are you gonna just let shit go down like that?” Precious questioned. “Them niggas about to catch a body out there.”
“My team ain’t involved, so I really don’t give a fuck what they do?” He deadpanned.
“That’s beside the point, Mel. You better care. If they kill him then it’ll be too hot out here for God knows how long. Nobody will be able to walk outside much less sell some fuckin’ drugs,” Precious said. “Mel, you do need to look a little bit closer. There’s a few heads out there that’s slinging for y’all and they involved in it too. Shit’s gonna get outta hand and someone gonna call the cops.”
Precious’ words resonated in his ear. Everything she had said was true. Melquan had to rethink his course of action. He quickly made a decision. Melquan threw open one of Precious’drawers and took out a fully loaded semi-automatic nine-millimeter. Gun in hand, he dashed out the apartment.
He had moved so fast that she had no time to protest. Precious ran to the door, hoping that Melquan wouldn’t do something he might regret. She was nervous about what Melquan might do next. She went back to the window and continued to watch the beat down. At any second she was expecting Melquan to appear with his gun blazing.
The unmistakable sound of gunfire suddenly caused all activities to standstill. Having heard it so much, most residents of the projects were immune to the loud clap. The guilty parties began to scatter like roaches when lights were turned on. Their eyes were desperately trying to locate the shooter.
Even the fiend, who was bloodied and beaten, curled up on the ground in a fetal position, looked around from his defensive position to see who was shooting. The residents of Edenwald projects scanned their urban terrain. They saw Melquan looking down on them from the roof with the nine raised high over his head.
“Git da fuck off a him!” He barked. “Don’t nobody else touch him. Dat’s my word, if anyone of y’all lay another hand on him, the next shot I let off won’t be in the air! Y’all niggas about ta make it real hot out here over some ol’ bullshit.”
The power of the gun was an intoxicating high for most of the youths. Some openly stared at Melquan with envy. With the potential for tragedy in the air, cooler heads prevail. Melquan had restored order. The fiend sprung to his feet, quickly seizing the opportunity to make his escape. Before anyone realized it, he was hauling ass in the opposite direction.
When Maria heard the warning shot, terror gripped her like never before. She stood frozen to the spot. Even before she heard Melquan issue his threat, she knew it was time to go. This wasn’t the place for her or her bother to be. They had overstayed their welcome.
“Jose! Jose! C’mon let’s go,” Maria pleaded, her voice crackling with fear.
Jose rushed over to his sister and placed a protective arm around her shoulder, ushering her out of the area. They left the bustling horseshoe just as all the other spectators began to disperse.
“Jose, you’re crazy to hang with those people—”
“Maria, calm down. I’m right here. Stop being a lil’ scaredy cat,” he chided her.
Maria shook her head, thinking how amazing it was that her brother had recklessly risked their lives for what a rap battle. She walked, staring straight ahead, wanting to admonish him, but knowing that would only lead to an argument, she let it drop. The incident had left Jose excited.
“Dat was crazy right the way they was beating that crazy head up. Then that guy just starts shooting off the roof,” Jose chuckled.
She was no longer able to control the angry raging in her.
“No it wasn’t crazy. It was stupid. Why were those boys beating up the poor man? And why does that guy even have a gun? He’s not a cop! Things like that give the projects a bad name. You just wait till I tell daddy!” Maria said, interrupting her brother.
Jose removed his arm from around Maria’s shoulders. He heard what he deemed to be reckless talk and no longer wanted to comfort her. The same event had affected each sibling differently. The violence action that had excited Jose had disgusted Maria. They walked the rest of the way home to their project building in silence. Each of them intensely contemplated what had just transpired.
Melquan returned to Precious’ apartment after leaving the rooftop. He stashed the gun until he needed it again.
“I’ll see you later,” he said then went downstairs.
All eyes were on Melquan, including the leader of his chief opposition for drug money, Nashawn operated on the other side of the horseshoe. He was the projects’ resident bad guy, and walked around with a chip on his shoulder. Nashwan, who stood five feet, eleven inches tall with dark skinned and closely cropped wavy hair, always had something to say about anything and everything. His mouth was the only physically imposing thing about him. His small, beady, black eyes made him appear sneaky.
Oblivious to everyone around him, even those who greeted him, Melquan waved and nodded in response to the outpour of greetings he received. Even with all the love that was showering him, Melquan could feel the hatred too. Overcome by a strong sense of someone’s intense stare, he did a quick survey of his surroundings and found the source of the ill feelings, right across the drive. Nashawn was sitting on the benches with a few of his soldiers, mean mugging him. Flaunting hostility in Melquan’s direction caused a light laugh to escape Melquan’s lips. It was pointless for him to acknowledge Nashawn’s presence in any other way.
Melquan saw Nashawn but their eyes didn’t lock long enough to make Melquan uneasy. Nashawn felt slighted by Melquan’s cool reaction. To save face he deliberately started loud talking about Melquan.
“Nigga’s fuckin’ clowns,” Nashawn spat. “What da fuck did that do? Huh? Niggas got a few guns and start thinkin’ they gangsta for lettin’ off a few shots. Now all of a sudden they wanna regulate the block and shit. Who died and left that clown the keys to the kingdom, huh? I ain’t havin’ it. I wish a muthafucka would say sumthin to the kid or any of my people. Word…!”
Nashawn’s verbal assessment of the situation had more bark than bite. Still he came away with the notion that something like this wasn’t happening again without repercussions.
From across the drive, Melquan could not hear exactly what Nashawn was saying. Melquan saw their nonthreatening stares. He knew that whatever the tough talk being made, Nashawn wasn’t prepared to back it up. It was all just talk. If Nashawn truly had a beef all he had to do was bring his ass across the drive and approach him. They could get it popping right then and there. Melquan tired get back to the business at hand, but couldn’t dodge the thought.
The drive was divided, and if a war popped off between them, the general consensus was that more people disliked Nashawn. In a popularity contest, however, the tide could turn at any given moment. Melquan was a good dude who never gave anyone the business that didn’t have it coming. Nashawn on the other hand, was a snake, the grimy type who would turn on his friends if he felt he could get away with it.
Melquan walked up to the guilty parties and admonished them for their senseless use of violence.
“Y’all niggas know y’all dead wrong,” he announced. “What da fuck is on y’all’s minds? We tryin’ a open this shit back up and keep it that way.”
The young boys looked up at Melquan nodding. They took their medicine in silence none of them dared objecting. They knew they were at fault.
As soon as Melquan was done, a motorized wheelchair, rapidly approached, guided by a middle aged, African American male. He was well dressed in the latest athletic apparel. Despite his physical handicap, the man appeared to be in an upbeat mood.
“What up, Charlie Rock?” Melquan said.
“Hey