Hoodlum

by K'wan

  “Looks like they were doing more than stunting,” Marshall said sarcastically.

  “Fuck you,” Dave shot back. “If y’all niggaz did a better job of holding the block down, maybe this shit wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Y’all New York niggaz argue like some bitches,” Gator chuckled. “Cousin T, fuck you wanna do? These niggaz need to die, let's blast ‘em. Niggaz need to get snatched, let's grab ‘em. Let's make something happen ‘round this mutha fucka!”

  “I agree wit’ you on that, cuz.” Tommy nodded. “Something needs to be done. Angelo, get Scotty on the jack and have that nigga meet me at the precinct.”

  “What you gonna do, T?” Angelo asked, pulling out his cell.

  “Like I said, Tommy Clark don’t hide from nobody, including no faggot-ass detectives!”

  Gator filed out of Shakers with Tommy and the others. As he went to step into the truck, his cell went off. He knew that only three people had the number and two of them were with him. It could only be his uncle.

  “What's up, Uncle T?” Gator spoke into the receiver.

  “Chilling, nephew,” Poppa responded. “Where are you?”

  “ ‘Bout to roll with Tommy and Angelo.”

  “Nah, hop in a cab and shoot out this way. I need you to do something.”

  “Be right there.” Gator hung up the phone and informed Angelo and Tommy that Poppa had called him back to the mansion. Gator said his good-byes and flagged down a cab. He told the driver where he was going and slid back in the seat. He couldn’t imagine what Poppa wanted him to come all that way for, but when the boss sent for you, you didn’t ask questions.

  Shai stood in front of his bedroom mirror admiring himself. He was looking sharp in a pair of faded Akademik jeans and a powder blue button-up. On his feet were his trademark white-on-white Air Force Is. He had a date with Honey that evening and he wanted to make sure that he looked like a winner, which he felt he always did.

  A soft knock on the door drew Shai's attention from the mirror. Tommy wasn’t home and Poppa's knock was far louder. It could only be his sister. “Come in, Hope,” he shouted.

  “What's good, Shai?” Hope asked, sticking her head in the door.

  “ ‘Bout to head out,” he responded. “What you want, girl?”

  “I just wanted to see what you were up to. I’ve hardly seen you since you’ve been home.”

  “I know, chicken dinner,” he said playfully. “I’ve just been busy. We can do something this week, shorty.”

  “Shai,” Hope said, becoming serious, “can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, sis. What's up?”

  “People are saying things—”

  “Hope,” he cut her off, “I told you about listening to gossip. I haven’t been creeping with anyone's daughter.”

  “No, Shai. That ain’t what I meant. They’re saying that you’re a part of what's going on.”

  “Hope, what are you talking about?”

  “Shai, I’m not a stupid kid anymore. You think I don’t know what Tommy and Poppa do in the streets?”

  “Hope, don’t concern yourself with that kinda stuff. Tommy is gonna be all right, don’t worry about it. And you know that ain’t even my style. I’m a lover, not a thug.”

  “Shai, I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I’ll be okay,” he said, stroking her cheek. “Your big brother ain’t going nowhere.”

  Hope wanted to believe him, but she knew how powerful the call could be. She saw young men come and go in her father's army, so she knew what the business was. She knew that Tommy was too far gone to save, but there was still hope for Shai. All she wanted was a normal family life, but being a Clark made that damn near impossible.

  Shai came bouncing down the stairs, singing a happy tune. In a short while he would be back in the City, looking like money with a fine young thing on his arm. Nothing could spoil his mood. All that changed when he saw Poppa standing at the foot of the stairs with an angry look on his face.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Poppa barked angrily. Shai remained silent, looking at his sneakers. “So, you wanna be a gangsta, huh?”

  “Poppa, I—”

  “Shai, if you lie to me, I’ll break you in half! I know what you’ve been up to. I know about your little behind-the-back schemes. I know about the soldiers you’ve been rallying.” Shai just looked at his father, dumbfounded. “Don’t look at me like that. Tommy's running the show, but these are still my streets. I have eyes everywhere.”

  “I’m sorry, Poppa,” Shai said sincerely.

  “What the hell were you thinking, Shai? These people are killers. Anything could’ve happened to you out there.”

  “Poppa, I couldn’t sit by and watch your dream crumble. I had to do something,” Shai said heatedly.

  “So you figured you’d play general? Shai, if you keep creeping off doing things your way, how can we protect you?”

  “I can take care of myself, Pop. If we work together, we can beat this thing.”

  “Shai,” Poppa said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, “this is not a game. This is a war! When they come, they’ll come hard.”

  “You’re right.” Shai nodded. “They’ll come. And when they do, they’ll be hunting for Clark blood. This includes Hope and me.”

  Poppa stared at Shai. He was mad as hell, but Shai was right. For as long as the streets were in turmoil, no Clark would be safe. He knew it and so did Shai. No matter how hard he tried to keep Shai out of harm's way, he seemed to find it anyway, just like his brother. Tommy had already chosen his path, but he would be damned if he let Shai go down the same road.

  “Look, Slim,” Poppa sighed. “I’ve been playing this game for more years than you been on this earth. Don’t try to tell me about the streets. I trusted you to behave and you did something stupid, Shai. I’m disappointed, son.”

  “So what now, you gonna confine me to the house?” Shai asked.

  “Hardly. I know that ain’t gonna work. All you would do is sneak out every time I turned my back. I’m not gonna take your freedom. But I am gonna put your ass on a short chain.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?” Shai asked, confused.

  “You wanna act like a baby, then I’m gonna get you a babysitter. Gator is on his way here and you two will be joined at the hip.”

  “Come on, Pop. I got a date,” Shai pleaded.

  “Well, it’ll be a double date now. I’m not even gonna debate with you about this, ‘cause I got some business to handle in the City. Gator is gonna hold you down until we get this business straightened out.”

  Before Shai could protest further, the doorbell rang. Shai answered the door and was greeted by his cousin/watchdog. Gator greeted Shai with a fanged smile and winked his eye. All Shaicould do was shrug, and motion for Gator to follow him down the driveway.

  After seeing Gator and Shai off, Poppa returned to his office. He had a full day ahead of him getting everything together for the casino. He had already spoken to Phil and confirmed that his people could begin working within the week. The ownership papers for the hotel were being faxed to Scotty's office. Everything was going according to plan. It wouldn’t be long before Poppa would be able to retire and reap the fruits of his years of labor.

  Poppa's concentration was broken by the ringing of his office phone. He looked at the antique communication piece and shook his head. Between his office phone ringing and his cell buzzing, he felt like screaming. He was suddenly looking forward to retiring.

  “Hello?” he snapped as he snatched up the receiver.

  “Poppa,” yelled an excited voice, “I made the team!”

  “James?” Poppa asked.

  “Yeah,” James said. “They called me back a day or two ago to resume tryouts. About an hour ago, my phone rang and I found out that I made it.”

  “Congratulations, James,” Poppa said. “You’ve been given another shot. Don’t fuck it up.”

  “I won’t,” Jam
es said sincerely. “You know, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have this opportunity. Thanks.”

  “Hey, if you wanna thank me, give me the money back that I gave Priest to visit your little friend,” Poppa joked.

  “You got it, man, but I wanna do something for you.”

  “You don’t have to do anything for me, James.”

  “Yes, I do,” James insisted. “Let me take you to dinner tonight.”

  “James, I told you—”

  “Come on,” James cut him off. “We’ll get some dinner and celebrate over drinks. Nothing fancy. I just wanna say thanks.”

  Poppa started to refuse again, but then he thought about it. It had been quite some time since he had gone out for anything otherthan business. He needed to stop acting like an old man and start learning to enjoy life. After his retirement, he would have a lot of free time on his hands. Might as well get used to having some type of fun.

  “Okay,” Poppa agreed. “Where, James?”

  “We can meet at BBQ's on Seventy-second.”

  “Okay, I guess that’ll work. What time should I be there?”

  “Ah,” James stammered, “how about a couple of hours?”

  “That’ll work. See you then,” Poppa hung up with James, then picked up his hand radio to call his bodyguard. “Butch,” he spoke into the box, “what's your location?”

  Tm making the rounds with Danny,” Butch replied.

  “Bring the car around in about twenty minutes. We’re going into the City.”

  “Business or pleasure?”

  Poppa smiled devilishly before answering, “Pleasure.”

  “You did good, boy,” Freddy said, pressing his gun to James's temple. “Play your cards right and you might live through all this.”

  “Fuck you,” James spat. “They’re gonna kill your ass.”

  “1 doubt that, thanks to you.” Freddy smiled. “See, you just made my buddy Mike a rich man and sponsored me for membership. When we waste Poppa, I’m gonna be able to write my own ticket.”

  James thought about lunging for the gun, but decided that he’d never make it. Even if he was able to take Freddy down, the man behind him holding the shotgun was sure to cut him down. A lone tear ran down his cheek as he wondered for the hundredth time how he got caught up in this bullshit.

  This ts how it all came about: After the incident with Priest, Arnold Green tells his wife the whole story. She panics and suggests they call the police. Arnold knew they would be dead if they did that. It just so happened that Mrs. Green and Freddy's wife were members of the same PTA association. Smelling an opportunity, Freddy gets with Mike and they come up with a plan. That's how James ended up getting his door kicked in and his ass snatched by the Italians. He was the perfect pigeon to get to Poppa.

  “Don’t worry about it, James,” Freddy said, flipping open his cell phone. “If it’ll make you feel any better, you’d have never made the team anyhow.” Freddy burst out laughing and dialed Mike's number. “Mike,” he said into the receiver, “it's me. Took care of that thing for you. Yeah, everything's ready. Yup, I called the detective. Tommy is either headed to jail or the morgue. Huh? Got that mutha fucka right here. James,” Freddy said, covering the phone, “Mike says, ‘Thanks for the help.’“ Freddy had a good laugh and went back to the phone call.

  James looked at Freddy and gritted his teeth. He knew that he had stepped into a world of shit, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. If he had been thinking, he’d have just let Freddy shoot him as opposed to making that phone call. There was no turning back now. He felt that Freddy wouldn’t kill him, but if they tried for Poppa and missed, he was going to wish he were dead.

  CHAPTER 23

  SOL SAT IN HIS den, sipping herbal tea and watching a video tape of the 1994 NBA finals. He had been so busy overseeing the operations of the casino, that he hadn’t had much time to himself. He had planned on relaxing at home, doing nothing. Until the phone rang.

  “Sol here,” he sighed.

  “Sol, how ya doing?” O’Connor asked on the other end.

  “Billy, what's the word?”

  “Not good,” O’Connor said. “Seems we’ve got some trouble.”

  “What's wrong?” Sol asked, sitting up.

  “Seems that Tommy might’ve gone too far. A friend of ours has a snitch that can link him to some dirt. Serious dirt.”

  “Geez, Billy. Tell me you’re joking?” Sol asked.

  “Wish I could. I just got the wire about five minutes ago. Somehow it got lost in the shuffle, so I got it late.”

  “Shit,” Sol cursed. “Did you warn Tom?”

  “I called his house and he was out for the evening,” O’Connor said. “I tried his business phone, but didn’t get any answer.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Sol said, getting up from the chair. “I’ve got his private number in my Rolodex. Bill, see what you can do to find out who the CI is, I’ll get word to Poppa.”

  “Listen, Sol,” O’Connor said. “I know this probably isn’t the right time to talk about it, but it needs to be addressed. I hear that Tommy isn’t doing business with our friends anymore.”

  “I had heard something about that, but hadn’t gotten the official word,” Sol agreed. “It seems that your friends haven’t been playing very fair.”

  “I dunno about all that, Sol. I sat down with Mike about this a while ago. It seems that Tommy is getting too big for himself. He's not even officially a boss yet and he's overdoing it.”

  “Tommy is rash,” Sol said. “But not the tyrant some people might make him out to be. I really don’t know who has the more valid point in the situation, Bill. It isn’t my problem. I’m Poppa's business partner. I’ve got nothing to do with what goes on in the streets.”

  “Sure, Sol,” Bill said. “If this thing blows up, it could get ugly. Mike is a capo.”

  “Capo or no, Tommy did what he thought was best for his operations. It's business.”

  “Yeah,” Bill agreed. “But the Clarks made a lot of friends through the Cissarros. Gained a lot of weight. Kinda makes you wonder how people will take it if things don’t go so well.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it, Bill,” Sol assured him. “Tommy's a smart kid and meaner than any fucking dog I’ve ever seen. It was a risky decision, but he made it. Tommy's gotta live with his decision, no one else. Poppa's leaving all that bullshit to him and the young guys, so we can get the casino. The project is going smooth and by the end of the month, we’ll be able to start advertising. Turns out our little plan is moving just as fast as we thought. Thanks to you putting in a call to the senator's assistant. Thanks.”

  “Anytime, Sol,” Bill said. “I don’t mind doing favors for my friends, as long as they don’t blow up in my face.”

  “Bill, don’t worry about that. Focus on getting into that office. Poppa and Tommy have got this under control.”

  “I hear ya, Sol, and 1 know Thomas is a personal friend, but you gotta look at it from different angles. Poppa is a classic character and a savvy businessman. I got a lot of respect for that guy, but I gotta question his judgment. Is it the wisest thing in the world to leave such a delicate operation to Tommy? Tommy might start a war with this cowboy shit. People start dropping in the street and Poppa's name is attached to it, where does that leave us?”

  “I see where you’re coming from, Billy, but Tom is a friend of ours.”

  “Sol,” O’Connor sighed, “sometimes, even the best investments have unforseen drawbacks. The question is, are Poppa's drawbacks greater than his worth?”

  “Bill,” Sol said, “I understand you. Really, I do. But I don’t think you understand. You and Poppa come from two different worlds. Things are done a little differently down there, i can respect your concerns, but Poppa is my friend and I won’t back out on him. Thanks for the heads-up, Bill. I’ll call you after I get hold of Poppa.”

  Sol hung up the phone and made his way over to his desk. He and Poppa had warned Tommy time and again about do
ing things the right way. Tommy was usually very careful, especially as far as murders were concerned, but he had slipped. Sol just hoped that it wouldn’t be too late to fix this mess.

  “Tommy,” Scotty said. “Let me do all the talking.”

  “Go ahead with that shit.” Tommy waved him off. “I’m a grown-ass man. These faggots don’t put no fear here,” he said, beating his chest.

  Tommy slung a few choice curses at no one in particular and stormed up the stairs into the precinct. Scotty tried to stop him, but Tommy was stubborn as hell. He and Here just looked at each other and followed Tommy inside, hoping he didn’t make the situation worse.

  “Can I help you?” the desk sergeant asked.

  “Yeah, you can help me,” Tommy said, raising his voice. “You can tell me why two of your dicks have been mentioning my name and murder in the same fucking breath?” Tommy continued before the sergeant could answer, “Let me tell your something, I ain’t no fucking killer, I’m a businessman. All this bullshit y’all putting on the streets is wack and the shit needs to stop. Word to mine.”

  “Sir, who are you?” the sergeant finally got a chance to ask.

  “Thomas Clark, Jr.,” Detective Brown said, coming from the back room. Detective Alvarez was close behind him.

  “Brown?” Tommy asked in disbelief. “Doo-Doo Brown, is that you? Man, I ain’t seen you since you was in uniform, chasing them liP project niggaz around. How's that coming?”

  “Real fucking funny,” Brown said, tightening his jaw. “Word is you and Poppa stomped on Prince's whole crew, not long after San- tana went down. Had every capo and their families murdered. Real ugly.”

  “I don’t know shit about that, dawg,” Tommy lied. He knew just what Brown was talking about. Tommy and Here had personally tracked Prince's remaining capos to their rabbit holes. They forced them all into one place and let them know that the Clark family meant business. First the capos were made to watch while a young butcher called Johnny Black hacked their families to pieces with machetes. Then Johnny decided that the men required a proper send-off. He turned on the kitchen stove and blew out the pilot so the gas would escape into the air. Johnny lit a candle in the bedroom where the men were tied and left. Minutes after he hit the streets, so did the capos’ body parts.