Dopeman: Memoirs of a Snitch (Part 3 of Dopeman's Trilogy) (9 page)

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Authors: JaQuavis Coleman

BOOK: Dopeman: Memoirs of a Snitch (Part 3 of Dopeman's Trilogy)
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“Wake up baby,” he said as he rubbed her hair away from her face. Lola woke up and looked around, slowly remembering where she was.
“Did you win?” Lola asked as she sat up.
“No, baby, daddy didn’t win this time,” Bunkie said as he pulled his car out of the lot. He picked up his cell phone and made a call to Larry J. He needed to get some work on credit so that he could bounce back. This was the life of a gambler.
 
 
Bunkie pulled up to the quiet suburban area that was the residence of Larry J. Bunkie was good friends with the elderly man that had the keys to the city. They were locked up together years ago and had established a bond that stood strong when both of them got out. Bunkie turned off his engine and thought about dropping Lola off first, but he was itching to get back to the money. He had to go get the weight from Larry J before he changed his mind.
“Come on baby. Daddy has to go in for a minute.” He said as he talked and moved faster than he usually did. Lola didn’t know it at the time, but he was desperate. They walked up the long walkway that led to the door. Bunkie knocked on the door and moments later a tall, lean, dark skinned woman answered. She wore a black silk robe and a beautiful bright smile as she looked at Bunkie and then down at Lola.
“What do we have here? Look at this beautiful little thing. Come on in baby.” The lady said as she gently pinched Lola’s cheeks.
“Hey Shawna,” Bunkie said as he stepped in along with Lola.
“What you got this baby out this late for?” Shawna said as she threw her arm around Lola and guided her through the house. Lola looked at the red carpet and crushed velvet walls. It seemed like a scene straight out of the movie “Superfly”. Marvin Gaye was playing in the background and the lights were dimly lit giving it a relaxed vibe. Larry J was a veteran in the game but he was stuck in the seventies and it showed in his taste.
“She’s tough. My babygirl rode shotgun with me today. Ain’t that right, babygirl?” Bunkie asked.
“Yeah,” Lola replied as they made their way over to the gigantic red sectional. Shawna asked Bunkie and Lola if they wanted drinks and they both declined.
“Well, Larry will be out in a second,” she said as she faded into the back of the house. Bunkie nodded and clasped his hands as he patiently waited for his friend.
“It’ll be just a minute. We’ll be out of here in no time,” he assured his daughter. Just as he finished his sentence, Larry came from out the back sporting a robe. The smell of marijuana also entered the room right along with Larry J.
“My nigga,” Larry said as he held out his arms and waited for Bunkie to embrace him. Bunkie slapped hands with his friend and hugged him.
“Larry J! What’s happening?” Bunkie asked.
“Ain’t nothing going on, playa. And who is this wonderful young lady?” Larry asked as he looked at Lola.
“This is my baby Lola. Lola say hello to Mr. Larry,” Bunkie coached as he pointed to Larry.
“Hi,” Lola simply said.
“Hey sugar.” Larry said as he sat down and looked at Bunkie. His smile quickly turned into a cold stare. “How we gon’ talk business when you babysitting,” Larry J said cutting straight to the point.
“She’s good Larry. She’s a big girl.” Bunkie said with laughter in his voice but Larry didn’t find it funny.
“Okay, talk to me. I know it has to be important because shop is closed after six. You know that.”
“Well, I’ve gotten myself in a jam. I need your help.” Bunkie said as he rubbed his hands together nervously.
“Don’t tell me you were gambling again.” Larry J said knowing the answer before he even asked the question. Bunkie responded with a simple head nod, letting Larry know that he had fucked over his money once again. This was becoming a reoccurrence and Larry was appalled. Honestly, if Bunkie would have shaken his gambling problem, he probably would be Larry’s partner rather than just a buyer.
“You still owe me from the last batch Bunkie. I can’t do it. I just can’t.” Larry J said as he stood up and held his hands out, palms up.
“Listen, I will pay you back. I just need a couple zips to put back into the streets. It won’t take me no time to get you your money.”
“I just can’t do it potna’. I’m sorry,” Larry said as he headed to the back. He called Shawna so she could let them out.
“Larry J. Please! I’m begging you!” Bunkie said, putting all his pride to the side by begging in front of his daughter. He knew that Larry had a safe in the back where he kept all his dope and money and it was nothing for him to spot Bunkie a few ounces to get back right. Larry J was denying Bunkie because of principal, not because he didn’t have it to give.
Larry didn’t even have the courtesy to respond, he just headed to the back and just before he left the room, he looked at Lola who watched silently as the situation unfolded.
“It was nice meeting you young lady,” he said. He then looked at Bunkie who had his hands in a praying position. “Take your daughter home Bunkie. Have some pride about yourself,” he said just before he exited and Shawna entered. Shawna came in and walked them to the door. She told them both bye, and Lola and Bunkie walked back to the car. Bunkie was so embarrassed and so ashamed of what just occurred. The fact that his so-called friend had just rejected him deeply hurt his pride. Larry J had just cut Bunkie deep, very deep. Lola had never seen her daddy in this position and she could see the embarrassment in his eyes and demeanor.
They got into the car and Bunkie looked like he was thinking hard about something. Lola asked, “Daddy are you okay?” as she saw him staring into space.
“Yeah yeah, I’m okay baby. Buckle your seatbelt.” He instructed her as he started up the car. He reached underneath his seat and grabbed his .45 revolver, slipping it in his inner coat pocket as Lola watched closely. “Stay here. I will be right back,” he said just before he kissed her on the forehead and exited the car. Lola watched closely as her father made his way back to the house.
Lola witnessed her father knock on the door and when Shawna answered, he pulled out his gun and forced his way in. Lola’s heart began to pound as she couldn’t do anything but wait. Her young mind couldn’t fathom what was going on, but she would later find out that her father had went in the house and killed both Shawna and Larry. But not before he took all of the drugs and money out of the safe. It was a secret that she had to keep with her until the grave. Bunkie became the man in the streets after Larry’s death. No one knew he was behind the homicide, but Lola did.
She watched as they attended his funeral and people gave Bunkie hugs and condolences, not knowing that he was the one who caused the ceremony. At that moment Lola learned the ill side of the drug game. She experienced what the greed and allure of drug money could do to a person’s mind. People say money was the root of all evil, but Lola learned at an early age that
not having
money was actually the root of all evil. She also learned what using drugs would do to a person. Teri, her mother, taught her that lesson.
Later that night, when Lola returned home, she found her mother dead from a drug overdose. This crushed Lola and she was forced to move in with her father. But that was short-lived because he ended up getting life in prison. He got caught with fifty bricks of raw heroin only six months after Lola moved in with him.
Bunkie’s wife wanted nothing to do with Lola after he had passed away. Consequently, that landed Lola in a foster home until she was eighteen.
Lola went off for school for six years and returned to Columbus with her father’s reputation and a hunger to finish what he had started. That’s when she met Seven . . . and the rest is history.
Chapter Thirteen
 
Miami Heat
 
The sound of ropes slapping the concrete floor erupted through the walls of the building as Ball entered the boxing gym. Head low, hood pulled over his head and hands clasped tightly around the pistol inside his hoodie, he sauntered toward Dame, clenching his jaw the entire time. His eyes scanned the room as he took survey of the ten other feds that filled the room. They were supposed to be undercover as they sparred and trained inside the gym, but Ball was a street nigga with street instincts and his sixth sense was telling him that it was all staged. He wasn’t falling for the smoke and mirrors. Dame was prepared and had back up just in case anything went wrong. Ball was clearly outnumbered. Dame had never called a meeting in the daytime to avoid the traffic of business hours. It was always just the two of them so Ball was uncomfortable with the array of men around him. Dame stood in the corner of the room, waiting with arrogant impatience as Ball drew near.
“What’s with all the back up?” Ball asked, slightly irritated as he stood firmly in front of Dame.
“Insurance. The deeper you get the harder it gets to remember whose team you’re playing for,” Dame said sternly as the two men stared at each other hard.
“I know what team I’m on. Not by choice, but I know,” Ball replied with contempt, disgusted with himself for what he was doing.
“If that were true you wouldn’t need that pistol inside of your sweatshirt now would you?” Dame asked rhetorically indirectly letting Ball know that he was aware that he was armed.
Ball smirked but didn’t reply as he shuffled back and forth in his stance.
“What progress are you making?” Dame asked.
“You’ve heard of the all-star weekend right?” Ball asked.
“Of course,” Dame replied anxiously, eager to gain any internal information that Ball could supply.
“We’re going down there; me, Seven, and Lola. There’s a connect down there that Seven’s meeting with. Some big time nigga out of Miami,” Ball informed.
“I need a name,” Dame said.
“I don’t have a name,” Ball answered as he pulled on his fitted cap, obviously uncomfortable.
Dame moved in close to Ball and whispered harshly in his ear. “Stop the bullshit. I need names! You know I need names! This entire case is in the details. If Seven is meeting someone to cop in Miami, then that’s a connection that we need to know about. I need a name.”
“I don’t have a fucking name man. Seven ain’t stupid. I’m on a need to know basis. As a matter of fact everybody from Lola on down is on a need to know basis with that nigga. He doesn’t move sloppy, so I gotta play the game at his pace. If I rush the friendship and try to get him to give me info that he ain’t volunteering, I end up dead. The nigga will put two in me without even thinking twice,” Ball hissed.
“He wouldn’t dare,” Dame responded. “He doesn’t commit the murders. He just puts in the orders. What makes you think otherwise? Have you seen him commit a homicide?” Dame’s suspicion was peaked as he stared at Ball suspiciously.
“I don’t gotta see it. The nigga built like me and I would make a nigga extinct if I even thought he was fishing around in my pond. You got to let me do this at a slow pace, or not at all,” Ball said.
“Don’t forget, I’m calling the shots,” Dame challenged. “You don’t do it and I’ll have a 10x10 cell waiting with your name on it.”
“As long as I’m the one in there, I’ll take it at my pace. You need me Dame. You’ll never get another nigga this close to Seven and you know it. You asking me to dig for names? Is that pig shit coming out of you?” he insulted. “I know how to play it.”
Dame’s temper flared as his temperature rose at Ball’s blatant disrespect.
“Seven is expanding his operation. He’s moving from dope to coke so the meeting with this connect is important. I don’t know the when’s, where’s, or who’s ... all I know is that it’s going down in Miami, at All-star weekend and I’ve been asked to come,” Ball continued, putting the bravado to the side and getting back to the task at hand.
Dame nodded his head as he felt a sudden adrenaline rush. He was close to closing the biggest case in his career. He would surely be put on the fast track if he could catch this infamous fish.
“We’ll be down there in a room at the Rodeway Inn. We’ve done operations there before, so everything should run smoothly. We don’t want to be in the middle of the hustle and bustle. You’ll come to us to get wired up before you go to the meeting with the connect,” Dame said.
“And if I can’t get away?” Ball asked.
“You’ll think of something. You have to. Because if you go into that meeting without coming to see me first, I’ll get the warrant for your immediate arrest,” Dame threatened.
Ball walked out of the gym, shaking his head as extreme guilt overwhelmed him. He was doing some snitch shit and taking down one of the most loyal, thorough men he had ever encountered. Under better circumstances, Ball and Seven could have done great business together. But in his current state, the two couldn’t co-exist. Ball’s livelihood depended on Seven’s demise and although Ball was aware that he was pulling some snake shit, he had to look out for his own best interests. As he walked through the gym one of the feds eyed him harshly. Ball grilled the white man and stuck up his middle finger before storming out of the building.
 
 
Ball, Lola, and Seven pulled up to Port Columbus International Airport, and waited as the driver of the luxury limousine opened the door. Both men exited first and Lola waited patiently as Ball reached back to help her from the car. Seven smiled and shook his head. “Always a diva,” he said.
“No, I’m not a diva baby. Ball just knows how to be a gentleman, unlike somebody I know,” she replied as she walked past him and nudged him with her elbow. The driver unloaded their bags and Lola took her Louis Vuitton briefcase, leaving the rest of her four-piece set for the men to get. “I have the reservations. I’ll check us in while you guys get the bags,” she said.
She walked off, high heels murdering the pavement as her hips hypnotized every man she bypassed. She had Seven and Ball’s full attention as she walked around the people waiting in line to approach the counter.
“Damn,” Ball said.
Seven patted his man’s back and gripped his shoulder as he spun him back toward the luggage. “She’ll be the death of you my nigga trust me,” Seven said with a chuckle as he flagged over a bellboy. He pulled out a platinum money clip and peeled off a hundred dollar bill. “Yo, my man. I need these taken inside to the young lady at the counter,” Seven said as he pointed to Lola and handed the kid the money.
As Ball walked inside with Seven, it felt as if they were going on a vacation instead of business trip. The friendship with Seven seemed genuine and it ate at Ball’s conscience that he was conspiring to tear down the empire that Seven had built from the ground up.
Lola approached them and handed them their first class tickets. “Nobody will be in the first class cabin with us. I bought out the entire section so that we wouldn’t be bothered,” she said as she lowered the mocha colored Burberry glasses over her eyes. They boarded their flight and sat back as the plane lifted into the beautiful sky. Seven sat beside Ball and Lola took the seat across from them, immediately putting a sleeping mask over her face.
This trip was important for Seven. There was only so much territory he could occupy in Columbus with the dope. He had to move into cocaine distribution if he truly wanted to lock down his region. He had allowed the other hustlers to do their thing with the coke game because it didn’t directly stop him from eating, but nowadays crack was where it was at. He was missing out on a lot of money. Seven’s business savvy quickly convinced him to transition to something new. He was going to supply whatever the streets demanded and this new connect was world renowned for having the best product. All coke, no cut, straight from the fields of Columbia.
“I know I don’t have to tell you, but a lot is riding on this trip,” Seven stated.
Ball nodded his head. “It’s business first. You’re the coach. I’m just playing my position. Whatever you need me to do I’m there,” he replied.
“That’s why I like you,” Seven said as he signaled for the stewardess. “Can we get two vodka and cranberries? And also whatever meal you’re serving, you can bring that out now as well.”
“Right away sir,” the woman answered as she left to tend to Seven’s request.
“You’ve got your head on straight Ball. You’re a real nigga and I can respect that. I see you going far in this game. You’re smart and you’re a leader. I dig how you carry yourself. You remind me a lot of myself,” Seven praised.
Seven’s conversation was like rubbing salt on an open wound for Ball and he felt like shit as he replied. “Thanks fam.”
“A lot of men in your position would be gunning for my spot. They would be moving prematurely and asking for a role that they can’t handle. You move slowly. You’re patient. Loyal. A lot of niggas don’t get it but that’s the secret to lasting in this game. It takes loyalty,” Seven said as the stewardess delivered their drinks and meals.
Ball and Seven took their drinks, but looked at their food skeptically. “Damn I should have ate at the airport,” Ball said with a laugh.
“Don’t worry about it. We eating like king’s in M.I.A. Just get something on your stomach so I can get you fucked up young boy,” Seven said as he downed his drink.
Ball followed his lead and took his glass of liquor to the head, wincing slightly from the bite of the strength. “I thought you said it would be all work and no play.”
“Nah, we’ll have plenty of time for relaxation after the meeting is over,” Seven informed.
“Good, good. I’ve got a little chick down there that I might get at while I’m in town,” Ball said.
Seven lifted his plastic cup and tapped it against Ball’s. “You got em’ in every city huh?” he joked.
Ball’s thoughts drifted briefly to his dead fiancée. He knew it was the farthest thing from the truth, but he nodded his head arrogantly. “It ain’t shit. Just a broad I used to fuck with whenever I came to town.”
“Ughh, this conversation is boring me,” Lola groaned as she pulled up her eye mask and reached over for Ball’s drink. She sipped it slowly and handed it back to him, “Nobody wants to talk about your little jump off.”
Ball sensed a hint of jealousy in her voice and winked his eye at her as her tight lips curved upward in a smile.
 
 
The sun shined in Miami and the wind from the Atlantic Ocean blew the palm trees peacefully as the threesome emerged from the airport.
“The meetings’ not until seven o’clock,” Seven said as they entered the limo that was waiting curbside for them. “That’ll give us some time to clean up.”
They made their way to the Palms Hotel and checked into their respective rooms. “Meet me in my room at 6:30. Don’t be late,” Seven said, speaking directly to Ball. “Lola we’ll check in with you after we get back, ma. Enjoy the day, do the spa thing, whatever you want. It’s on me.”
The three went their separate ways and Ball immediately rushed into his room, locking the door. He put the deadbolt in place just to ensure that no one could come into his room. He scoured his room looking for any sign that it had been bugged and after a half hour of searching he felt secure. He picked up his cell phone and sent a text message to Dame.
Just arrived. I’m on my way. What room number?
Minutes later Dame responded ...
Room 814
Ball looked at the clock and saw that he had three hours before he needed to meet Seven. He walked out onto the balcony and admired the view of the ocean. The luxury, five-star hotel sat directly in the middle of South Beach and he couldn’t help but think that he was living the life. This was the type of lifestyle he had hustled so hard to provide his woman with, until all the pieces came crashing down. Now that he had finally attained it, he couldn’t help but be disappointed that it was only temporary.
Ball left the hotel and caught a cab to the inn where Dame was waiting.
“How did you get away?” Dame asked.
“Just strap me up,” Ball replied. Being in Dame’s presence put a bad taste in Ball’s mouth. Dame was like a mirror showing Ball his two faces. He had turned into the same type of man that he despised; a snitch.
Ball removed his shirt as an agent taped the wire to his rock hard abs. “You can speak regularly. This wire is sensitive so it will pick up the slightest sound ... even a whisper, so just act natural.”
Ball nodded his head as he buttoned up his shirt. “Let’s just get this over with,” he mumbled. “Just for the record, Seven’s a good dude.”
“Seven’s a drug dealer and a murderer,” Dame answered matter-of-factly.
“How many people have you shot with your gun?” Ball countered. “I’m sure you’ve nabbed a few drug dealers too ... how much of their weight did you leave off of your reports?”

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