The Holy City Page 5

  Chapter 3

  Meanwhile back at home, Sylvia worked hard between two jobs and was trying to the best of her ability to keep her family intact. After a couple of weeks, Sylvia started noticing that Marcus was spending less time in the house. When he came in, it was only to change clothes and say hi and bye.

  “Momma been lookin’ for you,” Chris informed Marcus as he walked up to their front porch.

  “What she want?” Marcus asked nervously while attempting to straighten his face up from his high expression.

  “I don’t kno’. Go ‘n’ see,” Chris said with a grin. He knew his brother was high by looking at him, and from Sylvia fussing around the house lately; Chris had a pretty good idea of what she wanted with him.

  Marcus went into the house and ran straight for the bathroom. “Man, I wonder what the hell she wants,” He mumbled to himself while splashing water on his face. “Whateva’ it is, I jus’ gotta deal wit’ it.”

  As soon as Marcus opened the bathroom door, there she was standing outside the door waiting on him.

  “I need to talk to you in the room, now!” She demanded with force.

  “Okay,” Marcus responded nervously.

  On the walk to the room, Marcus’s heart was beating through his chest. I’m jus’ gon’ keep it real wit’ her, let her kno’ what’s goin’ on. Naw, fuck that, she might kick me out the crib wit’ nowhere to go, he rapidly thought to himself as they were approaching the bedroom.

  “What’s been goin’ on with you?” Sylvia asked as she slammed the bedroom door behind them.

  “What’chú mean?” Marcus countered while looking confused.

  “What the hell you think I mean!” She began to raise her voice. “I can count on one hand how many times I saw you in the past couple weeks! I swear, if you—”

  “Ma!” Marcus loudly interrupted. “You be at work all day and when I come in the house, you be sleep. You kno’ I ain’t gon’ wake you up ‘cause I know how tired you be from workin’ so hard,” he said with a sense of sympathy, attempting to soften his mother’s words.

  “Look, Marcus, I’mma tell you like this. If you out there doin’ some shit you know damn well you ain’t got no business doin’, you might as well get cho’ shit right now and find somewhere else to stay. Do you understand me!” she emphasized as she continued to snap.

  She got her nerves to tell me some shit like this when the nigga she laying up wit’ every night fuck wit’ one of the biggest drug lords in the city, Marcus thought to himself for a split second without giving her a response while showing a disgusted expression as he stared his mother in her eyes

  “Do you understand me?” Sylvia repeated forcefully.

  “Yeah, Ma . . . I understand,” Marcus replied with a cracked voice and a hurt expression upon his face.

  From that moment on, there was no doubt in Marcus’s mind that it was time for him to get out in the streets full fledged. When Marcus first opened up shop with Spoonie, he experienced the addictive adrenaline of making fast money. The excitement that filled his young mind led him to make the decision that the street life was going to be the career path for him until jail or death do him part!

  “Yeah, who dis?” Marcus said as he spoke through the receiver of his mobile phone.

  “Lord, I need'chú again!” the voice on the other end muttered out excitedly.

  “Damn, already. I jus’ left’ you fifteen minutes ago,” Marcus claimed as he recognized the voice being that of Lil G.

  “You know’ how this ‘first of the month’ shit go. How long you gon’ be, Jo?”

  “Gimme ten minutes.”

  “A’ight, I’mma be ova’ Lisa crib. Call her phone when you make it out front.”

  “Bet,” Marcus replied as they hung up from each other.

  Even though Marcus wasn’t working packs on the front line, his job was still challenging. It was his job to make sure each block that was in progress ran smoothly and never ran out of supplies. Spoonie let Marcus use one of his trap cars to get around so he could do the job successfully. After each thousand-dollar bundle was sold, Marcus would pick up the money, then supply the block with another “g-bundle.” At the time, there were only two blocks that was in progress, Trumbull and Homan. These two blocks was right next to each other on the Twenty-first Strip. Both blocks had crack cocaine and heroin, but each block had different prices. Trumbull had the dimes (ten-dollar bags), and Homan had the dubs (twenty-dollar bags). Each block had its different clientele, from white people whom some were semi–truck drivers, to poor blacks that struggled to get “twos and fews.” The first week of each month usually brought in double the money. If Marcus did his job successfully, he was paid a thousand dollars a week. He and his friends were making the same type of money, but theirs would come in quicker because they were on the front line selling packs.

  “Aey, come’on out,” Marcus called Lil G from his mobile phone.

  “A’ight, here I come.”

  Marcus had just turned seventeen and didn’t have a license to drive. Spoonie had a personal compartment built in the trap car for a stash spot so if he ever was pulled over, the police wouldn’t be able to find the work.

  “Man, I had to get me a quickie while I was waitin’ on you, lord!” Lil G exclaimed as he got into the car and shook up with Marcus.

  “I feel you, Jo; ole girl thick as hell!”

  “Hell yeah!” Lil G agreed while gathering all the money he had on him. “Here go nine hundred and Shorty workin’ on his last jab (pack). He should be through by the time we make it ova’ there,” he said as he counted the rest of the money in his hands, which was all his from the bundle he had finished working.

  Marcus had keys to all stash houses that was operated by Spoonie. They had two to three different apartments that they switched up daily. The apartments were used to keep all the supplies for that day.

  It had been nearly three months since the conversation between Marcus and his mother. Since then, Marcus made it obvious what his choice in life was when he eventually moved out the house. Not really having anywhere to go but to the block, Marcus was living from house to house with friends, until he got up with Peaches. Peaches was twenty-four years old and had three kids by three different baby daddies. Two of her kids’ fathers were dead, and the other one was in prison with a forty-year sentence for kidnapping and first-degree murder. Despite Peaches having three kids and going through so much at such an early age, she wasn’t too bad looking. Peaches was what they called a “red bone”—light skinned, stood about five foot six, nice thick thighs with very few stretch marks. She had nice round breasts with a little gut. Last but not least, she had an ass that all men in the ‘hood would die to be next to. By looking at her, you could hardly tell she had three kids; Peaches was a typical ghetto queen: no job, on welfare, very little education, and a foul mouth. Peaches had a two-bedroom apartment in a sixteen-unit co-way building located on Twenty-first and St. Louis. The apartments in the building were all filled with drug addicts and underprivileged people who were on welfare. Marcus cared less about the living conditions as long as he was stationed a block or two from the spots that he was helping operate.

  “Oooohhh, baby! Yeessss! Yeessss!” Peaches passionately moaned and groaned in the midst of Marcus sliding in and out of her. “That dick soooo gooood, baby!” she continued, obviously showing signs of satisfaction.

  “How good?” Marcus said while in the heat of the moment as he fiercely pumped harder.

  “Very!” she replied erotically.

  “Awe yea!” Marcus teased as he continued to go hard.

  As Marcus continued to penetrate inside Peaches, looking at her perfectly shaped round ass flap back and forth off his pelvic area made him want to bust all inside her, but he kept his composure and pulled out just in time. Peaches was used to dealing with big-time ballers, so sometimes she would question herself on why she was fucking with this young hustler; then she would always re
member how mature Marcus was for his age and how well he put it down in the bedroom. Peaches had sex with several other men over the years, so it was surprising to her that he was the best she ever had sexually!

  “Marcus, baby,” She said while slowly licking Marcus’s neck and passionately pecking his lips as he sat on the edge of the bed, rolling up a blunt after they were done having sex. “Yo’ lil young ass kno’ you be puttin’ it down, don’t you,” she teased seductively.

  “Well, ya kno’, what can I say,” he teased back at her before they were interrupted by the ringing of his phone. “Yeah,” he answered.

  “Aey, meet me downstairs in twenty minutes and bring that down wit’chú. I want you to ride somewhere wit’ me.”

  “A’ight.” Marcus said as they hung up from each other.

  It was in the middle of a weekday, and Marcus knew that Spoonie was coming to pick up the money that was made off Trumbull and Homan from the morning shift. Usually Spoonie would come and leave after picking up the money if there weren’t any problems on the block.

  Marcus and Peaches were in the midst of going for a round two after they were done smoking. Ten minutes into her performing oral sex upon Marcus, they were once again interrupted by his phone.

  “Hel . . . Hello?” Marcus hesitated from the warm sensation he was feeling as he answered his phone.

  “Come’on out, Jo!” Spoonie said with a slight irritation in his tone.

  “A’ight, here I come right now,” Marcus replied frantically. Marcus didn’t want to have Spoonie waiting outside too long, but he was reaching his peak from Peaches fiercely stroking his penis in an up-and-down motion while performing oral sex. Peaches knew Marcus was just about ready to explode from the way he was trembling and by his facial expressions, so she began stroking faster. Without giving a warning, Marcus let loose all inside her mouth. She accepted every drop of his natural juices and didn’t complain about it like the professional that she was.

  “Baby, I gotta ride out,” Marcus said while gathering the money he had resting on the dresser along with his .9mm pistol that he kept on his waistline.

  “Sweetie, leave me a few bags of weed and a couple dolla’s. Since I know I’m prob’le ain’t gon’ see you no mo’ for the rest of the day,” she said in a sassy tone as she rolled her eyes.

  Marcus pulled five dime bags of weed from his pocket and peeled off a hundred dollars in all fives and tens from his personal stash and handed it to her with no questions asked.

  Hell, that’s the least I can do being that I come and go out this ma’fucka as I please, Marcus thought to himself as a horn began to rapidly blow from outside.

  “A’ight, I’m outta here. I’a holla’ at'chú later,” he said as he raced for the door.

  “Yeah, this’ll do for now, but he gon’ have to start dropping more than this once he start makin’ that real money wit’ his fine ass,” Peaches muttered to herself while watching Marcus out her window as she started rolling up a blunt.

  “Damn nigga, I know that pussy good and believe me, I know,” Spoonie stated with a slight smirk upon his face as if he was indicating that he had already ran through her. “But its business befo’ pleasure; that’s the only way we gon’ make it out here on these cold streets of Chicago, Jo.” Spoonie passed Marcus a blunt that was already sparked as he spoke.

  Without knowing where they were headed, Marcus took the money out of a brown paper bag and started counting as they drove around the area, making their way down Trumbull and then down Homan, checking on how the block was moving.

  “Here go ten thousand from the morning shift,” Marcus began to explain while wrapping each five-thousand-dollar stack with a rubber band.

  “Here go another five thousand from the start of the afternoon shift. I jus’ dropped off a g-bundle on both blocks, so they should be cool for the next hour or two.” After explaining, Marcus attempted to hand Spoonie the brown paper bag.

  “Jus’ put that in the glove compartment. I’ll get it later.”

  “Where we on our way to?” Marcus asked.

  “I’mma ‘bout to meet that nigga Lil D ova’ here on Cicero and Jackson. He been owing me some money for the longest. He called me earlier tellin’ me that he had some’nt for me. So jus’ in case he tryn’a get wrong I want a lil security wit’ me, ya kno’,” Spoonie spoke as they continued to smoke.

  “You kno’ it’s whateva’ wit’ me. Jus’ give me the tha’ word. I stay ready!” Marcus exclaimed with much excitement as he tapped on his waistline, letting Spoonie know that he was strapped.

  Spoonie could’ve got any one of the lords to ride with him, but he knew Marcus would let loose with no hesitation once he gave him the word.

  “Yeah, where ya at?” Spoonie spoke into the receiver after making a phone call.

  “I’m coming down Cicero now. I’ll be on Jackson in one minute,” said Lil D

  “Hurry the fuck up, I ain’t got all day!”

  Lil D was a young dude that Spoonie sold pieces to. He wasn’t moving major work, but he was doing enough to be riding in a clean Chevy Brougham sitting on 30s and Vogues with a banging sound system.

  Spoonie pulled up at the gas station on Jackson and Cicero before seeing Lil D speeding as he made a quick turn into the gas station, banging his loud music in his money green Chevy that had a For Sale sign posted in the back window.

  “How long you been waitin’, lord?” Lil D asked as he raced over to the driver-side window of Spoonie car.

  “Long enuff, so wassup, you got that paper you owe me?”

  “Well, not all of it. How much I owe you, anyway?” Lil D asked confusedly.

  “Don’t fuckin’ play wit’ me! You kno’ you owe me five stacks from that nina (nine ounces) that I fronted you. It’s been damn near a month and this my first time hearin’ from you.” Spoonie was talking with an aggression in his tone that showed that he meant business.

  “Awe,” Lil D responded nervously. “I got’a couple thousand on me right now and I should have the rest for you later on when this nigga I know come buy my car.”

  “Shhiiit . . . I wouldn’t mind havin’ that clean muthafucka for myself,” Marcus whispered out so that Spoonie only could hear him.

  Marcus knew how to save money better than his friends, so after a couple of months of running the blocks for Spoonie and Smitty, he saved up a few thousand.

  “How much you want for dat piece of shit!” Spoonie said jokingly, knowing that the car was clean as hell.

  “Piece a shit . . . ?” Lil D asked but not really asking a question with a look of disbelief upon his face. “This ma’fucka got’a brand-new 350 engine under the ‘hood. You see the paint job, flawless! I basically rebuilt this whole car from scratch. I gotta get at least forty-five hunit for it.”

  “How ‘bout you gimme that ma’fucka and don’t worry about the rest of the tab,” Spoonie said while rubbing on the side of his face as if he was giving an offer that couldn’t be refused.

  “Hell naw . . . Jus’ wait a couple hours and I’a have the rest of the bread, on tha’ real, lord!” Lil D said, trying to be as respectable as possible, but little did he know he just pissed Spoonie off.

  “What if I can’t wait ‘til later, if you get my drift,” Spoonie said calmly as he glanced over at Marcus easing out his pistol from his waistline. “Jus’ look at it like you payin’ me interest for owing me so long,” Spoonie muttered out with a devilish smirk on his face.

  Lil D acted crazy, but he damn sure wasn’t stupid by a long shot. He knew these guys meant business, and if he didn’t cooperate, his ass would’ve been lying right where he stood. So Lil D politely dropped the money in Spoonie lap.

  “You forgettin’ somethin’ ain’t'chú; drop 'dem keys!”

  “You want the car right now?” he asked with intimidation in his young eyes. “What about all my shit? Come-on Spoonie, man, I gotta clean this muthafucka out, and anyway you need the title and shit, right?�
� Lil D pleaded.

  “You can pick all that shit up once you come on tha’ block to drop off that title. Now if I have to repeat myself, you gon’ have a big problem out here,” Spoonie demanded in a low but aggressive tone.

  Without any more questions asked, the keys were handed to Spoonie. “And please, don’t have me knocking’ on ya’ momma door for the title to my car. I’m sure you don’t want them type of problems, homey,” Spoonie said smoothly as he handed the car keys to Marcus, pointing him in the direction to the car.

  Spoonie drove behind Marcus as they skidded out the gas station, banging music out of both cars, leaving Lil D stuck with a sick expression on his face, like he lost the pride and joy of his life.