Black Rob, Stack Money, Pretty Boy, and Old School were all main players in the organization. They ran dozens of weed houses in various projects in the Bronx. They all had their own crew of workers that reported to them directly. It was the habit however, for the entire management staff to get together once a week and tally up the week’s receipts. They also re-stocked their weed supply for their troops.
“What’s up boss and boss lady, enjoy y’all day off?” Pretty Boy greeted the couple, entering the stash spot.
“No doubt, Pretty Boy. We always do. So how we looking my brothers can we retire yet?” Mike asked, picking up a stack of hundred dollar bills.
“Not yet, boss… But we definitely on that paper chase,” Stack Money exclaimed, counting a pile of dough.
“Rob, why you so quiet, is everything ok?” Laura asked, sensing that the vibes coming from Black Rob wasn’t feeling right.
“Yeah, it’s all good, you know? Just got some shit on my mind. That’s all. We did okay this week, but we could be doing a lot better,” Rob mumbled with a troubled look on his face.
Mike felt the tension and broke the ice when he said, “Well my brothers, I’ve decided to give the entire posse a raise. Even the workers in each of your crews…”
“Hey…” a chorus went up.
“Good looking out, boss. That’s what I’m talking about,” Pretty Boy said with a big grin.
“Yeah, thanks boss. The extra loot will be right on time,” Stack Money said, looking at Black Rob.
“Yo, don’t forget we all have to be out at the big park in Castle Hill early Sunday morning. We have to set up for that carnival. Everyone knows their jobs and responsibilities so let’s make this year real special for the shorties and their families,” Mike said.
Mike, Laura and the Get Money Crew not only ran a lucrative weed business, they were also responsible for funding many organizations. Mike and Laura loved their communities and the residents love them right back. They used their resources rebuilding and renovating parks, community centers and homeless shelters. Their group also sponsored afterschool and weekend youth programs. They also ran a summer sleep away camp. The crew was doing great business and wonderful things for the community, and everything was running smooth like a well oiled machine. But things were about to change.
Chapter 02
“Damn Mike, I can smell that gage in the trunk all through the jeep,” a nervous Laura said from the passenger seat.
“There’s no pleasing some people. You complain about the last shipment of smoke, so then I screamed on Dread about it. Now when I get this high grade weed you beef about the smell. Just sit back and be easy, Laura. We’re almost there,” Mike said.
Laura cautiously glanced out the window for any signs of the police. Mike had made a stop and spoke to his Jamaican connect. They arranged for him to receive a potent shipment of some yard weed to make up for the last batch. Mike phoned ahead to have Black Rob and Pretty Boy meet him downstairs. They could help bring the product up to the stash spot. When the product got upstairs to the apartment, everyone commented on the strong smell.
“The quicker we break down these bales into pounds, the faster we can get them on the street and air out the apartment properly,” advised Laura, setting out the triple beam scales for weighing the weed.
“Old School, this should put everything right back on track with the customers. I hope they appreciate the trouble I went through to get this high grade,” Mike said to Old School while the rest of the crew was bagging up the weed.
“Damn I almost forgot, fam. Some cats setup shop in Monroe under the breezeway. They got a decent size crew, and I hear their smoke is sump’n exotic.”
Hearing what Old School told Mike, Black Rob broke out and said, “Oh hell no! Them niggas got it messed up. Monroe is my set, and I’ll be damned if it’s going down like that.”
Rob pulled his gun from his waist and stared down the barrel. He released the clip and examined it.
“Yo Black, after we finish here let’s roll through Monroe and spit some pebbles at them clowns. Let them know shit’s real in the field,” added Stack Money.
“Hold up Wyatt Earp. There’s no need for gunplay at this point. I’ve been in the game for a while and done seen crews come and go. Unless they’re trying to flood the whole projects, a little competition is good for business. It will add a variety of weed to the area and generate more customers and cash flow,” Mike said to his crew. “Cool heads will prevail,” he smiled.
“Preach that economics shit, you Community College graduate you,” applauded Laura, proud of her man’s logical reasoning.
“Fuck that! No disrespect to you two, but that’s my projects. It’s my paper that’ll be short, not yours. I’m gonna defend mines. Please believe that,” Rob said, heading toward the door. Stack Money was trailing him.
“Easy, Butch and Sundance… Don’t go shooting up Dodge City just yet. Let’s give it a few weeks and see how this whole thing affects our cash flow. Then we can rethink our position,” said Mike.
“Yeah whatever, Mike! You can say what you want. I know what I got to do,” Black Rob said to Mike. He turned to Stacks Money and said, “Come on Stacks we out.” Black Rob started to walk away, but before leaving he turned around said, “Mike, now that you’re paid, it seems like you forgot how to bust your gun. Where did your heart go, player?”
Rob exited the apartment smiling. Everyone there knew that what Rob said was very disrespectful. But Mike let him walk out without any beef. It was true that in his earlier years as a hustler Mike was quick to pick up his burner. Laura was now in his life and with his large stash made him complacent. He was more reluctant to invite violence into his life. The crew looked at each other and bagged up the remaining weed in silence.
“Yo Stacks, turn off the headlights and pull down that side street,” Rob ordered, inserting another clip into his assault weapon. “Y’all think shit don’t stink? Just check this out, niggas!” shouted Black Rob.
They were in the back of Monroe projects. Black Rob and Stacks Money rolled up on a rival drug crew. The unsuspecting hustlers didn’t have a chance as shots rang out under the breezeway. Black Rob’s Tech 9 did the rest of the talking, spitting mad rounds. Stack Money let his shotgun erupted in a violent roar. A few of the rivals got hit and many ran away.
“Yeah cowards, remember Black Rob runs this shit. Stay gone or stay dead!” shouted Black Rob.
“I thought I told you two no gunplay!”
Mike, Black Rob and Stacks Money were inside the stash house. Mike was so livid he couldn’t sit. He was hopping mad and Laura vainly tried to cool him down. The streets had gotten hot after the shooting in Monroe. The rumor mill had it that Mike’s crew was behind the shooting. This caused unwanted friction between Mike and the community leaders. The result was that his weed operation had to be temporarily shut down. He called two of his street lieutenants in for a meeting. He did not make any effort to hide his displeasure.
“Now look what you did. We gotta lay-low and nobody can get paid because of you two knuckleheads,” screamed a furious Mike.
“Hold up Mike, I ain’t gonna be too many more knuckleheads, and what is done is done. This shit will blow over soon and it’s back to business. Only this time we have one less drug crew to worry about,” replied Black Rob.
“Rival crew or not, we’re fuckin’ sizzlin’. Po-po wants the shooters. And we have no fuckin’ dough coming in,” fumed Laura.
“I may have an answer to our cash flow problem. You want to tell ’em ’bout it Stacks?”
“It’s like this y’all,” Stack Money started nervously speaking. He paused before continuing. “Me and Rob ran into this Dominican cat we knew from Rikers Island. And he done blew up big time. Anyway, he told us he would front us some bricks of that powder for a real sweet price.”
“And coke money is way longer than this short weed paper. I figure we could make up our losses in just a few days. It’s time we started getting
major chips like the rest of these crews out here,” added Rob, interrupting Stack Money.
“Yo, you two are buggin’. Do you remember we had this talk at the beginning of our business agreement? When you, Stacks and Pretty Boy joined the crew it was a marijuana crew. That’s how this organization started and that’s how it’s gonna stay. But I’m not on any Nazi dictator shit, so let’s all talk about it. Pretty Boy what do you think?”
“For real Mike, I love selling weed. This is a low-key operation. I ain’t greedy for no long paper. Coke and dope’s what’s poppin’. If we don’t sell it, someone else will. I can go either way on that, player.”
“Fair enough… Old School, holla at your boy,” said Mike to his longtime O.G. friend.
“Mike we family, baby. So your call is my call. I got eight kids. I’d really hate to be the cause of them messin’ with that p-funk, or them jellybeans. So you can keep it strictly smoke for me,” Old School said, smiling and looking at Black Rob.
“I already know where you stand Stacks. If Rob says do it you’re down no questions asked. I don’t need your feedback. Laura, what you think?”
“You’re my man and I’ll stand by you all day. It’s whatever you decide… I’m ridin’ till I die,” said Laura, Mike’s lifelong girlfriend and right-arm assistant.
“I guess we’ll be remaining a marijuana crew. The final decision is mine. I say we stay as is, okay Black Rob?”
“For now player, okay. But before I leave, tell me why you and Laura are so dead set against selling drugs. I never heard of a crew that started off selling smoke and just stayed with smoke. That’s ass backwards if you ask me. I gotta move on with the times, kid. Peace I’m out.”
Black Rob, Stack Money, and Pretty Boy walked out of the stash house. There was a deep divide remaining behind.
“Baby I ain’t trustin’ that Rob right about now. I think we need to keep a very close eye on his shiesty-ass,” a worried Laura said to her man.
“Don’t sweat Black Rob. He’s just uptight because his money is funny and his change is strange,” laughed Old School, interrupting Laura.
Laughter exploded amongst the three close friends and business associates.. They quickly got serious when Old School spoke again.
“Rob has a point, you two stay away from coke and heroin like they acid or some shit like that. Our crew’s about helpin’ the community. I know, a little bit of weed never hurt anyone. I’m with the weed hustlin’ all day. Just that I think it a little strange that you never once dabbled in hard drugs.”
Mike glanced at Laura, then back at Old School before saying, “That’s a personal issue for me and Laura. Please just stick with us and our decisions. You’ve always been my main man.”
“No doubt, boss. Well, I gotta bounce up out here, you two. I have to take one of my sons to his basketball game. Be easy. Don’t sweat nada,” reassured Old School, shaking hands with Mike and embracing Laura.
Alone in the stash house, Mike and Laura sensed things in the organization were about to change. How and when they didn’t know. Nobody in the crew knew why the couple never sold hardcore drugs. The deep rooted reason was that Laura’s mother and Mike’s father were both drug addicts. Laura’s mom died of AIDS. She was infected with a contaminated needle she shared with a dope fiend who was HIV positive.
Mike’s father was a cocaine addict whose heart gave out while on a smoking binge. The two met at a seminar about deadly drugs. The pair fell in love after a couple meetings. They vowed never to use or sell the drugs that killed their parents. This was a way of honoring their dead parents.
Coming out of their separate thoughts, Laura looked into Mike’s eyes and started to cry. Mike held his woman close. Without her speaking he felt what was in her heart. He looked into his woman’s eyes and said, “I know baby, it won’t be much longer, I’m getting tired of all this mess too.”
Chapter 03
The Miami sun burned fiercely on the sand. Mike and Laura were in the midst of enjoying a vacation in South Beach. After the drama with the shootings and the disagreement with Black Rob, Mike decided to take off with Laura. They wanted to unwind and leave all the madness behind.
“Honey you sure know what I need and when I need it. This vacation was right on time, thanks baby,” said Laura, opening two bottles of Heineken.
“You know I love you, right baby?” said Mike, looking deep into Laura’s eyes and taking his beer.
“Yeah I know, sweetheart,” replied Laura.
“When we get back to the city, we’re going to tie up some loose ends and hustle for six months. Then we’re out of the game for good, okay?”
“Mike, are you serious? I’ve waited so long to hear you say that. Hell yeah, that’s okay with me. And with all the drama, it’s right on time,” sang Laura.
They spend one more night in South Beach and the couple headed back to New York. Mike and Laura were met by serious changes within the Get Money Crew.
“Pull over here cabbie,” Mike told the cab driver.
He had hired the driver at the airport to take him and Laura to the Bronx. The cab pulled over at the corner of Castle Hill and Randall Avenues. They saw things that just didn’t look right. Pretty Boy and two of his workers were standing on the corner, Gucci down from head to toe. A customer approached Pretty Boy and handed him a fifty-dollar bill. Instead of handing her the regular, Pretty Boy gave her a clear bag filled with a white milky substance. Mike stared at Laura then rolled down the window.
“Yo Pretty Boy, lemme holla at you real quick,” said Mike.
“What’s up y’all?” said Pretty Boy, sticking his head in the cab window.
“What’s up with you, Pretty Boy? I know I just didn’t see what I thought I saw…?”
“Ah hem… Ah…the bosses are back and looking tan and healthy…” said Pretty Boy, struggling for an answer.
“What da—”
“What the fuck did you give that woman?” hollered Mike, cutting off Laura before she could ask the same question.
“Mike, be easy, player. Black Rob said he was trying out something new in your absence. And player it’s off the chain. In the two weeks that you’ve been away, we’ve been getting paid in full. I bought a ride, new gear, and even hit my crew off with extra loot. Mike, Black Rob was right. We should’ve been selling coke and dope all along.”
Mike was too furious to respond. He stared blankly at Laura and she said what he was thinking.
“Pretty Boy, meet us at the house in an hour. We need to discuss a few things,” Laura instructed Pretty Boy with a pleasant attitude. “Contact Black Rob and Stack Money, we’re gonna swing by Old School and pick him up, okay?”
“Sure, sure boss lady, it’s done. See you in an hour.”
Walking away from the cab, Pretty Boy strolled over to his new Nissan Maxima and jumped in. He drove off.
“Damn honey! What’ve these niggas done?” inquired Laura, grabbing her head as if it hurt. She looked at Mike. “Let’s just go snatch up Old School and see what the deal is.”
“I told ’em fuckas, they were fuckin’ crazy to flip the script like that while you were on vacation. Rob and Stacks just laughed and kept on doing their thing. Mike, they flooded four different projects with dope and coke. There’s been a couple of shootouts with rival crews. And what’s worse, they’re still claiming they down with Get Money. So now this looks like it’s your doing,” explained Old School.
He ran down everything that had been going on during Mike and Laura’s absence. Mike was about to make a comment when the door to the apartment opened. In walked Black Rob, Stack Money and Pretty Boy. All three decked out in expensive gear and crazy iced-out jewelry. Rob walked into the living room, showing off his grill of gold teeth.
“Hey boss and boss lady, what’s shaking? I hope you enjoyed your vacation. I know you can see we’ve made some minor changes.”
“Yeah Rob, I saw some of your changes up in Castle Hill. Old School’s been filling me in on the rest,” repl
ied Mike, trying to keep his composure.
“School didn’t agree with our changes, and he decided to stick to his tired old weed hustle. That’s cool, but the rest of us had to step our game up a bit,” said Black Rob, screwing up his face at Old School.
“Yeah, well School is loyal to the end. So what he did doesn’t surprise me. But you cats done lost your damn minds. I told you to lay-low until we get back. Then five-Oh would’ve eased up the pressure. What do you do? You open up a fucking drug store. Alright, listen here Black Rob since you started this madness, I want you to fuckin’ clean up the shit. Take all that shit off my streets and resume normal operations. Or you can find yourself another crew to run with,” warned Mike.
“Oh you got jokes? Sorry big dog, but the wheels already in motion. There’s too much paper at stake to back out now. Things will remain the way they are. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do better than just leave this sorry ass crew. I’ll start my own drug cartel… These fuckin’ streets will be mine!”
“Your greed is gonna be your downfall, Rob. Believe that,” warned Laura.
Ignoring her Rob continued, “It’s been real, Mike. But me and the crew have to roll. We got real shit to handle.”
Black Rob, Stack Money and Pretty Boy exited the apartment with wide grins on their faces.
“If he thinks he’s gonna keep pushing that death in our hood, he’s crazy,” said Mike. Laura and Old School looked at him shaking their heads. “School, we gonna drop Laura off then roll on the blocks and set shit straight. We’ll try and do it without any gunplay.”
“Mike, these cats ain’t gangsters, but when all this money is at stake, cats ain’t playin’ around either. They’ve tasted real cash and they’re not just gonna give that up without a fight. Now Mike, I know how you feel about drama. So let me go to Bed-sty and round up my old hit squad to roll with us in case there’s any resistance,” pleaded Old School.
“Not just yet, Dillinger. Let’s try it my way first. We’ll go into the projects and take as much of that garbage out of the hood as possible. Then we’ll wait and see whether Rob wants to go to war, or have a sit down, and negotiate the alternatives.”
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