Passion for the Heist, page 8
The youth looked to his dad, Julio, who had quietly positioned himself at Pain’s blind side while he was having words with his son. There was a question in his eyes.
“They call him Pain,” Julio said in a tone that was neither warm nor cold. It was as if he was simply stating a fact.
“The Blackbird!” J.J. gasped. His stomach lurched as he realized that he had almost tried to sucker punch a very dangerous man.
Blackbird, the title echoed in Pain’s skull. Blackbird, sometimes referred to as the Bird of Prey, was a name that he had not been called by in a long time. Someone he cared for very much had gifted him that moniker. It had come from the Nina Simone song “Blackbird.” She said that it reminded her of him when she listened to it—an angry little bird lost in the world who was never meant to fly. “Your mama’s name was Lonely, and your daddy’s name is Pain,” she would sing to him, before planting a soft kiss on his forehead. It was she who helped him to find his wings and his way. A fledgling no more, he would be her bird of prey … her Blackbird. Pain had done things in his old life that he had worked very hard to forget about while he was away. Hearing the old nickname brought every dark deed rushing back to the surface.
“Yo, I meant no disrespect. I thought you were just some random dude who had wandered in here to window-shop. I had no idea I was talking to the Queen’s executioner,” J.J. said apologetically.
“I’m just a man, kid. Nothing more,” Pain said modestly.
“Bullshit!” J.J. challenged. “I once heard a story about you hijacking a city bus and taking that shit on a robbing spree all over the city.”
“It was a box truck, and we only hit an appliance store. Stop listening to everything you hear on the streets,” Pain told J.J. in a tone that said he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be all up in your mix,” J.J. said apologetically.
“Listen to this guy. Always the modest one.” Case threw his arm around Pain. “You’ve gotta excuse him, J.J. He’s only been back in the world for a few hours, so he ain’t quite warmed up yet. But don’t let my friend’s shabby appearance fool you. In his day Pain was one of the greatest heist men to ever slip on a pair of gloves and jack a nigga for their shit. I can’t tell you how many times he’s saved my ass or how much money he’s put into my pockets. Don’t feel no type of way about giving this guy his flowers. He deserves them, even if he doesn’t think so.”
“Definitely. Man, your name has been ringing in these streets since I was in grade school. I can’t believe I’m meeting you in the flesh!” J.J. said, doing a poor job of hiding his excitement.
“J.J., if you’re done having your fanboy moment, there are some boxes in the storeroom that could use your attention,” Julio cut in. He didn’t care for the way his son was gushing over Pain. J.J. had only heard the stories, but Julio knew exactly who and what Pain was.
“Okay, Papi,” J.J. relented. He wanted to stay and pick Pain’s brain some more, but he could tell from his father’s tone of voice that this wasn’t something up for debate. He gave nods to the two gangsters and disappeared into the storeroom.
“Some kid you got there, Julio,” Pain remarked.
“J.J. can be a knucklehead, same as any other eighteen-year-old, but he’s a good kid. I keep him close so he can stay that way,” Julio said. There was an underlying message in his statement. It was a warning to stay clear. “Case, you need anything else?” he shifted the conversation.
“I think I’m straight. I wanna get a few pieces for my man, though.” Case patted Pain on the back.
“You ain’t gotta do that, Case,” Pain told him.
“Like hell I don’t. Pain,” he lowered his voice so that Julio wouldn’t overhear, “you fresh out of the joint. I know you haven’t had a chance to start getting your bankroll together yet. I wanna help you get started. Buying you a few pieces is the least I can do.”
“You know how I feel about handouts,” Pain said. For as bad as he wanted some new clothes, he didn’t want to impose on his friend. Pain was used to having his own and not depending on the mercies of others to meet his needs.
“This ain’t no handout, this is me doing what I’m supposed to do for my brother,” Case said sincerely. “Besides, ain’t no way you’re going to be riding around with me sporting them prison rags. I got a reputation to uphold.”
“Fuck you.” Pain shoved him playfully.
“But on the real, get anything you want from out of here. Julio, hook my boy up and put that shit on my tab!” Case held up a credit card.
“You got it, Case,” Julio agreed. “So, Pain … anything in particular catch your eye?”
Pain thought on it for a minute. His mind went back to Ms. Louis and how she had looked at him. “Yeah, let me see the blue and orange joints in a size thirteen.”
CHAPTER 6
When Pain walked out of the store he looked like a totally different person. In addition to Case hooking him up with two pairs of sneakers, he also got a few new outfits. The one he was currently wearing was a royal blue Izod sweat suit and a crisp New York Knicks hat, and of course the infamous sneakers. Generally, they weren’t something that Pain would’ve worn. They weren’t his style. The only reason he was moved to get them was because they had caught Ms. Louis’s eye. The sneakers spoke a language that only a certain class of people understood, and Pain was aiming to place himself in that number.
Pain and Case carried their bags out to the double-parked Jeep, laughing and talking just like old times. Pain felt like a different person in fresh clothes. There was even a little more spring in his step when he came off the curb to open the hatch. He was tossing his bags into the back when he heard Case curse. “Everything good?” He peeked around the back of the car.
“Thirsty-ass niggas got me.” Case held up the orange parking ticket that had been waiting for him on the windshield.
“I tried to tell you we should’ve parked,” Pain reminded him.
“Greedy-ass city.” Case balled up the ticket and tossed it on the ground before jumping behind the wheel. “So, yo … I gotta pull up on my man on the other side of town for a quick second. I got some light business to conduct.”
“See, here you go with the bullshit. I told you that I wasn’t trying to be outside all day. I need to check in at the crib,” Pain said.
“Stop crying, it ain’t gonna take long at all. It’s not even noon. We still got enough time to see my man, bend a few corners, and still get you home before Ms. Pearl gets back from her appointment. Shake out for a while and show off your new drip.” Case elbowed him lightly. They were back out in traffic and headed east before Pain could protest.
“Oh, I meant to ask you earlier. Who was that bad muthafucka you was talking to back at the sneaker store?” Pain asked. He still had Ms. Louis fresh on the brain.
“You mean Lolo? I’ve been knowing her for a few years since she moved out here from Chicago. She ain’t nobody,” Case said dismissively.
“She looked like somebody to me. That bitch was beautiful!” Pain exclaimed. “I tried to chat her up at the spot, but she played me like some bum-ass nigga.”
“The way you were dressed, can you blame her? But on some G shit, Lolo is one of them chicks that are about a dollar. She don’t wallow in the mud with us soldiers.”
“Then it’s a good thing mud is the last place I’m thinking about wallowing. I’m trying to get next to shorty,” Pain told him.
“At your own risk, my nigga. Lolo comes with a whole bunch of bullshit, namely her dude. He’s a cat who goes by the name of Lee. He’s getting a little money up on 153rd.”
Pain searched his mental Rolodex and couldn’t find the name. “Doesn’t sound familiar. Do I know him?”
“You might or you might not. Lee was doing his thing while we were still out here running, but his star didn’t really start rising until you went away. Him and his crew clipped a few heavyweight dudes and called themselves building a monopoly out of the territories. It don’t stretch but a few blocks in every direction, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t feel like it’s growing a little bit more every day,” Case gave him the rundown.
“He about that life?” Pain asked curiously.
“You didn’t hear me when I said him and his boys have killed a few dudes?” Case gave Pain a look. “For the most part, Lee and his crew keep to themselves, but he’s been known to jump off the porch if he feels strongly enough about something. Much like what you’re planning.”
“Who says I’m planning anything?”
“You did. I could see the wheels turning in that devious little brain of yours when you started asking about Lolo. I know you, Pain. That’s a nut you don’t need to be trying to crack,” Case warned.
“I’m trying to get my dick out the dirt,” Pain said, trying to remember the last time he had a shot of good pussy. He was knocking down one of the female corrections officers in his previous prison, but she was a dead lay. She liked to bend over the maintenance sink and let him plow into it, with very little effort on her part. The only thing she was really good for was making sure he had access to contraband.
“I’m gonna make sure you get laid, but it’ll be by a bitch you won’t have to shed blood over. Now enough about pussy. What’s up with this paper? I know after busting your nut, getting your pockets right will be the immediate order of business.”
“Fosho,” Pain agreed. “I met a dude while I was locked up, who has a cousin out here that can plug me in with this construction gig. Until that comes through, my new PO is supposed to get me into this job program.”
Case looked at Pain as if he had just cursed at him. “Man, save that bullshit you spinning for your parole officer. This is me, P. I’m talking about real money, not just holding a job so you don’t get violated and sent back. This drug thing is really just getting off the ground for me, so it’ll be a while before I can really afford to feed the troops off that. I got some other stuff lined up that I can pull you in on, though.”
“I don’t know, Case. I just spent a long time behind the wall and the thought of going right back ain’t too appealing. I was thinking I’d take things slow and try the legit route. At least for right now.”
This made Case laugh. “Pain, this is me you’re talking to. We’re cut from the same cloth, so I know you like your money the same way I do, long and fast. You’d go crazy in the first week trying to work a nine-to-five. Look, I know your legs ain’t quite back under you yet, so we can start you off slow. You ain’t gotta touch no iron. I’ll put you behind the wheel or doing something else and still give you an equal split of whatever we rip off. I need my right hand with me in these streets!”
“I hear you, Case, but I’m gonna have to pass. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to enjoy my freedom for a little while before I risk throwing it away again,” Pain said honestly. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about going back to his old life on more than a few occasions while he was away, but he knew he couldn’t go that route again. Not if he wanted to keep the promise he had made.
“If that’s what you gotta tell yourself to sleep at night, that’s cool.” Case knew that Pain meant what he said, but he also knew his friend’s nature. Pain was a wolf and there was only but so long that he could pretend to be a sheep.
* * *
Twenty minutes after leaving the sneaker store, Pain found himself following Case into a building on 112th Street and Park Avenue. There were a few dudes huddled in front of the building who looked like they were plotting when the two of them walked up. Pain immediately got on point and kept the dudes in his line of vision, but Case strode by them as if they were invisible.
“Loosen up, dawg. We good over here,” Case said, picking up on his friend’s tension. They were in the lobby waiting for the elevator. He impatiently kept jabbing his finger at the button as if that would make it come any faster.
“Excuse me if I don’t share in your confidence, but the last time I checked this was enemy territory,” Pain reminded him.
The summer before Pain had gone to prison their crew had been into it with some dudes from Carver Houses. It stemmed from an incident that had occurred at a hole-in-the-wall lounge that damn near everybody in Harlem frequented. Pain and his crew were in there thick, drinking and living it up. A regular Saturday night. One of Pain’s partners, a guy named Mo, had been watering some random chicken head with Hennessey for half the night. She was sloppy drunk and all over Mo. It was looking like she was ready to slide off and let him defile her in some dark corner until her boyfriend showed up. Instead of the dude checking his lady, he took issue with Mo. He started barking in Mo’s face and talking all crazy like Mo was some kind of sucker. He found out the error of his ways when Mo smashed a bottle over his head. The night ended with the crew stomping the dude out. If Pain recalled, somebody even punched his broad in the face for good measure. It was a nasty situation. It didn’t take long for word to get out that it had been members of Pain’s crew who whipped the dude out. The kid who had taken the beating came through Pain’s projects and shot it up one night, hitting a random person who hadn’t had anything to do with the conflict. In retaliation, a few of Pain’s boys went across town and shot some dudes in Carver.
This went on back and forth for months. Eventually some older, reputable dudes from their respective hoods got the hotheads together and negotiated a cease-fire. There would be no more random shootings in each other’s neighborhoods, but there had been the occasional incidents if one side got caught out-of-bounds in or around the other’s projects. As far as Pain knew, the same rules of engagement still applied.
“Man, all that old shit is dead, P,” Case said as they boarded the elevator. “Half the dudes we were into it with are dead or locked up, and the other half don’t want no smoke. We moving strong out here these days.”
“Sounds like the Crows got shit all sewed up,” Pain said with a hint of pride.
“Something like that,” Case offered flatly.
They got off the elevator on the fourth floor, where Case led them to an apartment at the end of the hall. Music was playing inside and beneath it you could hear voices. Case rapped on the door in a pattern and waited. The peephole rattled seconds before the locks came undone. When the door swung open, Pain was pleasantly surprised at who he found standing behind it.
He was a tall, light-skinned youth of about sixteen or seventeen, with sleepy brown eyes. His hair was faded at the sides and long on top, with short dreads that tickled the tips of his ears. Dark brown eyes stared out from beneath hooded lids that were threatening to snap shut at any moment. He was slightly older than Pain had remembered him and his cheeks sported the very beginnings of a five-o’clock shadow, but for the most part his face hadn’t changed. When his eyes landed on Pain, he saw recognition flash in them.
“I know that ain’t who I think it is?” the light-skinned youth beamed.
“Sup, Riq?” Pain extended his fist.
“Fuck all that. Show me some real love!” Tyriq pulled Pain into a warm embrace. He was like a child who had just been reunited with a lost parent. In a sense, Pain had been that to him.
Riq, which was short for Tyriq, had been under Pain’s wing since he was about eleven years old. He was the little brother of a girl who Pain used to finger-bang behind the bleachers in middle school. For as long as he could remember, Tyriq had been one of those little badass kids who loved trouble. He was always doing something: fighting, cursing, stealing. The kid had no home training to speak of. One of his favorite little licks to pull was watching where the dealers in the neighborhood stashed their drugs, which he would steal and resell to dealers in other neighborhoods at a discount. He got away with it until he had the misfortune of stealing a package that belonged to Mo. Mo was no one that you wanted to fuck with in general, but over his money he could turn into a real beast. When Mo found out who had pinched his drugs, he threw Tyriq a good beating and was about to break one of his hands for good measure. This was when Pain stepped in on his behalf. Had Pain not been there at the time he probably wouldn’t have given a shit what happened to the little thief, but because of his relationship with Tyriq’s sister he couldn’t just stand by and watch while Mo did him dirty. It took some doing, but Pain managed to convince Mo to let Tyriq keep his digits, provided that he worked off the debt. As it turned out, Tyriq was even better at selling drugs than he was at stealing them. He was quite the little salesman. They ended up keeping him around as the unofficial crew mascot. When Mo got locked up on a parole violation and the drug spot dried up, Pain began teaching Tyriq the tools of a slightly different trade.
“Damn, kid. It’s good to see you!” Pain said sincerely. Next to Case he probably missed Tyriq most of all. “You getting big on a nigga out here.” He held Tyriq and looked him over. It was then that Pain noticed a familiar marking just under Tyriq’s right eye. It was of a blackbird with its wings spread. Pain knew the mark well because he had it tattooed in several places on his body. It was the mark of the beast. “It’s like that?” He didn’t bother to hide his disappointment.
“Babies don’t stay babies forever.” Tyriq broke the embrace. “So, when did you touch down?” he changed the subject.
“Just this morning,” Pain told him.
“Case, why didn’t you tell me you were going to pick big bro up? I’d have rode with you,” Tyriq complained.
“That’s because he never made it to pick me up. I ended up riding the bus back to the city,” Pain filled him in.
Tyriq gave Case a sour look. “How you gonna have the Blackbird fly back to the nest on a goose? That’s all kinds of wrong.”
“Blame it on my head and not my heart.” Case placed his hands over his chest. “I know I fucked up, but I plan to make it up to him at his welcome-home party tonight!”
