by Leo Sullivan
people. Her bottom lip began to tremble as her delicate starry eyes
began to brim with tears. Her features Nubian, like an African
Princess, she possessed the kind of beauty that should be captured
and placed on a poster for the world to see the destruction of
Black humanity. How the ghetto chews up and spits out children
like recycled waste.
Someone else was at the door, a body with no face. I was in a
fog. My emotions were on my sleeve. A voice asked, “Lemme get
six for fifty.” Just as I reached in my pocket and passed him the last
of the dope, a police car cruised by. Too close for comfort. I need-
ed to get out of there. I tried my best not to look at the little girl,
but I couldn’t help it. Her ebony cheeks were streaked with tears
as she cried silently. She watched me as if I were the one responsi-
ble for her tears. To the strongest of men, to watch a child cry,
especially a pregnant child is truly tormenting.
Keep the babies and
the fuckin children out the game!
I thought.
I heard a noise as I was about to leave. I turned around to see
Nina Brown on the floor on all fours, searching … searching for
an invisible rock. The dope was starting to play tricks with her
mind.
As I checked to see if the coast was clear to make my exit. I
tried to shake the scene from my mind, but it was too strong, the
voice in my ears was too much. The girl was now holding her
stomach bent over crying. From the look on her face I did not
know if she was in pain or what. My insides were killing me! I
decided right then and there, there was no way in hell I was going
to leave this child in this crackhouse. Gangsters have hearts, too. I
reached out taking hold of her little hand and together we walked
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out the door.
A cool morning breeze welcomed my damp skin as we walked
out of the house. It felt like I had been in a cave all night. It was
the start of a beautiful morning. In the blue sky the sun strobe the
clouds in search of its place in the heavens, while below in hell, I
was trying to make reason for what I was doing with a pregnant
child.
Once we were safely in the car, I watched her as she struggled
with the seat belt. “Oh, you’ll wear a seat belt but you won’t stop
smoking to save your baby’s life,” I said indignantly. She gave me
a look that pleaded with me not to go there. It worked. I swal-
lowed the dry lump in my throat. I realized that I was powerless
by her stare. I couldn’t help thinking how much she looked like
Hope. I had to turn my head.
After I drove a few blocks, I heard my voice ask ever so gently,
“Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?
“Yes … I’m hungry,” she answered in a bare whisper. I
watched as she rubbed her stomach. I imagined the life of the
child in it.
“Where do you want to eat at?”
She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, I don’t know. We rode
in silence. Up ahead I saw a Shoney’s Restaurant.
“What ‘bout dat there?” I asked, pointing. She nodded her
head yes. I thought I detected a sparkle in her brown eyes.
This was my first lesson in taking a pregnant Black woman to
an all you can eat buffet. The sister could throw down! She ate
everything in that restaurant, twice. Cheese eggs, strawberry waf-
fles, bacon, toast–they definitely lost money that day. As I sat there
watching her eat, it made me feel good, and the whole time she
carried herself like a young lady, polite and well mannered.
After ward she belched and we both laughed.
I drove to a Dollar General Store and gave her a hundred dol-
lars. We went inside and she bought panties and bras as well as
scented soaps and deodorants. For the first time she looked up at
me and smiled, it was the smile of gratitude, something that
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comes from a woman’s heart that melts a man’s soul leaving him
powerless. Black Pearl’s biggest strength–a child’s smile that
seemed to radiate in infusions of love–would, from that day for-
ward, be my weakness.
*****
When we pulled into the hotel parking lot, I already knew
what was on her mind. It was placed there by all the men that vio-
lated the sanctity of her chastity. Men that were sent into her bed-
room in the wee hours of the night. Men that stole her virginity
robbing her of a woman’s greatest virtue. These men had been sent
in payment for a debt in drugs owed by her mother.
“Dig Shouty, you can stay wit a nigga as long as you like, but
you got to keep it real, promise me you’ll stay off that shit. And
once you have the baby you’ll get back in school and tr y to do
something constructive with your life.” Black Pearl nodded her
head. She was not much for words.
“I’ma be aiight. I only star ted smokin’ when one of my moth-
er’s boyfriends raped me and forced me to get high with him,”
Black Pearl said confidently as she innocently curled her finger
around a lock of hair. “I tried a few times, back there with Nina,
I just wanted to fit in, needed a place to chill for the night.”
“What’s your real name?” I asked.
“Annie Bell,” she replied.
Annie Bell
, I thought. She’s a country girl in this redneck-ass
town.
“I want you to meet my girlfriend.”
Black Pearl jerked her neck like she had been hit with a stun
gun. “Girrrrrl friend!” she screeched like one of Grandma’s old 45
records.
*****
Black Pearl and I entered the room, shopping bags in tow. The
soft murmur of feminine voices filled the room, and suddenly
stopped, replaced with the evil glares you give a peasant or some
unwanted person. To my surprise, Trina, Tomica and Evette were
in the room. The air was tainted with the sweet redolence of per-
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fumes and Juicy Fruit gum. Shoes and wine cooler bottles clut-
tered the floor.
“I see you finally met the ‘if it ain’t nailed down they can steal
it crew’,” I said, sarcastically talking to Trina. Evette was sitting on
the floor between her lover’s legs, getting her hair braided. For
some reason, Tomica had this satisfied smirk on her face.
“L, why you give me that girl’s bracelet?” Trina asked, getting
out of bed. She was talking about the bracelet from the heist that
I had to knock the cop over the head for. I gave it to her before I
left yesterday in front of Tomica to piss her off. From the looks of
things my little ploy backfired. Trina got out of bed wearing my
T-shirt. I could still see the sleep in her eyes, or perhaps it was a
hangover. I noticed the bracelet on Tomica’s wrist. She shots me a
knowing glance, like she just scored points for the shit she had
started with the bracelet.
“And where is my damn money at?” Tomica questioned, rais-
ing her voice for the sake of a
n audience. Those Brooklyn bitches.
Tomica was talking about the money that I took from Evette to
rent the place for Blazack and the crew. If I didn’t know any bet-
ter I would have thought they conspired against me in my
absence.
“Don’t get used to wearing that bracelet,” I said to Tomica,
hoping something slick would come out of her mouth. Trina
hopped her ass out of bed, pink panties cutting in that ass. I saw
Tomica’s greedy eyes watching as she walked up to me and rolled
her eyes at Black Pearl, with all the makings of a cat fight.
“L, I need to speak with you in private,” Trina said with her
jaws clinched together like her teeth were super glued. On her left
cheek, I could see a small scar from where I slapped her in the
parking lot. Before I could answer, she pulled my arm and led me
into the bathroom.
“What the fuck you doin’ bringin’ that young-ass girl here?”
Before I could open my mouth to answer Trina made a face and
continued. “In case you haven’t noticed she’s pregnant.” In the
small bathroom, her voice carried like we were in an underground
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tunnel. Trina was standing close, real close. She was my boo, but
that morning breath smelled like pig feet. I took a step back, crin-
kled my nose.
“Listen, the girl doesn’t have a place to stay, she’s 16 years old.
What was I s’ppose to do?”
“You was s’ppose to bring yo ass home last night! That’s what
you was s’ppose to do.” Trina sassed, shaking her neck one way,
her hip another, with her hand on it, lips pouting, nostrils flaring.
“Instead, you come in here with this pregnant heffa smelling
like …” Trina was lost for words. She pulled at my shirt, using two
fingers like I might be contaminated, she sniffed.
“… Smelling like you’ve been up all night smoking crack,” she
finally said, her voice laced with the heavy accent of broken
English. A curly lock of unruly hair fell over her forehead. I could
see the outline of large nipples waving at me every time she
moved. She was not wearing a bra. Something about her began to
excite me, perhaps it was her animus, that rough and rugged fem-
inine part of a woman. I began to dig into my pockets and throw
money on the bathroom floor, and then I took the money out my
drawers and socks. Trina’s whole demeanor changed. I saw a glim-
mer of a smile in her eyes as I stood. This, for me, was a hustler’s
proudest moment, this is what I did best. Some people scored
touchdowns, others had their degrees for their personal satisfac-
tion. I had the glory of the game. To be truthful, the reason why
a lot of niggas couldn’t do this shit was because they didn’t have
the balls nor the hear t to keep it gangsta. I walked up to Trina,
eased my hand up under her T-shirt and pulled down her panties
with the other hand. She did not say a word as her eyes stared at
me defiantly, like when a woman is daring you, and at the same
time, I could see the surprise written on her face as I unzipped my
fly and pulled out my joint. She looked down and watched it. I
was on full blast and feeling freaky, the way a brotha be feeling in
the mornings. I turned her around and bent her over.
“Go slow,” she whispered in the echo of the bathroom.
I spit on my hands lubricating my joint and to wet the rest of
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her hairy bush but to my surprise, she was already wet. We got
busy in the bathroom. Some of the best sex I ever had.
When I walked out of the bathroom, Tomica and Evette were
gone and Black Pearl was standing in the same exact spot I left her.
“Where did they go?” I asked. I was thinking about the
bracelet. Black Pearl shrugged her shoulders as if to say,
I don’t
know
. As I looked at her I realized that she did not want to be
there. What Black Pearl didn’t know was, I didn’t want to be there
either.
*****
Three days later, me and my crew were encroached in a fierce
struggle. Like all confrontations over drug turf there were casual-
ties. However, when you execute a proper turf take over, niggas
normally catch on fast. Get shot, or get the fuck out the way–that
was Blazack’s motif. After all, a nigga wasn’t new to this, we were
true to this. Frenchtown was a hustler’s paradise. After a few days
of Blazack’s mayhem of pistol-whipping and kidnapping niggas,
we were presented with the keys to the city, so to speak. Niggas got
real friendly and even started betraying their homeboys, which is
normally the case. Especially with the women, when niggas come
from out of town stacking paper.
Finally it happened. T-Bone and Jackie Boy caught Dir ty in
the projects flaunting, trying to holla at a chickenhead. They split
his wig and robbed him for about three grand. He ended up need-
ing forty stitches in the back of his head. Blazack went on a ram-
page. His understanding was zero. That night, we rode back
through the projects, abducted an innocent bystander and beat
the breaks off his ass. Shot up the place, tried to air that bitch out.
Made that AK and street sweeper sing a song of the promise of
death. In the end, seven people were shot, two critically wounded.
I advised Blazack to tone it down, but he seemed to be possessed
with finding T-Bone and Jackie Boy, the niggas that had touched
Dirty on the jack tip. I just hoped that they had enough sense to
get out of town.
*****
173
Chapter T
welve
Chapter T
welve
“Crooked Cops”
– Life –
Blazack began to act strange, doing things that were not in his
character. One of the things that caught my attention was a phrase
that he would repeat over and over again. He thought it was the
funniest shit in the world. “If you got a problem, ax Blazack. If
your homeboy is missing, ax Blazack.” For all of us it was weird,
and at times, he was starting to spook the hell out of us. As a true
lieutenant he handled his business. In fact, we all owed it to him
for putting the fear of God in them niggas. “You got a problem ax
Blazack.” It took us a while to catch on to what the fuck he was
talking about. By the time we did it was too late. But the mystery
of how he was making people disappear was revealed.
*****
Soon I received a message from Stevey D. One of his guys was
missing. He wanted to know if we had anything to do with it. He
was real humble, like he was concerned for a friend. But I know
that he was really checking to see if we were beefing, too. I don’t
know if it was out of fear, or the coke that I promised to cop for
him, probably both. When he told me that one of my homies was
shaking down niggas, making them pay protection fees, I knew
that he was talking about Blazack. That was the same shit he used
to do in Miami. Extort nigg
as. It dawned on me that one of the
reasons Stevey D was calling was to see if he was on Blazack’s
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“must do list.” After I hung the phone up, I was pissed the fuck
off. Blazack was a walking time bomb. The shit he was doing was
for his personal gain, not for our benefit. I knew that I was going
to have to check his ass. The confrontation could not be avoided,
I had no choice.
Tomica and Evette formed a clique with Trina and her sorori-
ty sisters, the Deltas. I found out that one of the worst things you
can do is put a bunch of women together that are from New York,
mainly Brooklyn. They will turn a town full of rednecks and
country Black folks out. They called themselves “Thug Misses.” I
called them some ruddy-ass bitches. Tomica and Evette were still
mad boosting, but with the recruitment of the rest of the girls,
they graduated from simply stealing jewelr y and clothes to steal-
ing expensive cars. The other day I saw them pull up in the park-
ing lot, in not one, but two brand new Benzes with the paper tags
still on them. I was riding dirty. They were making so much rau-
cous I had to distance myself. I tried to talk with Trina about it,
but Brooklyn broads will run circles around the average nigga if he
ain’t used to the “Rotten Apple.” I could understand why it took
her seven years to complete a four-year degree in business. She was
scheduled to graduate in a couple of weeks, the same day as Black
Pearl’s seventeenth birthday. I took that as a good omen, especial-
ly since the two of them had started speaking. Trina couldn’t help
but like Black Pearl. She was a real trooper. She enrolled in school
to learn fashion design. After school she would come back to the
hotel, tired, and cook a big ass meal. Sometimes there would be as
many as ten or more people eating her food. Black Pearl was a
country girl at heart. I was so proud of her. I think we were all a
little worried about the baby, wondering if the coke she smoked
was going to have an effect on the child.
*****
Two weeks, two keys and three hundred dollars later, I was out
of coke and anxious to fly back to New York to meet the infamous
Willie Falcon at a five star hotel called the Trump Tower. He was