The Circle: Dayvid

by Ty Marshall

  “I’m good,” he replied meaning it in every way possible. “And she’s good,” he continued referring to Keyara. “I was just about to get her something out the vending machine that’s all.”

  “What I told you about begging?” the woman slapped the girl in the back of the head.

  “No she didn’t ask, I offered,” he said trying to save the little one. “I was getting something and she was standing there, so I asked.”

  “Oh a gentleman, I like that,” the woman said eyeing him up and down. “Maybe me and you can work out something,” she propositioned willing to do anything to score her next fix.

  “Oh nah, I’m good,” Dayvid quickly answered.

  The woman, seeing Dayvid was not interested, tried a different approach. “Maybe you’re interested in something else,” she replied placing her hand on her young daughter and nudging her forward.

  Fire quickly rose in Dayvid’s belly hearing the woman offer her young daughter to him. He grabbed the woman and pushed her up against the wall. “What the fuck is wrong witchu? I look like I like little girls to you bitch. What kind of mother are you?” he said pressing the gun under her chin.

  “Mommy!” the young girl screamed.

  Causing him to turn and look at her, the fear in her eyes made him loosen his grip. “Get your shit together,” he growled before turning and handing Keyara the snacks he bought for her and walking away as she stared at him.

  ***

  Dayvid stood hidden in the shadows near the dumpster by the back door of the club and waited patiently for it to open. Tired of hitting little spots for odds and ends, he was ready for a bigger score. But with a bigger score, came bigger risk. The Porters had hit most, if not all of the big time hustlers in the city, but that was as a team. Dayvid knew a lot of niggas had hired reinforcements after falling victim and his chances of pulling off those jobs the second time around without his sisters were slim to none. So it was back to being a stick up artist and doing kick door robberies, something that wasn’t foreign to him. He and Rain had pulled tons of home invasions in their early days, before Smitty helped hone their skills and they decided to involve their younger sisters in the family business.

  Routinely, the female bartenders would step out the back door to smoke their cigarettes. Dayvid knew that was his way in. All he had to do was bide his time.

  The vibrating bass of the loud music could be felt all the way in the dimly lit back office of the hole in the wall club. A thick cloud of smoke and the loud smell of weed filled the air as Pharaoh and two of his niggas sat around a folding leg card table counting money. Pharaoh, a big belly, dark skinned, grimy looking nigga with dreads ran the strip club; which rarely had patrons and basically served as a hangout for his crew of corner boys. All the strippers that worked at the club were part of his stable of bitches that sold their pussy for him. They did more fucking than dancing, whether it was with customers in the VIP areas or Pharaoh and his niggas. Which lead to the spot being nicknamed “The Ho Depot.” Those in the knowing, knew it was also the place to cop if you were a hustler in the city. Pharaoh had set up shop in South Baltimore a few months ago and started moving bricks seemingly out of nowhere. No one knew how the former corner boy had suddenly bossed up but what was clear was that he was getting it.

  “Nigga I’m telling you, I had both dem bitches in the telly turnt up,” Pharaoh said between tokes of the weed, in his deep, husky voice. He spoke as if his tongue was too heavy for his mouth. “They was on the molly, had em sucking dick, eating pussy, playin in each other ass, all that shit,” he said exhaling smoke and laughing.

  “Yo ain’t one of them little broads KP from West Baltimore sister?” one of the men asked.

  “I look like I give a fuck, little bitch gotta fat ass.” Pharaoh boasted. “That nigga KP a pussy. He wouldn’t bust a grape in a fruit fight,” he said passing the weed. “I gotta piss,” he announced rising to his feet, removing the gun from his waist and placing it down on the table. “Yo, watch this nigga here,” he jokingly instructing one of the men while pointing at the other.

  Pharaoh stood over the toilet relieving himself. The sound of the urine hitting the water echoed in the small bathroom in his office. Finishing up, he flushed and turned the water on to wash his hands when the sound of gunshots started ringing out. He immediately reached for his gun, only to realize he left it on the table out in the office. “Fuck,” he said to out loud just before clicking off the lights in the bathroom.

  Dayvid sent two shots through the door and was in the office immediately before the two men counting money at the table could react. Dayvid hit the first one with a shot through his throat causing blood to spew from his mouth as he reached for his neck with both hands. The other men jumped back from the table knocking it over, sending some of the money flying up into the air as he lifted his gun letting off an errant shot. Dayvid squeezed his weapon with precision, landing three shots to the man’s chest knocking him back over his chair.

  Dayvid snatched the bag off his hip and quickly began scooping up the cash, even the ones with blood on it. He filled the bag and headed out the door into the hall, only to be met by gunshots coming from the far end of the hallway. Dayvid fired a few times at the big bodyguard looking niggas making them duck for cover, giving him enough time to make a dash for the back door and out into the alley just as the gunshots resumed flying at him. Dayvid ran as fast as he could down the shadowy alley as Pharaoh’s crew spilled out the back door firing their guns at him. Barely able to see, Dayvid could hear the bullets hitting everything except him.

  Suddenly he felt a pain in the side of his back causing him to stumble forward. “Arrgh!” he yelled putting his hand down to catch his balance from the force of being hit by a bullet. Dayvid regained his footing and made it to the end of the alley, quickly scaling the fence to the waiting Toyota Camry he had stolen and stashed days before for the getaway.

  Pharaoh heard the shooting stop and slowly cracked open the door of bathroom. Just enough that he could press one eye up against it and see out. He watched as a man dressed in dark colored clothes stood over his two dead underlings and began scooping the money up into a bag. Pharaoh squinted trying to get a good look at the motherfucker brave enough to stick up his spot. As the man lifted up to leave, he was finally able to get a look at his face and couldn’t believe his eyes. His mouth dropped open. Hell nah, he thought to himself. Pharaoh had just seen a ghost.

  ***

  Dayvid slipped into his motel room undetected, the way he had most nights he went out on the prowl. He was in excruciating pain and had to take short breaths in order to get air into his lungs through all the discomfort. He tossed his gun and the bag of money onto one of the beds in the room and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. Slowly and gingerly removing his top layer of clothing he stripped down to the bullet proof vest he always sported and began unstrapping it. Barely able to lift his arms over his head, he was sore and suffering and struggled mightily to remove it. Dayvid looked in the mirror at the big, purplish bruise on the side of his ribs. From the way he couldn’t take a deep breath, he assumed they might be broken. He gently walked over to the bed, hesitating before laying down, trying to prepare himself for a long sleepless night which was sure to be a painful one.

  ***

  Pharaoh walked a few steps behind the thick, bronzed skinned stallion dressed only in a white spandex halter top and matching boy short panties, with a tattoo that covered her back and ran down the side of her leg. Her hips swayed as she walked and her ass bounced hypnotically causing him to fall under her spell as he admired the brick house of a woman. Pharaoh wondered what it would be like to fuck her and licked his lips with the thoughts of diving face first into that ass. She escorted him down the long entry way into the living room of the chic condo in the inner harbor.

  On the couch with his feet up, in front of a large 72 inch flat screen built into the wall, dressed in a black wife beater and basketball shorts, sat Saint; enjoying a Thursd
ay night football game between the Giants and Redskins, along with his partner Droop, a slim, light skinned dude who got his name from the shape of his sleepy eyes.

  “You like football son?” Saint asked Pharaoh without turning to look at him.

  “Yeah,” he answered standing near the couch breathing heavily from the walk down the hallway.

  “Who ya team, the Ravens?” Saint quizzed.

  “Yeah,” Pharaoh replied beaming with pride.

  “Figures,” he scoffed looking over at Droop who chuckled. Droop, like Saint, was originally from New York and though they didn’t know each other back home, the roots they shared caused them to form a quick bond since being in Baltimore.

  “Who winning?” Pharaoh asked as he moved to take a seat on the couch.

  “Da fuck you doing my nigga?” Saint asked hitting mute on the TV. “Nigga you ain’t got the luxury of sitting down to watch no fucking game. A lot of my bread is missing…on your watch, you need to be out in them streets handling that.”

  “That’s what I came to holla at you about,” Pharaoh said continuing to stand. “I know who it was that hit the club.”

  Saint sat up on the couch. Pharaoh had peaked his interest and now had his full attention. “Who nigga?” he inquired anxiously, his patience running thin.

  “You gonna think I’m lunchin’ but I swear it was King Dayvid,” Pharaoh confessed.

  “King Dayvid? Nigga is you smokin’ dippers or something?” Saint asked. “You hear this shit, Droop? This nigga said King Dayvid.”

  Saint knew the name all too well. How could he ever forget? The nasty scar that stretched from his left shoulder and down across his chest was a daily reminder of his run-in with the infamous Porter family.

  About a year and a half ago, Saint came to Baltimore and set up shop with the help of OG Juan, a major player back in New York looking to expand his drug empire. He and a group of Juan’s goons quickly carved out their own space in Baltimore’s drug scene putting their murder game on display for anyone who opposed their regime. Saint, the most charismatic, became the de facto leader of the bunch, ascending to the top of the food chain and enjoying all the spoils of being the nigga on the throne. But the fact was he was no more than a disposable figure’s head to a branch of Juan’s empire. Something he would learn the hard way after falling hard for Fallon Porter. Through pillow talk she learned about the stash spot in a self-storage where he kept all the cash and bricks. The Porters wasted no time hitting it and clearing it out, leaving him holding the bag and in major debt to Juan. OG Juan feeling the need to make an example for others in his crew, summoned Saint back to New York. Upon his arrival he was beaten, tortured, shot and left for dead. Miraculously, he survived and fled to Virginia, where it didn’t take the smooth talking New Yorker long to get back on his feet. Saint linked with a plug out in DC, then reached out to a few niggas that still fucked with him in B-More; Pharaoh being one of them and started moving weight again. He was the one fronting all the coke running through the strip club. Saint had put Pharaoh in a position to make more money than he ever had as a corner boy, gaining the round face hustler and his crew’s loyalty. That relationship was allowing him to slowly ease back onto the scene of a city he had been run out of. Business was booming and Saint moved from Virginia back to Baltimore weeks earlier to keep a closer eye on his money.

  “I’m serious,” Pharaoh declared.

  “Nigga you trying to be funny? Dayvid is dead,” Saint proclaimed. “Rain is dead and that bitch Fallon is too, if I ever catch her,” he spat venom in his words and rage in his eyes. He rose to his feet pulling the gun from under the pillow on his lap, cocking it and pressing the barrel of the gun to the middle of Pharaoh’s forehead. “Nigga you dead too if you don’t bring me my money or the head of the nigga who did it.” Just the mention of one of the Porters had him seeing red. “Now get the fuck out my house.”

  Saint’s glare was menacing as he watched the chubby hustler disappear out the living room before sitting back down on the couch to enjoy the rest of the game.

  “Yo, what you wanna do wit’ that clown ass nigga?” Droop asked in his signature slow speech.

  “Keep an eye on em. Any funny shit get rid of em,” Saint replied coldly. “I hate fucking with these B-more niggas anyway.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “He who hates disguises it with his lips, but he lays up deceit in his heart. When he speaks graciously, do not believe him, for there are seven abominations in his heart.”

  (Proverb 26:24-25)

  Nova was all smiles as she pranced around the great room in her new one bedroom loft apartment in the historic building on Tingey Street. It had only been a week since she moved in and she was still putting the finishing touches on her new place, making it feel like home. But the smile she wore was because of the guest she knew would be arriving at any moment. It had been forever since Nova had interest in anyone other than Dayvid. She had to think back to her earlier teenage years to remember the last person she was feeling that wasn’t him. But the butterflies she felt knowing Saint was on the way and the warm tingle in her panties whenever she heard his voice on the phone, told her that she was definitely feeling Saint in a major way.

  He was in town for the weekend, putting on a showcase for his new R&B artist they had spoken about on their first date. Instead of staying in a hotel Nova offered him to stay at her new place for the weekend. A bold step, but she liked the charismatic entrepreneur and wasn’t one to front about her feelings or intentions.

  Nova finally felt like herself again. Getting to know Saint and allowing herself to open up to a man other than Dayvid felt good. Saint got in town earlier that day but had been running around handling business. Nova had cooked while she waited for him to arrive. Her face lit up hearing the doorbell ring. Speed walking to the door, she placed her hand on the knob and took a deep breath before opening the door.

  “What’s up ma?” Saint said with a smile as he stood in the door. “Looking good like always,” he flirted.

  Nova blushed. “Come in,” she said stepping to the side allowing him to pass.

  “This is nice,” he complimented looking around the loft apartment.

  “Thank you,” she replied. “I hope you worked up an appetite while you were running around all day. I cooked.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yes. Go put your bag in the room and come have a seat at the table while I fix your plate."

  ***

  “Damn that was good,” Saint complimented tossing his napkin down onto the empty plate. That’s all a nigga want right there,” he acknowledged.

  “What’s that?” Nova inquired.

  “To make money, come home to good food and a woman he can trust,” Saint explained.

  “Is that right?” Nova replied liking what she heard.

  The two of them had been spending every minute they could with one another when he was in town. Saint kept her smiling, something she thought she would never do again after losing Dayvid. Nova often wondered what Dayvid would have thought of the man sitting across from her. She hoped wherever he was in the afterlife he was smiling down on her and her new found interest. One thing Nova was sure about was that he would want her to definitely move on with her life and live. Dayvid was all she knew and now she was determined to try her hand at life and love again.

  Nova didn’t want to move too fast with Saint, she wanted to get to know him more in depth. However, she couldn’t deny the chemistry and sexual attraction he and her shared. Saint was so sexy to Nova, from his good looks to the New York swag he possessed. He was bossed up and well put together. After being with Dayvid for so long it would have been almost impossible for Nova to be attracted to a blue collar, nine to five ass nigga. Although she should have broadened her horizons in her choice of men after such a tragic loss, she liked only what she knows. Dayvid came along and saved her from her person hell. He loved her, molded her and took care of her, that’s all she knew. Dayvid was a King and she
was his Queen. Deep down inside she yearned for the same caliber of a nigga.

  The showcase was in a few hours and Nova wanted to look her best. She knew all types of people would be in attendance from: industry types, socialites and top hustling niggas, not to mention Saint’s people. Nova hadn’t met any of them yet, since Saint made sure all their time was spent with each other. Nova had showered right after they ate and was in her robe rummaging through her closet for something to wear. She had just done a little shopping a couple of days before but still couldn’t decide on anything suitable for tonight’s event. Nova was startled by the sound of Trey Songz “Jupiter Love” blaring from her living room. Nova exited her closet into the bedroom door just as Saint entered the room dressed in jeans and a wife beater.

  He walked over wrapping his arms around her waist and began planting small kisses on her cheek.

  Nova rubbed the scar on his shoulder and chest. “You ever gonna tell me how you got this?” she asked.

  “It’s a long story, something I really don’t care to talk about,” he explained.

  Nova placed a soft kiss on his chest, then looked up at him. “I like it, it makes you unique.”

  “Yeah?” he laughed. “I never looked at it like that. What’s wrong? I can see something is bothering you,” he asked.

  Nova walked back into the closet with a look of frustration on her face. “I have nothing to wear. Your party is in three hours and I have absolutely nothing to wear.”

  Saint smiled, plopping down on the bed watching Nova sprout grey hairs stressing to find something. While she stood on her tip toes trying to reach for a box of shoes at the top of her closet, Saint admired the curves on her body. Nova’s heart shaped bubble sat perfectly on her backside and her thick thighs enhanced her curves. Looking at Nova made his manhood rise and stiffen. He got up and walked behind her, pulling her arms down and grabbing her waist. Saint leaned into her and spoke softly in her ear.

  “All that shopping you did the other day and you can’t find anything? How about you relax and let me pick something out for you to wear.”