Streets of New York. Mark Anthony

you to let him know that I’m on the other end of the phone. Okay?”

      “Okay,” Candy replied, “What’s the number?”

      I proceeded to give Candy the number and then I instructed her that if Show asked her how she got his number, that she was to say that she had bumped into me on Flatbush Avenue a couple of weeks ago when I was leaving The Brooklyn Cafe and that I had given her his number and told her that I would be staying at Show’s crib. The reason that she was calling was because she hadn’t heard from me since that night.”

      “’Kay,” Candy replied.

      “Candy, are you sure you got what I said?” I asked.

      “Yeah, Promise.”

      “Okay, call him now and make sure that your phone number ain’t blocked when you call him. Just get into some small talk if you have to but make sure you don’t tell him that I’m on the phone.”

      “Okay,‘kay,‘kay, be quiet now, it’s ringing.”

      I put my phone on mute so that my breathing wouldn’t be heard. Show’s phone rang two times and the nigga picked right up.

      “Ain’t that a bitch?” I hissed to myself.

      “Hello? Who this?” Show asked.

      “What’s up, Show? This is Candy.”

      “Candy who?”

      “Come on now, Show! You know which Candy this is!”

      “Candy from Rochdale?”

      “Yes.”

      “Oh, what’s up, ma? I ain’t speak to you in a minute. Where you been at? How did you get my number?”

      “I got your number from Promise. He gave it to me the other night when he was leaving The Brooklyn Cafe. He said he was gonna be staying with you and if I needed to reach him I should call you.”

      “Oh word? I don’t know why da’ fuck he told you that! That nigga ain’t staying wit’ me. That nigga got too much heat surrounding his ass.”

      “Do you have a number where I can reach him or anything, cuz I gave him my number and he ain’t even call me or nothing.”

      “Nah, I ain’t got no numbers for him. But, yo, fuck dat nigga. If you wanna hang out, you need to come to the spot, to The Brooklyn Cafe. You know me and Squeeze own this spot now, right?”

      “I know. My girls and me gonna come through and check it out. We might come through in a few weeks. It’s still free for City workers to get in, right?”

      “Yeah but you ain’t gotta worry about that. Just call me when you wanna come and I’ll put you on the guest list.”

      “Ahight, no doubt. Well, I gotta go. If you here from Promise, tell him that I called for him.”

      “I doubt I’ll speak to him but if I hear from him, I’ll let him know.”

      With that, I hung up the phone and so did Show and Candy. I called Candy right back.

      “Hello.”

      “Yeah, Candy, it’s Promise.”

      “I didn’t know ya’ll wasn’t cool no more. What happened?”

      “It’s a long story. I’ll explain it when I see you and if Show or anybody else calls or comes by make sure you tell them you haven’t heard from me or seen me, okay?”

      “Okay.”

      Before hanging up, I made sure that I took down Candy’s cellphone number. After hanging up the phone with her, I thought to myself. That three-way phone call confirmed that Show and Squeeze both were acting in tandem and both were purposely dissin’ my ass.

      Show had picked up the phone right away when he saw a New York area code on his caller ID but when I had been calling him from a Philly area code or from a blocked number and even after leaving him messages telling him that I was gonna be calling him, he was no where to be found.

      “Fuck that nigga!” I said to myself.

      Later that night when Grams came home, he relayed a message to me from Marissa. She had wanted me to know she was okay and that in case she and I didn’t speak for a while. Under the circumstances she completely understood and also asked him to make certain he told me that the cops had questioned her for hours. And she hadn’t given them any information.

      Considering how a year ago I had wrecked Audrey’s life, I was glad to hear that Marissa was doing ok but it made me nervous that Grams had even discussed me with Marissa. I wanted to press him on why he’d said anything at all or how to Marissa and how did she know to ask him about me, but then decided not to mention it all. I still needed Grams’ help and I didn’t wanna piss the nigga off in any way.

      It was a Thursday night and instinctively I knew that within twenty-four hours I had to get out of Grams’ crib for good. I was already pressing my luck and rolling the dice on my freedom. Instead of questioning Grams on this I decided to switch subjects and bring up what had transpired over the phone with Show.

      “Grams, tomorrow night we gotta get to New York and see them niggas. Check this shit out... I tried to get in touch with Show, right. I call the nigga’s cell his crib and both phones kept going to voicemail. So check it, I call this chick from Queens that I’m cool wit’ and I have her call Show from her home phone while I was on three way...”

      Grams, who was rolling some weed, smiled and looked up at me and finished off my words, “And the nigga picked up, right?”

      “Yeah, the nigga picked up cuz he saw a New York area code on his caller ID but I never said nothing. I stayed quiet and just let him and the chick kick it and when the chick asked him about me, that bitch ass nigga starts talking all kinds of underhanded shit! Talkin’ bout ‘fuck dat nigga, Promise!’”

      Grams took a break from rolling the weed and added, “It’s ahight. You did the right thing. Just let any nigga talk long enough and you’ll know what he’s about.”

      Grams got up and walked to his closet and retrieved a brown paper bag. He reached inside the bag and pulled out a chrome 38 revolver.

      “I know you ain’t got no heat so I got this for you from my man. I got my joint in the other room so we’ll both be strapped. We straight now.”

      I got up and gave Grams a pound.

      “You said Squeeze was rocking an iced out Rolex, right?”

      “Yeah.”

      “So, if worse come to worse, we at least leaving with that watch!”

      “Grams, trust me, them niggas is holding cash! The club is a goldmine! Whatever cash up in that club, we leaving wit’ it and with the watch and whatever else we want!”

      Grams finished rolling the blunt. He sparked it and the two of us got high as we plotted for an hour straight how we were gonna get at Squeeze and Show. Our I’s were dotted and our T’s were crossed. All we had to do now was wait for Friday night to roll around.

      Grams’ crib had begun to feel like house arrest. Thank God Friday night finally came. I was excited about getting back out into civilization and was even more excited about getting back to Brooklyn. Grams let me borrow another of his outfits, gray Sean John sweats that went with my all-white Nike Airs. I was hoping this would be the last outfit of his that I would have to borrow.

      It was a little after midnight when Grams and me piled into his black Yukon Denali and headed towards Brooklyn. We made a stop for gas and a stop at the McDonalds drive thru window. From then on, there wasn’t too much talking as we listened to the G-Unit CD and continued to maneuver closer to our destination.

      After an hour on the