Hood Rich: The rise and fall of one of Brooklyn's Finest

by Corie Allen

  --bang, bang, bang, bang--

  I stood there frozen. I watched helplessly as Akira and Shakita fell to the ground. They tried to run he shot them in the back of their heads. I stood there holding my stomach crying.

  My best friend was now gone. My world had come tumbling apart. I spit up again, this time it was all on my clothes.

  “Yo, what the fuck is wrong wit you bitch? Get in the car.”

  I picked up the water bottle and got in the car. No sooner that I sat down did an open hand slam into the side of my face. Before the ringing stopped, a second and third open hand struck me again.

  “Bitch I told you… you can’t hide, you can’t run. I told you if you ever leave me I would kill you… didn’t I? Bitch you shot me.”

  Another open hand swatted my face.

  “Bitch, I’m not gone kill you, but I’m gone make you wish you was dead.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Black. I was scared, I’m sorry, I make it up.”

  Black grabbed me by my hair and continued slapping me until I ran out of tears.

  “I promise I wont never leave you again Black, I promise, I’m sorry.”

  We approached Black’s house and went inside. The shooter was the guy driving the car. He and Black went back outside to talk and then Black came in by himself. I heard the car speed off. Black cracked his knuckles and took his blazer off.

  “Bitch, take everything off… everything.”

  I started to undress as Black reached up to get his alligator skin belt off the mantle piece.

  “Bitch you gone learn some motherfucking respect… right here, right now.”

  I didn’t run. I didn’t try to resist. I knew that would make it worst. Black whipped me on my back and legs until I had no more tears. He then took me in front of the mirror so I could see the marks. After that he made me get into the hot shower. The stings from the water crashing down on my bruised skin hurt worse than the whipping. He stood there in the doorway grinning.

  “I’m sorry Black, I’m sorry.” I cried.

  “Yeah well… you gone be real sorry.”

  “Black I promise, I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll be a good ho. I’ll make more money than all your other bitches put together.”

  I didn’t mean any of what I just said. I just wanted Black to let me go out on the track so I could get out of his sight… and run! After getting out the shower, Black put Neosporin on my welts. He let me lay down on the floor on top of a towel with no clothes in the living room. That was my new bed he told me, a single towel. A half hour later, Black’s ho’s came through the door. I was a spectacle. Coffee came to the front of the pack.

  “Hmm… this lazy bitch. Got ya ass whipped real good. Must have been in a good mood, I’m surprised he let ya dumb ass live. Are you hungry bitch? We got some chicken wings. Stay right there though. I aint trying to hear Black’s mouth, and I don’t think your red ass can stand another whipping.

  “Yeah I’m hungry.” I said.

  Coffee bought some wings to me on a saucer once she’d got settled. I sat there on the floor while everyone else sat at the table. Black came downstairs and joined them. Black made sure to make an example of me.

  “Y'all see that bitch… y'all see those marks on her back and legs… stand up bitch, so they can see the marks… see. Let that be a fucking warning to the next bitch that wanna get out of pocket. Ho’s don’t quit, ho’s don’t get fired, ho’s don’t do anything unless I tell them to.”

  “Daddy, I have to go to the bathroom.” I whimpered. Black looked at me and chuckled.

  “Bitch you gone stay right there… somebody get this bitch a bucket.”

  My night was miserable. After peeing in a bucket I felt like three-fifths of a human being. I felt like shit. I was so exhausted I fell asleep without regard to everyone that was around me.

  In the morning Black allowed me to wash and put clothes on, however, I was not allowed to wear socks or shoes. I was not allowed to sit or lay down except on the floor. When it came time to hit the track, Black had me standing next to him on the corner of Pacific Avenue barefoot with shoes in my hands. He knew I was going to run. He wasn’t pressed for me to make money, he wanted to break me down.

  I stood there next to him from eight o'clock in the evening. It was now a little after midnight. I’d watched ho’s, tricks, and pimps walk and drive up and down Pacific Avenue for what seemed like forever. My feet were tired, my bladder was full and my back was hurting. Out of nowhere, I heard my name being called.

  “Jocelyn!”

  Rich

  Akira’s birthday gift was going to be special. Without being on the run, I decided it was about time we’d take another trip. I went up Myrtle Avenue to Liberty Travel agency. They booked us on an all inclusive to Hawaii for three days and four nights. Everything was perfect, our vacation would be seamless. I spent the entire day looking over the travel brochure and thinking about our little get a way.

  I headed to Razor Sharp on Wilson Avenue to get a haircut, and then I hit Sneaker City to get some kicks. I let Mr. Nick wash the Range while I sat in the Hot Bar eating a snow crab platter. I hadn’t been there in a week. Everybody missed me.

  September 1st came to a close. Shortly before midnight I called Akira to see what’s up. She was at the Forty-Forty club. I didn’t want to ruin her night at the club by holding her hostage on the phone. I simply told her I loved her and would see her tomorrow. I turned in for the night after checking in on Dave and Xavier.

  I woke up late the next morning. I immediately called Akira’s cell phone. I was supposed to pick them up from Port Authority at ten o’clock, and it was almost noon. I had no missed calls. I was wondering why she hadn’t called me. As her phone rang I began to think about the argument I was about to have about not being at the bus station to pick her up.

  “Hello.” A strange voice at the other end said. “Yo who the fuck is this, put Akira on the phone.” “And who might this be?” The strange woman's voice continued.

  “Yo, whoever this is, I’m not into playing games. It aint none of your business who this might be. Put Akira on the phone.”

  “Okay Richard Fowler, if you want to speak to Akira, you have to make your way to the Atlantic City Police Department Headquarters.”

  I hung up the phone and quickly dialed Jocelyn’s phone. No answer. I dialed Shakita’s phone. The same person answered.

  “Mr Fowler, this is Detective Ukley of the Atlantic City…”

  I cut the detective off in the middle of her sentence. “What the fuck, where’s Shakita, what’s going on? What happened? They got locked up? For what, don’t they get a phone call?

  “Richard… calm down. If you want to see or talk to Shakita, or Akira, you have to come down here…” I hung up the phone and jumped in my Range. The girls were in trouble. I went to my stash house and grabbed fifty thousand dollars. I thought to myself something must have popped of at the forty-forty club last night. They caught up in some bullshit. I headed out to Atlantic City by myself. On the two hour ride I found some solace in listening to Jay-Z's Reasonable Doubt. I called ABC Bail Bonds. Something was funny. None of the girls had been processed or even in the computer system as having been arrested overnight or as of eleven o’clock this morning.

  Once inside police headquarters I met with detective Ukley. She was a tall slim blue eyed, blond hair woman. She had a cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee in her hand. She called me by my full name… Richard Fowler. It was of no surprise given the fact that my phone was in my name as was Akira, and Jocelyn’s. “Mr Fowler, can you tell me your relationships with Akira and Shakita Wilson.”

  “I’m not the one under arrest why are you asking me questions?”

  “Mr Fowler, I will lock you ass up for impeding a homicide investigation!”

  “Homicide? My girl aint kill nobody, she was with me all night.”

  “Mr Fowler, was Akira your girlfriend? And we know she was not with you last night.”

  “What
you mean was? She is.”

  Mrs Ukley got up from the table. She came beside me and touched my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry Mr Fowler, Shakita and Akira Wilson were both murdered.”

  “No!”

  “Calm down Mr Fowler.”

  A few officers came inside of the room and held me against the wall.

  “It’s okay boy, he’s next of kin, well… kind of.” The officers released me and one offered me some coffee. I declined. Tears came streaming down my face. It felt like I was just smacked with a brick. “Mr Fowler, I know this is a hard time for you but we need your help.”

  “I was in Brooklyn until two hours ago.”

  “We know, we already checked with your cell phone carrier. Your not a suspect, we already know who the killer is. We need help putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Your girlfriend had three return bus tickets to New York. There was someone with them.” Even though I wasn’t on the hook, wasn’t a defendant, or even a suspect… I wasn’t too fond of the police. Fuck ‘em I thought. They already knew who the killer was. That’s what I wanted and needed to know. Where the fuck was Jocelyn I thought to myself. “I’m sorry detective, I wouldn’t know about a third person.”

  “Mr Fowler, perhaps I can narrow it down for you. It’s a female and she would have been close to the second trimester in her pregnancy.”

  This bitch was off. Jocelyn wasn’t pregnant.

  “No, I’m sorry, no one comes to mind.”

  “She was kidnapped Mr. Fowler. You can help up save her if you cooperate.”

  “I wish I could help.”

  “I think you can. See you haven't asked me who the killer is. You know what that tells me?”

  “Actually, I was about to ask.”

  “Bullshit! You already know, don’t you?

  “No.”

  “You wanna stop bullshitting me already. Shakita Wilson was a suspect in a New York City murder where our suspects brother was murdered, around the corner from your house. Let’s see our suspect is a pimp. Do you know what Shakita Wilson was arrested for in 1994… prostitution. Wanna guess who bailed her out?”

  “I don’t know, thank you for the info though.” I was taken to the coroners office to ID the bodies. The forensic technician had a water bottle with hot pink lipstick. That was most definitely Jocelyn. He also said that Shakita and Akira was also pregnant. All I could think of was how things would have been. I cried as I realized that, not only had Black taken my bitch, he had also taken my seed. I was fuming I went back to my truck. It was still early. I grabbed my money and headed into Caesars to get a room. I sat down and took my shoes off. I ended up dozing off as I watched people on the boardwalk from the window. When I woke up, it was midnight. I headed to Pacific Avenue, hoping to see Black. I jumped in my truck and made a left on Pacific. As soon as I reached the corner I saw Black and Jocelyn. She was standing next to him with her shoes in her hand. It was too late to slam on my brakes. I hadn’t made direct eye contact with Black or Jocelyn. I don’t think either one of them saw me, and Black didn’t know who I was. I saw his mugshot when I was eye hustling at the police headquarters. I spun around the block. Once I reached the corner I parked my car and got out. I grabbed my burner from under the seat. I walked around the corner and there they was. Her back was turned to me.

  “Jocelyn!” I yelled twice.

  She came running over to me.

  Coffee

  “Jocelyn.” I heard someone yelling from across the street.

  I was standing on Pacific Avenue, checking cheddar for my daddy, as usual. You know, with me being his bottom bitch I had to make sure every bitches trap was always right all the time. Black didn’t play that shit… bitches coming up short. I missed Kev. He was laid back. He was way smoother too. Black on the other hand, was a guerrilla pimp. He would beat a bitch down… me included, so I stay on top of my game. Wont catch me slipping.

  He got this little dumb young bitch Jocelyn out here barefoot, holding her shoes. That’s a ho’s punishment for getting out of pocket.

  I’m surprised he aint kill that lazy bitch. A bitch shoot me, and I live, oh she would die. Not that I had anything against her. I just play my part as the bottom bitch and keep the stable tight. Nothing personal… just business.

  “Jocelyn.” He yelled again.

  Coffee Hood Rich

  His face looked familiar. I seen him somewhere before. Jocelyn ran over to him. I know this bitch aint think she was running away from Black.

  Rich

  Black drew his gun, and I drew mine.

  “Nigga that bitch is my property.”

  He said as I lined him up in my sights. He reached to pull out his gun.

  “Nigga you must be crazy pulling…”

  --bang, bang, bang-

  We fired simultaneously.

  My first shot missed, but my second shot was dead on. A wig shot. Black dropped instantly.

  I felt a pain in my chest. Jocelyn screamed.

  “Rich… Rich!”

  I collapsed into her arms. I looked down and saw that my white shirt had become red. I felt my hands and legs getting colder. My head began to feel heavy. I looked up and saw the lights on Pacific Avenue. The limousines, the taxis, and the exotic cars passing by. The sirens were approaching, but they were fading. Then it all went back.

  Thank you for reading Hood Rich...

  If you enjoyed this book, please take a few minutes and post a review to Instagram, and Facebook. Please be sure to add and tag the author @corieallen