Diamonds and Pearl (2 page)

“A'ight, y'all got what you came for, so you can split,” Slim continued.

“Not just yet.” The fat gunmen with the AK moved over to Slim. His eyes were on the gaudy diamond pinky ring on Slim's left hand. “Run that, too.”

“Man, this old ring ain't worth nothing to nobody but me. It was a gift from my wife. I lost her last year, and this is how I keep her close to me,” Slim said sincerely.

The diamond-toothed man saw the situation about to take a turn in the wrong direction, so he intervened. “Fat man, my own grief already heavier than my shoulders can take. I don't need to add yours to it, so keep the ring.” All he wanted was to get what they'd come for and get out, but his partner had other ideas.

“Fuck that! We came for everything,” the fat robber insisted. Behind his mask, his eyes flashed a hatred toward Slim that few understood. For his partner, it was business; but for him, it was personal.

“Kid, why don't y'all just get the fuck outta here before somebody gets hurt?” Larry said in an easy tone. He knew he'd fucked up by letting the masked men get the drop on him, and he was trying to make up for it by getting to his gun, which was hidden under the newspaper he'd been reading.

“Fuck that!” the fat robber snapped. “Y'all niggaz ain't the kings of the hill no more, so don't tell me what to do!”

“Kings of the hill? Young boy, in case you ain't noticed, the hill is turning into a damn mudslide,” Slim said with a chuckle.

“You laughing at me?” The fat robber turned to Slim, eyes blazing. Before his partner could stop him, he clubbed Slim in the head with his machine gun, knocking him off the bed and onto the floor.

“Boy, you lost your senses?” The diamond-toothed robber shoved the fat one away from Slim. He'd seen his partner in his rages before and wanted to prevent what he knew would happen if he let it go too far. “Check yo muthafucking feelings and stay focused on this paper.”

“I wouldn't have cracked him if he hadn't been laughing at me,” the fat robber argued.

“Wasn't nobody laughing at you; I was just trying to ease the tension a little.” Slim hauled himself back onto the bed. His lip was bleeding and his jaw felt cracked, but the blow had also helped to jog his memory. “You know, I done met plenty of cats in my day weren't big on humor, but there's only one who comes to mind who gets to crying like a bitch when he thinks he's being laughed at. What's up, John-Boy?”

“Greasy little nigga!” Aaron hissed. When he spoke, it made a funny whistling sound, because he was now missing his front teeth. They had known John-Boy since he was a fat little kid stealing snacks out of the corner store.

“And if that's John-Boy, I'm guessing you're Diamonds,” Slim addressed the diamond-toothed robber as the pieces began falling into place. “This fat piece of shit ain't got the brains or the balls to walk into this one without somebody putting the battery in him.”

“Since all the cards on the table, I guess ain't no need for these.” Diamonds pulled his mask off and shook his dreads lose from the stocking cap that'd been holding them down. His face was smooth and golden, with high cheekbones and slanted eyes. Diamonds had always been a hit with the ladies, but his heart belonged to the streets.

“After all I've done for your little asses, this is how you come at me?” Slim was genuinely offended.

“Manti,”
Diamonds accused. “Slim, feed your lies to someone who don't have eyes and ears, because ain't no sane man gonna believe a lunatic. You sat back and watched while we fought like dogs for the scraps that fell off your plate. How long you think you can deny hungry dogs proper meals before they learn to hunt on their own?” He hoisted the duffel bag full of Slim's cash for emphasis.

“You think y'all can come in here and take our shit like we soft?” Larry snapped, not able to hold his tongue with the disrespectful youths.

“Funny, because that's exactly what was happening,” Diamonds said sarcastically.

Slim shook his head. “You know, from the first time I seen you and your brother crawl up outta the swamp and into my city, I knew you were going to be trouble. I tried to nurture you little niggas and teach you about loyalty and how to get paper, but I should've cut you down like the dogs you were.”

“And therein lies the problem, fat man. You see a young nigga from the mud and don't see nothing but a servant … somebody to do the shit you ain't got the balls to do on your own. All risks and no reward. If you had it your way, I'd have been eating out of your hand until the end of my days, but this is not to be. I ain't gonna die no soldier, brah. I gots to be the king or nothing!
Bonswa,
fat man.” Diamonds scooped up an additional duffel bag and began backing out of the room, leaving John-Boy to collect the other ones.

John-Boy scooped up two bags and carried a third in his free hand. He swept the AK back and forth, in case anybody had any ideas, and followed his partner. Seeing the furious look on Slim's face, he decided to add insult to injury. “Don't feel bad, Slim. We're doing you a favor by robbing you. Your fat ass looks like you could stand to miss a meal or three,” he taunted. He had just turned to leave when pain exploded in his back. He staggered forward, nearly crashing into Diamonds when he fell at his feet.

Seeing his childhood friend fallen, Diamonds didn't even think; he just reacted. Shrugging off the duffel bags, he brought the M16 into play. The assault rifle swung up, expelling shell casings the size of ink pens and ejaculating vengeful fire from the muzzle. With a sweep of his arm, he tore the furniture in the bedroom to pieces en route to cutting Larry in half. Aaron threw his hands up in surrender as if to signal that it hadn't been him, but it didn't make him exempt from Diamonds's rage. The grief-stricken man got close up on Aaron before burring the barrel of the M16 into Aaron's chest, pulling the trigger and turning him into meat. When he turned the gun on where Slim had been sitting, all he found was an empty bed.

The hulk of a man had rolled over the bed and was making a mad dash to the other side of the room. Diamonds tried to cut him down, but Slim was more evasive than Diamonds had given him credit for. He was well over three hundred pounds, but the fear of death gave him the speed of a man one-quarter his size. The M16 rattled to life one last time before clicking empty, and Diamonds heard Slim cry out just as his huge frame crashed through the window. Diamonds wasn't sure how many times he'd hit him, but if the bullets didn't kill him, the headfirst fall would.

Diamonds turned his attention back to John-Boy, who was down but still breathing. Diamonds knelt beside him to assess the damage. “How bad?” He pulled the ski mask from John-Boy's face to help him breathe a little easier. It was a redundant question. The blood pooling from beneath the fallen soldier and soaking the knees of Diamonds's jeans already answered it.

“I'm fucked up,” John-Boy said, and coughed, sending a trickle of blood down his chin. He was grabbing for his sweat shirt, trying to lift it, but his fingers didn't seem to want to cooperate.

Cautiously, Diamonds lifted the front of the sweat shirt. It was soaked, and it clung to John-Boy's portly stomach. When Diamonds spotted the leaking wound in John-Boy's chest, he had to swallow the gasp that had almost escaped him. It was a mortal wound. “Damn, what happened to the vest I gave you?”

John-Boy managed to muster a weak smile and showcased his bloodstained teeth. “It was fucking with my aim.” He winced as if he was in pain, but then his face was calm again. “Don't tell Buda that I got caught slipping. I know he's gonna be pissed at me, and I don't wanna hear his mouth. After the last time, he told me that if I fucked up again, then y'all was gonna cut me out.”

“Buda was just talking shit. We'd never cut you out. The four of us is brothers—don't you go forgetting that.” Diamonds had known John-Boy and Buda as long as he'd known anybody in New Orleans. They were the first kids he and Goldie had met when the department of child services had found them being raised by their aunt in a backwater shack and forced her to enroll the two boys in a regular school with other kids their ages. With Diamonds and his brother spending most of their lives in seclusion in the woods of rural Louisiana and speaking more Creole than the Queen's English, the transition hadn't been an easy one, but Buda and John-Boy had helped them through it. They were amongst the rare few who didn't tease them for their ragged clothes and bare feet, or Diamonds for his thick accent.

The sound of footsteps behind him caused Diamonds to spin, drawing the backup .45 he had shoved into his pants. He was angry and in a shoot-first mood, but his trigger finger was stayed when he saw his brother, Goldie, round the corner with Hank.

Goldie was three years Diamonds's junior, but hard living and a thick black goatee made him appear slightly older. He stood at a wiry six foot three, with deep olive-toned skin and eyes that had seen too much too soon. On his cheek, just below his left eye, were tattooed the numbers 187, so there was no mistaking exactly what he was about. His signature black bandanna hung loosely around his neck, and you could see the tips of his cornrows hanging from the black beanie on his head. Something was just about to roll off his tongue, but when he spotted his brother hunched over his best friend, the words died on his tongue. He and John-Boy were closer in age, so they often found themselves spending a great deal of time in each other's company, trailing their older brothers as they found creative ways to break the law.

“From the way you're looking at me, you'd think I was dead already,” John-Boy tried to joke.

“You ain't gonna die.” Hank knelt beside Diamonds over John-Boy. “If you kick the bucket on us, we'll have to burry you here, because there's no way we'll be able to haul your fat ass out,” he joked while checking John-Boy's wounds. Hank had some medical experience from his time in the army. He was by no means licensed to practice medicine, but he had done a better than average job patching up the homies after battles over the years. The solemn look on Hank's face confirmed what Diamonds had already suspected.

“You ain't gotta say it, Hank. I know I'm a goner.” John-Boy read the old head's eyes.

“I ain't lost a man in the field since ninety-eight, and I ain't gonna have you fucking up my streak. Somebody, help me get him up.” Hank tugged at one of John-Boy's arms, trying to get him to his feet. It took the combined efforts of himself and Diamonds to get him up.

“Damn, this shit hurt!” John-Boy cried out.

“I ain't never known a gunshot that felt good,” Diamonds capped, looping John-Boy's arm around his neck to help support his weight, which was no easy feat. Diamonds scooped up one of the duffel bags, slinging it over his free shoulder before helping Hank get John-Boy to the door. “Goldie, grab as many of them bags as you can carry, and follow us downstairs. You and Dip can come back for the rest once we get him clear.”

“Solid,” Goldie replied, and stated grabbing bags.

With Diamonds and Hank half carrying, half dragging John-Boy between them, they were able to struggle downstairs, only to find themselves knee-deep in water. The tide was rising faster now, and it was only a matter of time before the house and the corpses inside were washed away with everything else.

“This is some bullshit here. I'm a gangster, not no damn fish!” Goldie said, trying futilely not to get the money wet. He was nervous that the heavy bags would pull him under the water, but he was too greedy to let any of them go.

“Shut yo ass up and keep that money dry!” Hank shouted. He tripped over something he couldn't see, and nearly dropped John-Boy into the water.

“First ol' boy upstairs shot me, and now your old ass is trying to drown me,” John-Boy joked.

“Better this then letting them patch you up in the prison hospital,” Diamonds told him. “Now, quit wasting your energy bumping your gums, and try get them legs moving. Hank, how'd everything go with them boys Slim had out back?” He'd assigned Hank and Goldie with the tasks of taking out the guards around the house and rounding up the dope, while Buda and Dip were responsible for their exits.

“They was like cats in the freezer—cold pussies!” Hank said in an amused tone. “When Goldie laid the first two out, the rest took off running. Do you know Slim's crazy ass was actually trying to get the dope out of here in a truck?”

“Ain't nothing with wheels moving out there,” Goldie added. “Old Slim must've forgotten that damn near the whole city is underwater.”

“It's a good thing we didn't,” Diamonds said with a knowing smirk. He pulled out his Nextel and hit the chirp button on the side. It was the signal to let Buda know they were ready to go.

They had just cleared the front door with John-Boy and the money in tow when two airboats eased to stops in what used to be the front yard. Buda and Dip thought Diamonds was crazy when he suggested using the boats to make their escapes, but in light of all the streets unexpectedly flooding, Diamonds's foresight had worked in their favor.

Buda stood at the helm of the lead boat, bald head slick with rain, his thick Santa-like beard completely waterlogged. Like John-Boy, Buda was short and thick, but his body was composed almost entirely of muscle. He jumped down into the waist-deep water to help Goldie, who was struggling to load the duffel bags onto the deck. When he saw Diamonds and Hank carrying his brother out, he abandoned the money and waded through the water to them.

“I know that ain't my baby brother.” Buda's voice trembled at the sight of the boy he'd promised his grandmother on her deathbed that he'd always look out for. John-Boy dangled like a wet noodle between Diamonds and Hank, bloody and pale.

“They caught me slipping,” John-Boy said, offering a weak explanation.