Money Makin Manhattan Read online

  There was a pecking order established in jail where the strong ruled and preyed upon the weak. Goody was a sharp nigga and he was quick to realize that the guards weren’t there to protect him. Some of them even encouraged the cruelty and violence to keep the inmates off their backs.

  A certain group of Jamaicans ran the cellblock where Handgun Goody was located and they were young and ruthless. Goody had been nervous just like any other first timer when he stepped on deck, but he was far from a punk and he refused to be oppressed.

  Coming to Rikers Island was a rite of passage for young men in the hood. It was the place where the most dangerous dudes from all five boroughs met up for the clash-up.

  There were three main things that provoked most of the violence on the Rock: the phone, the food, and the television. Dudes were regularly getting shook down for their commissary and forced to pay a tax on the food they received. They called that shit “paying rent,” like the cellblocks were a bunch of high-rise condos.

  Goody was green, but he knew he’d have to get his hands dirty in order to gain the respect of the wolves. He was ready for it.

  For the first couple of months he stayed outta trouble and flew under the radar. He worked out every night intensely in his cell, building muscle and anticipating the day he would have to fuck somebody up. He realized it was a matter of when and not if, because fighting was a fact of life behind those walls if you refused to be treated like a bitch.

  Goody needed some money on his books and he had to use the phone to call his peoples. After breakfast one morning he approached a Jamaican who was standing next to a phone.

  “Ayo son, I know how shit goes around here and I need to use the phone so w’sup?” he stepped to the Jamaican and asked with full confidence.

  The Jamaican was at least six inches taller than Goody and black as midnight. He wasn’t crazy muscular, but he was lean and athletic.

  “Dat’s gwon cost you ten soup and a box a Newpawts on commissary.”

  Goody let the cost of the call sink in and kept his poker face on and then responded.

  “A’ight, let me get this straight. I’m supposed to pay you ten soups and a whole carton of Newports just to use the phone, right?” Goody said it in a way that reflected his disgust for the terms of using the phone.

  “Ju a funny nigga, huh? Did I fucking studda? Don make me kill you idiot bwoy!!! Pay me mine on Friday or me cut your bloodclot troat,” the Jamaican said with evil intent as he walked away.

  “Oh yeah. I’ma pay you dread. On Neveraury thirty-second muthafucka,” Goody muttered under his breath as he made his phone call then went back to his cell.

  It wasn’t like Goody didn’t know niggas in jail, but most of the Brownsville cats was on another cellblock. The few he recognized on his block were already getting extorted or he had beef with them from the street.

  “Ayo, Q, who the fuck is the tall Jamaican nigga who think he running shit around here?” Goody asked his celly Quan from Corona, Queens. Quan was a laid-back Five Percenter who was waiting to go up north for attempted murder.

  “Oh that’s Mittens and he does run shit around here. He put together a mean team, and as you can see they got shit on smash. Yeah, I heard about the conversation you and him had earlier,” Quan said as he hung his sheet from one side of the bunk and connected it to a hook on the wall so he could take a shit in private.

  “Mittens is over-charging you for the phone tho, my nigga. I don’t know why, but the usual price is five soups and five packs of smokes. When you the boss you can make up your own prices though,” Quan said casually as he relieved himself behind the sheet.

  “Yo how the fuck you hear about that shit? It was just me and Mittens standing over there talking,” Goody said.

  “Nigga this is jail,” Quan farted and responded with a chuckle. “Walls have ears in here and they spill the word, ya dig?”

  Goody dug it but he had no intentions on paying anybody. He was from Brownsville. “Never ran, never will,” was the motto, and that was Goody’s whole fuckin attitude. There was no way he was going out like a sucka to a nigga who breathed the same air that he did. Goody would rather die on his feet than live on his knees.

  So Friday morning came around and Goody was well prepared. He stepped outta his cell with a shank made out of a piece of metal from a dustpan wrapped in thick wet toilet paper until it had hardened. He stashed it in the elastic band of the boxer briefs he had on.

  Goody had already decided not to wait until he was approached by Mittens and his crew. He was a man, and he was gonna take matters into his own hands. After breakfast the inmates were being called to receive their commissary. Goody got his bag of food, clothes, and toiletries, and took it all back into his cell. He then went into the day space and confronted Mittens who was watching TV with his homies.

  “Ayo Mittens, let me holla at you my G. Let’s talk about what I owe you,” Goody said as he kept his right hand in his jumpsuit, gripping the shank.

  Mittens and his gang got up quickly and began to surround Goody. Showing no fear, Goody looked in the eyes of the menacing Jamaican and was about to jab the shank deep into his face. He didn’t give a fuck about the repercussions. Goody was ready to go all out. If nothing else his name would ring bells wherever he went from this point on.

  But then Mittens spoke.

  “Me received a kite earlier not to let no harm befall you, mon. It seems you are in good graces with da monsta dey call Haz. He sent me a picture of me mother and sista. Said if anyting happens to you they will be dealt wit accordingly. My apologies for any miscommunication between us,” Mittens said, and signaled his crew to back off and go back to watching television.

  Handgun Goody’s jaw almost hit the damn floor as he tried to stop his heart from jumping outta his chest. He couldn’t fuckin believe it. Goody didn’t realize Haz’s rep was so strong, but he was thankful. He was under the protection of a crazy muthafucka, and he knew why.

  Goody was well aware that if things had gone down differently in Big Slick’s apartment that long ago night that he wouldn’t even be breathing air. If he hadn’t done what the fuck Haz had told him to do, he woulda got planted.

  As it was, he coulda been murked in here off of Haz’s word too. That psycho nigga didn’t love him. He was sending him a reminder to keep his fuckin mouth shut. Haz was letting Goody know that he controlled his life and his death, and that his black ass wasn’t even safe from his reach in jail.

  That was the day that Goody decided he wanted the ultimate power. With the right mix of street smarts and brutal dominance he could be a heavyweight in the underworld. Like Haz, he would be able to rule over his own kingdom and decide the fate of others. The strength of his word would either condemn a man, or set a man free.

  CHAPTER 6

  Sticky Situations

  The VIP pool party that was going down on the rooftop at a Central Park West condo was way beyond jumping. Jewelz had just taken the elevator upstairs after being cleared by tight security and using the passcode that Handgun Goody had provided her.

  His invitation to hang out with him had come outta nowhere and at the last minute, but Jewelz didn’t complain. It was her job to be on the ready no matter when that nigga called. After all, her goal was to get closer to him and to probe deeply into all his weak spots, and that’s exactly what she was gonna do.

  The rooftop was packed out and it didn’t take long for Jewelz to realize that she was in a high-powered sexually charged atmosphere. There were security-types out the ass, posted up discreetly to keep the patrons safe.

  Drunk ballers draped in expensive gear were partying hard and chasing ass-naked model-worthy chicks all around the damn place. Jewelz hadn’t seen Goody yet as she walked through the crowd, but she was curiously surprised by the reckless environment.

  She peeped a few executive heads sitting at a table having a great time sniffing what looked like a half a key of cocaine piled up in an ivory mound. A young white guy was kicked back stuf
fing his bong full of weed, while a Spanish chick with long dark hair was pouring shots of Effen Vodka like it was water.

  A pretty white girl sitting with them made eye contact with Jewelz and shouted, “Hello there, sexy!” She beckoned Jewelz over and asked with a smile, “Would you like to join us? There’s plenty of room over here on my lap. I got what you need. This is the best blow in the city, baby. We can make something work together.”

  “No thanks,” Jewelz said politely. Getting hit on by chicks was understandable and nothing new to her. She was looking sexy as fuck in her hot-pink romper shorts that stopped just under her curvy ass cheeks and highlighted her milk-chocolate skin tone. The top of the outfit was puffed out nicely around her breasts, hiding the burner that was strapped to her chest.

  “You sure?” the red-headed chick asked, licking her lips.

  “Yeah, I think I’m gonna pass for right now,” Jewelz gave her a small smile. “Would you happen to know where Handgun Goody is though?”

  “Sure,” the woman said and then sniffed a blood vessel worth of coke up her swollen nose. “I think he’s over by the pool.”

  Jewelz walked in the direction the chick pointed in and noticed a gorgeous bare-breasted woman who was straddling a black guy’s lap with her back up against his chest. She looked exotic, like a bronzed Brazilian, and she was stacked like a brick building in all the right places.

  The beautiful seductress had a blonde-haired white chick crouched down on her knees in front of her. The chick was licking and sucking all over her chocolate chip nipples while the black guy humped on the Brazilian’s ass and reached around and massaged her lush titties.

  The white girl busted Jewelz watching and let a nipple go and smiled. She stared at Jewelz with a slight smirk, then stuck her pink tongue out and licked the air, as if she was inviting Jewelz to come join them without saying a word.

  Dayum, Jewelz thought as she sashayed on by. There was enough pussy up on that rooftop for Handgun to fuck a different bitch every night for six months. What type of porno freak-fests do this nigga Goody be running over here?

  “You like what you see?”

  Jewelz looked up and saw Goody coming toward her with a grin on his face. He looked absolutely handsome with his navy blue dress shirt on and his chest muscles bulging underneath it. He got up closer and hit her with that big radiant smile that showed all of his pearly white teeth, and Jewelz found that shit totally irresistible.

  “Do you?” he asked again.

  “Well, it depends on what you’re talking about,” Jewelz said with a seductive look in her eye. “Shorty over there looks real nice and all that, but I’m not interested in pussy. I have my own pussy and it’s pretty damn good. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Damn,” Goody said still grinning. “You always got a fly-ass comeback. Just how I like it.” He gazed down at her with an approving grin. “You killin that pink shit, ma. Come on, let’s walk.”

  Goody grabbed Jewelz by the hand and led her over to the pool. He introduced her to a few shot-callers and they all complimented Jewelz on her grace and beauty.

  By the time Jewelz and Goody sat down and stuck their feet in the pool she was feeling a little more comfortable in the midst of the wildly poppin turn up. Goody signaled for a waitress to bring him some weed, and after offering some to Jewelz, which she declined, he rolled himself a nice fat blunt and puffed away.

  “So who the hell are all these people?” Jewelz asked as she dragged her slender pedicured feet through the cool water and watched tray after silver tray of cocaine go passing by. “They up here on this roof getting fucked down! This ain’t no hole-in-the-wall type action. This is some high class upper-echelon shit.”

  “Exactly,” Goody said as he sipped a glass of Krug champagne. “This is a private event that I finance for my power circle every now and then. Lawyers, judges, councilmen, and drug connects. Shit you might fuck around and catch Mayor D.B. up in this bitch sometimes. This shit right here is for the movers and shakers of New York City. I don’t care what your occupation is, or what side of the law you standing on. Good pussy and free blow will keep ’em loyal every time.”

  “So that’s what you looking for? Loyalty?”

  “Damn right. That’s the whole pact right there. I keep these fuckers entertained, and they keep me insulated from all the legal bullshit. This is how you step your game up.”

  “Big boy shit, huh?” Jewelz said like she was impressed. “I can dig that. So it’s all work and no play for you? Where’s the balance at? I’m sure something in your life has to be motivating you besides all this money.”

  “Yeah, my kids motivate me,” Goody said. “I got five shawtys and shit. All girls. I don’t see them that much ’cause I can’t stand they fuckin mothers. I rather just write the child support checks and keep it pushing. I mean, they mines but I’m not the daddy-type of nigga. I’m their human ATM and I don’t mind. I make sure they don’t need shit and they look good, and that’s about it.”

  Hearing that shit had Jewelz hurt and furious on the inside. Sitting there next to that bastard it took everything she had in her to hide it. She couldn’t birth any seeds right now today because of how this fuck-boy had damaged her womb and scarred her body for life, and here he had five daughters and he didn’t want shit to do with none of them?

  Man, if God ever saw fit to bless her with just one daughter, let alone five, Jewelz knew she would be the best mother in the whole wide world. She would move heaven and earth for her little girl, and nothing would stop her from showering her daughter with every drop of love and affection she had inside her.

  But with her womb totally destroyed, the possibility of ever becoming a mother had been stolen from her. It had been snatched from her when she was just a mere child. By the mothafucka who was sitting right next to her!

  It took everything in Jewelz not to reach over and poke Goody’s eyeball out and then push his ass in the pool!

  And let his niggas bark.

  She would pull out her strap and spray every last one of these mothafuckas on the way out if she had to. She closed her eyes and held back the hot tears brewing up inside her. She forced herself to push the pain out of her mind and to keep her game-face straight so this fool didn’t get suspicious.

  “So what about you?” Goody asked. “You got any kids? Any crazy baby-daddies I should be worried about?”

  “Nah,” Jewelz said coolly as she turned her head and fanned away his cloud of weed. She wiped her eyes like they were burning from the smoke. “No kids for me. I’m on the paper chase, baby. I got unfinished business I need to take care of. I don’t have time to be chasing after no lil brats.”

  They hung out together kicking it for awhile as they got to know each other better. Jewelz made up all kinds of lies about the family she didn’t have, and Goody told her that his father was dead and his mother was a sanctified Evangelist who was deep in the church.

  Soon the party started to wind down and Goody’s VIP guests started to file out. Jewelz was glad for the invite but what she really needed was to find out where Goody lived and to see how he had his shit set up on the inside. But all of that in due time.

  “Well, I think I should be heading home my damn self,” Jewelz said as she gathered her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “It’s getting late but I had a good time. Thank you, Mr. Goody. This was a fly-ass get together.”

  “So when can we get with each other again?” Goody asked as he reached out and stroked her jaw. “You be tryna have me chasing and shit.”

  Jewelz smiled. She knew he was remembering that lip-lock game she had put down on him in his studio that day.

  “Can you cook?” she asked. “If you wanna get together with me then you need to know that I like home-cooked meals and Netflix. I’m not one of them motel room bitches that you probably used to dealing with. I’m no hot dogs and French fries floozy. So get ya’self a cookbook and invite me to your crib when you learn how to follow some recipes.”
r />   “Oh you got jokes,” Goody grinned. “But we ain’t gotta stand over no hot stove and dirty up no dishes, bae. You see the spread I just financed up here? Shit, I got the lettuce to hire you a gourmet chef, sweetheart. I can take you to some of the fanciest restaurants in this whole damn city,” he said, sliding right outta her trap. “What type of food you wanna eat? When can I take you out?”

  “I’ll call you,” Jewelz said mischievously. This nigga was smoove. She had been trying every which way to get up in his crib, and so far he had blocked and resisted her every effort. She leaned up on her toes and kissed him on his cheek, and he reached out and grabbed her by her ass-cheek. She felt his hunger as he massaged her ass and sucked her bottom lip greedily between his. Right off the bat his shit got bricked up in a major way and as soon as Jewelz felt it poking her she pushed him off and laughed.

  “Look at you,” she teased him. “You wouldn’t even want this pussy if I didn’t make you chase it, now would you?”

  Goody could only gaze at her and grin.

  “You right, baby,” he admitted. “You right.”

  $$$$$

  Despite the carefree role she had played with Handgun Goody, Jewelz’s face was carved from stone the next night as she unlocked the door to her apartment and let Slick inside. They had scheduled a meeting to go over the next phase of their plan to spread grief and misery over every member of Handgun Goody’s clan, and she had some real good intel for him.

  “I got that info you wanted,” she said quietly as Slick sat down on her designer leather sofa. Her crib was spotless and stylish as fuck. It was a sanctuary with good vibes flowing all around. The only thing disturbing the peace right now was all that pent-up madness that Jewelz had going on over Slick.

  “So whuddup?” Slick asked. Dressed in fine attire, he was all bizz.

  “Believe it or not, Dirty Mike is somebody’s dirty daddy. He threw a sex party up on a rooftop yesterday and he invited me over. That trifling nigga has the nerve to have five daughters. He buys their clothes and pays child support, but that’s about it. He ain’t no real father.”