by Askari
“He’s a done deal, Poncho. You have my word.”
Juan nodded his head and smiled at him. He then directed his attention to Poncho. “Ju and Chee-Chee help Sontino carry de yahyo to his car.”
“Naw, don’t even worry about it,” Sonny quickly interjected. “My lil’ brother’s downstairs. We can handle it. As a matter of fact, speakin of the work, I only brought two point five wit’ me to pay for my usual 100. So how we ‘posed to work this out with the extra 100?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Juan assured him. “We’ll just call it a gesture of our appreciation. A gift from us to ju.”
After stuffing the 200 keys inside of four duffle bags, Sonny placed a bag over each shoulder. Poncho and Chee-Chee grabbed the remaining two, and they left the apartment. When they descended the stairs and entered the bodega, they could see that Olivia was leaned over the counter smiling at Rahmello. Poncho became red with anger, and Sonny noticed his demeanor. He also made a mental note to tell his younger brother to stay away from her. Although the young woman was drop dead gorgeous, she was Poncho’s daughter, and based on his body language, he obviously didn’t approve of them being an item.
As they approached the cash register, Sonny removed the duffle bags from his shoulders, and handed them to Rahmello. He then, collected the remaining bags from Poncho and Chee-Chee. “I appreciate the opportunity, Poncho.”
“I’m sure of it Sontino. Just make sure dat we hear from ju in a couple of days.”
Sonny nodded his head in the affirmative, and then gestured for Rahmello to lead the way outside. When they emerged from the bodega, they noticed that Easy and Zaire were at full attention.
“Pops, is everything good?” Sonny asked.
Easy nodded his head. “Everything’s good. A cop car drove pass a couple of minutes ago, but other than that, everything’s good.”
After glancing up and down the block, Sonny headed toward the back of his Escalade and opened the cargo doors. Rahmello hopped in the driver’s side and quickly got to work. He started the engine, pumped the brake pedal three times, and then set the air conditioner to 65 degrees. The side panels in the back of the truck slid open, and Sonny filled the hidden compartments with the cocaine.
After everything was secure, him, Easy, and Zaire hopped back in their designated SUVs and headed back to the stash house.
“So,” Sonny said to Rahmello as he settled into the passenger’s seat. “What’s up wit’ you and lil’ buddy?”
Rahmello smirked at him. “Who you talking ‘bout? Oli?”
“Yeah, I’m talking ‘bout Oli. You know that’s a no-no, right?”
“A no-no?” Rahmello scrunched up his face. “Whatchu mean that’s a no-no? We feelin’ each other, and we try’na make somethin’ happen. What’s wrong wit’ that?”
“She’s Poncho’s daughter, that’s what’s wrong.”
“And,” Rahmello shot back.
“And she’s off limits. We never mix business with pleasure,” Sonny stated with a no nonsense tone of voice. “We need Poncho right now, and we can’t afford no bullshit behind you fuckin’ his daughter. I refuse to let dick and pussy games stand in the way of this money. So, therefore,” he paused for a couple of seconds to let his words sink in. “You gon’ leave her lil’ ass alone and focus on gettin’ this mutha’fuckin money.”
At the end of the day, Rahmello knew that Sonny was right. Unfortunately, him and Olivia had been secretly dating for the past six months and not only were they deeply in love, she was five weeks pregnant with his baby. Man, fuck what this nigga talking ‘bout. Ain’t no mutha’fuckin way I’m turnin’ my back on Oli and the baby.
“Rahmello?” Sonny continued, interrupting his thoughts. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah brozay, I heard you. She’s off limits.”
***
At The Federal Building
“What the hell is Operation Block Boy and how does it tie into the Gervin Moreno case?” asked Clavenski. He was seated at the head of a conference table, and accompanied by a room full of DEA agents. Based on their facial expressions, he had the strange notion that up until this point he was the only person in the room who didn’t know what was going on.
Agent Long got up from his seat and approached the projector screen that was fixed to the front wall. He grabbed the remote control from its holder, and aimed it toward the projector box that was hanging from the ceiling. He pressed the on button, and a picture of Sonny appeared on the screen. He was wearing a black waist length mink and leaning against the hood of his Rolls Royce Ghost.
“Who the hell is this?” asked Clavenski.
“This is Sontino Sonny Money Moreno,” Agent Long spoke with conviction. “He’s the protégé of a slain drug lord by the name of Michael Brooks. After Brooks was murdered a year and a half ago,” he pointed at the projector screen, “this is the guy who took over his multi-million dollar operation. We’ve been watching him for nearly two years, and we know for a fact that he’s responsible for mass quantities of cocaine coming in and out of Pennsylvania.”
Clavenski sat still with his arms folded across his chest. “I’ve never heard of this kid, and I’m beginning to feel as though I wasted an entire Saturday afternoon on some bullshit.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin, and then took a deep breath. “Will someone please tell me how this ties into the Gervin Moreno case?”
Agent Long simply smiled. “He’s Gervin’s grandson.”
“Wait a second, you mean to tell me that this kid,” he pointed at the projector screen, “is Gervin Moreno’s grandson?”
“That’s right,” Agent Long confirmed. “And trust me Andy, I’ve been watching this guy for some time now. He’s the real deal.”
“The real deal?” asked Clavenski. “Just what do you mean by that?”
“In over fifty years he’s the only one to legitimately hold his own against Gervin Moreno, and The Moreno Crime Family. In fact, the word on the street is that he’s the reason that Gervin’s been laying low. Some of our sources even went as far as to say that Gervin’s afraid of him.”
“Hold up Terry, you’re confusing me. Didn’t you just say that he was Gervin’s grandson?”
“He is, but according to the Philadelphia Police Department, Sontino and Gervin bumped heads when Gervin killed Brooks. Allegedly, Sontino responded by killing at least ten of his men.”
Clavenski’s mind was traveling at the speed of light. “Well, if this kid is everything that you say he is, then why am I just now hearing about him?”
“I’ve been tellin’ you about him Andy! You were so caught up in the Gervin Moreno case that you didn’t pay me any mind!”
“What?” Clavenski protested, refusing to accept the fact that he was slacking in his performance.
“Listen Andy,” Agent Long spoke in a softer voice. “Just look inside of your files. Trust me he’s in there.”
Clavenski turned his attention to the beautiful woman that was seated at the opposite end of the table. “ Agent Brown did you know about this?”
“I sure did,” she replied. “I’ve been working this case for over a year now.”
“I see,” Clavenski nodded his head. “Well, go inside of you’re file and hand me some paperwork on this guy.”
Agent Brown chuckled to herself. Like the rest of the agents in the room, she utterly despised Clavenski. Aside from the fact that he always gave the agents a hard time, he walked around the federal building as if he owned it, and he had a chip on his shoulder the size of Mt. Everest. “I already have it,” she held up a manila envelope, and then slid it across the table.
She then lounged back in her chair, and gave him a look that said, Yeah, Mr. I’m Smarter Than Everyone Else, had you been on top of your game, you would’ve known this shit already!
He noticed her body language, and scowled at her. Bitch! He opened the envelope and removed its contents. After a few minutes of reading, a huge smile spread across his face, and he looked at Agent
Long. “Based on this information, I’m thinking we can build a case for a continuing criminal enterprise. In fact, this kid could be the only opportunity that we have to stick it to Gervin. I mean shucks he is a Moreno. Therefore, every piece of evidence that we can gather against him we can attribute it to The Moreno Crime Family.
“You know,” he held up both of his hands and used his fingers to indicate quotation marks, “make it a Family thing!”
“Exactly!” Agent Long agreed. “I told you we could still stick it to the Moreno’s. All we had to do was think outside of the box.”
“Alright, so what’s the next move?” Clavenski asked him. “Is there anything I can do?”
“It sure is,” Agent Long stated while handing him a white piece of paper. “It’s a formal request for $350,000.”
“$350,000?” Clavenski cringed. “For what?”
“Buy money,” Agent Long replied. “Sontino’s finally ready to do business with me.”
***
Later That Night
At The Docks On Delaware Avenue
Romey Noodles was standing in front of his warehouse when a navy blue Excursion pulled into the parking lot. The high beams were on, and the lights were so bright that he couldn’t identify the driver. He was expecting a visit from Alphonso to discuss the money that he owed Carmine, but Alponso didn’t drive a dark colored SUV, he drove a white BMW.
“Who the fuck is this?” he nervously stated. He held up his right hand to shield his eyes from the bright light, and then reached behind his back with his left to grip the handle on his 9mm.
When the truck pulled up in front of him, the tinted driver’s side window rolled down, and he was surprised to see a beautiful woman sitting behind the stirring wheel. He released his grasp from the butt of his gun and seductively licked his lips. “What’s up sweetheart? Can I help you with something?”
Malice smiled at him and nodded her head. “I hope so, papi. I was supposed to be performing at Club Spontaneous, but my GPS is acting up and I can’t find de club,” she explained in her Cuban accent.
Romey Noodles looked at her skeptically. His warehouse was stationed by the edge of the Delaware River, about mile away from the strip nightclubs that lined Delaware Avenue. Therefore, it was highly improbable that she could have made it this far up the avenue without laying eyes on the infamous strip club. Malice picked up on his apprehension. “I noticed all of de clubs back dere, but I didn’t see Club Spontaneous.”
She opened the driver’s side door and climbed out the Excursion in a black cat suit and knee high boots. Romey Noodles damn near passed out. Aside from her thick thighs, curvy hips, and flat stomach, the nipples on her coconut sized titties were popping up like turkey testers. He examined her body from head to toe, and then inconspicuously adjusted the erection that was forming in his pants.
“Y—Y—You shoulda seen it,” he stuttered. “Club Spontaneous is the big gray building with the bright pink lights, and the club’s sign,” he stretched out his arms for emphasis, “is the biggest sign on the strip. It’s the one with the image of a broad twerkin’ her ass.”
Malice pouted her juicy lips, and then spoke in a whiny voice. “Dis GPS system,” she pointed inside of the SUV. “I was so focused on try’na fix it dat I musta missed de sign dat ju speak of.”
Romey Noodles gently grabbed her by the arm. “I’ll tell you what, how ‘bout I take a look at your GPS system, and instead of you performin’ at Club Spontaneous you can come inside and perform for me.” He released her arm and stuck out his right hand. “The name’s Romey.”
She accepted his gesture with a feminine handshake. “My name’s Malissa and I don’t know about dat papi. I drove all de way from New York and de guy who owns de club is expectin’ me.”
“The owner’s a good friend of mine,” Romey Noodles chuckled. “He’ll understand. Trust me.”
“Ju know Carmine?”
He looked at her like she was crazy.
“Do I know Carmine?” He laughed and then waved her off. “Fugget about it.”
She laughed at him. His swag reminding her of the mob movies that she loved so much. “Dis is what we can do, if ju can fix my GPS ju got a deal.”
“Now we’re gettin’ somewhere,” he smiled. “I’ll have it fixed in no time.” He rolled up the sleeves on his Armani sweater, and then approached the Excursion. She stepped aside, and he stuck his head in the driver’s side door. “Hey,” he called out over his shoulder. “How do I turn on the dome light? It’s darker than a friggin’ cave in here.”
“I got a light for you,” a masculine voice spoke up from the backseat.
Gangsta flicked his lighter, and the truck’s interior lit up like a jack o’lanter. Romey Noodles couldn’t believe his eyes. Murder and Gangsta were sitting in the back seat, and they both had a gun aimed at his face.
“What the fuck is goin’ on?” he asked. “Did Carmine send you? Whatever he’s payin’, I’ll double it.”
Neither of them spoke a word. Malice slid up behind him and removed the .9mm that was tucked in the small of his back. “Take it easy, papi. Ju move and ju die.”
***
Approximately Thirty Minutes Later...
Aside from the dark SUV that was used to kidnap Romey Noodles, the historical Walt Whitman Bridge was completely deserted. The moon was shining down on the water below, and the orange blaze of a burning trash can could be spotted from a distance.
Romey Noodles was barely conscious. Initially, he suspected that Carmine was the one pulling the strings, but he quickly realized that this was far from a traditional mafia hit. This was something different. Something far more sinister. His arms were handcuffed behind his back, and a thick chain that was fashioned into a harness was strapped to his chest and torso. His naked body was doused in gasoline, and his eyes were nearly swollen shut from the pistol whipping that he just received from Gangsta.
The weather was a chilly 48 degrees, and although he was shivering, his naked body was burning hot. Cold sweat covered him from head to toe, and warm steam rose from his body like fresh dog shit in the middle of winter. He could barely stand on his own two feet so to keep him erect, Malice held him up by his right side, and Murder held him up by his left.
Gangsta was off to the side weaving the chain through the railing of the bridge, and a money green Escalade was parked behind the SUV that was used to kidnap him. The headlights were turned off, and Grip was seated comfortably in the passenger’s seat.
“Please,” Romey Noodles whispered. “Just tell me what the I did to deserve this shit.”
His request fell on deaf ears as Gangsta just looked him and laughed. After securing the chain with a deadbolt lock, he approached the Escalade and opened the passenger’s side door.
“Uncle G, you ready?”
Grip nodded his head, and then climbed out the Cadillac truck. A gray trench coat was draped over his black suit, and his trademark Bossalini hat was cocked to the side. He walked toward the edge of the bridge and positioned himself in front of Romey Noodles. The battered Italian looked him in the eyes, and then regretfully lowered his head. lt was then that he realized the root of his fate.
“Mr. Moreno,” he whispered. “It ain’t my fault. I told Carmine to stay away from the docks, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Grip didn’t respond. Instead, he reached inside of his suit jacket and pulled out a Cohiba cigar and his gold cigar cutter. After clipping off the ends of the stogie, he gestured for Gangsta to give him a light. Gangsta lit the tip of the cigar and a cloud of smoke appeared in front of his face. He took a couple of puffs, and then looked at his nephew. “Gangsta,” he said in his deep voice. “Sit his ass up on the railing.”
Gangsta grabbed Romey Noodles by the waist, and with the help of Murder and Malice, he lifted him off his feet and sat his body on top of the steel railing.
Grip took a step closer and blew a thick cloud of smoke in Romey Noodles’ face. He looked the Italian dead in the eyes, and s
lowly shook his head from side to side. “In this life Romey, some shit is just necessary.” He tossed the burning cigar on Romeys’ gasoline drenched body and the chubby Italian burst into flames. He fell off the railing and dropped about fifteen feet before the chain that was linked to his harness jerked him to a stop.
“Agggghhhh!” he screamed like a banshee, and struggled to free himself from the harness. He kicked his feet and wiggled his shoulders, but none of these movements could deter his fate. He continued to scream as his burning body swung from right to left.
As Grip turned around and headed back to his Escalade, Gangsta leaned over the railing and shouted at the burning pendulum. “Don’t take it personal, Romey Rome! It’s only business mutha’fucka!”
Chapter Nine
The Following Morning...
Sonny was awakened by the soft kisses that Daphney and Keyonti were placing on his face. This was their daily ritual. Every morning, Keyonti would wake up, crawl out of bed, and then slip inside of her parent’s bedroom. She would wake up Daphney, and together they smothered Sonny’s face with kisses. Today was no different.
“Cocoa Fat-Fat!” Sonny greeted his daughter with the nickname he’d given her. “Whatchu doin’ to dada?”
The little girl giggled, and then wrapped her arms around his head. “Fat-Fat lub dada!”
He lifted her in the air and twisted her body from side to side. “Ahn ahn. You don’t lub dada,” he challenged her.
She nodded her head and playfully shouted at him.
“Fat-Fat lub dada! Momma lub dada! And D-Day lub dada too!”
“Yep!” Daphney chimed in. “We lub you, dada.” She kissed him on the neck, and then inconspicuously stroked his dick under the satin sheets. “Guess who else lubs dada?”