The Fix 3

by K'wan

  Richard did something unusual and placed his hand over Persia’s. “When are you gonna stop dragging that heavy ball and chain? Yes, you’ve made mistakes in life, and you’ll likely make plenty more before it’s all said and done, but you can’t let what you did dictate what you’ll go on to do. That’s no way to live. Your past is called the past for a reason. Leave it behind you.”

  “I’m trying, but it’s hard to keep my past behind me when it keeps jumping out in front of me. No matter how hard I try I can’t seem to outrun it,” Persia said with tears dancing in the corners of her eyes.

  “Then stop running and start fighting. The only way you’ll be able to finally lay your demons to rest is to kill them. You’ve got to put whatever is troubling you in the ground and bury it once and for all,” Richard told her.

  “What if I’m not strong enough?”

  Richard gently lifted her chin and looked her in the eyes. “Sweetie, you are far stronger than you think. Strength is a trait all the women in your family carry. It’s in your blood. Take it from someone who knows.”

  Richard had been speaking metaphorically, but to Persia his words rang quite literally. It was time for her to exorcise her demons once and for all.

  “Thank you, I really needed to hear that just now.” Persia gave him a big hug. When she inhaled a somewhat familiar scent tickled her nose. She sat back and gave Richard a curious look. “Have you been smoking?”

  CHAPTER 25

  Li’l Monk floored it and the Bonneville jumped through the red light, nearly getting sideswiped by a bus. Blood covered the windshield making it hard for him to see in front of him, but there was no time to clean it off. He whipped the car through traffic trying to evade whoever was chasing them. Li’l Monk heard the shotgun kick again and his rear window exploded in a spray of glass. He made a hard right trying to shake them and saw a woman step out into traffic at the last minute. He yanked the wheel trying to avoid hitting her and lost control of the car, running up on the sidewalk and crashing into a street light. The seat belt cut into his shoulder as his body was thrown forward and his head hit the steering wheel with so much force that he thought he cracked his forehead.

  The world swam in big, beautiful colors and for a few seconds Li’l Monk wasn’t sitting in what was left of his mangled Bonneville, but walking hand and hand through a field of flowers with Sophie. The vision faded when he heard the screeching of tires. He glanced around, dizzily trying to get his bearings. The front was completely ruined and there was glass everywhere. Poor headless Charlie had gone through the windshield and was splayed out on what was left of the hood. The only thing that saved Li’l Monk from being thrown from the car too was the fact that he was wearing his seat belt. Through a haze of pain, he looked up in his rearview mirror and saw the shadows of several men getting out of the Nova behind him. If they trapped him in the car, he was as good as dead.

  Li’l Monk tried to retrieve his pistol, but it was stuck between the seat and now crumpled center console, leaving him defenseless. When he tried to get out of the car the seat belt held fast. Li’l Monk tried to pop the release but it no longer worked. He grabbed a piece of the windshield’s glass and cut through the fabric, opening a nasty gash in his hand in the process. Li’l Monk’s hand was bleeding like a stuck pig and would probably need stitches, but he was free. He pushed the car door open and spilled out onto his hands and knees.

  “He’s still alive!” he heard one of the men shout.

  Fighting against the pain, Li’l Monk got to his feet and took off running. Every step he took sent a wave of pain through his body, but his adrenaline kept him on his feet. Li’l Monk rounded the corner and cut down a dark block. All he had to do was make it to the next block, which was well lit and full of people. Whoever was after him wouldn’t dare gun him down in front of so many witnesses . . . or so he hoped.

  Behind him Li’l Monk could hear the footfalls of the men pursuing him. They were getting closer. Willing himself on, Li’l Monk sped up. He could see the lights of the bodega on the next block. He was almost there. Li’l Monk was mere feet from the corner when someone stepped out into his path. He tried to stop, but his momentum carried him forward. There was a sharp pain in his gut as something hard slammed into it and sent him spilling onto his face. Li’l Monk rolled over onto his back and saw a masked man standing over him, holding a shotgun.

  “Where are you going when the party is just getting started?” the man wielding the shotgun taunted him.

  “Jesus, that fucker is fast!” Another of the masked men joined them. He was breathing heavily from the chase.

  “Yeah, he’s fast, but I’m smart, which is lucky for you lugs. Told you splitting up was a good idea,” said the man wielding the shotgun.

  “What do you want, a fucking cookie?” A third masked man appeared. “Whack this spade so we can get the fuck outta Harlem.”

  “Okay, no need to get your panties in a bunch.” The masked man pointed the shotgun at Li’l Monk. “Say night-night, you ugly son of a bitch.”

  “You first,” Li’l Monk replied, before firing his heel outward as hard as he could. When Li’l Monk’s boot made contact with the man’s kneecap, the bone snapped like a twig. The masked man collapsed, howling in pain as he crashed to the ground and the shotgun went flying. Li’l Monk crawled on top of the screaming man and yanked the mask off. It was one of the Italians he had seen with Frankie the Fish at the steak house. The Italians would’ve never made a move against him without first getting Ramses’s okay. Once again he had been betrayed by someone he trusted. Mad with rage Li’l Monk wrapped his hands around the downed man’s neck and snapped it.

  The other three masked men surged forward and found Li’l Monk ready for them. When the first one got within arm’s reach, Li’l Monk grabbed a fistful of his testicles and squeezed. The masked man let out a high-pitched shriek.

  “That’s right, you little guinea bitch, scream for daddy.” Li’l Monk applied pressure. He was trying to rip the man’s nuts off when something crashed into his back and sent him back to the ground. One of the men had blindsided him with a baseball bat.

  The masked men began stomping Li’l Monk viciously and taking turns hitting him with the bat. After what he had done to their comrade, shooting him was no longer acceptable. They planned to beat him to death.

  Li’l Monk curled up into a ball trying to protect himself as best he could, but it was futile. He could feel the light fading. As he was taking what he was sure were his last breaths his mind went to Sophie. She was going to be pissed when he didn’t show up to eat the dinner she’d prepared for him.

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you do what it is that you’re planning,” a voice called from behind the Italians. They turned to see a tall man wearing a tattered overcoat. On his head he wore a hood that obscured his face in shadows.

  “Take a hike, buddy. This ain’t your business,” one of the masked Italians said, retrieving the shotgun from the ground.

  “Anytime a white boy spills the blood of an innocent black man on these streets, it becomes my business,” he said in a tone that was somewhat familiar to Li’l Monk. “You chumps look real bad ass, jumping a wounded man.” Two machetes slid down from within the sleeves of his jacket. “Let’s see if I can help make this a fair fight.”

  The Italians surged forward toward the hooded man. When he moved it was like watching a leaf falling from a tree, graceful and steady. The first to reach him was a man who had hit Li’l Monk with the baseball bat. When he swung the bat the machete met it midair, and cleaved not only the wood but the lower half of the man’s face. Never breaking his motion the hooded man brought the second machete around and buried it in the space between his neck and his shoulder. Planting his foot on the Italian’s chest, the hooded man pushed, freeing his machete and sending the body flying into the second Italian who had been advancing on them, knocking him to the ground. Before he could crawl from under the corpse the hooded man struck with the other machete an
d ended him.

  The masked man holding the shotgun was just bringing the weapon into play, hands trembling as he took aim. Before he could squeeze the trigger, one of the machetes sailed end over end and buried itself in his chest. The hooded man casually strolled over and regarded his would-be killer. The man who had been previously holding the shotgun was on the ground, clutching at the machete handle and howling in pain. When the hooded man removed the machete, blood shot up from the wound like a fountain.

  “You’re dead . . . fucking dead,” the bleeding Italian rasped.

  The hooded man expertly twirled the machete. “We’ve all got to leave this world at one point or another, but some of us must go sooner than others.” He brought the blade down and cut off the Italian’s head.

  Li’l Monk lay on his side, racked with pain and floating in and out of consciousness. He watched through a haze as the hooded man cleaned his blades on the clothes of the dead Italians before stalking slowly toward Li’l Monk. Li’l Monk’s brain screamed for him to get up and run, but he had not the strength left. If this was to be his time, there wasn’t much he could do about it. The man knelt next to Li’l Monk and pushed his hood back, revealing his face.

  “You?” Li’l Monk croaked before succumbing to his wounds and passing out.

  PART IV

  TRIPLE CROSS

  CHAPTER 26

  Omega hit the block early that morning. He had been bullshitting around and partying the last few days and needed to get back to business. He needed to check in with all the trap houses and make sure the corner boys had what they needed and understood where it needed to go. Something that used to take a few hours at best would likely take double the time that day because he didn’t have Li’l Monk to split the duties with. He hadn’t heard from Li’l Monk since the night before, and something about it bothered him. It wasn’t beyond Li’l Monk to disappear for a day or so at a time when he was with Sophie, but something about this time felt different.

  The news he’d gotten from Ramses didn’t help. He’d heard that Chucky was back into town. Chucky had been like a virus that they just couldn’t seem to get rid of. His very existence drove Ramses mad because Chucky being his protégé was a constant reminder of his failure. He wanted Chucky exterminated at all costs, but it had not proven to be an easy task. Chucky was as slippery as a snake and just as deadly. He was a man who knew how to carry a grudge and he had never been a fan of Li’l Monk. If Omega didn’t hear from Li’l Monk by that afternoon he was going to go looking for him.

  He had Paulie, Blue, and Dre with him that day. Omega didn’t like them being so close when he was handling sensitive business, but Ramses had insisted. He felt like it was time for them to come in off the corners and learn the trade under Omega. Omega never could figure out why Ramses seemed so big on the trio. Granted, he had hand-picked them but they weren’t the sharpest knives in the drawer. Omega didn’t feel like they were ready, but Ramses did.

  Lately Ramses had been recruiting heavily to thicken their ranks. When Omega first joined Pharaoh’s army it had been a privilege to be a part of it, but lately it seemed like they were letting anyone in who didn’t mind dying. Times were definitely changing, but Omega wasn’t sure if they were for the better or worse.

  When Omega was done making his rounds he decided to kick back on the block for a few hours so his presence was felt. He hadn’t been a fixture on the block lately and needed to remind everyone he was running shit on that strip.

  “You see this shit?” Paulie pointed at something in the newspaper he was reading. “It says they found some white boys chopped up in Harlem last night.”

  “Word, where at?” Omega snatched the paper so he could see for himself. It was an article about a multiple homicide that had occurred the night before on the east side of Harlem. According to witnesses they saw two cars speeding across 120th Street, with someone firing a gun from one of the vehicles. They recovered one of the cars and several dismembered bodies, but the other car allegedly involved in the chase was nowhere to be found. What really caught Omega’s attention was the last line in the article. According to reports one corpse discovered at the scene was identified as an associate of the Parizzi crime family.

  “What’s the matter, O? You know them or something?” Dre asked, noticing the peculiar look on Omega’s face.

  “Nah, man.” Omega handed the paper back to Paulie.

  A taxi pulled to a stop at the curb a few feet away. Omega stepped off the stoop, smiling and rubbing his hands together. Stacy stepped out of the taxi, wearing a miniskirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination and a cropped jacket. He had called her to come through and keep him company while he was hanging on the block. His gleeful smiled faded when Tiffany got out of the taxi after her. Seeing her irritated Omega because he knew the only reason she was on the block was because she was hoping to bump into Li’l Monk. Omega gave Stacy a look that said he didn’t approve of her bringing Tiffany along, to which Stacy shrugged her shoulders as if to say she hadn’t had a choice.

  “Well, well, how you ladies doing?” Blue asked, adjusting the brim of his baseball cap.

  “Better than you,” Stacy capped and leaned into Omega.

  “You’re one cold bitch, Stacy,” Blue told her.

  “Watch your mouth, nigga!” Omega checked him.

  “My fault, O. I didn’t know you was claiming that,” Blue said.

  “I ain’t claiming nothing but this hood, but when you see a lady in my presence you show the proper fucking respect,” Omega spat.

  “He didn’t mean nothing by it, O,” Dre spoke up, as always trying to be the voice of reason.

  “Word to mine, Ramses got some of you li’l niggas feeling yourselves, but don’t forget who still runs this hood.” Omega adjusted the front of his pants where he kept his gun tucked. It was a simple gesture, but the message he was trying to convey wasn’t lost on the new recruits. Omega was an easygoing guy who loved a good time, but he wasn’t above killing to get his point across.

  “So, what’s up, baby? What’s ya name?” Blue turned his attention to Tiffany.

  “Tiffany,” she said flatly, folding her arms and looking everywhere except at Blue.

  “Damn, don’t tell me this one belongs to you too, Omega?” Blue asked.

  Omega raised his hands. “Nah, I got no papers on that one, bro. She just doesn’t seem to be feeling you.”

  “That’s because we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.” Blue draped his arm around Tiffany.

  Tiffany knocked his arm away. “Nigga, didn’t your mama ever tell you it’s not polite to touch women without an invitation?”

  “I like her. She’s a firecracker.” Dre laughed.

  “Omega, you seen your friend today?” Tiffany asked, ignoring everyone else.

  “Nah, I ain’t seen Li’l Monk,” Omega told her.

  “That’s who you out here making sad eyes over? Li’l Monk?” Blue asked in disbelief. “Shit, baby, you need to be keeping time with a real nigga and not some zoo escapee.”

  Everyone laughed at Blue’s joke, but the laughter was quickly drowned out by the thunderous sound of Omega’s palm making contact with Blue’s face. Blue stumbled down the stoop, holding his cheek and looking at Omega in wide-eyed shock.

  Omega bounced down the stairs, and grabbed Blue by the front of his shirt, shaking him like a rag doll. “I done told you li’l niggas before about disrespecting my comrade.” Omega pulled his gun and placed it to the side of Blue’s head. “The next time I gotta check you, you’re gonna check out, feel me?”

  “You got it, O. You got it,” Blue said fearfully.

  “Now get the fuck off the block until I tell you that you can come back.” Omega shoved him.

  “But Ramses said we gotta play the block,” Dre spoke up.

  “I don’t give a fuck what Ramses said. I’m out here right now. Matter of fact, if you feeling some type of way you can bounce with the nigga!” Omega barked. “Yo, all y’all new nigg
as get from around me right now.” He waved his gun dismissively.

  Dre wasn’t feeling the way Omega was talking to them and his facial expression said as much. “A’ight, boss.” He nodded. Dre slowly backed away with Blue at his side. The whole time he was glaring at Omega. He would see how tough he talked when his security blanket was ripped away from him.

  “You handled them niggas like a real G, baby,” Stacy said excitedly. “I’ll bet he’ll think twice before he gets smart with you again.”

  “Stacy, close your mouth. Don’t comment on shit you ain’t got nothing to do with,” Omega checked her. He knew he had overreacted and it had been wrong of him to put his hands on Blue, but he was angry. The young boys were out of pocket for cracking jokes on Li’l Monk and he didn’t want them to think it was okay to disrespect someone who outranked them, especially someone he considered a brother.

  When Omega heard his cell phone in his pocket he quickly fished it out and answered it, hoping it was Li’l Monk. A look of disappointment crossed his face when he heard Huck’s voice on the other end.

  “Sup wit’ you, youngster?” Huck asked.

  “Not too much, everything good?” Omega questioned. He found it was odd that Huck was calling him instead of Ramses.

  “All depends on who you ask,” Huck replied. “Our mutual friend needs something done and it’s gotta be done tonight.”

  “You ain’t said nothing but a word. Give me the details and it’s done,” Omega assured him.

  “The groundwork has already been laid. Tut has got it all mapped out. All you gotta do is be there to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up,” Huck told him.

  Being asked to defer to Tut on a mission for Ramses raised Omega’s eyebrow. It was both a slight and suspicious that Ramses would let Tut in on organization business before Omega and he wanted to point it out, but he held his tongue. “Okay, what’s the business?”

  “We’re bringing closure to that immigration problem. We know who snuck old boy across the border,” Huck informed him.