Hoodlum

by K'wan

  “So you think you know what time it is, huh?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “A’ight, Shai. You’re grown, I can dig it. You think you’re ready to see just how deep it can get?”

  “I ain’t no punk,” Shai snarled. “I’m a man, just like you, Tommy. I can take care of myself.”

  “Okay, Mr. Man,” Tommy said, flashing a sinister grin. “You say you can handle it, cool. You got it, Shai. Get ya z's on, baby bro. We gonna hang out tomorrow, ya heard?”

  “Whatever, Tommy. I’ll be ready.” Shai walked into the house like he was cooler than an iceberg. He tried to sound confident but his heart was really racing. He knew he should’ve just listened to his older brother, but he had to show him that he could hold his on the streets. Now he had probably bitten off more than he could chew. Only God knew what kinda stunt Tommy had up his sleeve, but it was too late to cry about it. The die had been cast and Shai would just have to wait and see what the numbers read.

  Honey felt like she was swooning when she walked into her apartment. The evening with Shai had been quite memorable. At first shehad just planned on hollering at him to try and see what she could get out of the deal. Somewhere along the line the rules changed. Honey found herself actually digging the young man. Her friends had told her stories about Shai, but the man she had spent her evening with seemed so different than what people said. He was an intelligent and attentive young man. Quite a far stretch from the womanizer that the girls made him out to be.

  Honey looked at her sister Tish, who was on the couch knocked out. She hadn’t intended on staying out all night, but she didn’t expect two men to draw iron over her either. When her sister woke up, she would explain what had happened. She would understand. If she didn’t, oh well.

  Honey walked into her daughter's room and found her sleeping peacefully. She stared down at the little girl and almost got teary- eyed. All she wanted for Star was a better life than the one she had been subjected to. There was no limit to the things that she would do and had done to provide for her daughter. She knelt down and kissed the little girl on the forehead. She loved Star with all of her being. Honey did some underhanded shit on the streets, but that was where it stayed. When she came home, she was Melissa.

  With this in mind. Honey picked up her cell and dialed Shai's number. The voice mail picked up right away so she figured he must have it turned off. She listened to Shai's recording and found herself becoming aroused at the sound of his voice. After the beep Honey said, “Melissa.” It probably wouldn’t register to Shai right away, but once he thought about it, he’d figure it out.

  Honey climbed out of her club outfit and slipped into a pair of plaid boxer shorts and a white T-shirt. She lay on her bed, looking at the ceiling and thinking. Falling for Shai was definitely not in the cards. She had no idea what had happened in the few short hours that they had spent together, but it was a feeling that she was unfamiliar with. Something about Shai seemed so right to her. When she looked into his eyes, she felt at peace. Falling for Shai wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did. Now, the question was what to do about it?

  CHAPTER 15

  SWAM SAT IN HIS motel room, cleaning his guns and watching the news. He had been in the small town for a short while, but it seemed like weeks. There was nothing to see and nowhere to go. Not that he would’ve gone partying in the town anyway. Pleasure could wait until he got back to the City; he was there to handle business.

  He and Mo Black had coasted through the town, trying to locate their adversaries. The crew was in the hood where they were supposed to be, but their leader hadn’t shown his face yet. Mo wanted Swan to drive back to his place with him and try again, but Swan suggested that he get a room in the town and lay on the cat. Mo posted a man on the kid's block and instructed him to call Swan's room when the target popped up. So Swan sat and waited for his phone call.

  His mind went to his friend Shai and what he was doing. Swan knew that Shai could take care of himself, but he was still worried about him. Shai was from a family of hustlers, but he didn’t understand the world that they lived in. Swan faulted Poppa for that. Hethought that by shielding Shai from it, it would make him immune to it. He was wrong. All that did was dull Shai's street sense. That's why Swan schooled his friend out every chance he got. Shai wasn’t a square, but he wasn’t a soldier either.

  The phone rang, bringing Swan back to the situation at hand. Only two people knew where Swan was staying and Mo Black had his cell number. It must’ve been Mo's watcher. Swan picked up the phone, but said nothing. He listened as the watcher simply said, “It's time.” Swan hung up the phone and prepared for his first professional hit.

  Swan popped open his case and began to remove the items that he would need. He slid into a bulletproof vest and pulled a hoodie over that. He removed three handguns from the bag and began to hide them on his person. The two .40-calibers went into customized shoulder holsters and the .38 was strapped to his ankle. On his way out the door, he grabbed the sawed-off shotgun. It was time to earn his keep.

  Shai was awakened by the covers being snatched off him. He looked around, sleepy-eyed, trying to figure who would be crazy enough to wake him after he had been out all night. To his surprise Tommy was standing over him dressed in jeans and a hoodie.

  “Raise up, sleepyhead,” Tommy barked.

  “Come on, man,” Shai said, pulling the blanket back over his head. “Too early for this shit, Tommy.”

  “Nigga, please,” Tommy said, yanking the blanket again. “Get yo’ ass up. This morning you claimed that you wanted to spin out with me, so I’m holding you to it.”

  “Damn, T. You was serious?”

  “As a heart attack. Now come on, unless you’ve decided to stay in a child's place?”

  The challenge had been made.

  “A’ight,” Shai said, rolling out of bed. “Let me hop in the shower and—”

  “Nah,” Tommy cut him off. “We ain’t got time for that. Throw some sweats or some jeans on and let's roll. Where I’m taking you, there's nobody to be pretty for. I’ll be waiting for you out front. You got five minutes, Slim.”

  Shai stood on shaky legs as his brother made his exit. His mouth felt like sandpaper and his stomach was doing flip-flops. His body told him to call it off, but his pride told him that it needed to be done. He had to show Tommy that he wasn’t a kid. Just because Shai didn’t sell drugs, this didn’t make him any less of a hustler. He grew up in a crime family, how could he not have the streets in him somewhere?

  Tommy called himself trying to teach Shai a lesson, but Shai was prepared for his brother's lil’ outing. He would ride with Tommy all day and never flinch, no matter what he saw. He figured that the worst Tommy would do is make him play the block or sit up in a dope house. That was nothing to Shai. He did it with Swan all the time. What would be so different about this trip?

  Four minutes and thirty seconds later, Shai came strolling out the front door. He was dressed in a pair of green fatigue pants and the matching jacket. His construction Timbs were loose on his feet, while his fatigue hat was pulled tight, partially covering his bloodshot eyes.

  Here looked at Shai and shook his head. He was hoping that the youngster had gotten cold feet at the last minute, but here he was in the flesh. He had told Tommy that it was a bad idea to bring Shai along. With the rising tensions in the streets, it was hardly a proper time to be teaching the kid a lesson. But Tommy was hardheaded, just like every other male in the Clark family.

  “Looks like you had a rough night,” Here joked, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Hell yeah,” Shai confirmed. “I just got in a few hours ago.”

  “So why don’t you stay home and get some rest?” asked Here, hoping Shai would agree.

  “He's good,” Tommy cut in. “It's a light day. Shai will be a’ight.”

  Here looked at Tommy and saw the look that he was giving him. He had tried to spare Shai, but Tommy had something to prove. He would’ve argued with
Tommy, but it wasn’t his place to do so. It was between the brothers. Here just shrugged and went around to the driver's side, while Tommy got in the passenger seat and Shai climbed into the rear. There was no turning back now.

  Amine was slumped against the overpass on 125th Street, clutching his ribs with his free hand. His other was chained to the structure. One eye was shut and his bottom lip was split down the middle. Every time he breathed, he could feel the pain from his broken ribs.

  The two detectives had been working him over, trying to get information. Amine had tried to hold out, but he was getting weak. It came to the point where the detectives had given him a choice: a name or his life. After the beating that they had given him, Amine was sure that they would kill him, so he chose the easy way.

  “Tommy,” he rasped. “Tommy Clark.”

  Legs sat in the window of his girlfriend's apartment smoking a blunt. When he had first set out to lay low at her spot, he figured that he’d lose his mind being so far from the midst of action. To his surprise, it was a pleasant experience. Legs had gotten some well- deserved rest and was thinking a lot more clearly.

  He hadn’t had any contact with his crew, except when Tommy had called to make sure he arrived at his destination safely. He was surprised that he hadn’t heard from Amine. It was unlike his partner to go without speaking to him for extended lengths of time. Especially with the way things had been going. Legs had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, but shook it off as jitters.

  Legs put the blunt out and walked barefooted to the bedroom. His girl, Vanessa, was stretched across the bed, watching videos. Legs laid beside her and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Her yellow skin turned red as she blushed under her man's touch. He moved hishand from her wrapped brown hair, to her slightly protruding belly.

  The fact that his girlfriend was pregnant was something that Legs kept from most people. Even his friend Amine. It wasn’t because he was unhappy about it. That was hardly true. In fact, most of the money that he made on the streets he wired to her at her little hideaway. Legs didn’t tell many people about his blessing, because he was careful. He knew that by coming to work for Tommy and Poppa, their enemies would become his. Poppa and Tommy had some very powerful enemies.

  This didn’t bother Legs too much, though. He had no fear of anything on two feet. Besides, with the way Tommy looked out for him he wasn’t hurting financially. God forbid if something happened to him today or tomorrow, he knew that between what he had put away and the agreement he and Tommy had made, his unborn seed wouldn’t have to go without. Unlike Amine, Legs was a planner.

  When he found out about his girl being pregnant, he confided in Tommy. He explained his need for extra income and his willingness to earn it. Tommy had honored his request and agreed to keep his secret. In addition to working with his partner, Amine, Tommy also gave Legs other tasks to perform. It usually wasn’t anything that another one of the soldiers couldn’t handle, but Tommy would pass the jobs on to Legs. Legs didn’t know it, but Tommy gave him these odd jobs so it wouldn’t be like he was giving the money away. He wanted Legs to feel like he was earning.

  Legs was enjoying his little vacation, but the call of the streets was ever present in the back of his mind. He had a few dollars, but by not being on the streets, he couldn’t add onto that. He needed to be grinding, but Tommy's instructions were very specific: “Stay put till 1 call for you,” So, stay put he did. Tommy was the boss and as long as he kept Legs fed, his word was law. Legs would be back in the trenches soon enough,

  “Soon,” he whispered, “Soon.”

  So far, it had been an easy day. Shai had ridden in the car while Tommy and Here conducted business. The first stop was the Strand Diner on 96th Street. They had a light breakfast and discussed the business for the day. Next, they jetted through Brooklyn to check on a few spots they had out there. Everything was easygoing, until they arrived in Queens.

  A young worker named Josh was waiting for them at the appointed spot. As they got up on him, Shai noticed he was sporting a black eye. Not a good sign. Josh had explained to them that some of the cats from the projects where he hustled had opened up shop. When Josh told them that they couldn’t work there, they told him that they lived in the projects and the Clarks couldn’t dictate where they worked. Now it was up to Tommy to make the situation right.

  Josh hopped in the truck and the four of them drove the few short blocks to Queensbridge. It didn’t take long for them to find the kids. They were posted up in front, selling stones like they had a license to do so. Tommy and Here checked their weapons and prepared to approach the kids.

  “What are you gonna do?” Shai asked from the backseat.

  “What the fuck you think we’re gonna do?” Tommy asked, annoyed. “We’re gonna show them lil’ chumps who the fuck is running shit.”

  “Tommy, you can’t just hop out flashing your pistol in broad daylight. That could make the situation worse.”

  “Shai, don’t try and tell me how to handle mine. You just play the back, like a good little observer.”

  Tommy's comment irritated the hell out of Shai, but he let it slide. “Let me talk to them,” he said, getting out of the truck.

  “Fuck do you think you’re doing, Slim?” Here asked, getting out to cut him off.

  “Look,” Shai said, leaning into the passenger side window. “Just let me holla at the kids, before y’all start shooting shit up. I’ll take Josh with me, but y’all be on point, just in case.” Shai started walking without waiting for Tommy's approval. Josh just shrugged and followed him.

  There were about four of them in total. They were all young, ranging in ages from about fifteen to eighteen. They were dressed similarly in sweatpants or army fatigues. Shai noticed that one of them was wearing an oversized jersey, so it was a good guess that he was armed. What he also noticed was that their clothes were dingy and their footwear had seen better days. Shai knew just how he would come at them, he just hoped he didn’t get shot trying to prove a point.

  “ ‘Sup, fellas?” Shai asked, with a pleasant smile.

  “What you need, dunn?” a kid with fuzzy braids asked.

  “I need to holla at you.”

  “Fuck you need to holla at us about?” the kid with the jersey asked.

  “I need to discuss how you cats are moving. My name is Shai Clark, and y’all are hustling on turf that's already been claimed. We can’t have that.”

  “This nigga must be crazy,” Fuzzy spoke up. “This is the ‘Bridge, son, and you ain’t even from around here. How you gonna tell us we can’t eat?”

  “He must wanna go out like his man,” Jersey added.

  “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood me,” Shai said, keeping his voice even and his hands at his sides. “I’m not telling you that you can’t eat. Every man has a right to eat. I’m just telling you that you can’t continue to move whoever's rock you’re moving, in my father's territory.”

  “How you figure we’re working for someone else?” Fuzzy asked.

  “Simple. If you were working for yourselves, you wouldn’t be out here going hand to hand. The bottom line is, this has to stop. But I do offer compensation.”

  “Compen . . . what?” Jersey asked.

  Shai shook his head in frustration. “Listen, how much do you make off a pack?”

  “We get a hundred dollars off every G pack,” Fuzzy said proudly.

  “Well, now you get a hundred and fifty, plus the protection of my family.”

  “You got some nerve,” Jersey said, exposing the butt of the nine that was tucked under his shirt. “What's to stop us from just popping yo’ ass?”

  “Because”—Shai nodded over his shoulder—”the large gentleman in the truck would cut you down with the machine gun he's holding before you could get away.” The four men looked over Shai's shoulder and spotted Here glaring at them from behind the wheel. They backed up a bit. “It's settled then,” Shai continued. “Finish whatever work you have, then see Josh for the re
-up. If anyone lays hands on him again, your mothers will be shopping for black dresses. Are we clear?”

  The four boys nodded in unison.

  “Jesus H. Christ. What the hell happened to him?” Lt. Andrew Jackson asked, scratching his balding head.

  “Resisted arrest,” Alvarez lied.

  “I’ll bet,” said Jackson, seeing through the lie, but not really giving a damn. “So what did ya get from the prick?”

  “Well,” Brown cut in, “we’ve placed him at the scene of the murder, but he's not the triggerman.”

  “Is he saying who is?” asked Jackson, casting another glance at the battered Amine.

  “He's done us one better, sir. He's named the man who gave the order.” Alvarez smiled.

  “Well, don’t keep an asshole in suspense,” Jackson said sarcastically.

  “You’re familiar with a Tommy Clark.”

  “Who isn’t? He and Sol Lansky are two of the most powerful and crooked businessmen in the City. We haven’t been able to pin a charge on either of ‘em in years.”

  “Not that Tommy Clark, sir. We mean his son.”

  “That fucking wack job? I’m not surprised. But do we have any proof?”

  “So far,” Brown picked up, “all we have is his word.”

  “Good, but not good enough. Who was on the trigger?”

  “Bright boy isn’t saying, but we figure it was his partner, Legs.”

  “Where the fuck is this Legs character now?”

  “We don’t know, sir. But we’ve got some blue-and-whites on the street looking for him now.”

  “Not good enough. Use whatever means that you need to in order to crack this case. I don’t care what you do, as long as it gets results. I want you and Alvarez on the streets day and night. You better not close your fucking eyes until you bring that murdering son of a bitch back to me in chains. When you’re finished with that, bring me Tommy Clark. In chains or a box. Doesn’t really matter.”