by King, Deja
The Next Day
The sun began to set creating a rosy backdrop as Quasim stood on an overpass near the beautiful Westminster Palace. The sound of the water flowing was the only noise that could be heard, and the lights from the palace along with the sunset glint illuminated the area. With one hand tucked away in his white linen pants pocket and the other hand holding a freshly lit Cuban cigar, he toked from the wrapped tobacco-filled leaf. Although he didn’t really smoke, lately he had developed a habit for it.
Looking out at the stream, he stared blankly into the watercourse. The night before he had Rude Boy’s corpse thrown into the same river and the authorities had already recovered the body. Quasim felt that his death was worth it in order to save Semaj’s life though, but it left him with unanswered questions. How did he know her? What did she do? Why was he trying to kill her? All sorts of questions ran through his mind, but none of the specifics were answered. Yo, I gotta figure out a way to get to her. I gotta see what the fuck shorty is up to.
Past memories flashed in his mind and old feelings flooded his heart. Quasim hadn’t had a steady companion in his life since Semaj. She had been everything that he needed, wanted and yearned for in a woman. No matter how long it had been since they were one or how much he remembered her betrayal, the strong emotions remained in the depths of his soul. He couldn’t shake her, and ever since he saw her the day before, every time he inhaled he caught a whiff of her natural scent, and each time he shut his eyes he saw her beautiful face. Not being able to get to her broke his heart like the day he learned of her betrayal. And even with all that she had done, he couldn’t help but still love her. His heart would heal fully, and out of nowhere shatter into tiny pieces all over again. It was as if he had mourned the death of their relationship one too many times.
He missed her tremendously and loved her beyond logical reasoning. Semaj had allowed him to love a woman unapologetically and show affection for her like he had done for no other. Although she was far from perfect, he had yet to meet a woman that could
hold a candle to her.
But it would be just too dangerous to reveal himself to her. Yet then again, he didn’t know how much longer he could stay away, especially with her sudden trip to his new hometown.
Quasim took one last pull from the cigar and thumped it into the water before walking to his car. Just as he reached his Benz, a car slowly pulled down the street. He looked at the end of the road and noticed the police cruiser coasting up. As the car came to a stop, he reached for the handle to the passenger side of his car and opened the door. He reached in to retrieve the bulky small manila envelope from the glove compartment. He tossed it onto the police officer’s lap quickly, and just as quick as the squad car pulled up, it disappeared.
Over the years Quasim had saw his ex-mentor wash one hand with the other in this business, and he knew that he too had to be a strategic thinker. He made sure that he let everyone eat, and with the handsome pay he was dishing to local policemen, he was sure to keep them out of his business, and this time be even more successful in the game.
As Quasim leaned up against the front of his hood he felt his phone vibrate on his hip. He looked at the caller ID and noticed that it was his man, Nasah. Nasah was a straight goon, but had a “Rico Suave” look that fooled even the most experienced. Not the rah-rah type, Nasah let his actions speak for him. “’Sup?” Quasim answered.
“Yo, I’m looking at Pelpa’s mother as we speak, my nigga,” Nasah said with the hostility showing in his cockney accent. “Niggas is saying the old bitch is tryin’ to find out everyone involved in her son’s murder and she put some niggas out in the streets to be gunning for whoever.”
“Is that right?” Quasim asked, unfazed. He was well aware that a few feathers would be ruffled behind Pelpa’s death, but to kill two birds with one stone, he knew what had to be done. Taking out Ingrid would eliminate any beef she would bring him, and it would appear as if Quasim was avenging Rude Boy’s murder. “You already know what to do. Handle that,” he told Nasah.
“Handle it like it’s already been taken care of, fam,” Nasah said right before hanging up the phone.
Without saying much, Quasim had ordered the woman’s murder, and he was ready to put all the bullshit behind and take over London’s unclaimed drug market. He didn’t like war and preferred the money, but he had to do what needed to be done.
As he pocketed his cell phone, a black limousine pulled alongside the Mercedes with a sedan behind it. Ox stepped out and nodded his head for Quasim to come and take a walk with him
Quasim slipped his hands inside his Prada pockets and nothing was said as they casually strolled along the boardwalk, and for a minute the men bird watched.
“De weather out here is much different ‘den de weather back home,” Ox said, looking out at the flock of black birds flying.
Quasim remained silent as he waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t he decided to speak. “I know you didn’t call me out here to talk about the different climates. What’s up?” he asked modestly but getting straight to the point.
Ox slightly nodded his head. “Dat’s why me like you. Yuh always ready ta get down ta de solution,” he said still nodding. He wanted to discuss business too, but revenge was the main thing on his mind and he had to make sure that Quasim could handle himself before he left him to run the town. “Me want ta talk ‘bout de market out here fo’ ya, but first me want ta know how are you goin’ ta handle de folk responsible fo’ me son’s death.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. Before you get your flight his mother will be wheeled into the morgue.” Quasim knew Ox wanted an eye for an eye and was already two steps ahead of him, and every move he made now was carefully calculated. He had tried being Mister Nice Guy back in New York, and tried to be fair to niggas, but he had to learn the hard way that no matter how much you try to stay away from the grimy end of the game it was inevitable, and he had to be treacherous and deceitful in order to stay on top of his game.
“De game is yours, me friend.” Ox positioned two fingers to his mouth and whistled. Two dreads emerged from the backseat of the sedan, carrying two large duffle bags and loaded them into the back of the Benz. “Dere is two hundred bricks of raw kilos, and me do business directly with chu from now on. Me son isn’t here ta run dis town so London is yuh territory to supply. Me can’t stay here no longer. Me have problems me need to handle back home and I can’t war with too many people at once,” he said as they began to walk up the boardwalk. “Chu handle ‘dis here and me tend to more intense issues. Me people was slain this morning.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that, fam,” he said.
Ox nodded his head and continued to speak, “Do as you please wit’ dis town, me friend. Twice a month you re-up and de ‘mall plane will always be waiting in de same jet hanger fo’ you wit’ pure product. Me supply, but the turf is yours. Me don’t come back here, but if chu may ever need me help chu know where me at.” Ox patted Quasim’s shoulder and then hopped into the black limousine and pulled away from the riverbank.
Ox had just plugged Quasim directly into the game, and for the first time in a long time he secured a solid heroin connect. Rude Boy’s death had been even more beneficial than he had imagined. He was now the ruling general of London and his kingpin status had just been upped overnight, literally. He was back on like before. Actually, Quasim Santana was back on, and it was better than ever.
Chapter 8
Back in New York City
During the weekend that Semaj was in London discussing the direction of the mafia families with the dons, Vega was having meetings with his top lieutenants in Baltimore, plotting and forming a plan. He played the supportive husband well, but his only reason was because he knew once his wife was above all he would too, assume high position. The dope game was a job for a man. A woman’s place was by her man’s side, not in front of him, and although Semaj was gangsta, to him, she wasn’t gangsta enough. Her role was supposed to be his quee
n, but the responsibilities of the Milano family drug business would sure enough make her queenpin. Vega wasn’t having it though, and knew it would only be a matter of time before he became king and Semaj would be on his arm like a bad bitch was supposed to.
Vega and his little man, Micah, was parked a block away from the mortuary and watched as Dominican henchmen posed as drivers transporting dead bodies to funeral homes. To onlookers it appeared as if they were engaging in legal activity, but Vega already knew what was up and the bodies being loaded onto the back of the hearses were filled with drugs.
“You see that? I bet you she about to fill those briefcases up with a couple milli, fam,” Vega said, referring to Jah-Jah who climbed out of the back of a Cadillac Escalade and arrogantly strolled through the steel doors. They watched as two bodyguards waited for her outside of the truck.
“Man, if that bitch walking out with a million, nigga, I’m robbing that bitch. Bottom line,” Micah said. “Since they moving money like that on a daily you need to quit playing my nigga and put us on getting some of this Dominican money. You’re in the family now. Fuck we ain’t moving more bricks? I say, murk Gio and Semaj a be so shook over his death she’d practically force the crown on your head.”
Vega shook his head. “It ain’t that easy to air out a nigga like Gio, fam. The nigga ain’t expendable, like most mu’fuckas. He ain’t an average mark. It’s hard to get close to him and when you are close it’s about twelve men watching his every move and them Dominicans ain’t gon’ play, feel me?” he schooled.
“No doubt.”
“I hope you prepared for this shit though, Micah. Money flows like water for this family and they got a crazy coke connect. That’s why Semaj out of the country now. To meet the dons and discuss drug business with the cartel families. She gon’ be getting birds for seven, eight thousand. Straight from the coca fields.”
“Nigga, you bullshitting!” he exclaimed. “Seven racks?”
Vega remained silent.
“Yo, nigga you really are serious,” Micah said in disbelief. “Fuckin’ shit nigga. I’m tired of waiting. I know you gotta be, big homie.”
Vega nodded as he continued to watch the private mortuary and then focused his attention on the transport vehicles as they took leave one at a time. He knew each vehicle was filled with bricks and all sorts of devious set-ups filled his mind.
“You can’t just jump into a pool with sharks lil’ nigga, unless you prepared. I gotta make sure all of my bases are covered before I double-cross the mob legend,” Vega explained. “What I got in store for this nigga, believe me, baby, death ain’t a part of the plan.” He smiled and started his car so that he could follow the route of the hearses in an attempt to learn it.
“Over the weekend the body of twelve Jamaicans, eight men and four women were found in a Jamaican Island home, bound, gagged and shot to death execution- styled. Homicide detectives believe that these killings are connected to a chain of murders. From bomb hits to deadly shootings, the Jamaica Constabulary Force is devastated behind these heinous acts that continue to harm Jamaican communities. Recent murders here are believed to be drug- related and crime on Jamaica’s Island hasn’t reached this peak since 1998 and the cause is what authorities believe is the reemergence of a heroin epidemic that has been brought to the island. Stay tuned as we continue to deliver you with the world’s latest news. “
Gio sat behind his cherry oak desk as he leaned back in his executive chair in frustration and began to massage his temple. His head was pounding as exhaustion plagued him and he wanted nothing more than a Tylenol to ease the ache, but figured the cognac would do. He swiveled around and pushed the button on his office counter that prompted a mini-bar to rise from the glass counter. Although he had retaliated against the Jamaicans, Gio didn’t feel the lives he ordered on Ox’s mother and sisters were a fair exchange for the lost his family had taken.
Through all of the range of emotions that filled his chest, the losses, the regrets, Gio’s most prevalent emotion was he ache for Semaj, and the thought of her vulnerability as a woman tugged at his heartstrings.
Gio couldn’t stop thinking about Semaj. The rape attempt in London lingered in his heart for hours and every time he thought about it, it became harder to breath. The Milano Hitters were scheduled to catch a flight to Jamaica for Rude Boy’s funeral proceedings to get at Ox, but there was no way that Gio could wait on them to fulfill their duties in London first. Every since he got word, revenge had been heavy on his heart and retaliation was deeply on his mind, so he sent his personal hit squad out to do the job.
Gio loosened his necktie to open his airways as he continued to think about his granddaughter. It was evident that he was regretting the decision he had made for her to head the family, but knew he had to hold up his end of the bargain and wouldn’t renege on his position. I’ma let Semaj run this family business. But the moment Ifeel she can’t handle it, I’m pulling my granddaughter out for good, he thought. I wouldn’t give a damn who ran it at this point.
Jah-Jah sat directly across from Gio going over documents, but was unable to focus on the paperwork. Gio never put his emotions on display and from what she’d seen over the years the only person that had been able to bring that out of him was Semaj, and from the worry in his scrunched brows and the bags beneath his eyes, Jah-Jah could tell he was stressing. Hearing the many stories about the special connection he had with Kasey, Jah-Jah assumed that the reason he was overprotective over Semaj had a lot to do with her mother’s demise and his failure as a father to always protect her. Like Kasey had been back then, Semaj was his only weakness.
“Gio? You cool?” Jah-Jah asked with deep concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just have something on my mind, dear,” he replied, his usual hard exterior broken. He cleared his dry throat. “How’s everything coming along? Is the money right?”
“The money is always right with me in charge,” she flashed her infamous smile to brighten up his mood. Jah-Jah could bring light to darkness with her smile but Gio was one of the few that knew it could turn deadly with her very quickly. “But that’s not what’s really on your mind. I know you’re concerned about Semaj.”
“She’s my granddaughter and she’s been through a lot, so of course I’m concerned.”
“You’re right, Semaj has been through a lot and she’s been handling it all with such grace. Too bad I can’t say the same for her husband. What’s up with, Vega?” Jah-Jah questioned wanting to know if Gio shared her concerns. “I ain’t ever told Semaj, but it’s something about homie I don’t like. You can tell he wants to be king and not play his position, definitely not a team player. I don’t trust the way he move.”
Gio nodded slightly, admiring Jah-Jah’s boldness. She reminded him a lot of his nieces, except she had charm. He remembered when Bonjo had first gotten with her and at first glance he gave her a nod of approval and every since she’d been a part of their family. She was a female, but moved like a witty nigga and outsmarted some of the most brilliant hustlers. She has never been afraid to speak what’s on her mind.
“I’ve noticed how he moves too and I don’t like it either,” Gio admitted. “I never liked him and I hope that we’d never have to cross fire lines for the sake of Semaj. I’ll never want to bring pain to my grandchild, but if I ever even sniff funny business coming from him I would murder Vega without hesitation,” he stated coldly. “I was willing to give him a chance, because I know their story, the history they share, and what he did to save my granddaughter. For that reason only is why I’ve accepted him and allowed him into my family. Do you have some street connections in Baltimore still?”
“Gotta ‘em in the streets all day long,” Jah-Jah replied.
“Keep lacing their pockets. I need your sources to stay on top of things with Vega. I haven’t fallen in this game from foolishness and I won’t let another man become my family’s downfall. I will kill all before I allow that to happen.”
Jah-Jah nodded in agre
ement and retrieved her vibrating cell phone from her purse. She smiled when she saw Semaj’s name pop up on the screen, and got confirmation that Semaj was landing once she opened the text message. She was back in town and the Family was about to step into a new phase in the dope game.
“That was Semaj, Gio.” Jah-Jah said and stood to her feet. “The jet will be landing in thirty minutes. Me and Bonjo finna
head over to the hospital. Maj said she gonna meet us there.”
“Who is meeting her at the private airport?” Gio asked with concern.
“Vega and many of your men are already on ground waiting on her to arrive,” she explained. “I’ma make sure to let her know that she needs to come see you once we leave the hospital.” Gio nodded as Jah-Jah began to get her papers situated and placed them neatly inside her briefcase before leaving and slipping into the backseat of the car, where Bonjo sat waiting.
Remy Ma’s “Secret Location” bumped softly out of the factory speakers as Semaj stepped out of the back of the town car and looked up at the beautiful architect of the private hospital. “Thank you, baby,” she told her husband, who held her hand, helping her out of the car. She had just touched down in New York City and even with the bullshit in London and no sleep, Semaj was anxious to jump into the action of these very streets too, the city made her feel at ease.
Bonjo and Jah-Jah emerged from the back of the vehicle after awaiting Semaj’s arrival. Look at them, Semaj thought with a smile. A sense of relief instantly washed over her when she saw her uncle’s face. For some reason the men in her family made her feel protected while the girls made her feel safe, but with all parties around her, Semaj felt strongly secure and confident. Bonjo was genuinely happy to see Semaj, and knew that they were getting back to the business, but this time under Semaj’s reign.
The helicopter that descended upon the hospital’s roof landing pad grasped their attention and Semaj squinted her eyes. To onlookers it appeared as a usual medical care flight had arrived with a sick passenger, but instead of an ill patient being unloaded, a vast delivery of pure cocaine was on its way to align for distribution. On ground, the four of them knew exactly what was up continuing their stride and