Page 14 of Genesis
Danny
2003
Buses with black smoke roll down the streets as kids with no home training play on the sidewalks. We turn left, and as soon as we stop, I reach in the back, taking hold of the iron wrench and pulling at the bottom of my hoodie as I hop out of my 1996 Impala.
“Hey, white boy, this isn’t your side of town.”
I smile at the man who’s at least seven feet tall. He doesn’t know it, but his face is about to be fucked up. With Johnny at my back, I jump up, removing the wrench at the same time. As I swing my arm upward, the hard iron meets his face and I hear bones crush. It brings him to his knees, and I continue slamming into his head while he tries to cover himself.
Blood splatters and I wipe my sleeve across my forehead. His boy runs out of the store, and Johnny takes care of him as the man in front of me slumps down.
“May the cat eat you and the devil eat the cat.” I spit beside him. “Tell Warren this is his last warning. Get off our streets.” I signal for Johnny to come on. I toss the iron wrench in the back floorboard and we climb into the Impala and ride out.
Passing run-down streets and buildings that need an update, I grab a smoke and run my hand through my hair. “Fucking Warren and his crew selling cut heroine on our street corner. He knows that’s against the rules. He’s giving these people dope that’s mostly latex, underselling Moretti so they’ll buy from him instead. So, when they do buy from Moretti, they’re doubling up their dose and fucking overdosing. It’s a shit show.”
“He doesn’t give a shit,” Johnny says.
“Well, he’s fucking with the wrong people.”
“I know,” Johnny says. “But you know what we did back there is going to come with repercussions.”
“Let them motherfuckers come,” I say.
“Yo, Danny,” someone yells and I lift my chin at a group of kids as I light my cigarette. Time has a way of changing you. Time has a way of changing everything.
It’s been five years since we burned down Johnny’s house. Five years of growing up and understanding more about the streets.
After we walked into Moretti’s shop, things started to change for Johnny and me. We told him about Johnny’s situation.
“You burned the man up in the house?” Moretti asked.
“Yeah,” Johnny replied with his hands in his pockets.
I remember the hard look Moretti had on his face, and then he looked at the two men who occupied the room with us. Out of nowhere they all started laughing.
I didn’t know what was so damn funny, and the way Johnny looked at me, he didn’t either.
But the look on Moretti’s face was pride. He was proud of us.
“You two got some balls,” he said. “Wouldn’t you say, Nugget?” he asked one of the men at the door.
This guy had a gold tooth right in the center of his mouth. It’s like his teeth were all out of whack or something and he was always smiling, which made it stand out even more. The joke was the tooth was so big it looked like an actual gold nugget, hence the nickname.
We were never alone with Moretti. There were always at least two men inside his office with suits on just like him. Shiny shoes and gold rings on their fingers. They never wore the same suit twice. It fucking amazed me. I wanted that type of money. I wanted that kind of life.
I didn’t invent the type of world where gangsters ruled the streets and carried thick bills in their pockets, but hell, if I was going to live in it, I was going to have my fucking share. If this meant climbing a ladder, stepping on top of a few people while going up, then so be it.
“I’d say,” Nugget replied to Moretti. “How old are you kids, anyway?”
“Thirteen,” I spoke up.
“Geesh,” the other guy said, more to himself.
He was taller than Nugget. His hair was turning silver and it didn’t match his face. He seemed too young for gray hair.
“How’d you do it?” Moretti asked us.
“Moonshine,” I replied.
