Hood (13 page)

If you could see my face

You’d know not to hit your brakes…

We on ya heels nigga!

A FEW WEEKS
after his meeting with Xanbar, Hood was moving through the darkness of a tiny project apartment in Ocean Hill, gat in hand. Ignoring the old lady crying on the floor, he stormed into the kitchen and swung his pistol, busting the lip of one of the three crack dealers they’d just tied up and robbed.

Blood splattered. Dude screamed. A click sounded behind him and Hood whirled around.

“Yeah, muhfucka,” Dreko said gleefully. His eyes were cold and dark. He held his Sig out away from his body and a sickening grin spread across his handsome face. “I got one in the head now, nigga,” he shouted to Hood. “Which one of these pussies you think I should blast first?”

Hood held his hand up, checking his boy. These niggas ain’t mean shit to him. Xanbar had sent them out on a mission to hit Chaos’s spot, and the only reason he was out here ganking the joint at all was to pay off Fat Daddy’s debt.

Hood kept searching, looking for the package that would save Fat Daddy’s life, and probably Egypt’s too. He turned over furniture and pulled out drawers, tossing the crib up trying to find the goods. Behind him he could hear Dreko still in the kitchen pistol-whipping niggas left and right. He laughed the whole time like he was getting off on that shit too.

Hood checked behind the shower curtain in a small bathroom, and then went inside a dirty bedroom. He pulled a pissy mattress off the bed, then swept all kinds of musty shit off the top shelf of the closet. Frustrated, he kicked over a dresser and yanked out the drawers, throwing clothes in the air as he ran his fingers over the rough wood making sure there were no secret compartments.

A funny sound put him on alert, and he turned his head in the direction of the kitchen. Dreko wasn’t laughing no more. That nigga was cursing now.

Hood crept out of the room with his arms outstretched and his gat trained. He kept his back to the wall, and as he approached the living room the picture became crystal clear. The front door was open a crack. Glass hit the floor in the kitchen and shattered, and the sounds of a brutal fight could be heard. He crossed the living room in five long steps and swung his arms left, aiming into the kitchen.

Dreko was scuffling. A big nigga wearing a leather coat had rushed into the spot. He had a thick bull head and he was going at Dreko’s ass. They struggled over Dreko’s Sig, punching, grunting, and kneeing. Flinging each other from the stove, to the window, they crashed into the small table as they both tried to stay out of barrel-range. Hood was a skull-splitter to his heart but he didn’t wanna shoot his boy by mistake. He cracked Chaos’s mule in the back of the head with his piece and drew bright red blood. Dude turned and glared at him, but kept right on fighting like it wasn’t nothing but a mosquito bite. Hood cracked him again, and went in for one more, but the nigga swung Dreko around to get his dome smashed instead.

The three of them tussled some more, everybody trying to gain control of Dreko’s gat. Hood was dead on him, jumping up to nail the cat in the forehead this time. But a hard left got swung and down his boy went. Now Dreko’s Sig was in dude’s hands, with a round already in the head, ready to fly.

There was nothing to think about. Hood fired at close range, striking the cat in his neck. The force of the bullet spun the guy halfway around and he dropped the gun. Blood gushed and his feet got twisted beneath him as he crumbled to the floor clutching his neck and moaning.

Them niggas tied up against the wall was really scared now. Screaming, “Umph! Eeehh! Omghf!” around their gags, they tried to duck their heads and ball up in knots, scared the next hot one would be sinking into their own flesh.

“M-m-uhfucka!” Dreko stuttered. He’d caught a killer blow to the temple that had damn near knocked him out. Reaching for his Sig, he steadied himself on his hands and knees, shaking his head to clear it. Hood kept his gun trained on the dude who lay writhing on the floor.

“Get the fuck up, man,” he told Dreko. Already he could hear nosy people poking their heads outta their apartments asking what was that. “We gotta roll, my nigga. Five-o gonna be crawling all over this bitch in a minute.”

Dreko grabbed hold of the counter and pulled himself to his feet. Swaying, he stuck his gun down his pants then rocked backward and fell against the refrigerator, still drunk from that killer punch. Hood grabbed his boy by the shoulder and steadied him. Nigga was gone hafta get his feet under him real quick because it was jet time.

The thought that Xanbar mighta been wrong about this being the drop spot ran across Hood’s mind for a second, but as dizzy as Dreko was, his G senses was still working. Hood glanced toward the apartment door. Voices were right outside. When he looked back, Dreko had the situation in hand. There was a small black duffel bag leaning against the refrigerator. The hammer-head nigga moaning and rolling on the floor musta brought it in with him because it hadn’t been there before. Relief came down on Hood as Dreko grabbed the bag and staggered toward him. Together, they ran toward the back of the apartment where a second door served as an emergency fire exit. There was one like it in every apartment, and each one led to a back staircase that would bring them out in the rear of the building.

It was dark on the windowless stairs, and most people used the area to store bicycles and boxes full of old shit. Hood and Dreko tripped and slipped, jumped over rusty shopping carts and broken TVs, until they burst through the exit-only doorway and out onto the busy streets.

The moment they hit the pavement they took off in opposite directions, traveling different paths to a prearranged location.

Hood had gone little more than half a block when he heard the sirens blaring. Forcing himself to slow down and be easy, he stopped to dap a couple of come ups hanging on the corner, then sauntered into a Spanish grocery store and bought a bottle of water and an apple.

He walked the rest of the way munching slowly on his apple like he didn’t have a care in the world. An ambulance sped past him followed by a police van, but they didn’t fuck with him and he sure didn’t fuck with them. He made it back to their prearranged rally spot—an abandoned building on Hopkinson Avenue—with no problem, and after crawling through a back window he went up on the second floor and stepped into a back room to wait for Dreko.

The take was grand. They didn’t get no cake, but the yay was lovely.

“Yeah!” Dreko was excited as fuck as they stared at the endless rows of packaged powder stuffed in the bag. There was an easy half mil in street value cocaine staring up at them, and Hood was more than satisfied. There were two things in his life that nobody better not fuck with. Egypt and his mother. While he couldn’t make his moms act right and stop getting high, pulling this lick to save Fat Daddy and Egypt was well worth the risks he’d taken and the nigga he’d had to pop.

“All right,” he told Dreko. He was ready to get down to business but his boy was fuckin fascinated. Dreko stared at the dope and ran his fingers over the baggies like he was standing in front of a duffle bag full of big tittie bitches.

“Man, pay attention,” Hood told him. “We still got moves to make. Xan gone meet us up on Lott Avenue in the morning and we need to sit on this shit until then. Chaos might come gunnin but fuck that grimy nigga. His shit was weak and we got the drop on him. That’s how it goes.”

“Nah,” Deko waved his hand, his eyes never leaving the goods. “Don’t worry about Chaos. That nigga ain’t gone be on the streets much longer. His reign is almost over. I can feel it.” He grinned and shook his head. “Man, we got that shit, didn’t we?!? Aww, man!” He held out his hand for some dap, and Hood let him have it. “Yo nigga, you smart as hell. How much you think we got here? I mean, cut up, cooked, and packaged right and ere’thang? What you think that’ll bring us?”

Hood shrugged. “It don’t matter ’cause it ain’t bringing us nothing but five G’s a piece, Dreko. This is Xan’s fuckin product, remember? This dope got Fat Daddy’s head riding on it. And maybe Egypt’s too.”

Dreko nodded real quick. “Yeah, nigga! I know all that shit. I’m just sayin…how fuckin much you think
Xan
gone pocket off this shit?”

“Shit,” Hood laughed bitterly. He zipped the bag closed and a light seemed to shut off in Dreko’s eyes when the dope disappeared from view. “Like he said, it gotta be at least half a mil. Minimum. Prolly more. Depends on the cut.”

“That’s a lot of fuckin paper,” Dreko said. “A nigga could build an empire off some loose change like that. Xan a lucky muhfucka.”

“Nah, Fat Daddy the lucky one. Nigga squared up now and he betta keep it that way.”

All night long they nursed that bag full of drugs like it was an egg that needed to hatch. By now word was sure to be all over the streets about the robbery, and definitely about the shooting. Hood and Dreko took turns standing guard over their take in shifts, sleeping very little. They switched up every two hours. While one was in the front window watching the street, the other was in the back room guarding the dope.

By the time the sun came up both men were anxious.

Hood stuck his head out as far as he could, peering down the street. He’d wanted to move out early, but Dreko cautioned him to wait.

“You need to chill, nigga,” Dreko warned, shaking his head. “Let’s stick to the plan, baby. Nine-thirty, and not a second before that. We’re going up on Lott Avenue. There’s a school right there, remember? The last thing we want is to be waiting out there too early. Little kids be out there holding hands crossing the street and shit, and two hood niggas standing around holding a fuckin duffel bag. Full of dope. We might as well walk on into the precinct and give it up.”

“Yeah. You right. Nine thirty.”

But at nine fifteen shit popped off from an unexpected direction.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Hood was sitting on a cold radiator when the sounds of drama arose from the side of the empty house.

“Shit!” Hood was on his feet in a flash and looking around for someplace to stash his burner. The cops had teams coming in from all directions. The closest one had busted through a side window after hopping the ledge from an occupied apartment building next door. Other sounds of smashing wood and glass filled the air as Dreko’s voice rang out above the noise.

“Right here! Slide that shit right here!”

Hood slid the gat all the way across the dirty linoleum and Dreko scooped it up and ducked back into the rear of the apartment.

“The roof!” Hood called at his back, and he saw his boy nod as he jumped on top of an overturned box and pushed out a ceiling tile, disappearing from sight.

Hood never even turned around when he heard the running footsteps barreling toward him. He just raised his hands in the air as he was tackled from behind, his mind cold, but his heart warm. Dreko had the product and Xanbar would get paid. Fat Daddy’s life would be spared and Egypt’s life would be saved. Sometimes it be like this on the streets. It was all part of the game. Hood nodded to himself as they put the cuffs on him, satisfied. His bank was stacked and his team was straight. What more could a G nigga ask for?

Now it seems so funny when they see you getting money…

How the jiggas all smile and pretend to be friendly,

Now the haters getting loud but we see it’s all envy,

We was down, we was out, but we couldn’t get a penny…

DREKO MOVED FAST.

Crouching down, he watched from the roof as three detectives broke down the front door of the building and tossed Hood out like a bag of dirty laundry. One of the DTs, a fat cat with bright red hair swung his revolver across Hood’s face, busting him up. Then the other two picked him up and slammed him against the squad car and punched him down to the ground. His boy was handcuffed and defenseless, and Dreko’s breathing was heavy with excitement. Even from where he crouched he could tell that despite the ass-stomping they were putting on Hood, the shit didn’t seem to bother him one bit. He took the punches and the club-blows with nothing more than a grunt or two in response, and when Hood was viciously cracked across his face with a backhand billy-club blow that sent blood spraying across the hood of the police car, Dreko grinned.

He was down off the roof and back on the streets moments after the police cars cleared the area, and even though he had a tight plan he was really relying on his street senses to get him through. He stashed the drugs in one of his old spots, pulled his hoody over his head, and took off walking down the back alleys toward Ocean Hill.

He stayed off the main streets and away from the projects as much as possible. With a million apartments and ten million windows, you could never tell who was watching you or from where. Moving around in daylight was dangerous as fuck, especially since the element of time was no longer on his side. It had taken them fuckin cops forever to show up, and that meant precious minutes had been wasted. He took a longer path than he wanted to, but it gave him the least amount of exposure to anybody in his old crew so he figured it was worth it.

By now Chaos was well aware of what he’d lost the night before. No doubt some of his most loyal niggas was already out there gunning for some get back. But in the weeks since Dreko had agreed to Xan’s proposition to hit Chaos’s mule, Dreko had been scheming and planning harder than a muthafucka. Night and day he had been gaming and setting shit up for a big showdown. In just a short period of time he had managed to assemble himself a loyal cast of come up gunners, and catching both Chaos and Xanbar out there was gonna be one sweet party that Dreko couldn’t wait to attend.

Forty minutes after coming down off that roof, Dreko slipped into the foyer of an Ocean Hill building next to a pizza shop. There were two doors facing him, and before he could knock the one on the left opened.

“Whattup, Riff.”

“Time to roll?” asked a tall light-skinned cat dressed in the latest fly gear. Jewels dripped from his neck and a large scar ran across his forehead from the brutal denting he’d taken from Hood’s gun.

Riff’s eyes glinted with excitement. He was about to undergo a serious career change. Chaos was about to be out and Ocean Hill would be his. In exchange for his cooperation Dreko was gonna slide him half a duffel bag of dope, and in return Riff would supply the manpower and the clips full of lead.

He dapped Dreko out and nodded. It was his time, and his dun dun status was about to be elevated to boss don. Riff gestured inside the room where there were about twenty other rollers. Chaos’s disgruntled best. Strapped and ready to lock it up with their former boss and any of his loyal goons who wanted to go down with him.

Dreko dapped Riff back and grinned. His boy didn’t hold no hard feelings behind that shit with Hood all them years ago. It was business back then, and it was still business now. Besides, Dreko’s plan was tight and his dick was hard. Hit the head, then watch the body fall. He’d smash ’em with a vicious combination. Chaos first, then that boastful nigga Xan right after. Yeah. Them muhfuckas might didn’t know, but they was about to find out.

“I got some bad news.”

Egypt pressed her cell phone closer to her ear. She’d heard what he’d said, but didn’t understand why Dreko was on the other end of her line with those words coming out of his mouth.

She glanced toward the door. She was at the Washington Heights medical school campus of Columbia Univerisity interviewing with a panel of four doctors who would determine if she was worthy of participating in a full mentorship program. She thought the question and answer session had gone extremely well, and not only the panelists seemed to be impressed by her grades and her ambition, they’d complimented her on having such a vivacious personality and the drive to pursue her personal goals.

“Would you please excuse us for a few minutes, Egypt?” the lead panelist had asked as all four doctors rose from their seats. “We’re going to step into the conference room and give your application one last review. It shouldn’t take long, so please help yourself to some coffee and cookies on the back table. There’s juice and bottled water available as well. We’ll be back very shortly.”

The door closed behind them and Egypt listened to their retreating footsteps as she mentally analyzed every amazing detail of the interview. She had smiled brightly and answered all their questions with passion and intelligence. They seemed highly impressed when they learned that she’d been raised by a single father in one of the worst neighborhoods in Brooklyn, yet she still managed to emerge as a well-rounded A student who was also a skilled dancer and had trained as a pianist.

Egypt walked to the back of the room and nibbled on a cookie as she tried to maintain her confidence. College was going to be tough, but she’d been preparing for this day her whole life. It was the financing part of her dreams that was starting to make her wonder.

“Don’t you worry about nothing, baby,” Fat Daddy had repeatedly reassured her over the years. “You just do your part by making them grades, baby. Work hard to get into a good school ’cause the money ain’t gonna be a problem. I’ll handle that.”

But Egypt was starting to wonder if all the dreams her father had sold her were anything other than just pipe dreams. These days he walked around worried and nervous all the time, and Egypt had overheard him telling Felton that he’d fucked up on some business dealings and was just about broke.

While Fat Daddy had made it a rule to keep Egypt busy with her activities and away from the shop and his business as much as possible, she had picked up on some of the recent drama going down between Xanbar and her father, and that shit had pissed her off.

Fat Daddy had always been a well-respected big willie, but something must have happened to cause him to lose his status, and now Xan was out to humiliate him. It hurt Egypt’s heart to see them young street niggas bossing her father around like he wasn’t shit. Ordering both of them to stay cooped upstairs in the apartment while they tore shit up downstairs in the shop like it was theirs.

But what was worse was what Egypt saw in her father’s eyes. Fear. Big time fear. And shame too. In almost no time Fat Daddy had gone from a street icon whose barber shop was a central spot for niggas in the know, to a low-level sniveler who had to beg cats half his age just to walk outta his own front door.

Egypt’s stomach tightened with worry. She had just put a mint chocolate chip cookie back on the sterling tray when her cell phone vibrated and startled her.

“What bad news?” she said, walking back to her chair and sitting down.

“It’s about Hood,” Dreko said softly. “He got in a little trouble. We was trying to help your pops outta a bad spot, and Hood got knocked.”

For a moment Egypt lost her breath. Her stomach clenched hard and her bowels turned to water. “Knocked? Mont’s locked up? What did y’all do? What the fuck happened, Dreko? He tried to help my father out of
what
?”

Egypt could hear the footsteps coming down the hall but the only thing real to her was Dreko’s voice.

“Not on the phone,” he said gently. “Meet me at Zena’s crib and I’ll fill you in later.”

Egypt’s mouth hung open as Dreko hung up and the line went dead in her hands. There was nothing in her world except Lamont. Nothing in her vision, nothing she could hear, nothing in her heart. Nothing in her universe. Only Lamont.

And when the door swung open and the smiling doctors walked back into the room, they were all shocked as the pretty young black girl who seemed so full of promise rushed past them with tears streaming down her face. The look of torture and pain in her eyes was so shocking that all they could do was watch in silence as she fled from the room, the sound of her footsteps echoing miserably down the hall.