“ALWAYS KEEP IT ONE HUNDRED.”
That phrase was Wood’s favorite. It defined his character. Whatever decision one makes in this life, make sure one believes in it to the fullest. Go hard or don’t go at all. People stand behind those who are sincere in their actions. No one respects someone who lives life sideways. Wood preached those phrases daily. If he turned his pistol on a man and that man shot him first, Wood wished the shooter the best in his future life—even if the bullet landed Wood in a wheelchair. Wood believed people have to live with the consequences of each decision. One must take the good and the bad.
When I first moved down to south Miami-Dade, I had to gain a foothold. The resident tough guys in the hoods south of downtown Miami in neighborhoods like Ghouls, Perrine, Naranja, and Richmond Heights weren’t going to let me come down there and disrespect them. Cutler Manor, Chocolate City, and Rainbow City all looked a lot like the Beans. There were crap games, hookers, and dope houses. It’s never personal when one steps onto another man’s turf and he takes the offensive. It’s just the way of the hood. In a puppy litter the weak puppy most likely dies. Dudes prey on soft cats in the projects.
The fighting wasn’t personal. We knocked each other out, then dusted each other off and commenced breaking bread. My reputation had already hit down south. Hollywood had told everybody about his “wild” younger brother raising hell in the Beans.
The look on Wood’s face when I got down there was classic. He looked me up and down and shook his head. I’d been wearing the same stained T-shirt, torn jeans, and cruddy sneakers for two days. I even smelled bad.
“My little brother got to stay fresh always,” he said.
Wood was generous. If someone came around him, he took care of them. If Wood ate filet mignon, his friends ate filet mignon. Wood went to his closet and threw me a pair of black Dickies shorts and a pair of brand-new Travel Foxes. Those shoes were the status symbol back then. Wood rocked the British Knights sneakers and matching jumpsuit. No one in the hood was fresh as that. He even had a block phone. His jewelry was blinding. People called my brother Hollywood for a reason.
“Try those on,” said Wood. “Yeah, now buddy looking right.”
He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. It looked like a stack of thousands. Up until then I thought that kind of cash was reserved for the older dope boys. I was dead wrong. Wood was getting money like he had been in the game for over a decade. He handed me a couple hundred dollars.
“This is yours right here,” he said.
Outside, the parking lot mirrored a car show. Wood had about a dozen cars. He had pairs of Mercedes-Benzes, BMWs, and Maximas. The older hustlers liked driving Chevys and Lincolns. Wood had those, but he also had a fondness for the foreign cars.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. First and foremost I was proud. I knew my father was making a lot of money as well, but we didn’t have much of a relationship so I didn’t care. Hollywood showed me love. He took me under his wings.
That weekend he took me to Ghoul’s Park. It’s where everyone hung out. Dudes were playing basketball and others were freestyling rap lyrics. The park was where folks flossed back in those days. I didn’t really have much leisure time when I stayed in the Beans, and I think Hollywood knew this. So he made sure to take me everywhere he went. He introduced me to Dante, Tronne, Tater, Bodeem, and HB.
“This that wild nigga I was telling y’all about,” he told them.
I didn’t say anything at first. I wasn’t shy. I was just sizing those dudes up. It’s not a cliché when cats in the street say real recognizes real. One can usually look a person in the eyes and get a glimpse of what’s in his soul. Someone who’s hiding something will rarely or hardly ever look you in the eyes. Dante stared into mine.
“What’s up homey? Wood said you a problem up in the city!” he chuckled.
“Nah, bruh. I just don’t take kindly to dudes trying me,” I answered.
“Told y’all the nigga is a problem,” said Wood.
Before long we were all connected at the hip. Hollywood was on the road a lot, bringing the white girl into Miami. He was making money in Georgia, Virginia, and the Carolinas. I think Wood was even making money as far as Chicago. Back then, any weight coming through Miami was being picked up. The port was just too hot. So Wood had his supplier do what Mundey and Roberts did. He had it flown to Georgia and driven down.
I was itching to get my hands on the powder. All that money I saw made me daydream, but I had just got thrown out the Beans and caused Pearl so much hell that I tried my hand at school one last time. Besides, high school was right around the corner. That’s when the honeys really start to look good. The main motivation for me and the other fourteen-year-old boys entering the ninth grade were the ladies. That’s when girls started looking voluptuous. I couldn’t wait.