“I wouldn’t know, mutha fucka. The flowers are for my daughter. She’s auditioning at LaGuardia today.”
“My bad Butch, you know I didn’t mean no disrespect to ya, brother,” Jim shrank a bit. “Wow, little Penny was always good on them keys, I hope she makes it!” Jim said over his shoulder as he shuffled down the street.
Butch’s baby brother, Harvey, stood a few feet away, eyes nervously scanning the street. He’d have been more comfortable cooking and cutting drugs than playing Butch’s bodyguard for the morning, but it was a last minute decision. Butch’s wife, Liz, was adamant about him not bringing his usual goon squad to their daughter’s audition, as not to give off the wrong idea. After what had gone down with young Scotty, there was no way Butch was rolling to the event alone. Harvey was a chicken shit, but even he should be able to handle the security detail at a little girl’s recital for a few hours.
He’d gotten the wire about Scotty getting smoked, couldn’t say he was surprised. Scotty had been abusing and burning people left and right since Butch put him in pocket. He’d warned him time and again to slow down, but Scotty did what he pleased. They said that he got laid near Willie’s which disappointed Butch further. He’d stressed to Scotty the importance of not developing a routine, and the fact that he was now dead was just the reason why.
“What’s popping, Jessie,” Butch lowered himself into the first chair. “I ain’t got time for the whole cut, just give me a shave and a line up so I can make a move. I got a special appointment, so I need you to make my line extra sharp, feel me?”
“You know how I do it,” Jessie assured him, draping the smock around his neck. “So, your little girl’s got something going on?” he asked, using a brush to whip the shaving cream in a small bowl. Most barbers did their shaves with clippers, but Jessie was old school.
“Yeah man, they’re giving her a second chance to audition. She won’t be able to attend until next year, when she’s a sophomore, but I could give a damn so long as she gets in. That’s one hell of a school,” Butch settled back in the chair.
“I know what you mean, man. LaGuardia is supposed to be one of the best for music and art,” Jessie began applying the shaving cream to Butch’s face and neck.
Butch closed his eyes and spoke through slightly parted lips. “And that’s why I’m pushing so hard to get her in there. My baby is smart and talented as hell, but you can never have too many edges when those colleges call.”
“So, you think the colleges pick solely based on what high school them kids came out?” Jessie began dragging the razor smoothly across Butch’s face.
“I know it to be true, Jessie. You take a regular kid from let’s say, high school A and compare it against a kid from LaGuardia. The kid from high school A might have better grades, but the kid from LaGuardia comes from better credentials, so he stands a better chance. Most times it ain’t what you know… it’s who you’re with.”
“You sure as shit ain’t lying about that,” Jessie chuckled. Butch’s eyes were still closed so he couldn’t see the slack look that had come over Jessie’s face. He’d never heard the door open, or the foot steps when the man crossed the short distance between the bar and the first chair and pressed a pistol against Jessie’s neck. Jessie, careful not to move a muscle, looked to the right and found himself staring into a pair of dead eyes. Slumped in one of the folding chairs was Harvey. He had one hand halfway to his gun and his neck was bent at a funny angle. Upon closer inspection, Jessie noticed the Timberland string tied around his neck. The poor bastard never stood a chance. The young man raised his hands to his lips and motioned for silence as he plucked the razor from Jessie’s trembling hand and nodded for him to back away. Seeing what he was capable of, Jessie did the wise thing and complied.
“Yeah, Jessie, I got big plans for that girl,” Butch continued. “I spent years on the block getting it up so that my little girl wouldn’t have to want for anything. She ain’t gonna be no lump on the street like we were, trying to get by on our wits.”
“Because wits don’t always prevail,” Duce whispered into Butch’s ear. Butch’s eyes popped open and when he saw the man sneering at him in the mirror, he almost shit his pants. If it weren’t for the razor pressed into his jugular, he would have surely fainted.
Duce slid the razor up a bit, but didn’t apply enough pressure to draw blood. “Come on, Butchy. You don’t remember my name no more?”
“D… D-Murder,” Butch trembled just getting the name out.
“So, the liar has found its tongue,” Duce tapped Butch on his shoulder with the barrel of his gun. “I hear you’re doing big things in the world, Butch. You got that pot money? ‘No matter what we make, ten percent goes in the pot for the family so every nigga on our team can have lawyer money or be buried properly’. Remember that, son?”
“Derrick, what’s this shit all about, man?” Butch tried to add some bass to his voice, but it kept cracking.
“Oh, I think you know what it’s all about, fam. My brother rests with the lord and you’re out here rubbing shoulders with his murderers. How do you think that shit was looking to the brothers on the tier? Let me answer that for you,” he moved the blade so quickly that Butch didn’t feel the stinging until Duce was standing in front of him. “It sounds like you’re a cock sucking piece of shit that would sell his mother down the drain for a street corner.”
“Nigga is you crazy?” Butch clasped his neck. He tried to hop out of the chair, but Duce kicked him back down.
“Nah, I ain’t crazy brother,” Duce slashed him across his protruding gut. “Just vindictive. Take your medicine with pride,” Duce advanced on Butch with the razor, but Butch rolled out of the chair and landed on all fours.
“You’re making a mistake,” Butch pleaded from his knees, damn near groveling.
“I’m not making a mistake,” Duce snatched Butch roughly to his feet by his jowls. “I’m correcting one,” he drew back for the killing blow, but Butch had a parting question.
“Wait… I can’t go out like this, what about my little girl!”
Duce hesitated as if he were about to change his mind before a chill crept into his eyes. “Shit, what about her?” he asked before opening Butch up. The man flapped around on the floor like a wounded fish for almost five minutes before he finally lost the battle. Duce turned to the old barber and leveled his pistol.
Jessie backed up with his hands held high. “Come on, Derrick, don’t do me like this. I’ve been cutting you and your brother’s heads since back when you were little boys, you know me, man.”
Duce nodded in satisfaction and lowered his gun. “Yeah, I know you Mr. Jessie, so I know you gonna keep your mouth shut about what happened here, right?”
“I did ten years in the joint and ain’t never let any nigga’s name but mine roll off my tongue,” Jessie said proudly.
Duce reached into his pocket and handed Jessie a wad of bills. The old barber was too scared to count it. “Sorry about the mess I made,” Duce headed for the door. As an afterthought he added, “Does your daughter still live down on ninety-something street in those projects?” Jessie’s dark skull suddenly became very pale. He thought he might be suffering a mild heart attack until Duce gave him that little boy smile. “I’m just playing with you, Mr. Jessie.” And just like that,
D-Murder was gone.
EIGHTEEN
Frankie moved as silently as the grave through the streets of Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. Night had fallen hours ago and there wasn’t much of anyone on the streets other than the dealers and stick-up kids. Frankie wasn’t worried about the latter because she was armed with a Desert Eagle. Even if it weren’t for the large pistol, the trained eye could see the shadow of death looming over her like a protective shield.