The Commission: A Hip Hop Interpretation of the Mafia

Chapter 1

Coming Up

..Damn right I like the life I live, cause I went from negative to positive…                                   Notorious B.I.G- Juicy

Barry

NAW FUCK THAT! Ain’t nobody going to fight anybody up in here! You feel me? Barry said standing in-between Derrick and Kool K in the hallway outside the locker room. At Madison High School, it was more than just tension- but resentment due to the cluster of students from different neighborhoods near and far from the actual school district.

Kool K was from a neighborhood composed of Crips who called theselves the Four Deuce Crips. Derrick on the other hand was from Turner Court projects and everybody knew what he was about, gangbanging. He was with a doubt a Blood and known to shoot people.

Now I don’t care who said what, we’re going to have practice and when practice is over with, won’t nobody be waiting to get back at anybody, Barry said looking to both of the young men as they stood on opposite sides facing one another with their crews ready to throw down. Barry was the only dude that could settle beefs that he wasn’t involved in himself. He was the only person that knew so many people if not through his cousin Ronnie, to be able to talk sense into other people. Whether he had helped someone in another instance or he was a close friend of the people he was dealing with, dudes that knew little of him would listen to Barry because he was always serious, and his word was his bond.

Alright Barry, that chump gets a pass this time. Derrick said as he composed himself while looking from Kool K then to Barry It’s only because you’re my homie that me and my crew will roll out of here instead of rolling on that sucker. Derrick said as he simulated shooting a gun with his fingers at Kool K.

Barry knew that Kool K was a Crip indeed but he wasn’t a killer. Derrick, on the other hand, was expelled from Lincoln High School, and he often ran with Ronnie. It was without a doubt to anyone what Barry cousin Ronnie was about.

As Derrick’s crew exited out the hallway, Kool K crew left out the opposite direction as Kool K himself followed Barry and the rest of the varsity team players into the locker room for practice.

The only junior at James Madison High School who was starting as a varsity running back and next in line to be the team captain was Barry McCoy. Barry got along with the classmates that were older than him and was respected by those his age because of how he treated everyone.

Although Barry spoke very little if any, street hustlers and players from what seemed like every neighborhood naturally took a liking to Barry. Half the people he knew were by way of his cousin Ronnie and the other half he knew already because he had gotten them out of trouble at one time or another.

His peers looked to him as a negotiator to settle disputes so they would die down or just blow over. The student body president even created and gave Barry the title of class mediator, for students in detention and in-school suspension.

Donell, Barry’s younger brother, was not quite the same emerging image of his brother let alone his cousin Ronnie. Donell on the other hand, was more charming in the aspect of dealing with women. When it came to his female counterparts, Donell had more than his share. Although he was exceptionally talented when it came to playing basketball, he was serious only when the time required him to be. Voted best dressed in his class, he had established his reputation to be an eye-catching and smooth gentleman of leisure early. Although he wasn’t as serious as his brother Barry, Donell dealt less with people in the same circle as Barry and more with people involved in the party scene along with his best friend Stanley.

Come on now son, you got to think faster. Dave said urging his son on to continue thinking ahead in the intense chess game between the two.

These are the type of situations you have to be ready for.

You may not see it clearly yet, but life is all about thinking ahead- faster than the next man. You’re a natural born leader in the pack, and with that being said, the only thing more important than the decisions you make are the timing that you choose to make them in… . Life is just like this game.

I hear what you’re saying, but I’m out numbered, with no defense. Barry said looking at his black chess figures slightly agitated at how he let his bishops, queen and pawns get taken away so quickly.

See about fifteen minutes ago, you were hitting that clock at the drop of a dime thinking it was about getting somewhere fast- but it’s not. It’s about winning, getting to the finish line when the timing is right, no matter what the obstacles are.

Ohh shit! Study long, study wrong bro, Donell shouted from across the basketball court observing his older brother play their dad.

As Dave used his King and Queen to control the center, Barry was forced to slowly move further back on the board to stay in the game. Dave on the other hand, knew all along he would check mate Barry; he just wanted to watch to see if Barry would give up when he was losing.

TIC TIC TIC… . Dave used his Queen to checkmate Barry King as that was his final move that brought the game to an end.

Damn bro, you’re getting better. I remember when you couldn’t even last five minutes against pops in chess.

As Ronnie and Stanley walked over to the table closer where Barry sat frustrated and alone, Ronnie’s eyes met Barry’s before he spoke to him-

Bro you can’t beat yourself up, I mean you’re good for your age, but Dave is like an unofficial Grandmaster cuz.

Even though Ronnie’s statement was meant to be uplifting in terms of a teenager playing against someone twice his age, Barry just shook his head still deep in thought in his own world.

Forget being the best against everyone my age, I want to be the best period.

Pop’s disability check from the V.A., along with his truck driving earnings and mom’s measly check from nursing, income was just enough to stay in what was in my eyes middle class. Our dad was once temporally paralyzed from being shot in his back due to friendly fire while serving in Korea. While in the process, when they discharged him, and he arrived back in the states, he had a full recovery.

I figured our dad made his money from truck driving, although I couldn’t figure out why our dad would run errands in the middle of the night. Dad often would work on call jobs the majority of the time. I always believed that it was because of these extra odd jobs that really helped us stay ahead. Mom would get upset at him sometimes, but Donnie and I wouldn’t understand why—I mean it was his job.

As time quickly passed by, the evening skies grew pitch black while Donell and I showered and got ready for the night’s dinner. I could smell the Crisco cooking grease frying Mom’s homemade recipe fried chicken when the fumes and flavored filled aroma lit the kitchen, living room and hallways. Mom turned over and whipped the garlic-mashed potatoes until they were smooth and firm before lightly sprinkling pepper over the top. She then turned the crock-pot down to low, allowing the collard greens to simmer so it would be ready when we came to eat.

When I would take the time to think about it, our mom was more of a contempt and conservative woman. She loved just being a mother and a wife. She would cook meals early in the mornings and always make sure my brother and I would have a meal prepared when we came home. She even would make a plate and set them aside for our dad no matter how late he would come home- not to mention one for our cousin Ronnie who didn’t stay with us.

As I went ahead of Donell to begin eating, I was overjoyed about going out tonight with all the seniors we went to high school with. Ronnie was headed over to get my brother and me to go see the new movie Menace II Society. He had the hook up and knew someone at the ticket booth in which we could get tickets to rated R movies without showing our ID’s.

And just like clockwork, as my brother and I slapped boxed in the front lawn, Ronnie rolled down the street in his 1985 Chevrolet two-door Caprice turning down our street making wide turns. I couldn’t help but smile at him as he had his windows rolled halfway down blasting Eazy-E Nobody Move.

Chapter 2

A Rude Awakening

Man sometimes you got to fight for what’s yours… You know how that shit goes…                               Simon—Blue Hill Avenue

Barry

I REMEMBER WHEN I went to Mr. Blues record shop on Martin Luther King Street, and the owner Mr. James wouldn’t sell me a copy of the Mystikal cassette tape Unpredictable. That was a day I’d never forget.

It has way too much cursing in it and even though you’re a junior or senior in high school, that album will have too much poison going throughout your ears, Mr. James said all the while sitting comfortably behind the counter with his arms folded.

I was pissed off, to say the least, because I had my own allowance money, and my brother did too.

I know ya’ll daddy. He’s a man that goes by rules, and you got to be breaking one by coming up in here asking for that album. I ought to tell him how you’re standing there eyeballing me like you’ve never been taught to respect your elders.

Are you even sure you want that album? What do you know about what he raps? How are you going to relate? If I was ya’ll daddy I wouldn’t let you listen to it.

As I turned from Donell back around to face Mr. James, he began talking fast as if he was trying to defend his reasoning. Hell, your hoodlum cousin Ronnie already run around this city acting like he’s C-Murder.

Many people were afraid to say what they thought about Ronnie to his face because of his reputation for violence, but he would always tell me and Donell that we were more like the brothers he wished he had and for that he always had our back, right or wrong.

Alright, whatever man.

When I would think of how my dad kept a tight hold of me and my brother as far as our coming and goings went, I felt as though he did so because we were his kids and his responsibility, while Ronnie wasn’t.

Donnie was an instigator as well as a ladies’ man. He was light skinned with curly hair and stood taller than I at six feet and two inches. He was one of the best at playing basketball the city had ever seen.

Coming home, I couldn’t help but notice our neighbors houses compared to ours. Our dad always had my brother and I doing things to our house on the weekends like painting the house and planting flowers in the front yard.

Standing in the driveway, I seen our Dad’s friend Mr. Melvin leaning up against the side of his truck listening to Rick James’ Ghetto Life, while at the same time talking to our dad as he cleaned his car tires.

Yo pops what’s up?

Hey Donnie son, what’s happening?

The more my mom told me, the more I began to see it for myself that just like my dad was always serious, so was I. And just like I didn’t joke around much, our dad’s no nonsense demeanor showed in his attitude.

When I thought about it, my dad didn’t say he loved us much, but at the same time he didn’t have to say it that much in my book because he showed us during the valuable time we spent together. That’s how I knew he loved us.

Boy what’s the matter, someone bothering you and you’re debating on getting back at them?

"Naw daddy, haven’t no one punked me, it’s just that Mr. James was trying to play me and Donnie at the record store today, saying how we couldn’t buy a C-Murder cassette tape because he knew you and if he was our dad…"

Wa wa wait a fucking minute,

"Did you just tell me he said if he was yo daddy?"

Ye yeah that’s what he said. I caught myself stuttering because dad hated to hear us stutter.

Dad detested people that stuttered soo much that he would tell my brother and I that a man who stutters is lying or has something to hide. He would even go as far as to say that a man born with a speech impediment was born a coward ass liar and we shouldn’t trust him.

Now why in the hell are you stuttering?

I don’t know.

Mothafucka don’t know me, Dad said in a deep raspy tone.

Donnie go behind the T.V. in the living room and get my magnum.

And you… Get the hell in the front seat.

Once Donell began walking down the steps with Dad’s gun in his hand, our neighbor Mr. Fred looked on while grinning from ear to ear at the sight he was seeing.

You’re using your son’s as your muscle men know Big Dave?

With his back to Mr. Fred, pops stood halfway in his car about to shut it when he froze as if he was playing Simon Says. Dad only turned his head to him, and stared Mr. Fred down with a fierce stare on his face. Clenching his teeth, I could have sworn he was about to utter mothafucka but he just stared instead.

Dad stared him down soo hard and long without blinking that Mr. Fred looked away. He looked over his shoulder just to see his next-door neighbors Mr. and Mrs. Walker watching the whole thing. They looked as if Mr. Fred was a living ghost.

"Does he really know what he just did?" I could lip read Mrs. Walker saying.

Mr. Fred then looked toward his Buick LaSabre and nervously fumbled his keys, as he struggled to put them in the keyhole because he knew he had spoken out of line. Dad then lit up a Black and Mild, and pulled the clutch of the BMW from reverse to drive as we cruised down the street. We then proceeded into traffic as Scarface You Don’t Hear Me Doe echoed through Dad’s speakers as he stared off into traffic in a world of his own.

I stared outside the window while thinking back to what it was that made Mr. and Mrs. Walker stop having their conversation just to look over and see what would happen next? What did Mr. Fred know about my father that we didn’t?

There was something about our dad that made me second guess if driving trucks was all he really did for a living. Like at times when my brother and I went to the meat packing house on Malcolm X Boulevard, and how our or order would already be ready, and sat aside for us no matter how busy it was in the store.

Our first cousin Ronnie was always in the streets robbing banks and stealing cars from the better side of town for drug dealers. He was getting into shootouts and robbing banks with dudes who were already out of school. Ronnie would even go as far as to bring my dad back merchandise from rip offs he had done. He would bring my dad back boxes of Black and Mild cigarettes, Sunday papers, and colognes for my brother and I. One evening Donell asked Ronnie what secret he knew about our dad that we didn’t. Ronnie just stared off into space and said-

"Your pops is the man."

Believe me when I tell you…. He keep’s people in line.

As we turned into the parking lot, pedestrians were coming and going from the liquor store, while players were trying to spit their game at the women making their way about. Shade covered the entire pavement when dad turned the music down and took off his Ray Ban sunglasses.

Wait here and watch the car okay. Dad instructed Donell.

You got it.

What did you want out of here by the way?

Uhmm… The NWA Straight Outta Compton.

Alright this is how it’s going to go, Dad said turning to me pointing his index finger.

I’m going to do all the talking. You only talk when I nod in your direction giving you the okay.

Alright then,

I had never seen our dad straighten someone out in person. Up until now, I had just heard of neighbors referring to Donell and myself as Big Dave sons. I even heard Ronnie talking about our dad as if he was as a tough gangster on the down low.

As soon as dad opened his car door, and placed one leg on the pavement while slowly rising to his feet, a dude wearing a leather trench coat noticed him. Appearing to be my dads’ age, the joy that came over him reminded me of a little kid. He was very sharply dressed, as he had a perfectly shaped afro, shining jewelry and some sharp brown alligator dress shoes.

My main man, Big Dave, he said holding both his arms in the air.

Sammie, what’s going on with you nowadays?

Shit brotha I can’t call it, just trying to take care of me and mines.

Gimme one of your men at this entrance for fifteen minutes.

While watching Sammie instruct the older guy to stand by the double entry burglar bar glass doors, I looked at my dad while he finished his Black and Mild like the world waited on him. Then I looked toward the ongoing rush hour traffic and realized something that would stick with me for the rest of my life.

There’s always something going on at all times, the question is if you’re a part of it.

Dad then nodded in Mr. James direction for me to follow. As the door flew open, dad strolled into Mr. James shop very relaxed and swiftly as if he’d done this a hundred