Addicted In Cold Blood (3 page)

He didn’t wait for Xzion to respond before he continued on the suspicious journey.

“...Sayin’ you don’t want shit, just to join my team, huh? Brought the Rich White Girl. We already had Rich White Girl, what tha fuck I need you fo’, man? I’m Preacher; I can get whatever the hell I want.”

Xzion leaned slightly forward. His eyes shot over to a waitress approaching. She took drink orders and disappeared just as quickly as she’d arrived. When he looked back at Carter, his gun was in his hand, lying on the table.

Fast...but not nearly fast enough.

“You didn’t have
this
type of Rich White Girl; she is
only
from Columbia and smaller scale, England. No one has her in the States, no one except me. I gave your crew some samples. Now, you can’t keep up with the demand. You are the first, Preacher. I came to you first because I know you’re the best in this area. I figured we could work together. Now that your men have put her on the streets, business is good.”

“Business
always
been good.” The man looked Xzion up and down, sneering. “What the fuck is yo’ damn objective?”

“I can keep you in supply. The samples are over. Let me bring you on. Let me be a part of your franchise. This meeting is long overdue.”

“Yeah, my guys were impressed, but they always screen the new talent for me first. Nobody comes and sees me.” He pointed to his chest. “Everybody gotta prove themselves first. My time is valuable. I think you want to take over, man. Nobody knows where the fuck you came from,” he said coolly as he lit a new cigarette. He placed it to his lips and took a long drag, then paused as their drinks were distributed on the table.

“I’m not sharin’ shit and I’ll blow your ass across the damn club this very second,” he punched the table with his index finger, “if that is your plan. I fuckin’ run Temple Hills and
Capitol Heights. It ain’t for sale and I was never good at sharin’.”

“I’ve been trying to earn the right to even be with you here tonight. I respect that this is your territory.”

The music continued to blare, the alcohol continue to pour, and the female bodies covered in glitter and thin sheens of sweat continued to migrate and gyrate around the room, offering lap dances and ‘happy endings’ in hidden coves for an additional fee.

Xzion took notice of all of the men’s tattoos, the dragon symbol known amongst BGF, the Black Guerilla Family gang. Xzion had had his share of dealing with notorious gang members, never underestimating their craftiness and manipulations of others, the prison system and the world around them. He’d learned early on that the local drug activity was always more than likely tied to illegal congregations such as rampant, aggressive gang movement, strong-armed extortion, highly sophisticated prostitution and a buffet of ways to scheme and fraud the system. Carter had spent ten years in prison for drug dealing and two counts of manslaughter were hooked to his name, but he beat the charges.

Out early for good behavior, he re-entered society as a ‘preacher man’ but it was only a farce, a charade, a facade to keep some law officials and local snitches unsuspecting of his behind-the-scenes devious activities. The problem was that Carter, AKA Preacher, wasn’t as smart as he thought he was—he too, was a pawn for a bigger monster. He simply didn’t know it.

“So,” Carter rotated the gun around in his hand, leaned back as the corners of his mouth twisted. “you’re from
Columbia, huh?”

“Yes. I’ve been here for only a short while... still trying to get established.”

“What made you come to fuckin’ Baltimore?”

“There are untapped opportunities here. Previously, I just stayed in
Columbia but once I came to your country, I understood that this venture was too good to pass up.  You’ve got an open market here. It is more controlled in Columbia.”

“If Rich White Girl is doing so well for you, why aren’t you looking like your money is doing the talkin’? You look like a damn bum, ’cept those fuckin’ shoes.” Carter smirked as his bloodshot eyes scanned Xzion.

“Because I re-invested all of my
dinero
into my project,
this
project—this is big. I will look like a million bucks soon enough. I’d rather live in a hut, make the operation thrive, than live well and have nothing to show for it due to poor planning.”

Carter smiled at him and nodded. Xzion had already done his research and had the man in the palm of his hand. He’d found out that Carter, unlike some of his counterparts, had a strong work ethic, despite it being a corrupt one.  The man rarely slept. He ate illegal activities for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and kept several wayward cops paid. Between his unlawful escort service and the non-stop drug dealing of crack cocaine and weed, he was constantly up like an old man with a new prescription of Viagra.

A few moments of silence passed. Xzion sat back as the gentlemen spoke to one another and grabbed at the ample flesh of the money thirsty women swaying by. Xzion looked at one in particular. Her wavy dark brown weave hit the top of her huge apple-shaped ass, and a bright orange bikini top and bottom contrasted quite majestically against toasty mahogany skin. Lips full and sparkling with sheer gloss, she shot Xzion a look and made her way over to the table.

“Heeeeey, Papi, wanna lap dance?” She pivoted slowly around, shoving her ass into his face. Xzion was surprised at her approach. Most of the women in the joint were soliciting the men dressed in stylish gear, the ones they were sure would hold stacks of cash.

Must be a slow night for her...

“Go ’head, let ’er dance for you,” Carter teased, laughing roguishly as he gently tapped the nose of the gun on the table.

Xzion turned back toward the stripper, his eyes on her bouncing ass. She moved so fast, her whirling corpulent mounds became a frenzied blur to the beat. The men laughed, encouraging the woman affectionately named, ‘BamBam’, to keep on.

“You ’fraid of pussy, man? What chew sittin’ there just starin’ at it for?” Carter laughed.

Slicky chimed in, smacking the table before picking up his beer and chugging it. “You gay? Are you gay, Xzion?” he taunted.

Suddenly, Carter stood and reached across the table, pushing the twirling pussy popper hard in the middle of her back, causing her to fall clumsily to the floor in a heap of orange fabric and dimly lit flesh. “Get tha fuck outta here, bitch. Can’t you see we tryna do business?! Fuckin’ whores—never where they are supposed to be!”

Xzion narrowed his eyes on the fallen woman as she slowly got to her feet. She hesitated, her back still turned. He didn’t recognize the human emotion dripping off her right away. He ran it through his internal computer:

Humiliation... Hmmmm, interesting.

BamBam looked over her shoulder, biting her pouty bottom lip, no doubt cursing silently. Just then, Xzion noticed a slight gleam in her eyes.

Tears? What is wrong with these people? Just walk the fuck away...I don’t want to have to ice you too, because you were too damn close to the fucking table. Go on. He saved your life.

“What tha fuck you lookin’ at?” Carter spat. “Stankin’ ass hoes...”

She sighed then made her trek away from them, stopping at another nearby table to begin her money dance all over again.

“Now.” Carter glared at Xzion, still gripping his gun. “You wanna be one of my guys, huh? They seem to like you. Think you can help us grow our business here. I’ve been watching your ass, watching closely.”

Xzion didn’t care. He was amused by Carter as he stared the man up and down, pretending to be in awe of the show-off.

I know you have. That’s why I stay in that shithole. I watch where I’m going and who I’m with.

“Here’s what we are going to do. I need to make sure you’re hundred proof. Let’s step outside into my office.”

Xzion stayed cool. This wasn’t in the plan, but he adapted quickly. He wanted mayhem in the club, for word to spread fast. He already had his exit clearly mapped out, but that was all going straight to hell. Regardless, he watched as all the men rose, and followed suit. He briefly looked around the club at all the gawking men in the jam-packed area, waving crisp ‘just got paid’ money in their hands as a thin woman on the stage with dead blue eyes swayed to the beat. Her small breasts glistened under the strobe light as her strawberry blond ringlets brushed her bony shoulders. The men passed by the illuminated stage then stopped short as Carter ceased his stride. Something had apparently caught the man’s eye. Everyone looked in his direction.

Xzion watched him pop his leather coat collar and make his way over to a woman standing near a doorway.

It is her...

Shimmering beads hung from the top of the frame, cascading around her pale pink silk robe covered body. Xzion looked past the crowd of men and took in her image. Standing barefoot, ankles crossed, her bright dark brown eyes—fully alert—darted back and forth as if she were searching for someone. Xzion looked away, tipped his hat even lower, only allowing his chin to show. He took several steps back, drifting in the background of the group, blending in as he customarily did.

She’s beautiful...

“Fine as fuck!” Carter approached her, leaning close, invading her space as much as possible. The woman shifted her eyes then tucked the long, bone straight bright red hair behind her small, diamond studded ear. Statuesque, about 5 ‘10 and petite, but the look she gave Carter made it seem as if she felt ten feet tall and five hundred pounds.

“I ain’t never seen your ass in before—before you was on that damn stage. You ain’t show ya titties but for a minute and even den, the damn pasties blocked all the good shit out. You can’t get paid that way, baby doll. You seemed kinda shy. Must be your first time, huh?”

He surveyed her up and down, seemingly overdosing on the fresh meat before him.

“You wanna come home with me, huh? Get some
real
money, live the good life?” He grinned garishly, his upper lip curling in a joker-type grin.

“I don’t need a pimp,” she responded, looking past him as if he were a mere window with a garbage heap view.

Carter laughed loudly. “I’m not a pimp,” he winked, feigning innocence with the cheesy smile and toothy grin. I’m a business man. A pretty little thing like you is going to get hurt out here. I ain’t no ordinary man, beautiful. I can show ya extraordinary things. What’s your name?” He stroked the side of her face with his index finger. She hissed and moved away from him, but before she got out of reach, he clutched her thin wrist in his iron clad grip.

“Where tha fuck you think you goin’? I’m still talking.”

Xzion looked up ever so subtly, his hearing tuned into the altercation. She struggled, trying desperately to twist away, to free herself from the intoxicated crack peddler. Xzion saw familiarity in her facial expression toward the brute. She seemed to know
exactly
who he was...but he didn’t recognize her—treated her like a stranger off the street. Xzion stood in the back of the small crowd and watched the scene play out.

Get your goddamn hands off of her...

He stared at her a bit too long, his eye twitching. Crossing his arms, he briefly turned away, but still listened to the entire exchange. He felt himself getting rather annoyed, but wasn’t certain as to why. One thing he knew for sure though was that she was a cop—though everyone else seemed oblivious to it. He had a way of ‘sniffing’ people like her out. After all of this time, Xzion had a knack for picking them out of a crowd. They moved and acted a certain way—even undercover as this one clearly was. While she danced on the stage, he wasn’t sure, but after he looked at her more closely, he was certain of it. It was imperative he not make direct eye contact with her; he didn’t need anyone derailing his procedures now that he was on to plan B due to the impromptu outdoors meeting…but he was ready. His train of thought fizzled as someone else burst through the glittery bejeweled drape.

A large, bald man with skin so pale, it made snow look tanned, emerged from behind the gold and purple beaded curtain. It clanked together loudly around him as he reached out his weighty hands toward the crowd of men. His triple chin masked his neck with the jowls hanging low, pulling the ends of his scraggy lips downward as if they were partially melted like pink candle wax. Everyone knew who he was—the owner, head of security and the wrong mothafucka to mess with. Aries Antigo.

“Preacher, do me a favor,” Aries’ low, scratchy voice eddied amongst them as he pushed the man’s shoulder, forcing him to step back. “Leave the new girls alone before you scare ’em away. I don’t mess with your business, don’t mess with mine.”

Carter grinned sheepishly. “Aww, Arie
s, it’s cool! She is new, huh? I thought so.” He ran his thick tongue over his upper lip. “I was just tryna see if she was interested in a professional proposition. I like helping people, especially good-lookin’ women.” He shot dagger eyes at her, making it clear he wanted to smack her so hard she’d forget her damn name, but it was too late—Aries would ensure that with one more false move would come dire consequences.

“She has all the business she needs right here.” The big man opened his black sports jacket, revealing two sparkling revolvers. The two men had a business arrangement, to stay out of each other’s way. Carter brought in money; Aries protected the entertainment and allowed him to stay strapped, as well as take care of his unscrupulous underhanded antics. The two men stared at one another until finally, Carter pushed past him through the beaded curtain.