Prince of the City (23 page)

“Man, fuck that, nigga. I been callin' all this time.”

Rico was losing all his money to Soup, so he decided the only way to end this dice game was to cheat.

“Soup, the rule is you gotta knock ‘em down when you gate.”

“Nah, your ass tryna cheat 'cause I'm breaking your fat ass. That point don't count.”

“Yes it do!” Rico yelled.

“No it don't!”

Rico reached for his last two hundred dollars in the pot, but Soup jumped up and grabbed the money before Rico could take it.

“Nah, that ain't your money. You ain't hit that point. I gated that shit.”

Malik entered the living room where Rico and Soup were on the verge of a fight. “Man, what the fuck you two fighting over now?” he asked.

“Rico tryna cheat me outta my money,” Soup said, trying to get Malik to side with him.

“How much you cheat him for?” Malik asked Soup.

“Nigga! I knew your lil ass was cheating,” Rico said. “Give me my money back.”

“I ain't giving you shit, you fat, lying, cheating muthafucka!”

“See Malik. That's what I'm talking about. He gonna make me fuck him up.”

“Go 'head with that shit, Soup. What I tell you about that?” Malik asked.

“A'ight, Malik, but—”

“But shit. Soup, don't make no excuses.”

“A'ight. Man, look. Let me get the truck then. I gotta make a few runs.”

“I ain't letting your lil ass drive my shit,” Rico said.

“Go 'head, Rico. Give 'im the keys. We gotta do something anyway.”

Rico reluctantly gave Soup the keys to his brand new black Range Rover. “Here, nigga. But don't fuck my shit up and don't be having none of them dirty ass bitches in my ride either.”

“A'ight. I can respect that. I'll see y'all later.” As Soup headed out the door, he looked back. “Oh yeah. Rico?”

“Yeah, what's up?”

“I still love you, nigga, even though your fat ass cheated me outta my money.”

Rico and Malik laughed. Soup would never change.

“Man, get your lil ass outta here,” Rico said.

“A'ight, I'll see y'all later,” he said.

Once Soup was gone, Malik told Rico to get the bags from the back while he set up the money machine.

Rico left and came back into the living room moments later with two duffel bags filled with money. They began to place the bills together, face up, and feed them through the money machine. After about two hours had passed, Malik and Rico counted seven hundred eighty-two thousand dollars.

“Damn! Malik, pop a bottle of Moet.”

“You know I don't fuck wit' champagne like that, but I'll tell you what. I'll take a shot of that Remy.”

Rico poured his friend a drink while he popped a bottle of Moet. Then they both went out on the balcony. “Damn. Malik, look at this view. A nigga can see the whole Southeast from up this muthafucka!”

“What you think I be out here all the time for?”

“I dunno. To tell you the truth, you be out here on some different shit. Like you be seeing something else other than Southeast.”

“I do. When I look out here I see our future. I see a jungle that's outta order, a jungle that needs a new king.”

“Man, you tripping. The only king you gonna see around this muthafucka is Black Sam.”

“Who you say? Did you just say Black Sam?”

“Yeah, Black Sam. He is the real King of Southeast. They say this nigga got Bentleys and shit, and all he do is point the finger and niggas move.”

“Oh yeah? I thought you told me Kojack was the biggest nigga out here.”

“Kojack is Black Sam's lieutenant, so just imagine what this nigga Black Sam's holding. Shit. This punk ass seven hundred stacks we got is probably Black Sam's lunch money.”

Malik kept his thoughts to himself. He badly wanted to tell Rico that Sam was his uncle, but instead he kept quiet. He knew that if he was able to talk to Sam, then he and Rico would be set for life. Malik had to figure out a way to speak to Sam.

“If the nigga Kojack working for him, then that nigga Sam is beyond rich,” Rico said. “The thing is, how we gonna get plugged in wit' ‘im? Man, you know Pee-Wee got locked up, and ever since then Kojack chilled out. That's why we been getting all this money so fast. Now, if we could find a way to holla at Kojack, maybe we could take Pee-Wee's spot, then move from there. Shit, right now we the only niggas out here getting most of the brick, and I know Kojack need that business.”

“A'ight then. Tomorrow, we going around Wahler Place where Kojack be posted.”

“I hear even though he getting all that money, he still like to come around the hood and flash,” Rico added.

“Well, I hope he be out there tomorrow,” Malik said.

At that moment, Malik's phone rang. “Hello?” he answered. In the background was some commotion. Malik wondered who it was. “Hello!” he said again.

“Oh hey. Malik, what's up? This Soup.”

“Boy, where the fuck you at?”

“I'm down at Fresh Gear in the back, gambling casino style. Malik, I'm punishing these niggas!”

“Well, I hope you finished, because Rico wants his truck back.”

“Damn, man, when we getting my shit? I'm tired of pushing y'all cars.”

“Next week, Soup.”

“A'ight, slim, I'm on my way. I'm 'bout ready to leave anyway. These niggas mad as fuck at me. I busted they asses for eighteen thousand in like twenty minutes.”

“Damn! What'd you do, pull out your gun?” Malik joked.

“Shit, you might as well put it that way, 'cause I came off like the mob. Tell you what. We all going out tonight and everything's on me.”

“'Bout time your lil ass spent some money on us for a change.”

“Yeah, I think I can do that. Thanks to Bonehead and DonDon, 'cause I punished they asses, Malik!”

“Good. Tell me about it when you get here.”

“A'ight, I'll do that,” he said, hanging up the phone.

 

* * * * * * *

Soup left Fresh Gear with eighteen thousand dollars stuffed in a tennis shoe box. As he headed to the Range Rover parked on Sixteenth and Goodhope Road, out of nowhere, two men armed with 9-millimeter pistols approached him.

“Hey, Soup. Hold up for a sec. I think you owe us something,” one of the men said.

Soup turned to face the men and quickly realized they were strapped. He looked around and figured that since Goodhope Road was a busy street, no one would be foolish enough to shoot somebody there, so Soup resisted, not backing down, even at the sight of two guns and the two men that held them—Bonehead and DonDon.

“Fuck you mean I owe you something?” Soup asked through clenched teeth.

“We both know you had trick dice in that game,” DonDon said.

“Man, y'all niggas trippin'. What the fuck I need to cheat you niggas for?”

“Look, I ain't tryna hear all that back talk. Just give us the box,” Bonehead said.

“I ain't giving you shit, nigga!” Soup then tried to put his key in the door while DonDon reached for the box. “Man, what the fuck you doing, slim? Y'all niggas know who I am. Y'all know you can't take nothing from me and get away wit' it.”

“Nigga, shut the fuck up,” DonDon said, snatching the box outta Soup's hand. “Nigga, you lucky we don't slump your lil bitch ass.”

“Nigga, fuck both of y'all!” Soup then snatched back the shoebox of money and began to run up toward Sixteenth Street. The first two shots flew past Soup's head as he ducked and kept running for his life. After a few more steps, Soup was losing his wind, and his gait became sluggish as he looked back at Bonehead and DonDon. Soup didn't notice the crack in the sidewalk that caught the front of his Nike Air Force 1s, causing him to fall to the concrete.

As Soup tried desperately to get up, DonDon was the first to stand over him and deliver two shots to Soup's body, causing him to fall back down. Bonehead then came over, placed his 9-millimeter in the back of Soup's head, and pulled the trigger, ending Soup's life instantly.

 

Chapter 30

–DOWN FOR WHATEVER-

 

Ring, Ring . . .

 

 

alik, answer your phone!” Rico yelled as he fixed himself something to eat.

Malik got off the sofa and reached for his phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, baby,” the caller responded.

“Hey, Peaches. What's up, boo?”

“You and me sitting in a tree F-U-C-K-I-N-G,” Peaches said, mimicking the old school children's rhyme.

Malik laughed at his girlfriend's sense of humor. “Yeah, boo.Well, tonight we gonna be doing a whole lot of that after we come back from the show.”

“Oooh, that sounds good,” Peaches cooed.

“Did you get my clothes from the cleaners?” he asked.

“Yes I did, my king. Is there anything else you want?”

“Nah, boo. Just keep that good pussy wet for me.”

“Always and forever will this pussy be wet for you. But Malik, I was calling to tell you something.”

“Well, what is it?”

“Never mind. I'm not going to tell you now since we going out tonight.”

“Is it something important?” he asked in a concerned tone.

“That's for you to decide, but I'll just wait till tonight. Okay, boo?”

“All right.”

“What time you coming home?”

“In a lil while. Most likely I'll get there before you.”

“Okay boo. I'll meet you there later.”

“A'ight.”

“Hey.”

“What's up?”

“I love you, baby.”

“Yeah, I love you too,” Malik replied, and then hung up the phone.

“Damn, nigga, you in love like shit,” Rico said, teasing Malik.

“Man, that's just my bitch.”

“Yeah, right. More like your bitch for life—wifey.”

“Nah slim. I ain't getting married to nobody!”

“That's what you say for now.”

“Rico, a nigga's too deep in the game to get married.”

“Fuck you talking about? Gangstas always get married. That's a part of being a gangsta—having a wife and kids. The best of both worlds. At least that's the way I see it. All them mafia muthafuckas got a wife and kids. That's what this shit's about, Malik. Getting money so that you and the family can live like royalty.”

“Well, if I ever decide to get married and have kids, then I'm getting outta the game for good, relocating, and living my life comfortable. Never could I bring this shit into my house where my wife and kids lay. That was my father's mistake, and he paid the ultimate price for that.”

“Yeah, I feel you. But for real, nigga. We gangstas and shit just happens in this lifestyle. Ain't but one way in and no way out. A nigga just can't pack his bags and leave after you and your niggas risk your lives to build it. Hell no, man. That's treason.”

“I guess me and you see different on this issue then. I don't know about you, but I lost my parents to this shit.”

“Man, at least you knew your parents. The only thing linking me to my parents is a funky ass birth certificate. And most likely, my mom was a dope fiend or something.”

“Like you say, shit happens.”

“That's what I'm trying to get your ass to understand, nigga.”

They both laughed at the sad but true humor of both of their lives.

“Man, where the fuck is Soup with my truck?” Rico asked. “His lil ass taking too long. Call his cell.”

“Hold on,” Malik said, and then dialed Soup's number. After letting it ring about eight times, Malik hung up. “Man, I bet his lil ass done jumped right back in that crap game with Bonehead and DonDon being greedy.”

“Who you say? Bonehead and DonDon?”

“Yeah. Why you say they names like that?”

“Them niggas from the Farms, ain't they?” Rico asked.

“Yeah, but why you got that worried look on your face?”

“Because they some sneaky ass niggas. I heard all they do is stand outside the store and try to rob whoever hit the dice game for a nice piece of money,” Rico explained.

“Yeah, I heard that too. Soup said he busted both of 'em for eighteen thousand. Sometimes I wish I never taught him how to shoot. This lil nigga got a disease with that shit and can't stop.”

“Fuck it. Let's just ride down there and pull his lil ass out.”

“A'ight.”

Malik and Rico drove down to Fresh Gear on Goodhope Road in Malik's new work vehicle. As the van rolled up on Goodhope Road, a crowd of people gathered on the corner of Sixteenth and Goodhope Road, looking at the dead body being outlined by detectives. Yellow tape divided the crowd from the crime scene as detectives desperately tried to question possible witnesses. The closer Malik's van got to the crowd, the more he felt that something was wrong.

“Damn, somebody got they head hit,” Rico said.

“Yeah, I see.” Malik parked. Then he and Rico got out and walked toward Fresh Gear. Something told Malik that this didn't feel good. Soup never answered his phone, and Rico's truck was at least fifteen feet away from the crime scene. “Hey, Rico, hold on for a minute. Let me go see what's going on.”

“Man, stop being nosey. Let's just go in, get Soup, and leave this muthafucka. It's too many police out here.”

Malik ignored Rico and found his way into the crowd to look at the young boy who was sprawled out on the concrete, drowned in his own blood. As Malik got closer, his knees began to get weak. He saw the brand new Air Force 1 tennis shoes he'd just bought Soup the day before. As he looked at his young protégé lying in a pool of blood, he expressed no emotion. Malik calmly turned and walked toward Rico's truck. The moment he got in the truck, a single tear dropped from his eye. Rico followed Malik and got into the driver's seat. He looked at Malik and knew something was wrong.