The Syndicate (12 page)

I knew I was being followed from the moment I left the office. Javon hadn't come in that morning as he was with Lucky doing something with the Syndicate. He was supposed to be flying back to New York soon and wanted to talk to Javon about the new pipeline that would be coming though. I let the men be men and I came into the office to keep up appearances.

Three young men were following me. I could tell the shortest one was the leader as he was quiet as the other two laughed and talked loudly as if they wanted to be spotted. I glanced around as I walked. I was happy to see that no camera was aimed at my truck from any angle. Being on the top deck meant no security would come running if I screamed.

My heels clacked against the pavement as I made my way to my truck. I thought all three of them were stupid. Obviously someone had put them up to it because they were in a parking garage dressed like they belonged in the latest hood video. I had my Bluetooth in my ear, talking to one of my assistants.

“I'll be back in the office by six in the morning. Keep my schedule clear for the rest of the week,” I told him then hung up as I opened the trunk to my truck and tossed in my purse and leather carrying case.

As soon as I went to slam the trunk down, I felt something hard pressed against my back. “So, why don't you open the purse and hand us that wallet. We like the ring and the watch you got on, too. So hand that shit over, too,” a raspy voice demanded.

I took a deep breath and wondered if I was going to have to be the reason another black mother had to bury her sons. There was no doubt in my mind that I would kill if pushed. The game had changed. Mama was gone. Javon was a crime lord—and he wasn't answering his phone, which pissed me off more—and I, for one, wanted to kill somebody. She was on my mind heavily. I'd had a dream about her this morning.

“Ain't shit what it seems, baby,”
she had said to me.
“I don't even think you can trust the people I told you to trust.”

Her words stuck with me. Her face was pained. I dreamt I was there when she was shot. I tried to save her but I wasn't quick enough. No matter how hard I tried, my body wouldn't propel forward. It felt as if I was running in slow motion.

I hadn't laid eyes on Javon since he left. He sent me home so he, Monty, and Lucky could go see the Irish. Lucky was anxious, eager to go. Javon told me with Lucky representing the Italians, it would let the Irish know where the Italians stood.

I said nothing as I reached into my purse and grabbed my wallet. I hurriedly took off my watch and my ring.

“May as well give me those diamonds in ya ear, too, bitch,” another one said.

The one thing I hated was to be called a bitch. The bitch who donated an egg to me loved to let her nigga call me bitches. All kinds of bitches he liked to call me. Nigger bitch. Black bitch. Virgin pussy bitch. I showed him who the real bitch was in the end though.

I snatched the earrings out of my ears. Today, I wasn't in the fucking mood. My period was on. I hadn't had dick in days. Some rancid dick pussy of a nigga was beating on my sister. My two little brothers couldn't stop fighting. My sister, Melissa, was still somewhat in love with my fiancé, Mama was dead, and now niggas wanted to rob me. I was not having a good day.

I turned around with tears in my eyes. Judging by the way they laughed, I was sure they thought it was because I was scared. To be honest, I was. I was afraid of what I was going to have to do to them.

“You got what you want. Now, please, let me leave,” I said, trying to give them a warning.

“Shut up, bitch,” the one with the gun said.

My eye twitched. That word “bitch” rang bells in my head; or were those bells because he swung the butt of the gun and cracked me in the temple with it? I fell to my knees, one of my heels flying from my foot. I shook my head then kicked the other shoe off before I stood.

“Who sent you?” I asked.

The three males chuckled. “How do you know someone sent us?”

“You're in an office building's parking garage, which means this isn't random. You were waiting for your target, which I'm assuming is me,” I said. I stood to my full height and got my bearings. “So again, who sent you and what do they want?”

The shortest one stepped forward with a toothpick in his mouth. “Some people wanted to send yo' nigga a message.”

I shrugged. “Why didn't you just go to him?”

“Niggas like him seem to react better when you send messages through people they have a connection with, feel me?”

“What would you like me to tell him?” I asked calmly.

“Yo, this bitch is crazy,” the one with the bad acne quipped.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and then said a few Hail Mary's.

The short one chuckled along with the one who had the gun to my head. “We don't need you to tell him shit, but you'll give him the message all the same,” Shorty cracked.

I shrugged. “You would have been safer just giving him the message,” I said.

The elbow strike was so swift to the face of the one who had the gun that the bumpy-face one was too stunned to run from the bullet I put between his eyes. I used the heel of my foot to stomp the knee of the one who'd hit me with the gun. The sound of it cracking was like music to my ears. Shorty went for his heater but I mule kicked him in the nuts before he could. My skirt was a little tight so it didn't have the impact I wanted, but it gave me distance. Shorty fell and his gun slid underneath the van parked behind him. He tried to run for me like a raging bull, but the bullet to the top of his dome dropped him midflight. I didn't have time to fuck around. I was sure someone had heard the shots and the cops would be coming soon.

I stood over the one who had hit me. “Who's a bitch again?” I asked him.

“Don . . . don't shoot, please! I know, I got some information,” he pleaded through tears.

“About what? Who sent you?” I demanded.

“This white nigga with a funny accent sent me, all right? Nigga sounded Irish or some shit. He ain't have no arm. Nigga looked like he had been in a fight or some shit. Wanted us to hurt you bad.”

“For what?”

“To send some nigga you fucking a message! Bitch, I don't know,” he yelled belligerently. Slobber and spit rained from his mouth.

See, I was going to let him live, but the word “bitch” set off my kill button. I put two in his chest without remorse. I heard the sirens already. I knew I had no clear way out as there was only one way to get out of the garage. I quickly wiped my prints from the gun and then tossed it near one of the bodies. I ripped my clothes and my tights. I'd already been assaulted with the gun, but it wasn't enough to tell the story I wanted to tell. I slammed my trunk closed, and rushed around to the driver side door. I took a deep breath and balled my fist then threw my head through the glass.

I screamed out so loud that I was sure the devil heard me in hell. Blood rained down my head and chest. The cuts hurt. My face and neck burned like hell. I took a deep breath then rammed my head into the door. What happened next, I didn't know. The blackout was instant.

* * *

I woke up two hours later, in a hospital bed with two dog-faced detectives looking down at me.

“Good. You're awake,” the first man said.

I started laughing. The nigga was the exact replica of Andy Griffith. The joke was on me though. My head was pounding and the laughing made it worse. I closed my eyes and moaned.

“Who are you people?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“I'm Detective Monroe and this is my partner, Detective Stillwaters.”

I couldn't help it. I laughed again. “You can't be serious. Stillwaters? Really?”

Stillwaters looked as if he had eaten too many donuts and had something stuck in his throat as he breathed with his mouth open.

Detective Monroe actually bit back a smile. “Ah, we're here to ask you about the men who attacked you in the parking garage.”

I moaned again as I tried to sit up.

“No, no, no, now. I think you should lie still,” Detective Monroe said, pushing me back down in the bed.

“I . . . I . . . I don't remember much. Three guys came out of nowhere. Attacked me from behind. And I woke up here,” I lied with ease.

The two detectives glanced at one another. “So you didn't see who killed those three men, Ms. McPhearson?” Monroe asked.

“They're dead?” I asked with wide eyes.

“They are.”

“Oh God,” I whispered. I knew I was putting on and any other time I probably would have been ashamed of myself.

“Now we know what happened to your mother a few weeks ago and this is a shame that something like this would happen to you so soon, but if you can remember anything, anything at all, it would be a great help.”

“She's lying you know,” Stillwaters cut in. “No way in hell she doesn't remember something.”

“Dick head, I said I remembered the three men attacking me. That is the something I remember,” I snapped.

“They didn't say anything?” Monroe asked, ignoring his partner.

“Yeah, they said, ‘Give me the wallet, bitch, and your jewelry.'”

Stillwater cut in to sarcastically ask, “Your wallet, huh? Not your purse, but your wallet.”

“You know what, fuck you, okay? I just woke up in a fucking hospital after being assaulted and you're worried about particulars?” I spat.

“Ah, yeah. We're detectives investigating a crime. In case you're too stupid to know, particulars are important.”

“Hey, look, Still, cool it with all that, okay?” Monroe asked of his partner.

“I sure as hell hope y'all have some information on who killed my mother while you're hounding me, a gotdamned victim of assault and robbery,” I snapped.

“Thought you said she was a college graduate. With a vocabulary like that, I beg to differ,” Stillwaters said.

I eyed his gun. I could take it before he could blink, shoot him and his partner. Only I'd kill him and just give Andy Griffith a flesh wound. But that would open up a can of worms I didn't want.

“I'm angry and I'm in pain,” I said then pretended to calm down a bit. “I was robbed and assaulted. Forgive me if my college vernacular flew out the window.”

“We . . . I'm sorry, Shanelle. We don't have any more leads on who was involved in the drive-by shooting that killed Ms. Claudette. She was a nice woman and the juvie center will miss her greatly.”

“It's all the same to me, Monroe. If the gangs didn't kill her, one of them kids she took in would have. Tell me, Shanelle, who's watching that boy in high school while all of you are off working or doing God knows what?” Stillwaters asked.

His line of questioning and off-hand comments made me suspicious and, I could tell by the way he was looking at me, he was just as distrustful of me.

“You're talking about Jojo?” I asked, just to be sure.
What the hell has Jojo gotten into now?

“Yes, that little motherfucker.”

Monroe laid a hand on his partner's shoulder then whispered in his ear. Stillwaters grunted then went back to writing on his notepad.

“Hey, is Jojo in some kind of trouble? If so I need to know,” I said.

Monroe smiled. Clearly he was the proverbial good cop. “He's in no trouble, I can assure you. You and your brothers may want to keep an eye on him though. Just to be on the safe side.”

I couldn't wait to get out of that hospital bed so I could get home. Just what the fuck was Jojo into that the cops would tell me to keep an eye on him? I didn't want any police anywhere near me as it was. I was mad and annoyed. I needed to get to my phone. Needed to contact Javon so he could know what was going on. Although I'd lied to the detectives, the pain I felt was no fabrication. I could feel the bandages around my head and neck. I was happy when the detectives decided I was of no use to them. They left me with their business cards and I left the hospital whether the doctor had released me or not.

A little birdie had hit me up with a nice little morsel of news. I was on my rounds with Uncle Snap, Lucky, and Lamont, educating myself about who to fuck with in Atlanta and who not to. It was during our drive through ATL and various meetings with our contracted underlings, that I lucked up on being told, by Uncle Snap, to visit a part of Atlanta that housed a group who was causing problems on my payroll. The Caribbean Lions. My intent was to visit with this crew and invite myself to a meeting they were having with the same hopeful connect I wanted to meet, the California connect.

Again this wasn't by accident, as I was going to make it appear.

Now, as I said, this little situation that I was prepping to step into had nothing to do with beef or issues on my payroll. Awhile back, I had actually been invited by the Caribbean Lions leaders, a sibling unit going by the criminal name Rize, to meet with them once I stepped into my new roll in the Syndicate. According to Mama's notes, the Lions had a longstanding pipeline from the Caribbean, London, some parts of South America, and Canada. Like me, only in the last several years, the younger leaders had been working to secure a pipeline to Japan and gain a seat with the Syndicate.

Because of my research, I began playing with the idea of meeting with the Lions after looking into how professional they were with their hustle. Let me break it down though: Rize consisted of Khalil Brixton and his sister, Trinity, the current leaders of the Caribbean Lions. They were a small growing force, one that I was very interested in. Especially with Rize's suggestion to meet them after they had heard about the Irish. Unfortunately for them, the streets talked about some trouble going on within the crew and I now had ears that regularly blew sweet information my way on whoever I wanted to keep an eye on and they became my focus.

When later information fell in my lap about Rize meeting with their connect, I found myself at an advantage, which had me moving our meeting up. I also had done research into networking with the California connect, who Mama was close to before her death. This was my chance. I'd learned that this connect was Sato Ayame. She and her partner had additional pull in several Asian areas such as Taiwan and Korea. Watching the outside of a two-level, brick-front shop—a shop rental once owned by Mama, as Uncle Snap had explained to me, but was now my inheritance—a huge smile spread across my face in thought.

“For years, Claudette had been watching and micromanaging the growth of the Caribbean Lions by fostering their business transactions and supplying them with a little money here and there. The idea was to create a new pipeline as a means to bring versatile growth with the Syndicate. But when Mama introduced them to the table, they wanted nothing do to with young, new blood. So she let them sit back and grow on their own,” Uncle Snap detailed by my side.

We sat in a blacked-out XL Escalade in the alleyway opposite the restaurant. Monty had picked up Lucky and brought him our way so that he could learn a little of what he'd be dealing with as a chair. Both he and Monty sat in his low-rider waiting for Uncle Snap's signal. I had him on speaker so that he could hear via his Bluetooth while he and Lucky spoke about bullshit.

“So if we follow through with her notes and they prove themselves resourceful we can bring them in.” Uncle Snap stretched his legs out and checked his Glock.

I wasn't sure about all of that just yet. Just because Mama had notes that specified to trust certain people didn't mean I shouldn't act in my own way and size people up. Not everyone can be trusted. However, I liked the idea of bringing in fresh blood, so the crew already had my attention.

“Who's their enemy?” I asked while in thought.

Rubbing his bearded jaw, Uncle Snap grunted then shifted in thought. “Let's see. Around here, they have some beef with the six-nines over in Bankhead. Niggas always hating on the Lions grew out of nothing. There some beef with the Kango's, an Australian crew. We got some beef with them too because the niggas hate not having control of how we do shipments.”

I reclined against my seat, tapping my thigh while listening. Everything Uncle said I put to memory including every name he spat out verbatim as he rattled the enemies off like a list. After a while, I sighed, and shook my head. “Damn, sounds like half of the A has issue with these cats.”

“You think that's something, nephew? Shit, that's just a fart in the wind. Let's see there's also X-clusive. A black and white crew in the suburbs. We have beef with them too because their preppy fuckers never do business right. They always undercut and manipulate to take more product than they should. Then the Irish. Cormac made it his mission to wipe out the Lions, which is why their leaders are your age.”

“If they managed to hold it down through that, and find a way to be interesting enough to gain the attention of the west side, then I need to meet them. Let's start this meeting,” I said hopping out of the car.

“Go in through the back. I have the keys,” Uncle said motioning with his head. “One thing?”

“Yes, sir?” I said out of old habit and respect.

“What are you going to do about Naveen and Jojo?” he asked in sincere concern. “Those two used to be close but now they are fucking up Mama's and mine's house.”

An inward chuckle resonated through me then came out. I knew something deep was going on with Jojo and I could tell that he was being stubborn with it. I just had to wait on him, which I intended to. Now with Naveen, little dude was like me with having a perceptive mind sometimes. Except, he never could hold his thoughts in like I could and let people hang themselves. That part of him wasn't a strong suit, so I knew that I was going to have to talk to him soon about how he was feeling about Jojo.

“I plan on speaking to Naveen when I carve out some free time,” I explained.

“Good. The family needs you as a whole, but individually they need you, too,” Uncle Snap said with a clap of his hand against my shoulder.

After that, we all headed inside with no issue. Cooks had the stoves lit up with savory foods that made my stomach growl. I watched Uncle give hugs to people I didn't know. It was he who had a beautiful older woman with salt-and-pepper locs hand me, Monty, and Lucky plates of the fucking best jerk chicken and rice I had ever had.

“Damn, don't tell anyone, but I think this is better than some shit I had up in Harlem, gotdamn.
Che buono!
” Lucky said with a huge grin. He stood next to a woman with an ass he was leaning back to admire while asking for more food on his plate.

Me, I went on my way through the doors, fork in my mouth, plate in my hand, and that's when I introduced myself.

“Can I tell you that your family in the back have a gift with food? I mean my friend is locked in a state of ecstasy while my baby brother has his nose stuffed in the rice, not saying a thing.”

Looking behind me, I saw Lamont give a thumbs-up and continue to take huge scoops of food.

“What type of roots is this huh?” I said chuckling with a grin stopping near a table to look at everyone in front of me. As I looked around at the group of people over my plate, the brother-and-sister team Rize both abruptly stood and stared at me in bewilderment.

“My brotha,” Khalil said in a slight accent with his locs braided on his skull like a crown, giving me an equally confused look. “I'm confused. Did we schedule for our meeting today?”

I allowed myself a moment to take a forkful of chicken and roti. I took my time to savor it before responding, “I gathered that since the streets are heated about you all meeting with a very important connect, I'd allow myself a chance to peek in on how you all operate. Is that good with you, brotha?” Going back to eating, I waited for his reply.

From my peripheral vision, I could see Khalil arguing with his sister in hushed tones. Baby girl was a creamy milk chocolate connection of beauty. She appeared to be around Lamont's age. She wore her microbraided hair in two ponytails. Around her bare waist was a tartan plaid shirt tied in a knot over her black baggy yoga pants with waist beads as she sported a cropped short-sleeve top. As she spoke, her bangles shook and she pointed her red-tipped nails our way as if making a gun shape. She looked me up and down. She shifted on her feet to do the same to my family, pausing to stare at Monty the longest with a curl of her lip before speaking with her brother again.

“Damn she fine,” I heard Lamont say near me and it caused me to chuckle.

“I'm not here to bring trouble,” I said holding up a hand. “I am here to do business though.”

Both siblings studied me, scrutinizing me briefly before giving me a reassured nod.

“Have a seat. We've been wanting to meet the brotha who took over for Mama awhile now, especially after hearing how you took down those rassholes,” Khalil said taking his seat.

Trinity flipped her chair in front of her to straddle it and rest her chin on the back of it.

I was amused. That's why a smile spread across my face and I smirked. “Oh, yeah. They were a problem that needed to be handled. Unfortunately for them, they are proving to be a bigger problem that I'm enjoying handling.”

“Exactly. I was just having that conversation with my people. See, the lot of them believe we should extend a hand and I'm like nah. Now why would we work with people like that when they've been nothing but grief?” Khalil said while leaning to the side and running a hand over his locs.

From how he was leaning, it had me checking out that he was looking at a specific person in his crew. A light, bright-looking nigga in baggy clothes and a close crop fade. My eyes narrowed and I stabbed my fork in the chicken, took a bite, and chuckled.

“Yes, I can dig how you might feel about that. Suggestions are like assholes, ya know? Only when explaining to people that debased remarks such as that can get you killed will the person understand. Get me?”

Khalil sat in silence. His sister Trinity burned holes into their crew's faces with her heated gaze.

“I mean, take the Irish. They will do all they can to come into your world and fuck it up. Like, I don't know, insert a plant who might make ridiculous suggestions that have only caused you to lose out on deals and almost get you killed. You ever have a situation like that?” I asked steady picking at my plate and eating.

Khalil slowly stood to reached out in front of him and splay his hands on the surface of the table before him. “Actually, my brotha, I have, which is why I called this meeting so early. Niggas been talking. My own people been talking.”

Everyone in the room started to bristle. A few of his people began to speak up. “We're loyal to this fam,” one said. “Yeah, we'd never break loyalty,” another said.

I smirked with a low-key chuckle. “They're right, Khalil, but I mean I don't want to get in your family business like that.”

“No, get in it,” Trinity said standing with a sudden accent. “What do yuh know?”

Shrugging, I made a show of things and took my time before answering. Moving casually around I glanced at everything then pointed to the one Khalil stared at. “Him.”

My man Khalil gave me a chin up with a curled upper lip while looking down his nose at me when I stopped in front of him. He then said, “Nuh ramp wid mi.”

“No need for me to,” was all I said after he said, “Don't fuck with me.”

Like that, Khalil went bat shit crazy. He furiously pushed his chair over, snatched that dude up, and yanked him in front of me. “Who yuh working fah, nigga? Mi knew yuh were off.” He snarled in heated fury. “Mi knew yuh were actin' shady fah months now, D'Andre.”

Glaring at me, D'Andre held his hands up and shook his head. “No, no. I'd never play you, boss. I mean that on my daughter, fam.”

“Shoot him in his right pinky toe and see how true that is,” I suggested egging dude on. For some reason, I dug his style. If done right, he might make a great general in training up new soldiers for the Syndicate.

Behind me Lucky chuckled then whispered, “He works for the Irish.”

I nodded watching the entertainment before me in silence. “Yeah. Saw him exit out the back of the pub when we left,” I eventually said.

“But a wah di rass? Oooo, mi hate liars. Put that on yuh daughter? Fah real, D'Andre? That's so foul,” Trinity said through clenched teeth, her accent thickening.

It was Trinity who walked to D'Andre and slapped him so hard that he flew face first on the table. Baby girl slammed his face against it multiple times. She twisted him by his head, smashed her kicks against his face then lit him up with her Glock hitting his legs. D'Andre's body shook then fell back near me. Damn, I was kind of impressed.

Interesting enough, there was blood on my boots and a neck under it. Was I the cause of it? Maybe. Was I the one who pulled the trigger that had my boot covered in another nigga's fluids? No. Not this time. What was I doing through all the fun? Shieet, holding a plate of chopped jerk chicken with roti and standing in front of a table full of Jamaicans and others representing the Caribbean.

Thanks to Trinity dropping that nigga in front of me, I figured that I'd play as well by stepping on his neck and watching him struggle to breath, all while eating. That's how I got blood on my boot.

“How long have you been with the Irish? Saw you exit their pub, my friend,” I asked licking my fingers then setting my plate down on a table beside me. “My bad, Khalil, go on and handle this homie.”

Both Khalil and Trinity stood over D'Andre. Trinity motioned to one of their people and I watched someone disappear to the back coming forward with a woman and a little girl. It was then that Trinity punt kicked D'Andre in the head then walked over to the girl.