Seven laughed and smacked hands with Lola and bragged about the new car he would buy with his winnings from the fight. Ball was going out on a limb and acted without thinking.
“Put your money where ya’ mouth is homeboy! Diggs bouta get knocked out!” Ball yelled as he looked straight at Seven. Seven frowned and turned around, looking to see who was talking reckless about his man.
“You talking to me?” Seven said as he pointed at his own chest and looked around in confusion.
“Yeah, I’m talking to you,” Ball said with sinister smile. Immediately the goons stood up and all attention went on Ball. Ball looked around and saw eight pair of eyes on him and he began to feel caged in.
“What’s up homie? We got problems?” One of the goons asked as they all stuck their hands in their waist and hoodies, ready to pop off in front of cameras and all. They just didn’t give a fuck about human life. That’s why Seven had them on his team. They were all young, wild, and thought they had a lot to prove.
Seven raised his hand, signaling for his goons to back down. He then focused his attention back to Ball. “Yo, how much you got to bet?” Seven asked.
“I got whatever,” Ball yelled over the crowd’s chatter as he stood up and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a big bankroll and held it up for everyone to see. “Ten racks sound good?”
“Bet! I’ll take that li’l ass money from you. Easy!” Seven said as he returned the smile and slowly nodded his head.
“This fight just got a little bit more interesting,” Ball said as he turned around just in time to see the fight begin once again.
The boxers emerged from their corners and went at it. The fatigue started to show in the champ and just like that.... Bang! He got caught with a left hook and rocked to sleep! The fight was over and the whole crowd erupted. Ball had never heard anything so loud. Flashing lights erupted and bells rung. It was a wrap. Ball had just won ten thousand dollars and also gained the attention of Seven. Seven clenched his jaws so tightly and slammed his fist against the armrest. His Russian friend buried his face in his hands because he had just lost a small fortune. He whispered in Lola’s ear and stormed out. Ball smiled and reached out his hand as Seven went by. Seven dismissed his gesture and brushed right past him. Ball stood there looking dumb with his hand out as Seven exited the arena. Lola came up seconds later and handed Ball a roll of money.
“That should be enough. If there’s extra, keep the change.” She said as she briefly stood in front of him. Before Ball could answer, she was headed out. He had made his first contact.
Seven made his way out of the back entrance of the MGM, with Lola and the members of the Goon Squad by his side. Seven was irate that he lost the bet, but kept his poker face and showed no sign of it. He stopped just before he reached the back exit and slid off his jacket and handed it to his henchmen.
“Yo, put this on and leave out of the front.” Seven said as he knew feds were potentially watching him. The henchman was about Seven’s build and same skin complexion, so Seven was about to put up a smoke screen for whoever was watching so he could enjoy himself for the night.
“And you two ... go with him,” Lola ordered as she began to put on her mink so they could exit through the back in the tinted SUV that waited for them.
“Send those feds in that black van on a ride around the city for a couple of hours. That should keep them busy for a while,” she instructed with a slight grin on her face. Seven and his crew were always a step ahead of the authorities so this was regular procedure for them. The henchmen followed her orders and left only Lola and Seven standing at the back entrance.
“Yo, bring me that nigga I made the bet with to me, pronto,” Seven ordered as he unloosened his tie and wiggled his neck, getting more comfortable. He wanted to know how the mystery man knew that Diggs would lose. Seven understood that the man knew something that he didn’t know and he was dying to find out the inside scoop. Lola nodded her head in agreement and like that ... it was done. Seven proceed out of the back entrance and into the car that waited out back.
Ball smiled as he flipped through the crispy one hundred dollar bills. He and the undercover cop rode in the back of the Maybach and had just pulled off the lot of the MGM Grand. He completed his first assignment which was to establish contact with Seven. Now his task was to go back to Ohio and try to establish an actual connect. As they pulled back onto the road to go and meet Dame who was waiting at the airport for them, Ball saw an all-black truck pull up alongside them. Seconds later, an identical truck pulled up in from of them.
“What the fuck?” he said aloud and just as the words came from his mouth the truck in front of them stopped abruptly, making their driver come to screeching halt. Before they realized what was going on, Seven’s goons jumped out of the van and immediately approached the car. They opened the doors and quickly snatched Braylon out of the car. It all happened so fast that Braylon’s head was spinning. The next thing he knew, he was being stuffed into a truck and sitting next to Seven in the back seat of the truck.
“I’m Seven,” he said as he puffed on a cigar and looked straight forward without flinching. He remained calm and took his time before he spoke. “Now, the question is ... who the fuck are you? How did you know my man was going down?” Seven said wondering if Braylon had an inside scoop on Diggs throwing the fight. Because if so, Seven was going to have Diggs whacked for causing him to lose all of that money.
“I just study boxing, that’s all,” Braylon said nervously as he looked to the opposite side and saw the burly goon giving him the ice grill. “You see. The last time Diggs lost was when he was an amateur and it was against a lefty similar to his opponent. I also knew if it went over four rounds he would go down. I didn’t have an inside tip ... I just know boxing.” Braylon carefully explained himself. Seven listened closely and liked Braylon’s style. The li’l nigga knew what he was talking about and if he had met him a day before he would have cleaned up on the betting circuit.
“So where are you from?” Seven said seeing an opportunity to get a source of boxing knowledge, being that he was a heavy gambler.
“I’m from Ohio; Columbus to be exact.” Ball said reciting what Dame had told him to say.
“Is that right? Those seats you were seating in cost a pretty penny. So what you do?” Seven asked.
“I’m in the distribution business,” Ball responded.
“Oh yeah?” Seven answered, already guessing that that was what he was in to. A young man with money . . . it wasn’t hard to figure out. Either you play ball, rap, or move weight. Seven understood that.
“I will be getting in touch with you.” Seven said as he pushed the unlock button. “Give Lola your number and we will be in touch. I may need some more of those boxing tips.” Seven said just before he extended his hand and smiled. Ball shook his hand and just like that . . . he made first contact.
Chapter Six
Seven’s Rah
Seven stared at the diagnosis that Rah’s doctor had sent them. He pulled the letter out of his mailbox and as he read the word Terminal, his eyes could not stop watering. It was real. He had always known that his son’s time would come, but now that there was an official countdown Seven was sick with grief.
“Dad what’s wrong?” Rah asked as he looked up curiously from the homework that sat in front of him. Rah sat wide eyed and curious on top of a barstool at the kitchen island as he waited for his father’s response. The dark circles under Li’l Rah’s eyes revealed that today hadn’t been a good day. He was tired and weak from fighting the cancer cells that were eating him alive and as Seven looked up from the letter he thought, if my li’l man can be strong, than so can I.
“I’m good li’l man ... just got something in my eye,” he responded as he folded the paper and put it in his back pocket. “How’s that homework coming?” Seven asked.
“Good,” Rah responded with a confident nod.
“You holding it down in the classroom? What I tell you about a
dumb nigga?” Seven asked.
“A dumb nigga don’t make no paper. The vault to the good life is locked down and I can find the key inside these books,” Rah responded, repeating the words that Seven had spoken to him a thousand times.
“That’s right ... my main man,” Seven complimented as he slapped hands with his son. “What else is going on in school? You got a few young ladies sniffing behind you yet boy?”
“Yep,” Li’l Rah said with a smile.
“Yeah?” Seven asked with a chuckle.
“Yeah,” Rah confirmed as his bird chest poked out proudly.
Seven walked over to the stove and turned on the burners as he began to pull pots and pans from his cabinets. He removed fresh vegetables from his refrigerator.
“Aww dad can’t we have something good for a change . . . like pancakes or something?” Rah asked.
Usually Seven was strict on his son’s health and would fix him a well balanced meal for dinner but as he looked at his son who was fighting for his life he thought, he can have pancakes everyday for the rest of his life.
“A’ight li’l man. Pancakes it is.”
Rah’s mouth dropped open in surprise and then a huge smile spread across his young face. He looked up to his father and thought he was the coolest man on the planet, but he was surprised that Seven was being so lenient.
“With chocolate chips?” Rah asked.
“I got you covered,” Seven replied as he pulled out the pancake batter. As he made their night time breakfast Seven thought about how to approach his son with the bad news. The next week Rah was due for another round of radiation treatment and also another run of tests. He knew how his little man hated the poking and prodding that came with the tests. The radiation seemed to drain all of the life out of him, but it was necessary. Seven was doing all that he could to keep Rah alive and unfortunately he had to go through hell to treat the cancer. It was like a game of hide and seek. One month Rah would be doing good and the doctor’s would be hopeful that the cancer had gone into remission. But it never failed ... the next time they went to the doctor the disease would be back wrecking havoc on his son’s insides. It always came back and now that the doctor’s had put them on a timeline. Seven was trying to prepare himself from the inevitable. He had only lost one other person in his life who had ever meant anything. That tragedy had changed the man that he was, but this new impending one ... the death of Rah . . . would surely kill him. Just as he wrapped up their pancakes he sat a huge plate in the middle of the table and then fixed them both a serving.
“Thanks dad,” Rah said as he began to stuff his face.
“You’re welcome li’l man,” Seven replied. As he cut up his pancakes he approached the conversation with caution. “You remember Dr. Clark?” he asked.
As if his heart had been deflated Rah dropped his fork, clanking it against his plate and looked up at his father. “I don’t want to go back there daddy. I’m tired,” Rah said with tears in his eyes.
The sight of Rah’s fear broke Seven down on the inside but he couldn’t show it.
“I know man, but you have to be strong. Dr. Clark is just trying to make you better. You have to be here to take care of your old man and she is going to help me make that happen.”
“No she’s not,” Rah stated as he reluctantly picked back up his fork. “I’m gonna die.”
“What?” Seven asked seriously. He was slightly vexed because he had never informed Rah of the seriousness or the time limit of his condition. “Who told you that Rah?”
“Deandre Richardson at school told me people with cancer all die. He wouldn’t let me play hoop with him and his boys because he said that if I touched his basketball he’d catch cancer and die too,” Rah said angrily.
“Deandre Richardson huh?” Seven said. He wished that the name he had just dropped didn’t belong to a child because he would have definitely paid him a visit, but he knew that children could be mean and he had to remind himself to calm down. “Well, is Deandre a doctor Rah?”
“No,” Rah responded.
“So he can’t speak intelligently right?” Seven asked.
“Right,” Rah responded despondently.
Seven stood and walked around to Rah’s side of the table before bending down on one knee so that they were eye to eye. “As long as I’m breathing we are going to fight this together okay? You are going to experience just as much as anybody else in this world ... cancer or not. That’s my word. You hear me?” he asked.
“Yeah I hear you,” Rah replied.
“And fuck Deandre Richardson. I bet you he ain’t going to the Cleveland and Lakers game this weekend now is he?” Seven asked, pulling the basketball tickets out of his back pocket.
A huge smile erased all of the pain from Rah’s face. He had a crazy obsession for basketball and the idea of going to a game distracted him from his current circumstance.
“Nope!” Rah said.
“Matter fact ... let your whole class know that their going ... everyone except for Deandre Richardson,” Seven stated.
“For real dad?” Rah shouted.
“For real homie,” Seven confirmed as he kissed the top of Rah’s bald head.
“Thanks daddy, I’ma be the man! You’re the best! Fuck Deandre Richardson!”
Seven popped the back of Rah’s head gently and responded, “Watch your mouth, boy.”
Just as he was about to take his seat he felt the vibration of his phone on his hip. Lola’s face popped up on his screen and he immediately answered the call.
“What up?” he asked.
“We should talk about the kid Ball. He’s coming to Hazel’s tonight. Can you meet me there?” she asked, her angelic voice filling his ear.
“Yeah give me a few. I’m coming from my crib. I’ll meet you there,” he responded.
Seven stood from the table just as his nanny entered the kitchen. The Latino woman shook her head as she asked, “Oh Rah, what are you eating?”
“Chocolate chip pancakes,” he said with a mouthful.
Seven turned his back to his son and reached in the kitchen drawer to retrieve his strap. He concealed it in his waistline before facing Rah. “I’ve gotta go meet Lola. I’ll be back later tonight. You be good a’ight?” he asked.
“A’ight,” Rah responded as he pounded his father’s fist.
“I love you man.”
“I love you too,” Rah responded. It was the last words he heard before he left the house, and they were motivation enough to make him want to move wisely. Everything he did was for Rah. His son needed him but little did Rah know ... Seven needed him just as much.
Seven stood in his office in the back of the bar looking out of his two-sided mirror at the busy patrons who frequented the spot. He could see all that was happening throughout his establishment, and although he was peering out of a window ... from the patrons’ point of view they were looking into a mirror. They never even knew his private office sat on the other side of the wall. He sipped cognac slowly, savoring the dark flavor of the liquor as he checked his Movado watch. He wanted to be observant of the time. Timeliness said a lot about a person’s efficiency. He already had it in his mind that if Ball stepped foot inside his bar a minute past 11:30 P.M. then he would not deal with him.
“Looks like he may be late,” Seven said as heard his office door open behind him. He didn’t need to look. He knew that she was the only person who had the balls to walk into his space without knocking.
“He said he would be here,” Lola said as she stood beside Seven, her Prada perfume filling the room. “If he’s late.... it’s a wrap. Tardiness is a habit and I’m not trying to take on another headache. If his ass is dumb enough to be late for this meeting, then he’ll be dumb enough to be late on the money and I really don’t want to have to get at this guy. He’s kinda cute.” Lola smirked as she nudged Seven’s shoulder. He shook his head from side to side.
“What?” she feigned innocence.
“You about to catch another o
ne up in Lola’s web?” he asked.
“Shut up Seven,” she said with an eye roll. She focused her eyes out onto the club and noticed Ball walk into the door with five minutes to spare. “He’s here.”
Seven looked out on the crowd until his eyes fell onto Ball. He noticed the cautious look in Ball’s eye and the constant swivel of his neck as he checked his surroundings. Fresh in designer threads he smelled like money and Seven had to give it to him ... the young dude seemed to have some hustle about him.
“Bring him back,” Seven stated as he took a seat in his executive style leather chair. Seven wasn’t a friendly nigga and it was rare that he even considered opening up his circle, but he sensed something in Ball. There weren’t many hustlers who could afford a front row ticket at a Vegas heavy-weight fight, but Ball was sitting right there ... amongst the stars as if he belonged. And if he was getting money in Ohio, Seven needed to know about him. If Ball passed all the tests, Seven wouldn’t hesitate to give the young man a starting spot on his roster.
Braylon walked into the bar his nerves on edge as he looked around, surveying those around him. Butterflies filled the pit of his stomach. His usual confidence waned and he felt transparent as if everybody in the joint knew his true intentions. He shook off his apprehension and adjusted his posture as he made his way inconspicuously through the crowd. He looked around for Lola and quickly spotted her. She stood out in the crowd like a diamond amongst gems. Her bright white smile contrasted off of her dark as night skin as her long legs closed the distance between them.
Dopeman: Memoirs of a Snitch (Part 3 of Dopeman's Trilogy) Page 5
