Prince of the City (15 page)

fter laying the lick down on Smitty and Sonny James, Malik laid low for a minute so everything could die down. His money was getting shorter and shorter. The Bowling Alley was turning into a ghost town, and the pool hall was shut down due to the intense investigation of the double homicide.

During the weeks following the murders, the police found Booga in the same alley with two gunshots to the head. Malik wondered if Smitty and Sonny's people thought Booga had something to do with the murders. Or maybe Booga pulled a move on somebody and didn't pay. No matter what happened, Malik was still relieved that Booga was dead because he would have been the only witness.

Malik sat in his apartment window admiring his car, which stood out amongst the BMWs, Benzes, and Lexuses. As Malik watched how people admired his new car, a pearl-white convertible 500SL Mercedes pulled up and Lee got out. He took a look at Malik's Caddy before going over to the crew of young hustlers who lived next door to Malik.

“Hey now. Which one of you young niggas is the proud owner of that pretty muthafucka?”

The three young hustlers laughed. “That is a bad muthafucka, Lee, but sadly, that joint ain't any of ours,” one of the youngsters replied.

“That joint is officially a bitch catcher. I think it's the lil dude who stays next to our apartment,” another youngster said.

As everyone looked at Malik's prize, the owner of the Madness Shop came out. “Hey, Lee, that's a pretty car, ain't it?”

“Yeah, but whose is it though?”

“Oh, that's Linda's nephew's car.”

“What? Linda? Butter's Linda?”

“Yeah, her nephew lives upstairs. Young dude is real smooth. Stays by himself and keeps a rack of bad bitches with him. Every time I see him, he got a nice dime piece coming in and out of his apartment.”

“You talking 'bout the lil light-skinned dude with long cornrows in his hair?” Lee asked.

“Yeah, that's him. That's Linda's nephew.”

“I did see him with her the other day.”

“Linda still looks good, don't she?” the owner asked.

“Hell yeah, man. She looks good as a muthafucka. To be honest with you, I wouldn't mind tryna get with her.”

Immediately, Malik picked up the phone and called Linda's cell.

“Hello?”

“Hey Aunt Linda, what's up?”

“Ain't nothing, baby. What's up?”

“Where you at?”

“Me and Peaches are riding up Georgia Avenue. We was gonna stop by your place. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Nah, ain't nothing wrong. So far, everything is going good. I need you to do me a favor though.”

“What is it, boy?” Linda asked.

“I can see you out my window pulling up. The dude Lee is out front. Can you holla at him for me now?”

Linda pulled up behind Malik's car while still on the phone with him.

“Boy, that's what you called me for?”

“Yeah. Now's the perfect time. Plus I know he'll do it.”

“How do you know what somebody else is gonna do? Are you psychic now?”

“Nah, I ain't psychic, but I did overhear him talking about how good you still look. Plus, he said he wanted to get with you.”

“Malik, stop lying.”

“Nah, I'm serious. I know this nigga will fuck with me just for the simple fact that he likes you.”

“Well, he probably does like me and wants to fuck the shit outta me. But I ain't giving him no pussy just to get you a connect.”

“Aunt Linda, I'm your nephew. I'm not tryna pimp you.”

“I know. I'm just joking with you. Besides, if he did want some pussy, I would give it to him just so you could get the connect. You know why, Malik?”

“Why, Aunt Linda?”

“Because I love you, and I know it would benefit you in the long run.”

“Hey.”

“What, boy?”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, whatever. Peaches is in the car with me. You wanna speak to her?”

“Sure,” he replied.

“Hey, Peaches, what's up?” he asked once she said hello.

“You and me, that's what's up.”

“Oh yeah? Well, tell you what. Why don't you come upstairs and braid my hair for me?”

“No. Why don't I come upstairs and you fuck my brains out?”

“Damn Peaches, ain't no shame in your game, huh?”

“Not when it comes to you, Malik.”

“Well, in that case, why don't you bring your fine ass on up here?”

After they hung up, Linda and Peaches got out the car, and every nigga out there tried their hand, especially the young ones.

“Damn, baby, can I please have a minute with you?”

“Who you talking to?” Linda asked.

“I'm talking to both of y'all,” the youngster responded.

“Well baby, I'm here on some business right now, but maybe some other time,” Linda replied.

“And I'm happily engaged,” Peaches said as she walked past the crowd of gawking men.

“Have you ever considered having an affair?” another youngster asked.

“Never in a million years,” Peaches replied before entering Malik's building.

“Hey Lee. Can I talk to you in private?” Linda asked, walking toward him while he leaned against his Benz.

“Yeah, what's up, baby girl?”

Linda and Lee began walking down Georgia Avenue together to discuss Malik's future.

* * * * * * *

Malik and Peaches were in a session of lovemaking. This time, Malik was the aggressor. He placed Peaches on his living room floor and romantically kissed her from head to toe. He viciously made love to Peaches in every way possible, giving her the best experience she'd ever had.

After they made love, Peaches washed Malik's hair and braided it into cornrows. For every cornrow she braided, Malik had to give her a kiss. Peaches was falling in love with Malik while Malik was falling in love with money.

Malik jumped up as soon as Linda stepped inside the apartment. “What'd he say? What'd he say?”

“Damn, boy, sit your pressed ass down,” Linda said, laughing at Malik's desire to get paid.

“Come on, Aunt Linda. What did he say?”

“Well, first of all, don't you wanna thank me?”

Malik grabbed Linda and gave her his tightest hug. “I knew you could do it! I knew it.” He kissed Linda on both cheeks. “You're the best aunt in the whole wide world.”

“Yeah Malik, that only worked when you were ten years old. Now, look here. Lee is a very serious dude. If you deal with him, be straight up and don't accept nothing you can't handle, 'cause believe me, he's gonna be tryna drop a lot of shit on you.”

“I can handle everything from this point. When do we meet?”

“As soon as we leave he's coming up here to talk to you.”

“Good then.”

“By the way, what were y'all up in here doing?”

“None of your business, Ms. Nosey,” Peaches said.

“Well, since it ain't none of my business, let me go on. Malik, I gotta make a run. Call me later and tell me how it goes with Lee. Okay?”

“A'ight,” he said and then kissed his aunt on the cheek.

As they were on their way out the door, Peaches whispered in Malik's ear, “I wanna tell you something, even though I know you don't wanna hear it.”

“What's that?”

“I love you, Malik Perry.” Then she planted a wet kiss on his cheek before leaving.

Malik didn't answer Peaches. All he was worried about was his meeting with Lee.

* * * * * * *

The first thing Lee told Malik was to go down to Strictly Business, a few doors down, and purchase a cellular phone and a Sky pager to be used strictly for business. He also taught Malik the whip game, which was how to whip up coke and make extras off each brick he cooked. The same thing Sonny James had done to him.

Within two months, Malik was copping three bricks of powder and getting two fronted to him. He was paying seventeen thousand a key, the lowest number he'd heard of in the city for some of the purest white, fish scale, Grade A cocaine.

Malik was mesmerized at how real bricks of cocaine looked. He wondered why they would compress it, wrap it in a rubber inner tube, and heavily duct tape it. Shit, they probably package it like this just in case they gotta drop it in the water when the Feds get close. Damn, them Columbians don't take no losses. He also wondered why each brick had a scorpion stamp printed on it. Maybe this is to guarantee their customers that all these bricks come from the same source and are not tampered. Damn, now that's how you conduct business. Lee is probably getting like two hundred of these thangs and moving them like ice-cold water on a hot-ass sunny day.

Lee gave Malik five bricks each time and always told him if he needed more, there were plenty. Malik was steadily moving up in the game. By the time he was on his third kilo, all of his previous customers moved up from buying ounces to getting quarter and half keys twice a week.

Malik was strictly moving weight. He had all his previous customers from LeDroit Park, Ninth, Sixth, and ‘S' Streets, New York Avenue, and Edgewood Terrace. He even had a new customer from the Southeast side around Fourth Street, who copped at least a brick a week. Rock was Malik's best customer. They developed a friendship over the months, and sometimes Rock would come uptown and kick it with him.

However, Malik stayed away from Southeast. He had his own reasons, which no one knew but him. The only time Malik would even cross the bridge to the south side was after he had counted up all his money for the day, which was around midnight.

Malik would buy a bottle of XO Remy Martin, roll a blunt, get in his Caddy, and ride out to Wingate Condominiums. He'd park his car in the back parking lot and look up to the tenth floor balcony where his father used to look out over Southeast. Malik would think of his parents while Tupac's “Dear Mama” blared from the speakers. As he sank into Tupac's lyrics, a river of tears would run down his face. It was the only time Malik expressed his pain. This was where he found peace, where he talked to his parents, where he cried out and felt his parents were listening.

It was Malik's cemetery for his mother and father, the king and queen.

 

Chapter 19

-GANGSTA'S BALL-

 

 

Six months later . . .

 

 

alik was way ahead of the game at seventeen. Lee gave him the chance to see what it felt like to get money and have fun at the same time. He invited Malik to attend a hair show he threw in Atlantic City. It would be Malik's most memorable moment that glorified the game.

“Hey, Malik, you coming to my hair show?”

“Yeah, I'm coming, but I don't know what to wear to that type of event.”

“Whatever you wear, make sure it's proper attire, young nigga.”

“What you mean by proper attire?”

“I'm talking slick shit. That Versace or Armani shit. No sweat suits and tennis shoes.”

“Okay then. You want a nigga to put it on, huh?”

“Yeah, this is a real event. This is a gangsta's affair, nothing but bad bitches and niggas with bank. When you come to a joint like this, you gotta represent. You gotta put it on and have some serious pieces on your arm.”

“Oh yeah? It's like that?”

“Yeah. A real live Gangstas' Ball where niggas meet bad bitches who have they own houses, cars, and businesses. Niggas find ways to make money with each other.”

“I'm a'ight on the clientele tip. I ain't tryna meet no new friends, but I will come for the bitches though. A nigga needs some different pussy every now and then.”

Lee laughed. “Yeah, young nigga, I know what you mean.”

“Why you wait so late to tell me 'bout the party?”

“I been told your ass about this event, but you were too busy chasing that paper and slamming your dick up in that fine-ass broad that be with your aunt Linda.”

“Oh, you talkin' 'bout Peaches.”

“Peaches, Plum, Apples, Grapes, whatever you wanna call her. I tell you, Malik, that's a bad-ass broad you got there.”

“She a'ight, but she ain't my girl. A nigga like me ain't got time to be having no girl. I'm an entrepreneur. I just get money and fuck bad bitches.”

“I hear you, young nigga. That's right. Just stay focused on getting that bank right.”

“So where's my ticket at?”

“Nigga, you don't need a ticket. You're rollin' with me. You VIP.”

Malik laughed. “Yeah. Well, I hope you can get me some VIP pussy.”

“That's nothing. You gonna do that yourself. Just watch how those bitches be tryna get at you.”

“We'll see. In the meantime, I'm a go get my hair braided and do a lil shopping for tomorrow.”

“A'ight then. I'll see you later.”

“A'ight. Later.”

After Malik got his hair braided by his favorite stylist, Tracy, he drove up Wisconsin Avenue to the Versace boutique and picked out the nicest suit the store had. The salesperson told him that only ten of the suits were made and every Versace boutique only carried one.

Malik tried it on and loved it. It fit him perfectly. The suit was dark blue with Medusa head buttons. Malik also purchased a pair of Versace slip-ons.

To top off the outfit, Malik was going to wear his three-point-five-carat diamond earring and Presidential Rolex. Not too many niggas could rock a three-thousand-dollar Versace suit with cornrows and make it look official, but Malik somehow pulled it off.

Lee's party was the talk of D.C. Everybody who was somebody was buying tickets and making lavish shopping sprees to be part of the big event. It was the Grammy's for major niggas and bad bitches, and Malik planned to make his best impression at his first real party.

While most who attended the event drove their exotic cars to Atlantic City, which was a two-hour drive, Lee and Malik were escorted in the casino's private limo. Lee was doing the Taj Mahal a favor by having his party there, and the manager insisted Lee and his guest be treated with the best luxuries the hotel had to offer.