Bone waved his hands. “Ahh, it’s nothing. The Prophet Muhammad said, ‘Surely, you would not have achieved faith until you want for your brother what you want for yourself.’”
“Indeed.” Maleek merged onto Highway 74 and turned the music down. “Aye, I got a question.”
“Shoot.”
“So, like, we all Muslim and shit, right? But what we doing is super haram. So how do you, like, make the shit right with Allah? It don’t be fucking with your conscience?”
This was a question that Bone never had answered until recently. He never felt guilty about a murder because those murders enriched his brotherhood. However, the cabin was a different matter altogether.
“For me, it’s easy, little brother. I never did anything to a Muslim—not knowingly, anyway. Most of the people out here are kafir, so they lives aren’t equal to a Muslim. It says in the Qu’ran that one day the believers will have to wage war against the disbelievers. So by us doing what we do, we weakening their army already. Feel me?”
Maleek nodded.
“If I’m being totally honest, though, that cabin shit fuck with me. Even though they were rats and snakes, they still not my teachers,” Bone added.
“Yeah, but a rat can kill a snake and a snake can kill a human if you don’t keep the grass cut,” Maleek reasoned. “So, we did what we had to do.”
“Yeah, no doubt.”
The men rode the remainder of their journey in silence until they pulled up in the Creekwood community again.
In Creekwood, Maleek hopped out of the truck and walked inside Keisha’s spot like he owned it. A few minutes later, the two of them emerged hand in hand. Even though Maleek was technically booed up, he was still on point. As he walked back to his Range, his head swiveled in every direction something moved. This impressed Bone even more with the young lad, because when Bone was his age, he definitely would’ve been mesmerized seeing Keisha in the tight jeans, Ugg boots, and short bomber coat. Her natural walk was seductive, slinging hips and ass like she was slanging hips and ass.
Maleek opened the back door for Keisha to get in the truck. He helped her inside then hopped in the driver’s seat and headed downtown by the Boardwalk.
Maleek pulled into the Hilton on Front Street. He passed Keisha a wad of cash and made her go pay for two rooms. As she was checking in, Bone observed everything.
“Aye, I like her, little brother,” Bone said.
“Yeah? Me too. That ass fat!”
“Nah, though, I ain’t just talking about that. Fat asses come a dime a dozen when you a boss. You gotta start judging these hoes by a different standard. You need to fuck with bitches that worship the ground you walk on. Fuck what she look like,” Bone schooled. “Them pretty bitches be the most disloyal ones because it’s ten niggas lined up to take your place. Shit, she can’t turn all the niggas down. Maybe two or three, here or there, but ten? Nahhhhh!”
Maleek laughed. “I can dig it. So what about her, though? She bad than a muthafucka. Why you say you like her?”
“’Cause she don’t know she bad yet. What she, like twenty?”
“Just turned twenty-one.”
“Yep, a muthafucka that fine a nigga would’ve been snatched up and hid her away somewhere. So either she green as hell or she shy as hell. Either way it works for you.”
“How so?”
“’Cause she ain’t never seen a nigga like you. You see this town? Niggas getting money but they not on no next-level shit. You can take her and turn her all the way up. Have her the shit out here. Then, everybody gonna know you the reason. So what that gonna do for you?”
Maleek chuckled. “Create enemies.”
Bone twisted his mouth. “Niggas don’t want these problems. On this level niggas don’t bring real beef; they congratulate and try to get down with the team.”
“Word.”
“Yep, and when you lock her in, you can slide back down here and turn the lights on in the whole city on a pull-up.”
Maleek liked the sound of that, but there was only one problem. “Wait, what about Twin, though?”
“Ah, I think I’ma move Twin somewhere else. He from here, so he might be more loyal to the city than the Crew. I mean, he performing, but it’s obvious to me he more concerned with looking like he the man than actually getting to it.”
They saw Keisha round the corner and walk toward the truck. The sun setting at her back created a silhouette of her shapely body. Both men stared in awe at the brilliance of God’s creation.
“Yeah, brother, lock her young ass down the right way and she’ll jump off the moon for you,” Bone coached.
Keisha slid into the backseat and passed two keys to Maleek. “We in rooms 646 and 647,” she informed them.
“Cool,” Maleek said as he discreetly slid Bone a key.
“Yeah, y’all go ahead in. I’m going to run around the block to the store,” Bone said.
Maleek helped Keisha from the truck and followed her inside.
Bone called Maleek’s name.
Maleek turned around. “Yo?”
Bone showed all thirty gold teeth. “The moon, my nigga. The moon,” he reminded him.
Both men shared a laugh.
As soon as Maleek and Keisha walked into the hotel, Bone went inside and checked into room 734.
The way he was feeling, he didn’t trust nobody.
* * *
As eagerly as Qwess was looking forward to being given a bond in New York, that would not be the case. The federal marshals came and transferred him like thieves in the night. Because he was considered a high-risk inmate, special precautions were taken to transport him. Two heavily armored vehicles shadowed the black Suburban that held Qwess along with three U.S. marshals that whisked him to the airport. At the airport, a black bag was placed over his head, and he was shackled at the waist until the plane took off.
Three hours later, they landed in Fayetteville, North Carolina, under the cover of darkness, and a silent police escort took Qwess to the Cumberland County jail, where he was only one of four federal inmates.
The next day, Malik Shabazz came to visit him bright and early. He had urgent news.
“Salim, AMG is willing to settle this thing out of court for forty-five million dollars,” Shabazz reported with enthusiasm. “But you have forty-eight hours to accept the offer.”
This was not what Qwess expected to hear at all. He was looking forward to hearing Shabazz say he’d won the case. Instead, he was coming with an “offer” that required him to carve up his empire.
“Shabazz, what am I not getting that makes them feel as if they have a chance in court?”
“Court can go fifty-fifty. Always. And as you know, trial isn’t about right or wrong. It’s about who can prove their case.”
“Right. So what can they prove?”
“They can’t prove anything yet.”
“Okay then.”
“But . . . we can’t prove anything either.”
“Brother Shabazz, I just gave you a million dollars. I sat patiently in jail for a month while you figured this thing out, and still we don’t know who is telling. At some point, the rubber will have to meet the road.”
“I agree. They promised me I will have full discovery within the next week.
“Good, so come back to me when you have that discovery. In the meantime, you go tell AMG’s attorneys that they can take that settlement offer and suck my dick with it!”
* * *
Bone overlooked the ocean from his room on the seventh floor as he waited on a call. The waves crashing against the shore should’ve soothed his mind, but he was too lost in his thoughts to pay the waves any attention. King Reece’s words rang in his ear as if he was in the room with Bone, exhorting him to act. The God King Reece had told him to go hard or go home, rep the Crew like he was doing. He had told him to watch those close to him. Did he mean Qwess was sour?
Bone’s contact at the county jail had relayed to him that Qwess was back in North C
arolina being held in PC downtown. So why didn’t Qwess reach out to him? Was this confirmation that he was ready to go left on the Crew?
Bone’s burner phone buzzed to life. He read the text and returned a text with his new room number. Then he sent the same text to Maleek. A few minutes later, Maleek tapped on the door. Bone opened the door for him, and Maleek walked in with a knowing smirk. Bone nodded, and the lesson was passed along telepathically. Game recognized game.
“What’s up?” Maleek asked.
“Twin on the way up.”
“Okay, cool. He good?”
“Yeah, for now he good. Let’s see how he act when I break this news to him.”
Someone rapped on the door. Maleek confirmed it was Twin, then he opened it.
Twin walked in looking like the definition of ostentatious. He wore a bright yellow silk Versace shirt, yellow slacks, and black alligator shoes. Around his neck was enough diamond jewelry to make Mr. T’s neck look like a priest’s collar. Not one but two Rolexes jangled on his left wrist, and diamond pinky rings twinkled on both hands. He held two Louis Vuitton duffel bags in each hand. The money inside was so haphazardly wrapped that stacks of it jutted from the sides of the bag visibly.
Bone looked Twin up and down, unable to hide his disgust. Who the fuck recruited this clown? he thought.
“Aye, Big Homie, I got that for you right here,” Twin said before he even closed the door shut.
Bone snapped, “Nigga, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Akh, why you talking to me like that?”
In two long steps, Bone was on Twin. He jacked him up by his Versace shirt and slammed him against the wall. As soon as Twin’s back hit the wall, Maleek had his Sig Sauer out and pressed against Twin’s forehead.
“How the fuck you come to drop dough off looking like a fucking Miami drug lord? Are you fucking crazy? Motherfuckers could be watching us right now. We at war with motherfuckers, and our fucking founder is in the feds right now. Do you not know what the fuck is going on?” Bone roared.
Twin raised his hands slowly. “Akhi, I’m sorry. I was just going to the club when we leave here.”
“We? Who the fuck is ‘we’? I ain’t going to no fucking club!”
“Nah, I got my girl in the car,” Twin mumbled, embarrassed.
Bone released Twin from the wall and flailed his hands in exasperation. “This nigga trying to get cased up.”
“Yo, take them bags back outside with you. Whatever is in there someone will get from you later.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Hand me that jack and roll out. And don’t never embarrass me like this again.”
Twin passed Bone the phone, and Bone dismissed him. He shot Maleek the head nod, and Maleek followed him out.
No sooner than the door closed, the phone rang. It was Samson.
* * *
A few hours after Shabazz left, Qwess received another visit from Doe and Lisa Ivory. By now the whole jail was abuzz with the word that their hometown hero was among them. Because he was in PC no one really saw Qwess, but when word spread that Lisa Ivory was in the building, the jail went berserk. They quickly ushered Lisa and Bone in the attorneys’ room and left them alone.
Lisa rushed Qwess and hugged him tight enough to break him. “My king, are you okay? We’re worried sick about you.”
Qwess kissed her deeply and assured her that he was fine.
“I came as soon as I could,” Lisa said.
Doe gave Qwess a pound and a hug. “Man, what is Shabazz talking about?”
Qwess sighed. “Some bullshit.”
They sat at the table, and Qwess ran down what Shabazz had told him.
“That’s bullshit, bro,” Doe said.
“Yeah, I know, but it is what it is now,” Qwess said. “You and my dad spoke with Liam, right?”
“Yeah. He’s ready.”
“So everything is in place?”
“He says so.”
“Okay, what’s the final number?”
“Fifty.”
“And that will cover everything we need to move forward?”
“Yep.”
Qwess pondered for a moment. That $50 million would wipe him out, but it was an investment he would see within the year. Qwess knew he needed to decide immediately because timing was of the essence. Liam had relayed to him that someone had recently filed a patent similar to the technology they possessed. Now it was a race to the market. With the $50 million they could be operational inside of a year.
Qwess looked to Doe. He squeezed Lisa’s hand, and his eyes blazed with fire as he made an OG call.
“Release the funds to start Wave.”
* * *
“Can you believe this nigga?” Maleek groused to Bone as they drove back to Fayetteville from Wilmington at the crack of dawn. “Fuck was he thinking coming in there dressed like that?” Maleek shook his head. “When we came outside and he put the money in the truck, his chick was rubbernecking hard as hell.”
“Speaking of chicks, I heard you tearing ole girl ass up over there last night,” Bone said, smiling.
“Hell, yeah; you said lock it down, so I had to put it down.”
“Indeed.”
After Bone spoke to Samson, he had switched his room to the first room Keisha had reserved for them. He heard Keisha climbing the walls, screeching like a cat all night. Of course he wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.
Samson had dropped a load on Bone. He once again scolded Bone as if he was a child, then he ordered Bone to have a sit-down with some big shot coming all the way in from Mexico to call a truce. Supposedly, this man was second-in-command of the Michoacán cartel, and if the truce was accepted, then he would turn the pipeline back on. Then the Crescent Crew could stop getting their heroin from New York. Things would be back to normal. No war, new plug meant more riches.
Samson also told Bone that the word on the block was that Qwess was not to be trusted. Qwess had met with a federal undercover agent twice while he was in jail in New York. No one knew for sure what was said, but inside the bureau they were excited about the prospect of flipping the founder of one of the largest Black crime cartels in the history of the United States. Even though this news was mind-blowing, it was the last thing Samson told Bone that had him spooked.
Samson relayed to Bone that he had been told someone had lured their comrades to the mountains, someone close to them. Samson suspected that it was Qwess, but he couldn’t confirm anything yet. However, he assured Bone when they spoke again he would know everything.
Bone was shook. It was only a matter of time before it all fell down. If Qwess was sour, he was fucked. If Samson discovered he killed their comrades, he was fucked. If he screwed up the truce, he was fucked. At every angle he turned, he was fucked.
Bone made up his mind right then: he would be a dick before he became a swallower.
Chapter 24
Flame’s Southern home was located in Johns Creek, just outside Buckhead, Atlanta. The 15,000-square-foot, five-bedroom, seven-bath home was centered on six acres of land, equipped with every amenity possible for a young bachelor. There was a full-court basketball space where Flame used to host naked basketball tournaments. There was also a tennis court for the bougie chicks in his rotation. In the back of the property was a track and obstacle course to race his quad runners. In the basement of the home was a shooting range. And of course the huge infinity pool that ran off into the lake on the property. When Flame purchased the property he had added $1.8 million in recreational upgrades. Now, all of that money was wasted, since he was now confined to a wheelchair.
Flame had been home for a week, and he was still finding it hard to adjust to his new way of life. His physical therapist was scheduled to come over for their first workout session in the pool. The pool would make it easier for him to move around. This session would give a better indicator of if and when he would be able to use his legs again.
Kim had been with Fla
me every day since he’d been home, right along with 8-Ball. The picture 8-Ball took of Flame and Kim at the hangar had gone viral, and the entertainment world was buzzing like a pack of bees. Some of the sentiments were shady, but for the most part everyone was just glad to see Flame out of the hospital. He or anyone from the label had yet to issue an official statement on his condition or his plans to return to the music world. Given everything Qwess was facing, there was no wonder why.
When Flame heard what was happening with Qwess, he was shocked. He didn’t believe one thing they alleged, of course, but he was in no shape to focus on that. He knew Qwess was capable of handling himself. He had to take care of himself too.
Flame sat in his motorized wheelchair on the terrace overlooking the pool. He heard his front doorbell chime through the outdoor speaker. He figured it was either Kim returning from Lennox Mall or his physical therapist.
He continued to peer out over the lawn when he heard footsteps behind him.
Then he heard her voice. “Hi, Flame.”
Chills zipped through his body, and he froze.
“I know I’m the last person you want to hear from, but I need to talk to you.”
Flame curled his lip. “You got some nerve showing your face here. If I wasn’t confined to this chair I would kill you right now.”
“I understand,” she said. Her voice crackled like a broken speaker. “If I were you I would feel the same way.”
“So why are you here?!”
She whimpered like a scared puppy. “Because I have to talk to you.”
“I ain’t got shit to say to you!”
Sasha Beaufont walked around the deck and stood in front of Flame so he could see her, so he could see the marks of regret she wore too.
Sasha’s lower jaw was shaped awkwardly, like she was sucking on an anvil. A long, jagged scar ran down her face, and her hair was shaven, showing the scars where staples had been in her scalp. A hard cast was on her left arm from her wrist to her elbow.
Sasha presented her scars to Flame like a gift. “I’m so sorry, Flame. I never meant for any of this to happen. I’m so sorry.” Her eyes swept over his visible injuries and rested on his legs. “Oh, my God! Look at you.”
Dirty Music Page 22