Young and Hungry

by Ms. Michel Moore

  “That man might need to learn a lesson or two. He can’t control his own flesh and blood. The boy shows no respect. He is an animal. And maybe if he can’t control his family, he can’t control a team. It’s pretty much downhill from there.” Amir looked up, shaking his head at Ethan’s apparent overall weakness as a leader. “If you cannot control those simple things in life, then you cannot control your mouth when need be. A weak man may speak about things he has no reason to speak about if the right amount of pressure is applied.”

  Black Tone easily agreed. He may have protested about a lot of things that Amir had said about this or that, but this time Amir was speaking the truth. Ethan might need to fall back off the package. The East Side legend maybe did need to get his house in order. After all, Li’l Ronnie did go all the way overboard by claiming his uncle had his back, no matter what. Maybe Ethan did want revenge on Black Tone, Amir, and the club in general. Who knows? Black Tone thought as he felt his cell phone vibrate. Maybe he was just playing the game and taking a cop because he still wanted some of that good uncut heroin Amir was getting imported.

  “You know what, Amir? For once, you ain’t gonna get no argument outta me. True spit, you might be right. Let’s freeze that guy out this go-around and see if he still have love for us then. If he still got loyalty to what’s right or wrong where his peoples involved. Like motherfuckers say, ‘Tell a nigga no. Then you really gonna see how they feel.’” Digging deep into his front pocket, Black Tone removed his still vibrating cell. Glancing at the screen, he saw his aunt’s name and number flashing. No doubt he was relieved, because he assumed she was calling him to let him know that his granny was with her, safe and sound.

  “Hey, Auntie,” he said, changing his demeanor and smiling as he answered.

  “Anthony! Anthony! Where are you? Oh my God! Where are you?”

  Hearing the panic in her voice, Black Tone leaped to his feet, causing the bar stool he was sitting on to tumble over to the floor. “Auntie, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s . . . it’s your grandmother. Please, Anthony, you have to come home. This bed is too heavy to lift by myself. I tried to call the police and the ambulance, but they said they couldn’t come! Please hurry,” she begged before abruptly hanging up.

  In a rush, Black Tone left Amir standing behind the bar, wondering where his head of security was going on what was sure to be the worst night of the year. Black Tone told Wild Child to give one of the other guys his walkie-talkie and said they had to roll out, and seconds later the two tore out of the fenced-in parking lot. In the midst of Black Tone explaining that something was wrong with Granny back at the house, his cell vibrated once more. Snatching it up from the middle console, he saw that it was a 911 text from Alexis saying that she was up at the store. Jumping down on the freeway, he didn’t bother to text his friend back, assuming that she, like his aunt, was getting in touch with him to tell him to come home as soon as possible.

  * * *

  “Nine-one-one? Damn, Alexis. What you done got yourself into?” Dre mumbled, dropping a pillowcase filled with PlayStation games and DVDs they’d just stolen from a house. “Hey, y’all, hold up with what y’all doing, and let’s roll up to the corner store real quick.”

  “For what, dude?” his boy barked as he tried to get two air conditioners to fit in the trunk of the already packed rusted Ford Taurus. “I wanna go back inside and get them pictures off the wall for my mama’s living room.”

  “Man, fuck all that! We can come back later for them bitches. It ain’t like no police coming no time soon!”

  “But . . .”

  “Listen, fool. Alexis just hit me up. She needs me, so let’s ride! Now!”

  “Dawg, the store ain’t even open, so what’s so important up there? Besides, wasn’t she just going in on your ass and us?”

  “And so damn what, guy? That’s my sister! Blood thicker than all that other shit you talking about.” Dre had had enough of talking to his boy and started the engine. “You rolling or what, motherfucker? ’Cause I’m out!”

  Barely able to jump in the front seat as the car skirted off, Dre’s homeboy started asking him questions he didn’t have the answers to. Driving by several houses with the owners posted on their front porches, guns in hand, the neighborhood menaces made mental notes to avoid breaking into those houses altogether later in the night, or risk wearing body bag suits by morning. Not caring about stop signs or anything else, Dre flew up to a white Benz truck and mean mugged the driver, who waved his hand up for him to go ahead and go first, even though Dre didn’t have the right of way.

  Where I know that little nigga from? he briefly wondered, swerving by the expensive rimmed vehicle.

  Minutes later Dre pulled up to the front of the store and saw no signs of his sister’s vehicle. Knowing Hassan, Mikey, and Pops parked in the rear of the normally busy building, he busted a U-turn and flew up the alleyway. Right next to Mikey’s Dodge Magnum and another car was Alexis’s Honda. Wasting no more time, he headed to the back door of the store while calling his sister’s cell. Banging on the rear door as hard as he could, Dre grew angrier the longer it took his sister or Hassan to respond. With her cell phone ringing a few times, then going to voice mail, he started to feel some sort of way.

  “Yo, Hassan. Alexis! Open the motherfucking door!”

  “We closed, Dre!” Hassan shouted back to make sure Dre heard him through the thick metal material separating the two of them. “And your sister ain’t here.”

  Assuming he was lying and was just trying to stop him from talking to Alexis, who’d just texted 911, indicating something was seriously wrong, Dre went all the way in. “Look, you rag-wearing son of a bitch! You stopping my money flow out in these streets by playing games. Now tell my sister to come to the damn door.”

  “Hey, you nigga,” one twin recklessly shouted with a tone of entitlement. “He said her black ass ain’t here, so get the fuck on! Go eat a banana or some shit!”

  Dre didn’t recognize the voice, but he knew Hassan and Mikey would have never called him no racial slur, knowing there would definitely be some drama behind it. “Man, whoever the fuck you is running your mouth behind that locked door, fall back and suck my dick! And, Hassan, tell my goddamned sister to come out here before I really get pissed.”

  “Dre, for real, I ain’t messing around. She ain’t here, fam! I wouldn’t lie to you!”

  “Then why her car here, fool?” Dre pointed at the Honda, as if Hassan could magically see through the steel door. “She texted me she was up here and it was a fucking emergency!”

  Hassan had witnessed Alexis’s brother and his ruthless crew skull drag more than a few guys out in the middle of Linwood and stump they brains out just for fun. And even though he carried a pistol and was far from a punk in his own Dearborn neighborhood, this was Detroit, specifically the Linwood, Dexter, and Davison area, and it was well known throughout the entire city that motherfuckers born and raised around those parts were about that life for real. They weren’t just bigger than the game—they were the game.

  “Yo, abeed, stop all this questioning and take your bitch ass back to the crack house and check up on your mama!” the same twin yelled as Mikey and Hassan begged him to stop. “Naw, this nigga around here at my uncle store like he running shit! Fuck him and his good pussy-having sister!”

  “What! How the hell you know that?” Hassan said, offended. He couldn’t believe what had just been said about his girl.

  “Hassan, chill out, cuz, and just let my brother handle that escaped slave,” the other twin shouted through the door, which, thankfully, was bolted. “You the one that said she had good pussy and the bomb-ass head. You the one that said you be having her on her knees, begging to eat watermelon and get fucked in the ass! You the one that said her baby was a toss-up hood spawn!”

  Hassan calmed down, knowing that what his cousin was saying was true. Regretfully, while he was talking shit, like most guys did when they were with their homebo
ys, he had made those god-awful remarks, and they were just getting repeated, only to the wrong person—Alexis’s bloodthirsty brother. The fact that she was in school and was working on her degree, he had failed to say. The reality that she was a good mother to the baby he knew in his heart was truly his son, he hadn’t expressed. Hassan had hundreds of positive things that he could’ve said to show Alexis’s true character, but he had kept his mouth closed, showing out for the fellas.

  After calling Alexis repeatedly and getting the same response, which was none, Dre felt his heart race with rage. The more racist trash talk the twins engaged in, the more he was determined to get inside the building and see what was really good with his sister and, more importantly, why she was just sitting back, letting these fools go ham. He knew damn well she hadn’t text him 911 to listen to this bullshit.

  “You piss-smelling, bomb-making terrorists better open this motherfucking door before I deport y’all asses my damn self!” he shouted.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “What’s going on your way, Amir? I ain’t heard from my homeboy yet. What’s the deal?” Ethan was both anxious and curious. He had his money already counted and in a thick yellow manila envelope, just the way Amir always requested. Although prejudiced Amir wasn’t the only connect in the general area, he damn straight had the strongest product for one’s money. “I’ve been waiting for Black Tone to get back at me so we could squash that situation once and for all, but still no word.”

  Amir was in his feelings before Ethan called. Knowing that his best two chances of avoiding any unforeseen trouble this evening, namely, Black Tone and his cousin Wild Child, had jumped up and left, no explanation given, he was sick with it. He’d overheard Black Tone address the caller as Auntie, so he assumed whatever was wrong was family related, but so damn what? Like most people in the world, Amir wanted what he wanted when he wanted it. And now he wanted and needed Black Tone’s muscle power on deck.

  Sitting behind his desk, with a few candles lighting the room, Amir held his gun in one hand and stared at the master walkie-talkie lying on top of a stack of papers. Now was not the time for Ethan, or any other person other than his constantly calling father, to be bothering him. In between Pops pressing him to go by the family store and Black Tone refusing to pick up his calls, the club owner drug plug was heated.

  “Look, Ethan, I don’t know what to tell you. Black Tone ain’t here, so you just gotta hold up.”

  Ethan didn’t like what he was hearing or the manner in which it was being said. He hoped, for business’s sake, his main pipeline wasn’t slowing down, because if so, his spots and people would suffer immediately. He was already close to out and needed to re-up bad.

  “Damn, Amir. I mean, I thought me and you already made peace on that bullshit my sister’s son did last night. I thought we was all good with it.”

  “We is all good with it as far as I’m concerned, but like I said, you need to holler at your boy. I mean, truth be told, he the one that brought you in and cosign for it, so you and him dealing firsthand is only right.”

  Ethan felt he could read between the lines and felt some sort of way. Not ready to just lie down and play dead about a delay in getting his needy crew back out the gate, he pushed the issue, hoping Amir would give in. “Look, dude, we been doing business for some time now. My money is always straight. I don’t complain if the weight is slightly off, and I never, ever keep you waiting. I keeps it official with you from beginning to end.”

  Amir thought back to the discussion he and Black Tone had had moments before he left. Tell a person no, then the real them will emerge. Still upset with Black Tone, Amir threw him underneath the bus to test the theory.

  “Okay, Ethan, you right. You have been holding you end down from day one since we linked up. And I told you, I’m good with it. But your nephew clowned here on Black Tone’s watch, and he’s not as forgiving as I am. I watched the tape a few times, and I can’t lie. I don’t blame him for being angry. The boy was acting out, hitting my female customers on the ass, spitting at the waitresses, and mistreating the lives of not only Tone but the rest of my staff as well. It went on for a good thirty minutes or so before we finally took action.”

  Ethan was ashamed of what he was hearing. He was very much old school when it came to the streets and prided himself on being righteous with everyone he dealt with. Now, after years of being a force to be reckoned with not only on the east side of Detroit, but in the entire city, he found that Li’l Ronnie had ruined his reputation. And not only his reputation, but possibly his best plug too.

  “Look, Amir, I’m not one to ask another grown man for favors, let alone ask him something twice. Now, my word is my word. Always was, always will be. Now I have handled my nephew and set him down from the game and the streets until further notice. So if I need to speak to Black Tone to tell him that much directly to keep our business relationship intact, then so be it. But I have to know if he’s willing to talk soon. If not, I have to take my money elsewhere.”

  Amir respected that Ethan was trying to keep his cool in light of possibly losing that good uncut product, but only time would tell, since Black Tone was not available to speak directly to him.

  “Well, like I said, Ethan, he’ll be in touch as soon as possible, so just sit tight. He had a family emergency that just jumped off, I guess.”

  Ethan ended the conversation on a good note, as he always did when speaking to those outside the fold. He never allowed strangers or otherwise to see him sweat or come out of character. Even though he could read in between the lines and knew he was in the process of being cut off from the bag, Ethan kept his fronts off.

  This ho-ass nephew of mine gonna mess around and cost me a whole gang of money and put a lot of my hard-earned spots out of business if I can’t secure that work. Fuck that! He done been in my pockets long enough, doing stupid bullshit, and now the damn connect is jeopardized. Blood or not, that boy gotta pay just like the next nigga would that cross me!

  “Yo, get me them three fucking idiots that run with my nephew,” he demanded to one of his main henchmen who hardly left his side. “I wanna see how loyal they pussy ass is to the family. Yeah, they was smart enough to get the hell outta Dodge when Ronnie was acting a fool last night, claiming my name in vain, but they was also not smart enough to not abandon they manz. Now is about to be the true test of what they made out of.”

  * * *

  It was nearing dark when Li’l Ronnie’s three running buddies were shoved in the room where Ethan was holding court. While two of them held their heads down in semi-shame over what had taken place, one stood tall. He appeared to have no remorse or second thoughts about his actions the prior night. He was a true man-child and looked directly into Ethan’s eyes, showing no signs of fear. Deciding to test the three of them, Ethan started to ask each one their individual version of what took place. He already had what he believed to be the raw and real account from his girl Sable, and the club camera footage, which Amir had supplied, corroborated her account. Just as he thought, the first young guy kinda shrugged his shoulders, torn between ratting his boy out and being honest. However the third one, whom Ethan seemed to take a liking to, did just as he had hoped he would—speak out.

  “Look, sir, I don’t mean to be disrespectful to you or Li’l Ronnie. I mean, I know he’s your blood and all. And I know he was the one that put us onto the bag, but when he drink and take them pills, his ass be on an entire other level,” he bravely confessed, not caring how the man who ultimately put money in his pockets felt. “A nigga like me ain’t got no real family or no real place to lay my head half the time, so I can’t fuck around and get my ass choked out on the humble behind no dumb shit. Where I’m gonna be sick, broke arms or legs, and can’t hustle, right? I ain’t got no mama to baby me or no girl. I’m solo. Fuck all that! I’m trying to survive and live out in these streets, not be a clown.”

  Ethan grinned as he sat back on the couch. With ten or eleven long silver flashlights on th
e coffee table as he awaited nightfall, he was ready to put the three young night warriors to work. The two who were quiet and had no fire in their asses, Ethan had them check in with one of his people in charge of the corners. Passing them each a flashlight, he suggested they tool up and get posted.

  “Y’all best stay alert on them corners. Ain’t no telling what other crew might wanna take advantage of the power outage and make a play.” Seeing them both leave the same way they did when they were ushered in, heads lowered, Ethan knew it wouldn’t be long off into the game before their families would be burying them. It was easy to see they didn’t have the heart for the streets.

  Now left alone with the third boy, Ethan smirked and asked him to have a seat. “Looka here, youngin’. You seem like you about that life. Are you?”

  His reply was brief. “I survive. I do what I gotta do.”

  “Well, tell me this. Just how did you and my nephew hook up? Where you know him from?”

  “We was locked up together.”

  “Locked up, huh?”

  “Yeah, we was in two different units, but I worked in the laundry, so I got around.”

  Ethan knew what that meant. He knew the boy was already accustomed to doing and getting things for a price. Before he cut off into him, Ethan hoped this thing he was about to ask him would be no different. Pay for hire. No questions asked.

  “Okay, then, I heard that. Well, I can see in between them other two lames that just left and my nephew that you the one. You the shooter. You the one that makes all the real decisions for all them and probably keeps them from being murdered out here. True or false?”

  The young man never blinked an eye when Ethan was describing who he believed him to be. He just sat mute, wondering where all this was going. After listening to his boss make several more assessments, he finally spoke.

  “Mr. E, I mean no disrespect at all, but where is all this leading up to? Is there something I can do for you? Because if there is, it ain’t no thang. I’ll put in work. But I ain’t no pussy with shit I do. I ain’t into hurting small kids and definitely no old women!”