“Nah, I don’t know ‘em,” Tone assured him. “New York’s a big place.”
He was beginning to sense Sykes was trying to run game on him. Making small talk in an attempt to hide the real reason for his sudden appearance.
“So I heard,” Sykes proclaimed. “Yo, was the man wit’ that China White.”
“I hear you,” Tone replied, sarcastically.
Sykes must have heard the sarcasm in his voice because he quickly changed the subject.
“Anyway,” he began, “I just come home a few days ago. I’m tryin’ to get back on my feet yo…. I was wonderin’ if I could get in wit’ you. I’ll do whatever, New York. These niggas around here know me. They know I don’t play…. I’m as thorough as they come.”
As Sykes boasted about his exploits in the streets, Tone just stared blankly at him. Tone got the feeling that Sykes thought he was actually somebody. And maybe he was back in his day. However, right now, he was a nobody to him. Try as he might, Sykes couldn’t convince him otherwise. Tone’s mind was already made up.
“Yo fam, I got my team already,” Tone told him. “I only deal wit’ a select few. My circle small.”
“Damn, New York. They said you the man around here yo. You getting’ all the money and if I wanna get money to see you. They said you got the best coke in East Baltimore…. That you was a good dude…. Damn, New York, don’t do me like that yo…. I messed up, I just came out the joint….” Sykes pleaded.
“They told you wrong. I ain’t gettin’ it. I’m gettin’ a quarter over lunch money. I’m strugglin’ just like everybody else,” Tone announced, trying persuade him otherwise.
“I hear you, New York,” Sykes said, regrettably. “If you ever need me yo, just holla.”
“Aiight, cool. If a spot open up, I’ll let you know,” he lied.
“Say, New York,” Sykes continued. “I know you said you ain’t got no position for me right now, but I was wonderin’ could I get a lil help?”
Tone stared at him for a moment. He knew exactly what Sykes was hinting at. Sykes wasn’t really looking for a hand up. He was looking for a hand out. Tone was slowly becoming a victim of his own success. It seemed like word was getting around about how fair he played, how he looked out for certain junkies giving them a few vials of ready rock on credit. His acts of generosity made him a good dude to some, and a target for the low life’s and leeches.
In Tone’s book, that’s exactly what Sykes was, a leech. He had seen his kind before, time and time again, undercover addicts looking to use him. Tone had helped a few local hustler’s fresh out of jail, rehab or whatever, get on their feet by giving them packages of drugs to sell for themselves with the idea that when they got on their feet, they’d not only pay him back, but come buy weight from him. However, that never materialized. In the end, it turned out to be just talk on their part and wishful thinking on his. Their drug habits turned out to be bigger than their hustle. Making money was a ploy they used to cover their real intentions of getting high.
Tone had gotten burned too many times showing love to look out for another person other than himself.
“Help how?” Tone snapped.
“Lemme hold somethin’… just a couple vials yo... til a better day,” Sykes reasoned. “I’ll pay you back yo….. You got my word on that…. I swear to God yo….”
Finally, Sykes had exposed his hand. Now Tone knew that his entire conversation was fraudulent from the start. What Sykes was really attempting to do was something called a friendly extortion. Asking for drugs in a friendly manner. Tone knew if he gave Sykes anything that it would open a door for him to keep coming back repeatedly. He would rather nip the situation in the bud now than have him feeling entitled to some free drugs anytime he felt like getting high.
“Ain’t nuttin’ free my nigga,” Tone barked. “Can’t support ya habit fam.”
Sykes flipped out. “You New York boyz some disrespectful muthafuckas yo. I just ask you for a lil sumthin’ yo and you gone do me like that? Me, Sykes? This ain’t New York, this Baltimore yo. Pay homage…. You got me fuck up yo! You must not know who the fuck I am?”
Not liking what he just heard, Tone rose from the stoop. With his hand underneath his hoodie, he tightly gripped his gun, signaling to Sykes he was prepared to make this verbal altercation into a physical one.
Transforming from beggar to bully, Sykes was now attempting to throw his weight around and intimidate Tone. The problem was Tone wasn’t easily intimidated. Despite the size differential favoring Sykes, he had the heart to stand up to him. He would meet aggression with aggression. He wasn’t about to bow down to a bully and let him walk all over him. If it was a few vials today, it’ll be something else tomorrow. Tone knew how he dealt with Sykes, or rather how the block saw how he dealt with him, would go a long way in determining how he was treated for the duration of his time there.
“Whore ass nigga, I’ll run you from ‘round here yo,” he continued before taking a few steps toward Tone.
Quickly, Tone drew his gun. Placing his weapon close to the side of his leg. He menacingly pointed his finger in Sykes’ direction. His actions caused Sykes to slowly back-pedal with hands slightly raised.
Tone had drawn a line in the sand that he dared Sykes to cross.
“Yo, who the fuck you think you talking to? C’mon, play yaself my nigga and I’ll leave
