It’s mid October. Two weeks have passed. I still haven’t bumped into Little Wu. I try not to think about him too much because it frustrates me. I’m just going to do what I have to do: get this money. When I see him, I’ll deal with him. He can’t hide forever. Even a bear has to come out of hibernation after a while. This is a small town. I’ll bump into him when he least expects it. Right now he’s probably hiding somewhere wishing he didn’t do that dumb shit. I know what he’s going to do; he’s probably going to send a middleman to set up a meeting so he can apologize and pay me back the money. But I ain’t trying to hear that shit. I’m going to make an example out of his ass. It’ s been too long now. If he had came back the next day or two, I probably would have let him slide, but not now. He’s probably flipped my money a hundred times by now.
Besides that, things are going splendidly. The first week was a rough one. I almost didn’t make my quota. Had it not been for Junebug, I would’ve been stuck. He bought four birds that week. That’s $72,000 cash money. His block is on fire! Besides the dope flow, he’s killing them with the blow, as well. His other block is still dry. Homicide hasn’t let up yet. They park on the block and sit there all day, everyday. The block doesn’t even look the same. You wouldn’t recognize it. The only trace they left is the raggedy house they used to sell the dope from. Besides that, it once again looks like a quiet residential block.
Last week things picked up. Mike Mittens is holding me down. He’s killing them with the $20 pieces. He puts a half a gram in aluminum foil and sells it for $20. He doubles his money and pleases the customers. He goes through a half a joint a week easy.
As for his nephew, not only does he get kilos from me, he also turned his entire crew onto me. The ones who buy kilos, he sells it to them for $19,500. He makes $1,500 off each one. The others who buy ounces or quarters at a time, he sells it to them for $22 a gram. I heard from a reliable source that Ice is starting to notice the difference in his flow. I’m definitely going to steal a lot of his clientele. I have better quality blow at a cheaper price. How can anyone refuse me?
Last week, I sent Mike Mittens to speak with Ice about doing business with us. I was willing to give him the special price of $17,500 a bird. That’s cheaper than I sell them to anyone else. He told Mike he would talk to him later, but he never got back at us. I guess he let his pride get in the way. Now my plan is to break him. I’ll do whatever I have to do. Even if I have to cut my prices so he can’t compete with me. Eventually he will have to buy his work from me.
At this moment, me and Slim are at the kids’ school. Today they’re playing their third basketball game of the season. They both made the team. Ahmir is the team’s captain; he’s also the key player. His position is point guard. No matter what kind of pressure they put him under, he still manages to get that ball down the court. If that ball touches his hand, he will definitely score. So far he has an average of 20 points a game. I guess he takes after me. In my early years, I played basketball each and every day. Whenever you saw me, I had a basketball in my hand. My dream was to be a professional basketball player until I was introduced to fast money. That’s when I lost all interest in the game.
I worry about Ahmad. He doesn’t have the heart he needs to survive in this game. He can dribble his ass off, but he’s scared to shoot. Even if he’s alone, he’ll pass the ball to someone who’s being guarded. He barely gets in the game. The coach only puts him in the game after he knows there is no hope of them winning.
Right now, it’s the4th quarter with 1 minute and 40 seconds left in the game. We’re up 56 to 54. The other team has the ball. They’re passing the ball around trying to kill time.
Twenty seconds have gone by. The forward passes the ball to the point guard. The point guard fakes the shot, and Ahmir leaps in the air. The little boy goes around him. He zooms right past the forward as if he isn’t even there. He dribbles straight down the middle of the court. When he gets to the bottom, he encounters the oversized center. He spins around and lays it up on him. The ball bounces off the backboard and goes in, causing the score to be tied.
The team is nervous. Tension fills the air; we’re tied up with only 40 seconds left. Ahmir is furious, and he’s embarrassed. The crowd oohed and aaghed when the kid blew right past him. I have to admit, I’m embarrassed too.
Phwew! After the whistle, the ball is passed to Ahmir. I can tell he’s mad by the way he’s bouncing the ball so hard. It’s like he’s almost slamming the ball into the floor. He’s charging right into his opponents.
“Mir, you the man!” I shout. “Slow down, Mir! Take your time! You the man!”
“Bang Man, he’s pissed off! I hope he don’t blow the game,” says Slim.
“Nah, he’ll be all right. Mir, take your time!” I shout. The clock is running out. Ahmir dribbles to half court. Everyone swarms him, except the center. He crosses over and runs between two of his opponents, causing them to bump into each other. Then he quickly dribbles right past the other two. Then the big center steps up. He’s twice Ahmir’s size.
Ahmir dribbles to the left, then to the right. The big boy doesn’t budge. Ahmir stops dribbling and fakes. Still he doesn’t respond. Finally, Ahmir jumps and releases from damn near half court. The big awkward kid jumps up. As he’s coming back down, he falls clumsily on top of Ahmir. Phew! The whistle blows as the ball is gliding in the air. “Foul!” screams the referee. Swish! All net. Ahmir shockingly scores a three pointer, and he accumulates the foul.
As he stands at the foul line preparing to shoot the foul shot, the crowd is extremely quiet. Everyone is anxious to see the outcome. Ahmir bounces the ball four hard times. Boing, boing, boing, boing! He slowly lifts the ball into the air and releases. Boom! Off the backboard, he misses. The score is now 59 to 56, we’re up. Only 20 seconds left in the game. Phew! The referee blows the whistle. The ball is in play. The ball is passed to the point guard.
As the boy dribbles down the court, Ahmir runs over to him. This is the same kid who just embarrassed him. They’re standing face to face. He tries the same move on Ahmir. This time Ahmir doesn’t fall for it.
“Watch him Ahmir!” I shout. “Don’t let him get the three pointer!”
Ahmir plants his feet firmly. He slides from side to side with the boy. The boy tries to cross over. Ahmir snatches the ball from him and takes off the opposite way. Time is running out, only six seconds left.
“Shoot Mir Mir!” Ahmad screams out.
As soon as he crosses the half-court line, he launches the ball into the air. The ball is gliding. It seems like the ball has been in the air forever. Only two seconds left. Swish! Urrr! The buzzer sounds off. Another three pointer, he just barely made it. The crowd is going wild. His teammates swarm him. The center picks him up and twirls him around like a rag doll. I’m so proud of my boy.
After the game, I take my sons out to celebrate the victory. We order two whole pizza pies with extra cheese and anchovies. Ahmir is not a big eater, but Ahmad on the other hand can easily down five slices.
“Daddy, we kick their butts, right?” asks Ahmad.
“We?” Ahmir asks sarcastically. “You didn’t even get in. You rode the bench the whole game!”
Ahmad lowers his head in embarrassment.
After I finish my mouthful of food, I slowly place the crust down. Ahmir has a dumb smile on his face. Ahmad can’t even finish his food. He’s fumbling with his hands under the table.
I look Ahmir right in the eyes. He can see the anger in my face. He stops smiling.
“Apologize before I smack the shit out of you,” I whisper, in a low but meaningful tone.
“Apologize for what?” he asks innocently.
“Apologize for belittling your brother.”
He hesitates before speaking. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, while looking out the window.
“No, you look him in the eyes and apologize like you mean it!”
“I apologize,” he says quickly.
“Say, I apologize for belittling you, and I’ll never do it again,” I instruct.
“I apologize for belittling you, and I’ll never do it again,” he repeats.
“Don’t you ever as long as you live let me hear you do that again! Do you hear me?” I ask. I can see the tears building up in his eyes as he looks everywhere but in my eyes. “Do you hear me?”
“Yes,” he whispers.
“Look me in the eyes when you talk to me!” I shout. He slowly lifts up his head. “Real men look you in the eyes whether they’re right or wrong. Now, I’m going to ask you again. Do you hear me?”
He looks me dead in the eyes with a stern face. His eyes are as cold as stone. He’s pissed off at me.
“Yes Daddy, I hear you,” he says, with a loud, clear voice.
“That’s your brother right there. That’s all you have. Fake friends are going to come and go. They’re going to do everything in their power to tear ya’ll apart. Never let anyone or anything come between ya’ll. Are ya’ll listening to me?”
“Yes,” they reply simultaneously.
“You two are brothers for the rest of your lives. You don’t need friends. You got each other. Never trust anyone but your brother. This is the only person who has your back. You will meet people who say they have your back. They’ll be there until you need them, and then you won’t be able to find them. But your brother is your brother regardless of what. Do ya’ll understand?”
“Yes,” they reply.
“Ahmad, do you accept his apology?”
“Apology for what?” he asks.
“For belittling you,” I reply.
“Oh, yeah, I accept.”
Everyone begins eating again.
“Daddy, what is belittling?” Ahmad asks. Slim busts out laughing.
“What?” Ahmad asks, with a clueless look on his face. Now all of us are laughing.
That’s one thing I’m not standing for. I want them to grow up tight. I wish I had a brother when I was growing up. Then maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad. It’s hard out here by yourself. You need a partner in this crazy world.
“Daddy, do you still like my mommy?” Ahmad asks.
This question baffles me. Ahmad asks some of the weirdest questions. Every time I’m around him, I have to be on point, because I never know what he’ll ask next. He’s so up front. Whatever is on his mind, he just let’s it out. “Why do you ask that, Mod?”
“I just want to know,” he replies. “She still likes you!”
“No she doesn’t,” I answer.
“Uh huh!” he shouts, as he nods his head up and down.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Ice said it,” he replies.
“Who?”
“Ice. He said it last night when him and my mommy was fighting.”
“Shh,” Ahmir whispers, as he elbows Ahmad under the table.
“Fighting?” I ask.
“Yeah fighting,” he replies.
I look over at Slim. He won’t even look in my direction. “What were they fighting about?”
“He kept asking Mommy do she still like you. And then I heard him smack her,” Ahmad replies.
“Where were ya’ll?”
“In our room,” Ahmad answers.
“Ahmir, what did you do?”
“Nothing,” he whispers. Before I realize it, I’ve already slapped him across the face.
“What the fuck do you mean, nothing? You’re the oldest. If a motherfucker ever put his hands on your mother, you better pick something up and try to kill him! Do you hear me?” He doesn’t answer me. “Do you hear me?”
“Yes,” he answers.
I look in his eyes. He doesn’t have a single tear in his eyes, but he’s pissed. If he thought he could beat me, I think he would go for it right now.
“Slim, where were you when this was happening?” I question.
“Bang Man, I was in the other room! When I heard the noise, I ran in.” Slim is talking real fast. I guess he thinks I’m going to slap him too. “I pulled my razor on him. I tried to cut his throat, but Desire stepped in between us. She talked real bad to me. She called me a dope-shooting-junkie has-been. Big Time, she really hurt my feelings. I told him, if he ever put his hands on my baby, I’d kill him. But she was steady yelling at me.”
“Yeah?” I question.
“Bang Man, that nigga got her going crazy. His money is blinding her! Being that he has a little money, she lets him get away with anything. His other bitches are calling our house and everything. Big Time, I even found a prescription for gonorrhea,” he whispers.
I’m just listening to him. I can’t believe my ears. I know what the problem is. He knows I’m getting money again, and he’s afraid Desire will leave him to be with me.
“Mir, I apologize.” I pull him close. “But don’t let nobody hit your mommy. When Slim leaves, you’ll be the man of the house. You have to hold it down.”
I can see me and Ahmir are going to have a lot of problems. I know I’m a little too hard on him, but I just want him to grow up right. I don’t want him to be like me.
As the kids are getting in the car, Slim speaks. “Big Time, don’t do nothing stupid. No matter what, she’s still going to be with him. She thinks she loves him, but she really loves his money.”
“Slim, this nigga ain’t gonna be hitting on her in front of my kids! It ain’t her I’m worried about. I’m worried about this shit having an effect on my kids. That shit can traumatize them!”
“Bang Man, I feel you but this is a tough situation.”
“Ain’t nothing tough about it! When I see him, I’m going to tell him about it, and if the shit happens again, I’m going to handle his punk ass.”
The situation has me pissed. The punk ass nigga really is mad at me for taking all his customers. He ain’t man enough to take it out on me, so he takes it out on Desire. Now I’m really going to make it hard for him, and I hope he steps out of line so I’ll have a reason to do him. Then no one can say I’m hating on him cause he’s fucking my baby mother. You know how it goes.
While driving them home, I decide to stop in and talk to Desire before I leave. I need to know what’s on her mind.
“Slim, when you go in there, tell Desire to come here.”
“You got it, Big Time!”
“Later fellas,” I shout.
“Bye Daddy,” they reply.
“Later ya’ll!”
I’m waiting impatiently. I wonder what she’s going to say.
Here she comes. She’s looking fashionable as usual. She has on a red and white, hooded velour sweat suit. The pants are tight fitting around her thighs, revealing their thickness. The bottoms of the pants legs are bell-bottomed. Her hair is shiny and straight. The only thing messing her up is her dark sunglasses. It’s 9:00 at night. Why does she need shades on?
“Huh? You wanted me?” she asks.
“Yeah, get in!”
She gets in slowly. Not one time has she looked at me. She’s looking straight ahead. I know she feels crazy with those sunglasses on. It’s pitch dark out here.
“What’s up?” she asks.
“You,” I reply.
“What about me?”
“Desire, what’s up with the shades?”
“Nothing.”
“Isn’t it too dark for shades?”
“No,” she replies.
“Take them off!”
“Why?”
“You know I like to look people in the eyes when I’m talking to them. Take them off.”
“No!” she shouts.
I reach over to take them off. She grabs my hand. I squeeze her wrist until she lets go. “Aghh!” she screams. I snatch her shades off. Her eye is swollen shut. The corner of her eye, which used to be white, is now cherry red. The entire area underneath her eye is black as can be. She’s embarrassed. She lowers her head.
“What happened?” I ask.
“You already know!” she shouts. “Who told you, Ahmad? I’m going to whip his ass!”
“For what? He didn’t give you the black eye,” I shout sarcastically. “Anyway, that’s not who told me!”
“Well, my dope fiend ass father must have told you.”
“Damn Desire, you mad at everybody except the motherfucker who gave you the black eye. I bet you’re not mad at him, are you?”
“Mind your business, Cash!” she shouts. “This don’t have nothing to do with you!”
“This got everything to do with me. He thinks you still want me.”
“They told you that too?”
“It’s true, ain’t it?” I ask. “Desire, you’re too old for that bullshit. Too old to let that little ass boy beat on you. Listen, whatever ya’ll do is between ya’ll, but I’m not going to let him disrespect you in front of my boys. If they watch him disrespect you, then they’ll grow up disrespecting you, and I’m not having that.”
“Cash, stay out of this.”
“You better tell him before I do, cause I ain’t gone talk to his ass,” I admit. “Actions speak louder than words. First he disrespected me, telling them I’m broke and played out. Now this. I let him slide the first time, now I have to get at him.”
“Cash, please let it go,” she begs. “Please stay out of it and let me handle it.”
“How are you going to handle it?” I ask.
“I’m going to leave him alone,” she replies.
“Yeah right. He knows how much you love that money; that’s why he beats on you. He knows he can give you a brand new Gucci pocketbook and you’ll forget all about it. Yeah, he might be taking care of you and giving you whatever you want, but look at the price you have to pay. You have to let him punch you in the face and slap you around just to look fly. That’s a lot of tax to pay!” I shout. “Desire, get yourself together. You’re getting too old for the bullshit.”
“Look who’s talking!” she defends. “You’re older than me and you still on the bullshit too!”
“What bullshit?” I ask.
“That street bullshit!” she replies.
“What you talking about?”
“Cash, stop acting stupid. You know exactly what I’m talking about. That hustling shit!” she states. “You better not come over here giving me a speech while you out here acting like a kid. You damn near 40 years old too. You have two sons, who look up to you like you’re a god. You’re not 18 anymore; you’re a grown ass man. Your sons need you. You can’t keep running in and out of their lives. How about you go to jail again, then what? And don’t think for one minute, they don’t know what you doing. That’s all they talk about. Ahmad told his classmates that you rich. He also told them you’re a big-time drug dealer. His teacher called the house; luckily she’s a friend of mines. I went to school with her; that’s the only reason she didn’t tell the principal. You need to get yourself together too!”
“I am together!”
“No, you are not!”
“Desire, I ain’t hustling!”
“You are a damn lie!” she shouts. “Everybody is talking about it. I took the kids to the barbershop; niggas were in there talking about you. I overheard someone say you got those things for cheap. I ain’t no dummy.”
“You must be. You keep letting that young ass boy play you the fuck out!”
“Don’t change the subject. Cash, get your shit right before you come around here telling me how to live my life!” She gets out of the car and slams the door. Her ass jiggles like Jell-O as she stomps up the stairs.
This cat Ice is starting to be a problem. I can’t believe he told Desire all of my business like that. I definitely have to tighten him up.