by K'wan
"He sure did. An urban tragedy." Lakim said.
"They gonna throw the book at him." Ashanti added.
"Maybe, maybe not. That boy was dusted up outta his mind. If he gets the right lawyer on the case there may be some hope for his stupid ass." King James said.
"Well, now that his crazy ass is locked up there shouldn’t be anymore backlash behind this, right?" Alonzo asked.
"Hard to say. Zod is out the box, but there's a lot of young dumb niggaz who follow his word like the gospel. My advice is for everybody to stay on point just incase anybody gets any big ideas." King James told his crew.
"But King, we ain't have nothing to do with Terror getting killed. It wouldn’t make any sense for Zod or his people to bring the bullshit this way, would it?" Ashanti asked. He wasn’t afraid, just curious as to how deep all this went.
King gave him a look. "You see for yourself what kinda cat that lil dude is. Does he strike you as person who does shit that makes sense?"
Ashanti thought on it. "I see your point."
"I figured you might. When all this shit dies down I want everybody back at their posts. Shop is officially back open." King James declared.
"What about the police? Ain't shit gonna be out around here?" Meek asked.
King James smirked at him. "We sell drugs, nigga. When is it not hot for us?"
Ashanti's phone vibrated in his pocket so he stepped away from the group to take the call. He looked at the caller I.D. and frowned because he didn’t recognize the number. "Who this?" he answered with an attitude.
"Now is that anyway to greet the don of all dons?" a familiar voice said on the other end.
"Who is this, Don B.?" Ashanti asked in surprise.
"But of course." Don B. said.
"Blood, how did you even get my number?" It was a new phone and only those closest to Ashanti had the number.
"The don knows all and sees all. But skip all that. I need you to come meet me. I gotta holla at you about some business." Don B. told him.
Ashanti looked at the phone and rolled his eyes in disgust. "What kind of business we got, Don? You know I don’t fuck wit y'all niggaz like that."
"You might not fuck with Big Dawg, but I know you fuck with Grants, Franklins and Jacksons, right?"
"I'm listening." Ashanti said.
"Not over the phone. Meet my by the Root spot on Seventh in half hour." Don B. said and hung up the phone before Ashanti could answer.
"Asshole." Ashanti said to the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.
"Who was that?" Alonzo crept up on Ashanti.
"Wrong number." Ashanti lied.
Alonzo clearly didn’t believe him, but he didn’t press it. "I'm about to go get some food from the Chinese joint then go upstairs and help these niggaz bag this work up. You coming?"
"Nah, I got a move to bust right quick, but I'll meet y'all at the apartment later." Ashanti gave Alonzo dap and made his exit.
Alonzo stood on the corner for a time watching Ashanti disappear off to God knows where. He knew he was going to meet whoever was on the other end of the phone, whoever that might've been. For as close as Ashanti and Zo-Pound might have been there was still a great deal that the youngster kept guarded. Alonzo wouldn’t question him about it; he'd just make sure he was there with a listening ear when his friend was ready to talk about it.
CHAPTER 5
By the time Ashanti got to the Root spot, Don B's red Bentley Coupe was already idling at the curb. Devil leaned against the trunk of the car, arms folded, and chatting on a cell phone. Standing with his back to Ashanti, whispering to someone in the passenger seat, was Tone. Tone was Don B's assistant and childhood friend. The ear he whispered into belonged to the man who had summoned Ashanti, Don B.
The gangster turned music mogul, had the seat pushed back as far as it would go and had one white Nike resting on the dashboard. A crisp blue Yankee fitted sat ace-duce on his head, tickling the edge of his sunglasses. Though the lenses were completely black, Don B. saw it all through them. Pinched between his thick lips was a smoldering L of weed so strong that you could smell it down the block. It was only the finest of everything for Don B. When he noticed Ashanti, he said something to Tone before stepping out of the car to greet him.
Don B. extended hand. "What it do, my nigga?"
"Hanging and banging." Ashanti flapped the red bandana that was peeking from his right back pocket.
Don B. snickered as the gesture. "You guys are something else. Man, flaying colors went out years ago. All that shit does is point a bull's-eye on your back for the police and your enemies."
"All of my enemies are dead." Ashanti capped.
"And so are most of your friends, but what does that prove?" Don B. shot back. "Dig, I didn’t call you out here to preach etiquette. I wanted to know if you down for getting some paper?"
"I'm always down to make some bread, depending on what it is?" Ashanti said.
Don B. laughed at his apprehension. "What's up, young blood? I thought you was a nigga down to do whatever whenever if the price was right?"
Now it was Ashanti's turn to laugh. "I am, but that don’t mean I'm so eager to make a dollar that I'd run into some shit blindly. I know how you move, Don. If you coming to me then it means it a situation that your people can't handle. Don’t beat me in the head. Come correct, Blood."
Don B. studied Ashanti for a few minutes before his lips spread into a wide grin. "You always were one of the sharper knives in the drawer. Take a walk with me right quick." Don B. placed his arm around Ashanti and led him around the corner. "Peep game, Ashanti. I'm having a little trouble with this producer nigga on my team. You remember Hollywood, right?"
Ashanti searched his mental database. "Yeah, the little light skinned nigga with the big mouth, right?"
"Yeah, that's the boy. I let him on the ship and now he's trying to rock the boat." Don B. told him.
Ashanti doubled over laughing. "I know you didn’t call me all the way over here because Hollywood is giving you more trouble than you can handle. Don, that nigga is all bark and no bite. Slap the shit out of him and it'll straighten all this right out."
Don B. was irritated. "Ashanti, are you gonna be an asshole about this or listen to what I'm trying to tell you?"
"My fault. Go ahead, Don."
"Like I was saying, I let this nigga eat with me. After all his fraud bullshit from before I still brought him in and put some money in his pocket. I had Blood in the studio working on some tracks for me to throw on the next mix tape that a plan to shop for a side deal. I finally get these crackers at this record label interested and when it comes time to turn over the music, this nigga Hollywood pulls some funny shit."
"What did he do?" Ashanti was curious.
"Under the agreement we had, it was a work for higher assignment. He got half up front and would get the other half when we secured a deal for the joint. I managed to get a nice piece of change on the table for the group I'm trying to push so it was a win for everybody, or at least me and the artist. Of course I dressed it up to Hollywood like a small move to throw the nigga off, because we all know that the Don don’t do small deals, right? Well, somebody must've put a bug in his ear that I was about to cake off from the project, because the next thing I know he's talking about renegotiating the terms. Now this is Hollywood we're talking about, so you know I'm not taking him seriously at first. I told him to go fuck himself and that the deal was going through regardless. That following Monday when I go see these niggaz to close on it, they inform me that they'd been contacted by Hollywood's lawyer with a claim that he wasn’t properly compensated for his production work."
"Say word?" Ashanti was surprised. Hollywood had never been the smartest cat, but obviously he was smarter than a lot of them realized.
"Word is born." Don B. continued. "So, now I'm looking crazy to these dudes. They want the music, but not at the risk of ruining their reputation by being attached to a lawsuit. The only way for me to make the deal g
o through was to get Hollywood to sign off on the releases for the music."
Ashanti shrugged. "Don, you know how you do. Why don’t you just send some of your flunkies to pay a call on him?"
"I did. Tone sent some of the young boys over to holla at scrams. They gave him a nice beating, but that only made it worse. Instead of manning up and handling his business, dude takes out a restraining order against me. My nigga, the Hip-Hop tabloids are running crazy with this shit and that bitch ass nigga Hollywood is feeding them. They're calling me a gangster, can you believe this shit?"
"You, a gangster? Perish the thought." Ashanti said sarcastically.
"Word up. So now I'm not only caught up in this bum ass lawsuit, but I gotta clear this other shit up too. I'm looking crazy right now, B. I need something done about this in a hurry."
"This brings me back to my original question, why come to me?" Ashanti asked.
"I got a few cats I could've called on to handle this for me, but with all the heat on me behind this I can't risk having them fuck it up. I'm hot as a firecracker right now and cant risk having this shit come back to me. I know if I get you on the case, it'll be clean."
"You want me to dead this dude?" Ashanti asked, ready to tell Don B. to go fuck himself.
"Nah, man. Why is your first thought always murder?" Don B. asked him.
Ashanti raised his eyebrow. "You see how I roll, so do you even need to ask?"
"Good point. No, I don’t want Hollywood dead. All I need him to do is sign of on those releases so I can close on this deal. I know if anybody can persuade him, you can."
Ashanti thought on it for a minute. He knew Hollywood's character, fake ass baller who always let his mouth write checks his ass couldn’t cash. He was harmless enough, but for some reason he seemed to have Don B. rattled. There was no doubt in Ashanti's mind that there was more to the story that Don B. wasn’t telling, but he wouldn’t press it.
"How much?" Ashanti asked.
Don B. couldn’t hide the look of relief that came over his face. "You know the Don is gonna take care of you. Get ya man to sign these papers and I'll hit you with twenty-five hundred."
Ashanti gave Don B. a look. "Man, why you out here trying to play me, Blood?"
"What you talking about? Twenty-five hundred is good money." Don B. argued.
"Yeah, for one of these lil niggaz out here ready to short themselves just to get on your payroll." Ashanti countered. "I'll get homie to sign the papers, but it's gonna cost you five stacks."
Don B. looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "See, now you trying to rob me."
"If I was trying to rob you, there'd be a gun in your mouth right now. I ain't a hard ass, Don B. All I want you to do is play fair."
"So you think twenty-five hundred ain't fair? Dawg, you act like I'm asking you to kill him." Don B. said.
"No, but you want him to think you're willing to have him murdered, which is why you sought out a killer to approach him. Don B., I'm young but I ain't stupid. The fact that you set this meeting with me tells me I'm your last resort. If this situation is that serious you can dig in them deep ass pockets of yours and pay to make it disappear."
Don B. did his best to hide the irritation in his face. Ashanti was smarter than he gave him credit for, but he refused to concede so easily. "I don't know, fam. Five stacks is kinda steep for a shakedown. Maybe I should just go holla at one of my lil homies. I know a nigga that'll do it for a stack."
"Then go holla at that nigga and stop wasting my fucking time." Ashanti turned to walk away, but Don B. stopped him.
"Forever the ball buster, ain't you?" Don B. said with a sly grin. "A'ight, I'll give you your five stacks, shorty. Come by the office and pick it up when you take care of business."
Ashanti folded his arms. "Didn’t we just establish the fact that I ain't a dummy? I need to see some paper up front."
"Ashanti, you ain't even done nothing yet and you expect me to pay you?"
"Indeed I do. Before a lawyer sets foot in a courtroom they need a retainer. Same shit over here. Set that retainer out, my nigga." Ashanti slapped the back of his left hand into his right palm for emphasis.
Don B. was about to try and spin him but he could tell by the look on Ashanti's face that he would not be swayed. "Fucking thief." Don B. mumbled and dug into his pocket. He pulled out a stack of bills and counted threw them. He only had fifteen hundred in cash on him, which he handed to Ashanti.
Ashanti sifted through the bills and frowned. "See, now I feel like you're being disrespectful. I don’t like to be disrespected." He absently adjusted the gun in his belt.
"Cool the fuck out. Nobody is trying to disrespect you, fam. That's all the bread I got on me. Handle this for me and come by to pick up the rest. I got you and you know the Don's word is good."
"I don’t know about the Don's word, but I know about my word, so I'd advise you to listen real good to what I'm about to tell you. Shit is crazy in the hood right now, so all money down is not only appreciated, but needed. I'm gonna handle this thing for you, but make sure you come through on your end."
"I got you." Don B. promised. "But yo, for five stacks he better not only sign the paperwork, but you better send a real clear message as to what happens if you cross the Don."
"My message to him for crossing the Don will be as clear as my message to you if you cross the Ashanti." He imitated Don B's way of speaking of himself in third person. "I'll get word to you once the deed is done." Ashanti saluted him and headed down the block.
Don B. stood there on the corner of 124th and 7th watching Ashanti amble down the block with fifteen hundred dollars of his money in his pocket. Hollywood had been a thorn in his side that needed to be removed before the thorn became a knife. He could've gotten anyone to give Hollywood a beating, but he needed more than physical pain, he needed a psychological scar, which there was no doubt Ashanti would leave when it was all said and done. The young thug was just as sick and twisted as his mentor had been and he shuddered to think what method's Ashanti would use to persuade Hollywood. The papers would be signed, but it left Don B. wondering if in his solution he had potentially created a bigger problem.
"Fucking street niggaz." Don B. said to no one in particular and headed back to his car.
CHAPTER 6
When Diamonds stood to his full height he was bigger than Animal thought. He stood easily 6'3" with broad shoulders and a slender waist. A thick diamond flooded chain hung from around his neck. At the end of the chain was what looked like a shrunken head that had been dipped in white gold and sprinkled with black and white diamonds. The piece was so lifelike that it was almost grotesque. He stepped from around the table to greet them and when he smiled his teeth were encased in a diamonds and gold grill that was even more impressive than Animal's.
"So, this is the big bad wolf, eh?" Diamonds spoke with the hint of a French accent. "What it do, homie?"
"Maintaining." Animal said.
"Right, right. Listen, I heard about that lil scuff you got into earlier and just wanna apologize for being a poor host. I promised Sonja that I would take care of you while you were here." Diamonds said.
"I'm pretty good at taking care of myself, but thanks." Animal said.
Diamonds laughed. "So I hear. Let me introduce you to my people." Diamonds turned to the table. "You already met, Blue." He nodded to the man with the patch over his eye. "That old hound dog has been with me since day one."
"And I'm gonna be with you until the last day." Blue said confidently.
Diamonds continued. "This my brother, Goldie." He patted the young man on the shoulder who had been sitting to his left.
The man introduced as Goldie looked like a young version of Diamonds, except with lighter skin and his dreads were dusty brown. He was wearing a white t-shirt with a black bandana tied snugly around his neck. He nodded and raised his glass in Animal's direction, but didn’t speak.
"Goldie don’t talk much." Diamonds explained. "Me, Blue and Goldie came
up from New Orleans when the government tried to wash it off the map and blame it on God. Had two more with us that didn’t make it, but we've managed to find some pretty good replacements." Diamonds looked from Minister to the man with the cornrows. "The other quite one is my nigga, G." he was speaking of the man with the cornrows. "G is…"
"Leaving." G cut him off. Gathering his drink, he stood to leave the table. On the way past, G gave Animal a look and shook his head sadly.
"Fuck is his problem?" Animal glared at the parting man's back. He watched as G stopped to exchange a few words with the stripper named Reign before leaving the club.
Diamonds downplayed it. "Don’t pay no mind to, G. You'd be bitter too if you ceased to exist, but I'm sure I ain't gotta explain disappearing acts to you, eh?" he winked. "G, don’t much like anybody until he gets to know them. Once he rock with you there's not a more solid cat that you'd wanna have at your side in a sticky situation."
"Down here they call him Teflon." Reign appeared seemingly out of thin air at Animal's side. She now had a thin robe covering her seminude body, but the sheer fabric did little to hide it.
"And why do they call him that?" Animal asked her. He didn’t really care how G had gotten the nickname; he just wanted an excuse to address Reign directly.
"Because bullets can't kill him." Diamonds answered for her.
There was a look that passed between he and Reign that Animal picked up on, but acted as if he didn’t notice.
"So now that you've met my lil family, let's get down to business." Diamonds continued. "Sonja says you need says you need to get to New York in a sho nuff hurry and some goodies to take with you for the ride, oui?"
Animal nodded. "Yeah, got some business I need to handle."
Diamonds nodded. "This what I hear. Sonja didn’t get into what the business is, but I was hoping you could shed some light on it before we conducted any business."
Animal shrugged as if it was nothing. "Just something that I need to attend to."
"Youngster, you got a lot of nerve coming in here asking for our help but wanna be all secretive about what you got going on. For all we know you could be working with the police to bust us." Blue said.
