by K'wan Foye
“Say no more.” Sha-Money said excitedly, already plotting on a way to dispose of Harlem.
5
The first thing Harlem did when he got back up the block was to retrieve his gun from the garbage. He had been caught slipping twice in as many days and wouldn’t let it happen a third time. Next hit Pie, Lamar and Sol to let them know that the status alert had gone from yellow to red. They knew that this meant they were at war so everyone was pulled off the corners and they directed the drug traffic inside the projects. The center of the P’s would be their launch pad when and if it really popped off with Sha-Money and his boys. Harlem knew that going at Sha-Money and his people was a war they could win, but if Blake decided to throw in his lot with them it would change things considerably. Whichever way it played out Harlem would protect what he built to the death.
Once everyone was in place Harlem went back to the crib where Pie and Lamar were blowing chronic and playing 2K10. As usual Lamar was getting in his ass and Pie was getting mad. Harlem was just about to call next when his phone went off. He looked at the caller I.D. and sighed when he saw his baby’s mother’s name flash across the screen. “What’s good, Nancy?”
“Nigga I ain’t seen you in two days and that’s the best greeting you can come up with?” Nancy barked.
“Come on with that shit, you know I’m out here trying to get it up for us.” He told her.
“Trap my ass, Harlem. You probably ain’t doing nothing but sitting around smoking a blunt and playing PS3 with them trifling ass friends of yours.” She hit it right on the head.
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Harlem said, accepting the blunt Pie was passing him.
“I know more than you give me credit for. What were you doing on 115 the other night?”
“Huh?”
“Don’t huh me Harlem, answer my question.” She demanded.
“I wasn’t doing shit, I made a run wit Mar and them and came back,” he half lied.
“Tell me anything. Don’t that lil Spanish bitch you used to dip ya dick in live on that block?”
“I guess,” he said sheepishly.
“Harlem you know damn well that ho lives on 115 so why are you trying to play me? That’s my word if I find out that you and that bum bitch is back at it I’m straight fucking her up then I’m leaving you!”
Harlem massaged his temple with his free hand. “Nancy, I ain’t seen that broad in at least a year, I don’t even know if she still lives on the block.”
“She still lives on the block because I got people who know her skank ass. Harlem you can test me if you want to but you and I both know you don’t want no parts of what I can cook up. If you fuck one bitch I’m gonna fuck ten niggaz so you better think about that shit while you call yourself tipping.” Unlike most of the females he dealt with Nancy didn’t believing in holding her tongue, which is one of the reasons he fucked with her like that. She was not only the mother of his child, but she was his rider.
“Nancy me and my dudes are having a deep discussion right now, so did you call to make accusations or did you actually want something?”
“Yeah, I need to hold your car.” She told him.
“The Charger? What do you need my car for, what’s wrong with the Honda I bought you?”
“When I came outside this morning the tire was flat and you forgot to renew our AAA. Precious is at my mom’s house in Staten Island and I need to go pick her up.”
Harlem sighed. He really didn’t want to let Nancy hold his car but if he didn’t he would have to go pick her up and drive her to Staten Island to pick up their daughter, and he needed to be on the block. “A’ight but be the fuck careful with my ride Nancy.”
Nancy sucked her teeth. “Ain’t nobody gonna mess up your lil toy Harlem. I’m gonna scoop Nene and we’re gonna swing through the projects to grab some smoke before we jump on the road then we’re coming right back.”
“Nah, don’t come through these projects.” Harlem warned her.
“And why not? I’m from the projects too Harlem, just because I don’t live there anymore doesn’t mean I can’t breeze through.”
“It’s not a good time, Nancy.”
“Why, are you out there with one of your bitches?”
“Of course not,” he assured her.
“Then why do you sound all nervous and shit?”
“It’s a long story, Nancy. Look, if you want some smoke go uptown and get it, okay?”
“Whatever,” she mumbled.
“I’m serious, Nancy.”
“I said okay didn’t I? Gosh nigga,” Nancy ended the call.
“That wasn’t nobody but Nancy that got you looking all stressed in the face.” Lamar said once Harlem was off the phone.
“Yeah, with her hardheaded ass. That chick is gonna make me fuck her up.” Harlem flopped on the couch.
Pie looked at him sideways. “You ain’t gonna do shit. You and Nancy argue like cats and dogs then five minutes later y’all are making wedding plans and shit. See, that’s why I ain’t got a girl because that relationship shit is too complicated.”
“Nigga, you ain’t got no girl because you fart in ya sleep,” Harlem snatched the joystick away from him. “Now move ya big ass over so I can wash this bum ass nigga Lamar up on this 2K.”
When it was all said and done Harlem and Lamar had played over ten games of 2K and had smoked almost as many blunts. At some point during the festivities Harlem had fallen asleep on the couch and was subject to some very disturbing dreams. Suddenly he jumped up out of his sleep and looked around. Lamar was still playing the game and Pie was settled at the dinging room table dropping ice cubes into a coffee pot. Everything seemed normal but something in his gut felt very wrong. He looked at his caller I.D. and didn’t see any missed calls or texts so he couldn’t figure what might’ve had him on edge.
“You a’ight?” Pie asked, noticing the frantic look on Harlem’s face.
“Yeah, I’m cool. I just had a fucked up ass nightmare.” Harlem said.
“You want me to get your blanket and tucked you in?” Lamar cooed.
“Fuck you,” Harlem tossed a pack of cigarettes at Lamar, hitting him in the side of the head. He had just settled back on the couch and picked up the joystick to resume him and Lamar’s rivalry when he heard gunshots.
A half hour after Nancy hung up with Harlem she and her home girl Nene were in Harlem’s pearl white Dodge Charger slow coasting through the streets like two rock stars up Amsterdam Avenue. She knew that Harlem had warned her to stay away from the projects but Nene knew a dude that had pillow sized dimes of Haze in 865 Amsterdam. Besides, if he was so animate about her staying away from the projects then he had to have been up to no good.
They turned down the dead end block on 102 drawing stares from some of the cats and a few chicks that were out there. Nancy had the window down enough to where people outside could hear the music but couldn’t see her face through the dark tints. Nancy knew they were hating, so she rubbed it in by leaning back a little further in her seat and turning the music up. “Bum ass bitches,” Nancy chuckled as she pulled the Charger to the end of the horseshoe.
“I’m gonna run in the lobby right quick to get the smoke then we out.” Nene told her, getting out of the car.
At the end of the block someone broke a bottle on the ground, startling Nancy. “Hurry up; you know I don’t like being in this shit hole longer than I have to be.”
“Bitch, stop acting like you ain’t grow up across the street.” Nene said and slammed the door.
Nancy sat in the car listening to the radio, watching everyone watching her. She knew most, if not all their faces, but only dealt with few people who lived with the projects. They had always hated on her and when Harlem got up enough bread to get them a spot outside the projects they were really sick to death. It amazed her how so many people could lose sight of their own dreams because they were so busy tearing down the dreams of others.
Less than five minutes later Nene
was back in the car with the smoke. Nancy busted a U-turn and started back out of the horseshoe. She was so busy running her mouth with Nene that she almost hit a guy who had stepped out in front of the car. Nancy was about to start blowing up the horn for him to move, but she froze when she saw him raise a gun.
“Does that shit hurt much, because it sure looks like it does?” Man-Man teased Fego about the stitches lining the side of his face. They were posted up against the short gate on 102 and Amsterdam passing around bottles and blunts with a few of the other homeys.
“Fuck you, Man-Man. That nigga snuck me!” Fego said.
“That ain’t what I heard. Word is that you and Mane tried to roll on son and he tightened y’all up.” Paulie cracked. He wasn’t officially a part of that team but Sha-Money was considering him for membership.
“We’ll see who gets tightened up when me and Sha-Money own all this shit,” Fego motioned around at the projects. “If you ain’t eating with us in Douglass, then you ain’t eating at all.”
“I can’t wait, because a nigga like me is sure tired of being broke.” A big lipped kid named John chimed in. The rest of the group agreed. They had all heard Sha-Money’s proclamation about being the next boss of the hood and they were all lined up to get their piece. Outside of a few none of them had any loyalty to Sha-Money, but they would ride with him as long as they were eating.
“Yeah, shit is gonna be sweet as candy but what about Harlem?” Man-Man asked.
“Fuck that nigga!” Fego spat. “Harlem is a dead man walking and just don’t know it yet. Word to mine, for what he did to me and my nigga Mane I’m gonna push his shit back personally.”
“Yeah, right! You keep underestimating Harlem and your ass might end up with more than a beauty mark.” Man-Man joked.
“You think that shit is funny?” Fego towered over the smaller Man-Man. He could tell by the look in his eyes that Fego was spoiling for a fight.
“Nah, B.” Man-Man said sheepishly.
“I should hope not, because there ain’t nothing funny about this shit. Harlem got lucky, but his days are numbered. When I see him again its on and popping and that’s word to everything I love!” Fego declared.
“There he goes right there,” Paulie pointed at the pearl white Charger that had just bent the corner. The tinted vehicle slow rolled down the dead end block and pulled up in the horseshoe.
“That dude had the nerve to roll over here after what happened the other night, B.” John said.
“Word, they said the kid got some heart and I’m seeing it now what my own eyes. How do you feel about that shit, Fego?” Paulie asked.
For a minute Fego didn’t answer, he just stared at the car. His body trembled with so much rage that he could no longer hold it and exploded. “I can’t believe this nigga!” Fego smashed the E&J bottle on the ground. “This lil mutha fucka shoots my man, cuts my face and then pulls up on my side of the projects like its good? Fuck this shit, Man-Man go get that thing for me.”
“Fego, chill out, B.” Man-Man tried to calm him.
“Nah, ain’t no chill. Go get that.” Fego insisted.
“Get it for him, he ain’t gonna do shit.” Paulie instigated.
“Man-Man if you don’t go get it I’ll get it myself.” Fego threatened.
Not really sure what else to do, Man-Man hopped the fence and got the Tech-9 out of the grass. He handed it to Fego, who checked to make sure there was one in the head. “Fego, don’t wild out B.” Man-Man was trying to tell him, but Fego was already heading to intercept the car that was heading back out of the dead end.
Fego knew that he wasn’t a killer, but his pride made him step into the street cradling the Tech. Harlem had embarrassed him and he knew he had to do something if he ever wanted anyone in the hood to respect him. He knew he couldn’t see Harlem with the hands so he decided to go at him with a hammer. The car was almost out of the block when Fego stepped off the curb to cut it off. Without really looking he raised the machine gun and depressed the trigger. The Tech roared to life, shattering the car’s windows and leaving half a dozen holes. Fego didn’t even check to see if he had hit his target he just took off running. It wouldn’t be until later on that night that he would realize his mistake, but by then it would be too late for him and everybody else.
6
Harlem blew through the doors of Harlem hospital like he had the devil on his heels, with Pie following closely behind. When he’d gotten the news about Nancy being shot driving his car his blood ran cold as he thought of losing his girl and his daughter in one shot. Thankfully Precious wasn’t in the car and none of Nancy’s wounds had been fatal but she was still in a bad way. Sadly Nene hadn’t had the same luck, as she died en route to the hospital.
On the way to the elevators a beefy security guard jumped out and blocked his path. From his posture and the disapproving look he was giving Harlem he knew the man was going to present a problem. “And where do you think you’re going?”
“My girl has been shot, man. I need to get upstairs to see her.” Harlem explained and tried to step around him, but the guard blocked his path again.
“Nobody is allowed upstairs without a pass.” The guard told him.
“Then give me the damn pass so you can let me through!” Harlem barked.
“You keep talking like that and I might not give you shit.” The guard sneered at him.
Pie saw that Harlem was about to lose it so he stepped in. “Look sir, nobody is trying to give you a hard time but my sister got shot and they ain’t giving us no information on the phone. We just need to see if she’s okay.”
The security guard looked at both of them suspiciously but then his face softened. “You need to take a page out of your friend’s book on manors, young fella. Go see the lady at the desk for your passes,” he thumbed at the desk a few feet to the left.
“Dick head,” Harlem mumbled and made his way over to the desk. “Excuse me, we’re here to see Nancy Brown,” Harlem told the lady sitting behind the desk.
The woman smiled and asked him to give her a second while she pulled Nancy’s information. Her smile melted away and she looked up at Harlem apologetically. “Ms. Brown has just come out of surgery and is in recovery.”
Harlem breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God, could you please tell me what floor that’s on?”
“It’s on the fifth floor, but I’m afraid we can’t allow you up.”
“Why the hell not?” Harlem asked.
“Because Ms. Brown left specific instructions that she didn’t want to see anyone but a Mrs. Margaret Brown, who is currently in the room with her.”
“But that’s my girl!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m just telling you what’s in my notes.”
“Fuck,” Harlem said and began pacing back and forth across the waiting room trying to figure out what the hell was going on. He started to rush the security guard and go up anyway, but that would only bring heat down on him and for what Harlem had in store for Sha-Money’s little gang he needed to keep as a low a profile as possible. Getting at him was one thing, but to try and kill his girl had taken it to a level that none accept Harlem was ready to go to. When he brought his vengeance down on his enemies it would be swift and unforgiving.
“I got an idea,” Pie said picking up on his friend’s distress. “Follow my lead and when the time is right make your move to the elevator. You can give me the play by play later on.”
“Bet,” Harlem gave Pie dapped and watched as he approached the security guard.
“Let me buy one of those off you,” Pie motioned towards the pack of Newports that were sticking up out of the security guard’s shirt pocket.
“Do I look like the corner store to you? Take ya ass around the corner like everybody else.” The guard scoffed.
“Come on, B, stop acting like that and let me get a bone,” Pie reached for the pack and the security guard grabbed him about the wrist.
“Now I know you done lost ya mind. Time to go,
son,” the guard folded Pie’s arm behind his back and shoved him towards the door. The heavy set Pie struggled so the guard on the other side came to lend assistance. Truth be told Pie could’ve beat both their asses if he wanted to, but if he hadn’t gone along with the strong arm act Harlem wouldn’t have had a chance to slip into the elevators during the confusion.
Harlem held his breath for the entire elevator ride. Outside of knowing that Nancy had been shot and needed to undergo emergency surgery he was in the dark about the extent of her injuries and exactly what happened. From the info he had gathered on the streets he knew that Fego had been the shooter and that was all he needed to know when it came time to strike back. He had something very special planned for Fego, but first he needed to check on his lady.
It didn’t take Harlem long at all to find the room Nancy was in because he could hear her mother signing bibles hymns from the elevator. Mrs. Brown was heavy into the church so she had never really approved of her daughter seeing Harlem, but she learned to accept it when Nancy got pregnant with Precious. From the doorway he could see Mrs. Brown’s wide form sitting in a wooden chair at Nancy’s bedside reading from the bible and singing to her daughter. Harlem’s heart began to beat rapidly as he entered Nancy’s room, and when he looked around Mrs. Brown at Nancy the beating stopped and his heart shattered into a million pieces.
Nancy was lying propped on two white pillows with tubes running from under the hospital sheet to the various machines that monitored her vitals. Her left arm and leg were wrapped in hard white casts and elevated by slings attached to the bed. Her face was cut and badly bruised from the spray of glass and if you looked close enough you could see traces of dried blood in her hair. As Harlem stood there looking at the destruction he had caused he couldn’t do much more than weep.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Mrs. Brown snapped when she noticed Harlem standing behind her.