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  “Thirty-one,” Mike corrected him. “I had quite a few dollars riding on that game. Paid off big-time.”

  “Glad I could help out,” Shai said, motioning for the waiter to bring the check. When the waiter came to their table with the bill, Mike intercepted it.

  “Your money's no good here, kid,” Mike said, crumbling up the bill. “It's on the house.”

  “Mr. Tessio—” Shai began.

  “Call me Mike,” he interrupted.

  “Okay, Mike. I appreciate the kind gesture, but my daddy didn’t raise no fools. Nothing in life is without its price. What do you want from me?”

  “Come on, Shai, how you gonna insult me like that? You’re my pal Tommy's little brother. Can’t a guy just want to do something nice for a buddy?” Shai just stared at Mike blankly. Apparently Mike had underestimated Shai; he was more streetwise than he gave him credit for.

  “Okay,” continued Mike, “you got me. See, me and Tommy have been having … a difference of opinion. I got something onthe ball that could make us some money, but I need Tommy to go along with it. But you know how your brother is.”

  “Yeah, I know just how my brother is,” Shai agreed. “But what's that got to do with me? If you know my family as well as you claim to, then you already know that don’t get involved with my brother's dealings. I have my own life.”

  “Oh, I know this, Shai. I would never put you in harm's way, ‘cause I know that ain’t your thing. I also know that you and your brother are very close. All I’m asking is that you talk to him, Shai. Tommy had a fight with one of my guys, so things are pretty touchy right now. I just want him to know that I ain’t salty. Freddy's a prick and that's just a given. But I don’t want what went on between him and some goomba in my crew to spoil a beautiful working relationship. Ya know what I mean?”

  “Yeah,” Shai said, standing. “Like I said, I’m not a soldier in my father's army. I can speak to Tommy, for all the good it will do, but don’t look for any miracles.” Shai helped Honey to her feet and led her in the direction of the exit.

  “Hey, Shai,” Mike called out. “Hold on a sec.” Mike pulled out a wad of bills, peeled five off, and handed them to Shai. “Just a little something for your time.”

  Shai looked at the money as if it had been dipped in shit. “Thanks, but no thanks,” he said, looking Mike dead in the eye. “Poppa takes care of his own.” Shai held the door for Honey and followed her into the night air.

  Bone sat in the passenger seat of the cab, fuming. The encounter with Shai had him so mad that he didn’t even wanna freak off anymore. After dropping the strippers home, Bone and his crew hit the bootlegger and headed back to the hood.

  “Yo,” Rah said from the backseat. “You a’ight, son?” Rah was a high-yellow cat with a chipped tooth. He was the youngest of the crew, so he asked dumb-ass questions from time to time.

  “Fuck do you think?” Bone snapped.

  “I’m just saying,” Rah continued. “You sitting up there all quiet and shit, know what I mean? You actin’ like them Clark niggaz got you rattled. I know that ain’t the case ‘cause you like the illest nigga in America.”

  “Ahmad,” said Bone, turning to face the backseat. “You better tell this lil’ nigga to shut up before I pop his ass.”

  Ahmad was Rah's older brother. He was a butterscotch color with hazel eyes. Ahmad was the quieter of the two and the easier to deal with. Ahmad considered himself something of a ladies’ man, but he was a hustler to the heart. He could take a few grams of some bullshit and bring it back lovely. That's why he was Bone's right-hand man.

  “Why don’t you be easy, Rah?” Ahmad said, lighting a cigarette. “You don’t know what to say outta ya mouth, that's why niggaz is always leaving you on the block.”

  “Whatever,” Rah said, not bothering to take heed to the look his brother was giving him. “All I’m saying is that shit in the diner was wack. This lil’ faggot-ass nigga flexing and shit. We notorious uptown, son. We should’ve mashed that nigga out.”

  “Rah, please,” Bone cut in. “When Shai backed out that hammer, you was ready to run. And don’t try to lie, nigga. I seen it all in ya face.”

  “Fuck outta here,” Rah said, drawing a small .22 from his boot. “If it had jumped off, I was ready to bang, kid.”

  Bone and Ahmad looked at Rah's tiny pistol and both burst out laughing.

  “Little brother,” asked Ahmad, between giggles. “What were you gonna do with that?”

  “What you think?” Rah shot back.

  “Get yo'self killed,” Bone picked up. “Niggaz like you always do some bird shit. That's why you spend the majority of ya career on the corner and the rest back and forth to the Island. You got so much to prove, but no fucking idea how to go about it.”

  “I would’ve started blasting. That's a start.”

  “Fucking idiot,” Bone mumbled. “Even if you had gotten up the courage to pull out on Shai—matter fact, let's just say for the sake of argument you shot him. Poppa would’ve killed you and ya whole fucking family tree. You, I don’t really fuck with, but I got a lot of love for ya brother and ya sister, so I wouldn’t jeopardize them like that. You though, someone is gonna put a bullet in ya head sooner or later if you keep acting like these streets is a fucking game. What ya ass needs to do is go get a fucking job and leave this to the grown folks. Straight up.”

  “I can do me just fine.” Rah pouted.

  “You need to cheek ya little brother, Ahmad. If you love him, put him up on game, son.”

  Ahmad looked at Rah and sucked his teeth. He had told the youngster time and again to think before he spoke. Rah was just content to do and say whatever he wanted and think that being Ah- mad's little brother would save him. Ahmad was a feared man on the streets as well as up north. He had done his first state bid when he was sixteen and proved himself from the jump. The first inmate to try Ahmad ended up shitting in a bag. It was pretty much the same on the streets.

  “So what’re we gonna do about this Shai situation?” asked Ahmad.

  “Fuck that nigga,” said Bone. “The only reason I didn’t get at him right then and there is because he's connected. We ain’t got the soldiers or the firepower to go at it with Poppa and Tommy. But best believe we’re gonna make something happen. Shai's gonna learn his lesson, but we gotta go about it the right way. All we need is an angle.”

  Honey allowed Shai to lead her out to the car without a whole lot of effort. She was feeling both afraid and excited about the evening's turn of events. You only see that kind of stuff in the movies. Shai claimed that he didn’t fuck with the streets, but Honey could tell from the way he moved that he had it in him.

  And what about that Mike character who popped up? Honey had seen Mike in the newspaper once or twice, so she knew that hewas somebody important. Mike was supposed to be some kind of mobster connected to the Cissarro crime family. The way he jumped on Shai's dick, Honey had assumed that she had made the right choice in pursuing Shai.

  “It's getting late,” Shai said, as he opened the passenger door for Honey. “Maybe I should get you home?”

  Shai must’ve been out of his mind. With all that had gone on that night there was no way that Honey was just going to let Shai drop her off without letting her in a little deeper. If it took giving Shai some on the first date, then Honey was totally willing to do so. Shai was a prime catch and Honey wanted to get her claws in as deep as possible.

  “What's the rush?” she asked, sliding into the Lexus.

  “None really,” Shai said, leaning down to her window. “Just thought with all the craziness that you might’ve wanted to call it a night.”

  “Nah, I’m good. Let's go somewhere and talk.”

  Shai shrugged his shoulders and went around to the driver's side. He slid behind the wheel and brought the machine to life. Before Shai pulled off, he looked at his cell phone. He had left it in the car before he and Honey went into the diner. The screen showed five missed calls. He figured they were jump-o
ff calls so he didn’t bother to check them. He wanted to give Honey his undivided attention.

  Amine came staggering out of the Crystal Lounge, drunk as a skunk. He had been dancing with girls and popping bottles all night long. All courtesy of the money Tommy had given him and Legs for the hit on Heath.

  He invited Legs to join him, but Legs declined. He insisted that they go low until the heat died down, just as Tommy had instructed them to. Amine teased his partner about being a bitch and insisted on going out anyway. Legs wished him well, and hopped the Long Island Railroad to his girl's house.

  Amine couldn’t figure why his partner was acting so scared, buthe figured that the killer would come around. The way Amine figured it was, working for Tommy Clark made you damn near untouchable. This was true to an extent; if you were a member of Poppa's inner circle, then you got certain privileges. But a grunt like Amine was expendable.

  Amine eyed the big-butt girl that came out of the club with him and smiled. Before he started working for Tommy, he could’ve never gotten with a girl like that on his own. Once Amine had put the word out that he was one of the drug cartel's top killers, everyone wanted to be nice to him.

  Amine cupped the girl by her large ass and led her to the curb, where they would hail a taxi. There was a tall Puerto Rican cat sitting on a parked Buick eyeballing him. Amine had enough liquor in him to feel like he could take on the world. The nine tucked in his waistband cosigned it.

  “What the fuck you looking at!” barked Amine. The man just smiled and kept his hands in his pockets. “You think I’m a joke?” asked Amine, getting more animated. “I’m funny to you?”

  “Nah, papi,” Alvarez said. “You just look like this kid I know from Harlem. But he's a real gangsta mutha fucka.”

  “They don’t come no more gangsta, son,” Amine boasted. “You keep screwing me like that and you gonna find out.”

  “You ain’t fucking wit’ me, kid,” Alvarez said, waving him off. “I’m connected.”

  “Connected? Who you wit’, cracker?”

  “First of all,” Alvarez said, getting off the car, “I’m Puerto Rican. Second, I’m fucking wit’ Tommy Clark.”

  The lie had its desired affect when Amine boasted, “Fuck you saying? I been on payroll for TC. You better ask about Amine, nigga. And I’m putting in work. What!”

  Alvarez smiled as he removed the badge he had been concealing in his coat pocket. Amine looked wide-eyed as sobriety came back to him. He reached for his pistol, but realized he was too late when Brown placed his Glock to the base of Amine's skull. The jig was up.

  “What up, gangsta?” asked Brown.

  “Fuck you want from me, pig?”

  “Well,” Alvarez said, “we had originally come to ask you some questions. But in light of the situation”—he removed the pistol from Amine's belt—”looks like you’re going for a lil’ ride, son.”

  “Man, ain’t this shit illegal or something?” Amine pleaded.

  “Not really, my man,” Brown spoke up. “You’ve just confessed to being a part of Tommy Clark's cartel to two police officers. Then we find you with this pistol that I’m pretty sure will come up dirty if we run it through ballistics. I’d say you’re fucked, shorty.”

  “Looks that way,” added Alvarez. “But then again, maybe you’re not. All depends on if you can make letting you go worth our while?”

  “I doubt it,” Brown said, shaking his head. “This nigga is a fucking nobody. Probably ain’t got but a few hundred in his pocket. Hardly enough for us to waste the effort. I say we book this cock- sucker and see what we can get to stick on him.”

  “I don’t know, Tony,” Alvarez protested. “He still might be of some use to us.”

  “Fuck this lil’ nigga, J. He's probably never even met Tommy Clark.”

  “But he claims he's connected.”

  “He's a fucking liar. I say we bust him, or give him a good ass whipping.”

  Amine looked back and forth between the two arguing detectives and saw his chances of getting away become slimmer and slimmer. If he’d only listened to his partner.

  CHAPTER 14

  BY THE TIME Shai made it back to his father's Jersey estate, the sun was just beginning to rise. It had been quite a full night for the young athlete: first the situation with Bone, then Mike pops up acting like he and Shai went way back. Shai had only been home a short time and already having his father's name had gotten him into some shit. Being a Clark was both a gift and a curse.

  After they had left the restaurant, Honey had directed him to a secluded spot off Harlem River Drive, where they parked and got caught up in a deep conversation. Honey gave Shai a brief overview of her life. She told him about everything from when her father left her, to a boyfriend that used to kick the shit outta her. Honey also confessed to Shai that she stripped. There was no shame in her game. She had a child to raise and rent to pay. Stripping did it a whole lot quicker than flipping burgers. Honey was raw like that.

  Shai told her about his life at school and his absentee mother. He also touched base on his basketball career and the pressures of being a young superstar. Shai talked about a lot of things that night, but never once did he mention his father's illegal holdings. Since he was a child, it was just an unspoken rule. What goes on in the family, stays in the family.

  They kissed and explored each other during their little chat. Shai's touch was like silk to her. He made every nerve in Honey's body tingle. He cracked for the ass, but she backed him off. It's not that she didn’t want to fuck him, ‘cause the bulge she felt in his pants confirmed that he was holding, but she couldn’t let him think she was a jump-off. Honey's plan was to make Shai fall in love with her. She would give it to him, but not before the time was right.

  After spending a beautiful evening with his new friend, Shai dropped Honey off at her apartment building. He gently kissed her on the forehead and waited till she got in the building before pulling off into the night. After spending one evening with Honey, Shai's nose was wide open. It was unlike Shai to develop emotional attachments for any female other than Hope. His shrink had told him that the reason he treated women the way he did was because of his mother. Shai didn’t wanna hear that shit. He was just a love-’em- and-leave-’em type of guy.

  As Shai headed up the stone driveway, he noticed a figure sitting on the porch. It was dark, so he couldn’t tell who it was. All he could see was a profile in the light of a cigarette. He moved closer to the figure as he made his way up the front steps. Shai peered through the darkness and made out his brother Tommy.

  “What up, Slim?” Tommy asked, exhaling the smoke.

  “Damn, what you doing out here at the crack of dawn?” Shai questioned.

  “Waiting on you. I’ve been trying to call you all night. Fuck we pay ya high-ass phone bill for if you ain’t gonna pick it up?”

  “I was caught up, man. You know how it is, T.”

  “Man, pass my strap.” Shai handed his brother the pistol and listened as he continued to speak. “Sometimes you do some dumb shit, player. Why didn’t you bring the gun to me when you found it?”

  “Man,” Shai complained. “Ain’t no telling where you was at when I realized I had the damn thing in the car. I didn’t wanna haveto come all the way to west hell to meet you then come back. That shit would’ve cut into my night. I was good with it.”

  “Dummy boy,” Tommy teased. “What if one-time had pulled you over? Then what?”

  “Pulled over for what? Your tags are up to date and I wasn’t drinking. They ain’t have no reason to pull me over,” Shai said defiantly.

  “Shai, you’re one of them lil’ niggaz that think they know every damn thing. The police don’t really need an excuse to pull you over. Being black is enough. You’re a young African-American male, riding around in a sixty-thousand-dollar auto. They’re gonna figure either you stole it or you’re doing dirt. Period. Man, you know how often I get pulled over just going from point A to point B? Shai, you got a lot to learn
if you wanna run these streets. Stay in ya lane.”

  “I’m good,” Shai said, storming past Tommy.

  “Hold on,” Tommy said, grabbing Shai by the arm. “Fuck is all the attitude about?”

  “Look, Tommy,” Shai said, facing his brother. “I don’t know if you and Poppa have noticed or not, but I ain’t a kid no more. I know what time it is out here, man. I ain’t hardly ignorant to what you and Daddy are out here laying down. I’ve been around this shit all my life, yo. Same as you. Yet I get treated like a kid. That shit is wack. I’m a Clark too.”

  “Shai, it ain’t all that it seems. This rep comes at a price.”

  “Trust me, big brother, I know what's good. Like I said, I ain’t a kid.”

  “You just don’t learn, do you Shai?”

  “I’m hardheaded like my brother.”

  “Don’t be funny, nigga. I’m trying talk some sense into ya lil’ ass.”

  “Whatever. Oh,” Shai said, remembering his talk with Mike, “I seen ya peoples.”

  “What peoples?” Tommy asked.

  “The white boy. Fat Mike.”

  “Mike? Fuck was you doing with him?”

  “I wasn’t with him. Homie rolled up on me when I was out to dinner with Honey.”

  “Did he come at you sideways, Shai? I swear to God, I’ll body that nigga today.”

  “Nah, he was cool. He actually squashed a beef I had with that nigga Bone.”

  “Bone? Shai, how the hell did you manage to get that nigga started?”

  “I ain’t do nothing to that nigga. He was mad ‘cause I was wit’ his bitch. I tried to be cool about it, but that dude is ignorant as hell.”

  “That's what life on the streets can do to you. The strong will prosper, while weak-minded niggaz like Bone perish. Shai, you better keep yo’ ass off them streets before one of these niggaz decide that they don’t give a fuck what ya last name is.”

  “I ain’t stunting that shit, T. I can hold mine wherever.”