Hard White

by Shannon Holmes

  “You thought wrong.”

  Melquan was tight, he wasn’t feeling Precious’ drama queen act. It turned him off, and turning away, he totally ignored her. Melquan continued eyeing the good looking, butter Rican. He raised his champagne glass to the cutie he was admiring before Precious’rude interruption. Precious saw him smiling, and was about to explode.

  “Yo ma, don’t leave here without givin’ me ’em digits,” he said, knowing the comment would bother Precious.

  Jealousy raised its ugly head and Precious was pissed. She purposely bumped the table spilling drinks. The mess she created forced Melquan, Mike Copeland, and their groupies to temporarily vacate the vicinity. Precious was planning on bringing the drama, and walked away while a Mexican porter cleaned up.

  “You wildin’ right now,” Mike Copeland said. “If you gon’ act like dat you shoulda stayed yo ass home! Can’t take you niggas nowhere, I swear!”

  Precious could hear Mike Copeland’s comment and fired back. “Fuck you Mike! I ain’t in the mood fa ya shit.”

  Melquan continued to flirt with all the pretty ladies drifting by him. Mike Copeland stayed as far away from Precious as possible. It was clear from her stink attitude that at any given moment, she was ready to black out on Melquan.

  Once the area was all cleaned up, Melquan and Mike Copeland settled back into their spot. Precious eventually followed.

  Couple more bottles of champagne and Melquan was really getting loose. Dancing around with several flirty women, he was laughing, enjoying himself. The women walked away and with champagne glass in hand, Melquan was left two-stepping to the beat of Game featuring Fifty Cent, Hate It Or Love It.

  Hate it or love it the under dog’s on top

  And I’m gon shine homie until my heart stop

  Go ‘head and envy me…

  Precious walked up on Melquan. He was in full grove, holding his drink and two-stepping.

  “Melquan, dance with me…?”

  “Nah, I don’t dance,” he replied easily.

  Precious glanced at Mike Copeland, trying not to show that was pleading. He shook his head, sipped and spoke.

  “Don’t bother even lookin’ dis way. You know gangstas don’t dance.”

  “Whatever, Mike. Melquan will you please dance with me…?”

  “I thought I answered that one already.”

  “Melquan…?”

  “What I say?”

  Precious moved nearer to Mike Copeland. She was feeling dejected. Mike Copeland glanced quickly at her, and turned his attention to a brown skinned beauty walking by close. The gorgeous butter Rican pecan returned and grabbed Melquan. Dragging him to the dance floor, she moved closer to him. Much to the dismay of Precious, Melquan willingly danced with her all over him.

  “Did you see that shit, Mike? What your man did is soo foul. Fuck him!”

  “Why you gettin’ mad at me for…?”

  “Y’all are the same! I could be out fuckin’ with mad niggas. But nah, I’m thinking that the nigga wants me a little bit. But he playin’me, Mike,” Precious screamed, breaking down emotionally.

  “I ain’t the one doin nothin’ so why you screamin’ at me fam?”

  “This nigga don’t appreciate the sacrifices I’ll be making for his ass. How he gonna just straight up dis me like this…? But you watch... Watch, I got sumthin for his muthafuckin’ ass!” she said, sashaying away.

  “Precious do me a favor and make sure you get ya revenge on the right person.” Mike Copeland warned. “Miss me wit da bullshit. Whateva y’all got goin’ is between y’all so keep it that way, a’ight?”

  Precious said nothing else, but rolled her eyes at Mike and walked away. She gave no indication that she would comply with his request. Mike Copeland watched the sway of Precious’ hips. Damn! She sure came dressed to win her man. Mike’s thoughts were abruptly disturbed by another fatty swaying his way.

  Meanwhile, on the dance floor, Melquan was enjoying himself. It had been a minute that he had really rocked out, and was doing it up to the max. He never saw the two guys grilling him from the bar. Mike Copeland came to his rescue, alerting him. Melquan instantly saw the haters scheming.

  “Okay, Melquan that’s enough of this dancing shit. Fuck you think you is? Usher?” Mike Copeland said, brusquely interrupting the dance. “It’s about that time to bounce, my dude.”

  Melquan was having so much fun and didn’t realize that Precious had disappeared. How fast the time had flown. Mike Copeland downed another drink while Melquan wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with a napkin. Always security conscious Mike Copeland began to survey the crowd. Once again he spotted the same two dudes at the bar.

  “Yo, don’t look now” he said between clenched teeth. “But there’s two muthafuckas at the bar. They been gettin’ they hatin’ on all fuckin’ night, my dude.”

  Melquan coolly scanned the bar with his eye until he found the two men in question.

  “Yeah, Mike, I see ’em.”

  “They been eyeballin’ me for the longest, Mike. They ain’t been drinkin’, talkin’ to no bitches, lookin like they havin’ no kinda fun. Them niggas just straight sizin’ nigga’s up. Starin’ at us like they want beef,” Melquan said.

  “They don’t want no trouble, Mel.”

  “Mike, they sure actin’ like it. We gotta be careful goin’ back to da whips this ain’t exactly our neck of the woods. If they gone try sumthin’ they gonna try it then.”

  “You a’ight, Melquan? You not drunk or nothing like that, right?”

  “I’m good, Mike. I can drive. Now, I’m ready for whateva, and that’s my word!”

  “A’ight my nigga, let’s get da fuck up outta here then,” Mike Copeland said.

  They immediately got up and walked out of the lounge area and made it to the bar. Suddenly Mike Copeland stopped and smiled.

  “Hey man, don’t I know y’all from somewhere? Y’all look real familiar like I seen y’all before?” Mike Copeland said, wearing a fake smile. “Riker’s…? Up north…?

  “Nah nigga, you don’t know us. We ain’t from ‘roun here,” one of the mean-mugging thugs said.

  “You might be mistaken,you know?” the other said.

  “Yeah, my bad, I feel you,” Mike Copeland said, quickly pulling the burner out.

  It lit up the place in a hurry, and happened real fast. No one but the parties involved saw the flash from the muzzle. Then three shots rang out. Some patrons couldn’t hear the explosion over the music. They danced on like it was a sound effect from the deejay. Others who were close enough to see the spark, ran for the exits. The hysteria quickly spread like wildfire, and mayhem broke loose.

  Patrons reacted to what they saw others doing, and raced to the exits. Mike Copeland shot the pair of haters. One man was hit in the stomach, and the other in the back. They were both left leaking and squirming on the floor.

  “You right, you don’t know me either! If you did you would’ve known not to front on me,” Mike Copeland said, and casually walked out of the chaotic nightclub.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Risking It All… Blowin’ The Spot

  It was around noon when Melquan and Mike Copeland met with members of their cartel in the horseshoe. Smoking blunts, they spoke of the day’s business. The conversation soon turned to the previous night’s escapade in the club. The partying, the beautiful broads, and the shooting that ensued were discussed. Mike Copeland took center stage, recounting last night’s events. He loved the fact that rumors of the shooting had already reached back to the hood.

  “So I don’t know where these niggas from. I think Webster Ave or some ol’ place like that...” Mike Copeland started. “I really ain’t give a fuck. These niggas were up to no good, lookin’ fa trouble and recklessly eye-ballin’ niggas all nite.”

  Mike Copeland was animated, acting out the episode. With the crowd huddled around him, he was in rare form.

  “So sumthin tell me, go look fa Melquan. The dance floor was crowded
so it took me a minute ta spot him. Mel two steppin’ wit da bitches. The goons in the cut eyein’ my dude like he food. While niggas pointin’ and whisperin’, I snatch Mel off da dance floor, give him da four-one-one. When we get ready ta bounce, I walks over to da niggas on some humble shit and play their asses out. Once I got they minds off what I really came to do, then its blam, blam. Niggas runnin’ up out da piece like Godzilla comin’. You should a been there to see what happens when shit hit da fan.”

  Just then Melquan walked up to the group, and caught the end of Mike’s tale. He couldn’t believe his ears. Mike Copeland was not only talking about last night’s events, he was bragging about them. Melquan was furious.

  “Mike,” he shouted. “Lemme holla at ya for a minute…”

  “Yeah, niggas got what they hand called for. Phony-ass-muthafuckas!” Mike Copeland spat. “That shit was straight gangsta, my nigga. I just walked up to ’em muthafuckas and gave ’em da bizness.”

  “A yo, Mike…! What’s good?” Melquan repeated, gesturing directly at Mike.

  “Calm down my nigger. I’m comin’,” Mike replied.

  By the time Mike Copeland strolled over. Melquan was visibly upset. Mike Copeland pretended not to notice Melquan’s mood.

  “What’s good, my dude?”

  “I don’t know you tell me?” Melquan spat. “What’s the deal wit da shit? Why ya tellin’ these lil’ niggas our bizness? We don’t know what happened to them niggas. They coulda died for all we know. And if they did da charge just went from an attempt to homicide. Bet you didn’t think about that, huh?”

  Mike Copeland hissed, shook his head, and stared coldly at Melquan before he spoke.

  “Yo, stop bein’ so muthafuckin’ paranoid, my dude. These niggas already knew ‘bout da shit before I even said a muthafuckin’ word. Let’s not forget there was a few heads from da hood up in there all night long. Niggas talk, I didn’t even have’ta tell ‘em a muthafuckin’ thing!” Mike Copeland growled.

  “What niggas know, and what they can prove, is two different things. You just added fuel to the fire by speakin’ on it. Now you got about half a dozen witnesses that heard you say sumthin,” Melquan replied.

  “I wish a nigger would go to the grand jury on me. I’ll body anyone of them fuckin’ lil’ niggas… That’s my word.”

  “Yeah, but why even put yaself in da position, broadcasting ya BI?” Melquan said, turning away in disgust.

  Mike Copeland stood dumbfounded, watching his boy hurt and walking away. His tough guy stance was the only defense Mike had. It proved to be a weak one.

  Charlie Rock wheeled through the projects. He stopped to speak with a few residents, and saw two figures approaching him. Charlie Rock squinted to get a better view of them.

  He saw a tall, stocky thirtyish man, walking with a limp and another shorter one with dreads. Charlie Rock recognized the taller man immediately.

  “Oh shit is that you Justice…?” Charlie Rock asked, greeting the men.

  Justice reached down and gave Charlie Rock a handshake that lacked any emotion. His friend looked on without saying a word.

  “What up, ol’ timer?” Justice greeted.

  “Old timer…?” Charlie Rock repeated. “Where you goin’ with that? You know my name just like I know Justice. Ain’t that yours?”

  “Like I says, what up Ol’ timer?” Justice reiterated.

  Charlie Rock shook his head. “I ain’t doin’ nada, man… Just takin’ things easy… What about you…? When did you get out?”

  Justice glanced down at Charlie Rock. His expression was saying something other than what he was asking Charlie Rock.

  “I came home da other day. I beat da case at trial,” Justice smiled.

  “That’s a good look for you. I love it when my people beat ’em peoples in court. That’s what’s up. Anyway, how’s your mother doing?”

  “Fuck ya askin’ ’bout her fa?”

  “Man, I been knowin’ that woman a long time now. What…? I can’t ask about her?”

  “I could give a fuck about how long ya know her fa. Just make this da last fuckin’ time you speak ‘bout her…”

  “A’ight, yeah, I hear that. You got it, big man. Anyway, who that you with right here?”

  “Nobody…”

  “Don’t he got a name he go by?”

  “If he wanted to tell you his name, he’d have done so already. My man ain’t too, too friendly. He don’t like when certain peeps try to get too familiar either.”

  The man with Justice threw a menacing stare at Charlie Rock, and held it for what seemed to be an eternity. Charlie Rock fumbled for a cigarette.

  “Lemme git one of those,” Justice demanded.

  Charlie Rock quickly complied. His sixth sense was tingling regarding these two. He could smell trouble.

  “When you started smokin’? Musta picked up that bad habit in the joint, huh?”

  “Look I ain’t out here to rap to you about no cigarettes, and jail? What’s poppin’ out here?” Justice snapped.

  “Ya guess is as good as mine.”

  “You know everything. Fuck you think you talkin’ to?

  “A’ight Justice, you gettin’ a lil too disrespectful fa me. I ain’t got no time fa da BS. I got places to go and people to see. This convo is now over. Later!”

  Charlie Rock attempted to maneuver his powered wheelchair away. Justice reached out and grabbed a hold of the wheelchair, preventing him from moving. Charlie Rock turned around to see the mean mugging of Justice.

  “Now where da fuck ya think you goin’? I ain’t through talkin’ with ya crippled ass yet muthafucka!”

  “Yo…?” Charlie Rock said, wearing a puzzled expression.

  “Maybe I was away too long. I’m not in the know, but I been hearin’ that there’s a lot of money out here. Who holdin’ all da dough ol’ timer? I know ya nosey-ass knows. So start talkin’ muthafucka!”

  “Look man, don’t start me to lyin’. I don’t know a muthafuckin’ thing!”

  “Ya ass better stop lyin’ to me, you ol’ ass muthafucka! I already know ya know who holdin da dough.”

  “Look man, I be mindin’ my own business. I don’t care ‘bout other people’s shit. I don’t be knowin’ a damn thing—”

  “You keep lyin’ and I’m a turn this muthafuckin’ wheelchair over with ya ass right in it.”

  Charlie Rock began to squirm in the wheelchair, struggling to break free from Justice’s iron grip. Justice choked, laughing at the weak attempt.

  “Justice, you got me fucked up with all these other lames out here. I’m paralyzed, nigga! I ain’t no fuckin’ bitch! Now I told you, I don’t know nada! And that’s what’s up, muthafucka!”

  “I know you know sumthin, ol’ timer. You can bank on that. I hear you out here all the time, and you don’t know shit…? I ain’t buyin’ da bullshit.”

  “I don’t know shit! I done told you. I don’t know nada, muthafucka! Those who know don’t tell and those that tell don’t know…”

  “While I was on the Island, I heard that dis nigga, Melquan makin’ all kinds of move in da projects. They say right now, he da nigga…”

  “I don’t know a damn thing ’bout that. I don’t be makin’ other people bizness my bizness. Who does what, that ain’t none of my concerns. What another nigga eat don’t make me shit.”

  “So, you don’t know Melquan?”

  “Who that…? You expect me to know every Tom, Dick, and Harry who peddle crack’ ‘round this muthafuckin’ projects? I don’t fuck wit these dudes…!”

  “Really? That’s not da word on da street.”

  “If the street told you that, then that means da street can tell you better than I can.”

  “Listen ol’ timer, you better start talkin’. I’m two minutes off ya cripple ass. So stop playin’ games wid me!”

  At the same time an unmarked DT car cruised by. Justice stopped harassing Charlie Rock and watched the unmarked police car rolling by. The car stopped, and t
he three plainclothes cops paused looking at the gathering outside the project building.

  The plainclothes cops got out, and all the workers around Melquan scattered, running off in different directions. Melquan was the only one left standing. Justice and Charlie Rock saw the commotion. Justice was smiling when he saw everyone running away.

  “Melquan, what’s poppin my man? How’s business today?” the first cop asked.

  “Melquan, why did your boys run off when we were just dropping by? They dirty? You dirty Melquan?”

  “Nah, officer you got the wrong man.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “I got a message for your buddy, Mike Copeland. Tell him we got a Billy club with his name all over it. Let him know its six more stitches every time he runs!”

  “Why don’t he man up, Melquan? He got no heart, now? His name is starting to ring bells. Better tell him if he doesn’t chill, we’ll have a case with his name on it too.”

  Melquan remained silent. He had nothing to say to that. Justice realized that he couldn’t touch Charlie Rock. Not with the police around. The thought of bullying Charlie Rock suddenly left his mind. Justice would rather avoid police contact at all cost. Suddenly he released his grip on the wheelchair.

  “Whateva, whateva… This ya lucky day ol’ timer, get da fuck outta here! And you better not let me catch your ol’ ass out here again,” Justice warned.

  “Yeah, you got it this time,” Charlie Rock said, sounding frustrated.

  Nashawn was watching a safe distance away. He saw Justice and Charlie Rock. The police were questioning Melquan. He turned to his worker when the police left.

  “Yo, wait till po-po leave then go upstairs and get ’em gats. I see some heads that shouldn’t be out here today,” Nashawn smiled wickedly.

  Later that day, Melquan was passing through the horseshoe in his Range Rover. He was about to drive out the projects when he spotted Charlie Rock. It surprised him to see Charlie Rock standing with George, a well-known crack head. He pulled to a stop and George limped way. Melquan let down the window and spoke to Charlie Rock.