Prince of the City (12 page)

Linda walked in with a big smile.

“Did you like your birthday gift, Malik?”

“I loved it, Aunt Linda.”

Peaches headed toward the door with her head lowered. Before leaving, she turned and said, “Malik, you couldn't have loved your gift. You only liked it for the moment.”

Linda looked at Peaches and then at Malik. “Is everything okay here?”

“Yeah, everything's fine,” Malik answered.

“No it ain't. Linda, let's go. I'll tell you about it,” Peaches said.

“Malik, did you behave yourself?”

“Yes, I did. Did you talk to Sonny James?” he asked.

“Yes, but first, I wanna know what went on in here,” Linda replied.

“Come on, let's just go,” Peaches told her.

Malik just looked at Linda and threw his hands in the air.

“I'll see you when I get back. And don't leave.”

“Damn! What? I'm on punishment now?”

“Boy, don't get smart with me,” Linda said in a firm tone.

“A'ight, I ain't going nowhere.”

“Good ‘cause when I come back we need to talk,” she told him while leaving.

The moment Linda left, Malik sat back and shook his head in disbelief. “Damn, what a birthday,” he said, throwing his hands in the air.

 

Chapter 15

-A HUSTLER'S AMBITION-

 

 

hile waiting for Linda to come back, Malik called all the numbers on his pager. That was when he learned from talking to one of his workers named Booga, that Louie got locked up earlier on Seventh and T Streets.

Damn, I hope the nigga aint have shit on him. “Ay, Booga, did he get caught with anything?”

“I dunno. They had me laid down in the alley. They did impound his car, so he might have had something in that joint.”

“I hope Louie ain't that dumb, riding around dirty in a luxury car.”

“I don't think so, but I can tell you one thing.”

“What's that?”

“Man, Louie was out here lookin' for you 'bout two hours. He was mad as shit too.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Man, when you gonna come out here and put some work out? Ain't nobody got nothin', and this joint is jumpin' like crazy.”

“I'll be out there later on with some different shit. Tell everybody I'm giving out testers to the first fifty customers.”

“A'ight, I'll do that.”

“Good then. Did Louie say he had something for me?”

“Nah. You know Louie is secretive. You might be with him all day and don't even know he's strapped with a machine gun.”

Malik laughed. “Yeah, you're right. I'll see you later. In the meantime, while you're out there, try and find out if Louie got caught with anything on him.”

“A'ight. You just hurry up and get out here. A nigga's ill. We dope fiends, remember?”

“I got you,” Malik replied while laughing. He ended the call, somewhat worried about Louie.

Malik took another shower and then dressed in his new gray and blue Polo sweat suit with a fresh pair of 996 New Balance running shoes. He also wore a medium-sized pinky diamond ring with a matching fourteen-karat gold watch, and a bracelet by Raymond Wiel.

Malik was a clothes and jewelry freak. He loved to look fly all the time and made sure he was fresh every day before he walked out the door. Although he was only fifteen, he carried himself like he was twenty-five.

All the major players in the pool hall respected and liked young Malik. He had an aura, and the women loved him just like they loved his father. Most of the women were older, but still tried to get with him early because they saw a future king rising to his throne.

Malik was aggressively gentle, often having his way with anyone he wanted. Those who did business with him liked his forwardness, and those who didn't, emulated his style. Malik Perry was the new up and coming hustler.

Linda returned home after dropping Peaches off. A tall, slender man with a grayish, perfectly trimmed beard, who was neatly dressed in blue slacks and a blue and gray Versace silk shirt accompanied her.

Malik wondered who this man could be. He knew Linda never brought any of her tricks home, and she wasn't one to have a pimp. The only male Malik had ever seen Linda with was Butter, and for the past two years, he had been out of sight. They had broken up when Linda moved out on her own. Since then, the only time Malik saw Butter was at the pool hall.

As Linda introduced Malik to the man, Malik stood up straight, showing the much older man that he was fearless.

“Malik, this is Sonny James. Sonny, this is my nephew.”

As Sonny reached out to shake Malik's hand, he noticed something. There was a feeling to Malik's shake that felt familiar. Malik pressed his hand hard and firm while looking Sonny straight in the eyes.

“Pleased to meet you, Malik.”

“Same here, Sonny.”

“Have a seat, Sonny. Can I get you something to drink?” Linda asked.

“No thanks. I'm fine. Just let me have a minute alone with Malik.”

“Okay, but if you two need me for anything, I'll be in my room.”

Sonny grabbed a chair, flipped it around, and sat with his arms folded over the back. “So, Malik, Linda tells me that you're a very smart youngin'. Is that so?”

“I guess there's only one way for you to find out.”
Malik replied while sitting in a chair opposite of Sonny. His arms folded and and leg crossed as if he was already a seasoned hustler.

Sonny smiled at the young boy's perfect answer. “You know, your father and I were good associates, and he and my brother Slim were good friends in prison.”

“So I guess that means me and you could be associates, too, but I would like to make it known that I am my own man. Although I admire, respect, and love my pops, I never want to ride on his coattails. Whatever I accomplish with you, I want it to be for myself, not because I'm Michael Perry's son. I don't need those types of favors.”

Sonny nodded. He respected and understood Malik's position. In fact, Michael would have said the same thing.

“I understand. Business is business. That's what I like. However, I do owe your father that much respect not to see you out here scrambling for your eggs. So what I'm gonna do is work with you on a business level that could either get you rich, in jail, or dead. It's up to you to take advantage of it.”

“I will. Indeed, I will. So what them thangs going for?”

“It all depends on what you want. I got coke and dope. And believe me when I tell you I got the top-of-the-line shit.”

Malik sat back and thought for a second. Often, when customers asked if any coke was out, someone would direct the traffic down to Ninth Street, where Sticks and Keith hustled fifties of coke. Malik weighed his options in his head. If I get some coke, then I could take all of Ninth Street's business. Perhaps move up to kilos and serve everybody on this side of town. But if I did that, then the dope fiends would have to go somewhere else to cop. Shit, it's 1993, and coke is booming. Heroin is declining, for real. A nigga's getting tired of having to keep waking up early in the morning just to get that rush. I can pass out work, sit back and collect without having to risk being locked up or robbed by some bitch-ass nigga who can't get out here and get his own.

“Okay Sonny. What would you sell me a half kilo of yay for?”

“The only way I sell coke is already cooked up, and on a scale of one to ten, my shit is an eleven—straight butta.”

“Damn Sonny. I understand your shit is butta, but you can't give it to me in powder?”

“Nah, not at this moment. Anyway, I'm not in a position to do that yet. But I'll tell you what I can do.”

“What's that?”

“I can give it to you for a low number.”

“How low?”

“Like eighteen a key. And the more we do business, the more the price drops.”

“Damn, eighteen sounds good. The going rate right now is twenty-two a key. I want to get a half a brick, and if your shit is butta like you say, then we'll be in business for a long time.”

“Here's my pager number. Call me when you want it.”

“Shit, I want it now.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, the sooner the better.”

“A'ight, young nigga. I see that you about money just like your father was. I'll be back in twenty minutes.”

When Sonny left, Linda came out of the back room.

“So how'd it go?” she asked.

“It went good, Aunt Linda, but I think Sonny is tryna wing me out of a few Gs.”

“Why you say that?”

“'Cause he won't sell me no powder.”

“What's the difference between rock and powder?”

“See, he probably gets a key of powder for like seventeen or eighteen. He then cooks it up and adds some shit to it, like baking soda so it can fluff up. By the time he finishes it, he got like a key and a half. So, he sells the key and keeps a free half.”

“So, if you don't get the powder, you're missing out on a ten-thousand-dollar profit.”

“Yeah, but it's cool though, 'cause it's hard to get powder right now. Anyway, I just need to fuck with him for a minute till I make enough money to meet one of them out-of-town connects.”

“Sounds like you know where your ass is at, Malik.”

“Aunt Linda, look at me. I was born the son of a gangster and raised the nephew of a ho who taught me how to survive these streets. What you expect?”

“Shut up, boy, with your smart-ass mouth.”

They both laughed.

“Hey, I need a favor,” Malik said to Linda.

“What is it?”

“Sonny is gonna sell me a half key for nine thousand. All I got is eighty-three hundred. Can you loan me seven?”

“Yeah, hold on,” Linda said as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a knot of Ben Franklins. She counted out seven crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. “Here. Now let's make a toast to your new investment.” Linda popped a bottle of Demi-sec Moet and poured two glasses. As they held their glasses in the air to toast, Linda looked into Malik's eyes.

“Here's to a young prince on the rise to his throne. I love you, Malik.”

“I love you too, Aunt Linda.”

“You're about to make a lot of money.”

Malik looked toward the sky as if he were talking to his parents. “Yeah, I know. Just picture me rollin'.”

They both laughed. “I'll drink to that one, Malik.”

 

Chapter 16

-STRAIGHT UP MENACE-

 

 

ithin two months, Malik turned Seventh and T into a twenty-four-hour coke strip. Crackheads came from all over to get a taste of the butter popcorn Malik had. By now Malik was copping at least a brick and a half from Sonny James every week. His strip sold nothing but twenty rocks the size of fifties. The rocks were so big that the crackheads nicknamed Seventh and T Streets the Bowling Alley.

Malik also sold wholesale to the young hustlers around the way. He had niggas on Fifth and Sixth buying half ounces daily. He also had a few youngin's around LeDroit Park buying ounces and a few customers on Fourth and ‘N' Streets. The Bowling Alley was his most profitable spot. There, Malik would break down an eighth of a kilo in all twenties and not leave the block until every crumb was gone. He relentlessly moved his package nonstop. The businessmen at the bowling alley moved so fast that Linda would stop by in the middle of the day and pick up a majority of Malik's money, so she could place it in the safe back at the house.

As Malik approached his sixteenth birthday, he was making so much money that he felt he had to move out of Linda's apartment. So he rented an apartment on Kenyon Street, right above the Madness Shop, which was considered D.C.'s first urban landmark for hustlers. A clothing store located off Georgia Avenue that catered to the hustler's lifestyle and owned by some well-known old timers that everyone respected. Linda knew the owner of the Madness Shop, who was also the owner of the building, and she rented Malik's apartment under her name. The location was convenient since Malik was only five minutes away from Seventh Street.

His apartment was lavish. The floors were hardwood and the bathroom was marble. The windows faced both Kenyon Street and Georgia Avenue. Sometimes Malik would look out the window on the Georgia Avenue side and watch the hustlers run in and out of the Madness Shop. He admired the old heads' style. Although they didn't drive luxury cars, he could tell by their timepieces that they were holding stacks of cash, something he learned from Buttons.

Buttons used to say, “Malik, you can count a nigga's bank by just looking at him. The ones with the big cars are usually the broke ones, and the ones with the average cars and clothes got a mini armored bank truck sittin' in the backyard. You can always tell if a nigga is holdin' by the timepiece he wears. The ones wearing a flashy Rolex with all the diamonds are just for show. The guy most likely spent his last dime on it, but the ones who wear Patek Philippe or plain looking Cartier got it. You know they got it because they never let it show. They're in it for the fortune, not the fame.”

Malik fell in love with the game. He wanted the fame and fortune. He saw how the females would pull up in front of the Madness Shop and talk to the old timers. Every last one of them was a dime piece too. There wasn't a doubt in Malik's mind that he was going to make it big. He knew it, not because he wanted it, but because it was in his blood. After all, he was Mike Perry's son, the man who controlled Southeast at one time.

On Malik's sixteenth birthday, Linda knocked on his door early in the morning. When he didn't answer, she opened the door with her spare key and entered the not-so-clean apartment.

“This damn boy still don't clean up behind himself. He needs a maid or a girlfriend. Look at this shit! Dirty dishes and clothes everywhere. Looks like he ain't cleaned this place in weeks.”