Prince of the City (22 page)

The girl opened the apartment door with her key. As Rico and Malik entered with their guns drawn, Malik put his finger up to his mouth signaling Rico to be silent. Malik then motioned Rico to stay in the living room with the girl while he walked back to the half closed bedroom door.

Almost simultaneously, Malik lifted his foot to kick open the door, and the girl let out a halting scream, alarming Tank, but not in enough time.

Malik kicked open the door with his Smith and Wesson .45 pointed directly at Tank, who did the most cowardly thing any so-called gangster could do. Within a second, Malik pulled the trigger while Tank picked up his two-year-old daughter and used her as a human shield. There was no way Malik could avoid it. The bullet had already made its exit from the barrel, ripping straight through the little girl's heart.

Malik blacked out. As he ran toward Tank, he kept pulling the trigger.

Boom!Boom!Boom!

The first three bullets hit Tank in the chest, causing him to fall back on the bed. Malik then stood over his body and began emptying his clip into Tank's head, shooting him five more times at close range.

Boom, Boom,
Boom!
. . .
Boom!Boom!

While Malik was in the bedroom with Tank, Rico was in the living room scuffling with the girl. Rico didn't want to kill her just yet. He wanted to hold off until she showed them Tank's stash. But after hearing the gunshots, the girl began screaming and hollering for her baby.

Rico couldn't take it. “Shut up, bitch!” he screamed before pulling the trigger.

Boom!
He splattered the girl's brains all over the living room walls, and then ran back to the bedroom where Malik was.

Rico saw Malik standing over the little girl's body, crying.

“Oh shit! Come on, man. Let's get the fuck outta here,” Rico said, looking disturbed.

“Look, Rico! Look what the fuck this bitch-ass nigga made me do.”

“I see, Malik. I see. Now let's go before the police come.”

“Nah, Rico. Look what he made me do,” Malik repeated while tears fell down his face.

Rico knew Malik was tripping. As he heard sirens, he grabbed Malik.

“Come on. Snap outta that shit. Let's go before the police get here.”

Malik instantly snapped out of his trance. Once they left, Malik and Rico rode in silence. Rico took glances at Malik, trying to figure out what was going on in his friend's head. Rico felt that what happened was supposed to happen. It wasn't their fault Tank had used his daughter as a human shield. As Rico saw the silent tears run down Malik's face, he had to say something. Rico was a cold-hearted gangster and had to let it be known.

“Ah, Malik, fuck that shit! Shit like this happens. This is the life given to us. It ain't like you did the shit deliberately. It was a fuckin' accident on your part that sent a message.”

Malik still remained silent.

“Look, Malik! That broad put herself and her daughter in that situation by even fuckin' with a nigga like Tank. You think that bitch ain't know what type of nigga Tank was? Shit, we in Southeast—the fuckin' Jungle. Ain't no morals in an immoral game. They were supposed to get blasted. That's just the way it goes.”

Malik looked up at Rico. He knew Rico was telling the truth, although he felt bad about the child. Malik thought about his mother. This was the same type of situation that had gotten her killed. Malik made up his mind that if he ever had a child, he wouldn't bring it or the mother into his vicious lifestyle.

“Yeah, Rico, I hear you. But that bitch-ass nigga just fucked up my head with what he did.”

“Yeah, I know, man. That's what you call a real live bitch nigga. Well, a real dead bitch nigga now.”

They smiled lightly. “What do we do now, Malik?”

“Let's just go somewhere and chill. I need to get my thoughts together.”

“I know the perfect spot for you, my nigga.”

When Rico pulled into the Wingate Condominiums parking lot, Malik's heart began to race. They walked through the lobby, entered the elevator, and Rico pushed the button. Instantly, Malik's legs trembled as the elevator moved its way up to the tenth floor.

When they exited the elevator, Rico led Malik straight to his old apartment where his parents were killed. Malik had told Rico that his parents were killed, but didn't tell him where.

Once they walked inside, Malik's heart raced faster. The way Rico had the place laid out reminded him of his parents and instantly made him feel like a child again. The black carpet, cream furniture, and the bedroom was laid out like a Taj Mahal suite. Malik walked around looking at the apartment, and then came into the living room.

“Man, I hope you like it. I went through hell getting this spot,” Rico said.

“Rico, I love it. It's beyond perfect.”

“Good, then you can stay here and chill. Break this joint while I go pick up Tasha and get the baby from the babysitter. I should be back in an hour or so.”

“Go 'head. I'm cool. Just give me some of that smoke.”

Rico threw the bag of weed on the table and proceeded to leave.

“Look, nigga, what happened today let them niggas know that we're two niggas willing to kill whoever or whatever's standing in our way.”

Malik looked at Rico. “Yeah slim, we 'bout to lock it down for real.”

They embraced.

“Malik, I love you, nigga. You're just like the brother I never had.”

“Same here. Till death do us part, nigga. We're gonna ball till we fall.”

After Rico left, Malik rolled a blunt, poured some Remy, and went out on the balcony. He looked out over Southeast and began to have a conversation with his father. Yeah Pop, it's my turn now. Now I understand the meaning of a prince. I understand the shit you went through to get here. I also see what must be done to stay here. I'm a rule this muthafucka with style and finesse. I bear witness while I'm still living, I'm gonna make it my business to avenge you and Mommy's deaths. I promise to learn from mistakes and capitalize on them in the process of claiming the throne.

 

* * * * * * *

The next morning, Rico came to pick up Malik. As Malik opened the door to Rico's truck, the front section of the Washington Post lay on the passenger's seat. He picked up the newspaper and started reading while Rico passed the blunt.

“Yeah nigga, read that. We made the paper.”

Malik read the article out loud. “Twenty-one-year-old Timothy Smith, twenty-one-year-old Tearra Blackwall, and their two-year-old daughter were killed mafia style yesterday around 12:15 pm. This is the first time in years a child has been a victim of a crime like this. Police believe the killings are drug related. They found weapons, narcotics, and money. Mr. Smith was also suspected in several homicides in the Southeast area. Police have found no witnesses or motive for the slayings.”

Rico smiled, and Malik shook his head in satisfaction. Rico was happy that the Jungle would recognize their work, while Malik was happy that there were no motivesor witnesses mentioned.

“A'ight, we gotta take the Benz to Butter, get the bricks, go to thestash joint to cook shit up, and then move that shit like hotcakes,” Malik said. “Nigga, we 'bout to be rich. Just follow my lead. I'm like the MichaelJordan of this shit.”

“Guess I'm Scottie Pippen then, huh?” Rico asked.

“I imagine so. Now gimme that blunt and let's go get my nigga Soup, so we can hurry up and take over this city.”

An hour later, Rico was growing impatient as he and Malik pulled in the back of Ivy City and waited for young Soup to call Malik's cell.

“Man, what time is it?” Malik asked Rico.

“Why the fuck Soup ain't called yet?” Rico looked at his watch. “It's twelve o'clock count time.”

“I dunno, slim. I just hope his lil ass ain't get caught tryna use the telephone,” Malik answered.

“Man, it's count time. Soup probably in his cell right now. Knowing him, he probably fucked up his own move.”

“Nah, not shorty. He ain't tryna be in that joint. If anything, he waiting for the right time to call.” As Rico and Malik were talking, young Soup crept up to Rico's window and surprised them.

“Boo!” he yelled. They both jumped and reached for their straps while Soup's face pressed against Rico's window with the biggest smile ever. “Ah-ha, y'all niggas some bitches. I scared both of y'all.”

“Nah, nigga, your lil ass was about to get your head blown off playing,” Rico said, opening the door for Soup. “Get your lil ass in!”

“Fuck you too, Rico. It's nice seeing you.”

“Man, why you ain't call?” Malik asked Soup.

“'Cause, man, Ms. Wilson's fat ass took her smoke break early, so I had to make my move then.”

“Did she see you?”

“I don't think so, but if she did, who gives a fuck. Nigga, I'm free! Now let's get the fuck outta here before we all get locked up.”

They laughed and hugged young Soup before pulling off.

 

 

Chapter 28

-THE PLOT-

 

 

s Malik desperately climbed the ladder to his throne, the real king, Black Sam, was making and losing millions.

While Sam and Chevece vacationed in Aruba, Sam got a call from home and knew it had to be important. Kojack never called Sam while he was out of town unless there was an urgent problem.

“Hey Sam,” Kojack said when Sam picked up the call.

“What's up? Why you calling me? Is something wrong?”

“Well, yeah and no.”

“What the fuck you mean, yeah and no?”

“It's like this. You know Pee-Wee got locked up and Tank got killed. Because of that, business been a lil slow for the past month.”

“What!”

“Yeah, slim, and they fucked him up too. Killed his kid and baby's momma.”

“Damn, that's vicious. Who the fuck did that?”

“Word on the street is that a young nigga from uptown did it. Tank supposed to have killed his peoples and robbed him. Plus, I hear he moving shit on Third Street and Robinson Place. They say the young nigga gettin' money. Supposed to be a real smooth nigga.”

“Oh yeah? Well, find out who the fuck he supposed to be and let me know. I don't give a fuck what Tank did. That was our number one youngin', and somebody gotta answer for that. Now what's up with Pee-Wee? Did you get him a lawyer?”

“Nah, he don't want one. For real, I don't know what to say about Pee-Wee, slim. He got caught with twenty bricks, and they got him on tape serving an undercover two keys of crack.”

“What? Crack?”

“Yeah, and you know anything over five hundred grams carries life.”

“Damn! You think that nigga Pee-Wee gonna hold water?”

“I dunno, Sam, but we got enough information to make him reconsider his actions.”

“Yeah, if he love his mama, huh? A'ight. Don't forget to find out who that youngin' is. Maybe since Pee-Wee gone, we can put him on the team and then decide what to do with him later.”

“Yeah Sam. Bake a big ol' cake for his ass.”

“And blow out the candles at the right time.”

 

 

Chapter 29

-GOOD DIE YOUNG-

 

 

year went by, and Malik and Rico were copping at least ten bricks a week from Butter. They were moving so much coke that Butter sometimes had to take their money and cop from somebody else, but Butter never gave Malik a connect. He wanted to make sure Malik continued to need him.

Malik finessed his way around the whole Southeast. Within months, he had Haley Terrace, Barry Farms, Park Chester, Wayne Place, Twenty-Second Street, Parkland, Congress Park, Robinson Place, Brandywine, Sixth Street, Fourth Street, and his most profitable strip was Third Street.

Niggas around Third looked up to Malik. In their eyes, he was a silent, smooth, and vicious killer, who was getting money. The hood regarded him as a good nigga. He played fair with his prices, and if a hustler needed some help, Malik was in a position to provide.

The girls also loved him. Malik bought uptown style and mixed it with his Southeast roots. He became the slickest gangster in the city. He wore a three-carat diamond in his ear, owned several watches, and his dress code was strictly Versace, Hugo Boss, Armani, Prada, and Gucci. With his caramel skin, always fresh cornrows, light goatee, boxer's body with wide shoulders and a six-pack, every girl wanted him.

Rico's looks were opposite Malik's. Although he was a little on the chubby side, he was strikingly handsome too, with high yellow skin and short curly hair. Rico loved money, but he didn't like to spend as much as Malik did on clothes and jewelry. His problem was women. He was known to buy a female anything she wanted. His favorite present was giving a car to the girl who gave him the best head for the week.

Young Soup still looked up to Malik, and soaked up every bit of knowledge Malik passed his way. Malik also taught Soup how to shoot dice. He'd passed on every lesson in gambling that old school Shorty Jeff at the pool hall gave him when he was twelve. Soup was now a bonafide gambler who knew how to cheat to perfection. If anyone wanted to find Soup, all they had to do was go to the nearest dice game in Southeast.

Now that Soup was part of Malik and Rico's enterprise, he was making his own money and was finally going to get his own ride when they all headed to Virginia next week to cop new whips for the summer.

While Soup was cheating Rico out of his money at a game of dice in the Wingate condo, Malik stood on the balcony thinking about all the knowledge his father had dropped on him as a child. His mind began to drift as he thought back on his childhood, until his thoughts were disturbed by Soup and Rico's yelling.

“Man, what you doing, Rico? I gated that shit!” Soup yelled.

“No you didn't, nigga. You gotta knock ‘em down.”