A Woman’s Work: Street Chronicles (13 page)

“Do you get that if you do this, you’ll be sacrificing life as you know it?” Shy asked with compassion.

“How do you deal day in and day out?” Aisha asked.

“Melvin was my life and I was his. Sacrificing my life for him was a no-brainer for me. My kids don’t have their father and I don’t have my husband. To be honest with you, I don’t feel an ounce of remorse.” Shy meant what she said. She’d never lost one night of sleep for taking the life of the man who’d shot her husband down in front of their ten-year-old son. “You have to ask yourself if you’re willing to sacrifice your life for that of a memory.”

“Absolutely,” Aisha replied.

Shy called out for C-Lok, Kayla, and Big Black. They all returned to their seats with fresh drinks in their hands. Kayla handed a glass to Aisha, and C-Lok gave one to Shy. Once everyone was comfortable, it was back to business.

“Tell me what it is, Aisha? Do you still want to do this?” C-Lok asked.

“Without any reservations, yes,” Aisha answered.

“She’ll be fine,” promised Shy. “Aisha knows exactly what she’s doing.”

“Rule number one: no government names when conducting business. There’s no waking up from this. From now on, we’ll address you as ‘Dream,’ ” said C-Lok.

“Aisha, you’re a hood girl without a doubt, but there’s a lot for you to learn on this side of the fence. I respect your decision and
I got your back. I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Shy: Life after getting revenge can be a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare.”

S
lick, Rail, and Rocky found it near impossible to sell the goods they’d stolen from Mama Bev. The entire city was ablaze, and the flames were out of control. Everybody in the hood was gunning for them. Word was that there was a $50,000 bounty on their heads. Everyone with a foot on the streets was searching for Mama Bev’s killers. As a result, they remained just as broke as they’d been before the heist.

“Man, this is some bullshit! What da fuck?” Rail fumed.

“We all in the same boat, playa. Just calm down so we can put our heads together to figure a way out of this corner,” Rocky reasoned.

“Ya little soft ass would say some shit like that. If you haven’t noticed, we been trying to come up with a plan for months now. We can’t even slang enough rocks to get out of town. This is da bullshit fo’ sho,” said an irritated Slick.

Rocky stared at Slick. He’d gotten tired of Slick putting him down.

“This is stupid. We don’t even know if our names have dropped. If they not lookin’ for us, we making it obvious that we did this shit by disappearing,” Rocky said.

“Oh, we numbers one, two, and three on the most-wanted list. The police ain’t figured it out, but the streets know our names. My boy told me that everybody at the club was talking about us. He
said he even heard whispers at the barbershop. We need some cash fast. I ain’t tryna die behind this shit,” Rail said as fear settled into his heart.

“You think I don’t know that shit? What da fuck can we do?” Slick demanded.

“I have a plan to get us some money,” Rocky interrupted.

Slick and Rail both looked at Rocky like he’d grown a second head right before their eyes. “What’s up?” asked Slick. He usually shot down anything Rocky said but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“My boy from the jets is looking for a couple of runners. We came up together since third grade. His supplier relocated to New York and he needs some dudes to make the trip for him every other month. His plan is to switch up on drivers to fool the troopers. I think we should hook up with him. We can at least make one run and get that money,” Rocky explained. Rocky misled Slick and Rail on purpose. He and Prince lived in the same housing projects and attended the same schools but they were not close friends. Nor were they enemies. Their relationship could be described as mere acquaintances. Rocky was anxious to get as far away from Youngstown as possible. He believed Prince was his one-way ticket out and he needed Slick and Rail to see things his way.

“That ain’t a bad idea,” Rail said.

“Yeah, instead of delivering that cash, we can get the fuck up out of here real quick. We just rob da nigga instead of making a damn delivery. Fuck Youngstown and every bitch in it!” Slick said.

“Hold up a minute. How do we know this job is legit? There’s a big-ass price tag on our asses. Dude could be setting us up just to get paid. Shit, I know I would,” Rail said.

“Naw, Prince ain’t like that. His dad was Melvin Shaw,” Rocky said before Slick interrupted him.

“Da cat who got shot in his own crib by the po-po? They
gunned him down in front of his own seed, right?” Slick asked excitedly.

“Yeah, that’s him. It was Prince who witnessed that shit. Ever since then, Prince been a young-minded hustler out here getting it done. He just waiting on the okay to come here and rap to us about the job,” Rocky said with a grim look in his eyes. He was fully expecting Slick to go off on him for suggesting that someone know their whereabouts.

“Shit, get dat nigga over here. The po-po kill ya pops right in front of you, hustling and killing is in your blood. I’ve been hearing stories about his dad Melvin since I was a little kid. I heard the streets used to call that nigga Legend.” Slick remembered wanting to be just like the man called Legend when he was growing up. It was going to be an honor for him to meet the seed of his hero.

“That’s what’s up, my nigga. Let’s get this poppin’,” Rail said.

Rocky walked over to the kitchen/dining area of the old house. Its original four legs were barely holding up the wooden table. The two vinyl-covered chairs were torn and ripped so bad all their insides had long been pulled out. Rocky moved the strewn newspapers in search of his prepaid cell phone. He had been anticipating making the call for a week. It had taken him that long to work up the nerve to discuss his plan with his partners in crime. He began pushing buttons as fast as his fingers would move.

“Yo, come on through,” Rocky invited when his friend answered his call.

“One,” Prince replied and ended the call.

$ $ $

“Nephew.”

“Meeting now, it’s on, Unc,” Prince said into his phone.

“Get back at me,” instructed his uncle.

Prince and his uncle ended their conversation with a mutual understanding. The meeting with Mama Bev’s killers was about to
take place and Prince would report the details soon. With that information, his uncle would start getting his end of the matter in order and wait on the go-ahead from his nephew to get things going.

Prince drove down Hillman Street five miles under the posted speed limit. The police had never stopped him, and it was in everyone’s best interest that they never did. He hated anyone wearing the blue and he knew that if he ever interacted with them, someone would end up dead—and it wouldn’t be him.

The area at the bottom of the city’s south side was nicknamed Smurf Village back in the eighties. All the houses were small, crammed together, and the same color, just like the village the little blue cartoon characters called home. It was now home to three young men who’d signed their own death warrants the second they broke into Mama Bev’s house. Rocky’s bad luck continued to follow him the day he bumped into his childhood friend at the corner store.

Prince had showed major self-restraint by not putting a bullet through Rocky’s neck the very second their eyes met. Mama Bev had been like a second grandmother to Prince and his twin brother Jayden. Her death had devastated the McGee family, especially their mother. Unaware of Prince’s relationship with the woman whose blood stained his hands, Rocky walked right into a well-laid trap. Rocky was clueless that the time for reckoning was near.

When Prince had mentioned his need for trustworthy runners, Rocky had jumped at the opportunity. With their history, he was certain his friend trusted him enough to hire him. He decided that he’d venture out on his own if Slick and Rail refused to play along. Rocky was determined to get as far out of harm’s way as he possibly could.

“What up, my man?” Rocky greeted Prince.

“I can’t call it. You tell me,” Prince said with a smile. He gave
Slick and Rail firm handshakes and nods as Rocky made the introductions.

“I just want to tell you that your pops was a hero of mine. Legend is a true legend out on these streets,” Slick gushed. Prince looked at the man as if he were an ugly woman at a bar trying to go home with him.

“My old man lived up to his name. I aspire to be just like him,” Prince admitted. “Let’s get down to business.” He could do without all of the small talk. “I need some runners outside my camp to take care of business for me. This business needs to be handled at least once a month. I want the drivers to rotate to avoid any unwanted attention. It’s a five-hour drive one way, so turnaround will be two days. Drive up, make the delivery, get the pickup, stay the night, and drive back in the morning. This schedule is etched in stone. Each person should rotate the hotel as well. One throwaway phone will be supplied for the ride up and another for the return drive. Never take anyone on the trip except for your assigned backup.”

Slick, Rail, and Rocky hung on every word. It was impressive how detail-oriented Prince was at age sixteen. Slick wondered how he’d climbed so high up the totem pole at such a young age. Considering that he’d witnessed the police killing his father, Slick reasoned that the streets had raised Prince. He was a young man with an old mind and soul.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but can I ask you a question?” Slick asked.

“What up?” Prince responded.

“Most cats at the top like that don’t let many into their house. How does your supplier feel about working with different runners each month?”

“That’s not for you to worry about. If I’m sending you to do a job, the details have been worked out far ahead of time. I got that,” Prince snarled. He hated stupid questions. It should be obvious
that what he put down was going to be picked up by the other players.

“As I was saying,” Prince continued, “should a shipment be lost, it falls on your shoulders to replace it. If it can’t be replaced, your life will be lost. It’s as simple as that.”

“What do we get hit off with for each run?” Rail asked.

“My bad, fella. The cash is the most important part, right?” Prince laughed. “Each run brings in fifteen thousand dollars per person. Since that type of paper ain’t a monthly guarantee, you gotta be able to handle ya business. Put some of that shit to work for you and put some up, if you’re smart, that is,” he finished.

“What’s up, dudes? Y’all down with it or not?” Rocky asked.

“Why you asking them? If you take this gig, it’s your life and freedom at risk. What do you want to do, Rock?” an annoyed Prince asked.

“Put me on,” Rocky replied with complete certainty.

“What’s up wit you, Slick?” Prince directed the same question.

“I’m wit it fo’ sho.”

“Rail, what about you?”

“You had me at fifteen grand, my man. I wanna be down.” Rail smiled.

“Done,” Prince replied. “We leave tomorrow at nine to take the first ride into New York. I’m going to show you the route, introduce you to your contact and make sure each one of you is comfortable with the job,” Prince said before turning to walk out the door. “One.”

Inside his car, Prince made the call that many had waited months to receive.

“Nephew.”

“Nine, Unc,” Prince announced.

“Done,” C-Lok replied before ending the call. He needed to notify all involved that revenge was in motion and that Youngstown’s
three most wanted would be leaving the city at nine o’clock the next morning. It was time to rumble.

P
rince drove to his destination with the sounds from Above the Law’s classic song, “Uncle Sam’s Curse,” coming through his car speakers. The urge to pull out his .380 and kill his passengers was overwhelming. It was not in his character to show such restraint. He was proud of himself. His destination slowly came into view. Prince slowed the car down.

“Man, what’s up? I thought we were going to ya dude’s crib. Ain’t nothing out here but an old empty warehouse,” Slick said suspiciously.

“Where’d you get that bullshit from? Don’t nobody operate where they lay their heads, not if they got any true hustle in their bloodline. We’re here to meet up with my man. Be cool,” directed Prince.

“So this where all the drop-offs and pickups gon be?” Rail asked.

“Unless my man says differently.” Prince smiled and turned the volume up on the car stereo. He knew the three victims were getting suspicious, but they were in no position to act upon any instincts. Before leaving Youngstown, Prince had convinced them to hand over their guns in order to hide them in a special compartment. He explained that, if they got stopped for any reason, they didn’t want the police to find four young armed black men. Prince, on the other hand, remained strapped. Because of what had happened to his father, he’d rather the police catch him with a gun than for an enemy to catch him without one.

All the men bobbed their heads to rapper Kokane explaining why his neighborhood considered him a Black Superman as Prince pulled up to an old abandoned building. The steele mill had closed before any of the car’s occupants were born. It was the perfect place to exact street justice.

“This the place?” Rocky asked. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. Nothing could be seen but old abandoned buildings covered in soot. Rocky trusted his boy Prince. The idea that he might betray him never entered his mind.

“Yeah, my mans and ’is already here. Their cars are over there. It was a long ride, so we’re about to blaze this blunt before we go conduct this business,” Prince said while lighting the end of the cigar paper.

“Shit, I’m wit that fo’ sho.” Rail smiled. He had slept the entire five-hour drive and was just waking up.

As the car filled with smoke from the blunt, Prince pulled a throwaway cell phone from underneath his seat and speed-dialed his uncle’s number. If his passengers took notice, it would just seem like he was checking for any missed calls. He pushed the
SEND
button, waited five seconds, and finished the signal by pushing the
END
button. The blunt found its way around the car a couple more times until it burned down to a mere memory. Prince popped the car locks and opened his door. It was time to get things popping.