D addy-O immediately knew something wasn’t right when he saw Prince. Physically he seemed fine, but he was dressed like an escaped mental patient. Prince whispered something to someone inside the truck and started making his way up the path. Diego was posted up by the center, watching Prince curiously. Prince either didn’t see him or didn’t acknowledge him, never breaking his stride.
“Yo, where the fuck you been?” Daddy-O asked.
“Come with me to change right quick,” Prince said, continuing toward his building.
Along the walk, Daddy-O brought Prince up to speed on what he’d missed during the two days he was MIA. Hearing that little Danny got popped stung. He knew Danny wasn’t built for the game, but he let him rock to keep him from becoming someone else’s meat. It had almost served the little nigga right for going against what he was taught and walking around that dirty. Greed had been the downfall of many a man, and Danny was further proof of that. But wrong or not, Prince had to get him out of jail.
Prince took a quick shower and threw on some sweats and a white T-shirt with his white-on-white Airs. From a lockbox that he kept under his bed, Prince produced a .40 cal. It wasn’t as big as the nine he was used to working with, but it was easier to conceal under the sweats and had just as much stopping power.
“So, you plan on telling me why you came back to the hood looking like a nigga fresh off the boat?” Daddy-O asked.
“My nigga, I’ve had one hell of a day. Twist something up while I run it down to you,” Prince said. While Daddy-O sat on the edge of his bed rolling a blunt, Prince told him about his kidnapping.
“Man, we need to rock that bitch and let her brother hold something too.” Daddy-O lit the weed.
“Nah, we worked it out,” Prince assured him.
“Fuck you mean y’all worked it out? Son, them niggaz had you tied in a basement ass naked. What the fuck could they possibly have offered you to make it right?”
“I can show you better than I can tell you, kid.” Prince sat the newspaper on the bed and slowly unfolded it. In the center sat the two ounces, neatly wrapped in plastic wrap.
“Is that what I think it is?” Daddy-O smiled at the ounces.
“You know it,” Prince beamed. “The old broad says that after we’re done with this, we can get that real weight. We in business, baby!” Prince gave his man a dap. For the next hour the two men smoked blunts and discussed their plans for the future.
It was almost a week before the heat started to die down. The crack business was still flourishing, and Prince’s dope operation was starting to gain momentum. They had little dudes roaming through the projects and the surrounding areas with packages of dope. He didn’t want them sitting in one spot for too long, because Diego might catch on, so he kept them on the move. Either Scatter or Ebony would hit one of the young boys on their Boost phones, which Prince made sure everyone was equipped with. The two dope fiends had proven to be loyal and invaluable in getting Prince’s thing going, and he made sure they wanted for nothing. Scatter and Ebony were holding good dope at all times.
Six days after Prince had gotten the dope from Cano, it was almost gone. Fiends were coming from Harlem and all points north to ride Prince’s train. The dough was pouring in, and he couldn’t wait to drop it off to Cano so he could get the half-bird Mommy had promised.
After putting Mommy’s bread off to the side, Prince paid his workers. He then took fifteen hundred and put it to the side for Danny. He was still locked up, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to need a little something to help fight the case. The public defender was cool for the arraignment, but when Danny went to trial he was going to need a paid mouthpiece. He knew Danny was going through the motions sitting up on Riker’s Island waiting for them to make bail, but there was a method to Prince’s madness. It would look real suspect if they went in and got him out right away. Danny hadn’t had a job in God knew how long, and his mother was on a fixed income so there was no way to account for the money that quick.
The next thing he did was drop a thousand dollars on Keisha and send her down to Tiffany’s for him. She returned with a beautiful sterling set consisting of a necklace and bracelet. Though Marisol was still thoroughly etched onto his shit list, there was no sense in him not caking off her. As long as she was happy, Mommy and Cano would keep him correct with the dope. He dug Marisol, but he loved paper.
Prince packed Mommy’s money in a manila envelope and stuffed it in his pants. With the Tiffany’s bag dangling from his wrist, he headed out the door. As he was touching the avenue to get in his waiting cab, he bumped into Killa-E. The boy obviously had something on his mind because he was sporting a five o’clock shadow and an expression like he had lost his best friend.
“E, what it is?” Prince gave him a dap.
“Shit, out here stressing. I know you heard what happened?”
“Yeah, niggaz said you wigged out on ya baby mama’s boyfriend? They said you popped the nigga and all that.” Prince recalled hearing through the grapevine.
“Yeah, I blacked out on the nigga cause he was talking shit, but I didn’t shoot him, I pistol-whipped his ass,” E lied. “They’re charging me with assault and possession of an illegal firearm. I got lawyer fees up the ass.”
“That’s a bad break, my nigga,” Prince sympathized. “What kind of time you looking at?”
E thought about it for a minute. “On the assault, probably a two to six if this lawyer is any good. That Jew bastard is charging me fifteen thousand to do the case, so I’m out here day and night trying to get it up.”
“True, so I know you working overtime at that spot downtown?” Prince said, with an idea forming in his head.
“I’m rocking these niggaz as best I can with what I go to work with. I ain’t holding enough weight for it to be more than a side hustle and ain’t nobody trying to front me nothing. Knox plugged me to these outta-town niggaz he fuck with from upstate though. They come through and spend a few Gs with a nigga from time to time on the white, but that ain’t really their thing. They say that dope is the new drug of choice up in Binghamton. Just my fucking luck that all the dope connects I know out here got shit that can’t hold more than a three…four if I get lucky. I’m telling you, P, if it wasn’t for bad luck I wouldn’t have none.”
Prince silently measured E’s words. E was in a tough situation, and Prince needed an alternative outlet for the blow he was moving. Not only had E unknowingly provided Prince with that much-needed outlet, but he had possibly found a way to help Prince triple his money. His mouth began to water at the thought of what he would charge the out-of-town cats for what he was holding on to.
“Yo, E, I’m about to put you on to something, but if I find out you told anybody not only am I cutting you off, but I’m fucking you up,” Prince said seriously.
E’s eyes flashed hurt. “Prince, we’ve known each other too long for you to even feel like you’ve got to come at me like that. What’s popping?”
Prince sighed. “A’ight, check it out. I just came up on some shit that’s got the whole Westside popping….”
During the time he spent talking with E his cab had left him, forcing him to call another one. While he was posted up waiting, he heard a voice that sent chills up his spine.
“Prince, what’s good?” Diego smiled at him.
“Ain’t nothing, my dude,” Prince gave him a dap. He made sure that his voice was neutral.
“I’ve been trying to get at you for the last few days but keep getting the voicemail. You ain’t fucking with me, poppy?”
“Oh, I lost my phone a few days ago, that’s all.” Prince played it down like it was nothing. His phone was actually still over at Marisol’s. He made a note to himself to get it back when he got a chance.
“So what’s up, you ready to get back on the money?”
“You know I’m always about my chips, baby, that ain’t changed,” Prince said eagerly. Though he was making respectable money slinging dope, the money he got with Diego was still his primary source of income.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Diego clasped him on the shoulder. “So, that means no more funny business, right?”
“No more what?”
Diego’s face became serious as he spoke. “Prince, I haven’t gotten to where I am in the game without watching everything that goes on around me. I know you’ve had your boys moving this new shit you got with mine.”
“Diego I…”
“You don’t have to explain, Prince. I blame this on myself.” This statement threw Prince off. “See, people told me, but I didn’t see the writing on the wall. You were born to lead, my man, not live in the shadow of someone else. I see that now. This is the reason why I’m gonna put you in charge of your shit. You win, poppy.”
Prince looked at Diego disbelievingly. For as long as he had petitioned him for his own thing, Diego had fought him on it tooth and nail. Now he was supposed to believe that he had a change of heart overnight? There had to be more to the story.
“What’s the catch?”
Diego looked at him as if he was genuinely hurt. “There’s no catch, poppy. Of course you’ll pay the street tax.”
“Of course,” Prince agreed.
“Then there’s the little matter of the heroin.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem, D. I don’t mind kicking in a tax on that as long as I can rock in the hood with it.”
“Oh, no. I don’t want a tax on the blow. I want in.” Prince made to protest, but Diego waved him silent. “Prince, it’s been a long time since there was good dope down this way, and I hear the shit you got is some of the best. Me being a natural business man, I’m trying to capitalize on it. From now on we put our money together on the dope and become partners, fifty-fifty, amigo.”
Prince couldn’t believe the nerve of Diego. A few days ago he suspended him from the block, now he wanted to be his partner. Prince wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but he settled for, “D, I don’t really need a partner on the dope. Me and my people got an understanding about this, so let’s just keep it with the street tax. Look, I’ll even bump it up to twenty percent as opposed to fifteen.”
Diego looked at Prince as if he couldn’t believe he was talking to him like that. “Who the fuck are you to give me a handout? Prince, I made you, not the other way around. Had you been anybody else hustling on my block, I would’ve had one of your own soldiers put something hot in you, but you’re my little man so I let you rock. Don’t you think that entitles me to a little something?”
Prince was so shocked by the move that he just stood there. Diego was still talking, running down the new arrangement between Prince and him. The arrogant bastard even had the nerve to suggest that Prince introduce him to the connect. After he was done, Diego patted Prince on the cheek and headed up the block. Prince watched him leave, feeling nothing but contempt for the man.
There it was. Diego had laid the gauntlet, and now it was Prince’s turn to react. Diego had to be out of his fucking mind if he thought that Prince was just going to allow him to try and muscle his way into his heroin business. Prince would see him dead first. Wiping the spot on his check where Diego had touched him, Prince hopped in the cab to Queens.