Streets of New York. Mark Anthony

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СКАЧАТЬ got Grey Goose Vodka, the best. There’s Henney, Hypnotic, Bicardi and other stuff to drink,” she said.

      There were no immediate reactions. Lindsay was about to continue disappointedly reading, until she heard:

      “Bring it all out. Yeah, bring ‘em out.”

      They shouted and clapped. Lindsay walked to the kitchen. She was followed closely by one man who immediately started grabbing bottles of Bicardi, the Hennessey and Grey Goose disappeared from her shelves. Then he rejoined the fat man, splitting up the bottles.

      “Bacardi for me.”

      “Let me try the Henney. I’ll mix it with the Hypnotik.”

      “Now she can read all she wants. This will hold us down ‘til her man comes home,” the fat man said and guzzled.

      “Someone gotta go sit in the parking lot. We want to get some dough outta Squeeze before we kill him.”

      “I’ll go. But let me have a drink first.”

      “Go ahead read some more.”

      “Read all you want, ha, ha, ha,”

      Once again Lindsay heard the name of her lover dropped. She didn’t understand the rest of what was being said. She could only guess that it wasn’t good. Lindsay was happy to oblige with the request. She needed a plan. Her survival depended on a good one. It was this in mind that she engaged them in some more of Pooh’s poetry.

FAKE ASS WORLD

       Man I never grew up watching the world created by tell-I-lie-vision, I witness reality. True life-gangster-lessons on how and what to hustle on the black top of my block. Fuck school. I took street classes and learn different ways to set up shops. Lessons about how spots go. How to cook the raw multiplying rock investments extend clientele dividin corners into sections was on the afternoon program card. Mornins spent independently studyin ways to get new custs communicatin wit’ eye. No words needed to steer junkies in a herd crack coding.

       That made the hood jumpin hot. I mean that rock was the shit and it went hopping mad beyond the hood. I can’t even leave the rest without someone’s mom annoyin me. Always chasin me aroun bein a damn pest from hell. All for the get high. She cant see herself sinking low. She suck-my-dick in a quick sec if I wink. Women givin their asses. Men stealin from families. Crack is that precious gem. They come buildings fill. Everyone walkin round their heads to the ground searching for what you could never understand. U see them comin scopin you out. Zombie minds on over-time tryin to get sump’n for no thing. Stank smellies threatenin suffocatin in their housin project. Any block you go theres hundreds or more; it was ez to recognize crackhead stroll. Persistent begging for pennies. Unwashed bodies and dirty hands gears smellin like stale sewer. They loyal custies. Smiles replaced by frowns the walk with head to the ground outside the monster reign big time. Get in where you fit in. Runners captains and lookouts makin money. Spent my day dreaming how I’m a get my bling like I’m in the rap game or sump’n. Nice with my ice a true bonafide hustler. I wanted all that pimping in my world cuz I realize at an early age it wasn’t just all about the Benjies; it was about how those Franklins added up in the real world.

      Lindsay delicately turned the page and watched as they drank. The fat man laid his gun on the nightstand. All the others seemed relaxed by the alcohol or maybe it was the poetry. Some closed their eyes. Her living room became cloudy from cigarette smoke as they relaxed, lit up and chilled. They chugged the alcohol while it dawned on Lindsay that the words written by her dead brother was having an unexpected overpowering effect on them. It fueled her to read on.

       I’m grown nineteen and I’ve attained this consciousness that money makes the whole worl go roun. I don’t have to be in school to kno geography and over stand the fact that if you didn’t have the necessary capital them financial institutions gonna treat you like third world not fuckin with you. Who want a give chance to a black man with no money? What type of employment you gettin even after finishin college? Maybe I be oblige step n fetch a little sumpn, sumpn startin in the basement if I qualified. Desperately I keep my ones in check. My nightmares are as real as sunlight. I was doomed from the womb ever since the doctor slapped me on the ass my hard knock life began and will last for the rest of time. It’s a everyday struggle to learn life lessons, deep down where I’m from survivin racism part o everyday livin. This the last class. Everyday I awake it becomes more difficult to breathe. Feel like I cant help myself I gotta fight cause those in power the one in charge at kapitalistik AmeriKa be doing everythin to keep the Poor man down. Early I could remember the riches seduced me. I was a shortie on the road to the riches doing what I want and fell in love and commit to the streets. Nobody is gonna tell me how to do this. I’d rather die than bitch-up, switch or run and snitch on my fellow squad member soldiers of the street army, Squeeze, Show and Promise, my fam in this war. This Pooh I use what I got to stack chips and I’m doin what I have to before they carry me out...

      Lindsay paused as she read from the notebook of her fallen brother. Pooh, the poet had kept a running tale of his street escapades. These were words from Pooh’s soul; it was like hearing his voice. She was caught up in her thoughts, studying the reaction. Glancing around her swanky apartment, Lindsay felt the calming effect of her brother’s presence. It was as if Pooh was there sitting around, calmly assessing her situation.

      She didn’t expect too much. Lindsay really didn’t set out wanting to accomplish very much. It started out with her just wanting to be there for a friend. Lindsay was looking out for someone she really cared for. Squeeze had done a good job so far.

      He had done right by her and she wanted to exhaust every fiber in her being to make him see how much his help was appreciated. Lindsay was well aware of how Squeeze had come through like a ray of sunlight and lit her up with ice, furs and the dopest crib her friends had ever seen. She had given him the opportunity and he had performed way beyond her expectations. She had to use what she had to get what she wanted. Lindsay realized that after reading the notebook, that not only were they in a relaxed posture but the guns were now put away. She saw that the one closest to the door was now completely asleep.

      Lindsay put the notebook down. The intruder by the door snoring, definitely in deep sleep. She crept over to where the fat man was reclined. His eyes seemed closed. She stared at the gun and was close enough to see that unlike the other gun, this one had the magazine that one of them had so proudly taunted her with. Lindsay paused but just as she reached across him for the weapon. The fat man grabbed her arm. Oh shit, she thought her mind sped and her stomach did cartwheels. Lindsay immediately reached for his zipper.

      “Is this what you want?” She asked tugging at his belt.

      The fat man resisted at first but when he felt her nails rake way past the great amount of flesh surrounding his belly-button he struggled to regain his composure. With the gun in his hand, he allowed her to gain control of his dick. Lindsay thought, wow, so small and tried to grab more. The words almost burst out. Is this all you got? She dipped her head in his lap.

      “You’re gonna have to pull your pants down big boy.”

      Lindsay smiled. He had to put the gun down. She knew she had to do whatever it took. There were two men in her apartment. One was passed out from being drunk and the other protected his gun as he got out of his pants. She knew that her plan required some brains and she had to be ballsy.

      She was convinced that alcohol had only set the mood and made the time ripe for the execution of her plan. Only two members of the gang remained inside. The СКАЧАТЬ