Block Party

by Al-Saadiq Banks

  Shit, I hope he gets to him before this week is out. I’m missing a lot of money.

  CHAPTER 39

  Two weeks have flown by, and I haven’t heard from Ricky. I thought Junebug would have been handled by now.

  By the way, the drought is officially over. Last week Juan hit me with 20 joints. We’re back rolling. I still can’t fully move the way I want. You know I have to watch my back. I don’t know when Junebug is going to make another move. No one has seen him. He’s been real quiet ever since they put his picture in the newspaper. The less visible he is, the more threatened I feel. I haven’t been able to sleep in weeks.

  Two weeks from now is my sons’ championship game. They made it. I’m hoping Junebug is outta here by then.

  For some strange reason, I think that’s what he’s waiting for. He knows I can’t do too much with my boys with me. I think he’ll be there waiting for me the day of the game. I might have to pull them from the game. I would hate to do that, the team needs them, but it’s safety first.

  At this moment, me and Slim are coming back from making a move. My man just bought two joints. He gave me $56,000 cash money. The price has decreased, but it’s still not down to the regular price yet. Right now I’m charging $28,000 a joint. I’m only paying $22,000 per kilo. That’s $6,000 profit off of each one. That’s beautiful. No one can complain, because I’m still $3,000 cheaper than anyone else.

  I would be eating hard if I had the dope. Juan keeps asking me when I’m going to get some more of it. He’s stuck with it. None of his other plugs can move it like me. I wish I could take it, but there’s nothing I can do with it. I begged the Doctor over and over, but he won’t touch that shit. They really shook him up.

  “Slim, after I put this cash up, I’m going to pick up the boys, so we can all go get fitted for the tuxedos.”

  Slim and my sons are in my wedding.

  “I’m with you Big Time.”

  As I turn the corner, I have to do a double take. I can’t believe my eyes. There’s Sal walking down the block. “Yo, there goes that snitch ass nigga who tried to set me up! I’m about to bust his motherfucking head!” I snatch my gun from my waist.

  “Bang Man, you can’t do that right here. The police precinct is right around the corner. Once they hear that gun go off, they gone be on our ass. Let me handle it,” he suggests. Let him handle it? What can his old ass do? Slim pulls his razor from his pocket. “Circle the block and let me out,” he instructs. “Don’t let him see the car.”

  I circle the block like he instructed me to do. I’m still not sure if I want him to handle this. “Right here,” he shouts.

  I stop and he jumps out. I pull into the parking space just three feet away. Sal doesn’t see me. He’s walking, eating a slice of pizza. Slim walks toward him. As Slim gets closer to him, he turns his head as if he’s looking behind him. They collide into each other. All of a sudden Sal slumps over, holding his stomach like he’s in pain.

  Sal grabs Slim and they begin to tussle. Slim can’t get loose. I run over to rescue him. Sal sees me. His eyes stretch wide open as if he just saw a ghost. He lets Slim loose, and he tries to back away. He’s still holding his stomach. Blood is soaking through his goose down jacket. Slim must have cut him with his razor when they bumped into each other. I told you Slim is good with that razor!

  Sal backs up against a house. I walk up to him. He doesn’t say a word; he just puts his hand up to block me. I swing with all my might. Crack! I nail him right on the chin. I knock him senseless. His knees buckle. If it weren’t for the wall he’s leaning against, he would have fallen face first. Crack! I swing again and he stumbles. Then he shakes his head like he’s trying to shake it off. I can tell his vision is blurry. His eyes are googly looking. He can’t even focus on me. He reaches for me, but he’s off by about a foot or so. Crack! I swing again. Timber! He falls to his knees. He tries to hold onto my legs but, Crack! I uppercut him. The impact of the punch lifts his head up. His neck snaps back, and he falls onto his back. He rolls over into the alleyway. He clumsily tries to stand up, but I kick him dead in the eye. Thump! He stumbles backwards. Finally, he lands on his back. Slim runs over and swings his razor. Zip! The blood instantly pours from his face. It’s terrible. Sal’s face is open to the white meat from his ear on down to his bottom lip.

  It’s happening so fast I don’t think Sal even realizes it until he sees the blood dripping. “Aghh! Aghh!” he screams, as he holds his face. I stand over him. I draw my gun and aim at his head. I’m furious. This nigga tried to get me knocked off.

  “Please Cash, they made me call you,” he cries.

  “They made you?” I ask. “Motherfucker, you lying! They didn’t know shit about me! I heard you caught a case right before you set me up! Nigga, I’m going to kill you right here!” I grab the handle tighter and I inhale while locking my arm. I got my left eye closed while my right eye is squinted, staring down the nose of the cannon. The middle of his forehead is my target. I slightly touch the trigger. “Bang Man, not right here, not right now,” Slim begs.

  The blood from his cut is dripping rapidly. Damn, I want to do him so bad right now, but I know I won’t get away with it. “You better keep your mouth shut,” I whisper. “I swear to God, I’m going to kill you. You over right now, but I’m telling you to your face, I am going to kill you!”

  “Big Time, somebody looking out of the window up there.” I slowly peek up at the window and quickly tuck my gun away. We walk toward the car, leaving Sal leaking blood. We jump in the car and peel off.

  “I should have killed him right there!”

  “Nah, Big Time, you did the right thing. If you had killed him, homicide would have been at the house by the time you got there. They protect their snitches. See, that’s the problem with young niggas, they don’t respect code and honor. As soon as they get caught up, they start singing like canaries. It wasn’t like that in my day. If you got caught, you wore it.

  “You see, you got these young niggas riding around here in Mercedes Benzes, they got every color fur and the baddest wife a man could possibly want. I mean bitches so bad, they look like someone tore them straight from a magazine. Ask yourself, Big Time, do you think they ready to give all that up? Do you really think they’re willing to leave their pretty young girlfriends out here in the world and risk another dude fucking her and sleeping in his bed? She sucking his dick better than she used to suck her old man’s dick, and on top of that he driving the brand new Benz dude left back home. Nah, Big Time, don’t think for one minute that these niggas ain’t gone tell. They gone tell before they get in the holding cell. You can bet your bottom dollar on that. They ain’t ready to give this life up,” Slim explains. “But as far as Sal goes, I bet you he’ll keep his mouth shut now. Now he’s marked for life. Everyone will know he’s a snitch.”

  Slim hit him with the squealers cut. That’s how the old heads from back in the day marked the snitches. That’s where the saying ‘snitches get stitches’ came from.

  “That’ll teach him to keep that hole in between his ears and his chin closed,” Slim shouts. “Snitch ass bastard! I hate snitches! I don’t understand it; it’s like there ain’t nothing wrong with snitching now. Back in the day if you snitched, nobody fucked with you. Now if you snitch, motherfuckers will still get money with you and everything. These young motherfuckers got the game fucked up!”

  CHAPTER 40

  Two days later

  So far this has been a hell of a week. It’s only two days later and who do I run into at the traffic light?

  “Bang Man, ain’t that the Mayor?”

  “Where?”

  “Up the street!” Slim shouts anxiously. It sure is. He’s two blocks up, sitting at the red light.

  It’s broad daylight, 2 in the afternoon. The streets are crowded as can be. Should I get at him? Or should I wait until Ricky gets him? What if Ricky can’t get him? My sons’ game is less than two weeks away. This might be a once-in-a-lifetime thing. What if I let
him slide and he makes a move? Then I’ll regret it! I can’t gamble like that. If I start shooting, someone is liable to see my car and tell on me. Damn, what should I do? I’m sweating. My mouth is dry. Right now, I’m more nervous, than I’ve ever been. I exhale. “Slim, I gotta do him!”

  “Big Time, are you crazy? You kill him out here, we are going to jail!”

  “If I don’t kill him, he’ll kill us!”

  “Bang Man, you can’t do it! Do you see all these people out here?”

  “I have to. I let you talk me out of killing Sal, but I have to do this.”

  The light changes, and I drive off slowly. I can still see him. He’s two blocks away, but he’s cruising.

  “Think about what you doing, Big Time!”

  “I don’t have time to think,” I shout.

  Red light! Damn, I’m caught at the light, but Junebug is still riding. He’s going to get away. Damn! Oh no, he isn’t. He gets caught at the next light. He’s about three lights away.

  “Slim, switch seats. You drive!”

  “Psst! Psstt!”

  “Slim, just slide the fuck over!” I jump out and run to the passenger’s side. He slides over.

  Our light changes first.

  “Step on it!” Slim gasses up. We’re getting closer. We’re only one light away.

  The light catches Junebug. We’re inching up on him. We’re three cars away.

  The car in front of us turns off. Now, we only have two cars between us.

  “What do you want me to do?” Slim asks.

  “Just follow him.”

  There’s another head in the car besides his. I can’t tell who it is.

  Another car turns off, leaving only one car between us. The light changes. “Can you see who he’s in there with?” I ask.

  “Nah, I can’t see them,” Slim replies. I wait impatiently for the light to change. “Psstt! Psstt!” Damn light, hurry up! I look at the gun in my lap. This is a big motherfucker; it’s a chrome 11 shot forty- five. I have 11 shots, but I hope I can get the job done using no more than two. I have to finish the passenger too. I can’t afford to leave a witness.

  The light changes. Junebug turns on his right blinker. He turns slowly. The car in front of us hasn’t moved yet. The car has out of state plates. The driver is an old man. He’s looking around as if he’s lost. I reach over and mash the horn. Beep! Beep! Beep! He still doesn’t budge. “Slim, go around this motherfucker!”

  Now Junebug is halfway down the block.

  “Catch him!”

  “Calm down,” Slim shouts. For some reason, something tells me Slim is purposely letting him get away.

  Junebug gets caught at another light. We pull up right behind him. He’s so busy running his mouth, he doesn’t even notice us.

  “You see that cop car over there, right?” Slim asks.

  While waiting at the light, the passenger door opens slowly. It’s a woman. I can see her stilettos coming from the door. It’s the Chinese girl. What is she doing? The trunk pops open. She quickly runs to the trunk and grabs a shopping bag. She looks at us as she closes the trunk, but she can’t see through the dark windows.

  “What do you think is in that bag?” I ask. “Do you think he knows it’s us?”

  “I don’t know, Big Time,” Slim replies. The light changes. The cop car turns down the block. Junebug pulls off and we follow.

  Inhale! “Here we go!” I shout, trying to soup myself up. The light turns red. I glance around quickly. “Pull up on the side of him!” Slim quickly dips around him as I roll the window down. “Cut him off!” We have him blocked in. The nose of our car is directly in front of his. Junebug quickly turns his head to face us, but it’s already too late. He looks me dead in the eyes as I squeeze the trigger. Boc! Boc! Boc! He peels off, banging into our car, but that doesn’t slow him down.

  “Stay on him!” I shout.

  Slim catches up with him. Junebug is driving recklessly. He’s swerving from side to side. We finally ease up on the side of him. We’re on the wrong side of the street, we’re riding side by side with him. Luckily there isn’t any oncoming traffic.

  I squeeze again. Boc! Boc! I can hear the bullets ricochet. He steps on it. A big truck is coming our way. “Cut over! Cut over!” I shout. We’re on his tail. I lean out the window and squeeze six times. Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! No penetration. The last bullet ricochets off his rear window and crashes into our windshield. Crack! Our windshield shatters. Glass disperses everywhere. I cover my face.

  “Aghh!” Slim screams. “I got glass in my eye!” he cries out. I look at Slim. His face has trickles of blood covering it.

  Junebug is hauling ass down the block. He’s gone. Apparently, his car has bulletproof windows.

  Damn, now we really fucked up!

  CHAPTER 41

  Only two days left before the championship game, and I still haven’t heard a word from Pretty Ricky. I called him yesterday and left my number so he could contact me.

  The other day as Love was leaving the school, she spotted the Grand Prix, parked right next to her car in the parking lot. Instead of calling me, she called the police and told them someone was trying to steal her car. They pulled off before the Police got there. Luckily, she spotted them. There’s no telling what those clowns may have done to my baby. I wish I could have caught them. I would have left them stinking right there in the school parking lot. Love knew; that’s why she didn’t call me. She told me she didn’t want me to cause a scene at her job. Plus, she doesn’t want me to get into any trouble.

  She’s terrified now; she won’t even go to the store. I feel terrible that I’ve put her in this situation. I’m ready to handle this kid Junebug. I need him out of the way. He’s causing too much tension. He’s gotta go. Every time I picture them in that lot parked next to Love’s car, I get furious. The thought of what they might have done to her if she didn’t see them. Who knows, they might have kidnapped her or killed her. I don’t know what their intentions were, but I’ll tell you what mines are; I have to finish him. Wherever I see him, I’m going to finish him right there. I don’t care where he’s at, who he’s with, or what time of the day it is. It’s wherever and whenever.

  Today is the first day I let my boys practice since Junebug called me with the threat. I’ve been sitting here watching them do drills for almost two hours now. I’m by myself today. Slim isn’t feeling well. He couldn’t manage to drag himself out of the bed this morning. His doctor was right. Some days he’s up, and others he’s barely alive.

  While watching them practice free throws, my phone rings. Ring! Ring! “Hello?”

  “Cash?” the caller asks.

  “Yeah, this me. Who is this?”

  “This is Ricky,” the caller answers.

  Yes, he has something! Please let him tell me he’s got something. “What up, Rick? Please tell me you got good news.”

  “Shit, I wish,” he whispers. “Cash, I can’t find out shit about him.”

  Damn! My hopes are crushed. I can’t have him running around here like that, especially after I just blazed at him. Even if he didn’t want to get at me, he will now knowing that I’m trying to get at him, even if he’s only doing it out of fear. “Nothing?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” he confirms. “His shit is tight as hell. He’s one of the best that I’ve ever ran into. He doesn’t leave a trace. No one knows any of his bitches, and his mother doesn’t live around here. I don’t know where to start looking for him. Do you have any leads on him?”

  “Nope, all I know is he fucks with a white bitch and a Chinese bitch. I never saw him with a local hood rat. All his bitches are from out of town. As for his mother, his brother Dre bought her a house down south somewhere before he went away.”

  “Shit! I don’t know what to tell you, Cash. I’m going to stay on it,” he claims. “I’ll call you if I find out anything. Meanwhile, see if you can find out anything.”

  “True,” I answer.

  “Later Cash!”
>
  “Later!” Click! Now what the fuck am I going to do? I was banking on him, but he’s clueless. I have to find out something. Somebody, somewhere knows something.

  After the practice is over, I take the kids to the mall to buy them new sweat suits to wear to the game. I buy them matching velour sweat suits and matching sneakers. I couldn’t take them to the local Mall, because I couldn’t risk anyone seeing us. We’re at a mall in the suburbs almost an hour away.

  After shopping, we sit and eat ice cream at the ice cream parlor inside the mall.

  We’re sitting at a booth in the corner. From my seat, I have a view of the entire parking lot.

  Ahmad’s ice cream melts before he can eat it. He has been asking question, after question, ever since we got in here. “Daddy, when I make it to the NBA, you ain’t going to have nothing to worry about,” says Ahmad.

  “You’re not,” I correct. “There’s no such word as ain’t!”

  “Oh, when I make it to the NBA, you’re not going to have anything to worry about. I’m going to buy you another house. It’s going to be way bigger than the old one.”

  The thought is good, but his chances of making it to the NBA are as slim as a dwarf getting drafted. I don’t mean to down him, but I don’t think he has what it takes to be a pro ball player. I would never discourage him though. I’ll just keep motivating him until he finds what his inner talent is. Right now, he’s chasing Ahmir’s dream. He only loves basketball because Ahmir loves it.

  “Daddy, do you think I’ll make it to the NBA?”

  “Sure you will! Do you know why?”

  “No, why?”

  “Because you are the man!”

  “That’s right Daddy, I’m the man!” he replies. “When I make it, I’m going to buy you a Bentley, too. Do you know why Daddy?”

  “No, why?”

  “Because you are the man!” he replies.