Carl Weber's Kingpins

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Carl Weber's Kingpins Page 10

by Ms. Michel Moore


  After five or six times of getting a decent payoff, the mischief-minded females ran into a problem. They were blindsided and definitely didn’t see it coming. It all started when a white executive at one of the top three businesses in the area hit up TayTay. He wrote that she was one of the most desirable women he’d seen in a long time. His thirst for her was almost comical. He was sloppy with the things he revealed in her message box. It was not hard to figure out this was his first go-around at the social media pussy-and-dick swap meet. Not only did he provide her with his real phone number, not a fake one or a Google number, but his honest to God personal phone number, but he Cash-Apped her repeatedly when he felt she was ignoring him.

  Plotting with her girls, TayTay decided he was going to be the big fish they need to land to ensure their trip out the country was truly memorable. It was time for him to find out what cheating on his wife could cost him. The clever clique had no remorse whatsoever for what they were about to do. After all, the men they duped were married, not them.

  Brad called TayTay and told her he wanted to take her out to dinner and then go shopping at Somerset Collection. She was in need of a new purse and maybe an ankle bracelet. He promised her that and more. After she pulled up to valet parking at the restaurant and then went inside, she found him at a table, nursing a drink. When she approached the table, he stood and pulled out her chair for her. TayTay almost forgot this was business and not pleasure. After she ordered king crab legs and lobster tail, Brad insisted she get another portion to take home. TayTay happily obliged as she downed two strong Long Island iced teas.

  When it came time to pay the bill, he took out his credit card and paid, never once bothering to see how much the damage was. While he had his wallet out, he tempted his new companion with six crisp hundred-dollar bills. He promised her that if they could just get a room for an hour or so, they could still go shopping. TayTay knew better than to go against the blueprint Jada had drawn up. But the money, the dinner, him pulling out her chair and hanging on every word she said had her gone. She’d given it up for far less to grimmer men. Once she was back in her car, she followed him to a hotel. When they both stepped inside the lobby, TayTay was so tipsy, she didn’t even notice that Brad didn’t bother to check in. They walked straight to the elevator and to room 217.

  After he slid the key card in the slot, the green light flashed, signaling that the door was unlocked. As TayTay walked inside that room, she never imagined what was coming next. Thank God she blacked out when Brad’s wife snatched her up by her long weave and dragged her over to the bed. TayTay’s perfect gentleman stood back, looking amused, and watched his better half duct-tape the black girl’s wrists together. Using a razor blade, she then sliced TayTay’s clothes off, exposing her naked body. Brad and his wife then took turns violating her. The predator had become the prey. When they were done having their fun, Brad did as he always did after his and his wife’s little parties. He deactivated his Backpage and Tinder accounts and lay low until another girl came along and tried to get something for nothing.

  As for TayTay, she finally came to in that hotel room. She had a headache and could hardly remember what had taken place. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was naked and every hole on her body hurt. After crawling over to the phone, she dialed Jada. On that day, the crew knew they had to get out of the streets and find a better way to make money.

  Chapter 12

  Kalif had just ended his conversation with a hysterical Jada. He was hotter than fish grease after she told him what had gone down. He had always known what the girls were doing was risky, but the way all of them, his boys included, were living made prison or death a possibility at any time. Jada had always had his back no matter what, and she had yet to get the dick. She was loyal and looked up to him, as did both crews. His own boys were out committing random crimes and just trying to stay afloat while Kalif focused on real estate. Kalif had been putting every penny he had and Jada blessed him with into getting at least one house ready to flip.

  Needing a quick cash come up, he thought about doing an insurance job on the house, but that would defeat his purpose, which was to get his hands on extra money to finish that first house. With the weight of the world on his young shoulders, he had to think quickly if he was going to save face with everyone that depended on him. When he remembered the stories his pops used to tell him, an idea came to him. The entire lower level of the house was complete, as was the basement. Jada and her crew had sworn off tricking niggas out of their bread, but they were still smooth as ever with getting that gear.

  After praying, Kalif could think more clearly. He and Pit Boy jumped in his truck and hit up Detroit Store Fixture. After purchasing multiple racks and a few tables, they brought them back to his house. While he had Pit Boy and Keys bring everything inside, Kalif called Jada and told her to meet him over there. When she arrived, Jewels was riding shotgun, as she always did. The two cousins were more like sisters.

  With everyone standing around the living room, Kalif explained that they were taking it back old school. Instead of the ladies going out in the streets and hustling hard to sell their stolen goods, they would use his house as a booster trap. The basement and the first level would be set up like a store, and the workmen would continue to remodel the top floor. The ladies would invest in a pound of good weed and would sell that as well. With this plan, most of Kalif’s problems where Jada and her girls was concerned were solved . . . well, at least temporarily. Now he had to get his own team financially straight and on the come up. And he knew it took money to make money.

  * * *

  “I’m surprised to hear from you so soon. What’s going on with the houses? You still good over there?” Ibn said when he answered the phone.

  “Yeah, Ibn, the first house is coming along,” Kalif told him. “I can’t complain. But I need to holler at you about something else. Are you at the store?”

  Ibn informed his young protégé that he was at his cousins’ gas station on Joy Road and that he could just come through.

  In less than twenty minutes, Kalif was pulling up at the gas station. After he, Ibn, and Ibn’s cousins all greeted one another, Kalif was allowed behind the thick Plexiglas. Ibn and his cousins were smoking a hookah, but Kalif wasn’t interested. His time was limited, so he wanted to get down to the business at hand.

  “So, yeah, look, I know I owe you for that other house, but I need to get some more money moving my way . . . some major shit,” he told Ibn. “My girl ran into some trouble, so I had to look out for her and come through in a big way.”

  Ibn was silent, still smoking the cherry blend. Finally, he said, “Well, what kinda dough you talking about?”

  “At least eight or nine racks real quick should hold me over . . . maybe an even ten.”

  Ibn liked Kalif and his hustle. He knew one day he would need Kalif for something else. And now all his mentoring had the potential to pay off. However, one thing or person was standing in the way of that. And that person was Rasul. Somehow word had gotten back to him that Ibn was helping his kid out. Rasul didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t want to see his son fail, but he knew what Ibn and his family were involved in, and he wanted Kalif to have no parts of it. The father of two and the longtime respected member of the mosque had seen Ibn and company lure young black kids into doing their dirty work.

  Since Kalif was not your average youngster, Ibn knew he first had to invest in Kalif in order to gain his trust. Everyone knew Kalif was a certified nutcase, and the only thing he loved more than money was Allah. So when Kalif had come into his store on the humble that day, it was as if God had aligned them so that they could do business together. But now Rasul was on his head and threatened all-out war if Ibn kept inserting himself into Kalif’s life.

  “Look, Kalif, it’s like this. I’d love to help you out. You know me. I trust you. You trust me. But your father . . .”

  “My father?”

  “Yes. Rasul stepped to me Friday after Ju
m’ah and warned me to stay away from you. He thinks I’m trying to bring you harm instead of helping you. I tried to explain, but you know your father better than me. It was zero tolerance.”

  “What in the fuck!”

  “Yeah, so I respect Rasul, and so does my family. I don’t want any trouble.”

  Kalif was infuriated. It was bad enough his father had allowed his moms to ban him from the house he had once called home, but now he was out here trying to block his hustle. That shit had to be addressed and quick. “All right, dawg. Let me handle my pops. I’m all day long, all day strong. I’ma get back up with you sometime tomorrow.”

  Kalif hopped back in his car and drove to the hotel room he had been staying at. After taking out his Koran, he read out loud from it. Then he prayed. He asked Allah to grant him patience, fortitude, and a sensible, strong mind in what he was about to do. He was no longer living under his father’s roof, so the way they would soon communicate and interact would be something different altogether. For years he had purposely stayed out of his father’s business dealings, even when asked to ride along. Kalif was content to make a name for himself without the aid of his pops. As far as he was concern, Rasul had his life and a circle that he dominated, and Kalif was trying to do the very same thing.

  Chapter 13

  Jada came into the hotel room that she and Kalif had been sharing. Seeing her beloved on the prayer rug, in deep thought, she knew something was going on. Anytime Kalif would stay on his knees and chant in Arabic, his mind was troubled. Trying her best to make some sort of emotional connection, Jada eased over in his general direction. Not wanting to startle him, softly she spoke his name. After she called out to Kalif four or five good times, he finally answered. When he turned his head to look at Jada, it was easy for her to see that he was off his meds. She’d been dealing with him long enough to spot the outward signs. Kalif looked tired. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he’d been drinking or smoking weed. He rubbed his hands together, as if he was plotting how to take over the world.

  Trying her best not to alarm him, Jada made insignificant conversation as Kalif stood up and began pacing the room. As he went from the bed to the window, from the window to the bathroom, then back to the bed, his footsteps grew heavy with each motion. Jada fell back. She knew from past experience, Kalif had to work the shit out in his mind before attempting to return to his normal self. After forty-five minutes, he started to slow his steps down. Clutching his ears, Kalif titled his head backward and asked Allah to help him. Then the chanting started once more.

  Jada was deeply in love with Kalif. He could do no wrong in her eyes. Far from being naïve, she knew he didn’t share her feelings. He often expressed that he had love for her but was not in love with her. Jada had a choice to except that truth or not. She considered herself a rider and stayed around, toughing it out. There was nothing that she wouldn’t do for him if he asked. And some things she stepped up and did without him having to ask. Jada knew he liked that quality about her. Sometimes he’d even speak about her being a male version of himself, but not Muslim. And since she knew Kalif thought highly of himself, she took that statement as a compliment.

  He knew she was down in the trenches with him when shit wasn’t always pretty. Kalif often praised her for that. With desire and lust in her soul, Jada felt if she stayed posted by his side long enough, things would soon be in her favor. They had to. She would grow on him, just like in the movies. The fact that Kalif cared enough to help get her and her girls off the streets and to a safe location spoke volumes in her book.

  While Kalif continued to pace, though more slowly now, Jada updated her Instagram page, adding a few new items they’d easily stolen from a boutique on Livernois. When she looked up, she smiled, as it appeared that Kalif was finally coming back to himself.

  “Hey, what up, doe? What’s good with you?” he said.

  “Nothing much. Just chilling. Working on a few irons I got in the fire,” Jada responded, as if Kalif had not been in the loon zone ever since she’d arrived at the room. “We have a gang of new stuff, and if I wanna really make this house hustle happen, I gotta put in the legwork.”

  “You know what, girl? That’s what I really like about you. You never stop on that paper hunt.”

  Kalif went into the bathroom. He turned on the hot water and then reached for a washcloth as a warm mist started to rise from the sink. Lifting both arms, he took off his T-shirt. Jada tried to play it off that she wasn’t all in, but Kalif saw her checking him out in the mirror. Not wanting to lead her on, he quickly allowed the water to saturate the washcloth. He then covered his face with the washcloth and scrubbed harder than a normal person would. It was as if he was trying to rid himself of the sins of the world. Once he was done, he left the bathroom and searched through his large-size duffel bag. He removed a winter-white wifebeater, then slipped it on over his chiseled frame. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he was now ready to clue his homegirl Jada in on what was going down.

  “Yeah, so apparently, my old man is trying to block me from coming up. I got that word not too long ago.”

  “Say what now?” Jada raised an eyebrow, wanting to get some understanding.

  “Yeah, I went to go holler at my boy about some business.”

  “And?”

  Kalif’s voice took on more of an evil tone when he said, “And he told me, my pops found out me and him was getting that paper together, and my pops wanted that shit to cease immediately. I swear, that bullshit got me on ten in this bitch! I’m out here trying to just do me. I don’t know, Jada. Why wouldn’t a man wanna see his son succeed? I’m not trying to walk in his damn shadow. I wanna be self-made. I wanna grind out for mines, so when I get on top, that shit will really mean something.”

  Jada walked over to him. Given the mood he was still in, her maternal spirit kicked into overdrive. Gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but Kalif abruptly stood, shutting that down. He didn’t want her to get any ideas. When they were in the bed at night, she was on her side, and he was on his. Even though he obviously needed consoling, he was not interested in it coming from her. Or from any woman, for that matter. Time and time again he had reminded her that until he got all the way right with his pockets and with Allah, he wasn’t gonna fornicate again. At one point, she had pondered if he was gay because he didn’t want the pussy, but then she had heard tales from around the way about how Kalif used to knock the hoes all the way down when he was coming up. Accepting his rejection now as just another ordinary day, she quizzed him on how he was going to handle the situation.

  “First, I’m about to just sleep on it and get my mind right. I ain’t really kicked it with my father since he let my moms put me out. So I already know this conversation could go all the way left as soon as I hear his voice or he hears mine.”

  “Yeah, I understand. Just try to stay calm when y’all kick it. After all, he is your father. Try to think before you speak, because some things you can’t take back, just like actions. Remember, you taught me that.”

  Kalif looked at Jada’s face finally and cracked a smile. “Come on now, dead ass. I know you ain’t talking about family, is you? Your ass done denounced your peoples years ago, let you tell it.”

  Jada didn’t return his smile, nor did she intend to. Matter of fact, she rolled her eyes, sucked her teeth, and wanted to throw up in her mouth all at the same time. “Yeah, sure did, with their abusive asses. I told my mother, and she act like I was lying. So yeah, fuck all of them. Jewels don’t fuck with them, either. She knows how they are. Trust me, Kalif, the entire bloodline’s tainted. Nothing spawned from my grandmother is decent, not me, or Jewels, either, when it comes down to it, sad to say.”

  “So I guess you bat-shit crazy, too, just like me,” Kalif teased while turning on the television. The Family Business was coming on in a few, and he damn sure didn’t want to miss that wild-plot shit. He stretched out on the bed and locked his fingers behind his head. A little later he fell
asleep while watching the bright screen like a hawk, thinking about what the next day would hold.

  * * *

  It was a little after seven o’clock. Kalif had completed all his morning prayers. He had slept well and was ready to speak to his father with a clean heart. The once obedient son didn’t want to argue, but he was definitely not going to let this slide. Rasul had put him out in the black-hearted streets of Detroit to man up and provide for himself, so why he would try to block his hustle was beyond him. As Jada stepped out of the shower, Kalif turned his back on her so that he did not see her body clad only in a towel.

  He reached over to the nightstand and removed his cell from the charger. He went through his contacts and then pushed his dad’s tag. Kalif had his father listed as Big Poppa. His heart raced some after he pushed the green icon. A few rings later, Rasul’s voicemail came on. Kalif felt his stomach drop, but he didn’t leave a message. After waiting five or ten minutes, he hit Redial. This time the call went straight to voice. When Kalif slammed his cell down on the carpeted floor, Jada knew he had to have at least cracked his screen.

  “What happened?” she asked, already knowing the answer but still hoping he would confide in her.

  “He ain’t pick up, that’s what happen. That shit was ringing at first. Now it’s going straight to his damn voicemail. He probably ducking me. He probably know I’ma go nuts on his ass, and he brushing it off. He ain’t ready.”

 

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