“You got it! You got it, New York,” he repeated while backpedaling away.
“Yeah, I know I got it,” Tone insisted. “Now get da fuck outta here. And don’t let me catch you ‘round here again, or you gone have a fuckin’ problem.”
By the time the last words exited Tone’s mouth, it seemed like the entire block had stopped and taken notice of the altercation. Junkies and workers alike stopped what they were doing and openly stared. From the looks on their faces they seemed stunned to see Tone backing down Sykes. They continued to watch as humbled Sykes walked away.
Inwardly, Tone reveled in momentary victory. This was the first chance he got to flex his muscle. He thought the streets had been getting the wrong perception of him. Tone hoped the altercation with Sykes would go a long way in changing that. He knew he had to flip every once in a while to keep everyone in line.
Calmly, Tone put his gun away and sat right back down on the stoop. He acted as if nothing had happened. Soon everything went back to normal.
A few minutes later his cousin Mann exited the stash house and ran over to him.
“Yo, what’s good Tone?” he uttered. “Heard you had some beef out here.”
Mann had good intentions, but under no conditions was he supposed to leave the stash house unattended with money and drugs inside.
“Yo, my nigga, what are you doin’ out here? Get the fuck back in there. It’s over!” Tone chastised him.
“My fault! My fault!” he apologized. “Niggas said you was out here beefin’ wit’ some dope fiend nigga, so I jetted outside to see what’s good.”
Mann was Tone’s responsibility, yet his younger cousin was very protective of him. Tone couldn’t blame him for coming outside to check on him. Still, Tone bore the burden of not only providing for his cousin, but protecting his life with his own. If anything happened to Mann the blame would fall squarely on him. He vowed not to let nothing happen to his cousin, not on his watch.
“That’s dead,” he told him. “Go the fuck back up in the crib. We’ll kick it later.”
“Aiight,” Mann replied as he turned and headed back to the stash house.
Meanwhile, Tone remained outside. It was business as usual for him. In the proceeding moment after the altercation, Sykes didn’t cross his mind. Before long, Shorty returned to the block with the news of Tone’s action having already reached her ears.
“What’s this I hear you and Sykes got into it?” she suddenly asked.
“Fuck Sykes!” he stated. “That dope fiend nigga’. He was tryin’ to get some free coke outta me. I told the fat nigga no. He ain’t like it. He acted like he wanted to do something, so I backed out the joint on him.”
Shorty replied, “Wham bam just like that huh? I heard you pulled a gun out and threatened to kill him. Tone, he not the type of nigga you threaten or pull a gun out on. He’s the type of nigga you kill! Sykes ain’t wrapped too tight, yo. He’s comin’ back, and he ain’t comin’ to talk!”
In Shorty’s opinion, Tone didn’t know who or what he was dealing with. She couldn’t stress enough to Tone just how dangerous Sykes was. He might have been a dope fiend in appearance, but Sykes was a killer at heart. Shorty was trying to warn Tone exactly what he was up against. Clearly, Tone had missed the point.
Heated, Tone snapped. “I don’t care about none of that shit! Ain’t nobody afraid of that old ass dope fiend nigga. You think when they made his gun they only made one, huh?”
Tone thought just because Shorty disagreed with him that she didn’t understand his position. That thought couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Shorty explained. “I’m just warnin’ you, yo, I ain’t tryin’ to say you can’t hold ya own…. I’m just telling you so you’ll watch your back.”
Somehow Tone had mistaken Shorty’s relaying of information as an act of her taking sides against him.
“Yo, fuck him. If he come back around, I’ll handle it,” he announced.
Oh he will, Shorty thought.
In this situation Shorty felt that New York arrogance was preventing Tone from heeding her message. She hoped that wasn’t the case. However, whether he liked it or not, she felt like it was her job to at least warn him.
Tone continued, “You make this nigga out to be some kind of boogeyman. Yo, that nigga bleeds too!”
Tone felt like Shorty was blowing the situation way out of proportion. There was no way that Sykes was half as bad as she said he was. No way.
“Okay Tone, I’m done wit’ that,” she said. “I’m goin’ back to handlin’ my business, yo. Be careful…..”
With that said, Shorty turned and walked away. Tone had too much pride at the moment to talk rationally to him. And on the streets of Baltimore pride would get you killed quicker than arrogance or disrespect.
Shorty made a mental note to keep an extra set of eyes on Tone. In her opinion, she was sure he would need it. Shorty knew as long as Tone hustled on this block, or in East Baltimore for that matter, seeing Sykes again was inevitable.
7
Where the fuck is this nigga at? Sonya thought, wondering where her man was, or better yet, when he was coming home.
Sonya sat on the couch, completely frustrated. Her television flashed images from The Arsenio Hall Show. Her favorite R&B group, Jodeci, was on. Yet she barely paid them any attention. She just wasn’t in the mood. Sonya had more pressing concerns. Her thoughts were focused on Tone’s whereabouts, where he was or rather whom he might be with.
Try as she might to push those thoughts out of her mind, she couldn’t. Sonya knew Tone was a good looking guy, coupled with the fact that he was making money in
