Chapter Seventeen
Risking It All… Blowin’ The Spot
It was around noon when Melquan and Mike Copeland met with members of their cartel in the horseshoe. Smoking blunts, they spoke of the day’s business. The conversation soon turned to the previous night’s escapade in the club. The partying, the beautiful broads, and the shooting that ensued were discussed. Mike Copeland took center stage, recounting last night’s events. He loved the fact that rumors of the shooting had already reached back to the hood.
“So I don’t know where these niggas from. I think Webster Ave or some ol’ place like that...” Mike Copeland started. “I really ain’t give a fuck. These niggas were up to no good, lookin’ fa trouble and recklessly eye-ballin’ niggas all nite.”
Mike Copeland was animated, acting out the episode. With the crowd huddled around him, he was in rare form.
“So sumthin tell me, go look fa Melquan. The dance floor was crowded so it took me a minute ta spot him. Mel two steppin’ wit da bitches. The goons in the cut eyein’ my dude like he food. While niggas pointin’ and whisperin’, I snatch Mel off da dance floor, give him da four-one-one. When we get ready ta bounce, I walks over to da niggas on some humble shit and play their asses out. Once I got they minds off what I really came to do, then its blam, blam. Niggas runnin’ up out da piece like Godzilla comin’. You should a been there to see what happens when shit hit da fan.”
Just then Melquan walked up to the group, and caught the end of Mike’s tale. He couldn’t believe his ears. Mike Copeland was not only talking about last night’s events, he was bragging about them. Melquan was furious.
“Mike,” he shouted. “Lemme holla at ya for a minute…”
“Yeah, niggas got what they hand called for. Phony-ass-muthafuckas!” Mike Copeland spat. “That shit was straight gangsta, my nigga. I just walked up to ’em muthafuckas and gave ’em da bizness.”
“A yo, Mike…! What’s good?” Melquan repeated, gesturing directly at Mike.
“Calm down my nigger. I’m comin’,” Mike replied.
By the time Mike Copeland strolled over. Melquan was visibly upset. Mike Copeland pretended not to notice Melquan’s mood.
“What’s good, my dude?”
“I don’t know you tell me?” Melquan spat. “What’s the deal wit da shit? Why ya tellin’ these lil’ niggas our bizness? We don’t know what happened to them niggas. They coulda died for all we know. And if they did da charge just went from an attempt to homicide. Bet you didn’t think about that, huh?”
Mike Copeland hissed, shook his head, and stared coldly at Melquan before he spoke.
“Yo, stop bein’ so muthafuckin’ paranoid, my dude. These niggas already knew ‘bout da shit before I even said a muthafuckin’ word. Let’s not forget there was a few heads from da hood up in there all night long. Niggas talk, I didn’t even have’ta tell ‘em a muthafuckin’ thing!” Mike Copeland growled.
“What niggas know, and what they can prove, is two different things. You just added fuel to the fire by speakin’ on it. Now you got about half a dozen witnesses that heard you say sumthin,” Melquan replied.
“I wish a nigger would go to the grand jury on me. I’ll body anyone of them fuckin’ lil’ niggas… That’s my word.”
“Yeah, but why even put yaself in da position, broadcasting ya BI?” Melquan said, turning away in disgust.
Mike Copeland stood dumbfounded, watching his boy hurt and walking away. His tough guy stance was the only defense Mike had. It proved to be a weak one.
Charlie Rock wheeled through the projects. He stopped to speak with a few residents, and saw two figures approaching him. Charlie Rock squinted to get a better view of them.
He saw a tall, stocky thirtyish man, walking with a limp and another shorter one with dreads. Charlie Rock recognized the taller man immediately.
“Oh shit is that you Justice…?” Charlie Rock asked, greeting the men.
Justice reached down and gave Charlie Rock a handshake that lacked any emotion. His friend looked on without saying a word.
“What up, ol’ timer?” Justice greeted.
“Old timer…?” Charlie Rock repeated. “Where you goin’ with that? You know my name just like I know Justice. Ain’t that yours?”
“Like I says, what up Ol’ timer?” Justice reiterated.
Charlie Rock shook his head. “I ain’t doin’ nada, man… Just takin’ things easy… What about you…? When did you get out?”
Justice glanced down at Charlie Rock. His expression was saying something other than what he was asking Charlie Rock.
“I came home da other day. I beat da case at trial,” Justice smiled.
“That’s a good look for you. I love it when my people beat ’em peoples in court. That’s what’s up. Anyway, how’s your mother doing?”
“Fuck ya askin’ ’bout her fa?”
“Man, I been knowin’ that woman a long time now. What…? I can’t ask about her?”
“I could give a fuck about how long ya know her fa. Just make this da last fuckin’ time you speak ‘bout her…”
“A’ight, yeah, I hear that. You got it, big man. Anyway, who that you with right here?”
“Nobody…”
“Don’t he got a name he go by?”
“If he wanted to tell you his name, he’d have done so already. My man ain’t too, too friendly. He don’t like when certain peeps try to get too familiar either.”
The man with Justice threw a menacing stare at Charlie Rock, and held it for what seemed to be an eternity. Charlie Rock fumbled for a cigarette.
“Lemme git one of those,” Justice demanded.
Charlie Rock quickly complied. His sixth sense was tingling regarding these two. He could smell trouble.
“When you started smokin’? Musta picked up that bad habit in the joint, huh?”
“Look I ain’t out here to rap to you about no cigarettes, and jail? What’s poppin’ out here?” Justice snapped.
“Ya guess is as good as mine.”
“You know everything. Fuck you think you talkin’ to?
“A’ight Justice, you gettin’ a lil too disrespectful fa me. I ain’t got no time fa da BS. I got places to go and people to see. This convo is now over. Later!”
Charlie Rock attempted to maneuver his powered wheelchair away. Justice reached out and grabbed a hold of the wheelchair, preventing him from moving. Charlie Rock turned around to see the mean mugging of Justice.
“Now where da fuck ya think you goin’? I ain’t through talkin’ with ya crippled ass yet muthafucka!”
“Yo…?” Charlie Rock said, wearing a puzzled expression.
“Maybe I was away too long. I’m not in the know, but I been hearin’ that there’s a lot of money out here. Who holdin’ all da dough ol’ timer? I know ya nosey-ass knows. So start talkin’ muthafucka!”
“Look man, don’t start me to lyin’. I don’t know a muthafuckin’ thing!”
“Ya ass better stop lyin’ to me, you ol’ ass muthafucka! I already know ya know who holdin da dough.”
“Look man, I be mindin’ my own business. I don’t care ‘bout other people’s shit. I don’t be knowin’ a damn thing—”
“You keep lyin’ and I’m a turn this muthafuckin’ wheelchair over with ya ass right in it.”
Charlie Rock began to squirm in the wheelchair, struggling to break free from Justice’s iron grip. Justice choked, laughing at the weak attempt.
“Justice, you got me fucked up with all these other lames out here. I’m paralyzed, nigga! I ain’t no fuckin’ bitch! Now I told you, I don’t know nada! And that’s what’s up, muthafucka!”
“I know you know sumthin, ol’ timer. You can bank on that. I hear you out here all the time, and you don’t know shit…? I ain’t buyin’ da bullshit.”
“I don’t know shit! I done told you. I don’t know nada, muthafucka! Those who know don’t tell and those that tell don’t know…”
“While I was on the Island, I heard that dis nigga, Melquan makin’ all kinds of move in da projects. They say right now, he da nigga…”
“I don’t know a damn thing ’bout that. I don’t be makin’ other people bizness my bizness. Who does what, that ain’t none of my concerns. What another nigga eat don’t make me shit.”
“So, you don’t know Melquan?”
“Who that…? You expect me to know every Tom, Dick, and Harry who peddle crack’ ‘round this muthafuckin’ projects? I don’t fuck wit these dudes…!”
“Really? That’s not da word on da street.”
“If the street told you that, then that means da street can tell you better than I can.”
“Listen ol’ timer, you better start talkin’. I’m two minutes off ya cripple ass. So stop playin’ games wid me!”
At the same time an unmarked DT car cruised by. Justice stopped harassing Charlie Rock and watched the unmarked police car rolling by. The car stopped, and the three plainclothes cops paused looking at the gathering outside the project building.
The plainclothes cops got out, and all the workers around Melquan scattered, running off in different directions. Melquan was the only one left standing. Justice and Charlie Rock saw the commotion. Justice was smiling when he saw everyone running away.
“Melquan, what’s poppin my man? How’s business today?” the first cop asked.
“Melquan, why did your boys run off when we were just dropping by? They dirty? You dirty Melquan?”
“Nah, officer you got the wrong man.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
“I got a message for your buddy, Mike Copeland. Tell him we got a Billy club with his name all over it. Let him know its six more stitches every time he runs!”
“Why don’t he man up, Melquan? He got no heart, now? His name is starting to ring bells. Better tell him if he doesn’t chill, we’ll have a case with his name on it too.”
Melquan remained silent. He had nothing to say to that. Justice realized that he couldn’t touch Charlie Rock. Not with the police around. The thought of bullying Charlie Rock suddenly left his mind. Justice would rather avoid police contact at all cost. Suddenly he released his grip on the wheelchair.
“Whateva, whateva… This ya lucky day ol’ timer, get da fuck outta here! And you better not let me catch your ol’ ass out here again,” Justice warned.
“Yeah, you got it this time,” Charlie Rock said, sounding frustrated.
Nashawn was watching a safe distance away. He saw Justice and Charlie Rock. The police were questioning Melquan. He turned to his worker when the police left.
“Yo, wait till po-po leave then go upstairs and get ’em gats. I see some heads that shouldn’t be out here today,” Nashawn smiled wickedly.
Later that day, Melquan was passing through the horseshoe in his Range Rover. He was about to drive out the projects when he spotted Charlie Rock. It surprised him to see Charlie Rock standing with George, a well-known crack head. He pulled to a stop and George limped way. Melquan let down the window and spoke to Charlie Rock.
“Charlie Rock what you doin’ hangin’ with fiends?” Melquan shouted through the opened window.
“I known him for a long time, he wasn’t once who he is now.”
“I know him a long time too. And he always been a fiend,” Melquan said, spitting in disgust.
“True story, but at the end of the day we all human. And we ain’t perfect, we all got our vices. Ask me, I know that shit. Whether sellin’ or usin’, or reapin’ the rewards from it. We all addicted to this drug game. At some point or ‘nother we all get caught up.”
“Without question,” Melquan responded, nodding.
“Anyway, this whip the real deal, nephew. Fit you well too,” Charlie Rock said, complimenting.
Looking cautiously around, he directed the wheelchair and moved closer to the shiny, black SUV. Melquan turned down the volume on the Jay-Z’s 534 CD when Charlie Rock lowered his voice.
“Yo, I gotta tell you sumthin real important, nephew.”
“A’ight Unk, what’s really good?”
“Your man Mike Copeland is really foul. He ain’t playin this game fair!”
“What he do?”
“He got that young Puerto Rican kid out here sellin’ crack! And that’s not a good look,” Charlie Rock complained.
His voice was so low his words came out in a hiss. He glanced furtively around then shaking his head, he continued.
“Don’t you know that if da lil’ boy’s father find out, it ain’t gonna be a good look. Da boy’s father ain’t no slouch. Y’all don’t need them kinds of problems. Mike has to respect the game! A man’s family is off limits.”
Melquan nodded his head, intently listening to what Charlie Rock had to say. He thought carefully before responding.
“Charlie Rock, I already warned Mike about certain shit. But he’s who he is. Shit just goes in one ear, and out the next fuckin’ one.”
“But that’s your right hand man. It’s not a good look for your organization, man! Ask me, I know that shit.”
“Yeah, you right Mike Copeland is my man. Sometimes I even have to question some of his moves. I’m gonna have a talk with him about that,” Melquan said in an even tone.
“There’s one more thing I wanted to tell you, nephew. But I was so upset ‘bout that other shit, I done forget what it was…”
“You slippin’ Unk,” Melquan chimed in.
They both chuckled. Charlie Rock thought for a second then waved Melquan on.
“Ah, forget about it. Soon as you drive off, I’ll remember,” Charlie Rock said.
“We’ll talk later, Unk.”
“Yeah, go ’head. It’ll come to me later,” Charlie Rock announced.
Melquan drove off leaving Charlie Rock scratching his head, perplexed in his thoughts. He glanced out on the avenue and suddenly his memory returned. Charlie Rock immediately turned his wheelchair, and headed the other way.
