by Keon Smith
“What’s up? I ain’t know a wild nigga like you was into shopping,” Shug joked with his smooth voice.
“Only shopping I do is for bullets,” Maniac responded before giving him some dap.
“Did you find out about the nut that robbed my strip?”
“So far, nobody in South Philly knows anything about that tattoo with the gagged skull wearing a crown, so they must be from somewhere else ’cause when I talked to my man from Uptown, he said that there was a rumor goin’ ’round ’bout some creep named the Phantom. They said he was puttin’ shit down up in Germantown. So I’ma breeze through there and see if I can get any closer to this cat. He might be the same fool.”
“If he ain’t the same, kill him anyway, and make the shit public. I want everybody to know that I ain’t the one to fuck with. Whoever got that tattoo, murk him as well. If he thinks he’s a phantom, make him a ghost. Dudes ain’t gonna have shit bad to say about me, because they gonna be too busy reading about my work in the paper. This city is mines, you got that?” Shug asked, poking his index finger at Maniac’s chest.
Maniac nodded before glancing over at Tee-Tee, who rolled her eyes back at him with disgust. With a sinister smile, he replied, “I got it, boss.”
Shug took notice to the sudden ringtone of his phone. He pulled it out and answered.
“Yeah,” he said.
“I need to see you,” Diamond replied on the other end. “How fast can you get to New York?”
“I’m only an hour and a half away. What’s this about, ma?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here. Meet me at the Westside Railyard in Manhattan. There’s an old barge terminal there.”
Shug locked in the location then placed the phone in his pocket. “There’s been a change of plans,” he said, giving Tee-Tee the keys to his Range Rover. “I gotta make a run. Maniac, go tell Gee to get his car and bring it around to the front exit.”
Maniac got right on it. Without delay, Shug was gone, leaving Tee-Tee to shop alone once again.
The Westside Rail yard in Manhattan seemed calm and abandoned. The sun was slowly fading behind the tall skyscrapers across the Hudson River. The sound of traffic roared in the distance, with the usual horns beeping, engines buzzing, and police sirens howling. Eight vehicles sat in a vacant shipyard by the river. There were cars of those with expensive tastes, all parked in a complete circle. Diamond stood amongst eight powerful men. The Italian boss, John Valentino, stood with his hitman, Frank the Ventriloquist, and Sammy the Bulldozer. Miami George had his lieutenant, Tee, with him and a few other guys from Florida standing curiously in the background. There was Shug, who kept Gee and Maniac with him. The Russian mob boss, Semok Budinov, stood in front of his three shooters. Tommy Gun came alone however, but Wong Lee, the Black Cloud leader, had ten Asians dressed in black suits and shades. His number one, Kim Angeo, stood beside him, staring suspiciously.
In front of them, Bain towered behind Diamond with five additional shooters, along with the priest. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her white linen pants. The breeze rippled across her red silk blouse and tousled her long, lustrous hair. Semok lit a cigar with a silver lighter as she began.
“I called you all out here because there are some things I need to have clarified. As you know, a lot of people don’t respect my seat in the Underworld. Some may even see me as unpredictable or childish. I accept the gossip and the idle chatter that I hear. But what I don’t accept is a plot to bring about my demise.”
The men looked at each other strangely.
“What does this have to do with us?” Don Valentino asked, extending his hands out.
“I called this meeting because I want to know who my enemies are, apart from my friends.” Diamond circled while eyeing every man standing in the wide circle.
“Hey,” Semok Budinov said. “We’re not your enemies, if that’s what you’re getting at. We were brought in this circle because we were promised a fair share. We don’t care what you do. As long as we profit, that’s all that matters, right?”
“Yeah,” Valentino agreed. “If you’s paranoid, you might want to keep an eye on that Mexican cocksucker Clyde has for an Underboss. He’s the one who has the hard-on for you. He’s got every reason to, this fuckin’ guy. You threw a dagger at him in front of twenty-eight masterminds.” Valentino shrugged before pulling out a cigar. “I’m not saying he didn’t have it coming, but you’s gotta think a little better than that, doll.” Valentino lit a match, burned the tip of his Cuban, pulled, and inhaled the smoke.
“I’m well aware of Chavo’s distaste for me. But he’s not alone. Trust me. I just want to make sure the people I half-ass respect are not a part of this disaster waiting to happen.”
She was looking at Wong Lee this time, who seemed to be quiet and nonchalant. He smirked before saying, “Ms. White, please don’t insult my character. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t say a word. You would already be dead. It was me who trained you, remember? Besides, if you die, who will help me bring the rest of my people here from China?”
Diamond looked at Shug then at Tommy Gun. They seemed to feel the same way. She wasn’t a problem to them. In fact, she was a solution. Her product of heroin was making them richer than they could ever imagine. When she was convinced that the men weren’t a threat, she looked away and said, “Okay, since we’re all on the same page, then I’ll say this… Verningo Castor is not someone we want to deal with, and I need you guys to see that.”
“What is it with you and this fucking guy?” Valentino asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Tommy Gun asked. “He killed her father.”
“Yes, but this is business,” Wong Lee said impassively.
“Business is one thing. Common sense is another,” Diamond replied. “Do you really think Castor will actually honor your deal? Let’s say he does make a deal with us, and maybe he’ll even fall in line for the moment. But make no mistake about it; when he learns everything he needs to know, what do you think he’ll do? I’ll tell you what he’s going to do. He’s going to knock us all off and position his own people in our spots.”
“What makes you so sure?” Shug asked, leaning on Gee’s Maybach.
“Because that is what I would do. I would want business to run my way and my way only. Those that didn’t fall in line would fall and die. Let’s not be naïve. We’re not the only ones out here that can flood cities and states with drugs and whatnot. There are a lot of people that would just love to be in our shoes.”
Shug folded his massive arms. “So what do you want from us?”
“Just to keep an open mind about what you’re doing before you make the decision to cross over. I got a feeling that my vote won’t make a difference sooner or later. But if I have a few good men backing me, then things might just save us from the drama.”
“Maybe you,” Semok said with a grunt. “Not us. Did you not forget, Ms. White, we still don’t have a smuggling ring together?”
“Let me handle that. I’ll need time to talk with the cartels,” Diamond explained. “I must reason with them and have them see that this war they’re fighting is frivolous. They’re over there fighting for territory and God-knows what, but in the end, no one profits.”
“You’re serious about this?” Tommy Gun asked.
“Have you ever known me to play around, Tommy? The Mexicans have unique ways to get out product from point A to point B. You heard Butler. The Underground Kings won’t use their resources and risk their business getting hit by some drug sniffing dogs. So this is the only way.”
“How long will this take?” Budinov asked curiously.
“Could take months to get in contact with the right people and get them all together. Could even take a year or two,” Diamond replied.
“Do we have that time to waste?” Shug asked.
Diamond smirked. “We have plenty of time. Don’t let Clyde manipulate you into thinking we don’t. That’s just one of his many tactics to scare you all into making yo
u guys vote as quickly as possible. Shug and Tommy, you guys know him more than anyone else. For those who are skeptical, what Clyde is doing is seeing the problem down the line before it escalates. Trust me, by the time the South American connection runs out, I’ll have the Mexican leaders shaking hands. Unlike our underboss, who’s supposed to be affiliated with them,” Diamond said, gesturing with her manicured index finger as her sword. “Do me a favor, guys. While this is going on, keep this meeting to yourself. We may sit in a circle as equals, but some of us have ulterior motives that are bad for business in the end.”
As the men began to disperse, watching with a pair of binoculars, Deshawn sat in a Dodge Durango with the window down. He had on a pair of earphones with a high-tech sound device aimed in their direction. He heard every word that was said.
Shaking his head, he removed the equipment, saying, “Looks like someone forgot to send the rest of the Underworld an invitation. Let’s see what Clyde thinks about this.”
Taking A Chance
“You can’t judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes…”
MONTEGA
Later that evening, Montega pulled up in a small neighborhood full of townhouses known as Brickyard. He parked the black car on Ashmead Street where his homie Nino Brown lived. Nino was a Silent King to the core but spent most of his time hooking up stereo systems and putting tint on car windows. Montega waited on the porch of Nino’s aunt’s house while he put 5 percent tint on the Impala’s windows. That’s when someone caught his attention. He only got a glimpse of her walking across the intersection down toward Collom Street.
He had to see who the fine shorty was carrying the Nordstrom bags. He trotted up the block toward Wakefield Street and turned a hard left. There, he saw her.
“Damn, shorty, slow down for a second,” he urged.
The woman turned to see a familiar face from the past. He was dressed in a blue and red Polo shirt, dark-blue denim jeans, and fresh white, shell-toed Adidas. He approached her at a fast pace, not once losing the swag in his step.
“Oh my God. Not you again. Boy, it is a crime to stalk people; I hope you know that. Who you work for? TMZ?” she asked with a smirk.
“You call it stalking. I call it destiny. Anyway, where you headed?” he asked.
“To my house around the corner. Why? Did you come to help me with these heavy ass bags?” she asked, trying to lug them along.
“Ain’t nobody tell you that Nordstrom was going out of business,” he joked while taking the bags from her. “You could have left some of this shit behind. You probably ain’t even gonna wear half of the clothes you got in here. You just spendin’ ’cause a brother payin’, I bet.”
The girl flushed with a smile at the stranger’s comment because he was absolutely right. Montega caught her smile. “Damn, that’s my work right there?” he asked.
“What’s your work?’
“You glowin’ like a muthafucka. I’m used to seeing a lot of rain in a girl’s eyes. Never thought I could be the cause of sunshine. What’s your name anyway?”
“Tee-Tee,” she said as she fingered a strand of hair from her face.
“So Tee-Tee, do you always let strange men carry your bags to your crib when you ain’t running them over, or is it just my lucky day?”
“What I look like to you? One of those thirsty-ass chicken heads? I don’t talk to people like that, let alone get close to them. You ain’t no stranger, boy. I’ve seen you around here, Mon-te-ga,” she said, poppin’ her neck from side to side as she said his name. “Ain’t that what they call you?”
“Yeah, but you can call me Kenny,” Montega replied, admiring her.
Tee-Tee beamed when she saw him staring. Truth be told, ever since she had almost run him over on Ardleigh Street, she had her eyes on him. She found herself riding through Woodlawn just to see if he was out there. She even asked a few people about him and found out what type of guy he was. He wasn’t what she expected when she first met him. If anything, she was the one stalking him.
Montega glanced over his shoulder and said, “Look. I’m probably jumpin’ out there with this, but what’s up with me callin’ you later and maybe takin’ you out to eat or somethin’?” he asked.
“I can’t. I have a dude,” she said politely.
“Oh yeah? Well, where he at now? And why he got you walking like this?” Montega wondered.
“Well, for your info, I’m walking by choice. My man doesn’t allow me to park in front of my house for security reasons. He also doesn’t like to be seen around here. Now, why are you all up in mines?” she asked seductively, rolling her eyes.
“Shit, last chick whose business I was all up in woke up late for work the following morning. Next thing you know, she was tryna run my life.”
Tee-Tee sucked her teeth before noticing his devilish grin. “You so nasty,” she said.
“No I’m not. I’m an animal. But I know a woman’s value, which is why you should give me your number; I can show you how much you’re worth, whenever your man be on some bullshit.” Montega shrugged. “I ain’t tryna take your man’s place, because from the looks of it, you straight on the outside,” he said before licking his lips. “What I want is what you want, which is probably the reason you keep breezing through my hood every time I’m out there. I just wanna be your nigga; that’s all,” Montega confessed.
Tee-Tee squinted her eyes to keep from blushing. There was no toying around or playing hard to get with him, because he was too persistent and always a step ahead of her. “How do I know you’re not some guy trying to look all big in front of your homies? How do I know this won’t get back to my dude?”
“Look. I don’t even know your dude, shorty. In fact, I don’t even want to know him. All I’m sayin’ is that you can’t judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes or at least walked with him. So walk with me, and take a chance,” he said before pulling out a pen and writing down his number on the Auto Zone receipt where he got the tinting done.
Against her better judgment, she snatched the receipt from him and placed it into her Louie bag. After dropping the bags off at Tee-Tee’s house, Montega started for his brother’s girlfriend’s crib to pick him up so they could get something to wear for the party. Thinking about Tee-Tee as he walked away, he muttered, “Got one.”
Tee-Tee watched him stroll off with her number and sighed while thinking to herself, if he only knew.
Go Gettas
“Bitches ain’t shit…”
SHUG
As the full moon glowed on the fresh silver paint of the Bentley Flying Spur, Shug maneuvered the vehicle around the sharp curve of Kelly Drive, heading to the club in a four-car motorcade. In the passenger seat, his cousin Mike sat in silence while looking out the window.
Turning the Becoming CD down, Shug said, “What’s on your mind, cuz?”
“I’m good. Just thinkin’ ’bout something,” Mike responded.
“Thinkin’ ‘bout that bitch that ran off with that bread, ain’t you?” Shug asked with one hand on the steering wheel, the other clutching his cell phone as if he were waiting for a call. “Fuck that bitch, cuz. That shit’s petty. What you need to worry about is how you gonna get the scent of pussy off your gat when you get back to your girl tonight—because you gonna go crazy when you see the shorties that’s up in this muthafucka. I talked to Kay Slay, and he bringin’ a bunch of those video broads to the club tonight. You know how retarded it gets when shorties see my name on a flyer.”
“I ain’t trippin’ ’bout no broad, and I ain’t trippin’ ’bout no bread. It’s the fact that I put my trust in shorty, and she just bounced on me as soon as I got booked. I can front like I’m good, but inside, that shit hurt. What she did can’t be forgiven, nor could it be let go of,” Mike reflected.
“Man, bitches ain’t shit, and they never will be. That’s why you gotta take ’em for what they worth. Just fuck ’em, and send they ass on their way with some La Perla underwear and Louie bags
. This should be a lesson to you about trusting a bitch. I would never trust nothing that bleeds once a month. If a bitch cross me, she deadweight. That’s on everything I love.”
Mike shook his head. “Bol, you cold, cuz. If a shorty only knew the real you before they get involved with your ass—”
“They would still be on my pipe. You got life fucked up, cuz. My money long, even though my temper short. Now, when we get in here, don’t be all in your uptown bag. I know you got a rep to uphold, but at least show your big cuz some love.”
“Man, don’t nobody fuck wit’ y’all South Philly dudes like that,” Mike joked.
“What? You got me fucked up. I don’t just claim South Philly. This whole muthafuckin’ state is mine,” Shug said as he pulled up to the front of the club on Delaware Avenue where the line was around the corner.
It was an electrifying event in the city of Philadelphia. The club set the tone for Saturday night, and all the playboys on the streets showed their faces. There were so many women, so much jewelry, so many foreign cars, old schools hoopties, and Hollywood spot lights; the parking lot looked like a music video.
Across the street from the club, females in tight designer dresses and high heels approached the line. A black-on-black Chevy Impala pulled into the lot. Montega pulled up and found a parking spot all the way in the back. Accompanying him was his brother, Taliban, and his righthand man, Razor. “Damn, that long-ass line,” Razor said, getting out.