Blood of a Boss II: The Streets Is Watching

by Askari

  “Yo, I ain’t gon’ hold you him,” Ted said as he waved his Glock between Pooky and Rahman, “if y’all don’t leave my mutha’fuckin’ shop, I’ma start twistin’ shit.”

  Slowly, Sheed stood to his feet and ordered Pooky and Rahman to fall back. He massaged his jaw and looked at Sonny with tears in his eyes. “After all the shit we been through this is how you treat me?”

  “Naw, nigga, this is how you treated me when you violated my mutha’fuckin’ family! That ain’t even considering the fact that you tucked all that work on me,” Sonny stated in a cold voice. He threw up his set. “Word to Bishop! If it wasn’t for the love and respect that I got for Mook and his memory, I woulda blew ya fuckin’ head off!”

  “So what, we ain’t brothers no more?” Sheed asked with tears falling from his eyes. “We at war now?”

  “Brothers?” Sonny looked at him like he was crazy. “Nigga, we ain’t brothers! If we was brothers, you woulda never did what the fuck you did! We ain’t nothin’!” he spat. “And as far as a war? Come on fan, we both know you ain’t built for that!”

  The pain that exuded from Sheed’s eyes quickly turned into hatred. “So I guess it is what it is.”

  “Pussy, it’s whatever you want it to be,” Sonny fired back, and then waved the FNH back and forth between him and Pooky. “Y’all niggas is done in Philly. Both of y’all!” He aimed the large pistol at Rahman. “That goes for ya cross eyed ass too! Now, get the fuck out my face ‘fore I start ringin’ this mutha’fucka! Matter of fact, drop them fuckin’ hammas and put y’all hands in the air. Heemy and Twany,” he called out. “Grab them hammas off the floor and pat them niggas down.”

  They did as they were told, and further took it upon themselves to remove the money that Pooky and Rahman had their pockets.

  After being relieved of their belongings, the three men backed out the barbershop and hopped in the Range Rover. When they pulled off, Sonny sat in Ted’s chair and laid the FNH on his lap.

  “Ted, lemme get my usual,” he said as if nothing had ever happened. “A one and a half wit’ the grain.” He then, reached inside of his pants pocket and pulled out a sandwich bag of Kush and a pack of Backwoods. He tossed them to Heemy. “Yo, roll somethin’ up for me.”

  ***

  Later That Day...

  Sheed, Pooky, and Rahman were sitting in Pooky’s living room, plotting their revenge. “Damn lil’ cuzzo, I knew we shoulda ran up in that mutha’fucka and started blazin’!” Rahman snapped. He was pacing from one side of the room to the other and puffing on a Newport 100. “I can’t believe I let these bitch ass niggas get it off on me!”

  “I feel you Rock, but dude was like my brother,” Sheed explained. “Me and this nigga came up from nuffin, and our ol’ head Mook always taught us to move as a unit. We done got money together, partied together, fucked bitches together, and went to war together. I couldn’t just run down on him and treat like some random nigga in the streets. That was my mutha’fuckin’ man.”

  “Well damn bro,” Pooky interjected, “from the way this nigga was actin’, he obviously ain’t feel the same way about you!” He looked at Rahman for support. “Is it just me or was the bul about to start blastin’?”

  Rahman nodded his head in agreement, and then sat next to Sheed on the sofa. “Listen lil’ cuz, I know the nigga was ya homie but we gotta respond,” he stated in a leveled voice. “The streets is watching and you know how they operate. If we give this nigga a pass, everybody gon’ think we soft. I’m tellin’ you Sheed, we gotta do somethin’.”

  Sheed took a deep breath. “I dig where you comin’ from Rock, but at the same time we ain’t built for a war right now. If we make a move it’s not just Sonny we gon’ have to worry about.” He laid back on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. “We gon’ have to go to war wit’ the entire East Coast Bishop Blood Family, and trust me my nigga that’s a whole ‘nother monster. You talking ‘bout New York niggas, Jersey niggas, Pittsburgh niggas, South Carolina niggas, Georgia niggas, and Miami niggas. Trust me Rock, that’s a war we can’t win right now.”

  Just as Rahman was about to respond, they could hear the sound of keys jingling against the front door. A second later, the door swung open and Flo stepped inside of the house with shopping bags in both hands.

  “Pooky where you at daddy?”

  She was texting on her cell phone, and didn’t notice the three men sitting on the sofa. As she walked toward the dining room, she spotted them out the corner of her left eye. Specifically, she spotted Sheed. He scowled at her, and then turned his attention to Pooky. “Damn big bro, you got my bitch callin’ you daddy now?”

  “N—N—Naw Sheed. It ain’t even like that,” Pooky tried to explain.

  Sheed chuckled. “Yo, don’t even sweat that shit.” He returned his gaze to the woman that he used to love more than himself. “What’s poppin’ Flo? I’m glad you stopped by, you saved me a trip. I was just about to stop by ya house and pick up my Sting Ray. My new bitch needs to get her shit upgraded.”

  Begrudgingly, she removed the Corvette key from her key ring, and threw it at him. “Fuck you, Sheed!”

  “Nah bitch, don’t fuck me! Keep fuckin’ my brother!” he snapped, and then spit across the room. His snotty saliva landed on her fur coat and her face turned bright red.

  “I fuckin’ hate you!” she shouted before running out the front door.

  Pooky got up to run after her, but Sheed gripped him by the back of his shirt. “Nigga, sit ya ass back down! We talkin’ business right now! Fuck that bitch!”

  Pooky returned to his seat and folded his arms across his chest. Sheed looked at Rahman, and snapped. “You know what, fuck Sonny! Him and whoever he got ridin’ wit’ him! That pussy ain’t build this shit by hisself! Mook was my ol’ head too! So, at the end of the day, half of this shit is rightfully mines!”

  “Now that’s what the fuck I’m talking’ bout!” Rahman instigated. He jumped off the sofa and snatched up the AK-47 that was lying on the coffee table. “Let’s ride on this mutha’fucka!”

  “Naw, not yet,” Sheed replied in a calm voice. “Before we do anything, we gotta get my paper back in order. Like I said, half of everything this nigga owns belongs to me so we gon’ take back what’s rightfully mines. First, we gon’ take over his blocks. Then after that, we gon’ shutdown Donkees and Infamous.” He looked at Pooky. “How much work you got left?”

  “A little over 9 ounces.”

  “A’ight,” Sheed said as he got up from the sofa and headed for the front door. “Tomorrow mornin’ I’ma bring you a brick. Break it down to grams, and then take it to Delhi Street.”

  “But Sonny said - “

  “Fuck what Sonny said,” Sheed cut him off. “That’s my mutha’fuckin’ block!”

  ***

  It was 7:30 p.m. when Sonny arrived at the Applebee’s on Old York Road. As he cruised through the parking lot, he noticed that the only cars in the vicinity were Daphney’s Benz, Easy’s Jaguar, Breeze’s Maserati, Rahmello’s Aston Martin, and his grandmother’s Navigator.

  “What the fuck is she up to?” he wondered as he parked beside her SUV.

  He hopped out the Ghost and examined his reflection in the tinted windows. He was dressed in a black tuxedo with diamond cuff links, and a black Burberry London trench coat was draped over his shoulders. Satisfied with his appearance, he casually strolled toward the entrance.

  When he stepped through the door and entered the restaurant, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The large dining room was transformed into a wedding chapel. The tables and windows were covered in white silk and lavender fabrics and crystal chandeliers decorated the ceiling. A plethora of white chairs was positioned on both sides of the room. A purple carpet ran down the aisle and stopped at the altar, where Daphney was waiting for him in a pearl white Vira Wang. A white veil covered her face and the only thing he could see was the large diamonds that decorated her ears. Standing to her right, Annie, Erika, and her best friend Tasha were d
raped in lavender gowns from The House Of Versace. They were smiling at him from ear to ear, and they each held a single white rose.

  Reverend Johnson, his grandmother’s pastor, was standing beside Daphney. Off to his left, dressed in black tuxedos, Easy, Breeze, Rahmello, and Dayshon were standing at attention. All of them waiting for him to take his rightful place beside his bride.

  A familiar baseline erupted from the sound system, and the R&B group, Jagged Edge emerged from the kitchen area. They were dressed in white suits and singing their classic hit, Gotta Be.

  Don’t wanna make a scene/ I really don’t care if people stare at us/ Sometimes I think I’m dreaming/ I pinch myself just to see if I’m awake or not.

  “Damn, my baby went all out for a nigga,” he said to himself.

  As he began to walk toward the altar, a light tug on the back of his tuxedo made him stop and turn around. Behind him, his grandmother was smiling like a little kid on Christmas morning. She was standing beside Keyonti, and the little girl was reaching out for him.

  “She’s givin’ you away,” his grandmother giggled, and then placed Keyonti’s hand inside of his. She then nodded her head toward the altar. “Go on now. Your queen is up there waitin’ on you.”

  He looked down at his daughter and couldn’t keep the tears from rolling down his face. She looked so beautiful in her white gown and diamond studded tiara. She looked up at her father’s wet eyes, and slowly shook her head.

  “No cry dada. Look,” she pointed down the aisle toward her mother. “Mama lub dada.” She smiled at him, and then gently tugged him toward the altar.

  When they approached Daphney, Keyonti connected his hand with her mother’s, and then wrapped her arms around his leg.

  Slowly, he lifted the veil away from Daphney’s face and saw the warm tears that dripped from her brown eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. He then kissed her tears away one at a time

  “I love you, Sontino.”

  “I love you more, ma.”

  Together, they turned toward Reverend Johnson, and before God they became united as one.

  ***

  After experiencing their first dance together as a married couple, Easy approached them with a white envelope clutched in his right hand.

  “Here,” he handed Sonny the envelope. “It’s two first class plane tickets to the Bahamas. Me and your mom made reservations for y’all at the Atlantis Beach Towers. It’s a five star resort on Paradise Island. The plane is scheduled for lift off tomorrow mornin’ at eleven o’clock, so be on point. As far as Dayshon and Keyonti, me and your mother are gonna keep ‘em for the week.”

  “Good lookin’ pops. We appreciate it!” Sonny smiled at him, and placed the envelope in his back pocket.

  Easy kissed him on the forehead, and then leaned forward to kiss Daphney on the cheek. “I love y’all.”

  “We love you too,” they replied in unison.

  Easy returned his gaze to Sonny and reached out to straighten his bow tie. “A’ight Sontino, I’m ‘bout to slide. I gotta go handle that situation wit’ Poncho. Enjoy y’all honeymoon and I’ma see y’all when y’all get back.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was 10:47 p.m. when Easy pulled up in front of Poncho’s bodega. He killed the ignition and climbed out the Jag. After glancing up and down the block, he popped the trunk, and then looked around once more. Satisfied that nobody was watching, he grabbed the red Cambryo and closed the trunk.

  When he entered the store, Poncho’s wife Marisol was standing behind the cash register. She looked at him and squinted her eyes. Although she hadn’t seen him in over twenty years, she immediately recognized the face of the man who was once her husband’s best customer.

  “Easy!” she smiled at him. “How ju doing? It’s been a long time since I seen ju last!”

  “Yeah Mrs. Nunez it sure has,” he returned her smile, and then glanced around the store. “Is Poncho here? He’s supposed to be meetin’ me tonight.”

  She nodded her head toward the back of the store.

  “He’s in his office. I’ll let him know ju are here.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  As she called Poncho to let him know that Easy was there to see him, Easy walked down the center isle and approached the two wooden doors that occupied the back wall. He gently tapped on the door to his left and waited patiently. About thirty seconds later, the door swung open and Poncho was standing there with a smile on his face. He was dressed in tan slacks and a worn out wife beater. Tattered Payless shoes adorned his feet and a straw hat rested on his head.

  “Easy my friend! How ju doin’?” he continued smiling as he shook Easy’s hand. He looked at the Cambryo that was clutched in Easy’s free hand, and then motioned for him to step inside of the office.

  “Considerin’ all the circumstances, I’m doin’ pretty good,” Easy replied while looking around the pantry that Poncho called his office. It amazed him that after two decades, the small room looked the same as it did back in 1985 when they first met. There was a wooden picnic table that he used for a desk, a 13 inch black and white television that was sitting on a file cabinet, and a liquor shelf on the right wall.

  “It’s exactly the way you and Juan wanted it,” Easy said as he handed over the cooler.

  Poncho looked inside and was pleased to see that Mexican Bobby’s hands and tongue were neatly packaged in two separate zip lock bags. He closed the Cambryo and motioned for Easy to take a seat. “Sontino’s a good boy, Easy. Ju raise him right.”

  “Thanks Poncho, I appreciate that,” Easy smiled. “He wanted to bring this to you personally, but he just got married today and him and his wife are getting ready for their honeymoon.”

  “Young love,” Poncho sighed, and then shook his head as if he were reminiscing about a love from his past. “Speaking of which, my Olivia and ju son,” he waved his hand dismissively, “de other one. What his name?”

  “Rahmello,” Easy quickly answered. “What about him?”

  “He been snooping around my Olivia, and I do not like it,” he complained. “I need for ju to talk to him. Ju tell him to keep away.”

  Just as Easy was about to respond, the door cracked open and a young Spanish man who appeared to be in his early twenties peaked his head inside of the office.

  “Papi, Fernando said that he needs to see you.”

  “Okay,” Poncho looked at him with an irritated expression, “but ju do know how to knock on a door, no?”

  The young man smiled. “Si papi. My bad.”

  “Easy, dis is my son Estaban. Estaban, dis is my old friend, Easy,” he introduced them.

  When they shook hands, Estaban recognized Easy as someone from his past. The only difference was that this time Easy wasn’t aiming a gun at his face. What the fuck? This is the nigga that killed Angelo and Gordo, he thought to himself as he remembered the day that his older brother and cousin were gunned down on Indiana Street. He looked at his father and in Spanish he informed him that Easy was the man responsible for the murders of his brother and cousin. Poncho looked at Easy and smiled.

  “Hey yo Poncho, you know how I feel about you talkin’ that Spanish shit around me,” Easy reminded him.

  Poncho chuckled. “Don’t ju worry my friend. Estaban was just informing me about a family issue. It’s nothing,” he waved him off, and then returned his gaze to Estaban. “Beta Busca Chee-Chee.”

  “Si papi.”

  The young man scowled at Easy, and then left the office. Poncho approached the liquor shelf and grabbed a bottle of rum. “Ju want something to drink?”

  “Nah, I’m good,” Easy answered. He was slightly uncomfortable from the look that Estaban gave him before he left the office. “I’m still waitin’ on you to tell me about my son snoopin’ around your daughter.”

  Poncho looked at him with a blank expression. The office door swung open and Chee-Chee was standing in threshold with a double barrel shotgun clutched in his palms. Confused, Easy hopped out of hi
s seat and looked at Poncho. “Yo, what the fuck is this?”

  Poncho trembled with rage. “Ju remember de day ju robbed 4th and Indy?”

  “What?” Easy asked, completely dumbfounded.

  “Ju don’t remember robbing my corner a couple of years ago?” Poncho shouted. “And killing my son and my nephew?”

  Instantly, Easy remembered the day that he robbed and killed the two Spanish men on the corner of 4th and Indiana. “Fuck!” hHe reached for his gun, but before he could pull it out, Chee-Chee squeezed the trigger on his shotgun.

  Boom!

  The blast lifted Easy off of his feet and he landed on the picnic table. Despite the gut wrenching wound to his abdomen, his adrenaline was in overdrive and he felt no pain. He grabbed his Glock .19 from his shoulder holster, and then he staggered to his feet. Sluggishly, he attempted to let off a shot but once again Chee-Chee beat him to the punch.

  Boom! Boom!

  The bullets ripped through his chest and right shoulder, flipping him over the picnic table. As he lay on the floor, struggling to breathe, Poncho removed a .44 Bulldog from the small of his back. He cocked the hammer and aimed the barrel at Easy’s head. “Ju fucked up. I never shoulda trusted ju.”

  Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Olivia pushed pass Chee-Chee and stormed inside of the office. “Papi, what happened?” she asked in a shaky voice. No sooner than she asked the question, her eyes locked on the crimson red blood that decorated the back wall. She then looked behind the picnic table where Easy was twisted on the floor. “Ay dios mio!” she screamed. “Ay dios mio!”

  Poncho snapped at her. “Leave Olivia! Beta!”

  “But papi,” she cried.

  “Escucha me!”

  She lowered her head and turned around to leave. As she closed the door and began walking toward the front of the bodega, the thunderous sound of another gunshot pierced her soul and the only thing she could think about was Rahmello.