by Keon Smith
Shug took the phone from his ear to see a distant number starting with 787. Placing the phone back to his ear, he said, “Puerto Rico, huh? I don’t have anybody in Puerto Rico, so who playing games on my line?”
“This ain’t no game, main-man, nor is this one of your clients. You know what you get when you got a death collector that you can’t see?”
“Nah, what’s that?”
“A phantom.”
Shug froze for a brief moment then exhaled calmly. “How’d you get my number?”
“I don’t know. Could be one of your old clients or perhaps some chick who you got tired of and dissed. Or it could be the chick you’re dealing with now.”
Shug glanced over at the woman who didn’t have a care in the world and said, “What is it you want? Tired of my wolves sniffing that ass out? Is that the reason you’re hiding in PR? What? Are you calling me for a truce?”
“I’m not hiding. I’m enjoying a little sunlight with a friend. I just wanted to call you and let you know that it’s still on with me for killing my homie and Tee-Tee. I’m coming for you, you fat fuck.”
Shug chuckled. “Phone gangsters. Well, if you’re coming, then bring the money with you.”
“What money?” Montega asked.
“The money for your fucking casket ’cause that’s the only outcome if we ever meet. I’ma bury yo’ ass.”
“I hear you talking, big man. But hear me.”
“Fuck I want to listen to a dead man talking for?”
“Well, you better stop listening to yourself then.” Montega hung up.
As Shug took the phone from his ear, the driver hit the brakes and made a hard right as gun shots went off in the middle of the intersection. Shug got low as his brand-new car was riddled with bullets. The driver stepped on the gas along with the other vehicles. When they got to the next intersection, another SUV blocked them off.
Shooters with AK’s jumped out. “Turn left!” Shug shouted.
The driver did as told as more bullets showered through the carbon fiber. Shug’s shorty was riddled from the side and back. The Maybach broke away from Gee and the other vehicles. Up ahead, another SUV blocked off the street. The driver turned right down a darker block and skidded to a halt. It was a dead end.
“What the fuck are you doing! Back up!” Shug barked as he looked over at his dead girlfriend slumped in the back seat.
The driver put the car in reverse. Suddenly, another SUV blocked them off. Shug’s eyes got wide as men hopped out with AK’s. The passenger and driver jumped out to defend their boss, but they were quickly torn to shreds. They reloaded, prepared to finish Shug off. He was trapped in the vehicle with no place to go. He climbed over the seat to the front just as a wave of chopper bullets tore holes into the $300,000 car.
They reloaded again as they walked forward toward the car. Four more men came from around the SUV to assist. Shug looked around for anything he could use to help him. He saw nothing. He could see the two men drawing near. His eyes reverted to the gear. He shifted to reverse then stepped on the gas. The Maybach shot backward, hitting both men so hard they went airborne.
The remaining four raised their weapons to fire but couldn’t get out of the way. The Maybach slammed into them then into the SUV, causing it to tail whip into the street. Shug put the sedan in drive then peeled off down the block with gunshots echoing in the distance. Shug looked down at himself and saw that his suit was ruined with sweat and blood. Thankfully, it wasn’t his blood. He looked in the back seat at the dead body and grinded his teeth together. The beef was definitely on and popping now.
Letter To Breezy
“This is the letter I’ll never send…”
MONTEGA
Maniac pulled up on Blakemore Street in front of Reek and the rest of the hustlers who were standing in front of the Chinese store. After rolling down his window, he signaled for Reek to get into his cranberry Lincoln MKL. Reek got in and shut the door before Maniac pulled off.
“What’s up with you?” Maniac greeted.
“Ain’t shit. What’s the problem?” Reek asked, looking over at him.
“There’s been some changes in the streets. Shug don’t want to do business with y’all no more. He thinks y’all harboring cuz with the black car.”
“What!” Reek frowned with his lip curled. “I already told Shug we ain’t got nothing to do with Montega. He don’t even come around the hood like that anymore.”
“Oh well, Reek. It is what it is. You know how Shug gets down. Y’all lettin’ this dude mess up y’all money. You don’t fuck with dude like that, prove it. Whenever he come around, hit my phone up and keep him here. That’s all you gotta do. If you can handle that, I’ll talk to Shug and let him know that y’all truly ridin’ with us.”
Reek considered Maniac’s plan. He knew he had to play his part. He would be a fool to let the connect slip out of his hand. Mike would not appreciate it one bit. Once Maniac dropped Reek off, the first thing Reek did was call Mike’s phone. Mike had a cell phone that one of the prison guards had smuggled into jail for him. It was direct contact to the outside world. He could talk as long as he wanted.
On the third ring, Mike picked up. “Yo,” he answered.
“What’s up, big homie? We got a problem… a big problem.”
“Kia, what the hell is in there?” Breezy asked as Kia pulled into the jungle-like setting of Awbury Park. Thick, white snowflakes fell from the sky, covering the entire property. “This place looks like no one’s lived here in years. It’s no wonder the hood is so infested with racoons.”
“Both of y’all gotta promise not to say anything,” Kia said seriously. “I gotta pick up some papers from Kenny’s house. He doesn’t want anyone to know where he lives, so y’all two bitches better keep y’all mouth shut.” Kia was referring to both Breezy and Crystal, who was in the backseat. “Especially you, Bree.”
“Please, if I wanted something to happen to your brother, he would be dead already,” Breezy replied. “I’m over him.” She looked out the window again with amazement. “Dag, this is one hell of a hideout, though. I had no idea there were houses back here. Your brother is so secretive, like he getting it at an all-time high. He still driving around in the same car he started out with.”
“Bitch, don’t be talking about my boo like that,” Crystal joked. “He might not be getting it like Shug, but at least he putting his money to good use, right, Kia?”
Kia didn’t respond. She just smirked as she advanced through the snow toward the house. They followed the trail and pulled into the driveway of a large, old, Victorian house that was boarded up on the outside. “Damn, for somebody that’s supposed to be gettin’ at a dollar, this is a real fucked-up way to live,” Breezy stated, getting out the car with a sour look.
“Come on,” Kia said, brushing by them to walk around the side where the garage was.
“Where is baby boy anyway?” Crystal asked as she got out.
“Probably over one of his little whore’s house,” Breezy suggested sarcastically.
“You ain’t never lied,” Kia replied.
They approached the mini carport. Once Kia punched in a code on the digital keypad, the first garage door was opened. Their eyes zoomed in on the black Lamborghini Murciélago LP-640. It was tinted with black rims and sat beside a black 2007 Dodge Charger SRT-8. They were the only cars inside the carport.
“Oh my God,” Breezy said, stunned, as she looked at the Lambo.
“I’ve never seen him drive this,” Crystal said, amazed, touching the fresh paint.
“That’s ’cause he doesn’t. He’s too scared to drive it in the city,” Kia explained.
“Shit, I would be too,” Breezy said. “That’s a $350,000 car, bitch. I don’t think no one in Philly owns one of these. Not even Shug.”
“Imagine Shug fat ass in one of them,” Crystal said with a sarcastic laugh.
Kia looked from the car to the other side of the room where the Charger sat. Beside it, t
here was a set of steps leading down to a door. She and her girlfriends headed that way. She opened it and walked inside. The girls tore their gaze from the Lambo and walked through a tunnel and into the basement where they encountered a jacuzzi waterfall inside some kind of concocted cave.
“Oh my God, is that a hot tub?” Crystal asked while looking down at the bubbling water.
“Come on, will y’all? Now y’all wanna be on his dick. Just a few moments ago, y’all was trying to play him,” Kia said, heading up the staircase to the first floor, which also blew their minds. The whole place looked as if it belonged in a museum. It was dark and gloomy but cool and smelled of oil and spices. The place was well organized and clean. The walls were decorated with guns like a gun store. The furnishings were comfortable and welcoming. Even Breezy was impressed.
“Where did he get so many gold guns from? Are they even real?” Crystal asked as she touched one that was mounted by the computer.
“I don’t know, and I don’t wanna find out,” Breezy answered as she followed Kia to Montega’s office across from the living room. There was a desk and a leather chair by the wall. There, they saw more guns, and a pile of money just sitting on the white and black pool table. It was then Breezy realized, the streets didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. Montega was getting it at an all-time high, under their noses.
Since the drive-by in South Philly, no one had seen Montega, but everyone knew he was still in action because the streets stayed talking about the Silent Kings. The truth was, while the squad took Philly, Montega was out of town, taking other spots down. As Kia searched for the information she needed to do her income taxes for her legitimate business, Breezy noticed a piece of paper that had her name written on it.
Breaking away from the two, she nervously picked the paper up and began to read it.
A LETTER TO BREEZY
I’m writing U a letter I know I can never send.
The things I’ve done 2 U are unforgivable.
U probably hate me, U probably wish 4 my demise.
Just 2 see U cry makes me wish I would die.
What I took from U I could never give back.
It was the thing that made you happy, the thing that made U laugh.
The thing that made you smile, the thing that made me bad.
I never meant to hurt U, but life doesn’t offer gems.
I’m sorry I killed your lover, I’m sorry I killed your friend.
I fear 4 the future because hurting people never ends.
Now you’ll always hate me, because this is the letter I’ll never send.
Montega.
Breezy carefully placed the letter back where she found it just as Kia found the paperwork. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, seeing the sudden emotion in Breezy’s face.
Breezy shook her head and tried not to cry. “Nothing. Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, let’s get outta here before this boy come back.”
When they made it back to the car, no one said a word about what they had seen inside the house. Breezy suddenly had a different view of Montega. Besides his wealth, she now saw something he may have hidden deep inside—a heart.
Party 2 Death
“You’re gonna either have the feds on your ass or the wolves…”
Montega
♫ I can feel it in the air…
Beanie Sigel
Montega awoke from a pleasant dream of a foursome with three exotic females—one Ethiopian/Asian, a Brazilian, and the other Caucasian. It was, by far, one of the best dreams he’d ever had. Lying on his back, he wiped his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, one he hadn’t recalled seeing before. He sat up quickly and noticed his dream wasn’t a dream at all. Scattered across the bed were three beautiful, exotic, naked females sleeping that he’d picked up from Delilah’s the night before. The empty bottle of Gray Goose on the nightstand told a story in itself. Montega looked at his rose-gold, diamond-faced Cartier watch and saw that it was 9:05 p.m. He reached over the Brazilian girl’s small breasts and picked up the ringing phone.
“Hello,” he answered in a groggy voice.
“Hey, papi,” Juicy said, changing his reaction. “You still coming to my party?”
“Shit, I forgot your party was tonight,” Montega said, wiping his tired face. “Where is it gonna be?”
Juicy sucked her teeth. “Plush. I told you that like a hundred times already, nigga. Wake up.”
“How is it that you are allowed to throw parties anyway? You ain’t even twenty-one yet.”
“Don’t get cute. I’m twenty-three, for your information, and I got clout on the internet. I’m practically a star, so don’t hate. Now make sure your butt show up. Oh yeah, Gutter called me too. He said Nino just got out of jail yesterday. He’s not coming to the party though, for some reason, but Gutter will be there. I remember you said you was looking for him. He said he’s coming.”
“Oh really?” Montega asked dryly. “Well, in that case, I’ll see you there.”
“You better,” Juicy said before ending the call.
Montega stretched before climbing out of bed and into the shower. He realized he was in the Borgata Hotel from the monogrammed towels. He showered, dressed, and left the women behind. He couldn’t believe he had been partying for a day and a half with those strippers. The first thing he did was drive back to Philly to one of his stash spots. Walking down into the basement, he whipped out his phone and called one of his clients.
On the first ring, he answered. “Yo, where you been? I’ve been calling you all day,” the guy said.
“Be easy, homie,” Montega replied as he opened the old washing machine and pulled out a brick of cocaine. “I lost track of time, and I apologize for that. In fact, I’ll throw you a little extra on the lookout.”
“Say no more,” the guy said before hanging up.
Montega brought the coke upstairs and set it on the counter by the stove. Grabbing a pot from the cabinet, he poured water into it and set it over the fire. He weighed each portion to 250 grams, dropped it in the boiling water and cooked up a fourth kilo of raw, straight to the oils. After dropping the ice and drying the coke off, he broke them up into single, onion-shaped ounces and weighed them again on a digital scale.
Montega carefully bagged up each ounce, threw them in a bag, then headed back to the car. It was a cold night in the city. An old blanket of snow on the ground had turned to ice. Those who didn’t have to drive were advised not to, extra-duty police included. Montega took advantage of it by making deliveries to his workers who were hustling in the crack houses he had around the city.
He pulled up around the corner from College Wall to find his young bol Jay hustling hand-to-hand on the corner. Montega had a soft spot for the young shooter. He met him through his brother, Taliban. As soon as he saw him, he beeped the horn to get his attention. The slim, brown-skinned guy with the light beard and unibrow stopped what he was doing and approached the black Impala.
He got into the passenger side and spoke in a normal seventeen-year-old voice.
“What’s good, dog.”
“You wanna make a quick nickel?” Montega asked.
“Hell yeah. What you need me to do?”
“Just ride with me across the bridge. In fact, call your homies and tell them to come on with you.”
Jay got his homies, Mac and Jackpot, to join them. Together, they drove across the Ben Franklin Bridge into Camden territory. They pulled in a driveway behind a 7-Eleven and got out. Montega went to the trunk of his car and opened the stash spot in the floor. A small arsenal appeared. He handed Jay an AK-74, Mac an HK-MP-5, and Jackpot a Bushmaster AR-15. They got back in the Impala and headed for the block where the client awaited.
Montega pulled over and spotted Stormin’ Norman posted with his people. He got out the Impala along with his young bols. When the guys saw the guns they were armed with, they turned to Norman nervously. Norm smiled as he ignored the threatening pose and crossed the street with t
wo of his people with him. He carried a duffle bag full of cash. He handed it to him and followed Norm over to the car.
“You want me to count this in front of you,” Norm asked.
“How much is it?” Montega asked.
“A hunnid grand.”
Montega took the bag. Yeah right? “Nah, I trust you. I’ll have the work sent to you in a few days,” he said before heading back to the car where his young shooters were posted.
He placed the money in the stash spot then got in the driver’s side. Once he was safely inside, the young goons got in as well. Montega hit off all his players and crack houses throughout Philly then dropped his youngins off.
Afterward, he headed for the club. He drove into the parking lot of Plush nightclub. There, he spotted his homie Gutter’s sky-blue Maserati three cars away. Gutter had been way too flamboyant since he started his rise with Silent Kings. There wasn’t a problem with his re-up. In fact, Gutter was one of the fastest on the team when it came to moving heroin. It was just his flashy style that bothered Montega.
For one, he partied every weekend, and when he did, he made sure he was seen. His jewelry was outrageous. The iced-out Silent Kings chain that he had made on Jeweler’s Row was damn near the size of a toaster. He came in the club with different chinchillas on every week and threw twenty to thirty thousand around at females like it was Monopoly money. Montega knew if the Feds didn’t bring him down, the goons who prayed on ballers like him would.
The club was packed, and the line was out the door. Juicy was hosting one of the biggest afterparties of the century. She started off doing cabarets for an older crowd, then she hooked up with some friends in community college that specialized in web design. They hooked up her website and brought a lot of traffic to it, using photos from her cabarets. From there, she started doing promotions inside the clubs. Using her good looks and flawless assets, she started meeting very important people.