Carl Weber Presents Ride or Die Chick 1: The Story of Treacherous and Teflon

by J. M. Benjamin

  Everybody knew the Tidewater Park and Diggs Park boys were the best fighters, but often a lot of shooting transpired and a lot of bodies popped up. Oak Leaf Park projects was another spot Tidewater beefed with. No one liked going up in there because it was only one way in and one way out of the spot where Treacherous grew up. Tidewater beefed with everybody. The area in which Treacherous had been raised would be viewed as highly dangerous. It had a reputation for being wild, but to someone like Treacherous it was the best. Rich had just started letting Treacherous go outside after his first fight at Churchland Elementary, setting off a spree of fights. Other kids who thought they were tough had heard about Treacherous’s fighting skills and wanted to test them. They found out the hard way just how nice Treacherous was with his hands. By the time Treacherous had turned thirteen his fighting record in the hood was 8-0, and the old and young heads respected his hand game and his gangster all around the board after his last fight. One day when Treacherous was coming home from school he crossed paths with one of the young hustlers who was four years his senior. As Treacherous walked passed the kid he heard his name called out. Treacherous stopped at the sound of his name being called. When he looked he saw the kid standing there, gesturing for him to come to where he stood with some type of bill in his hand. Treacherous recognized the kid, who was known as Bear, huddled up with four other kids he knew to be local drug dealers. He was a bully who picked on the younger kids.

  Treacherous was not afraid of Bear, who was twice his size. His father had taught him that it wasn’t the size of the person but the size of their heart and the bigger they are the harder they fall, not to mention the fact that he had been taking his twelfth birthday present with him wherever he went. He contemplated on walking over there to see what Bear wanted. Whatever it was, Treacherous knew it wasn’t anything good, the way Bear and the other boys smirked, trying to hold their laughter.

  Bear motioned for Treacherous again, and this time he went over.

  “Oh, I thought you was gonna act like you ain’t hear me and keep going like a li’l bitch,” Bear joked.

  At the sound of that Treacherous instantly regretted coming to see what Bear wanted. “I ain’t no bitch,” he replied sternly.

  “Yo chill, li’l Treach, I’m just fuckin’ with you. Here, take this and run to the store for me right quick,” Bear ordered, holding out a five-dollar bill. Treacherous looked at him as if he had just spoken Chinese, then spun around and began walking off.

  Bear reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Yo, you hear what the—”

  That’s as far as he got before Treacherous grabbed his hand, stepped to the side, and hip- tossed Bear to the ground. The other four boys stood there, stunned, as Bear lay there flat on his back. Treacherous stood waiting for Bear to get up as the other hustlers and spectators gathered. As bad as they wanted to, none of the boys made a move to jump Treacherous because they knew who they’d have to answer to. Bear had an embarrassed expression on his face as he got up. His ego and pride had been bruised. There was only one way to redeem himself, he thought. He fumbled to reach under his shirt. At that point he used emotion over intellect. Already on point, Treacherous drew his birthday present in the blink of an eye, switched the safety off in rapid speed and skill. The shot came out of nowhere, surprising everyone, including Bear.

  Bear screamed in agony. “This li’l mu’fucka shot me.”

  Bear saw his hand was leaking through his shirt. Before he could get his gun out Treacherous had beat him to the draw. Not sure what to do, Bear’s boys stared at Treacherous in awe.

  As an extra precaution, Treacherous drew his weapon on Bear’s friends.

  “Whoa, li’l Treach, you got it, baby,” one of the boys said, throwing his hands up in the air as the others followed suit.

  Treacherous kneeled and disarmed Bear of the 9 mm he possessed under his shirt, never taking his eyes off of him. Still with gun drawn, Treacherous made his way home. It was from that day forward that Treacherous was no longer looked at as just being Richie Gunz’s kid, but as little thorough-ass Treacherous. When Rich found out what took place that day no one saw or heard from Bear since and no one dared to ask.

  Chapter Six

  W.E. Water Junior High School’s reputation spoke for itself. Some of the toughest kids from the streets attended there, and many legends came out of it. This was the only all-black junior high in Portsmouth, so it was just like one big projects to Treacherous. Just like the school he attended, Treacherous’s rep spoke for itself as well. He had only been back in school for about three months and had already pounded the duke of the school and began collecting all the punk dues the duke had collected. Kids who paid the old duke insisted Treach take their money. They thought by paying him it would keep the old duke from beating them up and at the same time they figured they could buy Treacherous’s friendship.

  He took the money because his father told him not to turn down anything but his collar, but he would never protect those who paid him nor would he befriend them. He actually liked the fact that people gave him money just out of fear and on the strength of who he was. In his mind, there wasn’t anything wrong with accepting the other kids’ money. He actually enjoyed being paid for just being himself. He saved every cent of what was given to him. Treacherous dreamed of buying a motorcycle like his father’s when he got older and knew the money he was saving would be of good use one day. He had grown fond of the powerful machine his dad possessed. Aside from Rich and his belated mother, there wasn’t anything else in the world Treacherous loved more then his twelfth-birthday present and bikes. One particular night, while dreaming, Treacherous was awakened out of his sleep at the sound of the loud boom that came from the downstairs. He had no idea what it was and hopped out of his bed to see what was going on. As he got closer to the stairs he heard the many different voices yelling from below. Not knowing what to expect, Treacherous doubled back and snatched up his twelfth-birthday present. Upon tiptoeing down the stairs he noticed his father sprawled out over the living-room floor. The first thought that came to his mind was they were being robbed, but he cancelled that thought once he saw the men wearing the blue jackets that bore the letters FBI in big bright yellow letters on the back. Treacherous couldn’t imagine why the FBI could be after his father, who he had thought to be a local stickup man who occasionally was a hired gun. His dad wasn’t a coke pusher or dope dealer, let alone some type of kingpin. To Treacherous’s knowledge, only the big-time gangstas and the Mafia got knocked by the feds, and although his father was all gangster, he was small-time. Or at least that’s what Treacherous believed. He thought that his father’s rep only extended as far as their own hood. Had he known the true depths of his father’s reputation, he would have known why the feds were at his home in the middle of the night. Realizing he had his twelfth-birthday present still out in his hand, he tiptoed back up the stairs with the intention of hiding it. He knew that it was just a matter of time before the feds came up. As soon as he reached the top, he heard one of the agents tell another to go check on the boy. Knowing he was “the boy,” Treacherous played possum as the agent walked into his room.

  “Treacherous,” the agent called, shaking him by the shoulder. Treacherous was surprised the man had known his name. He opened his eyes as if he had just been awakened out of a deep sleep. “My name is Agent Grimes. Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to come with me,” the agent instructed. “I’ll wait in the hall for you to get dressed.”

  “Where’s my dad?” Treacherous asked, already knowing.

  “Your dad’s downstairs. You’ll see him shortly, but for now I need you to put something on and come with me.” Treacherous knew he had no other choice but to comply. He got up and slipped on his clothes.

  “That’s a good boy,” the agent stated, seeing Treacherous was dressed. He had been through situations with other children in the past and things did not go as smoothly. The agent escorted Treacherous downstairs. When he reach
ed the living room, his father was nowhere to be found.

  “Where’s my dad?” Treacherous asked a second time. “I thought you said he was down here?”

  “Take it easy, young fella,” Agent Grimes replied, thinking he had now spoken too soon. “Some of my friends escorted your dad to another place, not too far from where I’m going to be escorting you.”

  Other agents attended to their duties while Agent Grimes continued to pacify Treacherous.

  He was not naive, nor was he a dummy. He knew his father had been arrested; he just didn’t know what for.

  “Where are you taking me?” he asked.

  “You’re going to spend the remainder of the night with some friends of mine and someone will pick you up in the morning. They’ll explain everything to you about your dad, all right?”

  Treacherous remained silent. He couldn’t believe what was happening. His head was spinning and his mind was moving a mile a minute. What could his father have done so bad that would bring the feds to their house?

  “I got it,” the agent shouted to the others. When Treacherous looked, the agent was coming from out of his father’s bedroom with an oversized green army duffel bag. Treacherous had never seen the bag before and wondered what it contained. One by one they all congratulated him.

  Treacherous was lost. He had no clue why the agents began to celebrate, but whatever the reason, he knew it was in the duffel bag.

  Chapter Seven

  “Good morning, Treacherous,” the lady greeted as she entered the small-spaced room. “My name is Ms. Lyles. I’m with the child welfare and social services department. Do you know what that is?” she asked.

  Treacherous did not respond. He knew exactly who the woman worked for. She was dressed the same way the white women who came in his neighborhood to remove kids from their parents dressed. He refused to answer any questions or cooperate with the woman, who reeked of cheap perfume, stale cigarettes, and strong coffee. Treacherous knew better than to answer anything, especially when there was a strong possibility if he did it could hurt his father’s situation. He had no way of knowing it was over for his dad no matter what he did or didn’t say. The only thing Treacherous learned was that his father had been arrested and taken into custody on armed robbery and attempted murder charges, from what he gathered based on the questions the lady had asked him. She would begin her sentences with, “Were you aware that your father was this or your father was . . .” often switching up the same questions by saying, “Did your father ever talk to you about . . .” or “You could really help your father by telling me about . . .”

  After refusing to answer the lady’s questions and seeing that she wasn’t getting anywhere, Ms. Lyles informed Treacherous she would be placing him in a residence in Norfolk. The Department of Child Services housed young kids until they found placement.

  Even before Treacherous arrived at the all-boys home, he had already made up his mind about what he was going to do. The social worker escorted him to the elderly, heavyset black woman and left him there until his case was reviewed and placement was made—at least that’s what the social worker thought. No sooner than she pulled off Treacherous was out the back door in the wind, going unnoticed. Treacherous was out of breath as he ran nonstop from the house twenty minutes straight until he felt he had put enough distance between himself and the boys home. He had no money in his pockets and all he had was the clothes on his back, so his first stop was where he knew he could go to change that. When he entered the house, Treacherous shot straight to his bedroom. He had 120 dollars stashed in a Nike shoe box under his bed that he had saved from his collections at school, along with his twelfth-birthday present. His intentions were to gather as many clothes as he could, then make his way back to his old neighborhood, where he felt the most comfortable. He had no family to turn to or any friends. All he ever had was his father, who had been taken away from him. Treacherous knew he was officially on his own. The reason for his father had taught and instilled in him all that he had had became clear at that very moment for Treacherous. It was for survival. In that instant Treacherous realized that his father had foreseen the day a long time ago, and knew it was time to put all he was taught into action.

  Chapter Eight

  After collecting as much of his belongings as he could, Treacherous could see the cab he had called to pick him up one block over from his house. Treacherous had to break the back window and climb through in order to get inside the house, which was pitch-black. Treacherous assumed the agents had turned off the lights before they secured the home. He remembered his father had a big suitcase he kept in his closet and figured he could pack his things in there. Finding the suitcase, Treacherous decided to search his father’s dresser drawers for anything of value, and to his surprise he found a stack of money in a gold money clip and a few pieces of jewelry. The agents must have overlooked this, he thought, as he slipped the clip off the money and counted it before shoving both the cash and jewelry in his pockets. The total of the money was 750 dollars. That was the most paper he had ever held in his hands at one time in his life. With the 120 dollars he had upstairs, that brought him to almost 900 dollars in cash.

  The jewelry consisted of a gold nugget watch, a Rolex presidential with diamond bezels, a thick rolled-gold link bracelet with a chain to match, and another chain that was a solid rope. He had never seen his father wear any of his jewelry or any other jewelry for that matter, so he knew his dad had robbed someone for it. He continued to rummage through the drawers, this time coming across two more items that would become useful to him. They were his father’s two .38s, which he had carried at all times. Treacherous grabbed them up and tucked them both up under his shirt like he had seen his father do a million times before leaving the house. He then went upstairs and got his possessions, then snuck back out the way he’d snuck in. When the taxi arrived, Treacherous hopped in.

  “Where to?” the driver asked

  “Tidewater Park housing projects.”

  All the Tidewater Park project heads saw Treacherous approaching and hit him with long-hard stares. Treacherous wondered why everyone was looking at him as if he were a ghost. He had ditched his suitcase a block away in a trash can before he had approached the projects he was all too familiar with, careful not to draw suspicion, but he kept the two trey-eights and his twelfth-birthday present on him just as a safety precaution since he had a pocketful of dough. Tidewater Park projects fiends were the worse rock stars and dopeheads in the area he knew, so he wasn’t trying to leave himself open to get jacked out there, contributing to some junkie’s filling his lungs or his veins with poisonous drugs.

  He walked through his old hood meeting each individual’s eyes, returning their stares. In some eyes he saw admiration and concern, while in others he saw pure hatred, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why he was being grilled the way he was as a sense of silence swept the projects. Not once did he break his stare. He was taught to look a person dead in their eyes when he talked to them or they wanted to play the staring game. He was told by his father that to break the stare was a sign of weakness or surrender. Instead of Treacherous giving in to the stares, each man dropped their eyes as he walked through. Some tried to maintain their murderous grills, but they were no match for Treacherous’s stone face. Treacherous had no idea what his intentions were when he reached the projects. He just knew this was where he felt most comfortable and safe, even though Tidewater Park projects was far from a safe place to be. As he walked through, Treacherous noticed the old-timer everyone referred to as O.G., sitting in front of an apartment. At the same time O.G. spotted Treacherous and motioned for him. Treacherous had observed his father talking to the old-timer before and noticed him leaving out of the apartment a few times when he was coming home from school. Based on those two facts he decided to see what O.G. wanted. Everyone watched as Treacherous walked in O.G.’s direction. Then, like a stopwatch that had been restarted, everyone resumed what they were doing, knowing O.G.
would school Richie Gunz’s kid. This was the first time Treacherous had been in O.G.’s presence up-close. He studied the old-timer. O.G.’s hair was like a silver lining. Its grays were permed and slightly wavy, neatly slicked to the back. His eyes were like black pearls and beady, Treacherous noticed as he stared into them, similar to his father’s, he thought. O.G.’s face looked like stone. Treacherous could see the muscles in O.G.’s clean-shaved face each time he chewed on the straw he had partially hanging out of his mouth. O.G.’s gold tooth glistened every other second as he chewed on the straw. Treacherous recalled how his father often chewed on straws and how Rich’s face was also stone-looking, but not as much as O.G.’s. Treacherous couldn’t help but to notice the similarities of O.G.’s demeanor and that of his dad’s.

  “Li’l Treach, what you doin’ around here?” asked O.G. His voice was a raspy and low toned. Treacherous leaned in, not knowing whether O.G. really spoke so low or was trying to speak for his ears only.

  Treacherous detected the concern in O.G.’s question, but didn’t know why the man was so interested in anything about him. He decided to play it safe until he found out O.G.’s motives behind his question. Rich had taught him well. Trust no one, he heard his father say in his mind.

  “I just came to visit the old neighborhood and see my friends,” Treacherous replied with skepticism. O.G. laughed to himself at Treacherous’s weak game he was spitting at him, but he respected it, though. His father had definitely taught him well, thought O.G., but one fatal mistake he made was by telling a lie and O.G. had seen right through it. O.G. had watched as Rich raised Treacherous and knew all there was to know about him. What Treacherous didn’t know was that Rich got what little parenting skills from him, and O.G. was actually Treacherous’s godfather. Had he had enough time he would have taken his godson to school on “game,” but time was not in their favor at this point in time.