In truth, even though Tariq had popped off a couple of cats before, he just didn’t have the heart to kill his man and Malek himself, so he was content with letting Poppa handle it. Poppa had no idea that Tariq was planning on slumping him after he killed Joe and Malek. Tariq didn’t want any connections to the murder, so he had to get rid of all links that involved him. He had one mission and one mission only, and that was to take over. He didn’t need no little young-ass sidekick, like Joe obviously thought he needed. Although he had admired Joe over the years, he didn’t want to walk in his footsteps; he wanted to walk ahead of him, to take the game to a whole ’nother level of making money.
Tariq approached the bathroom, planning to come out an entirely different person. Just before he reached the door, he heard it.
Boom, boom! Two shots rang out from the car. Then two more. Boom, boom!
Tariq stopped in his tracks at the sound of the gunfire. He couldn’t help but exhale as he turned around and rushed to the car, glad that it was all over with. The closer he got to the vehicle, the quicker his pace.
When he finally reached the car, he opened the driver’s side door, and his heart skipped a beat with excitement. Funny how sometimes death could make a nigga’s dick rise quicker than a butt-naked dimepiece sliding down a pole. Tariq couldn’t hold back the smile when he saw Malek slumped on the dashboard. He looked back at Joe, who was hunched over in the seat. Tariq’s smile grew even wider as he saw Poppa, who had a sinister grin on his face with the smoking gun in his hand, hovering over Joe.
“Hell, yeah! That’s how you dead a nigga. We ’bout to take over!” Tariq yelled over the music before turning it off. “Ain’t that right, my man?” he said to Poppa, giving the bodies another look.
But that was when Tariq had to do a double take because something wasn’t right. Something was missing. The more Tariq observed the crime scene, he realized what was missing—blood. There was no blood on the scene. Not one single drop.
He immediately looked up at Poppa and began to back away, but before he could move, a smiling Malek had his gun pointed at Tariq’s head.
Joe, without a scratch on him, slowly rose up, glaring into Tariq’s eyes the entire time. “You look surprised, fam,” he said. “Niggas was just catching some Z’s while you went to take a piss.” Joe chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “What? You thought I was dead or something?” Joe leaned back in the seat, cool, calm, and collected. “ ’Cause you look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” He pulled out one of his pre-rolled blunts and lit it. He took a long drag and blew the smoke in Tariq’s direction.
Malek, his pistol now pressed to Tariq’s head, reached into Tariq’s waist and relieved him of his strap. “You didn’t even have the balls to kill me yourself,” Malek said through clenched teeth. “You had to hire a gun? What kind of shit is that, gangsta?” Sarcasm laced Malek’s words. “You had to go and hire Poppa?” Malek looked to Poppa while still talking to Tariq. “Unlike yourself, Poppa is loyal.”
Tariq locked eyes with Poppa, who fired a look back at him that said, “Nigga, what?”
Poppa shrugged. A nigga had to do what a nigga had to do as far as he was concerned. But Poppa had to admit, when Tariq first presented him with the offer to put in work, he knew taking out someone with Jamaica Joe’s status would give him major street rep. But it was also the type of rep that would come along with it, one of a traitor, that made him change his mind and tell Joe what Tariq was up to.
Poppa knew that Tariq was good for running his mouth. When all was said and done, knowing Tariq, he would have probably tried to take all the credit for taking Joe out, giving Poppa only minor props. But either way, Poppa knew what would come along with that, which was having the reputation of disloyal soldiers. Who would look up to them and want to put in work on their behalf then? As Poppa looked into Tariq’s punk-ass eyes, he knew he’d made the right choice.
“You’s a dumb mu’fucka,” Joe told Tariq. “How you going to recruit one of my soldiers to hit me? Huh?” Joe chuckled. “I mean, he may be on your team, but the li’l nigga know where his pay come from. Did you really thing he was gonna bite the hand that feeds him?”
Tariq remained silent. He just kept staring at Poppa, not believing that he had double-crossed him, which was ironic, because that’s the same thing Joe was thinking about Tariq.
“What the fuck you looking at, nigga?” Poppa finally spoke to Tariq. “Joe been letting me eat since I was sixteen. I’m a real nigga. I stay loyal. I saw what you were up to.” Poppa pulled out the body bags that Tariq had placed in the back with him. “You brought three body bags with your stupid ass. What, you think just ’cause I ain’t graduate, a nigga can’t count? I knew what you was gon’ do, bitch. Who the third bag for?” Poppa gripped his gun tighter.
“Fall back, man. I got it,” Joe said as he looked over at a Lexus pulling up beside him.
Tariq heard company coming, and for a split second he was relieved. It might be an opportune time for him to get away. Surely Joe wouldn’t do him in front of witnesses if he didn’t have to.
Unfortunately for Tariq, the person in the car was no witness. It was one of Joe’s henchmen, there to pick them up just in case Joe and Malek found themselves in a shoot-out or something.
Malek pressed the gun even harder into Tariq’s head. The time was near, and he was itching to pull the trigger. He had long wanted to take out this punk-ass nigga anyway. Even before he found out that Tariq was one of the men who had raped Halleigh, the event that caused her to run away from home and fuck up her life in dealing with that cat Manolo in the first place, he had a bad feeling about Tariq. Something just wasn’t kosher about him. But now it was on. He was just waiting on the word from Joe to pop off this coward.
Joe looked over to Malek. “It’s time.”
Malek smiled and cocked his piece.
“Look, Joe,” Tariq spoke up, swallowing hard, “how can you blame me? You didn’t let me grow. You let Malek come in and you gave him the block I wanted. The block I had earned after all I’ve done for you.”
“After all you’ve done for me, nigga?” Joe sat up and snapped, spit flying out of his mouth with every word. “You ain’t did shit for me, nigga. You the one that had to eat. I just kept the mu’fuckin’ cupboards full. But don’t think for once you ever prepared my plate, nigga. Joe was gon’ eat with or without you.” Joe looked to Malek. “As you can see, and not that I like to quote bitches and shit”—Joe leaned back and pulled on his blunt—“but you ain’t irreplaceable.”
“But I was supposed to be yo’ right-hand man, not him! Me!” Tariq shot back. “You let this nigga come in and take my spot!” The veins showed in Tariq’s forehead, and tears formed in his eyes as he verbalized his jealous thoughts to Joe.
But Joe was unmoved. “Are you done, nigga?” he asked, nonchalantly puffing away.
Tariq braced himself and took a deep breath, knowing his life was about to come to an end. He stuck his chin up bravely and answered, “Yeah, I’m done.”
Just before a single shot rang out, Joe said, “Good night.”
Boom!
Malek put a bullet through Tariq’s temple, and the driver’s window suddenly looked like it had red tint. Tariq’s upper body lay across the front seat, while his legs dangled outside of the truck.
It was Malek’s first time catching a body. He didn’t know how it was going to make him feel after the fact, but it wasn’t as bad as he had imagined. He had often wondered how dudes could just take another man’s life and keep it moving day to day like it wasn’t nothing. Now he knew. Taking Tariq’s life was personal. He didn’t do what he’d just done for himself; he did it for Halleigh.
“See you in hell, bitch-ass nigga,” Malek spat. Then he put his gun back down in his waist.
“Clean him up, Poppa. Put him in one of them bags so we can toss him.” Joe stepped out the car and casually walked to the ledge over the river. He stared at the water and continued to smoke as he thought about the
turn of events that had just played out. He put his head down and shook it in disbelief. He never thought that Tariq would turn on him. In a matter of time, though, Joe knew he’d shake it off and keep things moving just as before. In spite of how tight and loyal he felt Tariq was, he also understood that backstabbing, murder, and lies were all a part of the drug game. It just hurt him that after all this time, Tariq was the one who had betrayed him.
“Keep yo’ friends close, but your enemies closer,” Joe whispered to himself as he tossed the blunt into the water. He looked back and saw Malek and Poppa carrying the black body bag with Tariq’s corpse toward him so that they could throw it into the water.
Once they reached the ledge, they lifted and propped the bag full of dead weight, literally, onto the edge, preparing to push him over.
Boom! Joe put a bullet through Poppa’s head, causing him to fall over the ledge and crash into the water.
Malek jumped, dropping the bottom portion of Tariq’s corpse.
“Damn, Joe! What you do that for?” Malek asked. “You at least could have warned me.”
“I had to take him out,” Joe admitted. “I would have always wondered, if I hadn’t found out about the setup, would he have gone through with it? Just what move might that little nigga have made in the end if he hadn’t counted three body bags?”
Prior to rolling to Detroit, Joe had managed to catch up with Scratch again and ask him to describe the worker that Tariq had been boasting to about his intent to set him up. When Scratch described the young cat Tariq had been talking to at the crackhouse, Joe knew it was Poppa. And it didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out that if Tariq was running off at the mouth to Poppa, he was going to try to recruit him to help. In spite of the fact that Tariq had always come through for Joe on any assignment he had ever given him, he knew that Tariq was smart enough not to try to pull this one off alone. And the fact that Poppa didn’t come to him never sat well with Joe . . . and it never would have.
Malek remained silent and tried to stop his heart from beating so fast. He tried to conceal his nervousness, but Joe noticed.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Joe said as he helped Malek push Tariq’s body over the ledge.
Malek didn’t realize it, but he had just moved up in the ranks by default. He showed Jamaica Joe a lot of loyalty and heart in that situation, and Jamaica Joe took note. Malek and Jamaica Joe jumped in the truck, with Joe’s henchman following behind, headed back to Flint, two snakes lighter.
Chapter Five
Mimi was on stage working the pole as she looked out into the crowd. As always, Wild Thangs was packed, and dollar bills were scattered all over the stage during Mimi’s show. Mimi didn’t dance at the club on a regular, so it was always a treat for the regular patrons when she did. Manolo knew it meant extra incoming funds when a feature was in the house; and Mimi was indeed a feature.
She was always sure to call up all of her regular customers and let them know when she was going to be taking the stage so that they could be there to spread the love in the form of dollar bills and at least a twenty-dollar drink, but she was known to have dudes buy her hundred dollar drinks. Mimi had taken the liberty to insist that all her johns be in the house tonight for what she knew was her finale. And the idea of extra pocket change didn’t hurt either.
As Keith Sweat’s song “Chocolate Girl” played, Mimi put on the show of her life, sliding down the pole upside down spread eagle. She slowly straightened her legs and kicked them down, rising into a standing position as she looked out at the clapping crowd of men who had enjoyed her little stunt. She watched as they marched by the stage like an army of ants, dropping dollars. She even allowed a couple to stick some down her camisole, allowing them to get a quick free feel of her breasts.
A satisfying smile spread across her face as she looked out and spotted Manolo, who hadn’t really been paying her a bit of mind. He was sitting in his VIP booth with Tasha, Halleigh, and his young killers, the Shottah Boyz.
Manolo was poppin’ bottles as if he was the king of the city, and Mimi could tell that he was feeling himself. According to the plan Tasha had shared with her and Halleigh earlier, his night was going to go downhill from there on out, and Mimi reveled in the thought. She couldn’t wait to see his downfall. After all the bad karma Manolo had put out into the world, he was finally about to get his.
Mimi reached high on the pole and gripped it with her hands. She wrapped her ankles around it, released her hands, and allowed her body to hang upside down once again. She then slowly slid down. This time, her little trick caught Manolo’s attention. He loved when she did that move. She winked at him as she made her way down to the bottom of the pole.
Nigga, you better enjoy this night. It’s gon’ be your last free night for a while, Mimi thought as she reached her hands back up to grab the pole before her head touched the ground. Then she put her pussy in a customer’s face and did a slow grind.
The man stuck out his tongue and licked her slowly. He had full access to her because of the crotchless camisole she was wearing, and the crowd went crazy when they saw the man feasting on her.
Mimi wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed by her performance; she was all about her paper and was willing to do whatever it took to get it. She’d made a name for herself as one of the best dancers in Michigan, and she wanted to give her loyal fans a good finale and fill her Crown Royale bag at the same time. She knew that tonight would be her last time stripping on anybody’s pole. She was done with the entire ho business and was ready to get money in a new way. She couldn’t promise herself that it would be in a legit way, but she’d put her best foot forward.
After her set, Mimi joined Manolo at his table. He was drunk and feeling good when she sat down beside him. “Hey, Daddy,” she greeted as she grabbed a drink from his hand and took a sip.
“What up? You got my cut?” he asked, referring to his percentage of her night’s earnings.
His comment pissed off Mimi. He always tried to pull his pimp card when he was around his niggas. But she concealed her attitude as she reached into her camisole, pulled out her money, and handed it over to him. Since he had only been half paying attention to her, she knew that he missed a couple of times several men had given her cash. Ordinarily she would have held out on Manolo just a little bit, but she figured at this point in the game, she would choose her battles wisely. Besides, this fight would be over soon anyway. Tasha had told her that she would split her sixty percent from the safe with Mimi and Halleigh so that they would at least have something to get them started once they were no longer working for him. So Mimi wasn’t tripping over the money she had just turned over to Manolo.
Mimi looked over at Halleigh and Tasha, who were sitting next to Manolo, one on each side of him. Mimi observed their smug expressions. She could tell that they were feeling the same way she was—thick. They finally had the upper hand on Manolo, and he was so stuck on himself, he didn’t even realize it.
Everybody was loose in the club, and Manolo was talking big as usual. They partied for a couple more hours, and by midnight, the club was popping off proper.
Tasha checked her watch and knew what time it was. She scanned her surroundings discreetly. If everything went according to plan, Troy and his boys in blue would be there any minute.
Just like clockwork, less than five minutes later, the club was flooded with uniformed police officers. They stormed into the club with their weapons drawn. A couple of screams erupted throughout, but very few people were scared. It was typical for the po-po to raid the local strip clubs, be it legit or a shakedown. That’s just how the Flint PD got down. Everyone put up their hands and watched curiously to see how the scenario was going to play out.
“Everybody on the ground! Now!” Troy screamed as he made his way to the VIP section, his fellow officers following right behind him.
Manolo was enraged. He didn’t know what was going on. All he knew was that Troy should have given him a heads-up that boys in blue
would be riding through. That way he could have made sure the place was clean—especially if Flint PD was sending dirty cops.
I’m paying this mu’fucka to turn his head to my business and he coming in here on some bullshit? He stood to his feet. “Fuck is going on, man?” he spat as Troy approached. “Thought we had a deal!”
Troy grabbed Manolo’s arm and twisted him around, forcing him to lean over the table.
The Shottah Boyz reached for their pistols, but decided against it. They knew better than to catch a case by trying to come to Manolo’s defense.
Troy applied the bracelets to Manolo’s wrists and then pulled a search warrant from his back pocket.
“Fuck is you doing coming up in here? Fuck you looking for?” Manolo yelled.
As the police squad spread throughout the club, Troy commanded, “Turn this place inside out.”
Troy wanted to make it look good, so he didn’t go to the safe right away. He searched the club for about twenty minutes before he discovered the safe that, of course, Tasha had already informed him of.
“Jackpot, boys!” Troy announced. “Let’s take him in to be processed.” He placed the bricks in a duffle bag along with the money and then headed out of the club.
Tasha looked at Halleigh and Mimi. The satisfaction on their faces was priceless, but now it was time for her to go collect their money. “Stay here and clear out the club. I’m going to get our cut now before Officer Troy gets any ideas. I’ll come back in about an hour,” she stated before leaving the club.
Tasha drove toward Miller Road and parked her car in the empty shopping center lot. Just as planned, Troy was waiting for her. She eagerly hopped out of the car.
“I got to take ten thousand and two kilos of cocaine back to the station so that I can log it in as evidence,” he informed her as she approached.
“What? You didn’t tell me that.”
Back to the Streets Page 5