Prince of the City (10 page)

“Hey, Buttons, can I see you for a minute?” Linda asked, walking over to his table.

“Yeah. Whazzup, baby girl?”

“Look, I've known you for a long time now, and as long as I've known you I've never asked you for nothing.”

“So what's your angle?” asked Buttons, crossing his leg and looking at her curiously.

“Well, see that little boy over there talking to Shorty Jeff?” She pointed at Malik.

“Yeah, I saw him in the back last night shootin' craps. He had a nice shoot, too.”

“Yeah, I know. That's my nephew, and I wanna teach him some things 'bout this game. Will you help me?” she asked, tilting her head.

“What you tryna do? Raise a pimp?”

“Nah. I just want you to spend some time with him for me. Give him that gift of gab. He needs a talk game to go with that shot he got.”

“Well, baby girl, if I do that for you, what you gonna do for me? You know I'm a pimp, and don't nothing come for free in this profession.”

“A'ight, Buttons, how much?”

“Who said I want some money?” Buttons replied with a slight grin.

Linda jerked back and looked Buttons directly in the eyes. “Now, I know you don't want no pussy.”

“Baby girl, what's the sense in getting a piece of pussy if it can't make no money for you, huh? And you and I both know you ain't tryna be my ho.”

“Well, what is it you want then?”

“I want an investment. I want one of your whores, preferably the Chinese one.”

“Buttons, I can't just give up my girl like that.”

“Why can't you, madam? Besides, the game I'm a give that youngster will be a future fortune that will last a lifetime. He ain't gonna get that from nowhere but a nigga like me. Last time I checked, there ain't no nigga out here like me yet.”

Linda knew Buttons was speaking the truth. Buttons was the smoothest nigga she'd ever met, and she wanted Malik to inherit some of that game.

“A'ight, I'll talk to China. But if she don't wanna roll wit' you—”

“Don't worry 'bout that. Leave that part up to me.”

“Okay, then we got a deal?”

“Done, baby girl.”

Over the next six months, Buttons spent his evenings giving Malik every part of the game he needed. He took Malik down to the track and exposed him to a life that would later be either a blessing or a curse. He taught Malik how to talk his way out of situations and how to get a virgin in bed on the first night they met.

Buttons taught Malik the con game, the way he should conduct himself around other gangsters, how to observe other people's character and appeal to their intellect, and how to stroke egos before making his move. Everything Buttons taught, Malik sucked up and came home to practice on Linda.

Malik was growing into a handsome young man. He had curly hair like his father and a smooth peanut-butter complexion. At fourteen, he was a little less than six-feet tall and held himself like a man. Around this time, Malik started hanging with his new friend, Louie, who was four years older and had a reputation for killing. He was also the one who had Seventh and T Streets locked down with scramble dope that they called ‘bam'. Louie took a liking to Malik after seeing him knock out the neighborhood bully at Kennedy playground. Louie couldn't believe how well Malik put his punches together.

“Hey, youngin'. Come here for a minute,” he called to Malik.

Malik looked back at Louie. “My name's Malik.”

“Well then, Malik, come over here. My name's Louie. Let me holla at you.”

Malik went over to Louie. “What's up?”

“You're Linda's nephew, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, since you're out here knocking niggas out like Marvin Hagler, why ain't you in the ring?”

“I ain't tryna box. I'm only fourteen, and a nigga ain't makin' no money boxing at fourteen. They just doing it for fun. I ain't out here to have fun. I need money.”

Louie smiled. “I hear you. So you sayin' you need money, huh?”

“Yeah, why? You got a job for me?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I don't know if you ready for the type of shit I'm into.”

“Man, slim, I'm ready for whatever. Maybe you ain't hear me clearly. I need money.”

“What kinda money you talkin' 'bout?”

“I'm tryna be the biggest nigga out here. I wanna get loot, lots of loot, and retire like the legendary Big Luke.”

“You know Big Luke?”

“Nah, but my father did,” Malik replied.

“Who's your father?” Louie asked.

Malik looked down at the pavement before answering in a low tone. “My father's dead. His name was Michael Perry.”

“What? You talking ‘bout Mike P from Southeast?”

“Yeah, that's my pops. You knew him?”

“Nah, but I heard of him. His man Black Sam used to come 'round here and gamble with the big boys.”

“You know my uncle Sam?”

“Sam's your uncle?”

“Yeah, that's my uncle, but I can't find him. I think he's locked up or something.”

“I dunno. He might be, 'cause I ain't seen him too much myself. Anyway, back to our conversation. You say you tryna make some money. You know anything 'bout blow?”

“Nah, not really, but I learn quick.”

“Okay then, we gonna do it like this. You run with me for a couple weeks. I'm a give you the game, and then you decide if you wanna keep hustling.”

“A'ight. Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

The first two weeks, Louie taught Malik how to bag up the blow and the perfect times to move it. The rest was up to Malik. He was a natural. He out-talked and out-hustled everyone on the strip. He had so much clientele that the other workers would wait until he finished just so they could sell their shit.

Malik rose up in the dope game faster than Louie expected. After a few months, Malik started buying from Louie himself, and Malik became the youngest hustler on Seventh and T Streets to go into business for himself.

 

 

Chapter 13

-PRECIOUS JEWEL-

 

 

hen Malik turned fifteen, Linda gave him two presents. On his birthday, he woke up early, went into Linda's room, and sat on the end of her bed. Often, this was where they had their family meetings. Malik never held anything back from Linda. Whatever she asked him, he told, even if he felt ashamed.

Linda, on the other hand, was truthful with Malik, but held back one thing. She promised herself that at the right time she would tell him who killed his parents. Every time he asked about his parents' homicide, she'd give him a bit of street knowledge that would stick with him forever.

“Good morning, Aunt Linda.”

Linda woke up and sat up in her bed looking at the young, handsome Malik. “Good morning, baby. Matter of fact, happy birthday! Look at you. You're starting to look more and more like your daddy.”

“I know.” Malik paused. “Ay, Aunt Linda, I got a question.”

“What is it?”

“It's the same question I've been asking ever since you took me in.”

“Well then, you already know what my answer is.”

“I think a nigga's old enough now to know what happened.”

“Yeah, you're old enough to know, but too young to handle it. All I can say is that no matter what happened, a valuable lesson was learned.”

“I know. You told me a thousand times never trust no one, even you.”

“That's right, Malik, even me. No one in this world is to be trusted. No one.”

“I hear you. But it ain't that easy not trusting you. You're my only family.”

“You're my only family too. All we got is each other. But still, sometimes it's family that will be the ones to do you in. Remember that, Malik. Always remember that.”

“I will.”

“Anyway, I got you a present.”

“What is it?”

“Hold on.” Linda went into her closet, pulled out something wrapped in a towel, and laid it on the bed. “I was waiting for the right time to give this to you. I always thought I'd give it to you on your eighteenth birthday, but by the way you've grown, it's a must that you get it now.”

“What is it?” he asked with wide eyes and a grin.

Linda opened the towel and showed Malik a shiny, nickel-plated, sixteen shot Taurus 9-millimeter with a black rubber grip. Malik's eyes lit up like Christmas lights.

“Damn, where did you get that?”

“It used to be your father's gun. I just wish he had it on him the day he and your mom were killed.”

When Linda talked to Malik about his parents, she held back nothing. She let Malik know that his father was a true gangster. Whenever she looked at Malik, he reminded her of Michael.

“I know your lil ass already got a gun, 'cause I found it one day tucked inside your Timberlands when I was cleaning.”

Malik looked ashamed. He was embarrassed that Linda found out about his .22 caliber pistol hidden in the house.

“I was gonna tell you about the gun, but—”

“But what? You didn't tell me 'cause you couldn't trust me?”

“Nah, that ain't it.”

“It better be it. Well anyway, that lil gun you got ain't big enough for these streets. You need a real gun, something that'll keep them niggas in check. Malik, do you know how to use this?”

“Yeah. Come on. You know I've been out here in these streets since I was ten.”

“What I'm saying to you is that this ain't no toy. Use it for your protection and use it wisely.”

“I understand.”

“I know you do.” Linda then rolled a joint, took two long puffs, and passed it to Malik. Malik smoked weed, but he never smoked in front of Linda. He had too much respect for her.

“Here.”

“Nah, no thanks.”

“Boy, your ass better take this joint. You think I don't know your ass out there smoking? If anything, you should be in the house whenever you do it. This is where you safe.”

Malik took the joint from Linda and puffed two long hails. “Hey, Aunt Linda?”

“What's up, Malik?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“And you know I love you too.”

“Yeah, I know. And as soon as I make enough money, we're getting outta this place.”

“Malik, your money is your money. I got enough money right now that could get us outta this place. But to be honest I love it here. I love the streets and the excitement. I love being ghetto fabulous. That's just me, baby. That's how I came up, and that's the only thing that separated me from your mother. She was the one to have what she wanted in life and be happy. Me, on the other hand, there was never enough for me to be happy. I just love what I do, and I ain't ashamed of it.”

Malik knew that Linda came up hard since they often talked about her childhood.

“I gotta go take care of some business. I want you to be here by the time I get back. Okay?” Linda said to Malik. She went to her drawer and gathered the things she'd need after she showered.

“A'ight, but how long you gonna be, 'cause you know I gotta go collect my money from my workers?”

“What? You got workers now?”

“Yeah,” he replied, proudly poking his chest out.

“Damn, boy, you're movin' up. I knew you were on your own, but I didn't know you had workers yet.”

“Had 'em for two weeks now.”

“Are they loyal?”

“As far as I know, they are.”

“Good then, 'cause I'ma introduce you to a better connect, and you're gonna need them workers for the shit this nigga got.”

“A'ight, that'll be good.”

“Well, I shouldn't be that long. If your workers are loyal, they'll wait.”

“Okay, I'll be here.”

Linda went to the closet, took out an outfit, and laid it on her bed. Then she headed toward the door.

“Oh, hey Aunt Linda. Hold up for a minute.”

“What is it?” She turned to look back at Malik.

“Who's this connect you're gonna introduce me to?”

“His name is Sonny James. He used to deal with your father. He's a good man. We'll talk about this later.”

“Okay,” he said as she made her exit and went into the bathroom to shower.

Forty-five minutes later, Malik watched Linda get into her green convertible BMW from the bedroom window. Tall, light-skinned, and built like an amazon, Linda was a beautiful woman and men still considered her a dime piece.

After watching Linda leave, Malik went in his room and pulled out all the money he'd made. All together, he counted $8,300. Not bad for a fifteen-year-old kid raised by a high-class whore with bitches in her stable, he'd thought. After he counted all the money, he went into Linda's room, took his gun off the bed, took the clip out, and ran his fingers up and down the barrel in amazement. “Damn, this was my father's gun. This is a pretty muthafucka too. I wonder if he had a name for it.” Malik admired his new piece. He looked at it as a treasured heirloom being passed down from father to son.

“Damn, you pretty,” he said to the gun. “I bet you been around a long time. You still fresh though, like brand-new. My pops treated you good. From the looks of you, he had to. Well now, Mr. Shiny Thing. I'm a give you a name. From this day on, you are now Prince. Since you're the prince, then I'm the king. The prince does whatever the king says. So when I call on you, you better be ready. Okay?” Malik put the clip back in the gun and put it in his room, along with the money. He decided to shower, and afterward he put on the Polo robe Linda bought him. He then sat in the living room smoking a perfectly rolled blunt. Malik was so high that he just lay back and drifted off while listening to Marvin Gaye's hit “Trouble Man.”

“I came up hard, baby . . .”

 

* * * * * * *

Malik instantly jumped up as Linda and Peaches came into the house. “Boy, what's wrong with you? Why you so jumpy?” Linda asked.