tricked and fuckin’ handled. He was willing to put his last money on that shit.
Pluto knocked over his chair as he jumped up and stormed out of the room. If he hadn’t been so blinded by rage and deafened by the need for revenge, he woulda been able to peep the scandalous Salida as she grinned real wide and snickered in satisfaction.
CHAPTER 8
It was just after two o’clock in the afternoon when the front door of Second Chances barbershop swung open wide.
“Yo! Trey!”
A down-ass white dude named Skeet busted up wildly inside the shop like somebody was chasing after him with a pit bull. Skeet was the owner of an urban clothing store called Empire Attire and a dedicated member of the Talented Ten, and right now his blond hair was wild, his pale cheeks were flushed red, and a look of pure rage was clouding his face.
Trey looked up quickly, surprised by the disturbance. He had an old-timer from the neighborhood in his chair shining his baldhead, and six of the other nine chairs had customers in them too.
“Yo, them fools hit my delivery truck, man!” Skeet barked. “And my safe too! I had Hill posted up at the back door waiting for a shipment to come in, and they got past his ass! Fizz had just emptied the safe and was about to go make a bank drop when they bum-rushed him too.”
Skeet was red and swole with fury. His urban clothing store brought in big loot in the hood, and he sold his trendy gear at cut-rate prices so he could keep it affordable to his customers. His father and his grandfather had both been businessmen in Harlem, and Skeet had grown up on these mean streets and had been married to his sistah-girl honey from high school for five years. Just like the other members of their coalition who owned grocery stores, fish markets, dry cleaners, rib shacks, deli shops, check cashing places, and even AT&T franchises, Skeet had joined the Talented Ten to help keep his small business, and the neighborhood, thriving.
“You mean Fizz just gave your cash up just like that? That cat didn’t even try to stand his ground?”
Skeet shrugged. “Them bandits was brandishing from the gate, my brother. Fizz said he had a Glock stuck halfway up his nose before he could even reach for his piece.”
Trey set his clippers down and glanced out the window. He peeped two members of his street security team roving outside. They were posted up and standing watch just like they was supposed to be.
He shook his head. “Yo, Skeet man, how your soldiers let that kinda thing happen? What’s bad for your business is bad for everybody’s business. Why didn’t nobody sound the alarm so we could rally up and take them cats down?”
Skeet frowned. “Hill said it happened too fast. Them boyz was layin’ in the cut. They musta been hiding in the back of the truck when it pulled up. Zack was supposed to be on guard too, but that fool had just went to take a piss when they rolled up.”
Trey smirked. “I told you before about that slow cat Zack, didn’t I? When you put a weak dude on security ain’t nobody gone be safe. How much they get? Is Fizz good?”
“Fizz is stable, man. He’s madder than a muh’fucka, but stable. He said they got everythang out the register. Every fuckin’ dollar. But we ain’t sweating the doe, man. We just ready to get up in somebody’s ass, you feel me?”
“Yeah, I feel you,” Trey said. “But that’s why we put all these systems in place, ya dig? To make sure shit like this don’t happen. Them fools musta been real desperate to come around here violating like that. These local cats know they can’t match up with us.”
“It’s all them new drugs,” the old-head sitting in Trey’s chair butt in. “These young boys is losing their damn minds over them new drugs.”
A cute chick in her early twenties scooped her toddler out of the barber’s chair right next to Trey’s. His clothes were all brand name, and his little shape-up was slick and tight.
“Hell, the
Pluto knocked over his chair as he jumped up and stormed out of the room. If he hadn’t been so blinded by rage and deafened by the need for revenge, he woulda been able to peep the scandalous Salida as she grinned real wide and snickered in satisfaction.
CHAPTER 8
It was just after two o’clock in the afternoon when the front door of Second Chances barbershop swung open wide.
“Yo! Trey!”
A down-ass white dude named Skeet busted up wildly inside the shop like somebody was chasing after him with a pit bull. Skeet was the owner of an urban clothing store called Empire Attire and a dedicated member of the Talented Ten, and right now his blond hair was wild, his pale cheeks were flushed red, and a look of pure rage was clouding his face.
Trey looked up quickly, surprised by the disturbance. He had an old-timer from the neighborhood in his chair shining his baldhead, and six of the other nine chairs had customers in them too.
“Yo, them fools hit my delivery truck, man!” Skeet barked. “And my safe too! I had Hill posted up at the back door waiting for a shipment to come in, and they got past his ass! Fizz had just emptied the safe and was about to go make a bank drop when they bum-rushed him too.”
Skeet was red and swole with fury. His urban clothing store brought in big loot in the hood, and he sold his trendy gear at cut-rate prices so he could keep it affordable to his customers. His father and his grandfather had both been businessmen in Harlem, and Skeet had grown up on these mean streets and had been married to his sistah-girl honey from high school for five years. Just like the other members of their coalition who owned grocery stores, fish markets, dry cleaners, rib shacks, deli shops, check cashing places, and even AT&T franchises, Skeet had joined the Talented Ten to help keep his small business, and the neighborhood, thriving.
“You mean Fizz just gave your cash up just like that? That cat didn’t even try to stand his ground?”
Skeet shrugged. “Them bandits was brandishing from the gate, my brother. Fizz said he had a Glock stuck halfway up his nose before he could even reach for his piece.”
Trey set his clippers down and glanced out the window. He peeped two members of his street security team roving outside. They were posted up and standing watch just like they was supposed to be.
He shook his head. “Yo, Skeet man, how your soldiers let that kinda thing happen? What’s bad for your business is bad for everybody’s business. Why didn’t nobody sound the alarm so we could rally up and take them cats down?”
Skeet frowned. “Hill said it happened too fast. Them boyz was layin’ in the cut. They musta been hiding in the back of the truck when it pulled up. Zack was supposed to be on guard too, but that fool had just went to take a piss when they rolled up.”
Trey smirked. “I told you before about that slow cat Zack, didn’t I? When you put a weak dude on security ain’t nobody gone be safe. How much they get? Is Fizz good?”
“Fizz is stable, man. He’s madder than a muh’fucka, but stable. He said they got everythang out the register. Every fuckin’ dollar. But we ain’t sweating the doe, man. We just ready to get up in somebody’s ass, you feel me?”
“Yeah, I feel you,” Trey said. “But that’s why we put all these systems in place, ya dig? To make sure shit like this don’t happen. Them fools musta been real desperate to come around here violating like that. These local cats know they can’t match up with us.”
“It’s all them new drugs,” the old-head sitting in Trey’s chair butt in. “These young boys is losing their damn minds over them new drugs.”
A cute chick in her early twenties scooped her toddler out of the barber’s chair right next to Trey’s. His clothes were all brand name, and his little shape-up was slick and tight.
“Hell, the
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