“Oh, yeah?” Reece asked. “So then what? What happened to the messenger? You broke him off?”
Samson chuckled. “Shole did—right in his runny mouth. Told him don’t bring no bullshit to me about what another nigga said about you, unless he bringing him with him.”
Reece smiled. “My nigga. That’s what the fuck I’m talking about.”
Samson glanced at Reece. “So, you absolutely sure you don’t want to get in with Qwess?”
“I’m already in,” Reece said.
With Qwess getting his deal, it would also make it easy to clean up dirty money. Unbeknownst to everyone else, it was Reece who had actually given Qwess the money for his studio on Bragg Boulevard, and the money to set up A.B.P. So Qwess was actually in his debt. However, Reece didn’t sweat it. That’s what brothers are for. Truth be told, Reece would be happy to continue laundering money through his car lots and funeral homes, but they hadn’t been around long enough to be million-dollar enterprises. With this new connect, Reece was definitely about to touch millions. The music business would be the perfect Laundromat.
“Yo, you got that thing I asked you to bring?” Reece asked.
Samson nodded. “I got that thing you wanted me to bring.”
“Good, good. When we get there, just follow my lead. We gon’ show these niggas what time it is.” Reece turned the music up, leaned back into the seat, and let the music put him in the zone.
“Thug Life. Y’all Know the Rules. Gotta do whatcha gotta do . . . Stay true!”
* * *
When the black Yukon pulled onto the block, the hustlers who were out there paused. The first thing they noticed was the license plate on the front. It was actually a designer plate that had a crescent star and two C’s between them. Everyone on the block knew that this was the Crescent Crew’s coat of arms, or sign. They just didn’t know why anyone from that crew would be here. This wasn’t their block.
Reece stepped out of the truck and set the block ablaze with his presence. Onlookers’ mouths were agape. It seemed Reece had fallen off the loot, because the last time they had seen him, he was stepping out of a Benz coupe in a silk suit. Silk suits were his trademark. To see him in the uniform of the streets could only mean one thing.
“Yo, anybody seen Tyrone?” Reece asked everyone and no one in particular.
There were some kids eagerly anticipating the ice-cream truck, which was coming up the street. There were a few adults out as well, but the block was mostly filled with young hustlers.
Reece walked smoothly up to the kids, now at the ice-cream truck. He pulled out a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill, passing it off to the ice-cream man. “Everything’s on me. No disrespect, Pops,” Reece said to an older gentleman.
“None taken,” the old man responded, holding up his hands in surrender.
As Reece was waiting to make sure the kids got everything they wanted, one of the kids pulled him to the side. He informed him that Tyrone was inside a soul food restaurant located just up the street. Reece thanked the little boy, sliding him a hundred-dollar bill, and proceeded up the street. As he walked past the truck, Samson got out and fell in step. He was holding a small briefcase in his left hand.
The restaurant was a small mom-and-pop type deal. Reece and Sampson entered and spotted Tyrone immediately. He was sitting at the bar obviously waiting on some food. He didn’t notice Reece and Samson at first. Then he felt a huge shadow at his back. He turned around in time to catch Samson’s massive hand under his throat.
“Hey man, w-what’s up?” he gasped.
“You know what’s up,” Reece spat. “Time to pay the piper, mu’fucka!”
Samson snatched him off the stool with one arm and cradled him with the other as he carried him out the door. Reece picked up the briefcase and followed him.
When they got outside, all of the hustlers saw Tyrone in the air and looked like they wanted to interfere. However, Reece shot them all a menacing stare, palming his Glock in his waistband.
“This ain’t about you all,” Reece told them. “Don’t waste your life over a bad paymaster.”
The hustlers reluctantly backed off. Reece noticed the children coming back from the ice-cream truck, and motioned for Samson to throw Tyrone in the Yukon. Samson did so, joining Tyrone in the third-row seat. Reece jumped into the driver’s seat and peeled off.
Inside the truck, Tyrone uselessly tried to cop pleas. Samson had palmed the back of his neck at this point.
“Y-yo, king man. I got your money!” Tyrone cried. “W-well, not all of it. Something came up, but word is bond, I got you!”
Reece remained silent as he pulled into an alleyway. When he pulled far enough from the street, he stopped the truck and got out.
Inside the alleyway, there were overturned crates and boxes. Reece sat one on top of another, forming a makeshift table. Samson and Tyrone joined the party. Samson had Tyrone in a yoke. His massive biceps were entrenched all around Tyrone’s head.
Reece opened up the briefcase and pulled out a small black tarp. He gently laid it on the table. Next he pulled out a twelve-inch, single-edged blade. It was razor sharp.
Tyrone’s eyes bulged as the realization of what was about to happen hit him. Samson grabbed Tyrone’s skinny arm and brutally slammed it onto the table. His right hand conveniently fell right onto the tarp. His feet still dangled in the air, as Samson’s large frame smothered him from behind. Once again he tried to cop pleas.
“K-king man, I wear I’ll have your money . . . with interest,” Tyrone stammered.
“Quit bitching and man up!” Reece screamed at him. Spittle was forming in the corners of Reece’s mouth. He was seemingly about to lose it, but he remained calm.
“I tried to give your bitch ass a chance to get on your feet. I hit you with consignment, and you decide to keep shit,” Reece chastised. “You want to take my kindness for weakness? Now you gotta learn.”
“Man, I—I just need more time.”
“Nigga, you had my shit three weeks. What kind of hustler are you? Can’t get a few grand in three weeks!”
“I—I just need a little more time. Come on, man! We go way back.”
Reece remained calm, but began to chuckle.
“Oh, I am gon’ give you more time. I’m just going to give you a little motivation. You stealing from my pot with your tardiness. When you deal with Crescent Crew, the penalty for stealing is a hand. Can you afford that, nigga?”
“Oh, God, Lord, please.” Tyrone begged.
“Stop it. You flatter me,” Reece joked. He referred to himself as a God-body. “You took my shit like a man, now take my shit . . . like a man.”
Reece knew the anticipation was killing him. He had seen men pass out from the thought of losing their hand. You would think Tyrone would’ve heard about him by now. Oh, well, he’d definitely remember him now.
Reece placed his hand over Tyrone’s extended wrist and held the blade in the other hand. Instead of pulling the blade to Tyrone’s wrist, Reece put it over his middle finger. Tyrone’s attempts at moving his hand were futile. Samson had a vice grip on it.
Reece held the blade past the second joint on Tyrone’s middle finger, almost to his knuckles.
“From now on,” Reece told him, slowly applying pressure on the knife, “every time I see you and you don’t have my money, I’m taking one of your fucking fingers as collateral!” Reece chopped the blade down the rest of the way. Tyrone’s finger came off as easily as cutting cold butter with a hot knife. His bloodcurdling scream could be heard for blocks. Reece wiped the blood from the blade onto Tyrone’s sweater and watched as he crumpled to the ground with blood spurting from his hand.
The hit on Reece had brought the worst out of him. Now he was on a warpath to ring his name in the streets like the Liberty Bell. The streets were going to run ill with bloodshed until someone coughed up Black Vic.
* * *
Reece exited the shower, looking at the clock. It was a quarter after six. He had plent
y of time. He wasn’t supposed to meet Destiny until seven. He was meeting her at a neutral location because she didn’t want him to know where she lived. Reece couldn’t believe the audacity of this chick. Like he was some sort of pervert or something! If anything, he had so many broads he had to turn down snatch. Fuck was she thinking?
He walked around his spacious bedroom stark naked. He enjoyed it, as he was an exhibitionist at heart. The events of that afternoon were still fresh in his mind. It didn’t bother him, though. It was the price of doing business. Reece understood that, in the streets, fear is the strongest emotion. The minute people didn’t have some amount of fear of you, things were going to go wrong.
Reece walked into his closet and pulled out a bag straight from the cleaners. Inside the bag was a dark green two-piece suit. The fabric was a cotton-silk blend. He bent to retrieve a t-shirt out of his drawer. Next, he selected a white mock-turtleneck silk sweater. He topped the ensemble off with burnt-orange alligator loafers and matching belt.
He dressed in no time. He put on some Issey Miyake oil and pulled his long locks straight back into a ponytail. This accentuated his strong jaw line, as well as his chinstrap beard.
Reece checked his perimeter cameras to make sure they were functioning. Then he pressed record. No one could even come by his house without him knowing. He went into the garage.
While some people struggle and strive, his hardest choice was which car to drive. He selected his Acura RL, with its snow-white interior.
Reece arrived at the designated meeting place—a gas station—at five to seven. He immediately spotted Destiny’s red Honda. He pulled in right beside it. He noticed Destiny sitting on the passenger side talking to a woman whom he presumed was a friend. Destiny hadn’t noticed Reece yet, because she didn’t know what he would be driving.
Reece smoothly exited the car and tapped on the window. Destiny and her friend both jumped.
“Boo! I scared you,” Reece joked.
Destiny covered her heart with one hand and waved her face with the other.
“Wooh. That you did,” she admitted.
Reece opened the door the rest of the way and held it as Destiny sensually got out of the car.
“I’m good, Deb. Thanks,” Destiny told her friend, who cranked up the car and left.
Reece escorted Destiny to the passenger side of the Acura and opened the door for her. As she carefully sat in the car, Reece admired her slip dress. It stopped just above her knee and was hugging her curves something serious. She wore matching black sandals with diamond studs adorning the straps that led up to her ankles. Her brown hair was wrapped into a short beehive. She wore diamond earrings that extended an inch from her ear. Around her neck was a matching choker. Her flawless skin was glistening like it was wet. Destiny truly was a sight to behold!
“Damn, you are beautiful,” Reece whispered more to himself than to Destiny. She still heard him.
“Thank you,” she told him. “You look damn good yourself. I didn’t realize you were as tall as you are.”
Reece’s shoes added about two inches to his height, making him six-three, if only for the night.
He closed her door and got in on his side. He glanced over at Destiny. She looked right at home in the plush leather seats. As he was pulling out, an SUV quickly pulled up behind him, blocking his way out. The day’s events were still fresh in his mind, so he calmly reached for his pistol so smooth that he was sure Destiny didn’t notice.
Luckily, it was a false alarm. It was Qwess. He was driving his Cadillac Escalade. The window rolled down to reveal Qwess laughing hysterically.
“Aha, I got you!” Qwess joked. “You shook like dice, too!”
Reece didn’t like it, but he had to admit it: Qwess had got him good. Qwess jumped out of the truck, walking over to Reece’s Acura. He leaned into the driver’s window and peered in.
“Damn, bro, who is that?” Qwess asked.
Reece, obviously uncomfortable, answered, “This is Destiny. You remember from the other day?”
“Oh, yeah! She looks different.”
Destiny mumbled under her breath, “You got so many, can’t keep count, huh?”
“Hey, hey,” Reece chided. “Cut that out.”
Destiny giggled.
“Yo, where you going all dressed up?” Reece asked Qwess. Qwess had on a suit similar to the one Reece wore. However, Qwess’s suit was black, and he was rocking a derby hat with it.
“We about to see this play.”
“Who that? Shauntay?”
“Yeah.”
Reece stuck his head out the window. “Aye, girl!” he yelled.
“Heeey, Reece!” Shauntay yelled back. “What’s up!”
“Chillin’!”
“All right, I’ll see you later.” Shauntay rolled the window back up.
Qwess gestured for Reece to get out of the car. “Let me holla at you a sec.” When Reece got out and stepped a few feet from the car, Qwess continued. “Yo, you heard about the tour already, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So what’s up? You wanna roll with me? You can use the break. It might be good for you to get a change of scenery. I heard about what happened today.”
Reece sucked his teeth. “Man, don’t start.”
“Nah, I ain’t tripping on that. They did what they did so you gotta do what you gotta do.” Qwess shrugged. “I’m talking about you. I think this will be a good look for you, give you a chance to clear your head. So, you want to roll or not? We are going all over Europe, places in the motherland . . . everywhere. For free! It won’t be right if you not there. I couldn’t be doing this without your help; it’s only right that you come.”
Reece paused a moment to contemplate. “I don’t know, man. I told you I just started this new thing. I gotta keep my eye on things, you know?”
“Man, Samson and the Crew can handle things for a few. It’ll give you a chance to get your mind right,” Qwess coaxed.
“I don’t know right now. I’ll get back with you, though.”
“All right. You coming to the party, right?”
“You kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for all the gold in the world. Matter of fact, the whole Crescent Crew gonna be there in all our splendor.”
“Word?” Qwess asked. He was surprised, because the crew had expanded all over the Carolinas, as well as parts of New Jersey and Florida.
“Well, you know. The Carolina fam anyway. You know we gotta see our man off right. This party is like your official retirement from the trap. Even though you not in the trap no more, we still look at you as a boss. You helped us start this shit, nigga, Crescent Crew for life, baby! Ride or die!”
A horn blew, interrupting the moment. It was Reece’s car. “Reece, what time are the reservations?” Destiny yelled from the passenger seat.
Reece took the hint and bid farewell to Qwess. They jumped in their respective cars and drove off.
When Qwess got back in the Escalade, Shauntay was wearing a look of concern on her face. When Qwess asked what was wrong, she evaded him until she couldn’t anymore. She finally came out with it.
“How many hoes does Reece have?”
“What?” Qwess asked, unbelieving. “Why would you ask me something like that?”
“Because every time I see him, he with a different girl.”
“Sooo?”
“Sooo, birds of a feather flock together. How many hoes you got?”
Qwess couldn’t contain his laughter. “You trippin’, Shauntay.”
Shauntay was determined. “No, I mean seriously. I know hoes be trying to holla, so what’s there to stop you. Especially with Reece condoning it.” Qwess didn’t respond. “I mean, you never tell me you love me, and I know I gained a few pounds. Do you still find me attractive, Qwess?”
Qwess sensed she needed validation. That’s what was wrong. She was already starting to feel insecure because he was now playing with a different kind of money.
“Baby, of course you’re bea
utiful,” Qwess assured her.
“Then why you never tell me you love me?”
Qwess didn’t answer. How was he supposed to tell her that he was incapable of love? The streets, and all that came with them, had bred love out of him.
“Shauntay, I could tell you anything I want, but it’s my actions that should matter.”
That apparently did the trick because she left the subject alone. Instead, she turned up the radio. It was playing Mind Sex by Dead Prez. How ironic.
* * *
Reece and Destiny arrived at the Japanese restaurant five minutes after eight. The hostess was eagerly anticipating their arrival. This was apparent by the look of relief on her face when Reece announced they had reservations under the name Kirkson. The hostess was immaculately dressed in a white satin kimono with red trim. Her face was painted in a traditional Japanese style with white base and red accent. It seemed exaggerated, but to one who understood Japanese customs, it fit just fine. It was the uniform of geisha.
She led Reece and Destiny to their table, which was secluded from the rest of the restaurant. The restaurant was divided into sections. On one side there was communal sitting, and the other was more couples oriented. This was the side Reece and Destiny sat in. All of the tables had candles on them. With the candlelight flickering throughout the room, it created an ambience of extreme comfort. Each table had a complimentary cup of sake for the patrons. This was intended to be an appetizer.
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