Love UnExpected (Love's Improbable Possibility)

by Love Belvin

  “She discovered it last week. And let’s just say she wasn’t pleasantly surprised. Let’s see what type of spender she is based upon the timing in which she expends it. I’ll keep you informed,” I muttered.

  Bower holds her hands out defensively conceding to my will. “I won’t fight today. Almost all of my clients who are in the habit of doing this, against my sound advice of course, find themselves replenishing faster than they anticipated. She’s known about it for an entire week and hasn’t touched it is a bit unusual, but we shall see.”

  “How are those Swiss accounts coming along. It’s been, what…three months? And I’m still nervous. Depending on how these do, I plan on sending more.”

  Bower goes back to her flicker to bring them up. “Jacobs, the wealthy have been doing this for centuries. Your money is protected, foolproof. I’m not sure what more convincing I could possibly do.”

  “Indeed.” I let out a deep breath pulling out my watch. It was getting late and I had a meeting with The Clan about transitioning my empire.

  I wrapped up my meeting with Bower and continued on with my day.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  We met at a warehouse in Glendale and were five deep inside and four out on guard. Our time together was always short and communication was cut up, which meant we didn’t discuss every detail of a transaction in one setting. We never knew if we had flies on the wall. At the close of our meeting Petey went in.

  “We gotta have ‘dis shit on point before going to the connects tryna’ get in they favor.” Petey was trying to school Kid and Wop.

  I decided to leave my crown to Kid and Petey’s to Wop. I tried being diplomatic, sharing the love. I wasn’t 100% sure of leaving them in my wake to do business but they’d always been loyal and deserved a shot. Like young pups they were all eager nods and yeses.

  “Divine spoke to Santiago and Paulio a few months ago and they agreed to meet with y’all soon. They’ll give us a date when they ready,” Petey continued.

  I took over. “In the meantime, we gotta shipment coming in a couple of days. Wop, you hit the drop spot. Kid you split it up. You know the package is ten mill and that’s six hundred and twenty-five keys. All the leu’s get their keys except for Black. He ain’t re-up. I got somebody on his ass while y’all get ya tips wet on acquisitions. Don’t sleep or fucking yawn cause the streets are watching. They may not know our moves but they’re damn sure waiting for somebody to slip the fuck up. Don’t let it be you. Shit is realer than ever in those streets. Those kids are dumber but fucking faster.” I gave them both deep cutting eye action. They knew what time it was.

  “Time is up. In a minute.” Petey raised his hand giving them dap before we exited the building.

  “Tomorrow,” Petey confirmed.

  “Tomorrow,” I agreed and we parted ways.

  It was close to five and I had a little shopping to do before meeting Rayna back at the marina.

  Chapter 8

  Azmir

  The following night I met with Big D at the Santa Monica Pier. I had my peoples with me hidden among the crowd. I didn’t trust D although I knew I was his muscle and he’d call upon me whenever safety was an issue. This predator was a snake and one should never underestimate a snake.

  He seemed perplexed before I informed him of my issue. He wore a long trench coat with khaki pants and a white polo shirt. He kept scratching his temple as I spoke, which was a sign of deep thought and stress from him.

  “So, I’m planning my next move with ol’ girl. Big D, I gotta be honest here; I don’t know where all of this is going, much less what it’s about. I’m kinda fucked up in the head with it,” I exclaimed playing a role, awaiting a response.

  After a meditated pause he replied, “You’re gonna have to cut off all means of contact with her, Young Blood. Don’t continue talking to phish for a motive. If they had something you would be in cuffs by now. If you don’t talk, you give them shit. I’ll have my guys look into it. I still have a little pull with the FED-dy’s.”

  His words were clear and cautious, but I could tell he was preoccupied with something. So I asked, “You good, Big D? What’s eating at you, man?”

  He looked at me as if he’d come out of his trance and forced a smile on his face. What he couldn’t conceal was the fact that he wasn’t telling me something. His advice was fair but there was something he was leaving out.

  He went first by saying, “Listen, just don’t do anything rash until I look into this. It may be nothing; it may be something. Either way we want to err on the side of caution. Okay?” he ended looking for me to agree.

  That’s what Big D brought to our partnership: legal eyes. He’s well seated in the justice system after spending damn near forty years in law enforcement. He was well connected and versed in the law. He would hold off investigations and advise during legal woes. He’d have officers reassigned at the boarder when trafficking and troopers recant their reasons for pulling over dirty drivers. It was a marriage made in heaven. Until recent discoveries.

  “D, if there was something I should know, you would tell a nigga, right?” looking him square in his eye. I could tell when someone was misleading me by doing just that.

  “Aww, come on, Young Blood! Would I do that?” he answered.

  That was all I needed.

  My mentor, the man that had guided my life like a father was lying to me. He had shit all fucked up. My chest tightened at that discovery, and disappointment engulfed me. Years of trust and devotion abruptly vanished. I couldn’t believe that I’d been so naïve to his deceit. I’d always known that Big D had a huge corruptive feature to his persona, but never did I expect to be on that side of it regarding me and my family. This was the end of our path, perhaps the beginning of my fury.

  “Indeed,” I answered before a lingering pause. “Ummm…D,” I called out.

  “Yeah, son?”

  “She’s also alleging that you had my pops killed.”

  D’s eyes rose to me so quickly and defensively. It was almost as if he’d been jabbed in the gut.

  “What the fuck is up with your line of questioning to me, Young Blood?”

  I held my hand out trying to deceivingly present as harmless. “I’m just asking about the bullshit she’s running, Duke. Easy.”

  “Divine, you think I would set up your father, a man I endured academy training with? Somebody I had to face those racist pigs with? Do you know what hell they put us through?” he said suddenly becoming aware of his heightened tone and muting.

  “I owe that man my life. Too many times he talked me down from killing those pigs. That’s why it was no sweat of my goddamn balls to take you in.” He wiped his forehead while looking out to the water and I continued to study his theatrical antics.

  He looked back to me. “What proof does that bit…” he caught himself. With a calmer resolve he continued. “…what evidence does she have? I’m a subscriber of hardcore evidence, son,” he howled, resolute to his story.

  I pulled out my iPhone and hit play to a recording where a now forty-six year old reformed Muslim was telling the story of how a young uniform strolling the beat in Brooklyn in ‘86 had a proposition for him. He described the officer to the “T”. His citing of this officer arresting him twice prior to the murder being on his record made his story more influential. He mentioned things that only Big D could know like my father’s schedule for that day and what he’d be doing at that school that particular day—watching his son accept an academic award.

  Once the recording was over, Big D stood frozen in his steps, unable to speak. So I did it for him.

  “You don’t need to say anything at all because I got it from her. In light of recent discoveries, Daryl Harrison, our business and personal relationship is officially terminated. In the future you do not contact me directly. You will go through commercial channels. Our partners have been notified, only those who are directly affected by our former union. Whatever projected monies you have allotted to you will be rerouted. M
y reign is eclipsing according to previously said plans, so this cut out should not affect your pockets much at all. I’ve made you millions. You’re good.”

  I could swear D aged at least fifteen years at the sight of the video, which confirmed Yazmine’s story. See, if D had been given time to think of a way to deny his involvement this would have been far more difficult. He’s a conniving fuck, and the trait was inherited by his daughter. I’d placed the phone back in my pocket and D was still motionless. I extended my hand to him to add to the sting.

  “Detective Harrison, this has been a lucrative yet misleading partnership, but how can I bitch with what I’m sitting on,” I meant it as a statement. Purely rhetorical.

  “Divine, hold up…now hold up,” he begged with a new posture and all.

  I gestured with my face to say that I was listening, but D had nothing to say.

  “D, I’m a busy man. I’ve got to get up outta dodge.” I turned to leave with my snipers in place.

  “Divine, I need more time. I wasn’t prepared for this,” I heard D mumble as I strolled to my ride.

  Fuck outta here.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  James Lombardi

  “Goddamn!” I whispered as my digital camera powered off due to the battery dying. “Fuck me!” I yelped even louder. I had trailed Daryl Harrison to Santa Monica and for the first time I see him with this Azmir Jacobs fellow—all for my fucking camera to die on me! I was going to have to wait until I replaced the batteries to see if I got a single shot. I knew that mutherfucker was in bed with Jacobs! The problem was a picture would go a long way compared to my word alone.

  I had to quickly decide if I wanted to continue to trail Harrison or follow Jacobs. I’d been following Harrison for over three weeks and today is the first time I’ve been able to see him with Jacobs. I eventually decided to follow Jacobs and see where he lived or hung out.

  About an hour later, I found myself in Long Beach at a recreation center. I guess the guy wanted to go workout. So, he’s a health conscious thug? I sat in that car for five minutes before going inside to see where this mutherfucker had gone. I didn’t want to blow my trail so I needed to move.

  As I entered the doors of the rather impressive facility, it appeared more of a upscale club than a recreation center. I idly wondered which of the major chains owned this place. Huge plasma screens met me at the door displaying news, health notes and games amping up the energy immediately. The walls were bright with chrome fixtures and the floors were wide and carpeted. I was eventually met with a well-poised, young kid at the front desk.

  “You look lost. Can I help you, sir?”

  He seemed to have taken a stab at professionalism, so I entertained him. Plus, I began to notice how large the facility was and knew I couldn’t just search around aimlessly for hours looking for Jacobs.

  “Umm, yeah. I’m looking for a friend of mine. He came in minutes ago…tall, dark, wearing a gray tracksuit? Oh, and a low cut,” I asked knowing I was taking a chance but hoping for the best. I’d seen at least a dozen people enter the building since pulling up.

  “Ahhhh…no, sir…don’t know who you’re talking about. That description would fit countless men in here,” he said, looking at me with blank eyes.

  “Ummmm…his name is Azmir—last name Jacobs. He just checked in?” I asked desperately, sounding like a twat.

  “Oh, Mr. Jacobs?” The kid’s eyes grew in recognition. Thank fuck! “I just clocked in. I’m not sure if he’s in today. I can call up to the admin offices to check.” The young guy went to dial a number on the phone behind the counter. “What time is your appointment with him?”

  An appointment? Why in the fuck would I need an appointment with—? Then it dawned on me!

  “I know him from a mutual friend. We get together and play ball every week. He recommended that I come train with him at the place he works and I told him I’d swing by to check him out for myself. I tried catching up to him when I saw him walking in, but I guess I took too long to park. If you could just point me to the gym he trains in, I can go pop in on him.”

  My balls were sweating. I lie with the best of them, but adrenaline was pumping as I felt myself getting closer to Jacobs. I wanted to know more about this lowlife.

  The kid at the front desk wrinkled his eyebrows as he lowered the phone. I didn’t immediately know why, but I could easily discern I’d fucked up.

  “Sir, you say you’re looking for Mr. Azmir Jacobs?” his eyes set quizzical.

  Fuck me!

  “Yes, I can find my way back there if you point me the way,” I tried to disarm him, fighting hard as hell to not apply my natural official’s tone.

  “Sir, you’re going to need an appointment to see Mr. Jacobs. And I’m sorry, but I cannot let you past this point without verifying your membership.” He stood, buffing out his chest.

  The kid could be no more than five-nine. I could squash his little beetle ass if I wanted. He wasn’t attempting to appear threatening, just authoritative. I guess that came along with the job. In all honesty, the little shit was polite and apparently witty. He saw the holes in my fucking story. I had to come up with something on the fly.

  I’d be damned if I was going to let a petty job as a fitness manager come between me and getting to this worthless twat. I knew what would shake his pathetic ass. I was on the clock with Munick. He granted me an extension after my last deadline. The stiff! I knew he wouldn’t extend his graces anymore. His retirement was nearing and who knows where that would lead me in terms of an assignment. I had to take my chance and it needed to be now.

  “Do me a favor,” I asked while pulling out my card and writing on the back of it. “Give this to Jacobs…” I handed him the card. “…along with this message: ‘He doesn’t want to fuck around with me’, Got it?” I asked the young lad.

  He never looked at the inscription on the back of my card but damn it if I didn’t see the spark in his eye when his suspicion of foul play was confirmed as I turned on that official’s tone and scowl. His mouth hung open and softly nodded his head as I pivoted and made my way out of the building.

  It wasn’t until I’d slammed the car door shut that it hit me—Azmir Jacobs was more than a manager at this recreation center. The pisser was the fucking owner. I’d had his financial jacket on file but never familiarized myself with the details of his empire. I blew my opportunity at a face-to-face with Jacobs. I was outsmarted by a kid! Just when I was so close.

  Motherfuck me!

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Rayna

  We arrived at JFK Airport in New York City and immediately the energy changed from West Coast placidity to Empire State bustle. You had to appreciate the antithesis of the two. We claimed our luggage and located our driver from the car service Azmir arranged for. We had muscle with us and I had no idea why, but hadn’t found the heart to ask up to that point. Azmir had been distant during our entire commute, not giving much away. I dismissed it as him coming down from an already long morning seeing that we ascended into the friendly skies around noon.

  We pulled up to The Peninsula; talk about opulence. I was only familiar with this place because of my days interning for the practice. Mr.‘s Smith and Katz would have me book rooms there for them and their families during Christmastime. This was extravagance at its best.

  When we approached the front desk Azmir told the concierge, “Jacobs, A.D., checkin.”

  The young woman smiled politely and began typing into her computer. She couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Azmir. He was tall and very commanding in stature. Even outside of his formal gear his beauty was breathtaking. I could have easily become offended but I was used to it at this stage in the game.

  I looked over to the handful of people who walked through the lavish European style lobby, I was curious about their socioeconomic statuses. Affluence didn’t reserve an appearance. Speaking of which, I’d suddenly become conscious of my wardrobe. I wore a pair of blue cropped jeans, white T-shirt and leopard Diane Von Fu
rstenberg wedges courtesy of Azmir who forced me to shop at The Grove last week. I had no idea what made me so uncomfortable about him spending money on me but it really did. I loved clothes, shoes, and accessories just as much as the next but I didn’t want to take from him more than I gave. Heck—I didn’t get to buy his clothes. He had a personal shopper that did that.

  The concierge’s voice snapped me out of my withdrawn thoughts.

  “Yes, Mr. Jacobs, I see we have a superior room and a deluxe suite reserved for you for the next three nights and four days.”

  I gasped—I thought quietly, but apparently too loudly because Azmir turned and gave me the most alarming gaze.

  “Is there a problem, Ms. Brimm?”

  I felt so reduced. I didn’t know what to say. He turned completely around to me giving his back to the concierge. Okay, there’s a little privacy.

  “Ummmmm…no. I…I’m just taking notice of the superfluity that’s taking place here. Azmir, I have an idea of how much a standard room and a standard suite costs at this place. It’s a pretty penny. I mean, is this all necessary?” I whispered feeling the confidence of a twelve year old.

  The sexiest, libido-provoking grin flashes upon his gorgeous face but it’s also accompanied by a twinge of annoyance. I braced myself as he turned to the woman who looked perplexed behind the desk and demanded, “A moment, please,” in all of his CEO authority. She quickly backed away from the counter as he turned his attention back to me.

  “Ms. Brimm, have you any idea of how hard I work? Do you know how many hours I put into a single day’s work?” He looked at me expectantly. If he wanted an answer I was coming up short today because I had none.

  “I work an average of nineteen hours a day. The first few years yielded very little returns but today my time and money works for me. I’ve been a millionaire since the age of twenty…very few know…and I like it that way. My point is I’m paid. I like superfluity—no—I love it. I’ve earned it and now you’ll have to adjust to it as well. I’m a large man and need space…suites accommodate that. Also, I’m traveling with a woman that I’d like to spoil with superfluity. That isn’t a foreign concept.”