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  “You never cease to amaze me with the levels of stupid shit you choose to pull,” Devil told Don B. once they were safely away from the scene. “The plan was for us to come down here and maybe smack Arthur around a little to get him to pay back the money he owed; you never said nothing about no funny ass rape shit!”

  “Sometimes plans change, my nigga,” Don B. said as if it was nothing.

  “Yeah, I should’ve known something was funny when you insisted on bringing Herc and the rest of them ass pirates along. My nigga, Arthur Weis is a scumbag, but he’s still a fucking lawyer! We might’ve been able to get away with beating his ass, but there’s no way in hell this shit is gonna ride.”

  “Sure he is. To a man like Arthur money is more precious than his pride. If he gives up what happened then all his shady shit comes to light and that’s the end of his career and his lifestyle. Nah, he ain’t gonna say shit.”

  “I guess you got it all figured out, huh?”

  “Don’t I always? That’s why I’m the Don and these niggaz is soldiers,” Don B. said smugly. His statement wasn’t directed toward Devil, but the truth in it still stung a bit. “Now, on to the next order of business; did Animal make his flight?”

  Devil shrugged. “He said he would, but the plane landed hours ago and I still ain’t heard from him.”

  “See, this is the problem when you’re dealing with these Rain Man ass niggaz. He knows we’ve got a lot going on and his ass is MIA . . . again. That’s my word, B, if this nigga ain’t on deck for the session I booked for him and Chip we gonna have an issue.”

  “Yeah right.” Devil laughed. “You talk that shit now, but I know ya lying. Animal done put so much bread in ya pocket I’m surprised you ain’t never tried to kiss the nigga in the mouth, pause.”

  Don B. chuckled. “Yeah, that crazy muthafucka is hella talented, he’s just weird as hell. Did Shawna ever call you back and confirm our appointment with ol’ boy?”

  “Yeah, she said he griped about you wanting to do another walk-through, but eventually saw it our way and agreed.”

  “Fucking right he did for as much bread as I already dropped on this shit, just the licenses alone cost me a grip. Sal and them really fucked that club up and I don’t even wanna talk about the back taxes.” Don B. massaged his temples. “It’s gonna take some work, but I know I can bring the beat back. The Zone might be dead, but Code Red is gonna be alive and kicking come the grand reopening.”

  Code Red was Don B.’s latest venture. The midtown club had had several different names, but the most recent had been The Zone. The cat Sal who had bought the spot had champagne dreams with beer money. The Zone had gotten off to a good start, but it wasn’t long before Sal’s poor business moves had him spending more than he was bringing in. Sal had lost everything and the city was about to seize the place before a friend of a friend introduced him to Don B. It was only supposed to be a loan until Sal got on his feet, but when Don B. saw the potential in the place he muscled his way in and just like that Sal now had a partner and his club a new name, Code Red.

  Devil shook his head. “Don, I still can’t believe you went through with it. That spot ain’t jumped like that in damn near ten years. How do you figure you can do what the last five owners haven’t been able to?”

  Don B. just smiled. “Because I’m the Don. Now let’s go see a man about a club.”

  By the time Don B. and his entourage pulled up on the corner of Ninety-sixth and Amsterdam Sal was already standing outside the spot. Sal looked like he was snatched from the cast of some B-rated mob movie dressed in a salmon-colored jogging suit and white sneakers. He was a sour-looking Italian man with thinning brown hair and a plump red nose that made him resemble W. C. Fields. Between his stubby ringed fingers he pinched a brown cigarette, which he took deep pulls on while watching Don B. through his fishbowl glasses.

  “Sal, what’s up, baby?” Don B. extended his hand and Sal reluctantly shook it.

  “Don, I swear you’re the biggest ballbuster I know. We’ve gone over this stuff a hundred times already so I don’t see why I gotta rush outta my kid’s basketball game to do this shit again?” Sal said bitterly.

  “Because it’ll make me feel better,” Don B. told Sal and brushed past him into Code Red.

  The outside of Code Red was made of black one-way glass allowing the partygoers to see out but keeping those outside the club blind to what was going on inside. That had been Don B.’s first decree when he came on board. Inside was a buzz of activity with contractors, electricians, and deliverymen moving every which way in preparation for Don B.’s party. The event was still a few days away but for what Don B. had planned they needed almost a week to get ready. Most of it was over the top, but that was how Don B. wanted it. Code Red was to be his newest baby and he planned on spoiling it like he did when he birthed Big Dawg.

  “Looks good, man,” Devil said, running his finger across the top of the twelve-foot-long glass bar. It was the longest of the three which would serve the patrons of Code Red.

  “Like I keep telling your boy here, I got it under control,” Sal said, looking at his watch. “The cases of liquor will be delivered tomorrow and I’ve already confirmed with the caterer that the food will be here the morning of the event. Are you satisfied?”

  “And security?” Don B. asked, ticking off the checklist in his head.

  “Yeah, yeah, I got some guys from my brother-in-law’s company to handle the basics and a few friends of mine will also be here to handle any potentially messy situations,” Sal assured him. “Now that just leaves us wit that last thing we talked about. I was gonna let it wait until later in the week but since you insisted on us meeting today we may as well take care of it now.”

  Don B. looked to Devil who produced an envelope from his pocket and handed it to him. Don B. extended the envelope to Sal, but held it short of his greedy mitts. “So this ensures that we ain’t gonna have no problems with the police, right?”

  “Don B., I told you the guy who set it up is a friend of ours, so why are you so fucking paranoid?”

  “Sal, there’s a difference between paranoid and careful. The Don has many enemies on the streets.”

  “Not a lovable guy like you?” Sal asked sarcastically.

  “You’re a real funny guy, Sally.” Don B. tossed him the envelope.

  “Now if that’ll be all youz guys can get outta here so my people can work and I might be able to get back to my daughter’s game before the fourth quarter, not that I ain’t gonna have to hear my wife bitching about me running out for the rest of the night.”

  “Yeah, go handle ya business. I got some moves to make too,” Don B. said and led Devil back outside.

  “This joint is looking kinda sexy, kid.” Devil hugged Don B. playfully as they walked.

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m being so meticulous about this whole thing. Son, niggaz hated on me in the streets and in the rap game, but I’ve been able to fly under the radar and keep the bullshit to a minimum, but this club is gonna put me somewhere else with it. The larger I get the more malicious energy these niggaz gonna send at me and I’m trying to avoid Murphy’s Law, smell me?”

  “Who the fuck is Murphy?” Devil asked.

  Don B. gave Devil a stupid look. “It’s a saying; anything that can go wrong will go wrong. There are gonna be a lot of important people coming out to support this event and I don’t need no bullshit souring my game.”

  As if on cue Don B. heard someone calling his name. Devil moved between Don B. and the man half shambling toward him, hand already reaching for his pistol, but he froze in mid-draw when he recognized his old partner. “Remo?” Devil asked in disbelief.

  Remo had really let himself go. His clothes were expensive, but they looked like he had slept in them for the past few nights. His normally clean-shaven head was now covered in tight clumps of knotted hair and it had been a while since his face had seen a razor. When Remo smiled and showed his teeth that had begun to rot, Devil felt like his heart
shattered in his chest.

  “Big D, you slipping. I could’ve laid both of y’all down and been in the wind before you drew that rod!” Remo said jovially. “What, you just gonna stand there gawking or give me some love?”

  Devil managed to snap out of it and embrace his old friend. Remo smelled like he hadn’t washed in a few days but Devil didn’t shy away. “Damn, it’s good to see you, homey.”

  “It’s good to be seen. You know it ain’t many of the old crew left,” Remo said. His eyes drifted toward Don B. who was standing off to the side scowling at him. “What’s good, nephew.” Remo spread his arms.

  “What up?” Don B. replied dryly and gave him dap.

  Remo eyed him suspiciously. “I swear, boy, you and ya daddy always did know how to hold grudges better than anybody else in the family.”

  “Family,” Don B. snorted, “now that’s a word niggaz use way too freely.”

  Remo couldn’t mask the hurt in his eyes. “Don, I know you’re salty with me because I fucked up, but ya uncle is pulling it together, that’s why I came down here to see you.”

  “Is that right?” Don B. asked in a very uninterested tone.

  “Yeah, man. I heard through the grapevine that you got this big event lined up and I wanted to help out, maybe do some security work for you, nephew.”

  “I don’t know if that’ll be such a good idea, Remo.”

  “C’mon, Don, you know ain’t nobody ever watch ya back as good as me and Devil when I was still rolling wit y’all. Just give me a chance to prove myself.”

  “I did give you a chance to prove yourself, and you proved unworthy. I can’t trust my life to a crackhead.”

  “Is that all I am to you now?” Remo asked emotionally. “Don B, when you was out there handing out CDs and getting kicked outta clubs I was the one holding you down, not these new cats you’ve taken to running around with, who praise you like some damn pagan god!”

  “You’re right, but you fucked up what we had when you decided that your habits and these bitches came before business.” Don B. took his shades off and looked his uncle directly in the eyes. “Remo, you’re fam so I’ll always love you, but I can’t fuck wit you,” Don B. said sadly and walked off.

  “Don . . .” Devil called after him but Remo stopped him.

  “Fuck it, let him go,” Remo said, wiping the tear from his ashy cheek.

  “Remo, let me try and talk to him, okay?”

  “Nah, Devil. It’s gonna be what it’s gonna be. I ain’t gonna keep you because I know you got stuff to do. It was good seeing you though, family.” Remo hugged his partner.

  Devil took all the money he had in his pocket and placed it in Remo’s hands. “Remo, you know that whenever you’re ready to come in out of the cold I’m here for you.”

  “Devil, your heart is now and forever will be in the right place, so you’ll always be my brother. Ya man though”—he scoffed and pointed at Don B.—“he’s got a lot to learn about this here game. The faster you go up, the harder your black ass is gonna land when it falls from grace.”

  Long After Don B. and Devil had pulled off Remo was still standing on the curb looking down at the toes of his scuffed boots. He had come to Don B. almost on his knees only to be brushed to the side like someone who had had nothing to do with building Big Dawg Entertainment. Don B. playing him off like a common smoker not only hurt Remo but it made him bitter. He stopped seeing his nephew as the little boy he had helped sculpt, and saw him as just another perpetrating ass cat who needed their ghetto pass revoked.

  “What up, big homey?” a voice called from behind Remo, startling him. He cautiously started backing away as he didn’t recognize the heavily tinted Acura sitting on shiny chrome rims. “It’s me, son.” The driver rolled the window down.

  “Shit, youngin, don’t you know better than to be rolling up all suspect and shit?” Remo capped as he ambled over to the car. “I heard you was dead.”

  “Nah, I ain’t dead I’m just keeping a low profile after that thing, smell me? But fuck all that, I got something lined up that you might be able to help me with if you still ’bout ya cheese?” The driver popped open a suitcase full of money that was on the passenger’s seat.

  “For that kinda paper I’d tear a niggaz head off!” Remo said hungrily.

  “Glad to hear it. Get in the car and let’s take a lil ride while we talk.”

  Chapter 7

  Tionna took a long gulp of air when she ascended from the train station on Ninety-sixth and Broadway. It was about a thousand degrees beneath the streets of New York, but it was one of the fastest ways to travel if you didn’t have a ride. She had been spending a lot of time on the subway lately, but didn’t think she’d ever get used to it. How she longed for the days of hopping in and out of foreign cars, but she knew those days were over, at least until she found another come-up.

  Once upon a time Tionna had been regarded as royalty in Harlem. She was thick in all the right places, with flawless chocolate skin and silky black hair that hung down her back. Every cat holding a few dollars was checking for her, but she belonged to Duhan. Since they were teenagers they had been dating on and off and even had two sons together. Duhan was on the fast track to stardom and she was at his side for the entire ride. Duhan was a sure bet to be a boss, but jealousy and the government threw a monkey wrench in his plans and hit him with five to life on a trumped-up kingpin charge.

  With Duhan out of the picture and no real means to support herself Tionna wound up back on the block with her old friends and up to new tricks. For a minute it seemed like Tionna was returning to her former glory, but as they said, “What’s done in the dark always comes to the light.” In the end Tionna’s ways had cost her Duhan and her last apartment. A mysterious fire had broken out that claimed everything she owned except the clothes on her back. Thankfully no one had been home at the time of the fire, but Tionna found herself completely assed out and back to square one. She knew who had been the catalyst for both, but had only herself to blame for even allowing herself to get caught slipping. It was a mistake she had no intention of making twice.

  The months that followed were rough for Tionna. Her best friend Gucci’s mother had let Tionna and the kids stay with her while Section 8 tried to find her another apartment, but that situation turned out to be a crazy one. Ms. Ronnie was cool, but she had too many damn rules for Tionna’s taste, so it was a blessing when Tionna got the letter about her new place. Tionna had initially thought that the apartment would be in some renovated building like the one she had just been burnt out of, but it was actually in a nice section of Manhattan that boasted easy access and a great school system.

  On her way up from the train station she grabbed two bags of piff from some of the local corner boys. Their haze wasn’t the best in the world, but it was way better than anything else within a ten-block radius. Tionna often missed the convenience of living uptown, but she’d much rather deal with so-so weed than shoot-outs in front of the building. Her new hood was a far cry from the one she’d grown up in and not as upscale as the one she’d lost, but it would have to do for the time being and she was determined to make the best of it.

  Tionna rolled into the smoke shop to grab two cigars and spotted a girl named Zada who lived in her building. Zada was a cool chick, but she had way too many problems and made it a point to share them with everyone, whether they wanted to hear them or not. Tionna started to turn around and go to another store, but Zada had already spotted her so she mustered a plastic smile.

  “Hi, Tionna.” Zada hugged Tionna and kissed her on both cheeks.

  “Sup Z?” Tionna said.

  “Not much. Just came to get a Dutch so me and Harv can smoke. You wanna burn one with us?” Zada offered.

  “Nah, I got a lil piff so I’m gonna do me. Thanks though,” Tionna said pleasantly.

  What she really meant was that she didn’t want to smoke the cheap shit they were about to put in their lungs. Zada and Harv would smoke damn near anything a
s long as it got them high. Tionna had standards with hers though. If it wasn’t piff or chocolate she wouldn’t smoke it.

  “Well, if that’s the case then I need to roll with you,” Zada said shamelessly. Tionna liked Zada well enough, but her constant quest for the next blunt session got on her last nerve.

  Tionna had to think fast or run the risk of Zada ruining what little bit of downtime she would have before the kids got in. “Ah, you can come by, but give me about an hour or so. I’ve got something I need to take care of right quick.” Tionna gave her a wink.

  Zada showed all thirty-two of her teeth. “Got a little shorty coming by, huh?” Zada asked, trying to get into Tionna’s business.

  “Just give me an hour and then you can stop by.” Tionna hurried to make her purchase so Zada wouldn’t press her any further. Tionna normally would’ve told someone trying to get all in her mix to go kill themselves, but she kinda liked Zada and didn’t want to hurt her feelings. By the time Zada came by Tionna would’ve been high as a kite and better equipped to deal with her emotional ass. With her Dutch Masters secured in her purse, Tionna made tracks toward her new residence.

  The Marquis was what they called prime real estate. It was a beautiful twenty-seven story building with round-the-clock security and was located within walking distance of six trains and four buses. From the huge supermarket in the courtyard to several different stores that shared the property, Tionna never had to go far for anything. Every time she woke up and looked out at her view of Central Park she wondered how for as much dirt as she did, she could still be so lucky.