by Amir Sanchez
“And what is it that you have learned?” she asked.
“Well, Leaf mentioned that the connect was the ol’ head Black from down southwest who been moving around doing his thing for years. With that nigga backing them up, they untouchable,” he revealed, feeling like a piece of shit for giving up information about his little homie to the feds. Just the mention of Black’s name prompted Adam to respond to Jihad’s statement, with his eyes wide open and beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.
“What Black are you referring to? Are you talking about Curtis ‘Black’ Campbell? Why didn’t we hear any mention of his name through the piece on your belt? And how do you know Leaf was talking about the guy Black specifically?” Adam fired question after question, barely giving Jihad a chance to answer any of them.
“Everybody knows that Black has been their mothers’ connect from way back in the day,” Jihad explained. “From what I understand, Connie reached out to Black while she was still locked up and asked Black to look out for the Santana boys. Black put Gus on, and that’s the only reason Gus been doing so good lately. You think everything they been doing was done by themselves?” Jihad paused. “C’mon, man, you know shit don’t get done in Philly without that OG’s blessing.”
Jihad felt a little more comfortable spitting all that information after seeing Adam’s reaction when he first mentioned Black’s name. Jihad had no loyalties to Black, so he figured maybe he could get these motherfuckers to go after Black instead of the Santanas.
“I’m going ask you one more question and be careful the way you answer me.” Adam leaned in and got right in Jihad’s face. “How do we know everything you just said is the truth? We didn’t hear any of this through the live feed from your belt.”
“I don’t know, man. This all happened when we was at Freeze’s. Maybe everything got muffled because the music was blasting. I ain’t no tech man. I don’t know how all that electronic shit works.” Jihad shrugged his shoulders. Truth be told, Jihad really didn’t know much about electronic stuff, but he did know the reason why they hadn’t heard any of that through the belt. When Jihad went to Freeze’s with Leaf, he had grabbed a pillow from the VIP spot they were sitting at and put it over the belt in hopes that it would muffle their conversation.
Adam took in everything Jihad said, and at his request, the van got off at the first exit and parked in the driveway of a fast-food restaurant. All the agents, with the exception of the driver, got out of the van where they had an urgent meeting. Words were exchanged, situations were compromised, and phone calls were made. When the agents got back into the van, they treated Jihad with a newly discovered degree of respect.
“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, Jihad, and I apologize for losing my patience. I’m sure that once we better prepare you for these situations, we’ll work better together,” said Adam with an Oscar Award–winning performance. They never had any intentions of really returning Jihad to jail. It had all been an act to get Jihad riled up and scared that he’d be getting sent back. It was strictly strategy, and it had worked like a charm.
“Jihad, we have reason to believe that the Santana boys are throwing a big welcome back party for their mothers. Do you know anything about that?” Amy asked.
“Um, yeah. They’re throwing the sisters a huge party this weekend at the Taj Mahal in Atlantic City,” he informed them.
“Okay, this Friday is the day they’re scheduled to get out of the halfway house,” Amy said as her thoughts raced. “I have an idea that, if planned out carefully, it could possibly bring you closer to Gus. With the information you just supplied us, we might be going after Black too now. I’m going to need a few days to get everything planned out. For your protection and ours, we’ll meet up Friday morning and prepare you for what the next moves will be, so be well rested. You think you can handle it?” asked Amy.
“I don’t have a choice, Amy. Shit done got a whole lot realer,” said Jihad. When they dropped him back off at his car . . . he felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. His back was against the wall, and he had no idea what he was going to do to get out of the mess he had put himself in. He had a lot of shit to think about over the next few days. His life depended on it.
Now or Never
Friday afternoon, Jihad had just returned from meeting up with the agents. The plan that they had explained to him seemed suicidal and reminded him of some shit out of an action movie, but fuck it, his freedom depended on it. After going over things in his head repeatedly, he finally came to a decision about what he was going to do. Jihad was prepared to play both sides of the fence for as long as he could. After facing the reality of almost being sent back, he justified his decision to seriously cooperate with the feds as life or death. On the other hand, though, if it came down to a shoot-out between the feds and the Santanas, Jihad was willing to take a bullet and die protecting his boy Leaf. By all means necessary, Jihad wasn’t going back to jail. He’d rather get put in body bag than to get put back in Graterford handcuffs.
His thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of a horn. From his bedroom window, he noticed Leaf’s silver F-150 pickup truck was parked outside of his house. They were driving over to Atlantic City together. Jihad tucked the gun given to him by the feds on his hip. With all the stress and worry, he was looking forward to relieving it by partying in Atlantic City.
Connie and Consuela’s welcome home party was the talk of Philly. Everyone had been looking forward to this party. Only the cream of the crop and those that had been rolling with the twins from day one were invited. Gus and Trish had been planning the party from the second they learned of the twins’ premature release. Gus had given Trish unlimited access to his account and told her not to worry about any of the costs. Leaf and Sha’Ron didn’t care so much about the party itself, so they focused more on taking the girls shopping for their outfits and making sure they got all glamoured up for their big day. They didn’t know anything about fashion, but they enjoyed seeing the excitement in Connie and Consuela’s eyes while they shopped for the perfect dress and designed their custom jewelry and got their hair and makeup done. The boys took pride in being able to treat their mother and aunt so lavishly.
Trish knew how much the twins loved diamonds so the theme of the party was “Diamonds Are Forever.” The private ballroom she chose had crystal chandeliers throughout the ceiling. Each table had been decorated to look like Tiffany’s signature colors. The tablecloths were turquoise and the runners were jet black. The centerpieces were silver branches placed inside glass cylinder vases. Swarovski crystals hung from the branches like whimsical icicles, and tiny crystals were scattered throughout the tables to add the perfect finishing touch.
A famous comedian by the name Mac Williams was hosting the party as well as performing a forty-five minute stand-up act. The bar was stocked with hundreds of bottles of top-shelf liquors and champagnes. There was filet mignon, lobster tails, and Cornish hens on the menu, to be accompanied with mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables.
Trish had even made sure to rent out three entire floors for the guests to stay in when the party was over. Leaf and Sha’Ron surprised the twins and rented two of the latest Rolls-Royces in their favorite colors; one black and the other white. When the two drop-top Rolls-Royces, pulled up in front of the Taj Mahal, a sudden silence came over the crowd of rowdy partygoers who came out with intentions to support and celebrate the twins’ release. There was a good amount of onlookers curious to discover the identity and names of the individuals that were causing all of this commotion. As the doors to the Roll-Royces opened up, Connie and Consuela Santana stepped out looking like superstars. Wearing their favorite colors, they wore skintight Gucci dresses, Red Bottom high heel shoes, and actual princess crowns covered in a rainbow of diamonds. Their entrance alone was showstopping. Even the hustlers with major money didn’t dare approach the twins in a flirtatious manner nor make advances. Everyone knew the sisters did not take disrespect lightly.
T
he event turned out to be a success. The musicians that performed did so with style and perfection. Impressively, they even encouraged the audience of gangsters, hustlers, and bosses to join in and sing along and keep up with their dance moves. But the night wasn’t complete until the comedian did his hilarious stand-up performance. When he came out, he went right after the twins.
“What’s up, party people? Everybody looking all good and rich. Thank God for cocaine and crack. Look at the twins, all thick from them jailhouse grits and potatoes,” said Mac, as one of the twins gave him a playful evil stare while balling her fist up.
“Naw, I’m only fucking with you girls. Both of you look beautiful, by the way. Please don’t put a hit out on me! I already fucked up, coming in this bitch without my bulletproof vest and my nine. I got to stop smoking so much weed because I done forgot to tell Black and Gus that I wasn’t doing the show unless they provided metal detectors to search all these motherfucking gangsters in here.” Mac went on for about an hour, leaving the crowd cracking up. His performance was one for the books.
The after-party took place at a hip-hop club called The Lounge. Leaf and Jihad led the way over while Gus and Sha’Ron followed. While parking their cars side by side, no one took notice of the caravan that looked out of place with PA plates. It circled the lot once, then came right back around. Suddenly, gunshots rang out! There was a nigga shooting a fully loaded automatic weapon from out of the sliding side door of the van, directed straight at Gus and Sha’Ron as they sat helplessly inside Gus’s BMW. As if on cue, Jihad jumped from the truck squeezing shot after shot from his Glock at the would-be assassins. One of his bullets hit the shooter in the head, stopping him dead in his tracks. The van sped away as the shooter’s body hung from the open sliding door.
Jihad’s adrenaline was pumping as he ran over to the BMW, where Gus and Sha’Ron sat shocked and scared with minor injuries from the glass fragments.
“Yeah, nigga, I rocked that pussy. That’s how I do. Ain’t shit change . . . Y’all see how I move. Let’s get the fuck up out of here,” yelled Jihad with excitement, still holding the smoking gun. The entire parking lot was in a frenzy, as the would-be-partygoers ran for cover and sped out of the lot, hoping to avoid being shot. Because of the chaos, the after-party was completely shut down and everybody decided to flee the scene and make it back to Philly safely. Before exiting Atlantic City, Jihad threw the Glock over the bridge into a small channel of water below—just as the feds had instructed him to do.
Foot in the Door
“Wow, what a good job! I personally congratulate all of you. You guys were excellent and no one got hurt. Jihad did a great job as well. He followed instructions to the tee, and we were even able to recover the gun. To show my appreciation for the great job done, I’m treating everyone to a drink,” said Adam, who was hardly ever satisfied with his agents enough to treat them to anything. But since they had executed their plan with precise accuracy, he wanted to reward them for their hard work. It was risky to use live ammunition, but that was the risk they were willing to take in order to give the scene a realistic approach. The Hollywood-like special effects were something straight out of the movies. The blank bullets that were left on the scene from Jihad’s gun could not be identified as a blank; therefore, any reports about the incident would be official and realistic as well.
Everyone grabbed their keys and got ready to leave the office and go to the bar a few blocks down. Just as Amy reached the front office door, she heard Adam call out her name. She stopped and waited for him to catch up.
“Amy, that was great idea on your part, by the way. None of this would have been possible if it hadn’t been for you planning all of this out.” Adam praised her, “Believe me, I’m going to make sure the department knows you’ve been the brains behind this entire operation. To be honest with you, they originally assigned me to work with you on this case because they didn’t think you could do it on your own. But you sure as hell are proving them wrong,” Adam admitted.
“Thanks, Adam,” was all Amy could say. Hearing all of this was bittersweet. It felt great to be commended by Adam. Adam was a highly respected senior officer that had been in the force for over fifteen years. To have him pay her such a compliment meant the world to her. On the other hand, she was disappointed to hear that the department didn’t have much hopes for her when they put her on this case. Adam sensed her mixed emotions and decided to give her a few more words of encouragement.
“Hey, listen.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. “Don’t take what I just said personal. They treat all rookies like that in the beginning. You just keep proving them wrong.” Having said that, he winked and released her shoulders, “Now, let’s go catch up with everyone before there’s no beer left at the bar.”
Amy chuckled and decided to do exactly what Adam had just advised her.
When You Gamble with Safety, You Bet Your Life
The following day, Gus paced the floor of his living room trying to figure out who was responsible for the attempted hit. He and Trish had been arguing all night about the entire situation, and she was scared she was going to lose him. Her concerns were understandable, but she just chose the wrong time to express them. Gus’s nerves were shot from the near-death experience. It was enough reason to want tighter security around himself. Although they were out celebrating, Leaf should never have let his guard down. If it wasn’t for Jihad’s fast thinking and reaction, he might have been killed last night. His new outlook on life was on a higher level, as was his greater degree of respect for Jihad. He witnessed Jihad kill for him, and for that, he was grateful. Leaf was supposed to have his back, but last night, Leaf looked out for himself. Gus no longer felt comfortable with Leaf, and for that reason, he was going to offer Jihad the position as his personal enforcer.
Jihad wasn’t shocked when Gus called his phone the following morning after the shooting. He sounded real nervous, stating that he wanted to meet up with him immediately. This was just what the feds had predicted.
Before pulling up to Jihad’s house, Gus called and told him that he was in a black Grand Prix. After the shooting, he decided to put all of his cars up and get a rental.
As soon as he pulled up and Jihad got inside, he noticed Gus appeared to be scared and worried. It was as if he was expecting someone to jump out of nowhere and shoot him. They rode in silence for a few moments before Gus addressed him.
“Jihad, that was good looking, my nigga. You saved my life, and I’m forever indebted to you. The way you reacted was quick and without a second thought. I need that blanket of security at all times. In this business, you can never be too careful. The type of moves I’m making require constant observation of my surroundings. So, I’m prepared to give you two hundred grand right now and twenty-five stacks a month, if you agree to be that extra assurance I need. The only condition I make is that you move into my crib and be prepared to throw down at anytime, anywhere, or anyplace. What you say, my nigga?” he asked.
“Nigga, you like family. It ain’t even about the money, Gus. It’s about riding for the cause, homie. I got your back,” responded Jihad, as he sealed the deal with a handshake.
“I know it ain’t even about the paper, but since I’ma require a lot of your time and undivided attention, I insist,” said Gus while reaching into the backseat of the car and retrieving a large Coach bag. He placed it on Jihad’s lap. There was no protesting.
“I’m hungry as shit. You wanna slide past Ace’s Diner?” asked Gus, feeling unstoppable now that he had Jihad as his top enforcer.
“Yeah, I’m all for it. I ain’t had nothing to eat since last night at the party,” Jihad remarked.
When the two entered Ace’s, they were given special treatment and fast service, as usual. Gus was well known at most restaurants throughout the city, and he was known to be a heavy tipper. While waiting on their breakfast, which consisted of beef bacon, cheese eggs, toasted bread, and home fries, Jihad couldn’t believ
e who he bumped into. His ex-girlfriend, Cristina, was sitting at a nearby table with some dusty-looking nigga, sporting some Old Navy-looking shit. When she spotted him sitting with Gus, she acted like she was by herself and she hadn’t just been holding the next nigga’s hand.
“Oh my God . . . Is that Jihad? Hey, boy, when the fuck you get out of jail?” Cristina asked after running up on Jihad, hugging him as if they were still a couple.
“Excuse me for a second, homie. Bring your ass over here, bitch,” said Jihad, stepping away from the table and pulling Cristina over toward the restrooms. Seeing that the restroom area was empty and out of view of the employees and customers, he pushed her into the men’s room.
“Bitch, I should blow your head off. Not only did your funky ass leave me, but you took my little bit of money and left me dry. Now that you see me back out here, you acting like we supposed to be cool or something. Fuck you!”
“Jihad, all I knew was you, and when you left me, I was all alone. I started stripping and taking pills to stop myself from thinking about you. And, I didn’t spend your money. Somebody broke into my house and stole it. I miss you, Daddy, and I miss the taste of that chocolate dick,” said Cristina while stealing a sneak touch, making his dick get hard almost instantly. Seeing that her touch still held power, she dropped to her knees, unbuckled his pants, and started eating that dick up like she invented blow jobs. She slurped, sucked, and swallowed every drop of him. She was hoping that the mean head game would earn her position back.
Once she was done putting that jaw to work, Jihad’s dick was still rock hard, and now he wanted to fuck. He quickly snatched her up to her feet and began pulling her jeans and panties down in one swift motion. He bent her over the sink forcefully. While she was expecting it in her pussy, he took a different approach and stuck his dick right up her asshole without mercy. He beat it up until she cried. When he was done, he wiped his shitty, bloody dick off on the back of her shirt as she stood there bent over in excruciating pain. In a further attempt to humiliate her, he pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and some ones and threw them at her before she stood up and tried to gather herself together.
