*****
Trent used to cop dope from Wiz on consignment. Each key was twenty-two g’s, and, for each one Trent sold, Wiz wanted an extra ten grand off that. As Trent did calculations in his head, he realized that he would be making roughly about twenty g’s off of each. Wiz started Trent off with five bricks, which easily totaled a hundred grand a month for him. Eventually, Trent got greedy. He wanted Wiz to lower his price. He felt that he was making Wiz richer, and he wasn’t really seeing a profit. Wiz explained that it had to be his way or no way at all. Trent was very displeased with the decision that Wiz had made, so, from that point on, Wiz was Trent’s enemy. Trent and Marcos plotted on how they were going to rob and kill Wiz when he came to pick up the money.
“Fuck that nigga Wiz. His ass gotta go. Who the fuck he think he is?” Trent said, looking at Marcos.
Marcos, in return, looked at Trent and asked, “My nigga, you sure you want to do this?”
They knew that they just couldn’t up and kill Wiz without planning it thoroughly. They knew how Wiz’s family got down. They also knew that Wiz kept burners with him at all times. Because the streets feared him, he never came with an entourage, but he had people in all areas, so, if things were to pop off, a war would be what they would give them.
“Hell, yeah,” Trent replied.
On the last week of each month, Wiz picked up the cash and dropped off more dope to Trent, but, on this one particular Saturday, Wiz was caught up with a chick who he had met early in the afternoon. He knew he had to make that pick up, so he called Alonzo and said, “Baby boy, I need for you to pick this money up for me and drop these keys off to Trent. Make sure it’s a hundred and sixty in the bag. Don’t give them my shit until he cashes you out, understand?”
“I got you, man. Don’t trip, baby boy,” Alonzo said.
He was hyped. He couldn’t wait to prove himself.
“Matter fact, I’mma send Tray Dee with you just to make sure them niggas don’t try no funny shit,” Wiz warned.
“Nah, I’m goodie. Besides, I stay strapped,” Alonzo said, showing off his glock in the mirror.
“Aight, cuz. You sho you can handle this?” Wiz asked again.
“Stop worrying, bro. I got you,” Alonzo responded.
“Take the Impala. The dope is inside the trunk.”
“A’ight, cuz. I’m out,” Alonzo said while getting in the car.
Wiz had an eerie feeling that shit wasn’t going to go right, but that still didn’t make him stop what he was doing to protect his cousin.
*****
Alonzo swerved in and out of traffic, trying to get to his destination. Traffic was so heavy. He started to curse, and he threw bottles at the car in front of him.
“Nigga, move yo’ slow ass out my way,” he yelled at the lady.
He made it to one of Trent’s spots over on the west side on Ruth Ellen and Exposition.
Trent noticed that Wiz wasn’t in the car and became pissed, but, at the same time, he was elated because it made his job that much easier. He didn’t have any animosity against Alonzo. It was just that he was at the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Game on,” Trent said to Marcos.
Marcos sat in the back, waiting to get things popping.
Alonzo walked in, nodded at Trent, and asked, “What’s good, my nigga?”
“Same shit, different day,” Trent replied.
Trent and Alonzo carried on small talk for a couple of minutes.
“You ready for this transaction?” Alonzo asked, getting down to business. He was ready to get back on his side of town.
“Fa’ sho. Come on. Let’s do the damn thing.”
Alonzo’s phone rang. It was Wiz asking if everything was everything.
“Yeah, cuz. I got you,” he replied. Then, he hung and said to Trent, “So I’m here to pick up a hundred and sixty grand. You got that?”
“Yeah. About that… Wiz told me I could give him a hundred even. Then, I’ll double up his profit next go round,” Trent said, trying to make sure he sounded sincere.
“Nah, my nigga. Wiz ain’t said shit about that. He just said make sure you have all his bread before I give you this one,” Alonzo reassured Trent.
Trent thought, This is going to be harder than I thought. He had to think of something quick to get the ball rolling.
“A’ight. Go ‘head and call yo cuz to get things squared away. I’mma step to the back to give you privacy,” Trent said.
Alonzo called Wiz back to ask him about the new deal.
“Nah, nigga. Get the fuck outta there! It’s a fucking set up!” Wiz yelled.
Seconds later, he heard several loud bangs, one right after the other. Wiz dropped the phone and sobbed like a little baby. How was he going to explain to his family that his cousin had died because of him? Wiz’s father would never forgive him because he had taught him early one that it didn’t matter who feared you. There will always be someone out there plotting on you.
Trent grabbed Alonzo’s phone out of his hand and put it in his pocket. He had shot Alonzo three times, twice in the chest and once in the head. Marcos grabbed the bag with the dope. They made sure not to leave any evidence as they closed down the spot.
“What you want to do with his car?” Marcos asked.
“Fuck it. Leave it here. Shit! We can’t be caught in that shit,” Trent said.
Trent knew he had started a war with the most notorious drug kingpin in the streets of L.A. He had to make sure his street team was ready for whatever came their way.
*****
When Wiz arrived at Trent’s spot, he drove around to the alley. He saw Trent’s car parked against the garage.Wiz took out his two guns, MAC-10s with extended clips. He knew that Trent and Marcos were gone, but, just in case, he wanted to be ready to lay some bodies down. He crept around, peeking in the kitchen window and making sure no one was in there. Once he saw it was clear, he kicked the back door open with his guns drawn. He walked out the kitchen and quickly fell to his knees when he saw his cousin lying in a pool of blood. His eyes were still wide open. Wiz could tell rigor mortis had set in. He sat and cried by his cousin’s side. He searched his cousin’s pockets for any belongings that he might’ve had on him, but, like some crack heads, Trent and Marcos had left him with nothing. Wiz dreaded the call he had to make, but he knew he had to face the facts. He called his pops.
“I’m so sorry, Pops. I should have listened to you, but, instead, my ego got in the way,” Wiz cried to his father.
Immediately, his father knew something was wrong. “What is it, Gabriel?” he asked, calling Wiz by his birth name.
“They got Alonzo, Pops. He’s dead, and it’s all my fault.”
“Where are you?” his father asked.
Wiz gave his father the location, and, within minutes, members of his father’s street team had surrounded the whole block. One of his father’s gunmen informed Wiz that his father was waiting for him at home. He told him to leave because they had everything under control. Wiz dragged himself to his car. Tears were still falling out of his eyes. He had let his family down, and, most importantly, he had let his cousin down. He should have been by his cousin’s side. Wiz knew he would never forgive himself, and, because of that, Trent had to pay. He would make sure of it until his casket dropped.
*****
By the time Wiz made it to his parent’s home, his eyes were bloodshot red. He knew his father was waiting for him in the backyard. This was where his father meditated when things went wrong. Wiz’s mother walked up to him and gave her only child a hug. As she embraced him, she cried. Wiz embraced his mother tightly. He did not want to let her go, but he knew he had to move along. Wiz walked out back and sat across from his father. Wiz kept his head down, not wanting to look his father in the eyes.
Wiz’s father cleared his throat, which demanded Wiz’s attention. Then, he said, “Son, I’m very disappointed in you. What were you thinking? Well, you weren’t. That’s for sure. I don’t know how many ti
mes I’ve told you that you don’t make drops by yourself, so how could you send your cousin to do a job that he barely even knew how to do by himself? This is bringing way too much heat on us, Gabriel. We already have the feds on us now. I know like hell I’m not going to let this ride. I’m too old to be in the field, but, now, I gotta murk a few niggas. I want you to pop everything moving and don’t stop until a body drops.” Wiz got the message loud and clear and then got up and hugged his father.
*****
Over the next few hours, Trent and Marcos gathered up their soldiers and let them know that a war was coming and to be ready.
“If you stay ready, you ain’t got to get ready,” Marcos said, using the lines from one of Suga Free’s songs.
“There is still money to be made, so just watch your backs,” Trent informed his soldiers.
It was a team of twenty hardcore, grimy niggas that was down for whatever. In the midst of that group was Trent’s young protégé Marquise, Nicole, and slick talking-ass JD, back when he was on Trent’s good side. They all seemed ready. Trent passed the keys to JD. After he rocked up the product, he went to sell it in San Julian Park. That was where all the crack heads where waiting to get a hit. The five man crew would finish their product in no time. Along with the others that Marcos had distributed the dope out to, they were sure to take downtown by storm. Well, that was their plan.
*****
The dope was selling smoothly. It was such a calm and easy day that no one saw what was coming for them as Wiz and his entourage came through and took out any and everybody walking. It was a total surprise for Trent and his crew. Before some of them were aware what was happening, it was too late. Trent ran behind a trash bin, reached underneath it, and grabbed his TEC-9. Meanwhile, Marcos hid behind the door, holding his sub machine Uzi. Trent came from behind the trash bin, shooting, trying to murk everything moving. Trent was sure he had dropped two or three of Wiz’s crewman. He was maneuvering from behind buildings. He couldn’t account for anyone else. All he knew was to protect himself.
Trent was running out of ammunition. It wouldn’t be long before Wiz caught up to him. As he was running, someone snatched him into the Sanborn Hotel. He didn’t know who had caught him. Trent thought it was the end. It took him a minute to catch his breath and to recognize where he was.
“You alright?” Nicole asked, grabbing a tight hold onto him.
Suddenly, they heard gunshots. One bullet had shattered a window beside them, striking the security guard in the back.
“Shit! When is all this gonna end?” Nicole screamed.
Trent pulled Nicole to the ground. Then, they crawled to the back of the hotel.
“Where the hell is Marcos?” Trent asked, wondering if his right hand man was okay. He searched his pockets for his cell phone, but he soon realized that it wasn’t with him.
“Damn! I must have dropped it outside somewhere.”
Marcos walked out of a room with a smoker named Dwight.
“My nigga, I’ve been blowing your phone up. I’m glad to see y’all made it through the fire,” Marcos laughed half-heartedly. “This is some shit right here. JD and Marquise made it safely away from here. We’re outnumbered. Half of our team is gone,” Marcos replied.
“We gotta get up and get the hell outta here quickly as quickly as possible,” Nicole said frantically. The only way out the Sanborn was through the front door, but Dwight came up with an idea.
“Say, y’all can climb out the back window. It’s big enough for y’all to squeeze through,” he said.
Trent, Nicole, and Marcos followed Dwight closely to the back of the hotel. Trent helped Nicole out first. Once she made it out, she hit the parking lot, which led to Seventh Street. Nicole was able to move through the crowd without being detected. Next, Marcos hopped out the window and slid in between two parked vehicles. He got into Trent’s car. At that point, he could hear sirens. He prayed that Trent would hurry. Trent slid out the window, staying low to the ground. The police were starting to show up, and neither Trent nor Marcos wanted to be behind bars. There was no way of getting out of their predicament until they saw a Los Angeles Metro bus stop ahead of them. They both smiled. Then, they broke out in a full sprint in order to catch the bus before it drove off. They reached the bus just as it was about to pull off. They happily paid the fare and hustled their way to the back of the bus. Old women held on tightly to their purses.
Trent laughed, “C’mon now, grandma. I ain’t gone steal ya purse. I am a thug, but that’s not in my character.” Trent smiled at the lady as she huffed and moved a couple of seats ahead of them.
When the dust cleared, there were countless bodies lying around. Half of Trent’s crew and a few innocent bystanders had lost their lives. While the bus was pulling off, Trent’s heart sank when he saw a pregnant woman lying on the ground with a hole in her head. Trent dropped his head in shame. Marcos called Nicole to make sure she had been able to get Trent’s vehicle. Then, he told her to meet them at the Union Station.
*****
Police officers were everywhere, canvassing the whole block, putting up yellow tape. News vans were setting up, saying that the massacre was worse than Charles Manson and the Zodiac Killer put together. These killings had left the LAPD and local council members speechless. The mayor held conferences talking about how they needed to take back their community. The governor condemned the bloodshed as the worst of its kind.
“In all my years in California, I’ve never been so disgraced,” he confessed, wiping his eyes. “There has to be a change, and I’m making one today.”
The news said the total death count was twenty- two. Twenty-two people had lost their lives. They were both young and old. One lady was pregnant and had kids.
“We will make sure that these cold hearted bastards are put behind bars for a very long time,” The mayor of Los Angeles promised, piggy backing off what the governor had just said.
The chief of police asked for anyone who knew or had seen anything to come forward. “We will make sure to keep your identity concealed,” the chief stated.
They knew it was like talking to a brick wall. The citizens were not going to talk; either, they were loyal to the drug dealers, or they were just scared for their lives.
“We beg you. If you know anything, please come see us. Everything you tell us will be anonymous,” the chief continued.
Everyone started leaving the crime scene. They didn’t want to get caught up. They knew how vicious Trent and Wiz could be. Since the police didn’t find much evidence but the shell casings on the floor, they wrapped up their investigations, but the policed stayed hot on their block, making it impossible for any drug dealers to serve.
*****
Wiz made it back to his parents’ three story home in Malibu. It sat on a hill, overlooking the ocean. There were floor to ceiling windows and white plush carpet throughout every room. The kitchen sported granite countertops with stainless steel appliances. They even had an indoor-outdoor pool and a two sided fireplace that the family used inside and outside. The leather furniture was imported from Italy, and flat screens decorated the walls throughout the home. There were exactly ten bedrooms in the house. There were three master suites, a gym, a movie theater, and a security room. That room was equipped with high-tech security equipment, which could detect anyone moving around the house. They could sense when someone was bringing harm their way. The rest of the rooms were used as closets for Wiz’s mother. His father used to tell her all the time, “Baby, with all this stuff you have, you could open your own store.”
Wiz kissed his mother on the cheek. Upon entering the house, he smelled the sweet aroma of peach cobbler.
“Sit down and let Momma make you a plate,” Wiz’s mother said.
Wiz always craved his mother’s homemade peach cobbler. His mother was his favorite cook. He always told himself, once he found a woman who was like his mother, he would marry her. His mom was five feet, seven inches tall with a smooth almond complexion.
She had almond shaped eyes and long, jet black hair that she kept bone straight. Before she met Wiz’s father, she was a model in France. She looked like she belonged on the cover of Ebony magazine.
As soon as Wiz sat down, the doorbell rang. Wiz had a displeased look upon his face because that meant someone was trespassing. Just then, Wiz’s father descended from the top floor.
“Don’t be alarmed. That’s just Agent Reinger. I opened the gate when I saw his car,” Wiz’s father explained.
Wiz sat back on the comfy recliner and continued eating his peach cobbler. Wiz’s mother answered the door and greeted Agent Reinger. She stepped aside to let him enter into her home.
“Welcome to my humble abode, and to what do I owe the honor for you showing up unannounced?” Wiz’s father asked.
The agent looked around. Then, he responded, “As you know, sir. We’ve had a sting operation on you, your family, and your whole operation. Let me just say this to you. Your days out here in these streets are numbered. My reason for stopping by is because of the mayhem that took place earlier today in downtown Los Angeles. Looks like it has your MO all over it. Would you know anything about this?”
“I’m sorry, Reinger. You’re wasting your time here. My family and I have been posted here all day,” he said, holding the door open for the agent to find his way out.
The Agent looked around once more. His eyes connected with Wiz’s. He cleared his throat before speaking. Then, he said, “I will be back in three days. That’s all I need for the federal judge to put out the indictment. Please enjoy the rest of your Sunday together as a family because it will be your last.” The agent laughed while walking out the door.
Dirtiest Revenge Page 9