by Omar Tyree
“You never saw me before?”
“Not up close.”
“Hey, hey, hey! What da fuck is this? I didn’t call you out here t’ fuck wit’ him,” Bink says. But Bink so damn cool you can never really tell if he’s serious or if he’s joking.
Somebody calls her and she jerks her head back out of the passenger’s side window. “Huh?” She looks back to Bink. “I be right back, aw’ight?” Then she looks to me. “And don’t let your friend go nowhere.” She winks her right eye at me before she runs off.
“Yo, is she down or what?” I ask Bink as soon as she leaves.
“Yeah, she’ll let you fuck her.”
I chuckle. “Damn. You make it sound like you’on give a fuck.”
“Yeah, I mean, I had that ass already. She ain’t my main girl, so I don’t deal wit’ her e’ry day. She’s the type that will fuck another nigga. All my number-one girls just want my dick.”
We smile at each other and laugh. “Yeah, that’s how it should be.” Bink nods.
“Always.”
* * *
Man, don’t ask me exactly how this shit happened, but Shank is in the back seat and this girl dressed in the orange and gold named Eva is coming with me. “Wherever you wanna take me.”
“Super Trak, Shank?”
“Naw. Howard.”
I smile. I guess now Shank wants some ass tonight too.
I drop him off at McDonald’s on Georgia Ave. It’s 11:34, Thursday night.
“And Shank, remember I’m ’bout to get that beeper for you. Aw’ight?”
“Yeah.” Shank walks off toward them Howard University apartments.
Eva says, “I ’member he use ta go t’ Anacostia. People ain’t fuck wit’ him, shaw’.”
I laugh. “He was a raw-ass nigga, huh?”
“Umm, not really. It just seemed like you didn’t mess with him.”
“So where you wanna go?” I ask her. I don’t know why though. I already know I want some ass from this girl. She’s phat to death! For real!
“Let’s go to De Unique’s, out in Maryland. I heard Junk Yard and N.E. Groovers s’posed t’ be out dat joint tonight, shaw’.”
Yeah, I can see now. I don’t know if this girl is lying or not, but she wants me to show her off. But I’m not trying to go out like that.
“Yo, let’s not go to no club, ’cause I’m too tired for that shit.”
She looks at me with big, playful brown eyes. “Well, what then?”
“Let’s, like, go to a hotel and chill. Go get some weed and somethin’ t’ drink and—”
“Unh-uh! I don’t believe you think you jus’ gon’ turn me out like that, shaw’! I mean, I ain’t no one-day, late-night ho! You musta bumped ya damn head somewhere!”
My pager goes off while she’s running her mouth about not trying to give me no ass. This number called my pager like five damn times already. I don’t know who it is, but anything is better than hearing this whore kicking this fake-ass game to me. I mean, I already know she’s a whore. Why should she want me to treat her differently?
I pull my 3000 over and park further up Georgia Ave. “Yo, I’m gon’ call back this number. I’ll be back.”
Fuck that shit! Either this girl gon’ gi’me some pussy, or I’m takin’ her ass back home.
I jump on the pay phone and dial this number. “Yo, it’s B.”
“Muthafucka, y’all killed my cousin, you’n! Ya ass is dead, nigga! Two t’ ya fuckin’ head!”
“Yo, stop playin’, you’n. Who da fuck is this?”
“Ask ya boy Rudy! All y’all ma’fuckas is dead!”
Joe slams the phone on my ear. Aw, shit! Are these niggas trippin’ or what?
I walk back to the car thinking about Rudy. I hope that nigga ain’t did nothing stupid. Damn, I hope he ain’t do no dumb shit!
“Yo, I got some runs t’ make,” I tell this girl Eva.
“Why? Your girlfriend jus’ page you?”
I look at her sternly. “Yo, look, do you wanna get a taxi home, ’cause I ain’t got time for this.”
“What? Oh, you’n, you mus’ really think you like dat or somethin’! Y’all light-skinned muthafuckas always be trippin’ like dat, Joe. You gon’ drive me the fuck back home jus’ like you picked me up!”
“Bitch! I’ll throw you the fuck out on the highway if you talkin’ dat trash! Now shut da fuck up! Aw’ight?”
I can feel blood rushing to my face while I think about this nigga Rudy. I mess around and almost hit a car in front of me. But at least this damn girl shut her damn mouth. I guess she can see that I’m not in the mood to be played with right now.
A taxi lets two girls out back down around Howard. I swerve right in back of it.
Eva looks at me like I’m crazy. “What’chu doin’?”
I hop out with my keys. “Come on!”
“Come on, where?”
“Look, jus’ get da hell outta my car and get in’na taxi.”
She gets in slowly. I give her twenty dollars.
“What I do t’ you, shaw’? Why you treatin’ me all like dis?”
She’s trying to look all innocent now. And I guess I did go crazy. I mean, I even called her a bitch. But niggas are fucking with me right now, and I have to find this boy Rudy. Tonight!
“Look, umm, I jus’ got a stressful phone call and my nerves are screwed up right now.”
Her eyes get big with interest. “One of ya boys jus’ got shot?”
“Look, I’ll talk to you about it later. Aw’ight?”
“Aw’ight, man, but calm ya’self down, shaw’. Damn!”
I shut the taxi door. I still might be able to bang her. But not right now.
I run back to my car and head for Steve’s crib around Fourth and W, in back of Howard. I hop out and say hi to a few of these young’uns, but I ain’t in the mood for no small talk.
Steve is standing over by this small gate in front of his three-story project crib. He’s talking to another ragged-ass-looking girl. I’m glad I didn’t have to grow up in this type of shit. I see why these niggas are hopeless.
“Yo, Steve, come here, man.”
I can tell he’s high. Boy got that dazed look in his eyes. He says, “What’chu doin’ back in my neck’a da woods, Joe? You ain’t got no ho for the night? I’m tryin’a get mine now.”
Kill that damn noise, nigga!
“Yo, man, what’s up wit’ Rudy?”
“Huh? Why you askin’ me? I ain’t Rudy’s keepa.”
“Ay, man, don’t fuck wit’ me, you’n. Has Rudy been talkin’ crazy shit lately?”
“Like what?”
“Like about killin’ niggas.”
Steve shakes his head and leans to the side. He’s wearing that yellow hoodie again with a blue Dodgers baseball cap. “Naw, man. Not that I know of. But I ain’t seen that nigga since last week.”
He leans some more, smiling like a drug fiend. “Yo, matter fact, the last time I seen ’em, ya college boy gave him a ride an’ shit.”
Aw, naw! I’m thinking.
“You talkin’ ’bout Wes gave him a ride home?”
“Naw, ’cause they was headin’ back Northeast somewhere.”
“Northeast? For what?”
“How da hell I know? I was doin’ my own damn thing.”
“Aw’ight. Fuck it!”
I run back to my car, hearing that ragged-ass girl he’s with talking about me like, “What the hell is his problem?”
Fuck her! I don’t have time for that shit. I’m gon’ gather up all my information before I step to Rudy. I mean, some nigga gon’ beep me up and tell me I’m about to take two to the head! Aw, fuck that shit! It’s on!
* * *
I beat on Wes’s door. “Yo, Wes! Y-o-o-o!”
He opens the door, squinting his eyes and wearing a paisley-colored bathrobe. I walk in and stand in front of him. Fuck sitting down! This shit is serious!
He turns a lamp light on. “This couldn’t wait until the morning?”
I just stare at him. “Yo, man, what’s up wit’chu and Rudy?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I thought I tol’ you t’ stay away from them dumb-ass niggas, man.”
“I haven’t been around them.”
“Oh, so you tellin’ me dat Rudy wasn’t ridin’ in ya car last week, right?”
He looks at me like he’s amazed that I know anything. “No. I didn’t say that.”
“So what’chu sayin’ t’ me, Wes?”
NeNe walks out from his bedroom wearing a blue terrycloth bathrobe. I guess they were in here mashin’ off.
She smiles at me. “I thought that was you.” She walks over to hug me, but I hold her away at arm’s length.
“Yo, come on now. I ain’t in the mood.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’. Me and Wes is talkin’.”
I wait for NeNe to head back to the bedroom, but she just stands here in front of me like a zombie. I shake my head impatiently. “Ay, NeNe, can we get some privacy out here? Damn!”
She looks to Wes. He nods his head. Then she looks back to me.
“Aw’ight then.”
I look back to Wes.
“So what’s all this about?” he asks me.
“I’m askin’ da fuckin’ questions here, nigga! Now why was you drivin’ Rudy back Northeast?”
“He asked me to drop him off at his cousin’s house.”
“Where at?”
“Edgewood Terrace Apartments. I was heading home anyway, and that’s not that far from me. So I simply dropped him off and kept going.”
“But how did’ju hook up wit’ ’im in the first damn place?”
“I blew my horn at him on Fourteenth Street.”
“Fuck was you doin’ on Fourteenth Street?”
Wes goes silent. Then he says, “I was just up there coming from my friend’s house.”
I look back to the bedroom thinking about NeNe. This nigga Wes is out here banging other girls on her. He must think I’m stupid. But I ain’t even gon’ comment on that right now. I can use that shit against him later.
I frown at him. “I can’t believe this shit, man!” Damn, this nigga’s hard-headed! “I don’t give a fuck if Rudy’s cousin lived at the corner! I told’ju t’ stay away from them niggas!”
“What the hell? They’re human just like us! I can give him a ride!”
“Yeah, and you can end up dyin’ that same day jus’ for bein’ seen wit’ ’im.”
Wes looks away from me and doesn’t say anything. I guess he knows that I’m right. And I hate to come down on him like this, but I ain’t done yet! I got more questions to ask.
“Yo, was Rudy talkin’ ’bout killin’ niggas t’ you?”
“No.”
“Did he talk about anything while y’all was ridin’?”
“Like what?”
“Don’t bullshit me, man!”
“What? I mean, what’s going on?”
“Look, man, did he talk t’ you about some shit or what?”
Wes looks me in my eyes and takes a deep breath. “He was talking about money.”
“Money? Like how?”
“You know, since you’ve been dealing in Maryland and all, he kind of felt that you were cutting him short.”
I frown at him, wanting more information. Quick!
“And?”
Wes looks at me confused. “What?”
I lose it! “What da fuck he say he was gon’ do about it, man? Dis ain’t no damn game!”
“Well, what happened?”
“Ain’t shit happen yet! Now what did he say?”
Wes looks away again.
This ma’fucka’s stallin’! I can’t believe this nigga! I mean, I put him down wit’ dis shit, not fuckin’ Rudy!
“Ay, man, if you don’t tell me what da hell is goin’ on, then I’m jus’ gon’ assume that you down wit’ dis nigga, Joe. Now tell me what he said he was gon’ do.”
“Are you threatening me?” Wes looks me in my eyes.
I stare right back at him. “I might have t’ kill you if it comes t’ dat.”
He doesn’t budge. And I ain’t planning on budging either.
Wes opens his mouth. “He said he was gon’ start running with his cousins.”
I nod my head, feeling more relaxed about the shit.
Now I know what time it is. Fuck Rudy!
“Thank you, man. That’s all I needed t’ know.”
* * *
I go straight to business over a pay phone. “Yo, Tee, you still got that guns-and-ammo stock?”
“Man, you know it. Guns is hotter than July right about now, Joe. But what’s been up wit’chu, B?”
“You’n, I got problems. And I need some guns and ammo t’ solve ’em.”
Tee laughs. I ain’t been out in Maryland with him in Oxon Hill for months. But now is the time. This nigga got all kinds of guns. And I’m about to ante up and hire some new recruits, some more killers like Shank.
“Niggas is actin’ up back there, huh?” Tee asks me.
“Yeah, man. But I’ll call you up t’ come out there tomorrow mornin’.”
“Cool. What’chu need?”
“All semi-automatics. No Uzis or nothin’, ’cause I don’t want no bystanders shot up, you know?”
“Yeah, I hear you. I just got two nine-double-m Glocks last week. How ’bout them?”
“Yeah, that shit’ll work. And you got any small, powerful shit that can keep inside my belt?”
“Yup. A nickel-plated .32. But yo, when you come up here, man, I got all kinds of pieces. I’ll let’chu check shit out tomorrow.”
“Aw’ight, you’n. I’ll hit’chu back t’mar.”
I hang up the pay phone and walk back to my car out here on Riggs Road in Northeast.
A black Corvette with tinted windows rolls up past me before I can get inside my 3000. Damn, my heart-rate is increasing for anything now! And yo, this ain’t no good feeling. So I figure it’s better to get whoever these niggas are before they make a move on me. And Rudy? Man, fuck him. I don’t know what he done got me into. Boy don’t know his face from his ass.
* * *
I get back to my Silver Spring apartment and chill. I don’t feel like listening to my messages and shit. I’ll just call my girl tomorrow. She’ll be coming home soon. School season is almost over for college. Maybe it’s best to settle all this drama before she gets here. Matter fact, I know it’s best.
I watch my ceiling fan twirl around and around and around from my bed. I’m remembering the good old days: girls, house parties, the go-gos, fist fights, and more girls. We had shit going on! We had much back, and much fun. But niggas are crazier now. I’m gon’ have to act crazier too, just to stay on top of things.
Damn, Red! Where you at, nigga? I know you in jail, but I need ya tough ass right about now.
Damn! I’m laying here lunchin’. I guess all I really got right now is Shank and my money. But I know more niggas that will kill for some ducats. I’ll get them to take care of business, then I’ll just continue to lay low. I mean, fuck it, I got money in the bank anyway. Damn near eighty thousand dollars. I got another forty thousand right here under my bed.
Yeah, getting with that boy Wes was genius shit. But he’s starting to mess up. Maybe this game is more than he can take. That boy acting like he don’t know how to control himself now. Nigga fucking around. He lying. He hanging out with stupid-ass runners. Damn . . . I feel like I did him wrong. But fuck it! He’ll get it together. But he gonna have to learn to think a lot faster if he gon’ run around out here in the streets. Because the street is a whole different classroom. For real!
CHAPTER 9
Shank
They keep showing this Waco, Texas, story again and again on the news today. Motherfucking FBI burned down their religious complex, with that crazy-ass David Koresh and all his followers still inside of it. White men are crazy! That’s just like that Jim Jones shit years ago when he ha
d all them holy niggas commit suicide. Then you got Charles Manson. And that crazy-ass white cannibal nigga Jeffrey Dahmer. I mean, I ain’t never heard of no black people eating niggas. You know what I’m saying?
They caught this black dude wearing a baseball cap who’s been riding around shooting people in Mount Pleasant in D.C. That nigga’s out of his mind! They’ve had his ass on that D.C. Crime Solvers shit since March. Something wrong with you’n to just ride around and shoot people just for walking. I’d never do no dumb shit like that. I mean, for what?
Butterman went out and bought me a damn beeper with a six-number memory, the time and all this other stuff on it, special codes and call waiting. I don’t really like the idea of him being able to track me down all day. I never was into these beepers. A nigga will see me when he sees me. I don’t want motherfuckers paging me up all day. That shit would drive me crazy. But I gave my pager number to Carlette though. That’s my baby! Every nigga needs a girl like her. She sweet as hell . . . Well, hell ain’t really sweet, but you know what the hell I mean.
Anyway, I’m wearing all green today: green Calvin jeans, a green Champion hoodie, and green Nike Airs. I like these light, track-type shoes—in case you have to jet out. Especially now, because the beef is on with these Northeast niggas. And dumb-ass Butterman went out and got two criminals. Both of these niggas are older than me. They both been in and out of jail.
These niggas are stupid if you ask me. They talk like it ain’t shit to go to jail. Fuck that! I ain’t looking forward to going to no Lorton. Then again, you never know.
* * *
It’s after three o’clock, and all these young’uns are jumping on the E2 bus. I’m heading over to my boy Anton’s house up Kennedy Street Northwest. You’n owe me two hundred dollars! And it ain’t like I need the money—I got many ducats now—but I’m saying, this motherfucker asked to borrow it. And I think I want my shit back now.
“Aw, you’n, he ain’t got da heart to shoot dat nigga. I’d bust dat ma’fucka if it was me, you’n,” this young’un is saying. Motherfucker looks like a little brown half-pint nigga. Hell is he talking about? I mean, these little niggas love to come to the back of the bus and talk that shit.
“I know, Joe! That nigga be ackin’ like he all like dat an’ shit. That’s why Tyrone was ’bout ta fuck you’n up last week,” this bigger nigga says. He look like he don’t even belong in no high school. He got a full-ass beard. Joe probably got left back three times.