Sonny Black - Gangsta Bitch

Duce looked at him with sad eyes. “If I can. Reggie, the five years I was in prison I never got one peaceful night’s sleep knowing that these niggaz was out here enjoying life and my brother was in the ground. In a sense, I felt like a coward for not doing anything about it. I gotta settle this debt, cousin.”

“You know I got ya back, right?” Reggie balanced on the rifle.

Duce looked up at him. He didn’t say what he was feeling because he was sure his cousin already knew. “Cousin, if I need you then I’m sure as hell gonna take you up on it, but for right now I’m going in alone.”

“Well, the offer is open. Just say the word and it’s on,” Reggie said.

Duce smiled. It was good to know that there were a few real niggaz left. “Thanks, family, I’ll come see you soon and let you know what’s up.” Duce picked up a Glock, which was slightly smaller than the 9mm he’d selected. “I’m gonna take these off ya hands and get up outta here.”

“You bout to put in that work?” Reggie asked excitedly.

Duce chuckled. “Not yet, Rambo, it’s just somebody I want to check up on. When the sun goes down, that’s when niggaz will start bleeding.” He slipped the 9mm into his coat pocket and the Glock into his jeans.

“So be it,” Reggie nodded. He picked up three clips from the case and handed them to his cousin. “Never can be too careful,” he said leading him out the door.

The two men waited for the elevator in silence. Duce could tell by the look on Reggie’s face that he wanted to say something, but the men in their family were never good at putting their feelings into words. Instead of talking, Reggie just tapped the elevator button. When the small box car opened, Duce gave his cousin another hug and stepped in. The doors started to close, but Reggie’s chubby hand stopped it.

“You know how to reach me if you need me, so don’t hesitate,” he said seriously.

“I won’t,” Duce said as the door slammed shut.

The tears didn’t comeuntil Frankie was inside the cab and away from Cowboy’s apartment. As strong as she was she always seemed to play the fool for Cowboy. Just like with most men, he was the perfect gentleman when they were dating, but also like most men, he started showing his ass once she had committed to him. Mo had asked her time and again why she continued to deal with Cowboy’s womanizing ass and she always had a good excuse, but the truth of the matter was that she was lonely.

Frankie had been getting money here and there on her own, but since Cowboy come along she wanted for nothing, but it wasn’t the money that kept her with him. Cowboy represented a piece that Frankie had lost a long time ago. His soul might not have been a perfect fit, but it mended the hole well enough. Sometimes it was just being in his arms that made her feel whole, but it was a temporary relief. There was only one man in her life that had ever made her feel like a real woman and he was gone, never to return. She thought about her lover often, the good times, the late night talks, but with the good came the bad. The man she had once given her heart to left her for dead and that was a scar that would never heal.

Frankie had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed the cab had stopped. She paid the man and climbed out. When her foot touched the icy curb, she almost lost her balance. “I hate the fucking winter time,” she mumbled, pulling herself the rest of the way out. Moving as gracefully as a cat burglar, she managed to make it to her building without busting her ass. While Frankie was fishing around for her keys, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She fingered her gun and using the reflection off the building’s entrance she scanned the area behind her. She missed him on the first sweep, but on the second her eyes caught him. He was standing on the other side of the street, watching Frankie. She couldn’t see his face, but the way he held himself was familiar. When it hit her, Frankie’s breath caught and she whirled around. A bus rolled down the avenue, momentarily obstructing her view, and when it moved the sidewalk was empty.

It took her several tries, but Frankie was able to insert her key and let herself in the building. Her breaths came in short bursts as she stumbled into the lobby and closed the door. She stood there for a minute, back pressed against the heavy door, and tried to get her thoughts together. “I’m bugging the fuck out,” she told herself. She reached into her bra and pulled out the fifty of haze she’d bought on the way home and threw it on the ground. She reasoned that once you started seeing ghosts it was time to stop getting high.

Duce pressed himself against the drawn gate of the recently condemned bodega. The gate’s frozen metal touched his back, even through his coat, but he welcomed it. He needed something to focus on besides his racing heart. From the way her body went rigid he was sure she’d spotted him. Thankfully the bus and its untimely arrival had kept her from making a positive ID. Exposing his hand too early would complicate things, and this was a plan he needed to go off without a hitch. He had told himself that it was a bad idea, but he had to come, he needed to see her.

He cursed himself for being so careless, but sometimes the heart makes lumbering oxen of the graceful men. Every ounce of him wanted to swoop in on her, to let her look into his face and gasp, but it would have to wait. There were people he needed to see before he could go to Frankie. When his business was finished he would lay his heart open to her and if she stuck a knife in it, he could only fault himself. Sparing one last glance at Frankie’s back as she slipped into the building, Duce went off to handle his business.

The livery cab wove in and out of traffic like a mad man. Several times Duce had to tell him to slow down. The last thing he needed was for them to get stopped while he was carrying two hammers. He hated taking cabs, but hadn’t had a chance to pick his truck up yet. A friend of his had been housing it in his garage out in Long Island. Duce made a note to himself to call his man and make arrangements for the truck to be dropped off.

Duce pulled a Newport from his pack and tapped it against the back of his hand. Five years ago he frowned on smokers, but after what he had been through he understood the habit a little better. No sooner than he lit it the cab driver started beefing. A cold glare and the promise of a ten dollar tip quieted his grumbling. Reclining back in the seat he tried as best he could to get his thoughts together. Just seeing Frankie brought back old feelings that he needed to be buried for him to function properly. “Business first,” he reminded himself. When he was within three blocks of his destination he had the driver let him out on the corner.

Just being back on the East Side brought back memories. He and his brother had run all up and down Second Avenue, chasing girls and getting money. When they had first set up shop in Wagner projects they met heavy opposition. It seemed like just about every other day Duce was shooting at somebody or somebody was shooting at him. The bullshit calmed down when Knowledge gave the young boys from the neighborhood positions in the organization. Had Duce had it his way, he would’ve just tried to kill everyone that came at them, but that wasn’t how Knowledge did things. “Diplomacy over bloodshed, little brother,” he would always stress to him.