The kid looked up at the building in construction. It was still in the scaffold stage of construction but you could tell automatically what it was going to be. It was going to be another sleazy low down for lowlifes and decrypted men to ogle women at then go home and beat or rape their girlfriends or wives later or complete stranger.
The young teenager knew all about these places. He used to pass by them all the time on his way to school or home to see drunken men stumbling out and looking for prey. He knew what places like this represented: despair.
The young man used to hear all the stripper tales when he was younger about why females choose that profession. Some ladies like to use the words like 'I'm being independent' or 'I'm using this to pay for some sort of schooling or support my children.' His youthful ears heard all of those excuses just sitting on the stoop of his project building or in the grocery stores while they use their WIC checks to pay for their food and necessities.
The youngster had watched his father get up every day sometimes sick as a dog to make sure they had a roof over their heads. He saw his mother break her back every day making sure ends were met and he had food in his tummy because she didn't want to be the government's bitch like some many other females were so happy to be.
He looked upon his family with pride even seeing all the chaos around them. The teen was content with living in hardship because he had a strong family structure.
Then the most horrific thing happen.
An incident so traumatic it changed his family and his life forever.
He felt the top of his forehead as he recalled that terrible night in his mind. The night that separated his family and made him turn from the soft and kind hearted boy to the cold and troublesome boy he was becoming.
But he wasn't there in front of the building to reminisce about bad times and how cheap women make their money, he was there to get someone. He was there to get someone he heard was a regular at this place. Not exactly the place but the alley behind it.
He happened to glanced down at a front page of a newspaper that been separated somehow and was now beneath his feet.
'Notorious Kingpin has been caught!' the front page article read along with picture insert of man lowering his head as he was being dragged off by federal agents in SWAT gear.
The kid scuffed. "Won't be the last."
The youth heard fumbling behind the building and he knew right then his information was right. He was at the right place.
He looked to his left and sure enough a man wearing a yellow stained white shirt and some dingy slacks emerged from behind the building fixing the zipper of his pants.
The man looked at the youngster in dismay and then went on his way.
The teen balled his fist as if he wanted to hit the man but he let the guy pass. The youth could smell the hard liquor coming out of the pores of the dingy gentleman as he passed.
The teenager stayed his ground after the man left and keep looking to see who else was coming from behind the building. He didn't have to wait long. But what came from building almost brought him to tears that fast.
"Momma," was all he could muster as a tear dripped past his cheek.
He ran to the estranged woman wearing a dirty house coat, stained sundress and torn stockings with no shoes. The woman looked at him and smiled her toothless smile and the youngster broke down and cried and hugged her.
"You need some Macky love," Cracky Macky said rubbing her wrinkled hand up and down his cornrows.
The youngster stopped and looked back at her. "You don't remember me?"
Cracky Macky looked at the youth in confusion but still smiled. "Back for Macky?"
"What happened to you?" the teenager asked. "Why you have no teeth? Why are you doing this? It hasn't been that long?"
Cracky Macky still smiled at the young man completely oblivious to what he was saying. "You need some Macky love. Ten for throat and twenty for undercoat."
The teen moved away in complete horror and disgust.
"I knew I should have come back for you sooner," the teenager said wiping the tears from his face. "But we knew that you... but I swear I never thought this."
Cracky Macky stop smiling since she knew this was not a potential customer. She started to walk pass him when he grabbed her startling her.
"Macky don't do rape, you have to pay," Cracky Macky said.
The youth didn't know what to do or think. He had abandoned his mother just like his father did. He was the reason she had turned down this even darker path. If only he had...
"You really don't remember me?" the youngster's tear couldn't stop coming down his face. "I'm your son, Justin."
"Justin, Justin," Cracky Macky repeated the name like she was trying to draw it from her memory banks. "Justin. Yeah, yeah, Justin."
Justin smiled. "Yeah, Justin."
Cracky Macky smiled again and rubbed his face. "Yeah, Justin."
Justin nodded. "Yes, that's me."
Cracky Macky's smile quickly turned into a frown. "You still Macky some money. You came in my mouth. That's extra I told you."
Justin stepped back in awe. "I'm not one of your tricks. Look, I'm your son and I'm taking you home. I know it's been a while but we didn't know where you ran off too. Father thought you just needed time to heal and that would eventually come back but I didn't know it had gotten this bad."
Cracky Macky looked at Justin hard like she was trying her hardest to really recognize him.
Cracky Macky shook her head. "My son died. Stop pretending to be my dead son to get out of payment to Macky. I will tell Drama."
Justin looked at Crack Macky. "Drama?"
"Yes," Cracky Macky said. "Macky and Drama money but now Macky money because Drama not around. But he will be back. His club burned down but he will be back."
Cracky Macky stopped and looked at Justin's forehead. She placed her fingers over the small imprint still vaguely visible on the side of his forehead.
Cracky Macky instantly removed her fingers as if she got bit by a snake. "No, No, No!"
Justin grabbed her hands. "I know, Momma, I know. I'm sorry. We shouldn't have let you."
Cracky Macky started shaking her head. "No, no, no!"
"I know, I can't believe it either," Justin said. "I didn't think I would ever see you. Cousin Syrus spoke to Pops seeing that he had seen you but you know Pops he didn't want to believe it. He couldn't believe you had turn out like this. I couldn't but he keep calling. He said he even tried coming down here to get you but failed. I..."
Cracky Macky pointed at Justin. "No, No, No! S.O.S! S.O.S!"
Justin bowed his head and the tears fell. "I'm here to take you back home with us."
Cracky Macky just keep pointing yelling those three words "S.O.S!" Those words had haunted her for years, After that night when those young hooligans came into her home with her loving family and brutalized them all because her beloved husband, Jarvis, decided he wanted to tell on them. She begged her husband not to because she knew what heat it would bring and she was right. It tore her family apart. They had to move, get therapy, set up whole new lives with different names and surgery. But none of that stop the hurt she felt for her family that night. Not even her being rape was as devastating as seeing her own little sweet angel Justin being tortured and branded. Her husband got the worst fate a man could endure too but he called it upon himself. He should have kept his mouth shut. So after that, she couldn't stand to even look at her husband, let alone her son who still had the mark embedded in his skin no matter how many skin grafts her son had gotten. It was still there as a reminder as well as the mark on the father's face and the fact after having his manhood taken, he could never perform sexually again. She went into depression and came back to the source of where all her hurt was. She had heard about the three boys that did the act had been killed somehow, in the same alley she now turned tricks at in fact but that didn't ease her pain. Those kids had gotten away with doing that to their family and got caught and dead over some street beef that had shit to do with her family's suffering.
The newspaper never showed a picture of the family that got brutalized so when she came back to Brooklyn, no one really knew she was. She mostly stayed out in the streets talking to herself. She was lost. Then she meet Beast. He took her under his wing and got her high and made her turn tricks to keep up the habit. He tried to teach her to do blowjob and she kept biting the foreskin so Beast knocked all her teeth out to solve that problem.
When Beast died, she was really lost and soon that back alley became her home. Nobody knew the story of Cracky Macky, It was like she just appeared one day and now she was looking at the only reminder of her past.
"Hey. What's going on?" Justin heard someone say behind him.
Cracky Macky was still going on hysterically.
Justin turned around to see two men wearing hooded sweatshirts and baggy sweats and Timberlands staring at him.
"I'm just talking to her," Justin assured with a smile.
"Looks like she don't want to talk," the smallest of the two with the afro with a comb pick in it suggested.
"Yeah, yeah, I got that," Justin realized. "I'll come back later."
"Nah, you want," the other hoodlum with a sun visor hat cocked to the side of his forehead said pointing a hand up towards Justin's chest. "Who you? We don't know and you harassing bitches."
"Look, man, I don't want no problems," Justin pleaded. "She knows who I am."
"Is that true, Macky, you know this little nigga?" the ruffian with the afro asked.
Cracky Macky just keep shouting, "S.O.S! S.O.S!"
"Like I thought," the older thug said. "So I suggest you tell me in five minutes why you down here or that will be your last."
-
-
-
King heard the click clacking of heels coming towards the door of the room he was in. He let the drool that was making the way out of his mouth drip down and leaned on the sleeve of his arm.
He was in total pain and agony and all he wanted now was death. He welcomed it. After all his years on earth using, abusing, neglecting and disrespecting people, he knew it was his turn but still he just wanted out.
King lowered his head and rocked his body from side as he half sit on the stained and soaked mattress with his legs underneath him. He dropped his arms to the side and looked at the doorway.
He was fading in and out of conscious. Ever since Lady Gayle shot off his male private, he has been in constant pain and agony. Lady Gayle still feed him drugs and painkillers via her goons but never saw him again after that.
King wondered why she was still keeping him alive. She already taken everything from him and then some. He just wished she would just hurry up and finish the job.
The heels approaching the door made him try to keep his eyes open a little. King was waiting to see Lady Gayle instead it was someone else. But the new female figure brought a familiar face with her.
"Shaarrmaayynnee," was all the words he could have whisper from his mouth.
His tongue was unusable since he tried to eat it to stop his hunger.
The new lady figure with the flowing gown and the hard red bottom shoes looked at Charmaine who looked at King in disgust.
"Do you have anything you want to ask him?" the lady asked Charmaine.
Charmaine looked at King. All his lies, betrayal and narcissistic ways brought this on him. Charmaine despised him more than anyone and anything in this world. Even if he could speak properly, she didn't want to hear nothing from him.
He had the chance to tell the truth and he keep the charade going. Now she wanted to do with him. As far as she was concerned, that chapter of her life been closed.
"No," Charmaine said and walked out of the room.
The exquisite female nodded and made a head gesture to the tall muscular man behind them wearing shades with a tight black tee shirt and slacks. He had two holsters that strapped across his chest and laid at his sides. He pulled a chrome .45 automatic pistol from one of the holsters, walked over to King and gave King his wish of death.
Charmaine flinched hearing the gunshots outside the room but felt no remorse or pity. She simply looked at the graceful woman in front of her.
"Now what?" Charmaine asked.
"Now we make you a star," the lady smiled. "I got big plans for you. One being you joining teams with an old but still up and coming lady in her own right. She goes by the name of Boss Mama and she is going to be your ticket to the big team."
Charmaine nodded.
"As for..."Charmaine was about to ask.
The distinguished woman cut her off. "You need not worry about that. I saved you because I needed you. As far as the others, well, I don't control fate. I just it in the right directions."
"What about my mother?" Charmaine inquired.
"I really have no use for her anymore," she said. "But all in all what she has built, I can make stronger and I knew with you two by my side we can make wonders."
Charmaine nodded. She still felt doubtful and a little well, concerned.
Her companion picked up on it right away. "You're worried about Him, aren't you? Please he can't hurt you. Trust me. He's an under thought."
"Then you don't know him," Charmaine remarked.
The woman laughed. "Yes, I see a lot of people made that mistake and paid the price. I will make sure not land in that category. However, with that being said, let's not focus on the past but on the future at hand. I know you still have unfinished business as well do I but we must think on a bigger scale. Your mother is safely under Fed custody but not for long. I still have a few more favors up my sleeve. I got you out didn't I?"
"That's my point, Miss, you got me out," Charmaine still had a hard time figuring that out. "Why?
Charmaine was seriously facing some hard times and hard questions ahead and all of a sudden they just let her go in the care of...
"Because I see potential in you I haven't seen in a long time," the lady ended with a smile. "And please call me Envy."
Charmaine still had one more thing on her mind. "What about..."
Envy laughed again. "Loverboy, huh? Yeah, well, I can't get them all. I have to let someone go if I want to make the moves I want to make but he is in good hands. In fact, I think he's going to be an Icon real soon."
-
-
Train was on his hundred and twelfth pushup when the prison guard banged his baton across the bars of his cell.
"Bishop, you have a visitor," the guard said.
Train ignored him and continued his set of pushups.
"Didn't you hear what I said?" the guard asked. "You have a visitor."
Train still continued his regimen.
"You deaf or something, Bishop?" the guard asked.
"No, I heard you," Train finished his set.
Train got up off the floor and grabbed the tee shirt that was on the bunk to wipe the seat off his face. He walked towards the bar.
"Well, you got a visitor so let's go," the guard said.
"Listen, Ma Honey, I'm good, tell the visitor I stepped out," Train said.
"It's Mahoney, you jackass," the guard corrected. "And I don't care how good you are. You got a person waiting to see your worthless ass so let's go."
"If it's your wife with those awful cookies she baked again, tell her I already died twice throwing them up," Train said. "She didn't have to come back to finish me off."
"You're still a funny man," Mahoney said smacking the baton in his hand. "I see that week in solitary didn't teach you anything."
"Yeah, it told me what I got to do to get away from your wife's cooking." Train said putting on the tee shirt. "Listen, you really want to torture motherfuckers in here, strapped them to a room, and force feed them your wife's cooking. I guarantee they will be screaming like a baby for weeks."
"Cut out the wife shit," Mahoney said. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood."
"Why? Is it National Redneck Day again?" Train smiled. "I bet you can't wait to get home, put on your 'special' sheet, go hang out with your buddies and play pin the evidence on the innocent black man."
"You testing me," Mahoney said pointing the baton through the bars. "Now get your shit together and let's go."
Train put on his prison issued shirt and stepped backed away for the bars and turned around.
"Open up gate 12!" Mahoney yelled and the cell bars opened up.
Train felt the handcuffs on his wrist then the sharp pain against the back of his leg with the baton Mahoney was holding.
Train buckled and fell on his knees. "It was the National Redneck thing, right?"
"No, asshole, that day is tomorrow," Mahoney leaned and whispered in Train's ear. "Today is beat a smart ass Negro across the mouth for talking shit day."
"Oh, really, and me here without a present," Train said.
Mahoney grabbed Train by the collar of his shirt and Train got up off his knees.
"Let's go, smart ass," Mahoney said pushing Train out of his cell.
Mahoney brought Train over to the visitor's area of the prison ward.
"So who's really here to see me if your wife ain't here to poison me?" Train asked Mahoney as the door to the visitor's area buzzed and Mahoney opened it.
"Beats me and I don't care," Mahoney said. "I hope it's the damn Devil to take your worthless soul."
"Oh, your moms here?" Train asked and Mahoney pushed him in the room.
"There," Mahoney pointed to the guy sitting at the table. "That's your visitor."
"Who is he?" Train said.
"Maybe one of your old boyfriends," Mahoney said. "Just go."
Train was about to say something but thought better of it and walked over to the table.
Train plopped down on the seat facing the guy.
"Who the fuck are you?" Train asked.
The man smiled. "I see what I heard about you isn't fabricated."
"Well, I ain't heard shit about you and you interrupted my workout regimen," Train said. "So who are you and what the fuck you want?"
"My name is Ashon Thadon, I'm..."the man introduced himself but was interrupting again by Train's laughter.
"Ashon Thadon," Train laughed. "That nigga that be writing all those hood books and shit."
"So you heard of me?" Ashon asked.
"Yeah, I seen a book of yours once or twice," Train admitted.
"Which one?" Ashon asked.
"The one with the pretty ass cover and the words in it," Train responded. "Now is there a point to this visit? One of these niggas about to get shank today and I don't want miss out on the bet on who it is. So let's wrap this up."
"Fine," Ashon said. "I want to do a story about you."
"A story about me?" Train asked.
"Yes," Ashon replied.
"A story about a fly ass nigga from the streets that gets bitches and gets money," Train said.
"Yeah, I guess so," Ashon said. "Something like that."
"Nah, homey, already been done before," Train said. "I seen a million stories like that. Kingpin at 15, hundred baby mamas, slinging weight by the kilos, living in mansions and having Kim Kardashian sex with supermodels and half the cast of Atlanta Housewives. I ain't with it. The nigga that talks about Train got to know I ain't that type of nigga. I mean I have Kim Kardashain sex before. I think with Kim Kardashian. But she was trying to film that shit and I was like, 'Look, bitch, if I wanted to be on camera I would have done that reality show 'Who did Vivica Fox?' Anyway, she got with Ray J and you know how that turned out."
"Be that as it may," Ashon said. "People still want to hear your story."
"My story is this," Train got up. "I'm a black man in jail. End of story."
"But that's not the end," Ashon said. "It's still going on and every story has a beginning."
"Yeah, my story has a beginning," Train said. "But you ain't ready to hear it."
"Try me," Ashon said.
"Ashon Thadon," Train said. "Ghetto writer to the stars. Ok, little nigga, here goes."
-
-
Thompson walked into his apartment exhausted. He had been through hell and back dealing with Charmaine Davids and all the drama that came with her, no pun intended.
Captain Whitmore had saved his ass in Atlanta and he was forever grateful that it didn't escalate as far as it did. Thompson didn't know what he was thinking. He wanted to relay a message but after all that had happened in the mist of his visit to her dorm room, he had actually forgot what Victor Davids' last dying words were.
Thompson didn't want to think about anymore. He was tired and beat. In exchange for Whitmore getting his ass out of the slang, he was given six months suspension which he gladly took with no problem. He would embrace the quiet and put the dealings of Charmaine Davids and her case to the farthest part of his mind.
He flopped on his dusty couch with a cold beer he grabbed from the refrigerator in the kitchen.
Thompson couldn't believe all that happened in the last few months. It was enough to write a book about. Maybe three even. Only what would you call a book like that?
"Dumb shit happens," Thompson named a title in his head but laughed out loud at it.
"Glad someone is in a good mode," Thompson heard someone say from behind him on the couch.
He knew that voice and it only meant trouble.
"I thought the Feds caught you and your rotten brother," Thompson flexed.
"You by all people should know by now," the voice said behind him. "You can't capture someone that doesn't want to get caught yet. And as you can see, I'm not ready yet."
"Only a matter of time before your ass is either caught," Thompson said taking a sip of his beer. "Or dead. I prefer the latter but you know I guess we just have to wait and see."
'We shall but in the meantime," the voice said. "You're going to be my new best friend."
Thompson laughed. "Give it up, Drama, you don't have any moves left. I heard about Streets. Caught with keys of coke in the backseat like a drug deal gone bad. I mean come on, you could have done better than that. Let's face it, you don't have anything else to play."
"Sure I do" and Thompson felt the tip of the barrel of some sort of gun tapping the back of his head.
"I'm done playing your little game," Thompson protested. "I'm done seeing you set people to take the fall for shit that should be you. So if you want to put a bullet in the back of my head, do it and get it over with. I'm done talking with the likes of you."
"You're right, Thompson," Thompson felt the pressure of the barrel tip removed from the back of his head but Tamel was still talking. "I don't have any cards to play. But like an old dear friend use to say, the simplest math in the world is Hood Math. One plus one equals two and it doesn't change. That's just basic. One thing happens so another thing can happen. So guess what is going to happen to make you start seeing my point."
"Listen, I don't know shit about this Hood Math shit but I tell you this," Thompson said. "I'm not doing a damn thing."
"Okay, so you will be able to tell that to your family?" Tamel inquired. "I mean you will be able to say our mother died because I didn't help someone. Or my little niece got ran over by a car because I wasn't cooperative. Or my mental challenged cousin was kidnapped and butt raped by a bunch of horny pedophiles on a Tuesday because I wanted to be a badass."
Thompson stood up. "You threatening my family?"
"No, I'm giving you an example of the simplest math," Tamel replied. "You don't do something, something happens. If you do, something else happens. See it's easy. Hood Math. No the choice is easy. Choice A is that you do what the fuck I say and how I say or Choice B you start getting ready to apologize to your family. What's it going to be?"
The new Trilogy
Hood Math coming soon
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