From Harlem with Love

by K'wan Foye

  “Doreen you always know the right thing to say to make a nigga wanna fuck wit you.”

  “That’s while I’m still out there getting it in while the rest of these bitches is somewhere drinking coffee and telling their problems to a bunch of strangers. If I’m gonna die of something then it might as well be an overdose so I can go out how I lived, stone cold fucked up!” Doreen declared. It was a twisted logic but it made her feel good so no one challenged it. “Now let’s make this deal quick and painless so I can go get what I need to feel good.”

  “Doreen where the hell did you get that from because I know you didn’t buy it?” Pie eyed the bag suspiciously.

  “I liberated it from this cat that owed me a little change.” Doreen said slyly. “Listen man I’m just trying to get this shit off my hands so I can go to the moon right quick. I got this lil freak I need to see things my way and you know my devil don’t wake up until I’m right.”

  Harlem laughed at the old smoker. “A’ight, I’m gonna pass it off to my young boys and see what they can do with it. How much for the whole smash?”

  Doreen smiled. “For you, gimmie a stack.”

  Harlem gave Doreen a dirty look. “A stack, what the fuck I look like to you? I’m doing you a favor and you’re trying to rob me over some shit that’s probably dirt any way? Fuck outta here,” he started walking off and Doreen stopped him.

  “Harlem, this ain’t no haze but it’s some good ass green. You know I wouldn’t play you short knowing we do business every day. A’ight you my man, so I’ll give it to you for eight-hundred.”

  Harlem looked at him seriously now. “Dig this; you need to get high more than I need that bunk ass weed, so you can take the five hundred and be about ya way or keep running around trying to find a buyer and risk the nigga you stole it from running up on you dirty. What’s good?”

  Doreen mulled it over. She knew for sure that he could go down the hill and get at least twelve hundred for it from one of the kids on 93 street but there was no guarantee they would have the money right then and there and Doreen needed to get right. “A’ight, you got that,” she tried to hand the bag to Harlem but he backed away.

  “Don’t hand that shit to me right here. Take it to Sol,” Harlem dug in his pocket and handed Doreen the bills. “That’s three and I got two more for you as soon as I come back from this little run.”

  “Come on Harlem, how you gonna short me?” Doreen threw his hands up.

  Harlem draped his arm around Doreen. “I got you, sis. Let me just make this move and imma get hat right to you,” he smiled.

  Doreen had seen that smile on more than one occasion. He knew that once Harlem was out of sight it would be hours before he saw him again, if not days. She was at a moral crossroads but the pang in the pit of his gut clarified the choice. “A’ight, but don’t disappear on me like you do!”

  “I got you, ma,” Harlem said over his shoulder as he continued towards the Ave. When Harlem and his friends rounded the fence they saw Sol coming down Columbus. He was a short, thin cat who wore his hair in low waves with the half moon part. His face was hard and focused as he made his way down the strip, with his hands tucked into the sleeves of his jacket as if it was cold, but Harlem knew better because he knew what Sol had left the crib with. What he couldn’t figure out was the cause of the youngster’s hostility.

  “Sol what’s popping?” Lamar was the first to ask.

  Sol’s hate filled eyes shifted to Lamar. “Ain’t nothing, niggaz just forget their place sometimes.” He looked over his shoulder. Sha-Money and some of his cronies were posted up in front of the corner store. “Don’t stunt that my G, cuz in a minute I’m about to remind niggaz what it is,” he wiggled his arm in the jacket sleeve.

  “Easy lil one,” Harlem brushed past him en route to the corner. His boys fell in step behind him. There were four of them in all, three of which were just spectators in the game that the owner of the lavender BMW they were huddled around played. Blake sat behind the wheel smoking a Black & Mild, speaking in hushed tones with the three men surrounding the driver’s side.

  Though Blake wasn’t from the hood the minions were. They flocked around the BMW, sipping liquor from brown cups and no doubt reliving stories of their past. At one time they had been about something, but when the curtain fell on they refused to leave the stage. The youngest of their group was at least five years Harlem’s senior but they carried themselves like men trapped in a second childhood.

  They were so engrossed in their conversation about nothing that they didn’t see Harlem and Pie until they were right on top of them. When the old heads spotted their eastern adversaries their faces immediate went from smiling to scowling.

  Harlem watched them watching him, refusing to turn away. “What’s popping?” he challenged.

  “You got a lot of hostility coming off you right now, son,” Fego said. He was a short Spanish cat with a missing tooth and thinning hair that he always hid with a du-rag.

  “Ain’t no hostility, I’m just wondering if they closed down all the stores on the other side of the projects?” Harlem said sarcastically.

  “Lil man done grew some nuts, huh?” A familiar brown face spoke up. It had been years since anyone in the hood had seen Mane for more than summer at a time as he was always locked up. He was the so called goon of their squad who had made a name for himself back in the days as a knockout artist. Age and hard living had slowed him down but he was still a dangerous man. Mane had always been a terror in the hood but when crack hit it was a wrap. Mane was strong arming everything moving to fuel his crack habit, even cats he had once called friends. His last bid had gotten his weight up but Harlem still recognized that addict look in his eyes.

  Harlem chuckled. “I know you been away for a while Mane, but lil man done grew up. I even got a little girl of my own, so I can’t really be nobody’s lil man these days.”

  “Harlem, you always was sensitive as hell when it came to people talking slick about you,” Blake slid from his car. He was a pretty-boy cat who wore his hair in a curly fade and always dressed in the colors of the seasons. But for as flamboyant as Blake my have come across more often than not, he was a man was many connections. If you wanted to get coke, not bullshit cut but superior cocaine, then you had to see Blake. He had the mainline to the dude who was brining 86.7% of it into the tri-state area.

  “Sometimes you gotta react to what a mutha fucka is putting down and let them know where you stand about it, at the same time keeping your cool so you don’t come across like a square.” Harlem told Blake.

  “The coolest cube in the tray,” Blake gave him dap then hugged him. “How’ve you been?”

  “I can’t complain, man, just out here trying to do me.” Harlem replied.

  “Do more than, you. Do the whole city, B,” Blake motioned around. “With your head for numbers it’s only gonna be a matter of time before you get in a serious lane and take it for all its worth. I’ve been telling you that since you were a kid.”

  “Seems like niggaz gassing him up is his problem now,” Mane grumbled.

  Harlem ignored Mane and turned his attention to Sha-Money. “Sha, I need to holla at you for a second in private.”

  Sha-Money folded his arms and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s all good; you can speak your business in front of my team.” From his body language Harlem had already deduced that Sha-Money knew why they had come.

  “So be it. I heard that y’all had a misunderstanding with one of my boys?” Harlem explained.

  “There was no misunderstanding, Harlem. Ya man was outta bounds with his work and we set him straight.” Sha-Money said as if it was just that simple.

  Harlem scratched his head and raised his eyebrow. “Is that right? Last I heard y’all held square in front of ya building, catching the occasional straggler to make even money. If my man is doing a something light in the school yard then I can’t see how anyone’s toes got stepped on, so what’s the problem?”

  “The proble
m is all this shit falls under our jurisdiction.” Mane spoke up.

  “You’re jurisdiction? How is that when y’all don’t even hustle over that way? That’s free money, my nigga.” Pie told him.

  “Ain’t no money free, especially when it’s coming from our customers.” Sha-Money shot back. “The work ya man had was detouring our fiends so therefore it was cutting into our pockets and had to be shut down.”

  Mane stepped forward and looked at Pie and Harlem like they were a smear of shit on the bottom of his shoe and shook his head. “Damn Sha, I must’ve been gone for a long time for you to be offering up explanations to the same lil niggaz we used to send to the store.”

  “We don’t go to the store no more Mane, we run the stores.” Lamar said coldly. He was the biggest jokester of their whole crew, but also the quickest on the draw which is why he was always elected to carry the hammer when they went out.

  “Fuck outta here wit that fake goon shit,” Mane glared at Lamar and the rest of his crew. “Y’all lil mutha fuckas ain’t no killers just because you got guns. We turned you lil mutha fuckas on to the game, if anything you need to be kicking us something off that paper y’all making over here since we opened it up for you.”

  Harlem laughed. “Now that’s the funniest shit I’ve heard all day. Mane, you know how me and mine give it up so that extortion angle don’t even compute to me, come correct when you come for me, B, or don’t come.”

  Feeling the tension building Sha-Money spoke up. “Harlem, ain’t nobody trying to argue with you son. We can work it like this; ya man can pump outta the park but he gotta break us off.”

  “Sha, if I just told ya funny faced man over there that we wasn’t gonna pay a street tax what makes you think I’m gonna feed you off my plate?” Harlem asked.

  “Because if you don’t and y’all lil niggaz keep trying to dabble over here we might have to come dabble over on your side of the projects.” Fego added his two cents. “I hear y’all getting a lot of bread on Columbus and it might not be a bad idea for us to get our taste.”

  Harlem could see Lamar tense, but he motioned with his eyes for him to be easy. He narrowed his eyes at Fego and studied him for a time before responding. “Fuck outta, here wit that goon shit cuz I ain’t moved, son. When Rio fell Prince took up the torch, when he got knocked off y’all and everybody else back away from Columbus like it was a bitch with herpes. Me and my niggaz are the ones who jumped out the window and took the chance and our risks bore fruit. Y’all could’ve had it before us and you didn’t take it so don’t try to start claiming shit now that we got it popping.”

  Mane laughed at Harlem’s declaration. “And this coming from the same lil nigga who got his shit split by ol’ boy from the twelfth floor?”

  Harlem’s eyes went to Mane. “I was twelve and he was nineteen when that happened, and if I recall he and I both ended up in the emergency room that night. If you wanna go down memory lane I’ve heard some interesting stories about your last trip to Attica.” Harlem said coldly. Everyone suddenly got deathly quiet. Though they had never been confirmed there were rumors circulating that Mane had run afoul of some cats over a drug debt and found himself community property for a good chunk of his bid.

  Mane’s eyes flashed anger. “Nigga what?” he moved forward, reaching inside his jacket. For as quick as he was, Lamar was quicker to get his .380 in hand. Had it not been for Blake stepping in the way he would’ve blown Mane’s face off.

  “I know y’all niggaz ain’t crazy enough to get into no gunplay while I’m on deck?” Blake addressed all of them, with his presence looming like a dark cloud. “Y’all wanna get stupid do it when I ain’t on the block; it’s hot enough as it is.”

  “Its cool,” Mane backed off, but grilled Harlem.

  “Let’s make this move,” Pie tugged at Harlem’s sleeve. Harlem kept eye contact with a Mane for a second or two longer before he broke the connection.

  “I’ll holla,” Harlem nodded to Blake and stepped with his crew.

  “I’m gonna see you around, Harlem.” Mane called after him.

  “Count on it,” Harlem shot back.

  Harlem waited until they were in the car before addressing his click. “Pie, hit Sol and tell him to give lil man a pack and open up shop in the park. And tell him to do it now.”

  “You know there’s gonna be some shit behind this when Sha-Money gets word of it.” Pie told him.

  “Fuck them niggaz, if they got some frog in them then let they jump.” Harlem spat and reclined in the passenger seat.

  2

  Lamar drove the black Maxima around the block twice before finally pulling up in front of the store on 115 and 7. The block was relatively empty because of the down pour, but there were a few heads standing under the shelter of the store’s canopy, one of which was the cat who had placed the order, Ron.

  Lamar beeped the horn twice and Ron gave him the all clear sign. “I’ll be right back,” he hopped out and walked with Ron inside the store.

  “Sol said little man got the pack and the shop is open.” Pie said, closing his phone. “Harlem, you think it’s a good idea for us to spit in Sha-Money’s face after what happened early?”

  “No, but it was a necessary evil.” Harlem said honestly. “We worked too hard to build what we got to let these washed up mutha fuckas make us look like victims out here. That just opens the door for everybody else who wants a piece of the hood to try and play us outta pocket.”

  Pie nodded. “I feel you. Still, I told Sol to keep the hammer on deck incase somebody try to act a fool.”

  “That was smart. Fego ain’t a killer but Mane is an idiot so I wouldn’t put anything past him.” Harlem said, watching the scenery out the window. A shapely young woman stepped out a cab directly in front of them, with her face partially obscured by a Burberry umbrella and matching wide brimmed at. Something about her walk was familiar and when he peeped the rose tattooed on the back of his hand it dawned on him. “Yo, ain’t that Carmen?”

  Pie squinted through the glass. “Oh hell yeah, and she still got it. Jump on that my nigga.”

  Before Pie could finish his sentence Harlem was out of the car and halfway to the curb. “Excuse me, can I talk to you for a minute miss,” he called after her.

  “Beat it shorty,” she said without breaking her stride.

  “Damn, it’s like that now Poison?” this stopped her in her tracks. There was only one person who called her that.

  “Harlem?” she turned around wearing a big smile. “Oh, shit what’s good baby?” she threw her arms around him.

  “Chilling, chilling, just trying to do me.” he told her.

  “So I see,” she lifted the chain around his neck and tested the weight. “Looks like the streets are treating you well.”

  “Me and my niggaz is eating a lil something,” he said modestly. “So you’re still over here, huh?”

  “Ain’t nothing changed, including my phone number, Mr. can’t call nobody.” She looked him up and down.

  “That’s my bad, but I lost my phone with all my contacts in it.” he lied. “But fuck all that, I’d much rather see you in person anyway.”

  “There you go with that slick talk.” She blushed.

  “Come on, baby, you know you’re still the sweetest poison in all the land.” Harlem winked at her. He had nicknamed her Poison when they were fucking around because Carmen was as deadly as a viper and twice as cold when it came to getting her paper. Even for as trifling as she was Harlem held a soft spot for her in his heart like a sick addiction. Had she not been such a whore he might’ve even tried to square her up, but Carmen loved her scratch more than she could ever love a man.

  “Anyway,” she rolled her eyes, “what brings you to my neck of the woods, you coming to see one of your other shorties?”

  “Knock it off, Carmen I came to make a move with my mans and them right quick. You know your pussy is the only thing this far north of my hood that calls to my dick.”

  “Then
how come you ain’t been answering the call,” she grabbed his dick playfully and tugged until she felt it stiffen. “Damn Harlem it’s been a minute since you let me taste this, why you being stingy wit it?”

  “Carmen if you don’t stop that shit I’m gonna end up trying to slide upstairs with you.” Harlem told her.

  “Then let’s bust a move. My son is spending the night with his dad so we got the crib to ourselves.”

  It didn’t take Harlem long to make up his mind. “Bet, let me run to the liquor store to grab a bottle and tell my crew I’m out.”

  “You ain’t even gotta do all that, I got a fresh bottle of Grand Cru that I ain’t cracked yet, so all you gotta do is shake ya boys and meet me upstairs. I got some shit I bought the other day that I’ve been wanting to try so don’t make me wait too long.” Carmen sashayed towards her building with Harlem’s eyes locked on her ass the whole time.

  “Now that’s a bad bitch,” Lamar broke Harlem out of his trance. “You ready to go, my dude?”

  “Nah, y’all go ahead back to the block. I’ll take a cab.” Harlem told him.

  Lamar smiled slyly. “Let me find out.”

  “You already know so I ain’t gotta tell you,” Harlem gave him dap. “Tell Pie I’ll hit him when I get back to the hood.” Harlem started towards the building.

  “A’ight, but make sure you keep your phone on. Don’t get so caught up with that bitch that you forget what’s going on in the hood, feel me?” Lamar reminded him.

  “I got you, I got you,” Harlem jogged across the threshold and into the building.

  “That nigga Harlem is always on a hunt for some trim.” Lamar said as they pulled the whip into the parking lot behind 845. There was no parking on the Ave so they decided to post up there for a minute until they had finished the L they were smoking.