It's Like Candy (28 page)

“He wants a war, we gonna bring it to him,” Yung Slim said. “Yo, y'all see any one of his hoes out on the track, y'all know what to do. Niggahs ain't gettin' no money out there while I'm home. And anything that's connected to that faggot niggah, Rome . . . lay ‘em the fuck out.”

“We got you, Yung Slim,” a voice shouted out.

“Ayyite, y'all niggahs get the fuck out, and lock shit down out there,” Yung Slim exclaimed.

As everyone was leaving the basement, Eric was making his way in.

Yung Slim glared at him, and shouted, “Niggah, you always fuckin' late!”

“Yo, what the fuck happened?” Eric shouted back.

“Where you been?” Critter asked.

“Critter, stop tryin' to interrogate me, I ain't in the mood right now,” Eric chided back.

“Donald's dead,” Critter replied. “You should have been here earlier.”

Eric looked at Yung Slim with contempt in his eyes. Yung Slim gazed back, and sternly said, “What? You blaming his death on me now? E, this is the game, you ain't new to this. Shit happens. Donald knew what he was gettin' into. He went out like a man. But I guarantee you this, muthafuckas are gonna pay lovely wit' their lives.”

“An eye for an eye, right, Russell,” Eric returned. “Aunt Fran would be so proud of you,” he added sarcastically.

“Niggah, don't fuckin' bring my moms into this. This is how the game is, we win some, and we lose some. This is what our family is about, what we been about since you and I was born. You need to be more like your father, niggah—ready to murder niggahs. Don't be actin' like some scared bitch!” Yung Slim barked. “I need to know if you're in my corner, E. Are you down for this payback on niggahs that got at Donald?”

Eric looked over at Critter, who was quiet in the background.

“You strapped?” Yung Slim asked.

Eric nodded.

“I got niggahs rollin' out tonight to put the word out, that they fucked wit' the wrong niggahs in my camp. So don't come up in here tryin' to preach to me like you my moms; that bitch is dead and in the ground. She never understood what our family was about,” Yung Slim said.

“You rollin' too, Critter?” Eric asked, staring at his friend.

“Niggah, that was my man . . . I ain't gonna let him go out like that,” Critter returned.

“E, look at you, what got into you? You lookin' unfamiliar right now. We're like brothers . . . nah, fuck that, we
are
brothers, and you been actin' distant from your family fo' a minute now. You lookin' weak, out here pushin' that bullshit box shit, Scion, thinkin' you making yourself some real money by peddling some weed and throwing parties. What's really good wit' that?” Yung Slim asked.

“I'm just comfortable, Russell, trying to be happy. You always wanted the world at your feet, tryin' to be God,” Eric replied.

“That's where it belongs,” Yung Slim countered back. “We come from history, niggah, you need to understand that.”

“I understand that this life put my father in the ground, made my mother go crazy, like a half dozen of our cousins are locked up or on the run, and now one of my best friends is dead,” Eric returned.

“So what you sayin', E, you bitching out on us? Am I hearing you right?” Critter asked. “I thought you had my back. We need you now when it's more important—this is critical for us.”

“I don't wanna lose you, Critter,” Eric said. “You know I got your back, but this war y'all gettin' into, it's gonna bring down so much heat on us. How many more men will fall for you to rise to the top, huh, Russell?”

Yung Slim stepped up to Eric. “Niggah, I'm done talkin'. E, don't dare turn your back on us, or I swear to my mother's grave, I'll
treat you like any other niggah out on them streets, if you walk out on us.”

Eric didn't feel threatened, he held down his cousin's hardened gaze and returned with, “I'm not turning my back on y'all, just watching my back more carefully.”

There was a brief silence.

“I'll get back with you. I got things to take care of,” Eric said, leaving the room.

Critter, Yung Slim, Barnes, and Bishop all watched Eric leave the room in silence. When he was gone, Yung Slim said to Critter, “I know my cousin. That niggah's hiding something from us.”

Critter nodded, agreeing. “What you want me to do?”

“Keep an eye on that niggah, see what he's about,” Yung Slim instructed.

“Got you.”

“I wanna know what my cousin is hiding,” Yung Slim added.

When Critter left, Barnes walked up to Yung Slim and asked, “All due respect, but do you trust your cousin? He's lookin' kinda weak in my eyes, and you don't wanna make that same mistake you did seven years ago. We don't need any more weak links in this crew, or having niggahs snitching.”

Yung Slim looked at Barnes without saying a word. He knew where he was coming from and knew Barnes was only watching his back.

“Let me worry about my cousin, you just handle your business in the streets,” he said to Barnes.

Barnes nodded and backed off.

But that's how it starts, having one man in your ear about a soldier or your man being disloyal to the crew, and then the mistrust begins.

 

The following night,
three young thugs in a black Acura Legend circled the blocks around South Road and 150th Street. They were
armed and looking for anything remotely connected to Reality or Rome. They were looking for payback and ready to start up some trouble before the night ended.

“Yo, pass that shit,” Sean said, reaching for the blunt from the backseat.

“Niggah, calm the fuck down,” Omar exclaimed, seated in the passenger seat, taking a long pull from the L.

The driver of the car kept a keen eye out as he cruised slowly from block to block with a loaded .380 resting in between his legs. He wasn't taking any chances and made sure his gun was within his reach.

“Row, ain't no bitches out here tonight, we just wasting our time out here,” Sean said, finally taking his pull from the blunt. “They know we comin' for them, so they hiding,” he added, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“Nah, something's out here, we just ain't looking hard enough in the right areas,” Row replied, making a right on South Road.

“Shit, a niggah need some pussy right about now,” Omar said, slouching down in his seat as he stared out the window.

“Yo, I heard that niggah Rome been marking all his bitches by forcing them to get his name tattooed on their bodies,” Sean stated.

Row chuckled, and replied, “There's only one way to find out.”

They drove past the 40 projects and kept looking for something, but so far their night was coming up empty. They searched the South Road area for an hour, and got tired of searching.

“Yo, I'm ‘bout to say fuck this, ain't shit out here,” Omar exclaimed. “It's damn near two in the fuckin' morning.”

“I feel you, O,” Sean replied.

As they drove down South Road, heading toward Sutphin Boulevard, Sean spotted something, and hollered for Row to slow the car down.

“What you see, niggah?” Row asked.

“Back up, niggah!” Sean shouted.

Row backed the car up, and Sean peered down 155th Street. He
saw something in the shadows that appeared to be a woman striding down the block.

“Yo, I think I saw some ho down that way,” he said.

“Oh, word,” Omar said.

Row slowly turned down the block and moved at a snail's pace. Sean was right, as they gazed at a redbone cutie from the back sauntering down 155th Street in a short denim skirt and black stilettos.

“You think she's one of Rome's hoes?” Sean asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Row replied, moving the car closer to her.

The young lady was out looking for work, but the track was slow since the murders on Rockaway Boulevard. But she didn't care. She had two kids to feed, and a debt to pay off. She knew everything was hot, and she was willing to take her chances out on the streets just to feed her kids.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw a black Acura rolling up on her really slow. She got nervous, but tried to play it cool as she continued to walk down 155th Street. She carried her Nextel in her purse, and knew she needed to chirp Reality, who was unaware that she was working the track tonight against his orders. After the murders, Reality had told all the girls not to work anywhere in Queens, but Royal still took her chances.

When she got to the corner of 107th Avenue, that's when the Acura took action and hastily drove up to her. Three men stepped out, brandishing guns. Royal tried to run, but she had on three-inch stilettos and they were wearing Nikes and Timbs, so she knew it was impossible to escape from them.

“Bitch, what's up?” Omar shouted, running up to Royal and grabbing her by her thin arms.

“Please, I'm just tryin' to make some money to feed my kids, I don't want any trouble,” she pleaded.

“Oh, you got kids. Can I be your baby-daddy too?” Sean joked, feeling up her breast.

“Who you out here for?” Row asked.

“I'm workin' for myself,” Royal replied.

Row said, “Bitch, you lying to us?”

“No.”

“You sure? You ain't workin' for that bitch-ass niggah Reality?” Row asked, glaring at her.

“Who?” she responded, playing stupid.

“Yo, see if she got the tattoo,” Omar suggested.

All three men stared hungrily at Royal, admiring her tight petite body in the denim skirt, and snug black shirt. Row pointed his gun at her and then sternly pulled at her skirt, shouting, “Bitch, take this shit off!”

Royal tried to resist, but Omar and Sean quickly grabbed her, trying to strip off her clothing. She fought though, scratching and biting at her attackers.

“Bitch, you think we playing!” Row shouted, cocking back his .380. “I will murder you out here tonight. Take everything the fuck off right now!”

Royal stared down the barrel of the gun, frightened. She knew he was serious. “Please, why are y'all doin' this? I have two kids.”

“Bitch, we ain't got time for your sad excuses. If you wanna see your kids again, you better start takin' that shit off,” Row demanded.

Royal began to shed a few tears as she started unfastening her skirt. She removed it, and then pulled her shirt over her head, her tits coming into view. She stood sobbing in a red thong.

“Bitch, I said everything,” Row exclaimed.

Crying, and shaking, Royal slowly pulled down her thong and removed it too. She stood stark naked in high heels, her arms covering her breasts.

“Yo, this bitch is makin' my dick hard,” Omar expressed, grabbing his crotch.

Royal had a nice body, she was flawless from head to toe.

“Yo, check if she got that tattoo,” Sean said.

Omar walked up to Royal and observed every inch of her body. He finally found Rome's name tattooed across the back of her shoulder. It was in script and read
Daddy Rome.
Omar and the rest laughed, seeing it was true that Rome marked all of his girls.

“Yo, Row, let me fuck this bitch,” Omar said, glancing around the area and then looking at Royal as if she was a piece of meat.

“Nah, put that bitch in the trunk. She may know something,” Row instructed.

Upset that he couldn't get himself some quick pussy, Omar roughly grabbed Royal by her arm. She tried to resist, shouting, “No! Please, no! No! I have two kids that need me!”

“Bitch, you think we give a fuck about your kids! Get your ass in that trunk,” Sean snapped.

But Royal was reluctant.

Row walked up to her and punched her in the jaw, almost breaking it. Royal lay unconscious in Omar's arms as he stuffed her into the trunk. The three men then quickly got back in the Acura and drove off, unaware that they were all being watched.

A half hour later, all three men met up with Critter at his home. Row called his cell phone, requesting that he meet them outside. Ten minutes later, Critter stalked outside in his robe and slippers.

“Fuck y'all niggahs want?” he barked. “I got this bitch I'm ‘bout to lace tonight, and y'all better not be calling me out here for some bullshit.”

“We thought you might want to see this,” Row explained, placing his key in the lock and unlocking the trunk.

The trunk popped opened, and Critter stared down at a naked, gagged, and tearful Royal in stilettos lying in the trunk.

“Who the fuck is this?” Critter asked.

“We picked her up off the track; she's one of Rome's hoes. Thought she might be useful to us,” Omar explained.

“Useful?”

Row shrugged. “Hey, maybe the bitch knows something about where to find Rome and Reality.”

Critter sighed.

“You wanna keep her?” Sean chimed in.

“Fuck it, take her down in the basement, and keep her quiet. I got a bitch upstairs. I don't need her making noise and fuckin' my night up,” Critter told them.

“I'm sayin' . . . can we at least fuck her first?” Omar said, being a horny bastard.

“Niggah, just take the bitch in the basement, and come by tomorrow night and we can handle her then. See what she knows,” Critter said.

Omar and Sean removed Royal from the trunk, and Omar tossed her over his shoulder and carried her down into the basement.

“Yo, when is the funeral?” Row asked.

“Thursday night,” Critter answered.

“I'll be there.”

Critter nodded.

With that Critter went back into his crib and Omar came walking back out after leaving Royal bound and gagged in Critter's dusty basement. But he was definitely coming back tomorrow night to get himself some pussy before anyone else had their way with her. She was too cute, and he wanted her badly.

It was game time now.