Authors: K'wan

Still Hood (23 page)

BOOK: Still Hood

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ON THE OTHER SIDE OF
town, Shannon's minivan was parked several blocks away from an abandoned building that they were in the process of climbing the steps to. Spooky played the lookout, while Shannon worked the lock on the rotted wooden door. No matter how many times he did it, it was never a simple task. After gaining entry, they hiked up to the third floor of the building. Most of the steps
were rotted out or missing, but the two men had been inside the building so many times that they could've navigated the stairs in the dark.

From the end of the third floor hallway came two very distinct sounds, a muffled cry and the scampering of rodents. The whole building was lousy with them, but for some reason the majority seemed to be focused on the room Spooky and Shannon were approaching. Spooky stopped outside the door and picked up a fire extinguisher that was propped against the wall.

“You ready?” Spooky asked Shannon.

“Man, let's just get this shit over with. You know I hate fucking rodents of any sort,” Shannon said, placing his hand on the doorknob and bracing his shoulder against the door. With a grunt he shoved the door open and Spooky slipped inside.

The room had once probably been a bedroom, judging by the peeling, violently streaked wallpaper. Rats of all sizes were moving throughout the room like singles at a bar, most seemingly oblivious to Spooky and Shannon's presence. A large cluster of rats were gathered in the middle of the room with their beady eyes fixed on Roots's limp and naked body. His hands were cuffed above his head and looped over a rusty pipe. He was too high up to plant his feet on the floor and possibly free himself, but he wasn't too high up that the rats couldn't nip at him throughout the night.

Spooky and Shannon had brought the dread here right after the botched hit. They beat him something awful, but let him live to see another day, if the condition he was in could still be considered living. Instead of just leaving him chained up, Spooky thought it would be funny if they rubbed sticky Apple Butter on him before they left, to see what would happen. His legs, feet and even genitals bore the nicks and scratches the rats had left trying to eat the sweet spread off him.

Spooky sprayed the fire extinguisher at the rats, clearing a path for Shannon and himself. One of the rats scuttled across Shannon's foot and he had to fight against the urge to pull out his gun and start shooting. Once the last of the rats had been cleared away, the two men moved in on Roots.

Shannon slapped him viciously across the face, snapping Roots's eyes open. “Wa fe do, star?” Shannon taunted him. “Did you sleep well?” Roots responded by trying to scream through the gag, any hopes he had of escaping had probably fled with the all-night buffet.

“Damn, they fucked you up,” Spooky said, crouching to examine the rat bites. The thought of what Roots's ass had probably endured during the course of the night was sad, but Spooky got a kick out of it.

Shannon grabbed Roots by the jaw and squeezed as hard as he could. Something slick dripped from Roots's mouth, over the gag, and onto Shannon's hand, but he didn't seem to notice. “You picked the wrong muthafucka to try and kill.” Roots mumbled something, but they couldn't understand him through the gag. “My fault,” Shannon said, ripping the gag from his mouth.

“Muthafucka, you think this shit scare me. Me from the yard, pussy boy!” Roots spit blood into Shannon's face.

Shannon wiped the blood from his face and looked at his stained hand. He cocked back to hit Roots, but suddenly he had a better idea. From the corner he retrieved a piece of wood with a rusty nail lodged in the end of it, and he hefted it, tested the weight.

“So, you wanna spit on niggaz, huh?” Shannon asked, before smashing the wood into Roots's ass as hard as he could. Roots opened his mouth to scream, but Shannon smashed the wood into his gut, knocking the wind out of him. Slowly, he made his way around Roots, tearing him up with the piece of wood while Spooky smoked a cigarette and laughed like he was watching
Def Comedy Jam.
He had just about beaten Roots into unconsciousness when Spooky stopped him.

“I told you, we want the nigga to suffer before he dies,” Spooky told him. Shannon looked on, confused, while Spooky rummaged around in an abandoned tool box that sat in the corner. When he came back over to Roots he was holding a small can of lighter fluid.

“Fuck is you gonna do with that?” Shannon instinctively backed up.

“Bout to show you how to make a nigga suffer,” Spooky said and began dousing Roots with the fluid. The tough-guy persona Roots was wearing faded when he realized what Spooky meant to do.
Unfortunately, his pleas fell on deaf ears, as Spooky tossed the smoldering cigarette butt at Roots, igniting him.

Never had Shannon, in all his years of life, heard a man scream the way Roots did that day. The fire seemed to flare everywhere at once, as Roots struggled hopelessly against the handcuffs. The sound of Roots's crackling flesh reminded Shannon of hearing fried bacon on Sunday mornings. As soon as the smell hit him, he immediately ran off to vomit, while Spooky watched intently. When Roots stopped moving Spooky decided he had seen enough. Before turning to leave, he took another cigarette from the pack and lit it on Roots's flaming body.

Chapter
30

DENA CAME WALKING DOWN THE STEPS OF HER
building like she was strutting the catwalk in Milan. She had blown out her hair and let it fall straight down around her face and shoulders. A green tunic was slung across her chest, with a gold belt across her flat stomach. Tight denim Capris hugged her hips and thighs, stopping just above a pair of gold strap-up sandals.

“Oh-oh, I see you, boo!” Yvette shouted when she saw her. “You must got a date, or something like that?” She had traded in her pajama pants and slippers for jeans and sneakers. They had chased Shakira and her skank-ass crew off the block, but if they came back Yvette wanted to be ready.

“Something like that,” Dena said, pushing her hair out of her face. “What the hell was y'all doing out here scrapping so early in the damn morning?”

“Bitches came through like it was something sweet, so we had to teach em,” Yvette said, giving Mousy a pound.

“On the real, D, you need to tell Shannon to check that lil bitch before she finds herself in a bad way,” Mousy said. She, too, had traded in her normal stoop attire for jeans and sneakers. In addition to Yvette's .25, which was stashed
in the trash can, Mousy had a hatchet inside her dingy denim Guess bag.

“Shit, y'all see him more than I do, tell him yourself,” Dena said.

“Damn, look at that pretty muthafucka,” Mousy said, looking towards the corner of the block. The white Escalade took its time rolling down the block, blasting Don B's hood anthem, “Everything is Food.” When the truck finally pulled to a stop in front of 437, Black Ice rolled down the window and stared at Dena from behind black Gucci shades.

“Well, its been real,” Dena smiled at them and stepped off the stoop.

“Damn, you rolling like that?” Mousy asked, with a bit of jealously in her voice.

“I see you, Dena-D. Yo, see if that muthafucka got a brother!” Yvette shouted at her back.

“DAMN, IF YOU WERE AN
ice cream cone I'd lick you,” Black Ice said, admiring Dena's outfit as she hopped in the car.

“Well, I ain't made from no dairy products, but if you play ya cards right you might get a taste,” Dena teased. “So, where's your entourage?” She asked, noticing that Ice was alone.

“I gave everybody the day off so I could kick it with you,” he said, pulling away from the curb. He didn't miss the look that Yvette was giving him, and he silently wondered how she would look cleaned up and how much bread a thick chick like her could check in. Ice's mind was always on paper.

“Wow, I feel special,” Dena said, adjusting her seat.

“You should. I ain't had a day off in almost five years,” he said seriously. “So, you free for the rest of the day, or do I have a time limit?”

“I'm all yours.”

Black Ice looked at her. “Better watch what you say, cause there's a lot of power in words.”

“Is that right?”

“Sure as my ass is black,” he chuckled.

“So, where we off too?” Dena asked, changing the radio station without invitation. It irked Black Ice, but he didn't let it show.

“Gotta hit Harlem for a minute to take care of something, then we can start our date. I got something special lined up for your pretty ass; but don't ask, cause it's a surprise.”

“I like surprises,” Dena smiled.

Black Ice licked his lips. “Baby, I'm full of them.”

Instead of going the most direct route, which would've taken them up Atlantic Avenue, Black Ice came back around to Throop and went up Putnam. Black Ice claimed to have been born and bred in Harlem, but he seemed to know Brooklyn pretty well. Once they hit the bridge, it was a straight shot up the FDR to Harlem.

Just being uptown made Dena think about Lazy and how things had been going between them lately. They had had their ups ad downs in the past, but the last few days had been really stressful. A part of her felt like she was violating by rolling through Harlem with Ice, but Lazy didn't seem to have any qualms about who he sported on his arm. Seeing him out in plain view with the chick Becky made Dena feel disrespected. Sure, Harlem was his domain, and she knew he had a wayward bitch or two, but Dena felt like when she was on the scene it was supposed to be strictly about her, whether he was expecting her or not. And to top it off, he was trying to stunt for his boys like he could bark on her in public. She quickly shut that down and reminded him who the fuck she was.

The truth of the matter was that she really did love Lazy, but they had considerably different views on the life. All she wanted him to do was love and respect her like she respected him, but he was constantly fucking up. If it wasn't something going on with him and another chick, he was putting his boys and the block before their relationship. Dena was growing tired of the senseless arguments they were getting into, and frankly didn't know how much longer she could, or would, put up with it.

Getting off on the 135th Street exit, Ice steered the car east and hung a left on Lenox Avenue. As they sat at a red light in front of
Harlem Hospital, Dena thought she saw the girl Yoshi outside talking to someone, but the light changed before she could make a positive ID. Ice continued north on Lenox until they arrived at a large park. As soon as Dena saw Don B and True watching the Big Dawg basketball squad run around the baseball diamonds, she got a very sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“BLACK ICE, WHAT IT IS?”
Don B walked up on the car followed by True and Jah. “I didn't expect to see you, where's Wendy?”

“Change of plans,” Black Ice said, giving Don B a pound. “Young True, what it do?” he nodded at the young rapper. “You got a new member of the group?” He looked at Jah.

“Nah, he ain't no rapper. This is my man, Jah,” True told him. Jah nodded in greeting, then went back to watching the block.

“So, that the squad?” Black Ice motioned towards the eight young men running around the diamond.

“Yeah, those is my young pups. Eight of the meanest young niggaz from the hood that are gonna bring the glory back to Harlem,” Don B boasted. “Matter of fact, let me introduce you to my secret weapon. Yo, Lazy!” Don B called over to the diamond.

Dena couldn't believe how rotten her luck was. Of all the places Black Ice could've brought her, they had to come to the same park where the Dawgz practiced. Watching Lazy jog across the park, she felt her heart sink a little more, the closer he got. Dena wished she was Barbara Eden so she could blink and disappear, but it was the real world, not television, so she had to face the music.

“What's good, D?” Lazy said, sounding a little winded. He saw Black Ice behind the wheel, but couldn't make out the face of the passenger because she was leaning too far back in her seat.

“Lazy, this my nigga Ice,” Don introduced him.

“Sup man?” Lazy reached into the car to give Ice a pound, but stopped midreach when he saw Dena in the passenger's side. “What the fuck are you dong in here, Dena?” Lazy asked heatedly.

“Hello to you, too,” Dena said, trying to keep her cool.

“Oh, now I see why you ain't return my phone calls, cause you running around with a damn pimp!”

Black Ice leaned over and stared Lazy down. “Little nigga, you better watch ya mouth around grown folks,” Ice warned.

Ignoring the threat, Lazy focused on Dena. “Get yo ass out of the truck!” he barked, trying to yank the door open.

“Man, you better un-ass my fucking door,” Black Ice said angrily.

“Mind ya fucking business before you get knocked out!” Lazy shouted. “Dena, I said get out of the car now!”

“I see you one of those hardheaded niggaz,” Black Ice said. He grabbed his .45 from the holster that was hitched to the driver's side door and made to step out, when Dena's hand on his arm stopped him.

“Don't,” she said softly. Black Ice's face was still a mask of anger, but he sat back in the seat.

“Don, you better check this little nigga before I let him hold something,” Black Ice said, placing the gun on his lap.

“My fault, Ice,” Don B apologized, which was rare for him, but he needed that twenty-five thousand and wasn't about to let Lazy fuck it up. “Yo, what's wrong with you kid?” he asked Lazy.

“Dena, I ain't gonna ask you again,” Lazy said, ignoring Don B.

“Hold the fuck on, I'm coming,” she said, opening the car door. Before her feet hit the ground completely, Lazy had her by the arm and was dragging her back towards the park. “What the fuck is ya problem?” Dena snapped, trying to keep her balance.

“Do you know how long I've been trying to get hold of you?”

“I've been busy,” she said in a very uninterested tone.

“So I see,” he glanced over at Ice, who was speaking with Don B but watching them closely. “My best friend is dead and gone and you're too busy running with your new clique to even return my phone calls.”

“Oh, my God, Chiba?!” Dena knew the man and was actually quite fond of him, when he wasn't off doing dirty with Lazy.

“Don't act all concerned now. I left you a message, but I guess you
and your new boyfriend were having to much fun to check it,” Lazy said.

“Lazy, Ice is not my boyfriend. We're just cool,” Dena said, trying to downplay it.

“You sure got a lot of high-profile friends lately. I don't even wanna know where the sudden popularity came from,” Lazy said scornfully.

Dena snaked her neck. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Dena, I ain't new to this. Yesterday it was Stacks, today it's the nigga in the fly ride. What the fuck is really good with you?”

“Lazy, this is the second time in the last two days that you've all but called me a whore,” Dena said, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice.

He looked at her coldly and said, “If it walks like a duck â¦”

The sound of her hand connecting with his face rang out through the quiet morning. Dena was about to curse Lazy out, but to her surprise, he slapped her right back. Though he hadn't meant to hit her so hard, the blow knocked her on her ass. When he went to help her up, Dena was on him like a wild animal. She kicked, punched, and scratched at Lazy until Jah grabbed her about the waist and dragged her away.

“Get the fuck off me!” Dena snarled.

“Shorty, chill. I'm just trying to help,” Jah told her, just missing a backward kick she directed at his nuts.

“Lazy, what the fuck is wrong with you? You can't be beating on no bitch in the street!” Don B roared. A blur of motion whizzed passed him and before he had a chance to do anything, Black Ice had materialized in front of Lazy.

The young man tried to take a fighting stance, but Black Ice was a much more skilled fighter. He caught Lazy with an overhand right and followed up with a left to the lip. Blood shot from Lazy's mouth as he crashed to the ground. The other members of the Big Dawg basketball team rushed in to help Lazy, but Black Ice's .45 stopped them short.

“Is all you lil niggaz crazy?” Ice swept the crowd with the gun. “The next muthafucka to buck is gonna catch something hot!”

“Ice, chill,” Don B tried to defuse the situation.

“Don, I come up here to do business and this is how it goes down?” Ice wasn't aiming the gun at him, but the look in his eyes wasn't a friendly one.

“Ice, that's word to mine; you know I'd never let you get caught in a cross. The little nigga lost his friend and apparently his girl,” he glanced at Dena, “in less than twenty-four hours, so he ain't thinking straight.”

“I got something to straighten his ass out,” Black Ice said to Lazy, who was still sitting on the floor in a daze.

“On everything I love, I'm gonna check son, but don't pop the lil nigga over some words Ice, you a bigger man than that.” Don B tried to stroke his ego.

“I am, ain't I.” Ice's face softened, but he didn't put his gun away. “The bread is in the back seat, D.”

“A'ight,” Don B nodded to True, who retrieved the case containing the twenty-five large. “Ice, I hope this doesn't sour any future dealings?”

“Don, you know the bullshit don't matter where a dollar is concerned, but you better teach these young boys some fucking etiquette.” Ice looked over at Lazy.

“Get off!” Dena broke loose from Jah and went to Lazy. “Are you okay?”

“Bitch, get away from me.” Lazy kicked out at her angrily.

“Lazy, I didn't mean for this to happen,” she said, with tears filling her eyes. “I swearâ”

“Fuck you, ho bitch. You think ya whack-ass pussy is the only one out here. I got a hundred bitches waiting to take ya place.”

BOOK: Still Hood

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