Rello fell to the floor from the force of Banko’s hit. Holding his gashed-open head, he looked up like a weak link in shock that his own family had the audacity to strike him. “Yo, Banko! What the fuck, man? If you were any other nigga in the street . . .” Rello cut himself off before taking it a syllable too far. Even in the heat of the moment, he still couldn’t show anything other than loyalty and honor to his uncle.
“You’re a bitch, boy. You wouldn’t do a motherfuckin’ thang even if I gave you an open invitation. Now g’on and raise the fuck up out of my face before I crack your whole cranium open.”
Rello took one look into Banko’s eyes and knew speaking another word would be a mistake. He knew he was no match to his uncle’s street veteran methods of fighting; therefore he backed down into place. What Rello really wanted to do was run into a corner and cry.
“A’ight, Unc, you can be cool. As soon as I peel myself up off this floor I’ll be up and out ya spot. I know when my time is up and when I’m not wanted.” After taking a blow to not only his head but his pride, Rello was trying hard to recover.
“You ain’t got shit or nowhere to go. Without me, young blood, no one will have mercy on you on the streets,” Banko spat. Nonchalant and uncaring, he lit a cigar up and stepped past his kin. “Be like you said: up and out by the time I get back.” Banko was fuming at the fact he’d lost his temper, which was ultimately going to drive a wedge between him and his sister. After all she’d done as a child for him, he couldn’t return the favor by molding Rello into a man. As the man who was supposed to hold the family together, he ultimately felt like a failure.
Fuck this old nigga. I’m tired of him talking to me like I ain’t shit or a force to be reckoned with. Him and his connect were on some disrespectful shit and now damn it, I’ve got a point to prove. You better believe I’m a man. Once Rello heard Banko’s car engine start, reverse down the driveway, and pull off up the street he made his way through his uncle’s laid out house gathering his belongings and everything he needed to never return. “Hey, Ma, we need to talk,” he spoke into the phone to the one woman who’d always love and accept him unconditionally.
Banko sped down his quiet residential street on his way to the housing projects he’d grown up in. There was too much money up for grabs to let a family dispute slow down his hustle or business transactions. With the cough syrup and pills snuggly hidden underneath the custom back seats of his ride, he was eager to put Detroit city back into a nod.
I’ve had it with that li’l young nigga testing me. I’ve bent over backward for him, been carrying him on my back like he’s my son, and even tried to put him on to being his own man. He might as well spat in my face. Fuck family right about now, Patrice too if she don’t wanna cut me no slack. The more consumed he got with his thoughts, the more animosity filled his heart. He couldn’t understand why the boy he’d done so much for stole, lied, and manipulated against him.
Feeling his phone vibrating on his hip, he pulled it from its holster and instantly got aggravated at the audacity of who the private caller might’ve been. This ain’t the time for no meeting or reconciliation. Back to the old me; fuck that friendly Uncle Banko shit! “What up?” he rudely spat into the phone, expecting the receiver to be his sister or nephew.
“Bad time, my brother?” Dominik picked up on the hostility in Banko’s voice.
Banko was thrown off by the call altogether. Why is he calling restricted? Something tells me my night is about to get even more interesting. I ain’t even getting ready to question him about shorting me; we’re better than that. I’ve gotta tighten my business up before things get messier. “No, not at all, bro. I’m just out and about tying up some odd loose ends. How can I help you?” Banko knew that Dominik was a stickler when it came to receiving respect from him and anyone else he did business with; therefore, he tried cleaning up his attitude and response.
“Unfortunately I’m not calling to express my pleasure in doing business with you this time.” Dominik’s words were deliberate and cold.
He knew Dominik was displeased about Rello’s decision to bring a random girl to his home, but his tone was downright aggressive and wasn’t matching their earlier text conversation. “Whoa, what the fuck? Did some shit happen I don’t know about for you to be speaking so recklessly to me?” Dominik had never met Banko’s rough side, but it was timeout for the usual reserved approach.
“Ah, I see you are cut from the exact same cloth as your nephew and that trash he drug into my house. Nicole was right; I’ve been bamboozled by you all these years.” Dominik wasn’t accustomed to dealing with thugs or gangsters. Living cushy with his squeaky-clean wife, six-figure salary, and maid to do his dirty work, he didn’t care if his and Banko’s side deal ceased.
“Trash? Bamboozle you for years? You can’t call a grown man’s phone spitting venom on his reputation. You better start giving some answers, bro.” Banko was trying to speak as calmly as he could but rage was overcoming him. If he weren’t nearing the entrance to the housing projects, he would’ve bust a U-turn to catch and confront Rello with Dominik on the phone.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Banko.” Dominik chuckled. “The only reason I’m giving you answers is because I want justification and consequences served swift for the disrespect of my wife and me in our own home, not because you call yourself demanding me.” He paused waiting to see if Banko wanted to contest him and when the line stayed quiet, he continued. “That girl who accompanied your nephew, ‘team East-Side Star,’ stole some of my wife’s jewelry. If she’s affiliated with your camp, you aren’t as select or cautious as I thought about the company you keep. Whatever the case, I want Nicole’s valuables back nonetheless.”
Banko instantly blamed himself for sending Rello and not staying consistent with the original when he heard the discontent and disgruntlement in Dominik’s voice. “My bad, damn, bro, I had no idea. Can it be replaced? You can trust I’ve already handled my nephew though and in light of this news, little Star will be handled too.” Banko’s nose flared as his breathing deepened, he didn’t like having a bad look or leaving a sour taste in people’s mouth after dealing with him. However, he understood it was only fair that he gave the prescription connect a pass when it came to venting this one time.
“I appreciate the apology and offer to replace what the trash stole. And the regret for sending your nephew is felt. You can bring me six thousand dollars for the five-karat square diamond tennis bracelet I’d gotten Nicole for our anniversary, but if she can’t return the heirloom earrings and ring that bitch lifted that were Nicole’s great-grandmother’s, she can die. Those items were priceless so I won’t be willing to negotiate those terms,” Dominik coldly stated before disconnecting the call.
Banko didn’t bother getting upset at Dominik for abruptly ending the call or going against the grain when it came to being diplomatic. He’d been utterly disrespected in his home, subjected to bad business, and given a reason to question future dealings with Banko and his camp. The people who needed to fear his direct anger, however, were Star and Rello.
Banko drove through the entrance of the black gated projects he grew up in immediately witnessing chaos and drama unfolding. He might’ve respected where he came from because it made him value what he’s gotten as a drug dealing businessman; but he couldn’t fathom himself doing anything more than servicing the common folk of the Sojourner Truth Homes. Dopefiends were bent over in sleep nods, pill heads were wide-eyed on alert, and drug transactions were going on in plain sight. Residents of this poverty-stricken community didn’t care about laws, and neither did the cops.
Anyone who made it out of the projects automatically became a hood celebrity. He was that and more. While most people feared getting shot, stabbed, or robbed in the projects, Banko felt safe and comfortable. Out of respect, Banko threw his hand up and nodded a few times to the hustlers he employed as well as a few fiends he kept high. Everyone loved to be acknowledged by the man who had the pharmaceu
tical game locked up.
“Bingo. Bingo. That’s my car,” a boy yelled out.
“Naw, that’s mine, homeboy. You better quit playing.” A group of kids ran up to and admired Banko’s custom canary Challenger.
Damn, that used to me out here looking dusty as fuck wishing I was about something. Banko hated his memories of his childhood because he grew up less than poor. Watching the young boys who seemed to be no more than ten, from experience he knew their hunger would eventually turn them into his workers. Banko didn’t feel the least bit of remorse for pushing the pills their moms were probably tweeking off of. Playing the role of a boss properly, he slowed down and held a couple of twenties out the window for each of them to grab.
“Dang man, good looking.” One of the boys took the bill with a shy nod.
“Yeah, good looking, dude. This right here is what I’m talking about,” the other boy spoke up.
Banko took note of the second boy showing more swag and promise than his more sheltered buddy and knew he’d keep him on his radar from here on out. He’ll either be a good recruit or a li’l nigga to watch my back for. Banko chose to play his role until the time came. “All hard work pays off, young’un. That’s for watching my whip while I’m in here. Do a good job and I got both of y’all before I leave.”
“Oh shit, we got you. Trust.” The outspoken one puffed his chest out.
Banko had to laugh at the youngster’s spunk. Barely ten and tough as nails. If only my nephew could be this go hard. “G’on and hold it down, li’l nigga. I ain’t got a doubt that you got me.” He stroked the boy’s ego more, which gave him even more courage to go hard.
Banko pulled into the parking spot and jumped out to play street doctor to the underprivileged hood he once called home. Cats from the opposing side were in rare form, eye murking him from head to toe. He was dressed in an official Gucci fit with kicks to match. When he took notice of the hate, he rubbed it even more by knocking the dirt off his soles and adjusting his hat with a grim face as to say niggas better not get stupid enough to test him. Banko was getting bread and didn’t hide it. Everyone knew he used to be a straggler collecting bottles for deposits. So he took pride in showboating that he could now afford lavish things and to be legendary walking among them. Hard work pays off, niggas; ya best bet is to get like me!
He and his trusty young project runner unloaded the bags of product carrying them into the townhouse that served as the spot. Neighbors watched with an itch, waiting for their fixes to be nourished. Deep into the end of the month, many of them had robbed Peter to pay Paul to pop and swallow one of Banko’s guaranteed real deal pills. They had no intentions on paying the debts back come the first of next month, and was using the downtime to plot on future scams.
The trap house was only furnished with a rundown couch with cigarette burns on the cushions, a few IKEA tables, and a high-definition flat screen for video game rotation. It was clear to the obvious eye wasn’t nothing family oriented about this subsidized home. Banko didn’t care how trifling, nasty, or gritty the place was kept as long as his profit wasn’t a penny short. Orders were already on deck to be filled and doughboys were lined up waiting impatiently for their portion of pills to sell. Everyone who ran for Banko ate well, which confused him more to as why Rello couldn’t catch on.
His presence was strong and could be felt throughout the cramped space. Clasping, rubbing his fists together, Banko decided it was time to give the boys their work so his return could start being made. “Listen up, ain’t no sense in making a long, drawn-out speech to y’all young niggas. You know the rules and what to expect if they are broken.”
Collecting the cash from each hustler from their last hookup before handing over the current batch Banko stared each man dead in the eyes to ensure they understood he was firm about the rules. He’d already done the math prior to coming and after getting disrespected by Rello, wanted it to be clear he had a zero tolerance for any shorts.
Patrice never broke her month-to-month ongoing lease with the Sojourner Truth housing projects. In love with the subsidized rent of only eight-two dollars a month with gas included, she kept her 1,000-square-foot two-bedroom apartment sparkling clean and decked out. She even planted flowers outside with small lights for the pathway when she carelessly came home at night. Banko ran drugs through the “nest,” as the neighbors nicknamed it, and begged his sister on numerous occasions to relocate to the suburbs. Nevertheless, she refused time and time again and found other things to spend his cash on like flat screens, plush furniture, high-tech toys, and a wardrobe to shut broads down in mid-step. A lot of people might’ve felt insecure in the projects known for violent crime, but Patrice felt safe and secure since the young thugs around the way knew her bloodline would murder their family if she was crossed.
Patrice heard her brother banging and yelling her name at the door and immediately thought the worst. Despite Banko being an adult and a boss over the projects, she was still overly protective over him. Oh my God, please don’t let the cops be after him or one of these li’l young niggas turning on him.
“Are you okay? What’s going on?” Seeing speckles of red spots which she knew to be blood, worry flooded throughout her. She instantly went into prayer, truly worried about his well-being along with Rello’s. Thoughts of his last words to her before the phone hung up earlier rushed to the forefront of her mind. Dear Lord, don’t let him have my child’s blood on his hands. Please don’t let my boy be dead!
Banko ran through the house like a crazed man checking to make sure his nephew wasn’t bunked out there yet. He knew Rello had no place to go and no one other than his mother to take refuge with, so the projects would be the first place he’d run to.
“Naw, I ain’t fucking good. Your piece of shit-ass son got me into some heat with my connect in Chicago,” Banko shouted at Patrice. Out of all the years of their sibling relationship, he’d never raised his voice at his older sister. Yet with his money on the line he only saw red. Banko had saved his sister from Rello, only to get screwed in the end. His anger couldn’t be contained.
“Whoa slow down, Banko,” she shouted. “Before you barge in here like you own the place calling my son names and shit, you’re gonna have to tell me the full story, start to finish.”
“Sis, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Straight up, this crib is just as much mine as it is yours. My cash paid for everything up in this place.” Speaking the truth, throwing up the way he took care of her every financial desire without question, Banko sat down on the butter smooth leather sofa then kicked his feet up on her granite coffee table. “Get me a bottle of the strongest shit you’ve got ’cause this is about to take all night. I’m about to tell you why your boy is dead to me.”
Chapter 10
He told me to be quiet and I promised to be cool. I’m just gonna keep blaming the reason why I was doing so much on the liquor. But if he don’t call me again, it’ll be all my fault. With Savannah sitting on a pillow between Star’s legs, she beaded the last of her little sister’s cornrows with thoughts of Rello heavy on her mind. No matter how much she tried not to think about how much fun they’d had together in Chicago, she couldn’t shake the good memories.
“All done, pretty girl. Now go and get ready for bed because we’ve got a big day tomorrow. I’m going to find a nice school for you and Samantha,” Star relayed to her sister while putting up the barrette bucket.
“School? For real, sister? Yay, I can’t wait.” She jumped in glee. The child who should’ve been carrying around baby dolls and books had nothing but stress and despair. She couldn’t wait to get out of the dungeon of gloom and into school, what she’d seen so many kids on television enjoy. “Is Mommy coming with us, too?”
Star sighed because she dreaded the inevitable conversation she was about to have. She hated talking to her much younger sister about adult reality situations; she knew Savannah was just like her as a kid, which was curious and outspoken. It was something that had to be done in
attempt to protect her. Star felt it was her duty to prepare her for what type of family she was up against. “I don’t know, pretty girl; however, I think it’s time I taught you a few things about the life we were born into. Come sit here next to me so we can talk.”
Savannah bounced around the room shaking her beads happily before taking a seat next to the only soul who showed her an ounce of love. “Will me and Sammy be in the same class? Will we have the same teacher?” Like all toddlers adventuring to school for the first time, she had a stomach full of butterflies and a list full of questions for her older sister to answer. Unfortunately she was in store for another blow to her youthful purity.
Star took a deep breath then let it all out. “You’re gonna have to find your way, like I’m finding mine and how our baby sis will have to find hers. Your momma ain’t shit and probably don’t never plan on being shit. Just like me, you’re gonna have to grow up before your time, pretty girl.” Star was rough but didn’t care. Their family wasn’t The Cosby Show or some spinoff involving a well-balanced caring household.
“What’s that mean, Star?”
“It means you shouldn’t be like her that’s what. Do you see her around here cooking meals for you and Savannah? Combing y’all heads? Or even washing y’all up in the morning? Hell naw! That’s what moms are supposed to do; not be gone for days leaving y’all on Jerome or me.”
With a face full of tears and ears wide open, Savannah tried her best to listen and comprehend what her older sister was saying. She couldn’t remember Bonnie ever reading her a bedtime story, giving her a bubble bath, or even getting kisses of affection.
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