by Keon Smith
Tonight, she had a few entertainers making special guest appearances, entertainers that nobody would have guessed would come. Montega avoided the long line that stretched around the corner and approached the front. He watched as some of the women began to stir when they saw the rapper Pitbull get out of a limo with his friends and security to head inside.
Montega slowed his pace when he saw two beautiful women step up on the curb. One was apple-butter-brown with long, brass-shaded, crinkly hair. She wore a tight, caramel Prada mini dress that barely covered her voluptuous ass. Black Tory Burch heels told him that shorty was about money. The other was Italian with long, dark hair. She was shorter than her girlfriend and wore a black Valentino Garavani dress and Stuart Weitzman croc-skin sandals. She looked a tad bit innocent, compared to her companion, and had a slim body with bulging breasts and a small, round ass.
As soon as they spotted him, the Italian one spoke first. “You’re Kia’s brother, aren’t you?” she asked, getting her friend Amber’s attention.
“Yup,” Montega replied. “Aren’t you a little too young to be up in here?”
Ebo smiled bashfully and replied. “I could be.”
Montega’s eyes went from her eyes to Amber’s. “What’s up, pretty girl,” he greeted.
Amber smiled and waved at him.
“Y’all trying to get in?”
“Can you get us in?” Amber asked him
“I don’t know. I might have a little pull in here. Let me see.”
Montega turned to the bouncers who were patting everyone down one by one. They were big and wore black shirts that said security printed across their chests in white.
One of the Italian bouncers saw him approaching and frowned. “What do you want?” he asked.
“I want you to call Misty, and tell her the guy name Montega is out front.”
When the bouncer heard that, his hard face slowly vanished as he whipped out his phone and dialed a number. The people waiting in line tried their hardest to listen in on the conversation. Even Amber and Ebo were curious to know what was going on. A few seconds after the bouncer got off the phone, an Italian woman with blonde hair, dressed in a cream suit and heels, came out to greet him. She looked to be in her mid-thirties.
“Kenny!” she greeted him with a hug. “How’s everything going with you? Juicy told me you weren’t coming.”
“I know, but there’s someone I gotta talk to in here.”
“Well, come on in. What are you waiting for?”
“Oh, these are my friends,” Montega said. “They’re with me.”
The owner took a look at the two quickly and said, “Caramel and vanilla. What a combination. Wait a second. Do I know you?” She was studying Ebo.
“No,” Montega quickly said, taking the owner by the small of her back and guiding her inside. He looked over his shoulder at Ebo and gave her a wink.
As the four entered the club through the side door, the loud siren tune of Meek Mill, T.I., and Rick Ross’s “Rosé Red” had the ballers and divas bouncing their heads. Montega hadn’t been to a club since Atlanta. He found himself too busy lately, trying to make moves. Everything seemed so distant to him now. He had felt like Bin Laden hiding in a cave and had lost track of time about what was hip and what was not. It was a good thing he had a sister who stayed on point with the times.
He noticed a few guys who were getting some major paper in the city doing it big over in the VIP. Gutter was amongst them.
“You got a nice little spot here,” he told Misty.
“Thanks, baby. I pride myself in keeping her well stocked.” She looked over at Juicy, who was seated at a booth with some of her girlfriends. “Looks like your girl is in for one hell of a night.”
“Yeah,” Montega said with a smile before spotting his sister and her girlfriends. Amber and Ebo walked toward their booth with Montega eyeing them the entire way.
Misty tapped him on the chest and said, “I’ll be in my office. Stick around for a sec and stop by, kay?”
Montega nodded as he watched curious eyes glance up at him.
When Amber and Ebo got to the table, Breezy looked up and nudged Kia to get her attention. Kia looked up to see her two beautiful girlfriends.
“Okay, divas,” Kia said with her familiar signature smile. “I’m glad y’all could make it. It took y’all long enough. Where’s Jazz?”
“Mike won’t let her out the house,” Amber said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“That sucks. I didn’t think they would let y’all in, as crowded as it is in here,” Crystal said.
“Yeah and how much did y’all pay to get Ebo in here?” Breezy asked. “You know she underage.”
“Shit, Kia brother got us in,” Ebo said, grabbing an empty glass.
“What brother are you talking about?” Kia asked, looking around.
Amber pointed to Montega, who was talking to the bouncer from earlier.
“What is he doing in here?” Breezy asked suspiciously.
“I don’t know,” Crystal said. “But he’s coming this way.”
Montega glanced at Gutter and shook his head as he approached him. He made it halfway across before bumping into someone. “Damn,” a light-brown-skinned guy said as he looked him in the face.
“My fault, homie,” Montega replied before continuing to walk toward Gutter. The guy’s eyes lit up. His heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t believe who he just ran into. As Montega came within a foot of Gutter, he felt someone grab hold of his arm. He turned to see a booth full of glowing faces. The first person who caught his eye was Breezy. For some reason, she was sparkling.
“Damn,” Montega said with surprise, looking at all the faces. “And here I thought all the pretty girls in Philly were overrated. How y’all doing tonight?” he asked.
“We would be doing even better if we could get some drinks over here. It seems like these waitresses are only catering to the VIP,” Gi-Gi said, checking him out. “But forget all that. How you doing tonight?”
“No, fuck that. Why don’t you come see me no more?” Kia asked. “You getting too much money for family? Why I gotta sneak in your house and find out what you been up to?”
“You got a house?” Crystal asked, glancing at Breezy as if to play it off. “Where you live?”
“You should know,” Montega said before revealing his secret. “You and Breezy were there yesterday with my sister. So who you foolin’?”
“How do you know all that?” Kia asked in shock.
“C’mon, now. I got eyes everywhere, sis. The streets ain’t the only thing that’s watchin’, shorty. Twenty thousand dollars of surveillance works even better. Plus, I noticed more than one set of footprints in the snow. You should try covering your tracks a little better than that. And I never put my money before my family, especially my only sister. Now, give me some sugah.” He wrapped his arms around her to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“Stop, boy, you gonna mess up my makeup,” she said while her friends smiled with envy.
Even Breezy couldn’t help but feel a little warmth when she saw the attention Kia got from her brother.
“So what sort of relationship do you have with the owner?” Ebo asked, catching him off guard. “I remember her. She knows my father; that’s why she recognized me outside.”
Montega froze, speechless. It was true. He and the owner had been banging pelvises, but he wasn’t about to tell them that.
“Probably fucking her,” Amber blurted out.
Montega looked over at Gutter and decided now was the time to make his escape.
“Excuse me,” he said, walking off while the girls ridiculed him.
“I was just joking, damn. Talk about no sense of humor,” Amber said.
Breezy couldn’t stop staring. Even though she despised him, she still admired his charm. She wasn’t the only one in the group. When she looked at Amber, she saw the same effect he had on her.
“Your brother is so sweet,” Crystal said to Kia, bu
t Breezy rolled her eyes. She thought to herself, he wasn’t so sweet when he kidnapped me and killed my boyfriend. That’s all for show. Ain’t nobody buyin’ his act.
She then looked at her friends, who were practically gawking at him. Well, he ain’t fooling me, she thought.
When Gutter saw Montega approach, he extended his arms like he owned the place. “Yo, what’s the deal, bol? What you doin’ up in here?” He turned to all the other ballers. “Everybody, listen up. We got a real hood billionaire in this—”
“I need to rap with you for a second.”
Gutter caught Montega’s serious tone. He looked around at all his entourage, nodded, and followed him through the crowd and into the bathroom. “What’s up?” he asked.
“What’s up?” Montega repeated as if Gutter didn’t know. “What’s up is you, yo. You and all this flamboyant shit,” he said, lifting Gutter’s iced-out chain and letting the symbol of the crowned, gagged skull plop back on his chest. “You drawlin’, dog. You hangin’ ’round with these leeches. These dudes is lames. They want your blood, and they’ll suck you dry if they could. You act like you ain’t tryna make enough to get out the hood and expand. You just want to get by and have a bunch of nothin’ ass bitches speak highly of you and trick you out your money.”
Montega spat on the floor and said, “Keep it up. You gonna either have the feds on your ass of the wolves on your head. Out here, throwin’ bread to these pigeons like this shit a walk in the park, like it’s legal. The ones that act like they interested in you will leave you quicker than you can say ‘I’m broke.’ I’m not telling you this ’cause I’m hatin’ or anything. I’m telling you because you family, and I got love for you. You got to be smarter than this, bol.”
Gutter hung his head. “My bad, yo. I know I have been drawlin’. It’s just this life, dog. You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like to be the dirtiest nigga on the street, to be looked at like trash and, then, one day, overcoming all that. Ain’t nobody give a damn about Gutter then. Now all I hear is my name wherever I go. I guess I let it get to my head,” he said.
“Nah, pick ya head up, yo. You ain’t gotta be ashamed around me. You forgettin’ I was in the same boat. Dudes ain’t care about me when I was broke. You see the bol Fly-Ty out there? I remember when bol looked at me like I didn’t deserve to be stepped on. What he doing now? Copping off a nigga I’m servin’. You’re right. It’s a good feeling, but you don’t give into them. Let ’em carry it like they been carrying it. We family, and ain’t no man in this family bigger than the next. We just need to tighten up, homie,” Montega said, sticking out his hand.
Gutter nodded before taking it and giving him a brotherly hug. He said, “Since you here, you can at least stay for a little while and have a couple drinks. I know Juicy probably looking for you right now. She’s gonna be pissed if she found out you came and ain’t say nothing to her. Don’t be like Nino burnt-out ass.”
“What’s up with Nino anyway? Why he ain’t come to the party?”
“Man, that nigga done went upstate and came back Muslim.”
“Oh yeaaahhhh?” Montega said, rubbing his thick, curly beard. “Well, what’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong with it? Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just when you come home, telling me that I’m sinning, and I need to fear Allah, or whoever he worships, now that’s problem. The nigga think he the prophet Muhammad himself.”
Montega smiled, not grasping the seriousness of the situation.
“So you staying or what?” Gutter asked.
Montega thought about that and sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right, but first, let me grab these flyers for Gi-Gi’s Unisex. I want to surprise her with ’em.”
“Here, give me the keys. I’ll get ’em,” Gutter said, thinking Montega was trying to pull a spin move on him. “Besides, I gotta grab some more money out my car anyway. Those hoes be breakin’ me, bol.”
Montega started to say something but stopped. He then gave him the keys. “The flyers are in the trunk,” he said before walking out and heading over to the bartender. “How many bottles of Spade you got back there?” he asked the girl with the curly hair.
“Well, with all the guys in the VIP buying them out, I’ll say—”
“No,” Montega responded, stopping her. “I mean the magnum bottles.”
“Oh,” the girl said. “We have about seventy-five bottles.”
“Load ’em all up and bring them out.”
Over at Kia’s table, the girls were in suspense as they listened to Crystal talk about Montega’s crib and the Lamborghini he had in the carport. Suddenly, the waitress came out with sparkling flare candles and giant bottles of Spades. Everyone turned to see where the bottles were going. Montega sat with Juicy as the bottles stopped in front of their booth. He started having the bouncers that once stopped him at the door distribute the bottles to those around him.
A waitress brought Kia and her girlfriend’s five magnum bottles of Ace of Spades. “We didn’t order these,” Kia said.
“The cutie over there asked that these be brought over,” the waitress said, pointing to her brother.
Kia shook her head before looking at all the gold bottles.
When Gutter got outside in the parking lot, he headed for the black SS Impala first so he could grab the flyers for Montega. It was a cold night, but he couldn’t feel it, because he was somewhat drunk. He pressed the button on the keypad, opening the trunk.
Gutter stuck his head inside to retrieve the flyers. He didn’t hear someone creep up on him. When Maniac got within a foot of his target, who was wearing a chinchilla hood over his head, he cocked his Mossberg twelve-gauge riot pump.
Click-clack!
Before Gutter could get his head out of the trunk, Maniac pulled the trigger.
Boom!
Once Gutter’s brains splattered in the trunk of the Impala, his body went limp. Maniac then sprinted away, hoping no one saw him. He got into the passenger side of the Lincoln and ordered Spade to drive off.
“Did you get him?” Spade asked anxiously.
“What do you think?” Maniac sighed with relief. “Hell yeah. I caught him right while he was goin’ in the trunk of his car,” he said with a laugh. “Dumb muthafucka had a big ass chinchilla on. He couldn’t even hear me comin’.”
“A chinchilla?” Spade repeated with a frown, thinking about the flashy guy he saw in the club.
“Yeah, he had on a black and white chinchilla, right?”
Spade put his head down.
“Right!” Maniac repeated.
“No, man. He ain’t have on no goddamn chinchilla. He had on a black leather Gucci jacket,” Spade stated.
“Fuckkkkkk!” Maniac said, pounding his fist on the dashboard. He had shot the wrong guy, and he couldn’t go back, because the cops would be everywhere.
Montega looked at his watch and saw that thirty minutes had passed, and there was still no sign of Gutter. Placing his bottle down, he excused himself from the table of women then made his way toward the exit. When he got outside and saw the blue and red lights flashing throughout the parking lot, he immediately sensed what had happened. His heart was in his stomach as he approached the lot.
He wanted to get close, but the cops wouldn’t allow it. However, what he saw from a distance was gruesome. It quickly dawned on him then. The body hanging out of the trunk of his car was supposed to be him.
Friend Or Foe
“Don’t trust bol…”
J-Black
The death of Gutter hit the team hard. His funeral was memorable and very dramatic. However, that still didn’t stop the Kings from their endless paper chase and bloodshed, nor did it stop the war between Montega and Shug. Since the cops took his car for evidence, Montega was forced to drive his black Dodge Charger SRT-8. Like the Impala, the windows were tinted, and the entire body was covered in a bullet-proof shell.
With the vision of Gutter’s dead body fresh in his mind, he vowed t
o find the guy responsible and lay him to rest. Gutter had been his homie for years, and now he was gone. Just knowing that hurt Montega like an aching tooth. Montega pulled up in front of the Masjid of Germantown Avenue. He saw Nino waiting out front and beeped his horn. Nino approached, wearing a white Muslim thobe and a white kufi. Upstate had transformed him from the dark-skinned goon to a husky black man, with a thick beard.
He opened the door, letting out Jim Jones’ “Emotions” as he got in.
“Subhenallah!” he said, closing the door and turning the music down.
Montega looked at him like he was crazy. “What the hell is wrong with you, bol? Why you turn that down?”
“Because you got this fitness playing in front of the masjid,” Nino said. “Matter fact, just pull off. Aluh-du-belah-hemanal-shaytan-nearrah-jen!”
“Fitnah? What the fuck is you talking about, Nino?”
“My name is not Nino. My attribute is Abdulallah.”
Montega shook his head as he pulled off and out of the parking space. “Yo, bol, what the hell did jail do to you? You was only gone for eighteen months. How the hell did you end up so… holy?”
“Jail didn’t do anything to me. Allah did this. He put me in a place where I would remember him the most, and that I did. I found myself through Islam. I took shahada, started making my five salats, and began studying. The more I started studying, the more I came to realize that what I was doing was wrong. The Dunya wanted me.”
“The what?”
“Dunya—this wicked system of things.”
“Look, yo. I ain’t really trying to hear all that bullshit you talking unless any of it got something to do with moving these birds I got floodin’ in every month.”
“So the stories are true, huh?” Abdulallah asked before chuckling to himself. “You have become Shaytan’s advocate, poisoning the people with his white jinn.”
Montega sighed with irritation. Nino, or should he say Abdulallah, was never this way. He used to be a wild killer who slept with any woman that would put out, and he liked to fix cars and do tint jobs. He even did the tint to his black SS Impala a few years back. Now he was portraying to be this holy fighter of God. It was really starting to freak Montega out.