Welfare Wifeys Page 14

  “Shit, he live in the projects like the rest of us so I’m sure he know what it is out here. Let the lil nigga be.” Scar sucked his teeth. He hated when Prince started preaching.

  Prince shot him a dirty look then turned his attention back to Solomon. “My G, stay a kid for a while and leave this here business to the grown folks.”

  Malika stormed up. “Solomon, what are you doing hanging out in front of this building?”

  “What up, Malika?” Scar greeted her with a smile.

  “Not now, Scar,” Malika said, never taking her eyes off her son who was standing there nervously. “Solomon, I asked you a question.”

  “I was just chilling for a minute, Ma,” Solomon mumbled.

  “Chilling my ass, I told you I don’t want you hanging in front of this hot ass building!”

  “Malika, he only been here for a second or two and I was just sending him upstairs.” Prince tried to advocate for Solomon which turned her anger on him.

  “Prince, you stick to telling the rest of these lil niggaz what to do and I’ll handle my own child, thank you very much,” Malika said with attitude. “And does your aunt know you’re out here?” she turned to Jay.

  Jay shrugged. “I don’t think she’d too much care if she did.”

  Malika sighed. “Let’s go, Solomon.” She snatched the door open. As Solomon walked into the building he cut his eyes at her and was rewarded with a hard slap in the back of the head. “You roll them eyes at me again and I’ll pluck them outta your damn head.” She shoved him. Prince and the others could still hear Malika yelling at Solomon long after the heavy door had closed.

  “Yo, she straight spazzed on that lil nigga.” Scar laughed and gave his boys dap.

  Prince looked at him and shook his head. “Scar, you ain’t shit for laughing at son like that for his moms going in on him. I keep telling you that it’s bad business to have these young boys out here with you.”

  Scar sucked his teeth. “Man, why you coming at me like I’m making these little dudes stand around out here? If they wanna play the block and get a lil change then that’s on their parents to tell them different. Me, I’m trying to let everybody eat who wants to get a dollar.”

  “Which is why one of these chicks is either gonna call the police on you or cut your fucking throat over their kids,” Prince warned.

  “Well, I don’t recall you kicking that save the children shit when you gave me my first bundle,” Scar shot back.

  “We’re a different breed of cats, Scar. We took to the streets because we were starving and this was the only way to feed ourselves.”

  “And what do you think is going on with the next generation?” Scar challenged. “Damn near every broad in the hood is either on Welfare or Social Security, getting peanuts a month, so their kids look to the streets to get their ones up. If you wanna blame somebody then blame they mamas for lying on their asses collecting checks instead of trying to work somewhere.”

  Prince shook his head. “You just don’t get it, do you?”

  “Nope,” Scar said smugly.

  “Fuck it, I’m out.” Prince gave Scar dap. Lloyd extended his hand but Prince looked at him as if he was stupid and walked off.

  “Hating ass nigga,” Lloyd said once Prince was out of earshot.

  “Man, the only reason Prince is acting all concerned over that lil nigga is because he wants to smash Malika,” Scar said scornfully.

  “Shorty do got a phat ass. I had thought about cracking that myself,” Lloyd said.

  “Please, that uppity bitch ain’t trying to give your project ass no pussy. For as long as she’s been living here I don’t know not one nigga that she let beat.”

  “Maybe she likes girls,” Lloyd suggested.

  “Maybe, but once she get a shot of this horse cock she gonna come back over to this side.” Scar grabbed his crotch. He suddenly noticed Jay giving him a disturbing look. “What, you tight because I’m talking about ya man’s moms?”

  “Nah, I’m cool,” Jay lied. He really wanted to bust Scar in his head for talking about Malika in such a way. Ever since he and Solomon had become friends Malika had treated him as if he was her own son. When his mother would go on her drug binges it was Malika who would take him in and make sure that he was fed and off the streets.

  “Yeah, you’re cool alright. Now get your cool ass to work and get that money up you let Shakes burn you for. I’m bout to shoot uptown right quick and get something to eat.”

  “Yeah, I’m hungry than a muthafucka too,” Lloyd said.

  “Then you better go up the block to Benny’s and get a special because your ass is staying out here with Jay. I don’t need no more fuckups.”

  “Why I gotta stay out here with him?” Lloyd complained.

  “Because I said so. Now stop crying like a little bitch and let’s get this money,” Scar told him before walking off.

  “Damn, why that nigga always so serious?” Jay asked once Scar had gone.

  “Because this shit ain’t a game out here, which is what we keep trying to teach silly lil muthafuckas like you,” Lloyd snapped. “Dude, if you plan on living long enough to see a dollar you better wise up to what the fuck is good in the streets. The fact that your ass is out here pitching in front of the building says that you’re behind the curve already.”

  “But you’re out here with me, so where does that put you on the curve?” Jay shot back.

  “You a real funny cat, you know that.” Lloyd leaned against the fence and lit a cigarette. He took deep drags off his square, ignoring Jay, and scoped the scenery. When his eyes landed on the two figures creeping toward him he choked on the smoke. “Shit,” he began coughing.

  “You good?” Jay asked in a genuinely concerned voice.

  “Hell no, nigga. Let’s take a walk,” Lloyd urged.

  “Hold on, playboy, don’t dip off just yet.” Mookie’s voice froze the fleeing dealers. He was dressed in a forest-green sweat suit and matching suede Filas. The flap of his dou-rag blew in the breeze like a flag. On his heels was his brutish partner Fish. Fish looked like a walking mailbox with a nappy afro and a lazy eye. He wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but deadly in combat.

  “Oh, shit, what up, Mookie? I didn’t even see you,” Lloyd lied.

  “Umm hmm,” Mookie said, sucking his teeth and eyeing Lloyd suspiciously. “What the business is, youngster?”

  Lloyd chuckled nervously. “Nothing much, man. Just out here chilling, ya know?”

  Fish snorted. “Looks like they out here clocking to me, Mook.”

  Mookie raised an eyebrow. “Is that right? Y’all lil niggaz out here getting rich? If that’s the case then let me hold something.”

  Lloyd patted his pockets and shrugged. “I ain’t got it.”

  Mookie’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Y’all out here selling crack from sunup to sunup and you ain’t got no bread? That shit sound kinda funny to me.” Mookie sucked his teeth. “Real funny.” Mookie looked from Jay, who looked like he would piss himself at any moment. “A’ight, so we gonna play a little game called all I find all I keep.”

  “Yo, Mookie, I ain’t gonna have you out here patting me down like I’m still ten years old. This is a new day,” Lloyd said defiantly.

  Mookie raised his sweat shirt so that Lloyd could see the butt of the .45 he was carrying. “New day, same nigga. Now grab the muthafucking ceiling before I disrespect you out here,” Mookie ordered and began patting Lloyd down. From Lloyd’s pocket he produced a wad of bills. “Umm hmmm, thought you ain’t have it?”

  “Come on, man, that’s the pack money,” Lloyd said.

  “It was the pack money. Now it’s a street tax for you lying to me.” Mookie laughed at him. “Now where the stones at?”

  “If Lloyd got the bread then this lil dude is probably holding the stones.” Fish shoved Jay toward Mookie.

  “What’s up wit it?” Mookie asked Jay. Jay looked at the floor and said nothing. “Lil nigga, I’d hate to have to split them bi
g ass lips of yours to prove a point. Cough up them rocks,” Mookie barked. Keeping his eyes on the ground Jay handed over the Ziploc bag full of crack rocks he had stuffed in his pants. “What’s this about a G-pack?” Mookie tested the weight. “Yeah, this is nice. Looks like we gonna have us a good old welcome home celebration tonight, Fish.”

  “Sho nuff, Mookie, sho nuff,” Fish said happily.

  “Mookie, you know we ain’t gonna let this shit ride,” Lloyd told him.

  Mookie gave him a comical look. “Pussy, you ain’t gonna bust a grape in a fruit fight. And if that scar-faced sissy you work for wants to make something of it, I’ll be right in 865 smoking yo rocks.” Mookie bopped off with Fish in tow. As an afterthought he turned to Jay. “Shorty, if I were you I’d find a better class of friends to hang out with because these niggaz are gonna fuck around and get you murdered. Find yourself another game because you damn sure ain’t got the heart to play this one.”

  Lloyd continued staring up the block long after Mookie and Fish had disappeared into the building. If he’d had a gun he would’ve shot Mookie dead, but since he wasn’t strapped all he could do was stand there and fume, wondering how he was going to break the news to Scar that they’d taken another loss.

  Chapter 16

  The first thing Rico noticed when he walked into his plush Queens home was the smell of pork chops frying. He had expected his wife Carmen to still be out shopping, but from the way the food smelled he wasn’t mad at the fact that she’d come home early.

  “Is that you, Ricardo?” Carmen called as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She was an olive-skinned woman who wore her thick black hair ratted. Her face was nearly as beautiful as it had been when Rico had met her fifteen years prior, but she was beginning to put on a little weight.

  “Hey, baby.” Rico kissed her on the cheek. “Did you miss me?”

  “No, I had my young black lover to keep me warm inside while you were running the streets,” she joked.

  “You better watch that. If I ever caught you giving my stuff away I’d make the front page of every damn newspaper in the city.” He slapped her on the ass playfully.

  “Oh, stop doing that in front of company. How are you today, Changa?”

  “Fine, thank you.” Changa smiled.

  “Will you be staying for dinner?”

  “With the way that food smells how could I not stay?” He rubbed his stomach greedily.

  “That’s all you guys ever do is mooch off me,” Rico kidded him. “Oh, I picked these up while we were out.” Rico handed Carmen a plastic bag.

  She peered inside and smiled at the healthy-looking steaks. “Good, I’m going to season them now so we can have them for breakfast in the morning with some eggs.”

  “Jesus, I wish I had someone at home to cook for me every day,” Changa said.

  “Changa, I keep telling you that you should come to church with us. There are some nice girls there that I’m sure would go for a successful guy like you.”

  “No, I don’t think I’d be very welcomed in God’s house. But thank you,” Changa said politely.

  “Nonsense.” Carmen snapped him with the dish towel. “Everyone is welcomed in God’s house, even the sinners.” She looked from Changa to Rico and back again. “Now you go in the living room and make yourself comfortable, the food will be done shortly.”

  “Okay, Carmen.” Changa headed toward the living room, glad to escape one of Carmen’s campaigns to get him into church. He knew that she meant well, but it irritated him.

  “Why don’t you fix us a couple of drinks while you’re out there, Changa? I need to speak with Carmen for a few,” Rico called after his bodyguard and followed his wife into the kitchen.

  “So, what brings you home so early today?” Carmen asked as she went about the task of washing the dishes.

  “I couldn’t wait to get home to my lady.” He hugged her from behind and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Ah, only if that were true.” She reached around and patted Rico on the ass. “I’m glad you’re home early though. Did you stop by the tailor so he could fit you for your tuxedo?”

  “No, I’ll take care of it though,” Rico said.

  “Rico, you’ve been telling me that since last Tuesday. Rosa’s wedding is next week and you know she’s depending on you to walk her down the isle,” Carmen reminded him.

  “Carmen, didn’t I tell you I’d take care of it? I’ve been running around all day and I’m tired, so the last thing I want to have my wife bitching at me about is some wedding that we’ve got plenty of time to get ready for,” Rico huffed.

  “You watch your mouth in my house, Ricardo. Don’t you go talking to me like I’m one of your hoodlum friends.” Carmen waggled her finger at him. “That’s your problem, you’re always running the streets and neglecting your family!”

  “Carmen, are you serious? You live in a big ass house and spend your holidays in Saks and I’m neglecting you.” He shook his head. “If the streets don’t drive me crazy you sure as hell will.”

  “So I’m gonna drive you crazy because I’m worried about you, Rico? You should be glad your wife cares about you because your flunkies sure don’t. Every time you leave this house I hold my breath hoping that I don’t get the call from Changa or one of the guys telling me that something has happened to you.” She crossed herself.

  “What’s there to worry about, baby. I’m just a humble supermarket owner. Nobody wants to bother with me,” he assured her.

  Carmen dried her hands and turned to look at him seriously. “Rico, save that kind of talk for the police or one of the little girls who haven’t known you since you were on the corner selling nickel bags. The streets are getting dangerous, Papi.”

  Rico sighed and rubbed his temples. “Carmen, I’ve been doing this for twice as long as we’ve been together, so please don’t try and tell me about my business. I’m a boss, and nobody is gonna fuck with a boss.”

  “That may have been true ten years ago, but today the word boss is just that, a word when you are dealing with wild animals,” she shot back. “Just today, I read in the paper how a thirteen-year-old killed a girl who was just walking along the street, and all for what, to prove that he had balls? Ricardo, I look into the eyes of these little boys who operate the streets and see only two things: despair and hate, and it makes me afraid for you because these are the broken souls you deal with day in and day out.” Carmen took his hand. “You are the man of this house and as your wife I’m going to support you as I always have, but as your wife I have to ask that you at least think about what I’m saying to you.”

  The look in his wife’s eyes tugged at Rico’s heart strings. Carmen had been his voice of reason throughout his whole climb of the ladder to hood success so he valued her wisdom, but she didn’t understand. Rico had enough money to step away and still live a decent life, but when you were that deep in it ceased to be about the money, and became about the addiction to the lifestyle. To put an end to the conversation Rico simply kissed her cheek and said, “I will.”

  Changa was just finishing their drinks when Rico came into the living room. “Yo, the Knicks are playing the Heat.” Changa pointed at the big screen television.

  Rico sank into his recliner. “Fuck the Knicks.”

  Changa came from around the bar and handed Rico a glass of cognac, then took a seat on the couch to the left of him. “I decided not to hit you with a chaser, because for you to say fuck the Knicks your day must’ve just taken a turn for the worse.”

  “Nah, I’m good.” Rico took a light sip of his drink. “Just growing pains of marriage.”

  “And that’s just why I’m never getting married.” Changa laughed.

  The melodic doorbell sang through the house, irritating Rico further. He hated that damn door chime, but Carmen loved it so he dealt. “Baby, can you get that!” he called down the hall. “Probably one of her fucking friends,” he told Changa. “I swear these neighborhood broads come over here
at least three times a week to eat my food, be nosey, and drink up my booze.”

  “Maybe you should put them to work,” Changa joked. He and Rico laughed at it for a short second, but the smirks turned to looks of concern when they heard raised voices in the foyer.

  “You can’t just come into my house like that!” Carmen shouted loud enough for Rico and Changa to hear her and take action.

  In a flash Changa was on his feet with his gun drawn, moving toward the foyer. He disappeared into the hall and within seconds he was backpedaling into the living room with his hands in the air and the gun hanging harmlessly around his thumb. Moving with him into the living room, with his gun pointed between Changa’s eyes, was Detective Brown. Following shortly behind him was Detective Alvarez, with half a dozen blue uniforms behind him.

  “Looks like somebody got caught with his hand in the cookie jar,” Brown said, carefully disarming Changa.

  “I’ve got a license,” Changa said.

  “Muthafucka I’d bet a week’s pay that you ain’t even got a green card, let alone a license to carry a firearm in an English-speaking country.” Alvarez laughed at him. “Grab the bar before I let these eager public servants jump off in your ass. You too, Ricky,” he told Rico.

  “That’s Rico,” he corrected him.

  “It’s gonna be Rachel where you’re going.” Brown shoved Rico against the bar next to Changa and began patting him down.

  “You can’t just barge in here like this, where’s your warrant?” Carmen wanted to know.

  Brown paused from his frisking. “We don’t need a warrant when in pursuit of a suspect that’s fled into a domicile.”

  “That’s bullshit, nobody has run in here,” Rico told him.

  “Sure we did, two roaches stole a bread crumb from the local bakery and ran under your door,” Brown said sarcastically. He shoved a piece of paper in Rico’s face. “This here says that we’ve come to snag your asses for murder.”

  “Murder? You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind!” Rico told the detectives.