A Favor for a Favor

by J-Blunt

  “So, how hot is you? How much they know?” Lucci asked.

  “They wasn’t on me. They want Big Papi. They know I’m a buyer. They want the big man.”

  “What that mean? They gon’ drop yo’ case? Since when the feds start givin’ niggas bail?”

  “They gotta give bail, nigga. Plus, I got a lawyer. I told you niggas to put up some money for a lawyer.”

  “So, what it look like?” Artie asked.

  “I’m fucked. I got caught wit’ twenty sparrows.”

  “You wanna fall back and lay low for a minute?”

  C-Note paused, deep in thought. “Hell nah. I might be on my way back in. I gotta run it up and put some shit in order. We gotta turn it up and go harder.”

  Chapter 10

  Two weeks later

  Queenie rode Pop Somethin’ reverse cowgirl, her face to the sky, head leaning backward. Pop held two handfuls of her dreads, tugging lightly. He matched her freak level in every way. He knew when to pull her hair, when to slap her ass, and when to choke her. The harder she rode him, the harder he pulled her hair. She could feel his body tensing up and knew he was about to bust. She had already gotten hers and was waiting for him to get his.

  “Awe, shit! Damn, girl!” Pop groaned, filling her pussy with his seed.

  Queenie slowed down, eventually coming to a stop. She spun to face him, keeping his dick inside as she leaned down for a kiss. “Damn, nigga. I think you got me dick-whipped. I ain’t neva loved fuckin’ a nigga as much as I love fuckin’ you.”

  “That’s ‘cause you ain’t neva met a nigga like me before.”

  “Preach, baby,” she laughed. “So, what you doin’ today? What’s up wit’ C-Note??

  “I don’t know. He been focused on the strip club openin’. I told him to take a step back. Them feds don’t fuck around.”

  “Do you think he can beat the case?”

  “Nah. Once them feds get you, it’s a wrap. His best bet is to run it up out here and get his money right before he go in. He prolly finna be gone for a minute, unless he snitch and get a good deal.”

  “You think he will?”

  “I can’t say. I met the nigga while we was on lock. Niggas was extortin’ him. He put me on for keepin’ niggas off his ass. Based on that, he got a li’l bitch in him. But I don’t know if it’s enough to say he gon’ snitch.”

  “I don’t like it, Pop. I think we should make plans to leave. It sound like he done. Ain’t no sense in us sinkin’ wit’ the ship.”

  Pop Somethin’ became lost in his thoughts for a few moments. “I was thinkin’ the same thing. The money is just so sweet that I didn’t want to walk away. Ain’t nobody never gave me fifty Gs to whack niggas. I did that shit for free. And I don’t got a plan B.”

  “Well, what else do you want to do? What did you dream about while you was locked up?”

  Pop smiled. “I always wanted to go back home.”

  “Back to Houston?”

  “Nah, Jamaica. The island. I was born there.”

  Queenie was surprised. “For real? You Jamaican?”

  “Yeah. Moms sent me to Houston after my pops died. I was six. They was havin’ a big-ass war and she didn’t want me to get caught up in it like my pops did. When I was locked up, I used to dream about goin’ home wit’ a million dollars, open up a hotel for tourists.”

  “Ooh! I never been to Jamaica. What is it like?”

  “Some places is fucked up, but some is beautiful. My pops used to take me to this spot on the island called Eden. It had clear blue waterfalls. The grass and trees was so green and tall. The way the sunlight hit the clear blue water looked like some shit you see on postcards or vacation ads. I want to build my hotel on that spot. Not one of them big-ass chain hotels like the Hilton. Somethin’ small. Call it Eden’s Inn.”

  “Damn, Pop. That shit sound amazing. I think you should do it.”

  “For real?”

  “Hell yeah! I can see us on them beaches, fuckin’ outside under the waterfall at Eden. My pussy gettin wet just thinkin’ about it.”

  Pop Somethin’ stared at her. “You would move to Jamaica wit’ me? Just like that?”

  “Yeah, you my nigga. I’m all the way down wit chu.”

  “What about yo’ sister? What would the rest of yo’ family say?”

  “My sister the only family that matters, and she would be down to come, too.”

  Pop stared at her again. “A’ight. Fuck it. Let’s do it. We chasin’ a mil, baby.”

  “Damn, Pop! A million dollars. That shit gon’ change our lives,” Queenie said, blown away by thoughts of a million dollars and moving to Jamaica.

  Pop’ interrupted her thoughts. “What about you? What you dream of?”

  She blushed and looked away. “Mine is stupid. I want to help you pursue yours.”

  “Stop playin’, gurl. Tell me.”

  She took a moment to gather her courage. “Ever since I was little I wanted to get married and have a lot of kids and raise them and love ‘em how they s’posed to be loved. Give them a good life like you see on TV. Momma and daddy in love, takin’ kids to basketball and cheerleading practice, doin’ family stuffs.”

  Pop laughed. “You serious? Damn. I wasn’t expectin’ that.”

  “I told you it was stupid.”

  “Nah, Queenie. It ain’t stupid, I just wasn’t expectin’ you to say it. You don’t seem like the motherly type. I remember what you was sayin’ at Shanice house, but I thought you was just sayin’ that in that moment. Where is all of this comin’ from?”

  She rolled off him and lay in bed. “I really don’t wanna talk about it right now. Why don’t we keep talkin’ ‘bout Jamaica and gettin’ a mil?”

  “’Cause I wanna know about you. Tell me.”

  Queenie’s eyes found a spot on the wall that caught her attention. Then she opened up. “It was just me and Princess growin’ up. Our daddy wasn’t shit. He used to beat my momma ass and cheat on her. When we got older, we found out my momma was just his side bitch. The nigga had a whole other family on the other side of town. Married wit’ kids. We grew up starvin’ for attention from this nigga and he didn’t give a fuck about us. Then my momma met this nigga, Chauncey. We thought he was gon’ be our daddy, but when puberty hit, the nigga got touchy-feely. We told momma, but she didn’t believe us until he raped Princess. But she blamed us. Said we was fast. Didn’t even call the police. Chauncey was eventually fuckin’ all three of us. When we turned sixteen, me and Princess found out about strip clubs. Been in the club ever since. That’s why I want to have my own family, to give my kids the love, support, and stability I never had.”

  Pop was blown away. “Damn, baby. That shit was deep as fuck. Niggas ain’t shit. Where that pussy-nigga Chauncey at? I wanna put his bitch-ass in the dirt.”

  “I don’t know. I ain’t seen him since we left home. Him and my momma stopped fuckin’ around a long time ago. But if I ever see him, I’ma dead his ass.”

  Silence filled the room as the couple became consumed by their individual thoughts. Queenie eventually broke it. “Pop, you the realest nigga I ever met. I never told nobody about my childhood. I feel safe with you. You bring out things in me I never knew existed.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

  Queenie shifted. “Like murda. When I killed that bitch, I felt so powerful. Like a god. Like I could do anything. Sometimes I dream about killin’ people. It gets my pussy wet. Am I crazy?”

  “Nah, baby, you ain’t crazy. You certified. I know exactly how you feel. Havin’ power over who live or die get me geeked up, too. Shit, seein’ some new pistols get my dick hard,” Pop Somethin’ laughed.

  Queenie laughed with him. “Damn, Pop. What we gon’ do?”

  “Chase this mil, baby. And if anybody get in our way, we gon’ push they shit back.”

  ***

  C-Note sat in the VIP section, staring out over the strip club. He was at Bonita’s, a Latin strip club he had been frequenting as
of late. It was a typical Friday night. Strippers walked around half-naked, shaking ass and picking up money. Normally C-Note’s section would be filled with dancers and a good time would be had by all, but not today. The only person in the room this evening was Pop Somethin’.

  “So, what’s the move? Now that the feds up yo’ ass, how much longer you finna do this shit?”

  C-Note took a drink from the glass of Hennessey he had been nursing. “I gotta run it up until I get my day in court, bruh. I ain’t got no choice. Feds is for real. I just wanna put shit in order before I go in.”

  “That’s what I figured. So, what you want me to do? You know I expected shit to be different. I didn’t make too many plans ‘cause I was all in wit’ chu. But now you in a jam.”

  “Just fuck wit’ me ‘til I go in. Ain’t shit changed. Whatever you need, you got it.”

  “I’m makin’ my own plans. I need to make my money grow fast. I wanna check a mil and move to Jamaica.”

  “What? Jamaica?”

  “Yeah. Me and Queenie was talkin’ the other night, and I wanna go back home and open up a hotel.”

  “You Jamaican? Where yo’ accent at, nigga?”

  “I don’t got one. I been in Texas since I was six.”

  “Okay. I hear you, bruh. A mil, huh? You know I ain’t seein’ it like that, right? I just took a hundred thou hit.”

  “I know, but I got a li’l stash. I don’t know too much about the hustle game, but if you finna stay in the game, I wanna invest in you. I got a hunnit Gs. What kinda return can I get of that?”

  C-Note smiled. “Look at chu, nigga, soundin’ like a businessman,” he laughed. “But seriously, bruh, a hustla only as good as his connect. Big Poppi ain’t gon’ fuck wit’ me now I’m fightin’ this fed case. I need a new plug, and ABLE Team ain’t fuckin’ wit’ us, either. They some bitches. Our only other option is right there.”

  Ray Gonzales, AKA Gonzo, was the second biggest cocaine distributer in Texas. The Mexican was short and stocky, face clean shaven except for a big-ass mustache. He didn’t wear gaudy jewelry like most American drug dealers. He stayed true to his Mexican roots: a sombrero, an expensive dress shirt, fitted jeans, and a pair of hand-sown boots. He was sitting at a table in the middle of the club. Surrounding him and his men were twelve dancers. Stacks of money sat on the table, and the women were hanging around like vultures, trying to get some of the cash. At different spots in the club were Gonzo’s security. They moved like the Secret Service, watching everything and everyone.

  “Who is he?” Pop asked.

  “Gonzo. Nigga like a God to Mexicans. They say he got dope by the tons from Mexico. His plug was El Chapo.”

  Pop’s eyes bugged. “You bullshittin’?”

  “Nah. That’s what the streets say. If we can find a way to plug wit’ him, shit, I won’t even turn myself into the feds. I’ll move to Mexico.”

  “But if he plugged wit’ El Chapo, he won’t fuck wit’ us. Our money ain’t long enough. A hunnit Gs ain’t shit to him. Only way to plug wit’ a nigga like him is if somebody vouch for us.”

  “I know, but it’s a way in, though. I been watchin’ this nigga for a couple weeks. He come here all the time. The bitch on his lap and the one behind him is his main freaks.”

  Pop Somethin’ eyed the strippers. They looked good enough to be in movies. “Yeah. They bad.”

  “They also about to set him up.”

  Pop cut his eyes at C-Note. “What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?”

  “Gonzo had most of these hos’ family killed. Happened, like, twenty years ago. He don’t even know who they is. He also left they brotha alive, Demon. He right there, by the bar.”

  A tall, skinny Mexican stood by the bar, sipping a drink and inconspicuously watching Gonzo. Most of the people in the club watched the baller, but the way Demon watched him was different. He had an issue.

  “How the fuck you know all this shit?” Pop asked.

  “I did my homework. I think it’s goin’ down when Gonzo an’ ‘em get in the parking lot. They can’t do shit in this club because of the camera and security. Plus, Gonzo got bulletproof cars. They gotta get to him before he get to the cars in the lot. I think it’s goin’ down tonight.”

  Pop studied C-Note’s face as all the information settled in his mind. “What the fuck you trynna get me in?”

  “We in the right place at the right time. We keep our heads down ‘til the hit, then we help Gonzo get them niggas off his ass.”

  “Look at chu, playin’ chess wit’ niggas’ lives,” Pop laughed. “That’s a good move. But I got a better one. Let’s dip to the parking lot right now and wait for the hit. Gonzo got trained security. Demon and his niggas is probably amateurs. They gon’ die. We gotta come from behind and help them get Gonzo security outta the way. Then, right before they get to Gonzo, turn around and dump on Demon and his niggas.”

  A smile as big as the sun spread across C-Note’s face. “Damn, nigga. If you’da signed up for the army, you coulda been a war general.”

  ***

  The parking lot was covered in darkness. Clouds blocked out the moon and stars, making the already black night seem even blacker. The only light that shown came from the club’s neon sign above the entrance. A flash of light and the bass-pounding sound of Latin music filled the lot as Demon walked out of the club, followed by his three friends. They stopped at a caravan, popping the side door. Automatic rifles were passed around. After exchanging a few words, they took up positions. Demon was on the side of the building while his friends ducked behind cars in the parking lot.

  A few minutes later another flash of light and more music filled the lot as the club door opened again. A four-man security detail scanned the lot like trained sentinels. When the squad leader gave the all-clear, two men went for the cars. Another went to grab the boss. It didn’t take long for the door to open again. Two more security members stepped out of the club, followed by a large party of men and women. In the midst of the pack was Gonzo. He slapped asses and grabbed flesh, ready to finish the party at his estate.

  When the kingpin was fully in view, Demon pointed the high powered rifle and squeezed the trigger.

  Takka-takka-takka-takka-takka-takka-takka-takka-takka!

  The parking lot was illuminated by flashes of light as automatic gunfire tore through the night. Screams filled the air as bullets pierced flesh. Two members of Gonzo’s security team and three strippers lay on the ground bleeding. The other security members covered Gonzo and took cover behind a car parked near the entrance, then their battle training took over. The security team used hand signals to identify the shooters’ positions. The two guards that had gone for the cars spotted Demon’s shooters who were spread out in the parking lot. Shots to the head silenced the ambushers’ automatic rifles.

  The security was checking the bodies to make sure they were dead when the second ambush came. The .45 caliber bullets from Pop Somethin’s Mac 12 chopped them down quickly, their blood mixing with the blood of their enemies. Pop Somethin’ was on the move before their bodies stopped twitching, C-Note close behind.

  The final battle scene showed Demon in a firefight with the last two security members. They had him surrounded and were seconds away from the kill. Nobody noticed Pop Somethin’ and C-Note coming from behind.

  Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!

  Fwop-fwop-fwop-fwop-fwop!

  C-Note and Pop Somethin’ took the security down quickly. Demon brought his head out from hiding, thinking his boys had come to his rescue. When he seen the infrared dot from C-Note’s Glock shine in his eyes, he knew his time was up. The bullet went through his right eye and out the back of his head.

  They found Gonzo huddled behind a car with the two strippers who had set him up. “You a’ight?” C-Note asked.

  When the godfather looked up and seen the guns in C-Note and Pop Somethin’s hands, he got hostile. “What do you want? Do you know who I am?”

  Pop Somethin’ spoke up. “I
think you got it mixed up, big man. We just saved yo’ ass. You can roll wit’ us or stay here ‘til the police come.”

  “No! Where are my guards? Juanito? Jorge!” he called.

  “They all dead, man. This yo’ last chance, or we leavin’ without you.”

  Gonzo stood up and looked around. Dead bodies were strewn out all over the parking lot. After one more look at C-Note and Pop Somethin’, he nodded. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  “What about them?” Pop asked, looking at the strippers.

  “No witnesses.”

  Gonzo looked sad. “I understand. No witnesses.”

  Terrified looks spread across the women’s faces right before Pop Somethin’ shot them in their heads.

  ***

  “Who were they?” Gonzo asked, moving around uncomfortably in the backseat of the Infinity.

  “I dunno. I know we came to see some ass and heard the shots,” Pop Somethin’ answered.

  “Who are you? Why did you help?”

  “I’m C-Note. This my nigga, Pop Somethin’. Everybody in Texas know who you is, Gonzo. Shit, you a legend. We couldn’t let them fuck-niggas take you out. The streets need you, my nigga.”

  “You fools, but I thank you for foolishness. I admit I never much cared for blacks, but you two have opened my ignorant mind. Muchas gracias.”

  “No problem, boss. But you kept it a li’l too real on that black shit. But I hear you,” C-Note said.

  “Sorry, mi amigo. I am blunt speaker. I mean no disrespect. Do you have phone? I need to make call.”

  C-Note passed his phone to Gonzo and listened intently, trying to decipher the Mexican’s Spanish. The boss cursed and yelled and cursed throughout the call, and C-Note didn’t understand a single word.

  “Drive me to meet my people. I appreciate it. What you did must be rewarded. If I can do anything for you, let me know and it will be done.”

  Chapter 11

  One month later

  The opening of Lux was an event. With the knowledge gained from throwing concerts, C-Note’s marketing skills put the opening of his strip club over the top. Radio advertisement, print ads, social media, and word of mouth had everybody who was somebody and a bunch of nobodies at the grand opening. What separated Lux from other strip clubs in Dallas was the ocean theme. Giant twenty-foot long fish tanks were spread throughout the club. Inside them were all kinds of marine life: octopuses, squids, eels, turtles, and all kinds of fish. The most impressive tank was in the middle of the club. The four-foot tall, one-hundred square foot tank was the main stage. Inside the tank were baby sharks.