Money Makin Manhattan

by Noire

  “Here,” he said, retrieving his burner from the small of his back and handing it to the pup. “I’m going up to Gina’s house on the fifth floor to take a shit. Take this gat and these couple of stacks and keep these niggas playing until I get back. Anybody try some funny shit then you man-down one of these niggas, you heard?” Haz said to his little homey.

  Dude nodded. “I got you big bruh. These fools know how I get down out here. I ain’t playing with these clown-ass niggas. I’ma keep shit cracking until you get back.”

  “A’ight, say no more son. I’m out,” Haz said and sped off.

  Slick was standing nearby and overheard the whole conversation. The night was hot and sticky and several bystanders had towels draped over their heads to keep the sweat off their faces, and Slick blended right in with his.

  Slick proceeded to follow Haz into the Tilden Houses that were located across the street from the park. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. His heart was pounding in his chest and sweat broke out across his forehead. He had expected to feel fear when the time finally arrived, but it was actually excitement and adrenaline that was shooting through his blood right now.

  Slick hung back as he watched Haz stop and holla at a few niggas who were chilling in front of building 315.

  “Y’all porch-monkey niggas stay in front of this fuckin building man!” Haz spit at the young bucks who were posted up trying to get they money up.

  “What? Y’all too shook to go across the street and get at a couple dollas?”

  Haz knew these young niggas didn’t have enough money to participate in the games. He also knew that deep down they wanted to stick the whole park up, just like he used to do when he was their age. But even if these niggas had the heart they weren’t dumb enough to attempt it. With his towel over his head, Slick walked right past Haz and into the building as his uncle continued to antagonize the young boys.

  “Don’t look all stupid in the face. You lil niggas will get your turn. You gotta start from the bottom like everybody else. Pay ya dues and then maybe one day you can get it like I get it,” Haz joked as he eyeballed the young niggas with an evil grin.

  The youngsters didn’t even look back at him. They knew Haz was a deranged nigga and they were just trying to get they money up while the big boys were off at the dice game.

  “Y’all a bunch of soft lil niggas, man. Holla at me when y’all tryin to make some real doe. Punk ass niggas!” Haz growled as he walked into the building with his stomach bubbling.

  Slick had jetted up the stairs and he was already on the fifth floor waiting. He assumed Haz’s fat ass was going to take the elevator so Slick waited around the corner and out of view just in case.

  Slick was gripping the old .38 snub in his hand that he’d bought off the street for a hundred dollars, and he could hardly wait to put a body on it, if didn’t already have one. He heard the elevator open and it seemed like everything started to move in slow motion. He peeked from around the corner and saw Haz walking with his head down counting some bread.

  “Ayo, big boy. How you been?” Slick’s voice cracked a little as he held the pistol aimed directly at his uncle’s head. His adrenaline was running high and beads of sweat formed in his armpits.

  Haz looked up at the young man standing before him with a burner gripped in his hand and didn’t even flinch. He didn’t recognize Slick, nor did he seem to be concerned about the sight of the gun.

  “What you want nigga? This lil bit of change right here?” Haz said referring to the ten thousand he had in his hands.

  “You can have this shit, just get the fuck out my way nigga,” Haz said casually showing not a hint of nervousness. “I’m tryna go take a shit and you holding me up. But I’m glad somebody in this lame-ass building got the heart to do what they gotta do. Makes me proud. Even though you won’t live to spend it.”

  Slick looked at him with a sideways grin and shook his head. Something in that grin looked all too familiar to Haz and a look of confusion slowly crept into his eyes.

  “Yeah, big nigga Haz. That’s the look I been waiting to see. That priceless look in your eyes that you have right fuckin now,” Slick spit in a low, menacing tone as his anger steadily rose. “I been feenin my entire life for this moment, my nigga. Can you smell that shit I’m smelling, Haz? It’s the smell of sweet vengeance, you fat fuck.”

  Slick grinned as he glared at his uncle and gun-checked him with his heat. “You can keep your lil money though ’cause I came to take your soul with me tonight. If you can even call what you have a soul. Tonight you pay for what you did to my fuckin family,” Slick said as a blind rage started to overtake him. “Tonight you die, muthafucka!”

  “Yo, hold up,” Haz said calmly, waving the money in the air and trying to stall for time. “Cool the fuck out young nigga. I’m sure we can come to some type of agreement. I’m a Brooklyn bandit. I did a lot of shit to a lot of muthafuckas back in the day. But it was never personal, it was all business. I know one thing, though. Money can smooth a whole lotta shit over. So relax, I know something can be worked out.”

  “SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU BITCH ASS NIGGA!” Slick roared. His voice echoed loudly in the project hallway as he tried to keep his gun hand steady. The overwhelming flood of emotions surging through his eighteen-year-old body surprised him as he stood face to face with his uncle.

  “You killed my mother and my father and my lil brothers and sisters too, you grimy piece of shit!” Slick spit as a single tear fell from his right eye. “You took everything I had! You took the people who loved me and you the most!”

  When the light bulb in his head finally went off Haz’s asshole got weak and he almost shitted on himself right then and there.

  It was his nephew. His firstborn nephew. The nephew he used to toss a football to and walk around the projects with riding on his shoulders. The nephew he had taught to dribble a basketball and to shoot cee-low. The nephew he thought he had killed more than a decade earlier, but who was somehow standing right there in front of him, all grown up.

  Haz was like a deer caught in headlights and the money he was holding slipped from his grasp and rained down all over the piss-stained floor of the hallway.

  “Lil Slick is that you?” Haz whispered incredulously as sweat broke out all over his forehead and nose. His stomach bubbled like boiling water on a stove; it’s liquid contents threatening to explode straight outta his ass at any moment.

  “That can’t be you, man. It…it fuckin can’t be you.”

  Slick grinned sickly. “Naw, Unc. You murdered Lil Slick a long time ago. I’m Big Karma tonight, mothafucka! I’m the ghost of that boy you left to die on the floor with the rest of his family that night! You can pick up all ya fuckin money and put it in ya pocket cause you gots to pay me in blood tonight, you goddamn coward!”

  Haz stood there in total fuckin disbelief. He’d thought he had buried those demons a long time ago, yet the spitting image of his older brother was standing before him alive and well.

  “Lil Slick, listen to me, Neph,” he mumbled. “I was fucked up in the head back then, a’ight? You was too young to understand man, but Big Slick was trying to play me out and….”

  Haz stopped in mid-sentence as Slick cocked the hammer back on his weapon.

  “Fuck you and your explanations, nigga,” Slick said in a venomous tone. “You can explain that shit to God if you ever get to meet him. He forgives. I don’t.”

  The last two surviving Williams men locked eyes and they were both filled with fire. Slick thought for a second that he peeped a bolt of fear flash through Haz, but he quickly realized that wasn’t the case. That nigga wasn’t scared. He was laughing.

  “You think I want your forgiveness, lil nigga?” Haz chuckled with a smirk on his face. “You must be fuckin stupid! Nah, what I was saying before I was interrupted was that your punk-ass daddy was tryna play me. That big brother shit was dead way before I killed him,” Haz said, his face straight and colder than ice. “You don’t know? I’
m the original Monster nigga! I’m the one who got these niggas out here scared to death! I’m God out on these muthafuckin streets, boy!” Haz spat through clinched teeth fully believing every word he said. “And a true God has no mother, no father, no brother, and no muthafuckin nephew!”

  Haz made his move and it was the final mistake of his life. He reached for the gun he usually carried in the small of his back and—

  POP!

  The sound of the Slick’s bullet slamming into his uncle’s shoulder was deafening inside the project hallway. Haz stumbled backwards but he didn’t go down. He clamped his finger over the bleeding bullet wound like he was trying to plug up the hole.

  “Relax, you fat stankin nigga,” Slick said with a grin. All the nervousness was gone from his heart. His mind was sharp and he was ready to do what he had waited his whole fuckin life to do.

  “You must be in a hurry to get slaughtered tonight Unc, but I ain’t gonna let you go out that easy.”

  Haz was breathing heavy and holding his bleeding shoulder meat. He realized that Lil Slick had missed the kill shot on purpose. His eyes darted back and forth as he cursed himself for handing off his heat and getting caught out there unarmed. Secretly, he wished some nosey fuck in one of these apartments would poke their head out the door and call the pigs. But that shit was just a pipe dream though. People in the projects minded their own damn business when they heard bullets poppin and the cops never made it in time to save anybody anyway.

  “Yo,” Haz tried to switch shit up. “Hold the fuck up now. We family, youngblood. Family.”

  Slick chuckled. “Chill, nigga. Don’t start bitching up now cause that was just a lil scratch.”

  Slick gripped his strap and placed it in the small of his back. He saw the gangstafied aura of Haz starting to melt away and give in to something that looked like real fear.

  “You a’ight Monster?” Slick asked with a grin. “I see you sweating kinda heavy over there, Unc. What happened to all that murder-murder kill-kill shit you was just talking?”

  “Suck my fuckin dick nigga!” Haz exploded with his face contorted with rage. His blood pressure was skyrocketing and he was getting dizzy. He wanted to lunge at Slick and twist him up and snatch his gun away from him, but he knew he didn’t have the foot speed to make it without getting popped again.

  But he still had a whole lotta shit to talk outta his mouth.

  “I see you got more heart than ya punk-ass daddy did,” he taunted Slick as he took a step forward. “You better finish me off right now, lil nigga, cause if I get my hands on you again I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

  “Oh is that right, beloved?” Slick taunted him right back as he pulled a switchblade from his hoody pocket. “Don’t worry. I been studying hard for this test and I’ma get this shit right the first go round nigga.”

  Slick crouched low and lunged at Haz with speed and athleticism. He thrust out his switchblade and stuck Haz in the same spot where his hot bullet had just struck him.

  Haz yelped in pain and tried to throw a punch and bear hug him, but he moved far too slow and Slick ducked smoothly out of the way.

  “This shit is too easy,” Slick said as he roundhouse-kicked Haz in his head then bounced on his toes like Bruce Lee.

  Haz’s head snapped to the side, and sweating like a fat pig, he staggered under the brutal blow.

  Slick laughed. “Man, I wish you was still in your prime so it could be a fairer fight, Unc. But then again, I wasn’t in my prime when you stuck me and my baby brothers and sisters with your knife, right? You remember that shit don’t you?”

  Before Haz could respond Slick rushed him again. He threw a swift, crushing kick to Haz’s kneecap that, along with his overweight frame, caused it to buck backward and shatter.

  Slick watched coldly as his only living relative hit the floor screaming in excruciating pain. The echo was deafening in the hallway and sure to alert the residents that were huddled behind the closed doors, but Slick didn’t care.

  He raised his foot and heel-smacked Haz on the side of his meaty head again, and then he pushed him over onto his back and plunged the knife deep into his beefy guts.

  Stretched out as helpless as a beached whale, Haz grunted and swung his good arm trying to fend him off.

  “Yeah, muthafucka,” Slick breathed fire down on him. “This is for my family, you grimy-ass bitch!”

  “Go to…hell, nigga!” Crazy Haz gasped as blood flecked on his lips. “Go to fuckin hell!”

  Slick grinned. “How about I meet you there. And when I see ya ass you better fuckin run ’cause not even the Devil is gonna keep me offa you!”

  “You can suck my big black dick!” Haz wheezed, “Just like Kea, your tramp-ass mama did!”

  “What?” Slick amped out at the mention of his mother’s name. He was made of pure murder as he drove the knife blade straight into Haz’s forehead.

  “W’sup now, huh nigga?” Slick screamed like a maniac as he stuck the knife any and everywhere on Haz’s body that he could stick it. “Say her name again!” he dared him and jabbed the knife into Haz’s bloated, flabby meat. “Say her fuckin name!”

  His uncle did his best to shield off the attack but Slick was zoned out. He ripped, sliced, tore, and plunged his blade into Haz with a sickening degree of rage. “TALK THAT HOT SHIT NOW YOU BITCH ASS NIGGA!”

  By the time Slick came back to reality the hallway looked like the type of shit you see in mass killing documentary. He didn’t know how much time had passed but he looked down at his uncle and dude’s face was damn near unrecognizable.

  The hallway smelled like blood, piss and shit. Haz was still twitching and coughing from the fluids that were seeping into his lungs. Slick was out of breath and the muscles in his arms ached from the violent carnage that he had inflicted. His hoodie and pants were soaked in his uncle’s life liquid but he paid it no mind. He could hear people in their apartments sliding their peephole covers over. He realized they were looking out into the hallway and that he had to dip out fast, but Haz was still moving. Slick pulled his gun from the small of his back and let it spark.

  “POP!! POP!! POP!!

  Slick’s eardrums ached from the loud blasts as he emptied the rounds into Haz’s face and head.

  “That’s for my family, you pussy-ass nigga! We can meet up in hell and go for round two one day, and maybe you can get you a second chance, but for now yo ass is zipped the fuck up!”

  As Slick raced down the stairs and ran outta the back door of the building the satisfaction he felt was immediate and soul cleansing. He had just slumped the boogeyman. He had avenged his mother’s honor and made his father proud.

  All Slick wanted to do now was get the fuck outta Crooklyn so that his demons, and his peoples, could finally rest in peace.

  CHAPTER 8

  Regrouping

  It was Saturday and a big jewelry conference was in town. The New York Diamond and Jewelry Exchange was sponsoring it, so Honore and everyone else in her office had to attend, with time-and-a-half pay of course.

  Wearing a colorful scarf tied over her hair to hide the lye burns and bald patches on her scalp, Honore stood up in the back of the conference room shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She had gotten a few curious stares and a couple of patted seats from co-workers inviting her to sit down beside them, but there was no way in hell she could put all her weight down on her wounded ass. Even if she did lean mostly on one booty cheek.

  After getting shot she had taken a few days off from work and laid in bed on her stomach, doped up on painkillers and feeling sorry for herself the whole time. Her bestie Cucci had taken off from work too. She spent her time running around Honore’s apartment like she was her little housemaid; cooking and cleaning and waiting on her favorite cousin hand and foot.

  “I don’t know how you didn’t see them muthafuckas coming when they rolled on the shop,” Honore had bitched the morning after Blondie’s beauty joint had got hit.

  She was lay
ing on her stomach feeling like pure shit. Cucci had just finished rubbing some Neosporin around the blistered edges of her hair and now she was sliding a plate of grits, sausage, and cheesy scrambled eggs under Honore’s nose.

  Hungry as hell, Honore had propped herself up on her elbows and winced with pain as she took the fork Cucci was holding out and got busy digging into the grub.

  “Them bastards busted right in through the front door and chased us out the back,” Honore said, sounding disappointed that Cucci didn’t get caught up in the crossfire too. “I just don’t see how you coulda missed seeing them because I remember you went outside to get some air right before they kicked the shit in.”

  “Yeah, I went outside but I didn’t just stand out there on the corner like a hoe, stupid!” Cucci said hotly. “Girl it was damn near three o’clock in the morning. I took my ass down the block to the 24-hour rib joint and ordered me a plate. I jetted in the bathroom to pee real quick while they was fixing that shit, and the next thing I knew Big Red was running around hollering and screaming about somebody was shooting shit up in the beauty parlor.”

  “Unh,” Honore had grunted, picking at her food with her lips poked out. Getting shot in the ass was gonna throw some salt in her game. Not only would the healing process slow her down, she’d had to act like a damn clown and front Slick off when he called trying to get with her too. There was no way in hell she could be around that boy and him not wanna get up in her pussy. And there was also no way in hell she could pull off her panties in front of him and explain how she got a bullet hole in her ass neither!

  “Here,” Cucci had said, passing her a tall glass of orange juice filled with ice cubes. “You thirsty, boo?”

  Honore had nodded, letting her cousin fuss over her and make her comfortable.

  “It’s time to take your antibiotics,” Cucci told her, twisting the cap off the bottle and passing Honore two pills. “How’s that booty feeling? You think the bandage needs to be changed?”