“This way your soldiers can make a few dollars today.”
“All right, good looking!” Mike shouts.
“Listen Mike; we’re not turning this into a dope set. As soon as we get the blow, that’s it,” I explain.
“I know, I know.”
We ride to the stash house. I give Mike the ten bricks of Bang Man, and drop him off. From there I go to pick up my family.
CHAPTER 31
The next morning
Ring! Ring! The phone wakes me. Who the fuck can this be? Ring! Ring! “Hello?” I answer, trying to pick up before waking Love.
“Cash! I hate to call you this early, but shit banging!” This is Mike.
“What?” I ask.
“I came out here 4:30 this morning. I had four bricks left from yesterday, and I finished them shits in a half hour.”
“Yeah?” He has my attention. Now I’m fully awake.
“Word up Cash! Get up and bring me some more,” he demands.
“Give me about two hours,” I reply.
“Two hours? You can’t get here no faster than that? I only got one brick left.”
“Nah Mike, I can’t get there no faster than that!” I shout sarcastically.
I get up and put on the same clothes I had on yesterday and jet. I didn’t even brush my teeth. Halfway through the ride, he calls me again.
“Hello?”
“Cash, where are you?”
“Mike, I’m almost there! Calm down!”
“I sold that last brick in ten minutes!”
“Mike, I’m coming! I’m coming!” He’s starting to aggravate me now.
“Hurry up!”
Click! I hang up on him.
Finally, I get to the stash house and I take out 25 bricks.
As soon as I turn the corner, I notice dope fiends swarming over the entire block. When I pull over, one of Mike’s soldiers runs to the car, grabs the bag, and takes off. As soon as he gets to the alleyway, the fiends crowd him. Another one of Mike’s soldiers starts to scream. “Bang Man! Bang Man! Single line, don’t crowd him! Keep it moving!”
The crowd quickly clears out after he serves them. But just as fast as they clear out, another crowd swarms in. Mike runs over to the alleyway, and then he runs over to my car. “See, I told you. My little man just moved two bricks in ten minutes,” he informs. “That’s 100 bags, $1,000 in ten minutes. Man, fuck that cocaine! I got a new hustle!”
This is what I was afraid of. I knew once he saw the dope flow, he wouldn’t want to bother with the blow anymore.
Damn, these motherfuckers really are going crazy for the Bang Man! They’re coming for it. I know the dope is good, but I didn’t know it was this good. A.J. told me it’s the best shit out. But this is the first time witnessing it for myself. No wonder A.J. moves so much of this shit. I sell it to him for $275 a brick. He sells them for $325. This guy moves about 600 bricks a week. I make so much profit off of him alone, I really don’t have to deal with anyone else.
“Cash, they love this shit! They say Bang Man is shitting on Block Party!”
“Yeah?”
“Hell yeah! Cash, we about to blow! The Mayor is going to be mad as hell.” You can say that again! “Fuck him!” Mike shouts. “They got guns, and we got guns. See my little man sitting in the cut over there on the porch,” he asks, as he points to an abandoned porch two houses down. The house has a sun porch. The kid is sitting so far back you can hardly see him. I never would have seen him if Mike wouldn’t have pointed him out to me.
“Yeah, I see him.”
“He got two big ass 45s on him. Let them goons come through here with that bullshit if they want to!” I smile at him.
The crowd doesn’t stop. They’re coming in huddles. All you can hear in the air is, “BANG MAN!”
I finally leave. I have to go see my boys.
Before I could get there, Slim calls me. Ring! Ring! “Hello?” I answer.
“Bang Man, what the hell you then done?” he asks.
“Huh?”
“Don’t huh me! You know what the hell I’m talking about! Ever since yesterday, all I been hearing about is Bang Man!”
“Slim, I’m on my way!” Click!
When I get there Slim, is on the porch. “Big Time, what have you done?” he asks. “I thought we agreed on you not bringing it around here.”
“I didn’t do shit. Mike did it. How did you know?”
“The Doctor told me. He thinks he’s famous.”
“Yeah?” I laugh.
“I thought you weren’t going to put it around here,” says Slim.
“Hey, shit happens,” I reply.
“Bang Man, you need to tell the Doctor to stop running his mouth. He’s telling everyone that’s his work; he’s the chemist behind it.” I can sense a little jealousy in Slim’s voice. I don’t think he wants the Doctor to get the credit for it. “I told him to stop telling everyone, but he said I’m jealous because I fucked up the other batch,” Slim states. “So is Mike killing them?”
“Slim, I watched them sell four bricks in 20 minutes.”
“Bang Man, they killing them!” Slim shouts. “Boy, the Mayor is going to be upset.”
“Hey, Mike said fuck the Mayor, I’m with Mike!”
“And I’m with you, Big Time!”
CHAPTER 32
The next morning
I dropped off 50 more bricks to Mike this morning. Shortly after I left him, I got the call of a lifetime. It was Juan’s man. He has some blow for me.
I just received it 30 minutes ago. Not only did the price go up, but the product is terrible. Juan charged me $30,000 a bird for some ugly beige shit. Normally everyone hates beige coke. They say it’s full of speed. Speed causes the crack head to be jumpy and nervous. Being that they haven’t had any cocaine for three weeks, they’ll buy anything right now. The bad thing is, I only have eight kilos. I really could sell those with two phone calls if I wanted to.
Juan only got his hands on 16 joints. He gave me eight, and he gave the other eight to another one of his heavy hitters; a Dominican boy from the Washington Heights area in Manhattan. I literally begged him for all 16, but he wouldn’t give them to me. He said the Dominican boy is as loyal as me, and he can’t do that to him. I respect that. This game is built on loyalty and trust. That’s how the survivors survive.
Being that no one else has blow, I can sell it for whatever price I want to. I’m in demand. I’m not going to take advantage of my loyal customers, but all those cats who are just jumping on the bandwagon, I’m going hard on them. I’ll sell it to my people for $35 a gram, but anyone else will pay $40 to $42 a gram. That sounds crazy, right? But it isn’t because the dealers will break their bottle size down. What they used to sell for $5 they will now sell for $20 dollars. That’s the good thing about the drought. If you have work, you can do whatever you want with it.
I’m not going to sell anyone a whole kilo. The most I will sell to one person is 250 grams. This way all my customers will get some. Plus if I sell someone the whole thing, they may hold onto it until I run out and then try to sell it for $50 a gram and make more off it than I did.
None of my customers will sell weight. They’ll break it down on the street and quadruple their money. If they pay $10,000 for a quarter, they’ll make $40,000 off of it. And they’ll move it faster than ever because no one else has work.
I make my rounds. Me and Slim drop off work to all my people. It feels good to have my road dog back. I was lonely without him.
I call Mike to inform him. He gives me the brush-off. He doesn’t even care about the cocaine. He’s madly in love with the dope. I gave him the dope four hours ago, and he has already sold 30 bricks. That’s $15,000 in less than four hours. Bang Man!
One hour later
I get a call from Mike’s nephew. He tells me to meet him at his house. He must have found out the birds have landed. I meant to call him, but it slipped my mind.
I go to the stash house, grab a quarter of
a brick (250 grams), and take off to meet him.
When we arrive at the house, Mike’s nephew is pacing back and forth. “Bang Man, that boy is stressing!”
When he spots us, he runs to the car and jumps in. “Damn nigga, you stressing,” I shout, in a joking manner. “Did you think I wasn’t going to bring you no work?” I ask jokingly. “Here it is!” I pass the work to him. He doesn’t look the least bit excited. He slides the work over to the other seat. “What’s the matter? Look, I know it’s only 250 grams, but I can’t give you the whole thing. I don’t have enough,” I explain. Maybe he feels disrespected by me only giving him a quarter. He is a bigger nigga than that.
I look in the rearview mirror as I explain to him. He has tears rolling down his face. “What up, baby?”
He tries to speak, but he can’t. He has the frog in his throat from crying. He swallows and then speaks. “Mike just got shot,” he mumbles.
“What?”
“He just got shot!” he repeats.
“When?”
“A little while ago.”
“Where?”
“On the block.”
“Was it a stick up?” I question.
“Nah, it was the goon squad. They came through in that Grand Prix.”
“What did they say?” I ask.
“They didn’t say shit! They just jumped out and started spraying up the block.”
“How many of them was it?”
“It was all of them,” he replies.
“The Mayor, too?” I ask. Damn, that’s the first time I ever called him the Mayor.
“Nah, he came after they finished,” he replies. “He pulled up in his Bentley and parked while the ambulance took the people away.”
“People? How many people got shot?”
“A lot of people. They shot dope fiends and all.”
“Where did Mike get hit?”
“I don’t know. He got shot a lot of times. He fell on his face. He didn’t look good, him or Rah Rah. Rah Rah was fucked up. Blood was pouring from his mouth. He was over. He could have gotten away. They didn’t even see him on the porch. When they jumped out, the kid Spook ran right up on Mike and squeezed close range. Mike tried to run, but he fell on his face. When he fell, Spook caught up with him, stood over him and popped him, again. Rah Rah saved him. After he popped Mike, Rah Rah pulled out two hammers and started letting loose. He hit Spook and knocked him off his feet. But Spook shot once more before he hit the ground. That shot hit Rah Rah in the face. He dropped one of his guns and grabbed his face. Then one of the other goons snuck up the steps and popped him twice in the leg. Then he grabbed Rah Rah’s gun, stood over him, and squeezed like eight times. Yo Cash, he wasn’t moving. I think they killed him.” My heart drops.
“Psst! Psst!” Slim starts picking his teeth.
“Did the Mayor see you?” I ask. Damn, I said it again.
“Nah, he didn’t see me,” he replies. “I was in Mike’s van. The nigga Spook crawled back to the Grand Prix. He jumped in the backseat. One of the others drove them away. Right when the Mayor was pulling up, I was pulling off.”
“Here, take this work and put it up. I’ll call you later after I get to the bottom of this.”
He slowly steps out.
“Bang Man, I knew this shit was going to happen! I told you them boys don’t play,” says Slim.
“Man, fuck them! They fucking with the right nigga now!”
“Psssttt! Pssttt!” Slim begins picking his teeth again.
“Stop making that aggravating ass noise!” I shout. “It’s on; I don’t give a fuck about them.”
“Big Time, think about your wife and your kids. Is it worth it?” he asks.
“Slim, later for the Dr. Martin Luther King, I have a dream shit! I gotta get these niggas.”
At this moment, all my common sense and all my goals and dreams just fly right out the window. They want war; they’ll get war!
CHAPTER 33
Later that Evening
I stayed at the hospital for hours waiting for Mike to come out of surgery. The surgery was successful. He’s in stable condition. He got shot six times. He got shot once in the shoulder, twice in the chest, once in the hip, and twice in the leg. Spook really tried to finish him, but Mike pulled it through.
Rah Rah wasn’t as lucky. He died right there on the scene. Nobody knows if Spook killed him or if the other kid did it. Rah Rah was only 18. That’s really fucked up, but that’s the game.
I didn’t speak to Mike. He won’t be able to have visitors until tomorrow. Anyway, what can I do for him sitting in the hospital? I’m not a doctor. My business is out here. I have to figure out how I’m going to deal with these guys.
Right now, me and Slim just left my man A.J. He just took 200 bricks.
“Bang Man, they killed that kid! That’s fucked up. I watched that boy grow up. I used to fuck his momma,” Slim admits.
“Yeah? What kind of woman is she?” I ask.
“Oh, she’s fucked up now,” he replies. “She’s a stone cold dope fiend now, but back in the day she was one of the baddest bitches in this town.”
Ring! Ring! My car phone is ringing. I press the intercom button. “Hello?”
“Cash!”
“Yo?”
“Cash!”
This is A.J. What could he want; I just left him not even ten minutes ago. “A.J., what up?”
“Cash, somebody following me,” he replies. “I think it’s the police. They jumped on me as soon as you turned off! Cash, I ain’t trying to get caught with all this shit!”
“Calm down!” He’s scared. I can hear it in his voice. He’s talking real fast. I can barely understand him. “What kind of car are they in?”
“It’s a dark-colored car! I can’t see what kind it is!”
“A.J., You have to calm down or you will get caught! How close are they following you?”
“Like, like four or five cars behind!”
“Where are you?”
“On Tenth Street! I can see the car now! It’s a Grand Prix!” A Grand Prix? Oh shit!
“Pssstt! Psstt!” Slim starts his shit up with his teeth.
“That ain’t the cops! You got a banger on you?” I ask.
“Nah,” he replies.
“Yo, you gotta take the chase!”
“Yo, they like two cars behind me now!”
“A.J. go, you gotta get the fuck away from them! What block are you on now? I’m coming to meet you!”
“I’m still on Tenth,” he replies.
“Slim, which way should I go?”
“Cut across right here, Big Time!”
“Yo, it’s just me and them now,” A.J. shouts.
“Just keep driving. I’m coming to meet you.”
“Yo, they’re close as hell,” A.J. shouts hysterically.
“I’m like two minutes away from you! Just keep driving,” I shout.
“Yo, they’re trying to pull up on the side of me!”
Smack! “They just bumped me.”
“A.J. go!”
“They’re slowing up,” A.J. cries.
“Keep going,” I shout.
“I got a little lead on them now,” A.J. states.
“Yo, don’t slow down, keep going!” I urge.
“They’re catching up with me again,” he shouts backs.
“I’m a minute away,” I shout. “I’m cutting across now.”
“Psstt! Psstt!” Slim picks his teeth.
“Oh shit! No!” he screams.
“What, what’s up?”
“I’m running into a red light and it’s mad traffic. I don’t think I’m going to be able to cross,” says A.J. “Oh shit!”
“Where are they?”
“They’re close as hell!” he shouts. “Come on light!”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at the light. Come on light, please change,” he begs. “They right here! No!” he screams. Boc! Boc! Boc!
“A.J.?” I scream. B
oc! Boc!
“Aghh!” A.J. screams. Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc!
“A.J.?” Boc! Boc! Crash! “A.J.?”
Seconds later, I can hear fumbling and voices in the background. “AJ?”
“Grab the dope!” shouts the voice.
“I got it,” says a different voice. Slam! There goes the sound of the car door slamming. Scccuuurrrrrr! They just peeled off.
By the time me and Slim arrive at the scene, the Ambulance is trying to revive him. There’s no hope. I stand around until the Coroner hauls him away. This shit really hurts me, watching them zip my man up in that bag and drag him away. What really hurts is the fact that he had nothing to do with this beef. He was totally ignorant to all of this. Right now, I feel like I got that man killed. I have to answer to that. How could I put that man’s life in jeopardy like that?
I hope this murder doesn’t link back to me. I sure hope he didn’t discuss his business with his baby’s mother. She’s the only person who can tell homicide what he was doing here. If she knows, she’ll definitely tell them, and when she does, I’m finished. They’ll be looking for me for questioning. They might think I set him up. They’ll want to know everything. How long have I known him? What was he coming here for? Where was I when this happened? I sure wish I could have gotten there before the police; then I could have taken his phone. My number is the last number on his phone. That’s going to lead to a lot of problems. I wonder if they can play our conversation back. If they can, they’ll have me on tape saying that’s not the police following you. Then they’re going to ask how I knew and who they were. I’m in a lot of trouble right now.
I feel fucked up. A.J.’s family doesn’t know he’s dead. I think about making an anonymous call to inform them, but that might make matters worse.
The only good thing is that the goons took the dope. If the police had found that, they would have put me up under the jail.
How the fuck did I get myself into this situation? Most importantly, how am I going to get myself out of it?
Right now, I’m so scared I don’t know what to do. I know what I can’t do! That’s lay back; I have to handle this situation. Them punk ass goons just killed two kids on my behalf, not to mention the 200 bricks they stole. Half of me is saying stop, but the other half is saying it’s too late now.
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