by Carl Weber
In Southwest Detroit, those same exact sentiments were shared. Greedy, also known as Donnie Green, and Gigi, aka Gina Dotson, were labeled the notorious Southwest Detroit’s Bonnie and Clyde of the dope game. They were at one of their many traps they held down with an iron fist. Today, this one on Fourth Street was in rotation to be used to hand the work out. It wasn’t hot like the other traps, so it would do. The bag was in, so all was good in the hood. Last night, they’d hooked up with their plug from Arizona, Juan. They cashed out twelve bricks of 95 percent pure cocaine at the cost of $17,000 a key. With that much upfront cash on the table, Juan was more than willing to personally meet up with the infamous pair.
They were true earners in his eyes. The pair had proven they could be trusted. They were soldiers, and the higher-ups in the tightly run organization had to recognize their earning potential as well. Loyalty and being true to the game were always looked upon with respect, and because Greedy and his girl stepped up their grind, game cashing out the last few runs, Juan promised them a gravy deal. Without hesitation, he got it cleared the next flip he would be authorized a double of the order on consignment.
Juan had been doing business with Greedy almost three solid calendars and a few months. He’d watched him grow heavy in the game. Sprouting from mid-level to major league and a force to be reckoned with in the underworld of heroin kings, he got money. Greedy was not just about that life by working hard. He, like just about everyone from that side of town, was born into the mixed jive world some sort of way. Whether drug dealer, drug user, or a cop hell-bent on stopping drugs, that was the DNA play bloodline in Detroit.
After watching the news report, they each said a prayer for Juan and Karen and kept that shit moving. They knew there might be a slight delay in getting a new bag sometime down the line, but thankful to the hustle gods, they had more than enough to get them through the following months. They decided to step on the close-to-pure product several good times the night before to stretch the play, just in case. Worst-case scenario, if it was their people that got hemmed up, whenever the new point person would get at them, they’d be more than ready to honor their financial obligation to the organization.
Nevertheless, Greedy and Gigi were celebrating their new deal with Juan by blowing a fat blunt of OG Kush. Red plastic cups in hand, they slow sipped on 1738. However, the effects on Gigi’s demeanor were far different from that of her better half. While Greedy was calm, Gigi got off on acting a straight fool. Known for snapping at bullshit, something minor could, and would, become major in the mere blink of an eye. One pull, two pulls, three long good pulls later, she was ready. With another sip to get her all the way right, Gigi’s eyes turned from light brown to green. Hands planted firmly on her hips, she directed traffic of who got what product and how much of it. The workers coming and going out of the trap to get that work had grown accustomed to her black-hearted attitude. Most tuned Gigi out, keeping their eye on the prize: the bag. They had more to stay focused on dealing drugs in the streets of Detroit, praying to see another day alive or get pinched, then convicted and sentenced to the new plantation called Michigan Department of Corrections.
Greedy sat back. With a devious smirk, he enjoyed the mellow buzz he was experiencing in the midst of it all. After all he’d been through to get to this point, he took in every moment. He was a boss, and no one could tell him differently. His dues had long since been paid in blood, so he earned the right to gloat. Gigi was also elevated by the trees and smooth brown they were drinking as he took delight in her antics. Watching her take control gave him an instant hard-on. He knew they would get off into some real serious sex play later, but for now, it was business first. After tossing his empty cup onto the coffee table, he snatched up the bottle of liquor. Holding it up, he saw there was just enough left for him to get one last shot. Taking the top off, Greedy took it to the head.
Yeah, hell yeah. This shit got a nigga feeling all right up in this bitch! Knowing Gigi had his back, Greedy closed his eyes. He reminisced on what it took for him to be living in the celebration of this moment in time.
Chapter Five
Greedy always counted his blessings. When the bag touched down in the city, he balled out like every other li’l nigga pushing a sack. After days of chasing behind ticket money for the next man, Greedy’s time to shine finally emerged. He remembered when his small-time life in the dope game initially changed. His mother couldn’t stop him from slanging. She tried everything she could but to no avail. Selling drugs was in his direct DNA, his birth right. Out of options, Greedy’s weary-minded mother finally did what she thought was best. If the streets were going to have her son, she’d make sure he was prepared. He would have to do the family name proud. Early one morning she woke him up.
“Damn, Ma. What time is it?” he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “The sun ain’t even up, and a nigga like me just lay down.”
“Look, boy, don’t ‘damn, Ma’ me. And do you think I give two shits about what time you drug yourself in through my front door? You out here making the next family rich while we got bills to pay. You want that life so bad? Well, you ’bout to get your wish.” She shook her head while once more demanding he got up.
Once in the car, Greedy’s mother pulled into the gas station and filled up. Minutes later, they were on the highway. It would soon be remembered as a road trip that would change both of their lives. She was taking him to see her only brother. Ed was locked up in a federal prison in West Virginia. In the past, she’d urged her son up and down to ride with her to the prison. Yet, he always fought her word for word. This time, there was no discussion. She won, and in some hours, they’d be there.
Unfortunately, Greedy’s uncle was doing a nice chunk of time under the RICO Act. Before getting knocked, Ed had been the man. In his heyday, he was legendary, flooding the streets of Detroit and a number of other neighboring states with cocaine and heroin. The government cited all of those allegations, along with numerous other crimes in the indictment papers. Ed had gotten too full of himself. It had caused him to get sloppy. The feds were taking a good long hard look at him. He was the main priority on their radar. Agents were watching his every move. His phone was wired for sound. The case broke open when the phone tap picked up a direct conversation he had about dope. Dumbly as well, he was bragging about murders his crew had definite involvement in.
* * *
When the mother and son finally arrived at the prison, they were both exhausted. Greedy’s mother told him to go on in the visiting room by himself. She felt he and his uncle needed to talk alone. Greedy argued with his mother saying that they ain’t got nothing to talk about alone, thinking he was just going to get the same ole speech he has been hearing from his momma: You should stay outta the streets, you need to go to school, you gon’ end up dead or in prison if you keep slanging dope. He thought to himself she was wasting his time. He could be back in Detroit shaking the bag, putting money in his pocket instead of being across the country on some type of fake-ass intervention with an uncle he hasn’t seen in years and doesn’t even know any more, it’s been so long.
“Dig, Ma, for real. I ain’t tryin’a hear ‘thou shall not follow in my footsteps’ bullshit from your brother! If that’s what the fuck he on, I’m good. I’ma tell him like that too. I’ma gonna put it on the floor with you for the last goddamn time too. I’m gonna do me by all means necessary—with or without your blessing,” Greedy growled, looking his momma dead in her eyes.
She took one step forward toward her disrespectful seed. With her hand drawn back, he soon got what was coming next. Before he knew it, his mother had made full contact with the side of his face. Using every bit of strength she could garnish, the heartfelt slap was so hard she’d knocked spit out of the corner of his mouth. He was in total shock and disbelief. Raising his arm, he wiped the spit that was slightly dripping from his chin, then rubbed his stinging jawline. Definitely not in the business of being disrespected by her child, she wasn’t done with
teaching him that lesson. If looks could kill, he’d certainly be dead as she shot him several eye daggers.
“Look, boy, you must’ve done forgot who the fuck I am! I’m not one of yo’ little homeboys that you call yourself running. I don’t give two fucks about how bad you think you is or how much money you claim you got stashed here and there.” With a no-nonsense tone, she proceeded to call him by his birth name before grabbing him up by his shirt collar. Once she had a good tight grip, she stood on her toes attempting to bring him down to her eye level. Whispering in his face while still trying not to cause a scene, she and he both realized it was a little too late to be discreet. When she’d smacked the baby-now-turned-man she had given birth to years ago, the guard at the sign in desk and people in the lobby waiting to visit their loved ones took notice. Waiting to see what was going to happen after what came next, a hush fell over the onlookers, and all eyes were glued on them.
Greedy stood with his head down, ashamed, embarrassed, and heated. But he dared not do or say shit else that may have caused his mother to put on her big red shoes and red nose and wig, and completely clown on him. Not to mention run the risk of getting locked up across the state in a prison lobby, of all places. The middle-aged black woman guard that ran the visitor sign in desk called them over to the station. She told the mother and son that any further disruption and they would be escorted off the prison grounds immediately. Greedy’s mamma didn’t apologize for her action to the guard because she meant and said what she did and would sure do it again. Truth be told, the guard was a mother herself of a hardheaded young boy and understood where she was coming from and would have done the same.
While his mother talked to the prison guard, Greedy looked around the lobby mean mugging people that were still all up in his business. Then a different young, burly, black federal correctional officer came out from behind the sliding glass doors that led to the inmate visiting room and called three inmates’ last names. His uncle was one of the three called. Greedy reluctantly follow the CO through the glass doors after his mother gave him the “you better take yo’ ass on in there” death stare.
Once he was behind the glass doors, he was ordered to take his shoes and socks off. Then the CO patted him down, searching him and his belongings for contraband. When he was told to open his mouth and raise his tongue, that’s when things took a quick, abrupt turn.
“Hold up.” Greedy took a step back and put his hand up. “You done went in my pockets and played with my nuts. Made me take my shoes and socks off and got me standing on a piece of paper. Now you want to go all in my fucking mouth?” He felt degraded and powerless, as if he was being arrested.
“Sir, if you don’t do like I ask you, you won’t be allowed in to visit,” the correctional officer said, irritated.
I just want to do my eight hours and go home, he thought.
Frustrated and already over the whole visit shit, Greedy opened his mouth for CO to inspect. Seeing there was no contraband in his mouth, he was told to walk through the metal detector. Greedy paused, giving the officer a hard look. He then walked through the metal detector. No alarm sounded so he was given the go-ahead into another set of glass doors that entered into the prisoners’ visiting room.
Visitors and inmates could be seen talking to one another, playing board games, cards games, and taking photos with their families. Inmates were allowed five visitors at a time. Some had one person, and others had the limit of five people. Each convict sported brown khakis so they could be identified from civilians. They had their own space and weren’t allowed to cross visit. The visiting room rules were given to him on a white sheet of paper in the lobby. As soon as he got into the visiting room with the criminals and law-abiding citizens alike, he balled the paper up, tossing it in the trash. “Fuck a rule,” he growled. With a chip on his shoulder, he looked around the room carefully for his uncle Ed. He hoped he hadn’t changed much in appearance so that he couldn’t recognize him.
Over in the far corner of the visiting room, Ed stood up when he saw his nephew. When they made eye contact, he waved Greedy over to him. Greedy put on a half smile and walked through the visiting room with swagger only a Detroit nigga possessed. Ed gave his nephew a hard manly hug, patting him on the back with both hands.
“You look good, Nephew. Yeah, youngin’, I see you shining. You remind me of myself at your age,” Ed reminisced praising his sister’s boy.
Greedy brushed his shoulders off and tugged at his eighteen-inch gold chain with an old English D iced out. “Yeah, Unc, you don’t look bad yo’ self. I see you been working out and done grew some dreadlocks. I bet they stank, don’t they?” Greedy turned his nose up joking with his uncle.
“Fuck no, nigga. I see you got jokes,” he said, laughing, shaking his fist at his kin from across the table. Then he rubbed his hand over his face, and it was like he changed into another person. His expression was different. He had a serious look on his face.
Greedy noticed the change and thought to himself, Here we go with his preaching shit. He dropped his head, closed his eyes, shook his head, and slid an inch down in the already-uncomfortable, hard, plastic visiting chair. He then crossed his arms over his chest bracing himself for the sermon. Greedy exhaled the stale visiting room air, opened his eyes, and looked up at his uncle, who was staring at him with his head cocked to the side, snarling. Abruptly, Greedy jumped to his feet, forgetting where he was. The chair made a loud scraping sound on the concrete floor. “Look, Unc, I ain’t come cross country to be preached to by you or nobody else.”
Inmates and visitors began to stare at them and whisper about them. Ed looked around the room and took notice that all eyes were on them. Infuriated, he turned his attention back to his nephew. He was heated beyond belief. “If you don’t sit yo’ ass down and stop making a scene up in here, I’m gonna catch another life bit for murder! Fuck is wrong with you, li’l nigga? You trying to front on me up in this visiting room like I won’t lay hands on you?” Ed seethed with an even, deliberate tone of voice.
Greedy snapped out of his feelings. Glancing around the room, he reminded himself who he was talking to and where he was at. He really didn’t want any part of what his uncle had in store for him if he put his hands on him. “Look, Unc—” Greedy replied humbly.
“Naw, li’l nigga, you look,” Ed demanded. Resting his elbows on the table, he then leaned in his nephew’s direction. Greedy followed his lead and leaned in as well for privacy. “Okay, bet. Now that I got your full attention, boy, his ain’t what you think it is, young dumb-ass nigga,” Ed remarked, checking the young pup from Detroit. “I don’t give a fuck if you wanna be out in the streets as long as you make that bullshit worth it.”
“All right, then.” Greedy was now all in.
“Yeah, you see where I’m at, and I don’t regret shit. You know why? Because I made it worth it. I still got bread. I’m still living good. I’m still getting pussy. You see that bitch up at the desk?”
Greedy glanced over at the officer’s desk. There he saw a fine brown-skinned female officer standing on guard like a hawk. He looked back at his unc like he was shitting him. “Naw, Unc, you for real?”
“Yeah, I’m fucking her. That’s my bitch. She knows I got long, serious paper. If I didn’t, she wouldn’t look my way twice. I want for nothing locked up in here. Nigga, I ain’t ate chow hall food in ten years. My point is, I planned for the day I got knocked. That means I went hard to get real money. Fuck that petty money niggaz be chasing just to go to the club and show out so they can fuck them hood-raised bitches. I stacked loot and invested it in businesses. Your momma will tell you if you don’t know or remember. Them people took a lot of money from me and some houses I had in your momma’s and your grandma’s name. It was funny to me because they couldn’t take what they didn’t know about. That’s why I can still live like a king even up in this shit hole. Now, Nephew, let me ask you this. You want real money, or you just bullshitting around till you get popped with a sack on the blo
ck? Or fuck around and catch a prison number with nothing to show for it?” Still being discreet, Ed waited for his response, looking seriously at his nephew.
“Unc, I ain’t playing out in these streets. I done worked my way up to two slabs. And I got like six goons on my payroll. I got thirty thousand stacked up.”
Ed liked what he was hearing from his nephew. The seasoned, veteran drug dealer thought there might be hope for him as a money getter after all. On instinct, he decided to give him a shot at the title. However, bloodline or not, the game is to be sold not told. “You got that much cash on hand right now at home?” Ed questioned, with doubt and speculation because busters were prone to lie about how big their bag is. Or how much loot they really be holding, especially these lames he was jailing with.
“Yeah, I do. Unc, I’m not playing. I’m focused. I wanna do it big like you did it back in the day, but better. No offense. You know?” Greedy spoke with confidence, sure of himself.
“I tell you what. When you get home, wire me a thousand dollars a week until you done sent me ten thousand altogether. Then I’m going to hook you up with my plug in Arizona. If you fuck it up once I plug you in, that’s on you. They not gonna play no games with you. They will kill your mamma and anybody else, then move on to the next nigga that wanna hustle and grind. So, li’l nigga, don’t mess around and get my sister killed on no bullshit!” Ed warned his eager young kin. “So, is you ready to level up or what? ’Cause everything ain’t for everybody!”