CHAPTER IX

13:00

Get Right was hanging out in his apartment with Katrina, his big body broad, when his phone rang. He looked at the caller i.d. and saw it was Imani calling, his other chick, aka Slim Goody.

"What's up? You got to-"

"Nigga, fuck all that. Get over here right now! This nigga just slapped me and-"

"Where you at, exactly?"

"'Two fifth and Lex."

"Be right there." He was already on his way out the door, Katrina right behind him. He stopped and turned. As he opened his mouth to tell her to go back in the crib, the words died in his mouth. She had heard Imani yelling over the phone and that was her - what did they call it? "Sister wife"? Yeah, Katrina knew her sister wife was in trouble. He gave up.

"Go get your purse," said Get Right. She smirked at the defeated and irritated look on his face as she turned to get her purse from the apartment, he took the Ruger from the small of his waist and checked to see if it was loaded. He cocked the gun back, loading a bullet into the "head." Katrina came back out and he gave her the gun; she put it in the purse. Even though he had no priors and could legally own a gun, and he did legally own a gun, he had just gotten arrested some days back and the pigs had confiscated his firearm.

Yes, the case had been dismissed due to a chink in the armor of the prosecutor (another name for the ADA) Kingson had seen and taken advantage of. But... he simply didn't want to push his luck. She had no prior offenses either and if she got caught with it, they would likely give her only probation. Get Right made some calls as they walked to the thoroughfare two blocks down at 125th Street and St. Nick Avenue. By the time they got to PopEye's, there were two SUV's parked opposite, both with heavily tinted windows. The one in front was a red, midsize Benz that belonged to Reggie, who was usually always the closest to Get Right, geographically, but the latter couldn't stand him. Nevertheless, Reggie could always be counted on to be there in a pinch. Get Right gave him the rundown after getting in the passenger side of the Benz truck. Katrina got in the back behind Get Right and both trucks took off.

The hunter green 4 Runner behind them was full of some goons from his own sector Reggie kept around for times like these. Get Right put on his COVID mask; Reggie and Katrina followed suit.

One hundred and twenty fifth street is a pivotal organ of New York City. Watching the stores go by, Get Right was suddenly moved by the richness of the history of Harlem. And the architecture, landmarks like the Apollo - yeah, all of that was dope, but the people brought the places to life. Anywhere you went, it was the people that would make or break the place. So many different people, packed in like sardines, when the world's population could each fit comfortably, one person per house, side by side, in a space the size of Alaska. There was no such thing as "overcrowding" but world governments were the greatest fear mongers and most noisome rumor mills. But even though so many people lived in Harlem, it was still home. Perhaps because of the people, rather than in spite of them.

They passed Olthe Old Navy flagship store between St. Nick and Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard (also known as Seventh Avenue and which, for some reason, some others saw as Eighth Avenue); then they passed the KFC on the corner of Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard; the Apollo between Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard and Martin Luther King Jr., Boulevard; the MAC store at MLK Jr. Blvd, just five minutes from the State Office Building, where Bill Clinton worked for some time after his presidency, on the 125th Street side of which was attached the SPRINT telecommunications store; profitable African hair braiding businesses in small hole in the box spaces between stores; illegal cigarette hawkers everywhere; the boosters; PCP distributors you could smell a mile away; the weed hustlers, the street hustlers, etc., etc., etc. If you wanted it bad enough, you could get it on 125th Street.

Including yo mama.

All of them passed by Get Right, hobnobbing with the nine to fivers on lunch breaks, the best cops, the undercover cops, the business owners, the undercover detectives in their Ford Tauruses or Chevy Impalas - all that and more was the jumbalaya of Harlem. Much of it wasn't so great; most of it was decent. Some of it was just downright horrible. The relatively "calmer" zones between Lenox and Park Avenues flew by, nothing much happening there but the spirit of an O.G. called "Big Blood" still hovering around that area since his passing away at a nearby park many moons back.

Then the rhythm of the City picked up again between Park and Lexington Avenues. Get Right spotted his Tahoe in front of Mickey Dees closer to Lexington Avenue. Reggie called someone on the phone and the hunter green 4 Runner drove a small way down to the intersection at Lexington, did an illegal U-Turn and came back up a bit to park in front of the Tahoe.

Two of the shooters got out of the truck and went into the nearby Macdonald's, seemingly ignoring the commotion nearby. Get Right saw a crowd of people in the midst of which two blue and whites were holding Imani back from a young nigga who was with a crew of what appeared to be some young Crip niggas in a larger crowd. Get Right got out of the Benz truck with Katrina close behind. Reggie turned off the ignition and parked well, remembering Biggie's words:

The funny thing about it? Through all the excitement

They Range got towed, they double parked by a hydrant.

Imagine shit went down and the truck got towed! Well, the hydrant was across the street so Reggie also got out of the truck. The shooters saw Get Right approaching the ruckus and came out of the Macdonald's, waiting. The problem of the police was problematic but not insurmountable. Get Right threaded his way through the crowd and pulled Imani from the police and the hubbub.

"We out, let's go," he told her with a secure but not painful grip on her upper arm. The Crip niggas started laughing. Get Right paused and turned back. The crowd instantly quieted as he walked up to the so-called leader of the Crip niggas and looked down at the young 'un, who looked at the bejeweled real gangster in front of him and gulped audibly in the accompanying silence.