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n’t answer, she just stared at me for all it was wor th as my joint
went soft in her hands. She pulled away. I adjusted my fly, taking
the opportunity to navigate my thoughts, it was an awkward situ-
ation. The last thing in the world I wanted was for this chick to
know that I was getting emotionally attached to her.
“
I’m sending Tomica to Chicago and Evette to Baltimore.
From here on out, we movin’ weight.”
“
But I thought you said we was never going to sell weight to
keep the feds off.”
“
No! You said we were never going to sell weight. I’m chang-
ing the game plan, flipping the script. It takes too damn long to
move a key of Boy in this country-ass town,” I said. For some rea-
son I was angry, hurt. It felt like she betrayed me.
“
Papi, why you into your feelins?” Her words chimed. I just
looked straight ahead, watched the rain dance off the windshield,
thought about all the cash I had stashed at her place, duffel bags
full. I couldn’t even count it all it was coming so fast.
Like round two, Trina’s whole demeanor changed. She placed
her hand into my lap. Her index finger gyrated a figure eight
motion on my thigh. I turned and looked at her, for the first time
I saw Trina Vasquez, the actress. She was as fake as a three-dollar
bill. I thought about what Blazack had said back there in the base-
ment, “that Brooklyn bitch playin’ you like a sucka.”
I hopped out of the car into the pouring rain, heard her shout
as she called my name. Emotions spilling over like some volcanic
reaction. That was the day that I decided to buy a money count-
ing machine, several of them.
I drove back to Quincy with Major as my sidekick. We drank
E&J bumping Too Short’s “The Ghetto” on my Alpine system. I
fired up a blunt, reflected back on my life. Trina’s words were
haunting me. I knew it was time to start thinking about getting
out of the game, but hell, I was just getting star ted. Besides, Trina’s
people had me hooked.
Two days later Black Pearl gave birth to a healthy baby boy.
When she came home from the hospital, the girls decided to give
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her a baby shower. I had never seen so many ruddy females in my
entire life. They even hired male strippers. I noticed that a few of
Trina’s fraternity sisters brought rulers with them to use on the
strippers. When dude showed up at the door wearing a cowboy
suit I knew it was time for me to get the hell out of there.
*****
It took me a few weeks, but I was finally able to purchase the
land that Black Pearl and I dreamed about. The old guy thought
I was crazy, so did ever ybody else, except Black Pearl. She had been
talking to decorators and architects about building a stylish man-
sion just like them white folks have out in Hollywood, so I flew in
decorators from California and paid out the ass for it, too.
*****
Trina finally graduated from FAMU after being there seven
years, majoring in a four-year course in Business Management.
On the same day Trina graduated, Black Pearl turned seventeen,
so I did the damn thang! We partied lavishly. I rented five stretch
limos and filled them with cases of Moet and Alize. The next day
I paid for thirty-eight tickets at eight hundred a pop, plus airfare,
to go see a Mike Tyson fight at Madison Square Garden. The fight
only lasted thirty-seven seconds. We still had a ball. For the first
time I saw Blazack with a smile on his face that wasn’t from mis-
chief, but the pure joy of being a big baller. The next morning we
flew back to Florida. We were tired, hung over, pooped and par-
tied out. I had another surprise for Trina. In the parking lot of her
building complex off campus sat a top-of-the-line Mercedes. One
of them big body Benzes. I even had it customized with a special
stash spot and some other nice amenities. We decided to give
Black Pearl Trina’s Lexus to zip around town in.
The most amazing thing happened. Something that a man
will never fully be able to understand, the metamorphosis that a
woman experiences with her body after childbirth. Keep in mind,
Black Pearl was like my baby sister, or for that matter, my daugh-
ter. After she had the baby she blossomed into a drop dead gor-
geous beauty. Her hips spread wide, her butt got big like Wow.
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One of them ghetto booties with a small taut waistline, punctuat-
ed by the symmetry of her figure like a deformed Coke bottle.
Lord, I tried not to look at that child’s rear end. If Trina, Tomica
and Evette were dime pieces, then Black Pearl was definitely a
twenty piece with her dark features, deep chocolate skin, perfect
white teeth with a dazzling smile that could make a man blush
from standing too close to beauty, not to mention body. She
named her son Shawn L. The L was named after me. I thought
that was kind of dope.
Shawn L. was a cute little booger. Looked just like his mama.
As soon as he started walking we called him Lil Man. The first
words that came out his mouth were “muthafucka” and “money.”
I taught him that.
*****
Two months later the remodeling of the Chateau was going
lovely and I was bringing in so much money that I had to hire
more workers. August 26, 1992, Lil Cal was found guilty. He was
sentenced to life in prison. I immediately hired attorneys to work
on his appeal. The last time we talked he sounded distraught, that
was my nigga, and with all my newly achieved wealth, there was-
n’t a damn thing I could do to help him other than send him
money.
*****
May 1994, two years later, I was still in the game, only then,
I wasn’t a playa, I was coaching from the sidelines, doing big
thangs. Moving major weight. Tallahassee was small to me, so I
gave Blazack the entire operation. That way officially it looked like
I retired, but actually I graduated into the Ivy League right up
there with the rest of the corporate American thugs. I was doing
all the things that I promised Trina I would not do. Only now, I
kept her out of my business. We were starting to grow apart.
Money can do that to a relationship. I knew of her disdain for me
selling dope. Even though I promised her I would get out, I could-
n’t and sometimes I wondered if her cousin, Willie Falcon, would
let me. I knew too much.
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To ever yone’s delight, Pearl and I remodeled the old mansion
into grandiose elegance with sprawling manicured landscaping of
picturesque green pastures surrounded by a white picket fence that
gave the estate the appearance of the White House. In the drive-
way and in the garage sat ten luxury cars including my two prized
possessions, his and hers Rolls Royce convertible Bentleys sitting
on dubs. We spent close to three million on remodeling the place.
I named it “Chateau G.P.”
For me, this was the testament of a hustler’s grind from hav-
ing a team of niggas with one common interest: money. Outside,
I lived lavishly. There was a waterfall connected to the swimming
pool, and of course, a basketball court. Inside was sixteen thou-
sand feet of nothing but plush luxur y. Black Pearl had everything
decorated white with sparkling crystal chandeliers, which accen-
tuated the marble floors. There was even a white baby grand piano
that sat in front of the picture window that overlooked the swim-
ming pool. I installed a state-of-the-art security system with cam-
eras set up so I could see any part of the house I wanted, both
inside and out. I even had a secret passageway built in behind the
bookshelves in my study, just in case I needed to make a quick
escape if them folks came looking for me. About a year ago, Willie
Falcon got nabbed in New York. The media had a frenzy. His bust
made world news. The papers dubbed him the second biggest
drug lord in the world. They said his empire was worth billions.
So I continued to make moves with his backing, only now since
his arrest, for some reason, more tr ust was bestowed to me. My
millions were crumbs compared to his billions. So I moved
weight, occasionally I would fly over to Colombia. The job was
risky as hell, but the rewards were great. I’d never seen so much
coke in my life. The last time I flew over there, the National
Guard with the help of the DEA tried to shoot our plane down.
Scared the shit out of me. That was the last time I flew to
Colombia.
*****
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Chapter Four
teen
Chapter Four
teen
“
Gangsta’s Paradise”
–
Life –
I pulled the old Cadillac off the shoulder of the old dirt road onto
the spiraling landscape of my estate as Lil Man sat on my lap. He
liked to play drive with the steering wheel. Now, at 3 years old, he
was a bundle of joy. I remember when I was a shorty, my old man
used to do the same thing with me.
It was one of them lazy Saturday mornings. I was just return-
ing from the Mom and Pop grocer y store up the hill. I was driv-
ing the first car that I purchased from back in the day when I first
came up on the grind. The ‘73 Caddy was in mint condition. I
made it a point to never let anyone see me drive my new whips.
They were like awards given to the most valuable playa. Besides,
Trina shined for the both of us. There is something about New
York chicks. Trina drove around town in a customized white
Bentley on dubs, she and her wild-ass homegirls.
As usual, as I approached the security gates of the Chateau,
with its large embellishment decorated in brown stone and white
marble. Looking at this filled me with pride. I noticed that the
gates were wide open and thought that was unusual of Major to
leave them open like that. As soon as I turned into the circular
driveway, I saw trouble, six unmarked police cars lined up. Spitler
was standing next to the statue with the waterfall. For some rea-
son it made him look small. My heart skipped a beat as I franti-
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cally stashed my heat under the seat. I saw Trina and Black Pearl
watching from the doorway of the mansion. I got out of the car
with Lil Man in my arms. I was trying to act nonchalant, but I
could feel my leg shaking.
Spitler walked toward me gingerly. I tried to read the expres-
sion on his face, but didn’t want to look him in his eyes. I learned
long ago that white cops are easily intimidated by that. Spitler’s
brown suit was wrinkled like he slept in it for days. His eyes were