The Fix

by K'wan

  “Hey, no smoking in here. Go outside!” Lin shouted from behind the glass.“You got it, baby,” Neighborhood replied. “Walk with me outside.” Neighborhood stepped out of the Chinese restaurant, followed by Li’l Monk and a reluctant Charlie. “I swear these damn chinks kill me,” he continued. “They set up shop in black neighborhoods, make their fortunes of black dollars, then act like they’re better than black people.”

  “They are,” Li’l Monk said flatly.

  “What the fuck are you, some kind of race traitor?” Charlie asked, looking at Li’l Monk suspiciously.

  “No, I’m a realist,” Li’l Monk replied. “Look at these stores on the strip. The Arabs own the deli on the corner, the Hispanics own the restaurant up the street, and the Africans own the electronic store. Shit, even the Mexicans are doing their thing with the supermarket, but what do we own in our own neighborhood? Not a damn thing. Niggers are too busy trying to kill each other and tear shit up to worry about ownership in our own communities. Even when we get our hands on a few dollars, we’d rather spend it with someone else.”

  “Damn, that’s deep, Li’l Monk,” Neighborhood said.

  Li’l Monk shook his head. “Nah, it ain’t deep. It’s sad.”

  “So what you two jokers getting into? If you’re looking for a vic, them boys from up the way already beat you to it,” Neighborhood told them, speaking of the earlier robbery.

  “I heard already. Say, have you seen my dad today?” Li’l Monk asked. His father wasn’t good for much those days, but if he was lucky, he could catch him early and bum a few dollars for a meal before he fucked up whatever money he had.

  “I seen him about seven o’clock this morning with that thirsty look in his eyes,” Neighborhood recalled.

  “That must mean he’s broke and out here trying to come up,” Li’l Monk said in a disappointed tone. It would be left to him to come up with a way to eat for the day.

  “Man, I remember back in the days your daddy and Face were getting big money out here on the streets,” Neighborhood reminisced.

  “Too bad I can’t eat a memory,” Li’l Monk said. He didn’t know who he resented more: the man his father used to be or the man he had become. When Face went to prison, Monk started dancing on the edge, but losing Charlene had pushed him over it.

  “I’m about to go get my chicken wings before Lin changes her mind. Y’all two gonna be out here for a while?” Neighborhood asked.

  Li’l Monk looked over at Charlie and his bruised eye. “Nah, we got something we need to take care of right quick.”

  CHAPTER 6

  It seemed like it had taken Persia forever to get to Harlem. She came out of the train station near the park and walked the few short blocks to Seventh Avenue, where she was supposed to be meeting her girls in front of Karen’s building.

  There was a cluster of young boys hanging out in front of the store on the corner. As soon as they saw Persia they started in with the catcalls and whistles trying to get her attention. Persia acted like she didn’t hear them and sped up. Someone grabbed her arm from behind, and pulled her back. He was a beefy young man who wore his hair in a box-shaped afro. Persia had seen him at her school, but she didn’t know him.

  “Excuse you.” Persia jerked away.

  “Chill, shorty, I ain’t trying to hurt you. I was just trying to get your attention,” Burger said in his smoothest voice.

  “There are better ways to get a lady’s attention than grabbing her like a mugger,” Persia told him.

  “I’m more of the hands-on type,” Burger told her. “Yo, I be seeing you around my school with them hood rats from Seventh. Ain’t your name Princess or something?”

  “It’s Persia,” she corrected him. “And those hood rats, as you called them, are my friends.”

  “Ma, you know you’re way too classy to be hanging around those chicks. You need to kick it with me, so I can show you how the other half lives,” Burger said confidently.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass,” Persia told him and turned to leave, but Burger blocked her path.

  “Yo, all I’m trying to do is get to know you,” Burger told her.

  “I said I’m good, now can you get out of my way so I can get to where I need to be?” Persia adjusted her bag.

  Burger’s boys had begun to laugh, and bruised his ego. “Bitch, you think you all that because you got a Louie bag? This is my fucking block, I’ll snatch that muthafucka off your shoulder.”

  Moving as fast as lightning, Persia’s hand dipped in her bag and came back out holding a small canister of pepper spray. “Nigga you touch me or anything that belongs to me and watch what happens!”

  “What y’all over there doing to that girl?” Neighborhood came around the corner. He had a half-eaten chicken wing in his hand and his lips were covered in grease.

  “Ain’t nothing. I’m just trying to explain to this snooty bitch how things work in the hood,” Burger said venomously.

  Persia placed her thumb on the trigger of the pepper spray. “Let the word ‘bitch’ come out of your mouth one more time and I promise you’ll be blinder than Ray Charles and Stevie Wonder.”

  “Easy, now.” Neighborhood placed himself between them. “Burger, I don’t think Face would take kindly to you out here talking crazy to his baby girl.”

  The change in Burger’s facial expression said that the name rang a bell in his head. Though Face had been in prison for many years, he was still a legend in the streets and there were a great many people who still had love for him. “You got that, shorty.” Burger raised his hands in surrender and began backing away slowly. “If I were you, I’d be careful while I was out here. These streets are dangerous and not everyone is gonna care who your father is.”

  Persia kept her eyes on Burger until he disappeared around the corner with his friends. “Thanks,” she said to Neighborhood.

  “No thanks needed. Your daddy was like family to me. You probably don’t remember me, but I’ve known you since you were born. Ask Michelle about Neighborhood,” he said proudly.

  Persia recalled the name from back when she was a kid, but the man she remembered looked nothing like the man she was speaking to that day.

  “How is Face holding up?” Neighborhood asked.

  “He’s good, he wrote me a few weeks ago,” Persia told him.

  “Glad to hear it. The next time you speak to Face, tell him that Neighborhood sends his love.”

  “Will do,” Persia agreed. “Thanks again.” She waved and walked across the street to Karen’s building. Karen and the others weren’t in front of the building, so Persia rang the bell to Karen’s apartment.

  “Who is it?” a hostile voice came through the speaker mounted on the wall.

  “Ah, it’s Persia. Is Karen at home?”

  A few seconds passed then the door buzzed, allowing Persia to enter. Karen lived in a tenement building that didn’t have elevators, so Persia had to walk up to the three flights of steps to her apartment. She was just about to knock on the door when it swung open and Karen’s Uncle Scooter came walking out. Scooter was in his early thirties, but years of running the streets and drug abuse made him look like he was pushing fifty. It was hard to believe that at one time he had been getting money as a part of her father’s crew.

  “’Sup, Persia?” Scooter greeted her.

  “Nothing much, Scooter. Is Karen home?” she asked.

  “Yeah, she’s in the back room.”

  “Thanks.” Persia stepped around him to enter the apartment.

  “Persia,” he called after her. “Let me borrow a few dollars until later on.”

  “Sorry, I’m broke, Scooter,” she lied.

  Scooter twisted his lips as if he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t press it. “A’ight,” he said, and descended the steps.

  Persia walked down the long hallway, following the thump of music and the stench of weed to Karen’s bedroom. On her door was a poster of the Harlem rap group The Diplomats. Persia knocked,
but she doubted that they could hear her over the music, so she invited herself in.

  Karen was lying across the bed, thumbing through a magazine. She had grown into a beautiful dark-skinned girl with hips and ass for days, which she flaunted every chance she got by buying her jeans one size too small.

  “Hey, Persia,” Ty greeted her from the spot on the floor where she was sitting, fumbling with Karen’s portable CD player. She was the newest addition to their crew and some would say the least attractive. It wasn’t that Ty didn’t have the potential to be decent, but she came from a dirt-poor family so her gear was never quite up to par and her hair was always in a ponytail.

  “Damn, do you think it took you long enough?” Meeka asked in her signature deep voice. Meeka was a short, light-skinned girl who wasn’t gorgeous but cute, and cleaned up very nicely when she wanted to. As usual she was dressed in tight jeans and Timberlands, which she wore untied. She was the resident thug of their crew, and had a reputation in the hood as an ass-whipping specialist.

  “My stepfather wanted to have one of those talks this morning.” Persia said as if Richard was on her last nerve. She always played the love/hate role around her friends when it came to her mother’s husband.

  “Your mom still married to that white dude?” Meeka asked.

  “My stepfather isn’t white, he’s black. Who told you some dumb shit like that?” Persia asked.

  “I always hear Karen talking about how your mom married some peckerwood so I always assumed he was a white guy,” Meeka said honestly.

  Persia turned to Karen. “Your two-faced ass is always talking about somebody.”

  “Persia, you know that nigga act white as hell.” Karen laughed.

  “Damn, Persia. Most bitches ain’t got no daddy, but you got two daddies. I’d say you’re doing better than most,” Ty said.

  “I only have one father. Rich is just the dude my mother married,” Persia said sternly.

  “Fuck all that Maury ‘is or ain’t the pappy’ shit. Did you get the weed?” Karen asked.

  “You know I did.” Persia tossed the sack she’d gotten from Hamid on the bed.

  Karen smelled the bag. “Damn, this is some good shit.”

  “Then stop wiping your nose with it and roll up. I’m trying to get high,” Meeka said.

  “You mean higher. I’m already on the moon from the last L we smoked. Y’all trying to get too high,” Ty added.

  “Ain’t no such thing as too high,” Karen told her.

  When Karen’s room door swung open unexpectedly, all the girls jumped as if the police were about to rush it, but it was only Karen’s mother, Sissy. She looked like an older version of Karen, only her body wasn’t as tight. Back in the days Sissy was the hottest thing smoking on the block, and even though she was getting on in years, she could still give some women half her age a run for their money.

  “Damn, don’t you know how to knock?” Karen asked with an attitude.

  “As long as I pay the rent in this bitch, I ain’t gotta knock,” Sissy told her. “Why don’t you open a window? You got the whole house smelling like Jamaica.”

  Rolling her eyes, Karen got off the bed and cracked the window, letting the morning breeze in.

  “How are you, Ms. Sissy?” Persia asked.

  “Better than most,” Sissy said with the hint of an attitude. She never really cared for Persia. It wasn’t anything Persia had done to her directly, but Sissy always felt like Michelle had stolen Face from her, which was totally untrue. Sissy was Face’s jump off when the mood struck him, but Michelle was his main lady. “What you doing down in here in the slums?”

  “Nothing, just came to check Karen,” Persia said.

  “All of y’all delinquent asses need to be in school,” Sissy said.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?” Karen asked with an attitude.

  “Yeah, give me a cigarette,” Sissy demanded.

  “I don’t have none,” Karen told her.

  “Then go to the store and get some,” Sissy shot back.

  Karen sucked her teeth.

  “Suck your teeth one more time and I’m gonna make you swallow them,” Sissy warned. “And don’t bring me no shorts either; you know I only smoke one hundreds.”

  “Come on, y’all, we gotta get some White Owls anyway,” Karen told her friends, and led them out of the apartment.

  “That bitch gets on my last nerves,” Karen said once they were outside.

  “Ms. Sissy is a trip.” Meeka laughed. She always found the arguments between Karen and her mother hilarious.

  “I wish she would trip down a flight of damn stairs,” Karen said seriously.

  “Karen, you shouldn’t say that. She’s still your mother,” Persia said.

  Karen rolled her eyes. “Miss me with that shit, Persia. That broad don’t love me and I ain’t too fond of her. We can’t all be blessed to have Betty Crocker as mothers. Just forget about it. Let’s go to the store.” She stepped off the stoop.

  As they were walking down the block, Karen’s brother Charlie and someone who looked very familiar to Persia were coming up the block. She had to do a double take when she looked into those big brown eyes and shy smile. It had been years since she’d last seen him, but she’d know her childhood nemesis anywhere.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Princess P?” Li’l Monk had to blink to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

  “Li’l Monk? Oh my God.” Persia leapt into his arms and hugged him around his thick neck. “Well, I don’t know if I can call you li’l anything anymore.” She looked him up and down. Li’l Monk had grown quite a bit since Persia had last seen him.

  “What you doing on the block instead of in school?” Li’l Monk asked her.

  “Nothing, just chilling with my girls.” She motioned toward her friends.

  Li’l Monk nodded at them in greeting. “Don’t get caught up out here following trends.”

  “Please, I’ve got my own mind.” Persia waved him off. “But forget all that, how have you been? I haven’t seen you since . . .” Persia’s words trailed off.

  The last time he and Persia had seen each other was at his mother’s funeral. A few years go Charlene was gunned down when two men tried to rob her boutique. The police never caught the robbers, but word on the streets was that Li’l Monk’s father, Monk, did. For what the men did to the love of his life he made them suffer in unspeakable ways before having Li’l Monk finish them off. Li’l Monk had always thought revenge on the men who killed his mother would make him feel better, but it only made things worse. It left a black mark on his soul that he now wore like dead weight.

  “I’m sorry, Li’l Monk,” Persia said.

  “It’s cool,” Li’l Monk said as if it were nothing. In truth, he cried every morning over the loss of his mother. It was a wound that would never heal.

  “How’s my uncle, Big Monk?” Persia changed the subject.

  “My dad is still around and doing the same shit he’s always done, running the streets,” Li’l Monk told her.

  “Tell him I miss him and wanna see him. Maybe you guys can come to the house one of these days and have dinner?” Persia suggested.

  Li’l Monk laughed. “You know good and well that for as long as your stepdaddy is living in that house, my dad ain’t gonna cross that threshold.”

  “He’s still on that?” Persia asked, surprised. Monk had never been able to come to grips with how Michelle was living in his best friend’s house, with a new man, while Face was rotting in prison for protecting their family. For killing Tim he had been given twenty-five years to life. Michelle offered to wait, but Face knew it’d be selfish on his part to steal her youth like that, so he let her go. He had even given her his blessings when she told him she was thinking about dating again, but Monk never accepted it. He called Richard’s presence disrespectful to his friend’s legacy and the only reason he hadn’t killed him yet was because Face made him give his word that he wouldn’t.


  “You know how my dad is about loyalty,” Li’l Monk said.

  “Well, if he won’t come to the house, maybe we could all get together for dinner at a restaurant,” Persia suggested.

  A look crossed Monk’s face. “We’ll see, Persia.”

  “Damn, Li’l Monk the only person you see? Give a nigga some love.” Charlie spread his arms for a hug.

  “How you doing, Charlie?” Persia hugged him.

  “Better now,” Charlie said, letting his hand graze her ass.

  Li’l Monk caught what Charlie did, and wasn’t happy about it. “Damn, don’t smother her.”

  “Don’t hate on me, ’cause you a big, ugly nigga and I’m pretty,” Charlie said jokingly, but Li’l Monk didn’t find it funny.

  “You got a slick mouth, Charlie, and that’s why you’re sporting that shiner now,” Li’l Monk said with a chill to his voice.

  “Fuck you, Li’l Monk!” Charlie spat.

  “No, fuck that nigga who stole on you!” Li’l Monk fired back. He was ready to stomp Charlie out for trying to play tough in front of the girls, but he had to catch himself. He didn’t want to come across as a goon in front of Persia.

  “I see you’re still walking around looking like Rocky,” Karen said to Charlie.

  “Fuck you, tramp!” Charlie spat back.

  “Your daddy’s a fucking tramp, nigga.” He and Karen had the same mother, but different fathers, which explained why one was light and the other dark. The two of them always argued like they hated each other. “Instead of talking crazy to me, you need to talk crazy to Burger for him dotting your eye!”

  “We’re looking for Burger right now. We wanna have a chat with him,” Li’l Monk said with a deadly edge to his voice.

  At the mention of Burger’s name, Persia thought about how he had tried to play her earlier and decided to play the devil’s advocate. “I just saw him on the corner a few minutes ago.”

  Li’l Monk’s face darkened and became a war mask. “Good looking out.” He began marching to the corner where Burger and his boys were standing. Charlie shot Persia a dirty look before falling in line behind Li’l Monk.