by Leo Sullivan
as a huge bolt of lightning lit up the sky. Eerily, I saw my reflec-
tion, jagged edges of a man. Down below in the parking lot, six
black unmarked police cars sat idling. I watched as Spitler scurried
out into the pouring rain and signaled a thumbs up and dashed
into the car. One after the other, the cars trailed out of the park-
ing lot.
Black Pearl tugged my shirt. “You’re going to have to leave
here. I know a place you’ll be safe.” To the average hustler, a preg-
nant woman is about the purest form of good luck a man can
have. So as the thunder and lightning clapped, I was listening to
this pregnant woman like Moses did the Ten Commandments.
We packed in a hurry. Jumped into the hoopty and drove
forty-five minutes outside of Tallahassee to a small rural town
called Quincy. For me it was love at first sight. As country as you
can get but the town had a serene peacefulness about it. As I con-
tinued to drive, I was overcome by the beautiful landscapes, like
the ones you see on a postcard–peaceful and serene with a dazzling
sun that bathes the scenic green pastures. In the distance, I saw an
old mansion with plantation style shutters and sprawling green
landscape that must have dated back to the seventeenth centur y. I
slowed the car down, looked at the “For Sale” sign hanging askew
in the wooden fence. It said, “Twenty acres for sale.” I turned to
Black Pearl and dreamed out loud.
“I’ma buy that place, fix it up real nice, name it Chateau G.P.,
short for Gangsta Paradise.”
In response, Black Pearl hitched a ride to my dream and asked
excitedly, “Oh please! Please let me do the decorating and interior
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design.” She was a true-to-heart sixteen-year-old. Anyone else
would have told me I was crazy. The place was not worth a rusty
nickel.
*****
I drove back to town and rented two rooms, one for myself
and the other for Pearl. Dirty hit me on the hip. I checked my
beeper, 911. I called him and he said it was an emergency, some-
thing to do with Blazack. I agreed to meet him at Denny’s
Restaurant. When I got there he was seated all the way in the back.
He looked like a nervous wreck, chewing on his fingernails. As I
approached, he smiled up at me wearily.
“Whuz up yo?” I said, sliding into the booth with him. A
waitress with a foreign accent and a nice figure gave me a menu
and said she’d be right back. I watched her hips as she walked
away.
“Man, you gotta stop this fuckin’ nigga Blazack! He done lost
his fuckin mind and some shit,” Dirty said. I sat there and listened
to a horror story about how Blazack murdered both T-Bone and
Jackie Boy in cold blood. In the early morning, Blazack went to
Jackie Boy’s mother’s house and shot him in the head right in front
of her and two younger brothers. That same day, the entire crew
abducted T-Bone from the work release center and took him down
to the basement of the house that we rented. To everyone’s utter
shock and dismay Blazack appeared with an ax and made T-Bone
bow down to his knees and began to hack his head off with the ax.
After ward, Blazack threatened all of them, if they told, they would
be next. Then he showed them how to cut up a body. The art of
making people disappear. Now for the past few days Blazack had
been driving through Frenchtown with T-Bone’s head in a bag
showing it to all the hustlers, not just as evidence of revenge for
robbing a member of his crew, but also a means to intimidate dr ug
dealers for their money. I was reminded of Stevey D’s earlier call.
Blazack had him shook, scared to death.
Now shit was starting to make sense, the mystery phrase,
“Your homeboy missing, Ax Blazack.” For the past few years,
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secretly, Blazack had been making people disappear, including his
own baby mama and her boyfriend. Now as I sat there in the
booth, it dawned on me like I’m sure it must have dawned on the
rest of the heads of the crew, I was going to have to step to him. I
knew that I could not underestimate him, but there was one thing
that stood out in my mind back there in his room when he
described having to kill Dre’ with his bare hands. All killers have
a weapon of choice. Knives, guns, axes. As I remembered, Blazack
was not good with his hands in battle, at least I hoped in prepar-
ing for the confrontation.
Perplexed, I frowned and asked Dirty, “Damn, you don’t think
the nigga smokin’ or sometin’ do ya?”
“Hell yeah he smokin’,” Dir ty shot back.
“Huh, smokin’ what?”
“Smokin niggas wit dat 12 gauge shot gun,” Dirty retorted.
“Man you ain’t hearin’ me! Dude out there on a killin’ spree.
When you find him have your burner witcha, I ain’t one to be
startin’ shit, but not just dude, but the whole crew been grumblin’
bout all that fuckin money you been makin’.” With that, Dirty
raised his chin like it was connected to his pride, his way of telling
me he too was pissed about the money I was paying him. I walked
away from him wondering when the shit went down between
Blazack and myself, just whose side would the crew roll with.
*****
185
Chapter Thir
teen
Chapter Thir
teen
“A Deadly Confrontation”
– Life –
As soon as I walked into the house, I knew that something was ter-
ribly wrong. All I saw were somber faces. Gucci, Mad Ball and
Twine. The kind of faces you see at funerals. Twine looked up at
me as he stopped rolling a blunt.
“Why the fuck ya’ll niggas ain’t at work?”
“Ain’t no work!” Gucci shot back in disgust, throwing up his
hands frustrated. “Cats been coming out of town to buy our shit
and taking it back and reselling it. The dime bags of powder, too.
Shit selling like hot cakes my nigga.”
It was Trina’s idea to sell the dime bags of powder. On just a
Friday alone, we could sell five bricks or more. That was over a
million and some change.
The vibe in the room wasn’t right. I reflected back on what
Dirty warned me about at the restaurant, the crew being unhappy
about the chips I was paying them, so I tried to read each man’s
face, and they all looked the same, like mutiny waiting to happen.
Then I heard a blood-curdling scream come from the basement.
“What da fuck was dat?!”
“That’s crazy-ass Blazack!” Gucci said. “Look man, shit getting
crucial. We thinking about bailing back to the crib, a nigga ain’t
making no money and Blazack runnin’ round here actin’ like he
psycho, cuttin’ muthafuckas up with an ax and shit.”
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“Where in the fuck he at now?” I asked.
“Down in the basement, he got Major down there, said he
stole a bomb of rocks from him.”
I
took off in a hurry down the stairs to the basement. Major
was our all-purpose man. Every crew had one. If it was broke he
could fix it, whether it be a motor or installing a car stereo system.
I had a lot of respect for Major; even though he smoked he still
carried himself like a man, always wore clean clothes and took care
of himself.
As I walked down the darkened stairway, I felt for the .380 pis-
tol in my pocket, thought about what was about to go down with
my confrontation with Blazack as the smell of death and Pine Sol
reeked in my nostrils. It kind of made me want to vomit. At the
bottom of the stairs in the dimly lit loft I saw Blazack standing
over Major holding a hot iron, one of them old fashion kinds used
for ironing clothes. Major’s shirt was torn off, he was bleeding
badly, his face was discolored and bruised. Blazack had him tied to
a chair. I walked up without either of them hearing me. I was fully
prepared to kill Blazack. I had to be, because I knew without a
shadow of a doubt, he would kill me just for the sport of it, if the
time suited him right.
“Yo, that’s enough Blazack! Untie him!” Blazack spun around
to face me. I saw something in his eyes, wild and untamed.
“Fuck dat! Dis nigga done fucked up a package. I’ma havta
make an example out of him, too!”
“L, pleeeese man, stop him,” Major pleaded through swollen
lips. His skin was pink and red from the burn marks from the hot
iron.
I walked up to Blazack. “Let him go!” I said louder this time.
“What part of no you don’t understand?” he asked with in
venom in his voice. I was conscious of him swinging the iron at
me. In my mind I was thinking
, this nigga ain’t never been known
to be good with his fists
. I thought about how he damn near cried
when he was telling me about how he had to kill the snitch Dre’
with his bare hands. Take away his gun, he probably wasn’t shit. It
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was plenty of cats like that, real gorillas with a gun, but hoes when
it came to their fist. Major whimpered again for me to help him.
I bent down to untie him. Blazack dropped the iron and grabbed
my arm, I shoved him. My instincts told me to go for my heat.
“Don’t make me havta bust your ass in here nigga,” I said, feel-
ing the adrenaline rush of a fight.
“My nigga you really ain’t tryna see me,” Blazack’s mouth said,
but his body spoke a different language as he took a step back, siz-
ing me up, his eyes registering the surprise of my boldness. From
the corner of my eye I saw the rest of the crew, watching, waiting.
I guess the jury was still out with them in choosing whose side
they were on.
“Yeah, you right, I ain’t trying to see you. You need to go! I
ain’t paying your bitch ass five G’s a week to be runnin’ round here
torturing and killin’ niggas,” I said, pointing a finger in his face. I
went to finish untying Major, at the same time, I kept my eyes on
Blazack.
“I’ma be the muthafucka putting the fear of God into these
niggas,” Blazack shrilled angrily. “Nigga, you couldn’t sell a fuckin’
bird until I got here!” With one swift kick, Blazack sent the chair
with Major still in it toppling over onto the floor. Major got up
and ran to the stairs. I told him to meet me at my car. He needed
medical attention. There was no way in hell I was going to let him
leave looking like a creature from the horror show.
“You think we don’t know how much money you makin’ and
that Brooklyn bitch breakin’ ya. Trina playing ya like a sucka.
While you paying us fuckin’ pennies, you got the bitch pickin up
the drop off.” I held my temper in check while Blazack vented. As
he talked, I was surprised to learn this was some shit he wanted to
get off his chest.
“Ever y day, I give that bitch five or six hundred G’s, and some
days more, and you trustin’ a bitch like she sincere.”
A sacred rule of the dope trade is to never let the right hand
know what the left hand is doing. They didn’t know that it was
because of Trina that I was not only locked in to a major dope sup-
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ply, but she organized and carefully set everything into to motion,
including her advice on how much I should pay my workers. I
wasn’t going to tell him that.
Right then as I looked around at the crew watching me, wait-
ing for my reaction, I could smell the larceny simmering in the air
like a hot pot of treason about to boil over. Also I understood
where Blazack was coming from, but I could not let him get away
with all the senseless shit he had been doing.
“Yo, you gotta to go, or stop the dumb shit,” I said coldly.
“Dat nigga beat us for ten G’s in dope,” Blazack said, dis-
gruntled.
“Naw he beat you for ten grand in dope. You knew the nigga
was a smoker in the first place,” I reasoned, took a step closer and
dropped the bomb on him. “Beside, you been taxing niggas. I
believe you been servin’ my dope and the dope you takin’ from
niggas, too.”
Blazack just looked at me as he ran his tongue around the dia-
monds in his mouth like he was searching for the right words. I
caught him off guard. But now he knew that I knew he was play-
ing both sides of the street. From the look in his eyes, I could tell
he was trying to figure out how in the hell I found out. The room
became quiet. This was a standoff.
From there on out, the events that took place in that basement
would seal my fate. I tried to let my mind catch up with my
thoughts, appraise the situation for what it was worth. Quickly,
with Blazack staring me down, my assessment went to damage
control. My ship with a small crew of niggas was taking in water
like the Titanic with a hole in it. I had to plug the hole, fast!
“The reason that I came here was to give ya’ll niggas a big raise
in pay,” I lied. The whole time I kept my eyes on Blazack. I went
on and told them about the plan I had for operating out of safe
houses. Each one of them would be assigned a house with a crew
under them that they would be responsible for. When I told them
I had the cop, Spitler, in my pocket, they were all happy to hear
that. Spitler could be a royal pain in the ass for a dope boy. With
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some of the tension gone, I turned to Blazack.
“Dig yo, you can bounce my nigga if you got a problem with
what I’m asking you to do. But if you do decide to get your shit
together, you get ten grand a week.”
It wasn’t no military secret, Blazack was the glue that held us
together. Every team had to have an enforcer, a man that didn’t
mind getting paid in blood. Blazack smiled at me.
“However.” I continued, “You’re suspended for two weeks
with no pay.” The smile died on Blazack’s face as his eyebrows
knotted together.
&nb
sp; “Gucci, you’re going to take Blazack’s position until …”
I let the word hang in the air as I gave Blazack a look that came
with a silent threat.
He cursed. Called me a bitch-ass nigga under his breath. I
acted like I didn’t hear him.
That day when I walked out of that basement, for the first
time in my life I won the entire respect of the crew, including
Blazack’s.
*****
“What do you want to drink?” I asked Major, trying not to
look him in the face as we got into my car. He looked like he stood
in front of a train.
I knew he was in great pain as he mumbled, “Whatever.” I saw
the tears in his eyes. Eyes of a defeated man. A mere husk of his
former self. Major had not one, but two college degrees. He was
in the Marines and had the pleasant demeanor of a soft-spoken
Southern gentlemen with manners to match. I knew how bad he
wanted to get off the dope, but the demons wouldn’t let him. He
talked to me about it on several occasions.
We drove through Frenchtown, the place looked like the walk-
ing dead. Junkies tried to flag down my car hoping to buy some
dope. Nina Brown stood in the middle of the street like she had
an ‘S’ on her chest looking like a zombie. I almost ran her over. I
knew if I stopped they would rush my car like starving Africans do
missionaries.
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As I drove, casually I asked Major where was the dope was that
he stole from Blazack. I didn’t really expect for him to be truthful
with me. When he told me that he had it stashed over a female’s
crib, and the only reason he did not tell Blazack was because he
was afraid Blazack would kill her, too. We stopped off and picked
up the dope. I took half and gave him the rest. I pulled into a
drive-through liquor store, bought a bottle of E&J, a bag of ice
and coconut cream to cut it with. I flirted with a sexy redbone
cashier that looked like Sade.
Drinking and driving, sipping on juice with my system boom-
ing, I pulled into the mean strip on FAMU College campus. Even
though it was raining a light drizzle, females, honeys galore, were
jocking my ride. College girls be on dope boys like groupies on
