by K'wan
Mo shrugged her meaty shoulder. “Other than the fact that his name is Ice and he’s some kind of pimp or some shit, we don’t know much about him. We just met the cat at the video shoot.”
“Of all the niggaz to hook up with, my crazy-ass sister chose a pimp!” Shannon spat on the ground. “Mo, I’m gonna body that nigga when I catch him.”
“Shannon, calm down. Dena’s a smart girl, so I know she’s never jump out the window and do something stupid.” Mo tried to calm him.
“Well, what do you call that dumb shit she did last night? My mother is on the verge of a nervous breakdown fucking with her.”
A black Honda Accord pulled to a stop next to the fire hydrant in front of the building. The music was blasting so loud that it was a wonder that the slim Black kid behind the wheel could hear himself think. As if on cue, Nadine came strutting out of the building. She was wearing a short skirt and one of Shannon’s Nautica rugbys.
“Still no word from Princess Dena?” she asked, coming down the steps of the building.
“Nah,” Shannon said flatly. He really wasn’t in the mood for Nadine or her bullshit.
“Well, call me when and if the little hussy shows up,” Nadine said, walking towards the car.
“Nadine, where are you going and where are your kids?” he asked.
“They upstairs with Mommy,” she said.
“Nadine, you know she’s stressing over Dena, so why would you leave your bad-ass kids with her adding on to it?”
“First of all, my kids ain’t bad, they’re mischievous. Second of all, I’m just running over to Marcy to get some smoke. I won’t be gone more than twenty minutes.”
Shannon looked at her as if she couldn’t be serious. “Nadine, you are so full of shit.”
“What?” she asked, as if she didn’t know what he was talking about.
“What is, you need to show some fucking consideration. We’re going through a family crisis and you can’t even sit still for a minute until it gets worked out,” he accused.
Nadine sucked her teeth. “Look, ain’t none of my kids named Dena, and my daddy’s name damn sure wasn’t Shannon. Dena is a big girl. If she needs us she’ll call.”
“Nadine, whether Dena needs or not has yet to be determined, but what about Mommy?”
“What about her?”
“Did it ever occur to you that she might need us?” he asked.
“Man, I ain’t beat for this shit. I’m trying to go get some smoke.” She started walking away, but Shannon’s next words stopped her in her tracks.
“Youz about a selfish bitch.”
“What did you call me?” She turned around.
“I called you a selfish bitch. Your seventeen-year-old sister absconded with a fucking pimp and you don’t care. Your mother is damn near a basket case over it and you don’t care. All you care about is running the streets and getting your stank-ass pussy worked on. That’s how you ended up with all them kids in the first fucking place.”
“Nigga, you better watch your mouth and show some respect!” she snapped in his face.
Shannon looked at her quizzically. “Respect? Bitch, you can’t be serious. How the fuck can I respect somebody that ain’t about shit but getting high and getting tossed up?” Nadine tried to slap him in the face, but he caught her by the wrist in midswing. The ferocious look in his eyes told her that she had gone too far. “You must think I’m one of these bitch-ass niggaz you be out here tricking with.”
The kid in the Honda stepped out. “Yo, everything cool?”
Shannon turned his murderous gaze to the kid. “My dude, if you know like I know, you better get yo ass back in ya whip and mind ya fucking business.”
“Shannon, you better get your damn hands off me, before it’s be some shit!” she warned.
“Nadine, miss me with ya empty-ass threats, because you already know what time it is with me. You run around the damn house, plopping kids out left and right, and got the nerve to look down your nose at everybody else, and frankly, I’m sick of it.” He applied more pressure, causing her to wince.
“Shannon, please let her go,” Mo pleaded. She had seen him angry before, but never like this and never towards a member of his own family. Mo and Shannon were cool, but if he started beating on Nadine out there, she seriously doubted if there would be anything to stop him. As luck would have it, his rage found a new target.
“Man, you better take your hands off her.” The kid grabbed Shannon by the arm.
Shannon blinked as if he was just realizing what he was doing. There was a look of sorrow in his eyes—but that was quickly replaced by madness, as his eyes landed on the stranger. All of the rage that Shannon had been keeping bottled up inside him rushed to the surface and spilled over. With a guttural roar he finally snapped.
The kid’s eyes got as wide as saucers, hearing such a sound coming from a man instead of an animal. Before he could even mount a defense, Shannon slammed a fist into his mouth with the force of a jackhammer. The kid tried to sag, but a follow-up punch to the gut kept him on his feet. Shannon rained rights and lefts to every exposed part of the kid’s body. He even took a page out of Mike Tyson’s book and bit a chunk of the kid’s ear off. When the kid finally hit the ground, Shannon began viciously stomping him in the face. Had it not been for his mother shouting his name, he’d have surely killed the young man.
“Shannon, what in God’s name is you doing?” she asked, with a horrified look on her face.
It took a minute for the beast to subside and Shannon’s sanity to come back to him. On the ground beneath him, the kid lay motionless and his face had swelled to the size of a pumpkin. Shannon’s shirt was ruined and his mouth and knuckles were smeared with blood.
“Shannon, have you lost your damn mind? You could’ve killed that boy!” his mother shouted. Shannon heard her, but was too mad to respond.
“Get away from him, you bastard!” Nadine screamed, kneeling beside the unconscious young man. If Shannon understood her, he showed no signs of it.
“Come take a walk with me,” Mo said, taking him by the arm. His face still wore a confused expression, but he allowed her to steer him up the block.
“You ain’t shit, Shannon. I fucking hate you!” Nadine shouted at his back. “You hear me, you murdering piece of shit. I hate you!”
“DAMN, YOU SEE THE WAY he put the beats on that muthafucka?” Blick asked from the passenger seat of Ronny’s Dodge Magnum. “So, what you think, dawg?”
Ronny hesitated for a minute, watching the girl try to revive the young man. He looked at the .380 on his lap and said, “We’re gonna need a bigger gun.”
Chapter 38
THE AFTERNOON SUN SHONE THROUGH THE large picture window and tickled Dena’s sleeping face, stirring her from the most wonderful dream. For a minute she almost thought that she was back in her tenement apartment on Jefferson Avenue, but feeling the soft, feather-top mattress beneath her, she knew she couldn’t be. Dena rolled over, still wrapped in the satin comforter, and searched for Ice, but she was alone. In the space he had vacated there was a long-stemmed white rose. Inhaling the sweet fragrance, she looked forward to the first day of her new life.
When Dena tried to sit up, her stomach was rocked with cramps and she felt a slight twinge of what felt like the flu. The cramps weren’t as bad as the ones she’d had in Philly, but they hurt like hell. Fighting off the nausea, she reached for her purse to retrieve the package Black Ice had given her. Her hands shook so badly that she almost spilled the heroin while trying to unwrap it.
For a good minute she just stared at it. In the back of her mind she could hear her mother preaching to her about the ills of drug use and its ability to ruin lives, but Black Ice’s life seemed more together than most. A part of her wanted to flush the drugs, but the cramps were kicking her ass. She promised herself that once she got in good with Ice she would stray from the heroin and try to get him to do the same. Once the heroin worked its way into her system she felt a little better
and decided to explore her new surroundings.
Black Ice’s bedroom was very impressive, with authentic cherry wood furniture and a bed big enough to sleep four people comfortably. The fur carpet felt good beneath her bare feet as she plodded to the bathroom, which she found to be just as marvelous as the bedroom. The bathroom was cream, trimmed with gold plating. The sink, bathtub—even the towels and cloths were of gold-dyed cotton. On the edge of the sink she found a folded towel and a brand-new toothbrush, which she helped herself to.
After taking a quick shower and brushing her teeth, Dena decided to check her cell messages. She had turned it off the night before so that she and Ice wouldn’t be disturbed. The last thing she needed was her mother or Shannon blowing her jack up and ruining her groove. Sure enough, her voice mailbox was full. There was a call from Mo, who she had forgotten all about, but the rest were from Shannon and her mother. They had the nerve to sound concerned. If they were really concerned about her they’d have treated her more like a woman than an incompetent little girl, she reasoned. She would let them stew on it for a minute before she called back, but as soon as she got a chance she was going to call Mo and tell her of her good fortune.
The distinct smell of bacon frying reminded Dena she hadn’t eaten since Ms. Tootsie’s. Slipping on a blue satin robe that she found hanging in the bathroom, Dena headed out to investigate. As she descended the stairs towards the smell she could hear feminine voices coming from the kitchen. Dena came around the corner to find Wendy and Lisa chatting away about something. She was taken aback a bit, because she knew that they worked for, or with, Ice depending on who you asked, but it never occurred to her that they might live there, too. When they noticed her standing there the conversation came to an end.
“Well, good morning,” Lisa said pleasantly. She was wearing a white terry cloth robe that was partially open, showing off her breasts. Dena had trouble looking at her and not thinking about the show she and Cinnamon had put on at the club.
“Hi,” Dena said sheepishly. Without even thinking about it, she clutched the neckline of her robe to make sure none of her body was exposed.
Lisa, picking up on Dena’s discomfort, decided to have a little fun. “Don’t just stand there looking shy, come on and have a seat.” She patted her lap.
“Lisa, leave that girl alone,” Wendy said, flipping a pancake. “Come on in and take a seat at the counter.” Wendy nodded to the empty stool on the other side of Lisa. “Dena, right?”
“Yeah,” Dena said, ignoring the hungry look Lisa was giving her.
“Pay Lisa’s ass no mind, she’s just giving you a hard time,” Wendy assured her. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” Dena admitted.
“Good.” Wendy slid the now-browned pancake onto the plate with some bacon and two fried eggs. “I hope you ain’t on a no-pork kick, cause we eat a lot of it around here.”
“The pig ain’t never did nothing to me.” Dena admired the restaurant-worthy spread in front of her.
“Not yet.” Lisa snatched a piece of bacon from Dena’s plate. “But stick around for a while.” This got her an angry look from Wendy.
“Ice should be back in a few hours, but he says that we should help you get situated while he’s gone,” Wendy said, trying to change the subject.
“Where is he?” Dena asked, dipping her pancake into some of the syrup that had run off.
Wendy hesitated as if she was thinking about how to answer. “He had to take care of some business.”
“You know Ice makes sure the business is straight,” Lisa said. From her tone of voice, Dena couldn’t tell if she was being sincere of sarcastic.
“So, do all of you guys live here … ? I mean, together?” Dena asked curiously. This got a slight chuckle out of Wendy.
“Not all of us, only a few. Me and Lisa stay here and there’s one more girl who you’ll meet later.”
“You mean Cinnamon?” Dena asked. This seemed to strike a sore spot with Lisa, who got up and went to smoke a cigarette by the window. For a minute Dena thought she had done something to offend her.
“No, she’s not with us anymore,” Wendy said. Dena looked like she wanted to question it further, so Wendy tried to put her mind at ease. “It’s a long story that you don’t need to concern yourself with. Now, hurry and finish your breakfast. We’ve got a long day ahead of us, ma.”
“Where’re we going?”
“First to the Dominicans to see what we can do about that hair.” Wendy brushed a loose strand from Dena’s face.
“What’s wrong with my hair?” Dena asked.
“Nothing. It just needs a little life, that’s all. From there, we’re getting manicures and pedicures. Consider it a girl’s day out.”
“I like the sound of that.” Dena smiled at the idea of being pampered for the day. “But what’s the occasion?”
“Ice is throwing a party tonight and he wants you to look extra special on his arm,” Wendy said. Dena was looking at her suspiciously.
Lisa flopped down on the stool beside her. “Don’t look so grim, girl. It’s your coming-out party.”
“Coming-out?”
BLACK ICE LEANED AGAINST THE white Escalade, trying to keep from fidgeting too much. He had just flicked one cigarette away and was about to light another one. He always got like that when he lost money. In the past twenty-four hours he had parted company with thirty thousand dollars. Twenty-five to Don B, and five to the judicial system to post bond for one of his latest cops. The girl hadn’t been with him more than a month and she was already costing more than she was bringing in, definitely a sign that she wouldn’t be a part of the team long. After what seemed like a lifetime, Shorty finally came bouncing down the courthouse steps with Lexi in tow.
Lexi was twenty-one years old with the face of a schoolgirl and the body of an African queen. She had come to New York from Chicago in search of fame and fortune, but instead found Black Ice. At five-five, with a mean walk and a killer smile, Ice had plans to make her his next break-out star; but, as with a lot of the young girls he had come in contact with lately, she couldn’t let go of her old life.
Lexi was a notorious drunk, and more often than not her heavy drinking got her into the trouble, which is what landed her in jail to begin with. She and another whore, who’s name Ice couldn’t recall, had gotten into an altercation over a trick in a bar. Ice always preached tact to his ladies, but Lexi was young and bull-headed. The girl slapped her, so Lexi cracked her over her head with a beer bottle, requiring the girl to get a dozen stitches in her head. The standing charge was felony assault, but Ice was trying to get it down to a misdemeanor, which would require more money. In a short time, Lexi had dug herself a heavy debt, which Ice fully intended to collect on.
“Man, you think y’all took long enough?” Ice asked, when the two of them reached the car.
“Dawg, you know how the system is,” Shorty said.
“No the hell I don’t, cause I ain’t never spent a day behind the wall.”
“Lucky son of a bitch.” Shorty laughed.
“Hi, Daddy,” Lexi said, trying to sound like she wasn’t on his shit list. Her hair was all over the place and she smelled like the bullpens.
“Bitch, don’t you ‘hi, Daddy’ me. What did I tell you about fucking up my groove?” Ice snapped.
“Ice, it wasn’t my fault. That bitch threw the first punch,” Lexi tried to explain.
“Lexi, she threw a punch and you clubbed the bitch over the head with a bottle. You’re lucky you didn’t kill her!”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“You sure are. One of the sorriest, drunkest bitches I’ve ever had the misfortune of coming across. I teach you girls to be ladies and you wanna carry ya self like common, fucking trash? Get yo simpleminded ass in the car before I kill you!” He grabbed her by the back of the neck and shoved her into the back of the truck. Lexi barely had a chance to get her legs into the car before Ice slammed the door and hopped in on the passen
ger side, with Shorty behind the wheel.
“So, what’s up with the lil bitch you’ve been kicking around with?” Shorty asked Ice, once they were out in traffic.
“Who, Dena? She’s at the crib right now getting to know her new family. I got Wendy and Lisa getting her all pretty for tonight so I can introduce the bitch to the world properly.” Black Ice smiled.
“You picked up another girl?” Lexi asked from the backseat.
“Lexi, you ain’t one of my favorite muthafuckas right now, so my advice to you is clam the hell up,” Ice told her sternly.
“You know you cost me five hundred bucks,” Shorty told him.
“For what?” Ice asked.
“Because I bet Wendy that you couldn’t pull her.”
Black Ice just shook his head. “Shorty, me and you been hanging around for damn near as long as I’ve been alive, and you keep forgetting the cardinal rule.”
“And what would that be?”
“Always bet on Black, my nigga.”
Chapter 39
IN THE LAST SEVERAL YEARS THERE’S BEEN A growing number of magazines claiming to cater to the inner city and the people that inhabited it, but one stood out above the rest. Dream magazine was founded in 2003 by a former drug dealer named Tito, as a means of not only cleaning up some of the wealth he had amassed over the years, but of giving back to the communities he had helped destroy. Not only did it give a voice to the streets, but it provided jobs for men and women who were fresh out of jail, to help them stay off the streets. Within a year of printing its first issue, Dream landed major distribution and was now available in every U.S. city, as well as several overseas. A year earlier, its founder Tito was murdered over an old beef, but the magazine continued to flourish, carrying on his legacy.
Unique Lane had been an intern when the magazine first started, but through hard work and a good nose for a story, she managed to work her way up from contributing writer to eventually becoming editor-in-chief. Along with Tito’s daughter, Maria, she ran the magazine, but that day found her revising her old role as reporter for a very special story. She was getting a one-on-one interview with Harlem’s latest rising star, True.