They both nodded their little heads.
“But you won’t lose, will you Abu?” Ali asked, looking up to his superhero, the master of his universe.
Rahman smiled, but inside, he trembled.
“Insha Allah. I won’t.”
While Rahman savored his time at home, the summer blazed in the inner city for more than the obvious reasons. A sweltering heat wave had blanketed Jersey along with a heat wave of gunplay.
Bodies piled up on all sides, both Muslims and gangstas. From Newark to Atlantic City, niggas died or came up missing as the two opposing forces waged war for control of the streets. Bombs were planted and people were kidnapped in retribution. The Muslims fought for peace in the hood, and the gangstas fought for a piece of the hood. The police had their hands full but understood very little of the underlying causes. They could clearly see, however, the effects of the war being waged.
The Muslims were determined to stop the flow of drug money, so Angel decided to stop the flow of their money as well. They want to fuck with my paper, let’s see how they like it when I fuck with theirs.
Angel and her gang broke up vendors and pushed them off their street corners, making it just as hard to sell oils as it was to sell drugs.
Both sides took losses. It came down to who would break first. Angel was relentless and Rahman was resistant, both keeping it hot but avoiding the obvious target.
Each other.
“Ock, if you kill the head, the body will die,” Hanif tried to tell Rahman one Friday after Jum’ah prayer service. They were standing outside the masjid on Branford Place. “If anybody knows how to hit her, it’s you,” Hanif concluded.
Rahman had been thinking the same thing, but he knew it wouldn’t be easy. Angel had the same thoroughbred instincts he did. Too many Muslims had been hurt and killed, so the time had come to strike at the top. With Angel out of the way, Rahman knew he could squash the petty wannabe gangstas like roaches.
Yet Rahman couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable for thinking about murdering someone who had been so close to his heart. He looked at Hanif and asked him the question that had been heavy on his mind since the Timberland hit.
“Hanif, I know our cause is just. But do you think we’re serving it justly?”
“I remind you of the people in the boat, some on the top, some on the bottom. If the people on the top don’t stop the fools then everyone will drown.”
Rahman knew the story well.
“They are sinkin’ our society, Rah. How else can we stop them?”
“Set it up,” Rahman ordered without another thought. “But I gotta be the one to do it,” he added, knowing to send someone else would be cowardly.
Hanif had already figured as much.
Angel had one weakness, her love of shoes. She had always been a sneaker fanatic. Her favorite spot to shop was the Newport Center Mall in Jersey City. Rahman knew this and planned to use it against her. When people indulge their desires, their defenses are down.
It took several days of surveillance before he received the call.
“She’s here.”
He had been staying in Jersey City, a few blocks from the mall, waiting for his team to call.
Angel, Goldilocks, and Capo pulled up in Capo’s chrome 745. The mall was moderately crowded but the two gorgeous killers still managed to turn heads in their short shorts and multicolored tanks. Angel both hated and loved the attention. She hated it because she’d rather be who she really was, but she needed the attention. The clothes were the bait, or at least that’s how she wore them.
Since her conversation with Rahman, Angel’s demeanor had changed, and Goldilocks was worried. Everything became strictly business and money. She took no shorts from her team, and Goldilocks was no exception. Any little thing set her off. Angel was like a walking time bomb. Goldilocks didn’t understand why.
For Angel, all she had ever loved was Dutch and the family. Rahman had come to represent all that to her since everyone else was gone. True, they had irreconcilable differences, which she understood, but for Roc to tell her they were enemies extinguished whatever feelings of love she held in her being. For Angel, there was no more loyalty, therefore no more trust. So she trusted no one, nor could she be trusted. All she had left was the money, power, and respect she extorted from the streets, and she held it all down with an iron fist.
Goldilocks had watched in horror one night as Angel made Capo beat a nigga to a bloody death with a lead pipe because he had fucked up fifty grand, peanuts in their operation. It was then Goldi realized that Angel was walking a very dangerous edge.
“Baby, I’ve been thinking,” Goldilocks said as they walked through the mall. “Why don’t we go away for a while. Take a trip somewhere. Anywhere. Just you and me.”
“Maybe in a couple of months, ma. Shit is too hectic right now for me to get away,” Angel replied.
“Which is exactly why you need to go. Capo can handle things, right, Capo?”
“No doubt. There’s nothin’ I can’t handle,” he confirmed, trying to convince a leery Angel. Angel grinned slightly, but her eyes remained stone.
“Callete, okay?” She spoke calmly.
Capo and Goldi knew not to push the point so the conversation was over.
Angel looked at Capo, then at Goldilocks. She just couldn’t figure it out. Goldi never thinks about the paper. Capo’s a thirstball but Goldi acts like the money is nothing. Angel didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. If she took the “love” issue out of the equation, then what was Goldi doing with her?
Angel no longer believed in love, so she doubted the authenticity of Goldi’s. If Roc could turn against her, then anybody could. Angel decided to let the relationship run its course. She was on point, now more than ever, and even Goldi would fall under her magnifying glass.
They entered Angel’s favorite sneaker spot in the Newport mall and began to browse. The walls were covered on all four sides with the newest editions and retro throwback styles. Angel came to spend even though she already had over a hundred pairs of sneakers and hadn’t worn even half of them.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Alvarez,” said a white guy in a referee-striped shirt. He welcomed her like the regular she was. “Glad you dropped by. That special order of Air Force Ones arrived two days ago.” He smiled, then disappeared into the back to get them.
“Now, these are hot,” Goldilocks remarked, removing the silver-and-black T-Macs from the display. “You like ’em, boo? You gonna cop ’em for me?” she chimed.
“Why? So you can walk away from me in ’em?” Angel retorted sourly.
Sourpuss, sourpuss, Goldi thought. “Yo, what the fuck is wrong with you? You got a real fucked-up attitude.”
The man returned with four boxes of sneakers and set them on the counter. “Here you are, Ms. Alvarez.”
“Yo, Duke! What color you got these in?” Capo asked the salesman across the floor as he held up a pair of shell-top Adidas.
The man squinted and replied, “I’ll have to check.”
“Just give me every color you got in a size ten,” Capo ordered. He loved shopping ’cause he was able to order around the salespeople.
Just as the clerk started off for the back, a loud, irrationally high-pitched alarm filled the mall, startling everyone.
“What is that?” Goldilocks cringed, covering her ears.
The clerk rushed over to the register and picked up the phone.
The PA announcer came over the system.
“Mall shoppers, may I have your attention, please. At this time, we ask that you calmly move toward the exit nearest you. There is no need for alarm but we do request your immediate cooperation. Thank you.”
The alarm continued to scream. Despite the calm announcement, shoppers moved at a rapid pace, bordering on panic. On the way out, Goldilocks commented to Capo, “What the hell is going on? Terrorists attacking the malls now?”