FICTION: Ice, Dre and the Past That Never Ends
There was a tapping on the front door and, through the shades, a figure stood outside wearing a Kangol hat.
“We’re closed,” Ice yelled.
“Yo OG my fade is getting raggedy. I came too far to look bad in VA.”
It was a New York voice. That hard edge to the words. The taunt rhythm of the cadence. It was a voice quick to feel offense, one prone to verbal violence and trickled to intimidate.
When Ice opened the door a man in his early 30s entered wearing a long white tee- shirt, blue jeans, white sneakers, a diamond cross and a doo rag. Ice quickly closed the door behind DRE and peered out to see if any one else was outside. Dre stood casually in the center of the room.
“Can I help you?” Ice asked his visitor.
Dre took off his doo rag and rubbed his hair.
“My fade is getting messy dog,” Dre replied and then went over to Ice’s chair and made himself comfortable. Ice walked over and studied Dre’s head. “It does look a little unkempt.”
Ice placed the black sheet over Dre’s shoulders and buttoned the clasp around the younger man's neck.
“You want me to carve something in the back?” Ice said with a smile. “Your nickname? A BMW symbol?”
“Come on dog that's some old '80s shit.”
Ice walked over to his barber tools next to the cash register and picked up a straight razor, looking at it briefly, before placing it down and grabbing regular barber clippers. Over his shoulder Ice asked, “Wanna lolli pop?”
“Hell yeah,” Dre said. “Cherry. You got cherry?”
“Yes, I do.”
Ice opened a drawer and pulled out a cherry lolli-pop. He hands it to Dre who quickly pops it his mouth. Ice clicks on the clippers and begins working on the back of Dre's head.
“Have we met before?"
“Yeah dog,” Ice said, “but it was real brief. Back at Eddie’s house. You remember Eddie, right?
“No. No, I don’t."
"My name is Dre. Some people call me Dre Dog. I know you heard of me.”
“What do you want?”
“I'll tell you. Don't you worry about that. But not
right just yet. You scare me a little. I mean you may not have it any more - you may be different now. So before I get to the to the good stuff we need to parlay a minute.
“Parlay? You’re that old huh?”
“I try to keep the best parts of the past. You know
like 'Treat my brother as I treat myself.’"
Ice stops trimming and cuts off the clippers.
“Okay. No more bullshit. Tell me how you found me.”
“One of my cousins goes to school up here. He’s the back up point guard. He posted a picture on Facebook from this joint and you were in the background. I recognized you.”
Ice put down the clippers on the counter and then sits in the chair nearest the door. He puts his head in his hands.
“Ah, dog,” Dre said. “You ain't gonna cry, are you? Shit, you really have become a motherfucking barber.”
Ice raised his head. There was steel in his gaze and venom in his voice.
Ice said, “No, I'm not crying young blood. I'm just trying to figure out where to put the pieces of your body after I've chopped it up.
“Oh."
And with that the two men started laughing, a dark sharing that could presage violence or camaraderie.
“Alight,” D finally said breaking the silence after laughter. “What can I do for you?”
Ice said, “No, you old school know it all motherfucker. You tell me why I came out to the ass end of Virginia?”
“There are only two possible reasons,” Ice replied.
As if on cue Dre pulled a gun out from under his
tee-shirt and said, “This is one reason right here.”
Ice smiled, knowing that he’d peeped the kid’s hold card. If this murder he’d have shot a long time ago. Right now that gun was more a prop than a weapon. He said, “The other would be for me to help you.”
Dre reached into his baggy jeans, pulled out a
brown paper bag from a pocket and tossed it
over to Edge. Inside were $50 and $20s bills wrapped in a rubberbands. Ice looked through the money, handling the bundles like delicate eggs before slipping them back in the bag.
“Young blood,” he said, “if you were here to kill me I'd be dead. That's first of all. Now whatever you want from me this chump change won't get it.”
“That's enough for a barber, dog.”
Ice shrugged, tossed the bag back to EDGE and said, “That may be true. But it is not enough for me to be who I used to be."
“Okay. I need a connect. Someone who can put me back in business for real. I’ve been away a while.
I got family down here so I’m getting back on my feet down here. I used to been truck loads of people down to Virginia Beach. We partied and did business up and down I-95. The local cops
couldn't handle it. We were too black, too strong.
And man you should have seen the booty down there.
Damn. We used to just scoop chickenheads from the beach and, bam, it was bootylicious.”
“Sounds like fun. I remember that era.”
“Shit nigga that was the apex. We rolled from NYC to VA right down I-95 like it was our drive way. It was in VA that I made my connects. I mean I had shit happening in NY, VA and DC. And I'm gonna get it all back. Niggas thought I was through when they caught me on that King Pin shit, but I'm like 'Pac - they may say I'm dead but I keep bringing out new joints.”
“Okay, Prodigal son, that’s all colorful. But what do want from me and how do I benefit?”
“Money,” Dre said. “You hook me up with one of your old connects in Brooklyn and I give you a fee. You may have changed your name but you still know people.”
“Sorry.You don't have enough money now and you won't have enough until you move some weight. But then I have no reason to believe you'll actually pay me.”
“Well, then its not just about money,” Dre said.
“Lots of people in Brooklyn are coming home Ice. A lot people have family you murked.
Ice moved towards Dre and said, “Fear won't move me. I've outlived so many people who wanted me dead that I don't fear death now. You gotta come stronger than that.”
Despite having the gun it was Dre who was intimidated now. Dre was talking shit but there was only one killer in the room and he knew it wasn’t him.
“Alright,” Dre said and slipped the gun back under his belt. “You wanna parlay, lets parlay. Aside from cash money and not telling every vengeful
motherfucker in New York where you at, what the fuck could you want?”
Ice smiled. He walked over to his station, reached into a drawer and pulled out and cigar which he lit as he talked.
“Tomorrow night there’d be a local cop out my entrance to the highway. Well, his name is Bradley and tonight Phil will be sitting alone in a patrol car, holding onto his speed gun trying to snag someone using this town as a short cut. I want
you will go behind the car, aim at the back of his
skull, put two in his dome and then come back here
with his shield so I know you did it. By the time you come back here I'll have you lined up with two prime connects.”
“I didn't come all the way out here to cap a country cop.”
Ice reached under the barber chair and pulls a __ gun from underneath it. “You can use this,” he said. “It's so clean it smells like detergent.”
“If I didn't know any better I'd think you were
expecting me.”
“I've been expecting people like you Dre since before you were born. Any black man who's didn't expect someone like you is already dead. Someone's always coming. A cop. A gangster. A white man with bad intentions. A black man claiming you owe money. A fine woman you shouldn't fuck with. Someone is always coming. Bradley doesn't know who I am but he knows I popped up out of no where a few years back. He knows drugs move up and down from north to south on that highway. At some point some fool like you is gonna get stopped for speeding and I'm gonna be ass out and somehow my name is gonna get mentioned.”
“Nope.”
“What?”
“Nope.”
“What?”
“Nope. That's a nice little rhyme money grip, but
that's not why you want him dead. That's just a
story. I know your there's something else.”
“You are a good little amateur shrink Dre. I’m fucking the cop’s wife.”
“There you go. Now that's a reason. I do him. You do her. I understand that.”
“I was just planning to move him out of the way for but knew I couldn't do it myself. I wanna stay in this town afterwards. You make fun of me bring a barber but I like this life and I like this woman. After all is said and done there's nothing like
having a woman. I went for many years denying myself but that's over. When you walked in that door I said
to myself, “Here's a man in search of a deal.” Your
money and the silence are, as the kids say, all good. But you can set up the rest of my life and I can set up yours.”
“Any pussy in this town for me?”
“Are you a fly ass drug dealer from New York City?”
“Mos def.”
“Then after you do this thing for me just walk around the mall out near the entrance to I-95 with your diamond cross and your doo rag and you'll be beating off little country ass Brittanys and Beyonce's with a stick. Now did we have a deal.”
“Word is bond?” Dre asks.
“Word is bond,” Ice replied.
“So why don’t you finish cutting my hair while we talk details?”
Dre got back in the barber chair and Ice picked up his clippers and began working on his head. If you looked in the window at Abdul’s and didn’t know better it was just a barber and his client talking shit.
Two days later it was way after midnight and the lights in the barbershop were off and the shades were drawn. Dre was stretched out on the floor by the backdoor with a plastic sheet under his body as blood oozed out of his chest. Ice was using a white towel to wipe blood off the floor. He was wearing black khaki pants, a pull over sweater and sneakers wrapped with in plastic bags.
Dre gasped for air and then said “I'm dying man.”
Ice pulled out a bottle of floor cleaner from under his work station and began using a rag to clean spots where blood stains lingered.
“Help me, dog,” Dre said. “Help me.”
Ice continued his cleaning, heedless of Dre’s pleas.
“That bitch ass cop wet me up. Can't believe that shit.”
“You came out here and you found me,” Ice finally said. “That impressed me.”
“You set me up, didn't you? You told him I was coming?”
“Problem was you came to me without humility or cool or respect.
You didn't come to make a deal. You came to blackmail
me. 'Treat my brother as I treat myself.' If you had
come from a place like that, well, this might have worked out for you.”
“I will kill you, nigga.”
Ice looked pretty satisfied with his work. Pretty clean. He’d even swept up hair from the head’s cut earlier that night. He’d miss the place but moves had to be made. Ice walked over to where Dre lay and put a gloved hand over the dying man’s mouth. Dre struggled but there was very little strength left in his body. As he wrapped Dre’s body in the plastic and dragged it out the backdoor and towards a rented car. This cover was blown. This part of his life was over. He didn’t know what was next, but it sure wouldn’t involve cutting hair.