Welfare Wifeys (12 page)

“Son, Rico got like a thousand soldiers and a million guns; you really think we gonna be able to get at him?” Nefertiti asked.

“It ain’t a question of
if
we can get at them, but
when
we gonna split them niggaz wigs. I won’t be denied my vengeance,” Animal said with ice in his voice. “But y’all don’t have to dwell on that right now. I know when I put out the call to arms you’ll answer like you always do. But now ain’t the time for that. I’m home, my nigga, and I wanna feel these streets before they feel me.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. Let’s get to this bottle popping to celebrate your return,” Nefertiti said excitedly.

“Fuck all that, we need to hit the strip club or something,” Brasco suggested.

“The both of y’all are bugging, let’s go to the weed spot and see if we can pick up some hos on the strip,” Ashanti countered.

Ever since Animal had picked them up that morning they had been arguing like siblings over their big brother. Their bickering used to annoy Animal to no end, but that day he welcomed it because it was just one more reminder of how much he missed his
beloved Harlem and his little crew. From state to state Animal rolled with made dudes, in and out of the industry, and though they showed him love it was nothing like what he felt when he was with Brasco, Ashanti, and Nef. The young men riding with him were his brothers, and they loved him just as much as he loved them, if not more so.

“Y’all niggaz be easy,” Animal said in his lazy drawl. He removed a blunt from his shirt pocket and lit it, knowing the weed would get them to calm down and listen while he spoke his piece. “I got a run to make right quick, then a studio session with Chip. When I’m done I’ll come scoop y’all and we can do whatever you want.”

“So fuck it, we’ll come to the studio with you,” Ashanti suggested.

“Not tonight, we gotta mix these songs down and if I take y’all with me I won’t end up doing shit but getting too slopped to work. As soon as I’m done we’ll kick it though. I promise.” Animal steered the Beamer up Broadway and made two lefts on 124th. A group of girls who had been coming out of the liquor store watched the sleek automobile in awe, wondering who was inside.

“Yeah, I see you checking me out, ma,” Ashanti called out the window.

“Is that little Ashanti?” one of the girls asked.

“Of course it is. You see how I’m rolling.”

“Whose car y’all done stole?” the other girl asked.

“Stole? Bitch, don’t be trying to play me like I’m some scumbag nigga. I’m rolling with my big brother, Animal!”

“Chill, son,” Animal whispered. He wanted to keep as low a profile as possible so he could move around the city freely.

“That ain’t no Animal,” the first girl disputed. Before Animal could stop him, Ashanti rolled the window all the way down so the girls could see inside. When they spotted the rapper their eyes got wide with shock. “Oh, my God!”

“Fucking Ashanti,” Brasco cursed as they pulled into the bus stop with the girls damn near running to catch up to the car. From the way they were squealing and carrying on it didn’t take long before a small crowd had gathered around the car.

“Ashanti, I could kill you for this shit,” Animal said, cringing as a not-so-attractive girl pressed her face against the driver’s side window.

“You’re a superstar now, son, what did you expect? You might as well get out and greet your adoring public,” Ashanti said proudly.

“Or at least see if some of these hood rats are trying to fuck,” Brasco added before sliding from the car, followed by his crew.

Brasco, Nefertiti, and Ashanti worked crowd control as Animal stood beside the car and signed autographs for the people that had gathered around to praise him. One girl didn’t have any paper so she asked Animal if he could sign her baby’s diaper, but from the way it smelled he had to decline. It was hard to believe that not so long ago people would’ve been running away from him, but now they flocked to him like some teen idol. It wasn’t the first time it had happened to him since the release of the video but he still hadn’t gotten used to it.

“Come on, B, y’all niggaz know y’all can’t be bringing all this unwanted attention to my hood,” King said as he parted the crowd.

“King, what’s good? I heard you were home.” Ashanti gave him dap.

“Yeah, and I heard your little ass was locked up?”

“Again,” Lakim added.

“Come on, y’all know how I do it. If they wanna keep me caged they’re gonna have to throw me in a super max and put me under twenty-four-hour guard, but even then they probably couldn’t do nothing with me,” Ashanti boasted.

“I hear that hot shit. I’ve been to a few spots that would straighten your little ass right out,” King told Ashanti. He turned his dark
eyes to Animal who was busy trying to keep a girl’s hands out of his hair. “What up, you can’t speak?”

Animal looked up and a broad grin immediately crossed his face. “Oh, shit. What up, my nigga.” Animal hugged him. “Damn son, you got big than a muthafucka!”

King flexed. “You know it ain’t but three things you can do when you’re locked down for twenty-three hours a day: read, eat, and lift weights.”

“Looks like you could lift damn near the whole building,” Animal teased him.

Ashanti looked from King to Animal with a confused expression on his face as he had never heard Animal speak of the terror of the General Grant Houses. “How do y’all know each other?”

Animal grinned. “It’s a long story.”

Animal and King had a relationship that went back several years. Back in the days King had been the young protégé of Animal’s older brother Justice, a notorious killer and the right arm of one of Harlem’s most ruthless kingpins K-Dawg. Under K-Dawg the Road Dawgz crew had terrorized Harlem laying low anyone who went against them, including the district attorney assigned to prosecute them. One of K-Dawg’s young boys had blown his head off during a press conference in broad daylight on the courthouse steps. K-Dawg and his crew feared nothing, but their reign eventually came to an end when they orchestrated a mass suicide that took the lives of almost a dozen police officers. The police never did make a positive ID on K-Dawg’s corpse, but they reasoned that it was highly unlikely that even someone who seemed as invincible as he did could’ve survived the explosion.

As a teen King had been a small fish taken under the wing by the hardened Justice, but when he was sent off to prison at the age of sixteen he became more of a monster than Justice
had been during his run on the streets. In a strange twist of fate King and Justice had ended up in the same prison for a time. Being that King’s family never came to see about him, Animal and his aunt would often pull him down too when they went to see Justice. Animal enjoyed listening to King talk during the visits. They were just about the same age, but King had a maturity about him that made him seem far older than he was. Eventually Justice was moved to another prison and Animal was so caught up in the streets that he stopped going to see King, but every so often he would send him letters of a few dollars here and there. He had heard through the grapevine that King was home and making quite a name for himself but this was the first time he had seen him since he was a teenager.

“So, how’s big brother?” King asked him.

“He’s good. I ain’t seen him in a while, but I write him at least once a week,” Animal said.

“That’s what’s up. Yo, when you speak to that nigga tell him to get at me. I got some bread put to the side for him.”

“He’s straight. If I don’t do nothing else I make sure his commissary is right.”

“I know you do, superstar, but I still wanna do something for him from me. Son took care of the God when he was on the streets and in the joint,” King said honestly.

“Wow, I didn’t know you know famous people,” Sahara interjected. She was tired of playing the sidelines waiting for Animal to notice her.

King gave her a wicked look. “Ma, don’t play ya self. My whole team is stars.”

“Ya heard,” Lakim added.

“King, cut it out. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Sahara stroked his beard tenderly.

King made the introduction. “Animal, this is my lil young thing, Sahara.”

“How you doing, sis?” Animal shook her hand.

“I’m good,” Sahara said in a seductive tone. She caught King
glaring at her so she fixed it up. “I loved the mix tape you and Don B. put out. ‘Child of the Ghetto’ is my joint!”

“Thank you. I’ll make sure I drop a copy to King for you the next time I swing this way,” Animal said.

“I heard you live in Texas now. Are you in New York for business or pleasure?” she asked.

“A little bit of both.”

“Well, if you get some time you should come and hang out with me and King. I got a girlfriend that I think you’d like.”

“Sorry, but I got a lady,” Animal told her, not sure if he liked the way Sahara was staring at him. He had seen that look in the eyes of many a woman and it always led to trouble.

“Oh, you’re married?” Sahara asked as if she cared one way or the other.

“Not yet.”

“Then I don’t see nothing wrong with just hanging out, right?”

“All depends on what kind of hanging you mean.”

“Ask ya man, King. He’ll tell you how me and my girls get down.” She licked her lips. It was a simple gesture, but watching her do it made Animal feel dirty.

“Sahara, this man is a star so what the fuck he look like going in on some hood rats?” King clowned her.

“I know you ain’t trying to play nobody because you can’t keep your nose out of this hood rat pussy!” she shot back.

King’s nostrils flared letting Sahara know she had overplayed her hand. Before she could apologize King had her by the arm, shaking her. “Sahara, you better take your sack-chasing ass in the building and wait for me before I bust ya shit for trying to style out here.” He shoved her toward the building.

“A’ight, damn. You ain’t gotta be pushing nobody,” Sahara mumbled as she made hurried steps toward the building. She made it a point to switch extra hard so that Animal could see what she was working with.

“You gotta excuse that, my dude. You know how these lil broads can be,” King said by way of an apology.

“Yeah, I be knowing,” Animal said to King, but his eyes followed Sahara to the building. He had never cheated on Gucci, but Sahara was definitely eye candy. “But yo, I ain’t gonna keep you, I just rolled through to drop these niggaz.” He motioned toward the stooges. “I gotta bust a move.”

“Yeah, I gotta
bust
something too,” King said, looking over his shoulder at Sahara who was peering through the lobby’s glass window watching them. “But it was good to see you, T. I know you’re a big superstar now so you’ve left the streets alone but if you ever need some dirt done you know you can holla at ya boy!”

Animal smirked. “Appreciate it, King, but just because you take an animal out of the jungle doesn’t change the fact that he’s an animal.” There was something about the way he said it that made everyone around him uneasy.

“True indeed, God, true indeed. In any event, if you need me you can find me here holding court any day of the week. Now that I’m back on top I gotta work twice as hard to hold my kingdom and I don’t plan on letting up on these niggaz for one second,” King assured him.

“My nigga is gonna be the king of all of this shit, word is bond,” Lakim added.

“King James, huh?” Animal smirked. “If you like it then I love it, my nigga. I’m outta here.”

Animal gave everybody dap and hopped back in his whip. He threw his hood up through the sunroof and peeled away.

“I see y’all lil niggaz on a come up,” King said as he watched Animal pull away.

“We trying to get it how we live like everybody else,” Ashanti said.

“Stop fronting, you ain’t getting it like nothing, you little pissy dick muthafucka.” King playfully threw a combination of light jabs at Ashanti, who weaved most of them and came back with a few of his own. “I see you’re still on your footwork.”

“You gotta stay on your toes when you’re constantly trying to duck the beast, god. They’re trying to throw the key away on niggaz out here, feel me?”

King nodded in agreement. “Indeed I do, which is why I always find myself wondering why you keep throwing stones?”

“What you mean, King?” Ashanti asked as if he was ignorant to his own antics.

“Check, every time you turn around your lil ass is getting arrested or carted off to kiddie jail. They’re just slapping your wrist now because you’re so young, but in a minute you’re gonna be sixteen and they’re gonna show you how the devil really gets down. They took eight years of my life that I can never get back.”

Ashanti pondered King’s words and chose his own carefully when he spoke. “King, you were only a year or two older than me when they locked you up for killing that kid back in the days, but when you came home the whole hood laid down at your feet because they knew your were a real nigga.”

“Ashanti, I didn’t know it at the time but I was a
real nigga
long before I had ever taken a life. I got sent away for trying to protect myself from a man who was trying to harm me, not for paper, turf, or stripes. The things I saw and participated in while I was away stole my innocence and turned me into the monster that my enemies have nightmares about when they lay down with their wives and children.”

“And that’s why the hood pays homage,” Ashanti shot back. “Man, niggaz in the hood love the King James from 3150 more than they do the one who wrote the Bible.”

“Ashanti, that ain’t love, it’s fear. When I touched down I had already made up my mind that I was gonna go harder than the next man on these corners and take what nobody wanted me to have. I don’t have shit so I don’t have anything to lose.”

“And what I got?” Ashanti asked seriously. “My family abandoned me and when I didn’t have a pot to piss in it was my niggaz who sheltered me and the streets who fed me, so please try to help me to understand what the fuck I got to lose if I get locked up or die out here?”

King found himself at a loss for words. When he looked down into Ashanti’s glassy brown eyes he saw the same combination of anger and fear that had greeted him every time he looked in the mirror when he’d first gotten to prison. He could’ve spent all night trying to get Ashanti to see his point, but he knew it was useless. The streets had him and only death would break their union.