Murdergram, Part 1

by Nisa Santiago

  Tank was a hit man for the Brooklyn 69 Bloods. He was feared like HIV—a ruthless muthafucka with a heart of ice and a passion for killing. Everyone kept away from him, knowing what he was capable of.

  Cristal peered at Tank, fearfully, and wanted to yelp when she saw the .9mm in his hand. For some reason she was fixated on what he was about to do next—create a crime scene. It seemed like she was the only one who was seeing him. He kept the gun low, down to his side, and casually walked toward a group of men playing a three-on-three pick-up game.

  Without provocation, Tank opened fire on the men.

  Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak!

  Panic quickly ensued on the basketball courts. Everyone in the park took desperate cover as shots rang out, a tidal wave of folks rushing toward the exit. Even Cristal’s friends took off running, leaving her aghast at what she was witnessing. Four of the men were violently gunned down by Tank, their bodies and blood scattered across the hard blacktop.

  When the gunshots stopped and the smoke cleared, two men lay dead and two seriously injured. Tank hurried toward an idling car parked nearby and escaped from the chaos he created. It was gangland horror.

  Cristal stared at the massacre. It wasn’t anything new to her—violence and murder were common in her hood, but it was amazing how a man could easily kill another man, especially out in public. Tank got his respect because he was a killer. He didn’t even flinch when he pulled the trigger. An ambivalent feeling swept over Cristal. Murder, how cruel it was, but also how captivating and hypnotizing it was to her.

  Sirens wailed from a distance. The Brooklyn park was once again stained with violence.

  “Cristal,” Tamar shouted from a distance. “What you doing?! C’mon!”

  Cristal snapped herself out of her daze and hurried away from the bodies. For a minute, everything seemed so unreal and movielike. She finally pulled herself away from the violent incident and ran away. It felt like she was running on air as her sneakers rapidly pounded against the pavement. She felt guilty somehow. She’d watched them die like animals, but she didn’t feel too sad about it. For some reason, she felt fortunate to see Tank in action. It was like always hearing about the boogeyman from other children, and then finally seeing the boogeyman in your own closet one night. It was scary, yes, but it was also exciting.

  The girls decided to go to Harlem with Pike and Rich after all. East New York was too hot to be around.

  Two

  “Yo, that shit was wild out there today. Tank is fuckin’ crazy, my heart is still beating hard from that shit happening,” Mona hollered. “How you gonna gun niggas down in broad daylight like that?”

  “Cuz that’s Brooklyn, that’s how they do. Niggas don’t give a fuck out there, especially Tank. He’s a special kind of loco. But that’s how you get ya respect out there, by being fearless and not giving a fuck,” Tamar blurted out with animation in her tone.

  “And I don’t get my respect out here? What am I, a pussy?” Pike asked.

  “You do, but not like Tank. He gets respect because he’s feared. You’re respected because you’re admired,” Tamar countered with some admiration for the killer.

  “We too busy gettin’ money out here.” Rich stepped in and offered an explanation. “And murder brings around the feds and too much heat on the block.”

  “Nigga, please. Y’all ain’t makin’ that kind of money like Tank and the 69 Bloods are making.” Tamar rolled her eyes. “And besides, I don’t think y’all got the heart or balls to murder someone.”

  “Damn, the way you talkin’ about the nigga like you ready to fuck him. What, Tamar, bullets flying got ya pussy wet?” Rich joked crudely.

  “I just respect the gangsta in that nigga, that’s all,” she said.

  “Yeah, I know what you respect,” Rich replied sideways. “You love them type of niggas, don’t you?”

  “I love a man who’s about his business and ain’t scared to pop off when the time comes.”

  Rich chuckled. “Yeah, you want a twenty-five-to-life type of nigga, a death-row nigga. And you can become the jail bride.”

  “Fuck you, Rich. You just mad cuz you ain’t the nigga I’m attracted to. And who is you to judge someone like you a saint, when you out there doin’ dirt too?”

  “Yeah, I’m doin’ dirt, but I ain’t puttin’ niggas in the dirt. That type of business only brings bad karma.”

  “So how you gonna be a hustler and don’t buss ya gun, or scared to buss ya gun,” Tamar challenged.

  “I’m the subtle type of hustler. I know my lane, and I plan on staying in it,” Rich countered. “In ten years I’ll still be around, running a legit empire from reinvested drug money.”

  “And what happens when niggas decide to come in your lane by cutting you off? What you gonna do then, be a bitch?” Tamar asked.

  “I do what I gotta do then, but until that day comes, I’m just gonna do me right.”

  “That sounds like you ain’t gonna do shit.”

  “You don’t know me, Tamar. I ain’t a killer unless I have to be.”

  Pike lit up the weed and took a strong pull as he listened to Tamar and Rich’s conversation. His small kitchenette apartment that he was renting on 116th Street in Harlem was cozy. Hearing them talk about murder brought up some haunting memories for Pike. When he was young, his mother had been a severe alcoholic living in the projects, and she never encouraged his dreams. Several years ago, his sister Kim, had been killed by a stray bullet while she was walking to the corner store in Brooklyn. She was going to the bodega to steal their mother a can of beer. She was only fifteen years old. The tragedy was so damaging to Pike that he almost quit playing basketball and was about to fall into a deep depression. He always felt that it was his mother’s fault for sending Kim to steal beer after-hours, and he vowed to never forgive her. The bullet that struck his sister in the head was meant for a lowlife stick-up kid named World, who was a menace to society since the day he was born. His sister’s murder troubled him greatly. Why did his sister, who was an A student and was never into trouble a day in her life, have to die that night? It was a question he would never get the answer to. She was an angel, but she lived in hell.

  Pike exhaled the weed smoke and decided to add his two cents into the discussion. “I’m with Rich on this. I may be a lot of things, but I’m no killer. Some coward took my sister’s life by accident years ago, and I can never forgive that shit.”

  “I know, I heard about that and I’m so sorry for your loss, Pike. I lost my little sister too, a few years ago,” Sharon interjected with sincerity.

  For a moment, the two locked eyes in the apartment. They seemed to have some mutual understanding toward each other. Sharon smiled at Pike, her eyes displaying sincerity. Pike grinned back slightly and took another pull from the burning weed and shared it with the others.

  “And Cristal, are you stupid or crazy? How you just gonna stand there lookin’ dumbfounded like you bulletproof or sumthin’?” Tamar exclaimed at her best friend out of the blue.

  “Please, he wasn’t worried about me,” Cristal returned loosely.

  “Fuck that. What if he thinks you’re a witness? Matter of fact, you are a witness, Cristal. You stood right there and watched it all go down,” Mona mentioned.

  “Tank is a paid killer for them 69 Bloods, believe me, he ain’t worried about me snitchin’,” Cristal defended.

  “That’s our point! He ain’t gotta worry about you if you dead.”

  “I ain’t scared of him like everybody else,” Cristal said with assurance. “I ain’t scared of dying.”

  “You say that now because ain’t no threat out there coming your way,” Tamar said.

  “And if it was a threat coming my way, I’d handle it. It’s them before me. That’s how we grew up, right? Brooklyn, ride or die,” she declared.

  “Yeah, right,” Lisa uttered.


  “What, you don’t think I’m capable of killing somebody?”

  “No!” Lisa answered frankly.

  “Then you don’t know me, Lisa. I thought you did.” Cristal exclaimed. “I hate when people say that they could never commit murder. Let someone run up in your house to do you or your fam harm and you got a pistol. You sayin’ you wouldn’t use it?”

  “Yeah, I would use it, but that’s different,” Lisa answered.

  “Keep telling yourself that. Murder is murder.”

  “Shit, it’s survival out here in the hood, and I would kill somebody in a heartbeat, just give me a gun and I’ll aim and fire,” Tamar chided.

  “That’s because you a twisted bitch, Tamar,” Rich said.

  “Call me a bitch again and you’ll be my first fuckin’ victim,” Tamar threatened.

  Rich smirked.

  Suddenly murder became the topic in the apartment. Killers from New York and all over either still alive or dead were brought up. Pappy Mason, Pistol Pete, Sammy the Bull, John Gotti, and others were talked about heavily as the weed was passed around.

  “I wanna be rich, by any means necessary,” Tamar stated.

  “Even if it means losing your soul in the process?” asked Lisa.

  “Hey, I want all my good will and fortune here on earth while I can enjoy it. You can’t take it wit’ you when you’re dead, right? And I want my respect,” Tamar replied.

  “We do get our respect,” Mona said.

  “Yeah, but I want everybody to know not to fuck wit’ me and my crew.”

  “They rarely fuck wit’ us now, Tamar,” Cristal said.

  “They don’t, because they fear us. And why they fear us? Because we gets it poppin’ on the streets. We earned our respect out there by fighting and doin’ whatever,” Tamar exclaimed proudly.

  “So, let me ask you a question. What is more important to you, to be feared or loved?” Pike asked.

  “Loved!” Sharon blurted out without giving her answer a second thought.

  “Why love?” Pike asked her.

  “Because love is a beautiful thing. To be truly loved by someone is why we’re put on earth. I want to feel love, give love, and be in love,” Sharon declared. “But fear is a horrible feeling caused by someone or something that is dangerous. I mean, someone or something that is likely to cause pain, or a threat. And when people fear you, eventually, they’re going to go against you. Then they’ll want to hurt you, and I don’t want anyone coming at me. I don’t want to be a threat to anyone.”

  “Okay, Mother Teresa,” Mona joked. “But you know love hurts, too.”

  “It do. Everything hurts, but how you deal with that hurt is what truly matters,” Sharon stated.

  Pike was smitten by her answer. He saw that she was intelligent and somewhat different from her peers. Her beauty wasn’t up to par like the others, but her persona, her voice, and her speech was appealing.

  He gazed at Sharon and said, “I respect that. You gotta respect love.”

  “Fuck that, I would rather be feared,” Tamar continued.

  “Me too,” Cristal cosigned.

  “Well, I would rather be loved, too,” Pike said while staring at Sharon.

  “Yeah, you loved this bitch and that bitch, and the next bitch, and I know you wanna love me too, right? Me love you long time.” Tamar laughed. “You a male whore, Pike, face the fact. Bitches love you and you love them right back, for a whole five minutes.”

  “Whatever, Tamar,” Pike replied, waving her off.

  Tamar spread her legs sexually in his direction, gesturing her need for some dick and playing around for a laugh. “You want this pussy too, Pike? It’s all yours. You know how tight it is.”

  “You tripping, Tamar.”

  “What? You turning down some pussy, Pike? Get the fuck outta here. That would be the first. It must be freezing in hell.”

  “Leave him alone, Tamar,” Sharon interjected.

  “What, you wanna fuck him too, Sharon?” Tamar continued to taunt.

  “No!” Sharon blurted out with attitude.

  “I mean, he passes out his dick like pamphlets and flyers in the hood,” Tamar teased.

  “That’s enough, Tamar. Like you a saint,” Sharon shouted out.

  “Damn, let me find out someone is getting touchy and shit. I mean, you ain’t fuckin’ him and you acting like that. Shit, imagine if you were fuckin’.”

  “Tamar, chill out,” Mona scolded.

  “I swear, everybody in this room is too uptight. We smoking and having fun, right? So let’s have fun,” said Tamar.

  “I’ll have some fun wit’ you Tamar. How do you want it?” Rich smiled.

  “Come and eat my pussy then,” she replied with a lecherous grin.

  “Only if you return the favor . . . and ladies first,” Rich replied.

  “Yeah, right.”

  As Tamar and Rich joked around with each other and the other girls got high, Pike for some reason couldn’t take his eyes off of Sharon. She smoked and smiled with her friends, but then she noticed Pike’s eyes fixed on her. There was something radiant about her—something intriguing and maybe rousing. His lingering stare made her blush and turn away.

  “I like your hair. I love natural hair on a black woman,” Pike complimented with an engaging look.

  “Thank you,” Sharon returned with a humble gaze and smile.

  Sharon found that she was somewhat flabbergasted by Pike’s sudden attraction toward her. Everyone in the room was also shocked. What did Pike see in Sharon that he didn’t see in them? She was the least attractive girl in the room.

  “Let me find out you got a thang for my girl Sharon, Pike,” Cristal announced.

  “Please, that nigga just tryin’ to fuck her. Sharon got a big booty and some nice tits, he wanna squeeze them goodies till juices come out,” said Tamar.

  “Tamar! Damn, why you gotta always be so ghetto and loud?” Sharon shouted heatedly.

  “Cuz I am!” she spat back. “And best believe; don’t get hype cuz the nigga lookin’ at you special. He do that to all the bitches he wants some pussy from.”

  Rich laughed. He took a pull from the blunt and said, “Hey that sounds like hate to me, Tamar.”

  “Fuck you, Rich!” Tamar shouted, giving Rich the middle finger.

  “Please do.”

  Sharon became uncomfortable all of a sudden about the subject being on her. She stood up, saying, “I need to pee,” and left the room for the bathroom.

  The weed continued to be passed around with a thick fog of it lingering inside the apartment. The girls continued talking loudly and being reckless with their words. They were a ghetto crew from Brooklyn that boosted from stores and shopping malls, along with jumping and cutting bitches with razors and knives, dabbling in drugs and doing whatever it took to earn a living or sustain their reputation. They were all looking for a come-up or a way out of the hood, and getting with a rich nigga was usually their formula.

  “You really like my friend?” Lisa asked Pike.

  “I think she’s cute . . . different,” he responded coolly.

  “Cute? We all are cute in here, and no offense to my friend, but she can’t hold a candle to any one of us, Pike,” said Tamar callously.

  “Tamar, just shut up!” Mona retorted.

  “It’s the truth. You know me, I always keep it real, no matter if you like it or not,” Tamar returned sternly.

  “Yeah, and that’s the problem wit’ you,” Lisa said.

  “Fuck all y’all,” Tamar retorted.

  “We love you too, bitch,” Cristal joked.

  The room stirred up with laughter while Rich started rolling up another blunt. With another blunt being smoked and passed around, Pike decided to lighten the mood and asked, “What y’all got planned for tomorrow night?”
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  “Why you asking?” Cristal asked with a raised brow.

  Pike took another strong pull from the burning weed and said, “Have y’all ever heard of the name Easy P, or E.P. for short?”

  “Yeah, we heard of him before, ain’t he supposed to be somebody big-time? And he’s really rich, right?” inquired Cristal.

  “Yo, E.P. is big not just on the streets, but everywhere else. He’s smart and shit. He’s doing his thang and he got more money than train smoke, and the man has his hands in everything,” Pike boasted.

  “Okay and how do you know him? Or do he know you?” Mona asked, being facetious.

  “I know everybody. I got connects,” Pike bragged.

  “Yeah, your mouth and lips must be really tired after all that sucking and ass-kissing,” Tamar joked.

  “Ha ha, you funny, Tamar. Just for that, you ain’t invited,” Pike said halfheartedly.

  “Where my crew go, I go,” Tamar snapped back.

  “Yeah, too bad for them.”

  “Are we really invited to his party tomorrow night?” Cristal asked.

  “Yes. He asked me to bring some beautiful and classy females to his joint. I guess we have to work or pray on the classy part for y’all, huh?” Pike remarked with a grin.

  “Oh, you got jokes tonight, too, huh?” Mona responded.

  “But anyway, E.P. is a big basketball fan. NBA, college and even high school—like Rich here, he’ll bet on any game. We met several years ago through a mutual friend. He likes my game. We became cool friends,” Pike boasted.

  “I heard that E.P. is one of the biggest drug distributors on the East Coast. They say he’s connected to the Mexican drug cartel,” Mona revealed.

  “Nah, I heard he’s this high-profile lawyer that represents the Mafia, and he once helped John Gotti get off a murder charge,” said Lisa.