Streets of New York. Mark Anthony

      “Grams, kill this nigga right here!” I ordered dead serious.

      “Which one?” Grams asked. “This one?” He questioned as he sought confirmation and pointed his gun towards Show.

      “Ahight! Ahight!” Show screamed as he began unbuckling his pants and removing his shoes. Before long he was standing butt ass naked.

      “Squeeze, what you waiting on?” I asked.

      Squeeze shook his head as he began to unbutton his shirt and remove his clothes. “Word is bond!” Squeeze added as he continued to shake his head.

      “What about her?” Grams asked.

      “Don’t worry about her! Get them jewels and the money first,” I stated. “Show, where the cash at? And don’t play me. You got thirty seconds or I’ll blast your ass.”

      “Look in my pants pocket,” Show quickly responded. “Promise, if you needed some dough all you had to do is ask me.”

      I walked over to Show and kicked him in the ribs, “So why da’ hell you ain’t pick up your goddamn phone or return my phone calls?”

      “Cuz, nigga, how da’ hell did I know if you was working with the feds or not? You disappear for a year and then you show back up and wanna get money? Shit don’t work like that.”

      “Yeah, I know, I know. That’s why I’m getting my money the ski-mask way!” I responded.

      Grams had collected Show and Squeeze’s Rolex watches and their diamond encrusted dog tags. While he was relieving the girl of her diamond earrings and diamond ring, I shouted to Show, “You got fifteen more seconds. Where the hell is the money at!”

      “I told you it’s in my pocket!”

      Grams reached up in their pockets and pulled out a knot of money from both Show and Squeeze. Combined it looked like it was about $5000.

      “Show, you got five more seconds to show me all of the money!” I threatened.

      “Where da’ safe at!?” Grams growled, sounding like DMX.

      “Two seconds...” I warned, as I cocked the gun.

      “One...”

      “Just show it to ‘em,” Squeeze reluctantly stated from his face down position.

      “It’s over there under the desk,” Show gritted through his teeth.

      Grams immediately scurried to Show’s desk and located the safe on the floor underneath a mat.

      “What’s the combination?” Grams asked and Show yelled it out.

      Grams quickly opened the safe and let out a joyous scream. “Promise, this is better than raw sex over here!”

      “Ahight, just load it wit’ the jewels so we can be outta here.”

      Grams scooped the loot along with some weed. He handed me the bag of cash, jewels, and weed and proceeded to duct tape the hands, feet and mouths of Show and Squeeze.

      “You wanna hit that?” I asked Grams, referring to the sexy chocolate chick.

      Squeeze stared at me and he tried his best to yell through the duct tape that was around his mouth. Although I was in the middle of a robbery, I was horny as hell and the icing on the cake in getting back at Squeeze would have been to hit his girl right there in front of his punk ass!

      “Nah, Promise that’s whack. We got the dough, we ain’t raping nobody! That’s some punk shit,” Grams said.

      “Ahight just tape her hands, mouth and feet and we’re outta here.”

      With that order, Grams bound the chick to a chair and the two of us calmly walked out the door heading for Grams’ truck.

      As we walked out, I gave the unsuspecting bouncer a pound and he told me to be careful cuz five-o was lurking everywhere. I appreciated the tip. Me and Grams jumped in the truck and were out. I directed Grams towards Atlantic Avenue and looked inside the bag of goods. I couldn’t believe how much cash was in the bag.

      “There gotta be close to fifty thousand in that bag,” Grams predicted.

      “That’s what’s up!”

      I directed Grams to Rochdale Village in Queens. As we got closer, I used Grams’ cell to call Candy. I knew I’d be waking her up but also knew she’d be cool with it.

      “Yeah, I’m in Queens now. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I said.

      We pulled into the parking lot of a 24-hour Burger King and divided up the spoils. We took a little less than twenty-six thousand each. Plus we each took a Rolex and a dog tag. I decided to swap the handgun that Grams had loaned me in exchange for letting him keep the weed that we had unexpectedly stumbled on during the robbery.

      “This was the biggest stickup I ever did in my life!” Grams cheerfully exclaimed.

      “Kid, this was what I did every day a few years back,” I boasted. “This is what I was born to do.”

      Rochdale was right down the block from the Burger King so Grams drove down 137^th Avenue and dropped me off at Candy’s building. Before we parted, I thanked Grams for looking out. He was more than thankful to me for having given him the opportunity to make so much loot.

      “If you need me, dog, just holla at me and I got you,” he assured me as he wrote down his home number and cell number on a piece of paper so that I would be sure to have it and wouldn’t just be relying on my memory as I usually did.

      “No doubt,” I said as I gave him a pound.

      Handing Grams one thousand dollars, I said to him, “Do me a favor, make sure that Marissa gets this and tell her it’s from me.”

      Grams nodded and took the money. I instructed him on how to get to the Belt Parkway so that he could make his way to the Verrazano Bridge and back onto the New Jersey Turnpike. As Grams pulled off he appropriately blasted Ja Rule’s song Clap Back.

      I rang Candy’s intercom and she immediately buzzed me into her lobby. I rode the elevator up to her apartment and she stood at her apartment door waiting for me. Although she looked as if she had just woken up, she was extremely excited to see me. She gave me the warmest hug and told me that I looked like I had gained some weight.

      “You still look good, Promise.”

      “Candy, you telling me I gained weight? Look at you, where the hell did you get that butt? You ain’t have that phatty a few years ago,” I jokingly said as the two of us laughed.

      Candy escorted me into her immaculate apartment which had some bangin’ shiny hardwood floors. She grabbed me by the hand and escorted me over to the couch. Wearing her pajama pants, slippers and a T-shirt, Candy sat on her fluffy leather couch, crossed her legs and looked at me.

      “So, how have you been, Promise?” she asked.

      “How have I been?” I rhetorically asked. “How much time do you have and where do you want me to begin?”

      The sun was up and it was still early so Candy began making breakfast.

      “I got all day. Just talk,” she encouraged.

      I didn’t mind talking to Candy and it turned out to be somewhat therapeutic. I told her about Squeeze and Show and what was really up between them and me. She had already heard Pooh had been killed and I told her about the circumstances leading to his death. To my surprise, she related a different story that had been circulating on the street about Pooh’s killer. I had always thought it was Nine and his crew who had killed Pooh but she said that everyone had heard that it was some Spanish kids.

      Candy had no reason to lie to me. If it was true, that should have been the first thing that Show and his punk ass should have told me when I saw him that first night with Marissa. If Candy knew what the streets said