Hittin' the Bricks: An Urban Erotic Tale (15 page)

“Yo,” Reem said to Fiyah. “Niggah stand up and meet the great ill Nino!”

Fiyah couldn't tell what the fuck was running through him harder. Fear of Brody or awe because of ill Nino. He stood up feeling like a starstruck little bitch.

“‘Sup, man,” he said, trying to sound stable.

They dapped and ill Nino nodded. “What's good? Reem said you got a pretty decent flow game.”

“Yeah,” Fiyah boasted. “I'm nice wit’ it.”

“Yo,” Reem said, “I hope you was busy scribbling while you was pressing that bunk, ak ‘cause you bout to do it next week, aiight? We gone be assessing cats for a minute and whoever comes out on top is gone get a chance to jump on tour with me and ill, man. Maybe even get a contract. So be ready to get up there and give up ya best shit. Leave it all over the mic. Ya feel me?”

“I feel you, man.”

“Cool,” Reem said, turning to leave. Eva had dipped, so he could get back to the DJ booth. “Then that's what's up. I talked you up real large, muhfuckah, so don't make me look bad. You best bring that shit right.”

“I got this, baby. I'm ready.”

ill Nino dapped Fiyah again on the way past. “Welcome back to the world.”

He looked at Brody “Be good, man. Hit me up the next time you in Miami.”

Searching the crowd for Eva, Brody nodded, looking like a killer. “I'll holla.”

R
eem dipped through the crowd, his eyes on alert.
I 1
He'd seen what was going down with Brody from the DJ booth, and had decided to go check for Eva. He knew Brody wasn't one to be fucked with, so he had to play it proper. Reem had seen firsthand what Brody could put on a bitch. Eva was from Brooklyn and she knew the streets, but she had been through so fuckin’ much when they were shorties back in Brooklyn that he hated to see her getting close to a ruthless renegade like Brody.

Reem had been dominating the club set for years and he'd seen all kinds of corruption. But Bricks wasn't no ordinary club, and Brody wasn't no ordinary niggah. While ballers with big bank clamored to get in the doors each
weekend, the underbelly of Bricks could be cruel and gutter, and Brody was commanding niggahs from the helm, calling big shots. Drugs, porn, pimping, murdering … Brody and his crew ran rampant with all that. Bricks, and the CD/DVD-pressing record shop where hundreds of artists got dicked outta their rightful royalties mighta belonged to Daddy Dre on paper, but everybody in Harlem knew who was really running shit. What Reem couldn't figure out was why a chick like Eva would be rubbing up against a monster like Brody.

He caught up with her as she was coming out of the ladies’ bathroom.

“Eva …” He held out his arms. “Whassup, baby doll.”

“What's up, Reem.” Eva hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek. “I'm cool.”

“Didn't look that way a few minutes ago.” He nodded toward the VIP section where Brody was still wrecking shit. “Why you mingling with that dude? King Brody ain't the kinda guy you wanna be conversating with, nahmean?”

Eva frowned. “Tell that to your boy Fiyah. Brody got him wide open.”

Reem nodded. “I'll school him, baby. I damn sure will. You just stay outta that niggahs biting range, ya hear? I don't wanna have to call my goonies from Brownsville to come up here and light Harlem up.”

The music changed and Reem winced as some wack rapper started screaming into the mic. Eva laughed and Reem could see why Brody was jocking her. The girl was fine. Her skin was gorgeous brown. Her teeth were bright white and her curly hair was glossy, silky black.

“You don't have to call the goonies, Reem, but you better go handle that.”

“Hell yeah.” Reem grinned walking away. “Amateur muhfuckahs
gone mess around and run everybody the fuck up outta here.”

Eva laughed. She was glad Reem had moved to Harlem. He was a solid friend from Brooklyn and somebody she had entrusted with her deepest secrets.

“You a cool- ass little man, Reem.”

“You know it, baby. I'm a small stick of dynamite, and I
blow
the shawties up all night!”

Reem walked off and ran into an extra tall Latina chick whose hips and breasts were from another planet. His eyes traveled the thirty miles from her feet up to her amazing face and he whistled real loud. “Goddamn, muhfuckah!” he moaned, adoring what he saw. “I'ma need a ladder to get up on all that!”

Still thinking about her, he slid past a side room where chicken wings and French fries were being cooked and sold. There was a long line of tipsy niggahs waiting to get at some bones, and as he walked past somebody reached out and touched his shoulder.

“Reem, what it be like, man?”

Reem grinned and gave his boy some dap. Mello was one hardbody hardworking muhfuckah. Reem had put in a good word with Daddy Dre and had gotten Mello on at the record shop a year earlier. Dre had assigned him to a floater table that had him traveling all over Harlem selling bootleg CDs and DVDs for five dollars a whop. The cat had grinded like he'd been born for the job. In no time Mello had worked his way up to a permanent sidewalk spot on 125th Street. Prized real estate. And there wasn't a niggah in Harlem who could out hustle him or outsell him.

“It's all good, baby. Whattup?” Reem nodded toward the Friday night reggaeton crowd as they broke up the dance floor. “This ain't your usual night. You still on for tomorrow's set?”

Mello nodded. “Oh, yeah. I'll be here tomorrow, that's real. I'm just chillin’, man. I swung by to hook up with Eva. Her cousin hit the bricks and shit. She wanted to come out and show him around tonight.”

Reem nodded. “Yeah. My dude Fiyah. I just seen that cat. He's got skills, man. I'ma put him on the mic at next week's competition. Let him show ill what he got.”

“Show ill what?”

“Yo, we ‘bout to go back out on tour, man. All them illegal units Brody got y all niggahs moving on the streets be eating into an artist's profits, nahmean? Performing is the only way to get ya paper up and stack ya cream these days. We gone take a new artist on the road with us. You know. Somebody nasty on the mic who can heat the crowd up before we come out and blast ‘em.”

“Yo!” Mello looked pissed. “What the fuck is up with that? Why y all niggahs ain't doing that kinda shit on rap night?”

“Not my call.” Reem shrugged. “ill asked for a reggaeton rapper, bruh. He wants somebody who can flog they asses in English and in Spanish.”

Mello stood there nodding, taking it all in. He was still kicking it hard with Reem, but a steely look had entered his eyes. “Yeah. I hear you talkin’ that shit, man. I hear you talkin’ it.”

M
ello watched his baby crossing the room. She was dodging niggahs.

Stray hands were reaching out for her, trying to touch her and get her attention. She got hit on by two players he recognized from the L.A. Lakers, and by a screenwriter with big black glasses and thin lips. An old- head playa he'd seen pimping broads on the avenue invited her to take a ride in his
rimmed- out caddy, and another dude who was dressed in a business suit told her he had a yacht down on Chelsea Piers that he knew she'd like to see. The offers for drinks, weed, dope, and dick were raining down on her as she killed her shorts and brushed off one baller after another, and Mello was proud of her for handling her bizz.

She acted surprised when he ran up behind her and covered her eyes with his hands, but then she relaxed. She knew those hands. He let her feel his wood and she laughed. She knew that dick that was poking her from behind too.

“Hey baby.” She turned around in his arms and let her body go soft. “I thought you mighta changed your mind about coming out tonight.”

Mello grinned. “What? And leave the finest woman in Harlem alone in a room full of snakes?” He kissed her. “The music is hot. I'ma have to start coming out on Fridays more often.” He saw a look on her face that concerned him. “You aiight?”

“I'm cool.”

“Well Mello's here now. And it's about to get better. Dance with me, Miss Lady. I got some rhythm I wanna bump on you.”

They moved out onto the dance floor where Eva started working her hips. Mello couldn't stop grinning. The Dominican in her was showing as she twisted it up on him and grinded her lower body until it looked like a worm.

Luckily, Brody was too preoccupied to notice. He was surrounded by three hot young'uns and had a tit in one hand and an ass cheek in the other. His fingers splashed in a pool of pussy as the young girl sitting on his hand humped her heart out.

Charlene and Brody's boys was drinking Moët and hitting lines, but Serena was damn near unconscious. Brody's brother Bullet sat beside her trying his best to help her get a grip and snap out of it.

Fiyah was balling. He had a chocolate babe on his lap and she was riding his dick through his pants. He had passed on the Chronic because he was scared his PO might drug test him, but he sucked down Krug like it was water from an open faucet. He had seen Eva fuckin’ up heads as she danced on the floor, and figured the tall, good- looking guy leaning all over her was the cat they called Mello.

Fiyah was just juiced enough not to start no shit. Somehow he had to get Eva to drop that muhfuckah and concentrate on Brody but right now he had a wet pussy sloshing around on his lap and he was concentrating on that.

He did take notice, though, when Bullet suddenly pressed his phone to his ear and stood up. Moments later Fiyah watched as Bullet left Serena's side then walked over to his brother and yanked the young bitch off his lap. He whispered something to Brody, who looked at his boys and gave them the silent signal that it was time to bounce. Fiyah was apprehensive as Brody looked at him too. He was waiting for Reem to give him the signal so he could get on stage and flaunt his shit. But Brody was looking crazy and his message was clear: get the fuck up, ‘cause you coming with us.

Fiyah followed Brody and his crew outside to the whip. They hopped in and Rolo pushed the pedal over to Spanish Harlem. They pulled up outside of a small apartment building where a couple of young hoods were hanging out on the stoop.

“Man the muhfuckin’ whip,” Brody barked at his brother as they walked toward the doors.

Bullet balked. “Yo, bruh. That's what the fuck we got Rolo for.”

Brody got swole. “I said stay with the muhfuckin’ whip!”

Bullet turned around and headed back to the Escalade, but not before Fiyah saw a spark of rage in his eyes.

They walked toward a small door on the side of the porch, right under the stairs. Brody kicked that shit in with one foot. It was a dice game in an unfinished basement. Cats were playing C- low in groups, six and seven deep. Fiyah stood back as Brody and his posse went to work.

They grabbed a young Hispanic cat and dug in on his ass. Seeing that a notoriously brutal crew had rolled in, niggahs scooped up their dice and their doe and scattered. Fiyah watched the kid get his grill busted and his dome disfigured. He figured out by all the shit they were talking that the kid owed Brody some money.

“Come get you summa this!” Brody turned to Fiyah and demanded. He was bombing the kid with such devastating killer blows that there wasn't much left of the cat for Fiyah to get.

Fiyah got in there, though. He wasn't fuckin stupid. He jabbed at the bleeding dude. The cat was so fucked up he was already sleep on his feet. If Rolo and two other dudes wasn't holding him up he woulda been out cold on the concrete.

As the rest of them fist- happy fools slammed the kid from wall to wall, Brody leaned close to Fiyah and whispered, “This is how I roll when a niggah fails to deliver on what he owes me. Ya heard?”

Fiyah nodded, then winced as a spray of blood flew from the Puerto Rican kid's busted mouth. He'd heard that muhfuckah all right. He heard him loud as a mug. And then he felt him too. Brody hit Fiyah so hard he thought his heart would stop.
Them cats were done battering the kid and now they were going for a chunk of Fiyah's ass.

Even while balled up on the ground and protecting his face, Fiyah knew Brody was in control. His boys were wailing on him, but they were also practicing restraint. Fiyah stayed down and rolled with the punches. He'd taken worse ass- kickings than this before.

When it was over, Brody put his foot on Fiyah's head and pressed down hard enough to get his full attention.

“It seems like you got a little problem, ak.”

Fiyah didn't answer. He gritted his teeth as his face was smashed between King Brody's boot and the dirty ground.

“For some reason, your cousin didn't seem all that happy to see me tonight. What you tell her, man? What your cousin got against me?”

Fiyah gasped in pain. “It ain't you, man …”

Brody rolled his weight up onto his foot.

Fiyah squealed. “That's just Eva,” he managed to squeak out. “You too big, Brody. Powerful. You control drugs all over Harlem … and Eva …”

Fiyah felt like his brain was gonna shoot out through his nostrils.

“Eva used to be a junkie. She used to shoot smack, man. Right in her neck.”

Instantly Brody stepped off his head. Fiyah grabbed his temple and gasped from the pain.

“That fine bitch used to be a junkie?” Brody's tone was incredulous.