Sonny Black - Gangsta Bitch

Even with night falling and the frigid temperature people were milling about 125 thstreet either shopping or plotting. The landscape was different than it was five years ago, but the vibe was still the same. Duce always thought of Harlem as being the epicenter of the entire city, if not the state. Each respective borough had its own flavor, but there was something about the allure of Harlem that most couldn’t resist. In a sense, the heart of the city was focused within the boundaries of Harlem. Sitting off to the west was Duce’s destination, the General Grant Houses.

Grant Projects brought back memories of Duce’s childhood. When his family had first migrated from the south in the forties, this was where they settled. Though Duce’s mother had moved them out sometime in the nineties it still felt like home to him. Over three generations of his line had rested and been bred in the projects.

His cousin Reggie lived in 430, which was the first building coming from east to west. His mother had moved to Georgia a few years prior, but Reggie remained. He had the finances to get out of the projects but refused to move. If you asked him why he stayed he would simply say, “This is all I know.” Duce scanned the block for a payphone to call and let Reggie know he was in the area, but he didn’t have to. He spotted his cousin standing in front of the building talking to two people.

The woman wasn’t much to look at nor was she ugly. She was attractive in an “I’d hit it” sort of way. Her pink Phat Farm snorkel covered her upper body but from the curve of her thighs, trapped within skin-tight jeans, he could tell she was working with something. The man was about five-nine, maybe ten, with a freshly shaved head. Smoke rose in faint wisps from his dome, but he seemed oblivious to the cold. From the too-tight flight jacket and the man’s pronounced movements Duce knew he hadn’t been home long from a bid. He couldn’t put into words how he knew, but he knew. While the woman was calm, the man seemed agitated and continuously moved his hands.

“Ray, why don’t you relax,” Duce heard the woman say as he walked up.

“I am relaxed, why the fuck you keep saying that?” Ray said, pacing slightly. “Yo, all I’m saying is that I wanna know what the fuck the deal between you and this nigga is?”

Reggie rolled his eyes off into space like he was tired of talking to the man. “Fam, ain’t no deal, me and ya girl is just peoples,” his voice was calm, but Duce noticed the fact that he kept his hands tucked into the pockets of his North Face as he spoke.

“That ain’t what the streets say. I’m up north for trying to keep a bitch fly and food on the table and niggaz is coming through telling me how she’s fucking with some fat nigga from Grant,” Ray declared, hostility in his voice.

From behind the thick glasses he wore Reggie’s eyes narrowed to slits. Duce knew that deadly look from their childhood. Reggie had always been a little insecure about his weight. He had tried to shed it, but with little results. Reggie was a junk food junkie and the constant intake of sugar did little to help his weight problem. Still, commenting on it was a good way to get yourself into a scrap… at the very least.

“Yo, my dude, I’m trying to be humble about this, but you’re gonna make me go there.” Reggie said with the tension now clear in his voice.

“What?” Ray stepped closer. “You sound like you got some gangsta shit on ya mind, son.”

“Come on, Ray, you’re being a real asshole right now.” The girl touched his arm only to have her hand smacked away.

“Fuck is you talking about? You act like you taking up for this nigga or something?” Ray glared at the girl, causing her to step back. “Word to mine,” Ray turned back to Reggie, “I don’t even like how you coming at me right now. Matter fact, take ya hands out ya pockets when you’re talking to me,” Ray insisted.

Reggie gave an exasperated sigh. “You don’t want me to take my hands out of my pockets.”

“Come on, Ray,” the girl pleaded.

“Do what you do, money!” Ray had laid the gauntlet. Duce was about to step in, but Reggie’s next move froze him.

Never taking his eyes off Ray, Reggie began drawing his hand out of his pocket. First there was the butt of the pistol, followed by the barrel. Reggie continued pulling and the barrel continued stretching. All three of the onlookers stood there in shock while Reggie pulled an impossibly long pistol from his pocket. The barrel was so long that the inside of Reggie’s pocket had to have a hole in it to conceal the gun. Cool as a fall afternoon, Reggie pointed the gun at Ray.

“A’ight, my dude, this is the deal,” he began calmly, “I fucked ya shorty a couple of times while you were away, but when you came home we both agreed that it was a wrap, end of story.”

Ray just stood there stunned. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. He glared at Reggie so maliciously that if looks could kill he would’ve dropped dead, but a gun always trumped a look. This time when the girl touched his arm he allowed her to lead them away. Duce watched as they made their way down the path and across the street before he approached his cousin.

“You keep the block popping,” Duce shook his head.

“You’re one to talk, D-Murder.” Reggie teased him. Duce laughed before leaning in to hug his cousin. “I missed you, nigga,” Reggie whispered in his ear.

“Like wise, family,” Duce told him.

Reggie held Duce at arm’s length and looked him over. “You put on a little weight,” he patted Duce playfully on the cheek.

“Yeah, it’s amazing what confinement and a zero tolerance drug policy can do for your body,” Duce smiled. “You should try it some time.”

“Been there done that,” Reggie waved him off. “D, I need to ask you something. Now, you know you’re my first cousin and I would never come at you sideways, but I gotta ask. How the fuck did you get out of jail?”

“Ancient Chinese secret,” Duce smiled at him. Seeing that his cousin was serious he went on to give him the details. By the time he was finished Reggie was just staring at him with his mouth open.

“You are one cold mutha fucka!” Reggie declared with an ear to ear grin. He knew that his cousin was ruthless, but had no idea how much so until that moment.

Duce just shrugged. “God has a plan for me. So, you got that thing I asked you for?”

“You get right to it, don’t you?”

“I’m on borrowed time, cousin.” Duce said seriously.

“A’ight, come on,” Reggie led Duce into the lobby.

When they got into the elevator a woman wearing a fur that looked like a nappy carpet got on behind them. She was barley five feet and walked slightly hunched over. Her face was a picture of sagging jowls and a cigarette hanging between blackened lips that seemed to be locked in a permanent frown. Something about her struck a familiar cord in Duce but he couldn’t place her. The elevator stopped on four and the woman shambled off.

“That dope is a mutha fucka,” Reggie said, startling Duce a bit.

“Huh?”

“I’m talking about, Mary, nigga.”

“That was Marv and Jamie’s moms?” Duce asked in disbelief. He remembered Mary from back in the days as one of the parents who actually gave a shit about the kids in the neighborhood. She was a bright and jovial woman, but the fur clad thing that had gotten off on the fourth floor looked anything but. Just further evidence of how strong the call of drugs was.

Duce and Reggie got off on the seventh floor. Even if his cousin weren’t leading, Duce would’ve know the way to the apartment. He had spent more than his fair share of summer afternoons with his cousins and aunt. Reggie unlocked the door and ushered Duce inside. The first thing Duce noticed was the smell of pine. The house was so clean that you could literally eat off the floor. Duce knew that his cousin was lazy as hell so he figured that he had a woman or two frequenting the apartment.