He had moved so fast that she had no time to protest. Precious ran to the door, hoping that Melquan wouldn’t do something he might regret. She was nervous about what Melquan might do next. She went back to the window and continued to watch the beat down. At any second she was expecting Melquan to appear with his gun blazing.
The unmistakable sound of gunfire suddenly caused all activities to standstill. Having heard it so much, most residents of the projects were immune to the loud clap. The guilty parties began to scatter like roaches when lights were turned on. Their eyes were desperately trying to locate the shooter.
Even the fiend, who was bloodied and beaten, curled up on the ground in a fetal position, looked around from his defensive position to see who was shooting. The residents of Edenwald projects scanned their urban terrain. They saw Melquan looking down on them from the roof with the nine raised high over his head.
“Git da fuck off a him!” He barked. “Don’t nobody else touch him. Dat’s my word, if anyone of y’all lay another hand on him, the next shot I let off won’t be in the air! Y’all niggas about ta make it real hot out here over some ol’ bullshit.”
The power of the gun was an intoxicating high for most of the youths. Some openly stared at Melquan with envy. With the potential for tragedy in the air, cooler heads prevail. Melquan had restored order. The fiend sprung to his feet, quickly seizing the opportunity to make his escape. Before anyone realized it, he was hauling ass in the opposite direction.
When Maria heard the warning shot, terror gripped her like never before. She stood frozen to the spot. Even before she heard Melquan issue his threat, she knew it was time to go. This wasn’t the place for her or her bother to be. They had overstayed their welcome.
“Jose! Jose! C’mon let’s go,” Maria pleaded, her voice crackling with fear.
Jose rushed over to his sister and placed a protective arm around her shoulder, ushering her out of the area. They left the bustling horseshoe just as all the other spectators began to disperse.
“Jose, you’re crazy to hang with those people—”
“Maria, calm down. I’m right here. Stop being a lil’ scaredy cat,” he chided her.
Maria shook her head, thinking how amazing it was that her brother had recklessly risked their lives for what a rap battle. She walked, staring straight ahead, wanting to admonish him, but knowing that would only lead to an argument, she let it drop. The incident had left Jose excited.
“Dat was crazy right the way they was beating that crazy head up. Then that guy just starts shooting off the roof,” Jose chuckled.
She was no longer able to control the angry raging in her.
“No it wasn’t crazy. It was stupid. Why were those boys beating up the poor man? And why does that guy even have a gun? He’s not a cop! Things like that give the projects a bad name. You just wait till I tell daddy!” Maria said, interrupting her brother.
Jose removed his arm from around Maria’s shoulders. He heard what he deemed to be reckless talk and no longer wanted to comfort her. The same event had affected each sibling differently. The violence action that had excited Jose had disgusted Maria. They walked the rest of the way home to their project building in silence. Each of them intensely contemplated what had just transpired.
Melquan returned to Precious’ apartment after leaving the rooftop. He stashed the gun until he needed it again.
“I’ll see you later,” he said then went downstairs.
All eyes were on Melquan, including the leader of his chief opposition for drug money, Nashawn operated on the other side of the horseshoe. He was the projects’ resident bad guy, and walked around with a chip on his shoulder. Nashwan, who stood five feet, eleven inches tall with dark skinned and closely cropped wavy hair, always had something to say about anything and everything. His mouth was the only physically imposing thing about him. His small, beady, black eyes made him appear sneaky.
Oblivious to everyone around him, even those who greeted him, Melquan waved and nodded in response to the outpour of greetings he received. Even with all the love that was showering him, Melquan could feel the hatred too. Overcome by a strong sense of someone’s intense stare, he did a quick survey of his surroundings and found the source of the ill feelings, right across the drive. Nashawn was sitting on the benches with a few of his soldiers, mean mugging him. Flaunting hostility in Melquan’s direction caused a light laugh to escape Melquan’s lips. It was pointless for him to acknowledge Nashawn’s presence in any other way.
Melquan saw Nashawn but their eyes didn’t lock long enough to make Melquan uneasy. Nashawn felt slighted by Melquan’s cool reaction. To save face he deliberately started loud talking about Melquan.
“Nigga’s fuckin’ clowns,” Nashawn spat. “What da fuck did that do? Huh? Niggas got a few guns and start thinkin’ they gangsta for lettin’ off a few shots. Now all of a sudden they wanna regulate the block and shit. Who died and left that clown the keys to the kingdom, huh? I ain’t havin’ it. I wish a muthafucka would say sumthin to the kid or any of my people. Word…!”
Nashawn’s verbal assessment of the situation had more bark than bite. Still he came away with the notion that something like this wasn’t happening again without repercussions.
From across the drive, Melquan could not hear exactly what Nashawn was saying. Melquan saw their nonthreatening stares. He knew that whatever the tough talk being made, Nashawn wasn’t prepared to back it up. It was all just talk. If Nashawn truly had a beef all he had to do was bring his ass across the drive and approach him. They could get it popping right then and there. Melquan tired get back to the business at hand, but couldn’t dodge the thought.
The drive was divided, and if a war popped off between them, the general consensus was that more people disliked Nashawn. In a popularity contest, however, the tide could turn at any given moment. Melquan was a good dude who never gave anyone the business that didn’t have it coming. Nashawn on the other hand, was a snake, the grimy type who would turn on his friends if he felt he could get away with it.
Melquan walked up to the guilty parties and admonished them for their senseless use of violence.
“Y’all niggas know y’all dead wrong,” he announced. “What da fuck is on y’all’s minds? We tryin’ a open this shit back up and keep it that way.”
The young boys looked up at Melquan nodding. They took their medicine in silence none of them dared objecting. They knew they were at fault.
As soon as Melquan was done, a motorized wheelchair, rapidly approached, guided by a middle aged, African American male. He was well dressed in the latest athletic apparel. Despite his physical handicap, the man appeared to be in an upbeat mood.
“What up, Charlie Rock?” Melquan said.
“Hey Melquan, what’s good nephew?” Charlie Rock answered, reaching out with a handshake.
Charlie Rock used nephew as an affectionate term on younger dudes he liked. There were no family ties between him and Melquan.
“Ain’t a damn thing, Unk. What’s really good wit you?” Melquan greeted, shaking Charlie Rock’s manicured hand.
He bent over and warmly embraced the man in the customized wheelchair, a sign of respect.
“Nada, but what’s up with all that shooting I heard when I was up on the Ave, nephew? These niggas wilding out again?”
“Nah Unk, that was me… These lil’ niggas out here were about to beat a crack-head to death over nothing. Wilding out, you know how they do? I tried to tell them niggas to stop. But they wouldn’t listen. So I had to pull out the hammer just to get their attention.”
“Man didn’t I teach you better than that. We only pull out guns for a reason, not for the season. A true hustla only uses gunplay as a last resort. Life or death…”
“Yeah, I know that, Unk. I was kinda wrong there. But—”
“But, but nothing. There are no excuses, nephew. You keep that shit up and you’ll be the hottest thing around here. Much too much snitches around for all that. These lil�
�� niggas ain’t worth the shells you spent to break that shit up. Next time fuck ’em! Most of ’em don’t belong out here anyway. They ain’t doin’ nothin’ ‘cept gettin’ in a true playa’s way.”
“Unk, you right,” Melquan conceded, taking a deep breathe. “Lately, I’ve been thinking about locking this whole thing down. It’s like every man for himself right now. And that ain’t gettin’ us nowhere. If everybody come together we could get some real money out here. We can bring the flow back instead of letting fiends go to White Plains or Boston road. We can bring it back to where it used to be.”
“That sounds all good. But nephew, you know these niggas. They love disorganized crime. Niggas wouldn’t come together to save their own damn lives. Let alone to get some damn money…”
“You ain’t neva lied. But I still think it’s worth a shot, though. There’s too much money out here not to try.”
“If you believe that in your heart then you should go for it by all means. Don’t let anyone stop you from reaching for the stars. Never let it be said that your ol’ Unk is a hater. Nephew, nothin’ beats a failure, ‘cept a try.”
The loud ring tone from a cellphone interrupted the conversation. Melquan checked the caller ID before speaking.
“What’s up, Mike…? You back? A’ight, I’m on my way up there right now. You need anything? Razors, sumthin to eat, drink? What? You good…? I’ll be right there.”
“Where you headed, nephew?”
“I gotta go see my man, Mike Copeland. He waitin’ at the spot for me. We gotta handle some BI real quick.”
“That’s what I like about you Mel, you about your business. You like that shit Tupac use to shout, M-O-P, Money Over Pussy. Lemme tell you sumthin, pussy is like snow, it’s fun to play in, you never know when it’s gonna cum and only some of it is clean enough to eat. Feel me?”
Melquan let out a hardy laugh. It was vintage Charlie Rock, he was good for that old school advices.
“That’s a good one, Unk. I’ll remember that. That’s all good, but lemme let you in on a lil’ secret, Tupac used to say M-O-B… Money ova Bitches… That’s just for the record. Now look, Unk, I gotta go.”
“Don’t lemme hold you up, nephew,” Charlie Rock laughed. He moved closer to Melquan. “Listen, before you go, let a nigga hold a couple dollars.”
“How much you need? Twenty… Fitty… A hundred dollars…?”
“Twenty dollars is good, nephew. That’s all I need.”
Melquan reached into his pocket and pulled out a knot. He peeled off a crispy twenty dollar bill and handed it to Charlie Rock.
“And nephew, please do me a favor and go put that money away. The police would love to run up on you and find all that cash. That money would keep ’em supplied with a lifetime of coffee and donuts.”
“I feel you. I’m about to bounce up right now.”
“A’ight nephew, watch yourself. Be careful coming in and out of these buildings. Ask me, I know that shit.”
“No question. Good looking out, Unk.”
Charlie Rock gave Melquan dap and watched him walking away. He waited until Melquan was out of sight. Then he signaled a dealer.
“Hurry, lemme get four nickels. And keep it on the DL,” Charlie Rock said.
Chapter Three
No Place Like Home
The Torres family lived in building 1159 East 229th St Drive, on the Southside. The brown buicks was nothing special, it was an exact replica of the rest of the other buildings in the projects. Marie and Jose had a hardworking father, Jose Torres Sr. to thank for their modest apartment and any luxuries provided. The furniture was adequate but not extravagant. Most importantly the three bedroom apartment was always clean. Jose Torres Sr. may have been raising his kids in the projects by himself. Mr. Torres did his best to keep the projects, and all the foul mannerisms associated with it, outside his door.
Maria sat on the sofa in the living room. She was quietly doing her homework in front of the television. Down the hall, Jose sat on his single bed. His laptop computer on the Internet, he was multi-tasking, watching music videos on BET’s 106 & Park and texting a girl on his Sidekick cellular phone.
The loud jingling of keys and the sound of the lock’s cylinder turning caught Maria’s attention. She greeted her exhausted dad, Jose Sr. as soon as he entered the apartment. The fortyish, single father smiled when his daughter raced down the narrow hallway and leapt into his arms. Maria kissed him on his cheek as her father beamed.
“Papi, papi, you’re home,” Maria said, hugging him tightly.
“Hey my princess, you make me feel so good after a hard day at the job. You make me wanna walk through that door again and again. How was your day? Huh?”
Jose Torres Sr. was strikingly handsome with dark piercing eyes. His black curly hair showed a few strands of grey. The bags under his eyes and calloused hands betrayed his otherwise youthful appearance. Jose was a father and a hardworking man in every sense of the word. There was nothing average about him.
“Okay Papi. That’s so sweet. You made my day. How was your day, huh?”
“Oh, you know the usual. I gotta do this and fix that. Ah I don’t complain, work will always be work. It always leaves you tired. Anyway, sweetheart how was school? You learn anything new today?”
“Of course, I did. We learned how to solve new algebra problems in math class today. I like math. Miss Henderson makes math fun.”
“That’s good to hear. I pay good money so you and your brother can go to Catholic school. I want the best for the both of yous’ future. I don’t want you’s to turn out to be working at manual labor like myself. I would rather you work for yourself versus working for someone else. I really want you’s to go college and become lawyers or doctors. Whatever your hearts desires… I want you’s to have a career, not a job. Anytime the city is in a finical pinch, they always talk about cutting jobs. I’m always worrying about being laid-off.”
Maria hugged her father and they walked back into the living room. Jose Sr. instantly became aware of his son’s absence. This raised some concerns. He paused and glanced around the well-kept place. His home was a source of pride and the things he provided for his children made Jose Sr. feel proud. After a bad start he made a decent man of himself by making a honest living.
“Where’s your brother?” he asked after a beat.
“Jose, daddy’s home… He wants to see you,” Maria shouted down the hall.
She turned to her father with a wide eyed expression then asked, “Guess what happened today, papi?”
“Tell me what happened, princess?”
“On the way home from school today, we saw these boys beating up a crack-head.”
“Wha…?”
“And then they started shooting and—”
“Oh yeah…? Where did this happen at?”
“In the horseshoe, papi,” Maria said frankly.
“What…? Jose get ya ass out here. Right now, mister…!”
Maria heard the anger resonating in her father’s voice. She saw the grimace on his face and felt pleased. She wanted to laugh, Maria knew what her father was about to do next.
“I’ll be right there, dad,” Jose shouted from the bathroom.
“Get out here now!”
“Yes dad,” Jose said, coming into the living room.
“Now, what I told your ass about walking through that damn horseshoe?”
“You told us not to go through there,” Jose robotically answered.
“Alrighty then…! Why the hell did you choose to walk through there on your way home from school today? Huh? Tell me why, Jose!”
“I didn’t mean to do it. I wasn’t thinking I was real tired and, you know… That’s the shortest way home.”
Jose Sr. took a deep breath before speaking. He was trying hard not to scream in front of his daughter. His stare alternated between both of them. There was complete silence before he passionately started his explanation.
“Look I don’t give a damn if it
’s shorter. I want you to go the extra distance to walk around trouble. I’m not concerned with how quickly you’s home. I’m concerned with yous’ safety… Both of yous’ making it home safely, period… For instance your sister just told me about the shooting and fighting in the horseshoe today. What if something happened to yous? Bullets have no name on them. I’ve told you over and over, think safety first. Don’t go through that damn horseshoe. God forbid if something was to have happened to either one of yous… I’ll kill or die for the both of you’s. Either way, please don’t make me prove it, alright?”
Jose Sr. was feared throughout Edenwald projects in his time. Having run with some of the most notorious thugs and murders that the projects had to offer, he had a rep. The younger Jose was not aware, but his father was no slouch with his hands or a pistol. His English was bad, but in the language of violence, Jose Sr. was very fluent.
He cleared his throat and there was a long pause. Both Jose and Maria listened carefully to their father. They knew he was right in every way possible. Jose was the first to respond.
“Okay dad, I hear you. We won’t go through the horseshoe no more.”
“That’s all I ask. Stay from over there and keep both you’s out of harm’s way. Jose, you getting older now you gonna have to be more responsible… Do the right thing, and I’ll give you the world. Do the wrong thing, and I’ll be on your ass...”
Jose glanced up at the vexed expression on his father’s face and knew he what was coming next. He would be given an extended list of things to do and there would be no videogames, no Internet until his father was over it.
“Okay dad, I hear you,” Jose nodded.
Feeling justified in what she had done, Maria sat smug on the sofa. Her father’s talk was what she thought it would be, chastising her brother. She tried to warn Jose, but he wouldn’t listen. Maybe now he would. She sat quietly watching as the two males in her life bumped heads.
“You’re on punishment for a week. Don’t even think about going outside. No more video games until I say so. Put that playstation in my bedroom,” Jose Sr. angrily ordered.
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