by Amir Sanchez
Jihad sat there with a confused look on his face as he tried to analyze what was going on. He knew what direction they were heading with all the talk about their transmissions failing coincidently, right before he and Gus went and shot up Forty-ninth Street. It was becoming clearer to him exactly how the feds operated. He was slowly learning that the feds were just as dirty and ruthless as the streets, except they had the law on their side, and how they were going after Black and the Santanas by all means necessary, and at all cost.
“Yeah, nothing of real importance happened,” Jihad agreed as he signed the paperwork.
After getting that squared away, Amy and Gary went on to explain to Jihad that the investigation was taking a turn. They were no longer as interested in catching Gustavo Santana. They had decided to step over him and try to go for the big fish, Curtis “Black” Campbell. As it turns out, they had been trying to catch Black for years, but he always outsmarted them. Every time they thought they finally had him, he’d get away on a technicality, a witness would go missing, or paperwork was “misplaced.” It was obvious Black had a lot of connects in the courts and on the streets. With Jihad working as head of security for Gus, and Gus working directly with Black, all Jihad had to do was get enough conversations on record with Black discussing his illegal business ventures. Jihad was briefed and overloaded with information, such as names and locations of associates of Black so he’d know what to try to bring up in conversations. He was then given a key to the Marriott Hotel on City Line Avenue. He was instructed to meet with Vickie who was expecting him. Jihad exited from the van, then went into Pathmark to buy a soda in order to not look so suspicious going from the van right into another car.
A few minutes after leaving Pathmark, he was on the third floor of the Marriott swiping the card at the door that read 307. On the other side of the door, he walked in on yet another surprise. The room was filled with the strong aroma of weed. As Vickie was explaining to Jihad that the weed smoke was used to further the realization of her character as the thug-loving, ride-or-die hood bitch, he paid little attention. He was more interested in the short Daisy Dukes that hugged tightly around Vickie’s fat round ass. She wore a pair of white go-go boots that came just past her calves and rocked a tight wife beater that exposed her perfectly melon-round titties. She even had a teardrop tattoo on the side of her right eye. Jihad was wondering if part of bringing realization to their character was going to allow them to really fuck.
Twenty minutes later, Jihad called Gus as he was instructed to. Gus notified him that they had just left the mall and were within fifteen minutes of Philly. They agreed to meet back up at the hotel. Before disconnecting, he let Jihad know that he would call once they were outside. When Jihad hung up the phone, Vickie leaned over his neck and sucked until a huge passion mark was visible. Jihad took it as Vickie making advances toward him, but she quickly checked him after he took a grab at her ass.
“Listen, Jihad, you have to control yourself. This is nothing more than business. It will never be more than that. Do you understand? Because if you make another move like the one you just made without a good reason, it’s going to be a problem,” she snapped before she finished blowing the fake weed on her clothes and hair. She smelled like she’d been smoking all day. Next, she pulled an eye drop bottle out and placed several drops of the liquid into her eyes, which made them bloodshot red. As they waited patiently for Gus, Vickie reminded Jihad to remain calm and normal, as if she was any other hood bitch, and to always follow her lead.
When Gus arrived, he called Jihad to tell him that he was outside. He and Vickie left the room and headed out of the hotel lobby. Once outside, they spotted Black’s 850 parked next to the Charger. Vickie wasted no time getting right into character, as she put on the walk that a bitch puts on after getting the shit fucked out of her. She slowly swished her fat ass from side to side in a way that any looker would say, Damn, she walking like that thing hurt. Black and Gus sat in the 850 staring in disbelief, wondering how Jihad must be feeling at that very minute, knowing that he just had his way with the little thick stallion. They both silently fantasized how they would have fucked her if they were Jihad. Jihad knew that the men were envious, so he winked his eye and flashed a smile. Gus exchanged a few words with Black before departing and hopping into the Charger. Before Black pulled off, he gave Jihad an approving head nod which Jihad returned with a fight-the-power fist. He and Vickie then got into the backseat of the car.
“Gus, this my little Spanish mommy, Vickie. Baby, this my man, Gus.”
“Nice meeting you. You know how to get down Cambridge?”
“Goddamn, Ma, first things first ... That weed smell too strong. If we get pulled over, they gonna want to search the car. I can’t stand that right now, you dig me?” said Gus while staring at Vickie through the rearview mirror, noticing that her eyes were cherry red.
“I got you, Papi. I got some smell goods in my purse. This nigga just wore a bitch out, and I had to smoke,” said Vickie as she applied body fragrance on her clothes and hands. They pulled off en route to North Philly.
Fifteen minutes later, they were pulling up on Seventh and Cambridge. Vickie instructed him which house to pull up in front of. She thanked him for the ride before requesting Jihad walk her to the door. Standing in the doorway, Vickie placed her arms around Jihad and began kissing him passionately. As they locked lips, he reached behind her and grabbed a handful of her fat ass. The entire act was deliberately carried out in front of Gus to make sure he never doubted that she really fucked with Jihad. Gus snickered and silently gave mad props to his boy for bagging a cute bitch like her. It was undeniable Vickie was a bad bitch, and if Gus was single, he would’ve probably told Jihad to let him hit it. He turned away and let the two lovebirds do them.
While observing his surroundings, he spotted several Spanish men and a few blacks operating a drug enterprise right there before his eyes. Their system seemed unique. The customers would pay one of the men, who, in turn, would enter a house and notify one of his partners of the orders. The partner would then go outside and serve them. The flow of customers on the block was rapid and consistent. They were on and off the block like an express line at a shopping center. When Jihad got back into the car, Gus inquired about the block.
“You know who run this joint? It look like a gold mine out here.”
“Nah, I don’t know, but my bitch probably do. These her peoples down here. You want me to see what it’s hitting for?”
“Yeah, most definitely. I was taught to never limit my hustle. Plus, I got that work in for real,” Gus boasted.
“Yeah, I’ma get right at her. Anyway, how things go at the mall? I know you picked out something exclusive.”
“Damn, I almost forgot. Look at this pretty mafucka here. I got a good deal on it too,” said Gus while passing him the gift bag that held the ring in a leather-bound jewelry box. Once Jihad opened the box up, he was stunned by the beauty of the huge, colorful diamond ring. He let out a loud, long whistle as he examined the ring.
“Son, you outdid yourself. Trish is going to love it.” Jihad approved.
The Warning
Sha’Ron’s phone had been ringing off the hook all afternoon. He refused to take the call because the caller blocked their number. However, he eventually got impatient with the caller and answered.
“Who the fuck is this calling my phone from a private number?” he barked into the receiver.
“Pipe the fuck down, little nigga. This Leaf . . . I don’t want nobody to have my new digits for now; that’s why I blocked my number. But, anyway, where you at? I need to holla at you ASAP.”
“Leaf, you got a lot of explaining to do. You don’t reach out to nobody for days, not even to let us know what’s good with you, and then you just call me out of the blue like everything all good. You got it fucked up, bro,” said Sha’Ron setting the record straight.
“Who the fuck you think you talking to like that? You been hanging around that faggot-a
ss nigga Gus too long. You niggas is just hustlers. Did you forget I’m the killer, little nigga? Come out your mouth like that again, you might find yourself on the other side of the barrel. Now, I was calling you to offer you a position with my new family, but obviously, you ain’t ready for that. You rather live in Gus’s shadow. But, here’s what you can do . . . Give that mafucka a message. Let him know that I’m ready take over this city. Now, if he’s smart, he’s gonna talk to Mom and Aunt Connie and get them on board so everybody knows to stay the fuck outta my way. My goons trained to kill so—”
Sha’Ron cut him off.
“Nigga, you done lost your mind! You should have known not to offer me no shit like that because you know I would never go against my family. Born a Santana and I’ma die a Santana. So you telling me you so high in the clouds that you’re willing to go against your own flesh and blood? So you trying to tell me you willing to shoot our own mother for your fucking pride? Fuck you and fuck your threats. They ain’t stop making guns after making yours,” voiced Sha’Ron before hanging up. He had allowed his brother to take him off his square and stoop down to his level. He hated letting his emotions get the best of him. No doubt, he loved his brother to death, but he was completely against his actions.
He drove through the city, attempting to clear his mind. While doing so, a weird aura filled the car. Deep down inside, he felt as if this whole situation was about to be blown out of proportion. Now he understood what his mom and aunt were talking about when they said they had a bad feeling. He only hoped none of his loved ones would be seriously hurt from it.
Happy Days
Later on that night when Gus and Jihad returned home, Trish and Connie harassed him continuously about the ring. Gus repeatedly insisted that it was a surprise and wasn’t to be shown until the day of the wedding. They had no choice but to respect his wishes.
The following day a wedding planner came over. While they were in the living room discussing preparations, Connie and Trish were back at their old tricks. They stationed themselves directly outside the living room to eavesdrop. When Gus became aware of this, he put them on blast.
“Mom! Trish! Come out here right now!” When they complied, he continued.
“This man is charging me by the hour. This is my surprise to my soon-to-be wife. Now, y’all done got on my last nerve. Take this money and go shopping. Y’all gots to go,” he demanded while passing them all the money he had in his pockets and pushing them toward the door. They found the whole thing funny.
Once he got them out of the house, he continued on with his wedding planner. After going over several package deals, he selected the one that best suited the occasion. It consisted of a master chef that would be responsible for designing a custom menu consisting of lamb, filet mignon, and fish. There was to be vegetable, fruit, and potato salads to complement the feast. The cake would have five tiers, each having its own flavor of caramel, fudge, vanilla, strawberry, and cheesecake cream filling. The cake was going to have a diamond pillow-top exterior and was set to stand at four feet tall. He decided the only alcohol he would permit was wine and champagne because he knew how niggas reacted with beer and liquor, and he didn’t want to risk any disturbance at the function.
He had chosen a Winter Wonderland black-tie affair and he was excited to see everything come to fruition. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Trish’s face when she walked in to the reception hall. Once everything was situated with the planner, he called Black to inform him of the progress. Black had a surprise in store for him as well.
“Listen here, youngin’, your ol’ head done came through for you. Remember my people who let us use the jet to take that trip awhile back?”
“Yeah, I remember. The one you said plays professional sports, right?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Well, check it out . . . He got a mansion over in Gladwyne with a backyard the size of a football field. He’s going to let us hold it down for the wedding . . . and that’s just half of it. As a token of my appreciation, I’ve personally made arrangements for you and your wife to be flown to the Cayman Islands for y’all honeymoon. You the young prince, so it’s only right that you enjoy the fruits of your labor. What do you think?”
“Damn, ol’ head, you like the father I never had. Me making moves with you is the best thing that ever happened for me. I love you, man.”
“The feeling mutual, youngin’. I’ma get you later,” replied Black.
The final surprise for the wedding came later that night, when his mother pulled him aside to pass him a card that read, Mom Dukes got connections too. “This is the number to the lead singer of Jagged Edge. He’s in the city on standby, waiting on your phone call. Be creative.”
After taking his mother’s advice under consideration, he spent the entire night brainstorming. The next morning during breakfast, he put his plan into action.
“Damn, Trish, I know you ain’t no morning person, but what’s up with your hair? You need to go down and get that taken care of ASAP. The wedding is a few days away, and then you could just get it touched up.”
“It look that bad? Connie, you feel like going down Harlem’s with me?”
“I don’t care. I’ll take you as soon as I get out of the shower,” Connie responded.
During the time it took them to get themselves together and get down there, Gus had already organized his surprise. As Trish had her head under the dryer, she closed her eyes relaxing while the warm air soothed her scalp. When the dryer cut off, so did her relaxation. When she came up to see what the problem was, she was blown away by who she came face-to-face with. The lead singer of Jagged Edge was on one knee holding a box open, displaying the ring. He then started singing his smash hit, “Let’s Get Married.”
“Meet me at the altar in your white dress, we ain’t getting no younger, we might as well do it! Let’s get married.”
Trish melted as tears of joy filled her eyes and her hands shook uncontrollably. After he placed the ring on her finger, he gave her a message from Gus.
“Your soon-to-be husband wants to let you know that he’s the luckiest man in the world to have a woman like you by his side. He loves you more than life itself. He yearns for the day, the hour, the minute, and the second that you become his wife.” Gus completed the scene when he walked in and placed a warm kiss on her forehead. Everybody inside the hair salon gave their congratulations and approval with applause. They had never been catered to or showered with gifts at this rate.
Snake in the Grass
When Leaf got wind of the wedding, he decided that the day it was supposed to take place would be the day when the takeover took effect. Everybody who the Santanas supplied, he planned to shut down their arrangements and enforce his own. His goons were on standby, anticipating that moment.
The day of the wedding finally came. The weather was sunny and beautiful. Everything went as planned. Trish wore a stunning white Vera Wang mermaid dress that hugged her curves as it was designed exclusively for her body. She wore a diamond princess crown similar to the ones the twins wore at their party. Along with it was a cathedral veil that cascaded down her backside. The perfect touch was a rhinestone-beaded appliqué belt that tied everything together. She looked amazing.
Gus sported an all-white tux that was hand stitched by Giorgio Armani’s tailor. His wrist was complemented by an antique Rolex Yacht-Master. All the Santanas were present, with the exception of Leaf, for the beautiful ceremony. The lead singer of Jagged Edge performed several hits off his new album. Everything turned out exactly as Gus had wanted it. Trish was taken aback when she walked in to the reception. She felt as if she had stepped into a different dimension and was navigating through a real winter wonderland. Gus could not have asked for more. His wedding was like nothing anyone had ever seen.
Toward the end of the festivities, Gus and Trish rode off in an antique all-white Rolls-Royce provided by his best man and boss, Black. They were now husband and wife, en route to the airport where the jet was awai
ting their arrival. Their wedding had set the example to all major hustlers that attended or heard about it—how a true boss was supposed to carry out his wedding.
The Takeover in Effect
“Many men . . . Many, many, many, many men wish death upon me . . . blood in my eyes, dawg, and I can’t see. I’m tryin’ to be what I’m destined to be, and niggas tryin’ to take my life away. I put a hole in nigga for fuckin’ with me, my back on the wall, now you gon’ see. Better watch how you talk when you talk about me ’cause I’ll come and take your life away.”
50 Cent rapped as his violent lyrics cranked through the stereo system. This was the music Leaf decided to ride out to. It was gangsta music at its best, putting him in the mood needed for the task ahead. As he drove to his first destination, he played it on full blast. Leaf was followed by a fleet of tinted-out Crown Victorias filled to capacity with goons.
When they pulled up on Fifty-fourth Street, over a dozen hustlers were gathered outside the Chinese store. The nigga that ran the block sat close by inside the Lexus, counting up money. Leaf, EZ, and Ikeal stepped out of the truck and approached the corner. When Crock spotted them, he stepped out of his car and walked over to them.
“Leaf, what’s popping, homie? These niggas with you?” he questioned suspiciously while staring the strangers down. At that moment, the back windows to the Crown Victorias slowly rolled down, and barrels of assault rifles were aimed at the corner.
“Yeah, all of these niggas with me. In fact, this my new family. However, I ain’t come out here for all that.”
“Well, what the fuck you come out here for? I ain’t call y’all. And what the fuck is the guns for?”
Crack! Ikeal smacked him upside his head with his Mac-10. He lost his balance and fell to the ground. His temple was ruptured and blood flowed freely. His workers didn’t dare react while those rifles were trained on them.
