by K'wan
Karen shook her head, watching her brother and Li’l Monk like she was seeing her loved ones off to war. “That was some cold-blooded shit, Persia.” She walked off. Meeka followed her.
“What did I do?” Persia asked innocently, as if she didn’t understand what she had just set in motion.
“Probably got that boy killed,” Ty told her and followed the other two girls.
Persia stood there for a few seconds, looking in the direction that Li’l Monk and Charlie had gone in to confront Burger. She hoped that his fat ass got everything he was asking for and then some. Smiling devilishly she walked down the block to join her friends.
Persia was almost at the corner when she heard a car horn. When Persia turned and saw the heavily tinted red BMW coasting next to her, she immediately froze. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest and her breath got short like she was having a panic attack. Flashes of the broken memories she had of the day her father was taken away ran through her mind and she felt dizzy like she was on the verge of having a panic attack. Slowly the window rolled down and Persia heard, “Pardon me, love. Can I talk to you for a second?”
When she saw the handsome young man smiling at her from behind the wheel, and not a gun, she breathed a sigh of relief. Persia was always leery of cars where she couldn’t see who was in them. The therapist had told her the reaction it caused in Persia was a result of the trauma from witnessing the murder of the man in the car as a child, and encouraged her to try to let it go. That was easy for the therapist to say, because she hadn’t been there. She didn’t see the blood oozing from the corpse onto the sidewalk at her feet. Her father hadn’t been taken away in shackles while she screamed for him not to go.
“What’s the matter, you ain’t got no tongue?” the driver called to her.
Normally she wouldn’t give a dude trying to kick it to her out the window the time of day, but she was so happy he wasn’t a killer that she decided to spare him a minute. “Yeah, I got a tongue, but a real man doesn’t try to get with a lady through the window of a moving car,” Persia shot back.
The kid behind the wheel said something to the older man in the passenger seat, before throwing the car in park and getting out. Persia watched him as he stepped confidently onto the curb. He was definitely easy on the eyes, brown skinned, with soft lips. He was taller than she’d expected, close to six feet, and had a clean-shaven face. A baggy red Ralph Lauren sweater with a teddy bear embroidered on the front hung loosely on him. His blue jeans looked new, and were tucked neatly behind the tongue of his red Jordans.
Persia folded her arms and gave him a disinterested look. “What can I do for you?”
“You can start by telling me your name,” he said.
“Persia,” she told him.
He let the name roll around in his head. “It suits you.” He nodded in approval. “I’m Chucky.” He extended his hand.
When Persia shook his hand, something passed between him. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it made the hairs on her arms stand up. “Nice to meet you, Chucky.” She withdrew her hand.
“So, what’s a flower like you doing out here among the weeds?” Chucky asked.
“Kicking it with my homegirls,” she said.
“Well, if all of your homegirls are as fine as you, y’all might cause a riot by walking down the Avenue. Why don’t you hop in the whip and I can take you wherever you wanna go?” Chucky offered.
“And what makes you think I hop into cars with strange men? You got the wrong one.” Persia turned to walk away, but Chucky stopped her.
“My bad, sis. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I just think it’s a crying shame your feet should have to ever touch the gound.”
Persia blushed. “Listen to you spitting game.”
“Games are for kids and athletes, and I’m neither. I’m just a man who understands that to get what we want in life, we have to pursue it,” Chucky said.
“So, are you pursing me?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Nah, it ain’t that serious. I’m just trying to get to know you and if a casual friendship leads to something more, that’s a bridge we’ll cross when we come to it.”
“So, I guess this is the part where you ask for my number?” Persia asked.
“No, it’s the part where I give you my number, and hope you make your next move your best move.” He handed her a white business card with his name and number on it.
Persia looked down at the card. It was the first time a man had ever given her a business card. “Okay, maybe I’ll call you.”
“Shorty, you and I both know you’re going to use that number, the question is simply when.”
“You’re a presumptuous one, aren’t you, Chucky?” Persia looked him up and down, smirking.
“Nah, just confident.”
“Chucky, we got a situation. Let’s bust a move,” the older man who was sitting in the passenger seat called out the window.
“I gotta go, Persia, but I expect to hear from you sooner rather than later,” Chucky told her before heading back to his car. Giving her a last-minute look, he threw the car into gear and peeled off down the block like he was on his way to a fire.
Persia watched Chucky’s BMW bend the corner and shook her head. Chucky was definitely a different breed of dude than she was used to dealing with, but the fact that he was different was what had Persia so intrigued. He was cocky without being arrogant, and unmistakably Harlem, just like her dad had been. Persia wasn’t sure whether she was going to call Chucky, but she slipped the number in her pocket just in case.
“Damn, we leave you alone for five minutes and your hot ass is out here trying to throw it at one of the biggest fish in the pond,” Meeka said, walking up on Persia. Ty followed her, with Karen bringing up the rear, scowling.
“Ain’t nobody trying to throw nothing. That’s just some dude who was trying to kick game,” Persia said as if it were nothing.
“Yeah, Chucky has got a lot of game,” Karen said.
“You guys know him?” Persia asked.
“Everybody knows Chucky. He’s a part of Pharaoh’s crew, and Ramses’s protégé. That pretty-ass nigga is piping some of everything out north of 110th Street,” Meeka filled her in.
“Well, if he’s slinging dick like that, I won’t be calling him,” Persia said. Her mother had always told her to beware of loose men.
“Shit, if you ain’t gonna call him you can slide me the number. Chucky is getting long paper out here in these streets,” Ty said.
“He’s a drug dealer?” Persia asked.
“Nah, Chucky is what you call a hustler, because he gets money a few different ways,” Meeka said.
“Wow, he seemed so nice and well-spoken. I would’ve never thought he was out there like that.” Persia was surprised. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that Chucky wasn’t into something, being so young and driving an expensive car, but she didn’t know he had rank.
“That’s Chucky’s gift, he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Ty said.
“Well, that’s one wolf that can bite me whenever he wants, wherever he wants,” Meeka declared.
“Y’all out here riding dick like he’s famous. Chucky ain’t nobody, but another nigga getting money on the strip. Fuck that nigga, let’s go back to my house so we can smoke.” Karen stormed up the block, back toward her building.
“What the hell is her problem?” Persia couldn’t understand why Karen was suddenly so sour.
“She’ll get over it. Let’s catch up with her before this thirsty bitch smokes all the weed without us.” Meeka followed Karen.
“Did I do something wrong?” Persia asked Ty.
“It ain’t got nothing to do with you, Persia. Karen and Chucky used to fuck around back in the days, but she was more into him that he was into her and it went sour,” Ty whispered as if Karen would hear her from halfway up the block. “Look, just forget about it and let’s go smoke.” She walked off.
Persia and Ty caught up with the girls in front of Kare
n’s building. Karen and Meeka had been talking about something, but they changed the subject when Persia and Ty joined them. Persia felt the tension and was about to address it when they heard a gunshot. Meeka, Karen, and Ty hit the floor, but Persia stood there like a deer frozen in headlights. A few seconds later, a rush of people came running down the block. Karen stopped one of the passing young men and asked him what had happened.
“Somebody got killed!” he told her and kept going.
“Damn, it stay jumping in the hood,” Meeka said, brushing the dirt off the knees of her jeans.
“Let’s go smoke in the house. The block is about to be hot.” Karen took out her keys to unlock the lobby door.
“You think it was somebody we know who got hit?” Ty asked.
It wasn’t until then that Karen thought about her brother Charlie and froze in her tracks.
CHAPTER 8
“You ready to handle your business, Charlie?” Li’l Monk asked him.
Charlie looked over at Burger and his friends, who were posted in front of the corner store. Sanding among the other teens, Burger looked like a full-grown adult. “There are more of them than us, Li’l Monk. Maybe we should just wait until we catch him by himself,” Charlie suggested.
Li’l Monk turned his dark eyes back to Charlie and rolled his broad shoulders. “Somebody gonna bleed today, Charlie. Is it gonna be you or him?”
Charlie weighed his options. Either way it went, he was going to end up getting his ass kicked, it was just a question of who would hurt him worse, Burger or Li’l Monk. “Fuck it.” He started toward his enemy.
Burger spotted Charlie and stood to meet him. “What up, Charlie? Why ya lips all twisted like you been eating lemons?”
“I don’t appreciate what you did to my eye, Burger,” Charlie told him.
Burger looked at Charlie’s black eye like he had just noticed it. “Oh, did I do that when I socked you? I’ll tell you what.” He pulled a few crumpled bills from his pocket and extended one to Charlie. “Take this and buy yourself a steak to put on it.” He laughed as if he just told the funniest joke in the world.
Charlie looked back at Li’l Monk, who was watching him like a hawk and shaking his head in disappointment. A small crowd had started to gather, anticipating violence. If he went out like a sucker, the blabbermouths in the neighborhood would surely put his business in the streets and what little reputation he did have in the hood would be shot. With nothing else to lose, Charlie decided to put his balls on the table, and swung at Burger with everything he had.
Burger looked as if he had just been slapped by a woman, instead of punched by a young man. He smiled before giving Charlie a vicious blow to the gut that sent him spilling to the ground. Within a heartbeat, Burger and his boys swarmed on Charlie.
Li’l Monk moved as silently and as swift as the wind when he struck. The first of the boys, who was with Burger, didn’t see it coming, but he felt his jaw shatter when Li’l Monk’s massive fist connected with his chin. He went down in a heap and Li’l Monk moved to the next target. The second kid managed to put up a weak defense, but Li’l Monk’s heavy fist broke through it and connected with his forehead. His body wobbled once before falling on the ground next to his friend. When Li’l Monk turned to the third kid, he threw his hands up in surrender and ran. This left Li’l Monk and Burger.
The two young men stalked each other, snarling like two pit bulls, in their strange war ritual. Burger was a tough guy, but so was Li’l Monk, and there wasn’t enough room on the hill for both of them. Burger lost his patience first and lunged at Li’l Monk. Li’l Monk twisted to one side, avoiding Burger’s flailing fists, and kneeing him in the stomach. Instead of going down, as Li’l Monk had predicted, Burger grabbed his leg and started trying to lift him off his feet. Li’l Monk was strong, but so was Burger. He knew if he let Burger get him off the ground, the fight would be over. Li’l Monk drew his fists back and started firing them into Burger’s exposed face like jackhammers. Burger ate the first few punches, but eventually he ended up down on one knee and at Li’l Monk’s mercy.
By now a crowd had formed, watching the two combatants go at it. More than a few of them cheered for Li’l Monk to kick Burger’s ass, as they had been victims of his bullying. Li’l Monk rained blow after blow on Burger’s face, long after he had stopped fighting.
“Stop it; you’re going to kill him!” someone yelled, but Li’l Monk was too far gone in his rage to hear them or care.
Li’l Monk dragged Burger roughly to his feet and wrapped his massive hand around Burger’s neck. “I want my face to be the last thing you see before you leave this world.”
Li’l Monk would’ve surely killed Burger right there in front of all those witnesses and spent the rest of his days in prison, had it not been for someone firing a gun directly behind him.
“First one was in the air, but the next one is all yours,” Chucky told Li’l Monk, pointing a smoking gun at him.
He raised his hands in surrender and slowly backed away from Burger’s unconscious body. “You got it.”
“Chucky, put that away before you get us locked up.” Ramses tapped him on the shoulder as he stepped onto the curb. Ramses was the older dude who had been sitting in the passenger seat of Chucky’s BMW. He was in his mid to late thirties with premature grey hairs that peppered the top of his neat fade. Decorating his ears, wrists, and fingers were diamonds of all colors. Around his neck he wore a chain that was as thick as a garden hose with a medallion on it that was easily the size of a dinner plate, and flooded with diamonds. Ramses had a thing for jewelry. Wearing all that shine was excessive and foolish in the poor neighborhood, but Ramses never worried about being robbed. Only a fool would try to take something from anyone connected to Pharaoh. “Fuck is going on out here?” he asked Burger, who was just getting back to his feet. His face was bruised, and the left side of his jaw had swollen to twice the size of his right. “What a fucking embarrassment you are.”
“That dude snuck me, Ramses!” Burger said through his split and bloody lips.
“You lying muthafucka.” Li’l Monk stalked toward him, but a look from Ramses froze him.
“Burger, I don’t wanna hear nothing else that you’ve got to say out of your bloody-ass mouth. You’re supposed to be out here getting money and instead you’re getting clowned.” Ramses scolded him like a child. “First you get robbed and then you get beat up. And where the fuck is Benny? He’s supposed be out here maintaining order.”
“I haven’t seen him since earlier. He slid off with some bitch,” Burger told him.
Ramses shook his head. “He’s supposed to be minding my ice cream shop, but he’s off in some pussy? It’s no wonder muthafuckas think they can take my shit and beat up my workers. I want to know where the fuck Benny is, ASAP!”
“I’m on it.” Chucky whipped out his cell phone. He called Benny’s phone three times, but it kept going to voice mail. Chucky shrugged, letting Ramses know that he couldn’t reach him.
“That nigga better either be dead or in jail, because I promise you if he’s not he’s going to wish that he was,” Ramses said. “And you,” he addressed Li’l Monk. “Do you know who the fuck I am?”
Li’l Monk nodded. He was still angry and didn’t trust his mouth enough to speak.
“If you know who I am then you know the penalty for fucking with a member of my team. Either you’re a dumb little shit or you just don’t respect my authority, which is it?”
Li’l Monk knew that his next words could mean the difference between life and death, so he chose them very wisely before he spoke. “I respect you, Ramses, because I know you’re a real nigga, but I can’t respect no bully.” He cast a glance at Burger. “Burger whipped my li’l man out, because he knew he wouldn’t fight back, so I whipped Burger out. I got no patience for cowards.” He spat on the ground for emphasis.
Ramses measured his response. “I can’t say you’re the smartest young dude I’ve ever come across, but you’re hon
est and loyal. Those are two qualities that are hard to come by in this game. You get to keep your life, shorty.”
“Fuck all that, this nigga stole on me and I gotta get mine back. Let me get your pistol, Chucky!” Burger demanded.
Ramses whirled on Burger and slapped him so hard that he spun around twice before collapsing against a parked car. “I’ve had just about enough of that fake tough shit coming out of your mouth. You talking like you didn’t just get put on your back in front of the whole hood. Y’all are supposed to be out here representing the crew, but instead you’re looking like a bunch of pussies. I don’t need bitches on my team, I need soldiers!” He turned back to Li’l Monk. “What about you? Are you a bitch too or are you a soldier?”
The question caught Li’l Monk off-guard, so he answered without thinking. “Neither one. I’m a gladiator.”
Ramses laughed. “From the beating you put on my boys, I’d say so. So what’s up, you want a job, gladiator?”
“Doing what?” Li’l Monk asked suspiciously.
“Making sure that the kind of shit that happened today doesn’t happen again,” Ramses told him. “You’re a tough little bastard, and I might have a use for you. To start out I’ll give you one hundred dollars per night to hold my young boys down and make sure nobody else comes through here handing out random ass whippings. You think you can do that?”
“Yeah, I can do that,” Li’l Monk told him.
“You better hope so, because from here on out, you’re gonna be the first line of defense on this strip. Keep my money straight and my people’s safe. If not you’re gonna have to answer to me. You fuck up and you’re fired, and I ain’t talking about retirement.” He made his fingers into the shape of a gun, so that Li’l Monk understood his meaning. Ramses pulled a large roll of money from his pocket and peeled off five twenties, which he handed to Li’l Monk. “Consider this an advance against your first bit of bread.”
“Thanks,” Li’l Monk said, trying not to sound too excited over the money. In all truthfulness, he was so hungry that he felt if he didn’t eat soon he’d likely pass out.
