by Keon Smith
Shutting off the engine, he got out and went around to the front to meet with Mujahid. Mujahid was the Pakistani owner of the gas station. Maniac met him through Kev a while back when Shug first started taking over the city. When Mujahid saw him walk in, he had one of his employees take over the register while he went to greet him. “As-Salamu Alaikum,” he said, coming from behind the thick, bullet-proof glass door.
“Walaikum Salam. What’s good, Ocky?” Maniac replied, shaking the tan-skinned, white-bearded man’s hand.
“I don’t know, my brother. You tell me. I have a feeling you didn’t come to fill up your tank, no?” he asked in his thick accent.
“Nah, I came to fill up my ego. I need some big shit. It’s for huntin’ a cufar that’s hard to kill, and I’m afraid them AK bullets you sold me a while back are too small for the prey I got now.”
“What?” Mujahid said, looking around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation. “Since when is 7.62 bullets too small for a man? You have to learn how to aim; that’s all, my brother. You people are always shooting and wasting ammo. One shot is all you need. Otherwise, don’t shoot at all. Come. I have just the thing for you, my friend.”
Maniac followed the man down into the dense cellar of the gas station. There, the room looked as if Mujahid was planning a holy war. There were machine guns everywhere, along with all types of military-base weapons and ammunition. He even had a .50 caliber Gatling gun that looked as if it could have been attached to the side of a helicopter. Everything sat side-by-side, crowding the walls. It was no wonder Mujahid was Shug’s main gun supplier outside of the Underworld. He could get the team anything.
“Over here. Take a look at this, Ocky,” he said, picking up a rocket-propelled grenade launcher.
“Goddamn! This the shit they be usin’ over in Iraq,” Maniac said, holding it up.
“Yes, my friend, it’s an RPG. You see how many Americans it takes out. This, I can assure you, will do the job. Trust me, Ocky. Once he sees one of these coming his way, he’ll never know what hit him until it’s too late.”
He handed the weapon to Maniac and stepped back. Maniac placed it over his shoulder and looked through the crosshairs then smiled.
“How much for this?”
“I give to you for $3,500, and I include rockets, but please, don’t get caught with that. If they catch you, they think you terrorist. Then things will get very, very bad for you,” he advised.
Maniac held the weapon of mass destruction in his hands firmly. It was at that moment that he felt invincible. Then he thought of the look Montega would have on his face when he saw a rocket coming for him and said, “Aight, I’ll take it.”
Tragedy
“The streets is one big chess board…”
MONTEGA
As the night blanketed the city, Montega and Olivia relaxed and had a couple of drinks at Scooters, a laid-back bar in West Philly. Montega hadn’t been in too many bars, but for some reason, he liked this one. It was the only spot where he could almost be anonymous. As the two sipped on Gray Goose and pineapple juice, they talked and got to know each other better. The jukebox had been playing nonstop with requested songs. The music was so loud that Montega had to raise his voice.
“So what made you want to be a cop in the first place?” Montega asked, placing his cup down on the counter.
“Well, my father was a dedicated police officer, for one. He taught me how to shoot. I got so good at it, before I knew it, I started going to competitions. Eventually, I became a marksman,” Olivia answered.
“A marksman?” he asked, intrigued.
“Yes. Are you surprised? Don’t let my pretty face and unlawful ways fool you. I’m a two-time champion. Maybe I’ll take you to the range sometime, when you’re not too busy, and teach you a thing or two. You don’t have a record, do you?” she asked.
“Nah, my record’s clean, ma. And now it’s gonna stay that way, thanks to you.”
Olivia smiled as she placed her cup down to look at him. “You’re a very handsome and intelligent guy, Kenny. I can see that in you. You could have been anything you wanted to be. How did you end up being a drug dealer?” she asked seriously.
“I have a problem with authority, and I like fast cash, I guess,” he replied. “It wasn’t always like that though. I used to work at a lot of fast food restaurants, even worked at a WaWa’s. I was a good kid once upon a time. But when my mom lost her job, I lost my patience. I remember nights when all we had was just a roof over our head and a kerosene heater. I would run errands for the neighbors just so I could make enough money to buy a chicken wing platter with fried rice. I’d take a wing and some rice and give my mom the rest.
“I came a long way since then. Living every week off of a check wasn’t enough either, so I stole cigarettes and sold them for the low. Sort of like what you do with cars, only I was careless. I got caught and fired. Then I told myself that I didn’t need a job or a boss to tell me what to do or look down on me like he was better than I was, so I looked to the streets for help.”
“And what did you find?” she asked, sipping her drink.
“Dead dreams and living nightmares, I guess,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Money comes fast on the streets. There’s no complaints about that, but it’s still the same as when I was working. I’m still under somebody, whether I’m buying or getting fronted. I know what the streets are made of. The streets is one big chess board full of kings, queens, bishops, knights, castles, and pawns. I’m no pawn, Olivia. I want to get that straight, right here, right now.” He sighed before taking another sip of liquor. “For real, for real, sometimes, I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“Well, what do you need two guns for if that’s the case?”
“Because dudes rather see me die than to see me rise. Seems like all I know is trouble. With me, trouble is my sidekick. It follows me no matter where I go or what I do.”
“Um, well, I can fix that.”
“Nah, shorty. I’m not that type of guy. I handle my own affairs and live by the sayin’: If you want something done right, do it yourself.”
Olivia smiled as she studied him. She would never have known he was twenty-three from the way he carried himself. He was always so relaxed and confident when he spoke. She could tell he had been forced to become a man before his time.
They were interrupted by a text message. To Montega, it seemed odd since he hadn’t texted anyone. Looking at his phone, he saw the message was from Tee-Tee. He hadn’t spoken to her since the day she told him that they couldn’t see each other anymore. He couldn’t deny the fact that it felt good seeing her name on the screen of his phone but wouldn’t give Olivia the satisfaction of seeing it.
“Is there something wrong?” she asked.
“Yeah. I gotta get goin’. My sister needs my help with something important,” he lied while saving the message to read later.
“Damn, and here I was, having a good time with you,” Olivia said with a pouting face. “God willingly, there will always be another.”
On the way to drop Olivia off, Montega’s mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t wait to read what Tee-Tee had to say. Last he heard, she had been hiding out from Shug. Montega figured she missed him just as much as he missed fucking her. During the ride, Olivia stared at him with admiration. Montega hadn’t noticed but, it was killing her to be polite.
When he pulled up to her house, she reached over and put her hand on his leg. At first, he paid it no mind because his mind was elsewhere—until her hand migrated to the bulge in his pants, and she began to massage it. The feeling sent blood flowing between his legs. He looked at her and saw the desire in her eyes. Olivia licked her lips like a hungry predator.
Before Montega could speak, his dick was being devoured by Olivia’s warm, wet mouth.
“Uh, shit, ma. Damn, you good,” he gasped out as her head bobbed up and down in his lap.
Olivia sucked with hunger. She jerked and squeezed and slurped at the base
and moved her head faster. He gripped the back of her head and eased it down. He sucked in as much air as he could before deflating quickly to the sensation of her tongue.
The slurps and gags of her deepthroat game had him floating. Her tongue twirled around his head like a lollipop until he exploded in her tonsils. Olivia continued until she had him throwing his back against the headrest.
When she finally popped it out of her mouth, she purred, “Don’t be a stranger.” Then she got out of the car.
Montega sat there, exhausted, as if he’d just run a marathon.
Once he was able to recover, he took another deep breath, shifted the car’s transmission in drive, and pulled off. While heading north, he checked the text message that Tee-Tee had sent him.
Meet me at the house. We have 2 talk. It’s important.
It wasn’t what he was expecting, but still, she did want to see him. He made a quick detour and headed for Brickyard. The weed and liquor fogged his brain. All he could seem to think of was Tee-Tee—her pretty face, her sexy, petite body, her perfect ass, and her good pussy—all in which made him drive a little faster.
Within minutes, he pulled up to the block and parked around the corner. Punching in a code on the touch screen of his navigation system, one of his stash spots slid open underneath the dashboard. Montega grabbed his black 9mm Beretta and tucked it in his waistband. It was close to midnight, and none of the neighbors were awake. When he got to the porch, he saw that the lights were off throughout the house. The first thing he did was knock.
There was no answer.
He looked around from the porch and saw no one then tried the knob, and the door opened. He walked inside slowly then headed upstairs. On his way, he noticed that the door to the master bedroom was cracked, and the TV was on. As he approached through the hallway, he pulled out his Beretta because something didn’t feel right. Tee-Tee’s house seemed way too quiet.
When he opened the door, there she was, lying naked on the bed. Her eyes were wide open, and the smell of death was in the air. Her skin was pale, her lips as blue as the streaks in her hair. Montega flicked on the light and walked toward the bed. Inspecting the discoloration around her neck, it didn’t take a forensic scientist to figure out she had been strangled.
He put his head down with sadness.
“Damn, Tee-Tee,” he muttered with disappointment and grief while touching her cold cheek.
His phone rang.
Montega answered his cell phone hesitantly. “Hello?” His voice was scratchy.
“Kenny, where the hell are you right now?” Kia asked, sounding the same way she did the day she informed him of Razor’s murder.
“I… I’m… I’m at Tee-Tee’s crib,” he mumbled.
“Boy, get the hell out of there now. I just got off the phone with my girlfriend, Amber, and she said some guy name Maniac just came from around Blakemore lookin’ for you!” Kia shouted.
“Yeah, so?”
“Kenny, Breezy said he’s Shug’s number one shooter. He doesn’t go looking for people to talk. He’s looking to kill you.”
As soon as she finished that sentence, Montega heard the sound of a car trunk close outside of the house. “Hang on, sis,” he said, walking to the window. He peeked out the blinds. His eyes burst open with surprise. It was the same shooter with the dreads he got into a shootout with on the train tracks. This time, he was carrying something much larger than a handgun.
That can’t be real, he thought.
In fact, it looked like something that belonged to the real Taliban, and not his brother.
Maniac propped the RPG on his shoulder and aimed at the shadowy figure in the window. Montega jumped back. “Oh shit!” he gasped as he turned to run.
Maniac pulled the trigger. Just as Montega made it out of the room, the rocket streaked up to the second-floor window and detonated inside, bringing a big ball of fire that tore the master bedroom to pieces.
The impact of the blast sent Montega’s body flying into the hallway as bits and pieces of sheetrock showered down on top of him. The explosion almost knocked the life out of him. A door was taken off the hinges and fell on top of him with the rest of the debris.
Maniac smiled as he witnessed the damage he had caused. The whole master bedroom looked as if it had been struck dead-on by an F5 tornado.
It’s no way that coward survived that, Maniac thought as he hopped back into the tan Chevy Camaro and drove down to South Philly to give Shug the good news personally.
Inside the damaged row home, the sound of burning wood crackled through the hallway. Miraculously, Montega slowly pushed the door off himself and sat up, coughing from the dust and smoke. When he got to his feet, he was still dazed. His ears were ringing, and his face was as black as tar from the sulfur in the air. He couldn’t hear a thing, and everything around him seemed grayish. Looking behind him to where the master bedroom once was, he saw nothing but rubble and smoke and could feel a strong gust of wind as if he were outside.
A second earlier, and that could have been him. It now dawned on him that this was no game. He was too busy running the streets, smoking weed, and drinking liquor to see it coming. He then thought about the jewel Mike had given him earlier. Shug wanted him dead, which meant war had been declared. But he wasn’t in any position to go against the Pennsylvania black don. If he stayed in the city, he probably wouldn’t live to see another day. Leaving was his only option. Sometimes a person had to leave in order to make a strong comeback.
When A Woman’s Fed Up
“The only thing you care about is yourself…”
MARIA WHITEHEAD
After a tiresome night of filling out paperwork and dodging reporters, Dt. Whitehead entered his suburban home on the outskirts of Cedarbrook and was surprised to see his wife sitting at the living room table with a cup of coffee in her hand. Maria appeared to be daydreaming, but as he drew closer, she turned to look at him with red eyes. Whitehead knew she was pissed about him not showing up to his daughter’s graduation. He tried to explain. “Baby, I’m sorry, bu—”
“You’re sorry?” Maria repeated mockingly, slamming her cup down. “That’s all you can say? You’re sorry? It’s because of you Aminah doesn’t want to be a nurse anymore. Did you know that? She doesn’t even want to stay in this house. How could you miss her graduation, Gary? How could you?”
“Maria, there was a tragedy. My partner—”
“Were you and your partner fucking, Gary?” Maria asked a little calmer.
“Maria! For God sake, no.”
“Do you have kids with him?” she questioned.
“No, we don’t, bu—”
“Then why the hell were you there and not with your family on the most important day of your daughter’s life? I’ll answer that for you. Because that damn job is more important than your own goddamn family. This is why our oldest child left this house at such a young age. Now Aminah. The only thing you care about is your-fucking-self and those streets!”
“That’s not true,” Whitehead replied, shaking his head.
“You’re right. That’s not true, because you do love something else. Or should I say someone else?” she exclaimed as she went into her robe pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “I did a little detective work of my own while you were away.”
Slamming it down on the table, she shouted, “What about the child you had with this other woman! You might as well tell me now, because I had a huge conversation with her!”
“Maria, you can’t believe everything you—”
“Hear?” she asked, finishing his sentence for him. “You’re right. That’s why I went over there to see your mystery daughter myself. Isn’t it funny how she looks just like you, how she resembles Shabree and Aminah? I also took a drive to your little secret apartment. Yeah, she told me about that too, and I can’t believe what I found there.”
Calming herself down so that she wouldn’t break down, she asked, “How long have you been cheating on me, Gary?”
“Did you think I would be such a fool to not notice the different soap scents on your body or the smells of perfume coming from your clothes? Is that what you took me for? A dumb wife?”
“Honey, please, let me expl—”
“I want a divorce,” she said as her emotions burst into words.
“Maria, please, don’t—”
“Go to hell, Gary. Since you’re so obsessed with those goddamn thugs and whores out there that you’d neglect your own family, you can be with them… full-time. Now, get out of this house! I want you gone!”
Whitehead looked at the woman he had been married to for over twenty-seven years. He tried to find words to save his marriage—words that might make her understand—but there were none. All he could do was sigh then turn around and walk out of the house.
“You people think money can change the way we feel?”
TANETCHE AGUGBO
The living-room inside the White’s family mansion took up 1,500 square feet of space. It was sectioned between the west gallery and the entry hall, just across from the entertainment room. In the very center was an Italian wraparound, white, leather sofa with a crystal coffee table in the middle. A giant crystal chandelier hung overhead. The large, open windows draped with silk white curtains, letting the Los Angeles sunrays poor in from the hills. Clyde, his cousin Justin, and his sister, Diamond, sat on the Italian sectional across from the most-feared individuals in South Africa—the Agugbo brothers. Standing behind them were ten of their best henchmen.
The White family also had wolves backing them, including Bain, who was holding the gold-plated AK-47 that once belonged to Tanetche before he was almost electrocuted by Diamond. This alone was a slap in the face. Since the street wars in L.A., the Agugbo brothers became the most-dominating force up north.