Carl Weber's Kingpins

by Marcus Weber

  “Mo wanted me to tell you that there is a traitor in your midst,” Cam relayed, his words dropping like an atomic bomb.

  “What? What, nigga? The fuck you talking about?” Jackson exploded, placing his left hand on his waistband.

  Cam’s young dudes moved in like ready soldiers, following his lead with their hands on their weapons as well. Cam stepped to the side of Jackson as if he was completely irrelevant.

  “Antonio,” Cam addressed him directly again, agitation lacing his words as he bit down into his jaw. “Mo asked me to deliver this as proof to his claims. Mo don’t accuse niggas of shit unless he can back it up.” Cam reached inside his pocket and removed a manila envelope.

  All of Emil’s men reacted by shifting in the distance behind Antonio, the metal of their weapons clicking and cocking. Antonio took a few steps back, not sure what the next move would be. Cam’s young dudes did the same, holding their guns high and ready. Cam tossed the envelope onto the small metal table and stared at Antonio expectantly.

  Antonio’s heart jammed at the bone in his chest. His hands shook as he inhaled deeply. He swallowed the fear forming into a ball in his throat. What the fuck is this they have? Antonio’s mind raced.

  “Proof,” Cam said calmly, folding his hands in front of him like a praying priest. Antonio hesitantly reached for the package.

  “This is bullshit! They tryna play games right now! You don’t have to look at shit they got to offer,” Jackson came to life again, blocking the table and Antonio’s access to the mysterious contents. “We came here to pay for the shipment. Period. All this extra shit is not needed!” Jackson barked his words out, his tone laced with panic.

  Cam chuckled.

  “A hit dog gon’ bark my nigga,” Cam said to Jackson as he eyed Jackson evilly. The only thing that kept Cam and his young dudes from blowing Jackson’s head off was instructions from Mo to let Antonio handle his own business when it came to his family and their workers.

  Antonio had to agree with what Cam had said to his men. Jackson seemed guilty and nervous about what might be in the envelope. Antonio stepped around Jackson and lifted the envelope. There is a traitor in your midst. There is a traitor in your midst. There is a traitor in your midst. The words played out in Antonio’s mind like a scratched CD as he tore at the sealed envelope. He felt an uneasy tightness in his chest as he dumped six small three-by-five photographs into his hand. His mouth immediately fell open as he scanned the first picture. Antonio squinted to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. His head moved from side to side involuntarily, slowly.

  “The fuck?” he whispered breathlessly. Heat rose from his toes up to his face and a sheen of red came over his eyes as if someone had put red-tinted glasses on him. He bit down into the side of his cheek as he flipped from one incriminating photograph to the next. Antonio looked over at Jackson, then back at Cam. His nostrils flared as he tried to keep his breathing under control.

  “Where’d you get these?” he asked Cam, speaking through his teeth.

  “A snitch we got working inside Max King’s cartel turned the information over to Mo. Our people ran that shit down, and this is what we found out. We saved your fucking life today with this information, Antonio,” Cam said seriously “If you cannot believe what’s right there in your face, we have more proof that this is true,” Cam said, raising his hand to one of his young dudes.

  One of Cam’s men, who looked like a big grizzly bear, rushed back toward their vehicle and snatched the hatchback door open. Antonio watched in utter shock as they dragged a guy out of the vehicle. The captive was quivering, blindfolded and gagged.

  “Yo, nigga! What the fuck is this?” Jackson growled, his voice unsteady. Antonio looked around and saw that all of Emil’s men and Jackson’s so-called dudes were all on edge. Antonio could hear their angry murmurs.

  “Nah, nigga. I feel a set up. Let’s go,” Jackson barked. “I’m not feeling this shit right here.” The others mumbled their agreement. Jackson was ready to get the fuck out of dodge.

  “Everybody shut the fuck up! Wait!” Antonio commanded. He still clutched the pictures against his chest as if he could make what he’d seen disappear.

  The tall, dark haired guy was dragged from Cam’s vehicle. Antonio sucked in his breath at the dude’s poor condition. It immediately reminded Antonio of how he’d left his best friend Rich. His hands were bound tightly in front of him and he was being pushed toward Antonio on weak, shaky, bruised legs. He only wore his boxers and a bloodied t-shirt. Antonio could smell the fetid mixture of the guy’s blood, shit, and piss emanating from his body. Someone had worked him over pretty damn good. Antonio winced just thinking about how much pain he must’ve been in. One thing was for sure: the nigga was scared to death. His eyes looked like two huge marbles, and his body quaked with fear.

  “Speak up, nigga!” Cam barked, shoving the guy forward. Antonio looked at the guy’s battered face—half shut eyes, his clearly broken nose, and his protruding, split upper lip. The abused guy refused to speak.

  Cam nodded at his young goons. One of them rushed over, grabbed the tattered victim by his neck, and hoisted him off his feet. He squeezed the guy’s throat until he was gagging.

  “Put him down,” Cam demanded. “Now . . . you tell him, motherfucker! I told you already . . . your fucking kid and bitch won’t make it to see another fucking day!”

  “The dude . . . he told me . . . he told me,” the battered guy coughed, barely able to formulate words on his lips. He could barely speak. Antonio had to strain his ears to hear him.

  “Speak the fuck up!” Cam barked, kicking the guy in his ribs so hard that everyone in the room winced.

  “The dude . . . your dude . . . wanted to kill you. He . . . he . . . made a deal with Max King. He told me about this meeting today. He . . . he . . . set you up to be killed and robbed here today. He would get paid once we took the money and the shipment,” the guy mumbled through his busted lips, blood dripping from his mouth onto the floor.

  Antonio’s mind screamed as his words hit home. He hadn’t even been boss for more than a month, and someone in his own camp had already turned on him.

  “What the fuck is they talkin’ about, yo? I want to know what’s going on right fucking now!” Jackson demanded, getting in Antonio’s face.

  Antonio’s mind raced one hundred miles a minute. Everyone was vying for his attention. Jackson was screaming for an explanation. Cam was trying to convince him that what he was offering him was the truth. The guys were behind him yelling that they were ready to leave, that these young motherfuckers could not be trusted. It was all too much.

  “Believe what you see in those pictures, my nigga. Mo is never wrong, and he never lies,” Cam told Antonio calmly.

  Antonio’s body was engulfed in heat now. Something ticked at his core, like the timer on a bomb.

  “I wanna know what the fuck he talkin’ about,” Jackson shouted, pulling his gun from his waistband. “I’m not fucking around no more.”

  Antonio felt like the room was spinning. He felt sick to his stomach. His ears rang.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Antonio finally exploded, tossing the pictures back onto the table. “Everybody just shut the fuck up for a minute!” He slammed his hand on top of the pictures, spreading them out like a display of artwork.

  “Satisfied?” Antonio huffed, placing the photographs in front of Jackson. He quickly fell silent. Antonio’s eyes went into slits. He hated nothing more than liars, thieves, and traitors. All his life had been being betrayed.

  “What? Nah,” Jackson said, stepping back and shaking his head in disbelief. He took another close look at the pictures. “Nah, this fuckin’ can’t be!” Jackson growled, his words getting slightly louder. “Something gotta be fucking off here,” he griped. His body went cold like someone had pumped ice water into his veins.

  “The truth is all there,” Cam instigated. “All I’m saying it’s that nigga Mo expects you, as boss, to handle this,” he said
, looking directly at Antonio as he spoke.

  Antonio knew that Cam would be reporting back to Mo exactly how he handled the situation.

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  His reputation depended on every single move he made now. Either he’d become known as a weak ass man in the business or a powerful force who could hold his own. It was up to him now. Antonio felt vomit creeping up his esophagus. Fire burned in his chest and huge sweat beads raced down his back. With his lips pursed and nostrils flaring, Antonio slipped his hand into his waistband. He wrapped his hand around the cold steel of the .357 Magnum Emil had given him. The one that Antonio never left home without these days. With his adrenaline rushing so fast, he turned toward the vehicles and stalked toward Emil’s crew of men.

  “What’s going on, man?” one of them asked, his brows crumpled.

  “Wait . . . what the fuck, Tony?” Jackson said, attempting to halt Antonio’s fury. He was too late.

  Antonio walked right up to the crew. None of them saw what was coming next. He raised his weapon and placed it at one of their men’s temple. Everyone was speaking at once. There was an angry hornet’s nest of buzzing in Antonio’s ears. He felt like screaming as loud as his voice could go. The gun shook in his hand as it kissed the skin of the traitor’s forehead.

  Chaos erupted.

  “What the fuck you doin’?” the man who always held Jackson down barked at Antonio with a two-gun salute.

  Hayden’s driver trained his gun on the traitor too. He was there as Antonio’s muscle for the day. He took his lead from whomever was running the show as always. One of the other’s pointed gun was leveled at Antonio’s chest. After all, the identified traitor was around way before Antonio was. They’d all been working together before the outsider, Antonio, came on the scene. He was their brother in arms, and Antonio was just the new motherfucker who thought he was their boss. Another pointed his long gun, a shiny new AR-15, at Jackson. He couldn’t understand how the fuck Jackson would choose Antonio over one of them . . . they’d been working for his father for decades.

  “What the fuck?” the traitor growled, his hands up in surrender, weapon dangling off of his pointer finger. Clearly, he had no wins.

  “Drop your weapon,” Antonio said in a low, embittered whisper.

  Jackson rushed over with the pictures in his hands. He didn’t give a fuck about a gun pointed at him.

  “Drop your fucking weapon now!” Antonio screamed this time, his voice getting so loud it itched the back of his throat. He thought about Mo for a hot minute. The secret Mo had harbored. He couldn’t help but wonder how much else Mo knew that could be a danger to their family.

  “Do what he said, man,” someone yelled to the traitor. He was outgunned. He knew if he made one false move that would be his end.

  “Explain yourself, motherfucker!” Jackson said angrily, making the pictures rain down around him. Everyone glanced down at the photographs. A bunch of mumbles and groans followed.

  “What the fuck? This nigga is really a fucking traitor,” one of them shouted. His words seemed to catch in the back of his throat.

  “Is that you, nigga? You with dudes from Max King’s crew—motherfuckers who tried to put us out of business?” Jackson asked, his voice cracking like he was about to cry.

  Now, everyone turned their guns on the traitor. Their minds immediately went to thoughts of how close Max King had come to killing Emil one time. And how many times Max King had shut down Emil’s operations. Was it the assistance of this fucking traitor that had caused Jackson to get arrested?

  “Listen, I . . . I can explain,” the traitor stammered. In their line of business, there really wasn’t much more he could say that could help his case. The pictures did not lie.

  “Y’all all agreed with me, remember? None of us wanted this intruder to be our boss. Don’t front now! C’mon, y’all remember what y’all said about how he didn’t have no rights to come out of the blue and start taking over? How we all thought that shit wasn’t right because we had all put in that work? Son or no son, this nigga didn’t deserve to move up so fast! You said that! Jackson, remember you saying that he took over too fast and never acted like a son to your father? Didn’t you think it strange that he was able to just meet Mo with no questions asked? Jackson, you hinted that you ain’t trust him. I’m not fucking crazy! What the fuck, man? Y’all not gonna admit to shit now? I wasn’t the only one that wanted to get rid of him. I did this for all of us! Max King said he was going to take care of him. This was for the fam!” the traitor cried out, snitching on his crew while his voice rose like a straight bitch.

  Jackson looked at the man who had been in the car with him the day that he had seen Max King with Antonio’s father-in-law, with the Senator. They were both stunned that there had been multiple people plotting on Antonio, but of course, they couldn’t say anything now that someone else had taken the fall.

  Antonio did believe that he had been the subject of many discussions. It wasn’t lost on him that one of them—if not all of them—wanted to be the next boss in Emil’s lineage. He couldn’t let his feelings distract him, though. The issue at hand wasn’t about who said what. Antonio needed to show them and Mo’s youngins that he was first in command. His reputation as boss rode on how he handled this very moment.

  “Nobody wanted me in this family? That’s too bad, because I am a blood member. I’m here now, and you will all respect my authority. Like it or not,” Antonio growled, flames flashing in his eyes. He ground the end of his gun on the traitor’s temple.

  “Please, don’t kill me,” the traitor begged. “That man they got tied up is Max King’s nephew. If they kill him, you all will be dead men walking.” The traitor knew he only had minutes to live. The warning was the least he could do to make up for his cowardly betrayal.

  “Shut the fuck up! Don’t give me no fucking advice now you fucking Judas!” Antonio growled, grinding his gun into the traitor’s head even harder.

  The man closed his eyes, waiting.

  One of the other crew members turned away so no one could see the tears rimming his eyes. He was devastated by this betrayal, but even more about what he knew would happen next. Another man lowered his head as well.

  “Let this be an example to the next man who tries us,” Antonio shouted, putting pressure on the trigger.

  One powerful blast to the dome spun the traitor’s body around in a slow pirouette as a spray of his blood and gray brain matter splashed onto Antonio’s face and clothes. The thick, metallic scent of blood mixed with the grit of gunpowder overwhelmed Antonio’s senses. It was a smell and taste that surprisingly left him feeling powerful, almost animalistic. His jaw rocked feverishly.

  Under the adrenaline rush, Antonio realized once again that he was someone who had tried to be good his entire life but was just as capable of killing a man in cold blood as any heinous murderer, under the right circumstances. Just like his father and his brothers. That fact scared the shit out of him.

  Antonio gripped the gun and doubled over. Vomit spewed from his lips, just missing his shoes. His chest heaved like a beast in the wild after a fresh kill. Something inside of him had snapped. Antonio knew all too well how violence could be just as deep and intimate as love. In that moment, something awakened inside of him that he had worked years to suppress. He was turning into someone he didn’t want to be, again. He hadn’t realized with that one move, he had secured his family’s fate.

  Chapter 10

  The Climax

  Paige tucked Christian in to his makeshift bed and stood over him for a few minutes. Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked around. How far had things gone? How did her life go from charmed to fucked in a matter of months? Paige thought about the divorce, the press behind it, her family struggles, and it all made her cringe. Her father was currently going after Antonio and Emil Cartwright without mercy. Paige felt caught in the middle of it all. And, she definitely was.

  “Hey,” her brother, Junior, whispered, approaching fr
om behind.

  “Hey,” Paige rasped, quickly wiping the tears from her face and putting on a fake smile. “I know you’re put out, but thanks again for letting us crash with you so long. I’m trying my best to get things in order and as soon as I can. . . .”

  “Shh. Stop worrying about me. I’m good,” Junior cut in. “Look. We haven’t always seen eye to eye. But, I know all of your tough love was because you didn’t want me to be getting high and shit,” he said, patting her shoulder. “Mi casa es su casa,” Junior joked.

  “I hope you do know that all of those times I was mean was out of love,” Paige replied. She had been hard on her brother in the past when he’d go in and out of expensive drug rehabs. She always felt heartbroken over his addiction. He had embarrassed their family so many times that Gladstone had paid millions to public relations firms to get their family name back in a good light. Paige wondered why her father hadn’t done anything about her name being dragged through the media as the wife of NBA-star-turned-criminal-boss.

  “So, has the bastard even tried to contact you?”

  “Oh, he’s been trying. But after everything . . . he’s lucky he’s not in jail. The fucking nerve of him,” Paige replied. Her mind was quickly drawn back to the night of the gala, the night her marriage went south for good.

  * * *

  “Don’t bother coming home . . . we no longer have a home or a marriage!” Paige had hissed as she slung her body into her car.

  Antonio had pounded on the window, but to no avail. Paige’s tires squealed and she zoomed off so fast he had had to jump back or she would’ve run over his toes.

  Antonio raced for his car and sped after her. She’d reached the house before he could, and when he’d gotten there she was in their walk-in closet, packing.

  “Paige . . . let me talk to you,” Antonio implored.

  “You know this is all bullshit. Just give me a minute to explain.”

  Paige kept moving swiftly. Her heart jammed so hard against her chest bone she felt like she’d faint.