Voorheeze & Clarkola

by De'Kari

  “Dats dat shit I’m talking about! But we will celebrate when it’s over. Right now, it’s war! Yall said that you wanted the City…. Then go take this fuckin City!”

  **** N. D. ****

  “If this broad don’t hurry up she gone fuck around and get left” he thinks to himself as he checks his watch for the umpteenth time. Clark had been waiting on Tieka for almost forty-five minutes. They’d only been back together for a short period of time, so he wasn’t trynna fuck things up by spazzing out, but she needed to hurry the fuck up.

  Clark’s temper could get the best of him sometimes and with the way things were going with them little niggaz he was already on edge and teetering over it.

  “Tiek! Come on!” He called out to the back room.

  He had to bust a couple of moves before they handled their business.

  “You ain’t gotta be all yelling my name like you done lost your mind or something.” She told him in a tone that was seductive and sassy.

  “God damn!” He was speechless when he saw her.

  She had her hair pinned up in a French twist wit a Chinese ribbon twisting down the front. Her purple top with the hot pink Baby Phat kitten on it, looked like it took a miracle to fit her breast in it. But the white seven jeans that she had on were so tight, spray paint would not have fit her curves any better. Her purple and pink Chanel shoes and matching bag only set her outfit off right.

  She was bad as fuck and she knew it; tonight though, everybody would know it.

  “Coming down the hall looking like that! Fuck the concert, let’s get back in bed.” He told her as he grabbed his dick.

  “Boy quit playing,” she burst out laughing.

  He wasn’t playing but fuck it, they’d already made plans. Clark tucked his Desert Eagle in his waist band and they headed out the door.

  Outside Stunna and Keak sat in a Black and Red Lincoln Navigator with tinted windows. The smell of platinum cookies the smoke from the blunts they were smoking was very loud. So loud you could smell it outside on the sidewalk.

  Neither one of the killaz wanted to be here on a baby-sitting job. They were Wolf Pack and the pack was hunting. Especially Lil Keak. He was only sixteen but hands down, no questions asked he was by far the deadliest of the pack. Sutton wasn’t as deadly as Keak, but he was just as cold.

  They were bout that action, not sitting and waiting around. But, war had been declared and they both knew that in war you protected the heads.

  Who better for the job? The best or in this case the worst. Tonight, they basically were body guards in the shadows. Their job was to trail and protect.

  The first stop they made was over to one of Clark’s money spots on Camellia Way. He pulled up to the house, hopped out and ran in. A couple minutes later he was walking out with a small leather carrying case. He jumped back in the truck and pulled off.

  He really didn’t want to leave his niggaz in the midst of an all-out war, but Fantasia was in town having a concert at the Oakland Coliseum and Fantasia was Tieka’s favorite artist. One night while he was rollin off a couple of e-pills and a molly she had asked him to take her.

  He said yeah just to shut her up, so she didn’t fuck off his high. Wasn’t no way he could back out. He tried time and time again, but she wasn’t having it. But he’d just popped two Molly’s in the house when he grabbed the money, so he wasn’t tripping.

  In fact, he wasn’t tripping off nothing. Maybe if he was sober he would realize the dumb ass moves he was making like going to the spot with her in the car.

  But the E and molly had his mind on a different level; he wasn’t on his security. If Clark had been, he would have neva let Tieka see his stash house; no matter how good the pussy felt or how long he harbored deep feelings for her. He hadn’t seen her in over ten years. Technically he didn’t know shit about her. But, his mind was cloudy, and he wasn’t thinking straight. He glanced over at Tieka, damn she was beautiful!

  He was in a brand-new Mercedes G-wagon. He had the prettiest female for miles in the passenger seat. His trap duffle had fifty bands in it. Plus, he had two killaz riding behind him……Naw you couldn’t tell him shit!

  **** N. D. ****

  (Union City)

  “Look! My lil man hit me last night. He a Northerner out of Redwood City. All he told me was he heard that I had a little problem in the town and that we shared the same problem.” French Tip was loading bullets into the extra clips she brought for the two Glock 40s she had, while Anne was sharpening one of her kitana’s. But they both were paying close attention as Voorheeze let them know what’s up. Anne was taking this assassin shit to another level with all her knives and shit like she was Lara Croft in the Tomb Rader movie.

  “He set up a meet with his big Homie, some nigga named Beast. Now this my lil Homie and he solid but y’all know me; strapped and ready for whatever.” Strapped and ready was the only way to be.

  “You ain’t got no idea what he talking about?” French Tip asked him as she finished loading a full clip into her banger and grabbing another.

  “I think it’s that situation with brah. But I ain’t gone make no assumptions. We gone head over there and see what’s what.”

  Anne spoke up for the first time, “Alright let’s roll!”

  (An hour Later)

  The average fool would see French Tip and Anne by his side and wonder why Voorheeze would bring two women to a Mobb meeting. A fool indeed. These were dangerous women. French Tip is one half of the leadership of the deadliest female assassin squad in the country.

  Anne went from being their rising star to full fledged star. Hell, Anne was not referred to as “Chiba” which means “female or lady wolf” because she was the face of the She-Wolves. She was as vicious as a real She-Wolf.

  They rode in French Tip’s pink challenger. Voorheeze didn’t think pulling up to a mob meeting in a Lambo was a good look, so, he too was in a dodge challenger. His however was triple black. Black paint, black rims and black interior. Not to mention he rode behind deep, dark tints.

  They pulled up to the park and could see a small group of Mexicans assembled by a picnic table waiting. Before getting out Voorheeze pulled his zip-lock bag of powder out of the glove box and took two huge snorts.

  By now Anne and French Tip had made it to the door and was posted up on security waiting for him. Voorheeze lit a cigarette and got out the car. As he climbed out the car he received a text from Clark.

  The two women were two steps behind him, one on each side as they approached the group. French Tip’s eyes took in everything. Anne’s hand was in her Berkin bag that hung on her shoulder wrapped around the barrel of her 9MM which had an extended clip on it that held fifty rounds.

  “What’s up Voorheeze?” Fernando stepped out of the group to greet Voorheeze with a one arm gangsta hug.

  “What’s up lil homie? Your phone call sounded pretty interesting.” While the two embraced, Voorheeze quickly sized up the rest.

  “That’s right Homie let me introduce you to my Big Homie.” The dude that Voorheeze had already pegged as a threat if there was a problem, stepped up.

  Voorheeze didn’t give a fuck about the Mexicans number. Being out numbered didn’t bother him. What did bother him was meeting in the middle of a park in broad daylight. This was some new shit. The cocaine making him alert to the point of paranoia wasn’t helping.

  “Yeah homie so that’s what I mean about yo problem.” The nigga Fernando called his Big Homie once he filled him in on shit.

  Voorheeze only caught bits and pieces of what he said.

  “Yeah Fernando informed you right, the little mothafuckas I’m dealing with is beginning to become a problem. But in actuality, my brother is dealing with them Y.N.M. niggaz.”

  “Who the fuck is Y.N.M.” Some older chick with fire in her eyes asked.

  “Well from what my peoples figured out it’s a gang of young mothafuckas from P.A. and Oakland but it’s a possibility that their bigger then we think.”

  Vo
orheeze didn’t know who the small chick was but there was something about the fire in her eyes. It was like he could strangely feel some type of kinship with her.

  “Well what I’m just trynna figure out is what’s the connection between them and Coast Side.” Antoni stated stepping back in the conversation.

  Voorheeze had a puzzled look on his face.

  “Coast Side? You mean Coast Side Locos? Ain’t that them Surenos from Half Moon Bay?”

  The South Siders had been making some noise lately. Voorheeze remembered them kicking some shit off at a Hoodstarz show a little while back over in South City.

  “Yeah it’s this mothafucka named Danny but he goes by Spooky. He been giving my homies some problems. He’s CSL.”

  Voorheeze knew the name and hearing what dude just said, connected the dots for him.

  “Brah Spooky wasn’t just CSL. Spooky was Y.N.M. this I know for a fact. But I’ll tell you this he won’t be giving yo homies no more problems.” He took a moment to let that sink in and then added, “But all this shit is starting to look like Y.N.M. and CSL are rock’n together.

  “Look Homie, I don’t mean no disrespect to you or your organization but if we join our resources it would make it that much easier to deal with these Putos. They’ve already formed an alliance why don’t we?”

  There it was. Antonio got to the point of the meeting. He couldn’t see himself beating around the bush.

  Voorheeze weighed the pros and the cons with working with the gang bangers in his head. On one hand it opened a new liability because most gang bangers were hot headed and always had a point to prove. On the other hand, more bodies meant more muscle. Plus, maybe now he would be able to talk these dudes into hustling. At the very least attacking CSL while his brother hit Y.N.M. would take some of the pressure off Clark.

  “Check it out brah, I’m all about the bullshit for real for real. But brah-brah, I don’t take orders, I give them, and I been doing this for a minute cause I know what I’m doing.” The little chick caught his attention again as he spoke. There was something about her. Danger radiated off her body.

  “So, if you and yours trynna rock wit me then rock wit me. But brah we move as a family. One cohesive movement. Any moves and decisions you and I will come to an understanding and make together.”

  Voorheeze could tell Antonio commanded respect and was used to calling shots. But what the lil gangsta didn’t know was Neva Die was Black Mafia! Organized, Unified and Extremely Deadly!

  “Homie, I respect how that sound. I’m wit that. So how you think we should handle this?” Beast wondered.

  “That’s easy homie. We make a statement. And we make that bitch right now!” He grabbed his Newport’s out his pocket and put one in his mouth looking back at his little sister as he did so. Like always French’s face didn’t betray any signs of what she was thinking.

  “Now see homie, I like that attitude. I’mma need about an hour to get all my homies ready. Where you wanna meet?”

  “Shit right here is fine with me. All I gotta do is make a call and give my squad a time and a location and they’ll be there. Just make sure to let yo peoples know when they see a fleet of black and red or black and pink vehicles slide thru, that’s my team.”

  “Sounds good fam, by the way they call me Beast. With all the shit going on I forgot to introduce myself.”

  Voorheeze thought of the text message he just received from Clarkola, “Beast? I’ve heard of you brah. You that same Beast that did the damn thang over in da Lo, not too long-ago wit dem ‘stick up kids?”

  “Yeah that’s me!” Antonio told him while they locked eyes. At the same time letting his hand fall to the butt of his Glock 40.

  French Tip wasn’t with the bullshit nor the talking. She figured that mothafuckas yapping, instead of letting the bullets fly, was a quick way to get killed. The moment she saw that look in Antonio’s eyes, a twin 9MM appeared from nowhere in her hands.

  Voorheeze wasn’t her Boss, he was her big brother. The one who used to come up to the school house and deal with the bullies. The one who held her as she cried when her dad used to beat on their moms. She was damned if she let something happen to him. She was ready to pop off!

  The moment Anne saw French Tip move she quickly went into action. She pulled her nine from her bag so fast no one saw the movement. But they saw the long ass fifty dick hanging off that thang.

  “If yo hand move anotha inch, I promise you I’m knocking yo head off!” The only reason he got a warning was because French Tip knew he was just trying to be cautious.

  Everybody got tense.

  “Naw Brah it ain’t even on that page. Everybody fall back.” The comment was meant for the Wolves. “Let’s just say you beat my mans to the punch. Dem lil niggaz hit one of my brother’s traps. So, believe me, we were on dem niggaz.”

  “Alright then.” Antonio said dropping his hand down to his side. He showed no fear.

  “So, we’ll link up in about an hour or so.” He didn’t get the name Beast by succumbing to fear. Having the weapons pulled didn’t raise his heart rate at all. But he respected the ladies speed and efficiency.

  Esmeralda put away her 38 that no one saw materialize in her hand. She stepped closer to get a better look at Voorheeze.

  “This is my Mom. She’s the brains of my hood.” Antonio introduced.

  “Please to meet you Ma’am.” Voorheeze extended his hand.

  “You look real familiar. You and her. “She pointed at French Tip. “I’ve seen a picture of you, long ago. You wouldn’t happen to be related to Cantelope by any chance would you.”

  “How do you know Cantelope?” He was curious now.

  “Let’s just say I took a liking to her when she was younger. My name is Esmeralda, but they call me Black Widow.”

  “You’re playing right?” He asked. Seeing that she was dead serious he told her “My cousin used to always speak highly of you. I know exactly who you are. Say Beast, normally when I deal with someone it’s done with a certain level of caution. That’s just how I rock. But if the Black Widow is your moms, Rogue, I extend both arms to you off the bat based on her resume. Brah I’mma fuck wit you real tough.”

  “Thank you for the show of respect.” Esmeralda told him. Respect was real important to her.

  “Now that we’re all on the same page let’s take care of this business.” Antonio was ready to get it poppin.

  Voorheeze hit Clark, and Johnny Spitz up and told them to meet him at the War Room. He had already told French Tip to buzz Cantelope in on what was what. He would let them link up and take care of this shit. Right now, he was feeling the powder. The coke had him in the building, definitely feeling himself. He had some cops to kill.

  Chapter XIV

  And So, It Begins

  (Back in Union City)

  She was the definition of perfection to many men. The type of woman every man dreamed of, squares, playas, gangstas, dope fiends, d-Boyz, hell it didn’t matter she was what they all wanted. What they all fanaticized about while fucking their old ladies. This chick was what the convicts envisioned while beating their dicks in their cells at night.

  She was 6’0” and 220lbs of pure, dark, chocolate thickness. Her hair was all natural, thick, healthy and down past her shoulders. Her juicy 38DD breast sat up just right. Not too perky, not too much sag. Her ass was just as big as Tieka’s if not bigger. It sat perfectly at the top of her long, firm thick legs. The type of legs a nigga would want wrapped around his head.

  She was outright breath taking. She had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen! But her two best qualities above all was her intellect and her huge heart! Her heart was bigger than mother Teresa’s. Yet there was no room for him in that heart.

  Sniff! Sniff! Voorheeze’ face was so numb he could no longer tell if he was getting a drain or not from the coke. Thoughts of her constantly haunted his mind. He’d stopped at the AM/PM on Alvarado Niles to get some gas and something to drink.

  He figured
he would play with his nose before he pulled off. He didn’t know why she’d popped in his head at the moment. Lisa was neva far from his thoughts. Hell, he was in love with her and she didn’t know it.

  But why would he think about her now? Guilt, that was why. Even though they weren’t together, and she was married to some nigga who didn’t deserve her, in his mind she belonged to him and he belonged to her. So, whenever he slept with another woman Voorheeze would feel guilty like he was cheating on Lisa. He was heading home to beat the brakes off Danika’s pussy and his conscious was fucking with him. Lisa was on his mind and in his heart.

  Voorheeze was able to pull up the camera monitors inside the house on his phone, so he knew Danika’s answer about staying or not. He’d called her as he was getting off the freeway to let her know he would be there soon. When he called the house phone she didn’t pick up until she heard his voice come over the intercom.

  “This nigga is on some next level high tech shit” she thought as he told her he was on his way. It was a little after 12:30pm so she was laid in the huge California King bed waiting on him.

  All day she had been driving herself crazy trying to figure out what she should do. Last night was some real fairy tale shit. All the shit LaMont was doing was foreign to her. She was a hood chick, she wasn’t used to all of that.

  Voorheeze turned onto Santa Elena Way and drove to the end of the street. He pressed the garage door opener as he approached the house and then pulled into the garage of the War Room.

  “Beep! Beep! System disarmed!” The automated voice called out.

  Danika looked over at the monitors on the wall but didn’t see any movement. She knew damn well she heard the security system say, “System Disarmed.”

  She was laying butt naked in bed as a surprise for Voorheeze. Since she was all alone in a strange house Danika had grabbed a big ass knife from the kitchen and placed it on the nightstand. After hearing the security system, she grabbed the knife and went to investigate. She walked all through the house and didn’t see anyone.