The Fix

by K'wan

  “There’s plenty more where that came from, shorty.” Ramses gave him dap. “By the way, what’s your name?”

  “They call me Li’l Monk.”

  Ramses looked over at Chucky whose face was now twisted and angry. He was about to open his mouth and say something, but Ramses motioned for him to be silent. “You Monk’s kid?”

  Li’l Monk lowered his head in shame. “Yeah.”

  “No need to be ashamed, kid. Your pops was a real piece of work back in the days,” Ramses told him.

  “Now he’s just washed up,” Chucky said cruelly. He made it no secret that he didn’t care for Li’l Monk’s father.

  Li’l Monk’s eyes flashed rage and for a minute he thought about trying Chucky, but he wasn’t stupid enough to bring his bare hands to a gun fight. Monk had done a lot of foul things to people over the years and there could’ve been any number of reasons that Chucky didn’t like Monk, but Li’l Monk still wasn’t comfortable with anyone disrespecting his father in front of him.

  “Pay Chucky no mind,” Ramses said, picking up on Li’l Monk’s anger. “Old grudges got no place with new money and that’s what we’re about to get, some new money. If you’re anything like your old man used to be, I’m sure you’ll fit right in. Just make sure you’re on time for your shift tonight.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you later,” Li’l Monk told him.

  “No, you won’t. This is likely the last conversation we’ll ever have until I’m sure of how you’re built. Benny should have reappeared by tonight and you’ll report directly to him,” Ramses told him, walking back toward the car.

  About then Persia, Karen, Meeka, and Ty arrived on the scene. After what the kid said about someone getting killed, they put two and two together and expected the worst when they arrived on the corner. Thankfully, the boy’s words were untrue and nobody had died.

  Persia saw Li’l Monk exchange a few last minute words with the man who had been riding with Chucky, before they both climbed back into the BMW and left. She wondered what they had been talking about, but didn’t want to come across as nosey by asking.

  Charlie was leaning against a car, bruised, dirty, and looking like he just taken a serious ass whipping. When he saw his sister and her friends coming, he tried to straighten himself up. His signature cocky smile was plastered across his lips, but his face looked like he was having trouble controlling his bowels.

  “We heard somebody got killed and thought it was one of y’all,” Ty said.

  “You know real niggas don’t die,” Charlie boasted, but his body language said different. His hands shook violently as he tried to light the cigarette pinched between his lips. Normally Karen would’ve given him grief about it, but she didn’t say a word. She simply lit his cigarette for him. Their family wasn’t big on showing each other affection, so that was her way of letting him know that she was happy that he was alive.

  Li’l Monk ambled up, looking like he had been through the wringer. His shirt was filthy, and his knuckles bloody and beginning to swell. Now that his adrenaline had worn off from the fight, he began to feel the aches and pains from the brawl.

  “What the hell happened?” Meeka asked the question everyone wanted to know the answer to. All eyes turned to Li’l Monk, wanting an accurate recounting of the story.

  Li’l Monk looked from the bills in his hand to the girls and smiled. “I just got my first job. Let’s get a bottle and celebrate. It’s on me.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “How many times do I have to tell you about being so quick to pull that burner in public?” Ramses asked Chucky once they were away from the block.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t blow that little muthafucka’s head off,” Chucky spat.

  “For as tough as that little dude seems, he might’ve eaten the bullet,” Ramses joked. “I see a lot of his old man in him.”

  “That’s even more of a reason why you should’ve let me blast him! His daddy ain’t shit and he’s gonna grow up to be less than shit,” Chucky spat. “I think you giving that kid a job is a mistake that’s gonna come back to bite you on the ass.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m not paying you to think,” Ramses replied. “In your mind, Li’l Monk is guilty by association, so you aren’t seeing the bigger picture. Real niggas are becoming an endangered species in this game, so when you find them that young with that much heart, you don’t turn them away, you put them on the payroll. With the proper guidance, in five years that kid is going to be a fucking animal on these streets.”

  “Whatever, man. I still say it’s a bad idea to do business with that sneaky little nigga. For all we know it could’ve been him and those creeps he runs with who have been hitting our spots,” Chucky said.

  “I seriously doubt that. I know he’s got sticky fingers, because I’ve seen him out here up to no good, but that’s mostly preying on delivery men and tourists who make the mistake of getting lost on the wrong side of town. He’s a petty thief, and it wasn’t no petty thief who’s been running in our spots and taking our shit. They had balls and a helping hand.”

  Ramses’s last remark made Chucky tense. “Nah, man. All of our guys are solid. I think it’s just some dudes who got lucky.”

  “If it had happened once, I’d go with luck, but happening three times in a week? That’s a little more than luck. Seems like they know which spots to hit and when to hit them. There’s some funny shit going on. Speaking of funny shit, you got any idea what rock Benny is hiding under?”

  Chucky shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I do remember him telling me about a new chick he met, so he’s probably breaking her in,” he lied.

  “While we’re on the subject of new chicks, what’s up with you and that little girl you’ve been hounding after?” Ramses asked.

  “Shit, that’s what I’m trying to find out. I’m digging that little fine bitch,” Chucky told him.

  “Yeah, she’s fine as hell, but she’s also a problem waiting to happen. She’s a baby. That girl can’t be no more than sixteen or seventeen,” Ramses said.

  “Age ain’t nothing but a number,” Chucky sang.

  “Chucky, let me give you some advice. This ain’t some young hood rat whose parents aren’t paying enough attention to know their kid is fucking a grown man. The law is gonna be on you like white on rice. Stop being so reckless and use your head,” Ramses told him.

  “A’ight, man,” Chucky reluctantly agreed. Ramses was stressing that Persia’s age was the reason he didn’t want Chucky seeing her, but Chucky wasn’t a fool. Ramses had a short memory, but Chucky did not. Regardless of what Ramses said, Chucky planned to go forward with his plans with Persia. Chucky reached in the ashtray and pulled out a half-smoked blunt. No sooner than he placed it between his lips and went to light it, Ramses plucked it out of his mouth. “What the fuck?”

  “Didn’t I just tell you about being reckless?” Ramses snapped. He rolled down the window and tossed it out.

  “That was hydro!” Chucky complained.

  “Foolish young nigga, that was time! What do you think would happen if the police pull us over for some stupid shit like weed and find these guns in the car? I ain’t never been to jail a day in my life and don’t plan on going, especially because of some simple-minded nigga with a petty drug habit.”

  “You got it, Ramses,” Chucky conceded. For the rest of the ride to Ramses’s destination, Chucky didn’t say anything. He just sat and stewed, waiting for Ramses to get his ass out of the car.

  “Don’t forget to be on point when the young boy’s shift starts in case Benny isn’t back,” Ramses told him as he was getting out.

  “I got you.”

  “And remember what I said about being reckless. You hear me?”

  “Yeah, I hear you, Ramses,” Chucky said, letting it go in one ear and come out the other. Chucky couldn’t wait for Ramses to leave so he could peel off. He waited until he got a few blocks away and retrieved another rolled-up blunt. He had been holding that particular
blunt until he was alone, so he could savor it.

  Chucky drove slow, smoking and bobbing to the music in his head. He’d only taken a few pulls and was already halfway to fried. Ahead the light had just turned yellow, so Chucky stepped on the gas, hoping to catch it, but ended up floating right through a red light. Immediately after, he saw the flashing blue and red lights of the police car behind him.

  “You fucking jinx,” Chucky cursed, thinking of his conversation with Ramses. He scrambled to roll all the windows down and try to air the car out. As he was pulling over, he quickly put the blunt out in the ashtray then tossed it in his mouth and ate it. It damn near choked him going down, but it beat the alternative. By the time the cop reached the driver’s side window, he already had his license and registration in his hand. When looked up to give the officer his information, all the color drained from Chucky’s face. Of all the people he wanted to see, he wasn’t one of them.

  “What’s up, Chucky?” Narcotics Detective Wolf James greeted him with a gold-grilled smile. “You ain’t been returning my phone calls.”

  CHAPTER 10

  It was past ten o’clock at night when Persia finally made it home, much later than she usually got in from school. Normally she would’ve called if she was going to be that late, but they had been having so much fun that time had gotten away from her. Li’l Monk bought a big bottle of E&J Brandy and two dime bags of chocolate from the dread. The girls descended on the free weed and liquor like vultures. Li’l Monk had barely gotten more than one cup from the bottle he’d bought, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was enjoying himself just watching everybody else have a good time on his dime.

  Persia had never been a big drinker, but it seemed like every time she turned around someone was refilling her cup. When she’d tried to quit, the girls teased her by calling her a lightweight, so Persia drank more. By the time she headed back to the train station, she could barely walk a straight line. She’d even nodded off on the train and missed her stop, which also contributed to her lateness.

  Sticking her key in the door, Persia prayed to the teenage-mischief gods that her parents would be asleep. As quietly as she could, she eased the door open and slipped inside the house. The living room was dark and quiet, which she took as a good sign. Moving as quietly as a cat burglar, Persia began creeping up the carpeted stairs to her bedroom. She had almost made it to the top when she heard her mother’s voice.

  “Persia Chandler, you bring your tail down here this instant!”

  Sighing heavily Persia went back downstairs to face the music. She found her mother and Richard in the kitchen, both wide awake. Her mother sat at the kitchen island, scowling at her, while Richard was at the breakfast table on his laptop. He spared her a glance and a disappointed look, before going back to whatever he was doing.

  “Hey, y’all.” Persia finger waved.

  “You’re just bringing your ass in the house and that’s all you’ve got to say?” Michelle asked.

  “Sorry, I guess. The time got away from me,” Persia said in a measured tone. She was concentrating on keeping her words from slurring.

  “That’s obvious, considering you got out of school hours ago. Where were you?” Michelle asked.

  “Just out with some friends,” Persia said.

  “Which friends? I called Sarah’s and Marty’s houses and neither of them has seen you today,” Michelle informed her.

  Persia was normally quick on her feet when it came to lying, but the liquor and weed had her brain moving slow so she told the truth. “Karen and them.”

  Michelle shook her head. “Now how did I know that?” she asked sarcastically. “Persia, I don’t I know why you’re so fascinated with these street girls.”

  “They’re not street girls they’re my friends,” Persia defended them.

  “Yes, your friends who are always up to no good,” Michelle countered. “Now where were you girls that kept you out until this hour on a school night?”

  Persia didn’t answer.

  “Persia, if I have to repeat myself we’re going to have a problem,” Michelle warned her.

  “Okay, okay, we were in Harlem,” Persia admitted.

  Michelle was on her feet and standing in front of Persia so swiftly that it even surprised Richard. “What did I tell you about staying out of Harlem?”

  “Mom, I wasn’t standing around on the corner, I was at Karen’s house the whole time,” Persia lied.

  “I don’t give a damn whose house you were at, I told you to stay your hardheaded ass out of Harlem! Do you know what kind of shit goes on up there? It’s dangerous!”

  “You’re acting as if I don’t know how to handle myself. I know how to avoid trouble,” Persia said. She had lived a very sheltered life, but her mother and father made sure that she had street smarts from an early age.

  “Persia, what you’re not getting is that sometimes trouble comes to find you and that’s what I’m trying to avoid,” Michelle explained.

  “I’m a big girl, Mom,” Persia insisted.

  “A big girl who is walking around viewing the world through rose-colored glasses. The ghetto is full of predators whose favorite delicacies are naïve young girls. I know that Karen and the others are your friends, but you’re moving at two different speeds. Those girls are fast and loose, and I raised you better than that. The last thing you need is to get wrapped up in their foolishness and end up somebody’s baby mama or the showpiece of a drug dealer.”

  “You mean like you were?” Persia asked coldly. She wasn’t sure what had made her say it, but it was too late to take it back.

  Michelle took a step back. “Excuse you?”

  “Mom, I don’t know why everyone walks on eggshells around me like I don’t know who my father was and where we come from,” Persia said heatedly. It was like the more she talked the angrier the liquor was making her.

  “Okay, how about we all just calm down for a second,” Richard interjected. He saw the direction the argument was going in and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  “No, I don’t need to calm down. It’s about time we had some truth in this house of lies,” Persia continued.

  Michelle closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm herself. “Persia, I can tell you’ve been drinking, because I can smell it on you, so I’m going to act like we didn’t have this conversation. If I were you, I’d go to my room and sleep it off.”

  The alcohol had her feeling bold, so Persia kept going. “I’m not drunk, Mom, I’m buzzed, so I can’t blame it on the alcohol. You just wanna shut me up because I struck a nerve. That’s the problem with this family now; everybody would rather sweep things under the rug instead of addressing them. I’m not some silly kid who still thinks Daddy worked construction; he was a drug dealer and a killer.”

  “Persia, you need to watch your mouth. You don’t know the whole story, so you can’t speak on it,” Michelle said. She felt her anger rising.

  Persia folded her arms and looked her mother up and down defiantly. “No, I might not know the whole story, but I know the gist of it, Mother. You thumb your nose at street people like we’re better than them, but it was a street nigga and street money that bought this house you and your new husband live so comfortably in!”

  What happened next was hazy for Persia. She just remembered waking up on the floor near the refrigerator, watching Richard restraining her mother.

  “Calm down, sweetie,” Richard was telling Michelle, while doing his best to keep her from jumping on Persia.

  “How dare she speak to me like that?” Michelle raged.

  “I can’t believe you hit me,” Persia said, picking herself up off the floor. It was the first time she could ever remember her mother raising her hand to her.

  Michelle had tears in her eyes when she spoke. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you! Little girl, you have no idea the sacrifices your father and I made to ensure you didn’t end up some fucking gutter trash, not knowing where your next meal was coming from. You think your father
is sitting in prison now because he wants to be? Everything Face ever did on them streets was so that we could live a cut above the rest of these muthafuckas you’re so damn loyal to! The next time you try to read me, you better damn sure have your facts straight.”

  With tears in her eyes, Persia ran from the kitchen and upstairs to her bedroom. She slammed the door behind her with so much force, the picture of her and her mother at her sixth-grade graduation fell off her nightstand. She picked the small frame up and saw that the glass was cracked down the middle, between them. It was broken, just like Persia felt like their relationship was.

  Persia threw herself across the bed, still fully dressed, and buried her face in the pillow. She normally would’ve jumped in the shower before bed, but that night she didn’t have the energy. Persia felt spent after the argument with Michelle. The things she had said to her mother in the kitchen were things she was already feeling and always wanted to address at some point, but the liquor made her delivery cruel and ill-timed.

  The argument made Persia think of her father and how much she missed him. She had been very young when he first went away, but she remembered him vividly. When Face was on the streets she spent more time with him than her mother. Even in prison he remained a fixture in her life. Persia had visited him a few times, but after the first few years Face had put a stop to the visits. Persia was getting older and at an age where kids were like sponges. Prison visits weren’t something he wanted ingrained in his baby girl’s character. Still, they kept their bond strong through pictures and nightly phone calls, but Persia still sometimes felt the emptiness of him not being there. She vowed that on her eighteenth birthday, when she would finally be old enough to make the trip on her own, she would go visit her father. He was the one man who had always made her smile.

  Persia began taking her clothes off and preparing for bed. As she was pulling her legs out of her pants, the business card with the phone number on it fell out. She picked it up and thought back to her adventure in Harlem that day, and the handsome young man with the pretty car. Initially she hadn’t planned on calling him because her conscience started eating at her and she felt like she’d be stepping on Karen’s toes, but she was half drunk and feeling rebellious. She was too stressed to sleep, so she grabbed her bedroom phone from the nightstand and dialed the number.