by Mazaradi Fox
DeMarco gave Killer C a pound and they left the store.
* * *
DeMarco couldn’t wait to get up the next morning so he could go to the BMW dealer to pick up the all-white convertible with the black soft-top and BBS rims he had ordered. He used to love coming back to the hood and stunting on the niggas and bitches who would front on him. DeMarco was the only young nigga in the hood who was getting money like that besides a kid name Boo. Boo had the white-on-white S500 Benz, top-of-the-line shit.
DeMarco pulled up on Killer C and the rest of the niggas who he hadn’t seen in a minute, feeling like a million bucks. Chain frozen, wrist frozen, looking like a light show.
“Get in, nigga,” DeMarco said to Killer C, and off they went.
They drove through the area with hood eyes on them. DeMarco couldn’t believe how his man had the streets on lock. Everywhere they went, Killer C was picking up money.
“Yo, DeMarco, shit changed out here. A lot of niggas fuck with us now. We got this shit in a frenzy. Like those niggas from across town that you didn’t like ’cause you was fuckin with that thick shorty you had? Them niggas is buyin bricks from us too.”
DeMarco didn’t care about any of that. He was a hustler who felt if it made dollars, it made sense.
“Oh yeah, wassup wit my nigga Chief?”
“Oh, he good, DeMarco. He gettin money, you know how that play. When those niggas come out, those punk asses go into hidin. This shit be a ghost town.”
“Word!”
They drove out to Killer C’s stash house.
“Man, this shit look like a crack house,” DeMarco said. “Man, you need to clean this shit up!”
“Nah, I like it like this. Let a nigga run up in here. They would never think they runnin into a gold mine. Check this out, count this.” Killer C pulled out the money machine.
They stayed and counted all the money, then split it up.
“I should have another $50,000 for you later on top of that buck.”
“Yo, I’m gonna get up with you later,” DeMarco said. “We gonna hit the club up tonight. I heard BJ got a spot on Farmers Boulevard. They said all the chicks be there.”
“Damn, nigga, you hear everything!”
“Shit, you know I’m in the streets like African feet.”
* * *
After DeMarco came back from Killer C’s stash house, he went by his aunt’s to see Money
“Yo, wassup, boy, come outside,” he said, after his cousin opened the door.
“Yo, what the fuck?! DeMarco, wassup, stranger?” Money replied.
“Shit, just got back. Damn, I see auntie and them ain’t even home. I’ma wait for you out here.”
“A’ight, I’ll be out in a sec.”
DeMarco stayed outside playing with his new Nakamichi system.
Once Money got into the car, the two drove off. DeMarco pulled up to a car wash to leave his vehicle there to get a full detail.
“Yo, Money, hit Killer C’s phone and tell him to meet us up here.”
“A’ight, cool.”
Ten minutes later, Killer C was there with three cars following him.
“Oh shit, where you find this nigga at?”
DeMarco hadn’t seen Lefty, a cousin on his father’s side, in a few years. Lefty had some lawsuit money, so he had a brand-new BMW wagon.
“This is what the fuck I’m talkin about. Wait till we go out tonight. The bitches is gonna be on us like flies on shit.”
“DeMarco, you better not let LaLa catch you.” Killer C knew how she was when it came to DeMarco.
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
DeMarco and Money jumped in the truck with Killer C and left the car to get detailed.
“Yo, Killer C, get Chief on the phone.”
Killer C dialed the number then handed his cell over.
“Yo, boy, wassup, it’s DeMarco.”
“Wassup, lil’ nigga?”
“You, that’s wassup. Shit, where you at?”
“Headed to the block.”
“A’ight, give me a sec, I’m there.”
DeMarco and his crew sat on the block smoking, drinking, and reminiscing on shit they did while growing up. In the hood, you know how it goes. It only takes one person to see you and in less than an hour the block is full of niggas and bitches. DeMarco had so many chicks in the hood they were pulling up like crazy.
“Oh, that’s how you do, nigga? You come back in town and don’t hit my phone?”
She was a bad little shorty DeMarco had from the northside of Queens. She was dark-skinned with a fat ass; to top it off, she was a twin. “Nah, Keema, I was gonna pop up on you tonight. We goin to J. Boss’ club on Farmers. I heard that shit is poppin.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard. All I know is you better not have none of these chicks from my side in your face either,” she said, with a sassy attitude.
DeMarco smiled, gave her a kiss, and told her he would see her later.
Chief finally pulled up with a few of his shooters
“Yo, what’s shakin my nigga? I thought you was never comin back.”
“Nah, you know how this game go,” DeMarco quickly replied.
From the way DeMarco was looking and talking, Chief knew DeMarco was now an official boss. DeMarco and Chief stepped to the side and started kicking it. Chief was someone DeMarco looked up to because Chief was a nigga who had the best of both worlds. He was getting money and he had a super gun game.
“But on some real shit, it’s good to see you doing your thing,” Chief said to DeMarco, feeling proud of him. He’d always seen something in DeMarco, so that just made their relationship better—most real niggas love to see one of their own getting money.
“Yeah, Chief, we going out tonight to J. Boss’ spot.”
“You know I don’t fuck with that club shit, but for you we gonna turn it up. Yeah, and make sure you got them things, DeMarco, because you know how these niggas play.”
That’s all DeMarco was waiting to hear. He lifted his shirt and pulled out his two seventeen-shot Glocks. “You know I was taught by the best.”
DeMarco had moved more money and stepped up his gun game more than Chief realized. His gun game was on Pluto, so New York was a walk in the park.
Money and Lefty slid off to pick up DeMarco’s vehicle from the car wash. Money pulled back on the block a little while later with a big smile on his face.
“Let me find out that’s your joint, DeMarco,” Chief said with a grin.
“Yeah, you know I had to keep Southside on the map.”
“Hell yeah, especially how young you are with a machine like that. Oh, we gonna have a ball tonight.”
“So, Chief, we all gonna meet back up on the block at 11.”
“A’ight, cool. I’ll get up wit you later,” Chief said as he headed to his car and left with his crew following him.
* * *
When 11 p.m. rolled around, they must’ve had twenty cars leaving the block.
“J. Boss, what’s good, my nigga?” DeMarco said as he approached the club.
“Ain’t shit, boy.”
“I see you got the club shit lookin good.”
“You already know.” J. Boss was another get-money nigga in the hood who DeMarco looked up to. “I’m sayin, how many people you got wit you?”
“To tell you the truth, I have no idea, but check this out, here go $1,500.”
“Oh, that’s how you doin it?”
“Come on, son, you my nigga. You always gon’ be my nigga until the casket drops.”
“No doubt.”
DeMarco and Chief headed in, and Killer C stepped with them. You had niggas and bitches from all over Queens in the spot. DeMarco noticed a few niggas who he had beef with from back in the day, but he felt at home. He and his crew were at the back of the club, and DJ Grandmaster Vic had the spot jumping. Niggas and bitches from 40 projects, Baisley projects, Merrick Boulevard, Farmers Boulevard, Sutphin Boulevard, Guy Brewer, Henderson,
Liberty, and Hollis were all up in there. Bottle after bottle, blunt after blunt, shit was so live niggas were taking turns in the bathroom getting head from chicks. As much as DeMarco loved the ladies, you couldn’t pay him to do any shit like that.
“Yo, who that?” DeMarco asked Killer C.
“I don’t know, but I know she on you.”
The female they were talking about came up to DeMarco and started dancing all over him.
“Who you, shorty?”
“I know you, but you don’t know me,” she said, in a seductive voice.
“I hear that.”
DeMarco thought to himself that whoever she was, she had to be important by the way niggas in the corner were staring at them. This only made him go harder because they were the niggas he’d had beef with back in the day.
Killer C slid up behind DeMarco and whispered in his ear, “Watch yourself. You see them niggas movin funny?”
DeMarco answered Killer C, but never took his eyes off the niggas as he kept dancing with shorty.
“Yo, miss, you gotta name? And who’s that, one of your boyfriends over there or somethin?”
“Nah . . . well, he used to be until I spotted you in here,” she said, as she grinded up against him even harder.
Killer C whispered in his ear again, “I should go over there and pop one of them niggas.”
“My nigga, it’s your call,” DeMarco replied.
Killer C walked over and put Chief and his niggas on call.
“Yo, shorty, go and get your homegirls and meet us outside,” DeMarco said.
The chick smiled and immediately walked off, with her fat ass shaking over to where her girls were standing. DeMarco and his crew exited the club with the girls in tow, and they all hopped in their cars with their women and headed to the block.
“Everybody got a shorty, right?” DeMarco yelled.
Killer C answered with a smile on his face: “You know this, man. I’ll see y’all in the a.m.”
“Yo, make sure you get at me, DeMarco,” Chief said before he jetted off.
As DeMarco pulled up to a light, he noticed two cars following him. He remained calm and didn’t say anything to his female friend. He thought his mind was playing tricks on him until he saw another car creeping up slowly.
“Yo, shorty, lay your seat back.”
“Anything for you, baby,” she replied without a clue as to what was going on.
DeMarco pulled off to the side of the road at the next light. As soon as the other cars pulled up, DeMarco opened fire out the window, letting them niggas have it, like he was James Bond. Shorty was in the passenger seat and pissed on herself, screaming at the top of her lungs. DeMarco wanted to give her a night she would never forget.
He heard two shots coming out the backseat of an all-black Honda Accord. Okay, this is what these niggas want? I’m gonna give it to them, he thought to himself.
DeMarco jumped out of the car and stepped into the middle of the street. He got down on one knee, shooting and yelling, “That’s what I thought!” Then he hopped back in the car. I know I hit somebody, he thought to himself. Now go tell that.
Shorty couldn’t believe how gangster DeMarco was. She was pissin and damn near cummin in her pants at the same time. “Baby, you a’ight?”
“I’m Gucci,” he answered. “This is what we do on the Southside.”
“I feel you,” she said, in a low voice still a little in shock.
DeMarco jumped on the Van Wyck and headed to the nearest motel. He arrived at the Kew Motor Inn and pulled up into the parking lot.
“Can I help you, sir?” the motel clerk asked.
“Yes, can I please get the jungle room?”
“Sure, that will be $160.”
DeMarco handed the lady $200 and told her to keep the change.
“Thank you, sir.”
“No problem,” he replied.
They headed to the room as he watched her from behind. He couldn’t wait to tap that ass. She was still a little overwhelmed from what had just happened, but her desire to fuck DeMarco remained her priority.
“Shorty, before we do anything, let me hold your phone.” DeMarco took her phone and removed the battery.
“Can I turn the Jacuzzi on?” she asked.
“Come here. You look like you want to suck on me like a popsicle.”
“Damn right I do.”
“So what you waiting for?” he asked, releasing his dick from his pants.
She walked over and began sucking so good that DeMarco’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.
“Let me stop because you look like you about to bust a nut,” she said, with a slight giggle.
“Not until I hit that big fat ass of yours.”
“So how you want it, baby?”
“I want that thing from the back,” he said.
She lifted her dress and bent over as DeMarco entered her from behind. They fucked for close to an hour in every position possible before they both climaxed. Exhausted, they lay on the bed with the TV on.
“So now you gonna tell me your name or what?”
“My name is China.”
“So, where those niggas from?”
China started putting DeMarco onto what type of cars they drove, who they worked for, and where they hung out. DeMarco’s phone was once again ringing off the hook and he had already missed fifteen calls. He called Killer C and told him to meet him on the block.
“Damn, nigga, you still got shorty wit you?” Killer C said when he arrived. “That pussy must have been good?”
“I mean on a one-to-ten scale, that shit was a thirty!”
“Word?”
“But check this out, remember those clowns from last night? They called themselves tryin to run down on the kid at a red light.”
“What?”
“But you know me, I lit they asses up like the Fourth of July,” DeMarco said.
“Do you know where those niggas from?”
“Yeah, shorty put me on.”
“Yeah, she better had,” Killer C replied.
“Nah, she good.”
“A’ight, I’ll send some niggas over there later,” Killer C said. He had the right niggas to handle shit like that. “By the way, Skip was saying something about a few of the workers had got robbed.”
“Whose workers?”
“I guess y’alls.”
“Get Skip on the phone.”
Killer C dialed him up.
“Skip, what’s the word?”
“Man, you gotta hurry up and get back down here. We didn’t make any money in two days.”
DeMarco didn’t like the sound of that.
“This nigga Black been on some shit, and word is he got his cousin down here from Connecticut. Some nigga named Body,” Skip continued to say, with worry in his tone.
“So, how much they took?”
“Man, I don’t even wanna tell you, and that’s why we haven’t worked in two days—me and Bizzy been riding around looking for ’em.”
“A’ight, bet, I’m on it.” DeMarco hung up the phone.
“Yo, DeMarco, what’s good?” Killer C asked anxiously.
“I’ll talk to you about it later.”
“So where we goin now?”
“I gotta drop shorty off.”
* * *
The whole ride DeMarco didn’t say one word. He was focusing on what he wanted to do to Michelle’s brother and his crew. Killer C couldn’t wait for him to drop China off, so he could get the scoop.
“Shorty, which way I’m goin?”
“Oh, you can make a left, then a right here by the park; it’s the third house from the corner.”
He pulled up to her house a minute later.
“So, baby, am I gonna see you tonight?”
DeMarco didn’t say a word, he was too wrapped up in his thoughts.
“Just call me. Don’t forget.”
As soon as she got out, Killer C jumped in the front seat.
“DeMarco, what
the fuck happened? Put me on.”
“You remember them country niggas I was tellin you about?”
“Yeah, what about them?”
“This nigga Skip talkin about Black and some nigga from Connecticut down there robbin all the workers.”
“So what’s good?” Killer C asked, with a ready for bloodshed look in his eyes.
“You said you wanted to come down there with me; now is your chance.”
“DeMarco, these niggas ain’t seen nothin yet. Wait till I touch the town. When we out?”
“First you gotta holla at Money and leave him and Lefty in charge of shit up here. We gotta leave in a couple of days, so make sure everything is taken care of,” DeMarco said.
“A’ight, copy.”
“You can drop me off by LaLa’s mom’s crib and take the car.”
When they pulled up to LaLa’s mom’s building, DeMarco looked at Killer C and said, “Don’t forget to make sure shit is on point. I don’t want no more headaches.”
“Okay, I got this, man.”
DeMarco got out and walked toward the back of the building. He knew LaLa was going to be tight because he wasn’t answering his phone, so he figured he had to give her what she wanted and move her out of the projects.
“So, where you been?” she asked as soon as he walked in.
“I had to make a quick move to Bmore.” DeMarco had family down there, so it could have been true—she didn’t question it. “Come here, girl. I got a surprise for you.”
“What?”
“Nah, I’m dead ass.”
“What, boy?”
“I’m movin you and Nia outta the projects.”
“When? You told me before I could stay wit you, but that ain’t last long.”
“I know, but it’s gonna be different this time. As soon as you find the place, y’all outta here I promise.”
LaLa already knew where she wanted to move. She was so happy she didn’t even stress that DeMarco had been gone for two days.
“So, when could I go look for a house?”
He got up for a minute and came back and passed LaLa $25,000.
“If this isn’t enough, let me know and I’ll make it happen. Just make sure it’s not in the hood.”
“Okay, baby,” she said as she gave him a big hug and kiss. “Thank you so much!”
“Come on, girl, anything for you and my daughter.”