Streets of New York. Mark Anthony

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СКАЧАТЬ juice.”

      “Damn it, Ashley,” Promise shouted when he saw the red Kool Aid all across the table and some on her uniform. Now he had to clean the mess and probably change her uniform.

      “I’m sorry, daddy.”

      “Forget it. We gotta go.”

      Promise hurried out his fifth floor apartment in Far Rockaway, Queens. He didn’t have time for the elevator. He dashed down the grungy staircase carrying his daughter in one arm and her book bag in the other. Luckily, he’d parked his X5 close by. He put Ashley in her car seat, dashed around to the driver’s side, and quickly peeled away.

      “Damn, I’m gonna be late,” he hissed.

      Promise reached the daycare at 8:15 a.m. He didn’t even shut his engine off, unlocked his doors and ran around to where Ashley sat. He unbuckled her, hastily took her out of her seatbelt and rang the bell to the daycare.

      “Good morning, Mr. Carter,” one of the teachers at the center greeted.

      “Hey, what’s up? I’m in kind of a rush. Bye, Ashley. Here, give me hugs and kisses.”

      Ashley went to her father, giving him quick hug and kiss then turned to her daycare teacher. Promise rushed back to his jeep and sped off to Brooklyn.

      It had been six months since Ashley came to live with her father. Ashley had been staying with her mother, Denise Jenkins until she was murdered. Then Ashley moved in with her father. Promise didn’t mind taking on this new responsibility.

      He loved his daughter to death and would do anything for her. He wasn’t trying to hear about his only beloved daughter being turned over to the state, an orphan living from group home to group home, trying to be adopted like he was once. At first, it was hard for him doing what he did but they had adjusted and now he couldn’t live a day without her.

      Hearing about his baby mother’s murder fucked him up bad. Promise couldn’t sleep, eat, or do anything for two weeks. Even though they hadn’t been together as a couple, they were cool. They both took good care of their daughter.

      Denise was murdered by a punk-stick-up-kid, in front of her building one night in Bushwick. She had been coming home from work, getting ready to pick up her daughter from a neighbor when a young thug in a black hoodie, dark jeans and dirty black Timberlands emerged from out of nowhere startled her, demanding that she give up her purse and jewelry. He was looking jittery coming at her armed with a .357. She gave him her purse easy but was adamant about not giving up her jewelry, especially since her necklace had been a gift from her father and had been around her neck since she was six.

      The young robber struggled with her for her jewelry snatching off her bracelet and when he went for her necklace, she slapped him. Denise was a tough girl from the block and seeing a gun didn’t easily scare her. She was from the rough streets of Brownsville and had seen a gun before. The young thug sticking her up looked no older than sixteen and he was acting scared.

      Denise was damned if some pussy-ass-broke-hood-nigga with a gun was gonna rob her of something so sentimental to her. She didn’t even think that the gun was loaded. They fought and Denise was whooping his ass for a minute until the gun went off, the explosion caused her to grasp her chest. Shocked at the impact of getting shot, Denise suddenly collapsed to the ground.

      That young fool snatched her diamond necklace, darted down the block and disappeared into the night leaving Denise dead. A neighbor on the first floor of Denise’s building heard the gunshot and she looked out her window. She saw Denise lying face down on the concrete in front of the building with blood oozing from her gunshot wound, and immediately called the cops.

      The next day, Promise heard she was murdered. He cried in front of his peeps, collapsing to the floor. Squeeze, his main nigga, tried to console him but couldn’t understand the pain he felt. After all Promise wasn’t living with Denise and for the most part was over her.

      Within a week, Squeeze and his niggas set out for the Brooklyn streets looking for Denise’s killer. They even put word on the streets that there was a $5,000 reward for any bitch or nigga willing to come forward and give information on who did it and where they were hiding. The following week, they got their results. There was a young nigga named Muddy, who was known for sticking up muthafuckas in Bushwick. He earned a deadly rep out there.

      Soon after receiving the info, Squeeze and his crew caught up with Muddy. They put three shots in his head, one in the eye and two in the back of his head. They even found Denise’s necklace on him—stupid muthafucka.

      Promise hit the Belt Parkway doing 65 in his X5. He was on his way to Bed Stuy to meet Squeeze, Show, and Pooh, his niggas from way back when they used to wrestle each other on the playground.

      Pooh was the youngest at twenty-one and he had a short temper and could be very loud and violent. He grew up in Brownsville but spent the majority of his youthful years in Bed-Stuy. To him, that was more his home than anywhere else. Pooh was 6-1, slender nigga rocking a baldy and the only nigga in the hood with hazel eyes. Bitches used to love that nigga for his eyes. He got a lot of pussy when he was young and he was still fucking.

      Show, he was a big dude pushing 250 pounds. Solid muthafucka and tall too, 6-5 and looking like that nigga, Eric Sermon from EPMD. Shit, Show was always the biggest. When he was twelve, he weighed 200 pounds. They called him Show because when he used to play high school football, he used to sack the quarterback so fucking hard, it was always a show to see. People came from all corners of Brooklyn, Manhattan, and even Queens to see Show play football. It was even more of a thrill to see when he put the quarterback on his ass and tackled the breath out of his opponents on the field.

      He got a scholarship to play for Virginia Tech his senior year but fucked that up. A month before his high school graduation, he was caught dealing drugs on the corner of his block.

      Squeeze, was the wild and crazy nigga. He was born in Jersey and moved out to Brooklyn when he was ten. He had lived there with his moms ever since. Squeeze was twenty-five and he was the type of guy that always had to be seen and heard wherever he went. Squeeze was rowdy in the club and was always scheming.

      Bitches and niggas gave him love because he was strictly street mentality and he sported a don’t-give-a-fuck-about-life attitude. A nigga fucked with Squeeze, a nigga better come correct or don’t come at all because Squeeze didn’t forget shit. He didn’t forgive easily and held grudges. Squeeze was not a big dude, 5’9, 157 pounds with gentle features and a little bit of well-groomed facial hair. He was a slim nigga with short hair but was real gangsta.

      Then there was Promise, the fourth member. He hooked up with Squeeze, Show, and Pooh when he was thirteen after he moved to Brooklyn from Queens. It took him a while to fit in but he eventually did and the four guys had been like brothers since. They mostly hung out over on Fulton and Throop. Promise always had a nonchalant attitude being a cool ass nigga. He got lots of respect from niggas for being Squeeze’s boy and he looked out for many niggas back in the day when they got into trouble.

      Promise put in his Ashante CD and cruised into Brooklyn. Under the driver’s seat, was a loaded silver .32 which had never been used. He just kept it under his seat for protection. No bodies, no nothing. Promise had kept the gun closer for a year now.

      For some reason when he hit Atlantic Blvd, Promise started СКАЧАТЬ