Trap House (32 page)

Chapter 1

T
he federal agent watched Real get out of his lime green Lamborghini Murcialago LP
460 with his fiancée Constance and head into G-Spot, his high class strip club located
on Peachtree Street in downtown Atlanta. Real had been under federal investigation now for six
months, ever since a federal informant tipped them off about his illegal activities.

Anyone who came into contact with Real would surely put him well beyond his actual age of
only twenty-seven years. He was six feet tall with a medium built muscular frame that the ladies
couldn’t get enough of. His smooth, charcoal black skin, wavy hair, and light brown eyes gave him
an exotic look that would have any woman fawning over him.

Real was a real charmer and a ladies man. He prided himself on his slick tongue and convincing
rhetoric. Some people in the past had mistaken his easygoing manner for weakness, but in the end,
they found out Real was an extremely dangerous individual.

Constance, Real’s baby girl, fiancée, and business partner, was always by his side. Constance
was three years older than Real, the spitting image of Lisa Raye with a little more hips and ass.
Constance grew up in the College Park projects, where she got down with the grimiest of niggas
hustling crack to the project fiends. After a few run-ins with other hustlers, the word spread quickly
that lil’ fine ass Constance would bust her gun at the drop of a dime.

After graduating from Banneker High, Constance tried her hand at real estate. In no time, she
became a highly reputable broker that only dealt in the most high-end homes. Constance became
a millionaire virtually overnight.

Constance and Real had met three years earlier at a mutual friend’s birthday party. They kept
each other company throughout the party. Before leaving the party, they exchanged numbers and
promised to stay in contact. A week later, Constance was selling Real a $4.7 million estate in North
Atlanta—the one in which they now both reside.

Real was a millionaire in his own right, raking in millions in the drug trade, more than he
would ever make going legit. He supplied dealers from every coast. Moving over 100 kilos a week
enabled him to live the lifestyle of some of the world’s biggest sports figures. After continuous
preaching from Constance to put together some kind of legit source of income, he opened up
G-Spot, an upscale strip club that catered to the rich and famous.

Real and Constance were on their way to a Tyler Perry play when Real got a call from Max.
“Say, cuz,” said the manager of G-Spot, “we need your assistance down here. It’s very important,”
Max said firmly.

Max was Real’s older cousin. He was discharged from the military right after the Gulf War. As
soon as Max heard about his lil’ cousin Real starting a strip club, he practically begged him for
the managing position. Constance was totally against it, but Real disregarded Constance’s wishes
and gave his cousin the job anyway. Unfortunately, it took a while for Real to see just how right
Constance was.

“I’m on my way,” Real said, placing his phone back into the car charger.

“On your way? Where you goin’?” Constance snapped.

“Max needs me down at the club. It’s only going to take a second,” Real said, turning the
Lambo around and heading back up to the club.

“Man, come on, now! What the hell you hire this nigga for? To watch pussy! Shit, you might
as well be managing your own shit! Every night, you get a call to go do his fuckin’ job! You need
to hire somebody to handle your business so you’ll have time to spend with your fuckin’ lady!”
Constance barked as they pulled up into the club parking lot.

Real knew when it was good to let Constance have her say, especially when she was right, but
by the same token, Constance also knew when to hold her tongue.

“Come on,” Real told Constance as he opened the door on the Lambo.

Ignoring his command, Constance sat in the car until he walked around, opened up her door, and helped her
out of the car. Walking hand in hand, they entered G-Spot.

Chapter 2

“H
ey, cuz! Two slick-dressed Italian guys demanded to see you. For what, I don’t know,
but they up in VIP with some of their other friends,” Max told Real as he pointed
toward the VIP section of the club.

“Italians?” Real repeated, trying to figure out what the men could possibly want. Real didn’t
know any local Italians.

“Yeah,” Max said, looking in their direction.

“What they want?” Constance asked angrily, furious that her night was put on hold by Max—
again.

While Constance and Real stood in the middle of the club floor, naked girls spoke to Real and
ignored Constance as they walked by. Constance made it known to every girl working that she
wouldn’t hesitate to fuck them up when it came to Real. Some of the girls respected her situation,
but a good majority of them didn’t. Every chance one of them got, they would come on to Real in
some kind of way. After a while, it was known around the club that Real wasn’t going to cheat on
Constance, so they stopped trying—all but Cream, the beautiful half-Black, half-White stallion.
Cream was determined to break Real down and get him into her bed.

“I told you I don’t know what they want,” Max snapped looking at Constance with pure
hatred.

“So you called us all the way down here, and you don’t even know what they want? Did you
even ask?” Constance snapped back.

“I called Real down here, not you,” Max answered harshly.

“Enough!” Real yelled, leaving Max and Constance standing in the middle of the floor looking
at each other as he went to the VIP section to see what the Italians wanted. “Somebody looking for
me?” Real asked, looking at the men.

They instantly stopped throwing money at the naked girl and looked up at him. “Who are you?”
asked one of the men.

“I’m Real, the owner. Now, who wants to see me?’ Real asked again.

“Oh! Real! Come take a seat, my friend,” the young, fancy-dressed Italian told Real after making
his friend move out of the seat beside him.

“I’m good. What’s the problem?” Real asked, still standing staring the man down.

“Oh, there’s no problem, my friend. I just came to deliver a very important message from Mr.
Rossi,” the young Italian said as he stood and walked over to Real.

“Rossi? What’s the message?” Real asked, confused. He didn’t recognize the name.

The Italian man got up close on Real and whispered, “Mr. Rossi says you work for him or you don’t work
at all. He knows you are making his competition, the Moretti family, very rich, which is also making Moretti’s
stronghold on the cartel a lot stronger. Mr. Rossi can’t touch Mr. Moretti at this time, but he can touch you. So,
what’ll it be?” the young Italian asked with a sly smile.

Real placed his arm around the man’s shoulder and said firmly, “Tell your boss Mr. Rossi that I
said to go fuck himself and that I don’t sit well with threats. Now, you and your boys get the fuck
up out of my establishment!” Real said, smiling as he exited the VIP section, motioning for Max
and Constance to follow.

“What up, cuz?” Max asked as they entered Real’s back office.

“Everything’s good. Just some rich, arrogant Italians trying to invest in the club, which is totally
out of the question,” Real told Max as Constance stood by, picking up on the lie.

“Oh, okay, cuz. I got everything under control. I will call you tomorrow with an update on
thangs,” Max said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

Constance rolled her eyes.

“A’ight, cool,” Real said, turning to walk out the office.

“Under control my ass!” Constance uttered as she followed Real out of the back office.

As Real walked across the floor, he noticed the Italians exiting. The tall, lanky one looked in his
direction and smiled. Real smiled back.

A few minutes later, Real and Constance were turning out of the G-Spot onto Peachtree Street.

Picking up on Real’s different mood, Constance spoke softly. “What’s going on, baby?” she asked, sensing
his uneasiness.

“Some spic trying to make demands. Had the nerve to send me a message that if I don’t work
for him, I don’t work at all. Can you believe that? Ain’t that some shit? He must don’t know who
the fuck Real is!” Real shouted, getting madder and madder as he thought about the threat from
the man in the silky suit.

“Who sent the message?” Constance inquired, trying to see if she recognized the name as one
of her wealthy real estate clients. She had sold several high-end homes to Italian drug lords.

“Rossi!” Real spat.

“Hmm. Never heard that name before. So what’s next?’ Constance asked.

“I’m going to call old man Moretti to see what the deal is. If he don’t fix it, I will!” Real
snapped.

“He’ll straighten it out,” Constance said, hoping he would—but even if he didn’t, she was going
to ride with Real to the very end, no matter what.

“Look, baby, I really ain’t in the mood right now for the play. I really need to make some calls,”
Real said, knowing that she would understand.

“Okay. Me neither,” Constance agreed.

Turning around, Real took the Lambo to speeds it had never reached before on the way back
home.

Chapter 3

“B
itch nigga, you better have my eighty grand by the end of the week, or else my people
here will be back, and the next time they leave, you won’t be fuckin’ breathin’!” Cash
shouted as his two goons pistol whipped the young dealer.

Cash was Real’s good friend and lieutenant. Real had met Cash back in the day on Godby Road.
Cash was the true definition of a young hustler. He would stay in the trap all day every day. Seeing
the hustle young Cash had and how solid he was made Real take him under his wing. Years later,
Cash became very wealthy, all because of Real.

As well as they worked together, Cash was the direct opposite of Real. He was tall, lanky,
bald headed, and very unattractive. Known in circles for his pistol play, Cash wouldn’t hesitate
to unload his clip. At the ripe old age of twenty-four, Cash was considered a legend around town.
While Real dealt with the Morettis, Cash and his goons dealt with the streets. Cash knew his
position and played it well, with no regrets.

Just as he gave the word for his goons to release the dealer, Cash’s cell phone rang. “What up,
bro?” he answered when he saw Real’s number on the screen.

“I need you to come out to the house ASAP,” Real told him firmly.

“Damn, bro, can’t it wait until tomorrow? I got Jesse and B-Low riding with me anyway. You
know I can’t bring them out to your spot,” Cash said, watching B-Low and Jesse laughing as the
young dealer run off.