Animal (18 page)

The door to the lobby opened up when Fatima and Pam stepped out, bringing the debate to an abrupt end as all eyes went to them. Pam was stunning in a tight-fitting black dress and a pair of sling-back shoes, with heels so high it was amazing that she was even able to walk in them. Fatima had aged five years with a flawlessly made up face and laced hairdo. The black stretch pants she wore looked painted on, and if you looked close enough, you could see that she wasn’t wearing any panties. All of the young men in front of the building ogled her, but it was No-Good who went the extra mile.

“Damn, Fatima, you thicker than a Snicker!” No-Good invaded her personal space.

Pam stepped between them. “Back up, R. Kelly. Ain’t you like thirty-six?”

“Age ain’t nothing but a number,” No-Good shot back. “Where y’all going all dolled up?”

“Out,” Pam said flatly.

“Don’t hurt ’em too bad.” Meek gave Fatima dap.

“You know how I do,” Fatima smiled. She and Meek were cooler than the rest of the youngsters because he wasn’t always trying to sleep with her.

“Anybody with eyes can see how you do, redbone,” No-Good added. “Fatima, when you gonna stop treating me like a stepchild and give a nigga some time?”

“When hell freezes over.” Fatima rolled her eyes.

This drew a laugh from the two sisters who were with Dee and Meek and No-Good didn’t like to be laughed at. “I don’t know what the fuck y’all smuts is laughing at, when all you’re waiting around for is a meal and some stiff dick,” he said venomously.

“Fuck you, old thirsty nigga.” Keisha snaked her neck.

“Better an old thirsty nigga than a young dumb bitch,” No-Good snickered.

“Ya mouth is off the fucking hook,” Fatima said. She had a low tolerance for disrespectful guys, and No-Good was about as disrespectful as they came.

“Shorty, my mouth is good for a whole lot more than talking slick. Why don’t we hook up later, and I might be able to teach you a few things.” No-Good took Fatima by the wrist.

“Nigga, if you don’t get off me I’m gonna teach you how to sell crack with one hand when I cut this cruddy muthafucka off,” Fatima said seriously.

“Yo, why don’t you stop acting like your pussy is made outta gold?” He applied pressure to her wrist.

Fatima winced in pain as No-Good’s grip began to cut off her circulation. “Ow, get off me!”

“Let her go, No-Good.” Pam grabbed at his arm, but he pushed her away.

“Mind your fucking business,” No-Good snarled. “This li’l bitch is always running around like she’s better than everybody else, but she ain’t nothing but another hood rat.”

“Get off!” Pam grabbed for him again, but No-Good’s grip held fast. “Y’all ain’t gonna check this nigga?” she addressed Dee and Meek who both looked like they were confused about what to do.

“Homie, why don’t you be easy?” Ashanti appeared seemingly out of thin air. His eyes were glassy, and there was a scowl plastered across his face. The block seemed to grow deathly quiet. Among the youngsters Ashanti was something of a folk hero for his legendary exploits in the streets. He had been like them, a kid from the bottom, and had successfully clawed his way up the ladder into a position of power in King James’s organization.

“What’s good, Ashanti?” Meek extended his hand to give Ashanti dap. Ashanti ignored him and kept his eyes on No-Good.

“You hear me talking to you?” Ashanti asked No-Good, noticing that he was still holding onto Fatima.

“Fall back, my nigga. Ain’t nobody trying to hear that captain-save-a-ho shit you kicking,” No-Good barked.

“Ho? I don’t see ya mama out here,” Fatima said defiantly.

No-Good turned his attention to her with rage in his eyes. “I got something to close that smart-ass mouth of yours.” He drew his hand back to slap her, but his arm was stopped midswing.

“I said, be easy,” Ashanti warned, holding No-Good’s arm.

No-Good shoved Fatima roughly and gave Ashanti his undivided attention. “Shorty, what the fuck is good with you? You looking for a problem?”

“No, but I got one for you if you want it, Blood,” Ashanti told him.

“I ain’t your muthafucking blood, nigga, so miss me with that five-star shit. Y’all know what I rep,” No-Good boasted. Word on the streets was that he had joined the Crips for protection during his last prison visit.

“Yeah, I know what you rep, and you know how I give it up,” Ashanti said coldly. The tone of his voice made everyone except No-Good take a cautionary step back.

No-Good laughed in Ashanti’s face. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean to me? You got these li’l cats spooked of you, but I know what it is. The only reason you ever got respect in the hood was because of Animal and Brasco, but now both them niggaz is out the box.”

“Why don’t you cut that shit out?” Dee suggested to No-Good. He saw the look on Ashanti’s face. It made him nervous. Unlike the rest of them, he’d seen firsthand what Ashanti was capable of.

No-Good spun on Dee. “Fuck you mean cut it out? Dee, I know you ain’t scared of this li’l pint-sized criminal too?” He shook his head. “I gotta speak to King about bumping me up to management because y’all ain’t built. This li’l pussy,” he thumbed Ashanti, “ain’t killing nothing and ain’t letting nothing die. Fuck him and the bitch who pushed him outta her rank-ass pussy!” No-Good laughed.

Ashanti stood there glaring at No-Good. His ears were filled with No-Good’s mocking laughter. In his mind he was
transported back to when his mother would let her boyfriends humiliate him, then they would sit back and laugh at Ashanti while he cried in the corner, wishing for God to put him out of his misery. The slow-burning fuse that had been lit inside him from the moment No-Good laid hands on Fatima ate up the last bit of the wick and Ashanti exploded.

He swung with so much force that when his fist connected with No-Good’s jaw, it sent a painful shockwave up his arm. No-Good stumbled backward and bounced off the building. He tried to get his wits about him, but before he could, Ashanti was on his ass again, raining rights and lefts to his head and face. No-Good managed to retrieve the razor that was stashed in his pocket, but by the time he brought the blade out, Ashanti had already drawn his gun.

“Never bring a knife to a gunfight, Blood,” Ashanti taunted him.

“Be easy, fam,” No-Good urged. Seeing the big gun stole all of his bravado.

Ashanti slapped fire out of No-Good with the gun. “You wasn’t talking all that easy shit when you called yaself playing me like a sucka. Who the li’l nigga now, homie?”

“You got it,” No-Good said, barely above a whisper.

“What? I didn’t hear you, muthafucka.” Ashanti shoved him against the building.

“I said you got it,” No-Good repeated.

Ashanti cocked the gun and pointed it at No-Good’s forehead. “Ain’t no surrender in war, Blood. Night-night, nigga.”

“Ashanti, don’t!” Fatima rushed over.

“Back up, Fatima. I don’t want ol’ boy’s brains getting on your pretty shoes,” Ashanti told her.

Fatima leaned in and whispered so that only Ashanti could hear her. “And if you blast him in front of all these people, how long do you think it’ll be before somebody sends the police to your doorstep? Let it go, Ashanti.” She tugged at his arm. Reluctantly, Ashanti let Fatima pull him away from No-Good, who was leaning against the building staring daggers at them.

A taxi had just pulled up on the avenue and beeped its horn.

“Fatima, our ride is here. Let’s go,” Pam told her.

Fatima looked at Ashanti who looked like he could still snap at any second. “Nah, go ahead. I’ll meet you down there.”

Pam sucked her teeth. “Fatima, I know you didn’t get all dressed up for nothing. Don’t pull this shit on me.”

“I said I’ll meet you down there,” Fatima repeated.

“I can’t believe this shit. You’re gonna get enough of this block and the bullshit that comes with it.” Pam flipped her hair and sashayed to the waiting taxi.

“Go ahead with your friend, ma. I’m good.” Ashanti was talking to Fatima but still staring at No-Good, trying to decide if he would kill him anyway.

“Nah, she’ll be okay. You need to cool off. Take a walk with me,” Fatima held out her hand.

Ashanti stared at her hand for a few seconds like he was trying to figure out if it was a trick or not. Finally, he took her hand and allowed her to lead him deeper into the projects and away from No-Good. Only when the young killer was out of sight did everyone breathe a collective sigh of relief. Things were quiet again, but little did any of them know, this was only the calm before the storm.

EIGHTEEN

T
HE GRAY
B
ENZ WENT UP
A
MSTERDAM AND
made a left on LaSalle, then crept slowly up the block. Holiday sat on the passenger side, watching the heavy drug traffic moving in and out of the projects and shook his head. There had always been money in Grant, but what Holiday saw that night impressed him. Fiends went in and out like zombies, all wearing the same dumbfounded expressions on their faces. Grant was a gold mine, but Shai wasn’t being given his taste of the proceeds from the new outlaws who had set up shop on the Westside, which is why Holiday had come to pay a call on them.

“Papi, how many times are we gonna drive around this block?” Marisol asked from behind wheel. She was an older Spanish chick who was still cute enough to get a second look, but her secret crack habit had decimated the picture of perfection she used to be.

“We gonna keep driving around until I say otherwise. That was that nigga Ashanti we rode past earlier. If I murder that cat, Shai is sure to give me a promotion. Now stop asking so
many fucking questions and drive.” Holiday lit his cigarette. He had kept Marisol out all day driving him around while he took care of business and hadn’t let her take a blast in hours, so he knew she was jonesing, which is how he had planned it. The more desperate Marisol became to get high the more of a slave to Holiday she would be because she knew he was the man holding the bag. He could’ve set her on fire, and she probably wouldn’t have cared as long as she burned up with a pipe between her lips. The thirstier she was, the more susceptible she would be to go along with the crazy shit he had planned.

“Chill, sis, let me handle what I gotta handle so we can get this paper,” Jesus said from the backseat. He was Marisol’s little brother, a local hardhead with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. “Yo, bro, why don’t I just hop out and let that nigga have it?”

Holiday gave him a dumb look. “Be my guest, if you want Ashanti to blow your fucking brains out. I seen that cat in action. He might be small, but he’s a vicious li’l bastard.”

“Man, fuck him and his whole crew. I’ll smoke any one of them niggaz. I don’t give a fuck!” Jesus declared.

Holiday spun on Jesus and glared at him. “Look, shut the fuck up with all that cowboy shit because I’m tired of hearing it. You can’t just get out and
smoke ’em
because these buildings all have cameras on them, or would you like to go to prison, you dumb muthafucka?”

Jesus was silent.

“That’s just what the fuck I thought.” Holiday continued. “Now fall the fuck back and be ready to get it in when I tell you to.”

Marisol and Jesus were getting on his last nerves. As tired as
they were of driving around, so was he. It was only a few days to his birthday, and instead of getting ready for his party, he was riding around on a mission. He was irritated, but there was nothing he could do about it. He had to handle Shai’s business before he attended to his own.

After chastising Jesus, Holiday went back to surveying the hood. Up ahead he saw four people come down the path that spilled out onto LaSalle, the same four people that Holiday had been watching for the past two hours. Unfortunately, Ashanti wasn’t among them. Holiday saw one of the dudes break off from the group and start walking toward Broadway. He told Jesus what the plan was and had Marisol slow the car down when they passed the trio who were standing around the mailbox. The dude with the two girls tried to stare Holiday down like he was tough, but Holiday smelled the bitch in him. The kid was so focused on Holiday that he paid no attention to Jesus, who was poised to let the TEC ring from the backseat. The kid’s theatrical performance of a real nigga gave Holiday a wicked idea.

“Let Mr. Tough Guy watch while his man get dropped. You ready?” Holiday asked over his shoulder.

Jesus chambered a round into the beat-up TEC-9 he had for the mission. “Yeah, yeah, let’s put a hole in that nigga.”

After a while things died down in front of 3150 and it was back to business. No-Good was still mad and ranting about what he was going to do to Ashanti, but after smoking a blunt he calmed down enough to get back to moving the drugs.

“So what’s up? When we going to eat?” Karen asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Dee sucked his teeth in irritation. “I told you, when the package is gone.”

Karen rolled her eyes. “We’ll probably have died from starvation by the time he finishes knocking off all that work. How about you give me some money so me and Karen can go get something to eat while y’all handle your business? We can all hook back up later.”