“I love New York!” Chino shouted out the window. “New York, New York, big city of dreams!”
Chino ducked back in the car; the biting December air was too much to bear hanging out of a moving vehicle. Chino and Joe Bub Baby rolled down the busy streets of Manhattan. One thing he loved about the city was its energy. It could be two or three o’clock in the morning, and Manhattan would be lit up like it was broad daylight. He particularly loved rolling through Times Square and the massive Port Authority Terminal to check out the wide variety of characters who hung out in those places. New York was like a zoo for humans. One could find a variety of different species wandering about.
“Yo, check that out, dog!” Joe Bub said, pointing to the white cats that had multicolored Mohawks.
Chino shook his head. “Only in New York.”
“Yo, let’s roll through Harlem.”
“Mos def, but we can do that later. First we gotta meet Fabian’s cousin.”
“A’ight,” Joe Bub agreed. “Aye, what’s that cat’s name again? Dragons, Dragoon, Dragoose?”
“Dragos, fool!” Chino spat. “This is my plug, remember that. You just along for the ride, so you be quiet and let me do all the talking.”
“Bet,” Joe Bub told him. “Hey, C, let’s hit that club The Roxy while we up here.”
“I’m cool with that.”
“So old boy is Fabian’s kinfolk?”
“Yeah, they moms are sisters or cousins or some shit.”
“That’s fucked up how them cops did you.”
“Fuck ’em.” Chino shrugged. “They just mad ’cause they knew I was gonna walk. My name wasn’t on the warrant, or the house, or any of the bills. I was just a visitor and had nothing to do with anything. At least that’s what the jury would have been led to believe.”
Joe Bub held up his hand and Chino shook it. “That’s how you beat that shit, baby!”
“They didn’t really have shit on Fabian but about two ounces worth of powder that didn’t fall into the bucket. That shit ain’t nothing but about twenty-four months. As long as nobody talks, that’s all he’ll get.”
“He’ll end up in a camp doing sweet-ass fed time,” Joe Bub added. “Golfing and playing tennis and shit.”
“The good thing is, he got the paper to just kick back and do his time real sweet,” Chino said. “He’ll be good.”
“Man . . . if I gotta do a bid, I at least hope it’s a fed bid,” Joe Bub commented. He glanced down at his Swatch. “Hey, where we gotta meet them fools at?”
“Right here,” Chino said, pulling up to his destination, watching a car leave, “and there goes a parking spot right there.”
Chino whipped his rented Corvette around into the newly vacated parking spot. He and Joe Bub climbed out of the Vette and made their way across the street, heads tucked down and hands in their pockets, protecting themselves from the frosty air. A group of Puerto Ricans were standing outside a deli.
“Yo, you know where I can get a good cheese steak sandwich?” Chino spoke, giving them the code that Fabian had told him. “A nigga hungry.”
“Cheese steaks are in Philly,” one of them replied, hunched over from the cold.
“Well, what do you have here in New York?”
“Coneys,” another one answered correctly.
A slim Puerto Rican dude with a long mustache and slicked-back hair stepped forward. He wore a black leather jacket, some black jeans, and some black boots. He looked like a cross between the Terminator and Fonzie from Happy Days, but something about him was intimidating. Maybe even dangerous. Perhaps it was his unassuming manner, or the way he held his cigarette in his mouth, or the way he talked so slow and steady and sure but everyone could see that he wasn’t one to be fucked with.
“I am Dragos.” The slim man extended his hand.
“Chino.” He took and shook Dragos’s hand.
Dragos nodded toward the interior of the deli. “Let’s step inside and talk.”
Dragos led the way and Chino followed. The men stepped in front of the entry, letting Joe Bub know that he wasn’t going inside with them.
“Shit, it’s colder than a muthafucker out here!” Joe Bub said to himself as he turned around and bounced up and down slightly, trying to keep warm.
Dragos seated himself at a table in the corner, and Chino took the opposite seat.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Chino.” Dragos looked closely at him.
“I hope it’s all good.”
“It has been,” Dragos told him, nodding his head in approval. “The family speaks highly of you and my uncle received some reports . . . impressive. Our family values loyalty, and a man who can take a beating and keep his mouth closed is thought of in highest regard.”
“Man,” Chino said, rubbing his hand across his chin, “there’s no way I’ll ever be a snitch.”
Rubbing his hands together, Dragos stared long and hard at Chino. “You have proven yourself.”
“Have you heard anything from Fabian?”
“Nothing since the last time we talked. The lawyers say that he is going to be fine.”
“That’s good.”
“I thought it was important that we meet, so I could get a good gauge of your character since we are going to be dealing with each another from here on out. Fabian thinks of you like a brother.”
“As far as I’m concerned, he is my brother.” Chino and Fabian were as thick as thieves and their friendship was true.
“I don’t know what kind of deal you and Fabian had, but I’m looking for someone who can move some serious merchandise for me in Columbus.”
“How much?” Chino asked, never losing eye contact with Dragos.
“A lot. Basically, I’m looking for someone who can take Fabian’s place. All of the people he was working with are going to need a new supplier.”
“And you think I’m ready to move that much product?”
“Only you can answer that question, Chino. Are you ready?”
Chino looked out of the window and thought about what Dragos was asking. Was he ready to move that much weight in Columbus? Could he move that much weight? At least twenty birds a week. And depending on the ticket, he might be getting two or three thousand off each bird. Did he know enough niggas that moved at least a key? Could he depend on twenty niggas to each get a key each week, or ten niggas to get two keys a week? His crew would definitely have to step up their game. Money would be flowing like water, if they could find the customers. Could he do it? If Fabian could, then he could too. Fabian was from out of state, whereas Columbus was his. He was from Ohio, and nobody knew those streets or the players like he did. Yeah, he was ready.
“What kind of ticket are we talking?” Chino asked.
“We’ll start off small,” Dragos explained. “How about twenty keys a week?”
Chino nodded in agreement.
“The first month, I’m only going to send ten a week. I want you to build up your clientele and get used to moving that kind of weight.”
“You can go ahead and send the whole twenty,” Chino told him confidently.
He was ready to ball and rake in all of life’s rewards. The streets had not been kind to him as of yet. In fact, the streets had been a real bitch. But now, the bitch had just opened her legs up to him, and he was definitely going to fuck.