From Harlem with Love

by K'wan Foye

  “Who are you telling? Ever since we lost our virginity to those two tramps from 119 the boy has been straight turned out.” Pie recalled.

  Lamar shook his head. “Our boy has got issues.”

  “Shit, I wouldn’t mind Carmen’s kind of issues myself. Did you see the ass on shorty?” Pie whistled. “If I was Harlem I’d be trying to crawl as deep in that pussy as I could.”

  “You ain’t never lied, but with an ass like that I probably wouldn’t get off more than four or five strokes before it was over. I might even run up in it raw just so I can feel those guts.”

  Pie looked at Lamar like he was stupid. “Nigga is you crazy? With all the damn diseases running around I ain’t dipping in nothing raw.”

  Lamar waved him off. “Pie you’re tripping. As fine as Carmen is she ain’t got nothing.”

  “Yeah, okay. Those are just the types of chicks that catch a nigga slipping, just like my man Noodles, God bless.”

  Lamar’s face darkened as he remembered the old head that had passed on a few years prior. “It’s a damn shame. Before he got knocked for that body he was out here clocking all that cheese off the pussy trade.”

  “And it was the pussy that killed him.”

  Lamar looked puzzled. “Pie what’re you talking about? They said that Noodles died of cancer.”

  “I know what they said but I’m telling you what it was. Remember that chick Rita from 1199?”

  “Yeah, the pretty dark skinned bitch. Everybody nigga handling was running up in that and Noodles was still acting like he was in love with her. Me and Noodles got into it one time because she was acting like she was gonna let me crack and he caught feelings.” Lamar recalled.

  “You better be thankful that you didn’t smash. That broad gave Noodles the monster which is why he blew her head off.”

  “Damn for as pretty as she was you’d have never thought she was sick.” Lamar said in shock.

  “Dummy-Boy HIV ain’t got no look, that shit strikes the beautiful and the busted without discrimination. You better start strapping that pickle before you run up in these hos Lamar. As a matter of fact, I’m gonna pick your ass up in the morning and take you to get tested.”

  Lamar sucked his teeth. “Nah fuck that, if I’m sick I don’t even wanna know.”

  “You should! Lamar,” Pie’s voice softened, “I ain’t trying to come at you sideways or nothing, I’m just concerned. You’re like a little brother to me and I’d hate to see you in a bad way because you didn’t know or were too lazy to make the trip to the clinic. I’m gonna come scoop you up and we can get you a rapid test done at the free clinic. If it’ll make you more comfortable I’ll get tested too.”

  Lamar looked surprised. “Pie, you’d put yourself through that for me.”

  Pie gently grabbed Lamar by the back of the neck and looked him directly in the eyes. “We family, my nigga, so that means I’d do anything for you or Harlem like I know y’all would do for me. Now let’s take it upstairs so we can check on this nigga Sol. We left that nigga down here to run the show for hours so ain’t no telling what the hell is going on.”

  Pie and Lamar got out of the car and started making their way towards 865 to check on Sol. As they were cutting through the walkway leading to the stairs they noticed a crack head moving suspiciously in the shadows behind the building. At first they thought it was nothing, but when they saw someone throw something to him out of one of the windows they knew it was a suspect situation. The crack head was so busy picking up whatever had been dropped that he didn’t notice the two men until they were right on top of him.

  “What’s goodie?” Lamar looked at him suspicious.

  “Oh shit, y’all scared me,” the crack head clutched his heart with one hand and the bag with the other.

  “What you doing back here, fam?” Pie asked.

  “Nothing,” the crack head said but they knew he was lying from the way his eyes kept darting around looking for an escape route.

  Lamar snatched the bag from him and busted it open. Inside he found loose bags of crack all bearing the stamp him and his crew used. “Nothing, huh?” he looked at the base head menacingly.

  “Man, I can explain. Me and…” the crack head tried to bolt mid-sentence but Pie grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him to the ground.

  “So you wanna steal from us?” Pie punched him in the face twice.

  “Chill, I’m sorry,” the crack head pleaded through bloodied lips.

  “Not as sorry as you’re gonna be,” Lamar pulled a razor and straddled the crack head. “Don’t worry, this will only hurt for a second,” he laughed before bringing the razor down across the crack head’s face.

  After carving the crack head’s face up like a Christmas goose, Pie and Lamar raced to the apartment where they kept the drugs. Sol was supposed to be holding it down but for someone to be up there throwing drugs out the window something must’ve been wrong. Using his key Pie opened the door and they silently slid into the apartment. Sol was no where to be found but a crack head named Blue was peering out the window suspiciously.

  “What the fuck is going on in here?” Pie’s heavy voice boomed. When Blue heard him he spun around and dropped the fist full of crack he was holding. Now they knew who had been tossing packages out the window.

  “Pie it ain’t what it looks like!” Blue stammered.

  Pie grabbed him by the front of the shirt and slapped him viciously across the face with one of his huge mitts. “I don’t give a fuck what it looks like, but I know what it is!”

  “Move so I can blast this nigga,” Lamar pulled a gun and was trying to get a clear shot at Blue.

  “Fuck is all this noise?” Sol came out of the back room fixing his pants. A young girl was trailing him with a guilty look on her face.

  “Nigga while you’re in here getting your little dick wet this hype was trying to clean us out.” Pie chastised Sol while shaking Blue like a rag doll.

  “I’m telling you we should smoke this nigga!” Lamar insisted.

  Pie gave it some thought. “Nah, I got a better idea. Sol, get you lil ass in the kitchen and turn the stove on.”

  “Yo, I swear if you let me go you’ll never see me again.” Blue promised.

  “Nah, we need you around so you can work off your debt,” Pie said dragging him into the kitchen. The flames of the front burner of the stove danced while everyone stood around and wondered what Pie was up to. “You know in some countries they take your hands for stealing. I ain’t gonna go that far, but all of you niggaz are gonna learn a valuable lesson here tonight,” Pie addressed all of them. When Blue realized what was going on he began to struggle, but Pie folded him with a hook to the gut. He wrapped his meaty arm around Blue’s neck, putting him in a choke hold and held his hand extended over the stove.

  “Come on man, have a heart,” Blue was crying like a baby.

  Pie just snickered. “Niggaz with feelings go broke in these streets and I’m sure about my cheese. Let this be a lesson to you and the rest of these mutha fuckas who think its something sweet about my team,” Pie roared and drove Blue’s hand into the fire.

  Carmen’s crib was nice, considering the neighborhood she lived in. It was a railroad style apartment with a long brick hallway that went from the front door to the tastefully decorated, living room at the other end of the apartment. Harlem lounged on the couch smoking Kush and sipping Remy out of a crystal glass while admiring her Carmen’s cozy little living room. Pictures of Carmen and her son decorated the entertainment system as well as the coffee table and on the wall was a blown up shot of her on the cover of Big Dawg Entertainment’s new magazine Candy. Carmen looked down right eatable in the tiny gold bikini and matching stilettos.

  “You a’ight back there?” He called to Carmen as she had been gone for nearly twenty minutes.

  “Yeah, I’m getting out of these wet clothes. I’ll be out in a sec.” she called back.

  “You need to hurry yo ass up,” Harlem mumbled and grab
bed the remote to the 52 inch flat off the coffee table. It was halftime of the game between the Knicks and Nuggets and the Knicks were actually winning so the television had Harlem’s full attention until Carmen came out of the bedroom. Harlem took one look at her and all he could blurt out was “Damn!”

  Carmen had traded in her street clothes for a silk robe that stopped just above the barbed wire she had tattooed across her smooth bronze thigh. Her wavy black hair was pushed back into a ponytail showing off her nearly flawless copper colored skin and soft brown eyes. When she sat on the couch next to Harlem and exposed the fact that she wasn’t wearing any panties it took all that he had to keep him from jumping on her.

  “Damn son, you just gonna smoke all the weed? Pass that,” she playfully plucked the blunt from his hand. Carmen took a deep toke and expelled the smoke from her nose. “I’m really glad you came through Harlem.”

  “Me too,” he ran his hand up her thigh.

  “Stop that,” she smacked the hand away. “I’m being serious, Harlem. I get so lonely in here sometimes, especially when lil man is with his dad.”

  “C’mon Carmen, I find it hard to believe that your fine ass is ever short of men trying to heap their attentions on you.”

  She sucked her teeth. “You mean trying to heap their dicks on me. Most of these niggaz just wanna fuck, you were one of the few who I could actually sit and talk to. The fact that your cock game is so sick is just a bonus,” she rubbed his dick through his fatigue pants.

  “You sure know how to stroke a nigga’s ego.” He smiled blissfully.

  “Among other things,” she continued playing with him.

  “Why don’t you tell me more about how much you miss this dick?”

  “I can do better than telling you,” she removed his dick and went to work. When Carmen’s mouth slipped down around the head of Harlem’s penis he felt a wave of euphoria that the strongest weed could match. She worked her tongue up and down his dick getting it nice and moist before she moved to his balls and began humming a happy tune that sent shockwaves from his thighs down to the tip of his toes. Carmen’s mouth was so wet and warm that twice he had to peek down to make sure she hadn’t secretly slipped him inside her pussy.

  “You like that, daddy?” she looked up at him, jerking his dick and playfully licking his balls. All Harlem could do in response is moan. Still stroking him Carmen licked from the top of his pubic hairs to his nipples and back down. She straddled him running her dripping pussy down his stomach. Carmen flicked the head of Harlem’s dick back and forth across her pussy until it was slick with her juices. When she tried to slide down it he grabbed her about the waist and held her there.

  “You know I don’t rock like that,” he removed a condom from his pocket and held it up to her.

  “Come on, poppy, you know I’m clean,” she continued trying to get him inside her.

  “And that’s a beautiful thing, but that ain’t how I move.” from the look on Harlem’s face she knew he wouldn’t budge on the issue. Grudgingly she slid the condom around his dick and mounted him. Carmen rocked back and forth slowly on Harlem’s lap with her eyes closed as if she was in a dream. As the lust built between them the more intense their lovemaking became. She went from rocking, to bouncing to eventually riding Harlem like he was the prized horse in the Kentucky derby. He tried to slow her down and gain some control over the situation but Carmen was too far gone. Ten minutes later they came together, with Carmen collapsing on him, nipping at his neck.

  “Damn, that shit was the bomb,” he scooted out from under her, breathing as if he had just run a marathon.

  “Who are you telling,” Carmen squeezed her thighs together to try and prolong the tingling in her womb. Harlem’s phone chirped on the coffee table but when he reached for it she snatched it away and hit the off switch. “Uh, uh, this is my time; they can have you when I’m done.”

  “Stop playing, Carmen. It might be important,” he tried to take the phone but she sat on it.

  “More important than this?” she spat in the palm of her hand and stroked his dick back erect.

  “My boys might need me,” he panted.

  “I need you,” she told him and put his dick in her mouth. “Just stay for a little while, daddy, please,” she begged in between slurps.

  “Damn, you play dirty,” Harlem moaned as he rolled his head back and enjoyed what Carmen was doing to him. As he felt the tip of his dick disappear into the back of her throat he phone suddenly seem so important anymore.

  3

  By the time Harlem staggered out of Carmen’s building he was half drunk, weak, and his nuts were tender as hell. Harlem had always considered himself quite the stud when it came to the ladies, but Carmen had tricks that even he wasn’t ready for. She was a battle cat and he loved every sick minute of it. Between her dragging three nuts out of him and downing a half liter of Remy Harlem was done. He prayed that his baby’s mother didn’t want to have sex by the time he made it home because he really didn’t have anything left.

  It had stopped raining, but the air was cool and crisp, so Harlem decided to walk back to the projects to clear his head. Harlem was so faded that It wasn’t until he got to 109 and Central Park West that he remembered that he’d never turned his phone back on. When the phone powered on the screen was lit up like a Christmas tree from the voicemails and texts he’d been sent. “Fuck done happened now?” he wondered aloud as he ducked into the store on the corner to get a sandwich. Harlem was about to scroll through the texts when his phone rang from a private number. Normally he wouldn’t have answered but something in his gut told him he needed to take the call. “Yo?”

  “Fuck you been, niggaz been trying to raise you for hours!” Lamar’s hostile voice came through the receiver.

  “Nigga slow down, what the fuck are you talking about?” Harlem abandoned his sandwich and went outside so he could speak freely.

  “My nigga it went on, that’s what I’m talking about! These niggaz throw slugs then we gonna throw mutha fucking missiles!”

  Harlem looked at his phone. “Mar, you talking real reckless right now, where you at B?”

  “We on the block, where the fuck we supposed to be. Word to mine Harlem these niggaz done kicked it off, son…..” Lamar ranted but thankfully someone snatched the phone from him.

  “Where you at, my nigga?” Pie’s calm voice came over the line.

  “I’m up the block by the store. Pie what the fuck is wrong wit son?” Harlem asked.

  “My dude, stay where you at and I’m about to walk up the block and meet you.”

  “Pie, don’t leave a nigga wondering. What the fuck is going down? Talk to me B.” He could hear Lamar popping shit to somebody in the background and furniture being knocked over. Harlem was starting to get antsy. He was in no way scared to go to battle, but he not knowing who his enemies were filled him with something akin to fear.

  “Dig, Sha-Money and them jumped out the window. It’s a long story that I ain’t gonna go into over no jack. The bottom line is that I don’t know where we at wit it, especially after what this nigga Lamar pulled.”

  “Damn.” Was all Harlem could say.

  “Just hold tight, my nigga. I’ll be there in less than three minutes.” Pie ended the call.

  Harlem was now as sober as a judge. He didn’t know the whole skinny yet, but from the way things sounded it wasn’t a good situation. Harlem knew letting Carmen turn his phone off was a sucker move, but at the time all he could think about was tagging that pussy. The gauntlet had been laid and the general wasn’t there when it popped off because he failed to acknowledge hustler rule number one, don’t get caught up with a whore.

  “Fuck this waiting shit,” Harlem said and started towards the projects. He kept his eyes peeled for potential signs of danger and coming out of the chicken spot he found it. Fego and Mane were coming out the chicken spot laughing and talking shit amongst each other but when they spotted Harlem their faces darkened. From the way Mane passed hi
s bag of chicken to Fego, he knew a problem was brewing.

  “If it ain’t Billy Bad Ass himself,” Mane sneered at Harlem. His jacket was open and Harlem could see the butt of a gun sticking up out of his jeans.

  There was enough space between them where Harlem could’ve ran and probably gotten away, but his pride wouldn’t let him do it. If it was his time then he was ready to go, but he would go holding his nuts. “My nigga why you always coming at me like you like me? I don’t know what you thought, but I ain’t off that Crying Game shit y’all were playing on the yard. I like girls, fam.” Harlem smirked.

  “You better watch ya mouth, B. Blake ain’t out here to save ya chump ass.” Fego warned.

  Harlem spat on the ground. “Check this out, son. Fuck you and this nigga here,” he thumbed at Mane. “My heart don’t pump no Kool Aid, so do what the fuck you’re gonna do and stop bumping your gums.” Harlem kept his game face but his heart was beating faster than a frightened rabbit.

  “Let’s see you pop that fly shit now,” Mane moved in on him, reaching for his gun. Before he could pull the pistol Harlem was on him, dropping a vicious right on his chin and grabbing the Mane’s hand with the other to keeping him from drawing the gun. The two men tussled for the gun while their crews watched in shock. Mane was stronger than Harlem, but the fear of being shot allowed him to keep Mane’s hand immobile. Mane slipped his arm around the back of Harlem’s head and he squeezed with everything he had trying to crush Harlem’s skull. The pressure sent a searing pain through the back of Harlem’s head, but he couldn’t slip out of Mane’s lock. Harlem hooked Mane twice in the head but it did nothing to ease the pressure around his head.

  “Yeah, I like it when they fight,” Mane growled, slipping the gun a little further out of his pants. Harlem could feel his strength beginning to fade and Mane getting the upper hand. As the half of the gun cleared Mane’s pants Harlem began to think of his daughter and how she was going to have to make it in the world without him. Acting out of panic Harlem did the only thing he could think of, and kneed Mane in the nuts causing the gun to go off.