by Corey Bryant
I looked at the picture and studied it for about 60 seconds. Then I handed it back. He must’ve read my mind because he said “I know a lot of us look alike but don’t worry. We’ll make sure you get the right one!” That’s when he pulled out another photo of a special edition Z6 Corvette, two-toned black and red. “His father was upset about his son’s lack of judgment with being flamboyant.” He pulled out another picture and handed it to me. It was an apartment complex. “This is where he lives in Guadalajara.” His father is very slippery, but his son isn’t. Matter of fact, they’re not even suspecting a hit!”
“They’re fairly comfortable now, but his father is still kind of skeptical. Don’t worry… once we go to Mexico we’ll show you and your friend everything!”
“Let me ask you this Renaldo… Why haven’t they been hit?” I asked.
“It’s only a few my father trust for one… And second, your loyalty and ruthlessness won my father’s trust in this type of work. It’s like you’re making your bones with the cartel… We’ll make sure you’re well taken care of! Rich for life!”
I smiled at that not knowing if it was game or what… but fuck it I’m all in!! “Well… when is it going down?” I asked.
“Soon.” Said Renaldo. No later than a day or two from now.” “We’ll take off for Mexico in the next 30 minutes.”
“Antonio, I received the money… that was fast!” Smiled Anita.
“Umma try to be fast all the time!” I said.
“No, don’t rush it if you don’t have to. Take your time. Once ya’ll come back from Mexico I’ll have directions for you to pick up your other vans.”
“Damn! Vans as in plural?” I was thinking to myself. Once me and Anita got through discussing business. We followed Renaldo to a rental car, got in, and pulled off.
Renaldo already had some fake passports, fake ID, and the works. We rented another car in Dallas and followed Renaldo all the way to the border in San Luis, Mexico. Once we made it through the checkpoint we stopped for some gas and knick-knacks and headed on to Benjamin Hill. We left the rentals with some of Renaldo’s family and caught a private plane to Guadalajara. Renaldo had some cars already on deck. We took them to this hotel and checked in.
Renaldo threw a bag of some good exotic weed on the table along with some cigarillos. He pulled out his iPhone and started speaking in Spanish as he walked off.
Me and Chi-Chi proceeded to break down cigarillos rollin up and lighting up! Renaldo came and smoked with us as he was finishing his conversation. “That was our people who has Desendez son under surveillance.” “They’ve learned his predictable movements. Come… let me show you around,” said Renaldo walking to the door.
We got up and followed him out the door. For an hour and a half, Renaldo was showing us the whole city of Guadalajara, along with spots the son of Carlos Desendez frequented. They even had the times that he had classes at the University.
“Give us a full day. Let’s say tomorrow… to put him under our own surveillance to match up with your people’s surveillance… we’ll have him! He’ll be in heaven in 48 hrs.” I said.
“Good, good.” Said Renaldo.
The next day me and Chi-Chi were up early sitting outside of Carlos Jr.'s girlfriend’s apartment. We were going to follow him all day and night to map out a nice spot to knap or whack him. We had already ridden to a desolate area in the desert outside of Tiaque Paque and dug a shallow grave. We were concealed by the tint on the windows of the old white Tahoe we were driving. We were strapped up with 2 AR 15’s, a taser, a .45, and a .44 Bulldog. The taser was for kidnapping purposes. If we get close enough, hit him with the taser, nap him quickly and take him to his grave. We sat there 2 ½ hours before he came out as scheduled.
We followed him to the college where he practically hung out all day. We trailed him later that evening to a couple of his hangouts, including this bar which was the perfect spot to snatch him and that’s what we did.
Fuck the next day! Carlos Jr. pulled up to his favorite bar and stopped in a dark spot. Me and Chi-Chi pulled right up next to him in the parking lot. Could’ve shot him right there and left him in the Vette but, my potna Garcia wanted it to be a heartfelt message to his ex-partner.
As soon as we pulled up, Carlos Jr. was exiting his whip and we were too. He was kind of startled by the sudden opening of the doors to the Tahoe, but being the careless person he is, he ignored us, and that’s when Chi-Chi hit him with the taser! Enough to knock him to the ground. Once he hit the ground, I was all over him cuffing him like the police, snatching him up and throwing him in the back seat of the Tahoe.
Before he could mumble a word, I knocked him out with the .44 Bulldog. At that time Chi-Chi was pulling off and I was in the back seat going through his pockets with the gloves on. This fool wasn’t even strapped! He drove to the spot in Tiaque Paque.
“Get yo ass up!” I said as I was slapping him awake, and throwing him out of the truck on his face.
He tried to roll over as he was mumbling in Spanish. “Irre…incredible, unreal, unbelievable.” Said Carlos Jr.
“Oh, it’s real,” I said as I went through his phone trying to find his father’s number.
Garcia was right about learning a little Spanish, cause I would be halfway lost now! Easy find though. It was in his contacts under “Papi”. I took a pic of Carlos Jr. as he stood in front of his own shallow grave with his head bleeding. Crying and asking, “What did I do?” In English.
Right after I sent the picture to Carlos Sr., he answered on the first ring. “Hola!” “I have your moCO’so (brat) and don’t bullshit, I know that you know English mufucka!” A long silence on the other end. “Ay-Amigo ya hear me?” “I know you got the pic I sent you. I’m gonna send you another one after this.” BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM Echoes the .44 Bulldog.
“Nooooooooooo!” Hollered Carlos Sr. through the phone. In agony cause, he knows what just happened. I done shot a video of his son being gunned down. As he fell in the shallow grave, I stood over him and finished him off. “BOOM”. One more shot to the head.
“This is a message… don’t ever show back up to court.” And I hung the phone up. “Cover him up Chi-Chi.” I said as I grabbed a shovel and started covering Carlos Jr. up. On the other end, Carlos Desendez Sr. was in shock. Still holding his phone after hearing the gunshots, after looking at the picture of his son, beat up, standing with his hands behinds his back… Crying!
Finally, he opened the video, which was sent to him from his son’s phone.
“Por-Favor! Por-Favor!” BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM… BOOM BOOM
These were his son’s last words and the pistol going off. He dropped his phone and stood there in a daze. Thinking about the call he got from this Black man, “Don’t ever show back up to court.” Then the gunshots!... He knew what had happened. He was paying dearly for his sins. The crime he committed against one of his best friends, Garcia Abregado. He was standing there still in a daze when his phone rang! Snapping out of his daze he grabbed the phone off the floor and looked at the caller ID. It was from his dead son’s phone.
“Hola,” Said Carlos.
“Hola to you too! Look… We’ll snatch a family member a month to let you know I ain’t playing!”
“Who are you?! Who are you working for?!” Said Carlos.
“Just don’t go to court!!” I said and hung up.
Carlos sat there looking at his phone. He sat down in his Lazyboy and cried like a baby.
I threw the phone in the Big Lake Inocotian along with the .44 Bulldog on the way back to Guadalajara. I called Renaldo from my throw-away phone to let him know the news.
“Hello.” Answered Renaldo.
“It’s done.”
Renaldo paused for a couple of seconds before answering “Already?!... I thought you was going to wait ‘til tomorrow?”
“Change of plans… It was too sweet to pass up! He landed right in my arms. I’m headed back to the hotel. Should be there in 5 minutes.”
�
��I’m on my way!” Said Renaldo.
We got back to the hotel and Renaldo was pulling right in at the same time. We sat down and smoked a couple of cigarillos and told Renaldo what happened. Holding back no details. I had forwarded the photos and video from Carlos Jr.'s phone to my throwaway and shared it with Renaldo.
“Perfect!” Said Renaldo as he handed my phone back to me. We left the hotel that same night and made it to the private airplane. Then we flew back to San Luis and spent the night. Woke up early the next morning and headed back across the border then straight to Dallas, Texas.
Chapter 4
(From Dallas to Atlanta)
Anita was elated about the news, “Gracias Antonio!” said Anita hugging me and kissing me on my cheeks. “Now my husband stands a great chance of getting out!”
“Carlos should’ve got the message Anita.” I said.
“Let’s get back to our other business.” Said Anita. Barely blinking an eye. “For the $150,000 we gave you 10 kilos and another 10 on consignment. Don’t worry about the madiwana. For the work you just put in for us we’re giving you 500 lbs. of popcorn mid and 100 lbs. of cush on co-signment, for $80,000. That’s 3 vehicles headed to Atlanta!”
I couldn’t do nothing but smile! 3 vans of contraband headed to the A! “Can’t do nothing but get rich now.” Is what I’m saying to myself. Let me get this shit straight with Anita. “Okay Anita… question. For the cleanup job you’re paying me 500 lbs. of popcorn?”
“Yes… oh those are yours free of charge. And the cush when you come back.” Said Anita. “Oh yeah… If you’re going to continue doing business with us call this number. If you don’t get an answer, they’ll call you back… a female… give her your code number-name.” That’s when Anita handed me a piece of paper. I opened it up and there it was “I-C Note”. “She will hang up, that’s when you text your order to her like the instructions on the paper.”
I looked at the paper again and that’s when I saw it. Example: For 10 bricks, say “I put 10 stamps on it, on the box.” If you want the popcorn, continue to text, “For $100 shoes. For more “For the $100 shoes, 5 pair” 500 lbs. Then for the exotic say “Louboutins shoes. 1-pair-100 lbs. etc.”
After I read it, I’m like damn, they got this shit by the hundreds!!
“You understand Antonio?” Asked Anita.
“Yeah, I got it locked in my mind.”
“Good!” Said Anita. Anita stepped to me and hugged me one more time. “Once again… Thanks, Antonio. Garcia is very happy! He already has the news. He said he will give you a call in the near future.”
“Okay!” I said.
“You do remember how to get to Cockrell Hill?” Asked Anita.
“Yes,” I said.
“That’s where you’ll be driving that too,” said Anita pointing at a brand new black 2021 Range Rover.
“Okay… what you want me to leave there and switch up or something?” I asked Anita. She smiled. “No, that’s another gift from my husband!” I’m like “Whoa, Whoa… I mean. I appreciate it… but.”
“No, no take it. It’s yours!” said Anita.
I had almost forgotten that when these types of people give you a gift and you don’t take it. They look at that situation as if you’re dissing them. “Okay Anita, I’ll take it. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t worry about it… we own a couple of dealerships.” Smiled Anita.
These folks, mega-rich, and I’m trippin! The keys were already in the ignition. Me and Chi-Chi jumped in the truck and headed out to the hotel to get our belongings. We left the hotel in 5 minutes flat and drove over to Cockrell Hill. Just like Anita said there were 3 vehicles waiting. A minivan, Suburban, and Yukon Denali. They were up on a big wrecker truck and 2 Mexican men were driving the truck with nothing more than a nod of their heads in greeting. We were off to the races to Interstate 20 with no problem. We made it back to Atlanta with the vehicles unloaded at another spot.
Once we put all the workup. I took Chi-Chi home and went home to my new spot. A condo downtown and laid down trying to go to sleep. But doing numbers in my head was keeping me awake staring at the ceiling.
Chapter 5
(Laying down the foundation)
After 2 hrs. of lying there tossing and turning and anticipating. I finally fell asleep… dreaming like a mufucka! 18 wheelers full of cocaine, weed, heroin and all type of drugs was getting unloaded by me, Chi-Chi, couple of more niggaz and some Mexicans. Then suddenly all kinds of lights, sirens, and flash bombs were going off. That’s when I jumped out of my sleep.
“Shit!” I said, wiping sweat off of my face. Federal nightmares! Fucking anxiety or something got me in a state of, insomnia. I got up, fixed myself a Ciroc on the rocks, rolled a blunt of cush and flipped on the TV. It was on a video station and they were playing some of the old Jeezy.
“Cauze um a Rida! (Yeaaah!) Um, a sole survivor!” It seemed as if the song was talking to me!
I was in a slight trance from the weed and alcohol, but more so from what I got myself involved in! This was some deep shit! I mean… I grew up in the game and left the streets somewhat deep in the game on a smaller scale. Now I’m plug-life, knee-deep in the game, and when it’s time to re-up. I’m knee-deep in the caine! Like the song is talking to the depths of my soul! I done lost so many niggaz to this game. Family members and all! So, I should really be squared up with a job! But, in my world to be squared up means to be broke or barely getting by. It means to be ordinary and that’s hard to be when you’ve never been an ordinary nigga! To be out of the trenches makes you hungry! Makes me so obsessed with this money-making that there’s nothing I really fear! My ambition is to be boss!
“You ain’t never seen Dem pies, talking so much white it can hurt yo eyes.” (Yeah!) I really lived it man,” the Jeezy is on blast on my surround sounds as I get up to take a shower. Since I’m up and in a zone, I'm ready to get it!
I’m out early this morning creeping in a rental and peeping the scene because I just left the stash spot. Been fuckin with the work! It is some money on my hustling phone now! Got a couple of Alabama niggaz coming through for the white girl, mid and loud!! I haven’t put any whip on it yet! Selling it just like it is straight-drop cocaine! They can take it and shit on it all they want! Good cocaine going to bring them out! Chi Chi is going to help me with the corporate legal side of the business and right now I’m holding the streets down! I’m going to have to fuck with some street niggaz I know and decipher from there who to make my lieutenants. At least 2 loyal real-ass niggaz who’s hungry and ready to stack some paper on a big level! Someone with the wits and nuts to handle thangz. Niggaz that know how to peep fake, snake niggaz! A hard task!
I had been hollering at a childhood friend from the 4th ward Sonny when I first got the plug and the work. So, I was already working a lil through him back in the days he was on, but at the same time, he had a rep as a young Jackboy. Oh… and love to slang the iron! So, a few people might be scared to do business with him. Nevertheless, he’s still known and relevant on East Blvd and abroad. After serving the Alabama dudes a couple of bricks and pounds I stashed the paper in another empty townhouse then I called Sonny.
“What’s up nigga?” I asked.
“What’s up Bru?!” Said Sonny.
“Where you at?”
“I’m over my baby mama's house!”
“Damn nigga which one?!” I asked. Sonny had plenty of baby mama's.
“I’m over in the Bluff.”
“Okay, I’m coming in your direction! Be there in 10 minutes.”
“Bet!” Said Sonny and hung up.
Once I got over there, I lit me up a blunt from the new weed I had brought from Texas.
“Damn! What the fuck is that?!” asked Lamont, Sonny’s oldest son.
“Here try it,” I said as I passed the blunt. I know he’s going to like it and going want some of it to hustle! Even though in this area the primary product is heroin. I know good weed going to sell everywhere! Sonny’s
son is a hustla like him so I can build some clientele through him. Especially, when I get that Jackie Chan! The heroin!
“So, what’s going on Antonio?!” said Sonny, ready to get down to business.
“Going price still the same?” I asked Sonny. Referring to the prices of the bricks of coke on the streets now.
“Still the same! High as fuck! But I got some people ready to spend on that fire you had!”
“Dats wusup!” “Well, check this out… nigga um da plug from here on out!” Sonny likes this type of talk! He was smiling like Chester the Cheetah, as he cleaned his Mac-90. I briefly filled him in on what’s about to take place as I smoked with his son. Sonny don’t smoke or drink! All he does is drink juices, fuck plenty of women, and get money! “I got something for you too Lamont! But for now, I’m just going to dump some of this same weed we smoking right now on you. Can you handle it?!”
Lamont smirked at the question. “Try me!” said Lamont. I smiled at that cause I can see the hunger in his eyes.
“Okay… give me your number and I’ll get back in touch later today.”
“Bet!” Said Lamont. Then he gave me his number and I called him.
“Lock that in,” I said referring to my number. As me and Lamont were discussing business about the weed and so forth Sonny’s phone vibrated.
“Hello?!” Answered Sonny, as he walked off.
“How much can you handle?” I asked Lamont. “I’m talking in pounds maybe bales!”
“Shit! How much can you give me?!”
I looked into his eyes and studied him a moment before answering him. “I’ll give you a 50 lb. bale… for starters. Can you handle that?”
He smiled. “4-Sho!” said Lamont. “What I’m going to owe you?”
I already knew that the going rate on a pound in the A was $8-900, so I’m about to let him see his self. “Give me 20 racks!!” I can see he was doing the math in his head before he answered.
