by K'wan
“I think he likes you,” Rio whispered in her ear.
“Rio,” she said, smiling as she scratched the tiger's head. “This has been one of the best days in my life.”
“Just one of many, ma. We’re doing everything first class from now on.” As the sun started to set, Trinity knew that her fantasy date was coming to an end. Night was approaching and Rio had money to make. The block needed him, so they headed home. They got out of the cab together on 101st Street and kissed good night. Rio promised to call her as he headed up the block. Trinity watched her man as he walked off and wondered what she had ever done in life to be so lucky?
11
Darkness had come to the projects and with it the creatures of the night. The working class were locking themselves away within their safe lives, preparing to bed down, while the hustlers were just rising. As the inky blackness covered the streets, the children of the night crept from their hiding places.
Rio sat on a far bench hunched over in the shadows. With a pen in hand, he scribbled away in his notebook. The little tattered black and white was one of Rio's most prized possessions. It was his book of thoughts. He would often spend hours pouring his soul onto its pages. Aside from Trinity, it was one of the few things in life that brought him peace.
Suddenly, Rio heard the rustling of leaves behind him. As he turned to see what it was, cold steel touched his cheek. Rio sighed deeply and cut his eyes. Cutty stood dressed in his usual black, smiling at his friend.
“You still slipping, huh?” Cutty hissed. “When you gonna learn about these streets, my nigga?”
“Don’t be so quick to judge,” Rio said, looking at Cutty's crotch. Cutty looked down and saw that Rio had a 9 under his jacket and it was honed in on Cutty's manhood. “I take notes from time to time,” Rio quipped with a slight smile.
“That's what the fuck I’m talking about,” Cutty said, putting his pistol away. “I see your promotion got you thinking better?”
“You know it, dog. I gotta be a li’l tighter wit my shit, ya know?”
“That's what I been trying to tell you all along, dog. You playing for big paper now. Who you got wit you?”
“Wit me?”
“Yeah, square-ass nigga,” Cutty said, playfully. “Who watching ya back?”
“Me, I guess. I ain’t never gave it much thought, know what I mean? I’m a man just like the next nigga. Ain’t no fear over here.”
“Rio, it ain’t about being scared, it's about being smart. Your eyes can’t be everywhere at once, kid. Now that you wit the big man, you gonna be handling a lot of paper. You need a nigga to hold you down.”
“And that's you?”
“Come on wit that shit, Rio. You know we peoples, dog. I don’t wanna see you gobbled up out here by some thirsty young nigga trying to come up.”
“You got a point, Cutty. Niggaz do be funny style.”
“Please, you forget who you talking to? I’m one of the grimiest niggaz on the planet, but I’m loyal to my fam.”
“A’ight, Cutty. You my nigga, so I’ll give you a play. Just let me get wit Prince and let him know what the deal is. I don’t want him to feel funny about seeing you around all the time.”
“Cool, cool. We gonna get this money and everything is gonna be gravy.”
The two men's conversation was broken up when Li’l J appeared. The sneaky little bastard had this habit of popping up outta thin air. He was dressed in a midnight-blue suit with a diamond stickpin that looked more like a flashlight. His overcoat looked like a death shroud flapping in the night air. Li’l J patted his perm with one hand and tucked the other into his pocket. No doubt clutching a pistol.
“Sup, kid?” J rasped. He addressed Rio but was looking at Cutty. “I need to holla at you.”
“A’ight,” Rio said. “What's good?”
“Nah, I don’t know this kid to be talking in front of him.” “Oh, this my man, Cutty. He cool.” “He cool wit you, but I don’t know him.”
“Cutty's gonna be holding it down wit me, ya know? Kinda like a bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard?” J chuckled. “Sure kid. Let's take a walk.”
J placed a firm hand on Rio's shoulder and steered him toward the steps. Cutty took a step, but Rio waved him off. Rio strode off with J, leaving Cutty standing there puzzled. He wanted to check J, but something in the old-timer's face told him not to.
When they were halfway to the avenue, J began speaking. “Who was that punk?”
“Oh, that was my man, Cutty. I told you, he's cool.”
“Look, kid. You might have a little position now, but you don’t call the shots. Prince decides who comes into the fold and who doesn’t. As far as cool, ya little green-ass nigga, we decide who gets that label. What's his name?”
“I told you. Cutty.”
“Not his street name, Gilligan. His real name.” “Oh, Curtis. Curtis Turner.”
“That's better. I’ll get him checked out later on. Should have something on him by the morning. Until then, you don’t tell him dick. Get me?”
“Yeah, J. I got you. So, where are we going?”
“Meeting. Prince wants to get all his people together. He usually has his Capos meet every so often. Tonight's a little special.” “What's the occasion?”
“You. Ya made ya bones, kid. Tonight's the night we bring you in.”
Rio was a little puzzled. He thought that once Prince had passed the word down of his promotion, that would be it.
“Hold on,” Rio said. “I ain’t even dressed for nothing. I got on a sweat suit.”
“Just come on.” J kept it moving before Rio had a chance to protest any further. Rio went to get into the passenger side of the Caddy, but J directed him to the back. Rio climbed into the backseat of the car, where he noticed a bag with his name on it. Inside the bag was a pair of wool slacks, a black turtleneck, and a pair of black suede shoes. Rio smiled. The ensemble was along the lines of his tastes. Maybe working for Prince wouldn’t be so bad after all.
J pulled the hog up in front of a brown brick building in the block of 128th. The building was formally one of those clunkers that the city lets someone fix up for a small fee, then charge a grip on the mortgage. From the picture windows and marble stairs, Prince must’ve been getting hit for a bit on this little gem.
Rio stepped out of the whip looking like a totally different cat. The hustler garb was shed and out stepped a respectable looking young man. He wasn’t dressed up, but he could’ve passed for a middle-class working nigga. This was the way Prince wanted it. Rio thought that his benefactor was just showing love, but the clothes were just a front for the neighbors. Prince wanted to come across as one of them. Just a working-class Joe. A working-class Joe wouldn’t have people coming to his house rocking trump jewels and tipping bottles.
J made his way up the stairs with Rio on his heels. When they reached the door, Rio noticed a huge man standing between the outer gate and the actual door. He hung back in the shadows like a wraith haunting some forgotten square. The guard nodded his ebony dome and bid them to enter. J slipped through the foyer and made his way to the main house. With a nod of his processed head, he motioned for Rio to follow him.
Rio proceeded into the lair with caution. The huge guard stared down at the shorter Rio. Rio returned his glare. He hadn’t come looking for trouble, but Rio was the kinda dude that wasn’t gonna let anyone punk him. No matter how big or small, Rio would bang out with you if it came to that.
As Rio squeezed past he and the guard found themselves eye to eye. The guard puffed out his chest in an attempt to mark his spot. Rio felt his heart start beating a little faster, but held his head as best he could. As the guard raised his hand, Rio tensed, preparing himself for combat. The guard laid a paw on Rio's shoulder and grumbled a word. “Congratulations.”
Rio stared in surprise, the statement catching him totally unprepared. He nodded his head and gave the big man a brief smirk. Rio kept it moving to the front door. Li’l J must’ve picked up
on the exchange because he was smiling as he held the door open for Rio.
J led him through the first-floor entrance where they hung their jackets. Then they walked down a staircase to the lower levels of the house and across the living room. About six or seven men were lounging, sipping drinks, and watching the basketball game. Rio recognized a few of them from the hood. They were lieutenants and enforcers for Prince's Capos. Rio nodded to those he knew and continued on his way. As they approached the basement door J stopped short. “Listen, kid,” he started, “what you’re about to see and hear is for your eyes and ears only. Can you dig it?”
“Sure, J,” Rio said, sounding more confident than he actually was. “I ain’t some chickenhearted kid.”
“Man, cut that bullshit. I’m trying to help yo thinking ass. This is the big-time, kid. I’m about to take you down to the very bowels of hell. You think you can play the hand fate dealt you?”
Rio paused making sure he had J's full attention before answering. “Let's do it.”
J sighed deeply and pulled the door open. Rio stepped across the threshold and damn near gagged on the stench of cigar and weed smoke. He descended the stairs to the basement where everyone was waiting. He took a deep breath before stepping through the final door to embrace his destiny.
Shamel stood in the shadows of a building entrance scanning the block for movement. His black hoodie and jeans made him hard to spot in the dim light. Shamel's mind should’ve been on the business at hand, but he couldn’t help but think about his partner's strange behavior. Things just didn’t add up. The day before Rio had seemed hell-bent on putting Baker out of his misery. Now he had a change of heart? The shit just didn’t make sense.
Then there was the mysterious disappearance of Freddy's sister. It had come down the wire that she was last seen with a character matching Baker's description. It would’ve been real simple to just ask Baker, but no one had seen him in a day or so. Coincidence? Not likely. Somehow all of it tied in together. Rio knew something, but he wasn’t telling. Shamel would get to the bottom of it sooner or later.
Shamel was so caught up in his fantasizing about playing Sherlock Holmes that he almost didn’t see his mark. Ed strolled down the street as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He greedily stuffed pork rinds into his mouth, letting the crumbs drop freely on his shirt. Back in the day people had high hopes for Ed. Some even said he would go pro. Ed was one of those dudes that used to be built, but with age came flab. Now he was just a cat that used to play college football.
Shamel let the bigger man pass before creeping behind him. Ed was headed up 105th going toward Amsterdam. If luck held out, the block would be dead and Shamel could take him quietly. It didn’t. Some of the homeboys were standing around hollering at a group of females. This shit threw a monkey wrench in his plan, but he would not be deterred. When Shamel made up his mind to get you, you were as good as hit.
Ed gave dap to the fellas and started to get his mack on with one of the females. A fine chocolate sister, sporting a peach sweat suit. Ed had just about roped shorty in when he felt a tap on his shoulder. When Ed turned around, his eyes nearly sprang from his head.
“What up, Ed?” Shamel asked with a grin.
“Yo…my nig…I mean, my man Mel. What's the science, God?”
“Oh,” Shamel said, running his hand over his face. “Now you wanna get cute?”
“What up, Mel? What up wit that rah-rah?” Ed asked with an attitude.
Ed was trying to be cool in front of the girls, which only made Shamel angry. At first he wasn’t gonna clown, but now he felt that he had to teach Ed a lesson. “Oh word, Ed? Look, nigga…you got mines?”
“Come on, Mel. You ain’t gotta be coming at me like that.” Ed said, folding his arms.
“My bad,” Shamel said with a grin. “You’re right. I should’ve respected your square and came correct. My bad,” Ed smiled long enough for Shamel to knock out his two front teeth with the butt of his desert. Ed fell to the ground, holding his bloodied mouth.
“Pussy nigga!” Shamel barked. “Fuck is you to talk to me like you a gangsta?” Shamel kicked him in the ribs. “Fucking bug nigga. I’ll squash yo bitch ass!”
Ed curled up on the floor while Shamel rained kicks on him. By now the big man's face was a crimson mess. Shamel reached down and ripped off the two front pockets of Ed's jeans. Kids were gathered around, just watching him get the shit stomped out of him. Some of them felt bad for Ed while others were just glad it wasn’t them.
Shamel shook the torn fabric, dropping their contents to the ground. Using his foot he sifted through Ed's personals until he found the bread. He picked up the only bill in the mess and frowned. Without warning Shamel kicked Ed viciously in the gut. Ed looked at his attacker in wide-eyed shock as he tried to gasp for air.
“Ten dollars, nigga,” Shamel snarled, kicking him again. “You made me go through all this bunk shit and all you got is ten?” Shamel gave him one more kick to the head, knocking Ed unconscious. “Be a while before you’ll be able to eat anything solid, let alone some pork. The only reason I ain’t gonna do you dirty is cause you owe me cheese. A dead man can’t pay his debts.” Shamel stuffed the bill in his pocket and walked off. Once outside, he came across cool, but inside he felt like the biggest dick in the world. His quality of life was slipping. That dumb shit he did could’ve landed him right back in the joint on attempted murder. All for what? Ten — fucking — dollars! Sometimes Shamel wondered if it was even worth it.
When Rio stepped into the basement, he was transported into another world. Rio had thought that the inside of the house would be as nice as the outside, but it wasn’t shit compared to the basement. The whole thing was a replica of a seventeenth-century war chamber. Gray brick covered the walls and high ceiling of the room. Plush brown carpet lined the floors. Along the walls were various weapons from the period that the room was made to resemble. Upon closer inspection, Rio noticed that the array of battle-axes and other blades were the real deal. He wondered to himself if his boss had ever used any of the weapons on a living person.
Prince and about a dozen or so others sat around a large conference table drinking and talking shit. The heavy hitters from all over Manhattan and the Bronx were gathered there. Rio tried his best not to look like a starstruck kid in front of them. Not only were there Willies in attendance that he knew Prince dealt with, but there were some cats there that Rio knew of, but never knew that they were tied to Prince.
Prince spotted his newest Capo and motioned for him to come over. Rio took a deep breath and descended into the sea of sharks. As he approached the table, all eyes were on him. Some of the other Capos nodded in greeting, while others just mean mugged him. But no matter the response, Rio kept his game face on. This was too big to let emotions fuck it up.
“My man, Rio,” Prince said, standing. “What it is, man?”
“Chilling,” Rio said, nodding.
“Chilling? Well, bring ya cold ass in here and take a seat. We been waiting for you.” Rio took the chair at the opposite end of the table from Prince and gave him his undivided attention. “Well, now that the guest of honor is here, we can get started. Now, as all you niggaz know, I done brought some fresh blood to the family. I had my eye on this kid for a while, but he just decided to move where the grass was greener. Most of y’all know him, but for those of you who don’t, this is Rio. He’ll be running thangs down in the projects from now on. Maybe in time I’ll step down and let Rio get a piece of what I got. Between him and Truck, they can’t fuck it up too bad,” Prince joked. “Y’all show that man some love.”
The basement suddenly erupted with claps and clanging glasses. Rio was playing it cool, just nodding and smirking, but inside he wanted to grin from ear to ear. For so long he had steered clear of people like Prince and what they represented. But strangely, he seemed to be getting more love in a room full of associates than he would’ve from his own family. He was still uneasy about working for Prince's organization,
but the more he saw of their world, the more intrigued he was by it.
“Okay, okay,” Prince barked. “Y’all can do the meet and greet later. Let's get down to business. Now, Rio's taking over in the DP. He's been working for me on and off for a while, plus he's from the hood. That should work out nicely. This kid has got a head on his shoulders and he's a hell of an earner. I’m sponsoring him personally on this. Anyone object?”
Rio looked out at the sea of faces in astonishment. No one uttered a word in protest. These were all hardened and dangerous men, but none would go against the will oftheir prince. What he said was the law.
“Good,” Prince continued. “Rio, I’m gonna run it down the line as to who these cats are. Just pay attention cause I’m only gonna say it once. From right to left we got, Big Paul from Hell's Kitchen, Marco from Webster Ave, Breeze and Jake from Queens, and Gino from the Lower East Side. These are my eyes and ears in Manhattan as well as other boroughs. The gentlemen with them are their…advisors of sorts. These are your brothers at arms. Each and every one of them is loyal to this organization, as you will be. You might all be on my payroll, but you’re the masters of your own destinies. Y’all know how I do. You run your spots as you see fit, I don’t care. As long as you got mine when it's time to ante up, we ain’t gonna never have no misunderstanding. Do you understand, Rio?”
Rio nodded his head. “Good,” Prince said. “Now, before we get on with the drinking and get back to the game, I got something to add. Rio, you pay special attention. I love you all like, sons, but I won’t have the bullshit. The price of wealth is loyalty. The price of betrayal is death.”
Rio absorbed Prince's words with a heavy sigh. He was getting in over his head, but what could he do? He had fucked up and Prince fixed it for him. Now he was indebted to the crime lord. He brought it on himself and now he had to carry the burden.
Rio's mental debate with himself was broken up by the sound of footsteps from above. Rio looked to the door just in time to see Truck coming through it.