by Mark Anthony
There was about a three second pause in the action. Latiefe then sucked his teeth, blew air out of his mouth, and walked away as he violently pulled out a fat wad of money and threw it in Randy’s direction.
Needless to say that the money throwing incident caught many of the club-goers’ attention as people began scrambling to pick up the hundreds, fifties, and twenties that were floating all over the place.
In the ‘hood, if someone throws money at you, it is considered a sign of blatant disrespect, and that had to be what led Randy to totally ignore the money that Latiefe had just thrown at him. Randy proceeded to rush-walk toward Latiefe as if he was a lion stalking its prey. Latiefe stopped dead in his tracks, turned around, and gave an instructional warning.
“Yo, if you want some more loot, I just gave it to you! Pick it up off the floor since you want it so bad! But I’m telling you this, you betta step with that hard-rock gangsta nonsense, ’cause word is bond, Randy, I’ll buss a cap in you! Matter of fact, man, listen! I must be trippin’ or something because I already paid you your seven Gs just like everybody else, so get out of my face! What the hell? Are you tryin’ to extort me or something? Man, Randy, listen, there are too many ladies standing around up in this club, so don’t try to be mista big cheese up in here!”
“Man, I don’t care about these whores up in here! Do you have my money or not!?”
“What money, nigga?” Latiefe yelled as he stared into Randy’s grill. “You better pick that loot up off the ground and get out of my face, word!”
“Nigga, I ain’t picking up a gotdamn thing off the ground! I ain’t your ho! Ahh man! Yo, you better have that dough in the crib, or I’m sayin’!”
“Yo, are you threatenin’ me?” Latiefe laughed nonchalantly. “Yo, Randy, I paid you your loot and you ain’t getting nothing else from me! Now move from in front of me. I’m trying to watch the show!” Latiefe then calmly lifted his drink to his mouth and took a sip of it.
At that moment, Randy, all in one big sweeping motion backed up, made a fist, and clocked Latiefe, sending both him and his drink crashing to the floor. He then quickly pounced on top of Latiefe and commenced to punching him like a Mike Tyson lunatic.
Dwight, Wiggie, and I tried to pull Randy off Latiefe, but we couldn’t. Randy was in a black rage or something. I had never seen Randy get that angry before. I knew that he was upset about the money, but I didn’t understand why he was so angry. I mean, he knew that our money was easy come, easy go. It wasn’t like he wasn’t gonna get his loot. But maybe he was just thinking about the principle of what Latiefe had done, or maybe he was unleashing stress from all that had been going on in our lives.
Finally we managed to pull Randy off Latiefe. Latiefe’s nose was bloodied and his clothes were dirty from the dust and spilled drinks that were on the floor.
“Randy, I’ma kill you! Word is bond, I’ma kill you!” Latiefe convincingly threatened as we held him back.
“Shut up, punk! And go wipe your nose!” Randy said, looking as cocky as a heavily breathing person could look.
As the rest of our crew tried to keep Randy and Latiefe separated, girls looked on and screamed as globs of blood trickled out of Latiefe’s nose.
That one quick little squabble managed to trigger off the crowd, and in turn caused a lot of pushing and shoving. Then someone fired two shots into the direction of the crowd, which sent everyone, including us, running for the exits. Randy and Latiefe had just ruined a fun night for the entire metropolitan area.
After we’d all made it safely to our respective cars, everyone in the crew wanted to know just exactly what had caused Randy to want to kick Latiefe’s butt. Randy explained as he showboated like Muhammad Ali after a prize fight.
“He tried to play me like a roach! You don’t play around with somebody’s livelihood, especially mines! Cats on the street die behind that! You knaaimean? So I had to bring it to him!”
At that point none of us knew where Latiefe was, and his car was also gone. We figured that he was a’ight, and that he was probably just upset and embarrassed, so he left without speaking to anyone. In a way, I wished that Latiefe had not bounced, because all of that civil war crap had to be squashed. He and Randy should have talked out the entire thing right there outside the club.
“Tomorrow, you and Tee are gonna squash this!” Dwight instructed Randy as we prepared to depart the club. “Our crew is too close for this crap! We were supposed to talk about our operation tonight, but we’ll just take care of it tomorrow.”
“Man, I ain’t squashing a gotdamn thing! Five Gs ain’t five dollars! I want my money! I never did trust that nigga! I knew something like this was gonna happen. I knew it! He’ll cut your throat if you let him! That snake, con-artist bastard!”
“A’ight, chill, Randy. We’ll get you your money, a’ight man?” Dwight said.
Randy didn’t respond.
The next day rolled around and Latiefe was still missing in action. No one had seen or heard from him since the night of the fight. Yeah, Latiefe was MIA throughout the entire day, until later that night when he burst into the apartment happier than a pig in slop. He was smiling from ear to ear. When he walked through the door we all looked at him as if he was a ghost or something.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Latiefe said, trying to imitate the infamous line from the old television show What’s Happening!!
Kinda surprised to see Latiefe in such a good mood, we all asked him what was going on.
“Oh, I’m chillin’. I’m good. Yo, where’s my man Randy at?” Latiefe asked.
“He’s at Susan’s house,” Erik answered.
“Oh word, that’s cool. Yo, did y’all buy anything to eat?”
“Yeah, there’s something in the kitchen,” Erik advised.
I was confused and didn’t know exactly what to make of Latiefe’s happy-go-lucky mood.
“Yo, I’m outta here. I gotta get some sleep,” I told the crew as I departed for my bed.
“Holz, why you going to bed so early?” Latiefe asked.
“Because, I’m going to see my sister in the morning, and I know if I go out tonight, then I won’t wanna wake up in the morning.”
I stuck true to my word and the next morning I was at my parent’s house at about 11:00 A.M.
“What’s up, sis?” I asked as I hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “How you been?”
“I’ve been all right. How about you?”
“Chillin’, just chillin’.”
“Mark, you stayin’ out of trouble?”
“Of course.”
“So what’s new?”
“Nothing really. It’s just the same ol’ same ol’. I’m trying to make enough money so that I can just go back to college and concentrate totally on my school work.”
“Oh, you’re going back to college in September?” Paula asked, sounding encouraged.
“Hopefully.”
“Well, Mark, you better make up your mind real quick, because registration ends in a week. The fall semester starts in like another two weeks.”
“I don’t know. I’ll probably just skip this semester.”
“Mark, please try to finish school,” Paula pleaded. “We need more positive brothers in this world.”
“I am, Paula. I’m gonna finish just for you. I’ma get that degree because I love you and I know how important it is to you, to Sabine, and to Daddy. If that’s what y’all want, then that is what I’ll do.”
“Mark, don’t do it for me or anybody else. Do it for yourself and for society. Plus, Mark, you really don’t need money in order to go to school. You’ll make all the money that you wanna make as soon as you get out of school. OK?”
“Paula, where is everybody at?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“Well Daddy’s at work, and Mommy’s not home because she’s working a double shift. Nia just left a few minutes ago.”
“I probably won’t be here when Mom and Dad get home, but make sure that you tell them
that I love them and that I’m OK. Matter of fact, here, take this eight hundred dollars and give it to them.”
Paula informed me that my parents were sure to object to the gift.
“I know, but just give it to them anyway, even if they don’t take it. All right? But listen, I’m gonna go up to my room for a while and reminisce. Do you still want me to take you shopping for clothes?”
“Yeah.”
“OK, we’ll bounce in a few minutes. Paula, you didn’t tell me whether you liked my car.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Mark, I forgot that you bought a car. I’ll look at it right after I put these clothes in the washing machine.”
“Yeah, you can look out the front window and you’ll be able to see it. It’s the gray Saab that’s parked right in front of our house. I’ll be upstairs in my room lying down.”
“All right, let me go in the basement and take care of these clothes, then I’ll look and see if your car is all of that, the way you say it is.”
As I lay upstairs in my room I thought to myself for a while. I couldn’t help but think about all of the peace and tranquility that I’d foregone.
Why did I give all of this up? Home-cooked meals every night, clean surroundings, a nice, warm, loving family. Why did I trade in all of this for the way that I’m living now? Maybe I’m just stupid, crazy, or a psycho. No no, I’m a hoodlum. Better yet, I’m a thug. Mark, you’ve been called those names for as long as you can remember, so you might as well believe it and continue trying to live up to it.
I continued to just melt in the sense of peace that I was experiencing in my old room. My old bed felt so good. I had to stop reminiscing because it was starting to make me feel like a punk, so I didn’t focus my thoughts on anything. Instead, I just lay there.
As I lay in my bed and was just about to doze off, I heard the sound of my sister yelling and screaming as if she was being attacked by someone or something. Her frantic screams perked me up real quick.
“Mark! Mark! Look! Come downstairs. Hurry up and look! Look outside!”
I jumped up and darted downstairs. I hadn’t a clue as to what was going on.
“Paula, what happened? What’s going on?” The first thing I thought was that somebody must have been trying to steal my car. “Is it my car?”
“No, no, look out the window!”
I pushed the curtains away from my living room window so that I could see exactly what was going on. What in the world was my sister so hyper about?
As soon as I was able to focus my eyes on what it was that was causing all of the hype, I yelled out “Holy . . .”
I was in disbelief. Although I now had a pretty good idea as to what was happening, I still asked myself the question, Yo, what in the world is going on?
With my brown eyes wide open, I scanned the block. All I could see were police and more police. Emergency service police filled 234th Street. There were big police trucks that looked as though they could carry every SWAT team in this country. There were unmarked police cars, police dogs, auxiliary police, tons of ambulances, and an unaccountable number of patrol cars that crowded the somewhat narrow block. Two helicopters were hovering above the houses. I even saw the local TV news vans, along with what looked like camermen and photographers.
“Mark, what’s going on?” my sister asked.
“I don’t know,” I quickly answered.
“Mark, who are they looking for? It looks like they’re watching Randy’s house.”
Randy’s house was directly across the street from my parents’ home. Therefore, I could see everything that was going on.
“Yeah, Paula, they are at Randy’s crib. Yo, I have to get out of here! Paula, where is the key to the back door?”
“Mark, what do you mean you have to get out of here? What happened? Are they looking for you or something?”
“Paula, I don’t have time to stand here and talk, OK? Now hurry up and go get me the damn key!” I yelled.
“Mark, what did y’all do?” my sister demanded to know. I snatched the key from out of her hand.
“We didn’t do nothing. Paula, I’m outta here. If the cops come looking for me, I want you to tell them that you haven’t seen me.”
“Mark!” my sister yelled in frustration.
“OK? Paula, I’m out.”
At that moment the picture of the two detectives lying on the ground in a pool of blood flashed through my head.
“Oh no!” I said as my heart started to pound faster and faster.
“Mark, if they are after you, then you can’t leave this house, because they’ll definitely catch you!” my sister warned.
My sister and I had been thinking the exact same thing, but I tried to play it off.
“Paula, they ain’t after me!”
What am I gonna do? I wondered. I frantically paced the living room floor trying to come up with an idea. I sat on the couch and planted my face into the palms of both of my hands. Think, Mark, think!
Actually, I was way too nervous to think rationally. My heart was beating furiously. I had nothing but pure adrenaline flowing through my veins. I was grabbing at my hair, trying to calm down.
As my sister peeked out of the window, I yelled inside of my head. Holz, stop being a sucker! Calm down right now!
My nerves started to fall a notch. Why am I worried? They’re not coming after me, or else they would already be surrounding my crib too, I decided. I was scared like crazy, but I didn’t care.
“Forget this! Come on, Paula!” I barked.
“Mark, what is wrong with you? What are you talking about? Where are we going?”
“Let’s go outside and watch like the rest of the nosy neighbors are doing!”
“Mark, I’m perfectly fine right here! I’ll look from the window where it is nice and safe. Mark, you better not leave this house, ’cause they could start shooting or whatever. Don’t go out there!”
“I don’t give a damn if they start shooting!” I said. “I got a gun, too!”
I boldly opened my front door, stood on my front steps, and watched as the drama was unfolding. If they were after me, well then, they sure could have had me. I stared at the movie-like action. I didn’t want to believe it, but I knew that they were after Randy.
Holz, if they come out of that house with Randy, take your gun and pop at least one of those pigs! I said to myself. Let them have it! If you die, you die, but you can’t let your boy go to jail. Smoke them jokers. No conscience Mark. No conscience. You’re Fourth Crew till the day you die! Don’t front.
There I stood on my steps, ready to give my life as a ransom for my homeboy. I was filled with and ready to pour out all kinds of nervous energy. I waited and waited for the police to commence with their police tactics. It seemed as if the police were taking forever to make their move. But the long wait for something to unfold did me a lot of good. It allowed me to return back to my normal self.
Be sensible, I told myself. How the hell are you gonna shoot a cop when there’s a million other pigs around? They’ll put so many holes in you that you wouldn’t even be able to have an open casket funeral.
As the two helicopters drew closer to the land, they made a heck of a lot of noise. Then suddenly there was a lot of movement in the street. Drama was about to unfold. Cops started running around—some began to take aim, while others began to take cover. By this time every news camera in the city was on our block. Cameramen went to work, as did the photographers. My heart rate shot up because I knew something was about to happen. Neighbors anxiously awaited the climax.
At that point I saw Randy emerge from the side door of his house. Randy was stereotypically dressed for this role—pants hanging off with boxer shorts exposed. He looked as if he had a sack of doo-doo in his pants. To spice up his thug character, he had a huge gold chain on, not to mention the gold caps that were in his mouth.
As Randy walked from the side of his house, heading toward the street, he was in full view of everyone, but he didn’t wal
k alone. He walked with his hands handcuffed behind his back. He also had two detectives right by his side. One detective walked and held Randy’s left arm, while the other detective walked and held his right arm.
Randy didn’t look the least bit worried or embarrassed. As he walked and prepared to enter into one of the patrol cars, he donned a serious B-boy/gangster limp. He was walking as though he was the toughest thing on the earth since nails. He bopped and bopped, and at the same time he chewed on a piece of green bubble gum. He looked as if he were a cow chewing its curd.
Just before he sat down in the patrol car, he spit at a news reporter and tried to kick a photographer. It was at that point that he was pushed head first into the backseat of the patrol car where he sat for about five minutes. As he sat, the media swarmed in on the car, similar to the way fans swarm a limo when Michael Jackson is inside. The herd of reporters all wanted to get some type of comment from, or picture of Mr. Randy Allen.
Randy’s mom, his brothers, and sisters all looked on in disbelief. His mom was crying and screaming.
“He didn’t do it, he didn’t do anyting!” she wailed in a Caribbean accent. “Let my baby go. Where are you taking him?”
Neighbors watched in astonishment. Some were whispering to each other. This, by far, was one of, if not the most dramatic episode that 234th Street had ever seen.
Oh no! I thought to myself. They caught him. They actually caught him! I couldn’t believe it. I yelled out Randy’s name as loudly as I could.
“Randy! Randy!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Yo, Randy!”
Finally I managed to get his attention. He peered out of the car window. With my right hand I made the letter Y extending my thumb to my ear and my pinkie to the front of my mouth. I was trying to convey to Randy that I wanted him to call me.
“Call me!” I yelled. “Call the crib! Call the crib!”
Randy nodded his head up and down, then he was whisked away, along with a caravan of police cars that served as escorts. He was probably on his way to the precinct, and then he would surely end up at central booking.
The block started to clear up a bit. The helicopters were gone before I could blink. Bystanders and the rest of the police started to disperse. I turned around and went back into my house where I found my sister in tears.