Chronicles of Crooklyn, page 6
Tall, thin, and light-skinned, Sly was cool and majestic as he gazed outta the window with a look of pride and nostalgia in his eyes.
These were the corners and blocks where he had made his bones at. Not only was he one of the last of the OGs to survive these bitter streets with his throat intact, his name still invoked love, fear, and respect to this very day.
Even as a youngsta Sly McFly had been the perfect blend of sophisticated gent and street nigga, and he had always made calculated moves. He was a flashy cat, but he also knew when to get low. He was far less visible now in his older age, yet his name still rang bells on the city streets. Part of the reason that he had prospered when so many of his peers had perished is because Sly understood that there was a balance to be maintained in the game. There was a time to flex muscle and let yourself be known, and a time to fall back and stay off the radar.
Today was not gonna be one of those days.
“Take a left here and drive real slow. We ain’t in no rush,” he told his long-time driver, Chimp Charlie.
As different as the neighborhood had become over the years, Sly McFly still loved to run these streets. He loved to soak up the sights and the sounds of his town. Every day he saw something new and interesting. It was like he was a tourist who had never been here before.
He gazed out the window. These blocks held decades of memories and they all flooded Sly’s mind as he rode through his hood. His soul was ingrained in the fabric of this ghetto. He had always been in love with these streets, but after more than thirty years in the trenches he was under no illusions that the streets loved him back.
Sly was no longer going full throttle in the hood but he would never be totally legit. He still had a hand in the drug game, but his ever-sticky fingers were also in the diamond game as well. These days, instead of ruling over a major cocaine and heroin empire, he spent most of his time collecting payouts and slanging knowledge down on a beautiful young chick who was trying to tap into a diamond mine at the New York Diamond and Jewelry Exchange.
“We almost there boss, do you want me to circle the block a couple times?” the ape-looking driver with the flat forehead and sloping jaw asked.
“Yeah, that’s cool, Charlie. Go ’head around a couple more times then you can park and wait for me,” Sly replied as he exhaled a thick cloud of sweet-smelling cigar smoke.
His cell phone vibrated with a special rhythm and Sly rested his cigar in the ashtray and answered it. As always, he spoke freely in the presence of his driver, who was also his friend. Chimp Charlie had been working for him for countless years and they spent a lot of time together riding around Sly’s territory picking up extortion payments from the legitimate businesses that he squeezed for protection payments.
“How’s Honore?” Chimp Charlie asked when his boss was finished with his call. “She still handling her business down at that jewelry exchange?”
“Hell yeah,” Sly responded with a chuckle. “When it comes to stacking paper she stays on her toes. I swear that girl is the apple of my eye, but I ain’t never met a chick who chases a dollar the way she does. Never. Honore’s a natural at this game, my man. Just a fuckin natural.”
Chimp Charlie chuckled in return. “That’s good, boss. She sure got it honest. I bet they ain’t never seen nothing like her at that jewelry place. She keep doing what she’s doing and playing her cards right and she could own that whole thing one day. That’s how white folks get they money. Dolla by dolla, they steal that shit.”
Chimp Charlie pulled up at the walkway that led to the project building eyeballing the scene suspiciously as a group of young-heads loitered and clowned on the porch.
“You want me to walk in with you Sly?” You know these new niggas be acting real tough nowadays.”
Sly McFly flashed an OG smile at his driver who was at least ten years younger than him. He climbed from the car and brushed the wrinkles from his expensive white suit that was a perfect match for his imported white leather shoes. He stood tall and regal underneath his white John Bull top hat. His dark wavy hair hung past his shoulders as he clutched his diamond-studded bone-white cane in his fist.
“Nah, I’m straight, Charlie. I been walking up in that building for longer than these young pups been alive, man. I’m just gonna check on my girl Frita and come right on back.”
Sly walked toward the building with his trademark pimp swagger and eyed a group of young niggas on the porch who were engaging in a fierce cipher. One dude was up in the other one’s face yelling and spitting harsh lyrics with maddening aggression. A gang of spectators had surrounded the two MCs and were cheering loudly for the bars that hit the hardest.
Sly slowed his pace down a little bit to take in what was going on.
“You been a bitch nigga…I can show you how to get rich, nigga!…you my son…you sprung from a seed outta my dick nigga….you snitch, nigga!... fuck around you get clapped up…I’ma run Queens like Sly…Preme…and Black Just!”
The crowd reacted loudly at the mention of the old heads who had come before them. Sly was caught off guard by the props given to his name, and to the names of two of his peers, Supreme and Black Just.
He stared closely at the young’uns. These kids seemed to range in age from about fourteen to twenty-five. Their glorifying words made Sly think about all his old drug hustles and the gunplay that had left a bloody trail throughout these Queens neighborhoods.
It was startling that these young wanna be’s were paying homage to the Gs who had come before them because Sly was sure none of these new niggas even knew what he looked like.
“Damn, old head! What the fuck you staring at?” A young curly-haired nigga barked when he noticed how closely Sly was observing the cipher.
Sly grilled the light-skinned, freckle-faced young’un. Back in the day he would have slaughtered his little ass for stepping to him like that. The kid damn near withered under his glare, even though he stood there trying to act like he was thorough.
Yeah, muthafucka, Sly thought coldly. The mouth could lie, but the eyes told it all, and when the little nigga nervously broke his gaze that was all Sly needed to see. He was like Tyson, he took an opponent’s heart before the fight even got started.
Sly shook his head. This lil embryo ain’t want no problems. He was just showing off in front of his crew. Sly didn’t feel the need to check the youngsta any further so he gave him a pass.
I don’t understand why these lil niggas be in such a rush to die, he thought, knowing it was only old age that had softened him and kept him from breaking the kid’s neck.
Ignoring the rest of the young hoods, Sly kept it moving and entered the building to go see what was up with his lady friend from way back in the good old days.
Frita Jones had been down for Sly long before he was McFly. She had been in his corner when he was just plain old Sylvester Mack, a pretty Cuban nigga who was swinging his way outta the jungle and trying to solidify his name in the streets. Sly had been fucking her younger sister at the time, but that didn’t make no whole lotta difference to Frita. A tall redbone with a killer body, Frita was one of the original get-money bitches from Hollis and she didn’t give a fuck whose throat she had to step on to get what she wanted. In her prime she had been a Queen Pimp who used to throw extravagant pussy parties for all the big-time willies throughout the boroughs, and she had kept them supplied with a vast selection of the finest trim that money could buy.
Sly and Frita had developed a thing between them that was built on lust and lies, and it had stood the test of time. They were both handsome physical specimens and over the years they had knocked plenty of boots and funked up plenty of sheets. They had dreamed big from the gate and the streets had loved Frita and Sly. When they stepped out together they were just like the black Bonnie and Clyde and they were the perfect compliment to each other’s style. They were ambitious, lethal, fabulous, and on the streets of Cop Killa Queens, Sly and Frita were treated like ghetto royalty.
In addition to their love thang, the two of them also shared a deadly bond of secrecy between them. Late one night in a clutch situation, Frita’s loyalty to Sly had been put to the test. Frita had never gone very far in school, but that was one test she passed with flying colors. When Sly came banging on her door shaking and covered in blood after murdering a woman that they both loved, Frita had let him in and accepted everything he put in her arms, including his gun. Frita had put her love for Sly ahead of her own family, and neither one of them would ever forget it.
“Hey baby, how’s everything going?” Frita said as she opened the door and greeted Sly with a big kiss on the lips. Like him, Frita was getting up in age but she still looked good. In fact, she was beautiful as hell to Sly, and she played an important role in his business operations.
“What’s going on, old lady,” Sly said as he smiled and slapped her lightly on her ample ass. He felt his dick jump. Frita was wearing a slinky bathrobe, and with her nipples about to poke a hole in the fabric Sly wondered if she was naked underneath.
“Ain’t nothing old up in here but you and the furniture,” Frita responded playfully as she poked fun at him.
Frita’s crib was one of the many stash houses that Sly controlled throughout the city, and he used a small crew of older black women as fronts to hand off cash and drugs between him and his slangas. This is what kept Sly’s face off the streets and insulated him from the eyes of the law, who hardly ever suspected older black women of pushing dope in their own neighborhoods.
“So listen, Sly,” Frita said as she stirred a pot of beans she had cooking on the stove and then sat down at her kitchen table and sparked up a Virginia Slims. “The reason I called you over here is because that mannish-behind Malice is getting too big for his britches.”
Sly frowned. “Is that right?
“Yeah. The other day it was supposed to be business as usual between us. I went to meet Malice like I always do, and he was supposed to give me his weekly deposit just like you told him to. But instead of handing it over he starts asking me where I bank at and how much money I be collecting for you on my runs every day. I told him I wasn’t telling him a goddamn thing, so he got mad and grabbed me by my arm and said he wasn’t paying me shit.
Sly’s eyes narrowed. “That fuckin coward put his hands on you?”
Frita nodded. “Yep. The little fucker manhandled me and accused me of being a thief. Shit, the way he was showing out I thought he was gonna raise up and back slap me.”
Sly stared at her for a moment. It was hard to believe one of his young pups was nipping at him like that, but if Frita said Malice was smelling his balls then that lil nigga was definitely smelling his balls.
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle his ass.”
Frita pulled on her cigarette. “I know you will. It’s just a shame that these stupid young cats have no respect for wisdom and experience. I started to put my razor to his face for touching me like that, but I knew you would wanna deal with him yourself.”
Frita rose from the chair and sashayed over to the sink, her flesh moving deliciously under the slinky bathrobe that hugged her hips and accentuated her meaty ass.
“Don’t even worry about it,” Sly stood up and repeated. “Same old shit, different toilet tissue. I’ma take care of him,” he said as he leaned on his cane and gave her a look like he wanted some of what was under her robe.
Frita had been seeing that look in his eyes for the better part of four decades and she loved it. She giggled like a schoolgirl as Sly came up behind her and squeezed her thick thighs. His breath was warm on her neck as his hands crept upward until his fingers were teasing the stiff nubs of her nipples.
“Go on now old man,” Frita teased as she felt herself getting moist. “You ain’t take your Viagra this morning, did you?”
Sly chuckled thickly in her ear. He thrust his hips forward so she could see what the fuck he was working with.
“Do I look like I need any goddamn Viagra?” he smirked as he grinded into her fluffy ass and poked her with the tip of his hammer. “I got this dick nice and hard all by myself,” he told her. “No medication necessary.”
Frita bit her lip in pleasure as Sly lifted up the back of her robe and exposed her naked buttocks. She was heavy in the back but her cakes were still round and firm, just like they’d always been.
Sly got down on his knees like he was as limber as a teenager. He grabbed her smooth ass-cheeks in both hands and lifted them up high and spread them apart.
Frita shuffled her feet to open up her stance and give him easy access. He dove head-first into her na-na from behind, licking her out with the expertise of a professional pussy eater.
“Oh shit!” she exclaimed softly as her pussy dripped and her old knees wobbled. All she could do was hold onto the sink as she spread her legs wider and damn near sucked his whole head between her thighs.
Sly was down there sweating like a dog between her legs. He tongued her clit and licked her ass until Frita screamed and cursed and got her nut, then he stripped down naked as she took off her flimsy robe and flung it on the floor.
They stood there staring at each other with mad sexual heat flowing between them. Neither of them had the bodies they had once had in their youths and they accepted that. They had lived long enough to grow older and wiser, but despite the snow on their rooftops there was still a raging fire burning in their ovens.
Moments later, Sly had Frita bent over a kitchen chair as he rammed his joint up in her from the back. She moaned and shivered as he reached around her and squeezed her full breasts and licked his tongue up and down her shoulder.
They fucked real wet and nasty-like, with nothing but fucking on their minds. Wasn’t no worrying about getting pregnant, no worries that a jealous husband or a wife might walk in and bust them, no worrying about one of their kids hearing them making all kinds of delicious sex noises. Nope. Sly and Frita fucked with the straight-up goal of giving each other pleasure, and by the time Sly groaned and grunted and busted him a nut, Frita had already gotten herself another one too.
“You almost made me burn my beans,” Frita complained as she clutched her lower back and straightened up.
“You almost made me miss my meeting,” Sly said, grinning as he eyed her naked fineness.
Frita walked over to the stove and turned off her pot, then grabbed a clean dishrag from a drawer.
“Here.” She squirted some Joy dishwashing liquid on it and wet it with hot water. She wiped herself first before handing it to him. “I’m gonna run and get me a shower. Clean yourself up then get on outta here and go handle ya business. I got a couple of things planned for today too. Cucci’s taking me shopping. You know baby girl gotta do her mama’s wardrobe right at least once a month,” Frita said as she smiled at him.
“A’ight. Thanks for that lil snack,” Sly said licking his lips. “It was just as sweet and tasty as it always is. I’ll handle Malice as soon as I get a chance. I’ll give you a call in a couple of days when it’s done.”
Frita’s smile turned into a frown. “You sure I gotta wait that long for you to handle that lil nigga? I can slit his throat my damn self, you know.”
“Be easy, baby,” Sly said as he wiped off his dick and put his clothes back on. “I got a big job coming up with Honore. There’s major money involved so I gotta give it all my attention. I’ll take you out to help me celebrate when it’s all over.”
Frita beamed at the mention of a night on the town. “How’s Honore doing?” she asked. “Tell that gal she need to come around here and see her old auntie more often.”
Sly nodded. “I’ll tell her. Don’t worry. I’ll call you soon and let you know who the new guy is because Malice is about to get faded,” Sly said as he kissed her on the cheek.
Frita eyed him with a hint of worry in her eyes. “Sly, you be careful messing around with them young boys, you hear? You ain’t no young lion no more and these kids in the game now are a whole lot stupider than we were back in the day.”
“Don’t even worry about it,” Sly said with a grin as he finished getting dressed and put on his white top hat. “You know how I get down. Didn’t I just show you what kinda life I still got left in me? Everything is gonna work out just fine.”
$$$$$
Sly McFly exited the elevator in the lobby and saw that the rap battle was still raging on the porch. The crowd had dwindled down some but the energy level was still wired high as the two rappers competed viciously for props.
Sly was making his way past when he heard a harsh young voice address him from the crowd.
“Yo, whattup, old head?” the curly-headed kid said as he grilled Sly McFly. “I thought I told you to kick rocks, grandpa? Limping around here with all that white on! Fuck is you going anyway? Baptism day ain’t today my nigga!”
A couple of thugs caught wind of the words and turned their attention away from the rap battle and got ready to catch a few laughs.
Sly almost laughed at the kid’s sudden burst of courage too, but instead of reacting he simply waved the kid off.
“Go ahead, young nigga. I ain’t here to cause no trouble I’m just trying to be on my way,” he said walking around the crowd as he headed off the porch.
“Yeah, faggot! Looking like Snoop Dog’s great-granddaddy! You on your way but ya old ass ain’t moving fast enough!” the curly-headed chump barked as he ran up behind Sly and kicked him dead in the ass.
Sly stumbled forward but quickly caught his balance in a show of surprising agility. He slid his leg out and stopped his fall, and simultaneously swung his ivory cane in a swift wide arc. The diamond-gripped rod struck the young boy across his knee. The blow buckled his leg and sent him crashing down to the ground.
“Nigga what!” Sly was on him in an instant, towering over the boy as he slashed down with his cane and smashed him across his shins. “You dare put your feet on me?” Sly screamed in incredible disbelief. “Your feet, nigga? Ya muthafuckin feet?”
