Chapter 10

 

By the beginning of May, Jahad and Eric were both fed up with shopping around for studio time. Money wasn’t an issue; it was the studio owners. They refused to rent out whole weekends, claiming the slot time was already taken. Eric, eager to get his music out, suggested they build their own studio. His cousin Anthony, who went by the name Atomic, was a DJ/Producer who never really had a chance to make it big, would happily produce tracks for them, so all they needed was a building and the equipment. Jahad just as eager to get the ball rolling went along. From there they struck a deal with Joe to keep working for him part-time, in return for him renting a building under his name. Joe agreed only after being assured that he wasn’t getting involved in anything illegal and rented a abandoned bodega on Webster avenue. It was small inside, but perfect for what they had in mind. Using one of Joe’s vans, they hauled the old counter aisles and coolers out, and then had carpenter’s come in to build a soundproof booth and slots for the studio equipment, which Jahad bought hot off the street, going through his old fencer Buddha. The SSL AWS 900 switchboard, Open Lab Neko 64 keyboard, API Lunchbox, AKGC 414 B-XLII microphones, and other equipment Atomic hooked up through a Microsoft computer.

Wanting the studio to have a gutter Hip-Hop appeal, the walls were painted black then a graffiti artist came in and tagged the walls. Afterwards, posters of Hip-Hop legends were hung. Rakim and Eric B., Biggie Smalls, Tupac, KRS-One, Big L, A.G. and Showbiz, Fat Joe, Big Pun, Cool G. Rap, Slick Rick, and The Sugar Hill Gang to name a few. A disco ball hung from the ceiling bouncing colorful red, blue, silver, and yellow lights off the walls and black carpet. Jahad bought expensive second hand furniture off an old white couple from Long Island after making a furniture delivery to their ten room mansion, finding they were putting it in storage. By the time the studio was complete, over a hundred thousand dollars had been spent.

Rap sessions in the park had almost become a daily event. It was there that they came up with material to be used in the studio after Eric started taping each session. The day before the studio would officially be opened; tired but excited, Jahad and Eric made their way to the park after work for one last session.

The songs for their first underground CD were complete. Twelve hot songs would shake up underground Hip-Hop. Eric had six solos, Jahad had two, Tony had two, and the other two were collaborations with the whole clique. Some of the material from their last session would possibly be used for a bonus track.

As they approached their friends the first thing Jahad noticed was the grim looks on their faces. Derrick paced back and forth in front of the bench; his hands bunched up into fist at his side. Razor sat at the end of the bench; his eyes glued on Tony maliciously. Tony sat on the other end away from Razor; his head down in his hands. Kwan, Joey, and Cream sat on the other side with their backs turned to Jahad and Eric.

“What the hell wrong with you niggas?” Jahad asked addressing Tony, “Ya’ll act like ya’ll got robbed or something.”

Razor pushed himself off the bench without taking his eyes off Tony, “Tell him what’s up Tone, since you on that sucka shit.”

Tony stood quietly and advanced on Razor, but stopped in his tracks when Razor spit the Gem Star from his mouth.

“C’mon nigga!” Razor taunted holding the Gem Star, ready to strike. “You wanna set it on me, but won’t do shit when a nigga fucks with fam’. I’ll be happy to buck-fifty your shook ass.”

“Ayo, hold the fuck up!” Jahad yelled moving between them, “What the hell is going on?”

“What you scared?” Derrick said standing beside Razor, “Tell him what happened nigga!”

Tony shook his head dismal, as Cream turned to face Jahad. Both his eyes were purplish black and swollen almost completely shut. His lips looked light giant slugs split down the middle, a gap where three of his top teeth were missing.

“What the fuck!” Jahad shouted, “Ayo, who did that shit... you Tone?”

“Tha’ go go wins ‘uiet...” Cream began pitifully, looking as if he were about to cry before Jahad cut him off.

“What the fuck he trying to say?”

The clique turned their attention to Tony, waiting for him to answer.

“The Coco Twins lieutenant Man-Man and Cream got in a fight.”

“What?...When?”

“About an hour ago.”

“Out here?”

Tony nodded.

“Ya’ll were out here when he got his ass beat?”

Tony nodded again.

Jahad squinted his eyes, “So why the fuck is Cream fucked up and you niggas ain’t? Or did ya’ll fuck the nigga up who did it?”

“Tried to. Tone let Man-Man fight Cream knowing he’s softer than baby shit.” Derrick said looking at Tony disgustedly, “It ain’t like we ain’t try to step up to the plate. Tone was on that other shit.”

“You niggas don’t understand!” Anger and pain burned in Tony’s eyes at being looked down on by his friends. “The Coco Twins are too strong. Look over there. Look!” He nodded towards the handball court where around twenty people were gathered, “All them muthafuckas over there rock with the Coco Twins, and that’s only a small part of their crew.”

Jahad looked over at the crowd, and then back at Tony, his face full of scorn, “Oh, I understand. Them Puerto Rican niggas got you shook. How in the hell can you just sit around and watch your man get stomped out?”

“It was a one on one Jah!”

“I don’t give a fuck what it was. You don’t let it go down like that!” Jahad yelled, stepping towards Tony raising his hands.

Eric grabbed his arm, “Ayo, chill Jah. That’s your man.”

Jahad glared at Eric, but held his ground, “Yeah, that’s my man, but that’s that bullshit.” He turned back to Tony, “This is how it’s going down, I’m ‘bout to go over here and fuck that nigga Man-Man up. If them other niggas wanna get it, so be it, but ya’ll better hold me down.”

“Jah this...”

“Jah what!” He screamed. The thought of someone beating up on Cream while his friends watched infuriated him. “Bring your ass on. Cream you bring your soft ass too.”

Eric fell in line as they began walking, but Jahad stopped him, “Chill Sun, this ain’t your beef. I’ll meet you at the studio tomorrow.”

Eric laughed sarcastically, “What the fuck you mean it ain’t my beef? You buggin’.”

Jahad gave him a brief smile and faced his clique, “You niggas got hammers on you?”

“I got mine.” Razor pulled up his sweater exposing a .45 automatic.

Tony shot him a sideward’s glance, “You know damn well we ain’t suppose to be holding hammers out here when we hustling. You know how the police is.”

“I ain’t trying to hear that shit. What’s the use in having a damn gun if you ain’t gon’ have it when some shit pop off.”

“Good point,” Jahad agreed, “but hopefully we won’t need it. C’mon.”

Together they crossed the park with Jahad in the lead. From all directions, every living soul in the park who wasn’t high on crack focused their attention on them. The tension could be felt, radiated in waves, and clogged the air like spring pollen.

“Which one is Man-Man?” Jahad asked scanning the crowd who were equally watching them.

Derrick stepped up, “The dude in the middle leaning against the wall in the blue and white Averix. Want me to rock him?”

“Nah, I got him.” Jahad said, sizing Man-Man (Manuel) up from the distance. He guessed they were around the same height and build, but knocking him out wasn’t his concern. What bothered him was the fact that they were out numbered three to one, with only one gun. His mind screamed, leave and re-group; his pride pushed him forward though. “Check it, I’ma try to get scrams to go head up with me, but if the guns come out you niggas better die with me!” He said fiercely before turning his attention to Razor. “Ayo, if it go down like that body as many of them muthafuckas before they do us.”

Razor nodded, “I woulda did that earlier if Tone wasn’t on that chill shit.”

“You damn right I said chill!” Tony exploded, “These Puerto Rican niggas don’t shake me man. We gotta think about the future tho’; remember Jah? We came too far to fuck it up now.”

“I feel you, but when it comes to fam’ certain shit can’t be avoided.”

Tony shook his head, “You ain’t thinking Jah.”

Jahad ignored him, focusing his attention on Manuel, as they approached the handball court. “Ayo Man-Man or whatever the fuck they call you, me and you need to build on some grown man shit.”

Manuel studied Jahad while his crew formed a semi-arc around him, “I’m right here, so what’s up? And who the fuck is you anyway?”

“I’m Jah, that’s who I am. And the nigga you fucked up, that was my fam’. Now it can go do one or two ways. We can get busy with our hammers and whatnot, some of my people gon’ get hit up, some of your people gon’ get hit up, but in the end some of us gon’ get sent up North for bodies. Or, you and me can shoot the one and whoever wins win. In fact, I’ll fight all your mans head up. However you wanna do it, unless you only beat up on niggas who can’t fight.”

Manuel laughed, “You can’t be serious. You hear this dude?” He asked looking around at his crew, “On some real shit, I’ll fuck you up out here man.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Jahad cracked a smile looking behind Manuel at the rest of his crew, “any of you other dudes want next?”

A big black dude with long dreadlocks’ looking like he could play professional football, walked up beside Manuel, “Yeah, I want next, since you talking so damn much, I’ma break your jaw if my man don’t break it first.”

“Promises, promises,” Jahad said, his smile still in place. “Peep this Man-Man, my mans won’t get involved but if they see one of your people reaching its gon’ be fucked up out here for both of us. So tell ‘em to chill.”

“As long as your mans don’t make no funny ass moves when I knock your ass out, you have nothing to worry about.”

Jahad laughed, “Vice versa, but you talking won’t knock me out so let’s get busy.” He started bouncing on his toes.

“Ayo, watch this shit Sun.” Eric whispered to Tony.

“What?”

“Just watch.”

Manuel took off his jacket and from his waist pulled a Ruger 9 mm. He placed the gun and jacket on the concrete beside him, and then put up his guard. Judging by how he held his hands guarding his face, his elbows tucked tightly again his sides; Jahad knew Manuel had some boxing experience. It didn’t matter, this was a street fight, not a boxing ring and Manuel had no idea what was about to be thrown at him.

Before Manuel could even throw a punch, Jahad pivoted around him, and just as he turned released a flurry of short left jabs, twisting his wrist with each thrust to make sure every blow that landed, cut like a razor. Manuel stumbled back, shaking his head, but Jahad didn’t let up. He moved in, ducked, and started at Manuel’s stomach with hard lightning fast lefts and rights, raising up until the last punch to the middle of his forehead sent him falling back into the arms of the big black dude.

“If I wanted I could make it quick. I’ma punish your ass tho’, like you did my man.” Jahad said backing up. “Get him ready big boy, and you get ready ‘cause you up next.”

The black dude glared at Jahad as he helped Manuel to his feet, while off to the side Razor eased the 45 out and held it behind his back.

Once he got himself together, Manuel stayed out of range of Jahad’s right hand, his confidence fading. He was tempted to say fuck it, and get his crew involved, but Jahad’s warning about them both catching a bad end was stuck in his mind. Summoning his wits he used his left jab to keep Jahad from coming in, then threw a quick overhand right followed by a left hook. The punches fell short as Jahad weaved to the side and released a hard straight right. The blow connected with Manuel’s nose and shattered the bone with a loud Crunch! Manuel dropped to the concrete on his hands and knees, while blood poured from his nose and splattered the ground like fat rain drops.

“Stay there until you get your shit together. When you get up I’ll go ‘head and knock your ass out... I promise.”

Manuel shook his head back and forth, fighting to stay conscious. While he recovered, Jahad kept a steady eye on his crew, praying they wouldn’t pull their guns. If so, his only option was to try and reach Manuel’s gun before he got hit otherwise he would be in a hell of a bind.

“You ready?” Jahad asked after about three minutes, as Manuel started getting to his feet. “If so, I give you my word that I’ma put your ass to sleep real fast.”

Manuel glanced at Jahad, then cut his eyes at his gun, which was only a few feet away, wondering if he could get to it before Jahad reached him.

Reading his mind, Jahad shook his head, “Don’t even think...”

“BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!”

Gunshots erupted behind Jahad, paralyzing him with fear until he noticed Manuel scrambling towards his gun. Feeding off the fear, he dove to the ground and drove his fist into the back of Manuel’s head just before he reached the gun. With his head tucked low he crawled until reached the gun then aimed blindly towards the last spot he saw Manuel’s crew standing. To his surprise everybody was gone except for the big black dude who was lying not too far away clutching his stomach.

“What the fuck happened!” Jahad shouted over the ringing in his ears.

Razor looked at him grinning from ear to ear, holding the 45 at his side. “I saw Duke flinch like he was reaching so I gave it to him and a few more of them muthafuckas before they ran off. Scrams took most of ‘em tho’. Casually he walked over to the black dude and aimed at this head, “Say night, night.”

“No! Don’t do that shit Razor!” Tony rushed over and pushed the gun in the air, “What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t merk that nigga out here like that.”

Razor snatched away, screwing up his face, “Why the hell not? It’s on now anyway. Shit, he might be the nigga in the long run to body me. Now get the fuck out the way before I shoot your ass!”

“Ayo chill Razor, he’s right.” Jahad said moving between them, “It’s too many eyes out here, but I feel you. Now let’s get the fuck outta here before the police get here. We’ll go up on my roof so we can build ‘cause if it’s gon’ be war, then we gon’ be prepared.”

As they walked off, the crowds in the park followed them with their eyes all having the same thought. Who in the hell were these dudes to have the heart to start beef with the Coco Twins? The answer to their questions would go unanswered, but who these dudes would become in the future would be the product of some of their nightmares.

Ten minutes later they were on the roof standing near the ledge, watching as police strung yellow police tape around the handball court. From the distance, the police looked like ants moving about busily, questioning the few people who were still lingering around, mainly crack heads. Two ambulances were parked at the edge of the handball court while attendants wheeled Manuel and the big black dude to it’s’ back doors, which were flying open.

Jahad turned from the ledge with the weight of their situation bearing down on his mind. The way things looked, there was no way out, blood had already been shed. If the Coco Twins wanted to maintain their street reputation, which was a very important part of their business, they had to retaliate. Another thought struck Jahad; he couldn’t back down. If he or any of his crew showed any sign of weakness, the Coco Twins would definitely keep the pressure on. What they had to do was keep striking. Show the Coco Twins there was no fear, and that they were down for whatever. With that thought he turned to Tony.

“How many people the Coco Twins got on their team who’s really built like that?”

“I can’t say for sure, but it’s a lotta them muthafuckas.”

“That don’t mean shit. Strength ain’t really in numbers, it’s the individual. We saw that a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, but I’ll tell you what I do know. They’re probably more than eighty deep so it’s bound to be some niggas mixed up in there who get busy. We’re what, eight deep, seven excluding Cream.”

Cream frowned, “I bus’ I ‘un…”

“Shut the fuck up, Cream!” Tony snapped, “You fam’, but in some beef I’d rather Koran hold me down.”

“Ayo, give Sun a break Tone,” Jahad said, feeling sorry for Cream. It wasn’t his fault that he was a coward. He was born that way. “On some real shit tho’ Cream, if it comes down to it you will have to bus’ your gun ‘cause we ‘bout to take these muthafuckas to war.”

Tony’s eyes grew wide, “You know what you sayin’ Jah? Ain’t no way in hell we can go up against the Coco Twins and win.”

“I ain’t say shit about us winning, but the way I see it, once we show ‘em that we ain’t puss’ and they can’t make no money in none of their spots, then they might come at us on some peace shit.”

“And if it ain’t, how you see it?”

Jahad shrugged his shoulders, “Then we gon’ have to kill ‘em before they get us. Now check it, from sun up to sun down we gon’ be in the studio. When it gets dark, we set it. Tone, you said they had spots on Ftelly and Commonwealth Ave, right?”

“Yeah, Beach Ave too.”

“Tomorrow night we’ll hit up the spot on Ftelly, then chill a few days and hit the one on Commonwealth. I’ma see if I can get you niggas some vest. The one I got cost fifteen hundred, so bring your dough to the studio in the morning so I can go see my man. And keep your guns cocked at all times. Until this beef is over we gon’ keep coming until they wanna squash it, we kill ‘em, or they kill us; feel me?

Everybody nodded, except Tony, “Jah this is suicide man. We got a chance to make it with this shit. We can make it. You know I don’t give a fuck about dying with you, but over this crazy shit.” He glared at Cream, “We right at the door Jah. Right there!”

“What the fuck we supposed to do Tone? Bow down to these Puerto Rican niggas, cop deuces? When have we ever copped deuces?”

Tony didn’t answer; his pleading would be in vain. Jahad’s mind was set and nothing he could say would change it.

“When it’s on homey, it’s on.” Jahad continued putting an arm around Tony’s shoulder, “Whatever the outcome it’ll be known that we held it down and didn’t go out like suckas. So chill with all the stressin’. The only thing you need to be stressin’ is laying down your verses tomorrow.”