Voorheeze & Clarkola

by De'Kari

  As he pushed the High-Performance Dodge Charger through the streets of East Palo Alto, aka, “little bitty Baghdad” bumping Young Jeezy, shit was really looking good. Money was flowing like he had neva seen in his life.

  The City belonged to him now. Hands down, he was Top Dawg! His little chick was pregnant and expecting a little girl. So soon he was going to have two daughters.

  At new War Room, Gunz had brought up the conversation of expanding out to Philly, something that he into before T’Rida’s untimely demise. Now he was making things official. They would be opening a chapter of Neva Die out there. Gunz would be expected to oversee building the strongest team possible.

  This move would ultimately put Voorheeze at the head of the table, Commander and Chief! The three-branch leadership that everyone was used to, would now be a one-man dictatorship. No one had stepped up to fill T’Rida’s seat, because his seat couldn’t be filled. So Voorheeze was now running the whole organization. Which was all good with Clark. It would give him the room that he needed to do him fully. Although he played his position to the tee, anybody would feel some kind of way taking orders from their little brother, he was no exception. Not that he held any resentment or anything. He just needed to be able to breathe. Shit, Clarkola wasn’t a worker he was a Boss!

  He pulled up to the spot and hopped out. Seeing Tut Tut, he called out, “What’s up rogue? We good?”

  “Shit, we good Dad.” Tut called back.

  Clark walked to the trunk of the Challenger and retrieved a duffle bag. Inside the big bag was this week’s shipment. Normally Sam would’ve handled the pick-up since he handles distribution, but he was on another mission. He could’ve appointed someone else to do the pickup, but Clark didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. He wasn’t the type of nigga to look and watch other niggaz work.

  Clark and Tut head into the trap house. As they hit the front porch Tut issued out a set of orders to one of his soldiers making sure mothafucka’s stayed on point.

  Once inside the trap, Clark tossed Tut the bag. Tut caught it then chuckled.

  “What nigga, you demoted yourself or something. Cuz nigga if you’ll demote yourself, ain’t no telling what you’ll do to another mothafucka!”

  “That’s why yo ass better stay on point nigga, you wanna keep a job.” Clark joked back at him but was dead serious.

  “As long as they make guns, I’mma keep a job Dad.”

  Even though the package came directly from Clark’s hands, Tut walked over to the table and began removing kilos out of the bag, taking his own count. Clark didn’t feel disrespected in the least. If anything, he was impressed. Hell, the average nigga would’ve just taken shit for granted that the count was good. That’s how shit get fucked up, taking shit for granted. In Clark’s mind, there was no room for errors. It was simple, the cost for a fuck-up was your life.

  “What’s up with that thang though?” Clark asked Tut once he was done with his count.

  “Ten kilos present and accounted for”.

  “What you talking bout Dad?” Tut asked him as he knocked on the door behind him and handed the dope over to one of his workers.

  “That shit wit lil Ju-Ju, nigga.”

  “Oh, it’s good Dad, he got court in the morning. It looks like the judge is gonna give the lil nigga bail. Soon as he does we already all over it. “

  “Make sure you are Rogue. This is important to me.” Ju-Ju was Clarks little cousin. He was a hot head, but he was loyal and reliable.

  “Alright Dad, I got you.” Tut already knew how bad Clark wanted to get lil Ju-Ju out. He was thinking of a way to ensure Ju-Ju got bailed out when Clark spoke, bringing him back to reality.

  “We bout to make some changes in a minute my nigga. Shit’s bout to grow and get better for everybody. Especially for you, so keep yo head in da game.” Clark was referring to what was just discussed at the War Room. After the meeting at the War Room a whole lot of shit was about to change. Just when Tut was about to ask him what he was talking about, Tut’s phone rang.

  “Yeah, what’s up Dad?” Tut answered the phone noticing it was one of his block lieutenants. He listened for a few seconds, then he hung up the phone.

  “Brah, we got a problem.”

  “What’s up Rogue?” Clark asked not liking the sound in his little cousin’s voice.

  “Somebody just hit house 2.”

  Clark barely held his anger, “What?”

  Niggaz didn’t get much though. I guess while they was hittin da spot, that nigga D-Rocc was on his way to drop some loot off at da house. Dat nigga Dunk say D-Rocc did his thang! But we still lost one of the little niggaz in the house and them niggaz got away.” Tut could feel the heat coming off Clark.

  “What about all the rest of the shit that was in there?” Clark didn’t like taking losses, but it came with the game.

  Hearing that he lost a little soldier was unacceptable. Somebody most definitely had to answer for that.

  “Everything else is secure. Brah and dem moved everything to house 1 before the police came!”

  “Let’s go check it out.” Clark told him as he headed to the door.

  As they made their way to Menlo, Clark was trying to figure out who would be stupid enough to try and knock off one of his spots. Whoever did it, had to know the hell they would bring down on themselves for trying some shit like that! Dragon Gang was coming, there was no doubt about it! East Menlo was Al-Qaeda territory! Everybody knew that, and them little Al-Qaeda niggaz wasn’t playing bout shit! They’ve had the city on lock for the past couple of years and wasn’t letting go. Their body count was off the charts!

  Clark turned left onto Ivy Drive off of Willow Road, headed towards the spot. When he hit Sevier, he looked towards the 1200 block, but he turned down the 1300. Even from Ivy Drive they could see that Sevier was blocked off halfway down the street. He drove down there any way, as far as he could make it. Four houses away from the actual scene, he couldn’t make it any further, so he pulled over.

  Menlo Park Police Department was everywhere. They were trying their hardest to keep everyone back and maintain some type of order, but that shit was senseless. Niggaz wanted to know what happened and was there to find out!

  “Whatcha thinking, dad?” Tut spoke up, he didn’t like sitting in a parked car, he felt trapped.

  “Shit let’s check it out.” Clark told him in response and climbed out of the charger.

  As they stepped up to the crowd, the first thing that either of them noticed was the body that was on the sidewalk.

  “That’s that nigga Jack from the Vill stretched out right there.” Tut said just loud enough for Clark to hear him.

  Clark didn’t respond he just took in the entire scene. There were two more bodies. One was halfway across the front yard and the other body which was much smaller than the other two, lay just inside the doorway. Immediately, he knew that body belonged to the soldier that he lost, Munchie.

  A sharp pain shot through his chest at the sight of the little nigga who wasn’t old enough to even fuck, let alone be in the streets. Clark used to date his mom Pam, back in the day. He remembered how the little mothafucka would ride his big wheel up and down this same exact street, acting like he was cool while they hustled. Now he was looking at the lifeless body laying helpless in the doorway of the house at 1338 Sevier Avenue.

  Cops were placing little red cones all over the place, which were markers for the bullet casings. To Clark’s surprise, there were way more bullet casings than he expected to see. From the number of cones that were out in the street. It looked like a war kicked off. The cops were still finding shells.

  Knowing that they’d seen all that they were going to see, Clark decided it was time to go. They jumped back into the car, hit an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street and headed towards the 1200 Block to see what was what.

  They pulled up and hopped out at J. Clinton and D-Rocc’s spot. The crazy thing about Menlo was mothafuckas stuck to the script for the most part
. There was a shootout just a block down the street. Yet, there wasn’t an onlooker out on the block trying to be nosey.

  “WwaWwa what’s up y’all.” Young Drew bounced off the porch and greeted them.

  “What’s up, Drew?”

  “Ggg ggg gettin’ dis money nigga!” Drew was by far the skinniest nigga in Menlo. However, many niggaz lost their lives for underestimating him. Lil Drew was a shooter fa’sho.

  They made their way to the backyard, no doubt everyone would be there.

  “Man, you know G-Town niggaz don’t come across Willow!” D-Rocc jokingly called out when he saw Clark and Tut walk in the yard.

  “Shit nigga, if you mothafuckas were out here handling yo business they wouldn’t have had to call the Big Dawgs to come lend support.” Clark joked back as he embraced D-Rocc. They’d known each other since they were kids.

  “Come on Clark, we all know you be trynna take notes on dis murking shit. So, nigga, I know you rolled thru dat little scene down da block already and seen first-hand how the kid do.” Rocc spoke with a grin on his face.

  Tut looked around the area. Even though he pushed that Neva Die shit, he was still C-Street and to Menlo niggaz, C-Street was the Village plain and simple. The Village was beefing with Menlo niggaz, Al-Qaeda niggaz to be specific. So, Tut kept his hands ready right next to his banger, and his eyes on swivel.

  “So, what’s da business?” Clark asked as he looked at the group of young killaz.

  “Al-Qaeda. business, Clark. We got it. Don’t get it twisted, niggaz called you and told you what was what as a courtesy, cause that’s yo spot they tried to hit Rogue. But when dem niggaz crossed Willow, they invaded Al-Qaeda. territory. No disrespect Big Homie, I know you got yo City on lock, but you gotta stay out of this one. We got you though.” Dunk was soft spoken and at 5’5” he was a lil nigga in size, but he commanded so much respect and authority that even when he talked low, he spoke volumes.

  “I hear you nigga, but a mothafucka crossed me so I’m taking that personally. Whoever tried that shit disrespected the Mobb my nigga. Now I aint neva stepped on y’all toes or clashed wit y’all. But you do what you do and I’mma do what I do. One of us will get them.” Clearly it wasn’t up for discussion.

  Dunk didn’t give a fuck about no Neva Die shit, in his mind it was Al-Qaeda or nothing, but he knew Clark was right. If it was one of his spots that got hit, he would be out for blood.

  Once they came to a mutual understanding about how to proceed, D-Rocc explained to Clark what happened. He was on his way to drop off some loot to the spot when he saw four niggaz hop out a Jeep Commander that was in front of him, with bangers in their hands. Roc’s first mind was to stay out of it because it wasn’t Al-Qaeda. business. But he realized it was Clark’s spot and Al-Qaeda. was getting money with Neva Die so it was his business. Not to mention it was a direct insult to Menlo for niggaz to try anything in Menlo. So, he hopped out his car with both his bangers in his hands. As he was getting out his car he saw one of the niggaz shoot lil Munchie in the face as soon as he opened the door. Roc immediately started bussing with both thangs.

  The niggaz that was hitting the spot were caught off guard and confused. They tried to bust back at D-Rocc, but they were unorganized and unprepared, so they panicked. There was a duffle bag right inside the door. The nigga that shot Munchie saw it and snatched it up, he didn’t want to leave empty handed. As he raced to the Jeep he barely made it to the sidewalk before he was gunned down. There was a nigga still in the Jeep on the passenger side, he hopped out, grabbed the bag and they sped off. D-Rocc drove to this lil bitch house by the Boys Club in the back of Menlo and switched whips before heading back to the spot.

  While Clark was there he took the opportunity to drop them niggaz off some more work. Business was so good, the price was right, he damn near supplied the entire town. The new design he had on how he did things was smooth, but now he had to change it. Everybody assumed that the house on Sevier was a stash spot, but it was simply just a decoy.

  Clark also owned the home directly behind the house on Sevier, no one knew but Munchie. After the money was dropped off at Sevier, it was counted and then Munchie would walk out the back door and go through the adjoining gate in the back yard to stash the bag of money at the house on Madera. Every night the nigga in charge of the house would take the money dropped off to the real stash spot. Niggaz were actually trynna to rob an empty house, but they didn’t know it.

  After they left J. Clinton’s spot they decided to head over to Jonathan’s Fish & Chips on the other side of the freeway to grab something to eat since they were already out that way. As they were parking the thickest thing Clark had ever seen came walking out of Johnathan’s.

  “Got Damn!” They called out in unison.

  The chick was five-foot-five with high-yellow skin with just a kiss of cinnamon. 38DD chest with an ass that looked like it stood out at least two feet and a half from her back. Her reddish-brown hair ran all the way down her back and rested on her ass. She was almost the perfect specimen!

  When they yelled out damn so loud that she heard them, she paused for a second which was a natural response, then she continued on about her business. Clark wasn’t going to let her get away. He jumped out the whip while Tut was still parking. “Hey excuse me! Say beautiful!” He called out as he jogged up to her.

  “Yesss”, she responded as she rolls her eyes, while she continued to walk.

  “Look, I know you heard us sounding all juvenile and shit but Damn you’re beautiful! I’m not going to apologize for being mesmerized by your beauty!”

  He used a line he had heard his little brotha use before when he approached females. Nevertheless, Clark was dead serious when he spoke.

  “Mesmerized huh?” She replied after giggling at his comment.

  “Look Lil Mama, I don’t know who you are or who you belong to but if you don’t realize that your beauty is beyond breath taking, in fact you’re mind blowing and alluring, then somethings wrong! I mean, I’mma real hood nigga so don’t get me wrong, I’m what they call rough around the edges. But if I had you, I would let you know every day just how captivating you are.” The words rolled off his tongue like butter, real smooth.

  “Okay, so I see we have a way with words.” She told him as she looked up into his face with a big smile.

  “Believe me I really don’t, but your aura was calling out to a nigga so tough. My subconscious had to tap in to another plateau mentally and give me some of that Super Fly mouthpiece!”

  She laughed so hard, Clark knew he was in.

  “They call me Clarkola beautiful, what’s your name?” He asked while extending his hand out to seal the deal.

  “You better not let that fine man get away girl. Gone and take his hand”. Some little old lady threw her two cents in as she walked by smiling.

  “Clarence don’t act like you don’t know me.” That caught him completely off guard. Not the fact that she knew his name, shit East Palo Alto was only 2.2 square miles, most people knew him. But she called him by his government, that had him on the defense. People didn’t use that name, his real name. They either call him Clarkola or Clark.

  “Wow! So now you don’t remember me?” She asked him seeing the confused look that came across his face.

  “Ma look, I don’t know how you know me. Because, if I ever in my life saw someone as gorgeous as you I would remember.” The way he bit down on his lip when he said that, turned her on.

  “What if I once was your woman, yet you took me for granted, would you still remember?” Hearing those words shocked him. He looked closer and noticed her green eyes. Clark stumbled backwards as the look of recognition slowly crept onto his face.

  “Fuck naw!” Clark mumbles to himself and shakes his head in disbelief.

  “Yes, it’s me Clarence. How have you been?” Tieka was his high school sweetheart.

  It had been about fifteen years since he’d seen her. She looked completely different than she used to. But
as Clark looked at her more closely, he could see some resemblance. The two of them chatted for a while to catch up and exchange numbers. Then she said good bye and turned to walk away.

  As he watched her walk off he silently kicked himself in the ass. He thought to himself; How did he ever let that go? That has got to be the biggest, firmest ass he had ever seen on something cute. Niggaz always use the expression ass like a donkey, but watching Tieka walk away, that ass really did look like a donkey or a buffalo.

  Inside Jonathan’s, Tut informed him that he’d already ordered his favorite for him, the catfish meal, fried oysters on the side with extra tartar sauce.

  “Alright now Mr. Mouthpiece. Nigga you need to change your name to Don Juan with them lines.” Tut teased him when he walked in.

  “Nigga, you know I spit that shit!” Clark joked but beamed with pride.

  “Your beauty is mesmerizing and breath-taking.” Tut mimics Clark’s voice.

  “Nigga Ice Berg Slim couldn’t write it, better than I spit it.”

  While they were clowning around their order came up. After checking their food, they headed for the door to go.

  As they exited out of Jonathan’s, Clark dropped one of his tarter sauces out of his hand. He was going to leave it but considering it didn’t burst open, he bent down to pick it up. That change of mind saved his life!

  Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat!

  The sound of automatic gun fire erupted. The bullets riddled the wall of Jonathan’s spreading out in a clear line of holes on the wall behind the area where Clark’s head had been.

  FOCCA! FOCCA! FOCCA! FOCCA! FOCCA! FOCCA!

  At the first sound of gun fire Tut dropped the food and snatched out his bangers, like clock-work. He let both of his bangers, bang out!

  FOCCA! FOCCA! FOCCA!