by Styles P
“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to tell it.”
Jake looked up and the cab driver pulled his chain badge out of his shirt and his gun from his waist. He got on a walkie-talkie. “It’s him! It’s him! I got him!”
“Damn,” was all Jake could utter. Then he just closed his eyes. He knew it was over. He was on his way back to jail …
———
As he walked into work, Frazier couldn’t believe who he saw getting processed. He couldn’t resist the temptation to go over and talk to him. “I guess you’re back here with me now. I’m gonna make sure you have a pleasant stay, Jake.”
“Fuck you, Frazier! You lucky I didn’t blow your fucking head off!”
“You’re a bum shot, Jake! You know damn well you’re the lucky one to be alive, but I’m going to see what I can do to change that. I’ll be back, Jake, don’t you go nowhere,” Frazier said jokingly.
Jake got processed and sent to a cell, which took a total of eight hours. He knew they was trying to bust his balls with the bullpen therapy. Jake wondered what plans Frazier had for him, but he came to a conclusion to just fall back and let whatever was going to happen, happen. He was glad he was in a cell and not a dorm. The pressure of having to watch his back from all angles 24/7 would have made him flip. Jake knew that by this hour the whole jail knew he was back. Even though a couple of years had passed, it was the same grime balls and wild motherfuckers running around. Jake overheard some bum-ass dudes in the bullpen talking about how you can do some of your state bid right there in the local jail.
He got a good night’s sleep despite being in jail. He was tired. He had been ripping and running and his body had been through a lot. It was morning and Jake was in the part of the jail where they held the hard-core criminals and dudes going to the feds. It was a more laid-back atmosphere: instead of roaming around free in the dorms, he was in a cell block where he was locked down twenty-three hours a day, which meant he only got one hour of rec.
When the time for rec came, Jake went to the yard to see what was popping; to find out who was doing what in the joint. He knew who was behind the 300 Crew and he knew he wouldn’t be receiving any mystery letters. Jake knew the talk of him poppin’ Lil Red, Dollar, Monster, and Mitch was all over the jail, so he wanted to find out who he was gonna have a problem with right away. As Jake got to the yard he saw a few familiar faces but he saw no force to be reckoned with. He saw Cory and Ike who seemed to have taken the place of Dollar and Lil Red. Everything else seemed to be running the same.
Jake figured it was Frazier who manipulated the 300 to work in the joint. He picked who he could use and anyone he couldn’t he had his crew put pressure on; his plan was excellent.
Jake looked up and saw Frazier walking toward him as he was spinning the yard (walking around the track). “Can I talk to you, Jake?” Frazier asked.
“Your house, not mine,” Jake answered as he stopped to hear what he was gonna say.
“Listen to me, Jake! I’m willing to put our recent history behind us because I can understand why you was upset. Shit, if I was you I would have did the same thing. I’m not trying to make your time any harder while you’re here. That shit I said in bookings, I was fucking around with you.”
“Okay, Frazier, I can go with that! I don’t want no problems,” Jake stated and stuck his right hand out for Frazier to shake. Frazier reached for Jake’s hand. Jake had no intentions of letting Frazier slide. He was sizing him up. Frazier was just about the same height as Jake but he weighed about thirty pounds more. He looked like the kind of black man you didn’t want to tussle with, like a diesel James Evans. You could tell he worked out a lot. His traps and arms made his shirts fit him tight. When Frazier’s hand got in Jake’s grip, Jake already knew what he was gonna do.
Jake punched him in the throat with his left hand while holding Frazier’s right hand as hard as he could. The blow instantly caused Frazier to buckle and drop to his knees. He couldn’t breathe. Then Jake pulled Frazier’s face down, smashing his knee into Frazier’s nose as hard as he could. Then he spun his neck around in a sharp 360-degree motion causing Frazier’s neck to snap, killing him instantly.
Jake kept moving as Frazier lay dead on the ground. He was waiting for the turtle squad. He knew they were coming, and he knew they were going to break him up, if not kill him, but for some reason he heard no alarm sound off. He heard no one demand for him or the whole yard to lay down. It was as if the other two corrections officers didn’t see what happened. They didn’t.
Jake knew the yard had cameras posted on it. One way or the other they would know he did it. He didn’t even give a fuck. With Frazier dead, at least his life would feel a little less threatened.
Inmates yelling, “Yo, hit the wall. Get your back against something,” was all Jake heard. He didn’t know who said it but when he looked up he saw why they said it. The turtle squad was pointing at him and coming for him suited up like they were going to war—in all black with helmets, shields, and batons. Jake knew he didn’t have a chance against twenty suited-up men with weapons, so he tried to get his back against the wall.
All he could remember was the first blow to his head. After that he went blank and woke up in the prison hospital ward. Jake had a tremendous headache but the rest of his body felt pretty fine—just a little soreness where he’d been shot in his leg and in his shoulder. That hand of his, the one the doctors said would never move again, wasn’t moving now … but that was because he was cuffed to the bed.
SMART MEN
“Frank, can you fucking believe this shit? Frazier is dead! That motherfucking Jake killed him! Broke his neck with his bare hands. Frazier is a big guy! Shit, Frank, you’re a master of the martial arts. How dangerous is that motherfucker if he can break another grown man’s neck with his bare hands? I’m sure glad that bastard is behind bars. He won’t be coming out anytime soon, but he also destroyed our jail money. There’s nobody to run that part of the show anymore.”
Frank was tired and looked it. He couldn’t take Phil’s ways anymore and told him. “I don’t mean to burst your bubble, Phil, but don’t you think it’s time to call it quits? It’s over for your Crew. It’s only you and Albert Murphy and the Calvin brothers left, and you and Albert don’t like or trust each other. So why still do business with him? That makes no sense! You should know when to call it quits, especially if the feds are in the picture! To be real with you, Phil, since Jake is locked up, you don’t need me anymore. I’m getting too old and I have no interest in getting involved with the shit you are doing. So after today you’re gonna have to find somebody else to watch your back. I’m getting outta here. I’m moving far away.”
“So that’s it, Frank, it’s over just like that? You’re leaving me?”
“You don’t need me anymore, Phil! I suggest you think about relocating. Your partners aren’t the kind of guys I would stay in business with. Phil, I really like you but I don’t want to be part of what you’re doing. The money is good, but you got to know when to call it quits. Your track record as a lawyer is incredible! You could go to any state anywhere and live life like a king. As for me, I have to appreciate my second chance. I can’t afford to keep throwing rocks at the pen. Shit is bigger than that. I’m trying to have peace of mind at the end of the day.”
“Yeah, I hear you talking, Frank. It makes a lot of sense, the things you’re saying, but I’m the kind of guy that wants it all. Maybe I’m greedy, maybe crazy, or both. I’m going to relocate, but when I do, wherever I go, I’m going to do the same thing. You know why, Frank?”
“No, tell me why, Phil.”
“Because I can! I’m that fucking smart and that powerful! You know whoever crosses me ends up regretting it and right now I’m feeling you’re crossing me, Frank!”
“Is that supposed to be a threat, Phil? If it is, I can kill you right fucking now with my bare hands since you seem to be so amazed by that,” Frank warned his former boss.
“I’m just fucking with you, Frank, be
cause I’m sad and hurt you ain’t gonna be here no more! I had big plans for us,” Phil said, realizing that Frank could do exactly what he just said he could. “I apologize, Frank! That was uncalled for. You have been a true friend and you saved my life before. I wish you the best.”
“I wish you the same, Phil. I hope everything works out for you!” He shook Phil’s hand and left his office.
Frank was going to head home, pack a small bag, and hit the road. He didn’t have much in his apartment. He only had a bed, a television, and a radio. Other than that, he had always been with Phil. He knew he wanted to relocate so he never bothered with hooking the place up. He had a decent amount of money stashed in a storage room more than two hours away. He kept a half a mil sewed up in some bullshit furniture. It was more than enough for a man like him. Frank got to his apartment, hopped in the shower, then made himself a bite to eat. While he was getting dressed, he looked out of his window and spotted a black Corvette parked on the corner. Albert Murphy’s men.
Frank wondered what Phil had done. Did he call Albert and tell him some bullshit? It didn’t matter. He had planned for this to happen. He lived on the top floor of his building, which was six stories high. He picked that neighborhood because of all the attached rooftops. It made for an easy getaway for times like these. He had nothing of value in his place so he could up and bounce whenever.
Frank grabbed his vest and threw it on. He added a .40 cal with an extended clip (and a few extra clips for good measure) and a short Ginsu knife that was already in its sheath. He slipped into the hallway and looked around. No one was there. He hit the exit and slammed the door behind him. One flight of steps and he was on the roof. Frank peeked over the edge; the Corvette was still there and whoever was in it had gotten out and was walking into the building. It was the Calvin brothers. Frank decided to move. He began running the rooftops. He knew the roofs stayed attached for at least two blocks. He ran the distance and climbed down a fire escape. He was so prepared for this situation that he had purchased himself an all black Mustang, which he left sitting in a parking lot right across the street from the fire escape. He gave the attendant his ticket, which he always kept in his wallet, then pulled out of the parking lot smooth.
Frank couldn’t believe how stupid Phil was. He was an easy guy to kill and so was the whole Crew as far as Frank was concerned. Everybody was hittable. Since no one knew what he was driving, he decided to spin a few blocks back and see if the Calvin brothers were still there. He looped around and saw that the Corvette had pulled off. Frank decided to give Phil a call. When Phil didn’t pick up, Frank knew he was a coward and was behind the brothers showing up at his place. Frank would make it real for Phil and Albert. He wasn’t the one for them to be fucking around with. He could finish Phil anytime he chose.
Frank knew all of Phil’s patterns. He was loose and reckless. Albert Murphy was the exact opposite. He was tight and pinpoint accurate. But Frank knew if he followed the Calvin brothers he could find out where Albert was.
Phil talked so much, and Frank had picked up on the fact that the Calvin brothers liked to gamble. It wouldn’t be too hard to find them. Most likely they would be in Monster’s new spot. After Mitch was murdered, Monster opened up a bar/gambling spot of his own. To keep it funky, he named it after Mitch. That’s where all the hustlers and gamblers met up. The Calvin brothers were sure to show up. He had the advantage because they had no idea that he was coming for them.
———
Monster and Lil Red were sitting in Red’s car in front of Monster’s crib reminiscing over Dollar and how the funeral was fly and geed up. When Jake shot the three of them, Dollar caught the short end of the stick. He got hit in the heart and was dead before the ambulance even got there. Monster and Lil Red were both hit. Monster in the shoulder, and Lil Red in the right side of his chest.
“I swear to you, Monster, I’m gon have niggaz finish that kid. I already know Ike and Cory is plottin’. I already sent the kite. Whoever puts that boy down, family is straight.”
“I hope so, Red, because he ain’t no slouch! I hope niggaz ain’t scared of him. The nigga snapped a CO’s neck with his bare hands in the yard, first day in. You know niggaz is gonna respect that shit. He might have a li’l army of his own by now.”
“Fuck that nigga, Monster! Yeah, he get it in. I give him that, but his day is coming! Everybody think this nigga is something special ’cause he put work in after waking up from a coma, but I say the nigga is just lucky! I almost wish I was in jail so I could kill that bastard myself!”
“Shhhiiittt! I don’t do them jails,” Monster replied. “Too much shit to do on the outside for a player like me to be sitting on the inside. As long as there is money on his head, the job will get done so don’t even sweat it, cuz! I know one thing, when we get in my spot tonight, I’m getting fucked up after I trim all of them motherfuckers’ pockets. You feel me?”
“Yeah, I feel you, cuz, but I just don’t feel right without my brother around. I’m going to lay low in the crib with a shorty or something. I ain’t in no mood to be around nobody and I don’t feel like gambling. I’ll fuck around and kill a motherfucker for saying some dumb shit or just losing a roll!”
“I hear you, fam.” Monster understood.
“We gonna get that boy washed up, that’s my word,” Red reiterated.
“Yo, I’ma catch you tomorrow then, fam,” Monster said. “I got to go handle a meeting with some lawyer Mitch used to fuck with. The same one that be with the karate dude, Frank.”
“Yeah, I heard that. You know what’s funny? The karate dude came to us offering to do the job on Jake while we was inside like he needed sneakers and bitches. He was looking to be hooked up. That nigga was fronting all the time! I bet you he was doing that shit for somebody else; probably that lawyer! You better watch that shit, fam! It always be them motherfucking so-called legal working dudes that be the lowest of them all! Be careful, my gee! I’ll get up with you tomorrow,” Lil Red told Monster and dapped him up. He pulled off and Monster went in his crib.
SMALL WORLD
Monster’s spot was packed. Hood stars from everywhere were there to drink, listen to the music, bag a honey, or straight up get their gamble on.
“Yo, Monster! This a nice place! You got yourself a real classy joint,” Regg told him.
“Good looking, Regg! Glad to have you here! I will be even gladder when I have all your money,” Monster joked and gave Regg a dap. Monster saw the Calvin brothers and nodded “What up” to them. They did the same in return. To his surprise, his cuz Lil Red had just walked in the place, even though he said he was staying home.
Monster announced, “The c-low game started in the back. Betters not sweaters come check the action.”
As soon as the game started, there was tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. Everybody knew Regg and Lil Red didn’t like each other. Neither one of them said a word to the other. Regg was keeping it cool out of respect. He didn’t want Lil Red dead, plus his brother just died. But he wouldn’t mind squaring up with him. To him, Red talked too much for a dude 5′7″ and 185 pounds. Regg wanted to knock him out ’cause he believed that Red actually thought he could beat him. Regg was 210, 6′ 1″, and good with his hands.
“It’s my bank,” one of the Calvin brothers said. “I won the peewee and it’s fifty thousand in it. Ten thou and better is a go.”
“I’m down twenty thousand,” Monster said.
“I’m down twenty myself.” Lil Red dropped his money.
“I got the ends,” Regg said last.
Everybody else fell back. A lot of dudes came to gamble but the stakes were too high. You really had to have some paper to be gambling away ten thousand dollars. There was a lot of hustlers in the joint but they wasn’t on that level.
“Yo, no disrespect but we don’t need bystanders! If you ain’t betting, go get you a drink or talk to a broad or some shit. Don’t be over here waiting and sweating on other niggaz’ pap
er,” Monster yelled out. Mad motherfuckers got the drift. It was a couple of motherfuckers mumbling shit but they was just mad they couldn’t get down. A few dudes didn’t move. They didn’t give a fuck what Monster was talking about. They was there to gamble and they would wait till somebody else got bank to get down or just sit on the side and bet on who’s gonna roll a four or better.
“Five the point,” Monster said after one of the Calvin brothers rolled and the number registered. Monster stepped up and head-cracked Lil Red. Regg went out, too.
Red bumped Regg when he was going to grab the dice and Regg ignored it because Red was reeking of Henny, but he felt where it was going.
“Sixty thou in it,” the Calvin brother said. “What they down?”
“I’m down twenty,” Red, Regg, and Monster said. The Calvin brother aced and had to pay everybody.
“A hundred thou in it. What they down?” the brother said, as if that sixty he just lost wasn’t shit.
“I’m down forty,” Monster said quickly.
“I’m down forty,” Regg followed.
“I got the ends,” Red said last.
The Calvin brother aced again. After he paid everybody, the brothers switched rollers and the other brother said, “A hundred thou in it. What they down?”
“Same bet,” Regg said.
Monster said, “I’m down forty.”
Red said, “I got the ends.”
The other brother rolled and aced, also. He paid everybody then they said they were out. They knew when to call it quits. When both of them came out the gate weak they knew not to go too far. That’s what made them smart.
Monster took over the bank and said, “What you down, Regg?” They was about to play head up because Monster wasn’t going to gamble against Red. That was his family.
Regg said, “I’m good, Monster. I’m out,” and threw him five stacks since he was the house and it was his spot.
“Nah, you good, Regg! I was in the game. I don’t charge house rules when I’m in it,” Monster said and threw the money back. Red intercepted it leaving Regg’s hand in the air.