by Lucinda John
“Apartment 412. The door code is 2142#,” I said handing her a key.
“You’re not coming up with me?” She asked.
“I’m coming to help you with your bags, but I have moves to make afterwards.” I replied.
“You still hate me, don’t you?”
“Man… C’mon.” I sighed, getting out of the car.
“There’s no food in here. When you get hungry, call 0 and let the doorman know what you got a taste for. He’ll put in your order and bring the food up to you. Xandy, if you walk out that door and back to that same shit, you on your own; don’t bother calling me.” I said before walking out of the door.
When I got back to my car, I reached for a joint and quickly lit it in desperate need of relaxation. When it came to drugs, weed was the only thing I would touch. I never followed in my father’s footsteps and became a dope boy, because I saw how much drugs tore families apart; however, I was far from a saint.
At the tender age of eighteen with a ten-year-old kid to take care of, I did what I had to do to survive. I got involved with a bunch of illegal organized crime, thanks a good friend of mine from school named Abram. Abram’s father, Ambi, ran a very lucrative weapons trafficking operation.
Since Abram and I were great friends, Ambi took me under his wing as his son and trained me. I started off at the bottom cleaning off weapons, graduated to changing the serial number, and now I was running my operation here in the states. I worked hard for everything I had and prided myself on making it big in this world without having to flip a brick.
At the age of twenty-seven, I had it all. I was successful, both legally and illegally, and I was very well-educated, respected, and wealthy. I had everything a man could want except a family to come home to. At first, it didn’t bother me, but knowing that I was close to being a father and having that snatched from me had me all kinds of fucked up.
Pulling up to my three-bedroom condo, I headed upstairs to take a much-needed shower. I had thirty minutes to spare before I had to meet with my baby brother, so I decided to make this a quick one. Standing at 6’2, I was considered a chocolate Adonis. Weighing in at two hundred pounds, my body was ripped and toned all over giving me a physic of a football player. My skin was a smooth, midnight-black color that drove all the bitches crazy. I wasn’t sure if it was the seasick waves that circled my hair, or the full beard that neatly covered my face, but women seemed to flock me wherever I went.
Every inch of my muscular body was covered in tattoos, each of them telling a visual story of my life. Flashing myself a smile, I admired all thirty-two of my pearly white teeth. I had diamond-encrusted gold plates that I would put in and take out, but for the most part, I rocked my natural grill. I was what you would call a hood suit and tie nigga. I hustled more on a business level which required me to dress the part among my peers, but the hood in me would jump out of my red bottom loafers and throw on the Timbs in a quick second.
After rinsing the last of the Dove Men’s body wash off my skin, I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my waist. Making my way to the sink, I towel-dried my hair, applied some wax wave grease to my palms, and rubbed it in a circular motion over my waves. Once I was done, I picked up my wave brush and spent ten minutes brushing my waves to perfection.
Dressed down in a white and gold Balmain t-shirt and a pair of green straight-leg Balmain denim pants, I reached for a pair of white and gold leather Balmain shoes out of its designated clear bin and placed them on my feet. Snapping my gold Presidential Rolex on my arm, I grabbed my Jesus piece off my chain rack and pulled it over my neck. I checked myself one final time in the mirror, and once I was satisfied with my look, I made my way to my garage for my ride selection.
I wasn’t sure what dope boys were making now, but dealing with the Russians was bringing in money by the boatload. Ambi was paying me six figures per every shipment of weapons I was able to get rid of. In this country, flipping guns was easy. Everybody wanted the top of the line army type guns I provided. Hitting the alarm on my white Rolls Royce, I decided to let my ride match my fly.
When I made it to the pool hall where my brother wanted to meet, a lot of niggas stopped what they were doing to show me love. They were impressed how my name held so much weight in the streets without me having to be a kingpin. Making my way to the back, I located my brother engaged in an intense game of pool.
“What’s good, baby?” Sage acknowledge me. “You came just in time to watch me fuck this nigga up.” He chuckled.
“Stop talking shit and play nigga.” His opponent snapped.
“Iight.” Sage said, hitting the ball and winning the game. “Fuck you mean? Run me my money, cuh.” Sage jumped up and down.
“Nigga, I swear you be on some cheating type shit.” Dude snapped, throwing five crispy big face hundreds on the table.
“Nah, Pussy, don’t be no sore loser.” Sage did the moon walk, as he picked up the money and stuffed it in his pockets.
“I’ll handle you niggas later. Let me go holla at my big bruh right quick.” He announced folding his pool stick and placing it in its case. Sage was big on playing pool; this nigga even carried his own pool stick around ready to pull that motherfucker out.
“What the fuck you do to your hair?” I asked, looking at the new Omarion hairdo he was rocking. The crisp fade with the braids going around and pulled into a knot went with him; the look just threw me off for a bit.
“Nigga, you sleeping. These hoes loving the fuck outta this shit. I had one hoe tell me I looked like that singing nigga Sammie.” He replied.
“Get the fuck out of here.” I chuckled.
“For real; I was fucking that hoe singing I like the way you look at me, I like the time we spend baby.” He joked, trying to sing like Sammie but failed miserably.
“Ay, you know some bitch named Kimie?” I asked, remembering the bitch that was slobbing me down earlier.
“Kimie? What she look like?” He asked.
“She work at 12 Spot; she got a sister named Brenda.”
“Oh yeah, that freak hoe. Yeah, I know that thot. I used to fuck her and her sister. Hell, when they found out I was fucking them both, they said fuck it, and we had us a good threesome.” He grinned.
“Nasty ass hoes.”
“Wait, don’t tell me you was thinking about wifing that smut.” He crinkled his nose as if a foul smell invaded the room.
“Nah, had that hoe in the back seat of my Hummer slobbing me down. The only reason I asked is because she brought you up.” I replied.
“Man, these hoes be plotting, I swear.”
“Tell me about it. Guess who called me today?”
“Who?” Sage asked.
“Xandy.”
“Damn!” He nodded his head.
Sage wouldn’t dare disrespect Xandy, no matter how bad he witnessed her fall off. He knew at one point in time, I would move mountains for her, and he himself had developed a brother-sister relationship with her. In fact, when I left Xandy alone for good, he tried to extend his hand and help her out as well but failed.
“I picked her up from rehab. She did eight months.” I went on to say.
“Do you think she’s clean?” He quizzed.
“I mean, I don’t know. She look clean. She even gained some weight, but you never know.”
“Where she at now?”
“At one of my rental properties.” I replied.
“You fucking with her like that?” He asked.
“I can’t man. I’m just helping her out on the strength of the love I had for her, but shit ain’t never gonna be the same between us. The fact that she let my baby die behind that shit will forever fuck me up in the head.” I honestly replied.
“Damn, man! Shit crazy.”
“What you call me down here for anyways?” I asked, looking over at my baby brother.
Even though I was young myself, I did a great job raising him. I made sure he never wanted for anything and
enforced the important of finishing school. I wanted him to go straight to college, but he deiced to take one year off with promises of enrolling the following year.
“I have a business proposal for you, and before you snap-”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Hear me out, bro.”
“I’m listening.”
“As you know, I was supposed to start school in a few more months, but I decided not to anymore.”
“What fuck you mean you ain’t going to school?!” I growled.
“Bruh, chill out; let me finish.”
“Go ahead man.”
“The money you’ve been giving me is good, but I’m nineteen. It’s time for me to be making my own moves.” He continued.
“What moves you talking about Sage?”
“I been pushing weight.”
“You’ve been doing what?” I asked jumping out my seat and getting in his face.
“Pushing dope.”
“I can’t believe your ass right now! You know how drugs tore our family apart, and you chose to deal with that shit?!”
“I’m good at that shit. I guess I inherited that shit from pops. He used to always tell me that I was going to be like him. I never understood what he meant until I flipped my own brick. The money is good, and I’m good at that shit.” Sage’s dumb ass said.
WHAP!
I stole Sage in the face causing him to stumble backwards.
WHAP! WHAP!
Sage came back with at me with a two-piece. I should have known his hot head ass wasn’t going to back down from no fight, especially since I was the one who taught him how to throw hands. The entire pool house watched us go blow for blow tearing the spot up until the owner, an old head named Jazz, came and broke it up.
“Stop all that fighting; y’all family.” He said, pushing Sage against the wall. “Y’all too good to be doing this shit; especially out and public. Go back in my office and finish up that conversation civilly.” He ordered. My chest rose and fell with anger as I made my way to the office with Sage stalking behind me. “Don’t tear my shit up in here either.” Jazz said before closing the door.
“Why would you choose to fuck with that shit?” I asked after ten minutes of silence.
“It’s me. You act like I chose the life; the life chose me.” Sage replied.
“You sound stupid right now. I bust my ass just so you could go to school and make something of yourself, but you chose to fuck with the same shit that claimed the lives of our parents.” I said with clenched teeth.
“I get what you saying, but maybe school ain’t for everybody. Hell, you went to school and you still hustling.” He shot at me.
“I use my business management degree to run the apartment complexes I own.”
“I hear ya, but them apartment complexes ain’t bringing in the bands; your hustle is. Let’s be real… flipping them houses is just a way to cover up the fact that you fucking with the Russians.”
“What’s your point?” I asked.
“My point is that’s your calling and this is mine. Maybe, I can go to school, get me a business management degree, and run me a few sports bars and shit, but for now, my first love is flipping weight, and that’s what I wanna do.”
“It’s your life; do you.” I said, throwing my hand up to surrender.
“I need your help.”
“What the fuck you need my help for?” I asked.
“The nigga plug I was fucking with is falling off. The dope he giving isn’t worth the price he’s asking for.” He replied.
“You still ain’t tell me what that got to do with me.
“I know you fuck with them Russians and they in all types of shit. I need you to put me in.”
“Nah, fuck you!” I yelled. “Do you know how dangerous it is fucking with them crazy motherfuckers? Ambi practically raised me, but if I duck with his money, he wouldn’t hesitate to lullaby my ass.” I stressed.
“I know; that’s why I figured I could work for you. I mean, you invest in me by putting me down with a plug, and in return, I give you your profit, I pay the plug, re-up, do it all over again.”
“How do you plan on doing all this shit?” I asked.
“Trust me, a nigga been out here in these street plotting. I got my team, traps, everything… I just need your support and guidance.”
“So you telling me you want me to connect you with a plug, front you money to cop, and trust that you gonna flip that shit and pay us all back?” I asked, looking at him sideways.
“I been doing this shit on the low since I was sixteen. I have an itch for the shit, man. I ain’t asking you to front me a lot of weight. Just get me a little something so I could show you what I’m capable of.” Sage replied shocking me.
“You been flipping dope for three years now?” I asked trying to get a better understanding.
“Hell, yeah; I’m tryna tell ya this shit is my calling. I ain’t even tryna be a kingpin; I’m just tryna get this money the best way I know how.”
“Fuck man!” I yelled, kicking the chair over.
“Trust me, bruh. I rather come to you then to go to the next motherfucker and get myself fucked up in the game.”
“Let me think about this shit, man.”
“Let me know; I got a few of my boys who’s down and ready to eat. I got a few old heads that had been raising me in the game, so trust, I’m in good hands. I got this.” He assured me.
“This shit too much for one fucking day! First Xandy, now you and your dope boy ambitions. I need a stiff drink fucking around with y’all motherfuckers today.” I ranted as I walked out of Jazz’s office and straight to the bar.
As I sat at the bar gulping down the Jack Daniels that was in my cup, I thought of Sage’s proposition. I was always down for making more money, but not when it was associated with drugs. I took too much L’s when it came to drugs that the thought of dealing them never crossed my mind. I knew if I told Sage no, he would only find someone else to front him. My biggest fear was him fucking with the wrong cat and end up behind bars or dead behind that shit. The more I thought of Sage fucking with these snake ass niggas, the more I realized I was his best bet.
Pulling out my business phone, I sent Ambi a text of the code we usually used when we needed to have a sit-down. Once the meeting with Ambi was scheduled, I decided to send my lawyer an email in regards to drawing me up a ‘street’ contract. If my brother wanted to deal with me on a business level, I had to show him firsthand that I didn’t play about my money. He needed to understand the consequences he would endure if the money wasn’t green at the end of the day.
Chapter 6
Sage
“Yo, this party about to be lit!” My homie Onyx said, as we walked through the venue, where I would be hosting my grown and sexy success party.
Since my brother decided to invest in my hustle as a silent partner, I’d been making shit shake. I wasn’t pushing major dope yet, because I was still proving myself to my brother and the connect he was able to put me down with, but I was still getting paid. I was bleeding the block like I was destined to do; my team was eating, them feigns were happy, the money was green, so it was time to celebrate.
As I signed the necessary paperwork to rent out the spacious, upscale venue, I thought about my father. I know he was looking down at me proud of the moves I was making. I never told this to Saire, but back when my father was alive, he would always tell me how he saw a lot of him in me. He would express how Saire wasn’t the dope boy type, but the moment he laid eyes on me, he knew that I would be the one to carry out his legacy.
When I got old enough to count, my father would pull me to the side to teach me about the game. At a young age, I was learning everything there was to know about the drug game. Every week, I would learn something new, and at the end of that week, my father would test me on what he had taught me. The ass whoopings I’d receive from failing one of his tests result
ed in me paying attention more. By the time I hit the block at the age of sixteen, I was flipping more work than niggas two times my age.
“Excuse me.” A sexy ass chick snapped at me for bumping into her.
“Aye, my bad, Ma. You straight?” I asked.
“I’m good. Watch where you going next time.” She replied, switching that fat ass as she walked off.
“Say, Ma. Let me holla at ya real quick.” I asked jogging up to her.
She did an about face and looked me up and down. For me to be nineteen, I was tall as fuck, standing at 6’0. My father was mad tall, which was who me and Saire inherited our height from. I had smooth, brown skin that I got from my mother, unlike Saire, who had my father’s dark complexion. I was young, but the hair that covered my face gave me an older look.
Her eyes roamed all over my six-pack that was on full display underneath the Thom Browne, short-sleeve denim jacket I wore with my chest bare. Her eyes went traveling to the matching ripped jeans I had on down to the wheat-colored Timberland boots that were on my feet. She checked out my Rollie, before turning back around and continuing her stride.
Usually, I’d go my way after a chick turned me down, which rarely happened, but it was something about this tatted up thick beauty that had me in a trance. Against my morals, I followed behind her with my eyes trained on her fat ass and attempted to talk to her again.
“Damn, Ma, slow down.” I replied, jumping in front of her.
Now that I was really in her face, I was able to get a good look at her. The short blond curls that she rocked brought out her beautiful facial features. Visions of her long sexy legs wrapped around my waist invaded my mind as my eyes circles the rose bush that neatly decorated her flesh.
“You done eye-fucking me?” She asked, snapping me out of my trance.
“Why you running off on me like that?” I asked.
“I ain’t interested.” she huffed.