The Union (7 page)

~THE UNION~

Javier Ramirez, 24 years old, 5ft 9inches, born in Guatemala is the elected Brooklyn Union Rep. He was the one that got Mox the job at Shiny Gleam in 2000. They developed a firm relationship after Javier helped him with the Deandre issue.

Following Mox’s incarceration, Javier built his reputation on the streets as a stick-up kid in Yonkers. In 2006, he was pulled over on the New Jersey turnpike with 20 pounds of marijuana and went to the feds for 36 months.

Besides his Union Rep seat, Javier is one of Mox’s most trusted men. He handles the supply of most the lower level Brooklyn dealers and alongside that, he owns a used car lot.

Frank Williams, 26 years old, 6ft tall, 205 pounds, from Greenburg is the Staten Island Union Rep. Frank earned his nickname, “The Chess Player” because of his strategic maneuvers to elude authorities and outthink his enemies. Back when they worked at the car wash, Frank was on windows and tires, now he’s rich, intelligent and handsome with a strong hold on the coke game in Staten Island. Frank was said to be worth millions.

In 2009, he opened up a nightclub in Manhattan called “RED” and hired Cleo as head of security. He also helped Mox get back in position when he came home, by fronting him the buy money on five kilos.

Mox admired the fashion in which Frank did business. He was always truthful and never afraid to speak his mind. On top of that, he controlled a small army of killers who left no witnesses. Frank is another amongst the few, who gained Mox and Cleo's trust.

Nate Barnes, 25 years old, 5ft 6inches, 200 pounds, is the Union Rep for the borough of Manhattan. He is by far the most callous of the bunch and is known for his dark glasses, brash attitude and thirst for blood. A short time after leaving Shiny Gleam, Nate became a hired gun for a Peruvian drug cartel, and now has strong ties to some of the world’s wealthiest people and is feared globally.

Nate was the only person Mox kept in contact with during his vacation, because he dwelled in the circle of assassins. If anybody could find out information on the man who killed Mox’s parents, it was him, so he kept him close.

Papi, 28 years old, 5ft 8inches, 175 pounds, is in control of the Bronx borough. While working with Mox at the car wash, Papi stashed as much money as he could before leaving and was able to open up two bodegas on the Northside of the BX. Mox mainly used the stores as stash spots.

Just like in prison, if it was a weapon you needed, all you had to do was go see the Spanish dudes. On the streets, it was no different. Papi had the illest gun connect heard of and anything The Union needed, he supplied. To be the most humble out of the crew, Papi had the means to cause the most damage.

The Union would meet with the Italians on the first Sunday of the New Year at the Pallazzo Hotel in Las Vegas to discuss the previous month’s earnings and go over the outline for the current quarter. Any disputes Union Reps have toward each other are addressed at the meet and usually taken care of.

The meeting was less than two weeks away, and Cleo was hoping that everything would go well. He was aware of the tension between his cousin, Mox, and the Italians, but he was pretty sure it could be diffused before things get out of hand. What Cleo didn’t know was that Mox had his own agenda and he was playing by his own set of rules.

SEVEN

A dense fog settled on the quiet night as Cleo stood, gun in hand, red beam dancing on Supreme's forehead. He honestly didn’t know how it had gotten to this point, but what he did know was that shit was about to get real.

His heart beat at a high rate, and his stomach was in a twist, but he had to get this done. It was his only chance to prove himself to Mox.

His hands, covered in black leather gloves, held the .40 caliber weapon firmly. His breathing was heavy after running half a block; Cleo wasn't a little dude. He stood 6 ft. 3 inches and weighed in at 302 pounds, so that half a block chase had him wheezing.

“You had to make me run, huh?” Cleo gasped. “It didn't have to come to this.” he looked directly into Supreme's his eyes.

Not a speck of fear was visible. Preme wasn’t a sucker; he was a certified gangster. “You ain’t built for no bodies, Cleo.” He drawled. “You a business man, you ain’t no killa.”

Cleo thought for a second, maybe he was right. Then again, maybe he wasn't.

“You know what?” He took a step closer. “You absolutely right, Supreme.” Cleo placed the cold steel barrel to the middle of his eyebrows. “This is business, never personal.”

He squeezed the trigger with his index finger and a round was released through the chamber. It created a deafening sound that could be heard for blocks.

The slug blew half of Supreme's brain onto the brick wall and his body collapsed to the moist pavement.

Cleo stood still for what felt like minutes, but were actually seconds, staring at Supreme's empty body. Not even realizing how far he had gone. He snapped out of his trance and departed the scene before police arrived.

__________

Mox gripped the steering wheel of the all black Denali as it muscled down the highway in route to his destination. He sang along with Sade's soft, soulful voice as ‘Soldier of Love’ whispered through the speakers.

I’m a solider of love…

Today Mox wasn’t feeling good at all, and that usually wasn't the case. A sudden tragedy had caused a major shift in the plans.

The music went silent and a beeping sound came through the speakers. It was Mox's Bluetooth connection. He looked at the display on his cell phone and quickly hit accept. He hoped it was the call he had been waiting on.

“Wassup?” He answered.

“That little birdie that's been singin' outside your window is no longer a problem.” The caller assured.

“Beautiful. That's why I love you.” Mox smiled and reached his hand over to caress the leg of the beautiful, young lady sitting in the passenger seat. “Meet me at Vito's spot, tomorrow afternoon. Peace.”

Tamika quickly pushed Mox's hand off her leg and sucked her teeth. “Who da fuck was that?”

“What I tell you about minding my business, Tamika... jus shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride. Please.”

Tamika's neck twisted and she wore a look of astonishment. “Nigga, I don't know who da fuck you think you talkin' to, but I damn sure ain't one of dem bird bitches you use to fuckin' wit.”

Mox smirked and hit the right blinker indicating that he would be getting off at the next exit. He really didn't like Tamika, personality wise, but she was gorgeous and she had a name and that’s all that mattered to Mox at this time. He wasn't a fool; he knew she was only with him because he was a young, street nigga with a lot of money, but he also had his own personal reasons for befriending her.

“What makes you so different, Tamika?” He questioned. “Sit here and tell me you ridin’ in my shit cause you like me. Go head and tell me that lie. You fuckin’ me because I got money, Tamika; I'm that nigga!” He shouted, pulling up to a red light.

Tamika rolled her eyes, knowing he was absolutely correct, but she didn't give a fuck. This was her game. She only dealt with dudes that had money and she sure wasn't concerned whether it was legal or illegal. Her mentality was, use what you got, to get what you want.

Once they exited the highway, all the roads were pitch black. Mox came to a stop and looked right to left for a street sign to help him figure out where he was. He and Tamika had been on the road six and a half hours in route to Danville, Virginia from New York City.

Once he recognized the area, he relaxed. The light turned green and Mox pulled over to the curb.

“What you pullin' over for, Mox?”

Mox put the truck in park, hit the overhead light, reached to the backseat and grabbed a newspaper article. He glanced at it, shook his head and held it up for Tamika to see.

“You see this?” Mox said.

The clipping had a picture of a brown skinned kid with wavy hair and a chipped tooth smile. He was standing in the middle of a basketball court holding a ball.

The headline read:
'First round NBA draft pick killed in robbery'

Tamika looked confused. “I don’t understand?”

Mox leaned his seat back and snatched the pearl handled nine from his waistline. He looked at Tamika and calmly placed it on the middle console. “I’ma give you another chance. Please don’t lie to me. I’m beggin’ you.”

Tamika's nerves raged; she was terrified.
I should’ve listened
.

They told her this nigga was crazy.

She could barely get the words out. “Ye…yes, I remember.”

“Good.” Mox smiled. “Now, take a real good look at this kid’s face.” he said, pointing at the young man’s face.

Tamika took the clipping and put it to her face to see it clearer. She knew who it was, but now he looked even more familiar.

 
She glanced at Mox.

He sat, smiling. The same smile the kid had minus the chipped tooth. She couldn't believe it.

“You can't believe it right?” Mox was holding the pearl handled weapon in his right hand, pointed directly at Tamika's head. “That was my little brother, Tamika.” Mox cried.

She reached for the door handle, but the door was locked.

She tried the unlock button, but nothing happened. She screamed to the top of her lungs. “HELP! PLEASE! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!”

Mox switched the gun to his left hand and wiped the tears from his cheek. “Bitch, you can scream for help all you want. Ain’t nobody gon' hear you.”

He wasn't lying either. The Denali he was driving was a one of one, exclusive, presidential edition. Fit with bombproof exterior, soundproof interior and right now, parked on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere; the black matte color made it invisible.

Tamika continued screaming and trying to escape the armed fortress. A swift blow to the side of her face with the butt of the gun calmed her down.

She curled over, holding her wound, head between her legs.

“I loved my brother, Tamika.” Mox sniffled. “He was my heart.”

Casey Daniels was considered the best shooting guard to come out of New York in the last five years. He led UCONN to a National Championships and also led the Big East in scoring.

Casey was one of kind and he had just signed a twenty million dollar endorsement deal with Nike. He earned the top pick in the draft and was headed to Washington to play with the Wizards, but his life was cut short when Tamika and an accomplice robbed and shot him in his hotel room. They took $7,500 in cash, a Hublot wristwatch worth five thousand and his life, which was priceless.

When he received the phone call from Cleo about the murder, Mox wanted to believe it was a joke, but then he realized nobody around him joked about things of that nature. The news was sudden and overwhelming. A horrified feeling of emptiness and discomfort quickly settled in the pit of his stomach. His other half was gone. He was barely living with the tragic double homicide of both parents, and now this. At the time he got the news, he was on his way to celebrate Casey’s remarkable accomplishments, but sadly, that intended celebration would be halted forever.

The only information Mox had on the incident was what Cleo told him about a female named Tamika, who supposedly was the last person seen with Casey in the hotel. That and a bunch of mixed up stories from the police and media about an accomplice.

A week or so after the tragedy, Mox had Tamika’s full name, address, date of birth, cell phone number, house number, social security number, credit score and anything else he needed to get in contact with her. He followed her and monitored her movements for days until he had her routine figured out, and then he approached her. He knew she wouldn’t know who he was, because not many people did. He did his best to keep his lifestyle away from his brother’s success.

Mox was familiar with the type of female Tamika was, he attracted her kind all the time. It only made it easier for him to turn their social acquaintance into a night of heavy breathing, shit talking and ass slapping. After he fucked her a few times, he led her to believe she was going to assist him in moving some work out of state. Of course, her greed, thirst, and perilousness went uncontested. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Mox could possibly be her next victim, but she was clueless as to what was really going on. It didn’t take much and when she went for the bait, she got hooked.

Mox was furious. He tried to gather himself. He cocked the barrel of the handgun and a bullet slid into the chamber.

His eyes filled with fury.

A rainfall of tears ran down Tamika’s pretty face, smudging her make-up. “Please, Mox, don't do this. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“My brother had a bright future, Tamika. He was the only one that graduated high school, he was making something of his self and he was my ticket outta this lifestyle... you got him killed.... you fuckin' bitch!”

Tamika looked into Mox's eyes and knew she didn't stand a chance. There was no escaping her fate.

Bizarre and distorted visions of Casey and his parents flashed before Mox's eyes. The gruesome scene in which his mother and father were murdered was right in front of him. He was standing in that exact room, his little brother hanging over his shoulder, looking down at their parent’s, mutilated bodies.

Mox wiped his face of tears a second time and watched Tamika as she rocked back and forth in the cushy, leather seat and prayed. He pressed the gun to her head. “Who set this shit up? Who was you wit!?”

She never stopped rocking, but mumbled, “I don’t know.”

“Bitch!” He pressed harder against her temple with the weapon. “Stop lying to me!”

“I swear I’m not lying.” Through cries, she tried to explain. “All they told me was the time they would be there and how much they were going to pay me. When he came in…” her breathing was erratic. “I was in the bathroom.” she continued to rock. “Please God, don’t let him kill me. I’m sorry. I swear. I’m sorry…”

“You can get down on your knees and pray to the heavens above and ask God for whatever it is you want, but until you believe in those words, the only thing you doing is wasting your breath.”

The barrel jumped back and the slug pushed Tamika's head to the passenger seat window. Her brains decorated the glass.