Bone closed his eyes and shook his head. These were his brothers, comrades, brothers in arms. He had been with some of them when their children were born. Attended weddings. He was some of their children’s godfather. Above all that, he was their big homie. They trusted him to lead them to the promised land. Now his big homie was asking him to do the unthinkable, it seemed.
“It’s time to purge the line,” Qwess ordered. He couldn’t believe he was saying that. It felt so surreal that he didn’t even hear his own words. He just felt them leave his mouth. “We don’t know who is sour, so every one of them that could possibly know about this has to go.” Qwess shrugged. “It’s the only way.”
“How do we know it was one of them?” Bone challenged. “What if your intel is suspect?”
Qwess had thought about that himself, but the information was too accurate. “Brother, I wish it was, but the information is too accurate. Someone is talking, and this isn’t going anywhere. It’s holding a lot of things up. You can imagine how I’m feeling right now, but it’s the only way.”
Bone dropped his head in defeat. He was being asked to eliminate the crux of his whole line. What would that move do to the loyalty he had engendered over the years? What would that do to his money? Who would he appoint to control those territories? The men in question were more than mere soldiers; they were bosses with legions of men under them. What of those men? How would they react to their captains being murdered? Bone respected Qwess to the utmost, but he was second-guessing his call.
Maybe I should pay Samson a visit, he thought.
Just as quickly as the thought surfaced, he dismissed it. They were under strict orders not to go see Samson. He was incarcerated under an alias that had nothing to do with the Crescent Crew. The real Samson had the murder of a federal police officer over his head, and any visits from the Crescent Crew would raise suspicion.
Qwess saw Bone questioning his decision. “Here is what you’re missing, little brother,” Qwess said. “If your line is sour, I’m not the only one in jeopardy; you are! Now, I know you don’t have the death penalty in your plans, do you? That Amadou Diallo move can put you in the afterlife with a needle in your arm.”
Qwess was referring to the infamous murder that earned Bone a slot in the Crescent Crew. He had shot a cop forty-one times in retaliation for the cops killing Jersey Ali.
Bone had to admit Qwess had a point.
Qwess saw him softening up a bit, so he drove his point home. “Yeah, I’m never going to make a decision like that for just my own benefit. This is Crew business,” he claimed.
Bone nodded, only half convinced. “Yeah, Crew business,” he muttered in defeat.
Qwess patted Bone on the back and walked to the door. “This needs to happen ASAP before any more of our line get contaminated,” he said. “I know you don’t like it, but this an OG call.”
Bone opened the door for Qwess to leave. Standing outside the office and all around the stairs were members of the Crescent Crew. They’d heard he was in the building and quickly got in position to protect him with their lives, if need be.
As Qwess carefully descended the stairs on his red bottoms, members of the Crew saluted him with tremendous respect. One of the members Qwess recognized as one of the first fruits of the Crescent Crew. He stopped to give him a hug and a pound.
“As salaamu alaykum!” Qwess greeted over the loud music. “How you been, brother?”
The man’s smile nearly wet his ears as he returned the greeting. He couldn’t believe Qwess had come down to the trenches to kick it with the fam. This only elevated his status in his eyes. He couldn’t wait to tell the other members of his set that he had kicked it with Qwess. This made his night, his year even.
Little did he know, Qwess had just sentenced him to death.
Chapter 14
Over the next few months, things heated up for the Crescent Crew. The Mexican cartel stepped up their assault in a last-ditch effort to save face. So while Bone was devising a plan that would tear a chunk of his heart from his chest, he also had to defend his territory.
One Friday, the Mexicans abducted Muhammad coming from the masjid and demanded a ransom of $100,000 for his return. Unknown to them, Muhammad was on Bone’s list of men that had to go anyway, so Bone decided to use Muhammad’s abduction as a chance to flex his muscle.
He arranged for a meeting to make the exchange of Muhammad for the $100,000. They decided to make the exchange in a warehouse parking lot in Raeford after midnight. Bone gathered a few of his newest recruits and took them with him to handle business.
When Bone’s driver pulled the Durango into the parking lot, the Mexican faction was already waiting on them. Bone instructed his driver to pull around the building to make sure they weren’t about to be ambushed. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he had the Durango pull up across from the Mexican’s Suburban and keep the lights on.
Bone’s young guns exited the truck first with their AR-15s in hand. Meanwhile, two Mexicans were already out of their truck with AK-47s in their hands.
“Where is Mo?” one of the young guns asked, but the Mexicans feigned as if they didn’t understand English.
Bone stepped out of the truck vested up and yelled across the parking lot. “¿Donde está mi hermano?”
One of the men opened the door and snatched Muhammad from the backseat. He was bound at the hands and gagged with a bandana.
“¿Donde está el dinero?” one of the Mexicans yelled. The fact that these men couldn’t speak English told him that they weren’t operating in the area. Their new leader probably had them shipped in from Mexico just for wet work.
Bone tossed the duffel bag stuffed with cash on the ground between them. “Now let my brother go! ¡Dame mi hermano ahora mismo!”
One of the Mexicans stepped up to get the bag full of cash. As soon as his hands touched the bag, Bone let his Desert Eagle spit.
BOOM!
The shot caught him in the top of the head and blew him over on his back, where he lay twitching and gurgling his own blood.
The other Mexican quickly grabbed Muhammad up in a yoke and put the gun to his head. “No se mueve!”
No one expected Bone to jeopardize Muhammad’s life with such a reckless move. Now everyone was confused and looked to him for answers.
Bone snatched one of the AR’s away from his young soldier and pointed it right at the Mexican.
“No se mueve!” the man repeated. All he could think about was the $100,000 on the ground just a few feet in front of him. He was so close to that money he could smell it. That bag would make him a millionaire in Mexico. He could do so much for his family. He would be the don of his village. He could see the beautiful señoritas lapping at him like a hungry dog. If only he could make it out of there with that bag.
But there would be no fantasies carried out this day.
Bone aimed the AR-15 at the center of Muhammad’s chest and pulled the trigger. Muhammad went limp in the Mexican’s arms. It was the break Bone needed.
He fired three more rounds—two to the chest and one to the head—and the Mexican crumpled to the ground, dead.
Bone walked over to both fallen men with his young soldiers in tow. Muhammad was still alive and was wheezing through the gag desperately trying to capture his breath while clutching his chest.
Bone passed the AR-15 to his youngster. He pointed to Muhammad. “This nigga here is snitching!” Bone lied. “Ain’t no rats gonna be in my line,” he said.
Muhammad heard the aspersion Bone cast against him and nearly gagged as he tried to clear the smut from his name.
“What you gonna do?” Bone asked. “Let this nigga know what we do to snitches. Show this nigga Crew business.”
Before the first young soldier could raise his weapon, his brother came up from behind him and fired a three-round burst right in Muhammad’s head.
“Good job,” Bone commended. He smacked the first soldier in the back of the head. “And you, don’t you ever he
sitate on me when I tell you to pull the trigger. Next time you’ll be laying down there with them. Understand?”
The man nodded. His comrade ice grilled him and left no question that he would pull the trigger on him if he didn’t move fast enough next time.
Bone climbed in the back of the Durango with bittersweet feelings. He hated to do Muhammad like that with no proof. Unfortunately, the proof he needed would only be revealed after he was indicted. Although he wasn’t completely sure that Qwess’s remedy was the correct answer, he did agree with Qwess that none of them could take that chance. In the streets, the other Golden Rule applied: Do unto others before they could do unto you.
And it appeared that Bone had found some worthy allies to carry out his master plan with.
Chapter 15
New York City
New Year’s Eve
Flame hadn’t heard from Sasha Beaufont since the episode at his spot. It was obvious she had swiped the video. The only question was why.
Neither Sasha nor Kim was returning his calls, and Diamond was still out of the country. Sasha had done a number on Flame, and he was going through withdrawal without her. He craved her sex, her presence, her scent, her passion. He was straight up missing her. How she disappeared on him had only heightened his arousal, so he reverted back to his old ways.
Flame was knocking down everything that wasn’t nailed down as he tried to ease the fire Sasha had set loose in his loins. He was recklessly knocking off women after his parties and even banged a few he knew were under age. Nothing worked, though. He wanted Sasha.
Flame stalked Sasha’s social media pages like he was a paparazzo waiting to break a story, but other than the same old recycled professional photos, he couldn’t catch a glimpse of her.
Fortunately, the time came when he had no spare time to worry about Sasha because he had to prepare for the New Year’s celebration. He had scored the headline rap performance for ABC. It was a real good look. National exposure on the most watched show of the year was sure to bring in his New Year on a high note. All at once time, he could touch audiences from South Carolina to Singapore, from Fayettenam to the Philippines and everywhere in between. This was huge for a Southern artist on a truly independent label.
After his performance he was scheduled to host a party along with Qwess and the rest of ABP at NY Live, the hottest new club just around the corner from Times Square. They were dubbing it the Billionaire Ball because it was rumored that the people Qwess invited as his special guests were all multiple millionaires one hundred times over. Their net worth combined would easily exceed one billion dollars. Qwess was pulling out all the stops to make his party the talk for the rest of the year. He even hinted that he was coming out of retirement to perform with Flame. Their grudges aside, Flame was excited because he and Qwess performing together would be huge for the culture. Flame felt Qwess had a lot to celebrate since he had been fleecing his artists all year. Now he wanted to rub his success in everyone’s face.
Flame woke up with an eerie feeling that morning, but he just dismissed it as stage fright for the big event that night. More than 10 million people were estimated to be watching him at midnight.
8-Ball shadowed Flame as he ran around the city taking care of last-minute details. 8-Ball was still salty at Flame for fucking Sasha. He swore that something bad would happen behind it, but so far nothing had transpired. Flame just dismissed 8-Ball’s mood as jealousy. He knew the big guy had a huge crush on Sasha. Hell, who didn’t?
By the time night fell, Flame was ready for the night to be over! He was exhausted from the media frenzy and the traffic. Even though he was being chauffeured around in a customized Mercedes sprinter van, they still were hung up in traffic for most of the day.
It was cold as fuck outside, and Flame had to stay out in it to rehearse. His mink battled the cold a little, but it did nothing for the cold glares the other haters in the industry were throwing his way. Artists he’d had respect for were keeping their distance. Female artists he’d almost fucked weren’t even acknowledging him.
Fuck ’em all, Flame thought. This was his night.
* * *
At about 11:30 p.m. other performers took the stage in front of hundreds of thousands of drunk revelers and New York’s finest, hyping them out. Flame watched a few of the performances from his perch high above the stage while he and 8-Ball blazed some of that good-good to get his head right for his performance.
Flame inhaled deeply and reflected on the past year. The game had been good to him. His performance money was rolling in, and his single was topping the charts. Even his last royalty check had been decent. His clothing line was on par to do numbers next year, and he couldn’t forget his biggest coup: he had fucked both Kim Rawls and Sasha Beaufont. He was living the dream of 85 percent of the men in the world. He thought about running that number up and trying to fuck the third member too, but she was too skinny to be his type. Plus, he was really feeling Sasha.
At ten minutes to midnight a handler from ABC found Flame and escorted him and 8-Ball down to the performance area and set them up backstage.
With two minutes to midnight, they passed Flame a mic and began his countdown. He was supposed to take the stage right as the ball dropped. Flame dapped Ball up, shed his floor-length mink, and adjusted his leather Flaming Diamond flight suit and waited for the countdown.
TEN!
A handler turned his mic on . . .
EIGHT!
Flame adjusted his diamond ABP necklace . . .
SIX!
He bowed his head, breathed deeply to calm down . . .
FOUR!
He peeked through the curtain at the packed house . . .
TWO!
Happy New Year!!!
Flame took the stage and blazed flames.
* * *
Qwess had been looking for Flame everywhere. When he saw him performing on one of the televisions in Times Square, he breathed a sigh of relief. He still had time to get to him.
Qwess’s phone was going off incessantly with the same messages. He scrolled over to Twitter, and sure enough he saw it again. It was trending. Qwess shook his head. He couldn’t believe this shit!
As he rode in the Maybach with Hulk, he felt the weight of his .40 cal resting beneath his sport coat and felt a little bit of comfort. Ever since Bone started making his move against the crew, Qwess started carrying the strap again. Bone was very reluctant to follow his orders that night, so even though Qwess heard one of the members had been killed, he couldn’t be sure it was because of the orders he issued. History is littered with the bodies of those who took the double cross for granted. Qwess wasn’t about to go down in history like them.
Qwess knew he had to deal with that later. He had more pressing matters to attend to now. He had to protect his future investment.
Tennessee / North Carolina Border
Bone’s heart was heavy as he took the long, windy road up to the cabin in the mountains. He had managed to successfully gather all the First Fruits of the Crescent Crew together in one place. He lied and told them that he was throwing a celebration for the original Crew members as a reward for staying true to the game.
Of course, they were excited to show up and bond with their old comrades. Among themselves, they always felt as if they were a cut above the new members. They had put in substantial work compared to the others and carried the bricks that had built the foundation. It felt good for them to be singled out for their hard work.
Bone rounded the bend and saw the luxury vehicles strewn about the grounds of the cabin. They actually drove these hot-ass cars to a freaking New Year’s rendezvous with the biggest drug dealers in the Southeast. He shook his head. These niggas can’t stay low-key to save their fucking lives.
Bone circled the grounds to make sure everyone was inside. Through the open windows of the cabin he could see them shooting pool, smoking cigars and blunts, and playing cards. He slowed the Durango down enough for him to get a head count. Su
re enough, they were all there.
Bone pulled the Durango around to the front of the cabin about fifty yards away from the building. He slammed the truck into park and doused the lights.
He spoke to his passengers in the truck. “You two niggas have been loyal from the first day I pulled you in from the cold, sucking up all the game I kicked down. I’ve been giving you the game like it was given to me,” Bone said. “Now this is the other part of the game. The mo’ money, mo’ problems part of the game. The betrayals and coups and shit. You have to watch them niggas that’s close to you and make sure they do what they supposed to do, ’cause sometimes them the niggas that be thinking about smoking you.”
As Bone weaved his verbal web of deceit, it wasn’t lost on him that he was testifying against himself. He was about to do the same thing he was warning the youngsters about. Then again, was he? Since the day Qwess had planted that fatal seed in his mind, his suspicions had grown into a full-fledged tree of doubt. That tree of doubt had grown to a forest of convictions. That’s how the human mind works: it only takes one string being pulled to unravel a perfect bundle of loyalty. Bone was now convinced he had to act, because inaction could seal his fate and his whole Crew.
Bone pointed to the cabin. “All them niggas in there was plotting to overthrow me and take over the Crew for themselves. A couple of them was working with them folks to case me up too. Then, they wanted to divide the empire with their Georgia folks,” Bone said, continuing to put the battery pack in his young soldiers’ backs.
“Wait, so they not even from Carolina?” Maleek said.
“Nah. Georgia. Little town outside of Atlanta.”
Maleek scoffed, “Go figure.”
“You know, when we built the crew, we created it as a haven for hustlers where we all got rich and supported each other. Dig, if we all rich then nobody would be broke because we all would be each other’s crutches. But these niggas don’t want to be a part of the family no more. Notice I said, ‘niggas, ’ because brothers of mine would never be so foul.”
Dirty Music Page 13
