by Noire
“You gone get done right, son,” Bullet muttered under his breath. “Your fuckin’ time on the throne is ’bout to be up.”
Fiyah was just about to duck into his building when he glimpsed a strange car pull up at the curb. “Muthafuck!” He ran up the stairs as fast as he could, and jabbed at the doorbell, sweating out his panic.
Downstairs in the lobby, Parole Officer Daniels had just come through the door. He paused to finish his cigarette, then flicked the butt on the black-and-white tiled floor and stepped on it. He glanced at his watch, whistling good-naturedly. He was a big man and he moved slow. But he moved all the fuckin’ time, and that’s why he was so good at catching his parolees sleeping. He took the steps up to the Perez apartment and rang the bell. When nobody answered, he rang it again.
Fiyah answered the door with a towel around his waist. His skin looked damp and there were a bunch of old bruises on his face that had started to fade. He had a smaller towel in his hands that he rubbed around his head like he was trying to dry his damp hair.
“Where were you? I called three fuckin’ times.”
Fiyah shrugged. “I was taking a shower, man.”
“For a whole fuckin’ hour?”
“What can I say? I’m a clean cat.”
Daniels looked down at Fiyah’s feet. He still had on his socks.
The PO shook his head. “Nah, you’re a fuck-up, Perez. A fuck-up. But you only get three strikes, and then I get your ass. If not tonight, then tomorrow night. Idiots like you always violate. I can set my watch to that shit.”
Daniels turned to leave.
“One more thing. The next time you take one of your beauty baths, make sure you answer the damn phone.”
“Can’t.” Fiyah shrugged. “Phone’s in the kitchen. And it ain’t cordless.”
Back in his room Fiyah stepped past the pants and sweaty polo shirt he had just stripped out of in a hurry. He peered out his bedroom window and saw his PO walking out the building. A midnight-black SUV pulled to the curb in front of the PO’s car, and the back door opened. Two big feet swung to ground.
King Brody.
“Oh shit!” Fiyah ran out the room, grabbing his gear off the floor as he passed. He jetted into Eva’s bedroom where Rosa was sleeping, and hopped into his pants. Opening the window he climbed down the fire escape and jumped down to the alley on the side street below. Fiyah pulled his shirt on as he ran, and despite the deadly consequences, he never looked back.
Bricks had officially closed for the night, although there was a lot of drugging and gambling and fucking going on in the downstairs rooms. Reem walked ill Nino and a couple of his Bottom Half Boyz outside where their Lincoln limo and driver was waiting at the curb.
Reem gave ill some dap. “Yo, that shit was fucked up in there tonight, man. My son Fiyah lost his head.”
“Yeah, but I peeped his game. I know he’s nice.”
Reem nodded. “Fiyah got some crazy shit with him, but he just got bum-rushed up there. Don’t focus on the fight man, keep your ear on the flow.”
“Oh yeah,” ill agreed. “Ya boy’s a contender. But so is his backup singer.”
“Ice Mello? That boy is the hard truth. He spits it like nobody else. I didn’t know you was down to tour with another hip-hop artist, though.”
ill Nino grinned. “What? You scared he might throw some shit all over your shine, Raw?”
Reem laughed. “Man, get the fuck outta here. Ain’t a rapper out here who can bite off none of this.”
“Cool. Let’s sleep on this till I get back next week. In the meantime, tell your little homeys to fall back. This is Harlem, man. Cats get blasted out here over small shit. We wanna keep the battle on wax, not on the streets.” ill Nino and his entourage got in their whip leaving Reem standing on the street. He chilled there with his hands in his pockets as a few drunken stragglers stumbled down the block and a small army of young promoters handed out flyers to anybody who would take them. A young Puerto Rican kid tried to push one off on Reem.
“After-hours party, homes?”
Reem dissed him. “Man get the fuck outta here.”
Fiyah hid in the shadows and back alleys of Harlem all night long. Fear and rage kept his mind turning. Rage because of Eva and that violating-ass Mello. And fear because he knew King Brody’s patience had run out and that meant his time was just about up.
From the rooftop of a nearby building, Fiyah staked out his crib all day long. He needed to get inside and get his shit, but he also knew Brody was watching and waiting for him to show his position so he could take him down.
Every few hours a shiny late-model whip driven by one of Brody’s manz roared down the street blasting loud music as gangstas waved shiny gats out the windows.
Fiyah leaned on the roof’s railing and peeped all the happenings. He saw the young boy with the limp going on another grocery run for his grandmother. At four o’clock Rosa came home from dance practice and skipped up the front steps of their tenement. The people of Harlem were moving about doing their regular thang. They didn’t know or give a fuck about the fact that shit was hot on the streets and had gotten extra critical in Fiyah’s life.
Day turned into night and it started getting late. The rooftop was shitty. With its endless variety of used condoms, crack vials, and dirty needles, it was a certified pebble beach. Fiyah had already taken a piss on the opposite side a couple of times, and now he was hungry. He’d figured out what to do hours ago, and after Rolo’s whip passed by for the fourth time, he left the roof and darted across the street and into his own building.
Quietly, Fiyah climbed the stairs and snuck down the hallway to his mother’s apartment. He unlocked the door and slipped inside. Silently, he moved down the hall and froze outside of Milena’s bedroom.
Fuck noises were coming from behind the partially closed door. Fiyah peeped into the darkness and made out the forms of his mother in there with some cat who was banging the shit outta her. He could only see the guy’s shadow, but he could tell he was big. The dude was handling Milena like she was a ball of meat. His hands were around her throat as he thrust into her with powerful, back-breaking strokes. The noises his mother made were killing Fiyah. She screamed in pain and pleasure at the same time, and allowed the big guy to twist her up, feet to the ceiling, ass in the air, anyway he wanted to.
“Aah-aah-aah!” Milena hissed into the darkness as the dude flipped her around. The smell of pussy was strong in the air, and Milena’s firm breasts rose and fell as she was slammed and bounced around on a big thick dick.
The man reached his arm back and swung downward, slapping Milena’s bare ass so hard she arched her back and cried out like a kid who was getting a whipping. He palm-stroked her harshly like this, his hand cracking violently down on her ass as the noise exploded into the air. Fiyah just was about to lunge into the room and rescue her when his mother let out a deep-throated scream. “I’m cumming! I’m cumming! Fuck me! Fuck me harder! I’m cumming!”
Squeezing his eyes against his rage, Fiyah forced himself to move on. He crept past the room and eased open the door to his bedroom. Inside, he grabbed a gym bag and tossed his notepad and a few other items inside, then got down on his knees and fished around under his bed with both hands.
A slide-click sounded, and something cold was pressed to the back of his head.
Fiyah turned slightly and found himself looking down the barrel of his own gun.
King Brody, butt-naked with Milena’s pussy juices coating his dick, had him on lock.
The gangsta laughed. “You looking for something, homey?”
Fiyah froze and put his hands up over his head. Rage coursed through his blood. This niggah had been sniffing around the crib not just for Eva, but for his fuckin’ mother!
Brody backed off a little. “Hands down, niggah. I ain’t gone shoot you yet. Come on in the kitchen, man. Your moms can hook us up something to eat right quick while me and you talk a little shit.”
Minutes later Milena
stood in a sheer robe at the stove while Fiyah sat across from Brody, who sat there naked with his long legs stretched out like he was right at home. The semiautomatic was sitting on the table between them. Locked and cocked and ready to pop.
“You got a banging-ass family,” Brody told Fiyah, grinning as Milena walked past on her way to the refrigerator. Milena wouldn’t meet Fiyah’s eyes and he didn’t wanna look into hers neither.
Brody saw the mother-son guilt and shame, and laughed. He reached out and slapped Milena’s pert ass. “You got a fine-ass chocolate cousin who can’t nobody seem to fuckin’ find…and that sweet little Rosa too. What is she? Eight? Nine? She’s ’bout to be fine as hell one day soon.”
He laughed and turned his attention back to Milena. “But your mother, ak. This old bitch is hot, man. I mean hot. Got a super-juicy dome game and gives it up real deep from the back…” He shook his head like it was unbelievable. “Tappable ass must run in your family, yo.”
Fiyah flinched. Enraged at his mother and fighting to hold himself back.
“Whattup, son? I say something you didn’t like? You swelling up or something? What? I gut-fucked your mother and now you wanna grab this gat and twist my skull back? Go ’head. Try that shit. This your crib and you a man, right? You holding ya own shit down?”
Brody spun the gun on the table.
“Then go for it. Lunge, muhfuckah. But you better move fast and you better aim right. ’Cause if you don’t my boys’ll be all over this fuckin’ firetrap in two minutes. And when they leave it’s gone be a forensics feast up in this bitch ’cause it won’t be nothing but dead bodies left to tell this urban tale.”
He laughed again, then sat back in his chair.
“Chill, muhfuckah. Your moms just sucked my dick dry, ese. We practically family now. Besides, I ain’t the one you should be gunnin’ for. You ain’t even handled that low-level action with Mello yet. What makes you think you can fuck with a big-dicked, heavy-balled muhfuckah like me?”
Brody stood up and slammed both hands on the table. His dick swung in front of him and hung down like a deadly brown snake. “It’s time for you to start putting in work, son. There ain’t but two men in your mother’s life. Which one of us is really fuckin’ her? I tell you what. You wanna keep your entire family out of a bloodbath? Then do yourself a big favor. Grab ya fuckin’ nuts. Gangsta up and take that gun you sitting there itching to snatch, and get out on those streets and hold your shit down. You wanna square up with me? Handle that beef with Mello and bring me Eva. Before I go get that bitch myself.”
Fiyah sat frozen with rage and fear.
Brody left the gun sitting on the table and took his time walking naked down the hall toward Milena’s room. Laughing all the way.
Fiyah stared at the gat for a long moment.
His mind flashed back to the sex sounds he’d heard as he came through the door. He pictured Brody dog-fucking the shit outta his mother. Yanking Milena’s hair and blowing her back out. He grabbed the burner and jumped to his feet, his fury totally unchecked. He started toward the hall then stopped suddenly, his stomach pained by what he saw.
Straight ahead was the room Rosa shared with Eva. Brody had bypassed Milena’s bedroom and gone in there. Fiyah watched helplessly as the naked kingpin leaned over Rosa’s sleeping form and planted a long kiss on her cheek. Fiyah glanced down at the tool in his hand. When he looked back again Brody had stood up and was facing him with a come-get it look on his face.
Fiyah stood frozen. His arm desperately wanted to raise the hand that held the gun, but his heart wouldn’t let him. Rosa stirred in the bed. She called out for Milena saying she was thirsty, then turned over and went back to sleep.
King Brody stood there waiting patiently for Fiyah to get his courage up. But Fiyah was battling himself on the inside. Brody liked killing people. If Fiyah made one wrong move his whole family could get took down.
Brody strode down the hall then stopped outside of Milena’s room. He grinned at the loaded weapon hanging uselessly in Fiyah’s hand, then shook his head, twisted the doorknob, and went inside.
As soon as the door closed Fiyah raised the tool. He gripped it in both hands, all kinds of scenarios playing out in his mind. He could bust up in his mother’s room and pop one off in Brody right now! He wanted to do that shit so fuckin’ bad! He could actually see that clown’s dome cracking open like a fuckin’ smashed egg. Killing Brody would bring Fiyah the most immense satisfaction of his life. It would give him back his fuckin’ future and restore his fuckin’ manhood.
But it would also cost him, and prolly Eva, Milena, and Rosa, their lives. Fiyah wasn’t prepared to have his entire family buried, which is why he was back in the kitchen and still gripping the loaded tool when Brody came out his mother’s room dressed. The King walked past Fiyah like all he was gripping was a lollipop, and got ready to bounce.
At the door, Brody turned around and challenged him once more. “You gone use that shit, or what? Flex niggah! You got a gat, so flex!”
Fiyah didn’t move.
“Damn,” Brody said over his shoulder, laughing coldly. “It stanks like pussy up in here. Goddamn house full of bitches.”
Even after the door slammed shut Fiyah could still hear that maniac laughing. He twirled the gun in his fingers and aimed it at the just-closed door. His hands were shaking like the gun weighed a hundred pounds. Furious but defeated, Fiyah dropped the gun to the table and sat down and banged his head. Hard. Three times.
Somebody banged on the door and Fiyah sat upright again. On guard, he picked up the gat and moved cautiously toward the door.
“Oh shit,” he said, then stashed the piece down the back of his pants and covered it with his shirt. He opened the door, breathing hard.
Fiyah sighed as Parole Officer Daniels stood there watching the last glimpses of Brody as he walked down the stairs.
“Associating with known felons?”
Daniels shook his thick head.
“That’s two, Perez. Three strikes and you’re out.”
The next day Fiyah hit the streets in search of Mello.
Brody’s burner was a comfort in his pocket, but fear was still heavy in his gut. Fear for himself and for his family. A gorilla like Brody was always good to his word. If Eva didn’t get with the program then all of them would surely get sprayed. Fiyah thought about the way Brody had leaned over and put his grimy lips on Rosa, and he had to force himself to bite down on his rage. He had to find Eva. Brody had already fucked his moms, and now he was tryna fuck his whole family. He couldn’t allow that shit to happen.
It was Sunday and he remembered Eva telling him that Mello mentored youths at the Corner Pocket Poetry Café. Gripping his gat through the pocket of his hoody, Fiyah threaded through the slow-moving after-church crowd of street shoppers.
“Hey yo!” somebody called out, and Fiyah looked left. The young chocolate-faced kid with the limp was walking parallel to him across the street. He nodded when he caught Fiyah’s eye, and Fiyah nodded back.
“Yo, wait up!” the boy called out.
Fiyah ignored the kid and kept stepping.
The kid ran into the street, limping and dragging his bad leg. He caught up with Fiyah and stared at him with admiration.
“You the one who got those dudes off my ass the other day.”
Fiyah shrugged. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, you don’t remember? Them chump bitches only brave when they swarmin’ with a crew. They was planning to jump me over there by the park. They fell back ’cause you rolled up.”
Fiyah shrugged again. “Yeah. That’s cool.”
“So where you strollin’, man?”
“I’m handling my bizz, young’un. And leavin’ yours alone. Step off, little papi.”
“C’mon, man. If you handling street bizz you gonna need somebody at ya back. Every gangsta does. I owe you one so I gotcha back, man.”
Fiyah flinched as the kid raised his shirt and flashed a gun that was tucked into
his pants.
“Yo, man, what the fuck you doin’ with that shit?”
“I handles minez too, dude.”
Fiyah looked down at the kid’s gimp leg and shook his head. “You look like you been in enough street battles. Get your ass on home to ya grandma and put that tool away.”
Fiyah stepped off walking strong, leaving the kid behind. He had bigger shit to concentrate on, and he didn’t even notice when the kid let him get ahead a little bit, then started following him again.
Mello’s homeys was congregating outside the Corner Pocket Poetry Café when Fiyah rolled up. A Mister Softee truck sat at the curb playing that special ice-cream music that made kids come running from miles around.
Fiyah peeped Mello standing in the midst of a bunch of young heads. He watched as dude counted all the kids then went over to the truck and bought ice cream for every one of them. Licking cones, the kids followed Mello through the doors of the café and that’s when Fiyah made his move.
He rolled straight up on the corner cats, and two of them yanked out tools before he could tell them he was coming in peace.
“Yo, y’all can put all that firepower away, homes. I ain’t tryna get nothing poppin’. I just need to holla at ya manz Mello real quick.”
A big dude with crazy eyes stepped up. He pulled a tool from the back of his waistband and swung it hard, cracking Fiyah down to the ground.
“Who the fuck you be?”
Fiyah climbed to his knees, shaking his head. Blood flew from a gash that had opened up on his temple. “I’m Eva’s cousin. Fiyah. Tell Mello I’m out here.”
A short dude with a Black & Mild blunt behind his ear started laughing.
“Oh, I know this niggah, y’all! This the cat Mello fucked up the other night at Bricks, yo. Mello stole this bitch! He slapped his dick all over dude’s mic!”
Fiyah ignored the noise. Still on his knees, he looked up at the big cat who had pistol-whipped him and said, “That’s me, baby. Yeah, Mello fucked me up. Now, I’m about to move slow because I got some heat on me too, and I don’t want nobody to get hurt. I’m gone pass you my tool, just so you know I’m straight.”