The Fix

by K'wan

  Li’l Monk weighed the proposition, and thought back to the jewel his dad had dropped on him the night before. “For as much as I could use the easy money, I’d rather the opportunity to make my own way.”

  Ramses caught his meaning. Li’l Monk wanted in. “This ain’t some high school gang, moving nickel bags of weed in high school hallways. You understand the stakes we play for at this level? This is the deep end of the pool.”

  “Then I guess I’ll either swim or drown,” Li’l Monk replied.

  “So be it.” Ramses nodded in approval. “You and Omega will be working together, since you two seem to have chemistry.”

  “Solid.” Omega gave Li’l Monk dap. He liked the kid and was happy to be working with him permanently.

  “After the bodies you two left in the lobby, you’re probably as hot as firecrackers in the streets, so no more corners. I’ve got some odd jobs that you can handle to keep yourselves busy and money in your pockets. I want you close to me, so I can oversee your progress.”

  This was a pleasant surprise. Becoming Ramses’s apprentices was a badge of honor; it was how Chucky and Benny had come up so quick. Working closely with Ramses would definitely have its perks, but it would also have its drawbacks. They would have to be on call and at his disposal twenty-four hours per day. When Ramses called they would come or suffer the consequences.

  “So, what are we gonna be doing if we’re not selling drugs?” Li’l Monk asked. Unlike Omega, he wasn’t sure how comfortable he was following Ramses blindly.

  “You’ll do what I tell you to when I tell you to do it,” Ramses answered. “I see potential in you two, and where I fucked up with Chucky and Benny, I’m gonna make right with you. You play your cards right and I’ll make you two li’l niggas rich. You fuck up and I’ll make you two li’l niggas dead, feel me?”

  Omega and Li’l Monk nodded simultaneously.

  “Good, then pull up a seat, because your first class in Ramses’s school of hard knocks is officially in session.” Ramses pointed to the two seats at the console that faced the recording booth. When the youngsters were seated he leaned between them and said, “Today’s lesson is loyalty.”

  It seemed colder inside the booth than it was in the apartment. The Butcher stood off to the side, wiping his blade with a dirty cloth. He gave Chucky a nod in the way of greeting, but didn’t speak. Benny looked pitiful and helpless, tied to the chair mumbling incoherently. The Butcher had really done a number on him. For a moment he was hesitant, but Boo’s gun poking him in the back edged him forward. Chucky didn’t have to look to the two-way mirror to know that Ramses was watching him, because he could feel the heat from his eyes burrowing into his soul. There was no doubt in his mind what would happen to him if he didn’t go through with it. He had to do it . . . at least that’s what he kept telling himself.

  When Huck snatched the blindfold off Benny’s eyes, the overhead lights stung them like he was looking into a tiny sun. At first all he could see were shapes moving around him, but after his eyes adjusted his vision cleared. When he saw Chucky standing in front of him, he was like a beacon of hope. Chucky had pulled his ass out of the fire more than once, and if anyone could talk some sense into Ramses, it’d be him, especially considering he was partially to blame.

  “Chucky . . . I didn’t tell them shit, I swear,” was the first thing Benny said.

  Chucky glanced over his shoulder to see if Huck or Boo had heard what Benny said. If they had heard him they showed no signs of it. “It’s all good, Benny, I already told Ramses how I was covering for you and your drug problem. Everything is all out in the open now.”

  “My drug problem? What the hell are you talking about?” Benny was confused. It was he who had been hiding Chucky’s secret, not the other way around. “Chucky, I need you to stop fucking around and go talk to Ramses and get me a pass on this one, man. He listens to you. Don’t let me go out like this,” he pleaded.

  “You put us in a real bad place, Benny,” Chucky said, his voice heavy with emotion.

  It was then that Benny noticed the gun in Chucky’s hand for the first time. The realization of what was about to go down settled in. “Chucky, this is me, your crime partner. We were supposed to take over the world, remember that?”

  “Yeah, I remember.” Chucky raised the gun. Tears danced in the corners of his eyes and his hand shook.

  Benny couldn’t believe it. His best friend in the whole world was about to take him from it. If he was going to die then he would do so with dignity. He took a deep breath and stared down the barrel of the gun. To everyone’s surprise, including his, Chucky spun and pointed the gun at Boo.

  Chucky had come into the recording booth with every intention of killing Benny so that his secret would die with him, but when the moment of truth came he couldn’t bring himself to do it. In his head he saw images of him and Benny growing from snot-nosed kids to reckless adults, sharing in good times and bad ones. He thought of Benny’s mother, and how she used to make them fried bologna sandwiches and realized he didn’t have it in him look her in the eyes and feed her a lie about what had happened to her only son. With that in mind, Chucky turned on their captors.

  When Chucky played the scene in his head, he saw himself catching Ramses’s men off-guard, taking as many of them with him as he could before he went out in his final blaze of glory. Unfortunately, it didn’t go down quite like that. Chucky pulled the trigger, expecting to see Boo’s face explode when the bullet hit it, but instead there was only the click of an empty gun. He had been set up.

  Once Boo got over the initial shock of what had almost happened, he was enraged. He hit Chucky once in the stomach then again in the side of the head, dropping him to the floor. Chucky tried to get to his feet, but a kick to the ribs sent him back down. Boo began stomping Chucky out, happy for the chance to finally kill the young man, when Ramses stopped the beating.

  “Enough!” Ramses shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls of the recording booth. Boo gave Chucky one last kick for good measure before backing off. Ramses extended his hand, but Chucky only looked at it like a frightened rabbit. “It’s okay, ain’t nobody else gonna lay hands on you. You’ve passed the test.”

  Chucky ignored Ramses’s hand and got to his feet on his own. “Test? This was a fucking test?” He was livid.

  “Calm the fuck down, Chucky. I need to be sure about whether you were involved and this was the only way. The fact that even though Benny is wrong, you were still ready to go out with him because he’s your friend shows that there’s still some honor left in you. Had you killed him like I told you to, I’d have known you had something to hide, and you would’ve died next.”

  Chucky felt lightheaded, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the beating or the weight that had been lifted off his shoulders. He leaned his back against the wall and let out a deep sigh.

  “I know you’re probably pissed, but my way was better than the alternative. Pharaoh told me to have you killed just in case,” Ramses told him.

  “And what about Benny?” Chucky asked, even though he wasn’t sure why.

  “Benny is done, he knows Pharaoh’s laws and he broke a cardinal one. If I don’t take action against Benny, it might be looked at as I’m playing favorites, and that would affect the way the rest of the soldiers look at me. I can’t have my authority challenged, not even for a kid I once loved,” Ramses told him.

  “I understand that and I agree, but you don’t have to kill him, Ramses. Let him walk and I’ll work off his debt. Whatever Benny owes Pharaoh, I’ll wear his weight,” Chucky offered. He felt so bad about the fact that he had come within one bad decision of murdering his childhood friend to save his own ass, the least he could do was beg for his life. “I’m not asking you as your lieutenant, I’m asking you as your friend.”

  The sincerity in Chucky’s voice moved Ramses. He had raised both of them up from teenagers and always considered him his adopted sons. “This is the last favor you ever get from me, Chucky. My me
n won’t kill Benny, but he’s done in this family and this city.”

  “I’m on the first thing smoking out of New York and that’s on everything I love,” Benny assured him.

  “Thank you, Ramses,” Chucky said.

  “Don’t thank me just yet. I’m gonna hold you to that promise of working off Benny’s debt, plus interest.”

  “I got you.”

  “Huck will take you and the youngsters back to the block. Omega will fill you in on what he and I spoke about. Go get yourself cleaned up and get some rest, Chucky. I’ll call on you in a few hours,” Ramses told him.

  “A’ight.” Chucky shuffled toward the door with his head low. Between the crash from the cocaine and the fact that he had just narrowly avoided death made him feel wiped out. He needed to lie down.

  “Chucky,” Benny called after him. “You know for a minute I thought you were really going to kill me.” He smirked weakly.

  There was no warmth in Chucky’s voice when he replied, “I was.”

  Once Chucky and the others were gone, it left Ramses and Benny in the recording booth. Benny was still tied to the chair, while Ramses leaned against the wall, glaring at him.

  “Ramses, I know you’re mad at me, but I swear I’m gonna make this right.” Benny tried to engage Ramses in small talk, but he wasn’t receptive. He remained silent, and just watched. “So, you gonna cut me loose so I can get ghost or what?”

  “No, I won’t be cutting you loose, but you will be getting ghost,” Ramses finally spoke. He pushed off the wall and walked slowly over to Benny.

  The door of the recording booth opened and in stepped a man who Benny had never seen. He was tall, and looked scholarly wearing a black suit. One could’ve almost mistaken him for a lawyer or businessman, but neither profession required the latex gloves he wore on his hands.

  “Wait a second, Ramses, you gave Chucky your word that your men wouldn’t touch me,” Benny reminded him.

  “And my word is my bond. This isn’t one of my men, he’s my benefactor,” Ramses told him.

  Benny looked up at the man in the suit in wide-eyed shock and when he realized who it was, he shit himself. “Pharaoh,” he gasped. For all the times he had wondered what the mysterious Pharaoh looked like, now that he had laid eyes on him he wished that he hadn’t. He knew what happened to those outside his inner circle who laid eyes on Pharaoh. They never lived to tell about it. “I can make it right.”

  Pharaoh shook his head. “If only that were true.” He drew a straight razor from the inside of his suit jacket. “A cold world breeds hard men, and I’m afraid I just don’t see that in you,” he told Benny before opening his throat with the razor.

  CHAPTER 15

  Halfway into third-period English, Persia found that she could barely keep her eyes open. The combination of the joint she’d smoked with Ty before school and burning the midnight oil until the wee hours had her feeling like a zombie. She had stayed on the phone talking to Chucky until almost five a.m. and had to be up for school by six a.m. She could almost feel the bags swelling under her eyes, but they were worth it.

  She had initially only planned on talking to him for a few minutes, if that, but she found Chucky to be an interesting character to say the least. He was witty and flattering, hardly what she expected from a street dude. Chucky told her about his life growing up in the hood with no father, and an on-again off-again addict for a mother. He also told Persia how both his bothers had been murdered when he was very young. From the pain in his voice she could tell that it hurt him to talk about it. Chucky opening up like that to her made Persia want to do the same, so she opened up to him about a few things in her life, including her father and seeing a man murdered when she was five years old. It was the first time she had talked to anyone other than her therapist and her mother about it and sharing it with Chucky made her feel like some of the weight she had been carrying was being lifted. She hadn’t intended to tell him so much so soon, but Chucky was very easy to talk to. By the time they got done talking, Persia felt like she had known Chucky for years and the birds were chirping outside her window. He promised to call her after school that day, and Persia couldn’t help but find herself watching the clock in anticipation.

  Talking to Chucky helped Persia take her mind off the nasty argument she’d had with her mother. They had disagreements before, but not to that magnitude. When Persia came down for breakfast that morning, the tension was so thick in the kitchen that you could cut it with a knife. Richard sat in his usual spot, at the table on his laptop, sipping coffee and trying his best to remain invisible. Michelle stood over the sink washing dishes. She didn’t even acknowledge Persia other than a halfhearted, “Good morning.” She knew she had hurt her mother and wanted to apologize, but felt like it was too soon. She decided that when she got out of school she would talk to her mother and try to make things right.

  “Am I keeping you from some other pressing appointment, Ms. Chandler?” Mr. Ages asked. He was giving her the look from over the rim of his glasses. “You’ve been staring at that clock as if you have somewhere else to be.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Ages,” Persia said.

  “Sorry isn’t going to get you a passing grade in my class, Ms. Chandler.” Mr. Ages said her last name in a drawn-out tone. He was about to turn and walk away when his nose twitched. He sniffed the air around Persia. “Ms. Chandler, have you been smoking marijuana?”

  All eyes in the class turned to Persia. “Um, no, sir. Some girls were smoking cigarettes in the bathroom and the smell must’ve gotten in my hair,” she lied.

  “A likely story. I’ll be watching you, Ms. Chandler. With your father being such a highly respected history professor at NYU, I don’t think he’d take kindly to hearing that you’ve fallen in with the slackers,” Mr. Ages told her before turning on his heels and walking back to the front of the class.

  “Stepfather,” Persia mumbled.

  Time ticked by at a snail’s pace, but finally the end of the period came. Persia was starving and couldn’t wait to hook up with her girls and get something to eat from the cafeteria. She saw Karen, Meeka, and Ty lingering outside the door of the classroom, waiting for her, and she motioned to them that she’d be along in a second. Scooping her books hastily into her bag, she headed for the door and had almost made it before Mr. Ages stopped her.

  “A word please, Ms. Chandler.” He was looking at her over his glasses again.

  Persia looked from her friends, who were waving for her to hurry, to the waiting teacher, wondering what he wanted with her. “What’s up?” She approached his desk.

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out, Ms. Chandler,” Mr. Ages said while shuffling some papers on his desk. “I imagine making the transition from an institution like St. Mary’s to public school has been quite an experience. How’re you adjusting?”

  Persia shrugged. “Fine, I guess. It was a little different in the beginning, but I’m getting into the swing of how things work around here.”

  “So I’ve noticed, and it’s part of the reason I asked to speak to you,” Mr. Ages said. “Persia, I know how it can be when you’re the new kid in school. Sometimes you find yourself doing things you wouldn’t normally do, because you want to fit in. I get it, but don’t let new people, places, and things change your priorities.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Persia asked.

  “What it means is you’re not like your little friends.” He nodded to the doorway, where Ty had her nose pressed against the glass, making funny faces. “Karen only comes to school half of the time, Ty is a lost cause, and Meeka has been here almost as long as I have. There’s actually a pool going on in the teacher’s lounge as to how many of them will actually finish high school. You”—he jabbed his finger at her—“have the potential to not only finish high school, but go on to college and be successful in the world, but you have to apply yourself.”

  “Mr. Ages, I do apply myself,” Persia said.

  “So you call
coming to my class high out of your skull applying yourself?” Mr. Ages asked. Persia looked surprised. “Don’t give me that look, Persia. I used to smoke a little pot in my day, so I know the signs. The difference is, I wouldn’t have dared come to school high. I understood the importance of education and put that before my vices.”

  “I apologize, Mr. Ages. It won’t happen again,” Persia said.

  “Let’s hope not, Ms. Chandler. I don’t think your parents would appreciate hearing that you’ve been getting high before school. I’d hate to have to call them, but I will if you don’t pull it together.”

  “I promise, Mr. Ages. No more weed for me,” she lied. Persia had no intention of giving up weed. She’d just be sure not to smoke before school anymore. “Can I go now?”

  “Yes, Ms. Chandler. You can go, and please tell your friend Meeka if she’s going to cut my class, at least be smart enough not to loiter outside the door where I can see her. Damn slackers,” Mr. Ages grumbled and went back to shuffling his papers.

  “What did old sour puss want?” Ty asked when Persia finally came out of the classroom.

  “Nothing, he was on my back for being high in class,” Persia told her.

  “His old ass needs to get some pussy in his life so he can stop being so fucking mean all the time. I hate that nigga,” Meeka said.

  “I think the feeling is mutual,” Persia half joked. “Let’s go get something to eat. I’m hungry, tired, and ready for this day to be over. I been up almost all night and just wanna go home and take a nap.”

  “What were you doing all night that kept you up?” Karen asked suspiciously.

  “Nothing, just talking to my cousin from down South on the phone. She’s always got some drama going on,” Persia lied.

  “I thought you might’ve been getting your back dug out.” Ty laughed.

  “Unlike you, I don’t have sex on the brain twenty-four-seven, but I get mine when necessary,” Persia shot back.