by K'wan
Marisol gave him a look that said she wasn’t impressed with his little statement. She knew Prince was drawing a line in the sand, but she was more than willing to cross it. “Prince, I ain’t ya moms, so don’t get it twisted like I’m trying to tell you what to do. I’m just asking if you be open to selling something else?”
He didn’t like where this was going. “Marisol, I don’t know what you’ve got up your sleeve, but I ain’t fucking wit you. You can’t possibly do anything but make my situation worse. Thanks, but no thanks, ma.”
“Hold that thought,” she said, getting off the floor.
Marisol trotted naked up the stairs to the second level of the duplex. Prince continued to lie on the ground and ponder his own situation. He was sorry if he had offended Marisol by telling her to butt out, but she couldn’t help him. Since the dawn of time, all women had succeeded in doing was complicating the game, and he didn’t need that right then. What he needed was a way to get from under Diego’s thumb. No sooner than he had the thought, Marisol came back downstairs and tossed a shopping bag at his feet.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, looking at the bag as if he was afraid to touch it.
“You tell me.” Marisol grabbed the bottom of the bag and turned it upside down, dumping a neatly wrapped package in his lap. At first Prince mistook it for coke, but as he examined it his eyes got wide with realization.
“What the fuck is this?” he asked. He wasn’t asking her to identify it, but asking what she was doing.
“That, my friend, is one kilogram of Mexico’s sweetest blow. Street value, eighty-thousand dollars,” she said like a professor giving a lecture to students. “Sometimes it goes for more, but this is only seventy-five or eighty percent pure. Still, you could put a five on it and still have a fiend lose his lunch.”
“Marisol, where the fuck did you get this?” Prince asked, still not believing what he was holding.
“Doesn’t matter where I got it, baby boy. What matters is that we’ve both got a problem, and this is the way to solve them.” Marisol went on to tell Prince her story, doctoring it as she saw fit. She explained to him that she had a partnership with her brother, who was out of the country on business. In her story one of her lieutenants had burned her on some product and that the suppliers would kill her brother if they didn’t come up with the money. She felt bad about not giving Prince the whole story, but the ends justified the means. Besides, when it was all said and done, they’d both be so caked up that it wouldn’t matter. Cano would see that Marisol was capable of running the business, and Felix would be out of the picture as his lieutenant. In her naïve mind she was helping Prince as well as herself.
“Damn, we could get rich off this shit,” Prince said, star struck.
“Exactly my point,” she agreed. “Look, you said yourself that Diego is only interested in coke and crack money, so you could go into business for yourself with the dope.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know shit about dope,” he shamefully admitted. A true hustler knew something about most if not all drugs, even if they didn’t sell the particular brand. It was a mistake that Prince made a mental note to rectify.
Marisol smiled devilishly. “That’s where I come in,” Marisol straddled Prince’s lap, facing him. “Grab a pen, baby, cause I’m about to give you a crash course in Blow 101.”
CHAPTER 11
P rince wasted no time getting back to the projects and calling a meeting with his people. Assembled were Danny, Sticks, Stone, and Jay. No one quite knew what to make of the off-white substance in the Ziploc bag that Prince had laid out for them, but from what he said, it meant paper and that was about all they needed to know.
“Nigga, you kicking some serious shit,” Daddy-O said, finishing off a chicken wing. “What the fuck we know about dope?”
“My dude, what did we know about crack when we came on the scene? We learned that shit on the fly,” Prince pointed out.
“Son, I heard you could make stupid paper off a brick of that shit,” Danny said, eyeing the dope greedily.
“Dawg, we can all get fat off this. The best part is that I got a mainline to it. Real talk, we can finally get out from under Diego with this shit. You niggaz ain’t wit that?” he asked his men.
“Nigga, you’re my brother, and I’m gonna fuck wit you regardless, but what about Diego?” Daddy-O said.
“Shit, what about him?” Prince said. “Yo, that nigga is only interested in crack money. If we happen do open up wit this dope in our projects he shouldn’t have a problem with it. Even if he does, we can work it out for that kinda bread.”
“You gonna step to him with it?” Danny asked.
“Not just yet. I wanna see what we’re working with and how much we can move before I burn that bridge.” Prince knew that Diego was gonna pitch a bitch, but once he found out that Prince was going to give him a cut, he’d get over it. Diego had nothing to do with Prince getting his hands on the heroin, but out of a sense of loyalty Prince planned to give him a tribute. But not until they got their new hustle down to a science.
There was a soft knock at the door, which Prince nodded for Danny to open. Scatter came into the apartment looking like death warmed over, accompanied by his girl/boosting partner, Ebony. Ebony was a chick that might’ve been fine back in the days, but constant drug use had added ten years to her appearance. She stepped into the apartment but didn’t come past the foyer. She looked at the men in the room then turned her eyes away and let her man handle his business.
Scatter walked with a slight hunch and seemed to be suffering from a stomachache. As usual he was dressed in an expensive suit, but it was wrinkled all to hell. His empty shopping bag hung loosely from his arm, as if he was having trouble holding it up. Scat was obviously sick, which was even better for Prince.
“Prince, what it is man? You told my mom you needed to see me right away?” Scatter’s stomach was flipping every-way but the right way. He hadn’t had a hit all day long, and his monkey was riding him like the devil. He hoped that whatever Prince wanted from him came with a free bag. As if reading his thoughts, Prince flashed him a devilish grin.
“Scatter,” Prince began, slowly scooping a small amount of powder out with a playing card. “We got some shit we ’bout to put out there but we need to see what we’re working with,” Prince shifted the powder on the card from side to side. “Being that ain’t none of us got a whole lot of experience with this, we decided to call in a seasoned cat like ya self to tell us if it’s proper,” he slid the card to the side of the table, where Scatter was barely standing.
Scatter’s eyes began to well up as he reached for the card. When he picked it up, his hand shook so bad that he almost dropped it. “Say, you mind if I do up? I’m sick as hell, and I need this to get right to the point, ya dig?”
Prince ignored the uncomfortable looks some of his crew wore and nodded. Before sitting down to the table, Scatter retrieved a dingy glass from the kitchen and filled it with water. Scatter spared a weary glance at Stone before pulling up a chair. From his inside coat pocket he produced a sock that was tied off in a knot at the end. While the others watched intently, Scatter removed his works from the sock.
Scatter dipped the needle into the glass and sucked some of the water up into it. As carefully as he could, he squirted some of the water onto the heroin. When the powder started to sizzle into a loose pastelike substance, Scatter dropped a cotton ball on it and drew the dope into the needle. Danny and Stone turned away, but Prince and Daddy-O kept their eyes on Scatter.
It took him several tries, but with his belt locked firmly around his bicep, Scatter was able to find a good vein on the back of his hand and slipped the needle in. A thin wisp of blood snaked up from his hand into the needle and introduced itself to the dope. Once they’d reached an understanding, Scatter pushed on the plunger and began his ride.
Prince had heard stories and seen dope fiends in the thrall, but watching a real heroin addict take that trip was something els
e. Scatter sat back in the chair with a pleasant smile on his face. His eyes got droopy and his face got goofy all at the same time. Scatter ground his palm against his crotch like he was reliving the sweetest shot of pussy he had ever had.
“Ummm, yeah,” Scatter moaned, jacking the needle in his arm. “This shit is alright, man. You know back in my day…” Scatter’s eyes suddenly got wide. “Sweet Jesus!” was the last thing he said before falling off the chair onto the floor.
“You niggaz still having second thoughts about coming out with this shit?” Prince asked his crew with a smirk.
An hour later, Scatter was still in and out of a deep nod. Thankfully he would be okay, but he was currently vacationing on another planet. Ebony hipped them to the fact that the dope was too strong. Prince didn’t even think about cutting it before letting Scatter blast off. Luckily for them Ebony knew what they needed to get the dope ready for sale. Prince gave Danny some money and told him to accompany Ebony to the store to pick up what they needed to cut and package the dope. Daddy-O and Stone stayed behind to watch Scatter and oversee the mixing of the dope when Ebony and Danny came back. Unable to put it off any longer, Prince went to see Diego, which disappointed Manny to no end.
“You know how long ago I called you?” Diego said as soon as Prince walked up on the corner.
“My fault, D, I was handling something,” Prince said.
“Ooh, you was handling something? Prince, do I look like I give a fuck what you were handling? My man, you blew Jimmy right in front of the building!”
“I know, D, but…”
“But, my ass, Prince,” Diego cut him off. “Do you know how much money I lost because I had to shut down when that kid got clapped. And don’t try to tell me you didn’t know anything about it, because it was one of your boys he robbed. Nobody dies in my hood unless I say so!”
Prince composed himself before speaking. “Diego, the boy was out of bounds and I made a judgment call.”
“Judgment? Prince, with all the dumb shit that’s gone on lately, I’m starting to question your judgment.”
“A’ight, man,” Prince said, obviously not wanting to hear what Diego had to say.
“Yo, you act like you don’t wanna hear what my dude is telling you, Prince?” Manny stepped up.
“I ain’t know I was talking to you,” Prince shot back.
Manny stepped up so that he and Prince’s noses were only inches from each other. “Well, I’m talking to you.”
Manny was trying to lay his pressure game down on Prince but it didn’t work out quite how he expected it to. Normally anyone Manny confronted would’ve backed down out of fear of the killer, but Prince surprised him. By the time Manny noticed the rage building in his eyes, Prince had already hit him twice. The combo staggered Manny, but he immediately came back with a right hook of his own. Prince was able to deflect most of the blow with his arm, but Manny’s fist still nicked his head. He was thoroughly surprised at the force Manny had in his bony arms, but Prince was hardly a slouch. He had spent many afternoons sparring with Daddy-O in the park, so he had a few tricks of his own to pull out.
He faked right, and when Manny bit he hit him with the left. Manny followed with a right then a left, catching Prince on the chin and on the side of the head. For a moment, Prince’s world swam, but he was able to recover just as Manny was charging him. Prince sidestepped the charge and landed a crushing left to the back of Manny’s head. The killer tripped over his own feet and fell flat on his face. He looked up at Prince with blood running down his chin and rage in his eyes. It was only Diego jumping between them that stopped Manny from trying to gun Prince down.
“That’s enough!” Diego shouted, which surprised everyone because he never raised his voice in public. “What the fuck has gotten into you two niggaz?”
“That’s my word; it’s a wrap for you!” Manny threatened. He was now pacing but wouldn’t cross the barrier that Diego’s body had set up.
“Suck my dick, you fucking faggot!” Prince grabbed his crotch for emphasis. Manny’s eye jumped and the murmurs that had been floating on the sidelines suddenly quieted down. In the hood, if you told someone to suck your dick, you had better have a gun in your hand. Prince had violated Manny in front of, not only Diego, but the whole corner.
Manny’s face became very serious. “Word?” Before anyone saw him move he had drawn his weapon and was bringing it around to aim at Prince. The situation had gotten out of hand, and Diego’s control of the situation was slipping. Before he could flex another muscle, something pressed against his neck.
“What’s good, my nigga?” Sticks whispered in his ear. He had a long barreled .357 pressed into Manny’s neck. Everyone was so engrossed in the fight that no one noticed him in the crowd watching the fight.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Diego barked at Sticks.
Sticks’s eyes flashed murder at Diego, but his voice was very neutral. “Diego, I’d never go against you, poppy. All I know is that I seen ya man pull a gun on one of my brothers, so I gotta hold him down. Don’t think I wanna do it like this, but ya man gotta lower his joint.” Diego was the boss, but there was something in Sticks’s tone that told him it was nonnegotiable.
“Son, you better pop me now cause I’m sure as hell gonna pop you on the come around,” Manny threatened.
“Nigga, you know ain’t neither of us long for this world, but I don’t mind speeding up the process on your end,” Sticks told him.
“Everybody calm the fuck down,” Diego said.
“Diego, you already know I’m gonna put these little niggaz to sleep so ain’t no need to try and protect, them,” Manny said seriously.
“Manny, hold ya fucking head! You and Prince is both tripping. Sticks,” he addressed the youngster. “Let him go, he ain’t gonna do nothing.”
Sticks weighed his options. It was so out of character for him to pull a gun and not pop off, but he was dealing with a very delicate situation. In time Diego might forgive the fact that he pulled a pistol around him, but if he killed his friend he would have to kill Diego, and none of their lives would be worth shit. Reluctantly, he began to back away from Manny. He was far from foolish, so he kept the gun pressed against the back of his head until he was a respectable distance away. Manny looked like he was about to make a move, but Diego shook his head and he froze.
“Is you little niggaz crazy?!” Diego moved toward Sticks who reflexively took a step back. Though he was still holding his gun, Diego didn’t seem to notice. “I should let Manny dump out on the both of y’all asses for that shit.”
“Diego, it’s over for them niggaz,” Manny said, pacing again.
Diego turned to Manny with storm clouds in his eyes. “My dude, I love you like a brother but if you say one more thing, me and you are gonna have an issue. Prince,” he turned to the youngster, who had discretely moved to place Diego between himself and the still-armed Manny. “This is what I mean about shit not being correct in your house. You’re totally out of order for this shit.”
“Diego, this nigga came at me first, and I did what I had to do. I’m a man just like he is,” Prince told him.
“But right now you’re acting like a fucking street punk!” Diego shot back. “Prince, take a few days off and get your head together. Daddy-O and them can hold this shit down for a minute.”
“Diego, this is my block,” Prince said sadly.
“Nah, it’s my block and you seem to keep forgetting it. Prince, I need stand-up niggaz that ain’t gonna crack on some emotional shit and right now you’re not showing me that. Now, I see you over there looking all crazy and shit, so whatever you’re thinking you need to un-think it. Don’t let ya emotions put you in a bad way.”
“I hear you,” Prince nodded. He was ready to tear Diego’s head off, but he had to be cool. If that’s how he wanted to play it, then fuck his block. Prince would just devote his time to getting the heroin popping. Granted, it would be a slower hustle, but slow money was always sho
money.
Leaving Scatter and Ebony under Stone’s watchful eye, Danny decided to make a smoke run. He was supposed to be going right up the block and coming back, but of course the youngster had a head like a brick. He ended up bumping into a kid from the hood named Bobby and getting high with him on the benches.
Six or seven months prior, Bobby had gotten busted with crack on him. With him already being on probation he was supposed to get at least ten to twelve months on a violation, and that’s only if they couldn’t make the other charge stick. After spending well under a year in jail, Bobby was back on the streets.
“Yo, how long you been home, son?” Danny asked, taking deep pulls of the chronic.
“Like a day or two,” Bobby said, sipping his 22 oz.
“Man, I thought sure they was gonna dis you for that possession.”
“Nah, them niggaz never read me my rights before they questioned me. I got a Jew on the case that beat it up.”
“Them Jews know they shit.” Danny passed him the blunt.
“They saved my black ass, kid, word.” Bobby hit the blunt twice and handed it back to Danny. “So, what y’all niggaz been up to since I was gone?”
“Out here trying to get a dollar, you know how we do,” Danny boasted.
“So Prince is still rocking the block for Diego?” Bobby asked curiously.
“Yeah, you know my nigga out here holding it down. On the real, Diego been on some bullshit lately, man. He make a nigga wanna stop fucking with him.”
“Man, everybody gotta fuck wit Diego, he holding all the weight, right?”
Danny blew the smoke out. “Yeah, that nigga got them birds, but he ain’t the only connect in town.”
“Well, I need to get a connect. I’m trying to get my weight up,” Bobby said.
“Listen to ya little ass, talking about getting ya weight up and shit,” Danny teased him.
“True story, man. My aunt died while I was away and being that she ain’t have no kids, she left me the insurance money.”
