A loud commotion downstairs ripped his attention from the phone in his hand. Reece quickly exited his bedroom and rushed down the long hallway. He slowed down before he reached the balcony that looked over the great room. Reece paused a moment then took a peek around the corner. What he saw surprised him.
Standing in the middle of the room towering over everyone like a god was a bald-headed black man. On each side of him were Latino men. They were huge also, but nowhere near the size of the central figure. This guy had to be every bit of 350, 375 pounds and stood no less than six foot seven. Upon closer inspection, he looked familiar to Reece. Hell, he resembled Hulk, but their faces were almost the exact opposite.
Suddenly, like a ton of bricks, it hit Reece.
“Samson!”
The huge figure looked up at Reece running down the stairs and broke out in a huge smile, immediately setting the room at ease. All other guests outside of the Crescent Crew were clueless as to who this individual was. However, those inside the Crew knew their comrade very well.
Samson greeted Reece with a powerful hug, lifting him up. When he put him down, Reece inspected him closely. “Yo, what did you do to your face?” Reece asked.
“Ha ha, the miracles of medicine,” Samson replied, enthused. One of the Latinos asked Samson a question in Spanish. Samson answered in Spanish, never missing a beat. The Latino man leaned in to hug Reece. “A friend to Monstruoso is a brother to me,” he told Reece in broken English.
Reece gave the man his hand instead of a hug. He didn’t know this cat, or no Monstruoso either. Muhammad saw Reece’s tension and pulled up beside him. Then Samson spoke.
“Oh, you don’t have no love for your brother now?” he asked, looking at Muhammad.
Muhammad scowled. “Nigga, I don’t know you!”
Reece halted him with a hand on his chest. “Hold up, homie. Look closely.”
Muhammad scrutinized the giant in silence. Then he caught it, too. “Oh, shit!! My nigga!”
No one recognized Samson because he had gotten plastic surgery on his face as well as his hands. It was done out of necessity, since he was wanted dead or alive in the United States. He was a regular feature on America’s Most Wanted. Samson, never one to be daunted, continued to venture in and out of the States, if only for the surprise effect alone. When the Crescent Crew saw him coming to make moves despite the bounty on his head, it garnered him tremendous respect. He would pop up on blocks one minute, and be gone the next. His selective absence increased fear. The thought that the de facto leader of the Crescent Crew was liable to appear anytime anywhere, unannounced, kept allies in check and adversaries on the run.
But his bold moves came with risks. One time in particular, the police got behind Samson and made him pull over, no doubt for DWB (Driving While Black). The patrolman just knew he had hit the jackpot. He just knew he had caught the big fish when he saw the giant driving the Mercedes. Luckily for Samson, he had a copy of his twin brother Hulk’s driver’s license. He played the part of the pissed-off industry bigwig so ceremoniously that the patrolman let him go to avoid embarrassment for the department, as well as a big-boy lawsuit. The move was too close for comfort, though. Soon after, Samson decided not to take any more chances. He went back to Mexico and paid one of the top surgeons in the world to alter his appearance. Sure, he would miss being able to assume his brother’s identity, but chances were something he couldn’t take. If captured, he was guaranteed never to see the light of day. Therefore, the ends definitely justified the means. It would take some time to get used to, especially with his former twin brother eyeing him like he was.
“What’s up, li’l bro?” Samson asked Hulk, making a point to remind him that he was his senior by a few minutes.
Hulk didn’t say anything as he walked up in Samson’s face. He walked around his whole body sizing him up before returning to his face. Suddenly, he hugged him tightly. “I knew you’d be here.”
“No doubt. Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Samson replied.
“Didn’t I tell you they was gonna trip out about your face?” Hulk laughed.
“Yep,” Samson said and nodded.
Reece interrupted the brotherly reunion. “Yo, nigga. You better take off them gators before they get wet ’cause we having a party out back!” Everyone was ushered back to the pool area.
A half hour later the party was interrupted again when Bone rolled in. He was wearing a platinum-and-diamond-encrusted ABP chain and eagerly looking for Qwess. Qwess came over to holla at him by the pool with a puzzled look on his face.
“What’s the deal, dawg?” Qwess asked, looking at Bone’s neck.
“Yo, where’s the homie, Flame?” Bone asked. “I got something for him.” Bone was smirking something fierce.
The conversation was cut short. Reece tossed a ball from the pool and hit Bone smack in the head.
“Oh, you can’t pay no homage to a nigga?” Reece asked, walking over out of the pool. What’s up, Boney Roney?”
Bone was dumbfounded. “N-nah, yo. It ain’t like that. I didn’t see you.”
“Shit, I can’ tell,” Reece cut him off. “I just get out the joint and you ask for this nigga?” He pointed at Qwess. “Before you ask for me? What’s really going on?”
Bone didn’t know how to take Reece because Reece wasn’t smiling. Bone definitely didn’t want to get on Reece’s bad side. He knew shit was about to change now that he was home.
“Yo, I got something good for the li’l homie Flame. You told me to hold the label down, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you’ll dig this, then. Come on.” Bone knew Reece would love this. Qwess called Flame and Hulk. Samson followed behind Reece.
Bone led them to the front of the round driveway where all the cars were parked. Flame was surprised to see his brand-new Mercedes SL sitting out front.
Flame couldn’t contain his excitement. “Oh, shit! My baby. How did you get her?” he asked Bone.
“Don’t worry about that. Just be careful from now on.” Bone extended the keys to Flame. Flame rushed over to the driver’s side then circled the whole car inspecting it. There were bloodstains by the driver’s side mirror and on the front quarter panel.
“Yo, what’s this?” Flame asked, too wrapped up in amazement to know better than to ask certain questions.
Bone quickly rushed over. “Where!?”
“Right here.” Flame pointed to the spots.
“Oh, shit. My bad.” Bone managed a weak smile before wiping the spots off with a mischievous grin. By now everyone had gathered around the car.
“Is that what I think it is?” Reece asked.
Bone was a little hesitant about spilling the beans in front of Flame, so he nodded but cut his eyes toward Flame, signaling secrecy.
Reece caught the hint and promptly dismissed Flame, but before Flame made it to the house, Bone called him back. “Here, li’l homie.” He passed Flame his necklace. “You shouldn’t have no more problems in the ’Nam. The word is out now that you with us out here in these streets, so don’t even sweat it. Go where you wanna go, however you wanna get there. A’ight?”
“A’ight. Cool.” Flame gave him dap and peeled back inside to the party. He wasn’t inside two seconds before the questions started being shot at Bone.
“How’d you get it back?”
“Where the blood came from?”
“Did you murk this nigga?”
“Where he at now?”
Bone silenced all the queries when he proceeded to tell the story of how a local fence had come to one of his spots wanting to unload some hot stuff. He insisted that he came to see Bone because Bone was the only one who could afford to pay what he demanded for the merchandise. Bone, already getting the word about Flame’s misfortune, figured the fence would know something about it. So, at the very least, he decided to talk to him. He couldn’t believe the jewel that was dropped his lap when (as Bone so eloquently put it) the stupid mu’fucka drove the Benz
right up in the joint. He even had the stupidity to be wearing the diamond chain.
Bone pretended everything was copacetic in order to get the dude to tell him how he came upon the goods. Of course, the fence narrated everything. After all, wasn’t Bone a straight murderer? Bone made the fence lead him to the jackers and leave them alone.
Bone intentionally left out the other details.
“So, where they at now?” asked Reece. He was about to jump out of his skin! He loved to hear about his soldiers putting in work.
Bone just smiled. “We can go check ’em out now. When I heard you were home, I decided to hold off and let you handle things. Figured it would be a perfect way to get your feet back wet.”
Reece didn’t know who this cat thought he was, trying to force him back into shit. He started to check him, but then decided he’d go along to see how Bone was putting it down.
“A’ight. Where they at?” asked Reece.
“If you ready, we can roll on out.”
Reece sensed Qwess ice grilling him hard, so he told Bone and Samson to meet him in the truck.
When it was just Qwess and Reece, Qwess wasted no time rebuking Reece.
“Yo, what’s up? Fuck you trying to do? Don’t lose focus. Like you told me a long time ago: If you out, stay out!”
Reece was half listening. He was already salivating at being around some action. “I got you, bruh. I’m just going to ride and get the scoop on things. See where they mind at,” he said, looking far-off.
Qwess was still unsure. “All right, you your own man, but know that it’s bigger than you. A lot more people got a lot more to lose, ya dig?”
“Relax, Qwess. I ain’t in no hurry to get back to no cage. I said I’m going to just check things out,” Reece assured him. “Now be easy. I’ll be back soon.”
Reece strolled off to the waiting Infiniti truck, climbed into the back, and they drove off into the night.
Inside the truck, Bone drove, one of the Mexicans, Gil, rode shotgun, and Samson, Reece, and the other Mexican sat in back. Samson made formal introductions, and Reece found out Gil’s name as well as the name of the Mexican on the other side of him with the long ponytail. His name was Chabo. According to Samson, the two Mexicans were his soldiers in his “new” business venture. He didn’t divulge exactly what that venture was.
When Bone turned onto Raeford Road, Reece knew exactly where they were going. His old torture rack. He sat back to enjoy the long ride.
“Yo, what you got planned for the weeks ahead?” Samson asked. “Heading down to Mexico kicking it on the yacht for old times’ sake?” Samson offered with a chuckle.
“Naw, I’m heading out to L.A. to do the Soul Train Awards show with Flame and Saigon. You know I bought into the label now.”
“I know that, but that don’t mean you can’t roll with the Crew. You are still Crescent Crew, ain’t ya? You ain’t pulling a Qwess on us, are you?”
Samson was referring to the way Qwess had practically abandoned the Crescent Crew when he got out of prison to do the music thing.
“Nah, I’m just heading out west for a few days. That’s not a crime, is it?”
The question was loaded. Reece was taking the temperature of things. Based on Samson’s answer, Reece would decide how deep to delve into his plans.
Samson caught the tone in Reece’s voice and knew something was amiss, so he played his part. “Nah, no problems, King.”
“Okay, cool then,” Reece said with an icy tone. “I really ain’t trying to fuck wit’ no broads like that, nah’mean. Fuck all them bitches! I’m on some new shit right now.”
By the tone of the conversation, Reece was making it apparent that he was top dog. He asserted his dominance with his tone. He had been gone for a few years, and like the leader of a pack of wolves, Reece had to reassert his authority. Gil and Chabo had never seen anyone trump Samson. Samson always controlled situations in their eyes. Seeing Samson bow down to Reece raised his stature in their eyes—and lowered Samson’s.
Samson conceded his point. “Yo, I feel you, God. After all that bullshit ole girl put you through I wouldn’t love them hoes either. Take it back to Snoop ’93 and shit.” He chuckled to lighten the mood.
Samson’s statement took Reece back to his original thoughts. What to do with Destiny? The chick just didn’t know who she was dealing with.
The fact that she was his son’s mother could only ice the stinging pain of betrayal for so long. Couldn’t she see that? Oh, well, Reece thought, she’ll see before it’s over with.
After traveling for about an hour, Bone finally turned off onto a side road. He maneuvered the huge luxury SUV through narrow dirt roads until they came to a cabin. Situated at hundred-foot intervals were huge pit bulls. They were chained to stakes driven into the ground, which permitted the seven dogs to cover every square inch of the grounds freely.
One by one, each passenger exited the vehicle and stretched from the long ride. Gil and Chabo were unfamiliar with their surroundings, thus overly observant and jittery. Bone, Samson, and Reece were all too familiar with this place. Prior to Reece’s incarceration, during the Crescent Crew wars, this had been Reece’s personal torture chamber. Bone wasn’t part of the Crescent Crew during the wars, but he had heard numerous stories of Reece’s exploits. In fact, on occasion Bone had used the cabin himself, most of the time to get a point across to a stubborn adversary. Sort of like now.
The group entered the cabin, and they were immediately assaulted by the smell of urine and feces. It was no secret where the smell emanated from as everyone observed two hood men tied up in the center of the room. The cabin itself wasn’t big. It consisted of a central room with two smaller rooms adjacent to each other. The ceiling was lined with beams running across the entire room. The two men were seated directly under a beam. Both had already soiled their pants.
Bone walked over to them and removed their masks. It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the light. When they did, both men wished they would’ve remained closed.
“Aw, shit!!” they both exclaimed in unison. They recognized well who two of the men in front of them were. They knew Reece from his reputation and recognized him from his mug shot picture in Don Diva magazine. Samson they recognized from the few times he had come to the block to collect personally.
“Don’t ‘aw shit’ now,” Bone taunted. “Time to pay the piper, muthafuckas.” Bone backhanded them both for good measure.
They started bitching immediately. “Man, we didn’t know! I swear we didn’t know!”
Bone knew he was being watched by the big dog, so he had to play extra hard.
“You didn’t know? Oh, well. You will know now!” Bone retrieved his gun from his waistband and commenced to pistol-whip the unlucky jacker on the left till blood spewed from his mouth and oozed openly from his head.
“You know who this is?” Bone asked the jacker on the left while pointing at Reece. Jacker number two was a little more firm than his partner. He maintained eye contact as he nodded his head.
“Oh, yeah?” Bone continued. “Well, you know this is the wrong nigga to fuck wit’!
“I didn’t fuck wit’ him!” the jacker spat at him.
“Yes, you did. When you fuck with one of the Crescent Crew you fuck wit’ all of ’em,” Bone explained. He was obviously enjoying his position as a Crescent Crew captain. “Fuck you wanna jack a nigga for anyway? You should be running up in them white people banks. Yeah, but you don’t wanna do that, huh? You hard in the hood, but scared to go where the real money at.”
As Bone chastised and toyed with the victim, Reece and Samson calmly observed. Reece was thinking about how he really didn’t need to be here. Qwess’s warning echoed around his head, “If you out stay out!” He remembered telling Qwess the exact same thing when his fiancée was murdered by the Blood Team some six years ago. Qwess eventually relented and let Reece handle retribution. Now would Reece be able to leave the streets alone and go legit?
Samson was observing Bone and Reece. Bone wasn’t surprising to him. He already knew Bone was gangsta. After all, he did shoot a police officer multiple times to earn his spot in the Crescent Crew. Nah, Samson was watching Reece carefully. Something wasn’t right with him. Normally in these types of situations Reece would’ve been a lot more amped. Instead he just looked on detached, sort of like he didn’t want to be there. A part of him wanted to attribute Reece’s uneasiness to him just coming home. Yet, in reality Samson knew better. Reece was a stone-cold killer. He was jaded when it came to extinguishing life’s fire. Samson decided to try something.
He walked over to where Bone was taunting the victims, and in a move that surprised everyone . . . he untied them.
“Stand up.” They obeyed, though one was shaky. “If you want to live, fight for your life,” Samson told them. In the moment’s hesitation that occurred, Samson punched one of them in the stomach. The strike echoed off the walls. The man blew blood from his mouth, his yelp sounding off like a trumpet. No further prodding needed, the other man rushed Samson. Samson feigned capture purposely. He acted like he couldn’t get away.
When it was assumed he couldn’t get away, Chabo stepped up. He grabbed the man by the neck, and he quickly spun out of Chabo’s grip. He tried to rush Chabo, but Chabo spun around quickly, sweeping him and hitting him in the neck with the end of the razors discreetly tucked into Chabo’s ponytail. The man attempted to scream, but nothing came out except air.
His already wounded partner saw this and wailed like a banshee. Samson gut-shot him to silence him. The man buckled, and Samson commenced to pummel him mercilessly. He rained blow after powerful blow. His gigantic arms pumped like pistons. All the while Samson sneered at Reece from an angle.
Reece returned the glance, but it was crystal clear that he was uncomfortable.
“Get you, nigga!” Samson ordered. “Gil, come get some.” Gil moved up to his place but with a bat that he had retrieved from the corner. He swung the bat, and the unlucky jacker’s knees cracked with a sickening crunch. His ear-splitting screams claimed the room. Gil stabilized himself to swing again, but Reece stopped him.
King Reece Page 8
