Yet still, Malek was damn near perfect. He was attentive and he spoiled her rotten. He was getting so much money that she was having a hard time spending it. He gave her a weekly allowance of $10,000 and she blew it on clothes, shoes, and jewelry. She had even saved up for two months and bought herself another car, a cherry red BMW convertible, which made her the envy of the town. She remodeled their entire house from top to bottom, and now she felt like she didn’t have anything else to do. She was bored.
With Malek being in the streets, she was alone a lot. He kept late hours, which left her with a lot of time on her hands. She had been forced to end her friendship with Tasha and was lonely without her former partner in crime. Malek had literally secluded her from anyone and everyone that she knew, but she understood why. He had stepped into Jamaica Joe’s shoes and was “that nigga” in the streets. Every bitch wished they could get their hands on him, and every nigga was trying to be down.
Being his woman made her a certified street diva, and she was playing her position well. She had gone from a Manolo Mami that any man could purchase, to a woman that no one could have. She was a hood legend. She was respected and talked about, but rarely seen. She was respected because Malek had upgraded her, and she was grateful for her new lifestyle.
The only time she ever went to the hood was to get her hair done. It was her one chance to catch up on everything that was happening on the North Side. When she first started going to the salons, she experienced “shade” from the North Side girls. By being a Manolo Mami, she was automatically looked at as competition by all of the South Side chicks like Keesha, who were thirsty to get down with Manolo. But once they found out about her and Malek, they warmed up to her.
She had so many associates, she couldn’t even count, but she wasn’t naïve. She knew that they were not her true friends. If anything, they just wanted to get close to her so that they could get the inside scoop on Malek and one day take her place. Halleigh would never set up her own fall from grace, so she kept all those thirsty bitches on a leash, staying close enough to know what they were thinking, but not close enough for them to know her thoughts. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” was her motto when it came to the gold-digging chicks she met on her way to the top.
Halleigh grabbed her silk robe and put it around her body before walking into her house. It was almost time for her hair appointment, so she headed inside to get dressed. She wore a yellow halter sundress with a yellow satin bow that tied around her waist. Yellow Aldo sandals with the wood-colored heel adorned her French manicured feet. Her hair was thick and nappy. She was definitely in need of a touch-up. She pulled her hair up in a loose ponytail, left her glasses on her face, and stepped out of her house.
Driving into the city, she bumped Keyshia Cole out of her custom speakers. She bobbed her head to the soul-searching lyrics. It was the middle of the summer, so as soon as she entered the city limits, she saw everybody out riding around in their cars and chilling on the block. Halleigh loved the attention that she got as she sped down Clio Road. She parked in the parking lot to her favorite salon and hopped out, engaging her car alarm as she walked toward the building.
Halleigh was definitely living ghetto fabulous. But everything in life came at a price. And in Halleigh’s case, there was a price to being the first lady to the city’s biggest hustler. For Halleigh, the price that she had to pay was dealing with enemies, and especially the jealousy and envy of those who wanted to have what she and Malek had.
So as Halleigh made her way into the salon, she realized that for the first time in her life she was literally a bit paranoid. She thought, What if Keesha pops up again? Is Keesha now cool with Tasha, and if so, is Tasha gonna come at me for what she looked at as a lack of loyalty? Is Manolo still locked up, or is he out on the streets? Would someone try to kill me for just being Malek’s girl?
Yeah, Halleigh had stress to deal with, but she tried her best to pamper herself at home and away from home.
“Man, that young nigga ain’t playin’. Scratch saw the whole thang, ya dig. I mean, he just blew that joker’s brains out without even thinking about it. Now pass me the pipe, nigga. You always hoggin’ the rock,” Scratch said as he conversed with three of his crackhead friends who had huddled in the alley to split the twenty-dollar rock they had all put in on.
Scratch grabbed the crack-filled pipe from his associate and took a deep pull, letting the crack smoke rush down his throat and into his lungs. He noticed a person walking past the alley and jumped at the opportunity to hustle up on some more money.
Halleigh noticed a man coming from the alley.
When Scratch saw her approaching, he jumped up desperately. “Aww, pretty lady, pretty lady, can you give ol’ Scratch some spare change?” he asked as he scratched the back of his small, dirty Afro.
“Scratch!” Halleigh yelled in excitement. Halleigh hadn’t seen him in over a year and, oddly enough, was glad to see her old smoking buddy.
It was Scratch who had tried to push her away from heroin when she was looking for an emotional escape from her prostitution days with Manolo as her pimp. Scratch was a drug addict himself, so his trying to convince Halleigh to stay off heroin was like a cop trying to arrest himself. It wasn’t gonna happen.
Halleigh and Scratch soon became get-high buddies. When Halleigh was getting high on an everyday basis in the alley with Scratch, she was at one of the lowest points in her life, on a runaway train, with death as her destination. Thankfully for her, Tasha was there for her and helped her to break her addiction.
“Li’l Rina?” Scratch said, calling her by the nickname he gave her because she reminded him so much of his other former smoking partner, Halleigh’s mother, Rina. “That sho’ is you. You look good, girl. Scratch heard you were messing with that young boy Malek. I heard he got you up in a big ol’ pretty house in the suburbs somewhere. Ten bedrooms, twenty-eight bathrooms. Hell, even a golden shithole for the dog. You large, Li’l Rina! I’m proud of you.”
Halleigh couldn’t help but laugh at his exaggeration. She knew that the hood was talking about her if Scratch knew her business. “I’m doing real good, Scratch. I’m clean now, and I’m happy,” she stated. She reached into her Birkin bag and pulled out her pocketbook. She peeled off three hundred-dollar bills. “Here you go, Scratch.” She handed him the money. She knew how it was when you had a monkey on your back and you couldn’t get it off. “Take care of yourself, okay.”
Halleigh literally would have given Scratch the shirt off her back, and that was because they had a connection that was formed in the gutter—a bond similar to the one soldiers form with one another when they’re in a foxhole and enemy armies are gunning at them, trying to kill them. She knew that Scratch would use the money to get high. And while she hoped that he would one day get help and get clean, she wasn’t going to act holier-than-thou and forget where she’d come from. So, she helped him out with some of her blessings.
“Yeah, okay, Li’l Rina. You take care too,” he replied as he watched her walk into the building. “My Li’l Rina, my Li’l Rina,” he mumbled. He was happy that the young girl was clean and healthy. Scratch smiled, thinking about how Halleigh’s life had changed for the better, and about his next stop, the nearest dopeman to get his next fix.
Chapter Ten
Halleigh lay next to Malek. Her head rested on his chest, and their fingers intertwined as they sat back and enjoyed each other’s company. It was the first time in a long time they had spent some quality time together. Lately, the only thing that Malek had time for was getting money. His constant hustling had caused her to spend many lonely nights in their new home.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered intimately.
“I know. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. You know what I’ve been doing. I’ve got to make sure that we want for nothing. A couple years of hustling and we’ll be set for life. I’m doing this for us,” he replied while he ran his fingers through her hair. He knew that he h
ad been neglecting home, but it was for a good cause. He was making money in the hood, and he had to be on point if Halleigh wanted to continue to live the lavish lifestyle that he was providing for her.
“I know, I know,” she said. “It still doesn’t stop me from being lonely sometimes.”
Malek noticed the disappointed look on her face and sighed deeply. “Look, Hal, I’m here now, ma. Let’s just enjoy this time together, a’ight. It’s all about you today.”
“Okay,” she reluctantly answered with a light smile.
Malek pulled his T-shirt over his head in one swift movement and then turned her on her back. He kissed her neck gently, running his warm tongue across her skin.
Halleigh arched her back in anticipated pleasure, but before she could get into it, Malek’s cell phone rang loudly. “Don’t answer it,” she whispered with lust in her voice as she turned Malek’s head back toward her.
Malek kissed her distractedly as the phone continued to ring. “Give me one minute,” he said as he rose from the bed.
Halleigh sighed as she watched Malek walk over to the dresser to answer the phone. She knew that his focus could never be on her completely. The streets didn’t allow it.
“Hello?” Malek said as he flipped open his cell.
“Yo, fam, I got that for you. I just picked up the scratch, and it ain’t what it’s supposed to be, nah mean?” Mitch was on the other end of the phone, and the news he was delivering wasn’t good.
“What you mean, fam?” Malek asked. His workers had come short on his money last month, and after a routine shakedown, he was confident that it wouldn’t happen again. This was becoming a problem.
“Shit’s like a hunnid thou short,” Mitch informed heatedly.
“A’ight, fam, come through my spot. We got to figure this shit out, and we also gotta talk about handlin’ them niggas, Sweets and Manolo. If I don’t respond soon, then the streets is gonna start thinking I went soft. You feel me?” Malek said.
“I’m about fifteen minutes away from your crib. I’ll be there in a minute,” Mitch replied.
Malek allowed Mitch to know where he lived, simply because he thought about how Jamaica Joe had operated, never even letting his closest henchman know where he officially rested. Malek understood why Joe did what he did, but at the same time, he reasoned that if the closest people in your organization didn’t know where you lived, then that would breed mistrust in them and cause envy and hate to build up in your top people.
Malek snapped his cell phone closed and looked back toward the bed. Halleigh looked disappointed as she got up then walked out of the room, shaking her head. Malek let her leave. He didn’t have time to entertain her. No matter how much he wanted her, he had other things that were more important at the moment. His workers were coming short with his money, and he needed to figure out why.
He put his cell phone on his clip and put on a white Enyce T-shirt before joining Halleigh in the kitchen. He found her standing in front of their liquor cabinet. She poured herself a glass of wine as he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“You upset?” he asked her, already knowing the answer to his question.
“It’s all about me today, huh?” she replied sarcastically as she sipped her red wine. She knew that she loved her man, but she was feeling left out of his life. He made sure that she was taken care of. Halleigh literally wanted for nothing, but the thing she craved the most was his presence. They had missed so much of each other’s lives, and all she wanted to do was to make up for lost time. She wanted to get to know Malek again. Mentally they had grown, and physically they needed to become acquainted again.
“Don’t be like that,” Malek stated. “I love you, Halleigh. I just have to handle this, a’ight.” He kissed the nape of her neck as she stood with her back toward him.
The feeling of his lips on her body sent shivers down her spine and left her vulnerable to his touch. She couldn’t help but forgive him.
“Okay, Malek, but you need to make some time for me one of these days. She misses you too,” Halleigh whispered erotically, referring to the yearning that she felt between her legs. She tugged at his earlobe with her teeth and slipped her tongue inside.
Malek’s loins called for her. He picked her up by the waist, his hands firmly planted on her ass and her legs wrapped snugly around him, their tongues entangled. Malek placed her on the kitchen counter as he took a position between her legs. He could feel the intense heat coming from Halleigh’s body. Her desire obvious, he suddenly forgot about his duty to the streets.
Ding-dong! The ringing of the doorbell interrupted their rendezvous.
Malek closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. “Hold that thought. We gon’ finish this as soon as I’m done with business,” he said.
“I hope so,” she replied with a mischievous smile as she picked up her wine glass.
Malek went to answer the door and was greeted by Mitch. They slapped hands and embraced quickly before Malek invited him into his home.
Mitch looked around and was impressed by the interior of the expensively decorated living space. Malek was definitely doing well. “What up, fam?” Mitch asked as he took a seat on Malek’s oversized leather sectional.
“This money, nah mean?” Malek replied, pacing back and forth. “What is up with these niggas? Them dudes you got out here playing wit’ my money? I thought we already made an example out of Big Petey. Pour that on the table,” Malek instructed, indicating the duffel bag full of money that sat at Mitch’s feet.
Mitch unzipped the bag and emptied the contents onto the coffee table, covering it with wrinkled bills. They began to separate the bills by denomination, and when they were organized, they pulled out the money machine.
“What is this?” Malek asked as he looked at the bills going through the money machine.
“That’s the take. That’s what we made this week, fam,” Mitch answered as he shook his head in disbelief.
Malek had noticed his paper was short in the Fifth Ward, usually his most profitable block for cocaine. For the past couple of weeks, he had begun to see his money decline in that neighborhood, and he began to grow suspicious.
Malek stopped the money machine and calmly sat back in his chair, shaking his head from side to side, obviously disturbed. Either niggas is skimming off the top or crackheads just stopped smoking rocks. That is the only explanation for the Fifth Ward not to do numbers, Malek thought as he looked over at Mitch. Malek had been hustling with Mitch for months, and Mitch hadn’t shown any sign of disloyalty up to that point.
“Why is the paper constantly coming short from the Fifth, Mitch?” Malek folded both of his hands and leaned back in his seat.
“Niggas saying it’s hard to eat because of that new rehabilitation center that was built on Detroit Street. They built it right in the middle of the hood. They be having bullhorns and shit, protesting with signs. No one want to be making their pay in that kind of environment. Feel me?” Mitch answered.
“Man, one rehab ain’t shutting down an entire block—someone is putting they hand in the cookie jar,” Malek stated.
“Nah, they ain’t stupid. They ain’t tryin’-a see us. We just got product that ain’t moving. I got workers that usually move three bricks a week sitting on ’em ’cause they can’t get ’em off like usual because of that center, fam,” Mitch explained.
“What’s the rehabilitation center called?” Malek asked, confused.
“Um . . . The—”Mitch snapped his fingers, trying to remember the name of the place, and it finally came to him—“The Genesis, yeah, that’s what the shit’s called. Some reformed addict named Moses is in charge of it.”
The Fifth Ward was the source of about half of Malek’s drug income, so this was definitely a problem.
“How can a little-ass center stop us from making money?”
“It’s just hard trying to sell drugs while someone is on a bullhorn telling people that it will eventually kill
you. Li’l man that works for us said that half of his former customers are in their rehab. It’s going to be impossible to do numbers while that center is there. They on some savethe-world shit, and it’s costing us money.”
“I mean, damn, you talking like everyone done stopped smoking. They still tryin’a get high,” Malek said.
“Look, fam, that ain’t the only problem,” Mitch stated. “That faggot Sweets been causing problems on the South End too.”
“Word is bond, Mitch. It’s time to lay him down! How we gon’ get at that homo-ass Sweets?” Malek asked in irritation. His tone indicated that he was obviously upset about the sudden change in profits, and even more so about Sweets and his annoying tactics.
“Man, Sweets can get got, and I know just how to get at his ass. According to the dudes we got posted on the South Side, Sweets been sending them young murderers he got to get his blocks back. You know Sweets be on that gay shit. Supposedly, he done already made an example out of a couple of our workers. They ain’t trying to see Sweets like that, so they’ll rather come short on our money than face him.”
Malek was enraged. There was no way he was going to give up the South Side. He would rather go out in a blaze of gunfire than let Sweets kill his former boss and then muscle in on his territory. Malek was the first hustler to take control of both sides of the city, and Sweets wasn’t going to stand in the way of his reign of power.
“We got to get rid of Sweets. I ain’t tryin’a do this backand-forth shit either, fam. I want him dead, nah mean?”
“Yeah, I hear you, fam. You know I’m with it, but that still don’t handle our other problem,” Mitch stated. He turned on the television and flicked to the evening news. “This rehab been all over the TV. They trying to expand and everything. You think it’s a problem now, wait until they spread those centers all over the damn city.”
Malek focused his attention on the screen and listened to the news report:
Resurrection Page 7
