Harlem didn’t have a plan or even an idea of what he would say to everybody when he got with them.
He didn't even have a clue as to how they all would get back at whoever got at them. His main concern really was
"SKIP."
Skip and Harlem were cousins and to the naked eye, they didn't seem close, or even related, but that was only an illusion. One thing his mother taught him was that you’re family. She stressed the point, “NO MATTER WHAT, we’re all you'll ever have at the end of the day”, she would say.
"SHIT damn Slim! How the fuck you made that shit look so fucking easy out here? Niggaz wild already”, he said to himself but as if he were talking to his father. He often spoke to Freeze like he was right next to him.
Talking to his father was how he sorted through his life’s trials. He racked his brain trying to figure out who shot at his boys. It didn’t matter who did it, the main goal was getting their asses back. He just needed the fire and the rest would fall into place. .
As he guessed, Harlem made it around the way in about 15 minutes and as soon as his truck pulled up and they recognized that it was him, Beans was the first one to the truck, totally disregarding all of what they were meeting about.
"OH! SHIT! Yo who shit is this?” Beans asked excitedly.
“This is me, Slim! I told you that Mya had some things that Freeze left for me. This is one of them…but fuck all that”, he said opening the door. He walked over to his stunned friends and raised his arms in surprise. “What’s the business my dudes”, he asked.
“Sup” Harlem said as Seven and Lil Al greeted him.
“What the fuck going on out this bitch? Who the fuck was them niggaz”, he asked looking directly at Seven.
"We don't know yet, but you already know the streets gonna be talking. We just gotta listen. I think Skip only got shot because he was standing right next to Rico. I think Rico dead. He got hit a few times”, Seven responded.
“Niggaz is dead!” Al murmured in astonishment.
"SHIT! We need to find out who the fuck the niggaz was and fast. And when we do, we gonna get at all of them at the same time”, Harlem said looking right at Beans.
"YO! We gonna get so much pussy in that bitch. I can smell that shit now”, Beans said while looking over at the truck smelling his fingers. It was obvious that Beans’ attention was no longer on the shootout. He was more concerned about Harlem’s fresh ride.
"Yo! We don't have no heat”, Al said. “I am not trying to be riding on no niggaz with one fucking bagger”, he whined.
"Seven!"
“SUP?”
“You got your shit right?” Harlem asked.
"You already know what it is with me”, he replied lifting up his shirt to show that he was holding.
"So we got one bagger, for now we gotta make do with that motherfucka until I can get up with my peoples’ folks and get a few more. I know just who to holla at. Plus, I (He thought about it) know where I can get us the hook up on some white girls. We are gonna be straight”, Harlem told them looking directly into their eyes as he spoke.
His mother always told him to look people in their eyes when he talked to them. Freeze, always told him; that
if a person can’t look you in the eyes, then they weren’t to be trusted.
Ironically, Beans always seemed distant and never looked Harlem in his eyes, yet, Harlem never actually paid it much attention because Beans was his right-hand man, and if you can't trust your right hand, who can you trust?
"NIGGA, ain’t nobody fucking with no white girls. Them bitches ain't got no ass, plus they'll have our black asses sitting in the county for summers, look at OJ dumb ass”, Beans added.
Everybody laughed at him.
“Slim, I am talking about Cocaine. Matter of fact, ride with me”, he said.
“I’ma holla back”, Beans told Seven and Al as he and Harlem headed for the truck. “I gotta go pick up Keisha and Ro-Ro from the school”, he said opening the door to his truck.
"SO! You fucking them bitches or something? Why they always up under you and shit. Them bitches is nosy as shit”, Beans said with his nose turned up in disgust. He didn’t mind Keisha and Ro-Ro, but he also didn’t appreciate how much Harlem cared about them. To him they were simply sack chasers.
"Slim, why every time you open your mouth something stupid has to come out that motherfucka? Them bitches, is my sisters like you my brother nigga, so that would make them bitches your sister too. We family RESPECT IT OR CHECK IT NIGGA!”
With that, Harlem turned up the music and zoned out.
Gangis Con "LOST & TURN OUT"… for this paper I’ma slave/CUZ I'M LOST & TURNED OUT; and as always, his mind shifted to another world.
Already he was attached to this truck and the attention that it brought. His truck was nice and didn't really need to have anything done to it. It was already customized to Freeze’s liking which just so happen to be Harlem's liking also.
Actually, he would have liked it regardless because it now belonged to him. Freeze had good taste though, and in more than just women.
Not too many people Harlem's age had cars, at least not Range Rovers. Although there were definitely some clean rides all across the city, still this truck stood out among the best of them. It was all black, black on the inside, tented windows and black customized Giovanna rim's. There were TV’s in the headrest with DVD players and even had a play station mingled with an extremely loud Alpine system.
The only thing that this truck might have been missing was being bullet proof. Still the truck was a statement alone, a statement that said C.R.E.A.M.
Beans turned the music down. "Yo, so what it is with the music thing? You saying fuck that or something? That shit you spit was hot. Let me hear something real fast”, he asked.
"Slim, don't you know that you're not ever supposed to touch a black man’s radio?” He laughed, “Plus, music is about timing and right now ain't my time. I got other Oreo's (referring to birds) and now is the time. Fuck rapping”, he said.
"So, what do you think about Al and Seven pumping with us?” Beans asked.
"I didn't really get to talk to them on that tip, but I don't care who you get because I am fucking with you. You gotta be able to fuck with them niggaz you talking bout, I mean we all straight with each other, so I don't even
really know. I do know this though... the nigga Seven gun crazy and guns bring the police and where there's police...” he said staring out of the window.
Beans took in a deep breath and continued talking, “Let me just put it this way so that you'll understand what I am saying. GUNS bring BODIES. BODIES bring POLICE and where there’s POLICE there’s SNTTCHES. Where there’s SNITCHES ain’t no money because nobody wants to be told on”, he explained.
“We gonna be good though, Skip too. I want him out here with us too”, Harlem assured as he made a left into the school parking lot.
As soon as they pulled up to the school, the bell rang. School was over and in seconds, the students poured out onto the street in front of the building.
Within a matter of minutes the entire school block was flooded and looked like a Saturday night downtown.
It was like a party and a fashion show that brought out almost all the hustlers from West Baltimore. Mostly the younger hustlers but, there were always a few ringers that were definitely too old to be in any school.
Either way, they were all there for the same reasons; to pick up a SISTER, a GIRLFRIEND, a FRIEND, to get seen or be seen. Some came by just because, even females came by. Some were hustlers too, some were just trying to catch a nigga that they were fucking or be seen in his car so that other bitches would know.
Then, there was the fashion show part of all this and nobody ever disappointed. Everywhere you looked it was Gucci this, Prada that, baller shades, jewelry and people stunting.
Phones out, chatting, texting, loud music, pictures being taken, hugs and kisses given out. The school was a proverbial party.
There were even fights and occasionally, gunfights.
Harlem was always dressed like he was about to shoot a video or something. His style was so effortless, Harlem was on point even when he didn’t try.
Beans lived for these moments and was a pretty good dresser himself. His taste in clothes was okay, but Harlem's style sort of set the bar in fashion around the school as for what was hot and what was not. He was the man, whenever he decided to show up.
If Harlem wore it, then it had to be the hottest and most of the times whether he knew it or not, it was.
You probably would have to thank his father for that. Freeze’s swagger was out of this world. Yet, little did Harlem know it all came from his mother. She was the one that dressed Freeze most of the time.
She was a fashion goddess. On this particular day, Harlem wore a brown Gucci hat, a brown leather jacket by American Bass, some Evius jeans, and Gucci sneakers.
His jewelry was simple though costly to anybody who wasn’t hustling. Platinum rings on each pinky finger, a bracelet on one wrist and a diamond embedded Ernst Benz Chronolunar watch on the other.
Oh, but he definitely had competition, nothing serious yet it was definitely competition. Beans was a self-proclaimed pimp, and as soon as they were parked and the action jumped off, he was the first one outta the truck and posted up.
The party began and when it did, names ware screamed, music pumped as loud as it could be turned up, hugs and kisses were exchanged, pictures snapped, hands shook, gang signs thrown up and cars circling the block.
This was an everyday event but this day seemed like the biggest. Harlem unconsciously came prepared.
"WHATS POPPIN GANGSTA?” Some bloods holla'd at Harlem and Beans. “Ain’t shit, Blood”, they both replied. "BEANS!" A female voice called out.
He turned in the direction of the voice, “Sup Baby”, he asked.
“Call me”, she said wrapping her arms around his neck. Beans tried to play it cool, “I will” he responded with a sly smile.
"OHMYGOD!" Some of the younger girls said as they passed by Harlem and Beans. "Harlem, where is my hug”, one of the girls asked as she walked up to him so close that their lips almost touched.
He stuck his arms out and the two of them hugged. He squeezed her ass as they embraced. "DAMN, that’s all you, girl”, he asked still holding on. "You already know”, she turned around in his arms, so that her ass was pressed firmly against his dick and then she walked off smiling at her girlfriends.
“Where you got those bean pies at? You hiding em”, Harlem asked the Muslim brothers. "As-Salaam Alaikum Brothers”, they replied.
“ Yeah, we like the Lakers too”, Beans laughed. “C‘mon Slim, don't clown the brothers fool”, Harlem elbowed him.
"HARLEM!” A female voice called out.
"AH SHIT! There go your bitch Toya”, Beans warned him.
"What it is?” He spoke while he reached out to hug her.
"Boy, I called your ass last night and your mother talking about you don't live there anymore, that you moved”, Toya hugged him back. “How come you ain’t invited me to your place so that we could break it in”, she asked smiling.
"Qh, we gonna break it in soon enough”, he laughed and grabbed her ass. “I just moved, let me get that shit together. I’m not tryna have you over my shit and then you come back clowning me”, he explained.
"Now you know I wouldn’t do that, you're my baby”, he said.
"OH YEAH? Word is that you fucking some bitch name Ginger. Oh! And you better keep your little tramp Gizzell in line before I whip that ass”, she said with fire in her voice
"Why you always trying to fight and shit”, Harlem laughed grabbing her firmly by the arm. “You know fighting ain't even lady like, plus you are my bust it baby. Stop tripping”, he assured her.
"WHATEVER! You better let that little bitch know”, she said aiming a perfectly manicured fingernail in his direction.
Harlem tried to end the conversation when he noticed Gizzell walking in his direction. “A'ight! Look, I’ma do that, right now though I gotta grab my sisters and then I am out. Hit me tonight or something, or I'll hit you”, he said quickly.
"YOU BETTER CALL ME TOO!" She said breaking contact and slowly walking off.
**********