by Deja King
Stackin' Paper by Joy King
A King Production presents.. .
By JOY KING This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, events, establishments, or locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Other names, characters, and incidents occurring in the work are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, as those fictionalized events and incidents that involve real persons. Any character that happens to share the name of a person who is an acquaintance of the author past orpresent, is purely coincidental and is in no way intended to be an actual account involving that person.
A King Production P.O. Box 912, Collierville, TN 38027 A King Production and the above portrayal log are trademarks of A King Production LLC Copyright O 2008 by Joy King. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the permission from the publisher, except by reviewer who may quote brief passage to be printed in a newspaper or magazine. ISBN 10: 0975581112 ISBN 13: 978-0975581117 Cover concept by Joy King & www.MarionDesigns.com Cover layout and graphic design by: www.MarionDesigns.com Typesetting: Linda Williams Editor: Dolly Lopez Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data; King, Joy Stackin' Paper: a novel by Joy King For complete Library of Congress Copyright info visit; www.joykingonline.com
This 3ook is Dedicated To My: Family, Readers and Supporters. I LOVE you guys so much. Please believe that! !
I get so many e-mails and I try my hardest to respond to each and every one because I'm truly grateful for the love that readers show me. I appreciate the support and I hope to continue to write books that you all enjoy. I did want to take time to acknowledge a few readers who I feel ride for me extra hard, and words can't describe how much that means to me. For the ones I forgot to mention, I apologize and I'll get you on the next book O Tureko "Virgo" Straughter, Tazzyt2bossye, MsKiKi, Andrea Denise, Sunshine716, Ms. Monalisa, TristaRussell, Lady Scorpio, Jeanni, Travis Williams, Myra Green, Leona Romich, Sexy Xanyell and Linda Williams. Also, to vendors, and distributors like Black & Nobel, DCBookman, Tiah, African World Books, Vanessa and Glenn Ledbetter, Afriqiah Books, Maxwell Taylor, Ann Hopson, Cyrus Webb, Rahman Muhammad and every vendor in Brooklyn, Queens, and 125t' street that pass out my bookmarks ... thank you!! Special thanks to Linda Williams; you always show me so much love.. .you're the BEST! ! Jonesy, Keith Saunders of Marion Designs, Tracy Taylor, Sherita Redic-Nunn and Dolly Lopez. Much Love, Joy (cDeja) King
Philly, 1993 "Please, Daquan, don't hit me again!" the young mother screamed, covering her face in defense mode. She hurriedly pushed herself away from her predator, sliding her body on the cold hardwood floor. "Bitch, get yo' ass back over here!" he barked, grabbing her matted black hair and dragging her into the kitchen. He reached for the hot skillet from the top of the oven, and you could hear the oil popping underneath the fried chicken his wife had been cooking right before he came home. "Didn't I tell you to have my food ready on the table when I came home?" I... I... I was almost finished, but you came home early," Teresa stuttered, "Ouch!" she yelled as her neck damn near snapped when Daquan gripped her hair even tighter. "I don't want to hear your fuckin' excuses. That's what yo' problem is. You so damn hard headed and neva want to listen. But like they say, a hard head make fo' a soft ass. You gon' learn to listen to me." "Please, please, Daquan, don't do this! Let me finish flying your chicken and I'll never do this again. Your food will be ready and on the table everyday on time. I promise!" "I'm tired of hearing your damn excuses." "Bang!" was all you heard as the hot skillet came crashing down on Teresa's head. The hot oil splashed up in the air, and if Daquan hadn't moved forward and turned his head, his face would've been saturated with the grease. But Teresa wasn't so lucky, as the burning oil grazed her hands, as they were protecting her face and part of her thigh. After belting out in pain from the grease, she then noticed blood trickling down from the open gash on the side of her forehead. But it didn't stop there. Daquan then put the skillet down and began kicking Teresa in her ribs and back like she was a diseased infected dog that had just bitten him. "Yo', Pops, leave moms alone! Why you always got to do this? It ain't never no peace when you come in this house." Genesis stood in the kitchen entrance with his fists clenched and panting like a bull. He had grown sick and tired of watching his father beat his mother down almost every single day. At the age of eleven he had seen his mother receive more ass whippings than hugs or any indication of love. "Boy, who the fuck you talkin' to? You betta get yo' ass back in your room and stay the hell outta of grown people's business." "Genesis, listen to your father. I'll be alright. Now go back to your room," his mother pleaded. Genesis just stood there unable to move, watching his mother and feeling helpless. The blood was now covering her white nightgown and she was covering her midsection, obviously in pain trying to protect the baby that was growing inside of her. He was in a trance, not knowing what to do to make the madness stop. But he was quickly brought back to reality when he felt his jaw almost crack from the punch his father landed on the side of his face. "I ain't gon' tell you again. Get yo' ass back in your room! And don't come out until I tell you to! Now go!" Daquan didn't even wait to let his only son go back to his room. He immediately went over to Teresa and picked up where he left off, punishing her body with punches and kicks. He seemed oblivious to the fact that not only was he killing her, but also he was killing his unborn child right before his son's eyes. A tear streamed down Genesis's face as he tried to reflect on one happy time he had with his dad, but he went blank. There were no happy times. From the first moment he could remember, his dad was a monster. All Genesis remembered starting from the age of three was the constant beat downs his mother endured for no reason. If his dad's clothes weren't ironed just right, then a blow to the face. If the volume of the television was too loud, then a jab here. And, God forbid, if the small, twobedroom apartment in the drug-infested building they lived in wasn't spotless, a nuclear bomb would explode in the form of Daquan. But the crazy part was, no matter how clean their apartment was or how good the food was cooked and his clothes being ironed just right, it was never good enough. Daquan would bust in the door, drunk or high, full of anger, ready to take out all his frustration out on his wife. The dead end jobs, being broke, living in the drug infested and violent prone city of Philadelphia had turned the already troubled man into poison to his whole family. "Daddy, leave my mom alone," Genesis said in a calm, unemotional tone. Daquan kept striking Teresa as if he didn't hear his son. "I'm not gonna to tell you again. Leave my mom alone." This time Daquan heard his son's warning but seemed unfazed. "I guess that swollen jaw wasn't enough for you. You dying to get that ass beat." Daquan looked down at a now black and blue Teresa who seemed to be about to take her last breath. "You keep yo' ass right here, while I teach our son a lesson." Teresa reached her hand out with the little strength she had left trying to save her son. But she quickly realized it was too late. The sins of the parents had now falling upon their child. "Get away from my mother. I want you to leave and don't ever come back." Daquan was so caught up in the lashing he had been putting on his wife that he didn't even notice Genesis retrieving the gun he left on the kitchen counter until he had it raised and pointed in his direction. "Lil' fuck, you un lost yo' damn mind! You gon' make me beat you with the tip of my gun." Daquan reached his hand out to grab the gun out of Genesis's hand, and when he moved his leg forward, it would be the last step he'd ever take in his life. The single shot fired ripped through Daquan's heart and he collapsed on the kitchen floor, dying instantly. Genesis was frozen and his mother began crying hysterically. "Oh dear God!" Teresa moaned, trying to gasp for air. "Oh, Genesis baby, what have you done?" She stared at Daquan, who laid face up with his eyes wide open in shock. He died not b
elieving until it was too late that his own son would be the one to take him out this world. It wasn't until they heard the pounding on the front door that Genesis snapped back to the severity of the situation at hand. "Is everything alright in there?" they heard the older lady from across the hall ask. Genesis walked to the door still gripping the .380-caliber semi-automatic. He opened the door and said in a serene voice, "No, Ms. Johnson, everything is not alright. I just killed my father."
Two months later, Teresa cried as she watched her son being taking away to spend a minimum of two years in a juvenile facility in Pemberton, New Jersey. Although it was obvious by the bruises on both Teresa and Genesis that he acted in self defense, the judge felt that the young boy having to live with the guilt of murdering his own father wasn't punishment enough. He concluded that if Genesis didn't get a hard wake up call, he would be headed on a path of self destruction. He first ordered him to stay at the juvenile facility until he was eighteen. But after pleas from his mother, neighbors and his teacher, who testified that Genesis had the ability to accomplish whatever he wanted in life because of how smart and gifted he was, the judge reduced it to two years, but only if he demonstrated excellent behavior during his time there. Those two years turned into four and four turned into seven. At the age of eighteen when Genesis was finally released he was no longer a young boy, he was now a criminal minded man.
Philly, 2008 Every true hustler has asked themselves this question at least once in their life: How much money can I make and how long do I have to make it? Because in street life, one thing is for certain, time is never on your side. The more paper you can stack, the faster you can get out. But unfortunately it never seems to work out that way. The game is like the mob, baby. Once you're in, you're in.
Genesis patiently waited in his non-descript black 1990 Honda Civic parked across the street, watching a house on 30th Street near McKean. He'd been holding court everyday for the last month, scoping the place out. As the sun began to set, Genesis thought about what put him in the possible sticky situation. Word on the blocks was that the two cats that robbed him rested their heads at the spot. He was always told that revenge is best served cold and he hoped that was the case with the dudes that decided to rape him of his hard earned cash and newly purchased drugs. He continued to observe the comings and goings. Within the last month he noticed a few things. He had never seen a female on the premises. The traffic coming through the front door was limited. Besides the two dudes who were there on a regular basis, only one other guy had come over, and he always carried the same black duffel bag with him. When he arrived it would be bulging, and when he'd leave it was flat. So Genesis figured he was either carrying a lot of money, drugs or both. If he believed the talk on the streets, the three of them were a one team robbing machine, raping dealers for cash and drugs. As he took a long drag from his Newport, Genesis felt his cell vibrate. "What's good?" "You tell me, man. Where you at?" his right-hand man, Deuce questioned. "Still babysitting." "Yo, I think you may need to leave that shit alone and take an L on it." "You trippin' ! I can't take no more loses. I've been grindin' on these streets for a minute now, and when I'm finally starting to make a come up, these clown as niggas want to rape me for my shit. Fuck that! I've been busting my ass for years and because of those cats I ain't got nothin' to show for it." "Genesis, I understand your hostility. Shit I'm pissed too, but I don't want you to get caught out there with them niggas." "Why the fuck you think I've been babysitting for all these weeks? At this point I can pretty much calculate when those motherfuckers take a shit." "Man, you crazy." "Yeah, you right, I am. Soon them niggas about to really see what crazy look like. They picked the wrong nigga to jack. I'm too thirsty to tolerate this shit." "Why don't I come over there and sit with you, keep you company." Genesis knew his friend was worried about him but he didn't want any company or distractions. "Nah, I'm straight. The two of them is leaving the house now so I'ma head home and handle some other business." "Cool. So I'll see you over on the block later tonight?" "No doubt." Genesis flipped his phone closed and didn't think twice at the fact he lied to his best friend. He did so for his own protection. He didn't want Deuce involved in what was about to go down. This was his problem and he would be the one to deal with it. Instead of the two dudes leaving like he told Deuce, they were actually coming and Genesis watched as they carried two large bags into the house. After they went inside, Genesis waited another ten minutes before putting his plan into action. He pulled up the black hoodie to cover his caramelcolored bald head, and grabbed the 9mm and ski mask from his glove compartment before exiting the car. As he tossed the still burning cigarette into the middle of the street, he remained fixated on one agenda; getting his shit back. With the sun completely down and day turning to night it was the perfect time for Genesis to make his move. The street was completely dead and no one noticed him creeping to the side of the house. Earlier that day while the robbing crew was out handling their business, Genesis did a quick but precise check of every inch outside of the house. He knew there was a small window on the side of the house that gave a clear view of the movements inside. He knelt down and put his back against the bricks, eyeing the activities of the two men. They were in a bedroom counting the stacks of money they collected that day. "Damn, them niggas gettin' paper!" Genesis mumbled under his breath. He could hear them laughing and joking as they counted the next man's cash: "Did you see that motherfucker's face when I told him to get down on his knees like he be having his bitch do when he want some head?" the short light skinned man popped. "Yeah, that nigga was shook. For a minute he thought you were gon' tell him to suck your dick off. It took all my strength not to bust out laughing on that clown," the tall brown skinned man with long braids said. "I know, I peeped that shit too. I wanted to tell him ain't no homo shit this way. But the fuckin' fear in his eyes was priceless. He was more worried about me telling him to suck my dick than stealing his loot. He seemed happier than a motherfucker for us to take his shit and bounce." "You ain't lying. I had no idea Rashawn was making paper like that. I thought that dude was clocking minor figures, but he had to have gotten over a hundred g's from his crib, plus that heroin. Like my man Ice Cube say, `Today was a good day'," Both the men gave each other a pound, relishing in their come up of the day. Genesis stood there shaking his head. I can't believe they got my man, Rashawn. These niggas is straight grimy. Yeah, it's time they got shut the fuck down. He scanned the room and noticed they had their artillery on the dresser, but then when they sat down on the bed to finish counting the money, each took the gun off that was in the back of their pants and tossed it on the bed. After about another hour, they finally finished counting the money and headed to the living room area that was off to the side. From his angle he could see one of the cats sitting on a chair and holding the remote control, but he couldn't get a view where he was. He got an idea by watching the direction the light-skinned dude would turn his head and direct his conversation. The tall brown-skinned dude with braids then walked across the room, and after a few minutes came back with two Heinekens and what looked to be weed, so Genesis assumed he had went into the kitchen. After about another twenty minutes, when it seemed both men had gotten comfortable and had a buzz, Genesis figured it was time to make his move. He hoped that the weapons they left in the bedroom were all they had and they would be defenseless the same way he was when they robbed him. It was now pitch black outside and Genesis put on his ski mask as he made his way to the front door. At six-two and two hundred and ten pounds of solid muscle, he used all his strength to kick down the door. The two dudes were so high and caught off guard that they barely had time to react. Genesis knew that the short dude was on his left hand side, sitting in the chair and he was the first one to catch a bullet right between his eyes. The second cat quickly snapped out of his weed and beer induced high and jumped out of his seat headed to the bedroom to get his own protection. But he was one step too slow. Genesis busted off three shots that penetrated his neck and upper and lower back. He
fell face forward, crashing his head against the glass cocktail table. Genesis didn't waste any time and went straight into action. He ran into the bedroom, grabbed all the money off the bed and started stuffing into the big duffel bag on the floor. As he rushed trying to get all the money as quickly as possible, he dropped a couple of stacks on the floor. When he bent down to pick them up his hand knocked against a hard piece of metal. Upon further inspection he noticed five big silver metal cases. He opened one and it was full of twenty and one hundred dollar bills. Genesis started pulling all the cases out. Three were full of cash and the other two were full of drugs. "I know these motherfuckers weren't keeping they stash underneath the fuckin' bed! What type of shit is this?" he asked out loud. "I can't carry all this shit out in one pop. Damn, this a lot of shit. But with all this loot and product, I can go from nothin' to somethin' overnight," Genesis reasoned as he talked the situation out loud hoping it would help him figure out what to do. "Shit, I know somebody must of heard them shots go off and they probably already called the police. Then that third nigga that be bringing shit over here could pop up at any moment. Let me just take what I can carry now and get the fuck outta here." The cases were heavy as fuck, so Genesis carried the duffel bag on his back and was able to carry three of the cases. He scrammed out of the house with his eyes darting in every direction, making sure he wasn't on anybody's radar. Once he put the bag and suitcases in his trunk and got back in the car, he put the key in the ignition. But he stopped. He looked back at the house, then scanned the neighborhood again. "Fuck that! I need all that shit!" He leaped out of the car and ran back to the house. He went to the bedroom grabbed the other two suitcases and the fucking guns before breaking out.
That night, Genesis lay on his bed counting every dollar he confiscated. There was over seven hundred thousand dollars in those suitcases, not including the hundred and thirty-five thousand in the duffel bag. There was also 20 pounds of 85 percentpure heroin. "I can't believe my fuckin' luck! I go there to take back the fifty thousand dollars and one key of heroin them niggas yanked from me and hit the motherfuckin' jackpot. That's what's up!" Genesis didn't get any sleep that night. He turned his cell off and sat up constructing a plan in his head to turn his jackpot into a multi-million dollar drug business. Between the cash and the drugs, he already had over a million, which was more than enough to build a mini drug empire, but he knew he had to be smart and careful about how he flipped the cash and product. The first thing he decided to do was get a bullshit apartment that he would never chill at to put the money and drugs. He also thought it best to invest in a safe so if anybody did come up in his crib, they wouldn't be able to open the shit up. As Genesis continued to strategize, the reality of his new found fortune was kicking in. He had spent many days and nights when he was caged up in juvenile detention, wishing for a better life. For the first year he was locked down his mother would come to see him every weekend. There was only one month his mother stayed away, and that was because she gave birth to his little sister. Genesis understood and was thrilled when she finally came back to visit and brought the baby. He immediately fell in love with the beautiful little girl. Touching her tiny hands gave him hope and motivation to behave while locked up because he had someone to come home to that he felt needed him. With their father dead he never wanted his sister to lack for the love or attention that he never got from his father while growing up. "Mom, you still haven't told me her name," Genesis remembered saying to his mother. "It's Genevieve. Now I have two precious babies, Genesis and Genevieve. I know you're going to be a wonderful big brother to her. You only got one more year to go so be on your best behavior so you can come on home. We need you, me and Genevieve." "I promise. I won't get in any trouble. I'm going to come home and be the man of the house. Take care of my family. I've been doing real good in the classes I'm taking, so good that I'm actually taking advance courses. One of my teachers said if I continue to make the grades I'm making he'll see about putting me in this special program for gifted students. Nobody here has ever qualified for the program. But he believes I can ace the test and get in." "I'm so proud of you, son. I always knew you were special. I didn't need no teacher or some test to let me know. You're going to grow up to be somebody important. You just wait and see." Teresa stood up and gave Genesis a kiss goodbye. He then kissed his little sister bye and one of the other inmates took a picture of the three of them with Teresa's camera. "I'll send you the picture in the mail so you can hang it up on your wall." "Thanks, Mom. I'll see you next weekend, right?" "Of course, baby. I wouldn't miss seeing you for nothing in the world. I love you." "I love you too, Mama." Genesis smiled as he watched his mother walk out the facility with his sister. It was the last time he would ever see them again during his duration at the juvenile detention. When his mother missed the first weekend he figured the baby must've had gotten sick and she couldn't make it. When he tried to call, no one answered the phone. Then when the second and third weekend passed he began to worry but tried to keep himself busy with schoolwork. After two months with no word he received a letter from his mother: Dear Genesis, I love you very much and always will. I pray for you everyday and will continue to do so. I know its hard being locked away in that place, but you're a soldier and I want you to continue to be strong. Focus on taking care of yourself and don't worry about me and Genevieve. I finally met a good man who wants to take good care of me and your sister The thing is he lives down south so we're going to have to move. So I won't be able to come see you anymore. I know this must be difficult for you to understand, but when you get older you'll see how hard it is to be a single mother raising a child on your own. Good men are hard to come by and I want a better life for me and your sister Stay strong and I can't wait to see you when you get out. Once we getsettledl'll send you a letter with our new address and phone number so you can contact me. I've enclosed that picture we took last time I was there. You look so handsome. I love you, baby. Love Mom That same day, Genesis received another letter saying that he had gotten accepted into the gifted program. But instead of rejoicing, he held the picture of him, his sister and mother in his hand and cried himself to sleep. His mother never did send her new phone number and address, and Genesis never did start the gifted program. Once he realized his mother and sister was gone, he felt all alone and totally shut down. He was no longer motivated to get out so he could be with his family. Instead he began bonding with the other troubled young men in the facility. From that day forward, excelling in school wasn't even a thought. Riding a wave of destruction took center stage.