by Beanie Sigel
“What the fuck you lookin’ at me with that stupid ass expression for?”
“Sorry, sir,” the thin, older white man said nervously.
“Sorry? You just took more money from me than you make in a month and all you can say is you’re sorry? Don’t be sorry, be a dealer, and deal me another fuckin’ hand!”
“P...please place your bet on the table, sir.” The man was afraid to look Mack in the eyes.
“Come on, bruh. If you stay you’re gonna be chasing the money you lost all night. Let’s try our hands with the dice.” Terry stood up, and Keith followed suit. Reluctantly, Mack got up from the table, as well. He glared at the dealer while he stood to his feet. The dealer’s eyes remained on the table.
“H...have a good night, gentlemen,” the dealer pushed the words out.
“Shut ya ass up!” Mack snapped.
It didn’t get much better for them at the craps table. Mack was on the dice and he couldn’t hit his numbers.
“Mack, let me get the dice,” Keith suggested.
“Aaight, hold up.” Mack rolled a six. After placing three thousand dollars in bets, he rolled the dice again. The numbers on the dice added up to seven. Terry was just as upset as Mack, because he was betting on Mack’s shot.
“Mack, I’m telling you, let me get the dice,” Keith pleaded.
“Here, man.” Mack relinquished the dice in frustration.
Keith placed a one hundred dollar bet and rolled a seven on his first shot. He won.
“Beginner’s luck,” Mack mumbled.
“You told me not to believe in luck, remember?” Keith shook and threw the dice onto the felt lined table. The dice landed on...eleven. He won again. “Yes!” Keith exploded, throwing his hands in the air victoriously.
Terry saw that Keith was hitting his numbers at an alarming rate. He placed a three thousand dollar bet on Keith’s roll. Keith rolled and Terry won. That made Mack a believer. By now a small crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle. Roll after roll, he barely missed. Because of Keith’s hot hand they won all that was lost at the blackjack table, plus a lot more.
Noticing that he was a few thousand dollars richer, Keith dropped the dice as quickly as he initially picked them up. He began to gather his chips.
“Whatchu doin’? Terry asked confused.
“I’m done.” Keith was now organizing his chips.
“You can’t be done. You’re killing ‘em,” Mack said.
“Let’s quit while we’re ahead,” Keith stated flatly.
“Fuck this money. We’re always going to be ahead,” Terry shot.
“It may be nothin’ to ya’ll, but this is everything to me. I’ve never had this much money before and I ain’t gon’ lose it as quick as I got it.” The look on Keith’s face gave them a clear view of just how important that money was to him.
After looking at the situation through Keith’s eyes, Mack smiled. “Say no more, cannon. Let’s go.”
“What it do, Mack?” Everyone turned around to see who was the source of the southern accented voice.
“Oh, shit. Wassup, 2 Chainz?” Mack walked up and greeted his friend with a pound and a hug.
Terry gave him a pound as well. They had been introduced to 2 Chainz through a mutual friend who recommended their rental car service to him. 2 Chainz instantly took a liking to them. Just like him, they were brought up in the streets, and now working towards creating a legitimate lifestyle.
“I’m on my way to HQ. I’m performing there tonight. Ya’ll comin’ through?”
“You know we can’t miss that,” Terry said.
2 Chainz reached into his pocket and pulled out three tickets. “Here, these are VIP tickets. Only the best for the best.”
Mack accepted the tickets. “Thanks, man. We’ll see you later on.” They shook hands and 2 Chainz left.
Keith remained frozen in the same spot holding a shocked expression the entire time.
“Damn, this night keeps getting better and better.” Mack tucked the tickets away with a generous smile spread across his face.
“Do ya’ll know who that was?” Keith finally spoke up. Before anyone had a chance to respond, he continued. “That was 2 Chainz in person!” Keith was talking more to himself than to Mack or Terry. “My favorite rapper was just in front of me. I gotta get his autograph.” He spun around in the direction that 2 Chainz left.
Mack quickly reached out and was able to get a hold on Keith’s arm. “Slow down young money. You’ll see him again tonight,” Mack promised.
2 Chainz’s performance was electric. The crowd remained in a frenzy even after his show was over. The intense energy that he cast to his audience was undeniable.
Moments later he joined Mack, Terry and Keith in the VIP section, a slightly elevated area above the dance floor, separated by a waist high wall. The tables were adorned with chilled bottles of Ciroc, Ace of Spades, Conjur and D’Usse’.
2 Chainz, Mack and Terry sat back, relaxed on the comfortable couches with bottles in their hands, enjoying the music. The combination of alcohol and youthful energy had Keith too wired to remain seated. He diddy-bopped to every song while waving his bottle of Ace of Spades Rosé in the air.
“Yo, Mack!” a man yelled out from the floor. “Mack, wassup, nigga? Can I get in VIP with you?”
Mack looked to see who was yelling his name. It was Raheem, a stocky man, medium height, with a Caesar cut. He was wearing a black T-shirt, black fitted jeans and three large gold chains. Mack used to serve him weight, but he hadn’t dealt directly with him in about a year.
“If I could, I would...I’m a guest myself, Scrap,” Mack shouted over the music.
“Nigga, you actin’ funny ‘cause you with 2 Chainz? Stop dick ridin’. He ain’t the only nigga with money!” Raheem pulled out a pocket full of bills and flung them into the VIP section.
Mack’s anger had risen in a heartbeat, but before he had a chance to react, Keith grabbed a fresh gold bottle from the table and hopped over the divider. The champagne bottle glistened as the club’s lights reflected off its shiny surface. In one fluid, swift movement, Keith raised the bottle in the air. He was so quick, Raheem could only raise his hands to block what was surely coming. His reflex wasn’t enough. Keith’s momentum caused the bottle to come down with brute force, splitting Raheem’s forehead. The impact buckled his knees. Keith swung again, connecting. That blow dropped Raheem. Keith straddled him, raining blow after blow to his mug. The thick bottle never broke as it was continuously bashed against Raheem’s face, causing distorting damage.
Mack and Terry rushed over to pull Keith off Raheem. Blinded by anger, he struggled against them to get back at his victim. The club’s security came and quickly dissolved the situation by escorting everyone outside.
“Yo, what the fuck’s wrong with you?” Terry scolded Keith.
“Man, fuck that. Ain’t nobody gon’ disrespect ya’ll in front of me. I don’t give a fuck who it is.” Keith looked Terry in the eyes as they stood outside the club, feeling the crisp bite of the night’s weather seep through their expensive fabrics.
“You know what, I gotta respect that,” Terry admitted reluctantly. “But you can’t always react out of anger. People judge us by our actions. You’ve heard the saying a million times: Real G’s move in silence. You gotta keep the gangster and the gentleman separated. No one should be able to pull the goon out of you, but you.”
“You’re right,” Keith acknowledged.
“What’s done is done. We’re not gon’ let that shit spoil our night. It’s still early. I’m about to text 2 Chainz and tell him to meet us at the Borgota casino. Let’s see if we can knock off some broads...”
CHAPTER 18
Detective Todd sat in his congested cubicle on the second floor of the 35th police precinct at Broad and Champlost Streets. There had been a spike of murders over the past week, and the additional cases that were being assigned to him were beginning to take a toll. He and Latrice decided to work close, long and
hard to bring closure to some of the open cases.
For the moment, their focus was on the triple shooting/double homicide that occurred at 1463 Upsal Street. They discovered that Antwon Green, from Syracuse, New York leased the house where the shooting occurred. According to the landlord, he had lived there for seven months. The second murder victim, the man who was believed to have been killed while trying to rob Antwon, was identified as Cornell Watts. He had an extensive record, including drug possession, armed robbery and assault. Cornell was also a suspect in an unsolved robbery/homicide that occurred two and a half years ago.
Reek had undergone his third surgery. The hospital contacted Todd earlier that day to inform him that although his condition was still listed as critical, he was stable and coherent enough to endure a brief conversation. So far, Reek was their biggest hope to solve the crimes.
Latrice walked into her brother’s cubicle carrying a small stack of papers. “The records to Tyreek Simmons’ cell phone came in.”
“Great. Let’s see who was so important that Mr. Simmons felt compelled to call him while shot.”
“I already checked it out. The call was placed to a man named, Terry Maddox.”
“Okay. I’ll run his name through the database to see what comes up.”
“I did that too,” Latrice gloated.
“Well, damn, sis. What do you need me for?”
“Batman had a sidekick. I guess Wonder Woman needs one, too.”
Todd sucked his teeth at her snide remark. Latrice took a seat, placed the paper on the edge of his desk, and thumbed through them until she found the printout.
Latrice’s eyes were fixed on the paper as she spoke. “His record isn’t too bad. He had a criminal sales of a controlled substance when he was sixteen. He received a youthful offender adjudication for that. He was arrested for attempted murder five years ago, but the charge was eventually dismissed.”
“So it’s either he’s not doing much now-a-days, or he’s been slipping through the cracks,” Todd commented.
“I’m leaning more towards the latter. I dug a little deeper and found that he’s the co-owner of Dynasty Luxury Rentals.”
Todd’s eyebrows creased while trying to put the few pieces together. He Googled the company, then visited its website. “Wow.” His eyes widened as he took in what the monitor displayed. “This isn’t some nickel and dime business. Every car that they rent is exotic. Someone invested some major money into that place.” Todd clicked through every page of the website. “It’s located on Passyunk Avenue in South Philly.”
“I think we need to have a talk with this guy,” Latrice said.
Todd shut the computer off. “The last one to the car has to drive.” Without saying a word, Latrice shot out of the cubicle and dashed toward the elevator.
Todd pulled the Chevy Impala into the parking lot of Dynasty Luxury Rentals. The police-issued cruiser stuck out like a sore thumb among all the other beautiful automobiles. Latrice and Todd exited their sedan, and casually examined a few vehicles. They did their best not to gawk, before they walked inside the building.
The lavish waiting room complimented the theme of the business. Bright white walls were adorned with artistic paintings of beautiful cars and an eighty inch, flat screen smart TV. Plush, black, Italian leather chairs were strategically placed around the room. An elegant glass table held an assortment of car and luxury magazines. It didn’t take long before an attractive, young white lady approached them.
“Welcome to Dynasty Luxury Rentals. My name is Kerri. How may I help you?” she asked with an infectiously polite and upbeat attitude.
“I’m Detective Latrice Reed, and this is Detective Todd Reed. We’re homicide detectives.” Latrice produced her badge, then placed it back on her waist next to her holstered firearm. The cops maintained eye contact with Kerri as her smile dissipated. “Is Mister Terry Maddox in?”
Kerri took a half step backwards, looking at the detectives as if they had morphed into a pair of scary creatures. “Y-yes,” she stammered, “one moment, please.” Kerri turned around and walked off.
It didn’t take long before Terry emerged from his rear office impeccably dressed in a charcoal gray Brooks Brothers suit. “Good afternoon. I’m Terry. How can I help you?” He shook hands with the detectives.
The detectives introduced themselves. Todd was the first to speak. “We’re investigating a double homicide and shooting that occurred on Upsal Street. Do you mind coming down to the station so we can ask you a few questions?”
“I don’t mind you asking me a few questions, but is it a must that I go down to the station? I’m the only one in charge who’s here at the moment.”
“This really won’t take long. It’s standard procedure to conduct any in depth questioning of possible witnesses at the station.” Latrice did her best to make her explanation sound harmless.
“So that everything I say can be recorded?” Terry asked, but it came across as more of a statement.
“Well, yes,” Todd answered truthfully.
“Okay. Let me make a call so I can get someone to take over while I’m gone.” Terry walked over to the secretary’s desk and called Mack. He explained what was going on, and asked him to come down to the business. After hanging up, he returned to the detectives who appeared not to have moved an inch since he first left them. “Are you guys ready?”
“Sure.”
They walked casually to the police cruiser. On the outside Terry appeared to be cool and calm. However, on the inside, he was as nervous as a fat man on a tightrope. Along the ride to the precinct, Todd and Latrice created casual conversation. Terry interacted seamlessly with them, but the core of his thoughts were on the interrogation that lay ahead. He was a prominent drug dealer in Philadelphia. He had used the proceeds from his joint drug operation with his friend and partner, Mack, to create a lucrative legitimate business.
But Terry knew that their main focus would not be on how he obtained the business. After all, they were homicide detectives.
Worry settled in as the vision of the twins’ murders, he and Mack committed played through his mind. A homicide detective’s job was to uncover evidence. He sensed that he wasn’t dealing with a pair of rookies. What did they know?
The ride came to an end, along with the conversation. Terry was escorted inside the building and into a small room that had a cheap metal desk and three uncomfortable metal folding chairs. The despair of the room begged for any visitors to hurry and leave. They left him in solitude for awhile, but Terry knew he wasn’t completely alone in that chamber. Nestled in the upper corner of the wall was a tiny video camera. Without making direct eye contact with the camera, Terry removed his suit jacket, placed it on the back of the chair, and waited patiently.
Todd entered the room carrying a few files. Latrice was behind him with two cups of steaming coffee in her hands.
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked.
“No. Thank you,” Terry declined.
“Cigarette?” Latrice asked.
“No, I don’t smoke.”
“Okay, Terry.” Todd let out a deep sigh and took a seat opposite him. Latrice followed suit. “Let’s get to why you were asked to come down here. We’re investigating the murder of Antwon Green and the shooting of Tyreek Simmons. Can you tell us what, if anything, you know about this?”
“Antwon was a good friend of mine that I’ve known since I lived in Syracuse. I met Reek through Twan. He’s a cool, young man that I took a liking to.”
“Do you have any idea why they were targeted?” Latrice asked.
“No.”
“What are the streets saying?”
“I don’t know. I’m not in the streets.”
“Come on, man. I’m not convinced by the expensive suit and your fancy business. Those guys were in the street life and I know you have ties to the streets as well. Do I look like I was fucking born yesterday?” Todd’s voice escalated, signifying his mounting frustration.
&nbs
p; “Listen, Mr. Reed. If you want to ask me about what happened to my friends, feel free. But if you brought me down here to accuse me of all this other bullshit, you’ll have to do that while my lawyer is present.” Terry’s words came out even and filled with confidence. His face showed no signs of intimidation.
His reply was a strong gush of wind pushing Todd back in his chair.
Todd was unable to conceal his vexation. “Do you know that Tyreek tried to call you while shot?”
“Yes.”
“Why would he think to call you, as opposed to the cops, or even his mother?” Latrice asked.
“He really looked up to me. I let him hang out with me at my business over the past couple of weeks. I wanted to show him my way of life. I promised that if he proved he wanted to work, I would give him a job. I know he thinks highly of me. That would be my only guess as to why he tried to call me.”
The questioning continued, but they obtained little to no additional information to aide their investigation. There was no doubt in their minds that Terry knew more than he was willing to tell. The problem was there was nothing that could be done about it. Todd handed Terry his card and asked him to give him a call if he heard anything. Terry falsely promised that he would. They offered him a ride back to his business. He respectfully declined and called a friend to pick him up.
“So, where do we go from here?” Todd asked.
“To the hospital. Let’s see what Tyreek has to say.”
The Reed detectives entered Einstein Hospital, spoke to the doctors who were responsible for the care of Reek, and the security. Afterwards, they entered his room.
Tyreek was conscious, but it was evident that prescribed medication had him heavily sedated.
Latrice approached the bed looking at the slender, baby-faced, young man who lay helplessly in the hospital bed with nothing but a thin white hospital gown partially covering his body. A sense of sadness came over her. She just couldn’t come to grips with why young men and women risked permanently damaging, or losing their lives, chasing a dream that would never be caught.
