Prince of the City (17 page)

“Like I was saying, when his friend came in, I went into the bathroom and was about to take a shower until I heard your name come up. At first I thought I was just hearing things, but being nosey, I ran the shower water so they'd think I was inside, but I pressed my ear against the door.”

“So what did you hear?”

“His friend, I think his name is Rock . . .”

“Who? Rock?”

“Yeah. Do you know him?”

“Just keep talking.”

“Well, anyway, Tank kept saying, ‘I know where that nigga Malik live at. We can get his ass tomorrow. He lives right over the Madness Shop. The nigga's so comfortable he won't even expect it.'”

“And what was the nigga Rock saying?” Malik asked.

“Well, he kept telling Tank, ‘We gotta do this right. One slip-up can fuck up the whole move. That nigga keeps a gun on him. Plus, he's always looking over his shoulder. And if any of them old heads find out we robbed and killed that nigga, then our heads are gonna be on the market to the highest bidder.'

“Then Tank said, ‘Fuck them uptown niggas. We can rob all they asses.' Then Rock asked Tank how much he thinks you have. And Rock was like, ‘Well, I cops at least a brick twice a week, and the nigga wears a Presidential Rolex and drives a brand-new 500 coupe. So no matter what, that lil nigga's holdin' for real. I think he got two hundred fifty stashed in the cut.'

“Then Tank asked, ‘What about his man?' And Rock said, ‘Who, Lee? Oh slim, that nigga holdin' heavy, and he's easy to snatch, but I don't think he's gonna give it up, 'cause a nigga with that much money already knows a nigga's killin' him once he gives it up.' So Tank replied, ‘Man, Rock, I think Lee would give it up. Let's get him first and then Malik.' Rock agreed with Tank and said that they had to go past his house to get his Desert Eagle because he loved smackin' niggas out with that joint. Then they both laughed and started talking about how they were gonna be rich.”

After Peaches told Malik everything, his mind raced back to the jewels his father used to drop on him while overlooking the Jungle. Rock was from Fourth Street, and from his father's lessons, Malik knew that Third, Fourth, and Sixth Streets were where the snakes lay.

Michael used to say, “Son, if you lie down with snakes, they gonna bite you, no matter how long they take. You better believe that before you get up they gonna bite.”

That jewel kept replaying in Malik's mind.

After Malik left Peaches, he rode down Wisconsin Avenue listening to Biggie Smalls's “Warning,” and thinking of a master plan on how to kill Rock and Tank.

“These niggas must be trippin'. They got me fucked up,” Malik said to himself. “How the fuck they think they gonna rob and kill me and get away with it? These niggas don't know I done killed before. My father was a cold, vicious killer. What makes them niggas think I ain't just like him? They don't even understand. I'm the muthafuckin' Prince of Southeast, for real.” Malik's anger began to boil. “I'm a smack these niggas' heads off real good.” He pulled over and dialed Lee's cell.

Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring.

“Damn, Lee. Come on. Answer your fuckin' phone.” After realizing Lee wasn't going to answer his phone, he then paged Lee with the code 911. He knew Lee would call back immediately.

 

Chapter 21

-KINGPIN-

 

 

hile Malik was uptown climbing the ladder to success, Black Sam was the reigning king of the Jungle on the Southeast side. Over the years, Black Sam blew up so big that he couldn't even ride around the Jungle without being noticed by everybody.

Black Sam was one of D.C.'s real kingpins. He still operated all of his strips in Southeast, but he also expanded his distribution to cocaine.

After killing Mike and taking over the throne, Sam hired Kojack as his right-hand man. Kojack was the man in Southeast. He had the whole Southside paging him twenty-four hours a day for everything, from drugs to hired murders. All business was conducted through Kojack, while Black Sam took long vacations to Vegas to gamble.

Sam's gambling habit became ridiculous. The more money he made, the more he gambled it away. Sometimes he'd call Kojack and have him send money from the day's profit just so he could have enough for another week of gambling. Black Sam was a real gambler and a wealthy one. While visiting Vegas on the regular, Sam would also visit Chevece Jones, a woman with whom he fell deeply in love.

Chevece was the wife of the owner of the New York, New York Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. She was having an affair with Sam out of revenge for what his best friend, Michael Perry, had done to her.

Michael had left Chevece for Connie while Chevece was two months pregnant with their child. She moved to New York with her aunt without telling anyone she was pregnant and then traveled to California looking for a new life. Chevece ended up meeting her husband at a dinner party in Hollywood, a white man who never knew about her past and didn't care to know.

Black Sam always wanted Chevece, even when they were in high school. However, he could never have her because his best friend, Michael, loved her.

Sam lived with regret after killing Michael, and he developed an I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude. He began drinking more and snorting coke in an attempt to avoid thoughts of what he had done. Still, every time Sam was with Chevece, he took his frustrations out on her pussy.

“Damn, Sam. Why you be fucking me so hard?” Chevece asked as they were making love.

“'Cause you need to be fucked like that. You ain't nothing but a ho. Besides, I wanted to know what that pussy felt like years ago, but you were in love with Mike.”

“Fuck Mike! I wish I never met him. He destroyed my life.”

“How the fuck did he destroy your life? Bitch, you're rich. You got a husband that owns a casino. You do what you want. You come and go as you please, and you spend money like it grows on trees. How the fuck can your life be destroyed?”

“Fuck you, Sam! For your info, my life is destroyed. I abandoned my child. My husband likes me to fuck him in the ass with a dildo, with his crazy, freaky ass. I don't love him, and fuck the money. The money doesn't even make me happy. I hate my life. I feel like a slave, and Michael is the reason I'm like this. So, fuck Mike, and fuck you too, Sam.”

“Hold up, Chevece. You said you abandoned your child. What child?” he asked curiously.

“I don't wanna talk about it. Let's just drop it. Okay?” Chevece tried to walk away but was stopped by Sam's stronghold.

“I will, but only if you drop to your knees and do what you do best.”

Enticed by Sam's aggression, Chevece istantly dropped to her knees in submission. Sam smiled as Chevece performed fellatio on him.

Afterward, Black Sam thought about the past, and he wanted to know why Chevece left D.C. After all, she was his fantasy, and any information he could get on her would be useful.

Sam always wanted Chevece. It was one of the things he kept inside that added to his hatred for Michael. Sam envied Michael's relationship with Chevece. To Sam, Chevece was the perfect girl. She was smart, pretty, sexy, and well-rounded in street smarts. Chevece was faithful and loyal. Every quality that Chevece possessed, Sam loved, but Michael never appreciated her. Still, she remained in love with Michael.

“So Chevece, back to what we were talking 'bout earlier. What you mean, ‘abandoned your child?' When did you have a child and where is it now?”

“Sam, I told you that I don't wanna talk about it. Now, can you stop, please?” Chevece said as she looked him in the eyes, but then lowered her head.

“Damn bitch, is your life that fucked up? What you do? Kill your kid or something?” he asked with narrowed brows.

“No! Sam, look. I told you—”

Smack! He smacked Chevece so hard that her nose began to bleed.

“Bitch, don't you ever raise your voice to me like that. I ain't your fuckin' husband! Now, sit your ass down and listen. If I ask your ass a question, you better answer.” Sam pointed at a chair. Expressionless, Chevece took a seat and wiped away the blood running from her nose with the back of her hand.

She liked when Sam took charge. It turned her on. Her husband wasn't man enough to show her how things were supposed to run. She needed a real man, someone who would lay down the law when needed. Plus, Chevece loved Black Sam's dick.

Chevece chose her words carefully and kept her eyes toward the floor. “Please don't hit me no more, baby. Please. I'll do whatever you want.”

Sam took pleasure in smacking Chevece around. It was part of his revenge for all the years she ignored his admiration and affection.

“Bitch, just listen to what I gotta say. I got a plan that can make both of us happy.”

“Okay, baby. I'll do whatever you want. Just tell me what it is.”

Sam loved it. He knew Chevece wanted to get out of her marriage, and he was her only hope. Chevece was vulnerable and willing to do anything to be with Sam.

“Okay, this is it. We gonna take this white muthafucka for everything he got.”

“How we gonna do that? When we got married, he made me sign a prenuptial agreement.”

“Do you know where his safe is at?”

“Yes. I know where two of them are, but he only thinks I know about one of them. He keeps the one in his office a secret.”

“Do you know the combinations to them?”

“I only know the combination to the one at the house. But I do know where he keeps the extra key for the one in his office.”

“Good, baby. Now this is what I want you to do. First, find a lawyer and get the divorce papers together. Then, the day before you have them served to him, we take everything. Now, how much you think is in the safe at home?”

“I know for sure it's two million cash in large bills and about one million in traveler's checks.”

“That's a lot of paper. What about the safe in his office?”

“I'm not sure 'cause I've never been in it.”

“Fuck it then. It might be some bullshit anyway, like the deed to his hotel and some other business shit.”

“Baby, are you gonna take me away from here?” she asked as she then got down on her knees and wrapped her arms around his legs.

Sam took advantage of this opportunity to finesse his way into three million dollars without taking a life or lifting a finger. He pulled Chevece up and held her in his arms close to his chest.

“I'm a take you away from here and treat you like the queen you are. There will be no more pain, I promise. Chevece, with me, you'll be happy.” Sam held her tight and kissed the tears away.

 

Chapter 22

-YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS-

 

 

ank and Rock pulled into the alley on Kenyon Street after circling the block looking for Malik's car.

“Rock, this nigga ain't even home,” Tank said, checking the scenery while patting his gun against his lap.

“Yeah, his car ain't nowhere around, but that don't mean he ain't there.”

“So what are you saying? You wanna go knock on the door or what?” Tank asked.

“Nah, let's just lay low for a minute and see if he comes through.” Rock decided.

“We gonna give it about thirty minutes, and if he don't come through, we going up in there.”

Rock and Tank's timing was right. It was noon and most niggas would just be getting up. As they sat parked in the alley waiting for Malik to come home, Malik was parked on Wisconsin Avenue impatiently waiting for Lee's call.

“Damn. Where the fuck is this nigga at this early?” Tank asked impatiently.

“I dunno, but I tell you what. If he comes home within the next half hour, before the rest of these niggas start coming out, then we got him. All we gotta do is walk his ass in, and bingo! We rich!”

Tank lit a Newport and blew out a perfectly round ring of smoke. “I hope his bitch ass hurry the fuck up, 'cause I'm tryna cop me a Lexus coupe before the day is over.”

They both smiled an evil grin and clutched their guns.

After about ten minutes, a pearl white SL500 pulled up in front of Malik's building. Tank and Rock were slumped down in their seats looking at the Mercedes.

“Rock, who is that?”

“I dunno, but that joint is tight as hell.”

“Yeah, it is, but I hope he ain't just gonna be sitting there. If so, it'll fuck up our whole caper.”

The door to the Benz opened and a short, stocky, older guy got out. Rock immediately jumped up.

“Look Tank. Oh shit! That's the nigga, Lee. Malik's connect.”

Tank looked up at the man he'd heard had millions of dollars for the taking. “If that's Lee, then where the fuck is Malik?” Tank asked.

“Man, fuck Malik right now. He's small change compared to this nigga,” Rock said.

“Well, what the fuck are we sittin' here for? Let's get him now.”

“Hold up. Let's see what he's about to do first.”

Lee got out of his car and walked toward Malik's building with his keys out as if he lived there.

“He's going in Malik's building! He probably got a spare key or Malik's up in that joint.”

“Good, then we can kill two birds with one stone,” Tank replied, his adrenaline pumping.

“Come on then.”

Tank and Rock got out the car, walked out of the alley, and yelled out to Lee as he opened the front door with his key.

“Hey, main man. Can you hold the door for me please? I lost my security key.”

Although Lee didn't recognize the two, he didn't think of anyone doing harm. After all, the owner did rent apartments to some Howard University students during the school semesters.

Lee held the door open, letting Tank and Rock inside. As soon as the door closed, Tank turned and placed his .357 Desert Eagle in Lee's face, while Rock grabbed his collar and placed his .45 automatic in Lee's back.