Blood of a Boss: The Moreno Family

by Askari

  Ring! Ring! Ring!

  “Mook, it’s Sonny. Where are you at?”

  “I’m at the spot,” Mook replied. “What’s up? Everything good?”

  “Awwww, man, these streets are lovin’ a nigga right now. I need to holla at you. The sooner the better.”

  “Say less, you already know I’m on top of it. Plus, I holla’d at the ol’ head Grip, and he agreed to our terms, so I’ma have to come to the city today anyway. Be on the lookout for me.”

  After disconnecting the call, he lay his head against the headrest and let out a sigh of relief. By Grip accepting Mook’s offer, that was one less bridge he had to cross. Now, he could focus on getting money without the threat of a potential war.

  A couple of minutes later, Diamondz pulled into the parking lot in a metallic blue 2012 Lexus LS 460 and parked beside his Tahoe. The two of them had been friends since 2002 when they did a juvenile bit together at Glen Mills. However, being as though Sonny was from the Bad Landz, and Diamondz was from Frankford, they didn’t hang out much, but whenever they did, they did it big.

  When Diamondz stepped out his Lex, he was fresh to death as usual. He was dipped in a pair of Rock Republic jeans, a white Chanel For Men button up, and a pair of cinnamon Mauries. He grabbed a black gym bag from his back seat, and then climbed inside of Sonny’s Tahoe.

  “What’s up, my nigga?” He greeted Sonny, while shaking his hand.

  “Ain’t shit, Dia. Another day, another dolla, you know how I do,” he responded, and then glanced around the parking lot. He was looking for any suspicious activity.

  “Yo, that shit was some straight up buttah.” Diamondz smiled. “My phone is poppin’, my block is poppin’, and my young buls have been four and a halfin’ the shit out me. I know niggas is too young to know about that ‘88 money, but if it was anything like this...”

  “Yeah, I know, right. My shit been lookin’ a’ight, too. But whatchu try’na do, dawg?” Sonny replied in a tone that was all business.

  “I got $100,000 in here.” He held up the gym bag. “What’s up wit’ a play for three of ‘em?”

  “I’ll tell you what. I can’t do three for $100,000, but this is what I’ma do for you.” He reached into the back seat and grabbed the black duffle bag that was holding his last four keys. “I’ma bless you wit’ four. Just make sure you hit me wit’ the other $40,000 as soon as you get it.”

  “That’s a bet.” Diamondz smiled as they exchanged bags. Just give me like two to three days, and I got you. But dig, though, whatchu doin’ tonight? My homie, Shiz, just came home from the feds, and I’m throwin’ him a party at The Name Of The Game. You should slide through.”

  “I don’t know, dawg. Lemme holla at my boys and see what they doin’. If they try’na roll, then it’s whatever.”

  “A’ight, my nigga.” Diamondz shook his hand, and then opened the passenger’s side door. “Be safe out here. And if I don’t see you at the party, I’ma get wit’ you in a couple of days.”

  “More or less.”

  After watching Diamondz drive away from the parking lot, he started the ignition, and pulled off. He drove down Roosevelt Boulevard, and then banged a left on 6th Street. He drove all the way up until he reached Susquehanna Avenue. He then made a right, and drove eight blocks until he reached Franklin Street, and then made another left. When he pulled up on the corner of Franklin and Diamond, he spotted Sheed standing in front of the Chinese store talking to his homies, Nice and Stubbs.

  “Yo, scrap, come here for a minute.”

  Sheed looked in his direction and smiled. “Sonny Money, what’s poppin’?”

  “That Five, you already know,” Sonny replied, and then looked at Nice and Stubbs. “What’s up wit’ y’all niggas? Y’all good?”

  “Yeah, Sonny, we good,” they replied in unison, and then continued their conversation.

  When Sheed approached the Tahoe, Sonny reached his arm out the window and grabbed the iced-out 8th Street charm that hung from his necklace.

  “Damn, nigga, I see you out here all shined up and all that.”

  “Come on, dawg, you know this shit ain’t ‘bout nothin’.” Sheed laughed, and then held up his left hand to give Sonny a clear view of his iced-out watch. “But dig the big face Rollie, though.”

  “Yeah,” Sonny nodded his head in approval. “That thing definitely doin’ the pussy. I see you shinin’, nigga.”

  “So, what’s up wit’ you? Where you comin’ from?” Sheed asked, and then took a pull on his Backwood.

  “I just came from servin’ one of my playas. These birds been movin’ like a mu’fucka. But, um, what’s up wit’ the homie, Tommy? Have you seen him lately?”

  “Naw. I ain’t seen the nigga since the day Mook hit us off wit’ this work. I spoke to him the other day, though. He said he was goin’ up the Poconos or somethin’ like that. He was talking ‘bout it’s money up there.”

  “Yeah, well I need to holla at him. Matter of fact,” he grabbed his iPhone from the passenger’s seat. “I’ma call this nigga right now.”

  Ring! Ring!

  “This subscriber is unable to receive calls at this time. If you would like to leave…”

  Click!

  “Yo, this nigga got his phone off. How the fuck is he ‘posed to be gettin’ money, and he ain't even got his phone activated?”

  “I don’t know, Scrap. Maybe he’s usin’ a different number while he’s up there,” Sheed reasoned.

  A second later, Flo emerged from the Chinese store with a bag full of food in her hands. She walked over to the Tahoe, “Boo, I ain’t know if you wanted soy sauce or duck sauce, so I got you both.” She then looked at Sonny and smiled, “What’s up, Sontino? When you get here?”

  “What’s goin’ on, Flo? I just pulled up a couple of seconds ago.”

  She nodded her head, and then returned her gaze to Sheed. “I’ma go wait in the car.”

  “A’ight,” Sheed replied, and then licked his lips at the sight of her fat ass jiggling toward his Benz.

  “But dig, though, I holla’d at my man, Diamondz, from Frankford, and he told me he was throwin’ a party tonight at The Name Of The Game. You try’na ride out?”

  “No doubt.” Sheed smiled. “You know it ain’t a party unless the kid up in da building.”

  Sonny smiled at him. “I holla’d at Mook today, too. He told me the ol’ head supposed to be hoppin’ on board.”

  Sheed nodded his head up and down. “That’s a good thing, ‘cause I was definitely about to put some holes in that mu’fucka.” He lifted the bottom of his Gucci Tshirt, exposing the pearl handle on his .50 caliber Desert Eagle. “But dig, though. I’ma ‘bout to slide off wit’ lil’ buddy. Hit me up later, and let me know whatchu try’na do about that party situation.” He embraced Sonny with their Blood handshake, and then strolled toward his Benz.

  As he pulled off, Sonny picked up his iPhone and called Riana.

  Ring! Ring! Ring!

  “Hello,” she answered in the voice he loved so much.

  “What’s up, baby girl? How you feelin’?”

  “I’m a’ight, but I would feel a lot better if you were here wit’ me.”

  “Come on, Riri, you know a nigga out here try’na make shit happen. Why you stressin’ me?”

  “I’m not. I just wish you were here, so I could sexually harass you,” she giggled.

  “Well, I’m all yours in a couple of days.” He smiled at the thought of playing in her tight pussy.

  “A’ight, but I swear to God, Sontino, I ain’t try’na hear none of that you gotta make a run shit. Dat ass is mines.”

  Sonny laughed, “Yo, you crazy as shit. But I ain’t doin’ nothin’ except chillin’ wit’ you. Plus, I was thinkin’ we could do a lil’ shoppin’ for the baby.”

  “That would be nice. I saw some stuff at the baby’s section in Strawbridge’s too. Awwww, I can’t wait for her to get here." She smiled at the thought of holding their baby.

  “She? Naw, lil’
buddy, we ain’t doin’ no shes. That’s my lil’ man you carrying in there.”

  “Nah ahn,” she playfully shouted. “I’m not carrying a boy. I’m carrying a girl, so stop try’na jinx me.”

  “A’ight,” he continued laughing. “If you say it’s a girl, then it’s a girl.”

  “That’s better. I’m the queen, and I get whatever I want.” She responded in a soft voice.

  “Yo, you so goddamn spoiled. I see I’ma have to start slowin’ down wit’ ya lil’ ass. You lucky you’re pregnant, ‘cause if you wasn’t…”

  She fell out laughing. “And if I wasn’t, then what? Don’t make me fuck you up, Sontino.”

  “Yeah, whatever. But look, I gotta cut this short. I love you, and I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

  “A’ight, daddy, I love you too, and make sure you call me later.”

  *****

  When Sonny pulled up in front of his house, his mom was sitting on the stoop smoking a Newport 100. He climbed out of the Tahoe and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

  “What’s up, mom?”

  “Ain’t nothin’, baby. I’m just tired as shit from working a double shift at the hospital last night. I wish these next ten years would hurry up so I can finally retire.”

  “Don’t even worry about it, mom. If everything go the way I’m plannin’, you’ll never work another day in ya life.”

  “Humph. I’ve heard that before. You sound just like your father.”

  “Dizzamn. Why you had to go there? You know how I feel about dude, and you know how I hate it when people be comparin’ me to that nigga.”

  “I’m sorry, Sontino. It’s just that you remind me of him when he was your age. You know, before he started gettin’…

  “Yo, I’m outta here.”

  “...high.” Her words trailed off.

  When he reached his bedroom, he turned on his stereo system, and the sounds of AR-AB’s latest mixtape thumped from the speakers. He dumped the money from the gym bag on his bed, and counted it out stack by stack. He trusted Diamondz whole heartedly, but in the same vein, he wanted to make sure everything was in order. When he finished counting, it came out to exactly $100,000. He went to the closet where a pile of sneaker boxes were hiding the small vault that was built into the floor. After removing the boxes and pulling back the carpet, he punched in the combination numbers, and then opened the door. Inside, there were 91 stacks of money, each containing $10,000. He removed 90 of them and placed them inside of the duffle bag he grabbed from the top shelf. This was the money he owed Mook. Next, he removed the $100,000 from his bed and stashed it in the vault with the remaining $10,000. That, plus the $40,000 that Diamondz owed him, along with the $100,000 that was stashed in Riana’s dresser, he was sitting on $250,000. Damn, this was a crazy month, he thought to himself. I can get used to this shit.

  After locking the vault and placing the carpet and sneaker boxes back in position, he rolled up a gram of Sour Diesel and got his smoke on. At $250,000, he was sitting on more money than he’d ever had in his life, and he was beginning to develop mixed feelings. On one hand, he felt invincible, but on the other hand, he felt as though his new fortune was too good to be true. As he lay on his bed enjoying the effects of the Sour Diesel and nodding his head to AR-AB’s mixtape, his bedroom door creaked open and his mom stuck her head in the room.

  “Here,” she held out a white envelope, “you got a letter from Breeze yesterday.”

  He got up from the bed and grabbed the envelope. “Hey, mom, you know I love you, right?”

  “I know, baby,” she smiled, and then closed the door.

  He lay back down on the bed and examined the envelope. Breeze was his first cousin on his mother’s side, and he was currently incarcerated at SCI Camp Hill for a gun case. Growing up, he always wanted a little brother and Breeze was the closest thing to it. Ever since they were little kids, they always looked out for one another, and now that Breeze was serving a one-to-two, he did everything in his power to make sure he was as comfortable as possible.

  He opened the envelope and found a one page letter, and a picture of Breeze posing in his G stance.

  “Look at my fuckin’ boy!” He smiled, while examining the 6X9 picture. He opened the single sheet of paper, and began reading.

  Date: September 20, 2012

  Time: 4:05p.m.

  Mood: G Makkin

  Song: Picture Me Rollin

  Artist: Pac

  Dear Damu,

  What’s poppin’, homie? I got that bread you sent me last week. I got them flicks too. Good lookin’, scrap. Kongrats on the baby, and tell Riri that I send my unkonditional. Oh, yeah, you know me and Erika have been talking ‘bout gettin’ married, right? I ain’t gon’ front, yo, that’s my bitch, Blood! She been holdin’ a nigga down like brazy! But yo, when was the last time you took a trip up top? I need you to shoot through Southside, and holla at my baby moms for me. I tried to kall my daughter the other day, and some bird ass nigga answered the phone. I’m try’na tell this bozo to put shorty on the phone so I kan bark at my drop, and this bird ass nigga talkin’ ‘bout she ain’t there. She went to the bodega to get some soups and Slim Jims to make him a cook up. Then, this nigga gonna start laughing and tell me to hurry up and bring my bowl. Yo, word to Blood, this pussy ass nigga had me tight, son! I need you to shoot up there, and show this nigga how much he been on my mind lately.

  More or less, I got my green sheet yesterday, and they gave me a date for December 5, 2012. Yo, Blood, I kan’t wait, my nigga. As soon as I touch down, I’m a link up wit’ you. I love you, brozay.

  Breeze a.k.a. Infamous Balla

  As soon as Sonny finished reading the letter, he picked up a pen and a piece of paper.

  Date: September 24, 2012

  What’s poppin’, homie?

  As always, I open this letter wit’ love, loyalty, justice, freedom, and peace. I pray you’re mentally uplifted, and thinking far beyond those oppressive walls that kurrently konfine you. As for myself, I’m just try’na make sure that today was better than yesterday, and doing everything in my power to put our family in a better situation.

  More or less, your letter was a successful head shot, and I’ma definitely shoot up top in the near future. Matter of fact, kall ya baby moms as soon as you get this letter, and I guarantee you ain’t gon’ have no problems. As far as you and Erika thinkin’ about gettin' married, that's a good look. Just make sure when you touch down, you show her the same love and loyalty that she showed you while you was stuck behind that G*wall! Til’ then, stay up, ola!

  Phantoms & Maybachs

  After placing the letter inside of an envelope, he grabbed his iPhone and called Mook.

  Ring! Ring!

  “Yo,” Mook answered.

  “It’s Sonny, scrap. What’s poppin’?”

  “You already know,” Mook replied while sitting behind his steering wheel, enjoying a ferocious dick suck. “I just left my apartment in Chester, and I’m on my way to the city right now.

  “A’ight.” Sonny nodded his head. “What’s the word on this nigga, Grip? You make that happen yet?”

  “Nizzaw. I just talked to that pussy like twenty minutes ago, and now he talking ‘bout he don’t know if he wanna fuck wit’ niggas, and that he needs more time to get his thoughts together.”

  “More or less. Me and Sheed supposed to be goin’ out tonight. Is you kickin’ it wit’ us or what?”

  “Shhhh, Ummm!” Mook groaned as he bust a nut in the back of the girl’s throat.

  “Hey, yo, Mook, what the fuck is you doin’, Blood?”

  “Awww, man, I got one of my lil’ mommies wit’ me, and she got a nigga feelin’ like a Block Boy right now.”

  Sonny laughed. “Yo, you’sa wild bul! But dig, though, I’m at the spot right now, so as soon as you hit the city, slide through and holla at me.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  Click!

  Chapter Seven

  After meeting with Mook, Sonny
hopped in the shower, and got dressed for the party. Not wanting to overdo it, he kept it simple and wore a pair of Levis, a gray Champion hoody, and a fresh pair of white on white Air Forces. He also threw in his diamond earrings, and for a finishing touch, he placed his .357 Sig Sauer in the small of his back. He thought about rocking his NP chain, but quickly dismissed the notion. Nizzaw, the less attention the better.

  *****

  When Sheed pulled up in front of Sonny’s house, he was puffing on a Backwood, and nodding his head to the sounds of Beanie Siegel and Omillio Spark’s Tales of a Hustla.

  In this life, you’re not promised tomorrow, so take the bitter wit’ the sweet, and maintain/ In these vicious streets, carry ya heat and keep ya mind on ya money/ Life’s a gamble, everybody got a number homie.

  He beeped the horn, and a couple of seconds later, Sonny stuck his head out of his bedroom window.

  “Yo, hurry up, nigga! You fake ass pretty boy.” Sheed shouted, and then pulled down his visor to check out his own reflection in the mirror. “Niggas wanna be like me and shit. He knows I’m the one that pull all the bitches.” He laughed to himself.

  When Sonny finally emerged from the house and climbed in the Benz, Sheed asked him, “Yo, you strapped?”

  “Without a doubt,” Sonny responded, while adjusting the passenger’s seat.

  “Yo, what the fuck are you in here watching?” He gestured toward the monitor on the dashboard where two white girls were eating each other out in the 69 position.

  Sheed smiled. “Oh, those my lil’ Temple bitches.”