Crave All Lose All (9 page)

Sham and Marlon were knuckleheads from the neighborhood. They dabbled in everything from hustling, grand theft auto, pimping and murder. Thomas was killed several days ago beefing over money and pussy. They hid in Connecticut after the murder with bitches they’d met a year ago. Young, dumb and full of cum, they smoked, drank, fucked, and didn’t have a second thought about dropping bodies for quick cash. They made fast illegal cash, and spent it on pussy, drugs, bling and sneaks.

Sham and Marlon always hung out at Wave carwash on Springfield Blvd. It was no surprise that on their first night back in town, they were chilling in front of the carwash. Sham stood in front of his prized ‘68 red Camaro holding a beer in one hand and smoking on a joint with the next. He was a thug who felt he had something to prove to everyone, while Marlon was a developing crack-head, who loved to get high and be with his boys.

Several men stood around the two, as they gambled, drank, and shouted out obnoxious remarks to the ladies that passed.

“Your roll, nigga,” Sham shouted out, taking a mouthful of the brew.

Seth shook the dice in his fist and quickly let them lose. He rolled a straight four, losing a hundred dollars to Sham.

“Yeah, give me my money,” Sham hollered.

Seth handed over five twenties to Sham.

“Yo, run it,” Seth suggested.

“Ain’t nothing,” Sham said.

The dice game continued. Marlon waited for a pick up. He was fidgety, looking around for a quick high.

Seth looked at Marlon and shook his head in disgust.

“Yo, why do you even fuck with that nigga?” He asked Sham.

“We go way back. He always got my back,” Sham answered. “Just roll the fuckin’ dice.”

“You buggin’ having a crack-head watch your back,” Seth said shaking the dice.

Marlon saw the black BMW pulled up near the light and he quickly walked over.

“Why you late?” he asked the driver of the car.

“I’m here, right!” barked the driver.

“Fuck it, let me get two,” Marlon said, leaning into the car and handing him the cash.

Marlon quickly snatched the rocks and wandered off to enjoy his high somewhere private. He was crossing Springfield Blvd without looking at the black truck speeding down on him.

“There’s one of them right there,” Tip shouted. He gunned the truck in Marlon’s direction.

“Hit that muthafucka!” Tyriq said. He cocked the 9mm.

Marlon was like a deer caught in headlights when he saw the truck speeding in his direction. Within seconds, flesh and bones collided with metal and speed. There was a loud thud and Marlon was pinned under the vehicle with great intensity. His head split open like a melon.

“What the fuck!” Sham shouted rushing from the dice game when he heard the chaos.

He saw his man crushed under the truck and became enraged.

“Oh shit!” he screamed.

The doors to the truck flew open. Sham tried to reach for his .357
and was seconds too late. A burst of gunfire from two Mac-10s violently greeted him. He tried to run but the bullets tore into his frame like it was paper causing him to shake. A few rounds ate at his face.

Killer Ty and Bones enjoyed the massacre, squeezing death into Sham and Marlon like it was open season. Their eyes were darkened with murder.

Tyriq watched his two henchmen quickly throw the streets of Queens into chaos. Sham and Marlon’s people fled when they heard gunfire.

Sham was sprawled out on the cold concrete. His body contorted from the vicious attack. Marlon wasn’t any better. Killer Ty and Bones jumped back into the truck and sped off.

“Bitch asses! Ayyite, now my brother can rest in peace.” Tyriq sat back holding the 9mm.

My first run had me nervous a bit. I was transporting a mule carrying a few kilos to Albany. Tyriq had an operation brewing. He needed someone who could speak Spanish and I could. My grandmother on my mother’s side taught me Spanish since I was six years old. But she died when I was thirteen. Tyriq also needed me because I had a clean driver’s license and was a new face on I-95 and to State police, if pulled over.

We linked up at one of Tyriq’s stash houses in Queens. Tyriq had just received a sizeable shipment from the Jamaicans and was ready to distribute the product.

There were three girls and I was introduced to Shae, the mule going to Albany. She had a honey brown complexion and long, brown hair. The other two were going to Kansas City, and Charlotte. I watched as they readied the work for delivery. It was a surprise that Spoon or anyone of Tyriq’s lieutenants weren’t present. Twenty-four kilos of cocaine were on a large extended table.

“Y’ all get ready to carry this work, ayyite,” Tyriq said.

The three girls started undressing. They were down to their underwear. I was the only one who seemed distracted by them. Everyone else stayed focused on shipping out the product. I was seated in a chair, flipping through a magazine trying not to stare.

Three padded white suits were handed to each girl and they began putting them on. Shae strapped herself into one. The fat suits were made out of soft fiber clamped around the body by two straps. She looked pregnant.

Each suit was padded with a special lining that concealed six kilos apiece. Everything was done and the girls started to get dressed again. They
came in wearing tight jeans, stilettos, and sexy tops. They walked out clad in sweatpants, large T-shirts, and sundresses.

It was ten in the morning and we were looking at a three hour ride. I was ready to get into the rented silver, four-door Pontiac Grand Am and get shit over with. I had all the information needed for the trip.

“Vince, let me holla at you for a sec,” Tyriq said.

I nodded.

“Rule number one, keep your fuckin’ mouth shut. Rule number two, be about your business and keep sharp. Rule number three; never mix business with pleasure. And rule number four; get that money and do it right.”

We locked eyes for a minute and then he said, “Ayyite, be back here tomorrow, my nigga.”

I nodded again. We had to stay the night in Albany because Tyriq felt it was safer. Cameras were everywhere and he knew big brother was watching.

Tyriq didn’t want guns in the car, and everything was handled with latex gloves, so there wouldn’t be traces of drug resedue anywhere on the car. I was to meet up with one of Tyriq’s men at a certain location for protection and dependable transaction. Shae already knew the area and the man.

Ten thirty we were into the Pontiac and soon traveling to Albany.

 

Shae was quiet the entire ride. She looked beautiful pregnant. I listened to Biggie and Pac and thought about what I’d do with the ten grand Tyriq was paying me. I arrived in Albany at three in the afternoon.

We were to immediately meet at the Bus terminal over by Hamilton and Green with this dude called, Giant.

I pulled up by the bus station and Shae made a call. She told me to pull to the side and wait. I parked on Hamilton Street, across the street from the Ramada Inn and waited.

“I’ll be right back,” Shae said getting out of the car.

I started looking around, trying to be observant. The area wasn’t busy. A few people waiting for the scheduled buses arriving and departing.

Tilting the seat back, I turned up a biggie track and nodding my head to
Notorious Thugs,
trying to remain calm.

The sudden knocking on the passenger window scared the shit out of
me. It was Shae waving her hand, gesturing for me to follow her. I got out and she led me to the Ramada.

We walked in together, heading to the elevators. There was a small, frail white girl at the front desk that looked uninterested in us. She was too busy on the phone and barely glanced our way. Once in the elevator, Shae let out a sigh.

“You okay?” I asked.

She looked so real that for a second I forgot it was a stunt and I thought she was pregnant. We got off at the second floor and I followed her to room 204. She knocked on the door three times and waited. The door opened and a hefty man, in a sleeveless dark T-shirt, who was about five-nine came into view. He had braids, a thick goatee and sported wire-rimmed frames. His arms were huge and his chest stuck out like he was about to explode.

He moved to the side, we entered and he locked the door behind us. There were two 9mm’s with silver handles on the bed and a shotgun in the corner. Giant looked like he didn’t take any chances.

“How many…?” Giant asked Shae removing his glasses.

“Six,” Shae responded rubbing her belly.

Giant nodded, “Yo, your boy good?” he asked.

“Yeah, this is Tyriq’s homeboy.”

Giant stared at me for a moment, sizing me up. His arms were inked with tattoos and he kept a scowl on his face. “Yo, what happened to S.S?” he asked.

“The other dude got locked up for hitting on a cop,” she said.

Giant let out a stressful sigh and shook his head like he was annoyed. Then he went over to the bed, picked up a gun and slid a clip in.

“Ozone gonna meet us up on Clinton Street tonight. We got a few hours to chill. This is y’all room, so act normal and don’t go anywhere but from here to the lobby until the package is dropped off. Understood?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Don’t fuck this up,” Giant said glaring at me.

“Yo, I’m good,” I repeated. He was aiming his attention toward me when he said it and I didn’t like it.

I knew none of the key players in Albany and was only a driver. I knew to mind my business, get shit done and be out back to Queens in one
piece. I didn’t give a fuck about Giant or Ozone. Once I got back to Queens, I’d be ten-thousand dollars richer and it’d be all good.

Giant stashed his guns in a holster and placed the shotgun in a duffle bag. He then casually walked out the room.

I yawned, stretched and sprawled across one of the twin beds, trying to relax. I watched TV while Shae began making a call on her cell. I thought about fucking her. Staring at her back, I knew it wasn’t happening.

I flipped through different channels. There wasn’t shit on. Shae finally got off the phone.

“You could come out of that suit, ain’t you hot?” I asked.

“I’m okay. I’ll feel more comfortable when this shit is dropped off,” she said.

“How long have you been moving shit for Tyriq?” I asked.

“Long enough,” she returned, being short with me.

“Okay,” I said.

It was clear that she didn’t want to be bothered. I wanted to fuck that smart ass attitude out of her, but let it be. Shae took a nap and I watched some TV to kill time. Three hours later there was a loud knock at the door. I got up and went to the door.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Giant…”

It was time. We gathered up our things and followed him to a white Tahoe sitting on 24” chromed rims. Half hour-later, we were on Clinton Street ready to link up with Ozone.

Clinton Street was in the grimy section of town. It was littered with run down row houses and looked like a bomb had hit some parts of it. Crack-heads and hustlers sprinkled up and down the block conducting business in the midst of the dilapidated structures.

Giant parked and I helped Shae out from the backseat. Holding her hand, I guided her to the location. It was another badly maintained row of houses with thugs lingering out front.

Sunlight was coming to an end bringing dusk. I didn’t want to be caught here when night covered this hood.

“You speak Spanish?” Giant asked me.

“Yeah…”

“Good.”

One of the young thugs approached us. He was shirtless with his upper body covered in tattoos. He rocked a big chain around his neck, a doorag and Timberlands. His demeanor said he had juice in the hood.

“Giant, what’s good?” he greeted.

“What’s poppin, Everyday?” Giant replied.

Everyday looked over at me with a screw face and asked, “You gotta problem with me, puta!”

“Nah,” I replied.

We followed him down some tattered wooden stairs into the basement. This was a large factory where six workers were readying the work for street distribution. Wu-Tang’s
Protect ya neck
blared out a portable radio. My heart race as we went to a room in the back. Ozone was there. He was ghetto-rich. Ozone’s attention was on a fine mamacita with thick hips like J-Lo and long braids.

“Ozono, el paquete está aquí,” Everyday announced.

“Everyday, ¿Quién es este nuevo mutha fucker, y donde esta S.S?” Ozone asked.

Everyday shrugged and said, “No se, nunca he pedido.”

Ozone wanted to know what happened to S.S. Everyday had no idea.

I answered Ozone’s question. “Sorry for the trouble on my behalf, S.S. got caught up in a situation in Queens. So I’m here to replace him. ¿Hay un problema con eso?” I asked.

Everyday and Ozone looked taken aback. Ozone looked at me and said, “So you speak Spanish.”

“Si,” I replied.

Ozone smiled. “Please, let’s get down to business then.” He looked at his female companion and said, “Jessica, nos deja por un momento.”

She walked out the room. Shae undressed removing the suit and placed it on the table. Everyday undid the suit carefully pulling out keys out of the lining. Everyday smiled, holding two keys in his hand. “Pure white gold,” he said.

When the product was removed, Ozone handed a black duffle bag to me.

“A hundred and fifty-thousand upon delivery,” Ozone said.

I took the bag and counted the cash.

“That’s what’s up,” I said.

We stacked the money into the lining of the suit and Shae put it back on.

“What’s your name?” Ozone asked.

“Vince…”

“I like your swagger. Tell Tyriq, business is good up top and I’ll be giving him a call soon,” he said.

I nodded and walked out. We left for the Ramada.