“No, no, no! You not have to call Miss Woo. I get you seated now,” the nail tech promised, spinning around to find a resolution to the suddenly urgent problem.
The woman was busy feeling herself since she’d rushed the li’l Korean lady along. She had not even noticed Trinity walking from the pedicure chair back toward the waiting area, or me right on her heels. “Good idea. I like my water on the piping hot side.”
“Hey, Miss Lady, are you good now? I couldn’t help but overhear how upset you were about me and my daughter getting seated before you.” She was mimicking the woman’s high- pitched and proper voice.
The woman looked up, halfway frowning, and then rolled her eyes before responding. “Yes, I am. Just like you valued your time enough to cut in front of me, I value mine to do something about it.”
“Oh, okay. Well, since this is the day to stand up for ourselves and shit, I didn’t like how you made a reference to me and mine. I’m gonna act like I’m a lady and not smack the shit out of you this one time, but if ya do it again, my hand will fly toward you without warning. I’m not trying to make you have an unpleasant day, so don’t make yourself have one.” Taking her attention off the woman, she then checked me. “Give me my damn purse. I’ll tell you when to hold my shit. I might’ve had to whip my buddy out and put a hot one in her impatient ass.”
As Trinity nonchalantly marched back to the pedicure chair, the whole nail salon sat in awe and fear behind her blowup, the last statement especially. I was used to her clowning, but they hadn’t known what to expect. A few of the customers were disgusted enough to get up and walk out, including the disgruntled woman, while those cut from the same cloth as Trinity praised her for giving them a show. My mom fed off people kissing her ass, which was where I got the drive from.
It took me a few minutes to pick out my polish, but after I did, I climbed into the pedicure chair beside my mom and found the perfect massage speed. By age, I wasn’t old enough to have kinks and stress. But it felt like there were weights on my shoulders and someone was relentlessly pinching the nerves in my back and neck. The vibrations from the chair were soothing.
“There’s the thug right there. That wannabe lady in the black jogging suit,” I heard the lady’s voice yelling out, making me open my eyes. “She said she had a gun. Arrest her!”
Two mall security guards were coming into the nail salon with grim expressions. Behind them was the lady my mom went tough on, telling them verbatim what she’d said. The manager dropped my mom’s feet into the bowl, splashing water everywhere, and rushed to intercept them from trapping us in the back of the salon. It wasn’t that she was going hard for us. She didn’t want the shop shut down, resulting in the owner being called. Her “dirty deed” would then be exposed. Too bad for her. The guards didn’t back down.
“Ma’am, we need to search your bag. We don’t allow firearms on the premises,” one of the officers growled, pushing past the manager.
Oh, shit.
CHAPTER 4
CALVIN
Being one of the biggest drug dealers in Detroit, I rarely had time to fall back and chill with my family. Hell, I rarely got a moment of peace to think. Either a worker of mine was out of line, there was some drama from another squad, or I was simply in the mud hustling with Fame. Making money by living dangerously was the only way I knew how to live. So I was enjoying the small window of chill time I had with Benzie. All his toys were spread throughout the living room, and we had been watching clips off the sports channel all day. I did not watch cartoons with my boy, because wasn’t nothing funny about the world he was about to grow up in. Plus I wanted him to like all the hobbies and sports that men liked.
Li’l man’s real name was Calvin III, but I got the nickname Benzie from my love for the Benz brand. As much as I loved having a daughter, I really loved having a son I could groom into a soldier. He would carry on my name. I wanted to make sure Benzie had a bond with me just in case our time together was shortened. I was not living to die or planning on death, but I was a realist. I lived a dangerous life, and now that there was a new breed of goons stepping onto the streets, I had become more of a target than ever before.
“Yo, li’l man, are you hungry?” I grabbed us some snacks and a beer for me from the kitchen and came back to someone knocking on the door.
“Who is it?” I called out, reaching for my chrome-plated piece that sat to the right side of me.
“It’s Spider. Can I holla at you for a second, C-Note?”
I raised the window and told Spider to come off the front porch so I could see him. “Yo, nigga, I’m spending some quality time with my son. Don’t waste my time coming down the muthafuckin’ stairs if you’re about to ask me for some credit.” I’d been hustling back and forth all day, but Spider was one of my regular customers who begged for credit on the usual. Mr. Nice Guy was not available for his bullshit today.
“No, I don’t have any money, C-Note. But I was trying to see if I could work it off. I can sweep your porch, wash your car, or do whatever odd job you got around here.”
“A’ight then, Spider. You got it. I cannot and will not hate on a man willing to work for his. I don’t want to see a speck of dust on my porch when you knock back on my door. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes, thank you. I’m about to run down the street and get a broom.” He was tripping over his feet.
Falling back on the couch, I popped the top off my beer and guzzled down a fourth of the bottle. There had been a slow and steady flow of customers since Porsha and Trinity hit the streets for their mother-daughter date, but I was about to shut the trap down. It was a good thing Spider was going to be outside in the yard, because I was going to have him send away anyone else who wanted to cop a baggie.
I wanted to take a nap, then take Benzie out of the house for us to have a father and son playdate to the Riverwalk. I never knew my father to do corny shit like that, but that did not mean I wasn’t trying to create a new trend with my own son. I wanted Benzie to have memories of us playing at the park and playing catch, and I even wanted to coach him if he played Little League when he got older. I was proud to have plans for my li’l man.
My phone rang and interrupted my thoughts.
“Yo, are you outside?” I answered it and was straight to the point.
“Yup, yup. I am walking up on the porch now,” my top worker replied.
Elvin “Street” Thomas was one of the hardest-working hustlers on my squad, which was why I’d called him to meet up with me. He had been my protégé since he was a teenager and held major respect among his peers. Street was the first man in charge at my trap house on the block, the very first dope house I opened up years ago. It was the first house Trinity and I got together as a couple.
“What up doe, nephew?” Street spoke to Benzie, then shook his hand and addressed me. “Li’l fella is getting big, boss. He’s gonna be knockin’ clowns out around here.”
“And making his old man proud.” I hoped Street was speaking the truth. “Is everything moving smoothly on the block?”
“Ain’t nobody complaining about not eating, and we keep selling out, so I’ma say shit’s all good,” he confidently replied.
“No news is always good news.” I liked his report.
“I heard that, boss. But being that the block is slow and steady money, why don’t we branch out and start serving product in another territory? I’ve already got a few li’l niggas who wanna come push weight with me, but there ain’t no room on the block.” It was obvious Street had not waited for the green light from me to start fleshing out his business plan.
I nodded and rubbed at my chin, letting what he put onto