Blow

by K'wan

  Had it been Manny, there was no way Prince would’ve been able to creep on him like that, but thankfully this guard wasn’t quite as experienced. Faking drunk, Prince staggered the rest of the way down the block. When he got to the rear of the car he pulled out his dick like he was about to take a leak, and just as he expected, the guard got out of the car to bark on him about pissing. As soon as he opened his mouth Prince pointed his .44 Bulldog and pulled the trigger.

  Diego sat in his leather armchair flipping through the channels on his big screen television. The house seemed empty with the absence of Carmen and little Diego. The fire was proof enough for her that the war between Diego and Prince was hitting too close to home, and she wasn’t trying to get caught up in it. Taking little Diego, she went to stay with her mother until her husband got his business in order.

  “Fuck her, I don’t need nobody,” Diego said to no one in particular. He tried to bring his drink to his lips to sip it, but only ended up splashing cognac on his tank top. He had been drinking all day long in the heat and found himself thoroughly fucked up. Manny had brought him home that afternoon and tried to stay with him, but Diego didn’t want the company. He was going through the motions and wanted to be by himself, as he got sometimes. Only after promising that he would stay in for the rest of the night did Manny leave him.

  Had it not been for Diego’s bladder he probably would’ve sat in the recliner for the rest of the night, but nature called. He struggled to his feet and the room immediately began to swim. He staggered, knocking over the coffee table, bringing one of his security men rushing into the room.

  “You okay?” the dark skinned man said. He had a scar that ran from his left ear to the bottom of his chin. Scar, as he was called, had only recently joined Diego’s crew as an enforcer. He was from Brooklyn and had a reputation for brutality, which made him qualified to stand watch over Diego.

  “Scar, why you come up in here like the damn police?” Diego slurred.

  “I heard a noise and I came to check on you.”

  “Nigga, I’m good. Can’t a grown man take a piss without tripping over one of you mutha fuckas?”

  Scar shrugged. “My fault, Diego.”

  “Damn right it is!” Diego yelled as the door closed. Sucking his teeth, Diego stumbled drunkenly into the bathroom. He had barely freed his dick from his pants when the piss came raining out. Some of it splashed on the toilet seat and floor, but being that Carmen wasn’t there, who was going to complain? He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cool bathroom wall. Before he could finish his leak, a thumping noise coming from above him caused his head to snap up.

  Daddy-O cursed himself for being such a lummox. He and Prince had explored the possibility of there being guards in front of and inside of the brownstone, but the roof was something they hadn’t encountered.

  Daddy-O had broken into a brownstone that was still under construction two doors down from Diego’s. He then made his way to the roof and began cutting across to Diego’s building. He had just made it to the rooftop and was heading for the access door when a man stepped out from around the corner. He had his head bowed trying to light his cigarette, giving Daddy-O a split second to react.

  When the man lifted his head, Daddy-O came across the bridge of his nose with the butt of the shotgun he was carrying. Blood squirted all over both of them, but it didn’t seem to stop the man from drawing his weapon. He brought his pistol up and squeezed off a wild shot. The bullets chirped from the silent gun and bounced off the ledge at Daddy-O’s rear. Daddy-O swung the shotgun like a club and knocked the gun from the man’s hand. Moving with incredible speed, Daddy-O slipped behind the man and locked the shotgun around his throat. With a jerk he snapped the man’s neck and let him fall to the floor. After checking to make sure there were no more guards on the roof, Daddy-O made his way to the lower levels of the brownstone.

  Prince was sure that they had heard the gunshots inside the brownstone, and honestly he didn’t care. The game of cat and mouse between he and Diego had gone on too long and he was determined to finish it that night. Placing himself to the side of the stairs, he waited.

  A short Hispanic man came rushing out the front door to investigate what had happened. He looked around wild-eyed in every direction, except where Prince was hiding. Aiming his gun up, Prince popped the Hispanic man once in the throat and once in the gut. As he passed him on the way up, he put one more in his melon, putting him out of his misery.

  Another man came rushing down the stairs waving a small submachine gun. Unlike the first man, he was much more cautious. Prince leapt from behind the door where he was hiding and tried to wrestle the gun from the man. Prince was strong, but this man was a brute. Instead of trying to pull against Prince, he pushed forward and slammed him into the wall. Before Prince could right himself the man hit him with a crushing right cross to the jaw. Prince came back with a hook of his own but only succeeded in enraging the man. He kneed Prince in the gut, doubling him over and followed with a hook to the back of the head. Prince was trying to struggle to his feet when the man put him in the sleeper hold. As the lights began to dim in Prince’s eyes, all he could think about was how he had failed his team.

  It was all but over for Prince, when there was a thunderous roar from behind them. Something slammed into the man’s back, sending them both flying down the stairs. Prince had the wind knocked out of him, making it hard to focus. But when his vision cleared he saw Daddy-O’s smiling face at the top of the stairs, holding a smoking shotgun.

  “What the fuck was that?” Diego asked, stumbling out of the bathroom.

  “We’ve got company,” Scar said, checking the clip on his Beretta. “Get in the bedroom. I’ll check with the others.” Scar dipped off, leaving Diego alone.

  Diego paced the room, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Since he and Prince had started their little war, he had gained a new understanding of the young man. Prince was a man who was born to lead and Diego had stifled that. Instead of doing the smart thing and bringing Prince closer, he had pushed him away, making a very cagey enemy in the process. Now, his foolishness had followed him to his own doorstep. One thing was for certain, Diego wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

  Scar crept to the door, holding his gun at his side. Sweat trickled down from his head and threatened to run into his eye, but he didn’t dare release the grip on his gun to wipe it away. He had just placed his hand on the doorknob, when the whole thing came crashing in.

  “Nigga, you could’ve killed me,” Prince said in a horse voice.

  “Shit, looked like he was gonna kill you,” Daddy-O nodded at the dead man. “You ready to boogie?” He loaded another shell into the chamber of the shotgun.

  “Ain’t like we can turn back now.” Prince checked his clip. “Let no man here place themselves above this union…”

  “…Lest they be consumed by this union.” Daddy-O finished before he kicked Diego’s door off the hinges.

  The man who had been standing behind the door was caught completely off guard. The thick wood slapped him in the face, sending him backpedaling. Scar tried to bring his gun up but was hit with a blast from Daddy-O’s shotgun. The impact sent him skidding up the hall and crashing into a door.

  “Diego!” Prince shouted. “Let’s finish this!”

  In response to his request, the bedroom door flew open and Diego came out holding a gun that looked straight out of the Vietnam War. With a hellish grin, he squeezed the trigger. Prince managed to find cover behind a couch, but Daddy-O wasn’t so fortunate. A bullet the size of a Chico Stick whistled through the air and tore into Daddy-O’s arm. The force of the shot was so great that Daddy-O’s arm was severed just above the elbow. The sight of his best friend’s motionless body made Prince snap.

  Disregarding his own safety, he popped up from behind the chair firing. Diego tried to swing the gun around to fire on Prince, but it was too awkward. The bullets tore bowling-ball-size holes in the wall but missed P
rince. Diving across the living room, Prince just started shooting. A bullet slammed into Diego’s chest sending the rifle flying across the room.

  Momentarily forgetting Diego, Prince crawled over to Daddy-O’s body. Cradling Daddy-O’s head in his lap, Prince looked into the man’s glassy eyes. At first he thought the man was dead, but seeing his chest rise and fall gave him hope. “I’m gonna finish it,” he whispered to his friend before turning his attention back to Diego.

  There was a smear of blood on the floor from where Diego had been trying to drag himself into the bedroom. His tank top was soaked with blood and he was breathing erratically, but that hadn’t stolen any of the fight out of him.

  “So, this is the part of the story when the student rises up against the teacher?” Diego coughed blood as he tried to laugh at his own joke.

  “Nah, this is the end of the story, Diego. I loved you like an uncle and you broke my heart,” Prince said emotionally.

  “Sometimes heartbreak helps to build character, poppy.” Diego said, still trying to drag himself into the bedroom.

  As Prince moved closer, he could see that Diego wasn’t trying to escape into the bedroom, but trying to reach a gun that lay mere feet away from him on the ruined carpet. “You sneaky mutha fucka,” Prince said, shooting Diego in his hand. Blood and pieces of Diego’s fingers stained the carpet. “It’s over, poppy.” Prince raised the gun to Diego’s face.

  “Don’t do it, Prince,” a voice called from behind him.

  Prince spun around and saw Scar limping toward him. Through his ruined shirt, he could see the bulletproof vest that had stopped the slugs from killing him. More to his surprise, a gold shield hung from around his neck.

  “If you shoot me, you’ll be killing a DEA agent,” Scar explained. “Put down the gun, man. It’s over.”

  Prince looked from Scar to Diego and thought about it. He wanted Diego dead, but not enough to give his own life in the process. No, it was better that he lived to fight another day.

  IT’S A WRAP

  THE NOTORIOUS DOUGLASS BOYS BROUGHT DOWN is what the headline of The Daily News had read. In the article it went on to detail the rise and fall of Prince Jones and his gang of vicious thugs. All through the trial, the papers ran articles on Prince and his crew, stating that they operated a continuing criminal enterprise that grossed nearly one million dollars a month, which was total bullshit. True, the dope money was sweet, but everything fell apart before they really got to enjoy it.

  Prince tried to think positive about what the outcome of the trail might be, but in his heart he knew it was a wrap. In the end they had all pointed the finger at him. Killa-E had never really been down in Florida looking at real estate. As it turned out, he had traded Prince in to get a lesser sentence on the attempted murder. The funny thing is that more than half of the shit E said on the stand was a lie, but it didn’t matter in the eyes of the law, as long as they got someone to prosecute for the crimes. Daddy-O had warned him time and again about E, but Prince wouldn’t listen. Now he wished he had.

  The cats from Binghamton didn’t really exist. It was all a ruse to get Prince to send drugs over the county lines so they could make sure the charges stick. Knox had been a CI all along. For the past three years he had been setting dealers up all around the city in exchange for his freedom and all the coke he could snort. Of course there was no mention of the cocaine in court, but Prince wasn’t stupid. Knox loved his habit almost as much as he loved his own life, which wouldn’t be worth shit if Prince had it his way.

  Even Diego lent his voice during the trial. It was laughable to see him on the witness stand trying to pass himself off as a poor immigrant whom Prince and his crew supplied drugs to. That mutha fucka even had the nerve to lie and say Prince had threatened his wife and young son at gunpoint. For all the bullshit he talked about what it took to be a real street nigga, he didn’t know a damn thing about it. The former cocaine king of the Westside would be forever remembered as a stinking-ass rat.

  One by one Prince watched them give their accounts and didn’t blink, but when Danny took the stand his heart crumbled into a million pieces. Here was a young man whom he and Daddy-O had raised as their own telling the jury how he was the product of a broken home and Prince and Daddy-O had forced him into a life of crime. He even broke down and cried a time or two.

  The real kicker was what happened to the drugs and guns he was supposed to be moving out of the spot. Danny never made it to meet Steve because while Steve waited on him in the parking lot, Danny was telling the police where they could find the stash. He was only facing a three to six, with the possibility of coming home in two-and-a-half, but he figured that getting out of doing a few short years in jail was worth a lifetime of friendship.

  It took the jury two hours to find them guilty on all counts. When the verdict came down, the whole court room erupted. Marisol sobbed on her mother’s lap while some of the young dudes from the hood cursed and caused a scene. Stone was so distraught that he tried to hurl his chair at the judge. All that got him was an ass whipping by the court officers and the promise of more time, as if they would be on the streets before they were old and gray anyhow. Prince just sighed.

  The sentencing would come later, but there was no doubt in Prince’s mind that the hag on the bench would look to throw the book at them. The only upside was that the state didn’t push for the death penalty. With all the bodies connected to the crew, the DA surely could’ve pushed for the needle and possibly gotten it. Instead they would most likely have to spend the rest of their lives in prison. Being alive was a blessing that Prince should’ve been thankful for, but what good is a life in captivity?

  I say all that to say this: the game has changed. Back when men were men, there were rules and codes of conduct to make sure everyone got a piece of the American dream. Now, the game is full of rats and video gangsters. Young cats today are quick to get a pack and take it to the block, but always remember that karma is a bitch. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. When the lady of justice calls your number, what are you gonna do? Will you hold that football number like a man, or point the finger at the next nigga?