by U. E. Wynn
“A’ight, let’s get down to business. Star, pass me one of the blunts.” Jahad took the blunt, lit it, then sat back in his recliner facing Koran. “Before we decide where to put you let me break some shit down for you. You got professional basketball players, football players, and boxers. Professional meaning they're the best at what they do. The M.G.’s, we’re professional drug dealers. We ain’t no gang like the Bloods and Crips. We don’t go around broadcasting who we are. Our sole purpose is getting money and that’s the only reason we kill. More than half the niggas in New York moving weight are selling our shit without knowing.”
“Now it comes times when other weight moving nigga’s try to move in our spots. Nigga’s might plug in with the Columbians or Cubans and get hit with mad bricks or whatever and they gotta move them. I mean it's part of the game. But being who we are, we don’t go for it. That’s where the killing comes in at. To put an end to the competition, we kill off the whole crew including the connect. Once the word gets around the next nigga thinks twice about trying to move on the spot.”
“I’m saying, how often does this happen? I mean niggas trying to move in on our spot?”
“Like every four or five months,” Star answered. “Understand that we’re talking about four boroughs and all our spots do numbers. And when I say spots, I’m not talking about petty ass nickel and dime crack, weed or heroin spots. We supply the weight to the niggas who supply the nickel and dime spots, feel me?”
Koran nodded in awe. “So when other niggas try to supply the niggas who supply the nickel and dime spots, that’s when we do what we do?”
“Exactly. That’s what the body squad is for,” Prince said.
“Body squad?”
“Yeah, the Body Squad,” Jahad took over. “Like I told you, we’re professionals so everything we do is organized. We have three types of M.G.’s; Workers, Watchers, and the Body Squad. Worker’s, they’re M.G.’s employed at our local businesses. Besides doing whatever job they’re assigned to, their sole purpose is to count money and deliver drugs.”
“The watchers do just that, watch shit. Every nigga we supply drugs to has a M.G. watching them around the clock in case they get knocked. It’s basically set up like any other job with eight hour shifts. Then we have the body squad. They handle all hits whether individually or as a team. When it’s only one or two muthafucka’s who gotta get ghosted, names are dropped into a hat and whoever name gets picked, gotta do the hit. If a whole crew has to be taken out, then they form Voltron and get busy. Don’t get it twisted though, every M.G. I’m speaking of bust their guns. It’s just that niggas on the Body Squad have special talents, you know?” Jahad cracked a smile glancing at Star.
“How many M.G.’s on the Body Squad?” asked Koran.
“Fifty and that’s all we do. Body shit!” Star answered, grinning.
“I wanna be on the Body Squad then,” Koran blurted out.
“I figured you’d say that, but it ain’t up to you,” Jahad said frowning. “Why not a worker or a watcher?”
“I’m saying, y’all made me go through all that crazy shit for two years. I wanna try some of that shit out on a muthafucka to see if it works,” Koran replied dead serious. The Heads looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
“A yo, Koran, you wild nigga. I feel you though.” Star looked at Jahad. “I’m wit it.”
Jahad smirked. “I’m sure you are, but it ain’t your brother we talking about,” he said and turned back to Koran. “Check it, niggas on the Body Squad already got mad bodies under their belts. They veterans when it comes to laying shit down. You think this shit is a game or something? You could fuck around and get bodies lil’ bruh.”
“I feel you Jah, but I ain’t no slouch. Look at the shit y’all took me through. I went through all of it with ease. I feel I’m that nigga for the Body Squad. I mean, I could be that nigga as a watcher too after all that time I spent on the street. But think about it. I know how to blend in with any hood, be on any scene without being seen, you know? With that skill I’ll be able to pop tops like beer cans.”
Jahad looked away.
“He made a good point Jah,” said Sha’.
“So you want him on the Body Squad? How about you Prince, Lord?”
“I think he can handle it,” said Lord. “Yeah, me too,” Prince agreed.
Jahad nodded. “A’ight, the Body Squad it is. But check this.” He faced Star. “You run that shit so I’ma hold you responsible if anything happens to him. That’s my word! It’s easy for you niggas to say put him on the Body Squad. He ain’t y’all brother. I’m the nigga who raised… ”
“Whoa! Stop there Jah,” Sha’ said, holding up his hand. “That shit you screaming is pure bullshit. Koran is our brother just as much as he’s yours. Nah, we ain’t raise him, but love is love, Son.”
“Word up! You gone hold me responsible?” Star mocked angrily. “If I didn’t think he was built for it, I’d say no. I can’t believe you came at me with some shit like that,” he said mumbling something in Creole under his breath.
“A’ight, Star, don’t go putting none of that voodoo shit on me,” said Jahad laughing. Star glared at him a moment before cracking a smile. “You keep talking that crazy shit I’ma have your ass walking around here thinking you’re a chicken.”
“So, I’m on the Body Squad?” Koran asked grinning.
“Yeah, that’s your position. I still want you at Joe’s at least three days a week so I can show you how to freak the books. That’ll be your cover. Plus, if I’m ever outta town you’ll know how to run the shop.”
“A’ight, but you just wanna get some extra work outta me.”
“The boys a genius,” Jahad laughed, but secretly he had plans for Koran. Plans none of the other Heads were aware of.
Chapter Six
Candy entered Macy’s department store pushing her two year old son in his stroller while a face from the past haunted her. A face that tormented her heart as well as her thoughts and refused to let her think straight. A face that made her forget all about being engaged to a man who loved and spoiled her constantly. That face being none other than Jahad’s.
For nearly three years, Candy believed him to be dead. Thought her son would never get the chance to know his real father. This was until two weeks ago when she and her fiancée were leaving the Apollo Theater after attending the Amateur night performance. The couple walked from the crowded building arm in arm, deep in conversation. Then all at once it came to a halt and Candy cut her words off mid-sentence. Twenty feet away Jahad stood leaning against a black 600 Mercedes Benz with his arm around a woman pretty enough to be a super model. He was casually dressed in brown slacks, brown Louis Vuitton loafers and wearing a brown chinchilla mink jacket looking good as ever.
Stunned, Candy forgot all about her fiancée and screamed Jahad’s name, then started towards him, but her fiancée roughly yanked her back. Hearing his name Jahad whipped his head in her direction while reaching to his waist for his gun preparing for the unexpected until their eyes connected. The effect was like someone had splashed them both in the face with cold water. Time ceased to exist and everyone around them faded to black as a magnetic attraction took over their minds and bodies.
Jahad released his date and started toward her. Candy tried her best to break away from her fiancée who held a firm grip on her waist and a scowl on his face directed at Jahad. Then Jahad’s date grabbed his arm and broke the connection.
Candy felt an intense wave of jealousy wash over her although she knew from experience the woman meant nothing to Jahad. He was incapable of love, so she thought. The few years they dated she went out of her way to shower him unconditionally with all the love she could muster.
It didn’t matter though. Jahads’ love went no further than sex even though he was quite lovable. He was also considerate, funny, generous, and great in bed. He had all the qualities that would make any woman fall head over heels in love, but Candy could never reach his heart. Wh
en she finally thought she was making a little progress, he disappeared. A week after his departure she found out she was pregnant and thoughts of them finally having a life together filled her mind.
It all came crashing down a month later when she ran into Prince at a Rucker’s Basketball tournament and he told her Jahad was dead. For months afterward she lived with chronic depression, having daily thoughts of suicide. The baby she carried was the only reason she didn’t give into temptation. The child was her only connection to Jahad and one she couldn’t imagine letting go. Her fiancée came into her life not long afterwards. And even though she still mourned Jahad, she had to move on for the sake of her child.
But Jahad wasn’t dead and all her old dreams came rushing back. Once he found out they had a child together, she felt it would bring him back into her life where he belonged. Despite having a fiancée she was going to contact Jahad no matter how long it took. With that thought she smiled down at her son who looked so much like his father.
Chapter Seven
Jahad sat at his office desk trying hard to focus on the stack of shipping addresses he was trying to doctor, but he couldn’t concentrate. In the middle of adding up figure’s his thoughts kept straying to Candy and he’d have to start all over again. Finally, he gave up. It was obvious he wouldn’t be able to get any work done. He reached for his ashtray where half of a blunt sat, lit it, and then let his thoughts drift back to the night of the encounter a week ago.
It surprised him how she had the same effect on him. Only one other woman held the power to evoke the emotions he felt and she was dead. The thought of paying her a visit just to see how she was doing crossed his mind despite the man he saw her with.
Whoever he was, he couldn’t mean that much to her. If he did then she wouldn’t have tried to break her neck to get to him.
‘Yeah, I’m still that nigga,’ he said to himself smiling just as someone knocked at his door. “Come in.”
The door opened and Vincent Valentino strutted in fashionably dressed in a black Armani suit, white silk shirt, a blue tie, and wearing a pair of black ostrich skin shoes. His glossy black hair speckled with gray was slicked back in a vain attempt to cover a forming bald spot in the middle of his crown. Years of good living transformed his six-four 200 pound frame into 260 pounds of olive colored flesh. Alert ice blue eyes sat back in his meaty face below his bushy black eyebrows. He still possessed his Hollywood good looks though. More like an aging Robert Deniro than a vibrant Brad Pitt. He was still the best dressed lawyer in New York and the best defense lawyer period. That is before he slid from the spotlight to live a more adventurous life.
A full blooded Sicilian, he was once nabbed by the press as being a mob lawyer, which was true to a certain extent. What set him apart was Valentino was his own man and refused to be tied to one crime family, even his own. With Valentino it didn’t matter who you were or what was your crime, as long as your money was right. He had morals when it came to winning a case. There was no right or wrong, guilty or innocent. What mattered was winning and he did so by any means. With connections on both sides of the law, he could pull strings to have a certain judges hear a case as easy as he could whisper a witness name in the right ears and make him disappear… for good!
His business relationship with Jahad began shortly after he revealed the shocking truth behind Jahad’s father’s death. Jahad needed a lawyer to handle his legal affairs when he purchased Joe’s moving company. He also needed someone to teach him how to wash his dirty money. Valentino was more than happy to help knowing Jahad’s plan for the M.G.’s. Soon he found himself knee deep in all their legal affairs.
Jahads’ moving company, Princes’ barber shop, clothing store and night club, Sha’s detail shop, Lords’ sports bar, and Stars’ strip club were all products of a massive money laundering machine governed by Valentino. How they made their dirty money was none of his business. What they did with their dirty money was their business.
Valentino’s cut of the money he washed meant nothing. He wasn’t in it for the money. The thrill of beating the system is where he drew his satisfaction. At fifty-one he was divorced twice, had no kids, and filthy rich. But beneath the five thousand dollar suits and sharp mind was a crook at heart who thrived on the old way of doing things. The M.G.’s reminded him a lot of the old Mafia before John Gotti came along flaunting his power. This above all is what turned him into the fold of the M.G.’s.
“Did I come at a bad time?” he asked, reaching into his crocodile skin briefcase.
“Nah. You caught me getting toasted,” Jahad said as Valentino placed a stack of papers on his desk. “What’s this?”
“Something I’ve been doing a little research on. What do you know about prostitution?”
“You talking about selling pussy?”
Valentino smiled. “Exactly. I’ll explain why you read,” he said, nodding towards the papers. “When I say prostitution I’m not speaking of hookers walking the streets showing off their ass and tit’s. I mean escort services. Expensively catered escort services. The type where beautiful women from all over the world are employed to appeal to a man’s ultimate fantasy whatever it may be. They are two such businesses in the heart of Manhattan, controlled by two crime families; the Leopardi’s and the Corsello’s. Two undeserving families since neither have the protection to secure their holdings.”
Jahad glanced up sharply. “What you trying to say Vinny?”
“If you turn to page 12 and look to the bottom of the page you’ll see exactly what I’m trying to say.”
Jahad turned to the page and slowly his eyes grew wide.“Get the fuck out of here! $200 million selling pussy?!”
“Among other things, yes. Porno movies, porno magazines, and yes phone sex. It’s all in the Dossier. I included one for each of your friends.”
“These figures, they for both spots?”
“Annually, yes. And the money is as clean as snow. Another 60 million comes under the table from drugs.” Jahad grew quiet a moment before speaking. “So you saying you want us to move on the mob?”
Valentino held Jahad’s stare. “No. I’m saying I want both families wiped out completely. You remember when I told you about your father and how my family wouldn’t allow me to avenge his death because we were in the middle of a war?”
Jahad nodded.
“We were going against the Leopardi family. Not long afterwards they join forces with the Corello’s and nearly wiped my family out. Though who survived escaped back to Sicily with my uncle. This was years ago. My uncle has regained some of his power now. That’s the reason I’m willing to be so daring. I have his approval as long as he can wet his back.”
“Wet his back?” Jahad frowned. “Whose idea is this, yours or your uncles, and how much does he know about us?”
“To answer your first question, it was my idea. Then I ran it by my uncle. If you decide to go through with it not a word can be mentioned when it’s over. Ever. Both families are weak, but still have ties in the old country where a vendetta is never forgotten. A move like this will be too big to cover up. That’s why my uncle is needed. When we make our move here, a similar one will be made in Sicily in an effort to eliminate all aspects of a threat afterwards. Still, we must be extremely careful to lessen the risk of any identities being revealed. Both companies will be signed over in my name through several dummy corporations. Once everything is completed, you will be given six numbered offshore accounts that will be set up for each of us.”
“So you saying you will have complete control over everything I own, including the dough?”
“Yes and with good reason, which will answer your second question. My uncle is aware of my plans to seize both companies. By my going about it this way, he won’t have any idea about you. He suspects I have my own muscle, which I do.” Valentino pointed at Jahad grinning. “What he doesn’t know is that my muscle are young black entrepreneurs. This way your identities will never be known or it’ll be all of our asses.”
“Why, because were black?”
“No, because you’re not Sicilian. It has nothing to do with the color of your skin. The situation would be the same if you were white. It’s my families custom to always keep business within the family.”
“A’ight. So what’s up with these two families? I mean, how strong are they?”
“In your dossier there’s a map and full layout of Lenny Leopardi’s mansion in Sheepshead Bay along with the number of men he employs. I’m still working on David’s Corsello’s. He lives out on Long Island. He feels safer in the wilderness.”
“You say your uncle gave you the green light as long as he can eat. How much he is talking about?”
“10%. This is only of what's shown on the books. He won’t touch a dime of what’s made under the table.”
Jahad shook his head. “Personally, I don’t want to mix the drugs up in this. I’ll see what my man’s says, though.”
“We have to. We're dealing with very wealthy clients that are used to getting what they want at the snap of a finger. In order to satisfy them, if drugs are requested, then the drugs should be provided.”
“I’m saying, supplying the drugs won’t be a problem. None of my people can be involved, though.”
“If you supply the drugs, then I’ll make sure they reach the right hands.”
“I’m cool with that,” Jahad nodded and looked over the papers again. “How soon can you get the information on the other dude?”
“Give me some time. I don’t want to move too fast. It may draw attention.”
“No doubt. One last question. Once we killed these dudes, what happens to their other businesses. Who gets that?”
