by K'wan
“The difference is, a nigger knows that he’ll always be one step behind the white man and he's content with it. He takes what he's given and tries to either destroy it or make the best out of it. These Italians on the other hand, they think they’re not niggers. These greaseball mutha fuckas think they equal to the real crackers. They run around living in a fantasy world where their dons are gods. Delusional mutha fuckas. If anybody can put the squeeze on these guys, Poppa can.”
“That's some slick shit, Billy. Using Poppa's crew against the dagos.”
“Nothing slick about it, bro. I’m just speeding up the inevitable. How long did you think that Poppa was gonna let them cheat him? Dudes like that don’t go for the bullshit. All he was waiting on was a new supplier and I’m just filling a need.”
CHAPTER 10
ALVAREZ AND BROWN HIKED up to the top floor in the run down tenement. They had to step over a passed-out dope fiend to clear the last landing. When they got to the floor, they searched the tiny hallway until they found the apartment they were looking for. Brown reached out and tapped on the door lightly.
“Who the fuck is it!” shouted an angry woman from the other side.
“Ah . . . police,” Brown responded.
The woman opened the door just enough to peek out. “Bullshit,” she said, looking them up and down. “Y’all ain’t no damn cops.”
“It's the truth, ma’am,” Alvarez said, flashing his badge and winning smile.
The woman examined the badge thoroughly before opening the door all the way. As soon as she did, chaos spilled out into the hallway. A radio was blasting along with what must’ve been three different televisions. Kids were running back and forth through the house and a three-legged dog sat looking at the detectives from the doorway.
The woman who opened the door was much smaller than her big mouth would’ve led the detectives to believe. She was about five feet and held a baby under one arm. She was very young looking, probably somewhere in her early twenties. She had the face of a child, with the telltale signs of the harsh life she was living. Her eyes sported dark circles and her teeth were yellowing from smoking cigarettes. She could’ve been someone special in her day, but the streets had a thorough hold on her.
“It's about damn time,” she said, snaking her neck. “I called you muthas an hour ago and you just getting here?”
Alvarez and his partner looked at each other, confused. Neither of them knew what the lady was talking about. “Excuse us?” Alvarez asked.
“Are you deaf? I said I called y’all an hour ago.”
“Ma’am,” Brown cut in. “We didn’t get any call. We’re here looking for—”
“Mutha fucka,” she cut him off. “How you gonna tell me? I dialed nine-one-one then you two show up on my doorstep. I think that's the way it's supposed to go when you call the police?”
“Look, lady,” Alvarez cut in, “we don’t know nothing about that. We’re here looking for Amine Barrett.”
“I should’ve known,” she said, shifting the baby to the other arm. “That mutha's in trouble again, ain’t he?”
“Well, we don’t know yet,” Brown admitted. “That's what we’re trying to find out. Who are you again?”
“Oh,” she said, fishing a Newport from her pocket, “I’m his sister, Theresa. Though I’m a lil’ ashamed to admit it. That boy has been rotten all of his life. Why y’all think our mother abandoned us? To get away from him and his rotten-ass daddy. The bitch did it slick though, ‘cause she left his ass on me. I got four kids already and I gotta deal with his grown ass.”
“Look, miss,” Brown continued. “We aren’t here to pass judgment on anyone. We just wanna ask Amine some questions.”
“Yeah right,” Theresa chuckled. “You mutha fuckas kill me. Put a suit on ya monkey assess and you think you’re better than somebody. The funny thing is that when you clock out, you’ll still be a nigga.”
“Hold up, lady,” Alvarez picked up. “How the hell did we get from asking your brother some questions to us thinking we’re better than anyone? Did I miss something?”
“You might’ve, but I didn’t,” said Theresa, blowing smoke rings over the baby's head. “You come around here trying to play word games with me like I don’t know what's going on. Y’all ain’t come to ask no questions, y’all came to lock Amine up. Just keep it real?”
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Alvarez said sarcastically. “This is the deal, Ya dumb-ass brother has gone and gotten himself into some serious trouble. Seems that our young friend was either involved in or witnessed a murder. Now, we’re trying to get to him and find our what really went down before he gets picked up for it and some redneck judge decides to stick a needle in his arm,”
“Or one of the victim's peoples catches him and puts a bullet in his head,” Brown added.
Theresa stood there with her mouth open. She had talked back to the police quite a few times, but these cops were different. They had a low tolerance for bullshit and they wore it on their sleeves.
Before Theresa could say anything else an older man, who was clearly drunk, came staggering to the door. “Fuck is these niggaz?” the drunk asked.
“Ray-Ray, get yo’ drunk ass from around me,” Theresa warned him. “These people are here for Amine.”
“Well, that nigga ain’t here,” Ray-Ray slurred. “And he better not show his black ass ‘round here no more. Lil’ mutha fucka stole twenty dollars from me the other day. Thieving ass.”
“As I’m sure you two have figured out, Amine ain’t here,” she said, addressing the aggravated detectives. “I ain’t seen that boy in days and 1 can’t say that I’m sorry.”
“A’ight,” Alvarez said, heading back down the stairs, followed by his partner. “If you see him, tell him that we’re looking for him,”
“Whatever,” Theresa said. “Say, as long as y’all are here, can you help me get this drunk bastard out of my house?”
Brown and Alvarez looked at each other then at Ray-Ray and Theresa. Brown and Alvarez smiled at each other and shrugged. They enjoyed a hearty chuckle as they left Theresa and Ray-Ray to work it out amongst themselves. They hit the streets and continued to search for leads on the gunmen.
Honey and Paula sat at her kitchen table, smoking a blunt. Paula went on and on about the latest gossip. Honey nodded and smiled as her friend spoke, bur she was only half listening. Her mind was on other things, namely Shai.
“Honey,” Paula said, tapping her friend, “are you listening to me?”
“Huh?” Honey said, startled.
“Girl, what planet are you on? I’ve been sitting here running my mouth and you ain’t even trying to hear me,”
“I got a lot on my mind, P. Ain’t nothing.”
“Yeah, right,” Paula said, twisting her lips. “Bitch, I know you. You’ve been in a zone all day. I know when something is on your mind, Honey. Which piece of dick is it now?”
“Why do you assume that my mind is on dick?” Honey asked defensively.
“Like I said, ‘I know you.’ Your mind is always on one of two things: money or dick. Now, I know it ain’t money, ‘cause you would’ve put ya girl on, so it's gotta be dick. Talk to me, Lissa.”
Honey knew Paula knew her all too well. They had been friends and sometimes crime partners since grade school. They had gotten their periods around the same time and even lost their virginity together. If anyone knew Honey, it was Paula.
“It's nothing,” Honey sighed. “Just thinking about life.”
“Life?” Paula asked, scrunching her nose up. “What about it?
As far as I’m concerned, life is good. Bitch, you got your own crib, a beautiful daughter, and just about every nigga in Harlem sniffing around yo’ trifling ass. What could be better?”
“I dunno,” Honey said, twirling her fingers through her blond locks. “Shit is a’ight right now, but I just feel like .. , like it could be better. It's like, I got a lot and I’m thankful for it, but most of it is off the st
rength of somebody else.”
“Girl, you feeling okay?” Paula asked, looking at Honey as if she were going crazy. “That's the best part. A nigga is supposed to take care of you. If you’re sharing your pussy with them, they’re supposed to share their finances with you. Fair exchange is never robbery. That's the first thing we learned. It's all about the come up.”
“I know, Paula. But after a while, it all starts to seem routine.” Honey shrugged. “We run game and niggaz trick dough. Same shit, different day. They play the game and we play it better, but what does it all amount to? Don’t you ever want something that goes beyond that? Like a real relationship?”
“Hell no,” Paula laughed. “Why the fuck would I want to wake up to the same mutha fucka every day? That shit is more drama than I need.”
“I feel you, Paula. Most of these niggaz is headaches, but there's gotta be some good ones out there. You don’t know how many times I wished had a good nigga to take care of me and Star. A nigga to just be in my corner when I need him. I ain’t no weak bitch, but sometimes I get lonely.”
“Baby girl, then get a dog. Look, Honey, I understand where you’re coming from, but that ain’t life. Ain’t no nigga gonna come in on a white horse and sweep you off your feet. That only happens in movies. These niggaz ain’t shit, ma. You gotta get what you can, while you can.”
“I know niggaz ain’t shit,” Honey agreed, “but there's gotta be a few good ones left.”
“Like who? That young nigga Shai you’ve been swooning over?” Paula asked, looking into Honey's shocked face. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you, Lissa. You’ve been stuck on him from the first time y’all met.”
“Please,” Honey said, waving her off. “It ain’t that serious. He's a’ight, but I ain’t in love with him or nothing.”
“I should hope not. You know the golden rule. ‘A nigga gotta pay to play.’“
“I know that's right,” Honey said, giving Paula a high five, “and Shai ain’t no different.”
“Then you need to act like it,” Paula said seriously. “You went through this shit before and look what it got you.”
“But Shai ain’t Tommy. That fool is a born street runner, while Shai is a square peg.”
“He ain’t that square. Shai has boned his fair share of hoes ‘round here. That boy has got a slick tongue.”
“Then it's up to me to show him what to do with it,” Honey said, patting her vagina. “Ain’t a nigga wit’ a dick swinging that can run game better than me.”
“That's the get-money bitch I know,” Paula said proudly. “Fuck that, baby girl. It's all or nothing. Get that niggaz nose open and his pockets will follow.”
CHAPTER 11
WHEN SWAN HIT THE BLOCK, there wasn’t a soul in sight. This seemed unusual, because there were a group of fiends waiting to be served. He figured something had happened, because it was very unlike his soldiers to close up shop while they still had product to sell. After a bit of probing, Swan learned that his youngsters had been robbed earlier that day and hadn’t been seen since.
Swan climbed the stairs to the second-floor apartment where they kept their drugs. He pressed his ear against the door and heard giggling coming from the other side. Slowly he inserted his key and released the lock. When Swan got inside of the apartment, he only got angrier. The soldiers who were supposed to be holding the block down were upstairs with several young ladies hanging out and drinking.
“What the fuck is this?” Swan snapped. “Y’all are supposed to be getting money and I find you partying?”
“Nah,” said a soldier named Dave. “We was just getting low for a minute. Niggaz was creeping.”
“So I heard. That's what I give you clown-ass niggaz hammers for.”
“Wayne had the hammer,” said another soldier by the name of Bump. “He had to go home and change his clothes. That's why we got low.”
Swan exhaled deeply. “That has got to be the dumbest shit I ever heard. Okay, let's say for the sake of argument that it did go down like that. Why didn’t y’all come up here and get the nine? Or why didn’t you go knock on Sheila's door and get the three-eighty?”
“We was just about to do that,” Dave lied.
“Nigga,” snapped Swan, “I can’t tell. Seems to me that y’all was more into these bitches than our paper.”
“Who you calling a bitch?” one girl said, snaking her neck.
“Shut up,” Bump warned. “We just took a lil’ break. That's all, Swan.”
“Oh, now I understand,” Swan said, smiling. “Y’all just came up here to freak off right quick, is that it?”
“Yeah,” Dave agreed.
Swan reached into his waistband and pulled out his pistol. “Fuck y’all think,” Swan said angrily. “This ain’t no mutha fucking temp agency. You want a coffee break then get a regular fucking job. Bump, you and this fucking clown-ass nigga Dave hit the block and see about my cheese. You bitches get the fuck up outta my spot.”
Everyone in the apartment scrambled to gather up their things before Swan really flipped out. Bump knew that it was a bad idea when Dave had suggested it, but he still allowed his friend to talk him into it. Now he had to hear Swan's mouth. It was best to shut up and hit the block.
Swan watched his soldiers scramble to do his bidding. He had considered wilding out a little more but he didn’t wanna overdo it. The soldiers had gotten the point. As Swan watched the last soldier leave the apartment, his phone went off.
“Hello!” he snapped into the receiver.
“Damn,” Shai said on the other end, “fuck is wrong wit’ you, kid?”
“What's popping, Shai? I ain’t mean to sound like that, son. I’m just going through some shit right now. Where you at, fam’?” “Right downstairs. Bring your punk ass on.”
Shai sat in the Lexus GS playing with the various buttons. He was surprised that Tommy had let him hold the toy, but he wasn’t mad at him. Shai rolled the seat back and hit SHUFFLE on the CD player. To his surprise a false panel came down from just below the glove box. Inside the little compartment was a chrome Glock.
Shai picked up the gun and looked at it curiously. His brother had guns stashed everywhere. In Tommy's line of work, you never could be too careful. Shai closed the compartment. Much like his father and brother, he believed in caution.
“So,” Swan began, as he slid into the passenger seat, “what's good for tonight, player?”
“Trying to see now,” Shai responded. “I’m supposed to meet up with a shorty later on, but I wanted to kick it wit’ you before you head out.”
“Damn you’re thirsty. Who's the victim this time, Shai?”
“Honey.”
“Stop lying.”
“I kid you not, dawg. I got at her this morning.”
“Let me find out you’re trying to jam all the honeys out before the summer is over?”
“Nah, Swan. I’m just trying to see where shorty's head is at.”
“Shai, don’t give me that shit. You feeling this girl?”
“Please,” Shai said, waving him off, “players ain’t got no feelings.”
“Yeah, right, Shai.”
“Anyway,” Shai said, changing the subject. “I hear y’all about to come under new management.”
“Yeah,” Swan said, in a disappointed tone. “Tommy Gunz is finally getting his wings.”
“You don’t sound overly thrilled.”
“It ain’t like that. You know I got mad love for Tommy. I just know shit is gonna be different. Fucking wit’ Tommy, a lot of niggaz is gonna lose their lives.”
“Let me find out the notorious Swan is going soft?” Shai joked.
“Never,” Swan insisted. “I’m a warrior to the heart! I’d lay down my life for this family, son. It ain’t about being scared, it's about being around to see my daughter grow up. I’ve been putting in work for Poppa since I was a lil’ nigga. Poppa had people hit when they deserved to be. Under him, we had to check niggaz, but there was never the threa
t of war. With Tommy in charge, that's gonna change.”
“Nah.” Shai shook his head. “Tommy's gonna be okay. It’ll be just like if Poppa were still in charge.”
“No it ain’t, Shai. Niggaz on the street is scared of Tommy. He's quick to bust his gun, plus he's got Poppa and the Italians behind him. Poppa is retiring and Tommy is breaking off from the Italians. Niggaz is gonna come, and we will have to go to war.”
“Damn,” Shai cursed. “What are you gonna do, Swan?”
“What can I do?” Swan shrugged. “I’m loyal to this family, no matter who is running it.” Swan paused for a moment. He didn’t want Shai to take offense at what he was going to say, but it needed to be said. “Shai, let me ask you a question. Have you ever thought of laying your claim to the seat?”
“Honestly, yes,” Shai admitted. “I’m not saying that Tommy is doing a bad job, but I think things could be a little tighter.”
“I know that's right,” Swan agreed. “Tommy is a warlord. That's his strength, but we don’t need that now. What we need is a leader. Someone who will help us raise the bar out here.”
“And you think I could do it?” Shai asked suspiciously.
“I don’t see why not. Shai, how many niggaz you had working for you down South?”
“About nine or ten,” Shai said, searching his memory.
“And how many of them got knocked or shot up?”
“None.”
“Exactly. Shai, you and Tommy are both great leaders, but your methods are different. Tommy moves on instinct, you make calcu
lated decisions. Look at the way you handled that beef the other night. You could’ve let the fellas whip oP boy out, but you didn’t. You weighed your options and moved accordingly. The situation got handled with minimal violence. You’re exactly the kind of nigga we need out here.”
Shai laughed, but in his mind, he couldn’t help but to think about it. There had been quite a few times when he would imagine that he wielded the kind of power that his father had. The fame, the flash, and a whole army at his disposal. Who wouldn’t love the chance to be the man? But Shai knew there were harsh consequences to holding that seat.
