Greenway Gorillaz

By Victor L. Berry

Vi a young African American boy grew up too fast. Intrigued by the fast life and glamour his cousin Fly lived who was in the drug trade, his Uncles Rome, Burlow and Chill were successful in the Street Lottery (Number Racketeering) business backed by two different Italian Familys. The car, money, Jewelry, women, and clothes had him captivated. The aurora and respect they obtained made Vi want to live as they did.
There was only one problem the Italians they werent in bed with wanted Chill and Rome dead and out of their territory because they were taking a great portion of their money and business. The brothers backing only went so far because of their race and a rogue family began to give the brothers trouble causing a war between the blacks and Italians. By now Vi was rolling with his uncles at the age of thirteen, he had a strong group of young shooters and Chill wanted Vi and his squad with him. Vi catchs a aggravated assault charge and Gun charge. while away Rome is killed by a black hit man sent by the rogue Italians.
When Vi return from his juvenile incarceration he find out that his Uncle Rome had been killed and no one bothered to tell him. Not only did they not tell him but they laid Rome to rest while he was away. Vi feels betrayed and hurt that his own family would do such a thing. He unleashes hell in Philly against the Italians, their hitmen, anyone trying to hinder his objective and that may have had a hand in his uncle Romes demise.
Victor L. Berry

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 19, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524542924

Victor L. Berry

My name is Victor Berry and unpublished Author looking to break into the industry with your help. Greenway Gorillaz should be published by your company because it is a believable Fiction that anyone can relate to. It’s not about somebody moving a thousand kilo’s of drug in a week or month still living in the hood. It’s about a boy being influenced and steered by what he saw his family do. This book will take you on a fast paced journey through a war with the Italian’s and African American’s for street number/ Lottery territory which is never really spoke about. It’s a grimy thriller from the bottom of the street’s of Philadelphia this tale will captivate it’s reader’s because they can identify with the struggles. Vi lives through it all and is turned out by the street life. When starting out the character just wanted to get some fast money but in the streets it’s never that easy. Before Vi know it he is in too deep and there’s no turning back for him. As he ages the year’s fly by and all he know is the streets. He has nothing to fall back on, no schooling or training so that he could live a productive life. I’ve read a lot of Novel’s and some of them are so identical that they are not identifiable because they don’t differ. It’s all entertainment but I wanted to show the true nature of the average hustler just tryna get by. Additionally I have two other sequel’s in addition to an erotic Novel which I’m done with. Thank you for your time, help and consideration. Thank you, Victor L. Berry

Book preview

Prologue

Five o’clock a.m., Vi was shaken in his sleep. Furniture was being thrown around two rooms away. There was loud yelling, but it was all muffled. Just a child no older than seven could tell that whatever was going on was serious. Curious, he got out the bed, stepping slowly out his room. Reaching the hall, there were blood trails coming up the stairs, going into the bathroom and into his uncle Burlow’s room.

I ain’t given you shit! a man yelled.

Vi could make out the voice. It was his uncle Burlow. But what was going on? There was always loud parties; this was different.

The only way you gettin’ this gun is if Rome tell me to give it to you! he hollered.

Fuck that! You suppose to be my brother! This nigga Micko shot me! Look at my fuckin’ leg! I’d never turn my back on you! Burlow’s brother Chill screamed.

Well, I can’t …

Before he could finish his sentence, Chill threw a sloppy jab, catching Burlow square on the jaw. Burlow hit the floor, and Chill jumped on top of him, swinging wildly. Burlow grabbed Chill, pulling him down, as Vi stood in the doorway, watching his uncles fight. Somehow, Burlow managed to get on his feet. He grabbed Chill, slinging him across the room. Chill folded up on the other side of the bed, but Burlow wasn’t done. Burlow stood about 5'10 and weighed 240 pounds; he was masculine from working out. Chill was 6'2 and weighed only 190 pounds at best. He was scrawny and frail without a muscle on his body.

Jumping over the bed, Burlow landed on Chill, snatching him by his leather collar. He bashed Chill’s face and body perfusciously.

I told you to wait until he called and tell me to give you the gun, he hollered, bashing his brother’s face.

Chill was dazed and unresponsive. Burlow got up, grabbed the chrome .357 out the closet, and ran into the back room.

Carmody, put this up until Rome get here, he told Vi’s mother.

No, I am not getting in the middle of that shit or touching that gun.

If you don’t, Chill is gonna do something stupid. Please, I don’t wanna hurt our brother anymore.

Just hurry up and put it in the ceiling before he come back here, Carmody said.

Vi walked into the room, catching his uncle jump off the bed. He already had seen the gun, but why was his family fightin’ over it? Standing there, Burlow brushed past him, going down the hall, when Chill stepped into the room. His face was bloody, eyes were swollen, and he walked with a limp. Chill had the eyes of death, and his thick eyebrows made him look crazy when he was mad.

Car, give me the gun. I seen him bring it back here.

He didn’t give me anything. I don’t know what he did with it, so take it up with him, she snarled, mad that they had her in the middle of their nonsense.

Bitch, I’m gone tell you one last time. Give me the fuckin’ gun. Or I’m gone tear this room up!

I don’t have it. You need to stop wakin’ my kids up and get out.

Chill drew his hand back, slapping Carmody with all his might. It was a cowardly move because he tried that shit with Burlow and got his ass whipped. Burlow, by now, had gone into his room, locking the door, leaving his sister to fend for herself. Vi ran to his mother’s aid, hitting Chill in the leg he’d been shot. He turned around, shoving him to the floor like a rag doll, but he popped back up like a spring.

Take ya li’l ass back to sleep! Chill shouted.

I ain’t gone nowhere. Leave my mommy alone, bitch.

Chill couldn’t believe the little motherfucker. What did he expect? He watched them on the regular doing things a child should never witness.

Leave him alone. You gone push ya goddamn nephew on the ground like that. If you touch either of us again, I’m calling the cops!

I don’t give a fuck about no cops. Just give me what I want, and I’m gone.

Carmody didn’t know what to do. She didn’t like to see her brother like this, but she couldn’t give him the gun. She already promised Burlow she wouldn’t. Holding her ground was all she could do.

I don’t know where it’s at. If you wanna tear the room, do it, but leave me and my kids out of it. I’m gone downstairs.

With the speed of lightning, Chill gripped her neck as she went to walk by. He squeezed with everything left in his body.

Tell me where the gun at! Where is it? Goddamn it! he yelled, shaking her violently.

Carmody fought to get his hands off her. He was too strong. Vi watched, and when his mother’s face started turning colors, she gasped for air; he ran out the room.

Letting her go, he asked again, Are you gone tell me?

Chill, I don’t know where it’s at, she sniffled.

He wrapped his hands back around her neck.

Running back up the stairs, Vi returned, and all he could see was Chill towering over his mother, who was now on the floor. Vi knew he was no match for his uncle, but he could definitely bring him down to his size. He inched closer and closer, taking his time not to alert him. Chill had no idea. Vi would do anything to protect his mom. He raised the steak knife with his little arms, using both hands. Vi brought the knife down, plunging it into his uncle’s back. Raising it again, he stabbed him two more times until his blood squirted everywhere.

Chill fell over, holding himself. Vi stood over him with his hands in the air, ready to take another stab. The look in his young eyes was dark. He had snapped and was stuck in his position, waiting for Chill to make another move. All he could see was Chill.

Carmody finally got to her feet and took hold of her son. She took the knife from his fingers. His baby face was bloody and balled up. Chill looked at Vi, he could tell there was something wrong with him because his eyes never left him. Vi had blacked out. Chill got back to his feet, and Carmody took off running, with the knife in her hand. Vi blocked Chill’s path as he stumbled to get by. He mushed Vi’s face, sending him flying into the television. The TV hit the floor, and Vi took off behind them.

Carmody ran to the front door to find the key wasn’t in it. It was one of those double locks you needed a key to get in and out if the top lock was on. Chill must’ve took it, she thought and took off running toward the kitchen. She ran into the backyard, screaming for help. She made it to the gate. It was locked, so she tried climbing it.

Help me! Help me! Somebody call the police! she yelled.

Where were all those nosy neighbors that were in their windows 24-7 when you needed them? Carmody inched up the gate, oblivious to Chill behind her. He snatched her off, sending her body bouncing on the ground.

I told you, give me the fuckin’ gun. It could’ve been over.

Chill raised his hand once more, but Vi was tired of his shit. He had picked up a four by four from the side of the yard. Carmody sat down on the ground and balled up. Chill went to strike her but was stopped short when Vi took a swing with the four by four, cracking him in the knees. He continued hitting Chill until he was on the ground. When Chill fell, he beat his back and legs and gave him a shot to the head. Chill’s blood began leaking down his face as he looked at his nephew.

That’s enough, baby, Carmody said, getting back up.

Together, they went into the house, locking Chill in the yard. What she didn’t know was, all the violence, trauma, and watching their wild lifestyle had taken a hold of her boy, and he’d never be the same.

Carmody reached the front of the house just as her mother was coming through the door.

What the hell happened to that boy? she screamed, seeing Vi covered in blood.

Chill done went crazy. He came in fightin’ Burlow because he wouldn’t give him Rome’s gun, then he came in my room, putting his hands on me and Vito.

Where the hell is he at?

I locked him in the yard.

Granny went to open the back door and found Chill sitting on the steps, leaking from the gash in the back of his head from the four by four.

You gotta get out of my house. You don’t come back here until you get some sense, beating on my grandson. Get da fuck out now. I can’t come home from work to a peaceful house. It’s always some shit with y’all!

Chill dragged his bloody, beaten, and bruised body through the house and out the door. He got into his Lincoln and drove to the hospital. On his trip to the hospital, he couldn’t stop thinking about his nephew. He’d seen himself in Vito, but it was worse. Chill made a note to sit down with him, since his father wasn’t around. He knew it was wrong, what he had done to his sister and nephew. He was disgusted of the animallike way he behaved toward his family, vowing to never do it again.

Chapter 1

A Little Man

Hey, little Vi. What you doin’ out there? Rat asked.

Come in here with us! his uncle Burlow shouted, sitting on the bed, with his crew seated all around him.

Vi was sitting on the hallway floor, watching every move they made. He was exposed to everything from drugs, sex, guns, murder, and anything illegal. At the age of seven, he had already witnessed more murder and mayhem than an average fifty-year-old man.

Vi grew up in Southwest Philly, among an older sister and countless cousins. The neighborhood wasn’t particularly bad or worse as other areas in the city, but it was just as ruthless and the heart of some of the well-known gangstas from the Junior Black Mafia and more. Vi grew up around Fifty-First and Fifty-Second street, Woodland and Greenway Avenue, which was no different from any other part of the hood.

Vi got up, walked in his uncle’s room, and took a seat on the floor. Rat looked at Chill and passed Vi a stick of the gangsta they were smoking. He looked at the stick as Chill took a hit of the weed and did the same thing. He had seen it done on many occasions and had smoked twice before. Vi inhaled the weed. His little lungs were filled with smoke, and he choked on the weed. He passed the spliff back. The men started laughing and joking how he was a little grown-ass man.

I gotta pee! Vi hollered.

Well, get cha li’l ass up and go to the bathroom. Chill laughed.

Vi got up as they watched LL Cool J’s I’m Bad video on the jukebox. While their attention was on the TV, Vi picked up Chill’s beer and went into the bathroom to do his own thing. No one had seen him pick up the beer, and he ducked off into the bathroom.

Which one of y’all took my beer? Chill asked.

Man, ain’t nobody took your shit. We got our own beer, Vi replied.

Vito! Burlow called out, looking in the hallway, but there was no sight of Vi and no answer.

Vi was held up against the wall, swaying back and forth, tipsy. Sitting in the corner, he watched the door swing open, but he couldn’t move. He tried focusing, his sight was too impaired. Chill walked into the bathroom and caught Vi wobbling around.

Give me my goddamn beer, you li’l thief, Chill said, taking the alcohol from him. Vi got up and clumsily followed his uncle back into the room.

That li’l nigga took my beer and was in there guzzling my shit, talkin’ ’bout he had to pee. Y’all should’ve seen his ass noddin’ and sipping at the same damn time.

You might as well let the li’l muthafucka have the shit now, Rat added.

* * *

The years were flying by for Vi, and it was now 1989 when it all began to change for him. It was a nice fall day as Vi, Lil, and Sneak sat on the steps, kicking it. As they conversated among one another, Magician’s burgundy Jeep Cherokee pulled up, sitting on gold BBS rims. No one could see who was driving because of the dark tint until Chill hopped out. The three boyz jumped up and ran over to the Jeep.

What y’all doing out here? Chill asked.

We just kickin’ it, they all responded.

When Vi looked at the leather interior, he could see the JBM emblem stitched into the seats. Chill had his Alpinos on and a black leather trench coat.

Y’all wanna take a ride with me?

Yeah, the boyz said happily and jumped in the car. Lil got in the front seat; Sneak and Vi got in the back. Where we gone at, Unc? Vi asked.

We gone downtown [South Philly] to pick some money up. After that, I’m gone take y’all down Geno’s to get some steaks.

The boyz knew that gone downtown to pick money up, meant street-number/lottery money.

Vi had ridden with both of his uncles many times to pick up money all over the city, and every time, they always did something nice for him. Sometimes they would give him money and jewelry, and there were a few times they surprised him, taking him shopping or getting some type of motorized vehicle. Lil got the same treatment from his family, and Sneak was never far behind. Although they were a few years older than Vi, he could hang with the best of them.

Vi’s uncles Chill and Rome had number stores all over the city, and they were locked into some of the well-known Italian mob bosses. On top of that, they were in cahoots with JBM, and they were making all the money. They were into extortion and drugs mostly, but some of them had legit businesses. If you weren’t down with the M, they were coming for you, when they came, you got down or laid down literally. When niggas saw the cars with JBM on the front or rear license plate, niggas got in the wind or cut them checks. You could never run too far because niggas and bitches knew not to cross them and would give you up for a small price.

The Jeep cruised through the city, bumpin’ Paid In Full by Eric B. and Rakim. All eyes were on the Jeep as they slid down Oregon Avenue in South Philly. Chill pulled the car over at the corner of Ninth Street, got out, and walked to the hatch.

Y’all stay in the truck until I call y’all, he demanded, lifting a blanket up as the boyz watched him.

Y’all seen that? Sneak asked.

If y’all see somebody trying to come in behind me, hit the horn, Chill said, tucking the chrome riot pump under his trench coat.

We got you, they replied out of rhythm.

Those were Chill’s last words as he spun around and walked off toward a building a few feet from the car.

That shit was nice. I ain’t never seen no chrome pump before. Lil smiled.

Vi just sat there, not saying a word. His mind was thinking of what was to come in the next few minutes.

Using his fist, Chill pounded on the door a few times, seconds later, the door flew open. A six-foot, dark-haired Italian man stood in the doorway as Chill whipped the pump out, slamming the butt into the man’s face. The Italian crashed against the floor leaving the door swinging freely. Chill entered the store and was caught by surprise as another man came from behind the door with a baseball bat, swinging wildly. The first strike nearly took Chill’s head off, but he was too fast. He spun around and let off two shots at the Italian’s chest and stomach, sending him flying across the room. The pellets ripped through the man’s stomach and chest, making spaghetti out of the pasta-eating linebacker. His guts sprayed against the wall, and there was a hole where his stomach used to be. It looked as if someone had taken a pot of spaghetti and threw it against the wall.

Hurry up, come on, Chill ushered, coming to the door, with the gun visible.

For a while, Vi was paralyzed in the backseat, but the action excited him. Lil and Sneak got out the Jeep.

Come on, Vito, let’s go, Lil huffed.

Vi got out the Jeep and followed them in.

Find that trash bag. It’s full of money, and I’m gone break y’all off, Chill barked out orders.

Vi looked at the dead man and thought about the money he was gone get from his uncle if he found the bag. He had been exposed to more than Sneak and Lil because their families kept them shadowed. But Vi’s family kept him in the midst of their daily drama.

The boys tore up the place and only came up with a few thousand of the day’s take and some money the dead guys had in their possession.