JAH STEPPED OUT OF HIS BUILDING WITH A MAJOR
chip on his shoulder. He was high, tired, and thirsty for another romp with his boo, but duty called. When he stepped out of the building he noticed Devil leaning against the car, smoking a cigarette. His movements were neutral but his eyes attempted to be threatening. Jah maintained eye contact with him until he was tucked inside the back of the Bentley.
“What it is, soldier?” Don B gave Jah a dap as he settled into the seat. “You handled ya business and all that, fam?”
“I'm good,” Jah said, giving True, who was sitting to his right, a pound.
“That's good to know,” Don B continued. “We keeping it local, so tonight should be easy. Stacks and them is doing they thing at the spot, and we gonna shake through there and shine, simple as that.”
“Yo, y'all niggaz is on some real
Mission Impossible
shit right now,” True said, licking the ends of the blunt to seal it. “Who the fuck is gonna try to hit me in a crowded-ass club, with all the security and shit?”
“They tried to get you at the video shoot, and that was in Harlem, under police surveillance,” Jah reminded him.
“You really think these niggaz wouldn't try to take ya head in a dark club?”
True thought on it for a minute, but had to agree with Jah. The shooters from the video had been brazen and reckless, so they'd surely have no qualms about popping off at a crowded nightclub.
“Yeah, that reminds me,” Don B spoke up. “We can't take the hammers up in there, so I hope you can get down with the hands as well as you get down with a pistol?” he asked Jah.
“I'm good,” Jah said, immediately planning a new strategy. He had expected their celebrity status to make them exempt from security checks, so his guns played out in every possible scenario; but Jah was by no means a novice at boxing. He had made a rep as a knockout artist before one as a shooter.
“In case you run into a situation.” Devil handed Jah a retractable baton. “Hit the button and it extends. That's the best we can do for the venue.”
Jah examined the baton, testing the weight and extension time. Though the rod was very slim, it was sturdy, and that's what was important. It didn't have the range of a gun, but in the close quarters of the club he wouldn't need it. He could split a nigga's shit and keep it moving with little hassle. Satisfied, he said, “I can make do with this.”
The ride was a short one, with plenty of blunts and booze to go around. From the moment the Bentley pulled up, all eyes were on them. Chicks rushed over, trying to get pictures on their camera phone with the rapper. True posed modestly and signed autographs while Don B put his best Hollywood moves on for the camera. Remo, Devil, and Jah hung back, checking the crowd.
It didn't take long for club security to lift the rope and usher the entourage inside. The manager came down personally to show them to the area where Stacks and his people were already lounging. Getting through the crowd seemed to be a task in itself. Don B got love from the ballas, but the young girls that recognized True went crazy. Girls were coming at him left and right, in the hopes of getting chosen for the night. A few even came at Jah just for being with True. The
girls didn't give a damn who was on the scene, as long as they were seen with them.
Tucked in a far corner were Stacks and his crew. They were waving bottles in the air and slapping the asses of two girls who had come over to serve as entertainment. Forming a massive wall around them were the bodyguards from the video shoot. The beefy black dudes were on constant alert, seemingly oblivious to the freak show taking place behind them. Spotting Don B and his men, Soda waved them over.
“What's good, my dude?” Hollywood cut across their paths. Don B glared at him and kept walking, while True slowed, with Jah right beside him.
“What's popping? You look like you just lost ya best friend.” True said.
Hollywood sucked his teeth. “Man, I ain't tell you how my van got jacked last night?”
“Say word?”
“Word to mine. Me and this nigga Chris hooked up with these Brooklyn bitches last night at Shooter's on some stunting shit. We knew they was dirtbag bitches from what they had on, but we trying to fuck, so that's even better. So peep, we take the hos out to the joint in Jersey and do the switch up and all that fly shit, but when we wake up the next afternoon these hos was gone with my van!”
“Yo, that's the wildest shit!” True said. “So, how did y'all get home?”
“That's the worst part. They took our fucking bread, so we couldn't even jump on the bus and come across the bridge. My nigga, we had to take a cab back uptown, then dip out on the nigga.”
True couldn't hold it anymore and bust out laughing. He hadn't meant to, but the look on Hollywood's face was priceless. He had been doing stupid shit to people for years, and now found himself a victim of his own karma.
“Damn, kid, that's a heavy pill,” True said, trying to compose himself. “I hope you catch up with the bitches.” He tapped Jah, letting him know he was ready to roll. He'd made it two steps before Hollywood was back in his ear.
“I'm saying, though, why don't you come on over to the bar and let
me buy you a drink?” Hollywood asked, hoping to get a chance to shine with the young star. “I got this concept I wanna run by you, anyway.”
“Not right now, Hollywood. I gotta go get wit my peoples.” True tried to be nice about it, but Hollywood wouldn't let it go.
“Yo, why you acting like we ain't play summer league together, son? You too big for niggaz now?” Hollywood accused, drawing a small crowd. He was a little tipsy and feeling himself.
“Hollywood, you know I ain't on it like that, so kill the bullshit,” True said, anger creeping into his voice.
“My man, that bullshit is why you rap niggaz can't go back to the hood when you blow up, cause y'all stunt when you get a lil paper.”
True ran his hand across his face, trying to calm himself. “Hollywood, right now that drink got you talking real crazy.”
“Nigga, I'm a grown man, I can hold my liquor. Stop trying to play me, word up.” Hollywood moved a little closer. He had a look in his eye that said he was weighing his chances, so True forced him into action.
The punch was so quick that the only reason people knew it was thrown was because Hollywood was backpedaling across the dance floor. Young Chris came through the crowd wielding a Corona bottle, only to have Devil take him off his feet with a fierce right. He hit Chris so hard that you could almost see his cheek cave in. Hollywood had finally composed himself enough to come back at True, but found himself at Jah's mercy. He rained lightning-quick blows all over Hollywood's face and head. The fight was finally broken up when security came and dragged Hollywood and Chris to the exit.
ROXY AND SUGAR HAD JUST
stepped out of the cab when the doors to the club came flying open. Security was tussling with a short, light-skin kid and his man, trying to get them out. Roxy thought she recognized one of them, but wasn't sure. As the ball of arms and bodies got closer to the club, Roxy's eyes lit up and a broad smile crossed her face.
“What you smiling at?” Sugar asked, trying to move away from the fight.
“Look.” Roxy nodded at the short kid who was being handled by the back of his shirt.
Sugar's eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh, shit! That's shorty and them from the motel!” she screamed, before doubling over with laughter.
Hollywood heard the familiar laugh and turned his attention to the two girls. As soon as he saw Roxy and Sugar his anger doubled. He tried to rush the girls, but security had a firm grip on him. In trying to jerk free he had managed to rip his brother's three-hundred-dollar shirt. When he refused to stop struggling, the security guard body slammed him on the concrete. The slam hurt, but not as much as Sugar's laughter as she and Roxy sauntered into the club.
SHA BOOGIE WAS DRESSED IN
a pair of crisp blue jeans and fresh white Airs. He had a Makaveli button up shirt on under a black blazer. On the brim of his nose sat a pair of wire frames. He looked nothing like the street cat who had tried to murder the young rapper in Harlem a day prior. With a nervous Charlie on his heels, he made his way inside the club.
“Damn, look at all these bitches,” Charlie said, trying to take his mind off Tina's dead body.
“We ain't here for that,” Sha reminded him.
“Damn, why don't you lighten up, that lil nigga ain't going nowhere,” Charlie told him. Sha Boogie's obsession with True was starting to make him uneasy. He was determined to keep coming until the man was dead or he was, and Charlie's beef with True didn't go deep enough to where he was ready to die. As soon as it was over with, he was gonna cut Sha Boogie loose.
Though it was still kind of early, the inside of the club was packed with people. Sha knew that if the rappers were in attendance they wouldn't be hard to spot. It was as simple as looking for the largest cluster of people. Sure enough, the Don and all his men were gathered in the corner. Security was tight, but it didn't matter to Sha. He hadn't come to kill; he'd only come to observe.
AFTER RIDING AROUND FOR ALMOST AN HOUR,
Billy finally broke down and agreed to put the car in a parking garage. Instead of parking at the one around the corner from the club, Billy decided to drive up a block further, because there was a two-dollar difference in the price. Reese was tight because she had to walk all the way to the club in needle-thin heels.
“I don't know why you didn't just park closer,” Reese said, fighting with the cute but uncomfortable shoes.
“Because these cats are cheaper,” Billy said, fixing her studded belt. She was dressed in a pair of skin-tight gray jeans with a matching jeans jacket. Her hair was braided up into a Mohawk, showcasing her pretty face.
“Y'all need to come on, by the time we get there the bar is gonna be closed.” Yoshi walked ahead of them. She was wearing a pair of painted-on leather pants, with a five-inch boot heel. Her hair hung down around her face with a lazy curl, bringing out her Latin features.
“I don't know why you're in such a rush. You better hope Jah doesn't knock you upside the head for popping up on him,” Billy yelled after her.
“He needs to, so I can say that my night was interesting.
I still can't believe I let y'all talk me into this,” Reese said. It had taken quite a bit of coaxing to get her to come out with them. Reese hadn't changed her clubbing ways, but she refused to be anywhere where she might see Don B. The only reason she agreed to come was because Yoshi had run a guilt trip on her about not hanging out together anymore.
“You ain't the only one who needs to have a worthwhile night. You know how much drama this private eye bitch caused in my house with this?” Billy thumbed at Yoshi. “Marcus had my ass speaking in tongues, and she ringing the damn phone. That nigga was beyond pissed when I told him I was going out.”
“How'd you manage to shake loose?” Reese asked.
Billy smiled devilishly. “I sucked him off until he fell asleep, and then I broke out.”
“You nasty little skank!” Yoshi squealed.
“If that ain't the fucking pot!” Billy swung at her playfully.
“Fuck that, I'm happy she's getting it on the regular. I remember we used to think she took penis off the menu,” Reese admitted.
“Baby, I've had the best of both worlds, but ain't nothing like planet dick!” Billy gave Yoshi a high five.
“Amen to that,” Yoshi agreed. “I appreciate y'all coming out with me, though.”
“We knew if we didn't come, your crazy ass would try to go at it alone and get shot again,” Billy joked.
“Bitch, that ain't funny. I could've died,” Yoshi shot back.
“And be away from Jah? I don't think so, Yoshibelle. If you and that nigga don't make the cutest couple.” Billy pinched Yoshi's thigh.
“You and your boo are worse than us, wit ya wine-drinking asses!” Yoshi laughed.
“Don't hate me cause I'm cultured,” Billy did a fake model walk. She and Yoshi found it hilarious, but Reese wasn't laughing with them. Yoshi and Billy had been blessed to find love hiding right under their noses, but Reese was still the odd woman out. For all she'd been through, you would think she deserved a little happiness; but outside of Alex she had yet to find it.
ALMOST A HALF HOUR AFTER
the incident had gone down, Stacks Green was still laughing about the fight. “Yo, shorty got it in on ol' boy!” he bellowed.
“You see the lil nigga move? Man, he looked like a lil-ass Tasmanian devil on that mutha!” Cooter added.
“You know Harlem don't breed nothing but official niggaz, Stacks. And if you don't know, you'll see on the court!” Don B boasted.
“You sure is in a rush to loose ya bread, Don. Them young boys you got might be good, but they ain't got nothing on my goon squad,” Stacks told him.
“Stacks, I seen ya boys get down in St. Louis, remember? Y'all barely beat them east side boys,” Don B reminded him. The boys from East St. Louis had given Stacks's team a hard run, but ended up losing by eight points.
“Yeah, that was a good team, but it ain't the team y'all will be playing. I did a lil rebuilding in the off-season,” Stacks said coolly. Don B had anticipated playing the team he had already scouted, but Stacks's revamping of the lineup was something he hadn't expected.
“Its all good. We take all comers,” Don B said confidently. In his mind he was wondering if his high school point guard and cast of street stars would be enough for the Texas ballers. He had fifty thousand reasons why they had better be.
Jah half-listened to the men babble, because he was too busy scanning the room for haters. As his eyes roamed the bar he had to do a double take. The man was hunched over the bar with his back to Jah, but he knew the curve of the back. He no longer had braids, but it didn't matter. Jah knew him, and he knew his crimes. Larry Love would be forever burned into Jah's mind as the enemy. So much fury burned through Jah that his hands began to shake, drawing a curious glance from True.
“You good?” True asked him.
“Yeah, I just need to throw some water on my face,” Jah said, getting up.
“Damn! You drunk that quick?” Cooter asked, pouring himself another shot of Patrón. Jah just ignored him and kept walking.
SHA BOOGIE SAT ALONE AT
the bar, sipping a glass of vodka and cranberry juice. Charlie was mingling in the crowd, supposedly checking for weak spots in their security. Sha knew that getting shot had taken some of the fight out of Charlie Rock, and it was cool. For what Sha needed to do, it was best that he did it alone. Using the mirror behind the bar, Sha Boogie continued to watch True.
There was some sort of running joke going on among the men, because Stacks kept laughing. Sha peeped the bottles of expensive champagne and the ladies flocking to them, which only increased his hate and resentment towards True. The young gunner who had killed Spider sat off to the side watching everything at once. Sha Boogie had to give it to him, though the towers were efficient bodyguards, the young boy was meticulous with work. Sha respected, if not admired, his style, and almost felt bad about having to kill him.
The shooter looked in Sha's direction and for a moment he thought he was spotted. Sha cursed and slouched down a bit more when he saw the shooter whisper something to True and start toward the bar. Sha Boogie wasn't armed, but with Big Dawg's celebrity status he figured the shooter might be. A confrontation was something he really didn't want. Still, if he came for it he would get it, Sha reasoned, sliding an abandoned Corona bottle closer to him.
JAH MOVED ACROSS THE ROOM
with such grace that he hardly touched the mingling partygoers. His eyes were so fixed on Larry Love that everything and everyone in the room was drowned out. Larry Love had been like family at one point, but his greed had made him an outcast. Paul trusted Larry like a brother, only to be rewarded with betrayal and death. Marlene was a lawyer, and therefore protected from Jah's wrath to an extent, but Larry was a product of the streets and therefore subject to their laws.
There were many nights that Jah laid awake thinking of his brother. Paul had made some mistakes in his life, but he wasn't like the rest of them. He actually wanted to do right and take care of his responsibilities; but, like so many others, he became a victim of hood shit. Rhonda had subjected him to three years of hell over nothing, and the two people he trusted most were fucking behind his back. Paul's heart cracked under the pressure, but Jah's only got harder. On Jah's list of unclaimed souls that had to be pushed from the world, Larry's name was still number one.
Larry was perched on the bar stool, kicking it with a young lady and oblivious to death hovering just an arm's length away. Jah knew it was him from the moment he spotted him, but he had to get up on him to feel it ⦠to make it real. He loomed just behind the man, not approaching the bar, but hovering close by. Jah was unarmed, and though he could surely kill the man with just the baton, there would be no escape. Larry was a piece of shit, but hardly worth going to prison for. Jah eased away from Larry, in the direction of the bathrooms, and contemplated how he would kill him.
Jah bumped through the crowd going over different torture methods he and Spooky had used over the years, trying to decide which one was best suited for Larry Love. A commotion that was brewing to his right caused him to turn. When he saw who was in the center of it his eyes narrowed to slits. Clutching the baton at his side he made his way in the direction of the crowd.
SHA BOOGIE BREATHED A SIGH
of relief when the shooter walked right past him. He had initially thought he'd been spotted and that the shooter was coming over to get it popping, but he had someone else in his sights. He watched as the young man moved in on a heavyset cat at the end of the bar. He expected there to be some kind of confrontation, but the shooter just stared at the man for a minute and left. It was obvious from the look on the shooter's face that he had some kind of issue with the man, but Sha wasn't sure exactly what.
The shooter came within three feet of Sha but didn't even acknowledge him. He moved through the crowd with an angry look on his face, mumbling to himself. Halfway across the room he stopped short and changed direction. Sha watched as he walked up on a man and three girls who had just come into the spot.
“THIS SHIT IS A SWEATBOX,”
Reese said, wiping her forehead with a folded napkin.
“What do you expect when you stuff three hundred people in a room big enough to fit one hundred? You know niggaz draw heat,” Billy joked. A dude wearing a fake diamond in his ear rolled up on Billy, licking his lips. He started to say something to her, but the look on her face choked back any game he had thought about spitting.
“What'd you do to that boy?” Reese asked her.
“Its not about what I did
to
him, its about what I'd never do
with
him.” Billy looked around the room to see who was in the party. Of course, Don B and his team were over in the corner making the most noise, but it was who she saw sitting at the bar that made her heart skip. “Oh, shit!”
“What's wrong?” Reese asked, trying to see what Billy was looking at.
“Over at the end of the bar,” Billy motioned.
Reese didn't see him at first, but her second sweep of the bar spotted him. “I don't fucking believe it.”
“What?” Yoshi came over. When her eyes saw what theirs did, her mouth dropped open. “Larry? That nigga has got nerve showing his face back in town. He better hope Jah doesn't see him.”
“I think he just did,” Billy nodded at Jah, who was making his way in Larry's direction.
“He's gonna kill him!” Yoshi started trying to make her way through the thick crowd. She saw Jah moving silently towards Larry Love with murder flashing in his eyes. She knew if she didn't get to him in time, Jah was going to do something very impulsive and get
himself into trouble. Between the swell of people and the different hands trying to grope or get her attention, she was getting nowhere fast. A heavy dude, clearly tipsy, bumped into her injured arm, sending fire shooting up through her body. The pain in her arm was intense, but nothing compared to what Larry Love was about to feel.
She had almost reached her destination, when a firm pair of hands grabbed her from behind. Yoshi turned around in flip mode and found herself looking at a dude from the block she knew, named Red. Red had been one of Yoshi's sponsors when she was running the streets and they had had some memorable times together.
“China, what's good?” he called her by her stage name.
“Not much, Red, I'm kind of in a rush,” she said, trying to keep it moving, but he pulled her back.
“Hold on, I ain't seen you in months and you ain't got time for a nigga?”
“Its not that, Red, I'm just trying to catch up with someone,” she told him.
“Oh, you got a new flavor of the month, huh?” he asked, sounding offended.
“I don't get down like that no more, Red, I'm in here with my man.”
“Your man?” he looked at her quizzically. “Ain't no one nigga never been enough for you, ma. Come on over to the bar and let me buy you a quick drink,” he insisted.
“Redâ”
“My dude, I don't know if you understand English, or you're just pushy as hell, but my girl just told you she's in here with her man,” Billy cut in.
“Do I know you?” Red asked Billy, clearly not feeling her cock blocking.
“No, but you might know me,” a male voice called over the music. Everyone's breath caught in their chests when they saw Jah standing behind Red and Yoshi.
“Jah, what's good?” Red extended his hand in greeting. Jah just looked at it. Red was a little older than Jah, they knew some of the
same people on the streets. Jah had a reputation as being a goon that you didn't want to cross.