A frantic Dynamo tossed Candace from atop his perspiration slick nakedness. Leaping from the sofa, he froze from multiple firearms bearing down on his flesh. He was slammed to the living room floor. His hands were cuffed behind his back. He was powerless to prevent Candace from being aggressively detained as well. The perimeter was deemed secure; the Swat Team commander held the front door open.
Detective Swanson walked in. Eyeing both naked detainees, he gave the swat team further instructions. “Search their clothes, then allow them to get dressed."
Dynamo was helped into his jeans and New Balance sneakers. Forced to kneel in the far living room corner, he watched an un-cuffed Candace quickly dress. She was handcuffed, searched then ushered outside.
Detective Swanson slammed a copy of the search warrant onto the coffee table. "Devon Wallace, you sold your drugs to the wrong person. Once we recover the marked bills, its distribution charges, maybe even conspiracy to distribute. But since I'm having a good day, you get a choice... either confess to where the drugs are stored, and we talk lesser included offenses. Make my team have to tear this place apart. You'll be charged to the fullest extent of the law."
Dynamo spat. "I thought yo ass was a homicide detective."
“I am. But since my investigation uncovered obvious narcotics distribution, I joined vice narcotics just for this occasion... Now the drugs."
Dynamo trapped between an approaching tsunami wave and a firing squad conceded. "I was smoking a lil Kush."
“I beg to differ.” Detective Swanson, grabbing the black china plate from the coffee table, spied powdery dust particles. Using his right pinky fingertip, he tapped some of the powdery residues against his tongue. He smirked with tingly recognition of the illicit alkaloid. "Well, this is a good start." From underneath the coffee table, he retrieved a black, 45 caliber Taurus semi-automatic. “And this would be the icing on quite a lovely prison cake. At least eight years of prison cakes.”
∗
56 minutes later
KT was silent ever since he drove his Oldsmobile Ciera out of the Bennigan's Restaurant parking lot. Angel resisted the urge to slap the smirk from his face. She was ecstatic about his wedding proposal. Yet, she was displeased by his decision to make one final drop-off before they returned home to consummate their engagement. After a quick stop at his hideaway apartment stash spot, KT sat a cluttered gym bag at Angel’s feet.
Driving to his marijuana distribution hub, he turned onto East Princess Anne Road. Soon after, he noticed strange activity around the Fox Hall Quarters apartment building. Residents were gathered around the taped-off perimeter. A Chevy Lumina sedan & Ford Economy Van were parked out front. Eight dark, fatigue outfitted men conversed. Slowing his Oldsmobile Ciera down, KT punched his steering wheel with incensed recognition of the polyester-suited white man standing tall amidst the activity. A shirtless, handcuffed Dynamo was held against a dark sedan. A fully clothed also handcuffed Candace sat on the curb.
Nervously, Angel asked. "Baby, what's going on?"
“Somebody gave us up." KT, troubled by the police officers gazing upon his vehicle, accelerated away.
Taking to the secondary streets, his eyes were glued to his side & rearview mirrors. He made it back to his hideaway apartment stash spot without incident. Inside, he stashed the five pounds of blueberry Kush marijuana meant for his police raided distribution hub.
KT quickly wiped everything down. Taking anything that could tie him to the hideaway apartment, he returned to his vehicle. Finding Angel behind the wheel, he leaped into the passenger seat. "Let’s go home so I can think."
“What about Dynamo and Candace?"
“It'll be hours before they are done being interrogated, taken to jail, booked, and processed."
Angel glared at him. "Don't you dare leave them in that place!"
“Beautiful, calm down and use that big ass head hurting yo shoulders. There's nothing I can do until I get the word. And that won't happen until they can call me. AFTER they get booked and processed."
KT peering through the passenger window, gazed into a world darkened by a tsunami wave of sudden despair. He pondered how an evening begun with eternal pledges of love & dedication could end so badly, so quickly. His gold mine marijuana distribution hub was no more. His best friend was under arrest, facing god-knows how many felonies.
His dismayed thoughts interrupted by a soft voice, he asked. "Beautiful, you said something?"
Angel repeated her statement. “I know you trust Dynamo, but what about Candace? Can you be sure she won't put your name in whatever they're arrested for?"
"She can put Poe-9 on my ass, but she never actually saw me do anything besides pick up some bread and drop off some trees. So, the only ship she can sink is Dynamo's, and I doubt if she will. Either way, all we can do is hope they both hold water."
∗
Norfolk City Jail
811 East City Hall Avenue
Downtown Norfolk
9:45 am the following morning
With the Norfolk City Hall to his immediate left, the Circuit Court building was at his back. Within the downtown Norfolk municipal courtyard. After ninety minutes, KT watched his reasons for being there exit through the Norfolk City Jail front double doors.
Dynamo shook hands with the bail bondsman then made his way over to the bench. "Good look on bonding us out."
KT gave him a manly embrace. "Fam, you won't supposed to spend one night in that bitch."
"What about me?" Candace complained. "My clothes ruined hair and makeup trash. I smell like them wino bitches in that pissy-ass holding tank. Plus, those racists pork chops stripped me naked. Had me squat and cough. Some bull-dike butch bitch felt me up."
KT wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "How much this gone cost me?"
"I'll tally the figures after I take a long, hot shower."
Leaving the municipal courtyard, the trio ventured into the nearby Downtown Norfolk parking garage. Onto the second level, KT led them to Angel's purple Pontiac Grand Prix. Behind the wheel, he drove out of the parking garage, away from the bowels of criminal justice.
Dynamo ran down the events following the Norfolk Police drug raid. Charged with misdemeanor marijuana possession over eleven grams of blueberry Kush. He also had a felony possession of an illegal firearm over the 45 caliber Taurus handgun. Candace took ownership of the powder cocaine residue-laden china plate. Thus, Dynamo was able to avoid a felony cocaine possession count as well. His bond was set at $35,000. Hers was set at $15,000. The bail bondsman secured both Dynamo and Candace's release for the allotted ten percent of the combined $50,000 bail bond.
KT asked. "If vice narcotics ran down on the trap spot, what in the hell was Detective Swanson doing there?"
"All he said was his investigation into two unsolved shootings led him there. That chump also said vice narcotics know the trap spot was yours. They just needed me to confirm it." Dynamo noticed KT glaring into the rearview mirror at Candace. "Nawh ace, he said all this before anybody had a chance to interrogate us."
Candace snapped. “KT, I know you don't think I snitched over a pissy coke charge! The most I'll get is drug rehab. So yo clown ass needs to be looking somewhere else."
KT conceded to wrongfully suspecting her of cooperating with Detective Swanson. “My bad for jumping the gun. I should've known you was a thoroughbred."
"I'll just add that to what you already owe me."
Dynamo retrieved a modified cigarillo from the vehicle armrest. Flame set, inhaling blueberry Kush smoke, he relayed Detective Swanson's allegations regarding both unsolved shootings.
Detective Swanson uncovered Insane Gangsta Crips' involvement in the Ingleside, Norfolk shooting where KT & Dynamo were wounded. It’s believed Ski-Beau conspired to murder both men to acquire their portion of the Ingleside, Norfolk crack distribution trade. In retaliation, KT & Dynamo initiated the Cape Henry Avenue, Norfolk, early morning, drive-by shooting that took Meatball’s life.
Police c
anvassing the Ingleside, Norfolk area led Detective Swanson to Riverside Drive. Thus, evidence of Yolanda Walker's illegal house party. But most importantly, the identity of two men occupying a burgundy Dodge Stratus parked near the Riverside Drive/Wakefield Avenue corner. The night of the hours before the Cape Henry Avenue, Norfolk drive-by shooting. A burgundy Dodge Stratus fit the suspect(s) vehicle description. A burgundy Dodge Stratus occupied by none other than KT & Dynamo.
Candace, from the Pontiac Grand Prix rear passenger seat, asked. "I don't get it. If this detective is trying to solve these cases, why give away so much information?"
KT pondered why a homicide detective WOULD divulge such pertinent information. "Swanson probably banking if both sides think the other is talking, then somebody will give him what he needs to put all the pieces together. The fact his ass hasn't made an arrest yet proves he’s still trying to get somebody to talk. That's why he took part in the drug raid. His ass scrambling for all the leverage he can find."
“Let’s say you right... then Detective Swanson told Ski-Beau we did the drive-by shooting." Dynamo surmised.
“The OG-loc not stupid, so he may or may not know who to lay blame on. If I was him, everybody IGC at odds with would be a suspect until I found out who dump them slugs. If I don't find out, I dump on everybody. At least then everybody paying the tab. But we both know, he knows it was us."
Enraged, Dynamo slapped the dashboard. "That punk fucker put Poe-9 on our trap spot!”
"Did you notice how nobody repping IGC ever came to cop, but I guarantee they knew all about the trap spot. I'm guessing Ski-Beau ordered the locs to stay away." KT nodded to himself. "Fam, just be glad I was running late. Cause if I would've dropped the five pounds of Kush off on time, you would have two felonies instead of one and one misdemeanor.”
Dynamo plucked the cigarillo roach out of the passenger window. “They caught me up in that good, young pussy and everything. They could've at least let me get my rocks off first.”
“Dawg Dy, at least wait until I'm not around before you talk about me like that." An incensed Candace interjected. Taken by her neck, she was led between both front seats. Her mouth conquered by Dynamo's, she surrendered to his aggressive kiss. She wiped a saliva speckle from his mouth and said. "You can say it... you proud of the way I came through for you in the clutch."
“I honestly didn't expect you to."
She nudged KT on the back of the head. "When do I meet the attorney you paying for?"
“Dude, name Ty Wilkins. He’s one of the best lawyers around. I'll set up an appointment for both of yawl."
Dynamo sulked. "That trap spot was like a fucking waterfall. The money flowed endlessly."
KT concurred. "You wanna set up shop somewhere else? Maybe Hampton or Newport News this time. Away from Ski-Beau snitching ass."
“I'll pass on that one, ace."
“A few cats have been trying to cop pounds of blueberry. I guess it’s time I start letting em fly for thirty-two, maybe thirty-five a clip."
Candace asked Dynamo. "What's our next move?"
“I stacked some nice bread off the Kush spot. I guess we’re going back out, Ingleside."
KT chimed in. “You think that’s the right move, especially with everything that’s going on?”
“If you worried about IGC dumping more slugs at me, I’m not. I just need to watch my step when it comes to they bitch asses snitching on me.”
"Fam, I think you should hold off, but that’s your decision. If you looking to cop some hard (crack), I got you. I gotta few dudes out, Ingleside I do business with. But since you on board, no sense in me playing both sides against the middle. I'll start adding so much cut to their batch, they won’t be able to eat. That way, you the only one with top-shelf work. And you get it for the low."
Dynamo respectfully declined. "It’s time I see how high I can climb solo. But yeah, give yo people some garbage, so I can take the hood back."
Candace slapped him upside the head. "I could've stayed quiet and let you take that cocaine charge too. Since I didn't, we a team. And WE climbing solo."
Though KT was reluctant to sabotage his neighborhood customers, family comes first. “Ace, just be careful. And if you need me, I’m there.”
KT propelled the Pontiac Grand Prix through the Va. Beach Blvd./Ballentine Blvd. intersecting, green traffic light. Up the Va. Beach Blvd-Ingleside Bridge, he was well aware that Dynamo would likely become his biggest competitor—he couldn’t be happier.
Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes.
-Oscar Wilde 1854-1900
CHAPTER 20
Most women are not so young as they are painted.
-Sir Max Beerbohm 1872-1956
Riverside Drive
Ingleside, Norfolk
10:35 pm following Saturday night
Suede, woodgrain-colored quarter-top Polo boots impacting asphalt, KT stepped away from Angel's Pontiac Grand Prix. With his forty caliber Glock semi-automatic nestled at the small of his back, he threw on his wool, woodgrain Polo fleece. Sauntering down the street, he could sense the positive energy radiating from Yolanda's latest house party—her third within the last ten days. KT couldn't shake off a strange nervousness.
He entered the central portion of Yolanda's duplex, two-family home. The first thing he noticed was the dim lighting and plumes of tart, marijuana smoke swirling about. A mixture of R&B and hip-hop boomed through hidden surround sound speakers. KT, though uneasy, surfed through the capacity crowd and greeted everyone warmly. Into the kitchen, he approached the two white women situated behind the makeshift bar. "What's good, snowflakes?"
"Hey, pompous jerk-face." Honey quipped. She filled his Styrofoam cup with a French cognac blend of Remy Martin, Hennessey, and Courvoisier. "That'll be eighty dollars, please."
KT snapped. "Eighty dollars! This drink better be lined with gold!"
Honey accepted the payment. She gave him the cup. "What you holding would knock a bull on his behind, so be easy with it."
Given what happened to an intoxicated Meatball and Ski-Beau, the last thing on KT’s mind was getting drunk.
Samantha gave him a one-gram baggie of marijuana. "That'll be twenty dollars, please."
KT laughed at how easily the women overcharged him for everything. Paying for the blueberry Kush he helped supply, he was given a free, vanilla-flavored Corona Dutch Master cigarillo. He took a sip of his drink. He winced from the French cognac singeing his intestines. His belly warm, he ventured back into the living room/dance floor.
KT, standing off to the side, noticed the home’s modest nightclub allure. Complemented by the 4-to-1 women to men ratio. A small hand palmed his buttock. KT snatched the culprit into his arms. He was hurled into the depths of a brilliant golden brown, double dimple smile. He smooched her mouth. Able to taste the alcohol on the culprit's lips, he allowed her to sample his drink.
Yolanda took a sip. Shaking away the singe, she unbuttoned his wool Polo fleece. “Drinking that, you need to stay cool."
“I’m more or less babysitting it.” They swayed to the melodic hum of Beyoncé’s latest single. KT marveled at how a pink, Juicy Couture sweatsuit and white Prada sneakers adorn Yolanda's tall, curvaceous frame. "You and Angel got the same body type. That's probably why I let her pick up where you refuse to take whatever we call ourselves doing."
“Teachers should never cross certain lines with their students. And I call what we do business... speaking of which..." Yolanda, smooching his cheek, continued at a whisper. "That Kush connect a gift from above. My networking so fluid, I should be able to move two, three pounds by the end of the night."
“Don't think I'on know you throwing all these house-parties cause you taking advantage of the fact my trap spot got shutdown." KT admonished her.
“That's what a true hustler is supposed to do." Yolanda massaged the tightness away from the nape of his neck. "You okay with me stepping in on your clientele?"
"You still owe me for plug
ging you into my blueberry Kush source, to begin with.” KT palmed her buttock. Forcing her against the wall, he suckled her bottom lip. “Later tonight, you need to square that debt."
“Boy, didn't you JUST get engaged!"
"Didn't you say live with no regret?"
Yolanda led his gaze towards the dancefloor center. Dynamo, seemingly carefree, was sandwiched between Candace and two unfamiliar women. A platinum and diamond Cuban lynx necklace hung around his neck. A platinum and diamond Alfred Hammel watch was clasped to his right wrist. He held up a bottle of Moet & Chandon. Dynamo, clearly intoxicated, saluted them.
KT plucked the scowl from Yolanda's face. "Slim Goodie, he made us both some hella bread. It’s good to see fam finally shine sunshine bright. He put in the work, about time he showed out.”
Yolanda spat. “After what he tried to pull with Maxine, he has some nerve sho.... I oughta go over there__" She took a deep, anger dissipating breath. "Let me get another drink before I make a scene and mess up all this good business."
Once Yolanda surfed the crowd en route to the kitchen, KT noticed one of the unfamiliar women sandwiching Dynamo was now dancing alone. Her private dance sensuality added mystique to her white blouse, plaid, thigh-high skirt, white knee-length stockings, and black, three-inch Vicini heels.
The woman caught his gaze. Approaching him, she took him into a slow dance, then whispered. "You too shy to ask me for a dance?"
KT was taken by her radiant, dark chocolate skin, large, sparkling eyes, and wide mouth smile. The nervousness returning, he was awash by a faint familiarity. "Where I know you from?"
She shrugged. Taking his cup, she took a slow, experienced gulp. Unfazed by her singed intestines, she pulled KT closer. "What would you think about Maxine sending me in here to get you?"
“Why didn't she come in?"
“The Queen would've got in the way."
KT, taken aback by this strange woman using a moniker known to only a select few, asked her. "Where, Maxine anyway? And what she wants that's so important she couldn't holla at me herself?"
One Hustler's World Page 19