From Harlem with Love

by K'wan Foye

  Sol did the smart thing and packed his family up and got them out of the projects. Lamar and a few of the other cats that were still loyal to Harlem frowned on it, but Harlem understood. Sol was a kid and had no business playing grown men’s games, so Harlem let him go with his blessings.

  He and Nancy were speaking again, despite her mother’s protest, so that was the one bright spot in Harlem’s life. They had even discussed getting back together, but Harlem knew that it would be impossible with all the troubles he was having. The last thing he needed was for his family to be put at risk for a second time because he couldn’t let go of the streets. He longed for the day when they would all be reunited, but realistically he knew it wouldn’t be coming any time soon.

  Because of the murders the police presence in the projects had tripled so everyone on the block was starving, including Harlem and Pie. They found themselves living like fugitives, staying from apartment to apartment getting a little money where they could to keep themselves afloat. Their latest rest stop was at the apartment of a chick Pie was fucking in the Bronx. It was a cramped one bedroom that she shared with her two children, but it was all they had at the moment. Harlem was running out of time and options.

  Harlem had been up hustling for two days straight so when he finally lay down on the little pallet he’d made for himself on the floor sleep came almost instantly. No sooner than he closed his eyes he heard banging on the front door. At first he thought it might’ve been Pie, but then he remembered that Pie had a key to the apartment. By the time he shook the sleep off one of the girl’s kids was already undoing the lock on the door. Before he could shout a warning the front door flew open.

  Harlem scrambled for his gun, but by the time he reached it he felt the cold press of steel against the back of his head. As carefully as he could he turned over to find himself surrounded by five men dressed in black. Standing in the midst of them, bound and gagged, was his man Pie. The look in Pie’s eyes told Harlem what he already knew; they were about to die.

  “So, this is the man who was stupid enough to kill one of my top earners?” a voice called from somewhere behind the armed goons. A little old man stepped forward wearing a gray overcoat and matching brimmed hat. Harlem had never met him personally, but he knew who he was. “By the look on your face I can tell that you know who I am.”

  Harlem nodded. “Mr. DeMarco.”

  “Then if you know who I am then you know why I’m here.”

  Harlem could’ve fainted when he said that. Visions of Nancy and Precious danced through his mind and he felt physically ill knowing that he would never see them again. He wanted to plead for the lives of himself and the people in the house, but he knew you couldn’t bargain with the devil. DeMarco was a notorious killer who had been supplying East and West Harlem with cocaine for over forty years. If this was going to be Harlem’s last day on earth then he would go out like he lived…holding his nuts.

  “I know who you are Mr. DeMarco and I know why you’re here. If you’ve come here in person expecting me to plead for my life like some little bitch then I’m afraid you’ve wasted a trip. Blake was a snake and he deserved to die for what he tried to pull so fuck him, and with all due respect, if you’re feeling some kinda way because I killed him then fuck you too!”

  “Disrespectful little punk,” One of the goons barked and slapped Harlem across the face with the butt of his gun, laying him flat on his back.

  Harlem pushed himself up on his hands and knees and spat blood on the floor. He looked up at the goon who had hit him and smirked. “Nigga, is that the best you can do?” the goon raised his gun but DeMarco’s voice stopped him from pulling the trigger.

  “Hold it,” DeMarco raised his hand. He took a seat on the couch and glared down at Harlem. “You’re either very stupid or very brave, which one is it?”

  Harlem shrugged. “That’s for you to decide, Mr. DeMarco.”

  DeMarco weighed his answer. “You know, when I heard that you and your boys killed Blake I was prepared to out your whole families, but then my niece Carmen explained why you did what you did.”

  “Carmen is your niece?” Harlem asked in shock.

  DeMarco slapped jabbed his finger at Harlem threateningly. “Don’t interrupt me while I’m speaking. We are all soldiers so we understand the stakes in the game we play, but going after a man’s family,” DeMarco shook his head sadly, “that’s no good. Blake made me a whole lot of money, but he was a piece of shit as a person. He had no morals or loyalty to anyone or anything but money so it’s a wonder that it took someone this long to put him to sleep. I can live with someone killing Blake, but what I can’t live with is someone cutting into my profits, hence our little problem here,” he motioned at the armed goons. “Blake distributed my product to over thirty different crews throughout the New York and New Jersey, moving no less than one hundred kilos for me on the monthly bases so you do the math and you can understand why I’m upset.”

  “Mr. DeMarco I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what to tell you.” Harlem said honestly.

  “You don’t tell me anything, it is I who tell you!” DeMarco jabbed his finger at Harlem. “Now, I could whack you and your fat friend right now and wash my hands of it, but it still wouldn’t get me back the money I’ve lost since this little thing happened, so it would appear that having you two repay pay back the money that’s been lost in Blake’s…absence, is the wisest course of action,” DeMarco tapped his chin in thought. “Or I could just kill you and cut my loses.”

  Harlem felt his bowels shift. His brain couldn’t even calculate what DeMarco had to have lost since they clipped Blake. If it was a choice between paying the debt and getting killed then DeMarco might as well have given his men the nod, because both Harlem and Pie were dead ass broke.

  “Harlem,” DeMarco continued, “they say that you and your boys are experts at dealing drugs so my question to you is,” he leaned so close that Harlem could smell the stale cigarettes on his breath, “do you think you can move one hundred kilos per month?”

  EPILOGUE

  Six Months Later:

  Sha-Money laid across the king sized bed of the Howard Johnson Hotel in Newark, N.J., smoking a cigarette and reflecting on the last few months turn of events. When he heard the news of Blake’s unfortunate end he wasted no time in getting out of New York City. With Blake being out of the picture he had not only lost his supplier but his security blanket so he had to bust a move.

  After the idiot move Fego had pulled he knew Harlem was going to lunch-out, but he had no clue how far he was going to do with it. As soon as he had read the article about The Harlem Massacre he’d known off the back that it had been Harlem. Harlem had wiped out Fego’s entire family, but about a dozen other people who had no part in the beef. Sha-Money had tried to reach out to Mane but learned from his sister that he had died shortly before being released from the hospital. They claimed it was sudden cardiac arrest from the shock of the operation, but Sha-Money had heard through the grapevine that it was a pillow over his face that had stopped Mane’s heart. Harlem had set out to prove a point and he did.

  When Sha-Money had fled New York he had hooked up with his cousin in Newark and opened up a dope spot that was bringing good money. They had great dope in Newark, but when the shit Sha-Money was bringing in was killing one out of every ten fiends who tasted it. It didn’t take long before Sha-Money became the man to see in Newark for primo dope. It was a sweet set-up but he still missed New York. He made frequent trips uptown to get his dope, but never lingered for too long for fear of running into Harlem. He had seen what the young man was capable of and decided that he didn’t want any parts of it.

  He was shocked when he heard the youngster had actually made a move against Blake, but what shocked him more was that DeMarco had given him Blake’s position instead of having him killed. This just gave him more of a reason to hate on Harlem and he vowed that he would one day finally be rid of his biggest rival.

  “What’s up baby
, you about ready for round two?” the big booty chick lying next to him nipped playfully at his nipples.

  “Damn, round one was only five minutes ago.” He giggled as she played with his balls.

  “Your mouth says no, but your dick says yes,” he stroked him. She was a statuesque Brazilian chick he had met years prior working out of one of the thirty dollar Chica spots. He had bumped into her by chance a few weeks prior coming out of Best Buy in Jersey City. They freaked off that night and had been getting it in ever since. He had even thought about wifing her. True, she was a whore, but nobody in Jersey knew that. Once he got his operation where it needed to be he was going to ask her to move in with him.

  “Just relax and let me do that thing that you like so much,” she said and began sucking him off. The chick bobbed up and down on Sha-Money’s dick, letting her spit run down his shaft into the crack of his ass. When he was good and slick with her spit she slipped her middle finger into his ass. Sha-Money jumped, but didn’t protest as she slid her finger in and out of his ass.

  “Damn, you’re hitting my spot,” he moaned, sounding feminine.

  “You like that? I got something special for you, poppy,” she continued working his asshole and licking his balls. From her bag which was sitting on the floor she produced a pair of handcuffs and chained Sha-Money to the headboard.

  “Oh, you wanna get kinky, huh?” he smiled.

  “Yes, all for you, Sha,” she licked around the head of his dick. Next she drew a large pink dildo and ran it along the crack of Sha-Money’s ass.

  “Hold on, I ain’t into no fag shit.” Sha-Money protested.

  “Stop being such a wimp, you’re only a fag if you let another men fuck you,” she began working the head of the dildo around his asshole. “If you do this for me then I’ll do something really nasty for you,” she shoved the dildo to the back of her throat and pulled it back out.

  Sha-Money thought about it for a minute. “A’ight, but I better not hear about this shit later.”

  “Don’t worry, Sha, this is the first and last time,” she promised and shoved the dildo into Sha-Money’s ass.

  Sha-Money whined and whimpered as she fucked him with the dildo while sucking his dick like a porn star. It was very uncomfortable at first, but as she worked it the more bearable. At some point it had even started to feel good. “Oh, damn baby,” he said as he felt himself about to cum.

  “I always knew you was a closet faggot.” A voice called from behind the girl. When Sha-Money looked up he saw the faces of Harlem, Pie and Lamar smirking at him.

  “What the fuck is this?” he looked at the girl.

  “Pay back,” she kissed him on the forehead and slid off the bed. The girl collected her things and slipped an overcoat on over her naked body. “Cat’s like you are the ones who got the game twisted now,” she spat on Sha-Money’s naked body.

  “Good looking out, baby,” Harlem said handing her a thick envelope.

  “Anything for Carmen’s peoples,” she kissed Harlem on the cheek. “Speaking of Carmen, she told me to tell you that if you stood her up again tonight then you would be the next one chained to a bed pleading for his life,” the girl winked and left the room.

  Harlem walked to the edge of the bed where Sha-Money was staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. He took a deep pull of his cigarette before addressing Sha-Money. “Bet you thought you’d never see me again, huh?

  “Harlem, don’t do me like this. At least take this cock outta my ass before you of me,” Sha-Money bagged.

  “I ain’t touching that shit,” Lamar said.

  “I don’t know, I think it kinda gives you character.” Pie taunted him.

  Harlem pulled a can of lighter fluid from his pocket and began dousing Sha-Money’s naked body. “This reminds me of a dope ass book I read one time. Do you know which book that was Sha?”

  “Nah, which one Harlem?” Sha-Money was now crying like a baby.

  “The Burning Bed,” Harlem laughed and flicked the lit cigarette onto the bed, sending Sha-Money up in flames.

  END

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