. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You can curse at me, but I can’t curse at you. I’m a grown ass woman!”

  “Love, if you keep popping shit, I’m going to slap the shit out of you.”

  “You’re not going to slap nobody!”

  “Love, please,” I beg.

  “I wish you would slap me!”

  “Love, I’m begging you. Stop running your motherfucking mouth!”

  “I wish you would slap me,” she mumbles. “You gone slap me cause I asked you when are you going to get fitted. That will be the last time you slap anybody. As a matter of fact, you don’t have to get fitted!”

  “Fuck it then!” I reply. Her smart mouth is really starting to get under my skin. “It doesn’t matter to me. I’m doing this for you.”

  “You don’t have to do shit for me,” she replies. I just fucked up.

  Love stomps out of the room. At first my pride won’t let me run behind her. But I know I’m wrong. Ever since I’ve been beefing with Junebug, I’ve been real snappy. I know it’s not her fault, but I can’t help it.

  I walk out into the living room. Love is laid out on the couch with a pillow covering her face. I can hear the muffled sound of her sniffling. She’s crying.

  “Love, I’m sorry.” As I try to grab her hand, she snatches it away. “Love, you don’t understand. I’m under a lot of pressure.”

  “You brought this pressure upon yourself. Don’t take it out on me,” she blurts out, but she still doesn’t look my way.

  “I don’t mean to take it out on you,” I whisper.

  “Then why do you do it?”

  “It’s the pressure.”

  “What pressure?”

  “Love, you don’t know.”

  “No, I don’t. That’s why I want you to tell me right now.”

  “I can’t,” I reply.

  “Tell me what it is that’s causing us to fight like this. Donald, lately I’ve been regretting being with you,” she admits. “Your attitude stinks.”

  I know my attitude isn’t the best, but I didn’t know she’s been living with regrets. I don’t want to tell her what’s going on, but I can’t watch our relationship go down the drain. “Baby, what is it?” she asks. “Is it anything I can help you with?”

  “The only thing you can do is bear with me,” I reply. “I’m going through a lot right now.”

  “What is it? Stop beating around the bush,” she whispers.

  “All right listen. I got into a little conflict with a young joker,” I mumble.

  “Conflict?”

  “Yeah, it’s not really my beef; it’s my man’s beef.”

  “Well, let your man handle it!”

  “Love, it’s not that easy. He’s my man.”

  “Donald, you are too old for this dumb kiddy shit! You sound stupid as hell, almost 38 years old talking out some beef! Anyway, your time has run out. You told me in 90
days you’d be done.”

  “I know, but you told me I have until March.”

  “No, I said you have two months to get it out of your system.”

  “Love, March and I’m done for real. Word is bond!”

  “Yeah, all right,” she challenges. “So, who is it?”

  “Who is what?”

  “Who is it that your man had the conflict with?”

  Damn, I don’t know if I should tell her this. Maybe I should tell her so she can watch herself. “Junebug.”

  “Who?”

  “Junebug, the tall Philippine-looking kid from the old block.”

  “Oh, the Mayor,” she shouts. I hate the way that word rolled off her lips.

  “Yeah, Junebug!” Her face goes blank. She knows all the crazy things him and his goons have done on the block. She’s witnessed the majority of it from the window. She’s even told me stories that I didn’t know about.

  “Those boys are crazy,” she says.

  “Them motherfuckers ain’t crazy! They want people to think they crazy!”

  “Baby, you have to be careful,” she whispers.

  “I’m going to be careful. I’m not worried about myself; I need you to be careful!” I explain.

  “On your way to work, circle the block twice before you park and get out. Do the same thing before you come home at night. Watch your rearview mirror carefully. If you see the same car twice, get the plate number. Don’t come out for lunch. I’ll bring you lunch if you want me to. Right now, Junebug drives a green Bentley. His man drives a black Benz, and they also have a black Grand Prix.” As I updat her she doesn’t say a word. She just listens attentively. I can sense fear and confusion in her.

  “Donald, when is all this going to be over? When will we be able to live a regular life? You’re stressing me out. Why are you putting me through this? Why are you putting yourself through this? When was the last time you had a good night sleep? You jump in your sleep all night long. What is it that causes you to fight in your sleep? This lifestyle is driving you crazy!” I didn’t answer any of her questions. I can’t argue with her because she’s totally right. I didn’t realize she was aware of me jumping in my sleep. Every night I wake up in a cold sweat. I guess that’s my conscience. I’ve seen too much in my life. This shit is starting to have a big effect on both of us.

  “So now, I have to be out here in fear? I keep telling you, you’re the drug dealer, not me. I didn’t do all these years of schooling to live like this,” she whines. “Now I can’t come out for lunch! What am I, a prisoner?”

  “Love, please just do what I asked you and everything will be all right. I told you, it’s not me they’re after.”

  “So why do I have to hide?”

  “I just want to keep you out of the spotlight. You never know how these guys are thinking. If them niggas even look at you wrong, I’ll kill all of them! Shit, they better not fuck with my baby!” I scream, in a laughing manner.

  She laughs. I then give her the tightest, most reassuring hug I can give her, followed by a deep, passionate kiss. That one kiss leads to several other kisses. Those other kisses lead to one hour of meaningful lovemaking. The lovemaking leads to total exhaustion.

  CHAPTER 38

  Ring! Ring! Ring! My cell phone interrupts my sleep. I reach for the phone, but my eyes are still closed. As I’m fumbling around on the nightstand, I slowly open my eyes. The clock reads 7:30. I look over at Love. There she is completely nude in a fetal position, the exact same way she was when I fell asleep. “Hello?” I answer, with a dry, groggy voice.

  “Cash!”

  “Yeah.”

  “This Ricky. Are you up?”

  “I am now!”

  “Sorry for waking you. Go get the newspaper.”

  “Huh?”

  “Get the paper, there’s something in there you need to see. Call me when you wake up.”

  “No, call me back in a half an hour. I’m going to the store right now,” I reply. Click!

  I lean over and kiss Love. I then drag myself out of the bed. It’s so hard leaving this warm bed, especially with Love laying here like this.

  After slipping on my clothes, I brush my teeth. I then grab my dogs’ leashes. They’re out back, but when they hear these chains, they start barking like crazy. Woof! Woof! Woof!

  They drag me all the way to the store. They’re so big and strong now that my sons aren’t able to walk them. I can barely walk them. It takes me a matter of minutes to get to the store.

  I’m in total shock as I open the paper and read the headline: “City Man and Juvenile Are Murdered At Doorstep” The article reads like this:

  Late last night, one man and a teenage acquaintance were found dead. Resident Jermaine Jones, a.k.a. Spook, and Brian Jackson, a.k.a. Jr., members of the notorious street gang known as the Goon Squad, were found dead just steps away from Jones’s residence. The shooter remains at large. Also at large is the leader of the notorious gang, Christopher Blackhead, a.k.a. “The Mayor.” Blackhead controls the drug market in this city. He’s known for distributing the heroin stamped Block Party. Their sales are estimated at 5,000 bags per day. His Goon Squad regulates that only their heroin is sold. He remains at large, for the shooting death of a teenager on a city street a few weeks ago. He’s also wanted for questioning regarding a murder of an out-of-town man, who was brutally murdered in his car days ago. He was shot several times in the head. Anyone with information about either of these incidents is urged to contact us.

  I’m nervous from just reading the article. Damn! They know everything about this motherfucker. They even know about A.J.! I hope this doesn’t lead back to me!

  Ring! Ring! Ring! “Hello?” I answer.

  “Yeah, this Ricky,” the caller states.

  “Hey, what up baby? Where are you going to be in one hour?”

  “Wherever you want me to be,” he replies.

  After setting up the meeting place, I drop the dogs off at home, and jump in Love’s old car. I’m on my way to meet Ricky.

  As I’m pulling up, I spot Ricky across the street. As I’m sitting at the traffic light, I look at Ricky. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why they call him Pretty Ricky. There’s nothing pretty about him. Besides his humongous head, he has the biggest, ashiest lips I ever saw. Not to mention he only stands 5 feet 2 inches tall. But at 5 feet 2 inches, he’s more dangerous than any gorilla. If you don’t know him, you would probably underestimate him and disrespect him. He looks like the average nerd. Disrespecting him would be the mistake of a lifetime. His body count nobody exactly knows, but it’s rumored to be well above the 30s. Murder has been his occupation ever since he turned 18 years old. They say all through his childhood he was a bookworm, a straight nerd. He was real quiet. He stayed to himself. No one knows when or why he snapped.

  The amazing thing is he’s never been convicted of murder. They tried to charge him a few times, but never did it stick. I heard he’s real sharp when it comes to law. He knows his shit. When he’s in the joint, other inmates pay him to help them with their cases. If you ask me, that’s wasted talent. He could be a top-notch lawyer in some big firm, but instead he lives the life of a hit man.

  He stands at the corner with a newspaper folded under his arm and a briefcase in his hand. You would think he was on his way to his office somewhere. He has on his famous beige trench coat and his black alligator shoes. I think he’s been wearing that same coat ever since I was a kid.

  When the light changes, I pull over to him and roll down the window. He jumps right in. He shakes my hand, and I pull off. I have my left hand on the handle of my gun, which is tucked up under my thigh. I don’t trust him a bit. Murder is his occupation. He has no loyalty. He rolls with whoever will pay him the most money. For all I know, Junebug could have paid him to kill me right now.

  “I told you it would be easy,” he states. “I sat out front all day waiting for him to hop his ass out the house.” Spook was on crutches. Little Rah Rah shot him right
before they killed him. The impact of the forty-five shattered the bone in his leg.

  “I didn’t plan on doing the other kid, but I couldn’t leave a witness. You came off. You got two for the price of one,” he says, with a goofy-looking smile on his face.

  I hand him the money. I give him $10,000 in $100 bills. “Where do you want me to drop you off?” I have to get him out of the car. His presence makes me feel uneasy. Not one time have I let my banger loose.

  “Pull over, you can let me out right here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” he answers.

  I pull over and he begins to get out. “Cash, if you need me again, just call me.”

  My mind starts to wonder. “As a matter of fact, do you have any information on the kid Junebug?”

  “Who?”

  “Junebug, the Mayor.”

  “Nah, but I can get some. It might take me a little longer, but I’m sure I can get it. I can’t do it for the same price though. He is the Mayor.”

  “I know, I know, I got 25 cent ($25,000) on him.”

  “All right, I’ll get on it. I’ll hit you in a couple of days to let you know if I have something on him.”

  “Bet!”

  “I’ll get with you later,” he shouts, as he gets out of the car.

  He cuts through the gas station, and I drive off.

  That’s two down and three to go. I really don’t think the kid Sean wants any more trouble. Him and the other little guys are nothing but babies, nothing but little ass punks. Spook and Jr. were the ones who really made all the moves. I’m glad they’re out of the way. That’s a big load off me! Look what all that tough shit got Spook, a face full of dirt! Ha, ha, ha!

  Ricky is a lifesaver. Not only are Spook and Jr. out of the way, he’s going to handle Junebug for me too. You should have seen the look on his face when I said I have a quarter on him. With that kind of price on his head, Ricky is sure to find some information on him.