Born Sinners

by Marlon McCaulsky

  “What’s the problem Benny?” Dwayne asked him, and then sipped his hot chocolate.

  “You know what the fuck is the problem nigga,” Benny spat.

  “As far as I can tell the only one here with a problem is you.”

  “What the fuck are you doing merking niggas on my block Dwayne! I told you I would handle that shit myself!” Benny yelled.

  “That was a problem you should have handle two months ago Benny.”

  “Listen here you little light bright nigga, you ain’t shit! That’s my block nigga! I decide who gets knocked on it.”

  Dwayne stared Benny in his eyes. Irv, Nard, and Damien were flanked behind him and ready for war.

  “No, that’s Bishop’s block. We work for him and we don’t let niggas come on his corners, sell, and then charge them rent.”

  Benny’s face went blank. “What? You ain’t got nothing to say now?”

  “Fuck you, nigga. Bishop has been my nigga for over 16 years. You’re just some young punk on the block. You ever wonder why he calls you Future King like a punk?”

  “You ever wonder why he’s doesn’t say that to you? ‘Cause you ain’t smart enough to run shit. Even stepping to me like this without being aware of your surroundings.” Dwayne said. Benny looked and saw Ricky and four other men around him and his niggas.

  The smile he saw on Damien’s face let him know he was the one that had done the hit last night.

  Benny was out-manned and out-gunned. His heart started to thump faster in his chest. His hands became sweaty, and his stomach was in knots. Fear was in his eyes as he realized how unwise this argument was.

  “The only reason you’re still alive right now is because your Bishop’s nigga, but that can quickly change.”

  “A’ight Dwayne. It’s all good nigga. I’ll be more careful in the future.” Benny said and backed away.

  Benny and his niggas walked back to his truck. Benny pulled off in his truck and stared at Dwayne and his crew.

  “I’m a fix that yellow nigga, word is bond,” Benny said with vengeance in his voice.

  13

  Stop Snitchin’

  March 1994

  Bucktown, USA, a.k.a. Brooklyn, is the heart of New York. You can find everybody and anybody in this city. Any race from Blacks, Latinos, Asians, Italians, Jews, Arabs, you name it, lived in this borough. Today Dwayne and Damien were paying a visit to an old friend of his that he hustled with. They met with Big Mike in the Marcy Projects.

  Big Mike gave him his cooked smile. “What’s up my nigga? What’s good?”

  He greeted him with a half hug. “Same old shit my nigga.”

  Big Mike was 6’5” and 300 pounds of muscle, hence the nickname Big Mike. Back in the day, Dwayne and Mike used to hustle together at Eli Whitney High School in Brooklyn.

  “I see you still love to floss that ice. You better be careful doing that shit around here.” Big Mike said to him as he noticed Dwayne’s diamond-encrusted Jesus medallion around his neck and Rolex watch.

  “You know how I do. Yo, this is my nigga Damien.” Dwayne introduced him.

  “What up?”

  “Chillin’,” Damien respectfully replied.

  “So I hear Bishop still got Harlem on lock,” Mike grinned. “But I know it’s you that be running the streets.” Dwayne returned his grinned and shook his head. “We all gotta play our part. I just make sure we stay on point.”

  A black Suburban bumping, Life’s a Bitch by Nas and AZ pulled up to the curb. The engine cuts off, and out step Big Mike’s brothers Remo and Jarrel.

  “What up?” Remo asked as he walked towards Big Mike.

  “Yo, you remember my brothers Remo and Jarrel.” Big Mike said to them.

  Jarrel was the youngest one at 18. He was the same age as Damien. He was tall, brown-skinned, and had a bald fade.

  “Remo? What’s up nigga?” Dwayne smiled at him. “Damn, it’s been a minute since I last saw you.”

  “Dwayne, long time my nigga. You still flossin’ huh? Ain’t shit change.” Remo joked, as they all laughed.

  “Yo this is my man Damien.” Dwayne introduced to Remo.

  He knew immediately that this was the same Damien who was seeing Stacy. He gave him some dap. I’ll be damn. Of all the niggas to meet in N.Y. and I meet him, Remo thought.

  Remo grinned. “So what brings you out here, Dwayne?”

  “I just wanted to know if you all were interested in expanding into Harlem?” Dwayne asked.

  “You mean working with Bishop?” Big Mike clarified the question.

  “Sort of. Y’all got Marcy on lock slangin’ that rock. I thought maybe you were ready to grow.” He suggested.

  “I don’t know. We’ve got a good thing here. Besides ain’t there some Haitian niggas doing they thing up there?” Big Mike asked him.

  “Fuck them niggas. I just wanna know if the opportunity presents itself would you be down?”

  Big Mike looked at Remo then at Jarrel, “Yeah, we’ll be down.”

  “Good. Well, we’re gonna get going, but I’ll stay in touch a’ight?” Dwayne smiled.

  “You do that. One.” Big Mike said as he gave him some dap.

  Dwayne and Damien got back in his Benz and drove off. Remo smiled as he thought about how ironic the how situation was. As Dwayne and Damien drove back to Harlem, he noticed how quiet Damien was.

  “What’s wrong with you nigga?”

  “Nothin’ man. What was all that about? I didn’t know Bishop was trying to partner up with them.”

  “He’s not. I’m just trying to see what our options are. Listen, Bishop is an old school hustler and set in his ways. He doesn’t want to push forward and get into crack sales.”

  Damien looked at him, “I thought we were pushin’ rock too?”

  “Not like Mike. They got the whole fuckin’ Marcy Projects clockin’. They making half of what we do in a year, and they don’t got half the resources we have. If we were to start pushin’ crack rock more instead of heroin, we’d double our money.”

  Dwayne’s car phone starts to ring and he picked it up. It looked like a hand radio.

  “Yeah...Today?” Dwayne spoke in a cryptic manner. “When? Alright.”

  Dwayne hung up the phone and drove to their bodega in Spanish Harlem. He pulled up out front of the store down the street and parked.

  “What’s going on? Why we parked all the way down here for?” Damien asked.

  “Yo, you see that white pest control van there?” Dwayne pointed.

  “Yeah.”

  “Street Sweepers. We’re under surveillance, and we’re about to get raided.” Dwayne told him.

  “How do you know that?”

  Just as Dwayne was getting ready to explain to him, three cop cars and the SWAT team came around the corner, jumped out in front of the bodega, and went in. They had their guns drawn, and were ready to shoot a nigga dead. Dwayne and Damien sat and watched as they came out of the shop with four of their workers in handcuffs as they threw them in the back of the squad cars.

  “What the fuck…How did you know that it was going down?” Damien asked.

  “We got two officers in the NYPD’s Tactical Narcotics Teams on our payroll. I just got a call from one of them telling me not to go to the shop today.”

  “But when did they find out about the shop?” Damien inquired. “We just set up in here three weeks ago.”

  “We’ve got a leak somewhere.”

  After the raid on the shop, Damien and Dwayne made sure they weren’t being followed, and went to Southern Fried Chicken Soul Food Diner on Lenox and 125th St. Dwayne called Bishop and told him what had happened. It wasn’t a pleasant conversation.

  “Aye, I called Irv and Nard and told them what happened. Irv told me that TNT raided another spot on 110th. Somebody must have snitched. This shit was planned.” Damien told Dwayne.

  “That’s what Bishop said to me, too. He said he was gonna call me later and tell me what he was gonna do. They must have got at leas
t 50 kilos. That’s about six hundred thousand dollars gone, and Bishop is pissed.” Dwayne said to him.

  As they discussed what happened, a woman walked in wearing a pair of Guess jeans that contoured to her heart-shaped ass. She wore a pink tank top that read, Harlem World on it, and you could see her round erect nipples through her shirt. The swells of her titties made all eyes gravitate to them. Her body was tight like she worked out daily. Her hair was styled in kinky hair strands in coarse tight coils. The hair stood away from her scalp. Her face was round and her lips were full. Her eyes were slanted like she had Asian in her. Her skin was a smooth and even coffee-brown. She moved with confidence and mad sex appeal. She could feel Damien and Dwayne’s eyes on her as soon as she entered the restaurant. She prided herself on being able to change the subject of any man’s conversation just by entering a room. She smirked slightly at them, knowing what she had done.

  “I called in an order about thirty minutes ago.” She said to the man behind the counter.

  “What’s the name?”

  “Karmen.” She said to him as he turned around and got her bag.

  “Damn.” Damien droned as he stared at her ass.

  “You better go get that.” Dwayne said to him.

  She paid for her food and started to walk out when Damien got up and approached her.

  “Hey ma, how are you doing?” Damien asked with a confident smile.

  Karmen smiled back at him and looked him up and down. She was pleased at what she had seen when she first walked in.

  “I’m fine and who are you?”

  “They call me Dame. What’s your name?”

  “Karmen, with a K.” She said, while playing with her tongue ring.

  “That’s interesting. That’s a nice tongue ring you got.”

  “Thanks, it comes in handy a lot.” Karmen said flirtatiously, and Damien felt his penis rising.

  Karmen was not trying to hide her attraction or her sexuality.

  His eyebrows arched, “Handy doing what?”

  “Give me your number and maybe you can find out,” Karmen purred.

  She took her finger and curled it around a loose hair at the side of her face.

  “Well, I’ve got people at the house.”

  Karmen knew what he meant. “Girlfriend huh? That’s okay.” She took a pen out of her bag. She wrote her name and number down on the back of the receipt, and gave it to him.

  “Don’t wait too long, Dame.” Karmen said as she smiled and walked out the door. “A’ight ma.”

  In an abandoned warehouse in New Jersey, Benny was waiting for his contact to show up. With him were his boys Jeff and Willie for back-up. It was one in the morning, and he was ready to get this deal done so he could go home. He knew he was taking a big risk double-crossing Bishop, but knew he couldn’t be the man taking orders from him forever. Besides, seeing Dwayne locked up would be the icing on the cake. He wasn’t going to let some punk ass kid disrespect him and get away with it.

  He heard a car pull up out front. Benny checked his 9mm on his waist, and then went to the window and looked out the blinds. He saw a police car pull-up and turn off their lights. About time those mutha’fuckas showed up, he thought to himself. The door opened, and into the dimly lit warehouse stepped two police officers. One was carrying two silver briefcases. They saw Benny with a black briefcase by his side.

  “About time you two showed up. I was about to jet,” Benny said to them.

  “You better not have after what we did to get this shit.” Officer Doyle retorted.

  “Yeah whatever, let’s see that shit.”

  “You got the money, Benny?” Officer Martinez asked.

  “Yeah, nigga, I got it right here. Let me see the work.” Benny insisted and pointed to the table. Officer Doyle walked to the table and put the two briefcases on the table. Officer Martinez kept his eyes on Jeff and Willie. Doyle opened the briefcases and showed him the bricks of Bishop’s heroin they got from the raid they did earlier. Benny smiled. His gamble had paid off big time.

  “That’s what I’m talking about.” Benny said to Willie, who was smiling too.

  “Let’s see the money,” Martinez insisted.

  “Yeah, a’ight.”

  Benny gestured to Jeff to open the briefcase. Jeff placed the case on the table and opened it. Rubber band stacks of Ben Franklins were inside. Officer Martinez inspected the cash as he fanned through the stacks.

  “It’s all there. Twenty thousand like I promised.” Benny assured.

  Doyle smiled, “Cool with me.”

  “Did you bust that yellow nigga Dwayne?” Benny inquired.

  “Yep, him and four others were at the store at the time of the raid. I don’t think your boss is gonna be happy about that.” Doyle pointed out to Benny.

  “Don’t worry about Bishop. There’s about to be a new boss in Harlem. Believe that!” Benny said cockily.

  “Pleasure doing business with you.” Doyle said, and grabbed the case with the money in it.

  “Yeah, don’t spend all that change at once. I’m a need y’all again in the future.”

  “You know our number.” Martinez said, and walked out of the warehouse.

  Willie went to the window and watched as the cops pulled off down the street. They parked in the back of the warehouse. Jeff grabbed the briefcases off the table.

  “Punk ass cops,” Willie replied out loud angrily.

  “True, but they got the job done. I wish I coulda seen the look on that nigga Dwayne’s face when TNT busted his ass! Now all we gotta do is contact Papa Glock and sell this shit to him at three times the price we got it for.” Benny explained.

  “Let’s get out of here and find some hoes up at Sue’s Rendezvous.” Jeff said to them.

  They walked to the back of the dilapidated warehouse to the back exit. Pretty soon Benny was going to contact Papa Glock and make a deal. Gonna have to take Bishop out soon. He ain’t gonna see it coming! I’m tired of being number two. Niggas gonna learn that Benny runs Harlem, Benny thought.

  When Jeff opened the door, his eyes lit up with fear. Standing next to their black GMC truck were Dwayne and the whole crew pointing guns at them. Next to Dwayne were Irv, Nard, and Ricky with six other dudes holding heat. Jeff dropped the case of dope and reached for his gat, but before he pulled out, he caught a hot slug right between the eyes. He never felt the other 16 shots that ripped through him. Willie was able to pull out his 9mm, and busted off a few shots before a barrage of bullets Swiss cheesed him up. Benny ducked back inside the warehouse and was running to the other side. He was panicking, sweating, and running for his life. He had fucked up, and he knew it. Dwayne had outsmarted him again. He knew the code. He knew what the penalty was for disloyalty, and then he felt pain cut through his right thigh. Damien was inside the backseat of the cop car. He had snuck in the other way, and was waiting for them inside. Benny fell to the ground, and his 9mm slid across the room. He screamed in pain.

  “Stop yelling like a little bitch! It’s just a bullet!” Damien snapped as he walked up to him on the ground.

  “Please don’t kill me,” Benny pleaded.

  “You begging me nigga? Snitch ass mutha’fucka!” Damien yelled and kicked him in the thigh.

  Benny screamed again. The back door opened and Benny turned to see a pair of brown leather Stacy Adams shoes walking toward him. His heart thumped with fear as he saw Bishop standing in front of him. He knew what was going to happen to him. Knowing is worse than actually dying. Dwayne, Irv, Nard, and the others were standing behind Bishop.

  “I’m so disappointed in you Benny,” Bishop said coldly.

  “I’m sorry Bishop…Please…You’re my nigga…”

  “Sit that nigga in that chair,” Bishop instructed to Damien. Irv grabbed the chair and Damien and Nard grabbed Benny off the ground.

  “Get your fat ass up nigga!” Damien yelled at him.

  Benny resisted. Nard punched him in the face and they sat him in the chair. Irv tossed Damien
the rope he had brought in, and they tied Benny to the chair. Blood was still flowing freely from Benny’s leg.

  Bishop took off his overcoat and hand it to his man Clifford. Then he took off his fedora and gave it to him. Then he rolled up his sleeves. Benny began to sob tears. He shook his head and pleaded for mercy because he knew that would never come.

  “Please Bishop…Don’t do this man…I’m sorry…”

  Bishop glanced at Dwayne. “Do you have my wood?”

  “It’s right here.”

  Dwayne handed Bishop his baseball bat. Bishop stared at Benny as he cried.

  “What’s the code Benny?” Bishop asked him.

  Do unto us like you would do unto yourself, Benny recited regrettably

  “And what did you do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Bishop glared at him, and then pulled back and swung the bat shattering his kneecaps. Benny let loose a bloodcurdling scream that echoed through the warehouse. Nard grimaced as he looked at Benny.

  “What did you do?!”

  “I told! I told…”

  “Who did you tell?”

  “I’m sorry Bishop…I’m…”

  Bishop swung the bat again, and this time snapped Benny’s leg like a twig. Again Benny screamed. Tears went pouring down his face, and snot ran from his nose.

  “I didn’t ask you for an apology nigga! I asked you who the fuck did you tell!” Bishop yelled in his face.

  “The cops! The cops! Aaaahhhh, oh God, oh God, Please,” Benny sobbed.

  “Don’t beg, nigga. Die like a man, Benny. At least your niggas went out like men. You do the same. Who were you working with? Don’t lie.”