by Dorian Sykes
He stood there for a long moment, watching the blood slowly rise up and spill over from the bullet holes in Fatts’ head. For what he had done to his father, Fatts deserved to die like that ten times.
“Rat bastard,” said Wink. He came back to his senses and quickly snapped into the second reason he was there. Shit, there wasn’t no sense in leaving empty-handed after spilling all that blood.
Wink walked over to the refrigerator, where Fatts kept all the kilos, and snatched the door open. Staring him dead in the face were two stacks of kilos wrapped in red duct tape from the floor of the fridge to the ceiling. Wink grabbed two large Ace Hardware bags from the front counter, then unloaded the fridge. In all, he came up on sixty bricks of some of the best cocaine Detroit had ever seen. It was the closest thing you were going to get to being pure, and if Wink wanted to, he could have easily stretched each key to two and still would have had some grade-A coke. Wink was counting the dollar signs in his head already. He knew Fatts’ old ass was holding way more than that, and for a second, he wished he hadn’t killed him so soon, ’cause he could have gotten his fat ass to take him to the vault, and it would’ve really been a sho’ enough lick.
Oh, well, Wink thought as he tossed the bags over his shoulder. Sixty’s good enough.
Wink took one last look at Fatts as he lay stretched out in a pool of blood, dead as a mothafucka. Wink promised him this, “Don’t worry. Gary will join you real soon.”
Wink left out the back door and walked down the alley to the side street and back up to 7 Mile Rd. He pow-erwalked across the street to his Caddy and tossed the bags in the back seat. He checked his side mirror, then pulled into the afternoon traffic. It was just like he had bought the keys from Fatt. That’s how calm and collected Wink was. He leaned his seat back and gripped the wheel with one hand, while he slid a Newport into his mouth with the other hand. He pushed the cigarette lighter in for a few seconds, then lit his square. He took a long pull off the square and let out a cloud of smoke.
Part one of his plan was completed. He had killed Fatts, who was, come to find out, supplying damn near the entire east side of Detroit with coke. Even if he wasn’t directly dealing with a nigga, still nine times out of ten, the shit was coming from Fatts after it been stepped on, stomped on, and sometimes even danced on.
Wink’s dad put him all the way up on game. He said that Gary and Fatts told on him for two reasons: one, so they could save their own asses, and two, ’cause niggas feared and respected his gansta. But when he fell, Gary and Fatts started getting major money after Fatts back-doored Gunz and started copping from his Texas connect, some Mexican Mafia mothafuckas who also snitched on Gunz at trial. They kept the operation moving, and them niggas were blessing Fatts with all the work he could stand. The niggas in the city stayed copping from Fatts too, even though they knew he took the stand on Gunz. Them niggas’ only concern was how cheap Fatts was slanging them bricks for. They let money abolish loyalty and the unwritten rules of the game, and for that, they would all pay. Wink was on a blood-thirsty mission, targeting all old niggas from his dad’s era. If he ran across them and his dad remembered them, it was casket season, because they didn’t honor the game.
Wink felt like it was ole niggas like them who were killing the game. There were no consequences for snitching anymore. Niggas talked that murder, death, kill shit, but truth was, they wasn’t gon’ kill nothing and wasn’t gon’ let nothing die. There was no fear of what would happen to a nigga if he snitched, and that’s what Wink vowed to bring back to the game, that fear.
Wink had plans already for the sixty bricks, but in the meantime, he was gon’ sit on them. Kicking it with his dad about the game gave Wink a whole new outlook on hustling. His dad made him realize that shit was real, and if he was going to be in the game, then he would be the best. From then on out, Wink was playing for keeps. There would be no more petty dime rocks or Greyhound trips with his ass packed to the hilt with coke. Wink wanted it all, and from listening to his father, he knew the only way he was going to get it was if he played the game on the higher level. So, all the crack houses he took from J-Bo, Wink had no plans on ever returning. As far as he was concerned, all his workers could keep what they owed him. They’d eventually figure it out that he wasn’t coming back.
Wink drove deep west to his storage unit he had rented a few weeks back. He stashed his kilos inside his garage unit, then jumped on the Lodge Expressway and came up on Jefferson Ave. He drove down to Chene Park and pulled over next to the river. Wink climbed out the car and flipped his collar up and ducked his head inside his coat to block the whipping wind coming off the river. He walked over to the railing and pulled out the gun he’d just used to kill Fatts. Wink used the tail of his shirt to wipe the gun clean, then he chucked it deep into the water and watched as it splashed and sank.
Don’t ever use the same gun twice. Wink could still hear his father’s deep, serious voice. Besides Gary and Fatts snitchin’, the feds were able to corroborate their tales because Gary knew where Wink’s dad stashed all his murder weapons. His dad told him to rob, steal, and especially kill by your lonely. He said, “If you’re too scared to do it by yourself, then don’t do it, ’cause a murder is like a get out of jail free card. Niggas use ’em when they need ’em.”
Wink looked out across the water and promised his dad that he wouldn’t make the same mistake. “I got you, Dad.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Since the last episode with Krazy beating his lawyer’s ass in the courtroom, the judge decided it would be best to hold a closed sentencing. No one was permitted inside the courtroom except the victims, the prosecutor, and Krazy with a host of police standing around ready to beat his ass if he felt froggy and tried to leap.
The judge lived up to his nickname and hung Krazy with a 25-year sentence, not a day less. “You are a cancer on society, and today I am here to surgically remove you. Twenty-five years in the eyes of this court is far too lenient, but then again, I am not responsible for the maximum penalties. You’re not fit to function—”
Krazy interrupted the judge. “First off, fuck you, cracker. You don’t know me.” He didn’t care how many police were standing around him. He wasn’t about to let that wrinkled devil get his nut off by talking down on him.
“Quiet him down!” The judge pounded his gavel.
Two police officers took a step forward, one with his hands spread wide. He was trying to calm Krazy, but all the talking was finished. Them crackers were out their rabbit-ass minds to even think that they could give a nigga like Krazy all that time and expect him to stand still. He threw his hands up and popped off.
The only thing Wink could hear from outside the courtroom was a loud ruckus. He knew Krazy was in there getting in it. Four police decorated the outside of the courtroom, all standing. They put their ready-to-shoot pale hands on their holsters at the sound of the ruckus. Wink, Willie, and Trey wanted so bad to help their man, but it was futile.
The ruckus seemed to abruptly cease, then a few seconds later, Krazy’s new attorney, Mr. Cunningham, violently pushed the double doors open. He seemed to be pissed, but to Wink’s observation, it was all an act, because he hadn’t done a single thing he promised. Wink was quickly learning that those greedy lawyers would fix their lips in a heartbeat to see you dream about what they could do for you—at least until they got paid, and then it was “I tried” or some other sorry shit.
Wink followed Mr. Cunningham over to a corner. His cracker dog ass broke into a spill as he loosened his tie. “I tried. It’s that freakin’ judge. We never had a chance with the case in front of him.”
“What’d they give him?” asked Wink. Willie and Trey were standing over his shoulder.
“Twenty-five years, and I’m assuming they might pursue assault charges after that scuffle in there.”
Wink turned to leave, but Mr. Cunningham wasn’t finished sucking the blood out of Wink’s pockets. He had already juiced him for fifty thousand dollars, and now
he was going for fifty more.
“I can file this appeal if you’d like. We’ve got ten days exact to file a notice of appeal.”
Wink looked the round-face devil square in his eyes and said, “I’ll stop by your office.” Wink could see the dollar signs appear in his eyes. Little did he know, it would be a cold day in hell before Wink let him scorch him out another fifty thousand dollars.
Wink stopped by the jail and put fifty thousand on Krazy’s books. That would be enough to get his bid started while they worked on getting him the best appeals lawyer money could buy.
Trey tried to lighten up the mood by recalling his trip to Wink. He and Willie had spent the past two weeks parlaying down in Dallas with a flight attendant Trey met on the plane. He was flying down to Mississippi when he met her.
“I can’t believe you don’t remember Sue. She was the thick white broad you had to pull me away from, remember?” asked Trey. He had been trying to jog Wink’s memory, but Wink had far too much other stuff on his mind to remember some flight attendant.
“Nah, I don’t remember her, my nigga. But what’s up with her?” asked Wink.
“Oh, she’s official. Some of the best pussy I ever had. But that wasn’t why we stayed down there so long,” said Trey. He paused as Willie leaned forward to pass him a joint.
“I’m listening,” said Wink as he looked in the rearview at Willie, who was cheesing.
“That’s right, make ’im sweat.” Willie smiled. They knew Wink would be wide open at the sound of money.
“We met some amigos down there, and they got it for cheap.” Trey took a couple tokes off the joint, then passed it back to Willie.
Wink’s wheels were turning. He already had a new connect set up through his dad, but he still wanted to see what Trey had come up on.
“How cheap?”
“Ten thousand a brick. And they say it’s that flake.”
“You didn’t get their hookup?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Trey put extra emphasis on I, and Wink peeped it, but he let it pass. For whatever reason, Trey felt like he had to let it be known that it was his connect.
There was a still silence. The tension was thick.
“How much money we sittin’ on?” asked Trey.
Wink’s blood started boiling, ’cause he knew Trey and Willie had talked about this while they were away.
“Why? Y’all plan on pullin’ out?” Wink watched Willie drop his eyes through the mirror.
“Nah, I just wanna know what’s in the pot to see if my count is right,” said Trey.
“What, you counting behind me now?” snapped Wink.
“That’s what niggas do. Every so often you wanna count ya money. We bustin’ all these moves, and yet I feel like I’m on an allowance. Why we even holding all the money in the pot?”
Wink didn’t bother answering. He reached forward and turned the radio on, then pressed down on the gas. Wink figured Trey was high, which would explain his boldness. But nevertheless, he had said the words. Here it was, Wink called himself taking care of everything, making sure Krazy’s lawyer fees got paid, the re-up money was straight, and even put all three of them in brand-new El Dorados, and this nigga had the audacity to ask what was in the pot. Wink was steaming, but he tried his damndest not to let it show.
Trey was down with his main man, but he just felt like it was time to see some ends and not continue to blind hustle. He wanted to see the money, hold the money, spend some money—all when he wanted to. Krazy had lost his trial, they all put in mad work to pay for his lawyer, and Trey had no intention of leaving Krazy out there to hang. But still in all, he had some of his own plans. Wink never once asked him and Willie what they wanted to do. Willie brought them to Mississippi, and when they got there, Wink set everything up like it was his operation. The shit was cool for a minute, but Trey started peeping little shit like when Wink never wanted him going with him to meet the connect, but his money was going there. Trey just felt like he and Wink were equal. That’s at least what he thought it was going to be.
When they made it back to Detroit, Wink drove straight up to the storage unit. He parked at the entrance and got out. “I’ll be right back.” He didn’t want Trey and Willie knowing exactly what garage he was going to. They didn’t even know why they were there. Ever since Wink found out how Gary snitched on his father, everything and everybody was a suspect. Nobody was above suspicion.
Wink unlocked the garage, then lifted it from the bottom. He grabbed the large green duffle bag from on top of the two car tires. He checked under the first one and nodded at the sixty bricks he’d taken off Fatts.
Y’all just sit tight. I got plans for y’all, Wink thought as he replaced the tire. He tossed the duffle bag around his shoulder, then locked up the garage.
Trey’s eyes lit up with greed. He sat up in his seat and began rubbing his hands together at the sight of the green bag wrapped around Wink’s shoulder. Trey already knew what was in the bag. Money. His money!
Wink locked the bag in the trunk, then climbed behind the wheel. He turned up the radio to prevent any idle chatter. In his mind, he figured, Y’all want y’all money? Well, I’ma give it to you.
Wink pulled out the parking area and drove straight to the hood. He opted to not go to Trey’s crib because his bitchy mammy always seemed to be home. Wink didn’t want to go over to Willie’s crib because he had too many people living there. He had been trying to avoid his mother’s house because he wasn’t ready to kill Gary yet. He needed that day and moment to be grand. So, in the meantime, Wink just tried to keep his distance.
They rented a room at the Suez up on 8 Mile Rd. Wink closed the curtains tight, locked the door, then shoved a chair under the doorknob. Trey and Willie were promptly seated on the bed, staring down at the closed green bag like it was a pot of gold.
“How much is it?” asked Trey. He could no longer conceal his excitement.
Wink walked over to the bed and undid the black steel hooks on the bag, then turned it upside down. Nothing but hundreds, fifties, and twenties poured onto the bed. Wink shook the bag clean, then tossed it on the floor.
“This is it, every last dollar,” said Wink. He watched the looks of awe on their faces. Willie and Trey were stuck. There was so much money piled up that it blew both their highs.
“I’ll count it,” Trey volunteered as he dug into the pile of money.
Willie couldn’t count his toes, so he slid off the bed and over to the table, where he promptly rolled another joint.
Wink knew exactly how much money was there. He smirked to himself at the thought of making Trey count the money over. He would be there all night, counting.
“I’ma go across the street to grab something from the Coney Island. Y’all want me to grab anything?” Wink asked.
Willie yelled for a cheeseburger deluxe with a side of chili cheese fries. Trey was too busy at the bank. Wink laughed, then unlatched the chain and opened the door. He crossed 8 Mile Rd. on foot over to Robert’s Coney Island. There weren’t any customers inside the restaurant, but it was still in somewhat of the hood, so Wink proceeded with caution. He didn’t like the feeling of being naked with no gun on his hip.
All those feelings of paranoia vanished when Wink stepped inside the restaurant and looked into the lustrous eyes of the most beautiful woman he’d ever encountered in his life. The woman must have sensed the attraction, because she pulled back an inviting smile.
Wink stepped up to the bulletproof glass that separated them. Damn, she’s beautiful.
“May I help you?” She had the softest voice.
She was so fine, Wink forgot what Willie ordered. Hell, she was so fine, Wink forgot what he wanted. It was obvious that he wanted her, but he had to play it cool, calm it down.
Wink stared up at the menu, trying to jog his memory. Oh, yeah.
“Three cheeseburger deluxe, with three side orders of chili cheese fries.”
The woman scribbled the order down on the pad, then rang u
p the total. Wink paid with a twenty-dollar bill and told her to keep the change.
“Thank you.” She smiled.
Wink stood at the counter and enjoyed every stride she took to and from the counter. The black Spandex complemented her hourglass frame, and the tight-fitting teal blue Robert’s Coney Island polo shirt accentuated her perfect breasts.
Wink didn’t know Arab women were so beautiful. He really hadn’t paid them any attention because their men were racist and very protective over them—kinda how the old man was staring at Wink. She must be his daughter. Wink played with his pager to throw the old fart off his sins of lust. His order was up, and the woman slid his Styrofoam trays into two plastic bags, then put them in the window. The old man gave Wink the break he needed. He walked into the freezer.
“What’s your name?” asked Wink.
“Armeeah.”
“I’m Wink. When are your off days? I want to take you out. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t spend all her days working.”
Armeeah blushed, but she quickly thought about her lurking father. “I don’t know,” she said, looking over her shoulder.
She didn’t say no, Wink told himself as he jotted his pager number down onto one of the napkins.
“Page me,” he said, sliding the napkin through the money slot. Armeeah quickly cuffed the napkin into her bra. Her dad walked out of the freezer with some onions and bell peppers in his hand.
“Armeeah,” he said, then the rest of his conversation was in Arabic.
Wink grabbed the bag and headed out the door. When he got back over to the room, Trey hadn’t knocked a dent in the money stack. Wink and Willie sat at the table and punished their food while occasionally laughing at Trey, but Wink saw something in his eyes that made his skin crawl. He was zoned out and full of greed.
Chapter Twenty-nine
When Trey finally finished counting the money, it came out to $850,000 and some change, the exact amount Wink knew it would be. Trey divided the money into three piles of $280,000 and some change. He began separating his from theirs, but Wink leaped from his chair, stopping him.