by Tranay Adams
Chapter Nine
Earlier that night Mufasa had gotten a call from Franklin requesting a sit-down. He wondered what the don could want since he’d already received his usual shipment and wasn’t due to re-up for another two or three weeks. It wasn’t like he and the big man were buddies who hung out and shot the shit over ice cold ones. Their relationship was one based on business alone. And that’s how it would always be.
Mufasa scooped up the dice from the crap table and stole a glance at his Audemar; Franklin was supposed to meet him at his casino an hour ago, but he had yet to his show face, which was okay with him. He’d been on a hot-streak since he stepped through the door. He had turned $10,000 in chips into $250,000 dollars in chips in forty-five minutes. Lady Luck was on his side and so was Zeus. A nigga he entrusted with his life.
Zeus, the truck of a man he was, had his arms crossed at his waist, his meaty head surveying the casino. Mufasa leaned over and whispered into his ear, “Zee, keep an eye on the door and let me know when Frank arrives.” The giant nodded and his boss turned his attention back to the crap table, rattling the dice in his fist. Through his peripherals he noticed a brown skinned honey with breasts that threatened to spill out of her blouse. She smiled and winked at him as she blew him a kiss. Mufasa winked and smiled back, revealing a mouth of perfectly straight white teeth.
“How are you doing, love?” he inquired.
“Fine, handsome.” She kept that billion dollar smile on display.
“Why don’t you blow on these for good luck for me?”
“The dice?” she looked at his fist.
“Those, too,” He smiled. Although he occasionally flirted, he never fucked around on his wife. “Let me stop before I get in trouble with my old lady.” He held out the dice and she blew on them.
“Coming out, Quarter mill on the table.” He announced shaking the dice in his palm and letting them go. They rolled off of his palm. The dice rolled down the table, bounced off of the interior and stopped on eleven. The patrons surrounding the table applauded and gave the OG praise. The brown skinned honey blew him another kiss and smiled. He scooped the dice up into his hand once again and took a sip of his Rum and Coke before addressing the tender, “Let the whole thing ride again, I’m feeling lucky.” Ohs and Ahs were heard among the patrons at the table. Mufasa winked at brown skin and shook the dice up. He moved to let them go and Zeus whispered in his ear.
“Your boy’s here,” he informed him in a deep baritone and nodded toward the casino’s entrance. Mufasa looked over his shoulder and spotted Franklin and his minions coming through the door.
“Alright folks, shows over.” Mufasa told the patrons causing them to awe in disappointment. He sat the dice down at the table and turned to Zeus. “Cash out for me, big man.” He patted him on the shoulder as he walked passed him. Zeus moved to load his boss’s winnings into the chips-holder and saw the casino manager with his hands together thanking God for getting Mufasa to call it a night; the sight bought a smirk to his face.
Mufasa moved to hand brown skin a $100 dollar chip and she stuck her chest out. He smiled and stuck the chip into her cleavage, wedging it between her breasts. She pecked him on the cheek and hurried off to another table where another high roller had met Lady Luck.
“Sorry about the tardiness, but I had a couple of things I had to handle. You know how it is.” Franklin told Mufasa as he shook his hand firmly.
Mufasa nodded his head in understanding. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Step into my office.” Franklin responded, motioning him towards the restaurant in the casino named after his wife. Mufasa downed the rest of his drink and followed the mob boss inside of the restaurant.
****
Mufasa and Franklin sat down at their table and the waiter came right over, pen and tablet in hand. He greeted both men and introduced himself as Leo and asked what they’d like to order.
“Nothing for me, Lee, but ya can get this gentleman right here anything he wants...on the house.” Franklin nodded to Mufasa before lighting a cigar causing smoke to waft around him.
The King of the Streets’ eyes darted up from the menu and he smiled at the mafia don. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. You’re a guest in my establishment. Help yourself.” He insisted, fanning out the flame of the match he’d lit his cigar with.
Mufasa turned to Leo. “Well, in that case, I’d like two of your lobster/steak dinners. I want one steak medium rare, the other well-done, mashed potatoes; easy on the butter and light on the salt. And three bottles of your most expensive champagne...Oh, and make that to go. Thank you.” Franklin grinned at the OG, finding his going overboard with the meals amusing. All it did was fuel his stereotyping of blacks so the act was right up his alley. “What? You know well black folks take advantage of anything free.”
The kingpin smiled, knowing how racist the Mob boss was but not giving a mad ass fuck.
Leo finished scribbling Mufasa’s order on the tablet and asked, “Will that be all, sir?”
The kingpin nodded yes. The waiter picked up the menus and headed back inside of the kitchen.
“So what is it that you wish to discuss with me?” Mufasa inquired of his request to see him that night, after crossing his legs and clasping his hands in his lap.
“Wonyai.”
“Zonyai,” Mufasa corrected him, “And what about him?”
“The little shit is still fucking my wife, that’s what!” Franklin’s eyebrows arched as he sneered, smoke escaping his nostrils.
“Bullshit. Zonyai knows better. We’ve already discussed this.” Mufasa frowned. He’d been through this with the big man twice already and he felt that his adopted son knew better than to go against his wishes again. He knew that death would follow this time. With that said, Franklin pulled the photographs out of the manila envelope and smacked them down before him, sliding them forth. He picked the photos up and looked them over. The photos were worth one thousand words but he only had six. “Goddamn it. I told that boy.” He shut his eyelids and shook his head disappointedly, hating to see what was on the pictures because he knew he had to carry out his threat now. Mufasa handed the photographs back over to Franklin and sat up at the table, clearing his throat with a fist to his mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you, Frank, I’m speechless. But you do realize that their affair is her fault as well as his, right?”
“Right,” He agreed, mashing the cigar out in the white table cloth, not giving a shit about what it did to the fabric. “That’s why I’m gonna dead them both just as soon as you tell me where they are.”
“Whoa there, chief, now I let you get away with harming my boy before. You ruined him, crippled him for life. I let that pass and I haven’t been able to get a decent night’s sleep ever since. Now, if you just so happen to find Yai...then handle your business, however you see fit. But if you expect me to gift wrap my boy and hand him over to you...that’s something I will not do...ever.”
Leo returned with a bag with Mufasa’s order in it and sat it on the table. Mufasa and Franklin were locked in an intense glare and it was as if the waiter wasn’t even there. Breaking their glare, the kingpin peeked inside of the bag and gave his order the once over. Satisfied, he pulled out a gold money-clip of crisp $100 dollar bills and peeled one off. He handed it to Leo who thanked him and hastily left the table, having picked up on the tension between the two men.
“Let me make myself clear,” Franklin spoke up as soon as the waiter had taken his leave, leaning forward. “If you don’t give me that kid, you’ll never make it outta here alive.” He scratched his chin which was a signal for Joey-T and Jackie Needles. The two mobsters stepped to the sides of their boss and opened their coats, flashing their guns.
Mufasa threw his head back laughing and applauding. “I like that, I mean I really, really like that. You give a signal like an umpire and your lil’ stooges flash their guns and stuff. Now, let’s see what happens when I try.”
>
He snorted and flicked his nose with his thumb. Franklin and his minions surveyed the restaurant, heads snapping from left to right. A man wearing an apple-jack spun around on his stool from the bar. Quickly, he downed his shot of dark liquor and revealed the firearm in his shoulder-holster. A man wearing an overcoat and pretending to make a call at the phone booth winked at Franklin and gave him a peek of the sawed off shotgun concealed beneath his coat. He nodded toward the door and Franklin looked over his shoulder. Zeus stood at the entrance with his hand resting inside his suit. The big man didn’t have to wonder. He knew that big mothafucka was packing.
“Let me explain something to you, Frank, you’re not the only gangsta in South Central.” Mufasa smiled and then scowled. Franklin heard a metallic click and he realized that the man sitting before him had one hand underneath the table. It was clutching a gun no doubt. He could feel it. “Shit can get real ugly, real fast up in here, fat man. It’s your call though.” He looked him dead in his eyes and waited for his answer.
“I won’t forget this, Fasa,” The mob figure mad dogged him with clenched jaws.
“I won’t either. You gentlemen take it easy.” Mufasa rose from the table tucking a small chrome pistol on his waistline before grabbing his bag of food and heading for the exit, entourage in tow.
Once Mufasa had taken his leave, Franklin threw back the last of his drink. Keeping his eyes on the kingpin’s back as he headed for the door, he motioned for Jackie Needles to lean forward. He then whispered into his ear, giving him an order. With the command laid down, Jackie tapped Joey-T and they rose from the table buttoning their suits. Together they headed for the door a couple of minutes behind Mufasa with murder on their minds.
An hour and a half later
Zonyai made a beeline down the corridor toward his condo, bending the corner he found his front door hanging off its hinges. He dropped his cane and withdrew his .45 automatic handgun, gripping it with both hands. Back against the wall, he crept towards his door and swung inside. He moved near his bedroom with the stealth of a ninja. When he entered his bedroom it looked like it had been turned upside down. Clothes were scrawled over the floor, his mattress had been flipped over and the “42 flat-screen was cracked in a spider’s cobweb. You’re dead nigger was spray painted on the wall above a drawing of a stick-figure hanging from a tree; it looked like a third grader had drawn it.
“Shit,” Zonyai cursed as he rushed into his closet to his safe. He found it with its door wide open; the lock had been blowtorched out. The safe was empty, save for a note that read ‘Fuck you’. He balled up the note and threw it, screaming, “Mothafucking Guineas!” before dropping on his hands and knees.
Zonyai took a loss, one hell of a loss; one million dollars to be exact; his life’s savings. It was every dime he ever made from hustling. It was the dough he was going to use to get out of the city and start a new life with Marbella. But there was no way he was leaving now that he was flat broke and there was no one he could turn to for the paper. He knew Brolic wouldn’t give him the money because he wanted to bear arms instead. Shit, he couldn’t hit that nigga Wayne up either. He came up under Brolic’s wing so he’d ride with whatever he said. Then there was Mufasa, he could call and ask him for the money and he was sure he’d say yes. The problem was he didn’t know if he would be walking into his own execution when he went to pick the money up. He couldn’t trust him so he had to deal with this situation on his own.
****
Zonyai came out of his building and hopped into his Maserati, slamming the door shut. Marbella looked to him and her eyes moved curiously about trying to find the money he’d came to retrieve.
“Where’s the money?” she asked with an indention on her forehead.
“They hit my spot and took all of my shit,” He said, slamming his fists down on the steering wheel startling her. “Fuuuuck!” he threw his head back screaming at the top of his lungs and balling his fists. Soon after, he lowered his head and massaged the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. While he was doing this, she rubbed his leg affectionately and kissed him on the temple.
“It will be okay, babe. We’ll think of something,” She assured him.
He looked up at her and smiled. Taking her by the chin, he kissed her long and deep, pecking her lips afterwards. “You’re right, we will. We’re gon’ get on some robbery shit. I gotta strap,” he held up his gun, “And there’s some shit from the camping trip in the trunk. I’m sure there are a couple of ski-masks in there. We finna hit these traps and run up some bands. Are you with me?” he looked her directly in her eyes.
“All the way.” She cupped her hands around his face and kissed him.
Screeeeech!
The sound of squealing tires made them look alive, snapping their heads to the driver side window they found a black on black Mercedes Benz G-Wagon with pitch black tints. Their hearts pumped madly and fear manifested in their eyes. Frightened, Marbella clung to her man like a leather glove. Zonyai went to start blazing with his tool but before he could get off, two masked up niggaz were hopping out with choppas. They had them thangs pointed at that ass and the looks in their eyes told him that they dared him to make a move. Before he knew it the driver side door was being snatched open and he was being yanked out. One of the niggaz tucked the .45 that he’d dropped to the ground into his waistline and grabbed him up by his arm roughly. The other nigga snatched a screaming Marbella out and pushed her up against the car, pointing his automatic weapon at her chest.
“Shut cho mothafuckin’ ass up for I splatter you all over this fly ass ride!” he ordered with his finger settled on the trigger daring her to be defiant. Seeing the assault rifle silenced the mob wife. She shut her eyelids and lifted her shaky hands in the air. She trembled terribly believing that her life was on the line.
“Touch her and you’re a dead man, you hear me!” Zonyai called out over his shoulder as he was shoved into the backseat of a Maybach that was parked nearby. The door slammed shut on Zonyai. He looked to his left and found Mufasa sitting beside him sipping on a glass of Cognac. It was as if he hadn’t noticed he was in his presence the way he carried on with his drink, staring ahead. Zonyai looked up and met Zeus’s scowl in the rearview mirror. Instantly, his palms grew sweaty and he swallowed the lump inside of his throat wondering what his fate was going to be. “What’s up, Fasa? What’s this all about?” he wiped his sweaty hands on his slacks.
Mufasa licked his lips and sat his drink down in the cup-holder, leaning back in his seat. “I told you, I told you to stop messing around with that man’s wife!”
“I know but it wasn’t that easy for me, man. I love her, I really fucking love her.” Zonyai spoke sincerely, looking him in the eyes. The kingpin could tell that he was being straight up. Franklin’s wife just wasn’t a piece of ass to him.
Mufasa took a deep breath and hung his head, massaging his temples like he had a migraine. Zonyai studied him for a time before looking up front at Zeus who was still watching him through the rearview mirror. He looked to his side and saw his burner resting in his lap with a silencer attached to its barrel. He knew that without a doubt that if his boss gave the word that he was going to put something hot in his brain. He was sure of that if he wasn’t sure of anything else.
“What did I tell you was gon’ happen if you went against my orders, Yai?” Mufasa lifted his head and looked to the young man he loved like he’d shot him out of his own dick. Suddenly, the door clicked locked causing Zonyai to look around in wonderment. He looked back up to Zeus and saw him moving his right arm back. That’s when he knew that he’d locked them inside so therefore the inevitable was coming, his death.
Pushing the fear of dying to the back of his mind, Zonyai stared him back into his eyes. “So you gon’ kill me? Is that what chu came here for, pop? Then handle your mothafucking business, just be sure to let my woman go.”
Ignoring what he’d said, Mufasa went onto speak. “Franklin and I had a sit-down earlier tonight.
He showed me photographic evidence of you two fooling around and demanded that I hand you over to him.”
“And what did you tell him?” Zonyai’s face tightened at the center and he clenched his jaws, causing them to pulsate.
Mufasa shot him a dangerous look. “Fuck you think I told him? I basically told him to go fuck himself. That nigga doesn’t tell me what to do. I’m not his mothafucking flunky. I’m the king of these streets.”
“Is that the only reason why?” he inquired. He could tell by Mufasa’s expression and body language that him ‘loving him like a son’ was the main reason why he didn’t give him up to Franklin. The OG nodded confirming this. “So what do we do now?”
“We go to war, but not until you’re outta town. I’m going to need you to disappear for a while ‘cause when this thing gets ugly, bodies are going to fall and the streets of Los Angeles are going to be slick with blood. I’ll let chu know when it’s safe to come back home, but as of now I want you gon’. I wouldn’t even pack, just get the hell up from outta here.”
“That was the plan, but the mothafuckaz hit my safe. Took me for everything I got.”
Mufasa withdrew a wad of $100 dollar bills held by a gold-clip from his suit and gave Zonyai half. “When you get to where ever you’re going I’ll wire you a few more thousand. That money should be enough for you to blow town and get yourself a little spot somewhere,” Zonyai thanked him and shoved the bills into his pocket. “Gon’ and get outta here.”
Zonyai hopped out of the Maybach and stuck his head back into the window. “Mufasa, I...”
“I know, son,” he cut him short. “and I love you, too.”
The backseat tinted window of the Maybach rolled up and Zeus pulled off.
Zonyai stood in the street watching as the Maybach pulled off and the G-wagon tailed behind it. He observed the two vehicles for a time before trekking back to his ride and hopping inside, slamming the door shut. As soon as he turned to Marbella she hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek. She held his face and looked deep into his eyes.
