Capital City by Omar Tyree

Author:Omar Tyree
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2015-12-22T16:00:00+00:00

Shank

I only read a couple of chapters of Maya Angelou’s book so far, and I can’t see what the hell my mom has it for. I mean, Maya Angelou grew up in the South. My mom lived in Jersey all her damn life! The only comparison I can make is that they’re both black women. But that ain’t nothing! It’s a lot of books by black women.

Anyway, I’ve been hanging out with these silly niggas that Butterman got working for him. I guess he scared of having me with him now after beat down that boy Bean. Fuck it though! As long as I’m still getting my grand every Monday, I don’t give a fuck!

I’m trying to get Otis ready though, just in case we have to take care of some motherfuckers. But he’s all right. I’m just trying to make sure he don’t punk out on us. And that boy Wes? I don’t know about you’n. mean, he just been hanging around us instigating shit and asking questions like he gon’ write a story or something. He’d probably call the shit Niggas in the East Coast ’Hood.

I know Butterman bought Wes that Acura, too. I ain’t fucking stupid! I mean, how this nigga just gon’ pop up out the blue and roll around us in a brand-new Integra. Something ain’t right about that shit. If he wasn’t hanging around us I wouldn’t be thinking about it. But since he is, there has to be some connection between him and Butterman. But I know that motherfucker Wes ain’t selling no drugs. He don’t seem like the type.

I get dressed in some springtime clothes because it’s almost April now. It’s getting warmer outside. I throw on my blue Calvins, a white Polo shirt, and my green jacket. It ain’t wintertime no more, so I ain’t trying to wear all black. That shit is hot as a motherfucker when it gets warm. But yo, you still got these bamma-ass young’uns out here wearing that all-black gear.

I jump on an 82 bus and ride down Rhode Island. I get off and walk my regular way under the Metro bridge, past McDonald’s and past the bank to catch a G bus at the corner of Fourth and Rhode Island Northeast.

“Hey, main man, I got some cologne,” this tall, skinny nigga asks me. He pulls out several small bottles from his tan jacket.

“Naw, I’on wear dat shit.”

He smiles at me, wearing some dingy-ass clothes. “You need to, main man, ’cause the women out here love good-smellin’ mens, especially when it gets warm.”

How da hell you know what women like, you homeless-lookin’ muthafucka?

I stand at the bus stop and lean up against the glass walls that surround the bus stop’s bench. It ain’t that many people out here riding the buses yet. I guess it is kind of early for niggas on a Saturday. It’s only like eleven o’clock. But we got customers coming down from Maryland and Virginia to make buys now. So we have to do business early sometimes to avoid all these nosy motherfuckers.

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