Eviction Notice (23 page)

CHAPTER 33

“You see my
kid brother on his shit?” Lakim smiled.

“Looks like kid brother is about to get into some grown-man shit. I can’t front, shorty had an onion,” King admitted.

The waitress had finally found her way back with the liquor King had sent her for. She was carrying a fifth of Crown Royal and a bottle of champagne. She placed the Crown in front of King and headed over to Shai’s table with the champagne. King watched her closely as she placed the bottle down in front of Shai and spoke in a hushed tone. Swann said something to her, to which she just shrugged her shoulders and walked away.

“So what’s good, we gonna step to this nigga or what?” Lakim was staring daggers at Shai and his team.

“We gonna take care of business in a minute,” King told him.

“God, you been saying that all night and so far all we’ve done is sat here and stared at them. I say we step to them cats and speak our piece.” Lakim was getting impatient.

“Nah, I think we’ll let them come to us,” King said coolly.

“A’ight, now I know you bugging. What reason would Shai’s people have to step to us?”

“Lakim, sometimes you don’t need a reason when you have a well-laid plan.” King cracked a devilish grin as he watched Holiday walking toward them.

*   *   *

“Here you go,
fellas.” The waitress set a bottle of champagne on Shai’s table.

“Sweetie, we didn’t order this,” Shai told her.

“Compliments of the gentleman over there.” She nodded across the room.

Shai looked to see where she was pointing and saw a brolic sipping a bottle of water. He was watching Shai, but it was more of a curious stare than threatening. “Tell him thanks, but no thanks.” Shai pushed the bottle away.

“Look, dude gave me a hundred dollars to make sure that I didn’t bring it back, so unless you’re giving me two hundred that’s on y’all,” she said and walked away.

“Bitch,” Swann spat.

“What’s good with that kid? He’s been watching us all night,” Angelo pointed out.

“I don’t know. Do you know the nigga, Shai?” Holiday asked.

“I’ve never seen him a day in my life,” Shai said.

“Then let me roll over there and ask him what the fuck he’s looking at.” Holiday got up.

“Chill the fuck out.” Shai’s voice froze him. “Take the bottle back and tell them niggaz we good, but don’t cause a scene.”

“I got you, B.” Holiday grabbed the bottle off the table aggressively.

“I’m serious,” Shai warned.

“Okay, Shai.” Holiday headed across the room. “What’s good?” he addressed King James.

“I see you received my gift.” King nodded at the bottle.

“Yeah, good looking out but I can’t accept this.” Holiday held the bottle out toward King but he didn’t move.

“That’s cool, because I didn’t send it to you, I sent it to Shai,” King said coolly.

“Well, right now I speak for Shai and we good.” Holiday slammed the bottle on King’s table.

Dump and Lakim moved, but King raised his hand for them to be still. “You know it’s bad form to insult someone by returning their gift, but being that you’re just a solider I’ll overlook it. Tell Shai that I sent the bottle over as a peace offering so that maybe we could sit down like men and discuss my grievance.”

“Your what?” Holiday had no idea what the word meant. “What the fuck you mean you wanna discuss something with my dude? My nigga, I don’t know who think you are, but you ain’t him.”

King placed his water bottle on the table and calmly stood up. He was taller than Holiday, so he was looking down on him when he spoke. “First of all, I ain’t ya nigga, sun. As far as who I am, my name is King James.”

At the mention of his name, the word
enemy
flashed through Holiday’s brain. “Muthafucka.” Holiday reached for his gun, but King’s hand clamped around his wrist, preventing him from clearing the gun. He struggled but King’s grip was like steel.

“You simple-minded-ass li’l nigga.” King slapped Holiday viciously across the face, dazing him with the powerful impact. “I told you all I wanted to do was talk, but you gotta make a movie, huh?” King slapped him again. Holiday’s head whipped back and forth limply with every slap.

A bouncer who had been standing nearby tried to intervene, which was a mistake. Dump swung one of his clublike fists and knocked him out. Seeing the commotion, Swann and Angelo sprang into action, guns drawn and murder in their hearts. Lakim broke two beer bottles and tossed one to Dump as they jumped between King James and the approaching killers. They were outgunned but it didn’t matter to them. They were brothers and the fate of one would be the fate of all.

King stood there, still manhandling Holiday, watching the plan he had so carefully laid being dashed to hell because the youngster couldn’t control himself. Looking at his men wielding their broken bottles and Shai’s men wielding their guns, it was obvious how it would play out. He wrapped one of his massive hands around Holiday’s neck and began to apply pressure. If they were going to die, at least he would take one of theirs with them to hell.

“Enough,” Shai’s voice boomed out. He stood there like the calm in the middle of the storm of violence. He walked up to King James, who was still strangling Holiday. “My dude, you see what it is, so you know that this can only end poorly. Tell your people to fall back and I’ll do the same.”

“All I wanted to do is holla, but ya man was outta pocket,” King snarled.

“And that’s for me to discipline the young boy, not you. I don’t want my people going to prison or your people going to the morgue, but that’s exactly how it’s gonna play out if we get it on in this club. Let go of my man and tell your people to stand down. This is the last time I’m gonna ask you.”

King weighed it. For as much as he wanted to kill Holiday, he wanted his men to live more. “A’ight.” He shoved Holiday away roughly.

When Holiday caught his breath he tried to rush King, but Shai caught him by the back of his shirt and spun the young man to face him. He spoke in a hushed tone so that only Holiday could hear him. “You defy me in public again and you won’t have to worry about this nigga killing you, because I’ll off your li’l ignorant ass myself, understand?”

“Yeah, Shai,” Holiday said fearfully.

“Good.” Shai smoothed the wrinkles in Holiday’s shirt. “You’ll get your chance, but not here and not like this.” Once he had calmed Holiday, he turned his attention to King James. “Dude, what the fuck is your problem?”

“Shai, it’s like I was trying to tell ya li’l man, I only wanted to talk. There was no disrespect intended,” King told him.

“Who the fuck are you to want to talk to me about anything? You cause a scene in my friend’s club that could send us all to prison if the police were called and then talk some
no disrespect
shit? This shit goes beyond disrespect, my man. If this club didn’t belong to a friend of ours I’d have you and your whole team taken into the alley and shot, then ship your heads to your mothers as a lesson as to why they should’ve used birth control.”

“Is that right?” King asked defiantly.

“Muthafucking right.” Shai got in his face, trying to intimidate King, but all he did was smirk. “You’re smiling like what I’m saying is funny. Am I a joke to you?”

“Nah, you ain’t no joke, Shai, you’re the boss,” King said in a less-than-sincere tone.

“Then wipe that fucking smile off your face,” Shai ordered.

“Look, Shai, I ain’t trying to go back and forth with you, sun. I got something I need to holla at you about right quick, then we’ll be on our way,” King said, finding himself increasingly irritated with the way Shai was talking to him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep himself from taking a swing at him and making the situation worse.

“Blood, you got a problem understanding English?” Swann stepped up. “Ain’t shit to talk about. Now why don’t you and these project niggaz you brought in here with you get the fuck outta here while you still can.” He cast a casual glance at the entrance of the VIP, where several men had just come in. They took up positions behind Swann and glared at King James and his crew.

King James looked from Swann and his small army back to Shai. “So it’s like that, Shai?”

Shai raised his hand in the air and closed it into a fist. When he did so, his men formed a circle around King James and his crew. “It’s like that and then some. Good night,” Shai said, dismissing him, and walked back to his table.

Three bouncers who worked for Brick City closed in on King James and his crew and without words let them know that they had overstayed their welcome. Lakim and Dump looked to him for their next move, and he motioned that it was time to go. King lingered behind to bring up the read as the bouncers escorted them out. Holiday was hunched over Shai’s table, shooting him daggers. King gave him a knowing nod as both of them knew that their business was far from concluded.

“Bitch-ass niggaz.” Dump bumped the bouncer at the VIP entrance on their way out. As they made their way down the stairs, the stripper with the pink hair they’d seen on the screen was making her way up. “Baby, that was a hell of show you put on out there,” Dump told her.

“Thanks.” Porsha smiled.

“Dump, come on, we ain’t got time for that shit right now,” King barked.

“A’ight, nigga, damn.” Dump reluctantly followed.

“Yo, God, we can’t leave Zo,” Lakim said to King.

“We ain’t leaving him, we’re just getting out of harm’s way. We got a pass because we’re in a public place but ain’t no telling if the treaty will hold when we’re off the club’s property. I’ll feel a lot safer once we get back to the whip and arm up. Hit Zo on the jack and have him meet us out front,” King told him. “I don’t even think Shai and them knew Zo was with us, and even if they did, they ain’t gonna try nothing in here. Zo will be good until we regroup.” King was relieved when they were out of the club and in open space, but that feeling quickly faded when he realized that the truck wasn’t where they’d left it. “Fuck did this li’l nigga go with the whip?” King looked around nervously. “La, I told you I ain’t wanna fuck with that li’l nigga, he ain’t even on point!” No sooner had the words left King’s mouth than the big truck screeched to a halt a few feet away from them. Alonzo was behind the wheel and Ashanti was in the backseat. King hopped in on the passenger side while Lakim and Dump sandwiched Ashanti in the back.

“Fuck y’all niggaz was at, it almost went down,” Lakim snapped once they were all back in the whip.

“My fault, I had a li’l situation, B,” Alonzo told them, peeling out of the parking lot. When they passed under the streetlight, King saw the blood on his hands.

“What’s good, you hit?” King asked nervously.

“I’m good, it ain’t my blood,” Alonzo told him.

“At least not all of it,” Ashanti joked from the backseat. None of them would get the joke until Alonzo filled them in on the way back to New York.

*   *   *

After King and
his rowdy bunch were cleared out of the VIP, it was back to business as usual. The confrontation between Shai and King James spread through the club like wild fire, and everyone was buzzing about the mysterious cat who had the balls to challenge New York’s underworld boss. It had even reached the ears of Paulie, who had rushed upstairs to offer Shai his apologies.

“Shai, I’m sorry about that whole thing,” Paulie said for the seventh time.

Shai waved him off. “Paulie, I keep telling you that wasn’t on you so don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, but this is my club so everything that goes on in here is on me. I don’t even know how those guys got up here, but trust me, the guy who let them slip by is gonna find himself on the soup line tomorrow.”

“That ain’t necessary, Paulie. I don’t blame him for this; I blame myself because I should’ve nipped it in the bud earlier.” He cut his eyes at Swann, who was still fuming. “Paulie, you’ve done a great job with this place and I’m glad to be in on the ground floor.”

“Thanks, Shai, but I couldn’t have done it without your help. Hey, let’s toast to it!” Paulie suggested.

“I’d love to, but we gotta cut out.”

“C’mon, Shai, don’t let that street shit ruin your night. Stick around for a while, I’ll have some more bottles and a few of the girls sent up here for you.”

“Thanks, but no. I got some things I need to take care of early in the morning anyhow. Thanks for the offer though.” Shai shook Paulie’s hand.

“Anytime, anytime. Listen, you gotta come by on Sunday. We’re kicking off amateur night and I’d love to have you on hand as a special guest judge.”

“I’ll let you know, Paulie. Let’s go, fellas,” Shai told his crew.

“I don’t like those cats, Shai. People like King James don’t have the good sense to be scared of anything,” Angelo said.

“Word, I’m with Angelo. That nigga King James was out-of-bounds. I say we blast on them niggaz ASAP,” Holiday said.

“You don’t
say
shit, Holiday. I’m still running this candy shop,” Shai reminded him. As much as he hated to admit it, Holiday was right.

“Still think this beef is gonna stay in the streets?” Swann asked.

Shai gave Swann a knowing look. “These niggaz seem to be forgetting their places and need to be taught a lesson. Tighten that muthafucka up.”

Swann knew without his having to say so that Shai wanted King James dead. “Say no more, my nigga.”

CHAPTER 34

“Damn, I can’t
believe it almost went down in here,” Tone said after King and his crew had been escorted out.

“I told you that nigga King James was bad news,” Devil reminded him.

“More like stupid.” Don B. snorted. “Who in their right mind is gonna try and style on Shai Clark? For as heavy as we are in the streets, even we know better than that. Moving like that, ya man King James has got a life expectancy of about twenty minutes. Speaking of time”—Don B. looked at his watch—“what the fuck is up with ya man Gotti? We been waiting for this nigga Lord Scientific to go on all night.”

“It shouldn’t be too much longer. Gotti went downstairs to get him set up a few minutes ago,” Tone told him.

“Well, he better hurry the fuck up. The Don doesn’t like to be kept waiting, so I’m about ready to bounce,” Don B. said, crushing some weed up in a blunt on the table. He skillfully rolled it up and sparked a lighter on the end of it. Through the flames he saw the stripper with the pink hair walking toward him. “Then again, I may have a few more minutes to kill.”

“What’s goodie, big time?” Porsha sauntered over.

“That’s Big Dawg, and now that you’re here, everything is good.” Don B. looked her up and down. “Don’t just stand there looking all good, take a load off, ma.” He patted his lap. Porsha took the seat next to him instead. “Damn, mama, I ain’t gonna bite you, at least not yet.”

“I don’t like to be bitten. Spanked, maybe, but I don’t do the biting unless I’m biting my lip in pleasure when I’m getting dicked down,” Porsha teased him.

“We might be able to arrange that.”

“Slow down, speedy, and let’s start with a drink first.” Porsha helped herself to a glass of champagne. Her cockiness turned Don B. on.

“It took you long enough to come check for a nigga, ma.”

“I was a li’l busy, as if you didn’t see my show,” Porsha told him.

“Shit, every nigga in the joint seen ya show. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was airing on pay-per-view too,” Don B. joked.

“They can show that muthafucka on the moon as long as I get my cut, ya heard?” Porsha said seriously.

“I like a chick that’s about her paper,” Don B. told her. “But on some G shit, I dig ya style, ma.”

“That makes two of us, because I dig my style too.”

Don B. laughed. “You a funny chick. Check, after I conduct this li’l business I’m gonna slide outta here. Why don’t you go get dressed and we can go get something to eat.”

Porsha took a sip from her glass and calmly set it on the table. “That definitely sounds like something we may be able to discuss, but let’s be clear on a few things, my G. Just because I shake my ass don’t mean I’m selling it, so if you think throwing a li’l bit of paper in the air is gonna get you in my panties, you can save ya bread for one of these slums-ass hos sucking dick in the bathroom downstairs; that ain’t my bag.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Don B. lied.

“Of course you didn’t,” she said sarcastically, “I’m just letting you know what it is with me. You can’t put a price on what I got down here.” She patted her pussy. “If I fuck a nigga it’s gonna be because I dig him, not for paper.”

“I can respect that,” Don B. said, not really knowing how else to respond. “Do you dig me?”

Porsha thought on it for a minute. “You a’ight, but then again I’m just meeting you. Who knows how I might feel about you down the line.” She took another sip from her glass.

All Don B. could do was shake his head. It seemed like she had a snappy comeback for everything he said. He was used to chicks throwing themselves at him, but Porsha was a horse of a different color, which meant he would actually have to put some effort into fucking her. Normally he wouldn’t bother, but he was intrigued by the sharp-tongued young lady.

A big-boned dark-skinned chick strutted over to their table and motioned that she needed to talk to Porsha. “Excuse me for a second,” Porsha said, getting up. She made sure to throw something extra in her walk for Don B.’s viewing pleasure. “What’s good, Kat?”

“We gotta bust a move, baby,” Kat told her.

“Bust a move? Girl, you tripping. I’m in here making a killing and I’ve got this nigga spinning right now.” She motioned over shoulder to Don B., who was whispering something to his people.

“Well, you’re gonna have to take that meal to go. Shit is going down in here and it ain’t good. They found two dudes in the alley out back carved up like two birds on Thanksgiving, and on top of that I heard one of these niggaz tried to rape Brick House. Best believe before the night is over the police are gonna be crawling all over this joint, and with the type of shit they got going on in here, I don’t wanna be around for it.”

“Damn, that’s horrible, I hope she’s okay,” Porsha said sincerely. Brick House was a royal bitch, but rape was something Porsha wouldn’t wish on her worse enemy.

“Fuck her, it’s gonna be poor us if we get caught in here when it hits the fan. I called my brother Marcus already and he said he’ll be here in twenty minutes to pick us up. I’m leaving. What you gonna do, P?”

Porsha weighed her options. If what Kat was telling her was true, then she definitely needed to shake the spot, but she had her hooks in Don B. and didn’t wanna lose him just yet. She looked back at his table, where the waitress had just set two more bottles. “I’m outta here in a few minutes too but I think I’m gonna catch a ride with Don B.”

“Porsha, don’t be a fool for no dick,” Kat warned.

“Of course not. He was just saying that he was ready to bounce anyway, so by the time I get dressed he should be ready to roll out. With or without Don B., I’m outta here in the next forty-five minutes or so.”

Kat knew the look in Porsha’s eyes all too well. She wanted to drag her out of the club and harm’s way, but Porsha was grown, or so she thought. “A’ight, do you then, ma, but make sure you hit me and let me know that you got outta here in one piece.”

“I will.” Porsha gave Kat a parting hug. Then she went back over to Don B.’s table and reclaimed her seat next to him.

“What’s up with your homegirl, she ain’t wanna party?” Tone asked. He would’ve loved to get a piece of Kat.

“Nah, she had to make a move. I’m probably gonna leave too because she’s my ride back to Harlem,” Porsha said. She knew that if she put it out there, Don B. would take care of the rest.

“Oh, you live in Harlem? Don’t even worry about it, I’m going the same way so it’s nothing to drop you off after breakfast,” Don B. offered.

“You’re persistent as hell, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t be where I am today if I knew how to take no for an answer. Go get ya clothes and whatever else you gotta do so we can get outta here,” Don B. told her.

“A’ight, give me like twenty minutes.” Porsha went off to get dressed.

“I know you gonna let me taste that, my nigga,” Tone said as soon as Porsha was out of earshot.

Don B. smiled. “You can always ride in my whip, Tone, as long as I get to test-drive it alone first. I’m gonna bust that slick-mouthed bitch wide open!” One of Gotti’s minions appeared at the table and told Don B. that Lord Scientific would be performing in about fifteen minutes on the main stage. “About fucking time.” Don B. grabbed a bottle off the table when he got up. “Let’s go downstairs and watch this shit so we’ll be close to the door, because as soon as shorty is done getting dressed I’m trying to get outta here.”

Don B. led his crew downstairs into the swarm of people. Devil and the bouncers kept the groupies back as best they could, but it was still a task. Don B. had long ago lost interest in the hype of Lord Scientific, and his thoughts were on Porsha and the things he planned on doing to her. If Lord Scientific wasn’t all that they’d hyped him up to be, Don B. was outta there.

*   *   *

Don B. and
his people met Gotti by the bar, where he was talking to the young cat who worked for the DJ. He was confused because he’d expected him to be on stage with the mysterious Lord Scientific. Instead, there were some kids up there who looked like they were the Wu-Tang Clan in their early days. There were about a dozen of them, dressed in oversize T-shirts, khakis, and capri shorts and waving red bandannas as proudly as if they were American flags and they were doing their patriotic duty. They were some of the dingiest cats Don B. had ever seen and some of the surliest. The group parted like the Red Sea and from their midst a lone figure stepped forward. He was topless, showing off his well-defined body and the golden revolver that dangled at the end of the thick chain around his neck. His long dreadlocks swayed back and forth as he bobbed to a beat that only he could hear. The crowd became deathly silent as he surveyed them from under hooded eyes.

“Jersey!” he bellowed, and the crowd went wild just before the music exploded through the speakers.

The reaction was like nothing Don B. had seen since they heydays of Bad Blood, when his li’l homies were tearing down every club in New York City. The crowd fed off the rapper’s energy liked starved children, singing the lyrics along with him. The rapper had them eating out of the palm of his hand, and even Devil was caught rocking to the ill beat. Everything was going well until someone threw an empty water bottle onto the stage.

“Hold on, hold on. Cut the muthafucking music,” the rapper ordered the DJ. There was some grumbling throughout the crowd as the performance was halted. “Who threw that?” the rapper asked, surveying the crowd.

At first there was no response, then someone pointed out a smug-looking cat who was standing off to the side with about a half-dozen dudes, all wearing hard faces.

“Oh, you niggaz think you funny, huh?” the rapper said, zeroing in on the man and his crew. “Well, Ima show you how we deal with comedians in Newark, muthafucka.” The rapper looked at his crew and gave them a knowing nod. “Feeding time,” he said and pointed at the bottle thrower.

The young boys leaped off the stage and swarmed in on the bottle thrower and commenced to beat him like an unruly child. His team tried to jump in and found themselves swarmed by every Blood gang member in the club. Chairs were thrown, people were trampled, and Brick City was being torn apart. The performance had turned into a full-scale riot and the party was officially over.

“Fuck this, we gotta get Don B. outta here,” Devil yelled over the crowd, knocking out some drunk who had gotten too close to them.

“True,” Tone agreed, ducking a bottle that sailed over his head. “Yo, Gotti, we’ll hook up another time so Don B. can see your boy do his thing.”

Gotti laughed. “You just did.” He nodded across the room. The rapper with the dreads had come down from the stage and was in the thick of the fight, attacking everything that moved. He jumped on one kid and started strangling him with the microphone cord while his crew kicked the kid in the face repeatedly.

“You can’t be fucking serious.” Tone looked at him and shook his head in disappointment before turning to Don B. “Don, my fault for wasting your time on this.”

Don B. laughed. “Wasting my time? My nigga, I ain’t had this much fun in years. Gotti, y’all niggaz come to the city and see me tomorrow afternoon so we can discuss this paperwork.”

Tone thought that Don B. had finally lost his mind, but his thinking was quite clear. Lord Scientific and his crew were wild as hell and it would probably end up costing Don B. more to clean up after them than to actually make a record, but their brand of ignorance was just what Big Dawg Entertainment needed to reassert itself at the top of the food chain. The whole world would look at Lord Scientific and see a thug, but Don B. saw a dollar sign.