Hard White

About a month later, Melquan’s dreams of taking over the project’s illicit drug trade turned into reality. To witness how a slim possibility had morphed into a certainty, even to him, was an amazing feat. His crew now controlled the crack trade throughout the entire projects and that meant more customers. Having beat back all challengers, Melquan and Mike Copeland, were now free to concentrate on profits rather than strategizing for beef.

Shop was set up in the horseshoe; it was the cartel’s primary place of operation. The choice was logical one, there was already drug flow and Precious lived there. This meant they could access weapons and drugs all day, making profit and be protected at the same time. Melquan and Mike Copeland took full advantage of both.

Taking a break from overseeing their drug empire, Melquan and Mike Copeland spotted Charlie Rock. Mike Copeland sighed loudly.

“Yo Mel, here come ya man,” Mike Copeland announced. “Unk Leech,” he laughed.

“Mike you one disrespectful bastard. You know that, right?” Melquan replied.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Mike answered. “I just don’t like seein’ muthafuckas I know, git played outta position. Am I wrong for that?”

“Play me out how? Tell me how he playin’ me out?” Melquan insisted.

“Niggas think I be talkin’ just cuz I like hearin’ myself. Runnin’ ‘round here hatin’ on niggas for no apparent reason. I got my reasons Mel! Like they say, what’s done in the dark will come to light. One day what I’m sayin’ will all make sense.”

“Yeah, one day…? Cause right now, you talkin’ in riddles, my dude.”

“Whatever Mel. I’m out like last year. I don’t even wanna witness da bullshit he ‘bout to lay on you. When he bounces, I’ll be back.”

Silently, Melquan watched Mike walked away in the opposite direction. He smirked, shaking his head in disbelief and turned his attention to Charlie Rock rapidly approaching. Melquan’s expression went through a quick change. He was doing everything to hide his emotions. His megawatt smile greeted Charlie Rock.

Stylishly dressed in a dark blue Champion sweat suit, his three-sixty waves protected by a matching Yankee baseball cap, and pair of white and blue shell toe Adidas. Charlie Rock was looking fly. They exchanged daps and hugs then Melquan took a break from his drug activities to kicked it with him. It was gesture of respect, from the young guard to the old guard. He was never too busy for Charlie Rock.

“Hey you know what, nephew?”

“What’s that Unk?”

“I’m really proud of you, nephew. You did what you said you were gonna do. I got to tip my fitted to that,” Charlie Rock said, raising his baseball hat. Many are called but the chosen are few…”

“Unk, it just had to be done, man. I just thought to myself if not me then who? And if not now then when? Unk, just like you, I been out here all my life, doin’ what you always talkin’‘bout, throwin’ rocks at the penitentiary. Things change and I feel it’s only right that I get this money.”

“Yeah, there you go. That’s the only way to think, get yours. But I’m a tell you sumthinI learned from experience. When you start gettin’ money, the wolves come out. That money is the scent they follow to the source. So be careful. The same thing that feed you must feed them--the streets…”

From his seat in the wheelchair, Charlie Rock stared directly at Melquan. His tone was serious and Melquan immediately noticed the change.

“I know you got a lot on your mind. But hear me out, nephew. I’m tellin’ you sumthin’ for your own good.”

Melquan remained tightlipped and didn’t utter a word. He held his breath, bracing for the words the wise OG had for him.

“A’ight, hear me out. First and foremost you cannot sleep on these niggas. Shit might be good now, but it won’t stay that way. Hope for the best but expect the worst. Keep your ears to the street. I’m tellin’ you what I know. You’ve gotta have eyes in the back of your head. Stayin’ alert is stayin’ alive! Don’t take any rumor pertaining to you lightly. Many times the streets will get the word before you do.”

Melquan nodded and let the words resonate. Charlie Rock was speaking from experience. He had been around the rise and fall of many major criminals. Melquan felt he had to heed these jewels. Charlie Rock didn’t drop them on everyone, and this made Melquan feel special.

“Watch ’em dudes around you. Besides Mike Copeland, they all suspect. Find out who built for the drug game, and who built for war. Don’t let ’em good-time niggas fool you. Don’t let ’em tell you they thorough. Make ’em prove it. Remember, everyone’s a soldier until it’s time for war. Then what you got? A bunch of spectators…”

Nightfall had descending upon the projects and Melquan’s team hand over fist made that dough. It was now time to go home. Unlike most drug dealers Melquan preferred to run his crack operation similar to a dope operation. There was a specific time to open and shutdown the business every day. This time restriction lessened the chance of anyone on his team getting knocked.

However he knew, if Mike Copeland had it his way, shop would be open twenty-four-seven. Melquan saw no reason for this. It would only build more animosity for his crew if they took all the money. Rivals drug dealers may resort to calling the police on them. It was better for all to let rivals eat for a couple hours. In the projects, the only people out late at night were cops, stickup kids, and drug users.

Directly across the drive, Nashawn and one of his cronies hadn’t faired too well. Having taken over a crackhouse in his building their sole objective was to cut Melquan’s throat on drug sales in and around the building. Their customer trickled in light and intermediate, making their money slow. They loved when Melquan’s team closed shop for the day. It was a real chance to make a few more dollars.

Nashawn was fighting a war he knew he couldn’t possibly win when it came to quality and quantity of drugs. He didn’t have the connection to compete with Melquan’s crew. Nobody in the projects did for that matter. Melquan had it good and plenty. He didn’t have to chase Nashawn out of the projects with guns blazing. He was going to force him out by taking away his ability to make a drug profit to support himself or his team. Soon his crew would start to defect. It was only a matter of time. Nashawn would die a slow death. Humiliation would weaken him faster than a bullet wound. He saw Melquan’s crew making all that money, right where he lived, everyday was beginning to sting like a slap in the face.

Nashawn was angered by the vast amounts of customers venturing across the drive to purchase Melquan’s product, all day long. Some were his loyal supporters and had deserted him. By the time Melquan had left, Nashawn’s frustration was close to boiling point. He went outside and approached one such turncoat crack addict.

“Yo fam, come here lemme holler at you,” Nashawn growled at the man.

“Okay,” the man answered, sounding intimidated. “Wha- what’s up…?”

Nashawn put an arm around the man’s neck like they were long lost friends. Expecting a beatdown, the man was acting nervous. He tried to spring himself from Nashawn’s grip. Nashawn was strong and leaned hard on his former customer.

“Why you always running over there to cop, huh? You live in my fuckin’ buildin’, and still you ain’t showin’ me no love? Why?”

“It ain’t even like that Nashawn,” the man answered in a pleading voice.

The steel in Nashawn’s glare had him in check. This former customer could sense trouble heading his way.

“Why then…?” Nashawn quizzed, looking perplexed.

“It’s just…” the former customer’s voice trailed.

Nashawn watched him with a glint of anger shielding his face under the black NY Yankee fitted.

“Just what?” Nashawn repeated, releasing the man. “Huh? Please explain this bullshit to me.”

They were standing face to face. Nashawn sized up the man. Feeling the fear building in the man’s throat, he realized the man didn’t want to say anything. If the man did speak, he might just be making up something to get away. Nashawn calmly waited.

“Nashawn, I ain’t even gonna lie, man. They st-stuff is big-bigger and bet-better than you-yours,” the crack addict stuttered, wincing.

He was expecting the kicks and punches to follow. Then he heard the anger in Nashawn’s voice and started shaking.

“What da fuck you mean? Talkin’ ‘bout they shit’s bigger an’ better than mine, huh?”

“C’mon man, I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble, man. You asked me a question and... Look man, I don’t cause trouble, I don’t bother nobody, I don’t burn nobody, man. All I wanna do is smoke my shit and get high,” the addict explained. “I don’t want no problems.”

“Nigga, I really don’t give a fuck ’bout what ya want. Homie ya got some trouble now,” Nashawn said, landing a two-fisted combination to the crack addict’s jaw.

He had no time recover from Nashawn’s suckerpunch. Then Nashawn’s boys jumped in, beating on the crack fiend. They made short work of him. In a brutal New York minute, the crack addict was laid out unconscious on the pavement. Nashawn and his boys walked away from the injured man like nothing ever happened.

“Yeah muthafucka, if I ever catch ya ass goin’ cross ’em streets to cop again, I swear I’ll kill you!” Nashawn spat. “And that goes for all of you muthafuckas,” he said, pointing to the bevy of onlookers.

Mike Copeland reappeared when the time the altercation ended. He was going up to Precious’apartment to secure today’s drug profit. Glaring across the drive at Mike Copeland, Nashawn was now feeling himself. Mike Copeland was always strapped and the smirk on his face said he was unimpressed. He was looking for any excuse to gun Nashawn down.

“Nigga, I wish you’d just attempt to do dat shit to me,” Mike Copeland suddenly loudly announced. “I ain’t that fiend, nigga!”

Silence like the nightfall descended over the horseshoe. Mike Copeland’s laughter exploded into the night’s air when he had no takers on his offer. He swaggered away and moved on to handle his business.

After being absent for a couple weeks or so, Melquan joined Mike Copeland back in the horseshoe. It was a rare appearance because lately, he been playing India’s house real close. Melquan had been reserved and was not running the street as much. He was doing this in an effort to make the relationship work.

To the casual observe it may have looked like Mike Copeland was calling the shots. It wasn’t the case. Melquan was still holding the reigns. He was fine with Mike Copeland receiving all the attention. At the end of the day they both knew who was captain.

Precious got wind of Melquan’s presence and she quickly joined them. In the past few weeks she hadn’t seen Melquan. Precious was curious and wanted to find out why Melquan hadn’t returned her calls. She had learned that his relationship with India had been blossoming at the detriment of his relationship with her. It was strained to say the least. Precious was still playing her part, holding down Mike Copeland, and supplying the team with re-up whenever the need arose.

“What’s up stranger?” Precious smiled warmly.

“You…” Melquan replied with a wink.

“How you been, huh? Ain’t seen you in a long while, Mel…”

“Good…”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes. You can’t call me, huh?”

Melquan glanced at the smile on Mike Copeland’s face, shaking his head in disgust. The moment she came outside there would be high drama.

“Here you go,” Mike Copeland announced.

“Shut-da-fuck-up, Mike!” Precious immediately lashed out. “Mind ya fuckin’ beeswax.”

Turning her attention back to Melquan, Precious stood before him with her arms folded over rapidly rising chest, waiting an answer.

“Precious, let’s not go there right now. We’ll talk about that later. A’ight…?” Melquan insisted.

Precious saw the scowl on Melquan’s grill. She knew just how serious he was, and decided not to make a scene. Precious would roll with the punches for now. She had made a promise that once they got in private then she would give him the business. There was no way Melquan was going to get off that easy.

“Okay, okay, whatever you say, Mel,” Precious replied smugly.

Melquan had been chilling and had to get used to the routine of standing again. He perched himself high on the park bench in front of the building. Precious seized the opportunity to immediately sit between his legs. To the left of them, Mike Copeland was standing guard. They watch the drug operation make transaction after transaction. Soon Sheron approached them.

“Sheron, what up, shorty…? Where you been? I ain’t see you in a while,” Melquan greeted the boy.

“I been around. Where you been at? I ain’t seen you in a long, long time, Melquan. I went by your mother’s apartment a couple times, but you never there,” Sheron emphasized.

Precious interrupted, “Don’t worry, shorty. I can’t find him either.”

“Word, my moms ain’t even tell me, shorty. I gave you my number… Why you ain’t hit me up?” Melquan said, ignoring Precious.

“I lost it, Melquan,” Sheron answered.

“Wow…! Anyway how you doin’…? You a’ight…?”

“No, I’m hungry. And I need a haircut, Melquan.”

Much to the chagrin of Mike Copeland and Precious, Melquan immediately handed Sheron couple bills. It looked like short money, but vexed the onlookers.

“Here you go, shorty… Do what you gotta do with that money. Keep the change. Hide it in your sock. Don’t even let your mother know you got it,” Melquan instructed Sheron.

“Good lookin’, Melquan,” Sheron said, accepting the money.

When Sheron ran off, Melquan could hear the snickering of Mike Copeland and Precious. He was annoyed at them and let them have his wrath.

“I don’t know why y’all fuckin’ laughin’? What’s so fuckin’ funny? I pray to God it ain’t at shorty!”

“Nah, we ain’t laughin’ ’at shorty. We laughin’ at your ass, nigga,” Mike Copeland answered, still laughing.

“That lil’ nigga playin’ your ass and you don’t even see it. That’s what’s so fuckin funny,” Precious said without a hint of humor.

“Mel, you ain’t doin’ nothin’‘cept feedin’ his mom’s crack habit,” Mike Copeland said.

“What the fuck you talkin’‘bout?”

“You really think she ain’t shaking shorty down for some bread? C’mon Mel. She know you lookin’ out for shorty too. She probably sent him over here to see you just now. You feel me?” Mike Copeland spat in disgust.

“Mike, ya buggin’, my dude. I don’t fuckin’ believe that. I ain’t even gonna let you put that shit in my head. Shorty ain’t like that. That lil’ nigga would never do sumthin like that,” Melquan said.

“Mel, how you know Tess ain’t puttin’ pressure on him? I mean she sees her son everyday on a regular, and you see him every now and then. You just can’t tell for sure,” Precious reasoned.

“A’ight, next time I see shorty, I’m gonna ask him myself, what da deal is,” Melquan said.

“And you think he gonna tell you? That’s his mother you talkin’ ’bout. To you and me she a fiend, but to shorty, that’s his mother, first and last. And he gonna do everything in his power to protect her.”

“You got that right, Mike. If she was my mother, I’d surely be doin’ just that,” Precious said.

“Melquan, look what you got yourself into? This what you get for bein’ kindhearted and all. That B.S. will only get your ass played. You gotta start bein’ more ruthless like me. If you don’t got it, you can’t get it from me, you feel me? Nothing personal but muthafuckas ain’t gave me shit. I’m just returning the favor, man.”

Melquan paused for a second, analyzing what had gone down. Thing were beginning to make sense. The thought of Tess roughing her son up or conning him out of money disturbed him. He didn’t want to believe the obvious, he gave Sheron the benefit of the doubt.

The day wore on and the trio kept their eyes on the flourishing drug organization they had established. Melquan was content to observe it all. Mike Copeland and Precious meanwhile took a more hands on approach. Giving out packages to workers, they were collecting major paper.

Precious would reposition herself back between Melquan’s legs after each run. A blue Honda Civic suddenly pulled up into the drive. Slowly the driver steered the car toward the trio and stopped. Before Precious knew what was going on, Melquan abruptly pushed her from his legs, jumped up, and was making his way to the car.

India stared at him from inside the parked vehicle, smiling. Melquan was clearly not prepared for this surprise visit. He did not immediately return her greeting.

“Houston, we have a problem,” Mike Copeland laughed out loud.

Melquan turned and glared at Mike Copeland. Precious watched in earnest as Melquan walked over to the car and leaned into the window.

“Where the fuck is that nigga think he goin’? Who da fuck is in da fuckin’ car, huh?” Precious spat venomously.

“You know what they say, right? Never ask a question, when you really don’t wanna know the answer…” Mike Copeland’s voice trailed.

They watched Melquan getting into the car. India quickly greeted Melquan with a passionate kiss. Melquan didn’t know what it was all about, but had a good idea. He broke the lip-lock and motioned for India to drive off.

“What’s going on, boo?” India smiled.

“You tell me. What you doing here? Ain’t you supposed to be at work?” Melquan asked, looking at India with disbelief splattered all over his mug. “Thought I told you to call me first before you come… What if I wasn’t out here and shit? A lotta shit be goin’ down that I can’t really get into right now. For future reference, baby, please, please, call before you come through.”

“Whew… I never knew it was that serious. All I wanted to do was to see you. I missed you. I had a dental appointment and decided to take the rest of the day off.”

India looked at Melquan as she emerged into traffic at the end of the drive.

“Is there someone here you don’t want me seeing or…?”

“Look, India you’re gonna think what you wanna think. That’s just how you do. But seriously, ain’t nothin’ like that goin’ on,” Melquan lied.

“Oh really…? This is just a place where you conduct your biz right…?” India said with a sharp tone. “Other than that ain’t nothing happening, huh Melquan?

Melquan looked over at her and smiled, shaking his head. He waited for her sarcasm to die before he spoke.

“Look India, I can’t change how you feel. I ain’t even gonna try. I ain’t tryin’ to beef with you no more ’bout this ol’ bullshit anymore. You can say and think what you wanna. That shit’s on you… But I’m not feedin’ into it… So, anyway… You hungry…?”

“Yes…”

“Let’s go get sumthin to eat then.”

“Whatever you say Melquan… Whatever you say...”

The car drove off and a surprised Precious was furious. Holding her gaping mouth, she couldn’t believe Melquan had just suddenly driven off with his main chick.

She stared evilly at the car until it disappeared from sight. Precious now knew exactly who it was that Melquan had left with. The heartache hit her like a ton of bricks when she realized the woman was India. The mixture of emotions stirring through Precious’ veins soon became rage.

“I hate him! I so hate dat dirty, no-good muthafucka!”

“Ah, you just sayin’ that cause your feelings hurt. But you already knew what time it was.”

“Shut up, Mike! Please mind your fuckin’ business, already!”

Oh really…? You should shut up! My mind is my business. I can’t help it if you open off my man. But the funny shit is you know what it was when you started fucking with him. You knew he had a main girl… Precious, it is what it is, not what you want it to be! Ah, just deal.”

“You know what? I will. I’m tellin’ you, niggas ain’t gonna like the way I play my hand.”

“You better make sure you know what you doin’. And further more who you doin’ it to? Don’t take this shit out on everybody… Make sure you get the right person back…”

“I will,” Precious assured.

“Better yet, you need to wake and smell the coffee, ’fore you find yourself by yourself! You feel me?” Mike Copeland said, grinning and walking away.

Precious was left sitting on the park bench by alone and herself. Evil thoughts did laps on the tracks of her mind. She was emotionally devastated, and glanced around the horseshoe feeling sorrow. It seemed like everyone in the horseshoe was watching her getting played. A lone tear escaped and Presious bowed her head in shame.