Karma's a Bitch (27 page)

“Nothin’, only almost just got stabbed,” Tony said nonchalantly.

Scoop took a second to see if he misheard Tony. “What’s that?”

“That crazy bitch Jenny was about to stab me in the back!” Tony said as he turned the corner onto Chestnut Street.

“Whoa, that’s real,” Scoop said, but wasn’t really surprised. He figured at some point that someone would end up stabbing or shooting Tony.

“Yea, you sound real interested,” Tony said sarcastically. It was times like this that he really missed Terrance. He was always genuinely interested in Tony’s problems, even if it was just to laugh at him. He had wanted to at least tell somebody about Jenny’s wild claim of being pregnant to make himself feel better about the situation. He still didn’t believe Jenny. But Scoop obviously wasn’t interested.

“I was gonna come scoop you, go get some drinks down the way,” Scoop said without another word about Tony and Jenny.

“Yea, aiight. Well I’m walking down Chestnut right now. I’m comin’ up on 63
^rd
.”

“I’m right around the corner from there. Hold up,” Scoop said and then hung up his cellphone.

When Tony and Scoop walked into the Southwest Philly bar, their attention immediately went to three men who were arguing near the door.

“…Fuck you! I don’t give a fuck about your kids, I want my money!” one of them yelled.

“Nigga and I don’t give a fuck about you, so get your broke ass out my face!” another shouted back.

“Get them niggas out my bar!” the harsh looking female bartender yelled from behind the bar with a pointed finger.

The third guy pulled his friend back out towards the door to leave before things escalated. They bumped into Scoop on their way out.

“Yo, watch yourself man!” Scoop said with a shove back at the irrational one.

“Nigga my money or your life!” the angry brother bellowed out once more to the guy he was beefing with before he and his friend exited the bar.

Once Tony was done viewing the spectacle he sauntered on into the bar with his hands in his army print jacket pockets. It was starting to get colder outside as they approached November. His black Timberland boots were loosely tied around his feet.

When they sat down at the bar Tony immediately ordered a forty of St. Ides poured into a cup. Scoop ordered a double shot of Hennessey and a beer.

“Ya’ll kitchen still open?” Tony asked the bartender.

“Yea, what you want,” she answered raucously.

Tony looked over at Scoop warily before he ordered. He wanted Scoop to know that this was on him without having to say it. Scoop wasn’t even looking at him. He was looking down at the bar, something that Tony thought was weird.

“Let me get an order of wings and fries. Scoop you want something to eat?”

“Naw man, go ahead,” Scoop said as he threw back the entire glass of Hennessy. “Let me get another one of these though.”

They drank and sat in silence except for the music blasting and the people talking in the background. Tony could sense that something was up with Scoop – he was never this quiet. Even when the bartender came back with the food and told them the total, Scoop just pulled out a twenty and laid it down on the bar with no protest.

“Yo Scoop, what’s up wit you man?” Tony finally asked between bites of chicken. He was starting to feel the effects of the malt liquor.

Scoop didn’t say anything in response. Instead he looked over at the door and saw someone walk in that would change the course of his entire night.

“Ain’t that that nigga Rock?” Tony said loudly as he turned in his stool.

“Yea,” Scoop said weakly. He did and he didn’t want to see Rock at that moment. On one hand, he was in a more laid back mode, but on the other hand, he wanted to finally confront this asshole who was dragging his name through the mud. The liquor in his system was making him lean towards the part of himself that wanted to confront Rock on the spot.

Scoop turned to look at Rock again, who was now leaning on the jukebox looking directly back at him.

“Look at that nigga, got the nerve to come in here grillin’ you,” Tony instigated as he glared at Rock with a screw face. “Faggot ass nigga.”

Rock got up and walked over to them boldly. “Ya’ll got somethin’ you wanna get off your chest?”

“In fact, I do bitch ass muthafucka. Why you goin’ around runnin’ your mouth about me?”

“Pussy, ain’t nobody talkin’ bout you,” Rock waved him off.

“Pussy?” Scoop answered as he stood up from the bar. “You the one always complainin’ about a little money with your broke beans and rice eatin’ ass.”

“Yea, well it ain’t my fault you don’t know how to make no dough. That’s why don’t nobody never see your black ass on the block. You scared of hustlin’,” Rock laughed, trying to hide his fury at Scoop’s insult about him being Puerto Rican. “Just like I said,
puta
!”

“I ain’t scared of hustlin’ you dumb ass spic. Matter fact I could hustle you under a table.”

“Man. You a pussy that likes dick!” Rock said suddenly. He pointed at Tony. “You probably like this nigga dick too don’t you?!”

Rock was so intrigued by his own wit that he broke out laughing hysterically and fell into a brother that was standing behind him.

“Yo watch yourself,” the guy said as he pushed Rock off of him.

Before Rock had a chance to respond, Scoop hit him over the head with his half full bottle of Coors Light. Rock stumbled and tried to reorient himself, but didn’t get a chance. Tony came right behind Scoop and hit Rock with a hard right punch to the side of his head.

Rock fell to the ground and proceeded to get stomped by Tony and Scoop. The bartender was already on the phone to get the police at the bar. These types of things never ended harmoniously without the police. Inbetween stomps, Tony leaned down to run Rock’s pockets. He found a stack of money and a couple of bags of weed and crack. The other pocket had a cellphone. If only he had checked Rock’s sock though.

Rock’s comment was inexcusable for Scoop. It was everything that he had been afraid of. Rock was probably telling everybody around the hood that he was gay due to one indiscretion Scoop had experienced.

One Sunday night a long while back, Scoop and Rock were chilling at one of their customers’ houses. It was at a time when Scoop was still dipping and dabbling with coke and wet. Their customer Rico was a functional crackhead who lived farther up North Philly in a Spanish area off of Norris Street. He had a job and his own apartment. He was also a fiend for dick, as a lot of the hood knew. He was a gay prostitute that worked the block down on 13
^th
street. It was the only way he could afford his nasty habit.

Scoop and Rock had fallen asleep after a short session of smoking weed and snorting coke on Rico. When Scoop woke up, still high, he found Rico in his lap giving him head in a way that he had never felt before in his life. The sensation was so good that he just let his head fall back in the darkness and closed his eyes to focus on the feeling.

After Rico finished him off, he took Scoop’s hand and grabbed him up off of the couch quietly so as to not wake Rock as they went into the bedroom. Rico put lube around his butt hole, gave Scoop a condom, and let Scoop take him from the back. Scoop wasn’t in his right mind, but he was loving every moment of the experience. That was up until Rock came into the room and saw what was going on.

“What the fuck?” is all Rock said as Scoop whipped around. He was mortified to see his boy looking on in disgust at the sight of him with his penis inside of another man.

Back to the present.

The disgusted look on Rock’s face that night flashed across Scoop’s mind and it made Scoop so angry that he wanted to murder somebody. Scoop leaned down until he was only a few inches from Rock’s nose and spit directly into his face.

What happened next went in slow motion for Tony, who was busy shoving Rock’s money and possessions in his pocket.

In the commotion, Rock managed to lean down and grab his glock from his sock. He cocked it back and put the gun directly onto Scoop’s forehead right as Scoop was about to strike again. Before Scoop could even move or react, Rock pulled the trigger and splattered Scoop’s brains all over the place. Blood was everywhere.

Everybody ran and scattered out of the bar. Women were screaming and taking off their heels so that they could run faster.

And Tony was right behind them. His shirt was specked red with Scoop’s blood. He had watched the scene in amazement and wonder. He thought he was watching a movie. When the scene changed from slow motion back to reality, his only thought was to get the hell out of there before Rock shot him too.

He ran down an alleyway to avoid the crowd and the police whose sirens could be heard close in the background. He stumbled and fell over a huge rock right into the middle of a puddle. He was almost certainly sure, since it hadn’t rained in over a week, that he was now laying in a pool of piss.

“Ughhh!!” he screamed helplessly. He got up from the puddle and took off his piss soaked shirt. He felt as if he was in a really, really bad dream.

When he got to a safe corner, he looked around to make sure no one was watching him, and then started walking down the street as if nothing was wrong.

Tony clutched his army jacket together, not because it was cold, but because his chest was bare beneath it. The zipper on the jacket was broken, and there was no other way to keep it closed. It was only 8 o’clock in the evening and Tony didn’t have any idea of what he should do.

He was trying hard not to think about the sight of Scoop with a hole in his head, the last image of his friend that he would probably ever have. He would never forget the look on Scoop’s face when Rock put the barrel of that gun to his forehead. It was a mixture of fear, distress and relief. All at the same time.

He was starting to think about how maybe if he wouldn’t have egged Scoop on, none of this would have ever happened. He didn’t even know why he did things like that. He really didn’t have to say
anything
when Rock came into the bar.

He started replaying everything that had just happened over and over in his mind. Then the reality started to hit him. This wasn’t a dream – it was a nightmare. He had just watched one of his best boys get shot right before his eyes. Scoop was definitely dead.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he said to himself. He had to stop and sit down. This day had went from bad to worse to the absolute worst. He had to put himself on pause before things spun out of control. Before he did something else really stupid.

Tony put his head in his hands as he sat on the stoop in front of a corner grocery store. He let things sink in. His friend was laid up in a bar with a bullet in his head and here he was. He had left his friend without a second thought. How could he leave Scoop like that? But then again, what else could he have done? Maybe he could have grabbed the gun from Rock and shot him back, but where would that have gotten him? There were witnesses everywhere.

Scoop was his road dog. They had only known each other for about four years, but Tony felt like he had known Scoop for much longer than that. The time they spent together could better be described as ‘dawg years’ - they had been through some serious trials together.

However, through it all he had never really felt a connection to Scoop the way he felt with Terrance and his other best friend, Quanisha. Scoop leaving his life was more of an inevitability for him than a tragedy.

Then Tony remembered the money in his pocket. The way he had been losing and messing up money lately he doubted that it would last. When he flipped through the bills he saw that there was about $280 in there. Rock must not have been hurting too badly as he had been complaining to Scoop. Then a thought crossed his mind. Rock might still be alive and out there… and looking for Tony.