by Askari
She released his shirt and looked at him as if he was crazy. “Do you even know who this is?” she asked while pointing at Sonny.
“Naw, I never seen this nigga a day in my life.”
Sonny got up from the couch and approached him. “Oh, so I guess you ain’t rob me then either?”
Frustrated, Rahmello shook his head. “A’ight man fuck it,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I robbed you, but you ain’t gettin’ none of ya shit back.”
Sonny screwed up his face. “Nigga, I ain’t come over here for no chump change and some punk ass jewelry.” He threw him the book bag. “I came over here to give you the $100,000 that was stashed in my trunk. If you was really ‘bout ya work you woulda took that too.”
Rahmello was confused. He looked inside of the book bag, and just like Sonny said, it was filled with money. “I don’t get it. I jammed you and smacked you upside the head with my burner, but now you givin’ me all this money. Why?”
Sonny smiled at him. “Because you’re my lil’ brother, that’s why.”
“Ya lil’ brother?” Rahmello echoed, and then looked at his mother for clarification.
“Yeah it’s true,” she nodded her head in the affirmative. “This is Sontino, your dad’s first son.”
Still confused, he returned his gaze to Sonny.
“Well, if you’re really my brother, how come I never seen you before?”
“It’s a long story,” Sonny replied while cracking his knuckles. “All I know is that my pops was outta my life since I was seven years old, and it wasn’t until last year that we reconnected. That’s when he told me about you and our sister Nahfisah.
“I ain’t sure whether you know it or not, but back in the day our pops was a major nigga. Somehow he got hooked on crack and my mom cut the nigga off. After that, he hooked up wit’ ya mom and they had you. I’m assuming he was puttin’ y’all through the same shit he was puttin’ me and my mom through, and ya mom cut his ass off too.”
“Damn,” Rahmello shook his head from side to side. “That’s some deep ass shit. I can’t even front, now that I’m lookin’ at you, we definitely look alike.”
Sonny nodded his head. “And that’s why I was lookin’ at you like that when you was robbin’ me. I knew you was my brother. Matter of fact, I came around here looking for you a couple weeks ago, but ya mom said that she ain’t seen you in like a month.”
“Damn dawg, I never even knew I had a brother. Let alone a sister,” Rahmello replied in a somber voice. “And speakin’ of our sister, where she at? Why ain’t she come over here wit’ you?”
Sonny took a deep breath and flexed his jaw muscles.
“Man, I ain’t seen Nahfisah and our niece, Imani in over six months.”
Rahmello thought about Easy. “Damn yo, I don’t even know my pop. I ain’t seen that nigga since the first grade.”
Sonny embraced him with a brotherly hug. “Trust me, I know the feeling lil’ bro. I went through the same exact shit, but everything’s different now.” He released his embrace and straightened out the wrinkles in Rahmello’s shirt.
Rahmello looked at his mom, and then reverted his gaze back to Sonny. “I’m sayin’ though, now that I know you’re my brother,” he shrugged his shoulders, “where we ‘posed to go from here?”
Sonny smiled at him. “Let’s just say that you ain’t gotta rob niggas no more. Especially a nigga like me.” He looked him square in the eyes to convey the seriousness of his next statement. “If you was anybody else I woulda downed you!”
Rahmello smirked at him. “Yeah right! I had the drop on ya ass!”
“Yeah, you definitely caught me slippin’,” Sonny admitted. “But at the same time, ya lil’ ass ain’t have no bullets in ya gun!”
“Damn,” Rahmello chuckled. “How the fuck you knew that?”
“Because you had a revolver, and when I looked down the barrel, I could see the empty chambers in the cylinder.”
He reached behind his back and pulled out a black Desert Eagle with an extended clip. “Now, if you woulda had some shit like this,” he smiled at his younger brother, “it mighta been a different story!”
From that day forward, Sonny bridged the gap between him and his younger brother. He reconnected him with Easy, and the three of them established a bond that would last forever. Easy gave him his loft apartment in Center City, and Sonny bought him a brand new Aston Martin. He also made his younger brother an official Block Boy and appointed him as the second in command.
Back To November 23rd, 2014
After reminiscing about the night that he met his big brother, he stubbed out his Backwood and continued looking around the club for any signs of a disturbance.
***
The Block Boy Room was a V.I.P. area on the second floor. It was strictly designated for Sonny and his crew, no exceptions. The cherry red walls were sound proof, affording them the luxury of being inside of a nightclub, while at the same time, feeling as though they were in their own world. A black leather sectional was positioned in the far corner of the room and directly in front of it, there was a 60 inch flat screen, a Bose sound system, and an XBox One. A small, customized bar was positioned in the opposite corner, and a regulation sized pool table was positioned in the center of the room. The best feature, however, was the picturesque glass front window that provided a bird’s eye view of the entire club.
When Sonny walked through the door, he spotted Easy, Breeze, and the twins sitting on the sectional. The television was showing the last season of The Wire, and the four men were hunched over the coffee table, counting and wrapping rubber bands around large bricks of money.
“Soowoo,” Sonny stated, announcing his presence.
“Bang! Bang!” Everybody replied, except for Easy.
Easy was an old school Philly nigga, and to him the concept of gang banging held no relevance. Sonny looked at him and smiled. “What’s up pops? How much money did we make tonight?”
“About $42,000,” Easy replied. “And that’s just the money from the champagne. By the end of the night, we should see about $7,000 from the liquor, and another $5,000 from the door.”
“That sounds about right,” Sonny said as headed toward the picturesque window. He looked down at that crowded dance floor, and a euphoric smile spread across his face. Despite the fact that he’d lost so much at the hands of the game, at the age of twenty five, he was the undisputed King of Philadelphia. After running Grip out of the country and inheriting Mook’s empire, Easy plugged him in with Columbian Poncho, and the rest was history. Just like his former boss, he had the best quality of cocaine and the best prices. The dope boys loved him. From Philly to Virginia, whether directly or indirectly, a vast majority of the hustlers became Block Boy’s clientele. Not only did they appreciate him for getting rid of Grip, they relished the fact that he only charged them $35,000 a brick when he could’ve easily charged them anywhere between $40,000 to $45,000. He left the window and walked toward the bar. “Y’all want somethin’ to sip on?”
“Naw we good,” they replied in unison.
He went behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of Deleon Tequila from the liquor shelf. After pouring himself a double shot, he took a sip and then sat down beside Easy on the sectional. “Yo Zai, hand me the remote to the television.”
Zaire handed over the remote control, and Sonny pressed the pause button.
“Yooooo!” Easy exclaimed. “The young bul was just about to kill Omar’s faggot ass, and here you come with the bullshit!”
Sonny ignored him and took another sip of his Tequila. “Yo, y’all know Sheed went to court yesterday right?”
“Yeah we know,” they replied in unison.
“Aight,” Sonny continued. “Well, I holla’d at Savino this morning and he told me that Sheed should be home in a couple of weeks. They had a suppression hearing and the judge threw his case out. He ruled that the initial traffic stop was illegal, and as a result, he suppressed the gun and the work that they found in S
heed’s Benz.”
“Now, that’s gangsta!” Zaire smiled and hopped up from the sectional. “It’s about time Savino spanked somethin’! Other than beatin’ the case that you caught at the hospital when you popped off on the cops, this nigga ain’t been doin’ nothin’ but collectin’ money every month and that’s for cases that we ain’t even catch yet.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely a good look,” Egypt concurred. “But if the homie spanked his case, why the fuck is he still locked up?”
“He’s gotta wait until he sees the parole board,” Sonny informed him. “Aside from the case he just beat, he was still serving 23 months for a gun case he caught back in 2012. He already served 20 months, so Savino gon’ get him time served with 3 months of unsupervised probation.”
“Damn, Blood, that’s good fuckin’ money,” said Breeze. “I hope these couple of weeks fly by because the faster this nigga come home, the faster we can stop dealin’ wit’ Pooky’s grimy ass.”
At the mention of Pooky, Easy gritted his teeth and folded his arms across his chest. Just like the rest of the men in the room, he’d been hearing stories about Pooky doing everything from beating up crackheads to selling his customers watered down work. Basically, he was a bad reflection on their organization, and Easy wanted nothing to do with him. “Hey Sonny, that nigga Pooky’s bad money. He’s hot headed and he’s stupid. He’s arrogant and most of all, he’s a pain in my mutha’fuckin’ ass,” Easy stated, using his fingers to count off the numerous ways that Pooky made him uncomfortable.
Pooky was Sheed’s older brother, and after being released from prison a few months ago, Sheed suggested that he take over his part of their operation. Sonny agreed and started hitting him off with bricks. Initially, Pooky was playing his part. He had a direct line to Sheed’s clientele, and in less than two weeks, he was turning over bricks like cartwheels. Everything was going smooth, but for the past couple of weeks, he’d been nothing less than a fuck up. For instance, just earlier that day somebody complained to Sonny about Pooky selling them some fucked up work. According to the customer, he purchased a kilogram of coke and after cooking up the work, he only recouped 900 grams. Upon hearing this, Sonny decided that Pooky had to be stretching his work. This was something that he strictly forbade. He made it very clear to everyone at his roundtable that his product was not to be tampered with in any way shape or form. His work was 75% pure, so if a customer purchased a kilogram and loss 108 grams in the cooking process, then something wasn’t right.
After listening to Easy express his concerns for the thousandth time, Sonny said, “Listen pops, I understand where you’re comin’ from and all dat, but at the end of the day that’s Sheed’s brother. So if Sheed wants him to hold down his side of the family until he comes home, then the only thing I can do is respect his wishes.”
“I’m tellin’ you, Sontino, that’s a bad move,” Easy continued his protest. “The whole city knows this nigga be fuckin’ wit’ us. So therefore, every time this mutha’fucka tries to pull off some nut shit, it’s a bad reflection on the whole family.” He took a deep breath and massaged his temples. “At the very least, you need to holla at Sheed and tell him to talk some sense into his brother. We’ve worked too hard and came too far. I’ll be damned if I let him or anybody else fuck up this movement.”
Sonny glanced around the room and from the looks on everyone’s face, he could see that they harbored the same exact feelings. He grabbed his glass of tequila from the coffee table, and then stood to his feet. “Don’t worry about Pooky,” he assured them. “I’ma talk to this nigga myself, and I'ma give him two options. Either fall back and play the game how it’s ‘posed to be played, or sit his ass on the fuckin' bench. It’s as simple as that.”
As he headed toward the door, Easy asked him, “So what about the turkey giveaway? Are you comin’ or do you want us to handle it?”
“Yeah I’ma be there,” Sonny replied while opening the door. “I’ve got Power 99 comin’ through, and we gon’ do it real big.”
He looked at the diamond bezel on his Rolex, and then pointed at the stacks of money on the coffee table. “Make sure that you collect all of the money from the party and take it to the bank first thing in the mornin’. Don’t forget to holla at Suelyn. She needs to know exactly how much money we made so she can add it to the ledger.”
Easy nodded his head. “Don’t worry ‘bout it baby boy, I gotchu.”
Chapter Two
It was a little pass 2 a.m. when Sonny returned to his Upper Dublin estate. As he drove through the security gate and up the horseshoe driveway, an eerie feeling washed over him. For some strange reason, he had the notion that somebody was watching him. Even worse, he felt that somebody was watching his family. He parked behind Daphney’s Mercedes Benz G63, and then killed the ignition. After taking a few seconds to peep his surroundings, he reached under the driver’s seat and pulled out his FNH handgun. He cocked back the hammer and cautiously climbed out the car.
With the .45 cocked and ready to fire, he spent the next hour or so meticulously searching the premises. He didn’t find anything, but yet and still, his intuition remained. Somebody was watching him, but who could it be? As far as he knew, outside of his immediate family, nobody knew where he lived, not even his homies. So who was watching him? Could it be Grip? Maybe, but that was highly unlikely. Nobody had seen or heard from him since the day he left the briefcase full of money at the warehouse. Could it be the feds? Possibly, after the fall of Ace Kapone and Big Meech, he knew they could be gunning for him next. Could it be a hater trying to stick him for his bread? Doubtful, but at the same time, he remembered what Jay Z said in his smash hit, The Streets Is Watching,
Kidnap niggas wanna steal ya/ Broke niggas don’t want no cash, they just wanna kill ya/ For the name/ Niggas don’t know the rules/ Disrespecting the game/ Want you to blow cool/ Force ya hand, of course that man’s plottin’/ Smartin’ up nigga, the streets is watchin’.
After all of these questions and scenarios ran through his mind, he searched the premises once more, and then entered the house through the back door. As he stepped into the kitchen, he was immediately greeted by Rocko, his 120 pound Rottweiler. This was a clear indicator that no intruders were inside the house. Had that been the case, then either Rocko would have been dead, or his black and brown fur would have been covered in the intruder’s blood.
Still acting off intuition, he tightened his grasp around the handle of the FNH .45, and began searching the house.
After thoroughly inspecting the basement and the entire first floor, he crept up the right side of his dual staircase and continued his search. His first stop was his daughter’s room, the same exact room that belonged to him as a child. When he stepped through the cracked door, the first thing to grab his attention was the aroma of Baby Magic lotion. Cautiously, he glanced around the room, and then settled his eyes on his daughter. The sight of his baby girl sound asleep with her left thumb stuffed in her mouth, made his heart melt. She was beyond beautiful. Aside from inheriting the blues eyes that ran in his family, she was the spitting image of Daphney. As he approached her bed with Rocko trailing closely behind, he silently thanked God for the birth of his little princess, and then gently smothered her chocolate face with kisses.
After leaving her room, he crept across the hallway and headed toward the bedroom door of her six year old brother, Dayshon. He slipped inside of the room and saw that the little boy was bundled up under his Transformer blanket. Dayshon was Daphney’s son from a previous relationship, but that didn’t stop Sonny from loving him as if he were his very own. He approached the full sized bed, and gently kissed his little man on the forehead. He remembered a conversation that he had with Daphney earlier that day when she informed him about Day Day losing another baby tooth, so he reached inside of his Gucci sweats and pulled out a thick wad of hundred dollar bills. After peeling away two of them, he reached underneath the little boy’s pillow, and swapped the money with his tooth.
Finally, his nerves were at ease. He holstered the FNH, and then headed down the hallway toward the master bedroom. After a long stress filled day, he was more than ready to spend some quality time with his queen. He opened the bedroom door, and the sight of her lying on their black and gold Versace bed set in nothing but her chocolate birthday suit, made his dick rock hard. Her thick thighs were slightly spread apart, giving him a sneak peak of her Brazilian waxed pussy. The light from the moon was beaming through the balcony’s glass door, illuminating her chocolate skin, and all he could do was shake his head from side to side. Damn, I love this lil’ mutha’fucka, he thought to himself as he admired her natural African beauty.
After taking off his Gucci valor, he climbed on top of the bed and placed soft kisses on her left foot. He then, slid the tip of his tongue along the length of her leg.
“Ummm!” she moaned in ecstasy. “Daddy, watchu doin’?”
“Whatchu think?” he softly replied, and then buried his tongue inside of her juice box.
***
Up The Block From Sonny’s Estate
A pearl white Mercedes Benz Maybach 62 was parked along the side of the road. The headlights were turned off, but the engine was running. In the back seat, relaxing behind a curtained window, Grip was sipping on a glass of Grand Marnier and nodding his head to The Isley Brothers. After spending the past year and a half in Cuba, he was back with a vengeance. It was time for old scores to be settled, and this time around he would show no mercy. He rolled down the partition and locked eyes with Muhammad in the rearview mirror. Nothing needed to be said. He tapped the brim on his Bossalini, and his trusty driver pulled away from the curb.
“Where to Mr. Moreno?”
“South Philly,” Grip instructed. “We need to visit an old friend.”
***
At An Undisclosed Location In South Philly
