City Lights

by George Sherman Hudson

  A few minutes later, Moretti and the two men from inside busted out of the eatery door, looking for the men his security called him about. Real knew if he didn’t act quickly, B-Low and Jesse would be killed by Moretti and his men. Just as Moretti and the two men stepped off the curb, Real let loose on them, all the while hoping Jesse and B-Low had managed to get a drop on the men with the gun on them.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  Real hit the first man in the leg, causing him to go down, just as the second man took off running. Moretti couldn’t move quickly enough. Real hit him in the stomach, doubling him over. Not wasting any time, Real ran up on Moretti and looked him dead in the face as he tried to speak.

  “You were…killed…” Moretti uttered as he looked up, clutching his stomach and curling into a grotesque contortion somewhat like a fetal position.

  “Naw, bitch, YOU were killed!” Real spat as he put a single shot to Moretti’s temple and one to the chest of the other wounded man.

  Caught up in the moment, Real didn’t realize Jesse had been shot. B-Low stood over the dead gunman with his nine in his hand.

  Just as Real started into their direction, a speeding car rounded the corner. Real took off, running full speed to the Lincoln as the men fired shots at him.

  B-Low, seeing the men coming frantically, tried to pick Jesse up to get him in the car.

  “Come on, man! Let’s get the fuck outta here!” Real shouted as he reached the car and jumped behind the wheel.

  “Bro, you going to make it! Get up, bro!” B-low screamed at Jesse, who was unconscious and bleeding profusely.

  The men in the car were closing in fast, shooting round after round in their direction. B-Low knew if he didn’t make a move soon, he would be killed. He had no choice but to leave Jesse behind.

  “Drive! Drive!” B-low screamed as he jumped in the car. He took one last glance back at his partner, lying wounded in the parking lot.

  Real hit the gas on the Lincoln and sped out of the lot with the angry Italians still trailing behind them. The men in the car gave chase until they heard sirens coming in their direction. Realizing they couldn’t catch Real, the Italians turned around, rushed back to the lot, and loaded a wounded Jesse in their car before they sped off.

  Chapter 26

  Word had spread fast in the Italian community that the heads of two of the most powerful families had been gunned down. No one knew who was responsible for the murders, but word around Miami’s underground was that the Moretti family had picked up one of the men involved and was nursing him to health just to question him to find out who sent the hit.

  Moretti’s nephew Angelo instructed his men to keep a close eye on Jesse while he recuperated. The day after the murder of Moretti, Angelo was appointed to lead the family.

  Milo, who was hiding out in Atlanta, heard about his uncle’s death through one of his close friends in Miami. Milo’s dreams had finally come true, and he knew he would now lead his family back into power. He knew everyone was wondering where he was, so he came up with an out-of-the-country story to satisfy everyone’s curiosity. After the dust had settled a bit, he planned to settle into his rightful position as head of the family. He wasted no time making his way back to Miami.

  * * * * *

  It had been two days since the murders, and Real still hadn’t heard from B-Low since dropping him off at his car at Burger King. Real knew how distraught B-Low was over leaving Jesse in the parking lot, and they were both sure Jesse had been killed.

  Real knew the families would never suspect him, being that he was confirmed dead, and since Jesse was certainly dead by now and couldn’t talk, he wasn’t worrying about retaliation. Now, all he wanted to do was track Cash down and punish him for his disloyalty. He picked up the phone on his desk and called a couple of his best resources, but after hanging up the phone, he still didn’t have a clue where Cash was.

  Getting his head back in the game, Real contemplated on a new connect, being that Moretti was dead. After thinking for a minute, he picked up the phone and called Pam, a former connect who was from the north side of Atlanta. Pams’s prices weren’t as low as Moretti’s, but she could drop it by the loads.

  Pam and Real went way back, even before Real and Constance. At one time, they were an item, but they never let their personal relationship interfere with their business. Pam called it quits after catching Real cheating for the third time. After the breakup, Real and Pam agreed to remain friends.

  Pam was known around the city as a boss bitch that would kill anybody who disrespected her in any way. Her rough interior didn’t come close to matching her outer beauty. Pam was the spitting image of Lauren London, complete with a big, round ass. She was one of the finest, classiest women in the city and kept her chrome 380 tucked in her waist at all times.

  “Pam,” Real said into his office phone.

  “Real,” Pam replied, happy to hear his voice.

  Real didn’t know Pam had taken a couple of bad licks these last few days. The lick that ultimately took her out of the game had come just the day before, when she called her Miami connect to confirm the 200-kilo shipment that she had paid for in advance. After calling time and time again, finally someone answered her connect’s phone and told her that her connect had been killed outside of his house. The person who answered the phone then hung up, and no one had answered the phone since.

  “What’s up? What you been up too?” Real asked, thinking about old times with Pam.

  “I’ve been doing. Jus’ still trying to live in this man’s world,” Pam replied jokingly.

  “I’m trying to buy a house. You got one for sale?” Real asked in code, knowing Pam would catch on.

  “Yeah. What’s your price range, and how many rooms you looking for?” Pam asked, knowing full well that she couldn’t produce.

  “I’m looking in the range of $1.5 mill, around thirteen rooms,” Real said, doing the math in his head.

  “Okay. I can find one for that, no problem. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll hit you back.” Pam hung up the phone, now desperate for a come up. She had agreed to Real’s price but had other plans for his money. She knew Real would pay up front, so she planned to take the $1.5 mill and flip it with her Florida connect, and then double back and get Real his package.

  Real walked over to his safe and pulled two stacks of money out at a time until he had the $1.5 million. As he counted the money, he got madder and madder at Cash. He thought back on the days when Cash wasn’t buying but two and a baby, driving around in an old Monte Carlo. Now, after Real’s assistance, he was a major player in the game. Shaking his head in disgust, he continued to count out the $1.5 million, taking no notice of the feds and DEA agents surrounding his house like ants on a picnic.

  As Real counted, he picked up his desk phone and called Constance. “Hey, boo,” Real said with enthusiasm, happy to hear her voice.

  “Hey, baby! Is everything okay?’” Constance asked, also happy to have Real on the phone, alive and well.

  “Yeah, boo, everything cool,” Real assured her.

  “Cool enough for me to come home now?” Constance asked in a hopeful tone.

  “Yeah. It’s cool enough for my baby to come back home,” Real told her as he continued to count the money. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  Before Constance could reply, FBI and DEA agents stormed the house. Real dropped the phone when he heard the loud crash and glass shattering. Knowing that he didn’t have enough time to get out of his office, he had no choice but to barricade the thick wooden door.

  “FBI! Come out now with your hands up!” the burly agent screamed as they combed the house looking for Real.

  Real was half relieved it was only the FBI and not a gang of Italian killers. Real knew he couldn’t get away, so he packed the money back into his safe and grabbed the phone, where Constance was still holding on, listening in on all the commotion and probably scared out of her mind. “Baby, the police in the house. Come on home and get with our lawyer an
d—”

  CRASH! The door flew open.

  When Real looked up, all he saw was an arsenal of government-issued guns pointed squarely at every inch of his head and body. He dropped the phone and put his hands up.

  Constance was on the next flight home.

  Chapter 27

  “Everyone, can I please have your attention!” Milo screamed across the grand room in what was once Rossi’s house but was now his.

  All the heads of the families were brought together to discuss the murders of two of their most powerful leaders. Milo had called the meeting after arriving back in Miami and being placed at the head of the family. Discussing the murders wasn’t Milo’s main objective though. His main intention for the meeting was to make sure everyone knew he was in charge of the Rossi family and also to show the other families that the Rossi family was about to regain the powerful position it once held.

  “We understand Angelo has one of the men who were involved in the murders. Angelo, is the man talking yet?” Milo asked Angelo, who sat at the far end of the table.

  Angelo was also recently appointed to the head of the Moretti family. Angelo was determined to avenge his uncle’s death at all costs. The other families had the utmost respect for Angelo—way more than they would ever have for Milo, whom they all knew was a self-serving loose cannon. “Yes,” Angelo answered, “we do have one of the men involved. He’s still sedated, but as soon as he comes to, we will most definitely get him to reveal his sources,” Angelo said with confidence as he took a sip of the ridiculously expensive ancient red wine that was placed in front of every man at the table.

  “Good, good. So, by the end of the week, we should have some answers then?” Milo questioned.

  “Don’t know. Like I said before, he is sedated. When he comes to, we will question him. I will most definitely keep all the families informed,” Angelo said firmly.

  “Good. So, do we have everyone’s cooperation in going after the men behind the murders?” Milo asked as he looked at each man at the table.

  “You got my help,” said Carlo, head of the Romano family.

  “Mine too,” Uberto, head of the Bianchi family added.

  Before long, all the men in the room had agreed to come together and destroy the men behind Mr. Moretti’s and Mr. Rossi’s deaths.

  After going over a couple more issues concerning the cartel, they all called it a night. After seeing everyone out, Milo went up to his room, which was once Rossi’s old room. He sat in the oversized expensive leather chair, lit an expensive cigar, and smiled, basking in the pride that came with knowing he had gotten his way. He was finally in power.

  As Angelo drove home, he thought about how Milo was going to bring tension within the cartel with his unscrupulous ways. Milo voted against him heading the Rossi family, but all the other heads knew he was the only one in the family who was well versed in the dealings with the cartel. Angelo knew that, in due time, Milo would destroy the whole Rossi family legacy with his so-called ‘power tactics’. Angelo shook his head at the thought as he pulled up into his driveway thirty minutes later.

  Before he could get out of the car, one of his men ran out the door to meet him. “Angelo, the man is conscience, but he claims he doesn’t remember anything.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, let’s see if we can help jar his memory a little,” Angelo said as they entered the house and headed straight for the wine cellar, where they had Jesse tied up to a makeshift bed.

  Jesse looked around in shock at his surroundings. After a minute, he remembered how he was lying out in the parking lot, bleeding from the gunshot wound and then all of a sudden blacked out. He wondered where he was and how he got there. He snatched at the rope and saw it was no use. The Italian men that sat flanking the bed with automatic weapons just stared at him.

  “Hey there, friend. Do you know who I am?” Angelo asked Jesse, who lay in the uncomfortable bed, confused and in pain.

  “No. Who the hell are you, and how did I get here?” Jesse asked, now realizing that the men in the room had to be linked to the Italians they had killed.

  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, my friend. The easy way is you can tell who sent you, and the hard way is I can make you tell me who sent you,” Angelo spat.

  “Man, I don’t know nothing. I came—”

  Angelo’s hand across his face caught him totally off guard. “Look here, you Black piece of shit! Who sent you?” Angelo demanded as he dug into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a menacing-looking switchblade.

  “Look, man, I was brought into this by a friend. I don’t know who he works for,” Jesse lied, protecting Real who was surely going to put him on when he got out of there.

  “Okay,” Angelo said deviously. Reaching back into his pocket, he pulled out a cigarette lighter. He struck it and held the flame to the tip of the blade until it turned red hot. Then Angelo ran the tip of the blade down the side of Jesse’s face.

  “Ahhh!” Jesse screamed out in pain.

  “Who the fuck sent you?” Angelo screamed as he heated the blade again. This time, he pressed it into Jesse’s mouth, burning his lips as Jesse tried to press his lips together tight so the knife couldn’t enter.

  “Ahhh! Umm! Umm!” Jesse screamed as he held his mouth closed.

  Angelo heated the blade once again. This time, Angelo pressed the blade into Jesse’s eye.

  “Ahhh! Okay! Okay!” Jesse screamed.

  “Who the fuck sent you?” Angelo calmly asked again as reheated the blade.

  “Real!” Jesse exclaimed, dropping his head back on the stained raggedy pillow.

  “You liar. Real’s dead,” Angelo said as he positioned the blade over Jesse’s other eye.

  “No! No, man! I swear! Your guys fucked up, man. The man y’all killed in the club was his cousin Max, who managed the club for him!” Jesse explained, moving his head away from the blade of the knife.

  Angelo looked around at his men—the same men that had supposedly killed Real.

  “We killed him, Angelo. Right in his office, we swear,” one of the men said in a panicked tone.

  “Did you know for a fact that it was him?” Angelo asked firmly.

  Both men looked at each other, and then the first man answered. “No, but one of those strippers said he was in—”

  Angelo knew then that Jesse was telling the truth. Satisfied with Jesse’s confession, Angelo walked over to the man holding a forty-five automatic. “Give me your gun.” Angelo demanded. Gun in hand, he walked back over to Jesse in the bed. “You fuckin’ piece of shit!” Angelo screamed as he put a single bullet in the middle of Jesse’s forehead.

  After killing Jesse, Angelo went upstairs and reached out to every member of the family. He filled them in on Jesse’s revelations, and, in turn, all the families summoned some of their best men to head up to Atlanta to eliminate Real and anybody close to him.

  Chapter 28

  The next day, Constance contacted Real’s lawyer, Todd Maddox, one of Atlanta’s best criminal attorneys. An hour later, they were rushing down to the federal building together. Pulling up into the federal parking lot in Todd’s Lexus 460, Constance and Todd parked and rushed through the double glass doors.

  Todd flashed his credentials, and a few minutes later, he was in an expensively furnished office, talking to the U.S. attorney about Real’s arrest. Constance waited for him out front. Todd found out that Real was being held on a number of charges, and the State’s attorney was most definitely going to seek a RICO indictment. Todd also knew they would file an injunction to seize all property and bank accounts pending the trial outcome.

  After hearing Real’s charges, Todd exited the office and filled Constance in on the way downstairs to see Real. They approached the old White lady guard that sat behind the desk and gave her Real’s name. A few minutes later, the attorney visit was confirmed.

  “Ma’am, you can’t go back. Only the attorney is allowed in the visiting area,” the old lady told Constance as she pres
sed the button to open the door.

  “What? But I really need to see him,” Constance pleaded.

  “Sorry, ma’am. Only legal counsel is allowed at this hour. You will have to come back during his family visiting hours on weekends,” the old lady said sternly.

  “It’s okay,” Todd assured Constance. “I’ll go back and see what’s going on. You just hang out here for a minute. I’ll let him know you are out here.”

  Constance paced the floor in the federal building lobby, really hating the old lady guard for not letting her back to see Real.

  Todd was led by a short stocky male guard down the hall to a small enclosed room with two chairs and a desk.

  After securing Todd in the room, the guard went and got Real from the holding cell, where he had been lying on the cold steel bench with his shirt balled up under his head for a pillow. “Richard Walker, your attorney is here!” the man yelled.

  “A’ight,” Real snapped back as he sat up, unballed his shirt, and put it on.

  When Real was brought in, Agents Kincaide and Ross tried the good cop/bad cop routine just to see if they could get any information out of him. After giving up, they had locked him back in the holding cell. Little did Real know that Cash was right above him in a PC cell waiting to testify against him.

  “Put your hands on the wall,” the guard instructed Real as he patted him down and then handcuffed him before walking out of the cell. The guard led Real down the hallway to the small enclosed room where Todd patiently waited.

  “Hi there, Richard. How’s it going?” Todd asked as Real and the guard entered the room

  The guard uncuffed Real and then exited the room, carefully closing and locking the door while Real and Todd discussed the charges brought against Real.

  “What’s going on here, Todd? Where is Constance?” Real asked worriedly.

  “Constance is out front. They wouldn’t let her back. Sit down and let me fill you in on what I know.”

  Real told Todd as they took a seat face to face in the hard wooden chairs that were divided by an old wooden office desk. “Man, I can’t believe this shit,” Real said, rubbing his head.