by Carl Weber
“A good steak is supposed to be eaten char rare, or black-andred,” he told me, sounding like some kind of expert.
“I would have never ordered it that way,” I admitted as I took the fork from him, cut off another piece, and popped it in my mouth.
Something told me that Niles could teach me things I didn’t know about a whole lot of subjects. All night we had been on the same page, and something told me that the rest of the night would not be any different. The longer we sat there talking, the more I wanted to show him something too: me, butt naked and writhing on top of him.
“I want you,” I said as we rode away from the restaurant.
Niles rubbed his hand on my leg and up my thigh. Then he placed his hand between my legs, making me want to groan. I expected him to reach for my panties, but he pulled his hand back out and moved me closer to him.
“Your place or mine?” he asked.
“Mine,” I replied.
Niles instructed the driver to take us back to my house. I fell back against the seat, a goofy smile on my face, because I knew that it was only a matter of minutes before we arrived at my place.
We’d just pulled down my block when my stomach started doing flips. I almost threw up all that wonderful food I had eaten when I saw the black Navigator parked in front of my house. “Oh my God.” The words slipped out of my mouth, unintentionally alerting Niles that there was problem.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, but then he spotted Bruce’s truck sitting in front of the house. “Who’s that?
I could hardly breathe, let alone talk. All I could think of was crazy-ass Bruce seeing Niles. Somehow I found my voice and pleaded, “Just go to your house, please, Niles. Tell the driver not to stop at my house. Please. We can’t stop at my house.”
Niles cut his eyes, studying me. He did not look happy, and I could imagine the thoughts going through his head. I was relieved that he didn’t confront me, but instead did as I’d asked and directed the driver to keep going.
He leaned forward and got the driver’s attention. “My man, swing by where you picked me up instead.”
As we passed the truck, I stared at big-ass Shorty sitting behind the wheel. Bruce sat next him, talking on his phone. In the back seat were two of Majestic’s meanest hard-asses, Pooh and Freddy G. I didn’t know what the heck they were all sitting in front of my house for, and I wasn’t ready to find out. Thank God for tinted windows.
We rode in silence for a while, but I guess Niles couldn’t take it but for so long.
“You all right?” he asked, and I realized every muscle in my body was still tense.
“No. I’m not,” I confessed.
“Who were they, and what was that all about?” Niles watched and waited for me to continue.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you,” I answered. “My son’s father is not a very nice person, and those were his people in that car.”
Niles’s face revealed his concern and his anger. “Maybe we should turn around and have a talk with those gentlemen.”
“No! God, no!” I said in a panic, feeling like I couldn’t breathe again.
“I thought you two weren’t together,” Niles said, picking up on my reaction. He was so observant of every move and every word. If anything more developed between us, I would surely never be able to hide my feelings from him.
“We’re not together, but it’s complicated.” My own words sounded hollow, but they weren’t a lie, that was for sure.
“Complicated how?” he pressed.
“He doesn’t want to let go, and he’s nobody to be played with, Niles.”
“Neither am I,” he said confidently. I was sure that if he knew what I knew about Majestic and his boys, he wouldn’t have been quite as cocky.
“Niles, those guys aren’t Rodney and his friends. They’re killers, and they enjoy what they do. Especially that crazy-ass Pooh.”
He folded his arms, ignoring my warning. “Well, you can’t duck and dodge them forever. Sooner or later you’re going to have to make a stand.”
Suddenly I wished I was a kid, like my son, and I could just stick my fingers in my ears and act like I didn’t hear him. I didn’t want to ever have to make a stand against Majestic and his thugs, although I knew that if I wanted this thing with Niles to work out, then one day I would have to.
Bruce
25
After picking up a stash of guns Majestic kept hidden in Keisha’s garage, I drove out to Amityville to look for DaQuan. There was a bar called Odell’s, right off Route 110, where all the dope boys and wannabes hung out. I decided to hit it up as soon as we rolled into town. Odell’s was more like an institution, and I’d spent quite a bit of time with Majestic in that place back in the day.
As soon as I got out of the truck with Pooh, Fred, and Shorty, this scrawny cat with a fake gold grill standing next to the door said to his mini-me friend, “Oh, shit. That’s Bruce.” As we got closer, he shouted, “What’s up, Bruce?” He was a little too familiar for a motherfucker I didn’t remember ever laying eyes on.
“Do I know you?” I growled at the fool as I looked him up and down dismissively, shutting him down just like the maggot he was. He snatched open the door and stepped aside as we entered without saying another word. His mini-me friend kept laughing at his ass the whole time he was fronting.
Odell’s was the kind of comfortable neighborhood hangout that entertained at least two generations at any given time. It had a killer jukebox and a back room with a pool table that was always in rotation. There wasn’t much of an age limit, and since everybody specialized in minding their own business, a lot of shit went down on the regular.
The bartender, Harold, a guy I’d gone to school with and whose grandparents owned the spot, broke into a smile as I entered and met him at the bar.
“My man Bruce. What’s going on, brotha?” We slapped hands. “Sorry to hear about your man Majestic. Let him know I asked about him.”
“I sure will, Harold.”
“Cool. What you fellas drinking? First one’s on me.” Harold knew this couldn’t be a social call for me to roll in here this deep. Everyone on Long Island knew if Majestic and I brought Pooh’s crazy ass out, it wasn’t meant to be social and somebody’s ass was about to get got.
“Nothing right now,” I told him. “We’re looking for someone. You seen that dude DaQuan Braithwaite around here lately?”
Before he could answer, Synthia, a cocoa-colored little shorty with a banging body and a fierce head game I hit every so often scooted up to me, poking her titties out like she wanted me to reach out and grab them. She had a man, but so did most of the chicks I fucked with. It was easier to keep them in line that way, and much less of a headache.
“Hey, Brucey,” Synthia cooed, cozying up next to me, completely oblivious to the current vibration.
“Look, I’m here on business, so go sit your ass down.” I didn’t even bother to look at her. My tone of voice told her everything she needed to know.
“No problem, daddy.” She hustled back to wherever she had come from.
Harold and the boys busted up at how under control I had these bitches.
Harold leaned close to make sure I was paying attention and gave a slight nod toward the next room. I waved to my guys, and we moved past the people getting their drink on, until we reached the back room. DaQuan and another guy, a redbone with freckles, were playing a game, while all their boys stood around watching and taking bets on the winner.
“DaQuan!” I called out right as he was about to take a shot.
He flipped the ball over the stick, causing it to land with a thud across the table, instead of sinking perfectly into the hole. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped, gripping that pool cue like he was about to do something, until he turned and saw that I was the one who had called his name. The wind went out of his sail, and he backed way the fuck up.
“Oh, shit. Bruce, what’s up, man?”
“What’s up my ass,
motherfucker. Let’s take a walk.”
He took one look past me at Pooh, Shorty, and Fred, who all flanked me, blocking the door and any chance of an exit.
“Uh, for what? What’s the problem?” Dude looked like he wanted to shit himself.
“Rodney’s the problem. Word on the street is you had beef with him. Now he’s dead. So that says we need to talk.” I pointed at the front door.
His eyes doubled in diameter. “Bruce, I ain’t have shit to do with that.”
“You can tell me all about it on our walk,” I said calmly, trying not to make a scene in front of witnesses.
“Nah. I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head quickly. “I ain’t taking no walk with you. I already said I ain’t had nothing to do with Rodney. You wanna talk, we can talk right here.” His eyes traveled the room, checking to see that his boys were all there to back him up.
“No, I think the conversation would be better outside.” The bass in my voice grew stronger, letting him know that I was running out of patience.
He started to get twitchy as he spoke, which wasn’t a good sign, because I was sure he was carrying a gun. “I know what happens on these walks, and I ain’t walking nowhere with you.”
Shorty took a step closer to him. His nickname was ironic, considering he was at least six foot six.
“Then I’m gonna carry your ass out of here, you lying piece of shit.” Pooh’s crazy ass leapt past us and slammed a pistol repeatedly upside DaQuan’s head, causing him to crumble to the floor in agony.
“Get that nigga’s piece,” I ordered.
Pooh reached down and found it as Shorty picked DaQuan up off the ground and slung him over his shoulder.
“I swear I’m innocent. I swear.”
You’d think one of his boys or somebody would come to his defense, but hell, we might as well have been ghost considering the amount of attention we got as we left Odell’s. Nobody said shit.
Twenty minutes later at the Wyandanch landfill, Shorty dropped DaQuan to the ground like a sack of flour. We’d given him a pretty good beating on the way over, but this fool would not crack.
“Tell me the truth!” I glanced at my watch and realized I was supposed to be somewhere in ten minutes, so as I stood over him I pulled out my gun to inspire him to talk soon.
“It wasn’t me!” he shouted, but at this point I was pretty sure he knew what I was about to do. Surprisingly, he sat up straight and looked me dead in the eyes. “I didn’t kill Rodney. And to tell you the truth, I didn’t like Rodney and was glad somebody got him, but that somebody wasn’t me. If it was, I wouldn’t lie on it. I’d tell you why I did it. Everyone knows he was living off his brother’s rep. Rodney was a pain in the ass. ”
“Yeah, but he was our piece-of-shit pain in the ass.” Without allowing him to take another breath, I pumped three bullets into his chest.
Pooh knelt down and checked his wrist to see if he had a pulse. He shook his head, and we headed back to the car.
Fred spoke up for the first time that night. “Yo, boss, you think he was telling the truth? He sounded pretty damn sincere.”
I stopped dead in my tracks, giving Fred a look that could have chilled the devil himself. “Who the fuck are you, Nancy Drew all of a sudden? Ain’t nobody paying you to think. Just shut the fuck up and get in the damn car!” was what I said to him, but I had to admit to myself that I had been thinking the same damn thing.
Majestic
26
The library went deathly silent as I entered, with the majority of the inmates either looking past me or trying hard not to see me at all. There were the bold few who nodded to let me know that they were on my team, or at least not against me. Riverhead already housed quite a few brothers who already worked for me or wanted to when they were released, so I had more than enough muscle behind me to deter anyone from getting bold and doing anything stupid.
“Majestic?” Sonny was a tall, lanky guy ten years older than I was, and one of the heads of the South Side Crew.
I sat down across from him so we could be face-to-face. There had to be close to seven other South Side brothers hanging close by, and each one of them was now focused on me.
“Sonny,” I greeted him, the whole time keeping an inner dialogue going about how I needed to keep my cool.
“To what do I owe this visit? You looking for a good book?” he asked. Rival enterprises, including gang members, usually steered clear of each other inside jails, same as on the streets, unless they were looking for trouble. A couple of his men moved closer so that they were within an arm’s distance from grabbing me.
“Need to have a sit-down with you.” I lifted my shirt and flipped over my waistband so he’d trust that I wasn’t holding.
He waved his hands in front of me, locking eyes with his guys so that they’d back off. “That won’t be necessary. Men on our level prefer not to get our hands dirty, am I right? I know that if you are coming for me, there is no way you’d come to this side of the building alone.”
I nodded. Like I said, rivals stayed in their lanes unless it was something serious, and this was the way to address those things.
“There’s some shit we need to discuss,” I said politely, particularly because all of his men were watching, and the last thing I needed to do was show any sign of disrespect. These young cats, like my brother Rodney, had to learn that there was a protocol that needed to be followed if we were to coexist.
Sonny motioned to me, and I followed him out of the library and into the long corridor. “Let’s go somewhere we can have privacy.” The two of us headed through the heavy door and into the common area that led to our cells. By the time we reached his cell, damn near everybody in the jail had heard about our meeting. I had to give it to Sonny; he definitely protected his back with this move. If he wound up dead or injured, the first person they fingered would be me.
A big, burly motherfucker about my size, with death in his eyes and ham hocks for hands, sat up from the bottom bunk when we entered. You know it’s real when you got your own bodyguard as your cellmate. I wasn’t sure what Sonny was in for, but he must have been expecting a long stretch.
“Eddie, give us a moment.” And just like that, Eddie humped his gigantic ass out of there, leaving us alone.
Sonny sat down on the bed and offered me a chair.
I sat down and began, “Not sure you heard, but my little brother Rodney was killed recently.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry to hear about your brother,” he responded, not taking his eyes off of me. “He talked a lot of shit he couldn’t back up, but so does my son Troy. These young kids are gonna be the death of us.”
“Tell me about it. But speaking of your son, doesn’t he hang out with that kid DaQuan?”
Sonny’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, they’re friends. What about it?”
“Word on the street is that DaQuan and one of his partners killed my brother,” I told him, trying to keep any trace of anger out of my tone.
“I can’t speak for DaQuan, but I can assure you that none of my people or my son hit your brother. Unless, of course, there was a personal beef between your brother and some of my people that I am not aware of that could have escalated.”
I wanted to call bullshit on his answer, because there wasn’t much a boss didn’t know about his underlings. People climbing the ladder loved to rat out their comrades in the hope of rising above them.
“If you want, I can talk to Troy and DaQuan to see if they had anything to do with it. I can make that happen.”
“Sonny, there ain’t no talking to DaQuan. My man Bruce took him out last night.” I leaned my chair against the wall, letting him digest what I had said. “The only real question is, was your son Troy involved? And if he was, am I going to kill him or not?” Sonny studied my face. I made sure my expression left no doubt about how serious I was.
“Are you threatening me, Majestic?” He sounded concerned.
“No, you’ve known me long enough to know I do
n’t make idle threats. I’m asking you, Sonny, because Vegas Duncan asked me to, and also because I’m sure you know the truth. Now, did your boy have anything to do with my brother’s death?”
“No,” he said, not with fear or concern, but with certainty. “He didn’t have anything to do with it because he’s a coward. My son is a straight-up pussy. He may hang with thugs like DaQaun, but he doesn’t have the stomach to do what they do.”
Well, that wasn’t the answer I had expected to hear. “A’ight, I’m gonna accept that for now, but, Sonny, if I find out different, Troy’s a dead man, and so are you.” I got up from my seat and walked out of his cell but before I left I said, “Oh and Sonny, we are not on the same level.”
Niles
27
I’d just arrived on the steps of the New York Public Library, and between the building and the grounds, it was teeming with people. I actually smiled when I saw Bridget sitting next to the cement pillar that held up the lion. After spending the weekend with Keisha, I had a newfound respect for how money could change one’s life and the advantages of working with Bridget and Dynamic Defense.
“Look at you, all happy and spry. You look ready for work,” Bridget said, handing me a cup of coffee. “I guess getting laid agrees with you, although you might wanna get an upgrade. Keisha’s a little ghetto for the image we’re trying to give you, don’t you think? Not to mention she carries a lot of baggage.”
Bridget’s words caught me off guard, stealing a little bit of my joy. How the hell did she know about Keisha? I was pissed off at the thought that my employers were still watching my every move, but I recovered quickly, remembering who and what I was dealing with. Looking up at her nonchalant expression, I came to the conclusion that I didn’t even want to get into it with her, so I ignored her prying into my private life so I could concentrate on the work at hand.
“Yeah, I gave it a lot of thought. I’m ready to do what I need to do to get the job done.”