“Yo Bug-Out wake up. We’re here!” Havoc said so loud that Mayhem sat up curious.
“I’m up-I’m up!” Bug-Out said grumpily stretching with a yawn and another fart. His eyes popped open with a rheumy-eyed look and he stared at his surroundings then sucked his teeth. “Damn! How come you dropped me off here instead’a out front of my building?” he complained about having to trek all the way through Herbert von King Park to get home.
“What are you stuck on stupid? Didn’t I just finish telling you to keep us being blood on the down-low?” Havoc said. “Besides you’re up in here stinking up my ride with your lethal farts.”
“I’d rather fart and be ashamed, than hold it in and bust a vein.” Bug-Out laughed as he opened the door to get out.
“Yo Bug.” Havoc called. Bug-Out looked back and his sleepy eyes lit up when he saw the one hundred-dollar bill his cousin had in his hand. “First thing tomorrow morning I want you to go down to the Albee Square Mall and buy a coat before you catch pneumonia.”
“For real? Aw man, wow. Thanks, Cuzzo. That’s really decent of you. Man lately I been so broke, if a mugger robs me, he’s just practicing.”
Havoc had to laugh at that one. “Don’t sweat it we’re family. What about A.J. and Laquita? They straight?” Bug-Out’s eyes dropped to the ground in shame. Without hesitation, Havoc reached into one of his payment envelopes and withdrew three more hundred-dollar bills and a fifty. A sneaky smile formed in the corner of Bug-Out’s mouth that quickly vanished as his cousin handed him the money. “That’s enough to get everybody a coat, the phone turned back on plus a toy for little man.”
“Thanks, cuzzin. And I promise, as soon as I find a job I’ma pay you back every red cent. With interest. Unless of course you and Mayhem are looking to turn your duo into a trio.”
“We aren’t.” Havoc quickly responded.
“Dang, you could at least front like you gave it some thought before dismissing it. I can be a valuable asset to your team.” The skinny man said swinging his fists at invisible enemies.
Havoc shook his head grinning. “Not with them Gumby arms of yours you can’t. Look, I told you don’t worry about paying me back.” he said since he never loaned out money he couldn’t afford to get back.
“No, I insist. As hard as you work for yours. Listen, Laquita ain’t cook so I’ma run up in Mamma’s real quick and order me a center breast and fries. Cool?” Havoc nodded suspiciously. No matter how bad things got he could not remember a time his cousin’s girlfriend and mother of his son didn’t have a steaming pot on the stove.
“Fine, just make sure you do the right thing with that money.” Havoc said adamantly.
“Of course, I am. What else would I do with it?”
“Um, nothing. Never mind.” Havoc said regretting he went there.
Bug-Out recognized the accusatory look his cousin gave him. It was the same look he had been getting lately, since the rumors started. “Aw shit! Not you too.” He said with a wounded look.
“Not me what?” Havoc asked avoiding eye contact.
“Listening to what them fools on the Ave been going around saying. That I’m basing. That’s what!” Bug-Out said getting defensive.
“Relax. I didn’t accuse you of anything.”
“You ain’t gotta. It’s written all over your face cuzzin. This is straight up whack! Look man if you’re gonna start going by what everyone else says then I don’t want your damn money.” Bug-Out said, but at the same time made no attempt to give the money back. “You just finished saying that we’re family then you turn around and give me looks like I’m a freaking leper or something!”
Havoc sighed heavily and nodded. “You’re right man. My bad. It’s just that you used to look so well-put together and now…this.” He said waving his hand over Bug-Out.
“What can I tell you? Times is hard on the boulevard.”
Havoc leaned back in his seat staring up at the ceiling. “Check it out, you keep that-what I gave you, and no more talk about last year’s drama. This is a whole new year full of countless possibilities. So, we cool?” Havoc said offering his hand.
Bug-Out glared at his cousin then smiled and shook his hand. “Yeah, we cool. Hey I was thinking. I may know of a way to change my current unemployed situation around and make some loot.”
“Doing what?” Havoc asked.
“Writing plays.”
“Plays? Cousin what do you know about writing plays?”
“What’s there to know? Hell, look at all of them plays they got out now making crazy dough. Momma I wanna sing, The Diary of Black Men, Beauty Shop. If Shelly Garrett can do it why not me?”
“You’re serious?” Havoc asked shaking his head.
“As a heart attack. I even came up with a few names for potential plays, check it out.” Bug-Out said then cleared his throat. “Coming to the Marcy Project Community Center for a limited engagement. A play by Alonzo T. Strong the man who brought you the off-off-off Broadway runaway hit, Who, drank all the Kool Aid: A Ghetto Mystery, brings to you, Lord Momma done burnt the Chicken, Again.” Havoc cracked up at his cousin’s foolishness. “Okay that one does sound a little ill but how about, Momma, cause you know all black plays gotta have the word Momma in there somewhere, Momma It’s the First of the Month and the Check Ain’t Here: A Ghetto Tragedy. And after it blows up you know what’s next, right? The sequel, Momma, It’s the fifteenth and the Check Still Ain’t Here. So what do you think?”
By now Havoc was laughing hysterically at his comedic antics and had to wipe the tears from his eyes. “Hey I can’t knock your hustle cousin. If you want to write plays I say go for it. In fact on opening night I’ll buy out the first row.”
“Thanks flyy guy. So I’ll see you next Friday.” Bug-Out said as he bumped fists with his cousin and entered a spot on the corner under a big white and red neon sign that read Mama’s Fried Chicken. He went up to the bulletproof window and placed his order.
As soon as Bug-Out spotted Havoc drive off in the reflection of the glass plate window behind him he canceled his order deciding he wasn’t hungry after all. Instead of heading towards Marcy Projects he jogged in the opposite direction towards a dark block in a rural area lined with run down bodegas, crack houses and one working street lamp, to feed a different type of hunger.
Chapter 4
As Havoc patiently waited for Mayhem to sniff out the right spots to do her business at, he could hear the muffled sounds of music and celebrating coming from within Smitty’s across the street. A group of passerby’s approached his car with a gathering awe like desert crash survivors coming upon an oasis. They could not stop staring at the gorgeous amazing piece of machinery with the license plate that read CODE RED and were especially taken by its vintage make and the way everything was bold and beautifully exaggerated, from the eye-bulging headlights to the wide steering wheel and glossy chrome 20-inch rims outlining the tires. As Havoc sat there out classing the Jaguars, Benzes and other expensive automobiles corralled along the block he smiled with pride along with the wide grille on the front of his car. Next to his family and dog, that car was his most prized possession.
The two met when he was out hunting for something that was a joy to drive but mirrored his character when he was working. Basically, a roughneck on wheels with swagger. He searched high and low, hitting up used car lots, police auctions, newspaper ads and car shows but none of the steering wheels he sat behind felt right. Feeling disappointed he decided to cheer himself up with a Shamrock shake and a McDLT. As fate would have it, just as he was about to take a bite out of his sandwich, a car pulled into the drive thru with a FOR SALE sign in the rear window and he felt that same giddy feeling he felt when he laid eyes on his wife for the first time. And just like then he had to have her!
Tommy quickly abandoned his meal and hurried over to inspect the vehicle. Although it needed some work, the vintage blue Chevy was by far the coolest car he had ever seen, multiplied times ten.
He made a cash deal on the spot and a handshake later the car was his. After a fresh coat of red paint and some major improvements like tinted windows, red leather interior, push button reclining seats, key remote, a cardiac-arrest-inducing stereo system and a turbo engine that could go from 0 to 60 in seconds courtesy of the talented Borrero brothers, the best auto mechanics in the hood. He had the bomb-ass whip he was longing for!
The back door opened and Mayhem climbed onto the back seat and pulled the door closed behind her. Opening and closing doors with her teeth, paws and tail was one of the many impressive tricks her master had taught her. Outside, Havoc popped open his trunk where he kept an emergency change of clothes. Rummaging through an A&S shopping bag, he removed and slid into a fresh red Chams de Baron shirt that wasn’t covered in his enemy’s DNA. He then got back in his ride and removed a bottle of Polo cologne from the glove compartment and spritzed his neck. He stared in the mirror, cleaned a speck of random blood off of his Gazelles, approved of his GQ look, then patted his dog affectionately.
“I won’t be gone that long girl.” Havoc promised as Mayhem licked his hand and gruffed.
Havoc got out and boldly left the doors unlocked. Driving a flashy car in a rough neighborhood might fan the flames of jealousy but he was not the least bit concerned about his car being tampered with since he had a one hundred and thirty-pound Bullmastiff inside waiting for someone dumb enough to come along and open the door. With his coat billowing out behind him in the wind like a red leather cape, he jaywalked across the Avenue and entered Smitty’s.
One of the selected few with enough juice to not have to go through the stop, frisk and cover charge procedures like regular folks, Havoc walked up to a surly Puerto Rican bouncer named Gabriel gave him a soul brother handshake and chatted briefly about his wife and kids before heading inside.
The dance floor was packed as tightly as a can of sardines and erupting with energy. Havoc momentarily stood in the archway bopping his head to, Shannon’s, ‘Let the Music Play’, scoping the scene and feeling at ease.
Smitty’s Supper Club wasn’t like the clubs in moneymaking Manhattan such as The Funhouse, Union Square, The Tunnel, Harlem World or The Red Parrot where if a guy wasn’t fresh, dressed like a million bucks, with a pair of Bally shoes and fly green socks, he was nobody. Instead Smitty’s had a more laid-back atmosphere where one could unwind and have a good time minus all the flashy B.S. and hype.
The décor was dramatic with white velvet drapes and midnight blue walls that boasted black art. Jazz greats such as Billie Holiday, Nina Simone, Sara Vaughn, Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis and Wynton Marsalis blended in with the likes of Heavy Dee, Karen White and Rob Base to give an eclectic mix. On any given Sunday young urban professionals could stop in for a mimosa and relax while enjoying readings by local talented poets and authors. In addition to its being rich in Black culture, Smitty’s also had a dining section where you could order a plate of mouthwatering soul food that gave Harlem’s own legendary Sylvia’s restaurant a serious run for her money. The house special was the fried catfish, shrimps and grits.
‘Groove Me’ by the musical trio GUY, was the next jam to spin on the ones and twos. The hit song was a personal favorite of Havoc’s and from the crowd’s volatile reaction everyone else’s too, as expensive outfits soaked up sweat. Bouncing to the beat Havoc weaved past people slurping flutes of champagne and blowing into noise makers while beating up the dance floor with the hottest dances like the Wop, the Smurf, the Cabbage Patch, the Roger Rabbit and the Snake. His stroll apparently had the shiny gold dog whistle and rope chain around his neck swinging enough to hypnotize random folks who stopped dancing and gawked at the bald brotha whose ghetto icon status was arguably untouchable, if not unmatched. The Black man many may imitate but could never quite duplicate. The Flyy Guy who’s escaped more pitfalls than that vine-swinging dude from that Atari video game. Havoc the Trouble Consultant. Fellas wanted to be like him with his stoic presence, tough gear and matching attitude. And the ladies wanted to be with him because of his good looks and the way he carried himself with an air of confidence that was so strong it was both intimidating and inviting.
“Careful ladies, you may experience eye straining due to excessive staring.” DJ Hurricane jokingly announced as Havoc nodded in his direction while making his way towards a vacant booth.
Across the room a cute honey-brown waitress with a blonde Salt and Pepa a-symmetric haircut and features that put Jessica Rabbit’s to shame, closed her Right-On magazine, checked her makeup then cut her 15-minute break short and danced over to Havoc’s table. She stood there picturing herself running her fingers through the nest of curly black hair that peeked through the two open buttons of his shirt.
“Hey Ava, Happy Year.” Havoc said pulling her from her trance.
“Huh? Oh-happy New Year to you too.” She said flustered.
“So what’s up? You look a little down.” Havoc inquired.
“Oh-nothing, it’s just that there’s this guy I really-really like who comes in here every so often. He has all the right credentials. Tall, sexy, has his stuff together and is so fine he’d make a nun reconsider her choices in life. But alas he’s not interested in me.” she sighed.
“Is he here tonight?” Havoc asked looking around. Ava nodded sadly. “Well I don’t know who this guy is but why don’t you try telling him you like books, music, good movies…”
“Well it’s worth a shot,” Ava said then leaned forward, batted her eyelashes and whispered, “I like books, music, good movies…”
Havoc grinned. “Cute. I must be slipping cause, I didn’t even see that one coming.”
“So, what brings you in here handsome?”
“Business.”
“Serious or Monkey?” she flirted.
“None of your,” Havoc winked.
“Touchy-Touchy. So what’ll you have?” Ava smiled removing a pen and pad from her apron pocket.
“Just bring me a large order of hot wings, curly fries, a double-shot of Johnnie Walker RED and a pitcher of bud.”
“Scotch and Beer? But honey it’s New Years. Check it out. I have a bottle of Moet chilling back at my pad. I get off in a couple of hours. We could have a private celebration. What do you say?”
Havoc smiled. “To be honest, I’ve had a real stressful day. I only stopped in to see your boss for a quick chit-chat, grab an even quicker bite then I’m out.”
“You sure? It’s not far.”
“Ava to be quite honest, I just wanna go home and go to bed.”
Ava licked her lips seductively. “So do I.”
“You’re kinda young to be coming at me so grown. How old are you if you don’t mind my asking?” Havoc inquired.
“Forty-one times five, plus two, minus one hundred and eighty-nine.” She sucked her teeth with her hands on her hips and a slight head roll.
“Eighteen huh? I figured as much,” Havoc shrugged without even thinking about it.
Being able to add subtract multiply and divide in his head without even giving it a thought only added to the list of reasons why Ava’s heart skipped a beat whenever her major crush stopped by. “Yeah that’s right. I just graduated from court-case status.”
Havoc eyed her from head to toe. Ava was definitely a dime-piece, but eighteen was too young in his book. Like KRS One said, the girl looks so good, but her brain is not ready. Plus, he came into Smitty’s way too often to have to deal with a pissed off waitress whose phone calls he knew he wouldn’t return after he tapped it.
“Why don’t you find yourself a decent guy your age?”
“You mean boy my age, no thanks. Look, give it some thought and I’ll be right back with your drink.” Once she was gone Havoc settled back into his booth on display to all the female admirers clocking him like he was a three-course meal. When some of the men on the dance floor noticed their women paying more attention to the black Adonis than them, they let it be known in no uncertain terms that
unless the pretty boy in red was driving them home they had ‘Best’ remember who they came there with.
Wishing Well by Terrence Trent D’arby played as Ava danced back over with a pitcher of beer, a frosted mug and his double shot of scotch. “Your food’ll be up in a minute. So, is there anything else I can get you?” the waitress asked putting her curves on display and giving it one more try.
“I’m good. But you could tell your boss I’m here.” Havoc said knocking back the shot in one gulp then pouring himself a beer chaser as Ava disappointedly went to relay the message.
A short time later Ava came back and set enough food to feed a small village before Havoc. “Smitty said he’ll be with you in a second,” she said.
“Thanks,” Havoc smacked.
“Oh you missed it, earlier Daddy-O and Wise from Stetsasonic stopped by earlier.” Ava said excitedly.
“Word?” Havoc said more impressed with how good his food tasted than the rappers Ava was name-dropping.
“Yup! And they was real cool too. I took a picture with them and everything. See!” she said handing him a Polaroid snapshot of her all hugged up with the famous rappers.
Havoc glanced at it briefly with an, ‘Umm-hmm’ and continued chowing down. Celebrities never impressed him. To him they were regular folks who made their coins using their God given talents. Kind’a like what he did. Some celebrities were cool and down to Earth. Like the time he met Big Daddy Kane and Biz Markie, at a charity basketball game at Rucker Park in Harlem but most he encountered seemed to forget that when they stepped into their limos the fans who put them there were getting on the train with a token.
After a minute Ava got tired of watching Havoc strip the meat from the chicken bones and walked off to check on other customers. As Havoc continued to grub the lights suddenly dimmed as the DJ put on the slow jam, ‘You Bring Me Joy’ by Anita Baker. Every woman on the dance floor laid her head on her man’s shoulder as he squeezed her tightly and together they happily anticipated spending a whole new year together. Havoc watched the blissful couples moving fluidly and suddenly lost his appetite and pushed his plate away then rested his chin on his fists.
Havoc and Mayhem Page 5