by Keon Smith
“I guess not,” Breezy replied before sipping on her cup of champagne.
“What about you?” he asked, causing her to damn near break her neck to look at him. “I know you all about the money. What you say we get up outta here tonight and go do us?”
Breezy’s surprised look turned to a frown. “Shug, I used to date Kev. We would still be together if it wasn’t for—”
“What? You gonna hold on to Kev’s ghost? That’s my man and all, but he’s dead. You gotta move on. It took me a while, but I did. So what you need? I got a dime for you. Ten bands will get you something nice.”
“Shug, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I’m not one of these strippers in here. I don’t—”
“What you want? A car?” he asked with persistence. “What? A 750? A-8? S-500? What?”
Breezy took a deep breath to keep herself from spitting in his face. As if God could hear her prayers, Shug’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. “This better be good,” he said as Kia returned.
He placed the phone to his ear and listened.
“Yo, Shug, some dude in a black car with a Phantom mask just did a drive-by on Tasker, man. I think it was the bol, Montega,” Spade explained.
“What!” he said, alerting everyone around him.
“Yeah, man. Couple dudes got hit. Now it’s cops and ambulances all over the fuckin’ place, just like last time. This shit is crazy, and it’s fucking up money.”
Kia could see the irked expression on Shug’s face. For some reason, her brother came to mind. Shug listened to Spade explain as his other line beeped. He saw that it was Chino from the stash house.
“I’ma call you back, Spade,” he said before clicking over. “What?”
“Aye, Shug, you won’t believe what just jumped off. We got hit by some dude with a Phantom mask in a black SS Impala. I think it was cuz that killed Kev, man!”
“What the fuck is goin’ on out there? Y’all let one chump overpower y’all!” Shug snapped.
“It wasn’t just one. It was three, and they just came in blastin’. They didn’t ask no questions either. I was lucky enough to get out the back door because dudes were droppin’ like flies. Them dudes had choppas with ladders like a fire-engine,” Chino explained.
Shug clenched his teeth. “Did they take the money?” he asked as his blood pressure soared.
Chino sighed. “Jack said they took half the bread and set the other half on fire.”
Shug shook his head with disappointment. He’s taunting me. A fucking nobody wants to beef with me? He wants to make me look like a fool? “Well, where the hell is Jack right now?” Shug snapped.
“They’re puttin’ him in the ambulance as we—”
Ba-boom!
Shug heard the sound of an explosion just before the phone got disconnected.
“Hello? Hello?”
As his phone buzzed once more, he flagged Maniac over as he answered. “Who is this?”
“It’s Monte, Papi. We got a problem.”
Shug took the phone from his ear and pressed the end call button. When Maniac approached, Shug whispered something into his ear right before the two made their way for the exit. Kia looked over at Breezy, who was shaking her head with a serious attitude. Kia suspected what Shug’s departure was about.
Who would leave his own birthday party unless it was an emergency? And all emergencies meant trouble.
And, for some reason, in Kia’s mind, trouble spelled M-O-N-T-E-G-A.
Connecting The Dots
“The bol is a problem…”
SHUG
“Are you sure about this, cuz?” Clyde asked on the phone.
“Hell yeah, I’m sure,” Shug said. “You said it yourself. Cuz hopped out a black SS ’96 Impala and rocked Tommy to sleep. The car had Pennsylvania plates. Why was that same wheel seen comin’ down one of my strips, firin’ nickel-plated ‘uwops at my soldiers, then blew up three of my stash houses? It’s not a coincidence, Clyde. This Montega cat is the same muthafucka who killed my homie on the tracks. Now he’s back, and he’s trying to taunt me. He’s taunting us all. The bol is a problem.”
Clyde looked at his sister, who was sitting by the window with her legs crossed. Her giant bodyguard, Bain, stood near her with the gold-plated mini AK slung over his shoulder. The priest held the Bible up, reciting a scripture to her as if she were listening.
“Shug, you’re gonna have to handle this mark on your own. He’s pennies compared to what we have on our plate. Right now, we’re backed up, tryna purchase a legitimate building for the Underworld in New York.”
“That goes without saying, cuz. I’ve already sent the wolves to sniff cuz out. He cost me a lot of money, but I’ll find him, and when I do, he’s gonna—”
“Not over the phone, Shug,” Clyde said, cutting him off.
“My fault, cuz. My fault. I’ll rap with you later,” he said before ending the call.
Clyde sighed then began to massage his temple.
“What happened?” Diamond asked, silencing the priest.
“Shug said that Montega was spotted in Philly, just as you predicted. He even believes this is the same guy who killed his homie, Kev,” Clyde said as he tried to relax a bit.
“Wow. The rising lone wolf strikes again. This guy really gets around,” Diamond said, standing. “Well, what is Shug prepared to do?”
“He’ll handle it. If there’s one thing he’s good at besides making money, it’s getting rid of a pest. I’ve seen Shug and his men put in work. They are good at what they do. This mark—Montega—won’t stand a second in the ring with him. Trust me.”
Diamond looked her brother in the eye seriously. She wanted to say something but decided to look away and leave it alone. Then the urge came again.
“If you ask me, I don’t think this is a pest, and honestly, he deserves more credit than what you gave him. I mean, think about it. How does he kill Shug’s best friend then end up in Atlanta and kill Tommy? Seems awfully strange,” Diamond said.
“What are you gettin’ at?” Clyde asked suspiciously.
“I don’t know. I just got a funny feeling about what’s happening underneath our noses. First, Tommy gets whacked; then there was an attempt on my life by a former Great White. What’s next? We hear that this Montega’s wreaking havoc in Underworld territory. Maybe when I fly over to Pennsylvania to meet with Wong Lee next summer, I can help Shug finish this.”
“C’mon, Diamond. Don’t flatter yourself. First of all, Shug doesn’t need any help finding this man. Have you forgotten that all of PA is under his command? All he has to do is find the black car this mark drives, and the rest will be easy. Yeah, he killed one or two major guys, but you know what they say. ‘Ain’t no fun when the rabbit got the gun.’”
“Now, you, on the other hand, don’t know a thing about Philly. It’s not like he’ll just fall right into your lap out of the clear, blue sky. Shit don’t work like that, sweetheart. Besides, there’s no way he can take anything that belongs to us. For one, he doesn’t have the manpower. And two, you have to have money to buy a strong army. Now, stop worrying yourself about some smell fish and relax,” Clyde said, getting up to leave.
“It’s funny you said that,” Diamond replied. “Because you can have all the money in the world to buy soldiers, but what good are they if they have no heart or brains? It’s not the big fish you need to worry about, Clyde. It’s the hungry ones. You wanna know why? Because they have everything to gain and nothing to lose.”
The Plan
“Silent kings for life!”
The hideout in Awbury Park was a two-story structure with five bedrooms and two bathrooms. The dining room and the kitchen were joined, separated by a kitchen bar counter, and the living room was sectioned off with a sunroom that had floor-to-ceiling tinted glass. The area surrounding the house was equipped with cameras and monitors that extended throughout the woods toward the entrance. The walls, carpet, and furniture were all black.
&nb
sp; Montega sat on one of the leather sofas, dumbfounded by the hundred bricks of cocaine that were stacked in the middle of the floor. What really had him delusional was the additional twenty bricks of heroin. With him was his brother, Taliban, and his homies, Ski-Mask, J-Rider, Killa, Mook, FatBoy, Lil’ Luchiano, Gutter, Tank and the first lady, Juicy. Everyone had the same look of amazement as Montega. “You really outdid yourself this time, my nigga,” Tank said, rubbing his hands together. “So… what’s the plan?”
“It’s like this.” Montega carefully looked at the work and took a deep breath. He exhaled, saying, “I don’t care how many of these joints y’all take from this circle or what you do with ’em, but you gotta bring back fifteen grand for the coke and ninety off the dope.”
“Word?” Killa asked excitedly. “That’s it? Just as simple as that?”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Montega replied. He rubbed his hands over his blue denim Black Label jeans. “Look, y’all. This ain’t no game no more,” he told them with his eyes on the product. “We ain’t no cheap hustlers or no small-time, hand-to-hand bols. That went out the door the moment I set foot back in the city. We deserve success, and this proves it. We earned our keep. This is our business now. These drugs are essential to the growth of the Silent Kings. We are the foundation.”
“Now, I wouldn’t have called you here if I didn’t think y’all could handle this. I would have just done the shit on my own. So if you have a vice that will sidetrack your success—drugs, gamblin’, women, or disloyalty—then don’t touch this work. The last thing I want to do is put down someone I love, but I will. And to tell you the truth, I hope you’d do the same to me if I ever betray the Silent Kings.” He scanned all of the serious faces.
He then got up from the couch and took a seat in the recliner chair, allowing Juicy to sit on his lap. Rubbing her leg, he went on to explain. “Like I said, we a team, and a team sticks together through thick and thin. If we see one of our homies fallin’ off, we help them. If they don’t wanna be helped, we let ’em drift. It’s just that simple. If anyone gets in our way, we run and gun ’em down. We all equal in this room, believe it or not. Now, me, personally, I believe that I’m a born leader. I like to give orders sometimes because I survive by following my heart and my instincts, but I’m also a good soldier. We should all feel the same way because this is how I’ve survived this long. This is how I’ve gotten to this point in my life.”
“There’s no other way to go now but up the ladder. The only way down is if we slip and fall. And if we fall, we get back up and climb again. But let me warn y’all. There will be people out there that will make it their job to see us fall. And if you’re too high up, it’s a chance that fall might break you. And broken niggas say, the end. With that said, create a circle within your own circle and choose the people you deal with wisely. You may not get a second chance at it.”
Montega stuck his fist out. “Silent Kings for life,” he proclaimed, and everyone else saluted and did the same.
“Silent Kings for life!”
What’s Beef
“Actions speak louder than words…”
Montega
AFTER THE FIRST SHIPMENT…
The following year was a nightmare for Shug and his organization. The Silent Kings flooded the streets with 98 percent Columbian white cocaine and 79 percent heroin. Both came wrapped in clear plastic with a red devil logo stamped on it. The deals they gave out caused a fiend frenzy. Dope fiends and crackheads from all over were rushing to cop the devil-stamped bags.
The Silent Kings started uptown, bullying major strips like Chew and Chelten, Forest Avenue, Haines Street and Limekiln Pike, and Brickyard and Happy Hollow. From there, they worked their way through small blocks in North Philly, the Northeast, and West Philly, knocking aside some of Shug’s product with cheaper prices. Shug may have had quality work, but it was hard to move with the prices the SK’s were giving out.
What made their rise something to talk about was the fact that Montega really didn’t have to use much violence. He figured that if Shug sold bricks of coke for thirty-two grand, then he would charge twenty-two. It was an easy come-up. Everything moved faster than he had anticipated. He got his shipment for only ten grand on every brick just as long as he purchased a hundred or more.
He made a $5,000 profit off his own circle, not to mention what he made off out-of-towners, young up-and-coming trap stars, and crack houses. Even Juicy had parts in the circle. Since she learned accounting in high school and took another course in college, Montega appointed her the organization’s accountant, secretary, and treasurer. She collected the money from the lieutenants, counted it, and stored it in a big safe sitting in the basement of the Awbury Park hideout, which they called the Vault.
Montega did some serious renovating to the place. He had the whole basement constructed to look like a cave, with a hot water jacuzzi built amongst rocks in the ground. The place had a secret tunnel that led to a carport where the getaway cars were parked. Guns were mounted all over the house for both decoration and protection. It was the only place where he rested his head and could feel safe. He added more security cameras throughout the perimeter as well.
He was now twenty-four years old, making more money than anyone his age, and no one knew who he was. In the next two months, almost half the city was questioning the wealth and the sudden rise of the Silent Kings. When Carlos saw how fast Montega came back for a re-up, he upped the delivery quantity to a thousand bricks of coke a month and increased the heroin to fifty bricks. Not long after, the Silent Kings’ product was heavy in the streets, along with an army of hustlers schooled by Killa and J-Rider.
On the legal side of things, Montega started his own construction company, using ex-offenders who just got out of prison and were willing to work. He also started a real estate agency called Heaven on Earth, ran by his sister, along with the Unisex salon, Gi-Gi’s, which was owned and operated by Breezy’s cousin, Gi-Gi. Although they were a legitimate business, he used them also to wash some of his dirty money.
He kept everyone guessing from the way he presented himself. No one really knew how much money he was actually making, being as though the only car he drove was the SS Impala. It was hard to believe that he was the leader of the rising syndicate—and even harder to believe that he was still breathing.
Once Shug realized what was really going on, all hell broke loose, and a street war was initiated.
The entire dealership seemed to be silent as Shug stood in front of a foreign car with his hands behind his back. The henchmen stood behind him, along with his underboss, Gee, watching the large man in a gray suit make a decision. Even his new girlfriend looked a bit impatient, standing by the registration desk.
Shug was finding a hard time picking from the new black Rolls Royce Phantom and the Maybach 62s. They were both luxurious cars, fit for a street king, yet Shug couldn’t seem to choose which one he wanted to be seen in first. For him, shopping for cars was worse than women picking out clothes at the mall. Undecided, he turned to the dealer. A white woman in a business suit approached Shug and said, “I’ll take ’em both.”
“I’ll get the papers right away,” she said before walking off.
Shug nodded while standing next to Gee, watching her, and said, “Twenty-two stacks a joint. That’s what this muthafucka’s charging for his work. Twenty-two fuckin’ thousand. He keep this shit up, and I’m going to be selling cars instead of buying them.”
Gee snorted a laugh. “You kiddin’ me? As long as your money is? You shouldn’t be so worried about a lil’ nigga. He probably robbed some plug for his work. That’s why he’s selling em’ for so cheap. It’s so he can get rid of ’em fast. But mark my words, cuz. He won’t be around with those prices for long. There’s no way he has a plug, selling work for that cheap. And he got people moving too? He ain’t making no money.”
“He shouldn’t be making shit,” Shug hissed. “He should be somewhere stinkin’, hadn’t it been for Maniac. Wha
t the hell did he need a rocket launcher for anyway? The Feds are still trying to figure out what happened that night. All Maniac had to do was have some shooters hidden so when Montega went in the house, it was guaranteed he wouldn’t be coming out. Now he has the streets talking. You know the worst thing about all of this? He doesn’t even show his face. I’ve had undercover spies positioned in bars, gyms, restaurants, and clubs, and no one’s seen him. Cuz making drug money, and not a single luxurious car has popped up with him inside. It’s like he’s a ghost… a real-live fucking ghost.”
Gee looked at his homie and shook his head. Shug may have seemed calm, but Gee knew he was pissed about the whole ordeal. Shug wasn’t in the category of anyone in the city. He ran the entire state. Most of the guys and girls whose names were at the top for moving coke and heroin got their supply from him. They recognized him as the top of the food chain, and to receive a challenge from some nobody was a slap in the face.
After the paperwork was signed and the titles were changed over, Shug climbed into the back seat of the Maybach. Gee got into the back seat of the Rolls Royce. His henchmen filled in the rest, along with the other vehicle they had, and rolled out.
Shug sat in the back seat, relaxed in the soft leather interior. He looked over at his shorty. She was a far cry away from being Tee-Tee, but she did nasty things to him that he enjoyed, which made him overlook her beauty. As he adjusted the curtains, his cell phone rang. He looked over at his girlfriend just in time to catch her trying to open a bottle of Rosé.
“Chill, shorty,” he said, pulling out his cell phone. “It’s too early for that.”
He placed the phone to his ear and answered. “Speak.”
“Action speaks louder than words,” a voice replied from the other end.
