R.I.C.O.

by C. J. Hudson

  In time, he and his mother made amends. She wanted him to move back into the house, but he refused. She’d thrown him out once. Who’s to say that she wouldn’t do it again when she got mad? At least, that’s the way he saw it. But Moon did love his mother, and he helped her whenever he could. Her job didn’t pay much, so she was always behind the eight ball. His father had died when he was 15, and he hadn’t completely gotten over it, but he knew that life went on. His big break, so to speak, came when he got caught breaking into the car of a ruthless drug dealer. The few dollars he found in the console was less than nothing to the dealer. But to Moon, the twenty dollars meant that he would eat for the rest of the day. After stuffing the money in his pocket, Moon was just about to get out of the truck and flee the scene when something hard pressed up against the back of his skull.

  “Don’t move, muthafucka.”

  For a brief second, Moon thought about trying his luck but then reasoned that if he were going to die, he wanted his killer to look him in the eye before pulling the trigger.

  “Nigga, get the fuck outta my whip,” an angry voice shouted.

  When Moon had gotten all the way out, he was spun around and shoved roughly against the vehicle. The gun that had been pointed at the back of his head was now resting on his cheek.

  “You tryin’a rob me, nigga?” Damon asked him.

  Moon shook his head.

  “No? Then what the fuck do you call yo’self doing?”

  “Just trying to make a living, man.”

  “Well, let me put you up on something. Dying ain’t much of a living, my nigga.” Damon reached into Moon’s pocket and pulled out the crumpled twenty-dollar bill.

  “Twenty muthafuckin’ dollars,” Damon spat. “You ’bout to get yo’ ass whupped over twenty punk-ass dollars. Yo, Slab, show this li’l thief what we do to muthafuckas who steal from us.”

  Slab smiled. He was Damon’s henchman and a man who loved violence more than life itself.

  Damon could look at Moon and tell that he was just a young kid. It was the only reason he hadn’t splattered his brains across the cement. Still, the kid had violated, and he needed to be taught a lesson.

  Slab grabbed a fistful of Moon’s shirt and yanked him forward. With an evil grin on his face, Slab drew back to slap the youngster, but that was as far as he got. Before he knew what had hit him, Moon thrust his head forward and headbutted Slab in the nose. The pain forced Slab to release the grip he had on the young man. Slab staggered back but quickly regained his bearings. Rage filled his eyes as he rushed Moon. He took a wild swing, but Moon easily ducked it. Before he could gather himself to throw another punch, Moon hoisted him in the air. With a show of strength Damon hadn’t seen in a long time, Moon threw Slab across the hood of Damon’s truck. Angry and embarrassed, Slab headed back around the truck. He no longer wanted just to kick the young man’s ass. Now, he wanted to kill him. He was just about to go at Moon again when Damon stopped him.

  “Hold up, Slab,” he said, cocking the hammer on his pistol. “Li’l nigga, you know you just signed your own death warrant, right?”

  “Do what you gotta do, fam. I ain’t never been scared to die, and I damn sure ain’t gonna just stand here and take an ass-whoopin’ from this pussy-ass nigga,” Moon said, cutting his eyes at Slab.

  “What you say, li’l nigga?” Slab said, moving closer to Moon.

  “Damn, bro, ain’t you done had enough?” Paul asked smirking. “You better leave that li’l nigga alone before we have to call the meat wagon for yo’ ass.”

  Paul was another one of Damon’s cronies. Throughout the fight, he was trying hard to resist the urge to laugh. He hated seeing his partner in crime getting manhandled like that, but the shit was funny as hell.

  “Fuck you, nigga,” Slab spat. His nose was bleeding, and his vision was blurry.

  Damon looked into the young man’s eyes, searching for fear, but his voyage came up empty. He looked at his clothes and concluded that they probably hadn’t been washed in quite some time. His shoes were worn and scuffed. He looked back at Slab and found it nearly impossible not to laugh. Damon had seen Slab put some of Cleveland’s toughest customers in the hurt locker, and the young kid damn near rendered him unconscious.

  “What’s ya’ name, li’l nigga?”

  “Moon,” the young man answered.

  “Moon? Now, I know damn well that ain’t ya’ government, li’l nigga.”

  “Nah, it ain’t.”

  “Well, what the fuck is it?” Damon said impatiently.

  “Why the fuck they call you Moon?” Paul asked.

  “Long story,” Moon said, relaxing a little.

  “Well, Moon. I got a question for you. How would you like to make some real bread?”

  “What? My dude, I know you ain’t about to let this li’l nigga eat off––”

  “Slab, shut the fuck up before I have this li’l nigga fuck you up again!”

  Slab was tight, but he knew better than to go against his boss.

  “So, what’s good, Moon? You wanna make this cheese or not?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Li’l nigga, does it fuckin’ matter? You ain’t doin’ shit now but breaking into cars and puttin’ ya’ life at risk. I’m offering you a chance to move up on the food chain. You’d be a fool not to take it.”

  Moon looked at the attire of the man standing before him. His jeans were crisp and clean. An Odell Beckham jersey hung loosely from his frame. The platinum and diamond bracelet on his wrist shined brightly. Even his flunkies were dressed nicely. Moon may have been proud, but he was far from a fool.

  “Good, good,” Damon said as Moon nodded his head in agreement. He would have to run it by Duck and Pee Wee, who, in turn, would have to talk to Tariq and Darnell. But for all intents and purposes, Moon was now a soldier in Darnell’s army. That was a year ago, and Moon had more than proven his worth.

  After selling his last pack, Moon pulled out his cell phone. He was just getting ready to call Damon and let him know that he needed another pack when a Lexus truck came peeling up in the parking lot. Moon instinctively reached behind a large rock where he kept his burner stashed. He was more than ready to issue lead to anyone trying to creep on him.

  “Be easy, cowboy. It’s me,” Damon said, rolling down the passenger-side window.

  “Damn, man, when you get that?” Moon asked.

  “I’ll tell you on the way. Let’s roll.”

  “On the way where?”

  “Li’l nigga, stop asking so many questions and get in the damn truck.”

  Damon hit a button and unlocked the doors. When Moon got in, he reached into his pocket to give Damon the day’s profit. “Later for that, fam,” Damon said, holding out his hand to stop him. “We got something to handle right quick.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s good?”

  “Well, apparently Darnell caught some li’l nigga on camera sneaking out of this house, so he wants us to go straighten dude’s ass out.”

  “Word? Damn, it’s been awhile since I swung these hammers,” Moon said, shadowboxing.

  “Pump your brakes, killa. You just there to flank a nigga. I got this. I ain’t got my hands dirty in a minute, so I need the practice,” he said sneering. “Oh, and let me put you up on something else too, fam. I’m not supposed to say anything yet, but sometime in the next few months, Darnell’s gonna be calling a meeting.”

  “So what?” Moon said, not giving a fuck. None of the soldiers had ever even seen Darnell, let alone been in a meeting with him as far as he knew.

  “If yo’ li’l ass would listen, I’ll tell you so what. You know what?” Damon said, getting annoyed. “You need to start closing your damn mouth and listen. I couldn’t even get this out of my mouth before you start questioning shit.”

  “My bad, man.”

  “Now, like I was saying, he’s putting together a meeting. It’s the first time that I’ve heard that he’s going to bring the first and second soldiers in on it.”
<
br />   Moon raised an eyebrow. This was big news. Something was going on, and he was glad to be a part of it.

  “Keep that on the low, youngster.”

  “Fo’ sho’, big homie. You ain’t got to worry about me saying nothing.”

  “I know that, little nigga. Why the fuck you think I am telling you? I knew from day one that you were a stand-up nigga. That’s why I . . . Shit, we got here just in time,” he said as he watched the young man get into the passenger side of a Nissan Altima.

  “That’s gotta be his bitch’s car. I don’t know no muthafuckin’ brotha who drives a fucking Altima,” he said, laughing. Damon followed the car for ten minutes.

  “Bingo,” he said when the car pulled into a gas station. Not wanting to look suspicious, Damon pulled up next to the pump three lanes across and waited for the driver to get out. They watched as he went into the gas station and came back to the pump. As soon as he started pumping gas, Damon turned to Moon.

  “Go inside and make sure that no one calls the police. And get that surveillance tape too.”

  Being the good soldier that he was, Moon tucked his gun into his waistband, got out, and made his way into the gas station store. He looked around and was glad to see that there were only a few people in there. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he would if he had to. Two of the customers were still shopping, while the other one looked to be heading toward the bathroom. Moon glanced at the cashier and saw that he was too busy on his cell phone to notice anything. He looked back out the door and gave Damon the sign that everything was a go. Damon nodded his head and smiled.

  With a slow creep toward the man pumping gas, he took out his gun. The man turned his head just in time to see the butt end of a pistol coming down across the side of his head. The man collapsed to the pavement. He still had his hand on the pump, so he inadvertently pulled the pump out of the gas tank when he fell. Gas squirted all over the side of the car. Damon peered into the car and saw that the young man did not know what was going on. Crouching down, he crept around the side of the vehicle. He prayed that the door was unlocked. The last thing that he wanted to do was smash the window to get in. He grabbed the handle and pulled. He smiled when he heard the door click. With a strong pull, the door came open. The unsuspecting young man looked up with fear in his eyes.

  “Come here, li’l bitch-ass nigga,” Damon snarled as he tried to snatch Jamaal out of the car. Jamaal’s body jerked as the seat belt prevented him from being pulled out. Damon reached down and unclicked the seat belt just before yanking him out of the car. As he looked down at the young man, Damon noticed the fear in his eyes.

  “I heard you got caught being someplace you wasn’t supposed to be at, li’l nigga.”

  “Huh? What the fuck you talkin’ about, man? I don’t even know you,” Jamaal said.

  “Nah, li’l nigga, you don’t know me. But I bet you know my boss, Darnell. And I damn sure know that you know his daughter, Vanessa.”

  At the mention of Sunny’s legal name, Jamaal nearly shit himself. He thought that he’d gotten away with trying to rape Jazmine, but obviously, he was wrong. He had no way of knowing that he was being roughed up because he’d been seen on camera leaving Darnell’s home. He was just about to open his mouth and snitch on himself when he saw Rick stagger around the car.

  “Yo’, man, what the fuck you doing? Get the fuck away from my little cousin, man.”

  Damon raised his pistol and pointed it at Rick. “And what if I don’t, nigga? What the fuck you gon’ do about it? A few seconds ago, you felt how this gun feels after being hit with it. The next time, yo’ ass is gonna feel what comes out of the end of it. Now, just stand there and shut the fuck up.”

  Damon slapped Jamaal upside the head with his gun. Jamaal’s legs gave out, but because Damon had him by the collar, he couldn’t fall. As badly as Rick wanted to rush Damon, he knew that it would be a fool’s move to do so. The hardened look in the killer’s eyes told him that he would be dead before he even took the first step.

  “Now, like I was saying, li’l nigga, Darnell wanted me to let you know that he didn’t appreciate you sneaking around in his house when he wasn’t home. All you had to do was go over there like a man, introduce yo’self, and let the chips fall. But y’all li’l niggas always wanna try to be slick.”

  Even as he was giving his speech, Damon wanted to laugh. Darnell hadn’t said any of the shit he was kicking to Jamaal, but it made him feel like a big man bestowing some great amount of knowledge on someone of lesser intelligence.

  “And, oh, yeah, he told me to tell you something else.” Damon’s words came in the form of his pistol crashing down on top of his head. “The next time I have to pay you a visit, I’m gonna give you more than a knot on the top of yo’ fuckin’ head. You feel me?”

  All Jamaal could do was nod his head. Truth be told, he was happy as hell that the attempted rape of Jazmine hadn’t been mentioned. Damon looked in the direction of the gas station entrance and gave Moon the signal to come out. Moon walked out with his head whipping around and the surveillance tape in his hand. He quickly jumped in the car, throwing the video in the backseat.

  “Remember, nigga. The next time I have to come see yo’ ass, I ain’t gonna slap you around with the burner. I’ma let it make love to yo’ ass.” With his gun still trained on Rick, Damon made his way toward the driver’s side of his truck. He backhanded Rick with his pistol for good measure, causing the man to fall to his knees, clutching his face.

  “That’s for trying to look tough, bitch-ass nigga.” After hopping inside the truck, Damon mashed the gas, and the two goons peeled out of the gas station and sped down the street.

  “Now, that was some gangsta-ass shit. But on some real shit, what the fuck is this meeting about?” Moon asked.

  “The fuck if I know. But if he’s asking for all the lieutenants and their right hands to be there, then it must be hella important.”

  Chapter 15

  After the situation with Jamaal was resolved, Damon swung by the house of a broad Turiq fucked with and picked up another package for Moon. Damon was becoming quite impressed with the young man’s loyalty as well as his hustle game. His make-money-first mentality was a welcomed attitude and proved that he was all about his business. Damon frowned as he recalled how Duck had spoken to him. He wanted to punch the arrogant capo in the face but knew that it would mean certain death if he did.

  “You gon’ be the first muthafucka to go, nigga,” Damon mumbled as he thought about Duck’s disrespectful ways ever since he was a street soldier. Damon felt that it was his destiny to be on top. Being a soldier was a start move. Being a lieutenant was even better. Being a capo? That was cool too. But the only thing Damon ever wanted to be was the boss. In his opinion, Frank held him back from being that, so he had to go. Damon was sure that Duck and Pee Wee had their suspicions about what happened to Frank, but since neither of them had any proof, there was no way that they could go running to Turiq or Darnell, so that was that. Damon was far from stupid. He knew that to overthrow the throne, you needed two things. One was your own pipeline to the supplier. He was working on that. The other thing that Damon was going to need was a crew, and regardless of whether he knew it, Moon was going to be his first recruit. He wanted to have at least four more money-hungry killers on his team before he made his move.

  As Damon made a right on Euclid Avenue, he saw a man putting his infant son in a car seat. His mood instantly turned sour. A wave of jealousy washed over his heart. He’d never met his father, but from the little his mother told him, the man was a piece of shit. She didn’t like to discuss him much, opting only to say that the day they split up was the best day of her life. She tried to tell Damon that his father never knew that she was pregnant with him, but Damon refused to believe her. He felt in his soul that she was protecting the asshole, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.

  It took Damon another ten minutes to get to his place, and when he finally did, he saw a familia
r vehicle waiting there for him. It was a green Honda Accord with tinted windows. Damon didn’t need to see inside to know who had come to visit him. The head of the individual sitting in the car bobbed up and down to a catchy beat from Dr. Dre. Even if the windows hadn’t been tinted, it still would have been virtually impossible to identify the person through the thick cloud of smoke circulating throughout the whip unless you knew who it was. Damon just shook his head as he got out of his truck and made his way over to the Honda. The closer he got, the more his annoyance level grew. The music was so loud, the car vibrated. The bass coming from the speakers threatened to shatter the windows.

  “Young bitches,” he mumbled as he tapped on the glass. As soon as the window was halfway down, Damon barked at the driver.

  “Bitch, what the fuck is wrong with you blasting that shit out here like that? Turn that shit down.”

  “Sorry, babe, I was just getting into my zone.”

  “Getting into your zone? What the fuck are you talking about? You know what? Never the fuck mind! Just turn that shit off and come the fuck on.” Without waiting for a response, Damon turned and headed for his front door. Dani, the young lady, quickly got out of her car and followed him. She was a sexy, dark-skinned chick who Damon had shot game to at a traffic light one night. From the way that she was eyeing his whip, Damon could tell that she was one of “those” types of broads. He invited her back to his place the same night. A half bottle of Hennessey and a thick blunt later, he was standing behind her pounding away at her sweet little pussy. Because he didn’t want to pony up the money for a hotel, he had made the mistake of taking her to where he lay his head. Now, he couldn’t get rid of the bitch. He’d thought about telling her to stay away from his crib but knew that she was the type of broad that would cause a scene.

  “You wanna hit this, baby?” she asked when they got inside the house.

  “Yeah, let me hit that shit.” Damon pinched the blunt from her fingers and raised it to his lips. With a deep pull, he drew the smoke into his lungs and held it in. A few seconds later, he expelled it into the air. Damon had no idea where she copped her weed at, but she always bought some premium shit.