The Fix 2 (13 page)

Persia got off the bus at her stop, feeling pretty good about herself. There was nothing like Mary J. and the affections of a handsome man to make a girl feel like all was right with the world. She was floating on a cloud, but little did she know, there was a storm on the horizon.

She spotted them as she was walking home. Asia, Jean, and Vickie were posted up in front of the hamburger joint where all the kids in that neighborhood congregated. There were about seven or eight of them all together and they were all glaring across the street at Persia. Persia wasn't a coward, but she wasn't a fool either. There were too many of them to take all at once so she started walking like she didn't even see them.

The gang of girls fell in step behind Persia and followed her down the block. She could hear them behind her, calling her bitches and other nasty names, but she didn't turn around. Persia quickened her steps and the girls matched her pace. The insults got louder and the mob more unruly. It was obvious they weren't going to leave it alone. Persia slipped her hand into her purse, and kept walking. She heard the heavy footfalls of someone running up behind her, and that's when she finally made her move. Persia spun, pulling the lock in a sock from her purse and swung it. The weapon connected with the cheek of the girl who had been rushing up behind her. The impact from the lock in a sock knocked the girl completely senseless and put her to sleep on the curb. She was some random chick Persia had never seen before, but it didn't matter. The battle was on and anybody who wanted it was going to get it.

Persia took a defensive stance, twirling the lock in a sock like a helicopter blade. “Okay, bitches, whose next?”

Another one of the girls foolishly tried to penetrate Persia's defenses and it cost her. Persia tried to cave her skull in, but when she raised her arm to protect her face, it took the brunt of the strike. From the cracking sound and the way the girl shrieked it was a good bet that her arm was broken. When the rest of the girls saw that Persia meant business, they wisely kept their distance.

“Punk bitch, why do you need a weapon?” Vickie shouted. Her tone was nasally because of her broken nose.

“Same you need a bunch of chicks with you to fight!” Persia shot back. She was whirling the lock back and forth, keeping it in motion so she wouldn't have to wind up if she had to swing again.

“You broke my sister's nose and you think I'm just gonna let that go?” Jean spoke up.

“It ain't for you to hold on to or let go, Jean. You and your sister know why she got her nose broke and if it wasn't for the little lynch mob I'd be over there breaking the rest of her,” Persia spat. “Sarah didn't deserve that and under different odds, I'd be showing the both of you how I feel about people shitting on my friends.”

“Fuck you, Persia.” Vickie acted like she wanted to charge at Persia but two of her friends stopped her. Her struggle to get free of them was a less than convincing one. “I don't need any backup to kick a crackhead whore's ass! I swear to God I wish they would let me go so I could break your nose like you did mine,” Vickie boasted.

“Then show me right,” Persia challenged. “Just me and you, Vickie. No crews and no weapons.”

“Forget all this, let's just rush her. She can't take us all down,” Vickie suggested. The mob of girls moved to surround Persia, but a look from Asia stopped them. Vickie looked from her crew to Asia, clearly confused. “What are you doing, Asia? Let's kick her ass and be done with it.”

Asia's looked from Persia to Vickie. “Like you said, you don't need any help with a crackhead whore.” When she spoke her words were clear and sharp, still carrying the faintest traces of a German accent. “Break her nose like she did yours. We won't deny you your glory.”

The move had caught Vickie totally off guard. She had expected them to rat pack Persia and beat her down, but having a one on one fight wasn't something she had planned for.

“Y'all gonna get it in or not?” Asia instigated.

Vickie stood there like a deer caught in headlights. It was obvious that she really didn't want to fight and she was trying to think of a way to worm out of it. Jean picked up on her sister's fear and knew that she had to save face for both of them.

“Damn all this. I'll fight you.” Jean stepped into the center of the crowd, and put her guard up.

Persia was hesitant. Jean was a big girl, but Persia was sure she could take her. If play fights on the playground with dudes like Li'l Monk and Charlie had done anything they taught her how to defend herself.

“No need to worry, Persia. You're good and you have my word on that,” Asia assured her from the sidelines where she stood with an amused look on her face.

Persia didn't know Asia very well, but there was something about the way she carried herself that made Persia feel like she was an honorable chick and would keep her word if she gave it. As Persia leaned down to put her lock on the ground and prepared to square off with Jean, she only hoped her instincts had been right about Asia.

“This is for my sister, bitch,” Persia heard Jean shout, before her meaty fist made contact with Persia's jaw. She had launched a sneak attack while Persia was laying her weapon down.

Persia stumbled and almost went down, but pressed her hand against the ground to steady herself. Jean tried to rush her while she was down, but was met by Persia's foot to her chest. The big girl staggered back, gasping and trying to recover the wind Persia had just knocked out of her. In an instant, Persia was back on her feet, pressing her attack. Persia hit Jean with a mean two piece to the face, and followed up with a punch to one of her big-ass breasts. It was dirty pool, but there were no rules in street fighting.

Jean came back, throwing vicious but uncoordinated hooks trying to knock Persia's head off, but the smaller girl danced out of her reach. Persia faked high, but went low and landed two solid punches to Jean's stomach. Jean retaliated with a right cross, that Persia slipped under and clocked her on the chin. For every punch Jean threw, Persia hit her with two. Jean was as strong as a bull, but she was unskilled and slow while Persia was swift and knew how to box. Persia danced around Jean, destroying her with hooks to the head and body. Jean tried to dip her head and rushed Persia in an attempt to overpower her, but that proved to be her undoing. Persia fired her knee up, connecting with Jean's chin and knocking her down.

Persia was straddling Jean, about to finish her, when she caught a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye. She tried to move out of the way, but wasn't fast enough to avoid the book-filled knapsack that Vickie was swinging at her. Persia was able to raise her arms to keep it from hitting her in the face, but the force still knocked her over. Persia was down and vulnerable, leaving her at the mercy of the next attack Vickie was about to launch. Persia braced for impact then the most unexpected thing happened. Asia came seemingly out of nowhere, and socked Vickie in the mouth and knocked her to the ground.

Vickie lay on the ground, clutching her bloodied lip, looking up at Asia in disbelief. “What the fuck, Asia? We're supposed to be on the same side!”

Asia moved to stand over Vickie and when she did the remaining girls moved with her like a shadow. “Yes, we were supposed to be, but that was poor judgment on my part. A snitch can never stand on the same side as me,” she spat. “Claire told me what you and your sister did to Sarah.”

Vickie's already pale face turned a sickly shade of green at hearing she was exposed. “Asia, I can explain.”

Asia held her hand up for silence. “No explanation needed. You're foul and deserve whatever you get. But, just because you and your sister are foul doesn't mean that I am. I'll give y'all a sixty-second head start before I let these bitches loose on you.” She motioned to the girls around her.

“But, Asia—”

“Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight,” Asia began counting.

Embarrassed, and terrified of Asia's wrath, Vickie helped her sister to her feet and they both took off down the block. Before they made it very far, Asia unleashed her mob and they proceeded to give Vickie and Jean the ass whipping that had been reserved for Persia.

“I thought you were gonna give them a sixty-second head start,” Persia said.

Asia shrugged her shoulders. “I lied, same as they did when they got me to organize this little lynch mob.”

For a long while the two girls just stood there staring at each other in awkward silence. Asia seemed to be studying Persia, but her stone face betrayed none of what she was thinking. It was Persia who finally broke the silence.

“So what now?” Persia asked, not sure if the battle would continue once Asia's girls had finished with Vickie and Jean.

“Nothing,” Asia said flatly. “The only reason I even involved myself in this foolishness is because Vickie made it seem like you were bullying her for no reason. It wasn't until I spoke to Claire and she told me what they had done to your friend that I knew she was full of shit. I ain't got no beef with you, Persia.” She extended her hand.

Persia was suspicious at first, but so far Asia seemed genuine enough. Cautiously, Persia shook her hand.

“You live in the Gardens, right?” Asia asked. It was what they called Persia's neighborhood because of the impressive lawns of the houses on that street.

“Yeah,” Persia confirmed.

“I live a few blocks away on Randall,” Asia told her. She dug in her purse and produced a pen and piece of paper, which she quickly scribbled something on. “Take my number.” She handed her the piece of paper. “I don't know you very well, but you seem like a stand-up chick. Maybe we can hang out sometime.”

“Cool.” Persia nodded.

“See you around, Chandler.” Asia winked and started back across the street toward the hamburger joint. A few seconds later the mob of girls rejoined her.

Persia stood there for a while, trying to figure out what to make of what had just happened. She'd initially thought that Asia was just another wannabe tough chick like the other few black girls in the school, but from what she could tell she was the genuine article. Everybody painted a picture of Asia as being this prim and proper young model, but Persia was seasoned enough to see what hid beneath the surface of what Asia showed everyone else. Much like Persia, Asia definitely had some gangster in her blood.

With these thoughts in mind, Persia started back down the street to continue her walk home. Just as she was about to cross the street, a red BMW ran the red light and almost hit her. As the car passed she got a glimpse of the driver and her heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be . . . could it?

“Damn, Chucky, you almost hit that girl!” Maggie said from the passenger seat.

“But I didn't, so mind your damn business and let me worry about the way I'm driving, unless you wanna take the wheel,” Chucky snapped. Seeing Persia after all that time had put him in his feelings.

Chucky thought that by popping up in Persia's neighborhood he could force her to talk to him and potentially put her back under his spell, but the fight derailed that plan. He started to get out with his gun and chase the girls away from Persia, but instead decided to watch and see how it would play out. Chucky sat a half block away in his car, watching as Persia destroyed the girls who had rolled up on her. The way she handled herself made him proud. She was no longer the fragile young girl from the suburbs he had first met. Persia now had a hard edge to her, no doubt from all that Chucky had put her through.

At one time Persia had been Chucky's girl, or so he led her to believe. Persia tried to play the role of a street chick, but in reality she was young, naïve, and easily influenced, which was perfect for what Chucky had planned. To her credit, Persia was one of the finest young chicks Chucky had ever had the pleasure of having on his arm; he was more interested in her genes than her looks. When Chucky was a kid he watched his older brother Tim get gunned down right in front of him. They had come seeking revenge for the murder of their oldest brother, Sonny, but instead Chucky ended up losing another sibling. The common thread in both murders was a man named Face, Persia's father. Since Chucky couldn't get to Face, he would take his revenge against his daughter, Persia.

Roping Persia in was easy. All Chucky had to do was snatch the blinders off that her mother and stepfather had strapped her with, and show her what she was missing in the world. Chucky introduced her to his life of fast cars and money and Persia was instantly turned out. She was seventeen years old, riding in foreign vehicles, hanging out among all the hood stars, and being treated like royalty, and dating an important man. Nobody could tell her anything that would make her think that Chucky was anything less than a God. Chucky had so viciously twisted her mind that Persia left her big house in Long Island City to live from pillar to post with Chucky, because she thought she was in love and her parents' rules were standing in the way of that. Chucky would show her that love came with a very heavy price tag.

It didn't take long for Chucky to start dragging Persia down his rabbit hole. Persia had already been experimenting with weed and popping the occasional pills here and there, but it was Chucky who introduced her to the harder drugs. It started with him lacing their blunts with cocaine. Initially Persia protested. She feared she'd become one of the
Walking Dead
–looking addicts she passed in the streets, but Chucky explained to her that those were the effects of smoking crack and that cocaine was the drug of choice for the rich. Persia was naïve, but she still knew better than to dabble in cocaine. She didn't really want to do it, but the fear of disappointing Chucky if she didn't do it overrode her common sense. Once she hit the laced blunt, and Chucky saw her jaw lock up, followed by the euphoric look that crossed her face, he knew he had her feet firmly planted on the road to damnation.

Chucky had successfully alienated Persia from everyone who cared about her and made her dependent on him. He whittled away at her confidence and self-respect until there was nothing there but a fresh slab of clay for him to mold as he pleased. Persia had stopped going to school and had taken to running the streets with Chucky. He kept her so busy running, only feeding her drugs to keep her going, that before Persia knew it she had a habit, and not the faintest idea of how to deal with it. Chucky had wanted to drag her to rock bottom before viciously shattering the loving image she'd had of him, before revealing to Persia what his real intentions were. He wanted her to know that he had fucked her life up on purpose and why he did it. His revenge against the man who had been responsible for the deaths of both his brothers would be to slowly destroy the thing he loved most: his daughter.

Unfortunately for Chucky the plan didn't go off as he expected, thanks to Karen. The night Ramses sent his men to the house where Chucky and Persia had been holed up was to be the night they left New York. Chucky was going to drive Persia somewhere down South and bring their little game to an end in most horrible fashion. He'd left Persia in the house with his aunt and her boyfriend while he went to handle a quick piece of business before they made the mad dash, but when he came back he found Ramses's death squad descending upon the house. Long before the story would air on the news later that night, Chucky already knew that everyone in the house would be dead, including Persia. There was nothing he could do without putting himself at risk, so he left her to die. To his surprise, Persia had survived the attack and was on the mend. Chucky had been trying to worm his way into Persia's life and bring his sick plan full circle since he slithered back into New York, but she wasn't making it easy.

“So, what now? I know you didn't bring us all the way out here just to watch them little bitches scrap,” Rissa said in an irritated tone from the back seat. It had been a few hours since the last time she'd gotten high and she was getting irritable. Rissa might not have realized it yet, but Chucky and Maggie saw that she was developing a habit.

Chucky looked at Rissa through the rearview mirror. “You worse than your sister with all the damn complaining y'all do. It's obvious you two share the same genes.”

“That ain't all we share,” Rissa mumbled.

Maggie turned around in her seat and looked at her little sister. “What did you say?”

“Nothing, I'm just ready to get on the road already if we're still going, that's all.” Rissa tried to clean it up.

“Don't worry, baby sis. I just gotta make a quick stop in Manhattan to see somebody and we can get on our way,” Chucky assured her.

“You sure you wanna play it that close, considering everything?” Maggie asked him. Chucky had confided with her about his troubles in New York. Though he had never told Maggie the entire story, he told her enough to where she knew that going anywhere near Harlem could be risky.

“It's all good, baby. We'll be in and out before anybody even catches wind that I'm in town. I just gotta see my friend right quick and we gonna go handle that other thing,” Chucky told her.

“I thought you were all out of friends,” Rissa said sarcastically.

Chucky laughed. “Let me tell you something, shorty. No matter what I do in the world they'll always be niggas who got love for me, because I've given them reason to. I make it so my presence adds value to their lives, so that no matter what their eyes tell them, their hearts will dispute the information.”

Rissa shook her head. “I would sure love to meet the pour soul who, other than us, is dumb enough to put their faith in your sneaky-ass.”

 

 

Charlie sat in the back of City Diner on Ninetieth and Broadway, tapping his finger on the table nervously. In front of him sat an untouched burger and fries that had sat long enough to get soggy. Every time the front door opened, his eyes shot up expectantly, only to be disappointed to find that it wasn't the person he was waiting for.

While he waited, he replayed his conversation with Li'l Monk in his head and wondered what he should take from it. Had it been the old days, Li'l Monk wouldn't have given a second thought to fulfilling Charlie's request to get put on, but these weren't the old days; they were the new.

Since kids, he and Li'l Monk had come up like brothers and always had each other's backs, no matter what the circumstances. When money came into play, everything changed. Though Charlie would never admit it, it was his fault that there was a rift between him and the young man who had once been his best friend. It had always been him and Li'l Monk out in the streets, pulling capers and doing what they had to do to survive. Charlie would always come up with the schemes and Li'l Monk was the muscle. They made the perfect team, so when Li'l Monk was called up to the big leagues and Omega became his partner instead of Charlie, it bothered him. He always felt like Li'l Monk had chosen the new guy over him and it planted the seeds of resentment in his heart. Charlie had a love and hate relationship with Li'l Monk. That was still his friend, but he couldn't accept Li'l Monk doing better than him, so it always pushed Charlie to feel like he had to go the extra mile to catch up with him, even if it meant breaking bread with snakes.

Charlie felt wrong for being there, and in his heart he knew that he was, but he felt obligated. Where he was from, when people looked out for you during hard times you did the same if the opportunity presented itself, even if you didn't agree with what was being asked of you. This was where Charlie found himself: trapped in a battle between his good sense and his loyalties.

Finally, the man Charlie had been waiting for showed up. Chuck looked different from the last time Charlie had seen him. He was thinner than Charlie remembered and he had huge bags under his eyes. It was like he had aged several years in only a few months. The clothes he wore were high end, but looked like they had been slept in, which was unlike Chucky. When he had been running the block, Chucky would never be caught dead looking anything other than dapper. The man standing before Charlie bore the signs of hard living.

Chucky looked around the diner suspiciously, as if he was expecting someone to jump out and ambush him. Charlie couldn't say that he blamed him. Chucky had done a lot of people dirty the last time he was in New York and according to the streets there was still an open bounty on his head. Charlie knew that for Chucky to risk coming back to New York he was either crazy or desperate, and before it was all said and done Charlie would find a way to use it to his advantage. Chucky wasn't the only one who had come to the meeting with an agenda.

“My main man,” Chucky greeted Charlie with dap and a hug.

“What up, Chucky.” Charlie embraced him. Chucky's clothes reeked of cigarettes and something else Charlie couldn't quite place.

“I'd like to introduce you to some friends of mine.” Chucky waved the girls over. “This is Maggie and her sister Rissa,” he introduced them respectively. “Now, let's get down to business.” He motioned for Maggie to slide into the booth on his side. When Rissa tried to squeeze in too, he stopped her. “Baby girl, why don't you sit over there next to Charlie so he ain't all alone?”

Rissa's face said she didn't like it, but she knew better than to argue with Chucky in public, especially in front of one of his Harlem friends. Rissa and Maggie talked shit to him behind closed doors, but they knew better than do it out in the open. The last time Rissa tried him, Chucky slapped her so hard that her ear rang for the rest of the day. Mumbling under her breath, she slid in next to Charlie.

“So, how you been, Charlie?” Chucky asked as if he really cared.

“I can't complain, I'm living,” Charlie said modestly.

Chucky gave him the once-over. “Looks like you're doing a little more than living. You look good, Charlie,” he lied. Charlie still looked like the exact same larcenous little bastard Chucky remembered, but he needed to stroke his ego.

“I'm trying to get like you.” Charlie glanced over at Maggie, who was sitting next to Chucky with a zoned-out look in her eyes. The older woman was clearly on something, but Charlie didn't care. All he saw were tits and ass.

“Yeah, Maggie here is a real rider. She does anything daddy needs her to do.” Chucky draped her arm around her. “Ain't that right, baby?”

“Sure thing, Chucky,” Maggie said dryly. She was only half paying attention. Her nerves were playing havoc on her. They'd had to split the rest of the drugs three ways on the ride over and it wasn't quite enough to put her in her zone.

“We can talk about pleasure in a while, Charlie. For now let's stick to business. Did you cut into him yet?” Chucky asked.

“I been working on it, but it's slow motion. Li'l Monk has been on some real paranoid shit lately and is real careful about who he lets into his circle, even me,” Charlie said.

“Man, you and that dude go back to the sandbox and you mean to say he ain't letting you eat with him? What kind of friend is that?” Chucky asked.

“It ain't like that with me and Li'l Monk. Things are just tense within the organization because of everything that's going on.”

This caught Chucky by surprise. “What do you mean by that?”

Charlie looked around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping before explaining. “Well, the way I hear it Pharaoh's authority is being challenged by some new nigga by the name of Clark or something.”

Chucky raised his eyebrow at the mention of the name. He was familiar with the Clarks and knew they were a formidable family. He also knew that the father had been murdered a few years prior and his son, Shai was now running his family. Chucky didn't know much about the youngest Clark, Shai, except everyone who had been sent at him so far was never heard from again. Rumor had it that he had been making the rounds, wiping out all the independent crews who wouldn't fall in line under the Clark flag. Though Shai was barely out of his teens, he had inherited an army and commanded them like a born general. Shai Clark was smooth as silk and as deadly as a razor blade. If he and Pharaoh were at each other, it was something Chucky might've been able to use to his advantage.

“So, Pharaoh and the Clarks are at war, huh?” Chucky asked.

“Not officially, but I'm hearing the tensions are getting high and it'll only be a matter of time before something pops off. They say dudes are choosing sides and it isn't looking too good for Pharaoh,” Charlie told him.