Still Hood (15 page)

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Authors: K'wan

BOOK: Still Hood
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“I KEEP TELLING YOU, NIGGA, IF BALL'N WAS A
sport, I'd be the fucking MVP!” Don B boasted, waving a bottle of champagne in the air, spilling a little on the group of girls who were hanging on his every word.
“Of the season, maybe, but it definitely goes to me in the playoffs,” Stacks challenged, hoisting a bottle of Hennessy.
“Y'all niggaz is crazy!” Cooter laughed. “Yo, hurry ya ass up, Soda. I gotta take a leak.” He banged on the bathroom door.
“In a minute!” Soda yelled back.
“That young boy is in there getting it in,” Stacks laughed.
“I told y'all cats that I only deal in the finest quality of trim,” Black Ice said from his seat in the lounge chair, minus one of his girls.
“I might have to see what that's about, if Soda's ass ever gets up out the pussy,” Cooter said.
“All money down is a bet.” Black Ice stroked Cinnamon's leg.
The door creaked open and Dena stepped in. The hungry glares she got from the men assembled made her feel like a piece of fresh meat tossed to a bunch of starving lions. She gave a brief glance around the room and spotted
her girls crammed together on the couch with some of the others. Without looking anyone in the eyes, Dena made her way over to the couch.
“Ah, so we meet again,” Black Ice said to her slyly. “It's a little cramped over there on the couch, but we got room for you over here.” He patted the chair.
“I'm good,” Dena said, sitting on the arm of the chair closest to Mo. Though she tried not to look over at Black Ice, she couldn't help it. He was fine as hell and looking like new money, decked out in shiny jewels. Though everything sensible within Dena told her Black Ice was no good, there was just something about him that she couldn't resist.
“So I hear you a big man in Texas?” Sharon asked Stacks in a flirtatious manor.
“Shorty, I'm almost three hundred pounds. I'm a big man wherever I go,” he joked.
“Being big just means there's more of us to love,” Mo added.
“I know that's right, lil mama.” Stacks raised his bottle, to which Mo responded by raising her glass.
Soda came out of the bathroom looking like he had just been in a fight, with Lisa close behind him. Her lipstick was smeared and her clothes looked ruffled, but she still marched across the trailer like she was the queen of Sheba and plopped on Black Ice's lap. Whispering softly into his ear, she placed a small roll of bills into his jacket pocket. Dena peeped it all, but didn't say anything.
“Damn, Daddy, I hope you saved some for the rest of us,” Roxy said to Soda.
“We country boys, ma. That means we go long and strong, feel me?” Cooter answered for him.
“That's probably cause you ain't never ran into a thoroughbred bitch from Brooklyn,” Sugar added.
“I know that's right,” Mo cosigned.
“I see the planet of Brooklyn is in here strong.” Don B moved closer to Roxy. Draping his arm around her, he tipped his bottle and refilled her cup.
“If you don't know, ya might find out.” Roxy hoisted her glass to toast Don B.
“So what's up, where the smoke at?” Sharon asked, sipping a plastic cup of straight Vodka. She was getting sauced up like she wasn't throwing up a few hours prior.
“You gets it in, huh?” Cooter said, giving her a seductive look.
“All day, every day.” She matched his stare.
“Shorty, is you even old enough to be drinking and smoking and shit?” Stacks asked, lighting a blunt of Haze Don B had rolled for him.
“Hell yeah, I just turned eighteen the other day and a bitch is still celebrating,” Sharon lied.
“Is that right?” Stacks was speaking to Sharon, but looking at Dena who just turned her head.
“Fuck it, let her hit the weed,” Cooter said, disappearing into the bathroom. “Yo, it smells like straight ass in here!” he called out, causing everyone in the room to laugh. Soda just sat in the corner and blushed.
“Shorty, you don't talk much, do you?” Black Ice asked Dena.
“The name is Dena, not Shorty. And I talk when someone has something noteworthy to say.”
Black Ice smiled. “Ms. Dena, everything that comes out of my mouth is noteworthy, you just gotta listen.”
For the next few minutes the occupants of the trailer smoked weed and drank, with everyone catching a nice buzz. Black Ice was finally able to get through to Dena to the point of making small talk. For as brash as he seemed, the man was actually quite intelligent and articulate, which surprised her. When she asked him what he did he downplayed it as being in adult entertainment, but the look she got from the girl named Cinnamon made her doubt the sincerity of it. Dena was about to probe further into his profession when Raheem poked his head in the trailer.
“Yo, everybody stay put. Some shit just went down up the block,” he told them, while still trying to listen to his squawking radio.
“What's going on?” Stacks asked.
“Somebody got shot. Is all ya peoples accounted for?” Raheem asked him.
“All my niggaz is here,” Stacks looked around to double-check. “Don?”
Don B looked around and it dawned on him. “Oh shit, True and Lazy are out there.” Don B bounded for the door, gun at the ready, but Raheem stopped him.
“Hold on, my man.” He placed a hand against Don B's chest.
“Fuck that hold on shit, my lil brother might be hurt out there.” Don B slapped his hand away. Though the years had been kind to Don B financially, he was still a hood nigga who would let it go at the drop of a hat. Raheem knew that trying to force him to do the right thing wouldn't work, so he tried reasoning.
“Don B, if you go charging out there with that pistol it ain't gonna help, cause the pigs is gonna slap them bracelets on you. My people are gonna make sure ya man gets back to you in one piece. Just let us do our job.”
Don B continued to glare at Raheem through his shades. He had seen Raheem around the hood, so he knew he was a street cat, but he wasn't a Dawg and couldn't understand the bond they all shared. True was like family and there was no way he was going to trust his safety to an outsider.
“Remo, Devil, put them fucking drinks down and go wit this nigga and check on True. If y'all niggaz was on ya job, shit like this wouldn't happen,” he barked.
Remo shot Don a murderous look, but Devil's hand on his shoulder cut off whatever he was about to say. Remo wasn't used to people speaking to him like that, even if he was on their payroll. He was a man first, and anybody that didn't respect that got dealt with accordingly. Devil, on the other hand, was more sensitive to the issue. He and Don B had a history spanning back to when his uncle Red was running the streets. Not only were they friends, but they hailed from the same set.
“Don,” Devil addressed him. “I know you're upset right now, but you need to calm down. You pay me and Remo for a service, so let us
handle it. Come on, Remo.” Devil pulled him by the arm. Remo allowed Devil to lead him from the trailer, but made a note to himself to have a private conversation with the self-proclaimed Don when it was all said and done.
“Don, you my nigga; can't get no bigger, but you know ya boy hot and them people gonna wanna question everybody here,” Black Ice said, motioning to his ladies that it was time to boogie.
“Do what you gotta do, Ice,” Don snapped. The anger wasn't directed at Ice, so he didn't take it personal.
“My nigga.” He draped his arm around Don B and leaned in to whisper to him. “Don, I'm sure True is okay, but on another note I'm gonna put some eyes on these Texas niggaz just to make sure our investment is protected, no disrespect to you, of course.”
The mention of money brought Don B somewhat back to himself. “I feel you, Ice, that's why you'll always be my nigga.”
“Its nothing. Yo, call my phone and let me know if the 40/40 is still the order of business. If not, we can take ya boys to Shooter's.”
“That's a bet.” Don B gave him a pound.
Black Ice stopped short of the door and turned to Dena and her crew. “I suspect the police will be asking around about ID in a minute. That offer for a ride still stands.” He looked directly at Dena.
“We good,” Sharon said, settling further into the chair, closer to where Soda was now sitting. He smelled like weed and pussy, but it didn't seem to bother her.
“Actually, I think we'll take you up on that.” Dena grabbed Sharon by the hand.
“Shorty, the party ain't over just yet. We bout to shoot the next scene at the 40,” Cooter protested.
“We'll catch you down there.” Dena continued to the door, with Sharon still gripped firmly about the hand.
“Dena, why you tripping?” Sharon asked, trying to pull away.
“Bring ya ass on and be quiet,” Dena continued. What she wasn't saying was that she was really saving them from embarrassment and Stacks from jail. If the police came through and found their underage asses drinking and getting high, all hell was going to break loose. The
shoot-out would be nothing in the headlines compared to Stacks getting slapped with a child-endangerment case.
Seeing that the video scene was no longer popping, Sugar decided she and Roxy needed to be where the grass was greener. “You got room for two more?”
JAH SAT IN THE DRAB WHITE ROOM LOST IN HIS
own thoughts. The sound of the different machines and the whirling of the air conditioner made a strange rhythm in his head, giving him something to focus on other than his grief and feeling of utter failure. In the bed directly in front of him, Yoshi rested quietly. God had been merciful, as the bullet was able to be successfully removed from her collarbone. It would leave a nasty scar and there was always the possibility of nerve damage, but she would live, no thanks to him.
When the police arrived on the scene they found the streets riddled with bullets, a man dead on the curb and Jah clutching Yoshi's prone body. Initially, they had sought to arrest him until a cluster of bystanders gave them a fake story about what went down. Reluctantly, they let Jah go to attend Yoshi, but only after he agreed to come in for questioning later on.
Things had happened so fast that he didn't have time to think about it. One minute he saw men coming with guns, and instinct then took over from there. The next thing he knew he was caught in the middle of a war that had nothing to do with him. He had found out through the grapevine
that the shooters were coming for True, and Jah drawing his hammer prematurely had made Yoshi a casualty. He wanted to cry every time he thought of it, but he had no tears left.
Jah placed Yoshi's limp hand between his and raised it to his face. Even smeared by blood and dirt, he could still smell the scent of her skin. He kissed the back of her hand and she stirred a bit, but the medication wouldn't let her open her eyes. Though the wound wasn't a fatal one, they had to give her a heavier dose of the anesthetic, because she had become frantic at one point during the surgery.
Death and Jah had walked hand in hand since he was a child, and the death of his mentor and closest kin was further evidence of that. Though he walked through the fire virtually untouched, those around him paid the penance. As he looked down at his own bloody clothes, flashes ran through his mind of all the times he found himself in that condition and when his would be the blood staining someone else's shirt. Jah's young soul had already racked up a good number of sins, so a few more wouldn't make much difference, he reasoned. True's beef or not, they had harmed his lady and had to pay.
“I'm sorry, ma.” He stood up to leave. Yoshi's head flopped from side to side as if she was struggling to tell him something, but even if she could speak there would be no reasoning with Jah. When blood called, he answered.
OUTSIDE THE EMERGENCY ROOM THE
police and hospital security did what they could to keep order. Though the rest of the video had been canceled for the day due to the shooting, there were quite a few hangers-on that weren't ready to let it go. There had been a procession of people on foot and in cars that followed the ambulance from St. Nick over the few short blocks to Lenox, all still trying to get at the Dawgz.
While Stacks and his people headed back to the hotel to get changed for the night, the members of Big Dawg headed to the hospital. Though his manager insisted that it wasn't a good idea, True insisted they come through to make sure Yoshi was good. Of them all,
he was the closet to Yoshi through the bond he shared with Rhonda. He knew better than anyone else what she had endured, especially at the hands of his own comrades, so he felt obligated to help her along in the recovery. This is what prompted him to plug her with the wardrobe gig. To everyone's surprise, including True's, she was a natural at it.
The police had initially tried to make some of the members leave, as their presence was causing a situation, but True held fast, insisting that they were all family of the victim. A shoving match almost ensued between Big Dawg security and the police, but a young Black nurse had stepped in on their behalf. She was a chick from the hood that had been seen around young Lazy a few times. They agreed that the bodyguards could stay with True and Don B, but the rest of the entourage had to go.
“You know their faces from anywhere?” Don B asked True, who was leaning against the vending machine. Remo and Devil formed a protective barrier so that the two could speak in private.
“Nah, I ain't even get to get that good of a look at them,” True said. “All I know is, me and the young boys was walking to the store, the next thing you know Chiba pops off. Don, they laid the young boy!” True said emotionally.
“I know it.” Don B remembered the exploits of young Chiba. Of all the lil niggaz that ran around with Big Dawg, Chiba was one of the most solid, even more so than Lazy. Like Don and True, Chiba had been born in the streets.
“I hear one of em got laid out,” Remo added.
“Yeah. The boy Spider. He's a little nigga from out of Brooklyn who ain't worth the sheet they used to cover his ass with,” Devil said. “Any idea why some Brooklyn niggaz would want you clipped?” he asked True.
“Probably just haters,” True said. “Fuck them niggaz, they can't see me.”
“Still, I need to keep security on you at all times,” Don B. insisted.
“Don, I can understand that shit when we out, but this is Harlem, baby—home!” True protested.
“Yo, you see what happened with Pain and them niggaz, and I ain't trying to let you go out like that. I don't know who I'm gonna put on you yet, but you're definitely getting a babysitter,” Don B said, letting him know that his decision was final.
“Haters ain't gonna try to pop you with po-po lurking not even two blocks away. Nah, that shit is deeper than just hating,” Don B said.
Billy and Reese came rushing into the emergency room entrance of Harlem hospital. In addition to their regular security, there were several police officers stationed around and outside the emergency room. Reese wondered if maybe there was someone famous getting treated at the hospital, too, but that thought died away to an icy ball in the pit of her stomach when she saw Don B and his minions huddled in the corner. If she'd had it her way, they'd have avoided them altogether, but of course Billy needed answers.
“Billy, what's good?” Don B nodded to her. He knew Billy from the hood, but they developed a somewhat personal relationship when she agreed to coach his team in the big game against Stacks's team. Though he would surely be clowned for his choice on game day, he was confident in her skills. Unlike some, he had seen Billy play, and the girl's play and her basketball IQ was off the chain.
“Nothing, just tying to find out what's good with my girl? Somebody tell me what happened?” When everyone seemed to be more interested in the floor than looking at her, Billy got aggressive. “Yo, you mean to tell me my girl got popped on a video shoot y'all niggaz was at and nobody gonna tell me what happened? Niggaz, that ain't Harlem, talk to me!”
“Billy, let me talk to you in private for a minute,” Spooky spoke up. He had been so deep in the cut that Billy hadn't even noticed him in the waiting area. She agreed, but before following him outside she glared at all the members of Big Dawg in attendance. Reese just dipped her head and followed them out.
“Tell me something, Spooky,” Billy demanded, clearly getting impatient.
“Look, near as I can figure, some cats came looking for the boy
True and Jah started popping. Yoshi was on the scene when it jumped and she got hit.” He said matter-of-factly.
“What the fuck do you mean? Jah started popping with Yoshi standing there? Is he crazy or just stupid?” Billy fired back.
“Billy, don't shoot the messenger, a'ight? You know damn well Jah wouldn't put Yoshi in harm's way like that unless it was serious.” He paused to let a cop pass who was returning from his cigarette break. “My guess is he seen the shooters coming and drew. When you've done as much dirt as that nigga, you don't know who might be coming for ya head.”
“Where's Jah?” Reese asked.
“He's upstairs with Yoshi,” Spooky told her.
“I need to go check on my girl. Come on Reese,” Yoshi said, heading back into the waiting area. Just as they had crossed the room, Jah was stepping off the elevator. His clothes were a hot mess and there was blood dried to his skin, but the most disturbing thing about him was his tear-streaked cheeks. Jah was a man who didn't cry easily, and the few times when he allowed himself to, it usually went poorly for whomever was connected to it.
“Jah, what's going on?” Billy went to him. Though he tried to make his face pleasant there was something very disturbing in his eyes.
“She's sleeping,” he said, just above a whisper. When he noticed the way Billy was looking at him he turned away. “I'm gonna go now, so y'all can have ya time with her.”
“Jah, don't stray too far, cause I need to talk to you,” Billy said.
Jah gave her a look that could've almost been mistaken for loving. “Billy, you know how much I respect ya, gangsta, but any talking I do from here on out will be done over smoking barrels.” Ignoring her pleas for him to wait, Jah marched out to address the crew from Big Dawg.
DON B AND COMPANY WERE
standing outside the emergency room smoking cigarettes and plotting. Spooky stood off to the side, talking on his cell and watching their movements. Though he didn't think the cats would intentionally put Jah or his wife in harm's way, it
went without saying that the situation would get interesting. Jah was hardly one to let something like this slide, and he would need his crime partner at his side for whatever was going to come of it.
When Jah came out everyone got quiet. Spooky went to say something, but Jah totally ignored him and headed in the direction of Don B and his team. He looked like a serial killer, standing there in bloodstained clothes with a vacant look in his eyes. The streak of blood that had dried on his face didn't even seem to bother him. Devil and Remo went to block his path, but the look that Jah gave them gave the men pause. Though they didn't know Jah personally, they knew his type, and cats like that were unpredictable when dealing with grief. Sensing the mounting tension, Don B motioned for them to let Jah through.
“Yo, I'm sorry that—,” Don B began.
Jah cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Dawg, ain't nothing you can say to ease what I feel right now. I'm gonna do some talking and y'all gonna do some listening.”
Remo looked like he was thinking about flexing, so Spooky moved to stand directly beside his partner. With an icy look, he stared down the members of Big Dawg and their security without batting an eye. The look he gave them let each and every man know that he was more than willing to get down for his comrade.
“True,” Jah addressed the youngster. “I need to know everything you know about them niggaz that came to hit you.”
True tired to downplay it. “Yo, I don't know nothing about them. They was probably just some niggaz trying to make a name for themselves off me.”
“That's bullshit and we both know it,” Jah shut him down. “Ain't no niggaz, no matter how thirsty, gonna try to stick a muthafucka on a video shoot. Shit, not only was the NYPD on set, but there were hip-hop cops everywhere. Them boys had a personal stake on yo ass, and I think if you rack ya brain hard enough you'll think of a reason that a muthafucka wanted you dead; but until you do I'm gonna be ya fucking shadow.”
“Shorty, me and my nigga handle security. We don't need some
hot-under-the-collar, underqualified punk fucking up our rhythm,” Remo said, stepping up.
Jah gave him a cold stare. “My dude, I'm nineteen years old and done dropped almost as many niggaz as years I been on earth. I think that makes me more than qualified. Furthermore, my girl got shot in this bullshit, so it's personal now. Y'all do what y'all do, but me and the boy True is gonna be joined at the hip until I taste some blood.”
“You'll get to taste a lot of that, fucking wit us,” Devil said threateningly.
“You'd be surprised how big my appetite is.” Jah stared the older man down.
“Is there a problem over here?” a lanky cop, wearing a uniform that was a size too big, asked.
“Nah, we good,” Don B told him. He waited until the cop returned to his post before addressing Jah. “Homey, I know you feeling in a way right now, but this is serious business we dealing with here. True is about to be a star, and we can't have niggaz around him just popping off from emotions. The stakes are too high.”
“Don, don't nobody know how high the stakes is better than me,” Jah told him. “How the fuck would you feel if ya lady got popped cause of some shit you ain't have nothing to do with? Nah, staying close to True is the only way I'm gonna get right with them niggaz. You can't deny me this, dawg.”
Don B stared at Jah for a minute. To say that he felt Jah's pain would've been a lie, because Don B hadn't walked the same path Jah had. His girl raped, his brother committed suicide, and now this. The boy had been through a lot, and not even the Don could overlook his reasoning for wanting to get his hands dirty. But emotional cats sometimes made impulsive mistakes, which is why Don B was hesitant to put him on. The upside to it was that Jah was so vicious with it that a muthafucka couldn't get within twenty feet of True without catching something hot. In their situation, he would make the perfect guard dog. Another good thing was the fact that True and Jah were close in age and already had a history, so the young rapper would be comfortable with Jah at his side, as opposed to Remo or Devil. This
solved both the problems of having someone reliable to watch over True as well as protecting Don B's interests.

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