The Good Son Read online

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  HOODLUM II: The Good Son. Copyright © 2017 by K’wan Foye All rights reserved.

  For information, address

  Write 2 Eat Concepts, LLC

  P.O. Box 2228

  1965A Morris Ave

  Union, NJ 07083

  www.kwanfoye.com

  Write 2 Eat Concepts

  Hoodlum II: The Good Son @2017 by Kwan Foye

  All Rights Reserved, including the rights to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Write 2 Eat Concepts, Rights Department,

  P.O. Box 2228

  1965 A Morris Ave.

  Union, NJ 07083

  First Edition

  Book and Jacket Design: PiXiLL Designs

  Cataloging in Publication data is on file with the library of Congress

  ISBN 978-0998106137

  Other Novels by K’wan

  Gangsta

  Road Dawgz

  Street Dreams

  Hoodlum

  Hoodlum II: The Good Son

  Eve

  Gutter (Gangsta Sequel)

  Blow

  Diamonds & Pearl

  The Diamond Empire

  Hood Rat Series in order:

  1. Hood Rat

  2. Still Hood

  3. Section 8

  4. Welfare Wifeys

  5. Eviction Notice

  6. No Shade

  Animal Saga:

  Ghetto Bastard: The Beginning

  Animal

  Animal II: The Omen

  Animal III: Revelations

  Animal IV: Last Rites

  Animal V: Executioner’s Song

  The Fix Series:

  The Fix

  The Fix 2

  The Fix 3

  Shorts/Anthologies/Novellas:

  The Game

  Flirt

  Flexin & Sexin (Vol 1)

  From The Streets to the Sheets

  From HarlemWith Love

  Love & Gunplay (Animal Story)

  The Leak (Animal Story)

  Purple Reign (Vol 1: Purple City Tales)

  Little Nikki Grind (Vol 2: Purple City Tales)

  The Life & Times of Slim Goodie (Season 1)

  First & Fifteenth (A Hood Rat Short)

  Black Lotus

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  PART I: “MEN OF RESPECT”

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  PART II: “FAMILY TIES”

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  PART III: “MURDER BY THE POUND”

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  PART IV: “DIRTY TRUTHS”

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  EPILOGUE

  PROLOGUE

  Thick gray clouds hung over Staten Island, occasionally opening up for the sun to make brief cameos or pour down another heavy wave of rain. Even with the patches of sun, it did little to fight off the chill brought on by the damp air. Still, Carmen had made the trip as she had many times no matter the weather. The heaviness of her heart seemed to make the ground where she walked sink a bit deeper, but her back remained perfectly straight and proud with each step.

  A handsome young man with rich black hair and evenly tanned skin walked a few paces behind her. He played her close enough to be able to protect her if necessary, but not close enough to invade her personal space. More than once he had been tempted to reach out to comfort her, but he held his position like the soldier he had been raised to be.

  Enzo had grown up as one of New York’s many forgotten children of Coney Island, Brooklyn in a single parent home. His mother had taken off with a second-rate lounge singer when he was eleven years old, and it was him and his dad ever since. His father was a decent enough fellow who had made a bit of a name for himself around the neighborhood, but could never quite get a handle on the workings of the underworld. They had been a hard luck pair, but all that changed the night young Enzo had saved an older woman from being robbed by some crackheads when her car had broken down on Coney Island.

  The next morning, Enzo found two very serious-looking men standing in front of his apartment door. They informed him that a Mr. Tessio had requested his presence, but knowing an order when he heard one, Enzo went along without struggle. His first impression of Michael Tessio was, “This is one fat son of a bitch,” but he kept the thought to himself. He was both nervous and clueless as to why the fat man had asked to see him, but when Carmen entered the room, he made the connection.

  “I want you to recount for me, word for word, how you came to know my wife,” Mike ordered.

  Enzo swallowed hard, before doing as he was told and repeated the events as best he could remember. When his story was done, his mouth was extremely dry and he couldn’t help but to think how badly he needed a glass of water, but was too terrified to ask for one. Mike just glared at him as if he was searching for any hint of a lie in his words. Enzo became nervous. Had his story not matched up, and did the mobster think he was somehow involved? The young man was just weighing his chances of escape when the big man finally moved. It was a simple nod of approval, but it felt like a weight had just been lifted off of Enzo’s shoulders.

  Enzo waited for Mike to speak, but he simply got up and walked out of the room without so much as a thank you. One of Mike’s men gave Enzo a ride back to the neighborhood and when they dropped him off, he was one thousand dollars richer. He guessed it was Mike’s way of thanking him. By that point, Enzo figured his brief association with the mafia was over, but it would be a week later when he found out otherwise.

  One early morning, Enzo’s father had woken him to announce that he was finally going to get help for his addiction. He was to check into an in-patient program the following day and Enzo would be left in the care of a friend during his recovery. That friend ended up being Mike Tessio. To repay the debt for saving his wife’s life, Mike was going to change his. That was the beginning of an education that would span several years.

  There were hundreds of tombstones lining the cemetery lawn, but Carmen paid them no mind, keeping her eyes fixed on the plot she had come to visit; the same one she had visited once a month for the past five years. It was a great marble sculpture of an angel with its arms and wings outstretched to the east to receive the sun every morning.

  Wearily, Carmen approached the sculpture and knelt at the base. The damp ground soaked through her cotton dress, but she hardly felt it. She hadn’t felt much of anything over the last few years except grief. Carmen’s delicate fingers traced the groves that spelled out her husband’s name and felt her heart clinch as she tried to find the words.

  “My dear husband,” she whispered. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you these years since..,” she paused to compose herself.

  “Michael,” she sobbed, “You were a lousy husband, and a half-assed father, but you were all we had. Every year since your death, I have taken my request to Mr. Cissaro, and four times he has denied me my justice, saying only to be patient. One year ago, when the FEDS
dragged him away, I cried tears of joy! But now Genaro Giovanni is head of the family, and his fear of our enemies and his greed for the money they bring in has him complacent and happy to co-exist. Instead of spitting in the faces of our enemies, Genaro allows them to eat at our table! I fear I will never have my justice.”

  A wave of sobs washed over Carmen and she went down on her hands and knees. Enzo took a step towards her, but she waved him away.

  “My love, from the moment I saw him, I knew that the shadow of death walked with him and it was his children that walked death into our home. I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t hear me. Now, I find myself a widow with a bleeding heart,” Carmen bowed her head as if she were deep in thought before popping up and continuing.

  “Thankfully I have found a way to bring my heart peace. When they find out what I have done, I will probably soon join you in whatever hell you occupy, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take at this point to see our enemies destroyed. I have even swallowed my pride and incorporated the source of this family’s greatest shame into my plot. It would seem that not everyone is content to lap at the feet of that nigger lover, Gee-Gee. Soon all this will be made right.”

  Carmen rubbed a pinch of dirt between her hands and let the flakes fall at the foot of the headstone.

  “If I can promise you nothing else, I can promise you this: Shai Clark is living on borrowed time.”

  PART I

  “MEN OF RESPECT”

  CHAPTER 1

  Wally tugged at the neckline of what had once been a fresh white tee, and his fingers came away damp. He was sweating like a runaway slave with “Massa” hot on his heels. It was ninety-three degrees outside, and the heat trapped in the two-bedroom project apartment made it feel like the temperature was on hell. The air conditioner was busted and all they had to work with were two dollar-store fans that only circulated the hot air. Between the heat and the fumes coming from the kitchen, Wally felt like he was going to fall out, but he reasoned it was all a part of the job.

  In the kitchen, Melinda stood over the stove, whipping two pots like she was making Sunday dinner. She was auditioning for a job with the new crew who had set up shop, so she knew she had to bring her best whip game. A bead of sweat rolled down her butter-flavored cheek, and splashed on the mural she had tatted on her forearm in memory of her deceased brother, True. Ambidextrously, she worked the water around in both pots at the same time, watching the cocaine and baking soda take their marital vows before the drug gods and forge a union known as crack. When she was satisfied with the consistency, she whipped the pots around once more for good measure before taking them from the heat and sitting them on the dining room table.

  One of the fiends they had at the spot to test the finished product danced too close to the pots and Melinda met him with a forearm the chest.

  “You can’t taste the meal until it’s done. When it cools, you’ll get your blast.”

  “C’mon shorty, I can take my steak rare. Just let me wet my beak right quick.”

  The fiend shuffled in place, scratching his arm and sucking up the drips hitting the back of his throat. There was no way to say for sure when he’d last fixed, but his extreme thirst suggested it had been a while.

  Melinda didn’t like the desperate look in the fiend’s eyes. Her hand swept across the table and inconspicuously picked up one of the razors they’d bought to cut the crack up. She hoped to God she wouldn’t have to use it, but she was prepared to.

  “Yo, why don’t you be the fuck easy?” A slender light skinned dude stepped into the living room. He was dressed in a Nike jogging suit, with a gold chain and cross hanging down his chest. From the way everyone in the room perked up, you could tell he was the man in charge.

  “How we looking?” he asked Melinda.

  “I just whipped the last two,” Melinda nodded to the two pots.

  The slim kid picked one of the pots up and examined it. Floating in the bottom of the cloudy water was a perfectly round cookie.

  “You got skills, kid,” he told Melinda.

  “Shit, I been in the kitchen since I was a kid. I told you I had the god-hand with it. Y’all need to stop fronting and put me on the payroll,” Melinda said.

  “Yeah, we might have a position to you,” the slim kid cracked a smile. “Yo Wally, go find them other two young boys and have them come up here and help you cut this shit up. We about to flood the hood.”

  “I’m on it,” Wally moved for the door. He had just undone the lock when the door burst open. He never got a good look at the person who had kicked the door open, but he had a great view of the stars that danced in front of his eyes when the baseball bat made contact with his head.

  Two men rushed the pad, holding automatic weapons and wearing masks and ordering everyone to freeze. They were led by the young boy who swung the bat. He wore his hair in box braids with a red bandana tied around his head. He opted not to cover his face, because he wanted his victims to know exactly whom they were dealing with. He saw Wally trying to get up and gave him another whack with the bat. He hit him over and over, and continued hitting Wally long after he’d stopped moving. Everyone in the room was horrified about Tech’s display of brutality, which was just what he was shooting for. He wanted to leave no doubt in anyone’s mind how far he was willing to go in the streets.

  “I think he’s dead, so you can stop hitting him,” Swann entered the apartment. He was a light-skinned kid who looked more Hispanic than black. His sandy hair was neatly braided into cornrows that hung to his shoulders. Physically, Swann was a pretty boy, but mentally he was as ugly as they came. His exploits in the streets had earned him a reputation as a killer, and a seat at the table of one of the most notorious crime families in the eastern United States, the Clarks.

  “What the fuck is this about?” the slim kid asked as if he didn’t already know what was up. He thought he would be able to fly under the radar and get his weight up a bit before he had to deal with the problem that he knew would come from opening up a crack spot in a hood that was claimed as property of the Clark family.

  Swann looked at Tech, who stepped forward and smacked the slim kid. “Nigga, you know what it is. You been warned about this bullshit, but you still trying to violate so now you gonna get violated,” Tech barked.

  The slim kid looked like he wanted to try Tech, but he knew better. Tech was the alpha male in the Dog Pound, a crew of young hitters who were about the business of mayhem. None of them were old enough to drink, but they were old enough to kill. The slim kid figured he could probably take Tech in a fistfight, but whether he won or lost, the end result would be the same. He would die.

  The slim kid finally found his voice and addressed Swann. “I know you said we couldn’t pump around here unless it was y’all work, so I was just trying to sell off what lil’ bit I had left so I can get up out your way.”

  Swann looked at the two fresh brewed pots on the counter. “And this is why you still cooking and bagging?”

  The slim kid looked at the paraphernalia on the table. His lie was a weak one, and he knew it before he’d told it, but it didn’t stop him. He had a feeling this was about to go poorly, so he tried to appeal to Swann’s nostalgic side. “Swann, you know what it is to be a young nigga struggling, you been there. Every kid in the hood has heard the stories of how you gave it up as a young outlaw trying to get to the top.”

  Swann’s lips twisted into a scowl. “The fact that you know my history and you still tried this dumb shit only makes me feel more disrespected.” Swann picked up one of the coffee pots with the crack cookies floating in them. “You lil’ niggas always wanna throw that shit out there about how you like us, but you ain’t like us. Y’all punks, out here stepping on toes, because you so thirsty to get noticed. Well guess what, we see you now homie!”

  He smashed the coffee pot against the slim kid’s head. He looked at the slim kid, now on the floor crying, and shook his head in disgust. He turned to Tech. “Earn yo stripes, Blood, but lea
ve nothing to chance. Everybody is aboard on this flight.”

  “Swann, you gotta be kidding leaving this young boy to clean up this mess. He ain’t ready,” one of the masked men said. He was the burlier of the two.

  Swann looked at him. “And I was how old when you and the OG used to give me guns to play with?” he asked. The burly masked man didn’t have an answer. “Exactly,” Swann said, and turned back to Tech. “When you done, toss the pad. All you find, all you keep. Consider it a bonus.”

  “Say no more,” Tech dropped the bat and drew a 9mm from his waistband.

  “Wait, you gonna kill me over a few sales?” the slim kid asked in a frantic tone.

  “Nah, I’m gonna kill you so the rest of these muthafuckas know what happens to clown ass niggas who go against the grain,” Tech told him before pulling the trigger. The bullet took the slim kid off his feet and slammed him into the window. Tech shot him twice more, painting the wall and table with blood. When he was done with the slim kid, he turned his attention to Melinda.

  Melinda threw her hands up defensively. “Wait, wait, wait, I ain’t got nothing to do with this. I was just trying to make some extra money cooking up for some work. I don’t even know these dudes like that.”

  “Next time, be smarter with the company you keep,” Tech said and prepared to finish her.

  “Hold on, youngster,” Swann said. He was examining the remaining coffee pot. He turned his eyes to Melinda. “You got some skills, ma. You want a job?”

  Melinda hesitated; making sure it wasn’t a trick question. “Ah…yeah,” she stammered.

  “Cool, come see me tomorrow morning and I’m gonna put you to work. I don’t think I have to tell you what’ll happen if you ever breathe a word of what happened here, right?” Swann asked.

  “Hell no, I ain’t seen shit and I don’t know shit,” Melinda assured him.

  Swann nodded. “Good answer. You start tomorrow morning at eleven.”

  “But wait, how will I find you?” Melinda asked. “You won’t have to, I’ll send somebody to pick you up,” Swann told her.