“What are those?”
Shabazz explained to Qwess that interrogatories were a form of pretrial discovery that plaintiffs used to compel the defense to admit certain facts pertaining to the case under oath, without being in court.
In this case, they were asking Qwess to admit that he knew Chabo, Gil, and Samson (although Samson was identified with an alias), that he was a member of the Crescent Crew at some point, and that he had used drug money to fund and maintain Atlantic Beach Productions.
“They’re crazy!” Qwess exploded. “Who would admit to that?”
“It gets worse,” Shabazz said. He slid another stack of papers across the desk. “They are demanding to see your financials.”
“My financials?”
“Yep. They want to see your financial reports for the last five years. My guess is they’re asking this because they want to see how you benefitted financially from the assault, so they want to gauge your records before and compare them to after.”
This posed a problem for Qwess. He’d had an influx of capital in the past five years, but it wasn’t because of any money he made from acquiring Niya. Upon King Reece’s release, he had invested in ABP to the tune of $20 million. Qwess utilized a lot of the money in promoting Flame and Niya’s albums at the time. The other money he funneled into his business accounts in staggered amounts so as not to cause alarm. A million here, two million there. However, doing business in the music industry on his level was very expensive, so the money didn’t sit long.
Upon King Reece’s death, Qwess was left with the remainder of his fortune. People like King Reece didn’t keep money in traditional banks. In fact, one of their biggest problems was where to keep all the cash the streets brought in. At his height, King Reece bought houses just to keep his money in. However, he constantly shuffled the money from place to place to stay ahead of anyone who would be stupid enough to steal from him. Qwess was the only person he trusted with his fortune, and upon his death, Qwess retrieved all the money from his spots. At the second location, Qwess pulled more than $350,000 from underground and discovered the money had been ruined by the elements. There was no telling how long the money had been there, and Qwess couldn’t afford to take any more chances with the rest of the money. He retrieved all the money from King Reece’s spots—nearly $40 million—and funneled it into his accounts in creative ways. Banks would only insure so much money, so Qwess employed creative tactics to essentially launder the money into his accounts.
He purchased hyper cars, like the Pagani Zonda and Huayra, he purchased diamonds and of course real estate—all things that either appreciated or at least held their value. For example, the Pagani Huayra was purchased at $2.7 million. Because there were only so many made, they were ultra-exclusive. This meant, if anyone in the world crashed a Huayra, the remaining Huayras would go up in price. But money had to be utilized as the tool it was, so a large amount of King Reece’s illicit funds still found their way into ABP’s coffers.
“Brother, we can’t allow them to look into my company’s financial records,” Qwess protested.
Shabazz nodded. “I figured you would say as much. What about these other things? Did you know these other guys? These”—Shabazz referred to the papers—“Chabo and Gil fellas?”
Qwess shrugged. “I mean, I may have saw them in passing a time or two, but they’re deceased right now, so what does that matter?”
Shabazz shrugged. “Could be something, could be nothing. Only time will tell.”
Qwess noticed Shabazz hadn’t said anything about the other witness disappearing. So he pried further. “Are those the only people they’re asking about? What about the other witness, the confidential informant?”
Shabazz consulted the papers again. “I . . . don’t . . . see anything different,” he said, continuing to rifle through the papers.
“Are you sure?”
Shabazz raised his eyebrows with accusation. “Uhh, is there something I should know about?”
“Nah, not at all. I just asked my people about this, and they couldn’t think of who it could be.”
“Hmm-mmm, and then you just lost a few friends recently as well too, correct?”
Now it was Qwess’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Yeah, yeah, I did.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I appreciate the concern, but let’s get back to this case. What are we going to do?”
Shabazz shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure right now. I can tell you that I didn’t think they were this serious, but they’ve maxed out these interrogatories—they’re going for the jugular, son.”
Qwess was in denial. His mind wouldn’t allow him to compute what Malik Shabazz was telling him. He figured that maybe the informant being murdered hadn’t registered in the case yet.
“Yeah, well, we gotta hit them right back.”
Malik Shabazz shook his head slowly. “Son, I don’t think you’re getting this. We might have to start thinking about a settlement. If you don’t respond to these questions, they can file for summary judgment, and you will lose that seventy-five million dollars, possibly more. If you don’t offer some information, you will lose this case. I don’t know how rich you are, but hell, Puffy would feel a seventy-five-million-dollar loss. I’m thinking if we put a settlement offer out there, we could see where their heads are. Say, offer fourteen million or so to see if they will accept it. This way they won’t have to comb through all your shit.”
Qwess shook his head. He wasn’t trying to feel any of that. He was taking financial losses by the day.
“Salim, there is more than one type of victory,” Shabazz schooled. “They’re asking for seventy-five million; if you get off with fifteen million, that’s a win!”
“Not in my book.”
“Are you familiar with a Pyrrhic victory? Because with your attitude, that’s what you’re looking at.”
“Look, I’m not settling for shit. This is soft extortion, and you know it. Now can you win this case, or do I need to get you some help?”
I’m already helping you as much as I can! Qwess wanted to say.
Malik Shabazz raised his head and poked out his chest with pride. “I’m Malik Shabazz, all I do is win.”
Qwess offered a genuine smile for the first time since he’d been in the office. “That’s what I like to hear. Now show me.”
Qwess stood and left the office, leaving Malik Shabazz contemplating how to pull a needle out of a haystack.
* * *
Bone offered the Salatul Al-Janazah in the ranks with members of the Ummah inside the masjid on Murchison Road. As he recited the prayer behind the Imam his heart was heavy. This was the eighth and final Janazah he had attended since New Year’s, and each funeral service sank him deeper and deeper into despair. To know that he had killed his Muslim brothers in such a brutal fashion that prevented a proper burial tore him to pieces. The explosion had ripped their bodies to shreds, nearly disintegrating them. For the bodies that were found, they were too disfigured to identify. They only knew them by which men didn’t come back home.
Bone knew that the Janazah prayer was also for the remaining believers to seek forgiveness for their sins as well, but he didn’t feel secure that Allah would forgive him for his sins on this one. In Islam, believers are judged more harshly based on how knowledgeable they are of their faith. Bone was very learned in his deen. He read Qur’anic Arabic and he was well versed in Islamic history as well. The younger Muslims in the Crescent Crew often looked up to Bone and considered him their amir, or spiritual leader. So Bone was definitely more knowledgeable than the average. Bone knew that he planned to murder his brethren well before he did it. Yet he didn’t show them mercy. Now, here he was praying and seeking Allah’s forgiveness. This act made Bone worse than a murderer in Islam; it made him a munafiq, or hypocrite.
“As salaamu alaikum wa rahmatullah,” the Imam chanted, dismissing prayer.
Bone offered a supplementary prayer called a du’a then went
to the front to put on his Margiela sneakers. As soon as he came out front, he was surrounded by an entourage as if he was the president. Everywhere he moved, a man was on each side of him.
The Crescent Crew was in war mode. Bone had sold the story to his Crew that the Mexicans were responsible for the attack in the mountains, so they were moving extra cautious, taking no chances. After their meeting on New Year’s Day when Bone assigned new captains new territory, extra members remained in town to secure their leader and bring smoke to any man in the city that even looked as if he spoke Spanish.
Bone’s number one shooter was the young, hungry soldier who knew everything about the latest developments in the Crescent Crew.
Since the night of the explosion, Bone and Maleek had been inseparable. Being Bone’s right hand elevated Maleek’s status in the eyes of the Crew, and Maleek relished the attention. Bone, on the other hand, kept Maleek around so he could keep an eye on him . . . just in case.
Maleek walked outside the masjid to secure the area and retrieve the car while Bone peeled off hundred-dollar bills to the elders in the community on his way out the door. Maleek pulled the cream Rolls-Royce Ghost to the front, and Bone ducked his tall frame into the back of the Rolls behind Maleek.
“Damn, Akhi, this shit is getting harder and harder,” Bone admitted as soon as he settled inside the green leather seats.
“Yeah, I know,” Maleek agreed. “This shit fucking with me too, but I understand the call. His wife is taking it really hard, though.”
“Shit, his mom too. I have to go by there and take her some more dough,” Bone remembered. “Aye, hang a right up here and go on Ramsey. I got to make a stop.”
As Maleek piloted the Rolls, Bone turned the music up and allowed the Lyfe Jennings track to help him unwind. His city was on fire, fighting a war that he had started all on a lie, not unlike the Iraq war that so many men from the city had lost their lives in. So far, he was up on the scoreboard, but their mission was to run every Mexican that wasn’t cleaning houses out of town. It was hard to tell friend from foe, and he couldn’t take any chances, so everyone had to go. Ironically, a lot of regular working Joes were leaving town voluntarily. Now, in the morning when the work trucks rolled through town to pick up day workers, the stops were filled with a sea of black faces instead of brown faces. So, in a warped way, the Crescent Crew was still impacting the community in a positive manner.
“Pull up right here,” Bone instructed, pointing to the CVS parking lot. “Pull up beside that black Camaro.”
Maleek eased the Rolls into the parking lot beside the black-on-black Camaro. Once the Rolls stopped, Qwess jumped out of his Camaro and hopped in the back with Bone.
“Hey, Maleek, ride up Ramsey by the Walmart,” Bone instructed.
Maleek raised the partition separating the front from the back and moved out into traffic.
“You okay?” Qwess asked Bone, shaking his head. “I saw this shit on the national news.”
Bone sighed. “I don’t know, OG. This shit don’t feel right. Those were my brothers.”
Qwess looked out the tinted window at the cars passing by. “They were my brothers too, as you are my brother,” Qwess assured him. “But I must tell you, as much as it hurts, we made the right decision.”
Bone shook his head. “I’m not so sure.”
“Trust me, we did.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because a federal agent came to see me in New York. He told me out his own mouth that the witness against me was killed in that explosion.”
“Word?”
“Word!”
Bone allowed himself a small smile. So it wasn’t all in vain.
“So, we weren’t wrong,” Qwess said. He could tell that Bone was still taking things hard. Bone was a stone-cold killer, for sure, but he wasn’t a complete savage. His heart was still pure for those on his team, especially the believers. “Bro, this shit never gets easy. When they say it gets lonely at the top, this is what they mean . . . no one to talk to because you don’t know who wants your position . . . having to live with regrets. I mean, who can understand the mind state of the man that rose from the trenches to be the biggest nigga in the city.”
Bone modestly shied away from the comment, but Qwess had to let him know who he was and what position he played.
“Don’t get it twisted, Bone. You are that nigga; you are him.” Qwess looked him directly in his dark eyes. “It’s important that you know that, so you won’t ever get lackadaisical and get caught slipping.”
Bone took it all in and digested it, but he still had questions. “How you do it, OG? I mean you left all this sheet alone and escaped into the music industry. You didn’t slow down one bit.”
Qwess shook his head and chuckled. “It wasn’t easy at all, Akhi. I took a lot of losses.”
“Yeah?”
Yeah . . . like my ex-fiancée, Shauntay. She probably was the love of my life, and all she ever wanted to hear me say is that I loved her. I couldn’t do it, though. The game was too deep in my blood back then, but shorty would’ve done anything for me. She was perfect, bro—smart as hell, cute face, small waist with a big jungle ass. Long hair . . .” Qwess’s words trailed off with a whistle. “I’ve been all over the world, and she is still the finest woman I ever been with.”
“Is that the one that . . .”
“Yeah, that’s her. She was killed in a case of mistaken identity. You know, I told the story in the movie.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Anyway . . .” Qwess looked out into the gritty Fayettenam streets. “She’s the only thing from my past that I can’t outlive. I can’t shake that part of my past.”
“Understandable.”
Qwess raised his finger. “But, let me give you this piece of advice that will take you to the next level,” he said. “When you out here thuggin’, getting it how you live, you will have to go to the depths of hell to get your piece of the pie. Shit gets dirty, so never—ever—look back at the past. Not for validation, answers . . . nothing. Don’t go back to the past. And that’s the secret to surviving.”
Bone digested the jewel and nodded.
“That feeling in your stomach right now, it will pass. Trust me. And when it does, remember how it felt so you won’t allow yourself to feel like this again.”
Again Bone nodded.
“I wasn’t going to tell you because I didn’t want you to think that this was why I told you to do what you did, but this move just put us in position to put a billion dollars on the table for the team.”
“A billion?”
“A billie, Akhi,” Qwess confirmed. “You know I’m always plotting on a way to get the team to the promised land. That’s what all this was for in the beginning, and it’s still the goal. Now, Reece was stubborn; he was Crescent Crew to the death, and while that’s admirable, he died in this shit, and now I’m raising his son. You got how many kids?”
“Four all together; three girls and one boy.”
“Right, you have to think about tomorrow,” Qwess advised. “Now, even though it wasn’t about the money, you will be rewarded for the work you put in to help this go through.”
“I appreciate that, OG, but I did that for the Crew. That was Crew business.”
Qwess smiled. “And I can dig it, but it’s my responsibility to show the Crew a different way to do business.”
Qwess felt that as the founder of the Crescent Crew, he was obligated to get them out of the streets. So many years ago, he had secured a deal with a major label to bring his brothers home out of the cold, but Reece wanted to remain true to the game. Qwess only hoped that he could make this move and become the biggest independent record label in the world before Samson returned home to reclaim his throne.
Qwess maintained his allegiance to the family he built, but his methods were different these days. He felt responsible for bringing them to the next level. He knew that for every ounce of blood the Crescent Crew shed, a stain was on
his hands as well. He felt if he could redirect that ship to a legit lifestyle, then that would be the true way to honor Reece’s legacy.
But he knew that he had to feed his people in order to lead his people. Therefore, it was imperative that he made the streaming deal a reality.
Qwess was back in soldier mode, but this time his mission was survival of the fittest.
Chapter 18
Flame walked across the mountains with a slight limp. He looked up at the sky that was filled with rare, beautiful hues of reds and oranges as far as his eyes could see. The sky appeared high and expansive, but he felt so close to the roof of the bubble. He felt like a giant. As he traversed the valleys, he felt light with not a care in the world, whistling as he walked with no real destination in mind. Every few feet, a pain would explode in his lower back so excruciating that it threatened to buckle him to the ground, but he simply told it to go away, and the pain disappeared.
Flame came upon a thicket about fifty yards ahead of him. He couldn’t see the forest for the trees, but something told him he needed to see what was inside the brush. Flame figured he might as well investigate from a higher level of understanding, so he thought about puffing on a huge blunt. Magically, a blunt as thick as a broomstick appeared in his left hand. Flame smiled, wrapped his lips around the blunt, and took a long pull. He was high in seconds and ready to face the thicket of trees.
Flame walked inside the thicket of trees and was surprised to discover that what he thought were trees were actually throngs of people screaming his name. He walked deeper into the brush and saw a stage set up waiting for him. Flame dropped the huge blunt on the forest floor and dashed to the stage.
On stage, he started rapping his heart out, but he couldn’t hear a thing. His earpiece was tucked inside his ear, but he still couldn’t hear a thing.
Flame thought about how cool it would be if a woman was on stage with him, and immediately a woman appeared on stage dancing in front of him. She was high yellow in complexion with long blond hair draped over her face like curtains. She possessed more curves than a racetrack and she danced on the stage before him in a body-hugging leather pantsuit that left little to the imagination. Flame thought about what the curves looked like beneath the suit and . . . voilà! The suit disappeared, leaving her fully nude body on display as she gyrated on the stage. Flame was noticing a theme here. It appeared that whatever he thought about immediately came to pass.
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