The Edenwald housing area is a city within a city, an occupied territory, a breeding ground for lawlessness, and is impossible to police for extended periods of time. Since construction was complete, the projects have been a thorn in the side of the 47th police precinct. It’s a place where outsiders dare to venture, due to Edenwald’s penchant for violence. Inside this urban maze is a place where poverty, hopelessness and ignorance, could set in at any moment to create a murderous climate. Edenwald is a place that seldom offers happy endings, success stories are rare. There is a black cloud that seems to hang over Edenwald project and it’s called negativity. Here everyday young lives are up for grabs and any given day could be your last.
Inside the confines of Edenwald projects there lies an inescapable hunger, an unquenchable thirst of the have-nots, for the finer things in life. Some residents are willing to risk it all, life and liberty, in an all out pursuit of the American Dream. The drug game offers residents their only viable option and gives them a glimmer of hope. Selling it, however misleading it might be, there’s always a slim chance for overnight success. The ever-present allure of fast money is, in most cases, way too easy to resist.
In this day and age the drug game may be played out for many, resulting in stiff penalties handed out by the law. The drug game is alive and well twenty-four-seven in the Edenwald projects. It’s a never ending cycle that only changes with faces and names. Here a drug profit is willingly exchanged for a lifetime of despair. In Edenwald projects this process repeats itself hundreds of times, from dealer to fiend.
Despite the drug raids and sweeps by local and federal law enforcement agencies that have been deemed successful. Temporarily put an end to the drug crews that once ruled the projects with iron fists. Nowadays, younger, brazen and even more dangerous criminals seemed to have sprouted up overnight. For all intents and purposes the end of the crack era marked the birth of a new generation of thugs, killers, stickup kids and would-be drug kingpins…
Welcome to Edenwald... Come in peace or leave in pieces.
Chapter One
My Projects
Melquan’s nostrils flared, entering the project building. A pungent odor suddenly assaulted his senses. A sour expression donned his face immediately. With his nose squinted in disgust, Melaquan quickly scanned the building’s lobby for the source of the foul smell. Instantly his eyes revealed the puddle of fresh urine sighted dormant in a corner. He paused staring in disbelief at the golden cesspool of bodily fluid waste.
“Nasty muthafuckas…!”
His mind was distracted when he cursed aloud. Melquan could not, for the life of him, understand the ignorance of people who pissed inside the building. A lifetime of living in Edenwald projects had numbed him to the stupidities and atrocities of its residents, nothing really surprised him anymore. Whoever did this was doing one of two things, either going upstairs to an apartment, or headed outside. Wherever the destination was, that place would be better equipped to handle urine. It seemed like the projects halls, elevators where portable potties to people, even if the staircases and hallways amplified foul odors.
Down right nasty in his book, Melquan thoughts turned to his mother, who still lived in these projects. She had taught him a long time ago about not violating the place where you lived. Probably some stupid kid or a fiend Melquan reasoned.
Shaking his head, Melquan quickly distanced himself from the foul smell. Taking stairs two at a time in rapid succession, Melquan leapt and bounded. Without so much as breaking a sweat or wrinkling his expensive True Religion jeans, he vaulted up the steps from one floor to another. The sight and smell of the puddle of piss was soon a distant memory.
Running up a few flights of stairs was a small feat for twenty-four year old, Melquan. He was an athlete in every sense of the word. Six feet tall and a chiseled two hundred and ten pounds, the dark skinned, bald headed young man had rugged good looks, and a strong bone structure.
Melquan grew up playing every sport and project game imaginable. There were a few shorts stints at Riker’s Island jail, which didn’t do anything but helped build his physique. Melquan, unlike most young men his age, didn’t smoke weed, and had no bad habits that would hurt his athletic prowess.
There was another added incentive for staying in tip-top shape. Dealing with the police was an occupational hazard. In his profession as a drug dealer, to be out of shape meant the difference between going to prison for an alleged criminal charge or evading the police. He was a soldier in the war going on outside his project window, and the chance of him engaging with the enemy on any given day was highly likely.
Right now, keeping in shape was the last thing on Melquan’s mind. Pussy was the motivating factor in his venture into the project night. He was on his way to Precious’ apartment. She was his ride or die, side-chick, catering to all his needs, business and otherwise. Precious was a down-ass-bitch and always had his back. Funny thing about Melquan and Precious’ relationship, other than mixing business with pleasure, he already had a PC, India. When they were on good terms, Melquan was the Mack, living from time to time with India.
Melquan reached Precious’ third floor apartment in no time. Before he could even use the doorknocker on apartment 3A, Precious quietly and quickly opened the door. Precious placed a finger to her lips in an effort to silence him before he could utter a word. It was already too late.
“Hey yo…” Melquan mumbled, caught off guard.
“You gotta hold it down and chill. My grandma’s sleepin’,” Precious whispered. “And I ain’t tryin’ to wake her up.”
“Oh shit, my bad. I forgot ‘bout dat,” he whispered, admiring her curves.
Precious didn’t have the luxury of sharing bed or body with anyone else. Melquan wouldn’t tolerate that. Precious belonged to him alone. The fact that she had to settle for being his sidekick didn’t bother her. It was a minor inconvenience that did nothing to stop her from thinking that she could replace India. Someday she could be girlfriend number one. In her mind Melquan was her man just as much as he was India’s. How true that was, only Melquan knew. Each visit for sex reinforced Precious’ belief.
“Come in Mel,” she whispered, grabbing his arm.
Precious was a wild child. Her home situation was in shambles. Her father remained unknown, and her mother, Julie, was strung-out on dope. Precious would see Julie on daily drug treks around the projects. She treated her mother as if she was a stranger. This was the same way her mother had treated her when she was a baby. Precious would give her mother the most despicable stare. Feeling ashamed of herself and condition, her mother would drop her head and walked on. This routine occurred on the occasions when they crossed path.
Precious’ grandmother had custody of her at an early age. The arrangement was supposed to be only until Julie completed rehab. Despite bold promises made, Julie never went to rehab. She never came back for her daughter.
The thought of seeing her granddaughter with the child welfare agency never crossed her grandmother’s mind. She adopted Precious, loving and raising her as her own. Precious was spoiled rotten by the old woman, and did whatever she wanted. Her grandmother felt Precious never caught the same break that other kids did and gave her a lot of freedom. It was an excuse that Precious used constantly as a crutch to have her way.
Precious pushed her freedom well past the limit. Her grandmother repeatedly caught her having sex with Melquan inside the apartment and gave up trying to prevent it. Precious now had permission to have Melquan over anytime she wanted. He walked inside the darkened apartment with enough illumination on her five foot three, olive toned complexion.
The