The Whirlwind

The Ordinary World:

I just wanted to get out of the game.

I was tired of it. It was January and it was cold. I was out there on the block, looking after my crew, wishing I was back at the crib with the heat turned up watching some ESPN or some shit. But we all gotta make a living. Alejandro and Luis were out there and my cousin Santino texted me to say he was on his way. Just another day. The customers came and went, the police rolled past and the old ladies gave me their nasty looks. They aint stupid. They know what’s up.

I was tired of it all.

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The Call To Adventure:

“Hey yo, Nestor. I told you I’d see you when I get out. Guess what, pendejo? I’m out.”

When Mateo shot me in the chest with his 9mm I was just drinking coffee from a paper cup and working my boys out there on 181st Street right by the steps leading down to the A Train. It’s a good spot. We catch that workaday foot traffic when peoples be comin’ back home, plus the local junkies all know where to find us and there’s a high school just two blocks over that way. It's a good spot.

Me and Mateo used to be tight. No space and nothing but love between us. But then one day shit got complicated. Drugs. Girls. Money. Cops. It wasn’t all real but it just kinda added up.

But the strangest fucking thing happened right when I got blasted. We don’t never see no tornadoes here in NYC but right when I clutched my chest and turned to run I saw a huge whirlwind coming down the block and it swept me off my feet. For some reason I was the only one who was lifted up into the cyclone. As I rose up from the street I saw Mateo run off to a double-parked car that was waiting for him, and then I was just spinning away downtown.

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Refusal Of The Call:

I wasn’t okay with this shit. I needed to get to the hospital. But the wind just swept me up higher and higher until I was twirling past the windows of the penthouse apartments along Central Park West. I remember passing by that fancy ass building The Dakota where Madonna lives and that dude from The Beatles got shot back in the day. I tried to clutch for the branches of trees or telephone lines as I rose, anything to stop my ascent, but it wasn’t happening. I was fucked and I just wanted to feel the ground beneath my feet again.

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Meeting The Mentor:

When I reached Columbus Circle another dude was swirling around in a cyclone that quickly joined mine in a magnetic fashion and we was soon face to face. Both of his eyes were milky white, but he could see me well enough. I just stared at him as we hovered and twisted around one another and the sound of the wind died down for a short time. He looked just like me. We were even wearing the exact same clothes, from my Yankees cap right down to my blue Air Jordans.

“Is this your first time?”

I stared at him in confusion for a few seconds.

“Nah man, I been shot before.” I pulled down the collar of my shirt to show him the two scarred bullet wounds in my right shoulder from back when I was fifteen, up there on Fort Washington Ave and 155th Street. Shit was crazy back then. You didn't want to be out there at the wrong time and it was always the wrong place.

“That aint what I’m aksin’ you. I’m sayin’, you ever been up here a’fore?”

I looked down at the street below and the yellow cabs backed up at the traffic light.

“Nah, man. Last time I got shot they just put me in the ambo and drove me to the ER at Columbia. I aint never been up here like this. What da’ fuck is this?”

His milky white eyes cleared for just a moment.

“Follow me, son. I will show you.”

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Crossing The Threshold:

We were swept away and soon we were in some of the swankiest neighborhoods of Manhattan. We passed low through the streets of Chelsea, the West Village and SoHo. I saw rich people walking dogs that prolly cost as much as some cars, and wearing jewels that cost as much as some houses. It was a very different world from where I stay uptown.

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Tests, Allies and Enemies:

When the winds died down I found myself standing on a street in Tribeca with two NYPD cops walking towards me. They didn’t look happy and I knew I didn’t belong there. I tried to reach back into my waistband to throw off my pistol while I still could but they was on me quick.

“You lost, kid? You need directions back to the subway?” The older cop looked pissed off right away.

“Nah, officer. I’m good.” I turned and started to walk away.

“Hold on a second. We’re not done here. Can I see some ID?”

I had a bullet hole in my chest and I was pissed off.

“What the fuck, man? Y’all still down with this stop and frisk bullshit now? Seriously?”

“Turn around, place your hands behind your head and interlock your fingers.” He withdrew his taser. “I aint gonna tell you twice. Don’t try me, kid.” His partner reached for his handcuffs and placed his other palm on the grip of his service weapon, but just then the wind picked up again and I was swept up off the sidewalk while everyone else stayed planted right where they were.

The younger cop just stared at me in awe and the older one actually fired his taser at me, that motherfucker. I saw it come within a few feet of my chest before the whirlwind ripped me away, higher and higher now. At my apex I could almost see the whole city.

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Approach To The Inmost Cave:

When the whirlwind set me down again I was standing at the visitor entrance gates at Rikers Island with three correctional officers approaching me with unfriendly looks. I don’t know why, cuz I was just standing there, but they slapped the bracelets on me and brought me inside. I was not a visitor.

There was about a dozen other dudes in the holding cell when they processed me and brought me in. I been locked up a bunch of times so I know what’s up. First thing you gotta do is make some friends. I looked around but there weren’t no friendly faces.

Then I saw him.

"Hey yo, Nestor. Good to see you again, Mi Pana. Aint this some interesting shit? We both end up here. Fuck, man. That look like it hurt.” He pointed at the bullet hole in my chest.

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The Ordeal:

I sat down in one corner and Mateo sat down on a bench just across from me and we stared at each other like two angry pitbulls for the next few hours.

“Let me aks you one thing, man. What I do? What I do to you? I was your man. You were my man. We was making good money. Why you had to do me like that? Was it that bitch Valentina? Is that what set you off?”

I just glared at him and then I spit some blood down near his feet.

“Fuck yo'self, nigga. I din’t sell you out. That aint in me. I don’t give a fuck about no bitch and I don’t talk to no cops. You already know.” I made a fist and knocked it twice against my right temple and then pointed my index finger at him. “Think, motherfucker. You used to be smart. What’choo think happened?”

He stared at me for a long minute or so.

“You saying it was Netto then?”

I spit some more blood by my own feet, hung my head and held out my palms. I din’t say nuthin’.

After a while he responded.

“Yo, I think I maybe fucked up. I shoulda known. I’ma see Netto when I get out. Sorry I parked one in your chest, man. You all right?”

I didn’t look up.

“Yeah man, I’m good. Shit happens. Just don’t do it again or I’m finna shoot back next time.”

He laughed and we both fell asleep a short time later.

The next morning after breakfast they took us out to the yard and within no time at all the whirlwind swept me away. Mateo just stared up at me, his jaw hanging.

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The Reward:

When the wind set me down I was standing outside of Rao’s. It’s an old Italian restaurant in Spanish Harlem. You have to be a member to get in there. I was about to flag down a cab for a ride to the hospital when the old Dominican man named Rodrigo walked up, introduced himself and invited me to dinner.

I could smell the food from out there by the curb. Fuck yeah. My gunshot wound could wait a little longer. There were no cabs in sight anyways.

Aside from how sick the food was, there were two other things I liked about Rao’s. The first is that they had no menu. The waiter just came to our table and told us what they had made for dinner that day. Osso Bucco, ciopinno over linguine, chicken picatta, canneloni, stuffed mushrooms, branzini in lemon-wine reduction and a few other things. I wanted it all.

The second thing I liked about Rao’s came at the end, after we had dessert. The waiter aint never brought us a check. He just came to our table with a pen and a pad in hand and did some math.

“Okay, signores. Looks like you had one bottle of wine, two appetizers, two salads, three entrees, and four desserts.” He did the math in his head. “Does two hundred and twenty dollars sound about right?”

My host agreed and laid his AmEx card on the table. While we waited on the tab we found some time to speak about something other than the food.

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The Road Back:

“Maybe you need to rethink some things. Maybe rethink everything.”

He stared at me with a sad little smile.

“Son, you have more options than you can possibly imagine. If you can hold it down out there on the corner every day and handle everything that comes with that, you can do a lot more. Work that doesn’t lead to prison or the graveyard.”

“How you know what I’m about? What I do?”

I got that same sad little smile.

“That’s not important, son. What matters is your repentance. You have to know the damage you are causing by putting that poison out on the streets every day.”

I stared back at him, but I wasn’t smiling.

“What I’m supposed to do, old man? I got two baby mommas and three kids to feed. What I’m supposed to do?”

The waiter returned with the check and the old man signed the slip.

“Come on. Let’s step outside and I will tell you out there.” He put on his coat and stood up.

As soon as we stepped out onto the sidewalk the wind swirled up all around. The old man lit a cigarette and winked at me.

“You’re a smart kid. You’ll figure it out,” he said, just as I was swept up into the sky.

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The Resurrection:

When the cyclone set me back down on 181st Street I kept my hood up and my chin down as I entered the bodega just across the street from the subway entrance and I got a root beer, watching through the windows as my crew worked that corner like they always do. Only now they had a new boss. Netto was leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette and looking up and down the block every once in a while. I turned my back to the security camera and snicked a round into my Glock .40 caliber before I walked out of the shop. I had one last thing to do before I went to the ER to get that bullet hole running through my chest and out my back fixed up.

My little cousin, Santino, was working the far corner as a lookout. I pulled him back by his shoulder and told him to go home right now. He stared at me confused. I told him again and I pointed down the block and I gave him a hard look and he walked off. Across the street, Alejandro and Luis were working the corner while Netto watched from the entrance to an alley about thirty feet up the block, collecting cash from them every so often. They were both sixteen years old and didn’t have to worry about being charged as adults if they got popped so Netto figured he could use them for about another two years.

I kept my head down, waited until no one was lookin’, then I came up from behind him and slapped my hand down hard on the back of his neck, jammed my gun into his ribs and pulled him into the alley.

“Yo, you got some shit to answer for, Netto. Let’s talk.”

He just stared at me and tried to look tough. Okay. Fine. I pointed my gun at his left knee, then his dick, then his chest, and finally at his head.

“I can do this slow, man. I don’t give a fuck. You best start talkin’, Netto.”

He tried to say something but it was all just bullshit. I pointed the barrel of my Glock at his groin and prepared to pull the trigger, but just then a couple of school kids walked past the mouth of the alleyway and I reconsidered. I walked up to Netto and pulled his gun from the back of his jeans. I released the clip and threw it down the alley, then I took his piece with me.

“You know what man? I’m gonna let Mateo finish you off. He got more beef with you than me. Shit. I could just shoot you right now, but you’re a little rat fuck and I want you to be lookin’ over your shoulders all day, not knowing when it’s coming. Maybe you’ll get smart and head down south or some shit. Anyways man, if I see you out here putting them kids to work tomorrow I promise you we aint gonna have no more words.”

I grabbed him by his jacket, pulled him close to me and pistol-whipped him in his left temple. He dropped to the ground and tried to staunch the bleeding with his hand. I kicked him in the ribs twice and walked away.

I approached Alejandra and Luis.

“Give me the dope. You can keep the cash. This is all done. You don’t sell shit out on the corner no more. Not this corner. Not any corner. I’ll help you find another way to make some dollars but don’t let me catch you out there slingin’ it. Trust me, you best worry a lot more about me than the police or those dudes from 174th Street who keep pressing up here.” They seemed confused but they got the message. Just as they were about to walk off, I called out to them.

“You don’t work for Netto no more, and he aint gonna be around long anyway. He gives you any trouble you just call me. You got my number.”

They both nodded and Alejandro gave me a quick little peace sign as they hustled across the street. I dropped the dope and Netto’s gun into the sewer.

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Return With The Elixir:

My job interview at JCT Imports, LLC was scheduled for 9:00am in an office building down on 57th Street. I was there fifteen minutes early.

“Well, Nestor, thanks for coming in today. I appreciate your time. However, I do have a busy morning ahead so I am going to get right down to brass tacks here. Frankly, your resume doesn’t tell us much about you but your cover letter was the reason why we decided to meet with you. Can you tell me why you feel that you would be a good fit for this position?”

I cocked my head just a little bit and cracked the tiniest smile.

“Mister Jordan, I am a closer. I move product. I know how to connect with people. I know how to assess risks. It’s what I do. It’s what I have always done.”

He stared at me, intrigued, then picked up my threadbare resume and looked at it.

“And where exactly did you gain this sales experience?”

I didn’t hesitate.

“Right up there on the corner of West 181st Street and St. Nicholas Ave, working a crew pushing coke and dope all day long since I was sixteen.”

He was clearly stunned.

“It’s not easy. You gotta avoid getting arrested, getting shot, getting ripped off and all sorts of other threats. Hell, I know a guy who got kidnapped one time and his family had to come up with $150k in three hours to get him back. You learn how to navigate the risks and get the job done or you don’t last long. But I’m done with all of that. I’m done with it forever whether I land this job or not, but If you give me a chance you’re going to be whistling when you sign off on my Christmas bonus in December. Like I said, Mister Jordan, I move product.”

I smiled at him. He smiled at me. We talked a bit longer and then we shook hands.

I was out of the game.

THE END