The Diamond Empire--A Novel

by K'wan

  “That’s an awfully sweet accent you got,” he said, ignoring her threat. “I got a thing for southern belles. What part of the south you from? Texas? Mississippi? No, wait, let me guess … New Orleans, right?”

  Vita’s hand dipped for the gun in her purse, but Knowledge was already on her. He yanked the purse away and twisted her arm behind her back, pinning Vita to the bar. “Take it easy, shorty. I just wanna talk to you.”

  “Fuck you.” Vita threw her head back, smashing it into Knowledge’s lip and forcing him to release his grip.

  “I don’t normally hit women, but if that’s how you wanna play it I’m game.” Knowledge rushed her.

  Vita danced on the balls of her feet in a fighting stance. She waited until Knowledge had almost reached her, before sidestepping and catching him with two quick punches to the side of his head. From the expression on his face he had just realized that she was not only fast, but had a hell of a right cross. She tried the same tick again, but this time he was prepared. He blocked the blows and delivered one of his own to her gut, knocking the wind out of her. Before Vita could right herself, he tossed her over his hip and into a nearby table. Whatever fight she had left in her had officially fled.

  “On your feet, my mysterious friend.” Knowledge yanked her up by the arm. “I’ve been looking for you for quite some time. You and me are going to go outside and have ourselves a little chat.” He shoved her toward the door.

  “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, Knowledge,” Vita capped.

  Knowledge stopped short. “How the hell do you know my name?”

  “Me knowing your name is the least of your concerns at the moment,” Vita taunted him.

  Knowledge was about to press her for more information, but he never got the chance. Something cracked over the top of his head and the world went loopy. When Knowledge came to, he was sitting on the floor propped against the bar with Power patting his cheeks. There was no sign of Vita.

  “Knowledge, you good? Talk to me!” Power insisted.

  “Yeah, I’m straight.” Knowledge pulled himself to his feet. “What the fuck happened?”

  “I don’t know, man. I saw a chick and a dude running out of here so I came in to check on you. I found you laid out on the floor with a broken pool stick next to you.”

  “We gotta find that bitch. I know she’s connected to everything that’s been going on,” Knowledge said heatedly.

  “Man, later for that. I’m sure that old bartender already called the police after y’all busted her joint up. I think it best if we leave before they arrive.”

  “Too late, because they’re already here,” someone called from behind them. In the doorway stood a lanky, brown-skinned man. He had an angular face and keen eyes that seemed to look everywhere at once. His thick sideburns and deeply cleft upper lip gave him a canine appearance. With his hair in cornrows and his baggy jeans cuffed over his Timberlands, he looked like your everyday corner boy, but the badge hanging from around his neck said that he wasn’t. “Which one of you dipshits were looking to howl at the moon?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Domo was tired by the time he made it back to Newark. Normally he would walk the mile or so from Newark Penn Station back to his block, but after the day he’d had he didn’t have it in him so he hopped into one of the idling taxis.

  Riding down Market Street he busied himself watching people hustling in and out of the busy rows of stores. It had been several years since they had revamped the strip, but the transformation still amazed and puzzled Domo. The city had gone out of its way to rebuild that part of the city to draw income from the tourists and, in turn, the shop owners, but had left most of the residential areas untouched. Houses in dire need of repair littered several blocks, while vacant lots where the city had torn down all the housing projects dominated others. They kept promising to rebuild on the properties and relocate the families they had pushed out during the demolition, but it had been a few years and they still hadn’t gotten around to it. Newark was the only city where you could go from sugar to shit in less than a block, but it was home for Domo.

  He had the taxi drop him off a block or so from his house, and walked. Domo had been doing that a lot lately whenever he was in a taxi or riding in a car with someone. He never had them drop him off directly in front of his house. It was a habit he had picked up since he started running with Buda’s gang: never let anyone get too close to where you laid your head. The front of the corner liquor store was busy as usual. It was a popular spot where the locals congregated to shoot the breeze or ply their respective trades. In the center of the gathering, decked out in a tan dickey suit and black Chuck Taylors, was Domo’s friend and new business partner, L.A.

  L.A. was somewhat of a staple in their neighborhood. He was only a few years older than Domo, but had been involved in the streets since he was in middle school and had already achieved OG status. He was a wild and unpredictable dude who was down to do anything in the name of a dollar. From robbery to murder, L.A. was with it. It had been L.A. who first plugged Domo into the New Orleans crew when he invited him to ride shotgun on a job. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but now Domo found himself in so deep that he wasn’t sure he could get out if he wanted to.

  “What’s up with you, young blood?” L.A. greeted Domo through a haze of Black & Mild smoke.

  “Ain’t shit. I’m just getting back from New York.”

  “I should’ve known that when I came by your house this morning and you wasn’t home that you was probably laid up with Vita. You been up that chick’s ass since I introduced you.”

  “I was actually handling something with Buda and them,” Domo half lied. He didn’t want L.A. any deeper in his business than he needed to be.

  “Y’all went on a mission and didn’t call me?” L.A. was disappointed. He knew riding out with Buda meant quick cash, so he tagged along whenever possible.

  “We tried to call you last night to run down the play, but your phone kept going to voice mail.”

  “Damn, my shit was dead until this morning. I had a wild-ass night with two broads from out of Candy Girls. Them bitches worked me out,” L.A. said, reliving the night of wild sex in his head. “What y’all was on, money or murder?”

  Domo gave him a look that said he knew better than to ask him that sort of question on a crowded corner.

  “Damn, boy, you turning into a full-fledged savage out here on these streets. Looks like I created a monster.” L.A. slapped Domo on the back good-naturedly. Sometimes it was hard to tell which one L.A. enjoyed more, putting in work or watching others get their hands dirty.

  “What’s popping out here?” Domo changed the subject.

  “Shit, the block is jumping! That package Buda hit us with got these fiends out here going crazy. We almost out, and probably gonna have to go into New York to get hit off again soon.”

  “No need. We got a package coming in either tonight or in the morning. Some new shit,” Domo informed him.

  “So, what, you off making deals on your own now?” L.A. gave him a suspicious look.

  “Nah, it ain’t like that. Buda wants to push the stuff they came up on today out here. He’s giving us half off too.”

  “It must be gonna snow in hell if that tight bastard is giving away discount drugs.”

  “I think he just don’t want the shit Hank and Goldie stole traced back to them.”

  “Fuck it, I ain’t gonna be one to block no blessing. Bring it on and let’s get to this paper!” L.A. said.

  “Speaking of paper, I’m gonna need my cut off of this week’s profits. Got some things I need to take care of.”

  “Nigga, didn’t you say you just did a job with Buda? Your pockets should be stuffed with cash,” L.A. said.

  “I didn’t stick around for my cut. I’ll pick it up tomorrow, but what I need to do ain’t gonna wait.”

  “A’ight, I’ll have someone bring it by your pad later on,” L.A. promised.

  �
�Nah, don’t do that. Just call me and I’ll come grab it.”

  “You moving awful careful these days.” L.A. eyeballed him.

  “You would be too if you’d seen what I have in the last week or so.” Domo reflected on Oscar’s face right before he killed him.

  “I thought I heard you out here.” Rah came out of the store carrying a forty-ounce Olde English 800 and a Dutch Masters cigar. His hoodie bore stains from whatever he was eating earlier that day, and his Timberlands were scuffed and flapping loosely on his feet. Raheem was a slob, but he was also Domo’s best friend.

  “Sup with you, Rah?” Domo gave him dap.

  “Everything is groovy, beloved,” Rah replied. “Yo, did this nigga L.A. tell you about Candy Girls last night?”

  “You were there too?” Domo asked curiously. L.A. and Rah were cool, but he had never known them to hang out unless he was around.

  “Yeah, L.A. treated a couple of the homies last night. Yo, my nigga was in there making it rain! You should’ve seen it.”

  “I’ll bet,” Domo said. He had been hearing here and there that L.A. had been around town being flashy. They had both agreed to start keeping lower profiles in light of their new status, but it seemed only one of them was keeping up his end of the bargain. “Yo, I’ll catch y’all in a few. I’m about to go to the crib and change my clothes right quick.”

  “A’ight, I’ll have that for you by the time you come back out,” L.A. assured him.

  “I’ll walk with you. I need to holla at you anyway.” Raheem joined Domo.

  The two of them walked down the street to the two-family unit in which Domo shared an apartment with his mother. They bounded up the stairs to the second floor, where their unit was located. When Domo opened the door the first thing he smelled was pine. This meant his mother had cleaned the house before she went out to work. It was a wonder she’d even had time, as much as she had been running around lately.

  “So, what’s good?” Raheem asked once they were inside Domo’s bedroom.

  “Ain’t shit, man. Just taking it light,” Domo said, sitting on his bed to untie his sneakers. It was then that he noticed the flecks of blood splatter on them.

  “I see y’all got shit jumping out here,” Raheem said, cutting to the chase.

  “Really, and what makes you think that?” Domo asked, slyly kicking his sneakers under the bed. He would throw them out once he got a chance.

  Raheem gave him a look. “C’mon, man. Everybody know you and L.A. holding that New York bag now.”

  “Is that what L.A. is saying?” Domo went to his closet and began thumbing through his shirts. He had purposely not mentioned his involvement with the drugs to Raheem because the boy had a tendency to be chatty.

  “He ain’t gotta say it, he’s showing it! Man, L.A. gave all them boys up on the corner packages to move for him. He offered me one, but I turned it down.”

  “How come?” Domo asked, pulling a long-sleeve black graphic T-shirt from its hanger. As long as he had known Raheem, he’d never turned down the chance to make a dollar.

  “Because I ain’t trying to be out there hustling dime bags, I’m trying to get it like you getting it,” Raheem told him. He’d heard that Domo and L.A. were making serious money working with the crew from New Orleans and he wanted in.

  “I’m making a few dollars here and there, but I hardly call that getting it.”

  Raheem sucked his teeth. “C’mon, my nigga, this is me. I’ve been your ace since day one so you know you can’t hide nothing from me. Put your boy down.”

  “Rah, you know it ain’t that simple,” Domo told him while scanning the dozen or so boxes of sneakers stacked against his wall, trying to figure out which ones to wear. “Buda and them are playing on a different level, and I don’t know if it’s such a good idea for you to get involved.”

  “Bruh, why you acting like I can’t handle myself?”

  “You mean like you handled yourself when I took you to meet them for the first time?” Domo reminded him.

  Diamonds’ cousin T.J. had thrown a baby shower for his girlfriend at T.J.’s house and Vita had requested his presence. Raheem had been on Domo’s back for an introduction since Domo had hooked up with the crew so Domo figured that night would be as good as any. Of course Raheem had made a mess of it. He had foolishly gotten involved in a dice game with Buda and the two had exchanged words over a debt, and Buda had demanded he and Raheem shoot the fair one. Raheem was scared shitless by the brute and was making both himself and Domo look bad in front of Diamonds, so Domo stepped up for him. It was one of the worse mistakes he’d ever made. Buda had beaten him so bad that the bruises on his ribs had only recently started to heal. Domo had taken an ass whipping, but he’d also fought back and it earned him the respect of the crew. The same couldn’t be said for Raheem. Because he hadn’t stood up for himself the crew had branded him weak, which was the real reason Domo didn’t want to bring him back around. He wanted to spare Rah the embarrassment that surely awaited him in the circle of bandits.

  “That was just a big misunderstanding. Me and Buda are good now, right?” Raheem asked hopefully.

  “Sure, Rah,” Domo said and went back to scanning his sneaker boxes. He was about to remove a pair of Jordan’s when he noticed something was off. Domo stood back and studied the boxes for a minute before it finally hit him. Domo always kept his sneaker boxes stacked according to brand, but now they were arranged according to box size. His mother had been in his room. Frantically, Domo began snatching the boxes away from the wall, looking for a specific one.

  “Fuck is wrong with you?” Raheem asked, looking at his friend toss sneakers left and right.

  Domo ignored him and kept searching. His heart thudded in his chest, fearing the worst. Finally he found what he was looking for, a tattered New Balance box. He breathed a sigh of relief when he flipped the lid open and found his secret stash of cash intact. For a minute he’d feared his mother had found it.

  “Damn, that’s gotta be about ten grand!” Raheem spooked Domo when he appeared hovering over his shoulder.

  “Not even close.” Domo flipped the box closed and tucked it under his arm.

  “What did you do, knock over a bank or something?” Raheem pressed him.

  “Nah, man. Just been putting a little money away here and there. Been saving up for something,” Domo told him. “Yo, do you think your stepdad will let you borrow his car?”

  “No, but at this time of day he’s probably passed out drunk. It ain’t shit to slip in the house and take the keys. Why? What’s up?”

  “I need a ride somewhere.”

  * * *

  After collecting his money from L.A., Domo went back to Raheem’s house to appropriate his stepfather’s car keys. The old-timer was so drunk that he hardly noticed Raheem’s sneaky hands fishing around in his pocket. From there Raheem and Domo hit Route 22 West.

  “So, where are we going?” Raheem asked.

  “Out to Union, like I told you,” Domo said in frustration as he dropped the money back into the shoe box and started counting it over again. Raheem’s mouth had been going since they left and he wished his friend would shut up. Domo’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket, messing up his count again. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID before sticking it back in his pocket without answering.

  “That’s the second time since we been together that your phone ring and you didn’t answer. Who you ducking?”

  “Nobody,” Domo lied. Stoney had been calling him all day. No doubt by then Pearl had told her brother she had seen him, and Stoney probably wanted to know why Domo had been right in his backyard and hadn’t so much as called him or stopped by. Domo felt bad about it and planned to reach out to Stoney, but only when the time was right. Domo wasn’t yet sure which way the winds of his life were going to blow and he didn’t want to get Stoney caught up in the bullshit he had going on.

  After about a half hour of driving they had arrived at their destination, a small used-car
lot out near Springfield Township.

  “I’ll be back in a second.” Domo got out of the car with his shoe box in tow and walked into the small office.

  Raheem also got out of the car and leaned against it, smoking a Black and waiting for his friend. After about fifteen minutes or so Domo came out of the office wearing an ear-to-ear grin. The shoe box was gone, replaced by a set of car keys and a temporary license plate.

  “Oh shit, why didn’t you tell me you were buying a car?” Raheem asked.

  “Wasn’t sure if I was going to go through with it. Ran into some extra money, so I said fuck it. I’m getting tired of riding public transportation at all times of the night back and forth to New York.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. We about to be riding in style!” Raheem said, as excited as if he had just been the one to purchase a vehicle. “Which one did you cop? Wait, don’t tell me … that red joint right there.” He pointed at the candy-apple-colored Honda Accord that was sitting on the lot. “Yeah, I know your style.”

  “Nah, not that one. Come on, I’ll show you.” Domo lead Raheem through the rows of cars to the very end of the lot. When Raheem saw the car his friend stopped in front of, he thought he was playing a joke. It was a piss-yellow Mustang that was at least fifteen years past its prime. It had a dented hood, with rust coating almost an entire side.

  “You have got to be kidding me. I know you didn’t just drop that box of money on this piece of shit?” Raheem couldn’t believe it.

  “Yeah.” Domo smiled. “It’s a piece of shit, but it’s mine.” The Mustang would not only be Domo’s very first car, but it was the first major thing in his life that he had ever owned. It could use a little TLC, but by summertime he would have it looking like new money. He was proud of his first purchase and couldn’t wait to show it to Vita. Domo’s phone vibrated in his pocket again. With a sigh, he pulled it out, expecting Stoney again, but to his surprise it was a text from Vita. As usual it was short and to the point with only an address and a time. It was time to get back to work.