
From Harlem With Love
K'wan
FROM HARLEM WITH LOVE
"FROM HARLEM WITH LOVE"
BY K'WAN
Kwanfoye.com/Blackdawnbooks.net
Copyright © 2010 By K'wan Foye. All rights reserved.
Cover design Karoz Norman (karoznorman@gmail.com)
Blake snapped back to consciousness like a drowning man taking in his first sips of air. Through his left eye, which was the only one that wasn't swollen, he scanned the room trying to make heads or tails of where he was. From the silhouettes of the cars he was able to pick out in under the few strips of moonlight that shone in the place, he knew he was in a garage, but where in the world was anyone's guess. When the fog finally rolled from Blake's mind and he was fully alert, he immediately wished he was unconscious again so that he could escape the pain that rocked every inch of his body. Blake flexed his aching jaw and could feel the dried blood around his moth from his broken nose being left to bleed unchecked for only God knew how long. When tried to lift his hand to asses the damage and noticed the plastic restraints that bound him by the wrists to the metal chair he was sitting in. Suddenly everything that had happened came back to him and Blake's heart with gripped with terror.
"That nigga sure looks scared." He heard a familiar voice in the darkness.
"Yeah, he sure does." A deep voice snickered.
"You scared, homey?" A third and slightly higher voice chimed in.
"Whose there?" Blake called out. It was too dark for him to see but he could make out three silhouettes in the shadows.
Suddenly the light above the chair flickered to life and temporarily blinded Blake. When his vision cleared he found himself staring at three familiar faces. The first was the youngest, and from the look in his eyes, the most hostile of the three. He wrung his hands around the grip of the small machine gun he was carrying, staring murderously at Blake. The second man was chubby, wearing his hair in a short natural that was almost perfectly round. Blake could see the anger in his face, but there was a kindness to his eyes that said he would be the one Blake would have to appeal to for his life. The third man's eyes held no such hope. They were cunning and as dark as the night, blending almost perfectly into his coco face. The slender man leaned casually against television that was mounted on a rolling stand. His expression was a cold one that Blake knew all too well as he was the one who had helped him perfect it. When he looked into the eyes of his captors he no longer saw the bright young eyes that looked to him for guidance, but the eyes of wolves about to pounce on an injured animal.
"Harlem, you got some big balls for trying to pull this off, real big balls." Blake addressed the dark skinned youth through chapped and swollen lips.
Harlem looked at Blake with a playful smirk on his face. "Blake, you have no idea how big my balls are but I've prepared a little presentation to give you an idea," he clicked the television on.
Blake watched in confusion as Harlem came on the screen, lying naked across a bed and while a woman gave him the blow job of his life. In the background he could hear a child playing, but at that angle he couldn't tell if the child was in the room or not. At first Blake didn't understand why he was being made to watch the little home movie but as the camera zoomed out and the whole room became visible the picture became perfectly clear. A tear rolled down Blake's cheek as he recognized the tattoo on the girl's shoulder as the one he had treated his son's mother to on her last birthday. The sight of the woman he loved giving another man head was heart wrenching enough, but the real dagger was his two year old son sitting on the bed, less than two feet, away playing with his toys while she did it.
"Yeah, shorty can do some real serious things with a dick in her mouth, but I'm sure you already know this," Harlem winked at the stunned Blake. From the look on your face I can tell you had no idea, but you should've. She was a whore when you met her and just stepped her game up when you put her in pocket. That little bitch of yours done popped more niggaz than the police, and you wife'd her." Harlem shook his head sadly.
"I'm gonna kill you!" Blake thrashed in his chair, struggling against the restraints. His threats became screams of agony when a bullet tore through his kneecap.
Harlem sneered at him, holding a smoking .22. "You ain't gonna do shit but bleed unless I say otherwise. Now stop making so much got damn noise before the next one splits ya kufi."
"What the fuck is this all about, man?" Blake whimpered.
"Blake, I think you know exactly what this was about." Harlem took his time, tapping a cigarette out of the pack and firing it up. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and glared at Blake. "We're soldiers so we know what it is when we take the battlefield but civilians are supposed to be off limits. Y'all crossed the line when you got at mine, B."
"Harlem I swear I didn't know that they were gonna come at ya fam like that. I knew they were in their feelings and wanted to get at you, but I didn't have any parts in it and that's on everything I love!" Blake proclaimed.
"You didn't do anything to stop it either, did you?" Harlem pointed the .22 at Blake's face, making him cringe.
"Harlem don't do it to yourself, man. If you cut me loose now we'll call it even, but if you pull that trigger you already know how its gonna play out." Blake warned. It was a weak threat, but it was all he had.
Harlem thought on it. "Yeah, I know. Everybody on payroll is gonna be on me and my niggaz in retaliation. That's a problem I can live with. Blake, I told you off the muscle that I ain't want no problems with you, but you did what you did to make a point. It's all good, because I got a little point I wanna make too." He flicked the lit cigarette into Blake's face, and stepped aside for Pie who was holding a .38.
"No, no, no..." Blake stuttered but Pie had already pulled the trigger.
The bullet tore through Blake's stomach and went out his back, tearing holes in his intestines as it passed, but he was still breathing. Harlem nodded at Pie, who handed the .38 to Sol. The youngster looked at the gun and hesitated.
"If one burns, we all burn," Harlem reminded Sol of their pact.
"Fuck it," Sol took the gun and fired twice into Blake's chest and shoulder. Blake was now a twisted mess of exposed flesh, hanging awkwardly on the chair. His chest still heaved, pushing squirts of blood from the holes, as he held on to life as tightly as he could. The sight proved to be too much for Sol who passed the gun to Harlem and went outside to throw up.
Harlem walked over to Blake who was mumbling incoherently. "Look at me," Harlem slapped Blake's face so that he was facing him. Harlem braced the .38 under Blake's chin and leaned in to whisper into his ear. "When you see the rest of my enemies in hell... tell them that Harlem sends his love," he kissed Blake on the cheek and blew the top of his head off.
One week earlier:
Harlem looked out the dingy project window lost in his own thoughts. It was the middle of the afternoon, but the gloomy skies made it look more like twilight. The brief patches of sunlight that were able to penetrate the thick clouds kissed off the project asphalt, giving the thick droplets the appearance of shattering crystals when they connected. It had been raining all day and most people sought the shelter of their homes, but the rain did nothing to curb appetites of Harlem and his young crew.
The few base heads he employed played benches and lobby entrances serving death to all who craved it, while the young boys steered the lost souls to the demise. He watched little Sol pace back and forth to try and keep warm as he sneezed into the arm of his army jacket. He looked cold and miserable but he was determined to stay out because his daughter couldn't eat excuses. Though each man had their individual reasons for being out in the storm, they shared a common goal which was to get the hell out of the hood!
"Yo, come here son. You gotta see this shit!" Lamar called from the couch where he was watching 300. The king was about to have his last stand with the Persian army. Lamar's eyes stayed glued to the television until the last arrow pierced the king's flesh. "That's my word to everything, that's how you gotta go out when a nigga is stepping to yours," he slapped the couch for emphasis. Lamar was a brown skin, animated cat who got easily excited.
"Fuck that movie, son finish counting that money." Pie called from the small dining room table he had been hunched over for the last hour or so. He was chopping small pieces of rock off a cocaine cookie with a Gemstar razor. Littering the table top around him were baggies boxes of baking soda and to dirty coffee pots. "Yo, you gonna stare out the window all day or help me out?" he called to Harlem. "Y'all niggaz think it's my job to do everything."
"I got you my nigga, stop beefing," Harlem joined Pie at the table, and plucked a razor from the box. "It's coming down in buckets out there, son," he said, cutting a piece off a cookie that was cooling on a plate under a table fan.
"I can't tell from the way this work is moving," Pie wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, careful not to get any of the coke residue from his fingers on his face. Because of his weight he tended to sweat a lot and sitting in the hot apartment didn't help. Most people thought that Pie got his nickname because he was fat, but it really came from the fact that by the time he was nine he could whip up a perfect pie of coke better than most grown folks. "Sol and them niggaz are running back and forth for packs damn near faster than I can bag em up," he took a hand full of packaged rocks and stuffed them into an envelope, which he tossed on the pile with the others. "You know we gonna have to make another trip uptown before the day is out."
"Its just like I told you, my nigga, ya boy Harlem knows how to get it." Harlem boasted.
"Church!" Lamar chimed in from the couch where he was counting stacks of money on the coffee table. "Son, we came up quite a bit from the lil niggaz we used to be; out there trying to get it any way we could."
"Nothing stays little forever." Pie said and went back to his chopping. "Not for nothing," he looked up at Harlem, "opening the shop back up in the projects was a good move. We were getting a little spot money the way we were doing it before, but now we can really stretch our legs, feel me?"
"No doubt, that small time shit gets old real quick. Niggaz got kids and habits," Harlem raised the Dutch Master. "Lamar, twist that up right quick," Harlem tossed the Dutch and it bounced off Lamar's head.
Lamar sucked his teeth because the interruption had thrown his count off. "C'mon B, what am I, the human blunt roller or something?"
"Lamar ain't nobody trying to son you, but my hands ain't really equip for that right now," Harlem raised his hands for Lamar to see the coke residue on them.
"True, I don't need to be that high," Lamar conceded and began rolling the weed. "My nigga, I meant to ask you if y'all ever got to the bottom of that thing wit shorty?"
"Shorty who?" Harlem looked from Pie to Lamar and back.
Pie waved him off. "You know the lil big head nigga we had getting it up in 145 Park. A few niggaz from that side caught feelings cuz he was snatching fiends from in front of the store, so they pressed him about not being able to get money on Amsterdam. You know how Sha-Money and them be in they feelings sometimes, they ain't really trying to do nothing though. "
In Pie's mind it was nothing, but Harlem was a cat of a different kind of thinking. Anything that came between him and the pursuit of a dollar was something. Harlem thought on his problem. The dudes who stepped to his little man were older heads who hadn't heard the final curtain call. It was over for them and at best they were only moving a few grams here and there so the move was obviously not over territory, but jealousy. Harlem started to let it slide, but he knew if he let one offense go then it left the door open for them to try something else.
"Tell the lil nigga to take it down for a night or two and then come back out, but keep it to the Park. If Sha or his people come back at him we'll make our presence felt. "
Lamar's Boost phone chirped on the coffee table, followed by a mechanical voice. "Yo."
Lamar looked at the caller ID and smirked. "Talk about it."
"My G, I need to get to the store but I can't get out right now because I'm here with the lil one. I need a can of the six ounce powdered Similac."
Lamar looked over at Harlem who shook his head and held up two fingers. They barely had enough coke left over to hold down the fort until the re-up and filling the order would cut into what they had left. "They ain't got the six ounce cans down where I'm at, but I can grab you a two ounce can to hold you over and swing back with another can in a few hours." Lamar relayed the coded message.
"That'll work. Come through."
"Bet, I'll see you in about a half hour or so." Lamar switched the phone off. "My G we gotta go see homey ASAP. This phone has been jumping all day and the delivery service is missing money."
"We can't do it right this second, the block is popping and we gotta make sure we feed the animals." Pie told him.
"Bobby!" they heard someone shout through the open window. Harlem and Pie ran over and peeked through the shades to see what was going on. Sure enough two uniformed officers were chasing a crack head named Bay into the lobby of 875. They doubted if the police would catch the swift crack head, but it meant that the block was getting hot and they would need to shut down for a few.
"Looks like y'all will be having some free time after all. Take a ride with me." Lamar smiled devilishly.
The rain was even worse than it looked when they got outside in it. The wind whipped through the tunnel of project buildings so fiercely that it made the raindrops fall sideways. As Harlem's fatigues began to become heavy with water he wondered why he had even bothered to leave the confines of the apartment. As they passed 875 the police came out of the lobby wearing twin looks of frustration.
"They should've know they wasn't gonna catch no crack head in the projects." Harlem said more to himself than anyone else. Ignoring the officers, who were now sizing them up, Harlem and his crew continued through the projects to the Ave where the car was parked.
Crossing the courtyard Harlem spotted a tasty chocolate morsel that was just waiting to be devoured. She was five-five and thick with a glint of cunning in here eyes like she knew some great secret that she wasn't ready to share. Fatima wasn't technically a part of Harlem's crew, but she might as well have been for all the business they did. Fatima and her little friends were experts at every thing from chopping up work to smuggling contraband into prisons undetected. Harlem had tried to crack, but Fatima liked to play with it and that's part of what turned him on about her. She was his Ace and his heartache all rolled into one.
"What's goodie?" Fatima gave Pie and Lamar dap, but Harlem got a hug.
"Shit, bout to make a run right quick. Where're you off to?" Harlem asked.
"Bout to take it in the house because this rain is blowing mine," Fatima adjusted her umbrella, splashing a little water on Harlem.
"If I had a choice in the matter I wouldn't be out here in it either." He told her.
"Harlem, you've got choice. You just chose not to exercise those choices." She winked.
"Stop fronting Fatima, you know I've been trying to see what that's about for a minute." Harlem smiled.
"No, you've been trying to fuck me in stair cases and crack houses." She shot back. "Now let me get up outta this rain so I can go upstairs and cook." She made hurried steps towards the building.
"What you got on the menu?" Harlem called after her.
"Curry chicken and rice with steamed cabbage. You should come by and get a plate." She said before disappearing into the building.
"I just might do that." Harlem smirked to himself.
"Harlem, hold up for a second." A chick named Doreen called to him. She was tall and thin with model's features but her eyes were hard and worn from the horrors she had seen in her travels. At one time Doreen was one of the baddest chicks in the hood, now she was just a washed up booster looking for a blast.
"What up Doreen?" Harlem nodded.
"You, big daddy. I'm still waiting on the infamous Harlem to let me see what it is all these lil bitches are gossiping about." She ran her hand down his chest, but he grabbed her by the wrist and held her there.
"Knock it off, D. I heard about that poison you serving from between them thighs and I'm good. I don't think my young heart could take it." Harlem laughed and hugged her playfully.
"Probably not, youngster. Back in the day I had all ya daddies and uncles loosing they cool and tipping on they ladies." Doreen addressed all three of them. "But fuck the small talk, what's good? I'm just coming out and I need to get off E," she wiped her nose with the back of her jacket. Doreen's body language said that she was on the verge of becoming sick.
"I don't touch that, ma; go see my lil man's and them." Harlem told her.
"You know I know where to get that snap, crackle, pop but I came to you with a lil business proposition," Doreen held her shopping bag open for Harlem to see what she was carrying. "That's a pound and I'm willing to let it go for a nice price, talk to me daddy."
"Doreen, I sell coke and crack." He reminded her.
"That's your specialty, but you got the heart of a hustler so that means you can get down and sell anything if it'll turn a buck." Doreen said. "Look, it ain't nothing but some Arizona but with the way these flaky niggaz is selling weed around here I'm sure you can get it off. Shit you're named after the hustler's capital, Harlem." She stroked his ego.
"Doreen you always know the right thing to say to make a nigga wanna fuck wit you."
"That's while I'm still out there getting it in while the rest of these bitches is somewhere drinking coffee and telling their problems to a bunch of strangers. If I'm gonna die of something then it might as well be an overdose so I can go out how I lived, stone cold fucked up!" Doreen declared. It was a twisted logic but it made her feel good so no one challenged it. "Now let's make this deal quick and painless so I can go get what I need to feel good."
"Doreen where the hell did you get that from because I know you didn't buy it?" Pie eyed the bag suspiciously.
"I liberated it from this cat that owed me a little change." Doreen said slyly. "Listen man I'm just trying to get this shit off my hands so I can go to the moon right quick. I got this lil freak I need to see things my way and you know my devil don't wake up until I'm right."
Harlem laughed at the old smoker. "A'ight, I'm gonna pass it off to my young boys and see what they can do with it. How much for the whole smash?"
Doreen smiled. "For you, gimmie a stack."
Harlem gave Doreen a dirty look. "A stack, what the fuck I look like to you? I'm doing you a favor and you're trying to rob me over some shit that's probably dirt any way? Fuck outta here," he started walking off and Doreen stopped him.
"Harlem, this ain't no haze but it's some good ass green. You know I wouldn't play you short knowing we do business every day. A'ight you my man, so I'll give it to you for eight-hundred."
Harlem looked at him seriously now. "Dig this; you need to get high more than I need that bunk ass weed, so you can take the five hundred and be about ya way or keep running around trying to find a buyer and risk the nigga you stole it from running up on you dirty. What's good?"
Doreen mulled it over. She knew for sure that he could go down the hill and get at least twelve hundred for it from one of the kids on 93 street but there was no guarantee they would have the money right then and there and Doreen needed to get right. "A'ight, you got that," she tried to hand the bag to Harlem but he backed away.
"Don't hand that shit to me right here. Take it to Sol," Harlem dug in his pocket and handed Doreen the bills. "That's three and I got two more for you as soon as I come back from this little run."
"Come on Harlem, how you gonna short me?" Doreen threw his hands up.
Harlem draped his arm around Doreen. "I got you, sis. Let me just make this move and imma get hat right to you," he smiled.
Doreen had seen that smile on more than one occasion. He knew that once Harlem was out of sight it would be hours before he saw him again, if not days. She was at a moral crossroads but the pang in the pit of his gut clarified the choice. "A'ight, but don't disappear on me like you do!"
"I got you, ma," Harlem said over his shoulder as he continued towards the Ave. When Harlem and his friends rounded the fence they saw Sol coming down Columbus. He was a short, thin cat who wore his hair in low waves with the half moon part. His face was hard and focused as he made his way down the strip, with his hands tucked into the sleeves of his jacket as if it was cold, but Harlem knew better because he knew what Sol had left the crib with. What he couldn't figure out was the cause of the youngster's hostility.
"Sol what's popping?" Lamar was the first to ask.
Sol's hate filled eyes shifted to Lamar. "Ain't nothing, niggaz just forget their place sometimes." He looked over his shoulder. Sha-Money and some of his cronies were posted up in front of the corner store. "Don't stunt that my G, cuz in a minute I'm about to remind niggaz what it is," he wiggled his arm in the jacket sleeve.
"Easy lil one," Harlem brushed past him en route to the corner. His boys fell in step behind him. There were four of them in all, three of which were just spectators in the game that the owner of the lavender BMW they were huddled around played. Blake sat behind the wheel smoking a Black & Mild, speaking in hushed tones with the three men surrounding the driver's side.
Though Blake wasn't from the hood the minions were. They flocked around the BMW, sipping liquor from brown cups and no doubt reliving stories of their past. At one time they had been about something, but when the curtain fell on they refused to leave the stage. The youngest of their group was at least five years Harlem's senior but they carried themselves like men trapped in a second childhood.
They were so engrossed in their conversation about nothing that they didn't see Harlem and Pie until they were right on top of them. When the old heads spotted their eastern adversaries their faces immediate went from smiling to scowling.
Harlem watched them watching him, refusing to turn away. "What's popping?" he challenged.
"You got a lot of hostility coming off you right now, son," Fego said. He was a short Spanish cat with a missing tooth and thinning hair that he always hid with a du-rag.
"Ain't no hostility, I'm just wondering if they closed down all the stores on the other side of the projects?" Harlem said sarcastically.
"Lil man done grew some nuts, huh?" A familiar brown face spoke up. It had been years since anyone in the hood had seen Mane for more than summer at a time as he was always locked up. He was the so called goon of their squad who had made a name for himself back in the days as a knockout artist. Age and hard living had slowed him down but he was still a dangerous man. Mane had always been a terror in the hood but when crack hit it was a wrap. Mane was strong arming everything moving to fuel his crack habit, even cats he had once called friends. His last bid had gotten his weight up but Harlem still recognized that addict look in his eyes.
Harlem chuckled. "I know you been away for a while Mane, but lil man done grew up. I even got a little girl of my own, so I can't really be nobody's lil man these days."
"Harlem, you always was sensitive as hell when it came to people talking slick about you," Blake slid from his car. He was a pretty-boy cat who wore his hair in a curly fade and always dressed in the colors of the seasons. But for as flamboyant as Blake my have come across more often than not, he was a man was many connections. If you wanted to get coke, not bullshit cut but superior cocaine, then you had to see Blake. He had the mainline to the dude who was brining 86.7% of it into the tri-state area.
"Sometimes you gotta react to what a mutha fucka is putting down and let them know where you stand about it, at the same time keeping your cool so you don't come across like a square." Harlem told Blake.
"The coolest cube in the tray," Blake gave him dap then hugged him. "How've you been?"
"I can't complain, man, just out here trying to do me." Harlem replied.
"Do more than, you. Do the whole city, B," Blake motioned around. "With your head for numbers it's only gonna be a matter of time before you get in a serious lane and take it for all its worth. I've been telling you that since you were a kid."
"Seems like niggaz gassing him up is his problem now," Mane grumbled.
Harlem ignored Mane and turned his attention to Sha-Money. "Sha, I need to holla at you for a second in private."
Sha-Money folded his arms and shrugged his shoulders. "It's all good; you can speak your business in front of my team." From his body language Harlem had already deduced that Sha-Money knew why they had come.
"So be it. I heard that y'all had a misunderstanding with one of my boys?" Harlem explained.
"There was no misunderstanding, Harlem. Ya man was outta bounds with his work and we set him straight." Sha-Money said as if it was just that simple.
Harlem scratched his head and raised his eyebrow. "Is that right? Last I heard y'all held square in front of ya building, catching the occasional straggler to make even money. If my man is doing a something light in the school yard then I can't see how anyone's toes got stepped on, so what's the problem?"
"The problem is all this shit falls under our jurisdiction." Mane spoke up.
"You're jurisdiction? How is that when y'all don't even hustle over that way? That's free money, my nigga." Pie told him.
"Ain't no money free, especially when it's coming from our customers." Sha-Money shot back. "The work ya man had was detouring our fiends so therefore it was cutting into our pockets and had to be shut down."
Mane stepped forward and looked at Pie and Harlem like they were a smear of shit on the bottom of his shoe and shook his head. "Damn Sha, I must've been gone for a long time for you to be offering up explanations to the same lil niggaz we used to send to the store."
"We don't go to the store no more Mane, we run the stores." Lamar said coldly. He was the biggest jokester of their whole crew, but also the quickest on the draw which is why he was always elected to carry the hammer when they went out.
"Fuck outta here wit that fake goon shit," Mane glared at Lamar and the rest of his crew. "Y'all lil mutha fuckas ain't no killers just because you got guns. We turned you lil mutha fuckas on to the game, if anything you need to be kicking us something off that paper y'all making over here since we opened it up for you."
Harlem laughed. "Now that's the funniest shit I've heard all day. Mane, you know how me and mine give it up so that extortion angle don't even compute to me, come correct when you come for me, B, or don't come."
Feeling the tension building Sha-Money spoke up. "Harlem, ain't nobody trying to argue with you son. We can work it like this; ya man can pump outta the park but he gotta break us off."
"Sha, if I just told ya funny faced man over there that we wasn't gonna pay a street tax what makes you think I'm gonna feed you off my plate?" Harlem asked.
"Because if you don't and y'all lil niggaz keep trying to dabble over here we might have to come dabble over on your side of the projects." Fego added his two cents. "I hear y'all getting a lot of bread on Columbus and it might not be a bad idea for us to get our taste."
Harlem could see Lamar tense, but he motioned with his eyes for him to be easy. He narrowed his eyes at Fego and studied him for a time before responding. "Fuck outta, here wit that goon shit cuz I ain't moved, son. When Rio fell Prince took up the torch, when he got knocked off y'all and everybody else back away from Columbus like it was a bitch with herpes. Me and my niggaz are the ones who jumped out the window and took the chance and our risks bore fruit. Y'all could've had it before us and you didn't take it so don't try to start claiming shit now that we got it popping."
Mane laughed at Harlem's declaration. "And this coming from the same lil nigga who got his shit split by ol' boy from the twelfth floor?"
Harlem's eyes went to Mane. "I was twelve and he was nineteen when that happened, and if I recall he and I both ended up in the emergency room that night. If you wanna go down memory lane I've heard some interesting stories about your last trip to Attica." Harlem said coldly. Everyone suddenly got deathly quiet. Though they had never been confirmed there were rumors circulating that Mane had run afoul of some cats over a drug debt and found himself community property for a good chunk of his bid.
Mane's eyes flashed anger. "Nigga what?" he moved forward, reaching inside his jacket. For as quick as he was, Lamar was quicker to get his .380 in hand. Had it not been for Blake stepping in the way he would've blown Mane's face off.
"I know y'all niggaz ain't crazy enough to get into no gunplay while I'm on deck?" Blake addressed all of them, with his presence looming like a dark cloud. "Y'all wanna get stupid do it when I ain't on the block; it's hot enough as it is."
"Its cool," Mane backed off, but grilled Harlem.
"Let's make this move," Pie tugged at Harlem's sleeve. Harlem kept eye contact with a Mane for a second or two longer before he broke the connection.
"I'll holla," Harlem nodded to Blake and stepped with his crew.
"I'm gonna see you around, Harlem." Mane called after him.
"Count on it," Harlem shot back.
Harlem waited until they were in the car before addressing his click. "Pie, hit Sol and tell him to give lil man a pack and open up shop in the park. And tell him to do it now."
"You know there's gonna be some shit behind this when Sha-Money gets word of it." Pie told him.
"Fuck them niggaz, if they got some frog in them then let they jump." Harlem spat and reclined in the passenger seat.
Lamar drove the black Maxima around the block twice before finally pulling up in front of the store on 115 and 7. The block was relatively empty because of the down pour, but there were a few heads standing under the shelter of the store's canopy, one of which was the cat who had placed the order, Ron.
Lamar beeped the horn twice and Ron gave him the all clear sign. "I'll be right back," he hopped out and walked with Ron inside the store.
"Sol said little man got the pack and the shop is open." Pie said, closing his phone. "Harlem, you think it's a good idea for us to spit in Sha-Money's face after what happened early?"
"No, but it was a necessary evil." Harlem said honestly. "We worked too hard to build what we got to let these washed up mutha fuckas make us look like victims out here. That just opens the door for everybody else who wants a piece of the hood to try and play us outta pocket."
Pie nodded. "I feel you. Still, I told Sol to keep the hammer on deck incase somebody try to act a fool."
"That was smart. Fego ain't a killer but Mane is an idiot so I wouldn't put anything past him." Harlem said, watching the scenery out the window. A shapely young woman stepped out a cab directly in front of them, with her face partially obscured by a Burberry umbrella and matching wide brimmed at. Something about her walk was familiar and when he peeped the rose tattooed on the back of his hand it dawned on him. "Yo, ain't that Carmen?"
Pie squinted through the glass. "Oh hell yeah, and she still got it. Jump on that my nigga."
Before Pie could finish his sentence Harlem was out of the car and halfway to the curb. "Excuse me, can I talk to you for a minute miss," he called after her.
"Beat it shorty," she said without breaking her stride.
"Damn, it's like that now Poison?" this stopped her in her tracks. There was only one person who called her that.
"Harlem?" she turned around wearing a big smile. "Oh, shit what's good baby?" she threw her arms around him.
"Chilling, chilling, just trying to do me." he told her.
"So I see," she lifted the chain around his neck and tested the weight. "Looks like the streets are treating you well."
"Me and my niggaz is eating a lil something," he said modestly. "So you're still over here, huh?"
"Ain't nothing changed, including my phone number, Mr. can't call nobody." She looked him up and down.
"That's my bad, but I lost my phone with all my contacts in it." he lied. "But fuck all that, I'd much rather see you in person anyway."
"There you go with that slick talk." She blushed.
"Come on, baby, you know you're still the sweetest poison in all the land." Harlem winked at her. He had nicknamed her Poison when they were fucking around because Carmen was as deadly as a viper and twice as cold when it came to getting her paper. Even for as trifling as she was Harlem held a soft spot for her in his heart like a sick addiction. Had she not been such a whore he might've even tried to square her up, but Carmen loved her scratch more than she could ever love a man.
"Anyway," she rolled her eyes, "what brings you to my neck of the woods, you coming to see one of your other shorties?"
"Knock it off, Carmen I came to make a move with my mans and them right quick. You know your pussy is the only thing this far north of my hood that calls to my dick."
"Then how come you ain't been answering the call," she grabbed his dick playfully and tugged until she felt it stiffen. "Damn Harlem it's been a minute since you let me taste this, why you being stingy wit it?"
"Carmen if you don't stop that shit I'm gonna end up trying to slide upstairs with you." Harlem told her.
"Then let's bust a move. My son is spending the night with his dad so we got the crib to ourselves."
It didn't take Harlem long to make up his mind. "Bet, let me run to the liquor store to grab a bottle and tell my crew I'm out."
"You ain't even gotta do all that, I got a fresh bottle of Grand Cru that I ain't cracked yet, so all you gotta do is shake ya boys and meet me upstairs. I got some shit I bought the other day that I've been wanting to try so don't make me wait too long." Carmen sashayed towards her building with Harlem's eyes locked on her ass the whole time.
"Now that's a bad bitch," Lamar broke Harlem out of his trance. "You ready to go, my dude?"
"Nah, y'all go ahead back to the block. I'll take a cab." Harlem told him.
Lamar smiled slyly. "Let me find out."
"You already know so I ain't gotta tell you," Harlem gave him dap. "Tell Pie I'll hit him when I get back to the hood." Harlem started towards the building.
"A'ight, but make sure you keep your phone on. Don't get so caught up with that bitch that you forget what's going on in the hood, feel me?" Lamar reminded him.
"I got you, I got you," Harlem jogged across the threshold and into the building.
"That nigga Harlem is always on a hunt for some trim." Lamar said as they pulled the whip into the parking lot behind 845. There was no parking on the Ave so they decided to post up there for a minute until they had finished the L they were smoking.
"Who are you telling? Ever since we lost our virginity to those two tramps from 119 the boy has been straight turned out." Pie recalled.
Lamar shook his head. "Our boy has got issues."
"Shit, I wouldn't mind Carmen's kind of issues myself. Did you see the ass on shorty?" Pie whistled. "If I was Harlem I'd be trying to crawl as deep in that pussy as I could."
"You ain't never lied, but with an ass like that I probably wouldn't get off more than four or five strokes before it was over. I might even run up in it raw just so I can feel those guts."
Pie looked at Lamar like he was stupid. "Nigga is you crazy? With all the damn diseases running around I ain't dipping in nothing raw."
Lamar waved him off. "Pie you're tripping. As fine as Carmen is she ain't got nothing."
"Yeah, okay. Those are just the types of chicks that catch a nigga slipping, just like my man Noodles, God bless."
Lamar's face darkened as he remembered the old head that had passed on a few years prior. "It's a damn shame. Before he got knocked for that body he was out here clocking all that cheese off the pussy trade."
"And it was the pussy that killed him."
Lamar looked puzzled. "Pie what're you talking about? They said that Noodles died of cancer."
"I know what they said but I'm telling you what it was. Remember that chick Rita from 1199?"
"Yeah, the pretty dark skinned bitch. Everybody nigga handling was running up in that and Noodles was still acting like he was in love with her. Me and Noodles got into it one time because she was acting like she was gonna let me crack and he caught feelings." Lamar recalled.
"You better be thankful that you didn't smash. That broad gave Noodles the monster which is why he blew her head off."
"Damn for as pretty as she was you'd have never thought she was sick." Lamar said in shock.
"Dummy-Boy HIV ain't got no look, that shit strikes the beautiful and the busted without discrimination. You better start strapping that pickle before you run up in these hos Lamar. As a matter of fact, I'm gonna pick your ass up in the morning and take you to get tested."
Lamar sucked his teeth. "Nah fuck that, if I'm sick I don't even wanna know."
"You should! Lamar," Pie's voice softened, "I ain't trying to come at you sideways or nothing, I'm just concerned. You're like a little brother to me and I'd hate to see you in a bad way because you didn't know or were too lazy to make the trip to the clinic. I'm gonna come scoop you up and we can get you a rapid test done at the free clinic. If it'll make you more comfortable I'll get tested too."
Lamar looked surprised. "Pie, you'd put yourself through that for me."
Pie gently grabbed Lamar by the back of the neck and looked him directly in the eyes. "We family, my nigga, so that means I'd do anything for you or Harlem like I know y'all would do for me. Now let's take it upstairs so we can check on this nigga Sol. We left that nigga down here to run the show for hours so ain't no telling what the hell is going on."
Pie and Lamar got out of the car and started making their way towards 865 to check on Sol. As they were cutting through the walkway leading to the stairs they noticed a crack head moving suspiciously in the shadows behind the building. At first they thought it was nothing, but when they saw someone throw something to him out of one of the windows they knew it was a suspect situation. The crack head was so busy picking up whatever had been dropped that he didn't notice the two men until they were right on top of him.
"What's goodie?" Lamar looked at him suspicious.
"Oh shit, y'all scared me," the crack head clutched his heart with one hand and the bag with the other.
"What you doing back here, fam?" Pie asked.
"Nothing," the crack head said but they knew he was lying from the way his eyes kept darting around looking for an escape route.
Lamar snatched the bag from him and busted it open. Inside he found loose bags of crack all bearing the stamp him and his crew used. "Nothing, huh?" he looked at the base head menacingly.
"Man, I can explain. Me and..." the crack head tried to bolt mid-sentence but Pie grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him to the ground.
"So you wanna steal from us?" Pie punched him in the face twice.
"Chill, I'm sorry," the crack head pleaded through bloodied lips.
"Not as sorry as you're gonna be," Lamar pulled a razor and straddled the crack head. "Don't worry, this will only hurt for a second," he laughed before bringing the razor down across the crack head's face.
After carving the crack head's face up like a Christmas goose, Pie and Lamar raced to the apartment where they kept the drugs. Sol was supposed to be holding it down but for someone to be up there throwing drugs out the window something must've been wrong. Using his key Pie opened the door and they silently slid into the apartment. Sol was no where to be found but a crack head named Blue was peering out the window suspiciously.
"What the fuck is going on in here?" Pie's heavy voice boomed. When Blue heard him he spun around and dropped the fist full of crack he was holding. Now they knew who had been tossing packages out the window.
"Pie it ain't what it looks like!" Blue stammered.
Pie grabbed him by the front of the shirt and slapped him viciously across the face with one of his huge mitts. "I don't give a fuck what it looks like, but I know what it is!"
"Move so I can blast this nigga," Lamar pulled a gun and was trying to get a clear shot at Blue.
"Fuck is all this noise?" Sol came out of the back room fixing his pants. A young girl was trailing him with a guilty look on her face.
"Nigga while you're in here getting your little dick wet this hype was trying to clean us out." Pie chastised Sol while shaking Blue like a rag doll.
"I'm telling you we should smoke this nigga!" Lamar insisted.
Pie gave it some thought. "Nah, I got a better idea. Sol, get you lil ass in the kitchen and turn the stove on."
"Yo, I swear if you let me go you'll never see me again." Blue promised.
"Nah, we need you around so you can work off your debt," Pie said dragging him into the kitchen. The flames of the front burner of the stove danced while everyone stood around and wondered what Pie was up to. "You know in some countries they take your hands for stealing. I ain't gonna go that far, but all of you niggaz are gonna learn a valuable lesson here tonight," Pie addressed all of them. When Blue realized what was going on he began to struggle, but Pie folded him with a hook to the gut. He wrapped his meaty arm around Blue's neck, putting him in a choke hold and held his hand extended over the stove.
"Come on man, have a heart," Blue was crying like a baby.
Pie just snickered. "Niggaz with feelings go broke in these streets and I'm sure about my cheese. Let this be a lesson to you and the rest of these mutha fuckas who think its something sweet about my team," Pie roared and drove Blue's hand into the fire.
Carmen's crib was nice, considering the neighborhood she lived in. It was a railroad style apartment with a long brick hallway that went from the front door to the tastefully decorated, living room at the other end of the apartment. Harlem lounged on the couch smoking Kush and sipping Remy out of a crystal glass while admiring her Carmen's cozy little living room. Pictures of Carmen and her son decorated the entertainment system as well as the coffee table and on the wall was a blown up shot of her on the cover of Big Dawg Entertainment's new magazine Candy. Carmen looked down right eatable in the tiny gold bikini and matching stilettos.
"You a'ight back there?" He called to Carmen as she had been gone for nearly twenty minutes.
"Yeah, I'm getting out of these wet clothes. I'll be out in a sec." she called back.
"You need to hurry yo ass up," Harlem mumbled and grabbed the remote to the 52 inch flat off the coffee table. It was halftime of the game between the Knicks and Nuggets and the Knicks were actually winning so the television had Harlem's full attention until Carmen came out of the bedroom. Harlem took one look at her and all he could blurt out was "Damn!"
Carmen had traded in her street clothes for a silk robe that stopped just above the barbed wire she had tattooed across her smooth bronze thigh. Her wavy black hair was pushed back into a ponytail showing off her nearly flawless copper colored skin and soft brown eyes. When she sat on the couch next to Harlem and exposed the fact that she wasn't wearing any panties it took all that he had to keep him from jumping on her.
"Damn son, you just gonna smoke all the weed? Pass that," she playfully plucked the blunt from his hand. Carmen took a deep toke and expelled the smoke from her nose. "I'm really glad you came through Harlem."
"Me too," he ran his hand up her thigh.
"Stop that," she smacked the hand away. "I'm being serious, Harlem. I get so lonely in here sometimes, especially when lil man is with his dad."
"C'mon Carmen, I find it hard to believe that your fine ass is ever short of men trying to heap their attentions on you."
She sucked her teeth. "You mean trying to heap their dicks on me. Most of these niggaz just wanna fuck, you were one of the few who I could actually sit and talk to. The fact that your cock game is so sick is just a bonus," she rubbed his dick through his fatigue pants.
"You sure know how to stroke a nigga's ego." He smiled blissfully.
"Among other things," she continued playing with him.
"Why don't you tell me more about how much you miss this dick?"
"I can do better than telling you," she removed his dick and went to work. When Carmen's mouth slipped down around the head of Harlem's penis he felt a wave of euphoria that the strongest weed could match. She worked her tongue up and down his dick getting it nice and moist before she moved to his balls and began humming a happy tune that sent shockwaves from his thighs down to the tip of his toes. Carmen's mouth was so wet and warm that twice he had to peek down to make sure she hadn't secretly slipped him inside her pussy.
"You like that, daddy?" she looked up at him, jerking his dick and playfully licking his balls. All Harlem could do in response is moan. Still stroking him Carmen licked from the top of his pubic hairs to his nipples and back down. She straddled him running her dripping pussy down his stomach. Carmen flicked the head of Harlem's dick back and forth across her pussy until it was slick with her juices. When she tried to slide down it he grabbed her about the waist and held her there.
"You know I don't rock like that," he removed a condom from his pocket and held it up to her.
"Come on, poppy, you know I'm clean," she continued trying to get him inside her.
"And that's a beautiful thing, but that ain't how I move." from the look on Harlem's face she knew he wouldn't budge on the issue. Grudgingly she slid the condom around his dick and mounted him. Carmen rocked back and forth slowly on Harlem's lap with her eyes closed as if she was in a dream. As the lust built between them the more intense their lovemaking became. She went from rocking, to bouncing to eventually riding Harlem like he was the prized horse in the Kentucky derby. He tried to slow her down and gain some control over the situation but Carmen was too far gone. Ten minutes later they came together, with Carmen collapsing on him, nipping at his neck.
"Damn, that shit was the bomb," he scooted out from under her, breathing as if he had just run a marathon.
"Who are you telling," Carmen squeezed her thighs together to try and prolong the tingling in her womb. Harlem's phone chirped on the coffee table but when he reached for it she snatched it away and hit the off switch. "Uh, uh, this is my time; they can have you when I'm done."
"Stop playing, Carmen. It might be important," he tried to take the phone but she sat on it.
"More important than this?" she spat in the palm of her hand and stroked his dick back erect.
"My boys might need me," he panted.
"I need you," she told him and put his dick in her mouth. "Just stay for a little while, daddy, please," she begged in between slurps.
"Damn, you play dirty," Harlem moaned as he rolled his head back and enjoyed what Carmen was doing to him. As he felt the tip of his dick disappear into the back of her throat he phone suddenly seem so important anymore.
By the time Harlem staggered out of Carmen's building he was half drunk, weak, and his nuts were tender as hell. Harlem had always considered himself quite the stud when it came to the ladies, but Carmen had tricks that even he wasn't ready for. She was a battle cat and he loved every sick minute of it. Between her dragging three nuts out of him and downing a half liter of Remy Harlem was done. He prayed that his baby's mother didn't want to have sex by the time he made it home because he really didn't have anything left.
It had stopped raining, but the air was cool and crisp, so Harlem decided to walk back to the projects to clear his head. Harlem was so faded that It wasn't until he got to 109 and Central Park West that he remembered that he'd never turned his phone back on. When the phone powered on the screen was lit up like a Christmas tree from the voicemails and texts he'd been sent. "Fuck done happened now?" he wondered aloud as he ducked into the store on the corner to get a sandwich. Harlem was about to scroll through the texts when his phone rang from a private number. Normally he wouldn't have answered but something in his gut told him he needed to take the call. "Yo?"
"Fuck you been, niggaz been trying to raise you for hours!" Lamar's hostile voice came through the receiver.
"Nigga slow down, what the fuck are you talking about?" Harlem abandoned his sandwich and went outside so he could speak freely.
"My nigga it went on, that's what I'm talking about! These niggaz throw slugs then we gonna throw mutha fucking missiles!"
Harlem looked at his phone. "Mar, you talking real reckless right now, where you at B?"
"We on the block, where the fuck we supposed to be. Word to mine Harlem these niggaz done kicked it off, son....." Lamar ranted but thankfully someone snatched the phone from him.
"Where you at, my nigga?" Pie's calm voice came over the line.
"I'm up the block by the store. Pie what the fuck is wrong wit son?" Harlem asked.
"My dude, stay where you at and I'm about to walk up the block and meet you."
"Pie, don't leave a nigga wondering. What the fuck is going down? Talk to me B." He could hear Lamar popping shit to somebody in the background and furniture being knocked over. Harlem was starting to get antsy. He was in no way scared to go to battle, but he not knowing who his enemies were filled him with something akin to fear.
"Dig, Sha-Money and them jumped out the window. It's a long story that I ain't gonna go into over no jack. The bottom line is that I don't know where we at wit it, especially after what this nigga Lamar pulled."
"Damn." Was all Harlem could say.
"Just hold tight, my nigga. I'll be there in less than three minutes." Pie ended the call.
Harlem was now as sober as a judge. He didn't know the whole skinny yet, but from the way things sounded it wasn't a good situation. Harlem knew letting Carmen turn his phone off was a sucker move, but at the time all he could think about was tagging that pussy. The gauntlet had been laid and the general wasn't there when it popped off because he failed to acknowledge hustler rule number one, don't get caught up with a whore.
"Fuck this waiting shit," Harlem said and started towards the projects. He kept his eyes peeled for potential signs of danger and coming out of the chicken spot he found it. Fego and Mane were coming out the chicken spot laughing and talking shit amongst each other but when they spotted Harlem their faces darkened. From the way Mane passed his bag of chicken to Fego, he knew a problem was brewing.
"If it ain't Billy Bad Ass himself," Mane sneered at Harlem. His jacket was open and Harlem could see the butt of a gun sticking up out of his jeans.
There was enough space between them where Harlem could've ran and probably gotten away, but his pride wouldn't let him do it. If it was his time then he was ready to go, but he would go holding his nuts. "My nigga why you always coming at me like you like me? I don't know what you thought, but I ain't off that Crying Game shit y'all were playing on the yard. I like girls, fam." Harlem smirked.
"You better watch ya mouth, B. Blake ain't out here to save ya chump ass." Fego warned.
Harlem spat on the ground. "Check this out, son. Fuck you and this nigga here," he thumbed at Mane. "My heart don't pump no Kool Aid, so do what the fuck you're gonna do and stop bumping your gums." Harlem kept his game face but his heart was beating faster than a frightened rabbit.
"Let's see you pop that fly shit now," Mane moved in on him, reaching for his gun. Before he could pull the pistol Harlem was on him, dropping a vicious right on his chin and grabbing the Mane's hand with the other to keeping him from drawing the gun. The two men tussled for the gun while their crews watched in shock. Mane was stronger than Harlem, but the fear of being shot allowed him to keep Mane's hand immobile. Mane slipped his arm around the back of Harlem's head and he squeezed with everything he had trying to crush Harlem's skull. The pressure sent a searing pain through the back of Harlem's head, but he couldn't slip out of Mane's lock. Harlem hooked Mane twice in the head but it did nothing to ease the pressure around his head.
"Yeah, I like it when they fight," Mane growled, slipping the gun a little further out of his pants. Harlem could feel his strength beginning to fade and Mane getting the upper hand. As the half of the gun cleared Mane's pants Harlem began to think of his daughter and how she was going to have to make it in the world without him. Acting out of panic Harlem did the only thing he could think of, and kneed Mane in the nuts causing the gun to go off.
The world seemed to stop momentarily. The crowd of people who had gathered to watch the fight held their collective breathes to see where the shot had gone. Harlem and Mane continued to struggle, both their hands smeared with blood, then reality kicked in and so did the pain.
"Ahhh...you shot me in the dick!" Mane shrieked as he fell to the ground clutching his bloody crotch.
Harlem bent over, hands braced on his knees, gasping for air and thanking the higher power that he hadn't been the one shot. His moment of thanks was interrupted when the Mystic bottle shattered against the side of his head and dazed him. When he cleared the glass and fruit juice from his eyes he glimpsed Fego charging him with the broken bottle. Harlem bounced off the parked car and came back with the cocaine stained razor that was in his pants pocket from earlier. The blade gobbled the side of Fego's face but he still held the bottle. Harlem was about to hit him again when Mane stuck his leg out and tripped him. As he fell Fego lunged forward and jabbed the broken bottle at Harlem's side. It was a lancing strike and Harlem countered by swinging the razor sloppily at Fego's cheek as he fell. Harlem composed himself just in time to see Fego descending on him with the broken bottle and murder in his eyes. Harlem was so spent that there was nothing he could do to stop what was coming, but fate smiled on him yet again when a lead pipe crashed into the side of Fego's head.
Pie viciously tore into Fego with the pipe until he lay on the ground twitching. On the sidelines Lamar was firing his gun into the air dispersing the crowd. With an evil sneer across his face Lamar turned the gun on Mane's writhing form, but Pie stopped the execution by grabbing him in a bear hug.
"Get the fuck off me and let me do what I do, Harlem," Lamar struggled.
"Not like this and not out here," Harlem held fast.
"Bobby!" someone screamed in the distance.
"We out," Pie tugged the back of both their jackets. Harlem held on to Lamar for a time longer until the fire in his eyes had died down enough to where he was sure he wouldn't do anything stupid.
"I'm gonna get you Harlem. This shit is far from over." Mane ranted, still lying on the ground holding his crotch.
"Nah," Harlem stood over him, "this is only the beginning," he raised his foot and stomped Mane in his already mangled dick.
By Monday morning all traces of the rain had gone and the sun was now shining on the projects again. People had come out from the confines of their dry homes and enjoy the warmth and see what they had missed for the forty-eight hours it had been raining. Two days wasn't a long time, but in the hood things went down in the blink of an eye. The long expression Harlem wore was a testament to that.
Harlem sat on the bench in front of 865 watching everything at once. Ever since the accidental shooting of Mane he had been on high alert, making sure that he had a gun on him at all times or within arms reach. Sha-Money and his crew weren't known killers but anyone with access to a gun had the potential to commit murder. The whole hood was buzzing with rumors of what had happened, some even speculating that Mane had died, but Harlem knew better. A chick he fucked with in Wagner was an RN at Harlem hospital so he knew that Mane was alive, and plotting. Pie had suggested that they close shop until the heat died down, but Harlem wouldn't hear of it. Beef with Sha-Money, or anyone else for that matter, wouldn't keep Harlem from clocking his cheese and he made sure the whole hood knew it. It was either trap or die and Harlem was trapping at a million miles per minute, regardless of the threat that loomed over all their heads because of him and his ego.
As instructed Sol had given Lil Man the package and instructed him to set up shop in the park as he had been doing. Sure enough a couple of Sha-Money's goons had rolled on him and beaten the kid to within an inch of his life, which is what kicked off the beef. Instead of calculating their next move Lamar jumped out the window and took matters into his own hands in the form of a .45. Drunk off Hennessey he went over to the other side of the projects and shot of the lobby of Sha-Money's building. Nobody got hit, but he had successfully escalated the beef to the next level which is what prompted Mane to try and run down on Harlem, which ended up being a painful mistake on his part and another headache for Harlem to deal with, as if he didn't have enough problems on his hands already. A civil war in the projects was something that neither side needed but what's done was done and there was nothing Harlem could do at that point but handle it accordingly.
A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye sent Harlem into motion. In less than three seconds he was off the bench and clutching the Glock-40 that was stashed in the garbage can next to him. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was only Sol. The youngster was dressed in a pair of baggy jeans that hung off his ass and an oversized hockey jersey. It was a little warm for the long sleeves but the hockey jersey was the only thing he could find that concealed t he Mac 11 he had tucked. Unlike Pie who wanted to keep a low profile, Sol was ready and willing to engage in gunplay.
"What's good, my G?" Sol gave Harlem dap.
"This paper is what's good, how we looking?"
Sol rubbed his hands together greedily. "We rocking and popping. I knocked off five G-packs since I came on shift this morning."
"That's what I'm talking about. We on this money, son, and ain't nothing gonna stop this."
"You already know how I'm built Harlem, I ain't stunting them old ass niggaz from Amsterdam. What you need to do is let me take this lil bitch here," he patted the machine gun under his shirt, "and go start knocking on some doors."
"Be easy, my nigga. If it comes down to that we got killers on deck. You just worry about the money coming back straight."
Sol sucked his teeth. "Harlem, when are y'all gonna stop treating me like my gun don't go off?"
"Sol, I know you'd be the first nigga to let off in a situation but I ain't trying to have you on the front line. You're young and anxious, but this here is grown folks business."
"My nigga, I became grown the first day I walked in the house and stacked my mom's refrigerator with groceries." Sol said seriously. "You've been looking out for me for years and its time you let me return the favor."
"That's love," Harlem pounded his fist.
"Bobby!" someone shouted from across the court yard and a split second later a patrol car and an unmarked sedan screeched to a halt between 875 and 865 Sol didn't think twice before he bolted down the stairs, but Harlem remained where he was.
"Don't make me chase you, mutha fucka!" a pale cop wearing an Alex Rodriguez Yankee jersey ran up on Harlem.
"Does it look like I'm going anywhere?" Harlem asked casually.
"Don't get cute, nigger. Just grabbed the bench and shut those big ass lips," the D.T. snatched Harlem to his feet and shoved him against the bench. "Where's the stash at?"
Harlem looked over his shoulder at the cop comically and chuckled. "If you're expecting to find drugs on me then you must be new to the hood."
The D.T. slapped Harlem in the back of his head. "I told you not to get cute with me."
"You put that hand on me again and you're gonna lose it mutha fucka." Harlem growled at the D.T. The D.T. slammed Harlem into the bench then turned him around to face him.
"Who the fuck do you think you are, Nino Brown or some shit?" The D.T. barked.
"Nah, I'm a fortune teller and my crystal ball tells me that y'all about to be one car short," Harlem smirked and looked over the D.T.'s shoulder. The D.T. turned around in time to see the per-teen boy squeezing the last of a can of lighter fluid into the open patrol car window.
"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" The D.T. shouted.
"Eat a dick, pig!" the kid screamed before tossing a match into the car and running off. Within seconds the car was filled with smoke as the flames devoured the cheap front seats and were making their way up the sides of the car.
"Come here you little bastard!" the cop abandoned Harlem and went in pursuit of the arsonist. He stood little to no chance of catching the kid but it gave Harlem a much needed laugh and distracted the D.T. long enough for him to make his own getaway.
Harlem strolled down Manhattan Avenue laughing to himself about the D.T. and the police cruiser, temporarily forgetting about his troubles. He decided that he was gonna grab a couple of Dutch's and give Fatima a shout to see what she was doing. It was high time she stopped playing with him and came up off the pussy.
Halfway to the store on 100 street Harlem noticed a black Hummer sitting on twenty-eights coming down the strip. The windows were too heavily tented for him to see who was driving it, but he knew he had never seen the truck in the hood before. The trucked slowed and kept a steady pace beside Harlem as if the driver was stalking him. Harlem's hand casually dipped to his waist and it was just then that he remembered he'd left the Glock in the trashcan up the block. He was just about to hang a hard right and run through the parking lot when the passenger window rolled down and Blake was smiling out at him. Behind the wheel was his pet guard dog, Hugo.
"What up, I didn't scare you did I?" Blake joked.
"Dawg, you play too much," Harlem told him while trying to get his heart to slow down.
"My fault, I ain't mean to spook you. I was just rolling through the hood to show off my new toy. What do you think?"
"This shit is mean," Harlem looked the truck over and let his eyes linger on the shiny black rims, "real mean."
"Hop in, my nigga. I wanna talk to you about something anyway," Blake waved him over.
Harlem hesitated. He looked over at Hugo, who at nearly three hundred pounds was a monster of a man whose name had been attached to several murders over the last few years. Harlem knew Blake well enough to know that he only rolled with Hugo like that when he was feeling threatened by something or someone so his antennas were already up. Harlem had known Blake since he was a kid, but the playing field had changed when he stepped into the arena and so had the relationship. Harlem could think of at least five cats that had gotten crossed by someone close to them and he was in no rush to become number six.
"Come on, it ain't gonna take but a second." Blake pressed him.
"A'ight," Harlem said and reluctantly popped the back door to climb into the back of the truck. When the dome light came on and he saw Sha-Money already in the whip he knew the fix was in. "What the fuck?" Harlem backpedaled.
"Harlem chill the fuck out; you know me better than that. If I wanted you dead you certainly wouldn't have seen it coming." Blake said in a twisted attempt to reassure him. "I just need to holla at y'all niggaz about that business you got going on." Harlem was still hesitant. "My dude, please don't make me have to ask you again." Blake phrased it like a request but it was really an order.
"What's good with this shit, B?" Harlem asked when he finally got into the truck. Sha-Money was on the far side mugging him like he wanted to do something.
"Ain't nothing good wit it, which is why I got y'all two niggaz in here now," Blake began. "I've known both of you too long to sugarcoat this shit so I'm just gonna come out and say it; this little dance y'all got going on is whack and you need to dead it...NOW."
"Blake it was these niggaz who kicked it off but fucking wit our money and we just reacted." Harlem said simply.
"Your money? Lil nigga I was trapping in these projects since before you was even getting ya little dick wet. I started this gangsta shit." She-Money spat.
"And I perfected it." Harlem shot back. "You niggaz is just mad because your times have come and gone and we're the ones rocking Douglass now."
"Okay, okay, I can see both your points, but Harlem that shit you pulled last night was a little extreme. Fego needed ten stitches for that little love bite you gave him and Mane ain't never gonna be able to have kids." Blake informed him.
"Man fuck them niggaz, they tried to body me!" Harlem spat.
"If I had been out there I would've bodied you." Sha-Money added.
Harlem gave him a disbelieving look. "Sha stop acting like you don't know where I be."
"A'ight, I've had about enough of this bullshit," Blake cut in. "Bloodshed ain't gonna do nothing to help nobody's pockets and I'm about a dollar. Harlem, I know there ain't been much popping on the Amsterdam side but me and my nigga Sha-Money are about to change that. You know me and Sha go back like two flats so when he came to me and asked for a hand up so he could get back on his feet you know I was all in."
"That's what's up, but what has that got to do with me?" Harlem asked.
"It ain't got shit to do with you, but it has everything to do with me squeezing an extra few dollars outta this hood. Sha-Money and his crew are under me now, Harlem. I ain't trying to cut in on your action, but I do need you to give my man some room to stretch his legs, feel me?"
"I don't have a problem with that, Blake. You know I ain't a ball buster. I just need to know that we ain't gonna have no more problems because if they bring it we're gonna bring it."
"Nah, I don't think we're gonna have no problems, will we Sha?" Blake looked at Sha-Money.
"Whatever." He grumbled.
"See, now everybody's happy!" Blake said sarcastically.
"Peachy, I'm outta here." Harlem reached for the door but Blake hit the automatic locks.
"There's just one more little piece of business." Blake informed him. There was something about Blake's tone that made Harlem uneasy. "Yo, you know with the precinct being on that side it kinda limits the territory making the flow between Columbus and Amsterdam lopsided, but Sha-Money has come up with a solution. He's gonna let his peoples rock on 104 from Amsterdam all the way to Manhattan Ave., this way we can kind of make up the difference from the bread the precinct is cutting off."
Harlem looked at Blake and Sha-Money as if they had both lost their minds. "Now that ain't gonna work. Blake, you and Sha-Money both knows that that's our strip, we can't let niggaz from the other side set up shop like that."
"It ain't no different than what y'all did sending shorty to pump outta the park." Blake pointed it out.
"Blake that was one cat catching a few wayward sales on the opposite side of the street, shorty never set foot on Housing property when he was bubbling. What you're trying to do will put the wolves at our door. It starts with the strip then the next thing you know they're gonna be in the buildings trying to make sales."
"What's the matter, you don't think you can hold on to your buildings?" Sha-Money challenged.
"We've been holding them for thirteen months straight." Harlem fired back.
"Come on Harlem, let's be reasonable about this. I've never tried to stop you from eating, have I?" Blake asked. "If it'll make you feel better then Sha-Money will even kick you something for the courtesy."
"I ain't kicking nobody shit outta my ice cream shop." Sha-Money protested.
"It's my ice cream shop and you'll do whatever the fuck you gotta do to keep the peace." Blake told him. "Harlem, just roll with me on this one and we can all get some paper."
"Blake, me and you have been down for a long time and I love you like family, but you're asking something of me that I can't do." Harlem said with a shrug.
"Harlem don't draw a line in the sand that nobody really wants to cross over some short paper." Blake urged him.
"It ain't the paper, it's the principal. If I let Sha-Money and his people get it on our side of the projects after what happened it's gonna make me look weak and I can't have that."
"So what're you saying Harlem?" Blake asked, watching him intently for a reply.
Harlem chose his words very carefully when he spoke. "Blake you've always been like a mentor to me, so I don't want no problems with you. Sha-Money can do as he likes on the Amsterdam side, but Columbus is mine." Harlem said finally.
Blake and Harlem stared at each other for nearly an eternity with neither man blinking the whole time. On one had he admired Harlem for standing his ground, but on the other he felt like the upstart was getting too big for himself. "A'ight then Harlem," Blake popped the automatic locks. Harlem opened the door and slid out of the truck but Blake had some parting words for him. "I guess you're too big for my counsel now, huh?"
"I'm never too big to listen to a seasoned cat like you Blake, but at the same time I gotta have my own mind." Harlem told him and disappeared into the projects.
"You see what the fuck I'm talking about, Blake? These little niggaz are too big for their britches." Sha-Money said once they were back in traffic.
"Harlem always has been stubborn like that. Let me work on him for a few days, he'll come around." Blake said.
"Fuck that come around shit, Blake. You and I both know he ain't gonna change his mind so why kid ourselves? I say if he don't wanna give us a little then we take it all. I got some cats on deck right now that'll push Harlem's wig back just for shits and giggles, all you gotta do is give the word, Blake."
Blake rubbed his chin contemplating the problem. He made good money with Harlem, but Harlem still maintained his independence so the peace of the pie he got wasn't as big as it would be by setting Sha-Money up in the hood. "Check it," Blake began, "I ain't telling you to move on Harlem, but if you were to go at him I'd advise you to lay him down permanently. I'd hate for this shit to come back on you if by chance you happened to make move. I ain't co-signing I'm just saying, feel me?"
"Say no more." Sha-Money said excitedly, already plotting on a way to dispose of Harlem.
The first thing Harlem did when he got back up the block was to retrieve his gun from the garbage. He had been caught slipping twice in as many days and wouldn't let it happen a third time. Next hit Pie, Lamar and Sol to let them know that the status alert had gone from yellow to red. They knew that this meant they were at war so everyone was pulled off the corners and they directed the drug traffic inside the projects. The center of the P's would be their launch pad when and if it really popped off with Sha-Money and his boys. Harlem knew that going at Sha-Money and his people was a war they could win, but if Blake decided to throw in his lot with them it would change things considerably. Whichever way it played out Harlem would protect what he built to the death.
Once everyone was in place Harlem went back to the crib where Pie and Lamar were blowing chronic and playing 2K10. As usual Lamar was getting in his ass and Pie was getting mad. Harlem was just about to call next when his phone went off. He looked at the caller I.D. and sighed when he saw his baby's mother's name flash across the screen. "What's good, Nancy?"
"Nigga I ain't seen you in two days and that's the best greeting you can come up with?" Nancy barked.
"Come on with that shit, you know I'm out here trying to get it up for us." He told her.
"Trap my ass, Harlem. You probably ain't doing nothing but sitting around smoking a blunt and playing PS3 with them trifling ass friends of yours." She hit it right on the head.
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," Harlem said, accepting the blunt Pie was passing him.
"I know more than you give me credit for. What were you doing on 115 the other night?"
"Huh?"
"Don't huh me Harlem, answer my question." She demanded.
"I wasn't doing shit, I made a run wit Mar and them and came back," he half lied.
"Tell me anything. Don't that lil Spanish bitch you used to dip ya dick in live on that block?"
"I guess," he said sheepishly.
"Harlem you know damn well that ho lives on 115 so why are you trying to play me? That's my word if I find out that you and that bum bitch is back at it I'm straight fucking her up then I'm leaving you!"
Harlem massaged his temple with his free hand. "Nancy, I ain't seen that broad in at least a year, I don't even know if she still lives on the block."
"She still lives on the block because I got people who know her skank ass. Harlem you can test me if you want to but you and I both know you don't want no parts of what I can cook up. If you fuck one bitch I'm gonna fuck ten niggaz so you better think about that shit while you call yourself tipping." Unlike most of the females he dealt with Nancy didn't believing in holding her tongue, which is one of the reasons he fucked with her like that. She was not only the mother of his child, but she was his rider.
"Nancy me and my dudes are having a deep discussion right now, so did you call to make accusations or did you actually want something?"
"Yeah, I need to hold your car." She told him.
"The Charger? What do you need my car for, what's wrong with the Honda I bought you?"
"When I came outside this morning the tire was flat and you forgot to renew our AAA. Precious is at my mom's house in Staten Island and I need to go pick her up."
Harlem sighed. He really didn't want to let Nancy hold his car but if he didn't he would have to go pick her up and drive her to Staten Island to pick up their daughter, and he needed to be on the block. "A'ight but be the fuck careful with my ride Nancy."
Nancy sucked her teeth. "Ain't nobody gonna mess up your lil toy Harlem. I'm gonna scoop Nene and we're gonna swing through the projects to grab some smoke before we jump on the road then we're coming right back."
"Nah, don't come through these projects." Harlem warned her.
"And why not? I'm from the projects too Harlem, just because I don't live there anymore doesn't mean I can't breeze through."
"It's not a good time, Nancy."
"Why, are you out there with one of your bitches?"
"Of course not," he assured her.
"Then why do you sound all nervous and shit?"
"It's a long story, Nancy. Look, if you want some smoke go uptown and get it, okay?"
"Whatever," she mumbled.
"I'm serious, Nancy."
"I said okay didn't I? Gosh nigga," Nancy ended the call.
"That wasn't nobody but Nancy that got you looking all stressed in the face." Lamar said once Harlem was off the phone.
"Yeah, with her hardheaded ass. That chick is gonna make me fuck her up." Harlem flopped on the couch.
Pie looked at him sideways. "You ain't gonna do shit. You and Nancy argue like cats and dogs then five minutes later y'all are making wedding plans and shit. See, that's why I ain't got a girl because that relationship shit is too complicated."
"Nigga, you ain't got no girl because you fart in ya sleep," Harlem snatched the joystick away from him. "Now move ya big ass over so I can wash this bum ass nigga Lamar up on this 2K."
When it was all said and done Harlem and Lamar had played over ten games of 2K and had smoked almost as many blunts. At some point during the festivities Harlem had fallen asleep on the couch and was subject to some very disturbing dreams. Suddenly he jumped up out of his sleep and looked around. Lamar was still playing the game and Pie was settled at the dinging room table dropping ice cubes into a coffee pot. Everything seemed normal but something in his gut felt very wrong. He looked at his caller I.D. and didn't see any missed calls or texts so he couldn't figure what might've had him on edge.
"You a'ight?" Pie asked, noticing the frantic look on Harlem's face.
"Yeah, I'm cool. I just had a fucked up ass nightmare." Harlem said.
"You want me to get your blanket and tucked you in?" Lamar cooed.
"Fuck you," Harlem tossed a pack of cigarettes at Lamar, hitting him in the side of the head. He had just settled back on the couch and picked up the joystick to resume him and Lamar's rivalry when he heard gunshots.
A half hour after Nancy hung up with Harlem she and her home girl Nene were in Harlem's pearl white Dodge Charger slow coasting through the streets like two rock stars up Amsterdam Avenue. She knew that Harlem had warned her to stay away from the projects but Nene knew a dude that had pillow sized dimes of Haze in 865 Amsterdam. Besides, if he was so animate about her staying away from the projects then he had to have been up to no good.
They turned down the dead end block on 102 drawing stares from some of the cats and a few chicks that were out there. Nancy had the window down enough to where people outside could hear the music but couldn't see her face through the dark tints. Nancy knew they were hating, so she rubbed it in by leaning back a little further in her seat and turning the music up. "Bum ass bitches," Nancy chuckled as she pulled the Charger to the end of the horseshoe.
"I'm gonna run in the lobby right quick to get the smoke then we out." Nene told her, getting out of the car.
At the end of the block someone broke a bottle on the ground, startling Nancy. "Hurry up; you know I don't like being in this shit hole longer than I have to be."
"Bitch, stop acting like you ain't grow up across the street." Nene said and slammed the door.
Nancy sat in the car listening to the radio, watching everyone watching her. She knew most, if not all their faces, but only dealt with few people who lived with the projects. They had always hated on her and when Harlem got up enough bread to get them a spot outside the projects they were really sick to death. It amazed her how so many people could lose sight of their own dreams because they were so busy tearing down the dreams of others.
Less than five minutes later Nene was back in the car with the smoke. Nancy busted a U-turn and started back out of the horseshoe. She was so busy running her mouth with Nene that she almost hit a guy who had stepped out in front of the car. Nancy was about to start blowing up the horn for him to move, but she froze when she saw him raise a gun.
"Does that shit hurt much, because it sure looks like it does?" Man-Man teased Fego about the stitches lining the side of his face. They were posted up against the short gate on 102 and Amsterdam passing around bottles and blunts with a few of the other homeys.
"Fuck you, Man-Man. That nigga snuck me!" Fego said.
"That ain't what I heard. Word is that you and Mane tried to roll on son and he tightened y'all up." Paulie cracked. He wasn't officially a part of that team but Sha-Money was considering him for membership.
"We'll see who gets tightened up when me and Sha-Money own all this shit," Fego motioned around at the projects. "If you ain't eating with us in Douglass, then you ain't eating at all."
"I can't wait, because a nigga like me is sure tired of being broke." A big lipped kid named John chimed in. The rest of the group agreed. They had all heard Sha-Money's proclamation about being the next boss of the hood and they were all lined up to get their piece. Outside of a few none of them had any loyalty to Sha-Money, but they would ride with him as long as they were eating.
"Yeah, shit is gonna be sweet as candy but what about Harlem?" Man-Man asked.
"Fuck that nigga!" Fego spat. "Harlem is a dead man walking and just don't know it yet. Word to mine, for what he did to me and my nigga Mane I'm gonna push his shit back personally."
"Yeah, right! You keep underestimating Harlem and your ass might end up with more than a beauty mark." Man-Man joked.
"You think that shit is funny?" Fego towered over the smaller Man-Man. He could tell by the look in his eyes that Fego was spoiling for a fight.
"Nah, B." Man-Man said sheepishly.
"I should hope not, because there ain't nothing funny about this shit. Harlem got lucky, but his days are numbered. When I see him again its on and popping and that's word to everything I love!" Fego declared.
"There he goes right there," Paulie pointed at the pearl white Charger that had just bent the corner. The tinted vehicle slow rolled down the dead end block and pulled up in the horseshoe.
"That dude had the nerve to roll over here after what happened the other night, B." John said.
"Word, they said the kid got some heart and I'm seeing it now what my own eyes. How do you feel about that shit, Fego?" Paulie asked.
For a minute Fego didn't answer, he just stared at the car. His body trembled with so much rage that he could no longer hold it and exploded. "I can't believe this nigga!" Fego smashed the E&J bottle on the ground. "This lil mutha fucka shoots my man, cuts my face and then pulls up on my side of the projects like its good? Fuck this shit, Man-Man go get that thing for me."
"Fego, chill out, B." Man-Man tried to calm him.
"Nah, ain't no chill. Go get that." Fego insisted.
"Get it for him, he ain't gonna do shit." Paulie instigated.
"Man-Man if you don't go get it I'll get it myself." Fego threatened.
Not really sure what else to do, Man-Man hopped the fence and got the Tech-9 out of the grass. He handed it to Fego, who checked to make sure there was one in the head. "Fego, don't wild out B." Man-Man was trying to tell him, but Fego was already heading to intercept the car that was heading back out of the dead end.
Fego knew that he wasn't a killer, but his pride made him step into the street cradling the Tech. Harlem had embarrassed him and he knew he had to do something if he ever wanted anyone in the hood to respect him. He knew he couldn't see Harlem with the hands so he decided to go at him with a hammer. The car was almost out of the block when Fego stepped off the curb to cut it off. Without really looking he raised the machine gun and depressed the trigger. The Tech roared to life, shattering the car's windows and leaving half a dozen holes. Fego didn't even check to see if he had hit his target he just took off running. It wouldn't be until later on that night that he would realize his mistake, but by then it would be too late for him and everybody else.
Harlem blew through the doors of Harlem hospital like he had the devil on his heels, with Pie following closely behind. When he'd gotten the news about Nancy being shot driving his car his blood ran cold as he thought of losing his girl and his daughter in one shot. Thankfully Precious wasn't in the car and none of Nancy's wounds had been fatal but she was still in a bad way. Sadly Nene hadn't had the same luck, as she died en route to the hospital.
On the way to the elevators a beefy security guard jumped out and blocked his path. From his posture and the disapproving look he was giving Harlem he knew the man was going to present a problem. "And where do you think you're going?"
"My girl has been shot, man. I need to get upstairs to see her." Harlem explained and tried to step around him, but the guard blocked his path again.
"Nobody is allowed upstairs without a pass." The guard told him.
"Then give me the damn pass so you can let me through!" Harlem barked.
"You keep talking like that and I might not give you shit." The guard sneered at him.
Pie saw that Harlem was about to lose it so he stepped in. "Look sir, nobody is trying to give you a hard time but my sister got shot and they ain't giving us no information on the phone. We just need to see if she's okay."
The security guard looked at both of them suspiciously but then his face softened. "You need to take a page out of your friend's book on manors, young fella. Go see the lady at the desk for your passes," he thumbed at the desk a few feet to the left.
"Dick head," Harlem mumbled and made his way over to the desk. "Excuse me, we're here to see Nancy Brown," Harlem told the lady sitting behind the desk.
The woman smiled and asked him to give her a second while she pulled Nancy's information. Her smile melted away and she looked up at Harlem apologetically. "Ms. Brown has just come out of surgery and is in recovery."
Harlem breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God, could you please tell me what floor that's on?"
"It's on the fifth floor, but I'm afraid we can't allow you up."
"Why the hell not?" Harlem asked.
"Because Ms. Brown left specific instructions that she didn't want to see anyone but a Mrs. Margaret Brown, who is currently in the room with her."
"But that's my girl!""I'm sorry, sir, but I'm just telling you what's in my notes."
"Fuck," Harlem said and began pacing back and forth across the waiting room trying to figure out what the hell was going on. He started to rush the security guard and go up anyway, but that would only bring heat down on him and for what Harlem had in store for Sha-Money's little gang he needed to keep as a low a profile as possible. Getting at him was one thing, but to try and kill his girl had taken it to a level that none accept Harlem was ready to go to. When he brought his vengeance down on his enemies it would be swift and unforgiving.
"I got an idea," Pie said picking up on his friend's distress. "Follow my lead and when the time is right make your move to the elevator. You can give me the play by play later on."
"Bet," Harlem gave Pie dapped and watched as he approached the security guard.
"Let me buy one of those off you," Pie motioned towards the pack of Newports that were sticking up out of the security guard's shirt pocket.
"Do I look like the corner store to you? Take ya ass around the corner like everybody else." The guard scoffed.
"Come on, B, stop acting like that and let me get a bone," Pie reached for the pack and the security guard grabbed him about the wrist.
"Now I know you done lost ya mind. Time to go, son," the guard folded Pie's arm behind his back and shoved him towards the door. The heavy set Pie struggled so the guard on the other side came to lend assistance. Truth be told Pie could've beat both their asses if he wanted to, but if he hadn't gone along with the strong arm act Harlem wouldn't have had a chance to slip into the elevators during the confusion.
Harlem held his breath for the entire elevator ride. Outside of knowing that Nancy had been shot and needed to undergo emergency surgery he was in the dark about the extent of her injuries and exactly what happened. From the info he had gathered on the streets he knew that Fego had been the shooter and that was all he needed to know when it came time to strike back. He had something very special planned for Fego, but first he needed to check on his lady.
It didn't take Harlem long at all to find the room Nancy was in because he could hear her mother signing bibles hymns from the elevator. Mrs. Brown was heavy into the church so she had never really approved of her daughter seeing Harlem, but she learned to accept it when Nancy got pregnant with Precious. From the doorway he could see Mrs. Brown's wide form sitting in a wooden chair at Nancy's bedside reading from the bible and singing to her daughter. Harlem's heart began to beat rapidly as he entered Nancy's room, and when he looked around Mrs. Brown at Nancy the beating stopped and his heart shattered into a million pieces.
Nancy was lying propped on two white pillows with tubes running from under the hospital sheet to the various machines that monitored her vitals. Her left arm and leg were wrapped in hard white casts and elevated by slings attached to the bed. Her face was cut and badly bruised from the spray of glass and if you looked close enough you could see traces of dried blood in her hair. As Harlem stood there looking at the destruction he had caused he couldn't do much more than weep.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Mrs. Brown snapped when she noticed Harlem standing behind her.
"I came to see how Nancy was doing." He said, barely able to find his voice.
"She's fine, no thanks to you and your shenanigans, Harlem," she said his name as if it left a foul taste in her mouth. "If you wanna go in the street and do the devil's work that's fine by me, but you ain't gonna drag my daughter and my grand baby down that slow road to hell with you!"
"Mommy?" Nancy was beginning to stir from her drug induced sleep.
"You just rest now, baby. Mama is here and everything is going to be fine." Mrs. Brown stroked Nancy's forehead.
"Hey, baby," Harlem stepped around Mrs. Brown and knelt at Nancy's bedside. To his surprise she turned away from him. "Baby, what's wrong?"
"Harlem, why are you here?" Nancy asked, not bothering to look at him.
"I...I came to see if you were okay?" he told her.
Nancy turned around with tears and fire in her eyes. "Does it look like I'm okay? I got shot behind the shit y'all got going on in the projects!"
Her accusation cut him like a knife. "I'm so sorry, Nancy. I never meant for you to get caught up in this. If only you had listened to me and stayed away from the projects."
Nancy gave him an appalled look. "Is that what you've been telling yourself to try and ease the guilt of knowing your bullshit caused this? That guy tried to kill me Harlem because he thought I was you!"
"I know, baby, and I promise I'm going to make this right." He vowed.
"How by going out and killing him? Then what happens, one of his people try to get back at you and we start this all over again? What would've happened if Precious had been in the car with me instead of Nene?" The tears that had been restricted to her eyes were now rolling down her cheeks.
"Nancy, don't think like that. I love you and Precious more than anything and couldn't stand the thought of losing either of you." He said.
"But you don't love us enough to stop hustling." She accused. "Harlem I've been begging you for years to stop hustling but you couldn't and now look what's happened. When I leave this hospital I've got to burry my best friend, all because she was taking a ride with me. Ain't nothing on these streets but death, but you don't see it, do you?"
"Nancy, I promise that once all this is over..." he began but she cut him off.
"Save it Harlem because I've heard this promise a thousand times before and you have yet to keep it. Harlem I've got a little girl out there that needs me around to raise her, if her father wants to throw his life away then that's on him, but I want to live. I want to live for me and my baby."
"I want to live for y'all and with y'all. We can work this out." He reached for her hand but she pulled away.
"Harlem you and I both know that's bullshit. I know you and as soon as you leave here somebody's mother is gonna have to buy a black dress to bury their child and I don't want any parts of that. As soon as the doctors say I'm well enough to leave me and Precious are going to live with my mother in Staten Island."
Harlem's eyes widened. "You can't...I'd die without y'all!"
"And we may die with you!" she said emotionally. Suddenly Nancy winced in pain. "Harlem...please just go."
"Baby don't." he pleaded.
"You heard her, get out!" Mrs. Brown stood over him. When Harlem didn't move she grabbed him by the back of the shirt and threw him to the ground. "I cast thee out, Satan," she repeated over and over while waving her bible at him.
With a heavy heart Harlem picked himself up off the floor and shuffled down the hall. Nancy and Precious were the only two things in the world that he really loved and Sha-Money's petty quest to be king had taken them from him. With each step Harlem took he felt his heart break a little more. With Mrs. Brown's words ringing in his ears and his heart in his hands, Harlem stepped into the elevator and prepared himself or battle.
Over the next few days the projects were as silent as the grave. The dope boys were still in the trap getting it on, but they did it without their leader. Harlem spent his days wallowing in his own sorrows and Jack Daniels, while his nights were spent prowling the streets for his enemies. Sha-Money and Fego had gone underground so Harlem took out his frustrations on their associates. He stalked them on the block, in the dope spots and even at train stations murdering some and beating others to within an inch of their lives. It got so bad that people that weren't affiliated with Harlem's crew stopped coming out after dark for fear of running into the mad man.
The punishments he dished out helped to ease his grief but he knew he wouldn't be able to rest until he bagged the ultimate prizes Fego and Sha-Money. Somehow they always seemed to stay one step ahead of him. Even Blake claimed to not to know their whereabouts, which Harlem knew was a lie. Blake smiled and acted like a friend but Harlem had been living in New York long enough to know a rat when he saw one. There was no way Sha-Money would've made such a bold move against him unless someone put the battery in him, and Blake was the only one who stood to benefit from it. He would settle up with is old mentor but first he needed to take care of Sha-Money and Fego. On the fifth day of his prowling a snitch presented Harlem with some news that made him smile for the first time in almost a week.
"You sure about this?" Pie asked as he steered the stolen Cherokee down Lenox Avenue. The murderous look Harlem gave him was all the answer he needed.
"Word to mine, we gonna push all these pussies wigs back. These niggaz wished for death and we're gonna grant those wishes," Lamar boasted, slipping another shell into the AK47 on his lap.
"True indeed these niggaz deserve to die, but I just ain't sure about the way we're doing it. Its ten o'clock in the morning for Christ's sake!" Pie pointed out.
"Pie ain't nobody forcing you to come along on this lil joy ride so if you're feeling some type of way we can drop you off on the next corner." Harlem said coldly.
"Harlem you know better than to come at me like that. I'm your brother, if one burns we both burn." Pie said. It was a pact that they had made when they first started hustling and had kept to it ever since.
"If that's the case then slip them gloves on and that mask on because we're almost there." Harlem said chambering a round into the Mac11 he was holding. His eyes were wide and alert, anticipating what was coming.
As they crossed 134 and Lenox Pie and Lamar donned their masks and got ready to play their positions. When Pie looked over to ask Harlem if he was ready he realized he wasn't wearing a mask. "My nigga, you ain't gonna put your mask on?"
"Nah, I want these pussies to know exactly where it came from." Harlem said, gripping the door handle of the Cherokee as they were rolling slowly through the light on 133. They had had established a plan before hand but when Harlem saw his target logic flew out the window and he reacted. Rolling the window down Harlem pointed the Mac and shouted, "Payback bitch!"
In front of the funeral home between 132 and 133 there were about a dozen or so people standing around, sobbing and trading stories about the deceased. Fego stepped out of the funeral home dressed in a dark blue suit, with his girlfriend holding onto his arm for support. She had just lost her aunt and her entire family had come out to see her off. Fego had initially tried to worm his way out of going to the funeral but she nagged him until he agreed. He knew full well that Harlem was looking for him, but he figured that the fact that it was daylight and they were at a funeral made it safe for him to slip back into New York for an hour or two. In his mind he figured nobody would violate at a funeral, but he had no idea how wrong he was.
"Payback bitch!" he heard someone shout just before his girlfriend's chest exploded all over him.
The front of the funeral home was swept with bullets. Glass shattered and people dropped left and right as Harlem and Lamar let off with the machine guns. The few shooters Fego had with him tried to return fire but their hand guns were no match for what the youngsters were packing. One by one Fego watched in horror as both loved ones and associates were mowed down by gun fire. Not knowing what else to do Fego took off running, but a burst to the back from Lamar's AK made sure he didn't get far. Pie was about to pull off, when Harlem unexpectedly jumped from the jeep.
"Fuck is you doing, we gotta get outta here!" Pie shouted after him, but Harlem ignored him.
Harlem made his way through the mess of bodies occasionally taking a second to put a bullet in the faces he recognized as members of Fego's family. Fego was stretched out in front of the corner store trying to crawl inside, but the store owner locked the door on him. Harlem kicked him viciously in the ribs, flipping him over. Fego looked up at Harlem and knew that he had come face to face with the devil himself.
"Please, don't kill me. I got two kids man." Fego begged.
Harlem paused as if he was weighing it then pointed the gun at Fego's face. "Fuck yo seeds, nigga!" Harlem snarled before emptying the Mac11 into Fego's face and chest.
"Yo son, you pushed that nigga shit Scarface style!" Lamar praised Harlem but got a lukewarm response.
"Harlem, do you know how fucking stupid that was? You could've gotten us all knocked." Pie said.
"Well we didn't get knocked, we got away so stop fucking crying about it." Harlem spat. His mind was already off Fego and on to his next target.
"We need to dump this car by the river and get off the streets. The whole city is gonna be as hot as a firecracker after what you just did." Pie said.
"You mean after what we did," Harlem corrected him. "Your gun was spiting just like mine and Lamar's, so if one burns we all burn and don't ever forget that."
"A'ight, we got Fego out of the way so what are we gonna do about Mane and Sha-Money?" Lamar asked.
"Mane's ass will be a ghost soon enough and I got Sha-Money faded. I've found out which rock he's hiding under so it's only a matter of time before we peel his fucking cap back. You just get low until things cool off a bit and be ready when I call you for the next move. Don't do anything stupid because I'm gonna need you on deck, son. I'm proud of you because you showed some real balls out there." Harlem told Lamar.
"Thanks, man. You know I'm here for y'all till the casket drops." Lamar assured them.
"Hopefully the caskets don't drop too soon for none of us. Find yourself somewhere to chill and be ready for that call.
"No doubt, B. When y'all drop me off I'm gonna grab some smoke and lay up with a shorty for the rest of the day." Lamar said.
"Don't even play the weed spot like that. If you wanna smoke send one of them lil niggaz to get it for you."
"Come on, son, it's only a weed spot." Lamar protested.
"And how many times have we all gotten stopped coming out of the weed spot? Everybody knows we had beef with Fego and them so we're probably gonna be the first ones they look at. Just do like I'm telling you and get low, Lamar," he reinforced while he dialed a number on his cell phone.
"A'ight," Lamar mumbled, not really feeling the little kid treatment he was getting from Harlem and Pie lately. In his mind when he pulled that trigger he became just as much of a man as they did.
"Harlem knowing you I can only imagine what you got cooking up for Sha-Money's bitch ass." Pie laughed.
"Oh don't worry, this shit is gonna be classic." Harlem said while holding the phone to his ear and waiting for the person on the other end to pick up. "Carmen, what's up baby?"
"Nothing, thinking about you. When are you coming back through to see me?" she asked.
"We'll talk about it later on; right now I need a favor from you."
"Anything you need, baby. I got the hammer on deck all you gotta do is give the word." Carmen said.
Harlem laughed. "Nah, not like that. Check it; do you still fuck with that crazy ass Brazilian girl that used to work at that spot?"
By the time the police arrived Harlem was long gone, leaving a mess of bodies in his wake. In total sixteen people had died and since there were no witnesses left the police had no leads. When the news paper ran the headlines the next day it read "HARLEM MASSACRE"
Harlem had purchased copies of the Newspaper to post the clippings in the lobbies of all the project buildings to serve as a warning to any and all who might be foolish enough think about crossing him, but two he kept for himself. One he had framed and mounted on the wall of his empty apartment and the other he had packaged up to send to Lamar, who had fallen victim to his own stupidity. It amazed Harlem how they could've gotten away with committing a mass murder in broad daylight but Lamar's dumb ass got picked up for smoking weed in the street. When they ran his prints the warrant popped up, which was a violation of his probation so he would have to sit for a while. Lamar had beyond proved himself and his loyalty and when he got out Harlem had decided to make him a full member of the organization.
Killing Fego felt good, but it didn't do much to lighten his mood as he knew the job was only half finished because Sha-Money and Blake were still out there. He had intended to things cool off before he made another move but decided against it, as blood always tasted better fresh.
"Pie!" Harlem called from the couch, where he sat reading the article for the hundredth time.
"What's good?" Pie stuck his head out of the kitchen.
"Hit Sol and tell that nigga to meet us in front of the building in ten minutes." Pie gave him a puzzled look so Harlem explained. "Its time for that little nigga to get his cherry popped."
Blake stepped out of his apartment building into the night air drinking a cup of coffee and reading he headlines from that morning's newspaper. No matter how many times he read it he still couldn't believe how it had gone down. He always knew Harlem was capable of some vicious acts but never on the level that the paper's said. The newspaper article told him two things; one that Sha-Money was living on borrowed time and he'd have to find someone else to put in place in the projects, and two, he had seriously underestimated Harlem.
"What's good, boss?" Hugo held the door for Blake.
"Money, my nigga," Blake smiled and got ready to get into the Hummer. As he ducked his head he felt something splash against the side of his face. He looked up just in time to see Hugo's right cheek explode in a mess of blood and gore. Blake tried to make a run for it but an aluminum bat cracked his shin bone, tripping him up. When he tried to regain his balance the bat crashed into his ribs, bouncing him off the Hummer. The third strike landed between his shoulder blades, dropping him. Blake got his wits about him just in time to see Harlem standing over him with the bat.
"What's the matter boss, you ain't happy to see me?" Harlem smiled before brining the bat down across Blake's face and knocking him out.
Present Day:
"Harlem don't do it to yourself, man. If you cut me loose now we'll call it even, but if you pull that trigger you already know how its gonna play out." Blake warned. It was a weak threat, but it was all he had.
Harlem thought on it. "Yeah, I know. Everybody on payroll is gonna be on me and my niggaz in retaliation. That's a problem I can live with. Blake, I told you off the muscle that I ain't want no problems with you, but you did what you did to make a point. It's all good, because I got a little point I wanna make too." He flicked the lit cigarette into Blake's face, and stepped aside for Pie who was holding a .38.
"No, no, no..." Blake stuttered but Pie had already pulled the trigger.
The bullet tore through Blake's stomach and went out his back, tearing holes in his intestines as it passed, but he was still breathing. Harlem nodded at Pie, who handed the .38 to Sol. The youngster looked at the gun and hesitated.
"If one burns, we all burn," Harlem reminded Sol of their pact.
"Fuck it," Sol took the gun and fired twice into Blake's chest and shoulder. Blake was now a twisted mess of exposed flesh, hanging awkwardly on the chair. His chest still heaved, pushing squirts of blood from the holes, as he held on to life as tightly as he could. The sight proved to be too much for Sol who passed the gun to Harlem and went outside to throw up.
Harlem walked over to Blake who was mumbling incoherently. "Look at me," Harlem slapped Blake's face so that he was facing him. Harlem braced the .38 under Blake's chin and leaned in to whisper into his ear. "When you see the rest of my enemies in hell... tell them that Harlem sends his love," he kissed Blake on the cheek and blew the top of his head off.
Harlem watched what was left of Blake drip onto the floor and felt nothing. Not fear, accomplishment... there was only the emptiness that had been there since Nancy and Precious had left him.
"You okay, my nigga?" Pie placed a hand on Harlem's shoulder.
"Yeah, man. I'm good." Harlem said.
Pie stood with his friend in silence for a while before saying what they were both obviously thinking. "You know what this means, right?"
Harlem nodded. "Yeah, we're pretty much fucked. Blake's whole team is gonna come at us with everything but the kitchen sink."
"And then some," Pie laughed, but Harlem could hear the fear in his voice.
"My nigga, I'm sorry for getting you and Sol caught up in this. I should've done what I had to do on my own and now y'all are marked for death too."
Pie just shrugged. "Who wants to live forever anyway? And besides, we're brothers my G. If one burns we all do. Now let's get the fuck outta here and get back to the block so we can make preparations. I got a feeling we're gonna have our hands full real soon."
Just as Harlem had predicted the streets ran with blood. Over the next few weeks they found themselves locked in a bloody war with the people from Blake's organization. Harlem and his crew were some tough little bastards but they didn't stand a chance against the army that stalked them. It seemed like for every one of theirs Harlem took, they took three of his and just kept coming.
Sol did the smart thing and packed his family up and got them out of the projects. Lamar and a few of the other cats that were still loyal to Harlem frowned on it, but Harlem understood. Sol was a kid and had no business playing grown men's games, so Harlem let him go with his blessings.
He and Nancy were speaking again, despite her mother's protest, so that was the one bright spot in Harlem's life. They had even discussed getting back together, but Harlem knew that it would be impossible with all the troubles he was having. The last thing he needed was for his family to be put at risk for a second time because he couldn't let go of the streets. He longed for the day when they would all be reunited, but realistically he knew it wouldn't be coming any time soon.
Because of the murders the police presence in the projects had tripled so everyone on the block was starving, including Harlem and Pie. They found themselves living like fugitives, staying from apartment to apartment getting a little money where they could to keep themselves afloat. Their latest rest stop was at the apartment of a chick Pie was fucking in the Bronx. It was a cramped one bedroom that she shared with her two children, but it was all they had at the moment. Harlem was running out of time and options.
Harlem had been up hustling for two days straight so when he finally lay down on the little pallet he'd made for himself on the floor sleep came almost instantly. No sooner than he closed his eyes he heard banging on the front door. At first he thought it might've been Pie, but then he remembered that Pie had a key to the apartment. By the time he shook the sleep off one of the girl's kids was already undoing the lock on the door. Before he could shout a warning the front door flew open.
Harlem scrambled for his gun, but by the time he reached it he felt the cold press of steel against the back of his head. As carefully as he could he turned over to find himself surrounded by five men dressed in black. Standing in the midst of them, bound and gagged, was his man Pie. The look in Pie's eyes told Harlem what he already knew; they were about to die.
"So, this is the man who was stupid enough to kill one of my top earners?" a voice called from somewhere behind the armed goons. A little old man stepped forward wearing a gray overcoat and matching brimmed hat. Harlem had never met him personally, but he knew who he was. "By the look on your face I can tell that you know who I am."
Harlem nodded. "Mr. DeMarco."
"Then if you know who I am then you know why I'm here."
Harlem could've fainted when he said that. Visions of Nancy and Precious danced through his mind and he felt physically ill knowing that he would never see them again. He wanted to plead for the lives of himself and the people in the house, but he knew you couldn't bargain with the devil. DeMarco was a notorious killer who had been supplying East and West Harlem with cocaine for over forty years. If this was going to be Harlem's last day on earth then he would go out like he lived...holding his nuts.
"I know who you are Mr. DeMarco and I know why you're here. If you've come here in person expecting me to plead for my life like some little bitch then I'm afraid you've wasted a trip. Blake was a snake and he deserved to die for what he tried to pull so fuck him, and with all due respect, if you're feeling some kinda way because I killed him then fuck you too!"
"Disrespectful little punk," One of the goons barked and slapped Harlem across the face with the butt of his gun, laying him flat on his back.
Harlem pushed himself up on his hands and knees and spat blood on the floor. He looked up at the goon who had hit him and smirked. "Nigga, is that the best you can do?" the goon raised his gun but DeMarco's voice stopped him from pulling the trigger.
"Hold it," DeMarco raised his hand. He took a seat on the couch and glared down at Harlem. "You're either very stupid or very brave, which one is it?"
Harlem shrugged. "That's for you to decide, Mr. DeMarco."
DeMarco weighed his answer. "You know, when I heard that you and your boys killed Blake I was prepared to out your whole families, but then my niece Carmen explained why you did what you did."
"Carmen is your niece?" Harlem asked in shock.
DeMarco slapped jabbed his finger at Harlem threateningly. "Don't interrupt me while I'm speaking. We are all soldiers so we understand the stakes in the game we play, but going after a man's family," DeMarco shook his head sadly, "that's no good. Blake made me a whole lot of money, but he was a piece of shit as a person. He had no morals or loyalty to anyone or anything but money so it's a wonder that it took someone this long to put him to sleep. I can live with someone killing Blake, but what I can't live with is someone cutting into my profits, hence our little problem here," he motioned at the armed goons. "Blake distributed my product to over thirty different crews throughout the New York and New Jersey, moving no less than one hundred kilos for me on the monthly bases so you do the math and you can understand why I'm upset."
"Mr. DeMarco I'm sorry, but I really don't know what to tell you." Harlem said honestly.
"You don't tell me anything, it is I who tell you!" DeMarco jabbed his finger at Harlem. "Now, I could whack you and your fat friend right now and wash my hands of it, but it still wouldn't get me back the money I've lost since this little thing happened, so it would appear that having you two repay pay back the money that's been lost in Blake's...absence, is the wisest course of action," DeMarco tapped his chin in thought. "Or I could just kill you and cut my loses."
Harlem felt his bowels shift. His brain couldn't even calculate what DeMarco had to have lost since they clipped Blake. If it was a choice between paying the debt and getting killed then DeMarco might as well have given his men the nod, because both Harlem and Pie were dead ass broke.
"Harlem," DeMarco continued, "they say that you and your boys are experts at dealing drugs so my question to you is," he leaned so close that Harlem could smell the stale cigarettes on his breath, "do you think you can move one hundred kilos per month?"
Six Months Later:
Sha-Money laid across the king sized bed of the Howard Johnson Hotel in Newark, N.J., smoking a cigarette and reflecting on the last few months turn of events. When he heard the news of Blake's unfortunate end he wasted no time in getting out of New York City. With Blake being out of the picture he had not only lost his supplier but his security blanket so he had to bust a move.
After the idiot move Fego had pulled he knew Harlem was going to lunch-out, but he had no clue how far he was going to do with it. As soon as he had read the article about The Harlem Massacre he'd known off the back that it had been Harlem. Harlem had wiped out Fego's entire family, but about a dozen other people who had no part in the beef. Sha-Money had tried to reach out to Mane but learned from his sister that he had died shortly before being released from the hospital. They claimed it was sudden cardiac arrest from the shock of the operation, but Sha-Money had heard through the grapevine that it was a pillow over his face that had stopped Mane's heart. Harlem had set out to prove a point and he did.
When Sha-Money had fled New York he had hooked up with his cousin in Newark and opened up a dope spot that was bringing good money. They had great dope in Newark, but when the shit Sha-Money was bringing in was killing one out of every ten fiends who tasted it. It didn't take long before Sha-Money became the man to see in Newark for primo dope. It was a sweet set-up but he still missed New York. He made frequent trips uptown to get his dope, but never lingered for too long for fear of running into Harlem. He had seen what the young man was capable of and decided that he didn't want any parts of it.
He was shocked when he heard the youngster had actually made a move against Blake, but what shocked him more was that DeMarco had given him Blake's position instead of having him killed. This just gave him more of a reason to hate on Harlem and he vowed that he would one day finally be rid of his biggest rival.
"What's up baby, you about ready for round two?" the big booty chick lying next to him nipped playfully at his nipples.
"Damn, round one was only five minutes ago." He giggled as she played with his balls.
"Your mouth says no, but your dick says yes," he stroked him. She was a statuesque Brazilian chick he had met years prior working out of one of the thirty dollar Chica spots. He had bumped into her by chance a few weeks prior coming out of Best Buy in Jersey City. They freaked off that night and had been getting it in ever since. He had even thought about wifing her. True, she was a whore, but nobody in Jersey knew that. Once he got his operation where it needed to be he was going to ask her to move in with him.
"Just relax and let me do that thing that you like so much," she said and began sucking him off. The chick bobbed up and down on Sha-Money's dick, letting her spit run down his shaft into the crack of his ass. When he was good and slick with her spit she slipped her middle finger into his ass. Sha-Money jumped, but didn't protest as she slid her finger in and out of his ass.
"Damn, you're hitting my spot," he moaned, sounding feminine.
"You like that? I got something special for you, poppy," she continued working his asshole and licking his balls. From her bag which was sitting on the floor she produced a pair of handcuffs and chained Sha-Money to the headboard.
"Oh, you wanna get kinky, huh?" he smiled.
"Yes, all for you, Sha," she licked around the head of his dick. Next she drew a large pink dildo and ran it along the crack of Sha-Money's ass.
"Hold on, I ain't into no fag shit." Sha-Money protested.
"Stop being such a wimp, you're only a fag if you let another men fuck you," she began working the head of the dildo around his asshole. "If you do this for me then I'll do something really nasty for you," she shoved the dildo to the back of her throat and pulled it back out.
Sha-Money thought about it for a minute. "A'ight, but I better not hear about this shit later."
"Don't worry, Sha, this is the first and last time," she promised and shoved the dildo into Sha-Money's ass.
Sha-Money whined and whimpered as she fucked him with the dildo while sucking his dick like a porn star. It was very uncomfortable at first, but as she worked it the more bearable. At some point it had even started to feel good. "Oh, damn baby," he said as he felt himself about to cum.
"I always knew you was a closet faggot." A voice called from behind the girl. When Sha-Money looked up he saw the faces of Harlem, Pie and Lamar smirking at him.
"What the fuck is this?" he looked at the girl.
"Pay back," she kissed him on the forehead and slid off the bed. The girl collected her things and slipped an overcoat on over her naked body. "Cat's like you are the ones who got the game twisted now," she spat on Sha-Money's naked body.
"Good looking out, baby," Harlem said handing her a thick envelope.
"Anything for Carmen's peoples," she kissed Harlem on the cheek. "Speaking of Carmen, she told me to tell you that if you stood her up again tonight then you would be the next one chained to a bed pleading for his life," the girl winked and left the room.
Harlem walked to the edge of the bed where Sha-Money was staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. He took a deep pull of his cigarette before addressing Sha-Money. "Bet you thought you'd never see me again, huh?
"Harlem, don't do me like this. At least take this cock outta my ass before you of me," Sha-Money bagged.
"I ain't touching that shit," Lamar said.
"I don't know, I think it kinda gives you character." Pie taunted him.
Harlem pulled a can of lighter fluid from his pocket and began dousing Sha-Money's naked body. "This reminds me of a dope ass book I read one time. Do you know which book that was Sha?"
"Nah, which one Harlem?" Sha-Money was now crying like a baby.
"The Burning Bed," Harlem laughed and flicked the lit cigarette onto the bed, sending Sha-Money up in flames.
END
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