Crave All Lose All (21 page)

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Spoon snapped.

“My bad, Spoon,” John-John said.

“Good night!” Spoon said.

In two hours he had to meet with the agents on the turnpike. Curiosity got the best of him. He walked into the living room, picked up the remote and turned on the 60” television. It was as clear as day, the home he and Tip had murdered three people.

Spoon had his eyes glued to the TV. He raised the volume.

“
Behind me in this home, the Nassau county police are investigating the murders of three people found shot to death late this evening. It was confirmed that one of the victims is the daughter of a DEA agent. His name is being kept confidential, as detectives comb the area talking to neighbors and looking for witnesses to this gruesome crime. Police are gathering information as I speak. Once again, three victims have been found shot execution style in
this Nassau home, and police urge anyone with any information to call crime stoppers at…”

Spoon turned off the TV and tossed the remote on the couch.

“Fuck,” he uttered.

What were the chances of Tate fucking the daughter of a DEA agent? Spoon thought. In a way, Spoon was glad that he murdered the little nigga.

Spoon made his way outside and hit the remote to the Range Rover. He glanced at the time. It was after ten. He was in a rush and peeled out the driveway without any idea that he was being watched by two goons.

Spoon was ten minutes on the Turnpike when his cell-phone went off. He looked at the caller I.D. and saw that it was Tyriq.

“This nigga,” he uttered.

He answered the call and exclaimed, “What’s good?”

“You heard, I assumed,” Tyriq said.

“Yeah, I heard.”

“We need to meet up,” Tyriq said.

“Ain’t no thing, when?”

“Tonight…? Where you at…?”

“Nah, tonight’s no good. I got thangs to handle,” Spoon said.

“You close by, I can meet you,” Tyriq said.

“I got thangs to do, Tyriq,” Spoon repeated.

“How long you gonna be?”

“Don’t know…but I get at you when I’m through,” Spoon said.

“You do that,” Tyriq said suspiciously.

“One...”

“One…” Tyriq replied dryly.

Spoon hung up the call and felt mistrust between him and Tyriq. Shit was about to hit the fan. First, the murder of a DEA agent’s daughter was gonna jump off crazy in the hoods. He was meeting with agent Smith and Pena to hand over audio recordings. It wasn’t much evidence but it was something.

Spoon pulled up the rest stop, parked his truck next to the black Sedan, looked around then made the move from his truck into the backseat of
the Sedan.

“You got sound?” Smith hastily asked.

“Yeah…” he said passing the recording device and leaned back in the seat.

“You okay?” Pena asked.

“Shit’s fucked up,” Spoon said. “We were fucking brothers, once. The three of us, now look at me…snitching on a nigga that’s family.”

“You’re doing the right thing, Spoon. You’re becoming a changed man,” Pena said.

“It doesn’t make me feel right!”

“Are you backing out, Spoon…huh? You know if you don’t cooperate, then you got twenty-five to life and if I push it, the death penalty. Don’t bitch up on us, now, Spoon…we like you. We wanna work with you, as long as you work with us,” Smith said.

“I want my kids out of Queens and put somewhere far from NY,” he said. “Y’all can do that for me?”

“We can work that out. You have to give us everything and be willing to testify against your associates. We want to know it all, murders, drug transactions… give us the Jamaicans, even if that means implicating yourself. We’ll guarantee immunity from prosecution. It’ll help with your case. You’ll be home to see your kids grow,” Smith said.

“This thang I’m doing is for my kids…”

“What’s on the tape?” Pena asked.

“It’s nothing hardcore. We don’t talk about murders that already happen. It’s a rule. I can put Tyriq in a place where he meets with the Jamaicans. I’ll confess to the murders I’ve done under him. I’ll give you Tip, his top enforcer. I’ll give you locations, drug runs, and back up the shit that’s said on that tape. You promise me the safety of my kids. I’ll give you every fucking thang.”

The agents smiled broadly, they finally had their main witness to bring down Tyriq and the Shotta’s. The tape ran for twenty minutes and they listened to every detail.

“It ain’t much but with you backing up everything. We’ll bring them down,” Smith said.

“Do you know anything about the murder of a DEA agent’s daughter?”
Pena asked.

“I’ll find out about that for y’all.”

“That agent is a good friend, his daughter was only seventeen,” Pena added.

Spoon got out of the Sedan and jumped back into his truck with an agenda. He called Melissa and asked about her and the kids relocating to a different city. He also asked the same of Wendy, his second baby mother.

 

It was midnight when Soul and Omega approached Tyriq in Omega’s pearl BMW rolling on 20” chrome rims. They carried disturbing news. Tyriq waited patiently with Tip near Tip’s truck parked by Baisley Park. Tyriq stood tall in the shade of night, clad in a three quarter length black leather jacket and smoking a Black & Mild. Tip sported a black hoodie the .45 concealed underneath.

Tyriq watched Soul and Omega come forward. These two hoods were his best soldiers. They were loyal and ruthless. Their names rang loud and they were becoming a feared duo.

“What y’all got for me?” Tyriq asked.

“It ain’t good, Tyriq,” Omega said.

“Ayyite, just fucking say it, I’ll decide,” Tyriq barked.

“We followed that nigga to Jersey Turnpike. He went south. It looked like he was in a rush to be somewhere,” Omega said.

“He was alone?”

“Yeah…”

“What about you?” Tyriq asked, looking at Soul.

“I went all through that nigga’s crib. I ain’t found shit to say that he’s a snitch. His crib was clean,” Soul reported.

“That don’t mean he ain’t snitching, Tyriq,” Omega said.

Tyriq looked troubled by the news. He had called Spoon earlier, and
he was definitely in a rush to be somewhere. Having doubts was upsetting Tyriq. He hated to think of Spoon as a snitch. They had twenty years of friendship between them.

“What you want us to do?” Omega asked.

“Y’all niggas did good,” Tyriq said. He tossed them a small knot of money. Omega and Soul drove off.

“What you think?” Tyriq asked Tip.

“Why take a chance. I know he’s your boy from back in da day. But that was back in da day. Times changed, people changed. Why chance it? We do him before he does us,” Tip said.

“That’s my nigga.”

“You got doubts right now. That ain’t good. He could bring us all down…even the DEA’s daughter...”

“What you been hearing?” Tyriq asked.

“Feds are stepping in, knocking down doors, and putting pressure on the block, trying to get niggas to talk. They want sump’n and they want it quick. If Spoon talking ain’t no telling what kinda shit he’s giving them, Tyriq. We gotta handle that,” Tip persuaded.

Tyriq puffed the Black & Mild in deep thought. Looking at Tip, he said, “Set it up. Let’s make it clean. I don’t want the whole world knowing.”

Tip nodded.

“I want Vince on this too,” Tyriq said.

“Why…?” Tip asked.

“Spoon will die by our hands, nobody else’s,” Tyriq said.

“I could take care of shit dolo, make it quick and everything disappear,” Tip assured.

“You got enough heat with that other thing. I want Vince on this. I wanna see where his loyalty stands. I wanna see what dude made of,” Tyriq said.

“You da boss,” Tip nodded.

Tyriq took one last pull from the burning Black and tossed it. Knowing that he had to murder Spoon hurt him deep. Spoon was his ride-or-die man from jump-street. To think a hardcore nigga flipped and turned informant had Tyriq worried. You snitch, you die. You steal, you die. You fuck up, you die.

Tyriq got into the truck and sat quietly for a moment. Spoon was
weighing heavy on his mind.

“You ready?” Tip asked.

“Just drive,” Tyriq said sounding irritated.

With Spoon out the way, Tip would be the man to run things. He had been patient and fearless, waiting for his time to shine. He drove off smiling.

Late that evening it was all over the front page of every newspaper in the city when I arrived in Queens. The cops and feds were busting heads in Queens and Brooklyn searching for killers. The daughter of a DEA agent had been gunned down in her father’s home with Tate and Notch, two small-time drug peddlers from around the way.

I laughed at the irony story and rolled up on the block. It was a fucking ghost town, mid-December and brick out. I saw the unmarked cop car posted near the corner bodega. The block was hot. I paid the pigs no mind, parked my ride and walked into the forty projects. I had to check on business.

My Philly connect was poppin. Since they murdered that young white bitch in LI and found out that the niggas was connected to a Queens’ drug crew, business slowed. It wasn’t affecting my pockets—moving product out of town was the move. I made my way down the hall to apartment 4b. I’d been out of town for two weeks and wanted to see what’s been going on. I knocked on the door and Soul answered being shirtless, an expensive long chain dangling from around his neck.

“Vince, what’s good my nigga,” Soul greeted me with a dap.

“Fuck’s been up…?” I asked walking into the apartment.

Soul closed the door behind me and said, “Yo, cops are gettin’ crazy out here. I know you already heard what went down with Notch and Tate. Them bitch-asses was fucking a DEA agent’s daughter and got bodied out there. Shit’s fucking bananas right now. Money is slow-mo.”

“I heard. Where’s Omega?”

“Tyriq got him handling some other shit.”

Three keys of coke were on the coffee table along with bag full of ecstasy and a 9mm. A naked bitch was sleeping with her head faced down on the couch—dead to the world.

“What the fuck, Soul!” I barked pointing.

“Yo, don’t mind that bitch.”

“Who is she?” I asked.

“Some hood-rat I’m fucking. Da bitch stays more fucked up than sober.”

“Get rid of her. We got enough problems.”

“You talked to Tyriq?”

“Not yet. Why is there a reason why I need to get up wit’ him?”

“Just asking…”

“Y’all niggas can’t get sloppy around bitches.”

“I’m on point, Vince. But I hear you.”

He went over to the couch and began rousing the girl.

“Bitch…get the fuck up!”

Soul slapped her in the back of her head and began pulling her off the couch. “Bitch, you heard what the fuck I said, you gotta go…get your naked ass up and bounce.”

“It’s like dat… Soul,” the hood-rat replied drowsily.

“I got business to take care of,” Soul barked pulling shorty by her arm to the door.

She sucked her teeth as Soul pushed her out into the hallway butt-naked and tossed her clothes out right behind her.

“You’re wild,” I said.

“I don’t give a fuck. She ain’t wifey.”

“I’m gonna get up wit’ y’ all niggas, later,” I said giving Soul dap.

“Watch your back out there.”

I left the apartment and went to the third floor to see Shae. Getting some of her good loving right now would do me good. I paid the rent and provided her with whatever she needed. I loved her and was taking care of her son like he was my own.

It was after eleven. I walked into the apartment, and saw Shae wrapped in a blanket on the couch watching TV. I didn’t want to disturb her.

Slowly, I tiptoed behind her and threw my arms around her, pulling
her close to me and kissing her on the neck. I loved the way she felt, smelled in my arms and talked to me. When I was with her, I stopped thinking about my life in the streets. I forgot about my problems with Chandra. I forgot my worries.

“I missed you.”

Shae’s sweet voice was warm.

“I missed you too, baby,” I replied squeezing her gently. “Jonathan’s sleep…?”

“I put him to bed an hour ago. How was Philly?”

“Business as usual...”

“Business, huh?” she teased.

“Baby, you’re the most important thing in my life,” I said kissing her on the neck.

“And you better not forget that,” she smiled.

I got under the blanket and embraced her lovingly. She was watching Sex and The city, one of her favorite shows. Under the blanket my hands began slowly feeling across her tender breasts down to her hips. I sucked on the back of her neck while sliding my hands under her T-shirt, cupping her breasts.