Prince of the City (6 page)

“Hello, Mike. Your scar makes you look even sexier than I remember.”

Michael quickly turned to see who was talking in his ear. He figured it had to be someone he knew as a teenager, because he'd had the scar ever since he was seventeen. Michael looked the woman in the eyes with shock. Of course he knew her. In fact, he knew her very well.

“Hello, Chevece. How are you? The last time I heard from you—”

She quickly cut him off. “Yeah, I know. A not too pleasant letter postmarked from New York.”

Chevece and Michael were sweethearts before Connie entered the picture. Chevece always blamed Connie for taking Michael away from her, but never told Connie about her and Mike's relationship. She'd left that part up to Connie's friend, nosey-ass Linda.

“Well, Chevece, you still look fine. So tell me, what brings you to Vegas?” he asked while his eyes continued to survey her beautiful looks.

“You wanna know the truth?” Chevece smirked.

“Go ahead.”

“Well, for your information, I'm married to the owner of this hotel.” She held her diamond clad hand up as a gesture to show ownership.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. And yes, he's white and treats me well.”

“That's nice to hear. I'm happy for you.” Michael nodded his approval.

“Yeah, right. So how's your wife?” she asked, turning her smirk into a hard frown.

“How did you know I was married?”

“Come on, Mike. I may have left D.C., but I still got family.”

“Well, Connie is doing good. She's happy.”

“I bet she is. You have a son, don't you?” she asked with a devilish smile.

“Yes, I do. His name is Malik, and he's eight years old now.”

“Same age, huh?” She folded her arms

“Same age as what?” Michael asked, quickly putting his drink down. He was curious about Chevece's antics, yet he was also ready to put a stop to it.

“Never mind, Mike,” she said, putting up her hand as a gesture to stop. “Anyway, it was nice seeing you. Hope you enjoy your stay. Have fun,” Chevece said, walking away from the bar

“I will,” he responded, shaking his head.

“Damn, Mike, who was that fine-ass broad?” Frank asked, looking back at her as she walked toward an exit.

“Oh, she was a girl I used to mess with back in junior high.”

“You mean to tell me you stopped messing with her?”

“I left her for my wife.”

“Your wife must be a goddess, 'cause that broad is straight-up bad!”

“Yeah, she might be bad, but that bitch is crazy.”

* * * * * * *

On the flight back home, Sam and Michael discussed their future. “Look, Mike, it's gonna take us only about three months to get to our two-million mark.”

“What are you saying, Sam?”

“All I'm saying is that since Big Luke stepped off and now our prices are extremely low, we can do this for one more year and come out with four million.”

“We agreed on two million.”

“Yeah, I know. But I'm telling you, two million more won't hurt us, and you know if we move it with no problems, it'll come overnight.”

Michael thought about Sam's proposal. Big Luke was gone and they had all the pumping strips in Southeast, plus a few of Big Luke's customers in Northeast and uptown. An extra two million would be cool. He and Connie could relocate and buy into a few businesses, get their dream house, and raise Malik in a better environment. Michael did want enough money so that his family could be secure.

“Okay, you got me, but on one condition.”

“What's that?”

“We quit after six months. That's my word, and I'm not going back on my word for you anymore. I did it this one time because you my nigga and we came up together.”

“Good then.”

Black Sam and Mike shook on their decision.

“Ay, Sam?” Michael reached over and tapped his friend to make sure he had his full attention.

“Yeah, Mike?”

“There's something I've wanted to ask you since we got the time, and I want you to be straight up with me.”

“What's up?”

“Man, have you developed a habit for gambling?”

“Fuck no! I just do it every now and then when I got some play money.”

“Do you be winning?”

“Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't.”

“Well, tell me this. What's the most you won?”

“About seventy-five thousand uptown at the pool hall. I be bustin' they ass.”

“You gotta watch those uptown niggas. They real smooth with that gambling shit. They'll let you win just so you'll come back and get your head cracked for triple of what you won.”

“Nah, I'm too sharp for that. I know when to stop.”

“I hope you do.” Michael paused briefly. “So tell me this.”

“What?” Sam asked, hoping his friend wouldn't ask another question that would make him lie.

“What's the most they ever got you for?” He then looked at him sternly, studying his face for the truth.

“Not as much as I won. Believe me. I'm a dice shootin' mothafucka.” An arrogant smile beamed across his face.

“You probably are. I just hope you ain't taking no money out the kitty for that shit.”

“Nah, slim. I only do it when I got play money. My stash is my last.” Sam once again lied to his best friend, but he knew that Michael was no dummy. Sooner or later his wrongdoings would come to light.

As soon as they got home, Frank sent down ten kilos of pure heroin, which he called China White. Sam and Michael sold a few kilos straight up to some of Big Luke's old customers, and they stepped on the remaining bricks and put it on the market. For the next six months, Michael and Sam were getting so much money that they exceeded their four-million-dollar mark. They'd begun to move up in the game, and themore money they made, the more Michael's plans became crystal clear.

 

Chapter 7

-LION'S SHARE-

 

Six months later . . .

 

 

ne day as Michael pulled his pearl white Jaguar into the car wash on Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue, a silver 735 BMW pulled up. Butter was behind the wheel and Linda sat in the passenger seat. They all exchanged greetings.

“What's up, Butter?” Mike had just asked the question that gave him the perfect opening for his proposition.

“Ain't nothing,” Butter replied. “Just picked up Linda from your house.”

“Yeah, I was getting tired of your lil bad-ass son, so I took him home to his mommy,” Linda added, still seated in the passenger seat.

“What he do?” Michael asked with a curious expression.

“Oh, nothing.” Linda waved her hand. “Malik's my angel. I just had to do something.”

“Thanks anyway for keeping him.”

“Anytime. You know I love my nephew.”

“Mike, can I talk to you in private?” Butter asked, stepping out of his car.

“Yeah, what's up?” Michael leaned against his car and folded his arms. He knew that talking with Butter would be a potential meeting about making money.

“Linda, go get the car washed while I talk to Mike,” Butter instructed and then walked over to Mike's car.

“Okay, daddy.” Linda hopped over in the driver's seat and pulled into the car wash. After formerly greeting Mike with a handshake, Butter got right down to business.

“I know we ain't ever dealt with each other before. Although me and your partner Black Sam is cool, I thought it would be better if I hollered directly at you.”

“Talk then.” Mike shrugged.

“Look, I'm tryna open up Fourteenth and Clifton with some of that China White you got, but I need you to sell it to me raw. How much can I get it for?”

“I can give it to you for a hundred fifty a key.”

“Got damn!” Butter yelled out in complaint.

“Shit, nigga. The blow can take a fifteen. I should be giving it to you for a hundred seventy-five, but on the strength of Linda, I cut you twenty-five thousand.”

“A'ight then, I understand. Right now I only got a hundred thousand. Can I owe you the rest?”

“I don't know about that. I gotta call my partner first to see if we got enough left to do that.”

“Oh shit! That'll be a blessing to call Sam, 'cause he owes me fifty thousand anyway.”

“Oh yeah? What he doing owing you?” Mike tilted his head in curiosity.

“I busted his ass shooting craps last night, and he turned around and borrowed it back, just so he could lose it to another nigga.”

“Damn. Well look, here's my pager number. Call me later, and I'll set it up for you.” He then quickly paid for his car wash and walk toward his Jaguar. Before leaving, he turned to shake Butter's hand, not out of friendship but for the information he indirectly gave him.

“Thanks Mike,” Butter yelled as he walked away.

“Anytime. See you later, Linda,” he called out as she got out of the driver's seat.

“Bye. And don't forget to tell Connie to call me,” Linda yelled out before getting back in the passenger seat.

Michael jumped into his freshly cleaned Jaguar and drove up to Wahler Place to pick up Gerald, a youngin' from Simple City who was in Mike's crew down Lorton. He had just come home, so Michael made Gerald his top lieutenant. Gerald was loyal and dependable. He handled everything from packages to murder.

As Mike pulled up, everybody stopped to speak to him.

“My muthafuckin' man, smooth-ass Mike P.”

“What's up, Fats?”

“Ain't shit. Out here tryna make that money,” he said while making a transaction.

Michael looked up and down the street, making sure Fats was safe while doing business. “Is everything cool?” he asked.

“Yeah, except the fact y'all pushed up the prices on a nigga,” he said with his hands in the air.

“What are you talking 'bout?” Mike asked. For all he knew, their prices never changed.

“Man, Sam came through here earlier talking 'bout I owe him a thousand dollars 'cause the prices went up. Shit, man, it ain't even a drought.”

Mike paused. “I know, Fats. Don't worry about it. You can keep paying your regular price. I'll talk to Sam.”

“Thanks, Mike. You a good nigga. I wanna be just like you when I grow up.”

“You're older than me, remember?” He chuckled and shook his head in amusement.

“Oh, that's right. Never mind me. You know I be trippin' sometimes.”

Michael smiled, and then continued to walk down the alley where Gerald set up shop.

Gerald emerged from the alley with gun in hand and shouted, “So what? Nigga, you getting bored with sitting on top collecting all that money? You wanna come back on the strip to see if you still can slang?” He was happy and honored that the man he looked up to as a father figure would come all the way down to the strip just to check on him.

“Nah, I came to pick you up. I wanna talk to you for a minute.”

“It ain't about my car. Is it, Mike?” Gerald was afraid that his mentor wouldn't approve of him buying a lavish gift.

“What car?”

“My new car. Sam ain't tell you?”

“Nah, I haven't seen Sam in two days,” Mike replied, looking confused.

“Oh well, I couldn't wait. The joint was so pretty that I had to get it.”

“Well, where's it at? Can I see it?”

“Come around back.”

For the first time, Michael was happy to see that Gerald had gotten something he liked. He purchased a candy apple red, turbo Nissan 300ZX.

“This joint is fast. Get in and see,” Gerald said.

“How much did you pay for this?” Mike asked as they took a drive up to the Starr carryout on Wheeler Road.

“Thirty thou'.”

“That's cool. I thought these joints were more than that. Man, I hope you still got something nice put up. I hate to see niggas buy cars then end up broke ‘cause they spent their last.”

“I still got a hundred forty thousand in the stash. I got a good deal at a dealer auction. ”

“That's good. I'm glad you're taking my advice about hustling.”

“You know we go a long way back, and whatever advice you give a nigga it's always in his best interest.” Gerald dipped in and out of traffic as they continued to talk.

“Hey Gerald, tell me something. What do you want out this game?” Michael asked. He had bigger plans for Gerald and wanted to make sure he was able to handle the new responsibility.

“For real, I'm cool with five hundred thousand. I can do a lot with that. Remember, we're from Southeast, and we're used to having nothing. So when we finally get it, we live how we want.”

“Yeah, I hear you, but I got an even better proposal.”

“Yeah? What's that?” Gerald asked, almost spinning in his direction, but still keeping his eyes on the road.

“Slow down, nigga. What you tryna do? Kill me?” he asked playfully.

“Oh, my fault.” He slowed down the sports car.

“Yeah, it's cool.” Mike glanced at Gerald briefly. “I'm gonna fire you as lieutenant and hire you as a partner. How 'bout that?”

“Partner? What! Partner? Did you talk to Sam about this?” Gerald cocked his head, instantly becoming curious.

“No, not yet. But regardless, I'm still pulling you in. We only got a couple more months left before we quit, and I want you to at least have a million before we stop.”

“A mill'? Damn, Mike!” he said, excited almost to the point of unbelief.

“What?”

“I mean, this shit is too damn good to be true.”

“Yeah, but you know I have a special interest in you. We go way back, and I could never forget your loyalty to me while in Lorton.”

“For real, Mike. I'll never forget that you saved my life. If it wasn't for you seeing my potential and pulling me up, I'd probably be on death-row or dead.”