by Mark Anthony
“Horse—” I said as I was cut off immediately.
“Ain’t no need to say my name! Just give me the goddamn address right now and don’t hang up these phones!”
Horse had really backed me into a corner and I didn’t know what to do or what to say.
“Jessica, you are taking way too long with this shit!” Horse yelled. I sat and wanted to kick myself for having even called Supreme and Horse to check on them. Why didn’t I just wait until the next day to follow up with them? I thought to myself.
“Give me the goddamn address!” Horse screamed like he was insane.
“One-five-one-dash-four-nine Eighty-third Street,” I regretfully said, hoping that would get me off of the phone.
“Yo, kid, one-five-one-dash-four-nine Eighty-third Street,” Horse yelled out. After which I heard all kinds of moving and rumbling going on the background.
“Jessica, don’t hang up the phone, don’t hang up none of the phones. You gotta stay on this phone with me until my people go verify this address you just gave me.”
There was a pause on the phone. And I didn’t know if Horse was serious or not but I was just thankful that I had not given a fake address.
“Horse come on!” I said.
“What the fuck you mean, come on?” Horse asked.
I sighed and didn’t say a thing.
“My people are coming from southside, it ain’t gonna take no time for them to get there. Just hold on the phone and talk to me,” Horse instructed.
“Horse, why don’t you just give everything time to play itself out? I mean I know the whole label thing fell apart, but what happened to S&S and Tech-9, that could have been anybody who did that,” I said in a desperate attempt to prevent things from getting totally out of control.
“Fuck that! Them cats had something to do wit’ this,” Horse screamed. “You ain’t gotta say nothing, just don’t hang up and you’ll be a’ight. And that address better be good. Word is bond!”
I held on both lines and neither one of us said a word to each other for about ten minutes. During that time I could hear Horse talking to Supreme. I also heard him taking a piss in the bathroom and at steady intervals I heard him inhaling and exhaling as if he was smoking weed or a cigarette.
“A’ight, let me ask her,” Horse yelled to someone.
“Yo, Angela’s crib, is it a white brick crib with a Denali that be parked in the driveway?” Horse asked me.
“Yes that’s it. But Horse, please listen to—” Horse cut me off.
“Yeah, she saying that’s the crib. Tell them niggas to light that shit up!” Horse barked as he abruptly hung up both phones.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When the morning television news shows came on there were two main stories that were being reported. One was the deaths of the two Gun Clap recording artists and their entourages, and the other lead story, which seemed as if it was getting bigger attention than the hip-hop deaths, was the story which centered around the early morning drive-by shooting of the home of reputed mob boss Paulie Calvino.
Apparently Horse had dispatched his team of thugs to shoot up the home of Paulie Calvino. And according to the early news reports it appeared that whoever conducted the shooting meant business. It was estimated that close to two hundred rounds of ammunition had been unleashed on the home that Paulie Calvino shared with his family.
I listened intently as one reporter spoke with a high-ranking police official.
“It appears that whoever conducted this shooting meant to do harm to the occupants inside and at the very least they wanted to send a message. With the high-powered guns that were used such as M-16s and Calicos, it’s clear that the message that they were trying to send was a message of power,” the police official said.
This is way out of control, I thought to myself.
My supervisor thought the exact same thing. He called me and had me on a conference call with his boss, the head of the organized crime unit, as well as the head of the New York FBI.
“Jessica, we have to pull the plug on this whole thing. It’s gotten way out of control,” my supervisor’s boss told me.
I didn’t want the investigation to end but I also didn’t want to come across as confrontational.
“Well, we got enough to connect Paulie Calvino to the money laundering scheme. We can connect Supreme and Horse to that as well. And my direct testimony can link Horse to this drive-by shooting. I understand the need to want to end the investigation but I really think that if we wait we can get Paulie Calvino on a wire conspiring to commit murder, especially now after his home was violated,” I said.
All of the bosses felt that I had done my job in an exceptional manner. I had managed to link two worlds together like no one would have ever dreamed up. We had gathered enough evidence on both Supreme and Horse that we felt would stand up in a courtroom. So for me to stay on in an undercover role would only jeopardize my safety as well as prolong the feud between the Gun Clap participants and the Calvino participants.
Fortunately for me, the New York head of the FBI was more of a risk taker and a realist. He spoke up and stated, “If we completely pull Jessica right now, that might set off all kinds of red flags and it could actually blow the investigation. She has to stay on, for at least another month. She needs to be somewhat visible because after all, she was the common denominator to both sides. And if Jessica thinks we can get Paulie Calvino Senior on conspiring to commit murder, if we can get him in his own words, then that is what will stick in court. We’ve been down this legal road with this guy before, and nothing was ever able to stick, so I say it’s worth a try.”
As we prepared to end the conversation, I thought of just the right thing to do in order to send Paulie Calvino Sr. right over the edge. And I was sure that if I proposed my idea to Supreme that they would love it and jump at it. It would also go a long way in helping to keep me in good graces with them.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A few days had passed since the drive-by shooting had occurred. I spoke to Angela and she told me that her father was sending her to Miami for a few weeks so that she would be out of harm’s way while the family handled things.
So with Angela out of town I felt that it was the perfect time to strike and try to sell my plan to Supreme. I hadn’t spoken to Supreme or Horse since the night of the shooting so I wasn’t certain how receptive they would be to interacting with me.
I called Supreme from my home phone and after he picked up I asked him if it would be okay if I put him on hold and three-wayed Horse.
“Yeah, what’s up ma’? Everything good?”’Preme asked.
“Yeah, everything is good I just wanted to bring up something while I had both of y’all on the phone, that’s all. Hold on a minute,” I instructed.
I dialed Horse’s cell phone and while the phone was ringing I conferenced the call so that all three of us were able to hear each other.
“What’s up, Horse? This is Jessica. I got ’Preme on the other line,” I stated.
“A’ight. What’s good?” Horse asked. “’Preme, what up, baby pa?”
“What up, nigga? What’s the deal?” Supreme replied.
“Listen, I just wanted to let both of y’all know that I realize that I’m the one that introduced Angela to Gun Clap. And I feel real bad about that. I mean it’s like I’m blaming myself for what happened to S&S and Tech-9. I don’t really know all of the ins and outs of everything as far as what exactly is behind the drama and beef. But I just want to go on record with both of y’all right here, right now, and let y’all know that if it’s a matter of choosing sides, then for me there really ain’t no choice, I’m definitely siding with y’all and I’m definitely riding with y’all,” I said, as I was trying my best to come across as convincingly as possible.
“That’s what’s up,” Supreme commented.
“Word, that’s peace right there,” Horse stated as he added, “I knew how you was riding when you gave me Angela’s address and it wasn’t
a phony address.”
“Okay, I’m just putting it out there because I know how easily signals can get crossed when there’s beef,” I added.
“But Jessica, I thought Angela was your girl, why you not riding wit’ her?” Supreme asked.
I had come prepared for that question as I said, “Well, I’m just keeping it real. Angela told me how she was sick over the whole thing and she told me how her brother was sick about the fact that y’all disrespected him and—”
Supreme cut me off, “Yo, ain’t nobody disrespect that nigga! That nigga is the one that called my phone talking reckless! Fuck that nigga! Punk ass!”
“’Preme, I know. I know. And that’s what I told Angela. I told her that her brother was the one talking out of turn and talking out of his face and that if anything he needed to be a man and step up and apologize and everyone could just move on from there.” I lied with a straight face that they could not see through the phone.
“Exactly!” Horse added.
I wanted to play up my position even more, so I continued on. “Yeah and when I was telling her that, her arrogant ass had the nerve to tell me to shut the hell up and that I was so stupid and that I didn’t know nothing.”
I paused and then I added, “It’s like she thinks her and her family are some kind of gods or something that can’t be wrong. She acts like they can’t be touched. And after her house got shot up I told her that she really needed to end the whole thing because she and her family obviously weren’t untouchable. And man, when I said that she cursed me out and called me a nigger lover and all kind of twisted talk.”
“Nigger lover?” Horse asked. “She acting like you ain’t black or something.”
I sidestepped his question and to cover myself I added, “But with Angela, she is such a loose cannon, I bet you she’ll be calling me later and talking to me like everything is cool between me and her.”
“Nigger lover! Yo, ’Preme, you see how these white chicks do? I know Angela was really feeling me. It wasn’t just about no music business. She was really feeling me, but look how quick she’s switching up sides on a nigga,” Horse stated.
“What y’all really need to do to get at the Calvinos is do what y’all do best. Just make good music and put out a dis record. And what I was thinking is I could get one of the girls from the agency that looks like Angela and we could get the best makeup artist to make her look even more like Angela and put her in the video just being totally disrespected. I think a single like that would sell off the shelves, especially if the video was hot,” I instigated.
Supreme and Horse both agreed with me and were enthusiastic about the suggestion. Horse promised to put his all into lacing the track with one of the best beats he’d ever created and they figured that they would get their up-and-coming star, a rapper who went by the name of Black Chris to rhyme on the record. They hadn’t thought about it until I brought the idea to them but it would be the perfect way to promote their artist and recharge life into Gun Clap Records, especially after the death of their two biggest acts.
I just loved being the instigator that I was. Being that double person helped to keep my juices flowing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A little less than a month had passed since I had suggested the idea to Horse and Supreme about making the dis record. During that time the investigation had sort of hit a lull. From the FBI’s standpoint we couldn’t understand why there had been no retaliation from the Calvinos toward Gun Clap after the home of Paulie Calvino Sr. had been totally violated. And in addition to that, the three million dollars had not been returned to the Calvinos and that was more than enough reason for vengeance.
We knew that an act of revenge would follow but we just did not know when. So during that lull time, my interactions with Horse and Supreme had been somewhat limited. Instead of interacting directly with Horse and Supreme on a daily basis, I had filled most of my days conducting surveillance with a team of agents. We followed Paulie Calvino Senior and Junior, along with many of the Calvino captains and soldiers. We also followed Horse, Supreme, and many of the Gun Clap and Supreme Team associates.
Our thinking was that if any acts of violence or revenge were to break out we wanted to be right there to squash it and to have a caught red-handed excuse to arrest somebody. But unfortunately for us there was nothing but uncharacteristic silence from both sides. It was sort of like a truce or something had been declared. So we just waited patiently for something to happen. Because as they say in the streets, we knew that it was just a matter of time before something jumped off.
The only exciting part of that month-long stretch was the night that I’d spent at the Gun Clap Records Manhattan recording studio, which was nicknamed, of all things, The Crack House.
I had been invited to the studio in order to hear the live recording of the dis record which hadn’t yet been released to any of the radio stations. The video for the song was gonna be shot two days later so I had wanted to hear the song just to get a feel for it so that I would know which girls from the modeling agency would be the best to use in the video.
I arrived at the recording studio at two in the morning and after being buzzed in, I made my way to the tenth floor where I entered a studio that was literally packed wall-to-wall with thugs. The air was thick with weed smoke as guys stood arm-to-arm bobbing their heads to the sounds of the loud hip-hop music and drinking all types of brown liquors.
There were about six guys that looked like professional wrestlers clad in Teflon bulletproof vests who were posted in different parts of the studio. As I attempted to walk near Horse who was seated at the mixing board and Supreme who was standing a few feet away from him, I was violently stopped by one of the bald-headed, Zeus-looking, bulletproof-wearing bodyguards.
“Yo, it’s cool! Shorty’s a’ight! She here to see me,” Supreme stated to the bodyguard.
The bodyguard eased his monster-tight grip of my arm and let me walk pass.
“Mmm Wa,” I said as I reached up on my tippy toes and gave Supreme a kiss on the cheek.
“What’s up, Horse?” I said as I looked for a place to sit among the thugs.
“What up, baby? We making history up in here tonight!” Horse shouted as he gestured for me to come have a seat next to him on one of the stools.
“Is this the track?” I asked.
Horse nodded his head as he turned up the volume so that I could get a better listen. “That shit is hot as hell right?” Horse asked.
“Horse, that beat is off the hook!” I genuinely replied. “You are gonna kill them with this one.”
“Jessica, you want some E and J or some Cask and Cream?” one of the thugs asked. I didn’t remember having ever seen him before so I was surprised that he knew my name.
Liquor was one of my weaknesses so I immediately gave in to the request.
“Oh hell yeah! Pour me some of that Cask and Cream,” I responded. Before I knew it a large red plastic cup had been handed to me and Cask and Cream was quickly poured to the rim.
I quickly began to drink down the smooth drink and I noticed that I was not the only chick in the studio. There were about five well-developed sisters walking around who looked like they had just came from an underground strip club or something. They too were dancing and moving their bodies to the music, only they were doing it as if they were looking for someone to tip them.
“Let me get some of that E and J, baby,” I said as I held out my cup for a refill.
“Goddamn ma ma! I ain’t know you drink like that,” the same thug said to me. He suddenly appeared cuter to me than he had before I had gulped down my first cup of Cask and Cream. “You better be careful mixing drinks like that,” he warned.
“I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl,” I stated as the cute thug chuckled to himself.
“Horse, can you let me hear the lyrics?” I asked.
“No doubt. Matter of fact you gonna hear Black spit this shit live,” Horse stated as he instructed Black Chris to go inside t
he booth.
As Black Chris made his way inside the booth, I tried my best to guzzle the E&J as that demon had once again crept inside of me and was enticing me to hurry up and get drunk.
The name of the dis song was “The Hit.” And some of the lyrics went something to the effect of: “you ain’t a real don / all that Mafia shit is a con / you a fake a faggot a phony a pussy! / Horse ran up in your daughter—left her moist and mushy / You ain’t a real don / all that Mafia shit is a con / Horse be that don / that new Godfather—Yeah he hard / got Angie on tape screaming oh God / yes daddy yes / potnah, you ain’t a real don / all that Mafia shit is a con / my man hit your daughter so you put a hit out on my man / it’s a’ight though / ’cause that hit cost you some dough / three mil’ to be exact / we might give you some to get your house intact from when them shells went blaadat blaadat / next time you and your crew will get your wigs push back / you ain’t a real don / All that mafia shit is a con!”
“I’m feeling that! I like that!” I said as I continued to down my E&J. “They are gonna be so vexed when they hear this song,” I stated as Black Chris continued to rhyme.
I was definitely beginning to feel nice from the liquor. I began to talk real hyped and excited.
“Do you remember that video that Biggie did back in the days when he dissed Faith Evans? He had that chick that looked like Faith and he was throwing her out of the house and throwing her clothes out in the street! You remember that, right?” I asked in a real loud voice.
All of the thugs that were within earshot of my voice nodded their heads up and down and chuckled and smiled as they puffed on their blunts.
“’Preme you remember that, right?”
“No doubt!” Supreme responded.
“What would be crazy is if in the video y’all do a scene at a club or somewhere that Horse is performing or Black Chris is performing and we could have the only white chick in the crowd who looks just like Angela … Right … And she would be looking like a real groupie, and have Horse scope her out in the crowd and he could tell his man to go find out who she is and invite her backstage. And when she’s backstage we could have a scene where Horse and all of the Gun Clap cats is running a train on her and when it’s over y’all could throw her out in the street with no clothes on. And just throw her a T-shirt or something for her to barely cover herself up with! Tell me that wouldn’t be hot!” I shouted as I stood up and held up my hand so that Horse could give me a high-five.
