Prince of the City Read online

  Chapter 1

  -ROYAL LOVE-

  T

  he King stood outside the cool confines of his balcony on a warm summer day with his Remy Martin glass half-full and his .38 snubnose revolver neatly tucked. Along side him stood a little boy, no older than ten years old. Together they looked out into the sky and noticed how the sun dominated it. A moment later, a soft rumble took over, turning the sky into a purple hue. Just as he figured, a storm was definitely approaching. But as fate would have it, the storm that nature was bringing couldn’t compare to the storm that this ten-year-old boy was soon to endure.

  “Son, if you lie down with snakes, they gonna bite you. No matter how long they take; you better believe that before you get up they gonna bite. You understand me, son?”

  Malik would just look up at his father in admiration and smile warmly. He knew the man who towered over him with a sincere and stern face was of some importance. He just didn’t know how much, or better yet, why? None of these things meant anything to him as an innocent child, but later in life they would mean more to him than any gift a father can give. Malik was the son of Michael Perry, a major hustler and well-respected gangster who received profits from a majority of every drug strip in Southeast D.C. A man of great wisdom, with the ability and power to rule. A boss, who controlled and employed those whom everyone thought were big boys, shot callers, and heavyhitters. They all answered to him and his most trusted comrade and childhood friend, Black Sam.

  Michael stood about six feet tall, medium complextion, with dark wavy hair and a long scar racing down the right side of his cheek. A symbol that served as a sign of victory in war, and a constant reminder of things he endured while climbing the ladder of success. A diamond flooded band adorned his wedding finger, another symbol that served as a constant reminder that he wouldn’t be alone. It assured him that there was someone he loved who would remain loyal and faithfully by his side. Connie was Michael’s wife and the mother of his child, a son who came bursting into this cold, corrupted world without any defect. Mental or physical.

  Malik’s parents met at a high school homecoming dance during the late 70s Go-Go scene, a time when almost every speaker in the ghettos of D.C. blasted the new wave baseline music with an uptempo beat played by live bands.

  One evening after coming home from the nearby carryout with their favorite grape soda and French fries, both Connie and Linda sat in Connie’s bedroom getting prepared to watch their favorite show, Goodtimes. As Connie reached for the remote, Linda got up, stood in front of the television, and blocked her view.

  “Girl, move your crazy ass out the way. My show ‘bout to come on–ooh it’s gonna be good too. I think this the one when Penny gets burned by her momma,” Connie said with excitement. Linda still didn’t move, instead she just stood there looking at her friend with a spoiled girlish pout. “What?” Connie asked, looking annoyed, knowing her friend had something sneaky up her sleeve.”

  “Dag, you acting like you gonna die if you don’t see this show,” Linda retorted and then folded her arms.

  “No, it’s just that I know that sneaky ass look all too well.” Connie always could tell when Linda wanted something. She’d often put on some type of spoiled girl pity party seeking her friend's sympathy.

  “Connie, I need you this time. I really need you,” she pleaded, putting both hands together as if saying a prayer.

  “Need me for what?” Connie asked, almost irritated. By now her show had started, and her French fries were getting cold. But that still didn’t stop her from dumping almost half the bottle of ketchup on her food.

  While Connie prepared her food, Linda was plotting, determined to convince her friend to attend the upcoming dance. Linda always felt that she would get more attention from the type of guys she liked, but only if she’d brought Connie with her. To Linda, Connie was more like the bait while she would be the catch. At sixteen years old, Connie was already developed like an exotic dancer, with flawless milk chocolate skin and long, shiny hair. She was considered very pretty, with the likes of a centerfold model. Linda, on the other hand, wasn’t as pretty, but her caramel complexion was unblemished and beautiful. Although her stature was tall, her tomboyish build left her without curves. But what Linda lacked in sex appeal, she more than made up for by her eagerness to live life in the fast lane. So whenever an event would come up, Linda would do any and everything to persuade her friend to join her.

  “I need you to go to Ballou’s homecoming with me tomorrow,” Linda said in her little girl tone. Before Connie could open her mouth to say no, Linda got on the floor and began to beg as if it was a dire need. “Please–please–please! I’m begging you, Connie. I need you this time. Please!” Linda held her hands together as if praying to God.

  “I don’t know, Linda,” Connie replied, hunching her shoulders. “I mean, Ballou High is kinda rough. Them niggas gonna be out there fighting and what not. And besides, I ain't got nothing to wear.”

  Seeing that her friend didn’t say no, Linda jumped up quickly. “Good, I knew your scary ass was gonna say that. That’s why I came prepared.” She then reached in her bookbag and pulled out a set of clothes. “Here, take this,” Linda said, throwing the clothes on her friend’s bed. “And fuck them punk ass niggas. We coming to have fun,” she proudly announced while resting her hands on both hips.

  “Hmph! You all Miss Sassy now. Just a minute ago you was a cry baby,” Connie teased. “And what’s this anyway?” she asked, fumbling through the clothes and checking for labels.

  “It’s your new outfit, bitch. Try it on.”

  Connie examined the new outfit with suspicion and wondered how her friend was able to purchase such expensive clothes. “Ooh Linda! This is Calvin Klein. How did you get this?”

  “I stole it from Iverson Mall today. Look, I got one too,” she replied proudly, showing off the stolen goods. "So are you going or what?"

  Connie tried on her new outfit, pleased as she turned in front of the mirror, admiring how the new jeans perfectly fit her round ass. “Shit, from the way I look in this outfit . . . hell yeah, I’m going.” She grinned. “Thanks Linda. Well, the best I can do for you to return the favor is to fix your hair,” she offered.

  “Good, bitch. Let’s hurry up ‘cause we got a dance to attend tomorrow, and we gonna be the baddest bitches up in that joint,” Linda said with confidence. She then sat between Connie’s legs and freed her hair from the scrunchie. “Make me look like Pam Grier,” she demanded playfully.

  “Damn, you coulda at least let me eat my food first.”

  “Connie, them French fries is cold as ice by now. Tell you what. When you finish my hair, I will personally walk down to the carryout and get you some more. Deal?”

  “Shut up!” Connie replied, pushing her friend’s head to the side. With comb in hand, Connie tried to figure out where to start. Linda sat back, closed her eyes, and smiled. The only thing she had on her mind was the upcoming event for tomorrow. Mission complete, she proudly thought.

  The next Saturday night was the homecoming dance, and all eyes were on Linda and Connie as they danced to Chuck Brown’s song “Bustin’ Loose.” Guys moved in closer in an effort to dance with the two girls. While Linda enjoyed the attention, Connie didn’t. She immediately stopped dancing and stood with her back against the wall, watching her friend get freaked on the dance floor by two guys.

  From across the room, Connie felt someone watching her. She glanced in all directions, but never made eye contact with anyone. However, she still felt creepy and desperately wanted to shake off her uneasiness.

  “Hey Linda. Hey Linda!” Connie said, walking over and interrupting her friend’s fun by tapping her shoulder.

  “What, girl? Can’t you see I’m ge
tting my freak on?” Linda stated in an irritated tone.

  “Yeah, bitch, it’s obvious. I’m just letting you know I’m going to the bathroom.”

  “Okay. But if you ain’t back in ten minutes, I’m coming wit’ my knife out, stabbin’ first and asking questions later.”

  “Shut up, girl. Your ass know you crazy. I'll be right back.” Connie left the gym and went to the restroom.

  After freshening up, Connie pushed the bathroom door open and made her exit. She stopped dead in her tracks, seeing a handsome, familiar face. Although she didn’t know him personally, she knew exactly who he was, as his reputation in school was well known.

  “How you doing, Connie?” the guy asked coolly.

  “Excuse me? Do I know you?” Connie squinted, checking him out as if she didn’t know him.

  “No, not exactly, but we do go to the same school. My name is Michael, and I was wondering if I could have a minute of your time?”

  Connie took a second to re-examine the handsome teenager, who was quickly blossoming into manhood. She was pleased with his handsome looks, yet wasn’t too sure of his thuggish swag. Connie was a square, oftentimes being called naive. Intrigued by his interest in her, she decided to take a chance since there was nothing else better to do. After all, she wasn’t worried about going on the dance floor anytime soon.

  “Well, I guess I could give you a minute. How do you know my name anyway?” she asked.

  “We had history class together, but I guess you didn’t notice me. I always sat in the back. Anyway, I’ve always admired you and wanted to say something, but figured you wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

  At that statement, Connie blushed, but before she could reply, Linda came bursting out of the gymnasium door.

  “Okay, didn’t I say ten minutes? And who the hell is this? Is he bothering you?” Linda asked Connie as she pointed her finger at Michael.

  “No. This is—”

  Before Connie could finish her sentence, Michael butted in. “How you doing? I’m Michael. I was just talking to your friend, tryna get to know her better. I can see you’re very overprotective. I respect that,” he said, nodding his head.

  Linda folded her arms and looked him up and down. Although she could sense Connie’s interest in Michael, Linda wasn’t going for his charm. It was obvious from the burgundy Pierre Cardin sweatsuit, and the latest shell toe Addidas on his feet, along with two gold chains around his neck, that he was a thug. His outfit alone complemented a hustler’s lifestyle, and Linda wasn’t about to let Connie get caught up in his web.

  “Okay, uhhhh Michael. I’m really sorry, but we gotta go home now. It’s getting late,” Linda said, grabbing Connie’s arm and pulling her away.

  At the same time, Michael looked Connie deep in her eyes and shouted out his phone number.

  “I’ll call you first chance I get,” Connie shouted back while memorizing his number.

  “I’ll be waiting,” he yelled, hoping she wouldn’t play him like a sucker by not calling at all.

  Chapter 2

  -A LION’S PREY-

  One year later . . .

  T

  he night of Connie and Michael’s high school graduation was a memorable time. Over the past year, Michael started doing well for himself. A life of crime had earned him more money than he had ever seen. He purchased an all-white Cadillac Eldorado, and couldn’t wait to pick up the love of his life. He was going to take her to one of the finest restaurants in Georgetown, and then to the waterfront pier in Southwest. But Connie had different plans.

  Michael pulled up in front of theBarry Farms projects and took a deep breath. Then he hopped out of his Caddy and walked up to the door.

  Knock, knock, knock!

  “Who is it?” Connie asked, acting as if she hadn’t watched him pull into her driveway from her bedroom window.

  “It’s Mike! You ready to go?”

  “Uhhhh, come in for a minute,” Connie yelled down from the window.

  “Okay, baby, but we should be going. It’s getting kinda late,” he said, glancing at his watch.

  “Just come in the house for a minute.”

  Once Michael went inside, Connie came downstairs and took his hand.

  “Baby, what you doing?” he asked as she led him up to her room. Not another word was spoken. Only the smooth voice of Marvin Gaye’s hit “Let’s Get It On” played from the radio. They finally reached her room, and Connie took charge, kissing him passionately and holding him tight. As she began to remove his clothes, he stopped her.

  “Baby, are you sure about this?” Michael asked. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “No. No. I really don’t know what I’m doing, but I know in my heart I love you. Michael, I’m ready . . .”

  Connie slipped off her clothes, revealing her nakedness to a man for the very first time. After some thorough kissing and foreplay, he laid her soft, perfect frame down on the bed and began to insert his manhood inside her. At first she winced and then whispered, “Ssssss . . . ouch!” The more Michael eased inside of her she grimaced in pain. Gently, he rocked his body against hers as she cried out. Soon, the loud screams that escaped her mouth scared him. But no matter how painful it felt, Connie still searched for pleasure.

  “I love you, Michael . . . Please, Michael. It hurts sooo bad. Ooooh, Mike, stop!” she begged. His narrowed brows showed his confusion as he tried to get up, but she dug her nails deep into his back and pulled him closer. This was his first time ever being with a virgin, but also his first time being in love.

  After a long session of lovemaking, Connie experienced an orgasm for the first time. Then she lay in Michael’s arms and they cuddled, talking of their future. Connie believed that no one could ever love her like Michael. He too believed the same about her.

  With something special on his mind, Michael got up and started to dress.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I left something in the car. I’ll be right back,” he responded as he slipped his shoes on.

  “Okay, but hurry up, ’cause I want to do it again.” She grinned.

  “From the way your ass was screaming, I’m not sure if you’re ready for another round yet,” he teased.

  Connie blushed. “Don’t tease me, Michael,” she replied in a whiny voice.

  He smiled and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry, baby. You know I love you,” he said, and then dashed outside to his Cadillac to retrieve the fourteen-karat gold ring he had purchased earlier.

  Michael planned to propose to her while they were walking on the waterfront, but since there had been a change of plans, he felt now was an even better time to pop the question.

  Inside the car, he took one last look at the ring, certain this was indeed the woman he wanted to marry. Although nervous about the outcome, he knew in his heart that he was ready to build a life with Connie. He took a deep breath and exited the car.

  Two unfamiliar faces approaching startled Michael. One dude looked like an old junkie while the other was younger and much bigger. Both were armed with knives.

  “Look here, nigga. We don’t know you, so what the fuck you doin’ ’round here?” the junkie asked, closing in on him. His partner joined him, cutting Michael off from walking away.

  “I’m visiting my girl. What business is it of yours?” Michael asked.

  “Hold up, nigga. I know the fuck you ain’t gettin’ slick outta the mouth, and on top of that, your pretty ass down here fuckin’ one of our bitches. Matter fact, empty your pockets, nigga,” the younger guy said, holding his knife in a striking position.

  “And don’t try nuttin’ stupid,” the junkie said. “I’ll drive this joint in your ass so deep, you’ll be dead before you realize you’ve been hit. Now do what the fuck he said. Hurry up and empty those pockets, nigga.”

  At that very moment, Michael touched the pocket where he had placed the ring and then began to size up the situation. Naw, this shit can’t happen like this, he thought. This
ring belongs to my future wife. I just can’t give it up like that.

  Before he could think of a way to get out of the mess, he felt the knife slash his face. It didn’t hurt much, but the wound felt warm. As the junkie took another swing, Michael ducked and delivered a vicious blow to his nut sack.

  “AHHHH, FUCK!” the junkie yelled, dropping to his knees.

  The other guy attacked Michael from behind and stabbed him in the rib cage. This weakened Michael, but still, he fought back with vengeance. His adrenaline pumped vigorously, allowing him to brawl like a lion in the heat of an attack by hyenas—never backing down and fighting until the bloody end. He turned toward his attacker and delivered a crushing left hook to his chin, followed by a hard right to the jawbone. Having dazed the attacker, Michael grabbed his attacker’s wrist, twisted it, and turned it upward. Instantly, he heard a crack.

  “AHHHH!” the younger guy screamed in pain.

  Michael knew he had broken his attacker’s wrist. When the knife fell to the ground, Michael retrieved it and held up the weapon in anger, now becoming the aggressor. Nothing could hold him back as he plunged the knife deep into the younger guy’s lung, causing him to collapse. He stabbed him at least five more times before turning his attention back to the junkie, who quickly fled the scene.

  Michael looked at the man that he had just killed. He didn’t feel sorry for him, since this man had attacked him first, but Michael did start to feel lightheaded and dizzy. He reached at his side and felt a thick wetness surrounding his wound. Realizing he had lost a lot of blood, Michael quickly fell unconscious.

  By the time Michael woke up from his two-week coma, a bandage covered his face with nineteen butterfly stitches underneath. Also, his right lung had been punctured badly, which required him to undergo a blood transfusion.

  As soon as he regained consciousness, police detectives charged him with second-degree murder. Although Michael was only seventeen, he was still charged as an adult because of the nature of the crime. He wanted to go to trial and argue self-defense, but the prosecutor had an eyewitness who said he only saw Michael stabbing the guy. There was no way he could win. During this same time, he also found out that Connie was pregnant. If he had gone to trial and lost, he would have definitely gotten twenty years to life. So instead, he took his lawyer’s advice and copped seven to twenty-one years.