by Leo Sullivan
“I don’t give a flying fuck about no white kids! All my life nig-
gas been dying around me like flies and no one cared about them,
but the moment white kids start dying there is a problem with
that.”
“It’s you! And I know that it’s you flooding the town with
dope. Look how you’re living.” For emphasis he turned and ges-
tured with his arms doing a half circle. I saw his cheeks flush red
with envy. He walked over to my black Bentley and spit on the
ground in disdain.
“We’re going to have to make other arrangements.”
“Arrangements!?” I retorted.
“Yep. Arrangements for you to start paying me.”
“Payin’ you. I told you, I’m out of the business.”
“And I’m telling you, you’re going to start paying me again
since you violated the terms of our agreement.”
“What fucking agreement? I don’t know what the fuck you
talkin’ bout.”
“Keep the fucking dope out the white com –”
I lost my temper. “I don’t give a fuck about you and no crac-
ka-ass kids. If I give you one fuckin dime, it will be over my dead
mama’s grave. Now get the fuck off my property!” I turned and
walked away.
“You’re going to regret you ever laid eyes on this town … you
fucking nigger!”
I stutter-stepped in my tracks. His words stabbed me in the pit
of my gut. I had never been called a nigger by a white man in my
entire life, for some reason the shit hurt, those words would always
have an humiliating affect on Blacks. The voice in my head told
me to keep walking. Spitler was trying to bait me.
*****
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That night I held an emergency meeting at my estate. I sum-
moned everyone on the carpet. The two lesbians, Tomica and
Evette were the first to arrive. Trina greeted them at the door. The
atmosphere suddenly turned festive. I watched them on camera
from the palatial confines of my study. As soon as Black Pearl
walked in with Lil Man the rest of them women showered them
with affection. I could hear all that damn commotion. Women!
Later the rest of the crew arrived, Gucci, Mad Ball, Twine and
Dirty. Everybody was driving New Benzes or BMWs, except
Blazack, he was driving a big-ass Hummer. Trust me when I say
that he gave new meaning to the term, “body space” that was usu-
ally meant for luxury.
I invited everyone into my study. They walked in, in awe over
the elegant beauty and décor, soft mahogany colors, lots of leather
and leopard skin. A lion’s head adorned the wall to my left. Also
on the wall were pictures of African women, warriors, nude, cap-
tured in battle at war.
I sat behind my desk smoking a Newport cigarette. Lil Man
ran in and dived on my lap playfully, forcing me to break my train
of thought. I cuddled him in my arms. He was like my adopted
son.
With everyone seated except Blazack, I looked around and it
kind of choked me up. I built an empire, and these was my nig-
gas, common everyday folks.
As I talked Trina came and stood by my side like the First
Lady.
“I called ya’ll here cause we got a problem.” I went on to
explain to them the situation concerning Spitler. Even though I
did not have my hands directly in the mix of things, other than
supplying major weight from time to time to the crew and letting
the girls do some trafficking, whatever Blazack and his crew decid-
ed to do with their profit was their business. In a lot of ways I was
an outsider. I just wanted them to be on guard. Needed them to
know and understand that we were still family.
There was one more issue, Tomica and Evette were working
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independently of each other trafficking Boy to three major cities:
Chicago, Detroit and Baltimore. I tried to separate Tomica and
Evette as best as I could to stop them from stealing my shit. There
was a guy in Baltimore who just happened to be where Evette
delivered. He owed me a hundred grand. He called to tell me he
couldn’t come pay me my money because he was sick and that the
only way he felt safe that I would get it, was for me to personally
come pick it up. Not. Dude gave me a bad vibe. After arguing
with him over the phone, I had a migraine headache, plus it was-
n’t the first time he tried a stunt like that with my money. I knew
that he had a bad gambling habit and liked to spend money on
pussy. I decided to let him keep it, fuck it. Charge it to the game.
I just threw it up in the air for the head to chew on. I guess to test
my judgment.
Surprisingly Evette raised her hand. As usual, she was dressed
to impress. She wore lots of jewelry and a light brown miniskirt
with a matching see-through blouse and high heels with her toes
exposed. She wasn’t wearing a bra and showed lots of cleavage,
enough to capture a man’s imagination.
“If I go get the money can I have it?” she asked, hesitantly.
“Naw girl!” Tomica was on her feet. “I don’t trust that skinny-
ass nigga from B-More further than I can throw him. About a year
or so ago didn’t he leave his Cadillac in pawn to you?” Evette asked
me. I thought about it.
“Yeah.” I nodded my head as I thought about what she said.
The two women began to argue back and forth.
Mad Ball said, “Something don’t smell right with dude all of a
sudden wanting you to come pick up the money.”
Just then Trina bent down and whispered into my ear, “Don’t
let that girl go get that money. I thought you called everyone here
to officially let them know that you were out the game.”
“Shut up!” I yelled at her causing everyone in the room to turn
and look at us. For the past year or so Trina had been bugging the
hell out of me to get out the game. Often she would plead with
me to the point of tears. What she didn’t know was her cousin
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placed so much faith in me, I felt a sense of loyalty to him. Hell,
the man made me what I was. From the federal detention center
in New York, he was still making major moves, placing me in key
situations of certain operations. He never forgot about me, the
young nigga that came up on the grind. Two weeks in the game
and I made two million. He thought I was smart, told me so
often. He thought it was me that called all the shots, made all the
major moves. What he didn’t know was that Trina was the real
mastermind. She always played her part, stood in the shadows and
gave me that credit like I was the genius. I never knew that one
day I would realize just how much I underestimated her intelli-
gence. Only then it would be too late.
“I’m going to pick up the money,” Evette said as she nervous-
ly rubbed the palms of her hands on her thighs as she walked over
to my desk. “I’ma be on the first thang smokin to B-More in the
morning.” With that she strutted out of the d
oor.
Tomica came and leaned on my desk with her jawbone show-
ing from failure of controlling her anger in losing the battle of
temperament. She spoke, “You greedy ass bastard! All that fucking
money we made you, and you’re going to let that girl take a risk
like that?”
Tomica bit down on her lower lip fuming with anger. She con-
tinued, “Word is bond! You better hope that nothing happens to
her.”
“Is that a threat?” I asked, tempted to get out of my chair and
slap the taste out of her mouth for disrespecting a nigga.
“Naw, it’s a fuckin’ promise!” she shot back, turned and
abruptly stalked out of the door. I knew that she was headed to try
to change Evette’s mind. Just that fast the atmosphere changed.
Talk about a fucking bad apple, them New York bitches keep some
shit going. I was denied what I had been trying to deny, the price
that came with riches: mo’ money, mo’ bullshit.
The room suddenly turned quiet, the kind of silence that
comes with the chaos in the aftermath of upheaval that people and
their problems make.
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Finally I said, “Fuck dem bitches! They been stealing my shit
anyway, think a nigga don’t know, I just can’t prove it,” I reasoned
out loud. I wanted Trina’s wannabe slick ass to know that I was
talking about her, too. Trina’s body flinched like she had been hit
with a body blow as she took a step back from me. I could feel her
eyes burning holes in me. Lil Man was fast asleep on my lap. All
of a sudden, everyone was talking at the same time.
“Hold up! Hold up!” Blazack shouted above the voices, get-
ting everybody’s attention. As he took the toothpick out of his
mouth, the diamond pinky ring on his finger sparkled an array of
brilliant red and blue colors, flickered images of his baller lifestyle.
“I’ma bust dat cracka’s ass if he tr y to stop us from getting our
hustle on. Besides, I’m already paying his punk ass two grand a
week. What the fuck he sweatin’ you for? Something ain’t right.”
In so many ways Blazack said what I was already thinking.
Something wasn’t right with that cracka. I had a gut feeling.
I lit another cigarette, inhaled deeply, as Trina continued to
give me a disgusting scowl. Finally, she took the baby off my lap,
rolled her eyes at me and walked out of the door. I made a men-
tal note to have a few choice words with her afterward.
“Twine, how many people you got on line workin’ for you?” I
asked. I watched as he thought for a second, did some quick math
with his fingers.
“Seventeen, if you want to count Nina Brown smoke up all
the product ass,” he said. Someone in the room snickered.
“What about you, Dirty?” I asked.
“About the same.”
When it finally came down to it, everybody in the room had
enough employees to open up a chain of restaurants. They all had
traps bringing in major cash.
“Ya’ll gon’ to have to step it up and grind hard, cause I think
the spot done got too hot. I’ma give ya’ll some extra cushion on
each bird, then we move out.” With that said, I searched the faces
of each man. Everyone in the room nodded in agreement, except
Blazack. That’s what annoyed me about him most, I could never
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get a feel for his real sincereness. I couldn’t help thinking,
what is
wrong with this nigga?
I knew for a fact that he had more than a
few million stashed somewhere. To be truthful, I ain’t never trust-
ed that nigga. How could I? He was a cold-blooded killer.
After everyone left, Trina eased into the room. I sat in front of
the fireplace drinking Hennessy with my thoughts weighing heavy
on my mind. I had a bad feeling about Spitler, something he said
about me regretting I ever laid eyes on the town.
“I’m leaving you.” Her voice was soft and mellow like an Anita
Baker song. I didn’t even turn around, just watched the security
cameras and heard the crackle of the flames. However, something
did dawn on me. I was in love with Trina, at least something in
my thug’s armor was telling me so.
“When we first met, we had plans, dreams. We had a goal. Get
out of the game after a year. Now look at us! Look at you!” Trina
raised her voice, I could hear its tremor with emotions.
“How much money is eee-nough!?” she screamed and began
to sob uncontrollably with a Black woman’s scorn. I cringed. Over
the years Trina learned how to get to me. In my heart and soul, I
knew she was right. Intuitively, all hustlers know when it’s time to
get out, like some damn premonition. That day I could feel it in
my skin. The only problem was, I couldn’t get out of the game if
I wanted to. Hustlers are just as addicted to the game like the very
fiends we serve, only worse. The money and the power was the real
addiction.
*****
Stressed the fuck out, I decided we needed a vacation.
Actually, I was looking for a way to persuade Trina to stay, at the
same time, trying to act hard like I wasn’t in love with her. Call it
my thug ego, but that’s how real gangsters roll. Feelings and emo-
tions ain’t part of the game. At least that’s what I kept telling
myself.
I broached the idea to Trina and Black Pearl as they were going
over some clothing designs. Lately, Trina had started to see the
brilliance in Pearl’s creativity. And it wasn’t just her, Pearl had been
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offered a scholarship to go to college to design clothes. Now, she
and Trina were going to start their own clothing line. To be truth-
ful, I wasn’t feeling none of that shit, in fact, I was starting to feel
threatened by Trina’s business savvy. I had no idea that she learned
so much in college with her degree in Business Management. She
had invented a phony corporation to wash millions of my money,
as well as placed liens on everything we owned in case the feds
started catching feelings for a nigga’s riches and wanted to seize
our assets. With everything having a hefty lien on it, if the feds
wanted to take anything they would be forced to pay off the liens,
which amounted to millions of dollars. Plus, Willie Falcon showed
me how to hide money abroad in Swiss bank accounts.
Reluctantly, I was able to talk Trina into staying. Actually, I
swallowed my pride and begged my woman to stay. I went out and
bought an eight carat Marquis diamond ring. Enough ice to make
her brain freeze about leaving me.
*****
The day before we were scheduled to leave, Trina decided we
should go shopping for vacation clothes and Louis Vuitton lug-
gage. Later on that day, Major pulled me to the side and pointed
to one of the security screen cameras. A yellow van was parked
across the street from my estate, directly overhead was a white man
wearing a construction hat. He sat perched on a telephone
pole.
“That yellow van been parked there every day now for the past
three weeks,” Major said with his voice filled with concern. I
shrugged him off; thought about asking him to go on vacation
with us, poor soul, the game had him paranoid, too.
“Lemme find out you still smokin,” I joked, and playfully pat-
ted him on the shoulder as I smiled. Major didn’t smile back. He
had not smoked a rock since that day I saved his life from Blazack.
*****
May 26, 1995 there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, just a magnifi-
cent day. I was driving Trina’s Benz, headed for the Tallahassee
Shopping Mall.
Trina sat next to me in the car and for the past few days, she
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had been aloof and distant. In my heart I knew that I was losing
her. She just stared out the window like a beautiful caged bird
wanting to fly away, I imagined. Pearl sat in the back seat going
over clothing designs. Lil Man sat between Trina and me.
Playfully, he tried to take hold of our hands and place them
together, like he knew there was disharmony between us.
“Aunty Trina, give me yo hand.”
Trina couldn’t help but to give him her hand as she smiled
allowing Lil Man to connect the three of us together. I don’t care
what anyone says, children are angels. By the time we reached the
mall, Lil Man had all us singing merrily, “Old MacDonald.”
I found a parking space. Lil Man quickly climbed into my lap
and nestled, clasping his arms around my neck. His way of saying
he wasn’t going nowhere without me.
I looked up just as a dark shadow casted ominously on my
window, a black SUV with smoked windows pulled up to the side
of our car. From that point on ever ything began to move in an
slow, surrealistic motion, as I stared up at the vehicle. It wasn’t
until I saw the masked gunmen dressed in all black leap out with
them tens–meaning AK47 assault weapons. Holy Shit! They
caught me slipping. Metal and glass exploded as my body experi-
enced a burning sensation like I was on fire. Trina’s blood curdling
scream only seemed too intensify, witnessing the horror of the
assassination on my life. Someone had sent professional killers at
