by K'wan
“No, you don’t understand. This is a dangerous situation and I need you to get back!”
“Fuck this shit!” Animal slipped passed the cop and made the mad dash for the police tape.
“Hey!” the cop called after him, but Animal kept going.
“Please God,” Animal prayed under his breath, but when he made it through the tape, he knew that God hadn’t heard him. “No!” Animal dropped to his knees as he saw one of the EMT’s bring out a body bag and place it on the ground next to the half dozen or so already lining the sidewalk. Animal was so overcome with grief that he was dizzy. When he thought of the children who had been inside and how horribly they died, his heart shattered into a million pieces.
“Big homie?” he heard a voice behind him. He turned around hopefully and saw Ashanti sitting on the back of one of the ambulances with an oxygen mask over his face.
Animal rushed over to Ashanti and hugged him as tight as he could. He had never in his life been so happy to see his mischievous little friend. His eyes were red and his body covered with soot. “What happened?”
“I don’t even know, man. I went to the store to get some candy and while I was walking back I seen some white dudes come running out. That was right before the explosion knocked my ass out,” Ashanti recalled. “When I woke up, I was in the back of this ambulance.”
“Damn,” Animal lowered his head. “How many made it out?”
“None that I can tell,” Ashanti began sobbing. “This shit is fucked up, man. Who would do something like this to a bunch of kids?”
Ashanti continued speaking, but Animal had checked out. He replayed Ashanti’s account of what happened over in his head and one phrase kept jumping out at him - “Some white guys.” What were the chances that less than twenty-four hours after Tommy had sent him to kill Nicky, that a group of white men would venture into Harlem and burn down a building that held no meaning to anyone except Animal? This was no coincidence. As Animal stood there watching the paramedics zipping bags over the charred remains of his children, he couldn’t help but to feel like it was all his fault. He may not have lit the match, but he poured the gasoline. It was then that Tech’s words came back to him - “Either embrace that monster whispering in your ear, or put it back in the cage and never look back.” Animal would indeed embrace his monster, and then he would unleash it on those responsible for this.
CHAPTER 27
By the time Shai and his team made their way to the event at Don B.’s spot, he was in better spirits than he had been earlier. Chance had finally sent a response and it was a favorable one. The deal was that Shai would allow him to expand his street operations, provided he did him a favor in return. Chance would have one of his building crews complete the work on his housing development at half cost. Chance wasn’t happy at having to give him such a huge discount, but it was the cost of doing business with the Clark family.
As expected, Bill came to his senses and agreed to pull some strings to get him the building permits. Of course, it would cost Shai a hefty sum in bribes, but this is where the cash from the cigarettes would come in. He needed the transaction to be totally untraceable. It wouldn’t cover the total cost for the palms that needed greasing, but it would get the ball rolling. A part of him felt guilty about blackmailing the Deputy Mayor, but he reasoned he had it coming. It was payback for Bill shitting on his father’s dream after his death. His was only one name on a list of people Shai would revisit before it was all said and done. He was a man who could forgive, but never forget. In due time, they would all kneel before the one true king.
Shai’s business in the streets was running smooth, but his family life was a mess. He had gone back to the house to get dressed and try and make things right with Honey, but got home to find her gone, along with some of her clothes. Shai tried calling her, but she sent him to voicemail every time. She was still in her feelings, so he would allow her some space to get over it.
Brutus was also absent from the house. Tre said he had to leave to take care of some personal business, but it sounded like bullshit. He was either embarrassed about what happened earlier, or afraid of what might happen to him because of it… and rightfully so. After having time to reflect on Brutus’ strange behavior lately, Shai had begun to question where his head was at. Giving his high school friend the position as head of his security team said that Shai had a lot of trust in him, but what if that trust was misplaced? Maybe Swann was right and Brutus was forgetting his position and needed a reminder.
“You good, Slim?” Angelo nudged him. He was one of several men who were riding in the limo with Shai.
“Yeah, I’m straight.”
“Still no word from Honey?” Angelo asked. Shai had confided in him about the argument and her leaving.
“Not yet.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it too much. She’s mad now, but when she calms down, she’ll be back,” Angelo assured him.
Shai wanted to believe his friend, but in his heart, he wasn’t so sure. Though he hadn’t done much other than talk with Lady Monet that night, he might as well have fucked her, because to Honey it was the same difference. Shai had a history of sleeping around, so it made sense that the one time he was telling the truth, it didn’t help.
“Man, you gonna spend the whole night pouting or try and have some fun?” Swann sat in the seat across from them, sipping a glass of Hennessey and smoking a blunt. “I plan on taking advantage of all the free liquor and pussy in this joint, as you should!”
Shai shook his head at Swann’s one-track mind. “Did Big Doc check in yet?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I spoke to him a while ago. Him and his boys are already in position; they’re just waiting for the truck to get there. We’re all set,” Angelo informed him.
“We’re arriving now,” the driver informed them.
“Look alive,” Angelo addressed the two young shooters who were riding with them, brushing imaginary lint off of his suit jacket. “Now it’s gonna be all kinds of unsavory muthafuckas in here, so stay on your toes. Most importantly, you are not to let Shai out of your sight. Do you understand?”
“I don’t need no babysitters, Angelo. Ain’t nobody dumb enough to try nothing with all these people out here. Besides, I’m sure Don B. got plenty of security inside the joint,” Shai said, looking out the window at the crowd gathered in front of Code Red. The line to get in stretched at least a block. One thing he could give the Big Dawg CEO credit for was he knew how to bring people out.
“Outside of Devil, I wouldn’t trust none of those cats with my life, so I’m sure as hell not gonna trust them with yours,” Angelo told him. “Besides, with all this shit going on with that other situation, we don’t wanna take any chances.”
What Angelo wouldn’t say in front of the shooters was that he was talking about the fallout from Nicky’s murder. Word on the streets was that the Melonis were arming up to come across the Hudson and make a mess of the Cissaros and anybody unfortunate enough to get in the middle.
“Nigga, you finished with your pep-talk?” Swann asked sarcastically, to which Angelo flipped him off. “Good, now everybody get a glass. I wanna propose a toast.” Swann waited until everyone had liquor in their cups before continuing. “Shai, I know how important it was to you to finish your father’s work in making us a legitimate family, and today I watched you lay the foundation that we’re going to build that on. I’m proud of you. So here’s to the future, and whatever it may hold for us!” He raised his glass.
“To the future!” the men said in unison.
Swann threw his drink back, then slammed the glass down on the mini-bar. “Now let’s go in here and show these rap niggas how to ball the fuck out!”
*
The minute the driver opened the limo door, they were immediately swarmed by thirsty paparazzi, hoping to capture the star-studded event. There were so many cameras flicking at one time that Shai had to shield his eyes against the flash.
“Get back, you fu
cking vultures!” Angelo said as he shoved a path through them, while Swann and the shooters brought up Shai’s rear.
At the door stood a man who was at least 6’6” and wearing a tight black shirt that had “Security” printed across the front. He initially greeted them with a scowl, but when he realized who it was, his face softened.
“Good evening, Mr. Clark. The Don told me you were coming. I have some people waiting to escort you to your table.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Swann said excitedly. He was ready to go inside and get the party started. When he tried to step through the doorway, the big man stopped him.
“I’m gonna need to check you guys before you go inside,” the bouncer informed them.
“Nigga what?” Swann looked him up and down angrily.
“Sorry, but it’s the rules,” the bouncer explained.
“Blood, you acting like you don’t know who we are? You better go get your boss or whoever is running this circus,” Swann told him. There was no way he was going anywhere without his gun.
“We outta here, Shai,” Angelo told him.
“What’s going on out here?” Devil asked as he appeared in the doorway.
“Red Devil, how you gonna invite us to this joint then have your people treat us like some commoners?” Swann asked.
Devil turned on the bouncer angrily. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you know who this is?”
“But you said…” the bouncer started.
“Nigga, I know what I said, but those rules don’t apply to Shai and his people. They’re guests of the Don. Besides, I know we ain’t gonna have no trouble out of them, are we?” he directed the question at Swann.
“You know me; I don’t start the drama. I just finish it,” Swann told him.
“Well let’s hope this is a drama-free night. Now y’all come on inside. Don B. is waiting.”
*
If someone had asked Shai to describe the action in Code Red that night using one word, it would have been “zoo.” It was standing-room only with people boozing, dancing and engaging in things he was sure was illegal; at least in public. He had been to more than a few clubs in his life, but none quite gave off the energy that was floating in the air that night. It was electric.
The crowd of partygoers parted like the Red Sea as Devil led Shai and his entourage across the room. Shai could feel eyes on him as those not in-the-know were trying to figure out who he was. The fact that he was with Devil said that he was someone important, but wearing a blazer and jeans, he hardly fit the part of the gangsters Don B. was known to associate with. Shai wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with all the attention on him. Ever since he became boss of the family, he tried his best to fly under the radar, but that night he felt like he was on display and it made him uneasy.
Shai’s eyes drifted toward the small stage where a DJ was setting up some equipment. Behind him was a backdrop that stretched the length of the stage. Painted across it was a mural that depicted a group of young men, throwing up gang signs and rocking heavy jewelry. At the forefront of the group was a fresh-faced youth with a bandana in one hand and a microphone in the other.
“That was True,” Swann answered the question in Shai’s eyes.
Shai had never been a fan of any of the music Big Dawg made, but he was familiar with the name True. It had been plastered all over the news when he was caught up in a gang-related shooting. Let the streets tell it, he was supposed to be the next big thing in music.
“Sad,” Shai said, thinking of what the young man could have gone on to be if given the chance.
“That’s the game, Slim; die young and leave a good-looking corpse,” Swann laughed before falling in step behind Devil.
Devil escorted them up a darkened stairwell. He could feel Angelo and Swann close in on him in case anything popped off. At the top of the stairs there was a black curtain, but through it Shai could see a sliver of light. They’d almost made it to the top when a man appeared in front of them as if by magic. He glared at them for a few seconds, but once he recognized Devil amongst the group, he went back to his post. Don B. definitely wasn’t taking any chances.
Shai thought the scene downstairs was wild, but he was totally unprepared for what he saw when they stepped through the curtains. The stairwell let out into a private balcony that overlooked the crowd. About a half dozen men were loitering about; members of Don B’s inner circle. Their eyes turned to the newcomers, but no one spoke. Several girls were walking around wearing little more than thongs and heels, pouring bottles and rolling up blunts that they handed out like free candy. The crowd was thicker downstairs, but the balcony was obviously where the real party was going on. Lounging on a sofa was their host, the self-proclaimed Don of all Harlem.
Don B. was wedged between two beautiful young women, sipping champagne straight from the bottle. His eyes were covered by his signature mirrored sunglasses. As usual, he was dressed in black from head to toe, with the exception of the red Gucci belt he was wearing. Around his neck hung a thick link-chain, with a diamond-flooded Rottweiler pendant swinging from the end of it.
If you weren’t familiar with Don B., then you had to have been living under a rock for the last five years. It was rare that you could turn on a television and not see him, or pick up a magazine and his name not be mentioned. The acts on his roster at Big Dawg Entertainment had collectively sold millions of records around the world, and made him a very rich man. Don B. was like the ghetto Clive Davis, but it hadn’t always been like that.
Don B. had literally come from nothing, growing up dirt poor on the streets of Harlem. When he was of age, he jumped into the drug game and excelled in a very short period of time. Seeing most of his friends either killed off or sent to prison for the rest of their lives, Don B. soon realized that he would need to find an alternative source of income, so he started taking the money he was making from selling crack and dumping it into starting his own record label. In under a year, Don B. was able to leave the streets, and he took those closest with him along for the ride.
Sitting beside Don B. on the couch was Lady Monet. Shai felt his breath catch in his throat when he saw her. She wasn’t dressed like a hood rat that night, instead wearing a tasteful, yet revealing black dress that stretched to her ankles, but had a high slit showing off her healthy thighs. She had taken the braids out and was now wearing her black hair straight. Shai tried to give her a greeting smile, but the look she gave him in return was vacant of all the mirth she’d been spilling over with less than twenty-four hours before. It was as if she had never seen him a day in her life.
“Is that my nigga Swann?” Don B. turned to greet him with a grin, but didn’t bother to stand.
“What up wit ya, blood? Been a minute.” Swann gave him dap.
“Indeed, it has. Too long, my G… too long.”
“Oh, you remember Shai right?” Swann said in way of an introduction.
Don B. dipped his sunglasses and peered at Shai over the top of them like he was trying to place him. “Of course, man. Yo, thanks for coming though, Shai. I know you a busy dude.”
“No problem. Your partner said you had a proposal to lay out so I’m here to listen,” Shai told him. He was speaking to Don B., but his eyes were on Lady Monet, who was nestled deep into the crook of his arm.
“Straight to the paper. I can respect that.” Don B. nodded in approval. “Oh, where are my manners? This fine piece of candy here is Lady Monet. Ma, you know Shai Clark, right?” he asked her.
Lady Monet studied Shai for a second. “Oh yeah, the guy from the chicken shack,” she said, as if they hadn’t just spent the previous night together.
“Shai slings more than just chicken, baby. But that’s a conversation for another time,” Don B. said as he stroked her hair. “Shai, you and ya peeps ain’t gotta stand around all stiff. Grab a seat and a drink. You’re guests of the Don, so it’s all on me.”
“We can pay our own way, but thanks,” Angelo interjected. “Y
our guy said we’d have our own section tonight.”
“Yeah, I got a table set up downstairs that I was gonna seat you guys at, but to be honest, this is the best section in the house,” he said as he motioned around the balcony. “What’s good for the Don, is good for the Don’s friends, and I expect we’ll be great friends before the night is over.”
“That’s all well and good, but we kinda like to do our own thing,” Angelo told him.
Don B. frowned. “This ain’t Burger King, but you know how the slogan goes. I’ll have my people set you up right away.”
“Nah, we’re cool sitting up here. Thanks for the hospitality,” Shai said, much to Angelo’s displeasure.
“Then it’s settled.” Don B. clapped his hands to get the attention of the bottle girls, and a light-skinned woman with big breasts and a weave that looked like it needed a comb ran through it came over. “Bring these boys some bottles, and not none of that cheap shit that you been serving the goons all night, either. Shai is an honored guess, and he should be treated with the same respect you would show your Don.”
“Yes, Don,” she said submissively, and went off to do as she was told.
“You’ve got quite a way with the ladies,” Shai said sarcastically.
“I do, don’t I?” Don B. pulled Lady Monet closer. “That’s just one of my super powers. My other one is knowing how to flip a dollar, which is what I plan to convince you of before the night is over. Grab a seat, King Clark, so I can run down to you how I’m about to make us richer than we already are.”
CHAPTER 28
For the next twenty minutes, Shai drank Hennessey like it was going out of style, and listed to Don B. run down his plan of starting a franchise of Code Reds. He had to admit, Don B. had come correct with his proposal with everything from project venture capital, to mapping out what they stood to make in the first three years. He even had one of the girls bring out a miniature model of the next location he wanted to open up. From what Shai had heard so far, it was a pretty solid plan, but he was too distracted to really digest it.
