chapter 25
HIGH SIDE was lounging in front of the corner store on 142nd and Lenox Avenue, drinking a forty ounce. Periodically he would look up from the newspaper on his lap and scan the block for signs of trouble. Though his friend hadn’t said it, he knew the situation unfolding around Harlem had him rattled. Next to Gutter, Pop Top was the most dangerous cat in Harlem, so if Major Blood had him spooked then they had a serious problem.
Around the corner, inside of the second building, a young man served the fiends that High Side sent his way. When Lou-Loc had divided up the territories this became High Side’s domain. He had occasional trouble with the Blood cats from Seventh, but for the most part they respected him enough not to tread directly on his turf.
“Break ya self, nigga!” Young Rob said, walking up on High Side. He was followed by C-style, and they both looked high as hell.
“Man, you need to quit playing so much. You know we got drama out here, fool. Playing like that can get yo shit pushed back,” High Side told him.
“Nigga stop fronting like you extra G wit it. You’re so caught up in that forty and last night’s basketball scores that you ain’t even on point. What you gonna do if that nigga Major Blood run up on you?”
High Side smiled and lifted the newspaper, exposing the large handgun on his lap. “Put a fucking hole in him.”
“Solid.” Rob gave him dap. “So, what’s the word on the streets?”
High Side shrugged. “Not much. There were a few incidents, but since them Brownsville niggaz put the mash on them two cats, it’s been pretty quiet.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” C-style said. “Since y’all niggaz been banging out the block has been on fire. I can’t even pump my little weed in the hood no more.”
“You wasn’t getting no money anyhow,” Rob joked.
Rob and C-style traded insults, while High Side laughed at both of them. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a car pulling up to the light. It wasn’t unusual as 142nd was a busy block. The strange part about it was the way the female passenger in the backseat was looking at him. It wasn’t a look of recognition, but one of hatred. At the moment the passenger side door swung open, High Side made his move.
High Side sprang to his feet and threw the crate he was sitting on at the car, shattering the windshield. The young man who had been trying to climb from the car fell back, trying to avoid the spray of glass. The back door opened up and Ruby hopped out, blasting away with her Desert Eagle. The storefront glass shattered, but none of the bullets hit anyone.
Ruby’s eyes flashed pure hatred as she tried to lay down her enemies. When she had approached Hawk about sanctioning a hit on Harlem, he brushed her off, saying that Major would handle it. He might’ve had faith in the assassin handling the problem, but Ruby refused to sit by and wait. The Crips would answer for the murder of her lover.
Rob knocked C-style to the ground just as bullets whistled over their heads. Not bothering to see if she was hit, Rob rolled on his back and began firing his.38. The bullets tore into the car, but he too failed to hit anyone.
Two more men climbed from the now bullet-riddled car as it turned the corner of Lenox Avenue. They opened fire on the block, not really caring who they hit. High Side got low and cut through the crowd of people that were scattering up the block. Firing from one knee, he hit one of the shooters in the throat. The man dropped his gun and clutched at the hole in his neck. Blood spilled over his fingers and down the front of his shirt as he crashed to the ground.
Rob tried to get out of the line of fire, but was too slow. Ruby hit him once in the leg and twice in the back. Rob tried to keep his feet, but vertigo overcame him and he hit the ground. Rob was leaking all over the place, but he still tried to crawl to the hysterical C-style.
The remaining shooter had managed to back High Side into the doorway of the bodega. The small man who worked the register quickly slammed the small wooden door, separating himself from the skirmish and grabbed his phone to call the police. The shooter was trying to bring his firing arm around, but High Side held onto his wrist for dear life, while hitting him with a series of left hooks to the skull.
Over the shooter’s shoulder he saw his little man, Young Rob, slam face first into the ground. Ruby was easing up on the boy’s prone body to finish him off, but High Side was too busy fighting for his own life to do anything about it. He watched in horror as she knelt beside Rob and blew the back of his head off with the Eagle.
High Side’s grief lasted for about five seconds before it was replaced with blinding rage. He grabbed the shooter by his arm and slammed his knee into it, at the elbow. The shooter howled in pain as the gun went flying from his hand. High Side cracked him with a savage right to the jaw, sending him spilling out onto the street. High Side went to pen him, but froze when he heard a round being chambered to his right.
Ruby drew a bead on High Side, who was frozen like a deer in headlights, and prepared to finish him off. Though she knew the young man wasn’t Gutter, he’d been identified as a shooter for Harlem Crip. High Side had murdered quite a few of her folk, so he definitely had to go. No sooner than Ruby’s finger brushed the trigger, pain exploded in her chest. She looked down at her blouse, which now had a red stain in the middle. On shaky legs, Ruby turned to see C-style holding Rob’s smoking gun.
“Bitch,” Ruby gasped. “You shot me.” She was dead before she hit the ground.
With the immediate threat being taken care of, High Side refocused his attention on his attempted murderer. The shooter’s arm hung limp at his side as he tried to get up using one arm. High Side drew his pocketknife and grabbed the shooter by the back of his shirt.
“Fuck you think you going?” He yanked the shooter to his feet. “You was gonna kill me huh, muthafucka?” High Side cut his face with the blade. “Yeah, I told you niggaz about fucking around in Harlem.” He plunged the knife into the shooter’s gut. High Side stabbed him over and over again. Even when the shooter went down, High Side continued to plunge the knife into his chest, arms, legs, or whatever else was exposed. Only when he heard the familiar police sirens in the distance did he stop stabbing the man.
Wiggling the blade deeper into the wound, High Side broke it off in the man’s chest then addressed C-style. “Baby girl, we gotta roll!” High Side called, while wiping his bloody hands on the dead shooter’s pants.
“Oh, Rob,” she sighed over his ruined body.
“C, we gotta go, now!” High Side said more forcefully. When C-style didn’t respond, he grabbed her by the arms and yanked her to her feet. “C”-he turned her to face him-“Cory, that nigga gone and you can’t honor his memory behind no damn bars. Now bring yo ass on, girl!”
C-style said her final goodbyes to Rob and allowed High Side to lead her away at a jog. In the course of a few seconds her life had been irreversibly changed. Rob was dead and she had officially caught her first body. Until then she had been little more than a supporter, but now found herself in it up to her ass.
chapter 26
SHARELL HAD never been happier to see her little Brooklyn block. What started out as a quick outing ended up with her shopping on 125th for her and Satin, and hitting the bootlegger for some movies. She knew that the girl was going through a lot and she wanted to plan a girls’ night out to help her on the road to recovery. After being near catatonic for so long she needed to refamiliarize herself with the world.
She locked her door and pulled her jacket closed to protect her from the whipping winds. It seemed like out of nowhere the weather had dropped since earlier. Just as she reached the front of the building a fashion magazine that she’d been holding blew away. She thought about chasing it, but it was chilly and she wanted to get inside with the bags.
Outside her apartment door she could hear the sounds of rap videos coming from the television. Good, Satin was still awake so she could see her new outfits. The moment Sharell turned the key in the lock she heard a door
