The Holy City Page 4

  Chapter 2

  “Wudd up, lord?” Marcus greeted Marlin by performing the nation’s handshake as he walked up on Twenty-first and Homan. The sun was setting, going into nightfall, and the block was accumulating major traffic—from cars speeding through the block, some cars stopping in the middle of the street holding up traffic talking to people they knew, even hypes flooding the block for drugs.

  “Wudd up wit’chú, homey,” Marlin responded, with his undivided attention being on all the activities that was going on in front of him. In the same breath, he hollered out, “Aey! Y’all hurry up and move all that traffic, man. People tryn’a get through! These stupid-ass niggaz gon’ get a nigga popped off out here with this dumb shit.” He said this as he and Marcus gradually walked down Homan.

  “Aey, aey, who workin’?” asked a neighborhood dope fiend who frantically walked up while impatiently flashing his money.

  “What’chú need?” Marlin quickly reacted.

  “Five rocks, five blows,” the fiend anxiously stated.

  “Go to the middle of the block. I’ll be down ‘nere in a minute,” Marlin explained while in the midst of making a move toward his stash. “Aey, lord, stay right there. I’ll be right back,” he hollered out to Marcus as he jogged off.

  While Marlin was taking care of business, Marcus stood there and witnessed him dictate traffic and receive more money from the growing customers that kept walking up. No matter how much Marcus wanted to hide his desire to hustle, he couldn’t deny the passion that filled him as he watched Marlin and the others on the block handle business.

  “A’ight, let’s ride,” Marlin announced once making it back in the presence of Marcus.

  “Gaddamn, I was about to walk off and leave yo’ ass. Got me standin’ out here like a sitting duck on this hot-ass block,” Marcus said with a sense of humor.

  “Ain’t nobody got'chú out here. I don’t understand how you be out here all the time and not be tryn’a get some of this paper!” Marlin said with excitement as they strolled down Homan going in the direction of the main street, Twenty-first.

  “Man, I ain’t tryn’a be out here workin’ packs!”

  “You ain’t gotta be workin’ packs . . . I mean, you gotta start from somewhere. I don’t work packs all the time, but I be needin’ that quick money. Shhhiiit, you see how much traffic be coming through Homan . . . ,” Marlin said while counting all the money he made from the day shift.

  “Aey, walk down here with me so I can meet up wit’ Spoonie, I gotta holla’ at him about some’nt.”

  “A’ight, let’s go,” Marcus responded without any hesitation.

  On their walk down Twenty-first, Marlin emptied out a White Owl blunt and filled it with weed. Almost every car that drove past them blew their horn and threw up the deuce. The Twenty-first Strip was one of the many places where the vice lords roamed, so everybody that was affiliated knew each other.

  As they continued to walk and smoke, they periodically stopped to fool around with certain females and guys from the neighborhood.

  “Aey Jessica! Bring yo’ ball head ass ova’ here!” Marlin jokingly yelled across the street at a group of young females walking down Twenty-first whom he normally talked shit to on a daily basis.

  “Boa, I know yo’ lil dirty ass ain’t over there talkin’ ‘bout me wit’ them same clothes you had on from two days ago!” Everyone in her group busted out in laughter as she yelled back, matching Marlin’s humor.

  “I’ll be dirty as long as I keep that dirty money in my pocket!” he responded by cockily holding up a stack of cash.

  “That ain’t shit!” Jessica continued. “It prob’le ain’t nuttin’ but a twenty on top of a bunch of one’s, wit’cho’ broke ass!”

  “Yeah right, I—”

  “Aey, look at Donisha lil sexy ass,” Marcus said in a hushed tone, as he continuously tapped Marlin on the arm, interrupting him from making a smart remark.

  “Maaann, fuck dat bitch. She think she all that since she been fuckin’ one of Spoonie guys. You know dat nigga Reggie, don’t you?”

  “Man, fuck all that. Aye, Donisha! Slow up!” Marcus hollered out, getting the group’s attention as they continued to march down Twenty-first.

  “What!” Donisha hollered back from a distance with a slight attitude.

  “Come ‘ere for a minute!”

  As she reluctantly turned around and headed back down the street, she blurted out, “Meet me halfway. I ain’t walkin’ all the way back down there!” Donisha was the most attractive girl out of the group. Although she was only sixteen, she had the body of a woman in her twenties. She kept her hair done in a dark brown weave wrap that offset her smooth pecan-colored skin tone. Unlike the other girls in their crew, she was blessed at an early age with nice thick shapely thighs with a slight gap in between her legs that matched her wide-spreaded hips, along with a perfect backside that complimented all her attributes. To top everything off, she kept her full juicy lips glossed up to perfection.

  “Damn, girl, you jus’ gon’ make me chase after you, huh?” Marcus said while being slightly out of breath from jogging a half block. “Wasssup wit’chú, Don?”

  “Shit, ‘bout to walk ova’ on Christiana so they can get them some weed,” she said nonchalantly. “You know I’mma good girl. I don’t be smokin’ that shit like y’all. Look at' cho’ ass, high as hell right now!” she said while giggling and shaking her head at Marcus’s attempt to straighten his facial expression

  “Girl, you know you stay lookin’ good.”

  “You know a bitch gotta stay fly,” she said in a sassy fashion with her hands resting on her hips while glancing down at her gear, which consisted of a pink and white halter top that barely covered her stomach, with a seductive phrase written on the front, and some blue jean shorts that was so tight, they weren’t able to pass her upper thighs. She sported some new all-white Reebok classics with the footie’s that had the pink fuzzy ball on the back.

  As they continued to make small talk with each other, Marcus stood there, slowly eyeing her down from head to toe. From the expression Marcus had on his face, it was obvious that he was high, and all he could think of was how badly he wanted to sex Donisha down!

  “When you gon’ let me—”

  “Let chú what!” she cut him off while raising one eyebrow at his half statement.

  “I mean, you know, when you gon’ have some time to kick it wit’ me,” Marcus replied with hesitation as if he was correcting himself.

  “You see me damn near every day. All you gotta do is come walk wit’ us.”

  “Nah, I’m talkin’ ‘bout us kickin’ it alone, you know, so we can talk and get to know each other a lil betta’.”

  “Nigga, you been knowin’ me the whole two years I been stayin’ around here wit’ my auntie.”

  “You kno’ what I’m sayin’.”

  “Yeah, I kno’ whatchú’ tryn’a say. That’s why you need to say whatchú feel and quit beatin’ ‘round the bush.”

  “Bitch! You need to hurry up ‘fore we leave yo’ ass!” One of Donisha's rowdy friends yelled from a block away.

  “Look, Marcus, you cool and everything but I’m seein’ somebody right now,” she said while backing her way down the street.

  Marcus stood there for a minute in a daze while watching Donisha swing her hips, with her ass seductively moving from side to side as she walked down the street, knowing that she had his attention.

  “Damn, she don’t know what I’a do to her,” Marcus mumbled to himself with a sexual desire as he began to walk off.

  Marlin was leaning against a parked car, smoking on a Newport, conversing with one of the brothers from off Sixteenth Street that previously drove up.

  “Dee Jay, drop us off on Cermak and Springfield,” Marlin demanded. Before Deejay could give an answer, Marlin and Marcus were already jumping into his Chevy Caprice.

  “Gurrrl, what the hell Marcus want wit’chu?” Je
ssica asked in a snappy tone of voice.

  “Yo’ guess is as good as mine. I think he was tryn’a holla’. I mean, he cute and everything, but if a nigga ain’t gettin’ to that paper, he ain’t got’a chance in hell wit’ me!”

  “Bitch! You talkin’ like you all dat!” one of the girls aggressively blurted out, making everyone in the group laugh as they kept on about their business.

  Dee Jay was a pack runner for the conservatives off Sixteenth. He was the type of nigga that damn near knew everybody in the ‘hood because of how cool he was.

  After making a detour to stop and buy some weed, Dee Jay drove through a few extra blocks while they smoked. The Chevy he was driving in was the block car.

  “Damn, Jo, dis raggedy ma’fucka be ridin’ don’t it,” Marlin teased as he took a long drag off the blunt while listening to the latest mixtape.

  “Hell yeah, nigga, I’ll put this ma’fucka up against any Chevy in the ‘hood!”

  “Nigga, you crazy as hell, dis ma’fucka a’ cut off befo’ you even make it through the race!” They all laughed from the comment.

  “Anyway, Marcus, I saw u hollin’ at dat lil freak everybody been tryn’a get at. Wassup wit’ her?” Deejay asked as he glanced to the backseat at Marcus.

  “I mean, she cool, but’chú know how these hoes be frontin’,” Marcus said while reaching for the blunt that was being passed to him from the front seat.

  “Man, Jo, I told you that hoe wasn’t on shit,” Marlin stated while coughing from the weed smoke. “She jus’ looks for a nigga to take care her ass. I can tell jus’ by lookin’ at her.”

  Marcus didn’t say a word as they continued to smoke and ride.

  “Man, you jus’ passed Springfield three times,” Marlin said.

  “The blunt ain’t gon’ yet.”

  “Man, fuck dat. I told you I had to take care some business. Let us out right here, we a walk to the block.”

  They got out of the car and walked a block down to Springfield while finishing the blunt.

  “I ‘posed to been met this nigga down here thirty minutes ago. I hope he still ova’ here,” Marlin said as they turned the corner.

  As soon as they turned the block, they witnessed a crowd of people standing outside, laughing and talking to one another. As they got a little closer, they recognized it was Spoonie entertaining the crowd, with Lil G and Pee Wee standing beside him.

  “Damn, nigga, it took you long enuff,” Spoonie said jokingly while turning his attention toward the two. “You must think I ain’t got moves to make or some’nt.”

  Earlier that day, Spoonie ordered Marlin to bring Marcus around him later on, but he didn’t want Marcus to know what the matter was. Spoonie wanted to talk to him about a business proposition. He knew Marcus had the ability and traits in his blood to be more than just a gangbanger; he had it in him to be a great earner for the nation, and after putting in enough work, he could become a made nigga. Spoonie knew Marcus was smarter than the average young dude.

  “Lil G, where y’all been at all day?” Marlin asked.

  “Ova’ here fuckin’ around,” Lil G responded with a feel-good expression on his face with a small clear plastic cup in his hand with a green potion inside. It was obvious that it was vodka and lime juice from the loud scent.

  “Let me get a sip,” Marlin demanded while reaching and taking the cup from him. Marcus followed suit by doing the same thing to Pee Wee.

  This was the type of relationship the six of them established, including JR and Mikey when they were around. When any one of them had anything in their possession—as far as liquor, weed, or girls that they didn’t care too much about—they shared with each other with no problem.

  In the meanwhile, while the four of them was laughing and joking amongst each other, Spoonie was off to the side conversing on the phone. Spoonie had a couple of other guys nearby, when an Astro van pulled up banging some house music (a certain type of dance music that was made popular in Chicago in the ‘80s and early ‘90s). Spoonie stood there on the phone; with no surprise, his buddy Reggie jumped out the van. Spoonie had been expecting him to pull up for a minute so they could talk and take care of some business.

  “My fault, lord!” Reggie exclaimed as he got out the van and started walking toward Spoonie. “My bitch had me held up at the crib arguing over some stupid shit.”

  “It’s all good. Next time tell yo’ lady if she wonna keep eating good, it’ll be smart for her to let'chú out on time.” They both laughed and shook up with each other.

  Reggie was what you called a pretty-boy thug. He stood about five foot ten; medium built, light skinned, and sported a curly ‘fro with a low fade on the sides. Reggie was more of a hustler than a gangster, even though he was affiliated with the TVL nation (Traveler Vice Lord, another street organization). Despite his good looks, how well he dressed, and what people thought of him, if his back was against the wall, he’ll bust his gun with no questions asked.

  “Aey, go down in tha’ basement. I got Tameka down ‘nere waitin’ on you so y’all can count dat money you got for me. When y’all get through countin’, she gon’ give you whatchú need, a’ight,” Spoonie instructed.

  “Damn, I gotta count all this bread wit’ her,” Reggie said as he turned to walk toward the van to get the money. “You gon’ make me miss out on this bad lil’ broad I got waitin’ on me, lord!” he said jokingly, knowing Spoonie cared less about a female when it came down to taking care of business.

  Tameka was a heavyset tomboy that Spoonie had on his team. She had strength like a man and was more loyal than some niggaz in the streets. Spoonie used her basement apartment sometimes to take care of business.

  “Aey, Marcus, come ‘ere!” Spoonie hollered over to where the crowd stood.

  “Wassup,” Marcus said as he walked up.

  “Shit, wassup wit’chú, lord?” Spoonie asked as if he was trying to ease Marcus’s nerves as they shook up.

  “Chillin’, out here trippin’ wit’ these fools.”

  “Lord, I’mma cut right to the chase . . . What’chú gon’ do, Jo?” Spoonie asked while sparking up a blunt that he had resting on his ear.

  “What’chú mean?” Marcus asked curiously.

  “What I mean is . . . we blessed you in, right?”

  “Right,” Marcus answered

  “Why you ain’t out there tryn’a hustle. What, you gettin’ money from somewhere else and ain’t tellin’ us? If you is, I sho’ll can’t tell.” Spoonie grinned as he took another pull off the blunt while looking Marcus up and down.

  “Spoonie, I’mma keep it real wit’chú man,” Marcus began to explain. “I be needin’ money true enuff, but I ain’t no pack-workin’ type of nigga.”

  “What, you think you too good to work a pack? How you think I got to where I’m at in the nation? We all had to start from somewhere!”

  “Lord . . . You kno’ I’a do whateva’ for the team. Fuck a nigga up or whateva’. I jus’ feel like I can do more than jus’ work packs,” Marcus explained, looking Spoonie directly in the eye with a serious expression.

  Damn, this lil nigga bold and got balls of steel. I always knew he had it in him but he jus’ put it out there front and center. Spoonie stood silent for a second as he thought to himself. “I kno’ you different, that’s why I got’a proposition for you . . . ,” he said as he continued to smoke. “Smitty want me to open up shop on Twenty-first and Trumbull. He felt like it had cooled down ova’ there since that murder happened last month . . .” Spoonie proceeded to pass Marcus the blunt before saying, “I need a stand up guy that I can trust to run the block. You kno’, distribute the work, collect the money and report to me. Simple as that. You think you can handle that, big tyma’.” Spoonie smiled at his sarcastic comment.

  “Hell yeah, I can handle that. When we start?” Marcus asked anxiously as he passed the blunt back.

  “We gon’ start fresh on the first, which ain’t nuttin’ but a few
days away so get’cha’ mind right…It’s time to start gettin’ paid, lord,” Spoonie said as they ended the conversation with the nation’s handshake.

  “Baby, don’t trip, I’m on my way right now,” Reggie spoke on the phone while walking up toward the two.

  “Maaann, tell dat broad she gotta wait,” Spoonie stated in a jokingly manner.

  “Yeaaah, dat’s Donisha lil thick ass. Boa, she don’t kno’ I’m fenna tear dat ass up!” He said with excitement.

  “She kno’ she got some good pussy to be so young. I’m still showin’ her how to give good head, though,” he bragged.

  Spoonie had love for his homey, even though Reggie only bought weight from him and went on about his business. Spoonie knew if Reggie kept on chasing after younger girls, it would easily be his downfall.

  “Regg, don’t let dat broad get'chú caught up, lord. Go put dat shit up, then go get up wit’ that hoe. Believe me, she ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Spoonie gave his suggestion while slightly smiling.

  “Awe Yeah, I feel you. She don’t stay too far from where I’m takin’ this shit so I’m cool.”

  “A’ight then, I’a holla’ at'chú,” Spoonie said as they shook up.

  Weak-ass nigga. I’a take dat bitch from you wit’ no problem. Jus’ wait till I start gettin’ to this money, Marcus silently directed his thoughts to Reggie as he stared him down until he got in his van and peeled out.

  “Marcus . . . Marcus! Come’on, Jo, we all fenna ride up to Scatchell’s and grab some’nt to eat, my treat!” Spoonie hollered out from where the crowd of lords stood.

  Little did Marcus know this was the start of a new beginning for his life!