Eviction Notice (25 page)

CHAPTER 37

Once the sun
had set, the streets returned to life and so did Ashanti. It had been quiet that day for him. After partying all night with King James and his crew, Ashanti was exhausted. It had been a long time since he’s had a night like that and it was good to have some good criminal fun again.

Ashanti sat on the benches in front of 3150, thumbs clicking away on his PSP. His face was contorted into a mask of concentration as he tried to go for thirty with Kobe in 2K. He had never been big on video games, as he was always in the streets committing crimes, but ever since he’d
appropriated
the handheld game he’d been glued to it.

At the other end of the bench, a group of girls were talking about how it had gone down at a strip club in New Jersey the night before. Ashanti smiled, because he knew they were talking about what had happened at Brick City. Alonzo had put it down on the kid in the alley and Ashanti was impressed. He had always known Alonzo as a clean-cut working dude, but in that alley Zo-Pound came out and Ashanti had been impressed by what he saw. He had heard plenty of stories of how the kid gave it up, but seeing him in action was something else altogether.

With his curiosity killing him, Ashanti inched down a bit so he could hear the girls clearer. As they told the story he became confused. According to them, there was a huge riot and the place had to be shut down, but when Ashanti and the rest had pulled out the club was in full swing. Something must’ve gone down after they’d left, and he was kind of upset that he had missed it. There was nothing Ashanti appreciated more than a good riot.

“Psst, pssst,” he heard behind him, causing his head to snap around. On the other side of the fence was a young white dude, dressed in skinny jeans and a Ben Folds Five T-shirt. “Anybody working?” the dude asked him.

Ashanti started to bark on him, thinking he might’ve been an undercover, but as he looked closely he saw the telltale signs that the dude was a genuine addict. Ashanti didn’t have any drugs on him so he started to send the dude away, but an idea formed in his head. “What you need?”

“An eight ball,” the dude told him, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

Ashanti knew that look. The dude was jonesing and would be easy prey. “A’ight, come around the fence and meet me in the lobby,” Ashanti told him, slipping his video game into his pocket next to the small .22 he was carrying. The dude started up the path toward the building and Ashanti fell in step a few seconds behind him. Ashanti slipped into the lobby and motioned for the dude to go into the staircase.

“I was looking for Shark, but I didn’t see him. Is this the same stuff he’s pushing?” the white dude asked Ashanti once they were in the stairwell.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s my man,” Ashanti told him, casting an occasional glance through the window in the staircase door to make sure the lobby was still clear.

“Cool, because the last time I came through to cop from someone other than Shark I got burned,” the white dude told him.

“Nah, I ain’t gonna burn you, but I am gonna fuck you.” Ashanti pulled his .22 and pointed it at the white dude. “Run that bread, blood.”

The white dude made a face as if he couldn’t believe he was about to be robbed. “Are you fucking serious?”

“As a heart attack. Now come up off that change and don’t make me ask you again.” Ashanti pressed the gun into the dude’s chest. The dude dipped his hand into his pocket and fumbled around for a minute before producing some bills, which he handed over. Ashanti stuffed the bills into his pocket and then clubbed the white dude in the head with the gun, opening a wide gash and dropping him to one knee. “Nigga, do I look stupid enough not to peep game when a muthafucka is trying to piece me off?”

“Hey, cool out, man.” The white dude used one hand to try to stop the flow of blood coming from his head and the other to hand Ashanti the rest of his money. “Dude, the least you can do is leave me bus fare to get back downtown.”

Ashanti paused for a minute as if he was considering it before he kicked the white dude in the gut. “Fuck yo bus fare, pussy. You should’ve thought about that before you brought you ass up to Harlem to buy drugs.”

The sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs drew their attention. Knowing that Ashanti wouldn’t shoot him in front of witnesses, the white dude tried to use it to his advantage. “Help, he’s robbing me!” he screamed.

“Shut the fuck up.” Ashanti grabbed him by the front of his T-shirt and gave him a few whacks to the chin with his gun.

“What the fuck is this?” King James rounded the corner of the second-floor landing. He was flanked by Lakim and a young dude who ran with them named Wise. “I know you ain’t on ya stick-up shit in my building?” He glared down at Ashanti.

“Yes, he’s trying to rob me,” the white dude said frantically, clawing at King’s pant leg.

“Fuck off me, devil.” King kicked him away. He turned his attention back to Ashanti. “I asked you a question, God.”

“This shit ain’t about nothing. He came through trying to cop and I’m just trying to show him that crack is whack.” Ashanti smiled, but King didn’t.

“Wise, take this cracker outside and get him right,” King ordered.

“Thanks, man.” The white dude held his hand out to King, but the big man looked at it like it was a rattlesnake.

“Don’t take my kindness for weakness, pussy. Get your poison and get the fuck outta my hood,” King snarled at the white dude. The addict nodded and scrambled out of the staircase behind Wise. King descended the last few steps and stood directly in front of Ashanti. “When niggaz come to my hood to buy drugs, they get drugs. You wanna rob addicts, then you do it outside these projects, you understand?”

“I got you, King, but I don’t know why you tripping off me trying to stick that cracker,” Ashanti said.

“I could give a fuck who you rob or kill, li’l one, unless it’s done on my turf,” King told him. “Had you robbed that devil, the police would’ve been all up and through here cramping my style and that’s no good. Like I said, just be mindful of where you conduct your business, Ashanti.”

“A’ight, I got you, King,” Ashanti agreed.

“Yo, we was just talking about ya li’l ass,” Lakim told Ashanti. “Take this walk with us right quick.” He held the stairwell door open for Ashanti to step out.

Ashanti hesitated. King James and his crew were like a pack of wild dogs, vicious and unpredictable, so you never knew what to expect from them. He had been with their inner circle and witnessed a crime being committed, so he knew very well that he could be walking into a setup. He tightened his grip on the .22.

King picked up on his hesitance. “Be easy; if I wanted to rock you, that li’l-ass gun wouldn’t do much to stop me,” King assured him. “Come on.” Ashanti was still hesitant, but he did as he was told. When they were outside, King started talking again. “When Lakim told me to let you ride with us I was skeptical, but after everything that happened I’m glad we did. Not only did you carry yaself like a stand-up dude the whole time, but you saved Zo’s life.”

Ashanti shrugged. “I was just holding it down, that wasn’t about nothing.”

“Maybe not to you, but it spoke in volumes to me,” King said. “What’re you doing with your life these days?”

“I don’t know, just trying to live like everybody else.”

“Robbing crackheads ain’t living, li’l nigga.” Lakim laughed.

“It’s better than starving,” Ashanti shot back.

“He’s got a point there,” King said with a smirk. He then got serious. “Ashanti, do you remember a few years ago when I bumped into you and your boy Animal and we had that talk?”

“Yeah,” Ashanti said with a little sadness in his voice. That day was the last time he had seen Animal.

“I tried to warn you against getting caught up in this lifestyle, and even though you acted like you were listening I could tell by the look in your eyes that you had already made up your mind.”

“What are you, some kinda mind reader?” Ashanti asked.

“Nah, I was you a few years ago,” King said seriously. “Ashanti, you’re your own man and though I may not agree with how you live, I can’t knock you for it either because Allah knows I’m no angel. You’ve already made your choice and I can’t change your mind, but what I can change is how you live.”

“King, what’re you talking about?” Ashanti was confused.

“He’s talking about putting you down to get some real money,” Lakim cut in. “What’s good, sun, you ready to see how a
real
nigga moves?”

“No disrespect, but I came up under the realest nigga to ever touch a Harlem street, so I think I know how
real
niggaz move,” he said, reflecting on Animal and how it used to be for their little team.

“Animal was a beast, but he’s gone and we’re still here,” King pointed out. “I know you’re out here living pillar to post and trying to keep food in your belly as best you can, but the world is so much bigger than that, and the game is so much sweeter when you’re playing for a winning team. I ain’t gonna twist your arm about it, but the offer is on the table, next move is on you.”

Ashanti weighed it. Since his team had been broken up and he’d been left on his own, things had been hard on him. He was living, but barely. Without Animal’s or Brasco’s backing he didn’t have the resources or muscle to take it to the next level, and King James could change that. When he measured the way he was living against how he could be living, it was a no-brainer. “I’m wit it.”

“That’s peace.” Lakim hugged him. “We gonna look out for you, sun. No more rainy days, feel me?”

Ashanti nodded.

“Word up, this is a family here, baby.” King gave Ashanti dap. “Everybody eats as long as a nigga pulls his own weight, and I know that ain’t gonna be a problem with you.”

“You see me out here so you know how I move,” Ashanti said confidently.

“Indeed.” King stepped directly in front of Ashanti and looked down at the youngster. His eyes were cold and his face deathly serious as he spoke. “All we ask of you is loyalty, my G. Stick to the script and we’ll go to the top, deviate and I’ll return you to the essence. I spent too much time in prison already to go back for another nigga, ya heard?”

Ashanti never batted an eye. “Once given, my loyalty is unquestionable. That’s something I learned from the big homie.”

King stared at him for a long moment, looking for a crack in his armor, something that would show the telltale signs of uncertainty, but he found none. Where the eyes of an average teenage boy were full of life and wonder, in Ashanti’s he saw nothing. Riding with Animal all those years at such a young age, he knew Ashanti had seen far more than most grown men and the fact that he was still knee deep in it said a lot for his character. He was the last of a dying breed and would be a strong piece on the chessboard by the time King was done grooming him.

CHAPTER 38

“And what are
you doing here?” Ms. Ronnie said when she walked into her apartment and found Gucci lying on her couch, watching television. The house reeked of weed and there were empty Chinese food containers on the coffee table.

“Jesus, I thought you’d be happy to see me, Mom.” Gucci sucked her teeth.

“I’m always happy to see you, but not unannounced. What if I had a man up in here waiting on me to get in from work?”

“Ma, you know you allow no men to be laying up in your house, especially when you’re not home, and what the hell are you wearing?” Gucci looked her mother up and down. She was rocking a one-piece gold catsuit with gold shoes that went almost perfectly with her metallic-gold wig.

Ms. Ronnie twirled around so that Gucci could see the whole outfit. “You like it? I bought it on sale from Walmart.”

“You should’ve left it in Walmart.”

“Li’l girl, you don’t know shit. I be resting and dressing since before your li’l ass was born so I know what’s fly and what’s not.”

“Ma, that outfit might’ve been rocking in the eighties but in the new millennium you look kinda crazy.” Gucci laughed.

“Crazy is me shooting your ass and telling the police I thought you was a burglar,” Ms. Ronnie said with a roll of her eyes. “And where the weed at and don’t lie and say you ain’t got none because I smell it all up and through here.”

“Your ass is like a bloodhound.” Gucci pulled the clip from beneath a magazine on the table and tossed it to her mother. “And don’t take my blunt to the face because it’s the last of it.”

“Girl, when you’re in this house ain’t no such thing as ‘my’ unless it’s in reference to ‘mine,’” Ms. Ronnie told her before lighting the clip. “Now”—she blew out some smoke—“what are you doing here?”

“Nothing, I just needed to get low for a while, that’s all,” Gucci said as if it were nothing, but Ms. Ronnie knew better.

“Gucci”—she sat on the couch next to her daughter—“you came outta this womb so I can tell when something is bothering you. Now you can either tell me what’s wrong or I can make you tell me.” She began tickling Gucci. Gucci had been extremely ticklish since she was a little girl and Ms. Ronnie often used this tactic to get the truth out of her.

“Okay, okay, stop before you make me pee on myself.” Gucci laughed. “If you wanna know the truth, I’m hiding from Tionna.”

“Why, did you girls have a falling-out or something?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just promised her that I would go to this party with her tonight, but I really don’t wanna go. She’s been blowing my phone up for hours and I haven’t picked up.”

“Now you know that ain’t right. You and Tionna have been thick as thieves for as long as I can remember and I’m sure you’ve dragged her to more than a few places that she didn’t want to go to, the free clinic being one that I can think of off the top of my head,” Ms. Ronnie joked.

“Ma, you ain’t even right for that.” Gucci shook her head.

“Stop it, you know I love Tionna like she was one of my own, but the girl has some issues.”

“Yeah, but she’s getting it together.”

“Thank the Lord.” Ms. Ronnie raised her hand to the sky and passed the weed to Gucci. “So why don’t you wanna go to this party?”

“I don’t know, Ma. I just don’t feel up to it.” Gucci curled her legs under her and dug a chicken wing out of one of the greasy bags. Before she could bite it, Ms. Ronnie plucked the chicken wing from her grasp.

“Gucci”—Ms. Ronnie took a bite of the chicken wing—“your ass has been moping around for God knows how long like the ghost of damn Christmas Past, and to be honest I’m getting sick of it.”

“That’s not true, Ma,” Gucci denied.

“The hell it isn’t. When is the last time you went out somewhere?”

“I go out all the time.”

“I’m not talking about going shopping or taking trips by yourself, I mean really gone out and had a good time with your friends?”

“There’s more to life than clubbing, Ma.”

“You would have to actually be living to be able to tell somebody about life, honey, and this shuffling around you’re doing ain’t living, it’s making you old before your time. You used to be such a vibrant girl but ever since what happened to Animal you’ve been a shell of yourself.”

“This has nothing to do with Tayshawn,” Gucci said, getting defensive.

“This has everything to do with him, Gucci. At first I was sympathetic to your pain and understood that you were in mourning, but years later and you’re still walking around in a daze? Baby girl, I’m starting to worry about you,” Ms. Ronnie said seriously.

“I’m cool, Ma,” Gucci lied.

“No, you’re not. Gucci, I had love for Animal too, but he ain’t here no more, baby. You can’t keep loving a ghost.”

“You sound like Tionna now.”

“Then Tionna was telling you right and the girl has more sense than I gave her credit for. Brooding ain’t gonna bring Animal back or mend that broken heart.”

“So I’m just supposed to act like he never existed?” Gucci snapped.

“You better watch that tone, because you ain’t too old for me knock you on your ass,” Ms. Ronnie threatened.

“Sorry, Ma. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that, I just get so tired of people telling me to get over him. Nobody knows what we had and nobody knows what I’m going through with not having him around.”

“I know, baby. The heart is a funny thing and we can’t dictate how fast it heals when it’s been broken, but at the same time you have to want it to heal.”

“I do,” Gucci whispered, staring at the carpet.

“Then do something about it,” Ms. Ronnie challenged. “Put on some clothes and some makeup and go have a good time with your friend. You owe it to Tionna, but more importantly you owe it to yourself.”

“You’re right, Mommy, and thank you for always keeping it one hundred with me.” She hugged her mother.

“You know I don’t bite my tongue for nobody. Right is right and wrong is wrong.” Ms. Ronnie snatched the blunt back. “Now call that girl and handle your business.” She walked into the bedroom, blowing smoke rings in the air.

Gucci walked down the hall to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wasn’t wearing a drop of makeup. She was still a very pretty girl, but the face staring back at her wasn’t the Gucci she knew, who had once demanded the attention of every baller in Harlem. Her mother’s words rang in her head, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was right. Life was too short to live it reflecting on the things that had happened and what could’ve been, especially when the future looked so bright. She was young, pretty, with no kids and a healthy bank account. She had too many things to be thankful for not to take the time to appreciate her blessings. She picked up her cell to call Tionna and hoped it wasn’t too late.

“Hey, T,” Gucci said when the girl picked up on the other line.

“Don’t
hey T
me, do you know how long I’ve been trying to call you?” Tionna shouted.

“I know, I know, but I was going through something and turned my phone off. Look, are you still trying to go to that party tonight?”

“Yeah, I was going with or without your stinking ass, because I had a feeling you were gonna flake on me and pull this grieving-widow shit.”

“I can’t front, I started to, but I wanna go.”

“Really? What brought on this change of heart?” Tionna was surprised.

“Sometimes you have to live in order to understand what life is about,” Gucci said, reflecting on the talk she’d had with her mother.

“Huh?”

“Never mind, T. Give me a few to go home and get dressed and I’ll be through to pick you up.”