LT was laid up in Hopkins with a big-ass hole in his chest, and I didn’t know if the little kid was going to make it or not. Dog Boy foamed at the mouth and strapped the band on his Tech 9 around his neck. “On my mova I’m killing every nigga wit’ a Taurus, I swear for God!” His veins popped out of his skin when he spoke, his eyes were redder than the blood running down my arm.
“Go to your sister’s and lay down, I’ma go holler at Nick and I’ll be back down to get you!” I ordered.
He wiped away his own tears and headed out. “Damn, Dee, they hit you too!”
“Naw, a small graze, it just knocked a little meat off. Could’ve been from glass or the fall, no biggie. I’m good, lemme go round some soldiers up.” Dog Boy hugged me and dipped.
I rode up to Madeira to holler at Nick face-to-face. I tried to keep a level head in the midst of all of this even though my chest burned with fear, but my mind spun in circles like a fan, flooding with thoughts, like we can’t be reckless. But what if Long Tooth dies? Long Tooth isn’t going to die but we had to do something. Who the fuck were those niggas? Did they know me? I’m not with this murder shit, I wish Bip was here. I banged a left on Madeira. My shop was closed. Tone’s window was shut and it wasn’t even noon yet. A few people scattered around my car as I parked.
“Ike Guy, boss! Fucking Ike! But Nick up in Angie’s, can I get twenty dollars?”
“Damn, man, you see the blood on my arm?” I asked. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”
“Damn, Dee, sorry, you’ll be okay. You gotta twenty? Can I wash the car later?”
Junkies always want something. He wouldn’t care if I hopped out the car with my head in my hand, he’d still ask for something—a ten, a twenty, a bite of my sandwich, something. Kruger was no different than the cops in my eyes: they didn’t give a shit about me either, and I learned not to give a shit about any of them. I walked right past his open hands and into Angie’s. Her church music was blasting, as it usually is when she’s cleaning.
“Nigga I blew your phone up! Fuck you been at!” yelled Nick, his big jaws dribbled straight at me.
“Almost getting killed! Calm the fuck down! Angie! Go get some alcohol for me!” She couldn’t hear over the music.
“Angie! Get me some alcohol!”
“Boy, get you some alcohol what!” Angie yelled, cutting the music off.
“Please! Get me some alcohol please!”
“Okay, baby!” she answered from upstairs.
“My bad, Dee,” said Nick, “and bring a cold rag too, Angie! Please! This nigga all bloody! Anyway, Ike got us for like thirty-five hundred dollars, fifteen hundred pills, Yo. I’m sorry.”
“What the fuck? Fifteen hundred? Why you running around with that? You out your fucking mind! Nigga, you paying that shit back!”
Nick said he had a date and couldn’t make the re-up. I was ready to tell him how stupid he was but Angie walked down stairs with a beige hand towel and some peroxide.
“Ohhh, are you okay, baby? You get Li’l Bo and Tay get a bail yet?”
“What?”
“Yeah, Dee. Fat Tay and Li’l Bo got bagged. We gotta bail them out. We need help on this corner, you don’t be up here enough. And I don’t really know what’s up with Block. He ain’t even show up today.”
I wasn’t trying to hear any of that bullshit Nick was saying. Long Tooth was down and someone really shot me, well, slightly grazed me, but that shit still hurt. I looked down at my phone. Soni and Troy had both called me a bunch of times.
“Yo, we gotta get ready for war, man. You ready for this, right!” Nick declared, slamming his revolver on the table. “People talkin’ about you and that car, people talkin’ about our block, niggas is comin’ at us. So we gotta do something. I don’t mind paying the money I owe, but we gotta do something.”
“You right,” I said, giving Nick a pound and heading back to my crib. I ignored my phone for the rest of night, swallowed three Perks, drowned a pint of Grey Goose, and fell out.