Brooke hadn’t thought twice about it. She trusted Cecil, and the thought of having her tuition paid made the decision even easier.
“What now?” Brooke asked as they drove down the highway with the bag of money.
“I don’t know. Let’s take a road trip.”
“Okay, but I need to go home and get some clothes,” Brooke said excitedly.
“We have five million in cash in the back seat. We can buy you whatever you need.”
“That sounds better.” She smiled from ear to ear.
Cecil wasn’t planning on taking a road trip. He was planning on leaving and never coming back. He had been in Baltimore too long. He hated the city and wanted to leave as soon as possible. To Cecil, it felt like the Wild West. He wasn’t without sin, but he expected a certain amount of loyalty from people and he saw none in Baltimore. Everyone was all about themselves—except Brooke.
About an hour into the trip, Cecil pulled into a rest area with a visitors’ center. There was one car in the parking lot, presumably owned by the person who worked at the visitors’ center.
“What are we doing?” asked Brooke.
“Need to stretch my legs.”
“Okay. I need to pee anyway.” She unfastened her seatbelt and exited the car. Cecil did the same and made sure to bring his gun. He followed Brooke as she walked to the bathroom in the back of the building.
Cecil now had a decision to make. He hated leaving witnesses who’d had any contact with him, but he liked Brooke. She was a sweet girl who wasn’t trying to harm anyone.
Does she live or does she die? Cecil pulled out his gun and hid it behind his back as he closed the gap between them. Brooke heard footsteps coming up behind her as she reached the bathroom door. She quickly turned around.
“Babe, what are you doing?” She was relieved that the footsteps belonged to Cecil.
“Making sure you’re safe.”
“Thanks. I’m fine.” She leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Can you go inside the visitors’ center and see if they have any snacks?”
Cecil discreetly put the gun back in his waistband. “Of course.”
They parted ways.
Brooke walked back to the car after she finished up in the bathroom. She was in a good mood. The stress she felt from school and work had disappeared for the first time in a long time. She was excited about the impromptu road trip. She didn’t care where they went; she was just happy to be getting away for a while.
When she turned the corner and faced the parking lot, she stopped dead in her tracks. She was confused by what she saw—or actually, what she didn’t see. Cecil’s car had disappeared. She ran to the visitors’ center to alert Cecil that his car was stolen. She frantically pushed through the door and ran to the first person she saw, the little old man sitting behind the desk.
“Where is my boyfriend?” she blurted out with wild eyes.
“Haven’t seen him. In fact, I haven’t seen anyone in about an hour. I’m about to close up.”
“Tall black guy, one blue eye, one brown. He didn’t come in here?”
“Nope.”
Brooke ran back outside and ran around the parking lot. She searched in every direction, but she saw nothing. Stopping in the middle of the parking lot, she slowly turned in a circle. She didn’t understand what was happening. Where was Cecil? Where was his car?
The sun had set, and the parking lot lit up as the lights flickered on overhead. Brooke looked at the empty parking space where the car had been parked. This time, she noticed something on the ground. As she approached the object, she saw that it was the duffel bag that held the money. On top of the bag was a slip of paper with her name scribbled on it.
She was hoping it was a note from Cecil, some sort of explanation, but her hopes were dashed when she picked up the paper and saw the rest was blank. The bag wasn’t full, but there were several stacks of cash left inside. Brooke counted the stacks. It was two hundred thousand dollars.
The little old man came from the visitors’ center. “Did you find him?” he called across the lot. Brooke quickly stuffed the stack she was holding back into the bag.
“No. He left me.”
The man came closer. “I’m sorry. I can give you a ride to the bus or train if you want.”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
Cecil was well on his way down the highway. When Brooke had turned around at the visitors’ center and Cecil looked into her innocent eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to kill her. He liked Brooke and wanted her to keep her innocence for as long as she could. That was why he decided to leave her. He didn’t want her getting mixed up in his shady life, and he figured he was better off alone. He left her enough money to pay for her tuition, plus she wouldn’t have to work for the rest of her time in school.
Cecil watched the road in front of him. There was no looking back. He was on to the next city, destination unknown.
In another slightly different visitors’ center, a young corner boy sat slumped in a chair. He had a scowl on his face and on his head sat a Ravens cap. He tugged at his baggy jeans as he waited for the man he was visiting.
The door at the end of the long row of visiting booths opened up, and the boy sat up straighter. He kept the scowl, though. Scar sauntered into the room.
The guards directed Scar to the booth where the boy was sitting. Scar sat across from the boy and picked up the phone so he could hear his visitor on the other side of the plexiglass. The boy did the same.
Scar’s face was bruised and swollen. It looked to the boy like he had been freshly beaten. In fact, he had. Scar’s plan to take over the jail was not going according to plan. Blade had a stronghold on the prison, and Scar’s reputation on the outside didn’t help him at all on the inside. He had pissed off a lot of people when he was ruling the streets, and it was now coming back to haunt him. At the rate it was going, Scar would either be someone’s bitch by the end of the month, or he would be dead. He certainly wouldn’t be running the joint.
“Nigga, you ain’t Flex.” The beatings hadn’t lessened Scars attitude any.
“Nah, I ain’t. Flex sent me in his place.”
Scar had gotten in touch with Flex in hopes that he would be able to get some help to him on the inside.
“This some bullshit. I ain’t dealin’ with no corner boy. Tell that nigga I only deal with him.”
“I don’t think so. Flex sent me to tell you that he runnin’ shit now. Your time is over. Rot in hell, mu’fucka.” The boy hung up the phone and walked out of the room, leaving Scar screaming at the top of his lungs and pounding on the plexiglass until the guards restrained him.
Flex listened intently as the boy recounted the story. When he finished, Flex peeled off five hundred dollars from the knot in his pocket and handed it to the boy.
“You done good, Slam,” Flex told him. “Now, let’s bounce. I got a meeting. You driving.” He tossed the keys to his Suburban to Slam.
The boy hid his excitement. He’d just received five hundred dollars, and now he was going to get to drive Flex around. At thirteen years old, he had never seen so much money or had so much responsibility. He and his friends had been stealing cars to go joy-riding since he was ten, so driving was nothing new to him. The excitement came from the fact that he was making something of himself, making his own money and chauffeuring the notorious Flex.
Slam pulled into the abandoned warehouse and parked the car in the center of the cavernous structure. Flex and his crew stepped out of the truck. A few minutes later, a caravan of black sedans and Suburbans with tinted windows came rolling into the warehouse. Flex and his crew stood and watched the theatrics of all the cars fanning out and coming to a synchronized stop.
After the cars had taken their places, a stretch limousine pulled in and stopped right next to Flex. Flex did nothing. He wasn’t nervous, and even if he was, he wasn’t about to show it. The back passenger’s window rolled down.
“Get in,” instructed the m
an in the car.
Flex took a briefcase from one of his crew and got into the limousine. Inside sat the new mayor of Baltimore. Mayor Richard Malenchek had taken over after a special election was scheduled. He won in a landslide victory, with the help of Governor Tillingham. There were rumors that the election was fixed, but there was no definitive proof.
“How are you?” the mayor asked.
“Good, good.”
“Do you have something for me?” The mayor looked down at the briefcase and raised his eyebrows.
Flex passed the briefcase to Mayor Malenchek, who placed it on his lap and flipped open the latches. He ran his hand over the cash inside.
“Like we agreed?”
“Six hundred Gs,” Flex answered.
“Well, good luck to you on your business venture this year. I will make sure that my administration does not interfere for the next twelve months.”
“See you in a year,” Flex said.
Flex and the mayor shook hands to seal their deal.
“I think this is the start of a lucrative business deal for both of us.” The mayor gave a wicked smile.
Flex exited the limousine. He stood with his crew and watched the caravan drive away from the warehouse. With the mayor in his pocket for the next year, Flex was now free to take over the drug trade in Baltimore without any repercussions or backlash.
The faces may have changed, but the corruption in Baltimore would always stay the same.
Coming Soon 2012
The Block
by Treasure Hernandez
Chapter 1
Tone sat in the passenger seat of the new Audi staring blankly out the window, stuck in his own thoughts, while his main man Maine drove. Tonight was no different from any other night. Tone had just got word on some guy named Sam that owed him some money, and he was going to make sure the man paid up. Tone was the leader of the empire that he was building from the ground up, and everybody knew he and his crew didn’t play, so for Sam to be trying to duck him didn’t sit well with him not one bit.
Maine pulled up in the empty parking lot and saw Sam surrounded by twelve of Tone’s goons. “That’s him right there?” he asked.
“Yeah, that’s that nigga,” Tone said in a cool tone as he stepped out the Audi, a bottle of Grey Goose in his hand. He was angry that Sam was trying to duck him, but even more so that he had to leave the comfort of his home to come out here right now. He passed the bottle of Grey Goose over to Maine as he walked up to Sam.
“Yo, fam, where’s the rest of my money at?” Tone asked in a cool tone.
Sam looked at Tone and the twelve goons he had standing behind him and took a deep breath. “I got robbed,” he replied, a look of shame on his face.
“Got robbed?” Tone echoed. “Fuck you mean, you got robbed? Who robbed you?”
“Gruff and that bitch Maxine,” Sam answered.
Tone let out a deep breath as he turned and smacked the shit outta Sam. “Nigga, you let a nigga and a bitch rob you?”
“Nah, son, that nigga Gruff—”
“Nigga, shut the fuck up!” Tone said, quickly cutting Sam off. “Empty ya mu’fuckin’ pockets right now!” he demanded.
Everybody watched Sam lower his head, take out everything he had in his pockets, and hand it to Tone.
“Yo, Maine, wash this nigga up,” Tone told his best friend, whom he’d known since childhood. Immediately Maine covered his eyes as he busted the bottle of Grey Goose over Sam’s head, dropping him instantly. Once the goons saw Sam’s body hit the floor, they were all over him like vultures, kicking and stomping his face into the concrete.
“Mu’fucka must’ve thought shit was a game,” Tone said out loud, stuffing the three hundred dollars that he just took from Sam into his pocket.
“How much that nigga was short?” Maine asked as him and Tone stood over on the side, and the goons continued to destroy what was left of Sam.
“Seven thousand.”
Just then Tone noticed an unmarked car pull up to the scene, and seconds later out hopped a dark-skinned man with salt-and-pepper hair. From his muscular frame, you could tell that he still worked out often. Around his neck hung a shiny gold badge, and behind him was two uniformed cops.
When the goons spotted him, they immediately stopped the beating they was putting on Sam.
“Please don’t stop ’cause I’m here.” Detective Abraham smirked. “Fuck is going on out here?” He looked over at Tone.
“Mu’fucka owe, so he had to pay,” Tone said nonchalantly.
Detective Abraham smoothly walked over to Maine, reached inside his waistband and removed a .380 with a silencer on the muzzle. “Mu’fucka had to pay, huh?” As he stood over Sam’s body, he fired three shots into his face. “What I told you about playing with mu’fuckas?” Detective Abraham growled. He slapped Tone in the back of his head. “I fuckin’ taught you better than that.”
“My bad, Pops,” Tone said as he took the gun from his father’s hand and passed it back to Maine.
“It’s always your bad,” Detective Abraham huffed as he walked back to his unmarked car followed by the two uniformed officers. “Be at my house first thing in the morning,” he yelled over his shoulder as he slid back in his car and pulled off.
“Man, ya pops don’t play,” Maine said as he slid in the driver’s seat of his all-black Audi.
“You know he just wants us to be the best we can be,” Tone replied as he slid in the passenger seat. “He been telling me all week about this big plan he got for us. Finally, he suppose to spill the beans tomorrow.”
“Well, whatever it is, you know it’s a lot of paper involved,” Maine said, knowing how much Detective Abraham loved money.
“Maine pulled up in front of Tone’s crib and threw his car in park. “Want me to come scoop you up tomorrow?”
“Nah. Just meet me at my pop’s crib at like ten.” Tone gave Maine a pound and slid out the passenger seat.
As soon as Tone stepped foot in the house, he saw his high-school sweetheart Mya in front of the TV doing her daily exercise with her Nintendo Wii. As soon as she spotted Tone, she quickly paused her game and headed over toward her man. Tone smiled as he watched his sexy-ass woman strut toward him wearing nothing but green boy shorts and matching bra. Mya favored the actress Vivica Fox but had a little more ass.
“Hey, baby,” she said with a smile as she slid in Tone’s arms.
Tone kissed Mya on the lips and playfully pushed her off of him. “Get outta here. You all sweaty and shit.”
“Shut up. You know you love my sweat.” She smiled as she walked over to the TV and continued her workout.
After Tone helped himself to three shots of Grey Goose, he said,“How was your day?”
“It was okay. Had to stop these two bitches from fighting in the salon today. Other than that, it was a regular boring day,” Mya told him as she jogged in place in front of the TV.
“I remember when you was begging me to get you your own salon, and now it’s like you can’t stand it.” Tone laughed. “Women don’t never know what they want.”
“I love my salon. I just don’t like all the people that come up there sometimes.” Mya cut the TV off and headed to the bathroom so she could hop in the shower.
Tone headed over to the entertainment system and blasted Jay-Z’s song, “Empire State of Mind.” He sang along with Hov as he removed his .40-caliber from his waistband and sat it on the counter.
After he helped himself to another shot, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box. He opened it and examined the diamond closely. He had been waiting for the perfect time to pop the question and thought tonight was the night.
“Hey,” Mya said, appearing outta nowhere. “What you over there doing?” She was strolling through the house butt naked like she always did after her night shower.
“Minding my business.” Tone smiled as he held the box behind his back.
Mya walked over to the entertainment system and turned the music d
own. “Why you always gotta have your music so damn loud?” When she turned around, her mouth hung wide open in shock.
Tone was on his knees and holding open the box with the ring. “Baby, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” Mya said loudly as she snatched the ring and put it on her finger.
Tone just smiled. He loved seeing Mya happy, but he had never seen her this happy. “Well ... do you like it?”
Mya didn’t answer. Instead, she walked over to Tone, unbuckled his belt, removed his dick, and slid down to her knees.
“A www shit!” Tone moaned as he watched his fian-cée work her magic.
Mya sucked and jerked on Tone’s dick until he finally released in her mouth.
“Damn, baby,” he said, breathing heavily. “Thanks.”
“What you thanking me for? I’m just now getting started.” Mya grabbed Tone’s wrist and led him into the bedroom.
The next morning Tone woke up to his cell phone ringing. “Hello,” he answered in a drowsy voice.
“Get ya ass over here,” his father growled into the receiver.
Tone peeked over at the digital clock on the nightstand. “It’s seven o’clock. You said to be there at ten.”
“Be here in twenty minutes,” Detective Abraham said, ending the conversation.
“Who was that, baby?” Mya asked, her eyes still closed.
“My father.” Tone sat up to start getting dressed.
“Damn!” Mya whined. “You gotta go meet him right now?”
“Yeah. But I won’t be gone too long, I promise.”
After brushing his teeth, Tone stuck his .40-cal in his waistband and headed out the door.
Tone walked up to his father’s front door and banged on it with an attitude. He hated getting up early. His father answered the door with a smile on his face.
Baltimore Chronicles Page 14