The Purple Don

by Solomon

  Content that he had made his point, the Prosecutor sat down and Rollins approached the witness stand.

  “Mr. Latrell, you said that your friends call you Marty. Can I call you Marty?” Rollins smirked.

  “No,” Marty snapped with an attitude.

  Rollins turned to the jury, chuckled and said, “Hostile witness,” then turned back to Marty.

  “Then, Mr. Latrell, let me ask you about any other dealings you had with my client, Joseph Diamanti.”

  “Totally irrelevant,” Marty sniffed.

  “On the contrary, Mr. Latrell. I think it is very relevant that when you first met my client, you tried to seduce him,” Rollins remarked.

  “Seduce him?” Marty echoed indignantly. “He seduced me! I was the victim!”

  “Just like you were the victim in the assault you alleged to the LAPD.”

  “Exactly.”

  “An assault you presented to the jury out of context, as if it were in fact my client.”

  “It was your client!”

  “But that isn’t what you told the LAPD is it, Mr. Latrell?”

  Marty rolled his eyes, but didn’t respond.

  “That was a question, Mr. Latrell.”

  “No,” Marty mumbled.

  “Excuse me?”

  “No,” Marty blazed, stabbing Rollins with the daggers in his eyes.

  “You told them it was just a lovers’ spat, but you wouldn’t tell them who this mystery lover was, did you, Mr. Latrell? You did not tell them that the mystery lover was in fact my client, Mr. Diamanti,” Rollins accused.

  “At the time, Joey hadn’t come out, so he said he would kill me.”

  “But yet you continued the relationship until Mr. Diamanti broke off the relationship, is that not correct?”

  “So?” Marty spat, crossing his arms defensively.

  “And how did you feel about Mr. Diamanti when he dropped you?” Rollins questioned, purposely trying to provoke Marty.

  Marty looked across the room, directly at Joey.

  “I felt he was heartless and cruel, and I hope they throw away the key!”

  “Just for being heartless and cruel?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  Rollins looked at the jury to gauge their reaction to the last response then said, “No more questions, Your Honor.”

  Rollins wasn’t even back to his seat before the Prosecutor sprung to his feet. His gamble had backfired. He knew about the fact that Joey and Marty had a relationship, but Marty had assured him that he harbored no ill will and just wanted to do the right thing. But Rollins had expertly pulled Marty’s heartstrings and made him play a tune that sounded like one of a jealous ex-lover.

  “Permission to re-direct, Your Honor.”

  “Granted.”

  He quickly approached Marty. Marty’s look said he knew he had fucked up, but the Prosecutor disregarded it.

  “Despite how you may’ve felt about Mr. Diamanti personally, did that in any way cause you to misstate the facts of the case as you know them to be?”

  “Absolutely not,” Marty said confidently. “When I said he was heartless and cruel, I meant as a human being, not just to me. Joey Diamanti is a coldblooded murderer, and when he came to L.A., he turned the city crimson with the bloodbath he unleashed!”

  June 1990

  The Jungle. South Central. Blood control.

  The apartment building at the end of the dead-end street is made like a small fortress: one-way in and one-way out. The apartments are built in a square around a common courtyard. One breezeway leads from the street to the inner sanctum of the courtyard. Once inside, anything can happen.

  This is where Bianca was born and raised, and where she took Joey to meet her cousin Bone, a true OG in the Jungle. They pulled up in a brand new black Jaguar that Joey bought as soon as he hit L.A. He brought Te Amo and Enrico along for the trip.

  “Listen,” Bianca warned before they got out of the car. “My family’s crazy. They don’t play no games. But if they wit’ you, nothin’ in L.A. can touch you.”

  “Sounds like my kind of people,” Joey replied.

  When they got out, all eyes were on them: stone-faced, and it seemed like everybody had on something red, even the old folks. Seeing unfamiliar White faces in the hood usually either means one of two things: police or dope fiends. They didn’t like either, so slowly the soldiers took position until someone said, “I know that ain’t Bianca!”

  “Who you think it is, Blood? What’s up!” she rang out, stepping out onto the street.

  The stone faces cracked into smiles and laughter, as several people—males and females—hugged her and exchanged the Blood handshake.

  “Girl, I ain’t seen you since forever! Where you been?” one girl in a red bandana asked.

  “Everywhere,” Bianca chuckled.

  Many more greeted her before she was able to ask, “Where Bone?”

  “In the spot! You already know.”

  “Come on, it’s time to meet Bone.”

  She led them through the breezeway, only to emerge into another celebration.

  “Yo Bianca, what up?”

  “We up, fool!” she hollered back, making elaborate hand gestures.

  Everywhere Joey looked, he saw young Black men and women in a world of their own, brandishing weapons even some armies didn’t have, brazenly as if they were legal.

  Bianca led them to one of the apartments and knocked. Several seconds later, the door was answered by a beast of a man, bare-chested except for the maze of tattoos that covered his smooth brown skin.

  “Baby Girl!” He growled, scooping Bianca off her feet.

  He looked like a professional bodybuilder, the size of Schwarzenegger, but it was all courtesy of prison weights.

  “Animal, put me the fuck down!” she giggled.

  “Girl, where the fuck you been?” he laughed, happy to see his big sister.

  “I’m about to be on your ass if you don’t put me down,” she demanded, but still laughing.

  He obliged her.

  “When did you get home?” she asked.

  “Like four months ago.”

  “I hope you plannin’ on stayin’ out.”

  “Like they say, plans are made to be broken,” he replied, cracking a sinister grin. He looked at Te Amo and licked his lips. “Damn, sis, who is this?”

  “None of ya B.I. Where Bone at?” she answered.

  “Inside,” he replied, eyeing Te Amo, who smiled and winked. He then looked at Joey and Enrico and scowled.

  “Who the fuck is y’all, the goddamn police?”

  Joey smirked and started to reply, but Bianca barked, “They wit’ me, nigga!”

  They all stepped into the apartment. The L.A. heat died at the door, as the AC on full blast gave them welcomed relief. Showing on the TV was a bootleg copy of Spike Lee’s School Daze. The apartment was cluttered, but extravagantly furnished. In the middle of the room, in a straight back chair sat Bone. He was getting his hair braided by a slim, light skinned chick. Bone was light skinned as well, and his bare chest was covered with tattoos. He was nowhere as big as Animal, which is how he got his name: Bone. He was tall, lanky, and bone skinny, but he was as deadly as a cobra and could strike just as quickly. Despite his laidback style, when he saw Bianca, his face broke out in a big ass smile.

  “What up, Baby Buzzin,” he greeted, substituting “buzzin” for the word “cousin” because he avoided words beginning with a “C.”

  He got up and embraced her warmly. Joey could tell from the tightness of the embrace, and the closeness that this wasn’t friendship or anything else. This was family.

  “Goddamn, you disappeared. How long has it been?” Bone asked, stepping back to look at her.

  “Too long,” she smiled.

  “Fo sho,” Bone agreed, then his eyes fell on the rest of her group. “And who’s this you got in my spot?”

  “These my people, Bone. My girl, Te Amo, that’s Enrico, and this is my man, Joey.�
�

  Bone took Te Amo’s hand, kissed it then said in Spanish, “It’s my pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” she returned.

  Bone looked Enrico up and down, but didn’t extend his hand. When he looked at Joey, he didn’t look him up and down, but he didn’t extend his hand either.

  “Yeah, but ah, names don’t tell me nothin’,” Bone remarked.

  “That depends on what you’re namin’,” Joey shot back smoothly.

  “Which is?”

  “Money. That’s the name of the game, right?”

  Bone smirked.

  “Ay yo, Tonya, raise up; we’ll finish later.”

  Without asking any questions, the girl who was braiding his hair stood up and walked out the door.

  Bone turned, walked over to the lazy boy in the corner, reclined and said, “I’m all ears.”

  “I come from New York,” Joey began, “and if we were in New York, I’d be sitting in that chair. No disrespect, but just so you know.”

  “None taken,” Bone nodded.

  “Thank you. So I say that to say, if I say it, I got the weight to make it happen. Now, Bianca tells me that you’re a good man to know in L.A. if I’m planning to do something big. Which I am. But to pull it off, I’ll need an army. That’s what I’m comin’ to you for,” Joey explained.

  Bone let a few moments pass, as he sat smiling at Joey.

  “An army, huh? An army of killers? You need soldiers, that’s what you askin’ for?” Bone asked.

  “That’s the only thing standing between us and a lot of money,” Joey assured him.

  Bone nodded.

  “Big money. You need soldiers…a whole team of soldiers. You need butlers too? Waiters? Mo’ tea, suh?” Bone chuckled.

  “Man, who the fuck is this White boy?” Bone remarked dismissively, looking at Bianca then Animal.

  “Hey Bone, I meant no disrespect,” Joey assured him, maintaining an unruffled composure.

  “Naw, I know what you meant. See, this ain’t New York. Out here, we the mob,” Bone boasted cockily, surmising Joey’s identity by force of his swagger. “What you wanted was a bunch of hired guns, but see, that ain’t how it works. Animal, what you think?”

  Animal looked Joey up and down, then grabbed his crotch.

  “I think I’m sweet on his pretty ass. I wish we woulda met in San Quentin, I woulda had a gun for him alright,” Animal laughed menacingly, then blew Joey a kiss.

  A slight smirk stayed on Joey’s face, but he flexed his jaw muscles, a subtle sign that he was getting heated, and Te Amo caught it. But out of respect for Bianca, they came unarmed.

  Bianca saw things turning ugly and began regretting the whole trip. There was no question that she would ride for her family if anything went down, but she didn’t think Joey deserved such blatant disrespect. She turned to Bone and remarked, “Bone!”

  “Bianca!” he barked right back, and the boom in his voice silenced her instantly. After grilling her a few extra moments, he turned back to Joey. “I’m sure the White boy can speak for himself. Ain’t that right, White boy? You got a problem with what my homey just said?”

  “Actually, I do,” Joey retorted, without hesitation.

  “So what you wanna do about it?” Bone probed.

  “Kick his ass,” Joey replied intently, all the Brooklyn in his accent in full display.

  Bone and Animal laughed.

  “Nothin’ between y’all but air and opportunity,” Bone remarked.

  “Come on outside, White boy. Come kick my ass,” Animal growled, shoving the door open and stepping out.

  Joey went out behind him, followed closely by Te Amo, Enrico, and Bianca. Bone brought up the rear. Joey definitely hadn’t come to fight, dressed as he was in casual slacks, a silk shirt, and ostrich loafers. He took off his silk shirt as a crowd began to gather.

  “Animal ‘bout to kill this White boy!” some dude exclaimed.

  “Two to one, it’s gonna be two hits: Animal hittin’ him and him hittin’ the fuckin’ ground,” another laughed.

  Joey looked at Animal and sized him up. He looked like a brick wall. Animal leered at him, then got in his stance and headed straight for Joey. Joey got on the defense. Since Animal was so big, Joey expected him to throw big haymakers, so he caught Joey off balance when he snapped a quick right jab. Joey managed to roll with it at the last second. It still staggered him and made Joey realize that, had it made full contact, he’d be unconscious.

  Joey moved around Animal counterclockwise then clockwise before delivering a strong overhand right that landed on Animal’s jaw, but barely turned his head.

  Animal sneered.

  “You hit like a bitch,” he spat.

  But Joey had anticipated that reaction. He had deliberately pulled his punch, wanting the big man to feel overconfident, which he did. Animal moved in to mix it up with him. He landed a flurry of punches that Joey bobbed and weaved to avoid and diminish their impact. Then he hit Animal with a kidney shot that made the big man grunt and grimace.

  “Bitches should be so lucky,” Joey spat back.

  Angry, Animal lunged at him. Joey hit him hard on the chin, but Animal scooped him up and slammed him hard on his back, damn near knocking all the wind out of Joey. Animal sat up on Joey and landed two solid blows before Bone snatched him off Joey. “Naw, homey, shoot from the shoulder; you know the drill,” Bone ordered.

  Joey struggled to his feet, spat out a glob of blood then remarked, “Hey Animal, you hit like that; they should call you Muffin, you big fuck.”

  The crowd couldn’t help but laugh, which angered Animal. He rushed Joey and threw a wild hook that Joey ducked then shot a 6-inch uppercut that staggered the big man. Joey then followed with a hook of his own that connected so solidly that the crowd let out a collective “ooh!”

  Animal shook it off then delivered a two-piece of his own, one to Joey’s midsection and the other to his jaw. Joey landed a jab before backing away, knowing he couldn’t go toe-to-toe with the big man.

  “Naw, fuck that; come on back!” Animal dared.

  “The White boy still standin’!” Joey cracked, playing to the crowd, and it worked. They started laughing.

  Animal moved again, but Bone stepped between them.

  “That’s it,” he declared, because he had seen all that he needed to.

  He stepped up to a winded Joey and smiled.

  “I like you, homey. You got heart. I knew that if Bianca brought you, you had to be a stand-up guy. But I like to know the heart of the men I do business with,” Bone explained then extended his hand. Joey chuckled and shook it.

  “Fair enough,” he replied. Then he looked at Animal, “Hey Animal.”

  Animal looked at him.

  “Fuck Rocky, I’m the Italian Stallion!”

  Animal smirked then laughed and shook Joey’s hand.

  The Pulse was the hottest club in L.A. A favorite haunt of A-list movie stars and entertainment moguls, it was a super-exclusive spot with lines around the corner, just the place for Joey to make his L.A. debut. He definitely set out to make an unforgettable first impression. His entourage pulled up in two white, super-stretch limousines, directly in front of the club. The drivers got out and opened the doors. Out of the first limo stepped Enrico, Bone, and Animal, all dressed to impress. But Joey took the cake. He stepped out in regal finery, giving L.A. a taste of the star he was destined to become.

  “Who is that?” one member of the paparazzi said to another.

  “I don’t know, but he’s too beautiful not to be somebody,” the other replied. Then they both began snapping pictures.

  Out of the other limo stepped a bevy of gorgeous women that Joey brought along simply as eye candy. Heads swirled and whispers were loud enough to become comments as Joey and his entourage made their way to the big, muscle-bound guard in the tight black t-shirt that read: Security.

  “Name,” the guard asked, unimpressed by the electricity that Joey’s presence sent through
the crowd.

  “Joey Diamonds, and they’re all with me,” he replied, gesturing to his entourage.

  “Yeah, well you’re not on the list,” the guard informed him, unfazed. Joey held out a small wad of money consisting of ten $100 bills and replied, “I know, but by the time I will be, I’ll run this town and I’ll never forget the guy who gave me my first break in L.A., huh?”

  The guard heard lines like that before, but looking at Joey’s diamond smile and gangster swagger—not to mention the thousand dollars he was offering—made him take the money, slip it into his pocket and say, “Enjoy your evening, Mister…?”

  “Diamonds. Joey Diamonds,” Joey replied with a wink, then led his crew inside.

  Once inside, he scattered the eye candy in four directions, donating them to the decorum of the club while the four of them made their way to a dark booth in the back, Joey’s favorite booth in any club. As they walked, he noticed Te Amo and his team of female killers mingling and working the room, just like he instructed them to do.

  He and Bone slid into the booth, with Enrico and Animal on the wings, as Technotronic’s “Pump Up the Jam” filled the air.

  “So this is the place to be in L.A., huh?” Joey remarked, glancing around, unimpressed.

  “Not for my pedigree, homey,” Bone responded, equally unimpressed. “Who run this scene?” Joey asked.

  “Here in Hollywood, it’s either the Armenians or the Mob. As for the drugs, it’s the Chechnyans.”

  “What the fuck’s a Chechnyan?” Joey questioned.

  Bone shrugged and replied, “An ugly Russian. I don’t know. They all Eastern Europeans.”

  Joey nodded, taking it in. He knew the Mob that Bone referred to was the Piazza family, a weak regime operated at the behest of five families back East, but didn’t even have a seat on the Commission. As long as they didn’t get in the way, he didn’t anticipate a problem with them.

  “You see the dude up there in V.I.P.?” Bone said, calling Joey’s attention with a nod of his head.

  Joey casually glanced up and saw him. He couldn’t really see his features, but he was surrounded by bodyguards and broads; two of which were Maria and Marilyn.