She Fell in Love with a Miami Kingpin

by Tee Jae

  “Wifey stopped by and picked up that paper.” Justice broke my train of thought.

  Hearing that was like music to my ears, that means Brooklyn wasn’t going to let me down. A wide smile spread across my face. I done so much bullshit to her in the past, a nigga could only thank God she not giving up on me. I looked down at her name tatted on my hand and kissed it.

  “Good. Good,” I said out loud to no one in particular.

  “What’s going on, G? I’m hearing that nigga, Duke eating cheese.” He asked referring to Duke as a rat.

  “You are hearing right youngin’, and I’m going to need you now more than ever. I think he the key witness on my case, must be in witness protection or some shit. We need to bring that nigga out of hiding. Know what I’m talm ‘bout?” I asked him, seeing if he caught my drift.

  “I hear you…so you what you need me to do?” I smiled at how much Justice didn’t give a fuck.

  “The baby,” I answered. In this game, it’s a dirty world; staying true to the streets protects your family in more ways than one, but being a rat exposes anyone to death. Unfortunately for Duke, he just signed the death certificate of his whole family but first, I was going use his 6-month-old son as leverage.

  “No problem, Boss.” That’s what I liked about Justice, he didn’t ask questions when you gave orders, he did exactly what the fuck I ordered him to do.

  “Aye, how long-ago Brooklyn picked that up?” I asked thinking maybe I could call her since she was cooperating now.

  “Nah, Brooklyn didn’t come thru, Yani did. She said you told her to oversee the operations til you land back in the streets.”

  “Wait, what the fuck you just say, lil nigga?” my nostrils flared and I’m pretty sure if I had a cell mate I would’ve fucked that nigga up just on GP. Just what the fuck was Yani up too, and how the fuck she knew where my fucking trap houses were? Justice started trying to explain.

  “Boss, listen, she rolled through here like the fucking president or some shit with armed guards for the paper. A nigga hadn’t heard from you, so I thought the shit was legit.”

  “I don’t pay you to fucking think…I pay you to do what the fuck I tell you to do. Shut that operation down and relocate NOW!” I hung up in his face.

  Instead of trying Brooklyn’s cell again I decided to shoot her a text

  Me: Brooklyn don’t fucking test me!!! You belong to me and me only, I will bury any nigga you even think about fucking! Dumb ass Bitch!

  I was fucking tired of playing Mr. Nice Guy with her ass. Here I was trying to kiss her fucking feet, so she could know that Yani don’t mean shit to me and trying to make moves to help us out and she acting stupid.

  After a few seconds my phone vibrated

  Brooklyn: FUCK YOU!!!!

  Me: Fuck you back, bitch.

  I powered my phone off and placed it back under my mattress. I was done with the ass kissing, it was either she was rolling with a nigga or not.

  Chapter 7

  Justice

  I crept down the road while trying to read the address Gator gave me. 5304 Rocky Mountain Lane, this it right here.

  Damnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!

  I looked up at what had to be a damn mini mansion. I mean, I knew G was making money, but this fucking house was better than I imagined. This the type of shit a nigga was trying to accomplish. I pulled into the circular driveway and stared in admiration for a few minutes. The perfectly manicured bushes and the pebble stone steps that led up to the shiny massive double doors was definitely out of my league. I hopped out of my black on black Dodge, Charger threw the duffle bag over my shoulder and headed up the steps and rang the doorbell.

  “Si, can I help you?” a lady’s voice boomed over an intercom that I couldn’t see. I felt nervous as I straightened out my clothes, clearing my throat to answer.

  “Uhhhhhye...yes my name is Justice. I’m here with a package for Brooklyn.” Damn near 3 minutes passed before an older Spanish woman, wearing an apron opened the door.

  “Senor Justice, this way please,” she ushered me into the foyer towards the living area. My jaw dropped in awe at the lavishly decorated home. The 70-inch flat screen that hung in front of a cream SoHo tufted sectional was fit for a king. The artwork on the walls and fancy décor had me wondering what the rest of the house looked like. Damn, a youngin’ could get used to this. I thought as I looked around. My whole one-bedroom loft could fit in this living area.

  “Please, Senor, have a seat. Senorita Brooklyn will be down in a second, would you like anything while you wait?” she asked making sure I was comfortable.

  “No ma’am,” I replied and she quickly disappeared out of the room.

  I sat back on the couch. This shit had to cost a grip, I thought while rubbing my hands over the suede material.

  “Ahem.” I jumped as I turned around and came face to face with Brooklyn. Even with a scowl on her face, she was still one of the baddest bitches in the city to me. She was dressed in a pink long sleeve top and bottom silk pajama set that showcased her body. Her long curly hair was pushed to one side and her smooth skin glowed as the lighting from the ceiling hit her face. Her almond shaped eyes turned into slits once she realized I was checking her out a little more than I should.

  “Let me guess, Gator sent you here to get me on board?” she rolled her eyes, while folding her arms across her chest.

  “Listen, I know shit fucked up for y’all right now but the bit-... I’m sorry, the chick I know, would be riding for her man no matter what, ma.” I stood up sliding my hands in my pockets.

  “Sit back down,” she snapped. I sat back down regretting even coming over here. I hated getting in the middle of relationships.

  “So, you think I should ride for Gator?” I nodded my head yes. “Even though I been holding him down for 10 years and during those years, he married someone else and had kids with them?” she asked while taking a seat across from me.

  “With all due respect, he had to marry that bitch. Gator has been hustling to get away from that family. We just need you to finish this last piece to the puzzle, so we can focus on getting Gator out and leave the Ortiz’s in the past.” I pushed the duffle bag her way. “Now there’s only 250,000 in the bag.” I could tell her wheels were turning as she sat back and crossed her legs in deep thought. When it finally hit her, she sat up.

  “250,000? Gator owes them 500,000!!!” She hollered. “Why in the fuck would I show up with only half? Where’s the rest of the money?” she looked at me for answers and all I could do is tell her the truth.

  “Yani ran down on the trap house and took it thinking that re-up money belonged to her father.” I exhaled. She was quiet. A little too quiet for me.

  “I can’t go over there with half the money! Them niggas would fuck straight over me; not to mention, Gator’s crazy wife already putting out death threats, this is too much. Here’s an idea, make that bitch bring them niggas half,” she whined, flopping down on the couch. She was nervous, and I realized now that it wasn’t that she didn’t want to stand by Gator, she was hurt and scared. In this moment I just wanted to protect her.

  “I’ll come with you,” I blurted out. She looked at me sideways. “I mean I can accompany you there and help you out until G comes home.” This might have been foolish, but we needed more time and we needed that connect! After a few minutes passed she finally spoke up.

  She slid me a piece of paper with the address on it. “Do not under any circumstances tell anyone where you are going and be very careful from now on. Watch what you say over the phones and always make sure you are not being followed. I’ll see you Thursday.” She got up and walked out of the living room, leaving me speechless.

  I smiled to myself as I exited the house and slid in my seat lighting a blunt. That’s one helluva woman. I definitely needed a solid bitch like that on my side. I pulled off dialing Gator.

  “We in,” was all I said before disconnecting the call and heading over to Blue Flame. Eyeing Brooklyn’s fine
ass had a nigga dick hard and all I could think about was sliding in some pussy.

  “What’s up Justice?” was all I heard from different strippers as I walked through the strip club. It was 10 p.m., so it was kind of early for the club to be jumping but I had my mind on one person only…. Cinnamon.

  “Yo let me get 30 minutes in a private room,” I whispered to Nate, the bulky security guard who handled the sex rooms. He nodded his head as I handed him two crisp hundred-dollar bills. “Tell Cinnamon don’t have me waiting.” I patted his shoulder walking past him.

  I’m a fly nigga and could’ve gotten pussy at the snap of my fingers but it was something about Candice aka Cinnamon that I couldn’t leave alone. Candice and I met about two years ago at the hood’s barbershop where I cut my hair. She was waiting to get her bad ass son a haircut, that lil nigga was running around the shop cutting up. Long story short, I got in his ass and made him chill out. Once I got my cut and decided to dip, she followed me outside telling me she liked how I handled her son and that was the first time he ever listened to someone. We exchanged numbers and started fucking around until I found out she was a stripper. After I told her that I wasn’t ready for a relationship, that bitch started making me pay to fuck her. I laughed to myself while smoking on my Backwoods. If my niggas knew I was paying for the pussy, I’d be the laughing stock of ATL.

  Okay, so I got the ambiance just where I want it

  And if you get paid its solely based on your performance,

  My ego is enormous like my crib in California

  My nigga 2 Chainz new song “It’s a Vibe” was booming through the speakers as Candice walked through the door looking flawless in her metallic gold one piece, looking like it was painted on her body, just barely covering her nipples on her small yet juicy breasts. Her ass was so big it swallowed the thong making it look like she didn’t have nothing on from the back when she turned around making her ass clap. She had my dick hard just staring at her pretty face and juicy plump lips. Candice was light skinned and was a little on the short side standing at about 5’2. Her long, blonde, hair was parted straight down the middle hanging down to her fat ass. She had some jewel shit on that looked like a niqab covering, it had half her face giving off an exotic look. A nigga was lost in a trance as she dropped down to her knees and seductively crawled towards me.

  “I miss you,” she whispered licking my ear lobe climbing on my lap unzipping my Balmain jeans. I lifted up, so she can slide them off as she freed my dick, kissing my mushroom tip.

  “Daddy miss you t-…. what the fuck?” I threw Candice off my lap and reached for my strap.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I was you Justice,” a short man stood in front of me with about four men that had their guns aimed at me. I looked back at Candice; if that bitch set me up I wouldn’t hesitate to blow her fucking brains out, but she looked just as lost.

  “I’m agent Garcia and one wrong move, my men here won’t be so nice. Pick your pants up and sit back down! This convo might work better with your dick in your pants.” My jaw flexed. If it was one thing I hated it was the fucking pigs. Cracker motherfuckers can’t stand to see a nigga make a little bit of money. “Ma’am, you mind leaving me and your daddy alone?” he smirked at Candice. She looked up at me waiting to give her the ok. I nodded my head and she stood up walking out and all eyes followed her, “Hmmmmm, that’s a nice piece of ass you picked.”

  “What the fuck you want?” I sneered.

  “Good… a man that likes to get down to business. Well, a little birdie told me you visited Ms. Trase earlier today. Care to share what that visit was about?” I laughed harder than ever and watched the color in his face turn. I know this Mexican looking motherfucker couldn’t be serious.

  “A little birdie, huh? Man, you stopped me from getting my dick sucked to ask me that stupid ass question?” I place my blunt back in my mouth and took a pull from it. “No, motherfucker, I don’t care to share what my visit was about. Now what?” I stood back up and his men aimed their guns back at me. “Easy fellows,” I put my hands in the air, “Don’t shoot! A nigga just about to bounce.” I sat my blunt on the end of the table and pulled my pants up.

  “I figured you would try to be noble and stick to the G code,” he laughed. “I said sit your ass down. What I’m about to say, you are going to listen and cooperate or I’m taking your ass in for obstruction of justice.” He threw a manila folder towards me with pictures of me walking in and out the trap houses with a duffle bag.

  FUCK! I cursed myself and sat back down taking a long puff on my blunt. I died it out in the ashtray on the glass table and stood up placing my hands behind my back. “Take me in punta, cause I ain’t telling you pigs nada.”

  Chapter 8

  Khadi Santana (the connect)

  Running a lucrative empire like my own, niggas thought I didn’t have time for little things like drop offs and pickups. What they didn’t understand is I watched my father build his empire from the ground up and when he died, I watched my mother run it into the ground. At ten-years-old, I could barely understand what was happening around me, but I definitely felt the shift. From moving out of a 6-bedroom home in an upscale neighborhood to a two-bedroom apartment in the Pork-n-Beans projects. Once I turned seventeen and received the blue print from my father’s belongings, I hustled my ass off to put the Santana’s empire back on the map and a minor hiccup like Gator wasn’t about to interrupt my flow of things.

  Once I was informed that this nigga Gator was locked up, I flew in to Atlanta a couple of days early before the pickup. He sent word that his bitch would meet me at the drop with my dough, but I wanted to see what was really going on. And just like I thought, the bitch didn’t show up with my bread, so for the last 3 days I had been sitting on their house watching her every move.

  “She’s on the move boss,” Biggs called out to me from the front seat of the Mercedes S550. We sat a few houses down in the nice neighborhood I tore my eyes away from my phone as I watched her back out of the garage.

  “Follow her,” I ordered him.

  She was so oblivious to the fact that she was being followed and that shit irked my fucking nerves. I hated a ditzy bitch and more and more these past few days, she proved to be a fucking airhead. Her and Gator belonged together, I thought to myself. I could never have a woman like that, my bitch would have to be on point at all times. Niggas is grimy and will try to hurt the closest thing to you.

  I learned my lesson when my girlfriend, Toi was killed after being kidnapped and held for ransom 6 years ago. That shit still fucked with a nigga til this day. Ever since then, I vowed to never get that involved with another chick, so I fucked them no strings attached. The car coming to a stop broke my stroll down memory lane.

  I kissed my teeth because this is what I’m talking about. This chick man is in jail because of his top lieutenant and could be facing a life sentence and her dingy ass just pulled up to the mall. The last few days that we had been tailing her, she been moving around like everything was copesthetic. I watched as she stepped out of the car.

  “Damn.” I huffed under my breath.

  Biggs looked back at me and laughed. Brooklyn Trase was the name we came up with when digging information up on her and I can’t lie, she was one bad bitch…dingy…but a bad bitch in the looks department. She was about 5’6 with smooth, radiant, light sandy colored skin, her long black curly hair looked natural, falling right below her bra strap. She threw her oversized shades on her face and ran her fingers through her hair as she strutted into Saks. The long grey maxi dress she had on showcased her hourglass figure and I was enjoying the show. I licked my lips as I watched her ass jiggle while she walked. Ray Charles could see she wasn’t wearing any panties and that’s just how I liked it.

  “Let’s head back to her house Biggs, she will have a rude awakening when she gets back home.” I sat back as Biggs pulled off.

  Biggs started off as my driver about 8 years ago and besides my two younger brothers back in Miam
i, Khaddo and Khaza, he was the closest thing to me. Over the years, we developed a great friendship, he was so much more than my driver he was family. A big black motherfucker who could intimidate anyone just by his presence. He wasn’t fat or anything he was just big, so I nicknamed him Biggs. He was about 6’5 and weighed a solid 260 lbs. with a shiny bald head and a long goatee. He played sports all his life and when he didn’t make it to the NFL, he found himself back in the streets. He was too smart to be selling drugs, so I recruited him as my driver with an offer he couldn’t refuse, and we been rolling together ever since. Besides sports, he was really smart and always kept me on my toes.

  “This nigga dumber than I thought,” I told Biggs, as he clipped a few wires in the box on side of the house shutting off the alarm system. My home could never be disarmed this easily. Biggs picked the lock to the back door letting us inside.

  WHAM!!!!

  “Estoy llamando a la policía!” an older Spanish woman yelled, hitting Biggs with a broom.

  He dropped his bag of tools and grabbed the broom from her and threw it across the kitchen floor. “Come here,” he grabbed her while she continued rambling off in Spanish right before he knocked her out and dragged her over to the living room floor and tied her up. I pulled out my gun and checked the rest of the house to make sure no one else was there.