by K'wan
“I know what he said, but with Ramses what he says and what he does can sometimes differ. That shit was mostly for Chucky’s benefit. I’m fucked up about what went on with Benny too, but at the end of the day he broke one of Pharaoh’s cardinal rules: he stole. To Pharaoh, a thief is damn near as bad as a rapist.”
“You think Chucky knows?” Li’l Monk asked.
Omega thought about it before answering. “In his heart, he probably does and I’ll bet it’s fucking him up. That would explain his behavior.”
Or whatever he’s on, Li’l Monk thought but he didn’t voice it.
“Let’s get up off this corner and make a move before Officer Dickhead comes back and gives us grief. I got a shorty who doesn’t live far from here, and we can shower and change at her crib, before we go pick Sophie and Tasha up,” Omega said.
Li’l Monk laughed. “Damn you on your pimp shit, huh?”
“Nah, I’m just living fast and young. We only got one life and mine will be lived with no regrets.”
“So, where we gonna take them?” Li’l Monk asked. He had never really been on an official date and wasn’t sure what the etiquette was.
“I know a spot downtown where they’re having a music showcase. One of the bouncers is a friend of mine, so we don’t have to worry about showing ID or getting in with our pistols,” Omega filled him in.
“Sounds good to me. Do you think I should hit Ramses up and let him know what went down between me and Chucky?” Li’l Monk asked.
“Man, fuck that shit for right now. When Chucky sobers up and crawls out of his feelings everything will be back to normal. Stop worrying so much, my nigga. Tonight is all about having a good time. Whatever troubles you’ve got will still be waiting for you tomorrow.”
Li’l Monk nodded in agreement with his friend. They had been promoted and it was cause to celebrate and he shouldn’t let other people’s bullshit steal his joy; still, he couldn’t help but to think of Chucky and how he had been acting. Had Chucky been anyone else, Li’l Monk would’ve given him a good beating already, but Chucky was a part of Ramses’s inner circle and laying hands on him might put him out of favor with Ramses. Li’l Monk saw the writing on the wall and Chucky was a disaster waiting to happen. He had already made it clear that he was going to be a problem, and Li’l Monk knew he would have to deal with him sooner or later, he just had to figure out how.
CHAPTER 19
Chucky zigzagged in and out of Manhattan traffic, with his music blasting and his face screwed up. From the time he had come back on the streets that day he had been in a foul mood and taking his anger out on anyone he came in contact with.
That morning he had come closer to death than he could ever recall, and it was his own fault. Ramses had been good to him, and in return Chucky was looking to rip him off and use his best friend as a pawn. For as savvy as Benny was with numbers, he wasn’t built to be a leader, which was why he and Chucky ran the strip together. When Chucky got the idea to strike out on his own, it was only natural that he went to his friend Benny with it. Benny was hesitant at first, but Chucky was eventually able to convince him, just like he always did. The plan was foolproof: hit a few of Pharaoh’s spots for a little at a time and build the foundation of their empire off what they’d stolen, and pay Chucky’s debt off at the same time, but Benny got greedy. Chucky warned him against doubling back and hitting the same spot twice, but he had scored so big with the first lick that he just had to go back for another taste, and that was his undoing.
Turning his back on Benny at the apartment was the hardest thing he ever had to do. The saddest part of it all was that Benny really believed Ramses would let him live and Chucky had allowed him to believe it. Ramses talked big about just banishing Benny from New York, but Chucky knew better. Benny had embarrassed them so he had to die. It was a cold piece of business, but no matter how you sliced it, someone was going to get killed in that apartment. For as relieved as Chucky was to have lived through it, his heart still mourned for Benny.
Chucky hated Ramses for what he’d done. He understood his position as their leader and knew that examples had to be set to keep up appearances, but he seemed to take joy in torturing Benny and fucking with Chucky’s head. Chucky kept thinking back to the smirking faces, of Ramses, Huck, and Boo, and couldn’t decide which one of them he hated more. Benny was wrong, but he was still Chucky’s friend and somebody would answer for his death. Ramses was untouchable, so that took him off the dinner menu, but the same rules didn’t apply to Boo and Huck. In due time they would see him again and Chucky’s would be the last face they saw before they left the world. He was going to kill them for Benny.
Benny’s death and feeling responsible for it weighed on Chucky. He locked himself away in Yvette’s apartment all day, drinking Jack Daniels and snorting blow. Chucky was going so hard that even Yvette warned him to slow down, but that got her a slap in the mouth and cut out of the rest of the cocaine. Chucky snorted until his nose dripped blood, and when it was all gone he hit the streets in search of more.
When he bumped into Omega on the corner, he was speed balling and his paranoia levels were on ten. Seeing him brought back thoughts of Benny, and Omega’s role in his fate. Omega had been Chucky’s and Benny’s little protégé, and he was supposed to come to Chucky first when he discovered the identity of the robber, yet he went to Ramses. This made Chucky look at Omega like he had an agenda. Could he possibly have been trying to knock Chucky out of the box like he and Benny had tried to do to Pharaoh?
Then there was his new best friend, Li’l Monk. Had it not been for Detective Wolf’s untimely arrival, Chucky would’ve likely shot him dead on that street corner for talking to him like he wanted to do something. To him, Li’l Monk was a bottom feeder, a lifetime soldier, and Ramses was making a mistake by putting so much stock in him so early. If Chucky had things his way, he would’ve killed Li’l Monk after the lobby shooting, and let the secret die with him, but Ramses wouldn’t allow it. Ramses claimed it was because Li’l Monk had shown loyalty and was down to bust his gun, but Chucky had known Ramses long enough to be able to see through his bullshit. In Li’l Monk, Ramses saw the chance to shape the perfect soldier: loyal, fearless, and down to do whatever. Li’l Monk was like an unflawed version of his father, and that’s probably what Chucky hated about him most. Every time he saw Li’l Monk, he was reminded of Monk and the part he’d played in fucking his life up.
Chucky spun through Harlem, wondering where he could get his next fix from. Normally he would’ve just rolled through one of the stash houses and pinched off what he needed from the supply, but after what had happened Ramses was sure to see to it that every last gram was accounted for. He couldn’t even send Yvette to cop for him after the way he’d treated her before he left. Chucky needed to get high in a major way, so he did something he promised himself he’d never do: copped off the street.
It was a short ride from heart of Harlem to Washington Heights. In the Heights, it snowed all year around. You couldn’t go half a block without someone trying to give you a deal on some grams, and it only took a few seconds before Chucky was approached. Chucky made sure he didn’t know the face of the young dude before beginning the negotiations. As it turned out they were out of soft and only had hard. If Chucky wanted soft he’d have to wait around for a few minutes. Chucky was uptight, but he was also desperate for a certain kind of high. Free-basing wasn’t his thing, but he’d done it on several occasions, and could make do with it in a pinch. The money and product had barely exchanged hands before Chucky was peeling off. The last thing he needed was someone to see him uptown, buying coke on the street like a common crackhead and getting the ghetto news networking against him.
Replaying the events of the day made Chucky agitated all over again. He needed to get high and take the edge off. He parked under a tree on a dark street where he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed for a while. He quickly twisted a blunt of weed laced with the crack rocks and fired it up. The drugs crackled
and popped louder than a bowl of cereal when the flames hit it. There was a distinct difference between smoking coke and smoking crack, with crack being the harsher of the two. The smoke burned his eyes and nose in the close confines of the car, but Chucky refused to let the windows down, wanting to get as high as possible as quickly as possible. The hit was so powerful that Chucky heard bells and whistles in his head, or so he thought. It was just his cell phone ringing.
Chucky started to ignore the call and continue enjoying his blast, until he saw the name that was flashing across the screen. Tone never called unless it was about money. “What’s good?” he answered.
“You,” Tone replied. “Dig, I know it’s kind of short notice, but I need a delivery. My boys are performing at this spot downtown and we need a li’l frosting to go with our cake, ya heard?”
Chucky knew that by frosting Tone meant coke.
“I got you, my G. Just give me the particulars and I’ll bring it through,” Chucky assured him.
Tone gave Chucky the address to the spot and told him how much coke he wanted to buy. Chucky took down the information and ended the call, smiling like the cat who had swallowed the canary. This was just the call he needed. Chucky and Tone went way back, to the days when Tone was still hustling in the streets before he went legit. Tone was now the manager of a high-profile rapper and was making more money than he knew what to do with, but he had kept his street ties. Though Tone didn’t do coke, at least not that Chucky knew of, he liked to keep some on hand for the groupies and members of his entourage who indulged. Whenever Tone and the rappers he managed were in town and looking to score, it always meant that Chucky could expect a big payday.
Chucky first hit one of the stash houses and grabbed an ounce of cocaine. It was more than Tone had asked him to bring, but he figured between the Big Dawg entourage and whoever else was in the club, he’d be able to get rid of it all. Next he went to his house to change his clothes and grab some extra cash. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he was pleased at the reflection starting back at him. His eyes were red and glassy, and his nose felt raw, but he looked good and was sure every chick in the spot would be on him. With any luck, he would not only be able to drop a bag full of cash in Ramses’s lap the following morning, and earn his way back into his good graces, but he might just make some lucky young lady’s night by taking her home after the club.
“Game on, muthafuckas.” Chucky popped his collar and headed out.
CHAPTER 20
Just as Marty said it would, the plan went off without a hitch. When Persia called her house, she lucked up and Richard answered. She fed him a story about needing a little space after the argument and was going to spend the night at Marty’s. Richard gave her the okay to spend the weekend at Marty’s and promised to smooth it over with her mother, provided that Persia agreed to go to church with them on Sunday morning and afterward discuss what had happened so they could come to some type of resolution.
For the next few hours, Persia, Marty, and Sarah smoked more weed, put a dent in the bottle of vodka, and had completely gone through the wine. When it was time for them to get dressed, Marty had everyone covered.
Sarah had managed to find a dress in the back of Marty’s closet that she hadn’t been able to wear since puberty kicked in and she filled out. It was a cute silver drop-waist number that stopped at mid thigh. Sarah slipped on the shoes that Marty had to match the dress, but her feet were about a half size bigger than Marty’s, so her toes came dangerously close to hanging over the front. She rocked them anyway.
Marty looked like she’d aged five years when she was done getting herself together. Her face was made up to near-professional quality and her hair was pinned on top of her head in a lazy bun, with a few stray strands tickling her pale neck. Marty’s black sequined mini cocktail dress had a steep V down the middle, showing off her cleavage and flat stomach. The heels on her black stilettos were so steep that most women would’ve had trouble walking in them, but Marty’s mother had her practicing in heels since she was five, so she navigated them with little trouble.
For the evening Persia had borrowed a black mesh dress that hugged her breasts and hips like it was made for her. Persia had more ass than Marty’s mother, so the dress hiked a bit in the back, but not enough to show anything, just to draw attention to her ample rump. When all three of them lined up in front of Marty’s wall mirror to take a group picture for their Myspace pages, there was no doubt in any of their minds that all eyes would be on them that night.
Instead of taking a taxi into Manhattan, Marty called one of the drivers from her father’s car service. Marty had several of them who she kept on standby when she needed a ride somewhere. She never worried about it getting back to her father, because none of them wanted to be exposed for trading sexual favors with a minor.
The driver who had come for them that night was named Julio. He was a Hispanic gentleman with oily black hair and shifty eyes. Marty greeted Julio with kisses on both cheeks, before sliding into the passenger’s side of the black Lincoln Town Car. When Julio held the back door for Persia and Sarah to climb in, Persia could feel him staring at her ass. He gave her the creeps.
Once they were out of their residential neighborhood, it was time to get the party started. Sarah was charged with the task of pouring drinks for all of them from the minibar, while Persia rolled a blunt. Marty fumbled with the car radio, looking for a station playing something good. The new jam “You” by Lloyd and Lil Wayne came bumping through the speakers, making all the girls dance in their seats.
Marty leaned and whispered in Julio’s ear. “Are you holding?”
“I’m always holding,” Julio said, without taking his eyes off the road. He was hip to Marty’s routine.
“Can me and my friends get a little something so we don’t have to go in the party sober?” she asked.
“You’ve already helped yourself to the liquor. What more do you need?” Julio asked.
“Stop acting like that.” Marty moved closer to him. Her hand found its way to his thigh and up to his dick, where she tested his girth in her hand. “You know I’m not talking about alcohol.” She tugged him gently. “Take care of me and I’ll take care of you.”
This time Julio did look at her. It was always the same thing with Marty. She would get him to chauffer her around all night, use up all of his drugs, and leave without giving him with nothing but hard dick and hope. The closest he had gotten to sex with Marty was when she’d given him a hand job one morning when he drove her to school. He hated the way she toyed with him and always vowed that he wouldn’t let it happen again, but he wanted her so bad that he always gave her another chance, in hopes that it would finally be his time to claim the prize. That night he was determined to stick to his guns.
“You wanna get high then I’m gonna need to get off.” Julio pulled his dick through his zipper and let it rest on his lap.
Marty looked at the shriveled worm he called a dick and found it just as repulsive as the last time she’d seen it. There was no way she was adding that to the list of guests who had visited her pussy, but she was going to have to give him something if she wanted what he had in his goodie bag. Next to Sarah, Julio always scored the best drugs. She had to shit or get off the pot.
“I got you, just set it out,” Marty said in her sweetest voice.
Julio reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a pill bottle, which contained two rolled joints and some loose pink pills. Marty greedily snatched the bottle from his hand. She dry swallowed one of the pink pills, and fired up a joint before handing the second joint and pill bottle to the back seat.
Sarah popped one of the pills in her mouth and washed it down with a gulp of vodka. “You want?” She offered a pill to Persia.
“What is it?” Persia asked.
“Those are called Joy Rides, they’re all the rage at parties these days,” Julio said over his shoulder.
“You mean like ecstasy?” Persia had taken pills befo
re, but those were valium or prescription drugs that she and Marty had stolen from her mother’s medicine cabinet on random days when they wanted a quick buzz and couldn’t score any weed. She had never danced on the side of the fence that Julio was trying to show them.
“Almost, but not with as much kick. These are like uppers, so the worst that’ll happen is you might find you can’t stop dancing when we get to the club,” Sarah explained.
“Drop one of those happy fuckers and all your troubles will seem like a thing of the past, but if it’s out of your league then I’ll take yours too,” Marty said slyly. She was challenging Persia, just like she did when they were kids.
“Anything you can do, I can do, Marty,” Persia capped and popped the pill.
“That’s my girl.” Marty smiled. “Here’s to a great night with my favorite bitches.” Marty raised her glass in salute, and the girls toasted.
About twenty minutes into the ride, Persia’s pill started to kick in. She was slouched in the back seat, staring aimlessly out the window. The passing streetlights on the freeway made pretty patterns and she found herself trying to count the colors. The air conditioning was on, but it still felt warm. She rolled the window let the fresh air hit her face, but then she found she was cold and rolled the window back up, only to be hot again. Persia kept sending the window up and down, making music in her head with the noises from the window motor. She was in a pretty place, and just as Marty had said, all of her problems were now things of the past.
In the front seat, Marty leaned over and started whispering softly into Julio’s ear. Persia watched as her hand slipped over into his lap and started fondling his dick. Marty spat in one of her palms and started stroking him until he became erect. Her handling felt so good that Julio’s leg trembled and he accidentally tapped the gas pedal, causing the car to lurch.
“You’re gonna make me crash. If I crash this car your father is gonna kill me.” His eyes kept flashing from the road to her grinning face.