by K'wan
King Tut placed a reassuring hand on Omega’s forearm. “You know ain’t never been no love lost between me and Li’l Monk, but if you insist on riding for him then I’ll ride with you,” he said in his most sincere tone.
Omega looked at Tut and nodded. “Good looking out. I really appreciate that.”
“That’s what friends are for, O.” Tut patted him on the back, planting an imaginary knife in it.
It was a relatively short drive from Harlem to Westchester, where they were to meet Felix and his men. The rendezvous point was at a gas station that was about a mile from George’s house.
Felix wasn’t hard to spot, sitting in a big Hummer sitting on chrome. There were several Hispanic men standing around the vehicle, talking among themselves and watching traffic. Though there were no weapons visible, there was no doubt the men were armed.
No sooner had Omega turned his car into the gas station, than Felix’s men had their car surrounded, guns appearing in their hands as if by magic. Tut looked like he was about to reach, but Omega gave him a look and stayed his hand. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Felix appeared from the Hummer and strolled over.
He was an average-looking man with a kind face and a receding hairline. As he had been the first time Omega and Tut had met him, Felix was dressed in a white shirt and black slacks. The difference was this time his outfit was accessorized by two big guns holstered under his arms like they were legal. “Retirarse.” He ordered his men to stand down in Spanish and they obediently complied.
“What was all that about?” Omega asked, getting out of the car.
“You can never be too cautious when handling poisonous snakes,” Felix told him. “You boys had us waiting so long I was beginning to think that you were backing out of our agreement.”
“Nah, man. We’re all in,” Omega assured him. “Listen, this is the plan—”
“No, it is you who should listen,” Felix cut him off. “You two are here as proof of your boss’s loyalty to our cartel, but it is I who will be calling the shots on this mission. In the meantime, keep your mouth shut and try not to get shot.”
Omega trailed Felix’s Hummer in his car to the block where George lived and parked a half block down. The sun had gone down so they had the cover of darkness on their side. Felix’s men filed out of the Hummer, checking their weapons and conferring with their leader for last-minute details. Felix barked orders in Spanish dispatching his men this way and that. He was like a general and they were his loyal soldiers.
Felix motioned for Omega and King Tut to follow as he and two of his men crept across the lawn of George’s house. In the shadows, Omega spotted the men Felix had sent ahead positioning themselves to cover any possible exits. There would be no escape for George. As he stood just outside George’s front door, Omega saw a woman pass one of the windows. He hadn’t counted on anyone being home except for George and the presence of the woman gave him pause.
“Hold on, man,” Omega called after Felix. “It just occurred to me that we never checked the house to see if anybody else is there with him.” He wanted to gauge Felix’s temperature before he mentioned the woman he’d just seen.
“Have you come here to stall or prove yourself?” Felix asked with an attitude.
“Nah, I ain’t stalling. I’m just saying; we should make sure there aren’t any women or children in the house before we move forward with this. George is a player in the game so I’m down for killing him, but I ain’t with clipping no innocents,” Omega told him.
Felix gave a throaty laugh. “My friend, I don’t know how Pharaoh does things, but in our cartel there are no innocents, especially when the blood of our family has been spilled. Anyone who is in that house with him will soon wish they’d found somewhere else to be tonight,” he said before kicking the door in and storming the house.
George sucked down his third cigarette in the last fifteen minutes. It had been a rough day for him. Between the pain in his burned hand and the throbbing headache that he couldn’t seem to shake, George was in a foul mood.
Ever since Tut had popped in on him it seemed like things were going from bad to worse. He knew that it had been a bad idea to take the deal Swann had laid on the table for him, but the way things were going with Pharaoh he didn’t have much of a choice. The product was getting less and less potent and some of George’s faithful customers were beginning to go elsewhere. It wasn’t just George who was seeking a new supplier. Word on the street was quite a few of Pharaoh’s drug outlets were getting fed up with him cutting the product trying to earn a few extra dollars.
Pharaoh’s drugs weren’t the only thing getting weaker. Rumor had it that his hold on the streets was slipping. Of course Pharaoh was still strong enough to crush a middleman like George, but the bigger fish were circling his pond. It was only a matter of time before someone took a chunk out of his ass. George couldn’t say he didn’t see it coming. Most of the other old timers had gotten into bed with Shai when he took over for Poppa, but because of George’s friendship and loyalty to Ramses, George sided with them. It was like eating crow when he had to go, hat in hand, to Swann to take Shai up on his original offer. He felt bad about doing Ramses like that, especially with all that his old friend had done for him, but he had to do what was best for his business. He had planned on telling Ramses himself and hoped that his friend would understand; but that sneaky-ass King Tut had let the cat out of the bag before he had a chance, and now George found his among the many names on Ramses’s shit list.
He reached for the glass of whisky that he’d had sitting on the nightstand, but found it empty. The same was true for the bottle sitting next to it. He had been in his room since he’d gotten out of the hospital, popping pain killers and drinking. As severely as his hand was burned it’d be a long time, if ever, before he fried chicken again. It was just one more thing he had to pay King Tut back for when he caught up with him.
George slipped his robe on and made his way downstairs to fetch another bottle of whiskey from the cupboard. When he entered the kitchen he found Hugo, one of the security personnel he’d hired, sitting at the table sipping a cup of coffee and eating a piece of chicken. Hugo was a large man, who wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he knew how to handle himself in tough situations.
“Hugo, did I hire your big ass to sit around and eat up my food or make sure nothing happens to me and mine?” George asked with an attitude.
“My bad, boss man. Dooley and John are making the rounds, and Claire ordered some pizzas for dinner. Everything is under control so I was just taking a little break,” Hugo told him, cleaning the chicken bone and dropping it on the plate among the half a dozen or so others he’d devoured.
“Well, break yo’ ass up from my table and go do your job,” George snapped. Hugo mumbled something under his breath and went to do as he was told. Hugo was a good man and George hadn’t meant to be so harsh with him, but his nerves were on edge. After King Tut had outed him, Ramses had been blowing his phone up. He knew what he wanted, but wasn’t quite sure what to say to him just yet. He and Ramses had been friends, but after finding out what George had done he wasn’t sure where they stood at that point. Ramses was a man who didn’t take betrayal well, so George didn’t want to take any chances and brought in some extra muscle.
As George was rummaging through the cupboard for a bottle of whiskey, Claire came into the kitchen. Claire was a girl half George’s age, who didn’t have much ambition but could fuck and suck like she was put on earth to do it. She had started out as his mistress, but was promoted to live-in girlfriend when George’s wife found out about them and left him.
“Claire, did you move my bottle? I know I put it in this cabinet and, now that I’m looking for it, I can’t find it,” George fumed.
“Yes, I put it in the liquor cabinet where it belongs,” Claire told him.
“Damn it, why you always moving my shit? You know I hate when people move my shit around,” George snapped.
&nb
sp; “I moved it because there’s no need to hide your liquor in here like some relapsed drunk. Unlike your ex-wife I’m not on you about how much you drink, so there’s no need to hide your bottles anymore,” Claire shot back. “Why are you in such a damn pissy mood today?”
“What kind of mood would you be in if somebody went upside your head then tried to deep fry you?” George asked.
“I told you about being out there trying to play with them young niggas. You way too old to be still trying to sell drugs, especially when you own a business. Why don’t you stick to frying chicken and leave the crack game alone?”
“Shit, with the way you like to shop and sniff coke I’d have to keep that restaurant open twenty-four hours a day just to keep the lights on. Instead of your worrying about what the hell I’m doing you need to be tending to my boy,” George told her, referring to the two-year-old son he had with Claire. His son was one of the few reasons he still kept her around.
“Junior is fine. He’s upstairs sleeping, so please don’t wake him up. I don’t know who keeps me running more, you or him.” Claire rolled her eyes. “And, speaking of junior, I need to go out and get him some stuff so I’m gonna need some money.”
George gave her a look. “Didn’t you just hit me for some shopping money the other day?”
“Yes, but that was for me and this is for him,” she said.
“Okay, go upstairs and look in—”
“I know, top drawer, third from the right,” Claire cut him off.
George shook his head. “You’re slicker than a pig in shit. I don’t even know why I keep you around.”
“Because nobody sucks your dick like I do.” Claire kissed him on the cheek and headed upstairs to take her cut.
After dealing with Claire George found he needed a drink more than when he had first come downstairs. He left the kitchen and headed into the living room where the liquor cabinet was. Dooley and Hugo were standing near the front door talking among themselves and John was just coming back downstairs after having checked the upper level of the house. For as much grief as George gave the three of them, he couldn’t deny the fact that they were on point. Having them at their positions filled him with a feeling of safety. That feeling lasted all of ten seconds before everything went to shit.
CHAPTER 30
When the front door burst open, the door swung forward and clocked Dooley in the back of the head, stumbling him. Just as he was trying to right himself, several slugs ripped through the door and Dooley’s back. He pitched forward and his lifeless body landed at George’s feet.
At the sight of the corpse at his feet, George backpedaled so fast that he tripped and fell through the glass coffee table. Pain shot through his burned hand when he instinctively tried to use it to break his fall. Lying there, nursing his wounds, George watched in shock as several Hispanic men rushed into his home. At first George thought it was a robbery, as he had no problems with the Latinos, but all the pieces fell into place when he saw King Tut slither across his threshold. The Latinos hadn’t come to take his goods; they had come for his life.
Hugo moved with the speed of a man half his size when he drew his big .45 from his jacket and let it rock. The paintings on the walls shook as Hugo fired at the invaders. The .45 shells that had been intended for Felix tore through one of his shooters who had jumped between him and the bullets. The Latino’s body spun like it had just been hit by a car before one more slug hit him in the back and carried him into Felix. They landed awkwardly on the floor, with Felix pinned and at Hugo’s mercy.
Before Hugo could finish what he started, King Tut intervened and shot him twice in the leg, dropping the big man to one knee. Tut stepped forward, placing the hot barrel of his gun against Hugo’s forehead. He made eye contact with Felix, before popping Hugo in the skull, splattering blood all over himself and Felix. There was a terrified look on Felix’s face, as he had never come that close to death before. An unspoken understanding passed between them. Felix was now in King Tut’s debt.
Ignoring the pain in his hand, George pushed himself to his feet and took off running across the living room trying to get to the kitchen where he had a pistol stashed. He bobbed and weaved, trying to avoid the gunfire of the Latinos who were laying siege to his home.
Jay popped up seemingly out of nowhere, firing two 9 mms and covering George’s escape into the kitchen. The guns spit fire, backing Tut and the Latinos back toward the front door. He was their last line of defense, and doing an adequate job until Omega crept up on his blindside. He let off two shots, hitting Jay in his jaw and temple, ending him.
Omega started to rush into the kitchen to finish George off when he remembered the woman he’d seen, who wasn’t accounted for among the dead. “Y’all get George. I’m gonna make sure ain’t no surprises waiting for us upstairs.” He bounded up the stairs.
George burst into the kitchen in a dead run. His heart thundered in his chest as he heard the sounds of gunshots and screams coming from the living room. There wasn’t much he could do for Hugo and the others, but at least he could save himself. George had almost reached his stash spot, when the back door came crashing open and another Latino appeared, firing his gun.
Swinging the stainless steel refrigerator door open George hunkered down and used it as a shield. Bullets peppered the door, as the Latino advanced. He moved in for the kill and that’s when George popped up holding the. 25 he kept stashed in the vegetable bin.
“Die, muthafucka!” George roared, firing the .25. It took every bullet in the small gun’s clip to finally drop the Latino. He was just popping in another clip when something heavy hit him in the back of the head, sending him spilling to the floor. George looked up and found himself staring down the barrel of King Tut’s gun.
“Time to pay the piper, old timer,” Tut taunted him.
“So this is how it goes down? As long as me and Ramses been friends he’s gonna have me taken out of the game all because I switched suppliers?” George asked in disbelief.
“Afraid you got it wrong, Chicken George. This is about that boy you murdered,” Tut informed him.
George was confused. “What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t kill anybody.”
“No, but I told them spics out there you did,” Tut informed him.
“You set me up?” George asked in disbelief. “Why?”
Tut shrugged. “Somebody had to take the fall,” he said before pulling the trigger.
Just then Felix and his remaining men came into the kitchen. When he saw Tut standing over George’s corpse, holding a smoking gun, he became angry. “You killed him before I had a chance to question him, you stupid little fucker!” he snapped. “I wanted to find out who else was involved in Petey’s murder.”
“Look, man, he smoked one of your boys and was about to smoke me.” Tut nodded at the .25 on the floor next to George’s body. “I didn’t have a choice.”
Felix glared angrily at Tut. He had seen the man in action and somehow doubted that George had posed that much of an immediate threat. There was no time to argue about it as the police would surely be on the scene soon. “I’ll deal with you later,” he told Tut. “Nos vamos,” he said to his men, letting them know it was time to leave.
“I’ll catch up. I gotta go check on my boy,” Tut said and started toward the upstairs bedrooms.
Omega crept down the upstairs hallway, with his gun at the ready. He went from room to room checking for threats and the woman he had seen earlier. He knew that if Felix found her first she was as good as dead and he didn’t want it on his conscience.
From the bedroom down the hall he could hear muffled sounds, like someone was crying. With his gun raised, he kicked in the door and darted inside, sweeping the room for threats. The room was decorated with cartoon characters on the wall and a toddler bed in the corner. He didn’t see anyone and was about to go and check a different room to see if the sounds had been coming from somewhere else when he spotted a closet. Omega crept to the door and placed
his ear against it. The sounds he had heard were coming from inside. Raising his gun, he snatched the door open.
Claire was inside the closet, huddled in the corner and holding a small child in her arms. When she saw Omega her eyes went wide with fear. “Please don’t kill me! I have a son!”
“Keep your voice down,” Omega shushed her. “I ain’t gonna kill you, but if those guys downstairs hear you they sure as hell will. Stay in the closet and count to one thousand before you come out. Do you understand?”
Claire nodded.
“Good, start counting.” Omega backed away from the closet. He was about to step out into the hallway when he heard a thunderous bang right before something slammed into his back. Staggered and using the wall to brace himself, Omega turned around and found the same woman he had tried to save seconds earlier holding a smoking gun. Claire fired again, this time hitting him in the chest and dropping him.
Omega lay on the ground, staring at the ceiling and feeling his life drain away. The first law of the jungle was self-preservation and he had broken that law when he put himself in jeopardy trying to save the woman. He watched helplessly as she stood over him and pointed the gun at his face.
“If you niggas thought you were gonna come in here and harm me and mine then you got the game fucked up,” Claire said.
“But, I tried to save you,” Omega rasped.
“That was your bad, not mine.” Claire fingered the trigger.
Omega closed his eyes and waited for the end. He heard the shot and braced for the impact of the bullet, but felt nothing. When Omega opened his eyes he saw Claire standing there with a strange expression on her face. He wasn’t sure what had happened until he saw the red spot in the middle of her forehead, followed by a trickle of blood spilling out. Claire rocked once then fell over dead. A few seconds later, King Tut appeared in the room.
