The Beginning of the End

Section 1

Friday, May 21, 2021

Chapter 1 - The Beginning of the End

18:17

The homie Get Right left the hospital room and made a call to each one of The Forum's Strongmen, the Street Captains, letting each know what had happened and where he was. Each of the four had the same reaction: they commiserated and would meet up with him at Harlem Hospital. Fifteen minutes later, Brice pulled up at the hospital in his BMW SUV. Get Right had also informed him to leave the Tahoe in the garage with a tarp over it since he knew the pigs were looking for it. He had told the detectives that his SUV was out of town with his cousin in Virginia - say "Virginia" to any detective about anything having to do with an investigation and they automatically believed you.

There were so many New Yorkers in Virginia, anything was plausible concerning them both. Including North Carolina, or as the oldheads called it "Kakalaka," or just Kakalak. Brice gave Get Right a dap when he got to the front of the hospital, where Naomi was just coming outside. The other three Strongmen pulled up in their various luxury cars, having to partially park on the curb at the entrance to the ER.

"Hey, uh, Get Right?" Naomi said, to get his attention. He turned to her with his eyebrows raised. "You know the dude over there, near the trashcan, the one with the blunt and the Cubs fitted hat?" They all turned and looked at the nigga.

"I know the nigga," said Brice. "He hustle right around here. Why, what happened?"

"He was really disrespectful to me earlier when I first got here." Skar had come with a few of his boys, as had Bucky, and each sent their goons to collect the nigga, which they promptly and none too gently did. The nigga, according to Brice and Get Right, was called "Dibs," a popular hustler whose notoriety at craps preceded him.

"Ayo, Dibs, what the deal, foo?" Brice asked the nigga in greeting.

"What's up, yo, what's this about?" Dibs had a type high pitched voice, was brown skinned and thought he was God's gift to womankind. He sounded offended as he queried Brice. Get Right backslapped him so suddenly no one had a chance to react and catch him when he tottered back and stumbled, holding his bleeding lips. The goons enclosed him.

Dibs put his hand to his waist. Get Right instantly held out his hands as everyone went for their guns too; he was looking at a cop car passing by and the pig on the passenger side was looking at all of them. Everyone looked at the cop challengingly. Get Right threw a thumbs up sign and the cops thankfully continued on their way. He stepped to Dibs, whose hand was still at his waist.

"Pull it, nigga," Get Right challenged him. "Pull it!" Dibs lowered his hand. "Nigga, you not leaving here with that ratchet, bruh." He motioned with his chin and one of the larger goons hemmed Dibs up in a chokehold from behind while another took the gun at his waist, a Glock 16mm, and handed it to Get Right, who admired it before putting it in his lower back. "Now, you know shorty here?" Naomi stepped into the circle, right beside and between Get Right and Dibs, who was still massaging his throat. The latter looked at her and his eyes opened a fraction in surprise.

"Na yo. I don't know shorty from a hole in the wall." Get Right nodded and slapped Dibs again. Then he slapped him again, and again, and again. The ultimate disrespect in combat was when a man slapped another man. Generally, it was women who got slapped, women and children. So if a man slapped you, he considered you a woman or a child. Dibs finally threw a punch at Get Right that the latter weaved and threw one of his own, connecting squarely on Dibs's already busted lip and evoking another gush of blood. They began fighting in earnest but it was clear from the beginning that Get Right outclassed him, tagging him with straight jabs and eventually knocking him to the ground. When Dibs got back up, he was put down swiftly with an upper cut to his solar plexus and a left cross to his right kidney.

Dibs folded like a deck of cards. As he lay gasping for breath, pains arising from his kidney and other pains shooting up and down his sciatic nerve, Get Right kneeled down over him. "Golden Gloves Championship: 2011 and 2012, YMCA, right up the block." He pointed to Naomi. "You see shorty anywhere, you cross the street. If anything happens to her, ever, anywhere, I'm coming for that pretty little family of yours you think nobody know about." Even in pain, Dibs managed to look startled. Well, Get Right did not know exactly where his family was, but that was an easily obtainable morsel of information. "You understand me?" Dibs managed a weak nod. He struggled to get to a sitting position where he rested, nursing his wounds temporarily. Get Right indicated some of the goons. "Y'all niggas take him in the hospital and get him patched up. Five minutes, no more."

"Thanks so much, Get Right, but you didn't have to-"

Get Right interrupted her. "You're the other big homie's woman. We ain't gotta debate this. Bison would do the same for me." And that, Naomi knew, was a fact. There were unspoken codes of conduct and honor in the streets, none of which were written in stone, but most of which could not be argued with when acted upon. Get Right asked her to excuse him and the others, that they had some business doing. Naomi went back inside to Katrina's room. The latter was still resting but she had revived once for some water and chocolate chip cookie dough that Naomi had brought; she had also asked for some of the Hennessy that Naomi had brought for Get Right. Between the three of them nibbling on the snack, the chocolate chip cookie dough had finished with the quickness.