Doe assured her she had no reason to be embarrassed and introduced himself. She told him her name, and in the brief silence that ensued, Doe checked her out. He already could tell she was from upstate by the way she dressed. Blond chukkas and tight denim shirt. She had long black hair pulled straight back into a ponytail and looked like she was of mixed race. Doe casually asked her where she was from, and Niya confirmed his suspicions.
She was from B-more, Maryland, and mixed. Half Italian, half black. When she revealed to Doe that she was going on tour overseas with them, he cracked a big smile. Got her. He definitely liked what he saw, and he definitely planned to get to know her on tour.
Qwess was eager to get the shoot over with, so the bevy of buxom beauties ambitiously vying for his time never even registered on his radar. He was on autopilot the entire time.
For his part, he had reason to be zoned out. He had a million things to do before they left for Europe in two days. There was the state-of-the-art recording studio being renovated and set up right beside his sister’s salon. Then there was the compound being built that he had to check on to make sure everything was coming correct. And topping things off was Hope.
Hope had persistently left messages at every conceivable location he could’ve been while he was on tour. The broad was getting on his nerves! If she had been this persistent when he was in the bing, they’d probably still be together, but pigs don’t fly and shit does stink. It was what it was.
Adding to Qwess’s to-do list was Reece. Reece was requesting—no, demanding—Qwess get up with him ASAP. Qwess already knew what it was about. It was all the talk of the entire East Coast.
The whole East Coast was buzzing with talk of gangland murders, bodies being found in trunks with either headless corpses or corpses with huge holes in the heads. The icing on the cake was when a police officer walked outside of his precinct to discover a Lexus with two dead bodies and two kilos of cocaine stuffed inside. The cause of death? Obviously the golf-ball size holes in the back of the heads. The police didn’t need to see any ID to know what souls once occupied the bodies, as they had been trying to get these two culprits for a long time. They were believed to be responsible for 75 percent of the drugs in North Carolina. The police knew that whoever did these murders had done it to make a point.
The point was not missed by the attorney general for the state of North Carolina, who was holding press conferences daily vowing to bring the people responsible for the recent rise in the murder rate to justice. He even linked these murders to the bombing downtown, and to Qwess’s worriment, he also mentioned the Crescent Crew by name. In Qwess’s music, he name-dropped the Crescent Crew.
Qwess was going to make sure to mention this detail when he met with Reece later.
The video shoot was almost over, and there was no sign of Flame. He had specifically instructed Flame to meet him there on set so he could get Flame’s face on camera. Qwess understood how important it was to get Flame’s face seen on TV. The buying public absolutely had to have a face to associate with a name. Plus, he was thinking about marketing Flame as a ladies’ man, since he obviously had a way with the ladies.
Speaking of ladies, the eye candy invited to appear in the video by John Meyers were heated because Qwess didn’t use them. So, to placate them, to show his appreciation, Qwess made sure they all got paid, all fifteen of them. Top-notch pay. To show their appreciation they all offered to do stuff so freaky, it would make a pimp blush. It took a lot for Qwess to resist, because the women were country fine. The type with hips twice as big as their waists, not to mention that he was hornier than a virgin in a whorehouse. However, in the end, business won out.
Qwess finished his parts and gathered Doe to leave. They were on Highway 74 almost home when Qwess’s phone and two-way pager went off simultaneously. As did Doe’s. When they called back, it was 8-Ball talking hysterically. Apparently, Flame had gotten himself locked up for illegal possession of a firearm. According to 8-Ball, the rollerz had seen two young black men in a BMW and pulled them over. After roughing them up a little, they searched the car and found a loaded .45-caliber pistol.
Doe made a detour to I-95 and headed to Fayetteville to get the li’l homie out.
* * *
Qwess was on his way to see Reece at his funeral home. The day had been hectic. After he and Doe had posted bail for Flame, chastised him, and dropped him off at his new house, Qwess had come back home to check on his family’s new compound. It was almost dark when he got there, but from what he could tell all was going well. From there, he went to check on the progress of the studio and see his sister. The studio was near completion. The salon was hectic as usual, but his sister was glad to see him. He also ran into Hope. After a brief convo, he agreed to keep in touch with her while he was finishing out his tour. Hope just didn’t get it that they were through. He just couldn’t put any faith in her. Without that, a relationship couldn’t survive. Qwess didn’t plan on crossing the same bridge twice. One thing his father instilled in him was to leave the past in the past. Don’t go back to it for validation, justification, or nothing. Leave it where it lay.
Surprisingly, Innocence, the stripper from Atlanta, had called. She and Qwess had been politicking all day. She seemed pretty interested and interesting. Now there was something he wanted to explore. Maybe in due time.
Qwess arrived at Eternally Yours at two in the morning. The only person present was the mortician on third shift, Yusef, who informed Qwess that Reece was on his way.
Qwess was standing outside when a shiny black Porsche Cayenne pulled up. It was rolling on twenty-inch black chrome rims. Qwess knew it could only be one person. The tinted window rolled down and proved him to be correct.
Reece grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Hop in.”
When Qwess jumped in the back seat of the sporty truck, the first thing he noticed was that Destiny was driving, and Samson was absent. He thought this strange, because previously Samson never left Reece’s side, and Reece never—ever—let a broad drive him anywhere.
Qwess questioned Reece with his eyes.
Reece explained. “Samson with his brother, catching up, no doubt. Don’t worry ’bout dat, though, dawg. I got something to holla at you about.”
They turned onto Raeford Road, and Destiny floored the big truck. Qwess was surprised at the way it handled.
“Yo, remember that shit them niggas pulled on ya girl?” Reece asked. “Well, I took care of that shit just like you wanted.”
“Yo, what the fuck!” Qwess barked. Reece was going too far. They never discussed crew business. He blatantly disrespected Destiny to solidify his point.
“Nah, she cool,” said Reece. “She wit’ me, yo.”
Qwess wasn’t convinced. “Nah, dawg. That’s not how we do shit.”
Destiny cut in. “You don’t trust me, Qwess?”
“I don’t trust no fucking body!”
“Why not?”
Qwess said nothing. He just shot Reece a scathing look. The tense moment was only interrupted when Qwess’s song came on the radio.
“Yo, man, they playing your shit all day!” Reece informed him, excited. “The whole crew is happy for you. Samson running shit now. I’m on hiatus.” He continued to discuss crew business in front of an outsider, oblivious to Qwess’s warnings.
Qwess also noticed Reece kept touching his nose and sniffing. He knew what those symptoms meant, but thought better of it. Reece was too smart to get high on his own supply.
Trying to quell the mood, Qwess changed the subject. “So, Destiny, when do you go back to school?”
“I’m sitting this semester out. Family problems.”
“Awww,” replied Qwess sympathetically.
“No biggie. I needed the break.”
“Okay, I see. By the way, where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” Reece answered cryptically.
They drove for what seemed like hours, until they came up to an apartment building off to itself. The
writing on the sign said King’s Court. It was then that Qwess knew what this was: Reece’s deluxe apartment building that he had been hearing about.
Reece spread his arms expansively. “Ta-da! You like?”
“Hellll, yeah, it’s tight.” Qwess inspected the building, admiring the beige stucco exterior and the avant-garde décor.
“Good. I got five more being remodeled all over the city. It’s my new vice.”
Qwess mumbled. “Seems like it’s not the only one.”
They all exited the Porsche and followed Reece to the elevator. They got off on the third floor. Reece pulled out a key, and they went inside.
The opulence they were met with caught them off guard. No one would think this type of extravagance existed in a building like this. The building wasn’t shabby, but this type of luxury was out of place. The off-white wall-to-wall carpeting was every bit of four inches thick. There was a gold sofa with overstuffed pillows on the back wall. Directly above the chair was a huge aquarium running the entire length of the wall. In it swam a school of piranhas. On the left wall was a huge high-back chair with red-velvet cushions and fourteen-carat-gold embroidery. The chair could only be described as a throne.
Reece told Destiny to sit down while he took Qwess on a tour. They walked through the kitchen where Reece showed off the green Italian marble tile. From the kitchen, the ventured to the rooms. In the first room they passed, Qwess swore he saw a lion cub rambling about.
“What the fuck is that?” he had to ask. He just knew his mind was playing tricks on him.
Reece waved his hand dismissively. “That’s Divine. He watches the place while I’m gone.”
Qwess shook his head. It seemed that Reece had gotten richer this year, though Qwess was the one with the multimillion-dollar deal.
What Qwess couldn’t possibly have known was just how strong Reece’s hand had gotten in the last three months, but he would soon find out.
Reece led Qwess into the room and closed the door. Reece asked him something, but Qwess was busy marveling at the circular waterbed and other accouterments, so he didn’t hear him at first.
“What’s on your brain, black man?” Reece repeated, snapping Qwess out of it.
Wasting no time, Qwess told him, “You need to slow down, man. Be careful.”
“Why you say that?” Asked Reece.
“Because this, for one.” He gestured at the apartment. “More importantly, though, that broad. You telling her too much.”
“Come on, Qwess. I got this covered.”
“Stop thinking wit’ your dick!” Qwess snapped. “Think with your big head. We don’t let bitches in our biz, yo. Never have. Don’t tell me you pussy whipped.”
That was an insult. “Hell, no!”
“Good, ’cause it’s unbecoming of you. Now you need to take a fucking break. Rollerz on shit, hard. I’m seeing what’s happening here all the way on the news in Florida!”
“Word?”
“Word. They mentioning Crescent Crew and shit.”
Reece seemed proud of that fact. “I told you niggas was gon’ talk about this shit for years to come,” he said, getting excited.
“Calm the fuck down, man!” Qwess hissed, getting extremely serious. “This shit is serious now. Now I know you took care of those niggas, and I’m grateful, although I don’t agree with how you disposed of some of the bodies.”
It seemed Qwess was insulting Reece, and Reece didn’t like it. He went to war, killing shit because of Qwess’s girl being killed, and here was Qwess chastising him.
“Yo, why you dissing me?” asked Reece. “I handled shit, defending your honor, taking the Crescent Crew to new heights. Our Crescent Crew. Shit we started. Or are you not repping the crew no more?”
Qwess exhaled loudly. “You know I’m crew to the death. All I’m saying is don’t destroy what we built by getting bigheaded. Remember pride comes before the fall. Now they are mentioning the Crescent Crew in the fucking media. One of my biggest records has the words ‘the Crescent Crew’ all through it. Now what you think is going to happen if they put two and two together?”
Reece knew Qwess spoke the truth, but the absolute power he was experiencing was corrupting him absolutely. Yet, he recognized truth, so outwardly he humbled himself.
“Yeah, I feel you,” he said.
“Cool. You know I know you handling shit, but be a li’l more cautious. Take a vacation until shit cool down. Samson can handle things. You groomed him for this. We trying to grow old, get chubby, and move to Miami and shit. Not die by a pig’s bullet. You know if they murk you, I’m coming back to the street wit’ a vengeance. You my muthafuckin’ brotha, nigga.”
He grabbed Reece in a tight embrace. “Let me stack some of these square’s paper first. Don’t make me have to come back to the streets behind some bullshit. ’Cause if I do, I’m coming full throttle.” He shook Reece a little bit. “Calm your wild ass down. Make money, not mayhem.”
As much as Reece felt him and inwardly swore to do right, the forces of nature were already working. Sometimes one has to reach the tip-top in order to be affected by the fall that is inevitable. Such was the case with Reece. He was on an inevitable climb to the top running parallel with the course of his destiny.
For success doesn’t lie in never falling, but in always getting up when you do.
Chapter 16
When the Crescent Crew went to war and subsequently eliminated their rivals, they left a void in the drug trade wider than the Grand Canyon. Possessing foresight, King Reece had predicted this and planned accordingly. He had Crescent Crew members come from all over for a meeting. In that meeting he assigned crews and set up a hierarchy consisting of captains and soldiers. Then, he assigned certain towns to certain crews.
He gave Jersey Ali and his crew Fayettenam, Born and his crew Wilmington. Black Phil and his crew Columbia, South Carolina, Muhammad and his crew Greenville, South Carolina.
He divided every little town in the Carolinas up among his crew. When he was met with resistance by the local hustlers from the towns they occupied, he set a stern example. He didn’t apply the “get down or lay down” tactic. It brought about too much heat. Instead, he caused a drought. The Crescent Crew had 95 percent control over all drugs coming into both Carolinas. Heroin, cocaine, marijuana, pills, everything. If a two-dollar crumb was sold to a junkie on a back street, there was a 95 percent chance the product was courtesy of the Crescent Crew. Therefore, the local hustlers had to mob down, or they didn’t eat.
Before long the Crescent Crew had monopolized the Carolinas and started foraging into Virginia, Georgia, and Tennessee.
Reece, at the helm of the Crescent Crew, went from making sixty thousand a week to clearing over a million a week when the new year rolled in.
His humble used car dealership turned into a five-star automobile dealership offering high-end luxury cars. He started a real estate development company specializing in fixing up urban neighborhoods. He purchased a strip club before the bank foreclosed on the lease.
With all of this “legal” revenue coming in, he built a twenty-bedroom mansion in Raeford, a country town next to Fayettenam. He spared no expense on his mansion. It boasted an indoor/outdoor pool, basketball court, theater, wine cellar, playroom and six-car garage, which still wasn’t enough room for his new fleet, which included a Bentley Arnage and Ferrari 360 Spyder.
King Reece’s deluxe apartment building, King’s Court, was completed and, shocking everyone, Reece leased the apartments through Section 8. So single welfare mothers got a chance to see how the other half lived, free of charge, because Reece wouldn’t take any money. As a result of this, he became like a mythic figure in the ghetto. The women adored him, and the men feared him, since it was common knowledge on the streets that if you fucked with King Reece’s reign, you would end up found dead or never at all. A lot of people took their last ride to Reece’s crematorium.
Meanwhile, as the weeks turned into months, Reece and Destiny became e
xtremely close. With Samson in charge of the Crescent Crew, Reece and Destiny traveled more than flight attendants. They went gambling in Vegas, shopping in New York, sightseeing in L.A., parasailing in Hawaii. They even flew to Paris to see Qwess perform live. Reece was in a state of bliss. He had never found a woman he could love. Both his mother and father had died when he was fifteen in a freak car accident. He had lived with his cousin Doe’s family for a year. The following year, he started making moves with Qwess and was soon on his own. Therefore, he could never love anyone out of fear of abandonment. This was what made him such a lethal killer. He thrived on other people’s pain. He felt life had dealt with him unjustly, so it simply made his dick hard to be able to cause others pain.
With Destiny, his pain subsided, replaced with the love she gave him. His only complaint was how she felt she had to consult with her uncle Lou all the time. Reece felt she was his woman. He took care of all of her needs, so she shouldn’t have to check in with any man but him. It pissed him off to think of another nigga riding shotgun in the CL Benz he bought for her. Family or not. Reece was territorial like that. He was overzealous about Destiny. He felt she was perfect for him. Cultured, classy, and a freak behind closed doors. Plus, she had a way of dealing with police. Every time they were stopped for DWB (Driving While Black), Destiny was able to pour on the charm and slink out of harm’s way. In fact, Reece noticed that since the winter rolled in, the police had called off their witch hunt and the AG stopped going on TV every day talking mumbo.
Everything was going so well, Reece couldn’t possibly see this was the calm before the storm. One bad thing about being at the top is you can look down to see everyone and everything, but it’s impossible to see the most important thing.
Street Rap Page 16
