Affirmation (2 page)

“Yo, Lil T,
you’re holding up the game
!” One of the du-rag hustlers shouted.

Heat from Sergio’s breath
joined
the cold air
and
formed a smoky c
loud in front of his face
.
“What
did he
look like?”

“Tall, white dude
with
a
broken
tooth and…”

“
Yo
, Lil T
bring your ass over here
!”

“Hold-up a sec!” Lil T yelled
and
then tossed deuces
in the air
,
“I gotta go,
but watch your back Serge
, I’m serious!
”

Sergio nodded and hurried into the building. Yeah, he had to get the hell out of New York ASAP. The min
ute Lil T described the man,
a
glob of saliva became lodged in his throat.
The description could only be one person and that sucker was bad news.

He rode the elevator to the seventeenth floor with his torso pressed against the wall and his eyes glued
on
the numbers above the door as it climbed from eight
to
nine
and then
into the double digits.
“Come on…come…come on!” Sergio muttered anxiously.

The vertical transport finally came to a halt and the familiar
dull chime he’d grown accustomed to since he was a kid signaled the doors opening.
The
depressing dull grey
similar to
prison block
s
greeted him as well as
a fist
to
his chest
. At first he didn’t know what the hell hit him
when
he crashed against the side of the
elevator
door, until he looked up and saw the
man Lil T described
and men with tree trunks for limbs.

“Get him the fuck up!”
The brolic leader with the chipped tooth exclaimed. 

Sergio was
roughly
hoisted
upright.
The pain to his chest
came with heat that caused p
erspiration
to appear over
his brow
. The ache radiated to his neck and threatened to erupt out his head, it hurt so bad.

The solid human trees held him immobile, but it’s not like he was going anywhere
, right?

Whoever
struck him
had cinder blocks for fists.
He was outnumbered and couldn’t fight them all. If he tried he was certain to find himself on the losing end.
He inhaled
, and
gathered his senses
as
his
lungs
inflated
.

“Where the fuck is my money?”

Sergio
tried to
formulate an answer but he
could
only
think about Lil T’s warning. The other
s
outside hadn’t said shit, they must’ve known something
was about to go down and he
figured they
were paid
or threatened
not to speak?

Lil
T
was a stand-up kid. He
reminded him of
his cousin
Aaron
. It’s a shame
he didn’t have a chance to
bond more with the teen
before he died
. The
boy
had spunk,
and right now he could
surely
use
that
gun.

“Yo Chip,” Sergio began
, once he could breathe again. “I’ll have your money. It’ll be in your hands in a week or two.”

Chip’s mean
eyes twinkled with amusement. The pretty boy Sergio was a trip.
He’d given the punk fifty grand month
s
ago and word on the street is he
came into
some money and paid off gang-bangers from Bed-Stuy
,
but
during
the repayment effort, Sergio f
ailed to make good on a more important debt.
He
knuckle punched the
smooth talker
in the eye and it
instantly swelled. “Motherfucker,
are
you spitting bullshit
at
me, huh?”

Sergio grunt
and thought
,
‘Damn that
hurt!’

His eye stung and he
squint t
rying to bring Chip’s face into
focus
.
He should’ve known better than take money from the guy.
R
umor had it
Chip
had connections with
big-time mafia guy
s.
Whether it’s true or not, Chip was
n’t anybody you messed with and those who did were lying in the morgue.

“
I’m serious. I
have a relative
who’ll give me the money, for real.”

“Yeah,” Chip smirked, “a family member with deep pockets and
yet
you liv
e
in a shit-hole.”
Chip’s flunkies
laughed. “Is it the uncle who works for the MTA or
maybe
your baby sister, what’s her name, the other civil servant,
oh yeah
the rookie cop?”

Sergio jerked at the mention of his sister. T
onya
was
n’t anything
like
her brother;
she was the good one
and did
everything right. Her boyfriend recently graduated med school and they
recently rented
an apartment
over on
Eastern Parkway
in downtown Brooklyn where many Jews lived.
She was happy and he was proud of his baby sis. Scum like Chip didn’t give a rat’s ass about that. His kind never did!

“I’ll have your money
Chip,
just cut me a break. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Damn straight you’re not
going anywhere except to join your mother
. You have two weeks
to
bring me my money
or your
sister
is going to eat a bullet. Then I’ll go down the line until I get payment in full. Blood or money; it makes no difference to me as long as my pail is full!”

The men let go of Sergio’s arms and he stumbled backward.

Chip smirked at the sight as he strolled closer.
A menacing finger tapped
Sergio’s temple, “By the way, there’s interest on your loan. The fact I had to come to the shitty boondocks
for
a personal visit increases the pay-off amount to
one fifty.”

CHAPTER ONE

‘
My swagger is
self-
confidence,

A
stride of a man who
understands
pain,

Yet
stands
the
hardships given,

Determined not to fall
or be crippled,

It’s the gait of a Mafia Kingpin.
’

                                -Alfonzo’s Swagger

The
hem of the
black cashmere coat swung with each step of
its male
wearer. Walking the
se Manhattan
street
s
in the
evening was a throwback
to youthful
days
. The panhandlers weren’t jostling
pedestrians
for money and there w
as
n’t
one
homeless
person sitting on the ground.
Cops directed the heavy traffic around the Fifty-
N
inth Street Bridge
. The President of the United States was in town
and t
here was a special emergency session at the United Nations
. The
re were
diplomatic license plates mingled with the
already dense
traffic. The vehicles crawled along Second Avenue
. He’d sat in the back of a fortified limo from the Westside Highway to here in shitty traffic and his patience had worn out. At another
stall
on Fifty-Eighth
, he got the fuck out
and decided it was quickest to walk the short distance
. He instr
ucted the driver to keep an eye out for anyone tailing and circle the location
,
but under no circumstances is he to park in front of the address.

As he leaned in the driver’s side window, he tapped the base of the door and his ring hit and there was a 'bing' sound.
He gave a final instruction
, “Wait for
the
call.”

The man walked casually through the bumper maze to the sidewalk.
The
traffic
cop
’
s whistle blew and a school of human fish crossed beneath the entry to the Roosevelt Island tram. Tall, with a handsome face, he noticed glances from the
women even guys
checking him out. The
black
soft leather
shoes connected with the pavement adding
to
the nocturnal sounds
of
the city
;
just
a
nother well-dressed pedestrian
flanked by others
in
the
human sea of many
, except the cut of the clothes worn by the man with the confidant stroll were tailored
by the world’s top designers strictly for him and set him apart
.

H
e
didn’t scurry
with the
other
rats;
instead, his gait was steady, purposeful and strong. He walked with
his head up and
a do not fuck with me attitude
, and
the lethal way in which his torso pivoted
backed it up. This was a man who meant business and his shadows reinforced the image. Go ahead, fuck around and test this dude and your ass might die!

The y
ellow taxi’s and honking cars
during the
Friday
evening
rush hour
traffic
were part of the ambience to a city dweller
, except
the former New York native felt detached from his birthplace.
In every city there exist other inner cities.
There
’s
the glitzy tourist hub, the poor
er
sections
many wanted to escape, the wealthy areas where the
destitute
dreamed of living
and
spots where illegal activity dwell
ed
hidden in plain sight.
In those underground places, y
ou don’t get i
n
without connections and money
doesn’t
buy a pass. They’re exclusive
to a privileged few and the blue eye
d impeccably dressed pedestrian held
VIP
status
.

A day of meetings
with executive
s
of
companies
t
o reinforce his agenda, loyalty, commitment and productivity were foremost on his mind. The
quarterly report
s
which reflected
a
loss in the millions had him upset.
His largest construction company, the one he built with his own sweat was seeing a
dive in stocks
. The
investor skittishness was due to
a false
rumor
the competent
CFO
planned to resign. The rumor most likely originated from a competitor’s camp and damage control consisted of the CFO’s assurances to stockholders via memo, he was completely committed to the
business’ success.

A media
kit
went out and hopeful
ly the stocks would
soon
rebound
because losing millions isn’t easy to swallow when you know how it feels to be poor
.