Power (8 page)

Chapter 12

Beware

Popcorn was a burly light-skinned dude with outdated braids. He spoke with Californian lingo because he was originally from L.A. but had lived in Atlanta for the last fifteen years. Deion knew that Popcorn was the man to see about the heroin trade and they were pretty good friends. They’d met when they were both fifteen years old at juvie.

“Come in,” Popcorn said when he opened his apartment door, a Newport cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Deion grinned when he saw his friend and they fist-bumped. “This 2Glocks,” Deion said, introducing him to Popcorn before following him into the kitchen. Once they were seated at the table, Deion presented him with the two ounces of heroin.

“What you want for this?” Popcorn asked, after examining the product.

“Now you know I don’t know much about this game.”

“I can give you $5,000 apiece. I’m trusting that this shit hasn’t been stepped on too much.”

“Probably not at all.”

“Bullshit, everybody steps on it. Nothing is pure.”

“I got this straight from the Esses.

“I don’t give a fuck if you got it from Afghanistan. It’s probably been stepped on.”

“We don’t know how many times it’s been cut or if it’s been cut.”

Popcorn pulled out a baggie with a stamp of a basketball player on it and said, “This is Lebron James.”

Deion examined the package and asked, “Why Lebron James?”

“He the motherfuckin’ champ, ain’t he? Plus, it’s easy to remember,” Popcorn said, as if he was offended by the question.

“This your shit?”

“You better believe it, and it’s the purest shit in the A. It’s been cut at least twice.”

“Gimme the ten stacks.”

“I’ll give you that on your word and if it’s fire I’ll give you more,” Popcorn said.

“Cool.”

Popcorn disappeared to the back room and came out with 80 one hundred-dollar bills and 100 twenties. He passed the money to Deion. As Deion was doing a quick money count they heard somebody banging at the door. Popcorn picked his cigarette up from the ashtray, eased over to the door and peered through the peep hole. When he opened it a short black ashy dude came in the house.

“Corn, can I talk to you for a minute?” The man looked at Deion and 2Glocks but didn’t speak.

“What the fuck you want, Dave? This shit better be important.” Popcorn and Dave disappeared to the back room.

2Glocks looked at Deion, “Hope these niggas ain’t on no funny shit.”

“This dude was like a brother to me in juvie. We don’t see each other much, but it’s nothing but love between us.” With that being said, Deion still pulled out his counterfeit pen and checked those bills to make sure he didn’t get got again. He was relieved when everything turned out sweet.

Dave and Popcorn came out of the back room looking like they had just had an intense conversation. “Thanks for the info,” Popcorn said, before handing Dave a bag of Lebron James. When Dave left, Popcorn turned to Deion with a stern look on his face. “There some niggas out there beside your car and Dave said they got guns and shit.”

“What the fuck? Are you serious?”

Popcorn inhaled on his cigarette, walked to the window and looked down at Deion’s pickup truck. There was a black-colored Dodge Charger with two men sitting in it parked beside his truck. “I’ve seen that car before,” Popcorn said.

“Ain’t nobody got no issues wit’ me.” Then he thought about Paris and the counterfeit money he’d given her, but he doubted that bitch would take it this far.

“I don’t know,” Popcorn said, still looking at the car. One of the goons got out and pissed on the rear of the car.

“That’s Travis. We call him Trav,” Popcorn said, recognizing one of the guys.

“How you know him?”

“He has a fine-ass sister named Trina. Somebody sliced up her face a few weeks back.”

“She got a boyfriend named Tee?” Deion questioned.

“Yeah, how you know?”

“I shot him in the ass.”

“So it was you that sliced her up?” Popcorn asked, shaking his head.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Maybe my ass. Her brother thinks otherwise, and that’s why he’s babysittin’ yo’ truck wit’ guns ready to shoot.”

“So those clowns are waiting on me?”

“Who else you think they waitin’ for…damn sure ain’t me.”

Deion brandished a black nine millimeter. “I swear it will be a shootout in this bitch. I ain’t goin’ out like that, Corn.”

“Slow down, cowboy, I got about sixty thousand dollars worth of heroin in here. Ain’t gonna be no shootout in my parking lot.”

“I’ll respect yo’ house, but you know I gotta get the fuck outta here.”

“Yeah,” Popcorn said, starting to feel a little nervous about the situation. He finished his cigarette then lit another one. “I got an idea.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I’ll walk your man down to the car, let him get in and drive away.”

“Then how in the hell am I gonna get outta here?”

“You gonna have to wait it out, big boy,” Popcorn said, point-blank.

“What the fuck!”

“Once they gone, I’ll take you home.”

Popcorn and 2Glocks made their way to Deion’s pickup truck. The goons got out of the car.

“What up, Popcorn?” Travis said, giving him a pound.

“Nothing much, just handling some business with my cousin,” he said, nodding his head in 2Glocks’ direction.

“You know Deion?” Travis questioned, not cracking a smile.

“Yeah, I’m a rapper and Deion my manager, why?”

“I ain’t got no beef wit’ you, but I need to handle some things wit’ Deion. So let him know next time I see him, it’s on.”

“I don’t deliver those type of messages. When he see you I guess he’ll know,” 2Glocks said before driving off.

*  *  *

Tierney’s Instagram account had pictures of intimate dinners, shopping bags, jewelry boxes and fancy restaurants. Alex wasn’t a big social media person, but he did use Instagram occasionally, although he only had a handful of followers and three pictures. While skimming through Tierney’s pictures, security called informing him Deion was on his way upstairs. Alex welcomed the diversion so he could stop Instagram-stalking Tierney.

“What up,” Alex said when he let Deion in. Deion passed Alex the ten grand that Popcorn had given him. “So what did they say about the product?”

“I don’t know. My homie, Popcorn, took it because of my word.”

“Popcorn, where have I heard that name before?”

“You remember him. The light-skinned dude from L.A., we seen him at the carwash.”

“You were at juvie with him or something?”

“Right, that’s him.” Deion said. He glanced over Alex’s shoulder and noticed he was looking at Instagram. “Ain’t got over her yet, huh?”

“No, it’s not that. Just wanted to see what she’s been up too.”

“You still love her?”

“I care about her. There is a difference.”

“Whatever. Lie to yo’self if you want.”

“So Popcorn can help us?” Alex asked, dismissing what Deion said.

“Heroin is his thing, so he can definitely help us.”

“What do we need to do?”

“Once he gets rid of what I just gave him, which shouldn’t take him long, we give him more product.” There was a silence. Alex was thinking. He knew Deion trusted Popcorn, but he didn’t know him.  There were enough rats running around Atlanta. He didn’t want one in his circle.

“So you sold him the two ounces?”

“Yeah, he had the money at his house.”

“So what can he move?”

“He’s moving little baggies but he doesn’t have access to weight.”

“Baggies?”

“Yeah, this shit is much different from the coke game or even the weed game.”

“I know that. Pure heroin can be cut at least ten times.

“More than that.”

“So how is this dude gonna help us if all he’s selling is packets?”

“That’s all he has access to.”

“I see. Well I’ll have five kilos in about a week,” Alex informed Deion.

“I’ll let him know.”

*  *  *

Popcorn had reached out to Deion three times before Deion finally called him back. “I need to talk to you bruh.”

“If I come over there and those bitch-ass niggas run up on me this time, it’s gonna be bad. Real motherfuckin’ ugly, because I ain’t hiding.”

“We can meet somewhere else, homie,” Popcorn laughed.  “You tell me where you want to meet.”

“Lets meet at Starbucks in Buckhead.”

“Starbucks it is,” Popcorn chuckled.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just I’ve never been asked to meet at Starbucks. I’m just not the latte type of nigga. But it’s cool though.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you there in twenty.”

“The one on Peachtree or Piedmont?”

“Piedmont.”

Deion sat in the back table beside two geeks pecking away on their Macs, immersed in their work.  Popcorn entered the place and scanned it. He didn’t look nervous but he damn sure looked out of place.

“Oh, so this is your hangout, huh?” he asked when he sat down across from Deion.

“Somebody got jokes,” Deion smiled.

“No, I was just saying I never thought a dude I met in juvie would be hanging out in Starbucks sipping espressos and shit.”

“You have to expand your mind, homie, besides I go everywhere, so stop dissin’ Starbucks,” Deion grinned.

“You over here talkin’ ‘bout Starbucks but yet you slicing up chicks. I still can’t believe you did that.”

“Man, quit saying that. I ain’t in the mood for no damn lecture. Her nigga should’ve paid his bill and none of that shit would’ve happened. Let’s move the fuck on. So what did you want?”

Popcorn leaned forward and pulled out a packet of heroin reading
Happy Birthday
and a picture of a birthday cake on display. “Nice…right?” Popcorn had a big Kool Aid grin on his face.

“Put that shit up,” Deion snarled. He scanned the coffee shop.  The geeks were still pecking on their laptops, not paying attention.

Popcorn put the packet away. “This shit right here is better than Lebron James,” Popcorn bragged like he created the shit.

“What? Really?”

“Man, the best shit I have ever ran across,” he stressed.

“So you have more money for me?” Deion laughed.

“What?”

“You said if it was purer than we thought, you would give me more money. What, you got amnesia now?”

“I’ll give you a couple more thousand.”

“I’m just kiddin’ wit’ you dude. I was only giving you a reminder.”

“Can you get more of this?”

“Yes.”

“This same exact dope?”

“Pretty sure I can.”

“If you can get this, we’ll be rich, nigga. I’m talkin’ rich as fuck!”

“I can get it.”

“When?”

“In a few days.”

“How much are you going to have?”

“More than you can handle.”

“The reason I asked is cuz I want to be a supplier to other niggas.”

“A wholesaler?”

“Wholesaler, supplier, whatever you wanna call it.”

One of the geeks stopped typing and asked, “Do you know what time it is?”

“Ain’t the time on your computer?” Popcorn popped, giving him the side eye.

“Yeah, I forgot.”

“Forgot my ass…Let’s go outside,” Popcorn said, ready to go.

“Gimme a few days and we’ll be in business,” Deion confirmed once they were outside. Popcorn got his Kool Aid grin back at the sound of that and they went their separate ways.

Chapter 13

World Ablaze

Isabella was staying in the same Penthouse Suite in the Four Seasons that she had stayed at before. When she arrived in town the first call she made was to Alex. She wanted to see him, and although he tried to play it ultra cool she could tell he wanted to see her too. When he arrived, unlike before she was fully dressed, yet just as alluring. Isabella was wearing a cobalt blue wrap dress that displayed the right amount of skin to pull a man in but also left something to the imagination. Her strappy open-toed heels elongated her shapely legs. Her jet-black hair was flowing loosely around her tiny accentuated waist.

“Where is Joaquin?” Alex wanted to know as soon as he stepped in her suite.

“I’m not sure where he’s staying. He didn’t want me to know. He said the less I knew the better off I’d be.”

“What did he mean by that?”

“From what I understand somebody Joaquin was supplying heroin to double crossed him. He went behind his back and started dealing with another cartel.”

“I think he mentioned that to me.”

“I’m sure. He seems to be telling anybody that will listen. It’s amazing how important loyalty is to him but he doesn’t have any for his wife. But I guess that’s how the game goes sometimes.”

“And you want me to see you behind his back.  I don’t think that would be smart.”

“How would he find out? I have no intention of telling him.”

Alex walked to the other side of the room, grabbed a bottle of water from the dresser and sat at the table. “He said you would have something for me.”

“Yes, I do.”  Isabella made her way over to the closet. Alex was mesmerized by how she moved with so much ease and sexiness, yet sophistication. All he could think of is what a fool Joaquin had to be to let a woman like Isabella slip through his fingers. She removed a shopping bag from the top of the closet and presented it to Alex.

“There are six kilos in here, but you only have to pay for five.”

“Huh?”

“I told you Alex, I want you to do well.”

“I believe that, but you’re also playing with my life.”

“Never that. But I can’t deny that I want you,” Isabella said, reaching out to caress the side of his face. Alex grabbed her wrist, stopping her midair.

“Don’t do this,” he said with his mouth, but his eyes were saying something entirely different.

“You should stop trying to fight the inevitable. If we don’t end up in the bed now, it will happen eventually. So it’s up to you if you want to continue to waste time.”

“Your husband is in the same city as us right now.”

“He doesn’t even know where I’m staying and I’m sure he’s somewhere with his little fuck-toy.”

Alex instantly thought about Penelope, but decided not to entertain that. This wasn’t about the other woman in Joaquin’s life, it was about his own safety. He had to decide if giving into his undeniable attraction to Isabella was worth the cost. But then again, maybe she was right and there would be no ramifications for their affair.

“Is that what you want from me…to be your fuck toy?”

“I’m a grown woman. I don’t do fuck toys.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“Right now I want you inside of me. I haven’t had sex in months and I need to feel desired by a man that I desire, which is you.”

“Why don’t you just leave Joaquin then?” Alex probed, before taking a sip of his water.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Is this the same dope as before?” Alex asked, changing the subject without pushing for a further explanation.

“Why do you ask?”

“Word on the street is that your heroin is on some next level shit.”

“And just think, I had to practically shove it down your throat for you to bite,” Isabella smiled. Alex stood and grabbed the bag from the table. As he was making his way to the other side of the room, Isabella stepped forward, blocking his movement. He could’ve gone around her, but he didn’t want to. He enjoyed their closeness. He was able to get a whiff of the expensive perfume that she always wore. It seemed to be just as intoxicating as her physical beauty. Isabella licked her lips in a delicate way, letting Alex know that she was all his if he wanted her.

“Lock the door,” he directed, as a rush shot through him. He had no intention or even desire to deny their mutual attraction. Alex would no longer put up any resistance. Sometimes playing with fate was truly the ultimate high.

*  *  *

Deion handed 2Glocks fifty grand in counterfeit and then another twenty-five thousand real cash. They counted the money at Deion’s dining room table. “It’s all there,” Deion said.

“Thank you, man.”

“No need for that.”

“I’m just grateful I can finally do something for my kids.”

“I feel you on that, but I just want everything to go according to plan.”

“It will. We good, bruh,” 2Glocks insisted without hesitation. Without responding, Deion heard his phone ring. It was Popcorn.

“Yo. What’s good?”

“We meeting today?”

Deion knew he wanted to know if the product was here. “Probably not today.”

“Let me know soon as you can, ‘cause I need that.”

“Will do.” When Deion hung up the phone with Popcorn a text from Passion immediately popped up.

Passion:
Hey Daddy, can I meet up with you to get that money for your son
?

Deion had teased her that her son was his son.

Deion:
Of course baby
.

Passion:
Where
?

Deion:
Waffle House Old National.

Passion:
What time?

“What time are we going to meet the Esses?” Deion asked 2Glocks.

“In a couple hours.”

Deion scanned his watch. It was four o’clock. He hit Passion back and told her around six. He figured after he finished things up with 2Glocks and the Esses, she would be his very next stop.

*  *  *

Passion sat in a booth inside the Waffle House eating pecan waffles and bacon when Deion and 2Glocks drove up in a yellow Lamborghini.  Deion turned the ignition off but left the radio playing to keep 2Glocks occupied. Passion began grinning hard when Deion came in and sat across from her.

“Why the big smile?”

“Because every time I see you I feel like it’s Christmas.”

“So now I’m Santa Clause.”

“No, you’re more like my daddy who gets me everything I want for Christmas. Is that cool with you?”

“If I’m your daddy, you know what that means?”

“I’m afraid to hear what you gotta say.” Passion gazed at Deion affectionately, with the kind of eyes that girls had when they liked a guy. He bit down slowly on his bottom lip and at that moment, Passion wished she could kiss him. Not only was he looking fine as fuck, he was wearing cologne she recognized—Aventis by Creed. She didn’t remember him having that on the first time they’d met.

“Me being your daddy won’t be that bad.”

“Tell me more.”

“I might have to spank you if you get out of line.”

“Oooh. That sounds fun.”

“We’ll make it fun.”

“When are we going to New York?”

“In a few days. I got some business I need to handle and then we out.”

“What kind of business?” she pried.

“We gettin’ kinda nosey, ain’t we?”

Passion threw her hands up playfully and said, “Hey, I’m just asking you a question.” Deion gave her five one hundred-dollar bills, as if telling her to shut up, don’t ask him shit and just take the money. “Thank you, Daddy”

“This ain’t for you, this is for my son,” he teased.

“Well Demonte says thank you.”

“Oh, that’s his name?”

“That’s a damn shame, you don’t even know your son’s name,” Passion joked.

“I need to meet him.”

“So you plan on sticking around.”

“I hope so.”

“I hope so too.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Quiet as kept, I’m so tired of the games these Atlanta Niggas be playing.” This conversation was getting a little too serious for Deion so he decided to change the direction it was going.