“Like what?”
“Like where’s Damien? And . . . what happened to Vanessa?” I say to him, and Jayson gets a sad look on his face.
“I couldn’t care less about Damien. Sooner or later somebody is gonna put a couple of holes in him. And as far as Vanessa, I guess she got what she really wanted from all of this,” Jayson says and then walks back to the garage.
I wish I knew what that was. As much as Jayson loves me, and I know he does, there’s always a part of him that will also love Vanessa, whether he admits it to me or not. Why do I feel like there is a cloud that’s hanging over us that we just can’t shake?
DAMIEN
“We gonna kill this mutherfucka,” I say to my homie, Irv Watts. Irv is a thoroughbred nigga I came up with from Spanish Harlem. He was up in Brooklyn running shit for King while I was in Atlanta. It used to be Irv, Nard, and me that ran together when we were just young niggas hustling. Nard got killed back in ’96, God bless the dead.
“Whatever you need, I got ya,” Irv says to me. It’s been two weeks since Absolute’s niggas shot Horse. I have to beef up my squad to handle this ma’fucka.
“Yo, that nigga Absolute is a grimy-ass nigga up in Brooklyn. This cat has been shooting up niggas left and right.”
“Well, he made one mistake: he shoulda killed me the first time.”
“So, what you wanna do? I know the hood they be hustling at. We can fuck them up right now,” Irv says.
“Naw, I ain’t doing any drive-by shit. I’m gonna catch this nigga slipping and do the shit myself. Besides, for right now I got 5-0 watching us too close.”
These fucking hip-hop police are keeping tabs on Kane. After everything that went down at the office, the police really started to poke around and look at us. Horse, being a dead ex-con associating with industry cats, didn’t sit right with the cops. I decide to keep a low profile and keep out of the limelight. Plus, I still had to deal with Absolute.
The funny thing is, the shooting only helped make Kane even more popular. The media thought that the hit was on him. Every music magazine put Kane on the cover. It’s funny that I’ve been a hustler all my life and nobody ever put me on the cover of a magazine, but a rapper with a hot song and a shooting incident that didn’t directly involve him could blow a nigga up.
Speaking of having a hot song, Kane’s first official single, “Get Down or Lay Down,” is blowing up on the charts. He has the number one single on the Billboard Top 100 and is the most anticipated new artist of the year. Kane also put out a dis track called “The Omen” from me to Absolute:
A prophecy/ for those who dare come test me/ listen carefully and you’ll hear the truth/ Absolute power corrupts Absolute/ sending niggas for me that can’t aim or shoot/ niggas wanna see me burn in hell/ like the devil’s son did Cornell/ Flip Set runs shit/ kill any faggot nigga who wanna come get it.
Only niggas in the street that can read between the lines know what that song’s about; they be going crazy when that shit hit. It’s basically my declaration of war on Absolute.
Kane’s album, Hustlin’ by Any Means Necessary, becomes the top-selling album of the year according to the Billboard charts, moving in excess of 785,000 copies in its first week. SoundScan figures show that it’s the third bestselling debut album in their history. Within a month, Hustlin’ is double platinum, and Flip Set Records is the hottest record label in the game.
The six-figure checks from the ASCAP is more money than we can count. This is beyond what we coulda hoped for. I’m able to start laundering cash through the label just like we planned. This is the life: money, bitches, and weed. When we step up in the club, VIP is cleared out and only we’re allowed to say who gets in.
This one night, we’re in the 40/40 Club and Kane brings this bad-ass half Dominican and black chick named Beata up to VIP section. She’s a video chick that Kane says he grew up with back in the day. He’s been wanting to hit that shit for a long time now.
“Yo, this is my girl, Beata,” Kane says to Rob and me.
“What’s up, ma?”
“Hello,” Beata says with a sexy-ass smile.
“You were the lead girl in Ne-Yo’s new video,” Rob says.
“Yeah, we shot that last month,” Beata replies.
“So, how long have you known my man for?” I ask her.
“Oh, Kane and I go back,” she says.
“Yeah, Beata has been playing hard to get for a minute now,” Kane says as if he’s hinting to something else.
“Well, a girl can’t be too easy, right?” she says apologetically.
“I guess not.”
Beata is a stallion for real. She reminds me of Mo’Nique back in Atlanta. I never did get to hit that ass. That’s the one thing I do regret.
Kane and Beata leave the 40/40 Club together, and I can tell Kane wants to do more than just fuck this chick. Kane has a look on his face that says he and Beata had a lot of history between them. At any rate, it gave Rob and me a chance to talk about the situation with the cops and Absolute.
“Yo, Dame, you know 5-0 are watching us 24/7 now since Horse got smoked,” Rob says.
“I know. I can’t afford to be connected to the shooting. I still got to deal with Absolute’s bitch ass.”
“We will, and with Kane selling all these albums, we ain’t gonna have to worry about money. Yo, Kane even got Hollywood niggas sending him movie scripts,” Rob tells me.
“Word? Let’s get that money, my nigga.”
Things are lovely. Rob and I are getting piss drunk on Moët that night. The next day, I go to the Flip Set offices in Manhattan, and while we’re inside talking business, the NYPD raids our offices with a warrant.
“Get down! Hands where I can see them!” one pig yells as he shoves a gun in my face.
“Chill out, dude. Be easy,” I say as they handcuff me.
“You have the right to remain silent. . . .” Another officer reads us our so-called rights.
All they find is a little bit of weed and a gun that’s registered in Tone’s name. They still take Rob and me downtown. They don’t have shit on us. They take a bunch of financial records and try to charge us with money laundering. Too bad they can’t prove shit. Everything we do is strictly off the books. Unfortunately, the van to central processing has already left for the night. That means spending overnight in the tombs. We would have to be arraigned in the morning.
After we see the judge, we’re posted bond for $50,000 each, and the faggot-ass prosecutor is pissed they can’t hold us on anything.
After that, I keep my distance from the label for about a month and avoid the cops, who follow me everywhere. At the same time, I have to keep my eyes open in case Absolute tries to hit me again. My nigga Irv is keeping tabs on that nigga Absolute, and finds out the spot where he’s staying.
“Yo, my nigga, Absolute is staying up in Bed-Stuy, but he’s got a fuckin’ army surrounding him,” Irv tells me.
“Where else nigga be going?”
“He fucks with some ho over on Flatbush Avenue.”
“Does he? You know who the bitch is?” I ask him.
“No, but I can find out.”
That’s all I need to know. It’s about time for me to show Absolute exactly who he’s fucking with. In the meantime, I have to tighten up my circle and make sure these fucking cops can’t build a real case against me. I’m pretty sure that since Tommy was a cop, they’ve had me under surveillance for a while. Although I wasn’t the focus of their investigation, I was the number two man in King’s operation. If they had any concrete evidence against me, they woulda come and got me.
The police decide to leave us alone for a minute since they can’t find any evidence that would hold up in court. Kane is still at the top of the Billboard charts. We decide to keep the momentum going and push his next single.
We’re shooting a video at a warehouse studio for Kane’s next single, “Groupie Love,” and I see Beata on the set. Kane tells me how he did ma dirty, and I bust out la
ughing. That’s just what she deserves, but she’s still fine. Word in the industry is that Beata done fucked a lot of industry niggas. I might as well be added to the list.
“What’s up, ma?” I say as I walk up to her.
“Hey, what’s up. You’re Dame, right?” Beata says to me with that same sexy smile. She has on a short white miniskirt that barely covers that round, bubble ass. The front of the dress is a low halter-top that shows off her nice, golden brown tittes. My dick gets hard just staring at her fine ass.
“You remember me?” I ask her jokingly.
“Of course I do. I never forget a handsome face,” Beata says flirtatiously.
“So, you here to see Kane?”
“Kane . . . no. I don’t fuck with him anymore,” she says firmly.
I bet you don’t after how my nigga ran up in ya.
“I’m sorry to hear about that, ma.”
“It’s cool. Some niggas don’t know how to treat a lady.”
“So, why you here?” I ask her.
“I’m here to support my girl over there.” Beata points to one of the girls on the set.
“Okay, cool. So what you getting into after this?”
“Nothing much,” she says to me, smiling.
“You wanna ride with me?” I say as I put my arm around her waist.
“Sure. That’s fine with me.”
Ma is real cool. We drive to a beach in my S500 and we talk for a while. I ask her about what happened between her and Kane, and she tells me the edited version of how he dissed her. She also tells me that she can sing.
I ask her to sing a little something for me and she sings a little bit of Monica’s “Angel of Mine.” I’m surprised because ma can really sing. I tell her that I’ll let her audition for Tone and Rob and try to get her signed to Flip Set Records. Ma has the look and the voice. She could make us a lot of money.
After a few minutes I decide to see how good her head skills are too. I pull out my dick and place my hand on the back of her head as ma slobs me down. Kane is right; ma can suck a mean dick.
After a minute or so I want some pussy, and she lets me hit it from behind in the back seat of the car. The pussy is just as good as Kane said it was.
She gives me her number, and I really do hook her up with Tone and Rob. Beata may be a gold digger, but at least we can pimp her ass with a record deal. We are looking for an R&B act, and she’s perfect. Hoes need to eat too.
Irv is still trying to find out which bitch Absolute is fucking with on Flatbush Avenue. We are driving down the street, and we spot the nigga going into a Chinese restaurant on 129th Street.
“Yo, is dat Absolute’s bitch ass?” I ask Irv.
“Hell yeah.”
“Yo, Irv, pull over.”
Irv pulls the car over.
“This nigga is by himself too.”
“Yo, you wanna blast that nigga?” Irv asks me.
“Naw, I don’t wanna draw too much attention to us. You still got that wood in the trunk?”
“Yeah, I do,” Irv says.
We jump outta the car and Irv pops the trunk. We grab a pair of baseball bats and pull on some ski masks. We run up in the restaurant and start swinging on that nigga. He doesn’t even see us coming. I bust that nigga upside the head. Absolute yells in pain. He tries to pull out his gat, but I smash his hand and the gun flies away.
“You tried to shoot me, nigga! Do something now!” I bust him again in the head.
Irv and me are having batting practice on this fool. I crack that nigga again in the face and break his jaw. One of the people from the restaurant starts yelling in that Chinese shit.
“How dat wood feel, nigga?” I yell as I break his arm. I think Irv fractures his legs.
“Come on, let’s go!” Irv yells.
We hop in the whip and pull out. Absolute is lying in a bloodied, twisted mess on the sidewalk. We did that nigga old school style like my pops, Bishop, used to do. The last I heard, that nigga was in a wheelchair, eating from a tube. You don’t always have to kill a nigga to set an example.
17
Life After Death
Atlanta, GA
One year later
JAYSON
I should be dead now. By all rights I should be, after being so stupid and trusting Vanessa. Lucky for me, somebody called the police after they heard shots. I woke up in the hospital a day later, and Janelle was right by my side. Poor girl had to deal with Nikki and me being laid up in critical condition at the same time. The whole situation was my fault. I should have never let Vanessa cloud my judgment like that.
After I was put in stable condition, I gave Lt. McNiven my final report. I don’t know why, maybe my pride, but I never told him about Vanessa. Vanessa and Damien set me up real good and put the gun that shot King in my hand. So, instead of telling him what really happened, I just let him believe what the evidence showed, that King found out I was an undercover cop, I pulled out, and we shot each other. The deal never went down. The police got rid of a major drug lord they couldn’t touch, the D.A. got a promotion, and I retired from the force a month later.
The police raided and shut down most of the spots Damien had set up in College Park and East Point. Dre was also arrested and did a year in jail. Damien pulled up and left town before the cops could get to him. He wasn’t the main focus of the D.A., and he wasn’t a priority for them. If only they knew.
The only person that I personally looked out for was Quan. I felt like he was there for me and he was just caught up in a bad situation. A few months later, I helped him move his mom and little sister down from New York to Atlanta. He even enrolled in college at Morehouse and started to major in journalism.
I didn’t even tell Janelle about what Vanessa did to me. I don’t know why, but it really didn’t seem important. I was alive, Vanessa was gone, and we could start our lives over again together. I did, however, keep track of Damien. I had contacts on the force that let me know when Damien had returned to Harlem. Apparently he was keeping a real low profile.
A few months later, I saw a rapper called Kane on BET claiming he was a new artist on Flip Set Records. No doubt in my mind Damien was fronting the money for the label and probably laundering his fortune through it. I had to admit, it was a smart idea.
Janelle has begun to go to the University of Georgia, so we’ve decided to stay in Decatur. Lt. McNiven convinced me four months ago to come back and become an instructor on the force for undercover cops. I can’t believe how green some of these rookies are. They have no idea how dangerous their world is about to become. It’s my job to make sure they learn that, even though I’m not sure sometimes if I’m the best example for them.
Two days ago, I went to work and it was business as usual. A friend of mine was running a background check on some suspects. When he got up to get some lunch, I ran Vanessa’s name through the country database on known gang associates, and I got an address for her in Los Angeles. Apparently her name was still on the FBI files of people known to be associated with Dwayne “King” Smith.
A million thoughts ran through my head as I stared at the address. She played me like a fool and tried to kill me. What was I gonna do, though? It’s not like I could charge her with attempted murder, seeing how I didn’t tell the complete truth about what happened that night. But I couldn’t just let it go, either. You know what they say about karma. I think Vanessa is going to be reminded about that real soon.
JANELLE
It’s funny how much changes in a year and a half. I’m now a sophomore at the University of Georgia. Just two years ago I was a stripper, doing almost anything for a dollar, lying to myself that this was the best hustle and that it was all I wanted to do with my life. That was until I met Jayson and he literally changed my life. Even though he was an undercover cop called Tommy, he still stole my heart. I feel like if he didn’t enter my life when he did, I would still be dancing at The Pink Palace or worse.
After living through what Damien did to Nikki, it chan
ged her life, too. She quit dancing.
I meet Nikki for lunch midtown at the Varsity, and we get a table.
“Girl, classes are gonna kill me this semester. I can’t believe I got myself into this.”
“I’m so proud of you, Mo,” Nikki says.
“I ain’t done nothing special.”
“Girl, I’ve seen you grow from a little girl into a young woman, a college student at that. You still have that hustler’s ambition, but only this time it’s about getting that education. Looking back on it now, I should’ve pushed you to go to college in the first place instead of getting you into the game.”
“Nikki, you took care of me the best way you knew how. Before you took me in, I was partially living on da streets. In case you forgot, you’re not dancing anymore either.”
“It took getting my ass kicked for me to learn,” Nikki says regretfully.
“Don’t even think about that, Nikki.”
“I try not to, but . . . it’s like I still got all this anger inside. He fucking raped me, beat me, degraded me, and got away with that shit,” Nikki says sadly.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone, Nikki,” I say to her.
“Mo, you tried to warn me but I didn’t listen. Now I just wanna . . . kill him.”
I take her hand and wish I could take her pain away. “You’re alive, Nikki. No matter what he did to you, you were stronger than that shit.”
“If you say so.”
We finish having lunch and I leave for class. Since Jayson and I have been so busy with work and school, it feels like we’ve barely been able to see each other. Being in class still feels so surreal. I used to think that college wasn’t meant for me, but that was then and this is now.
Even now my past still has a way of showing up again. As I’m walking on campus, I run into somebody I haven’t seen, or thought I would ever see again. My stepbrother, Tony.
The Pink Palace Page 17