(will There Be Any Stars In My Crown)

Mr. Malik (Will There Be Any Stars in My Crown)

Troy and Trevor Parham

TWIINTONE Publishing

This novel is based on actual events. Some of the names

and likenesses of the characters have been changed to protect the innocent, living or deceased. Sales of this book without an authentic front cover, or with a dull or missing cover may be unauthorized. If the book was purchased with a duplicated cover, it may have been reported to the publisher as ‘bootlegged’. Both the author and the publisher may not have received payment for the sale of this book. Please immediately contact the publisher advising where, when and how you purchased this book. MR. MALIK (will there be any stars in my crown) Copyright @ 2007 by Troy T. Parham All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief passages to be printed in a newspaper or magazine. Published by: TWIIN TONE PUBLISHING P.O. Box 442 Secane, PA. 19018 www.twiintoneentertainment.com ISBN-13 #: 978-0-9801718-0-8 Cover Design/Graphics: Deidra Grier for Agraphx Designs Photography: Donald Davis for DonMar Photography and Labrea Atiya for L.A. Photography Edited by: Tamara Grant Printed in the USA

Dedications

This book is dedicated to our mother, Janet Parham and our brother, Philip T. Parham, Jr. a.k.a. ‘Dubie’. Their lives and deaths have been the driving forces of our lives for the last 18 years. Our mother taught us love and the importance of education, values, and family. She gave us strength by standing by us and helping us to hurdle over life’s obstacles. Our brother taught us street smarts, responsibility, and our first lessons about women. We know that they are with God now, and they’re both watching over us. To any grandmother, father, aunt, uncle, brother, sister or family friend that is raising children that have been abandoned by drug addicted parents. A special dedication to our father who’s always been there to teach us what we needed to know about being men, Philip T. Parham, Sr. To the man who, for over 30 years we’ve simply known as Gilbert ‘Malik’ Satterwhite. A man whom we never met, but who we know watches over us from heaven. A man whose legacy we carry on proudly. His memory will live

on through our voices and pens. To all the people that God has brought into our lives, and those whom He’s taken out. There was an old saying that went: ‘It takes an entire village to raise a child’, and every person we’ve ever met has contributed, positive or negative, to making us the men we are today. For that, we are forever grateful. Heartfelt dedications to my (Troy) loving queen Shelby Boyer, and our two children, Drew and Troi Indigo. To our sisters Diane, Kim, Khea, Tamika, and her wife Rikai. To our cousin Shango, our aunt Sylvia, and our uncle Gerald. To our nephews Robert III, Kristopher, Trevor Nafis, Ronnell, Trevor Jr., Ryan, Remar, Jamal, and Reese. To our nieces Krysta, Rhonda, Jhada, Asiana, and Kharimah. To our grandmother, Mary Williams, and all of our uncles, aunts, and cousins. To my (Troy) second mother, Maxine Veasey. Thank you for being a grandmother to my son. For those that we didn’t mention just know that we didn’t forget you, we just saved the best for last... Love yall!!=

Acknowledgments

GOD, there aren’t words to describe how thankful that we are for Your blessings and grace. You are the leader of the orchestra that plays the beautiful music of our lives. Everything we do means nothing without you! To our graphic arts mastermind Deidra Grier, you’re an angel. Thank you so much for your wonderful work. To our on point photographers Don Davis and Labrea Atiya, what else can we say except ‘we love yall’? To our attorney Darryl Andrew Marshal (Marshal and associates law firm). ‘DeMar’ please believe that you’ve impacted our lives tremendously over the past twenty years… Our big brother, our friend, thank you!

To the people at the bookstores that were first to embrace us, Xanielle Brown at Horizon Books (Philadelphia, PA.), Lester Ricks at The Harlem Book Center (New York, NY), Larry Robin at Robin’s Bookstore, (Philadelphia, PA.), Quada Timothy at Sunrise Books (Philadelphia, PA.), Hakim at Black and Nobel Books (Philadelphia, PA.), and Diane at Mejahs Books (Claymont Delaware). Thank yall for showing us love. To anyone who we missed, you know we got you. I’ll keep doing my thing for yall… Please visit our websites and email us your comments. We’d love to hear from you:

www.twiintoneentertainment.com [email protected] [email protected]

Prologue I sat at a wooden table in a dimly lit night club. There was a veil of smoke hanging in the air, making it hard to see. Clenching my beer bottle in my hand, I sat stewing, still angry due to an earlier argument. The sound of the band and the people talking and laughing were no competition for the voices in my head. They were haunting me, telling me that I shouldn’t be here and to leave this lifestyle alone for good. I tried my best to ignore the voices and redirect my attention to something else. I searched the smoke filled room and found the woman I still loved seated at a table nursing a

gin and tonic, but all the while, the voices still had control of my mind. As I sat in a daze, the voices engaged in battle with my mind. I paid no attention to my partner and his fiancée, or any of the other cats from our crew as they tended to the usual groupies. The only thing that broke my trance was the site of five looming figures across the room as they stood up suddenly at their table. They were all decked out in dark colored suits, bow ties, and light colored cashmere trench coats. It took me a second to realize who they were. The men marched across the crowded club towards our table. After they approached us, their leader asked my partner if he could speak to him, and none of us missed his threatening tone. At the same time the other men started an argument with me and our crew to distract us. Suddenly, the music stopped. Women were screaming and there was the sound of chairs scrapping against the floor as the other club patrons scrambled to get away from the chaotic scene. While I was arguing I heard a gunshot from behind me. I ducked as I reached inside my jacket for my gun. Before I could even get it out of its holster, there were two more shots. All I remember next was falling to the floor with the feeling like my head had exploded. As I lie there on the floor I could vaguely see the silhouette of a woman. She kneeled down

next to me and lifted my head onto her lap. I couldn’t hear anything accept the delayed beating of my own heart. My body was getting colder and my vision was getting blurrier. Somehow I found enough strength to turn my head and look in the direction of my partner and his fiancée. They both lie still and lifeless on the floor about ten yards away from me. With him on top and her underneath him, their embrace was like that of lovers as they held each other for the last time. I managed to look up at the women holding me and tried my best to squeeze her hand. There were tears streaming down her face. She sat holding me as people were running wildly past us, scrambling toward the exits. A man ran over and began pulling on her arm trying to convince her to leave with him. She shook her head and snatched her arm away in refusal as she reached down and kissed my forehead. I could feel warm blood running down my neck and back, and I knew where it was coming from. For a minute I thought that I was dreaming and I couldn’t wake up. Then I started to think about the words to my song: ”When I die, will there be any stars in my crown?” Thoughts of the shootout at my house, stabbing my brother, and the killings I’d been involved in were consuming my mind, replaying like a motion picture. All of the good and the not so good things I’d done flashed in my mind, including the infidelities and the out of wed lock

pregnancy. Which one of them had come back to haunt me? Despite the fact that everything was becoming dark and I could feel myself starting to fade, I stayed calm. My heart rate got slowed, and I all I could ask myself was where did I go wrong? How did I get here…?”

MR. MALIK

Chapter One The King’s crown

We shine We shine They never wanted us To grow out of the darkness We are the light Of lights Bright burning lights Being followed in the dark The night has fought us We shine Like stars We shine We’ve illuminated the gloom We’ve come out of the darkness If poetry was the language of love, for me to speak it 1

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fluently was a must. Well, so I thought. However, there were times like this that I wrote more militant verses. I was laying across my custom upholstered red satin antique sofa, scribbling words onto a piece of paper in my spiral, flip up note pad. The black silk turtle neck, black slacks, and black suede shoes I was wearing reminded me how I got interested in writing. When I was a little boy I remember a portrait of Langston Hughes that my mother had hanging on her bedroom wall. He too was wearing all black clothing, only his ensemble included a collared buttoned down shirt and single breasted blazer. I remember my mother saying what a great poet he was. Whenever I visited the library I would find books of his poetry and look for the poems that my mother told me about. After reading hundreds of his poems I was so intrigued that I knew I wanted to write poetry, and hopefully someday I could be as great as he was. As I reminisced my eagerness to clear my mind and allow new thoughts of poetic creativity was starting to gain control of me. And, as you probably would’ve guessed, I was inclined to submit. In my right hand was a gold pen which I moved quickly across a page in my spiral notebook. I watched as my hand scripted what

my mind had envisioned. Killers Born killers 2

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Cold-blooded killers journeying to Hades I know killers Gun shooters Stranglers, arsonists Butchers, cannibals Atomic bombers Foreign and domestic Cold-blooded killers Murderers I know killers Crucifiers of my Lord Crucifiers Castrators of my Africa’s natives Killers, murderers Demented killers who smile At the thought of going to hell I always signed the end of each poem, Gilbert Satterwhite. In all honesty, the only time I liked my name was when I was signing it to something I’d written. My last name came from my father whom had a lot of contempt for, since he ran off and left my family when I was sixyears-old. As for my first name, well, I didn’t see

myself as a Gilbert. It didn’t sound to cool if you catch my drift. I finished the poem and sitting the notebook down beside me, I turned my attention to the red satin chair across the living room. The chair and sofa that I was sitting on were part of a set I’d purchased. And as such, both had the same red 3

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satin covering and mahogany wood finish. On the head rest of the mahogany chair was a golden crown covered with diamonds, emeralds and rubies. I always said I wanted to live like a king, and the crown was my reminder. The chair was my throne and I would sit in it, placing the crown on my head, envisioning myself ruling my kingdom. When I was six or seven years old, I remember my family attended Mt. Zion Baptist Church. My favorite part of the service was when the Rev. Leon Sullivan would read from the Bible. Every week I hoped that the Reverend would read about King Solomon, the richest and wisest king in history. He had seven hundred wives, one of which was the Pharaoh of Egypt’s daughter. He also had a close friendship with the Queen of Sheba. A friendship in which the Queen showered him with

gold, rare jewels and a lot of romance, so says the scripture. If I remember it correctly there’s was one passage in particular that said: he gave her all her desires, whatsoever she asked, and she left satisfied. It was said that Solomon was the author of the Bible’s Song of Songs. So, a wealthy ruler who loved women, writing and power? Needless to say the King and I were similar creatures. Even if it wasn’t exactly the man I was, it was certainly the man I wanted to be. I also remember how the choir would sing after the reading of the scripture. My favorite song was ‘Will there be any stars in my crown’. I can still hear the melodic voice of the choir in my head: 4

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I am thinking today of that beautiful land I shall reach when the sun goeth down When through wonderful grace by my savior I stand Will there be any stars in my crown Will there be any stars in my crown When the evening sun goeth down When I wake with blest in the mansions of rest Will there be any stars in my crown In the strength of the Lord let me labor and pray Let me watch as a winner of souls

That bright stars might be mine in the glorious day When his praise like the sea billows roll Will there be any stars in my crown When evening sun goeth down When I wake with blest in the mansions of rest Will there be any stars in my crown Oh! What joy it will be when his face I behold Living gems at his feet to lay down It would be my bliss in the city of gold Should there be any stars in my crown Will there be any stars in my crown? That was the phrase that resonated with me again and again. I knew that I could buy more gems for the crown on my chair, but only God 5

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could provide stars in the kingdom of heaven. As I grew from a child to a man I decided that like King Solomon, I also wanted people to remember me as great. My name needed to be synonymous with regal, majestic and powerful. Therefore at age twenty I changed it from Gilbert to Malik, which was an Arabic name that meant King or owner. Honestly, in my not so humble opinion, the name couldn’t have been more perfect. So, from then on I was known as ‘Mr.

Malik’, the king. However, the downtrodden neighborhood that I grew up in could hardly be called a kingdom. In the same way that nearly the entire urban regions of Germantown and North Philadelphia had, my would be kingdom had become a ghetto slum. Consequently, in order to rule, I had to learn the rules of THE STREETS…

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Chapter Two

Bad Company I never wanted to be the type of man that brought his work home with him, but unfortunately with my job that wasn’t an option. After almost thirty minutes of resting on my couch daydreaming about my coming of age, my mind had become consumed with questions about who and what I was. As a child I liked writing, sports and kung fu movies, and I hated the police. Yet then, at twenty-one years old, I worked as a private investigator and studying to become a lawyer. Whenever I was working on a case I carried a black .357 caliber handgun in a brown leather, over the shoulder gun holster. With six shots in its revolving chamber I used it mostly for protection. However, there were several instances where I used it as a powerful persuader to obtain information or gain entry to some otherwise inaccessible places. On occasion I did some work for random clients, 7

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but my primary employer was a prominent civil rights attorney named Calvin R. Little. He taught me a lot about litigating, investigating and was a huge influence on my decision to go to law school. Calvin was loved and respected in the

black community and city hall, and we loved each other like a father and son. Even though I enjoyed my work and I felt a sense of purpose in my life, I knew that I could never live like royalty on a mediocre salary. So, when I saw my opportunity to supplement my income, I had to take advantage. My childhood friend, Myron Walker, had become one of the biggest heroine dealers in Philadelphia. He distributed throughout the entire city and some of New Jersey. Myron started out at age nineteen as an errand boy for a small time pimp who also dealt heroine. Although he and I were best friends, at first he wouldn’t involve me in that part of his life. After a year of running errands he saw an opportunity to make a move that proved to be substantially profitable. When the deal went bad I knew that from that point on he would need someone to watch his back. So, I became his personal body guard and head of his security. Over the years Myron grew with money and power, and gained the attention of law enforcement, politicians and more importantly, rival gangs. An organization known as the Philadelphia Black Mob had become our biggest enemy. With more than two dozen members the black mob was a murderous consortium who was on the FBI’s most wanted list for extortion, racketeering and smuggling. 8

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Most of the members practiced the religion of Islam and provided security for some of the local mosques’ top ministers. It was alleged that the black mob members were even enforcers for the Nation of Islam, and carried out dozens of hits that resulted in deaths. They also used selected mosques for safe havens to hide out from the police and rivals. Among their rivals were Myron and myself, and our crew. Myron, who prior to this morning, was serving a short prison term, was nicknamed ‘Mr. Millionaire’ on the streets. I assure you that his assets and money made the name well deserved. Consequently, he gained the interest of certain groups of killer extortionists who sought to profit from his fortune. However, as his protector and advisor I insisted that Myron refuse their demands, and I declared war on any of them who persisted. So now, even in the midst of a war for money, I faithfully took the time to relax on my couch and reflect. As I sorted through my thoughts there was a knock at my front door. “Who is it?” I asked with a very serious tone. “Yo Malik. It’s me, Blood. You ready to go?” “Me who?” I stood by the side of the door with my gun in my hand as I tried to recognize the voice. “C’mon, man. Open up.”

Recognizing the voice, I unlocked all of the safety locks and chains, and snatched the door open. I pointed my gun in the face of the man on my porch with the hammer cocked back. I pretended that I’d opened the door unaware of 9

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who he was to justify my actions. Consequently, my aggression forced him to take a few steps back, throwing his hands in the air as a sign of surrender. The man was Craig ‘Three Dice’ Hines. That night there was going to be a welcome home party for Myron at his place. However, with so much riding on winning the turf war, no one was allowed to travel alone. Myron and I agreed on this and so did our crew. Craig was assigned by Myron to escort me to the party for security reasons. I knew he didn’t want to for one main reason. There had been animosity between us, mainly because of his jealousy, since we started to work for Myron, and it showed. Craig ducked under the barrel of my gun and stepped through the doorway. Even though I hadn’t invited him in, self control wouldn’t allow me to throw him out. I closed the front door and put my gun back in the holster. I then peeked out of the window at the limousine waiting out front. It was parked at the curb in front of my

house. “What’s happening Blood,” Craig said as he walked across the room. “Boss wanted us to escort you and your fox to the party.” He didn’t seem to be fazed by me pointing my gun at him. He was still being his same arrogant self. From the smug look on his face, to the way he adjusted the Italian style hat on his head instead of removing it like a gentleman, his whole attitude was cocky. Angry, I stepped in front of him, breaking his stride. I know Craig wanted to walk right past and ignore me, but the 10

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look on my face stopped his disrespect. “Sounds to me like you don’t recognize me as a boss, Craig,” I said reprimanding. “Be cool man, I know what it be.” I was becoming irritated by Craig’s patronizing, so I asked him to wait outside with the other security guards. Craig smirked as he opened the front door, then he exited closing it gently behind him. I looked at my grandfather clock and saw that it was nearing six p.m. Though I was still trying to suppress my anger from the contempt I felt for my assigned escort, I had to enhance my resolve and prepare myself for the party. This night was the night, and I couldn’t let anything

ruin it…

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Chapter Three The Other Woman

Again I peeked out of my living room window at the limousine out front. Myron had provided top notch transportation. He loved to show off his money and this was one way to let the people know that he was home. I remember thinking to myself that I had to change my attire to make it first class, A1 like the limo. As I headed upstairs to get dressed I could hear the radio playing in my bedroom. I walked down the hallway, opened the door to my room and saw my girlfriend, Cherry Amaker, sitting alone in a chair by the front window. Looking devilishly sexy as always, she was wearing a pair of cream colored Egyptian cotton pants that were form fitted to her hips and ass. The front of her teal green blouse was tied in a knot to show off her teasing tummy and belly button. 12

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She had taken off her shin-high, brown leather, side zipped boots and they were on the floor next to the chair. She was singing “This girl’s in love with you” by Dionne Warwick, which was on the radio, and her Chanel perfume pervaded the entire room. As she continued to gaze out of the front window I could only assume that she was looking

at the limousine parked outside, since her expression was one of disapproval. Prior to my quiet time for creativity in my living room, and Craig’s intrusion, Cherry and I discussed our plans for the evening. I knew she wanted to spend a quiet evening at home, but she knew she had to accompany me to the party. As one of the most talked about couples in the urban underworld and the community as a whole, our attendance at Myron’s party kind of a big deal. See, Cherry was no stranger when it came to high rolling and so-called gangsters. Her seven-year-old daughter Roselyn was rumored to have been fathered by a big time New Jersey numbers runner whose name she would never reveal. She had never been married and she didn’t seem to mind too much that I was. She told me once that with all the guns, guards, money and mayhem, she wondered if this was the life she wanted. Cherry liked being rich, but she was scared for Roselyn. I tried to tell Cherry that I wanted more than the fast life her daughter too. I was, after all, the only father that she knew. I still remember the very first time that she called me 13

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daddy. It was certainly one of the happiest days of my life, and it surely made me think of her as

my own daughter from then on. There were times it seemed as if Cherry didn’t care about my political connections, my business savvy or the reputation I had in the community as a powerful man. She was in love with me and the luxurious lifestyle she’d grown accustomed to. Even though I’d promised to always protect her and Roselyn, doubt always resided in the back of Cherry’s mind as to if I could keep that promise. Our relationship went bad when I, prior to Myron’s going to prison, insisted that Cherry not bring up any more jive about me cheating. Cherry wanted so badly to trust me, to believe in me, to feel assured by me, but she had given up on me being faithful long ago. Sitting by the window cuddling with her pink fluffy pillow, which was her favorite one since it was a gift from her mother, Cherry looked almost too perfect to disturb. However, I didn’t want to keep Myron and his guests at the party waiting. Still, I wanted to make her feel better about coming with me “Hey baby,” I said in a low tone. “Hey, handsome,” she said, looking me up and down seductively. “You ready to go?” “I can see we just ain’t gonna stay home tonight.” “What do you mean?” 14

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“Malik, Myron was just released this morning and it’s already word on the streets that you two and your crew been mixed up in a killin’.” “Well, we weren’t.” Cherry uncrossed her legs and stood up by the window. “No? So tell me, what did ya’ll talk about when you picked him up at the prison?” she asked while folding her arms. I sighed, trying to stay calm so things wouldn’t get blown out of proportion. “You don’t need to know, baby. So why don’t you just slip into something real foxy and let’s go?” “That’s your problem, Malik,” she said with frustration. “You don’t let me in. If you loved me—,” “But I do love you,” I interrupted. I walked over to her and gently held her hands in mine. “Really? Then tell me what happened to that man who was killed today. I heard all about it! If you ain’t careful it’s gonna happen to you too,” Cherry said with concern. She looked at my expression and saw I was displeased by what she said, but she didn’t care. I moved towards her hoping that she would take it back. “Is that what you want?” I asked her. “To see me dead?” Cherry was suddenly being drawn closer to me by the serious look on my face, and the sternness of my voice.“No baby, I want to see you live,” she said.

I could hear compassion in her voice. We stood there in

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the middle of the room, as I let go of her hands, gently touched her face and responded, “I will.” Feeling my touch and hearing those words was all she needed. There was an animal magnetism between us that was unparalleled, and at times like this it really showed. I reached behind her and firmly grabbing her ass, I pulled her into my body. When our bodies joined she could feel my rock hard dick against her pelvis. I led her across the room towards the bed, and our passion ignited when we found ourselves giving a show in front of the large center window of the bedroom. My unyielding hands probed the contours of her body until they found her secret place and her instincts were suddenly unleashed. After she ripped off my silk turtle neck and under shirt, she paused to admire my chiseled chest and rippled stomach. Her hands glided down like she was counting each abdominal muscle. When she reached my belt buckle she forcefully unfastened it, allowing my pants to fall down to my ankles. We stood there groping each other with the curtains at the window opened, so Craig and the

bodyguards were privy to a free show. Cherry didn’t care and I wanted it that way. She was a very desirable woman. Her eyes were a hypnotic chestnut brown, and she wielded them like a magic wand. She was also known around town as ‘Miss Legs and Lips’, with both attributes being equally as luscious.

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I looked for every opportunity for her to be submissive. Craig watching was even more gratifying. Cherry slowly kneeled in front of me and grabbed my dick in her right hand. Then, after looking up at me with unconditional, passionate surrender she started a deep throat motion that threatened to send me over the edge. Her mouth welcomed every inch, and her technique was in rhythm with my pelvic thrusts. Just seconds before I came, I convinced Cherry to stop. I snatched her up and carried her over to my king sized water bed. Then I laid her down and ripped off her clothing. As Cherry lay now covered with only torn pieces of her clothes, I forced her legs apart and returned the favor. I locked hands to her hips and put my tongue in her secret place as deep as it would go. I sucked on her clitoris until she came in my mouth, and I

swallowed her sweet cum like sugar water. Afterwards, I climbed on top of her like a stalking panther, and at that moment, she was my prey. I repositioned her body from the damp spot that she left on my satin sheets, and I slid my dick into her soaking wet pussy. Then I rammed her inside again, and again. Cherry allowed me to puppeteer her movements, turning her over on her stomach, and then forcing her into a doggy style position. I continued to have my way with her and she was happy to oblige. As I roughly pulled her head back by her hair, and turned her face back towards mine, I stuck out my tongue and bent forward to reach her lips. I gestured for her to suck my tongue while I continued to bump my pelvis 17

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into her ass. “Malik!,” she moaned as she released my tongue and prepared to cum again. Cherry,” I said, barely able to get her name out of my mouth as I concentrated on my rhythm, which by then had became staggered. In an instance, all of the suspicions, uncertainties, and differences we shared drifted away on a sea of eroticism. As our bodies trembled from every one of my thrusts, my mind drifted off with thoughts of Myron, the party, and

our future business plans. Just then Cherry arched her back, tightened her pussy, and my attention was hers once again. As I hurried my final strokes we both came and surrendered to unconditional bliss. We fell on our sides and lay embraced, while I kissed her on the neck and whispering a reassuring, “I love you.” After our sexcapade the two of us shared a shower, and then went to our separate closets. I could tell by the attire she’d selected that she felt better about going to the party. I didn’t want to start that discussion again, so I just got dressed, happy that she was going coming with me. We topped off our a-plus digs with matching black and a white mink coats. “C’mon baby, let’s party!’ Cherry said as she winked her eye and walked out of the bedroom.

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Chapter Four

Us Spies

When we finally exited the house we saw that Myron really had provided us with first class traveling accommodations. The silver 1969 Lincoln Continental limousine that Craig came to escort us to the party in was a magnificent piece of automotive machinery. From the flashy spoke hub caps that topped the white walled tires, to the shine of the limo’s tinted windows and a chrome trimming. There were two Cadillacs accompanying the limousine. One was green in color the other was blue with a rag top. Both vehicles had additional bodyguards who stood at attention as they watched Cherry and I walk down the steps and approach the vehicles. Craig gave a phony greeting to Cherry before he was joined by Nate, one of Myron’s guards, who walked up from the rear vehicle. After Nate greeted me with a hand shake I called 19

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over the rest of the guards. “Jimmy, you and Al return to the front car,” I instructed as I assembled the motorcade. “Make sure you take it slow and don’t run no lights.” “Yes sir,” Jimmy said and then headed toward the lead car. Nate and Stoney were assigned to the rear car to follow the limo. “Stay close,” I added. Craig gave them an approving nod before they returned to their cars. “After you baby,” I said standing aside to allow Cherry to enter the limo. Craig opened the door and looked on. “I think I’ll ride in the front with the driver,” Craig said as he continued to hold the door. He and I traded arrogant stares; then I entered the limo and he closed the door. There was banging on the roof of the car as Craig signaled that the other cars were prepared to leave. “Let’s go,” Craig told the driver after he walked to the front of the limo and got into the front passenger seat. “Yes sir,” the driver answered and he drove off following the lead car toward Hunting Park Ave. “Don’t let any cars between you and that front car,” I instructed the driver. He locked his eyes on the front car, and Craig began to question him. “Damn, the limo driver business must be alright. That’s a nice watch, brother.” “Thank you sir,” the driver answered. “I do work very hard, sir,” he continued.

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Craig looked at him more closely and noticed his hands shaking, which took his attention off of the gold, diamond clustered watch. “That looks like the watch them mob mutha-fuckers gave you to take out Malik,” Craig said suggestively. The driver turned toward Craig and before he could answer, Craig pulled a .45 caliber Colt automatic handgun from inside his jacket and rested it on his lap. “Ain’t that right?” Craig asked. The nose of the gun was pointed directly at the driver’s thigh. He looked away from Craig and moved his hands higher on the steering wheel. “You’re wrong, sir. I don’t know no black mob,” he replied. Craig took his gun and pressed it against the driver’s stomach. He pulled the hammer back to the firing position. “You’re lying you jive ass sucker. And, I never said they was black. Craig knew by the driver’s reaction that his suspicions were right. He instructed the driver to keep his hands on the steering wheel, and his eyes on the lead car. Craig reached over and unbuttoned the driver’s coat. Inside the driver’s waistband was a .38 caliber revolver which Craig took from him.

“What, you thought he was gonna be by his self?” Craig asked snarling. “You think he’s stupid?” Not really caring what the driver’s answer would be, Craig fired three shots at close range into his stomach. Cherry screamed from the back seat of the 21

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limousine as I pushed her to the floor of the car and snatched my gun out of its holster. ”Craig, what the fuck is goin’ on man?” I yelled. “It’s cool,” Craig answered as he grabbed the steering wheel to take control of the limo. He took his left foot and moved the driver’s feet so that he could apply the brake as he steered. As soon as Craig stopped the car, I first made sure that Cherry was safe. Then I got out of the car and quickly walked to the front. Craig removed the driver’s suit jacket and hat. He scrambled to get the splattered blood off of his own clothes and the leather seat. Nate and Stoney saw my gun when I exited the limo. They ran to the limo from the rear car with their guns drawn also. When they reached the front they saw the driver’s blood soaked body still slumped over behind the steering wheel. Before they could ask any questions I ordered

Nate and Stoney to open the trunk of the limo and put the driver’s body inside. Al and Jimmy ran over to the limo before we had time to move the body. “What the fuck is going on?” Al asked Stoney and Nate. “I looked in my rearview mirror and saw yall cats running out of the fuckin’ car.” A look of confusion was clear on both of their faces. Jimmy immediately pointed his gun at Craig, looking at me to explain what had just gone happened. As Nate and Stoney started taking the body to the trunk, Jimmy still waited for answers about Craig and the deceased driver. 22

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Stoney put the body in the trunk and closed it, while Nate got behind the wheel. I told them where to take the body, and how to ditch the car. After Jimmy lowered his gun by my order, I instructed Craig to get into the rear vehicle. His suit was still splattered with blood. “I ain’t gonna let nobody fuck with my family, ever,” Craig yelled as he got into the driver’s seat and started the ignition.. “That’s what the fuck is gonna happen to any muthafucker who tries to take out my boss,” he continued. Jimmy, Al and I were still ignorant to what had happened. We just stood listening to Craig’s jive. We looked at each other and all agreed that

he finally acknowledged me as his boss. Jimmy and Al went back to their car, and I returned to the backseat of the limo to get Cherry out. She laid still and scared on the floor until I picked her up and held her in the most comforting way I could. She never asked what went down, and honestly I didn’t know what to tell her. I continued to console Cherry as we walked back to the rear car and got in the back seat. “Yo Craig, we got a party to go to. Let’s go!” I ordered as I held Cherry tight and kissed her on her forehead. I didn’t know exactly what Craig had just done, but something told me it was connected to the Black Mob. I didn’t question him about it then, but I knew at the party I would show Craig who was the Boss!

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Chapter Five

Millionaire Manor

Patricia Loren, Myron’s girlfriend, had been waiting so long for the day that he would be released from prison. She told Cherry recently, during one of their many girls talks, about the last time they made love, around six months ago. She said she could feel him every day so she hadn’t forgotten his sensual touch. She how much she’d missed the passion between herself and Myron, and it showed in her eyes whenever she talked about him. So, now that he was finally back with her, she certainly wouldn’t delay reacquainting herself. Only an hour away from the start of the ‘Welcome Home’ party, and she was still deciding on what to wear. Myron could hear the commotion downstairs as his employees and caterers hurried to prepare the rooms. He widened the opening in the doorway still watching Pat sift through her 24

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closet. As she looked at all of the high priced clothes, clothes shoes, and accessories, she paused and daydreamed. Myron grew curious to know what was on her mind, but he could see the expression on her

face was one of concern. Still, he didn’t want anything to ruin the evening, so he didn’t inquire about her thoughts. “Gotchu, you sweet thing you,” Myron said as he snuck up from behind and grabbed her around the waist. He was still wet and wrapped in a towel since he had just stepped out of the shower. “Hey baby. I need to talk to you,” Pat answered. Myron he knew that she had something on her mind. “Sure baby, but can it wait ‘til after the party? This is a big night for us.” She sighed and gave him an ultimatum. “Okay, but only if you promise we can talk later?” “I promise. We gonna go downstairs, drink, party, shake our groove thangs, all of that. Then, when they all split and it’s just me and you, we’ll talk about whatever you want. Is that cool?” “Myron,” she whispered. “I love you.” Her words made Myron feel like he was ready to take on the world. Besides, Pat knew that she meant everything to him, and she was ready to take on the world by his side. She could see her future, and Myron was it. “I love you too, baby,” he answered. They shared a passionate kiss and caressed each 25

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other’s half naked bodies. Unfortunately, Myron wondered how even as he was embraced in the arms of the only woman he ever loved, all he could think about was the party and millions of dollars of heroin. “I guess now you wanna make love?” Pat asked. “If this night wasn’t so important I would cancel the party, send everybody home, and make love to you for six months straight,” he said in her ear as he massaged her tight, round ass. “It’s okay baby. We may have lost most of 1969, but we’ve got every year for the rest of our lives to make up for it.” “Believe me, baby that’s exactly what we’re gonna do,” he agreed. “I hope you can hang wit it, ‘cause I’m ready to run a marathon.” “Please, I’m Puerto Rican, Papi. I’m spicy and long lasting.” “Solid! But you know you went black, and you ain’t never went back,” he said sarcastically. “Damn right, we’re perfect together.” Pat totally agreed. Myron knew she was right. If Pat hadn’t come into his life he probably wouldn’t care about living. She was the only thing that was good and pure in his tainted world. He said he would have given all he had to not lose her love. You had to respect that, even though it was kind of his weakness. “Okay, black marathon runner, we better get

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dressed and get downstairs. I think I hear guests,” Pat said. “Right on, sugar. We’ll get back to this later,” he replied. As they both started dressing for the party, the French style phone on Myron’s nightstand rang. “Hello,” Pat said answering the phone. “Where’s Myron at?” A man on the phone asked. “Hold on—who’s calling?” “Put Myron on the fucking phone, bitch!” “Who the hell are you callin’ a bitch, puto? You know who the fuck---,” Myron snatched the phone cutting short Pat’s last statement. “Who the fuck is this?” he said through grinding teeth. “Mr. Millionaire. Back out the joint I see, and back in business too.” “Whoever you is, you a dead man for calling my lady a bitch.” “I’m impressed,” the man said. “As a matter of fact, I’m surprisingly frightened. I see your killing has started already, and you just got out this morning.” Myron told me that statement worried him.

Only a few people knew about his release from prison; his workers, Pat, and me. If the caller knew of any alleged murders that our organization was responsible for, there had to have been some betrayal. Myron said that he was determined to find out where and who? 27

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“Look, I don’t know what the fuck you talkin’ about. I ain’t killed nobody, yet,” Myron said with a warning. “C’mon now Myron; you don’t want Pat to be alone for even longer this time, do you? I hated to see her so sad when you were in the penitentiary. But don’t worry, I checked on her quite often while you were gone and she was fine. And I do mean FINE.” “You jive mutha fucker, I swear to God you’re fuckin’ dead. Since you know so much about me you know why the fuck they call me Mr. Millionaire. I promise you gonna find out my money goes far, and so does my reach, sucker.” “Myron, Myron, Myron,” the mystery caller said with an arrogant sigh. ”You almost sound tough; scary in fact. From what I hear your time on this earth is up. The year 1969 is gonna be written on your tombstone along with ‘Here lies ‘Mr. Heroin’, a 21-year-old fool’.” Myron was furious. He couldn’t figure out

who the mystery man was. He was well spoken and poised, and very informed about Myron’s business and private life. He felt himself getting angry, but somehow he calmed down and replied. “Last night I was a prisoner; today a free man. Tonight I’ll be the man of the hour. Tomorrow, I’ll be a man with absolute POWER!” “I sincerely doubt it. Maybe you should start by trying to have power over your organization. That seems to be quickly fading. “ 28

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“Good idea. Say blood, I’m having a little party at my place. Why don’t you come on by and give me a few pointers?” “C’mon Mr. Heroin, I can’t let you know who I am yet. It’s all part of the surprise. But I’ll give you a clue as to who I am. “Right on, lay it on me.” “Where ever you are, I’m right there with you.” Myron told me he paused and stayed silent. “Oh yeah,” the mystery man continued. “Say hello to Pat for me. Enjoy the party.” Then the man hung up and left Myron to think. After he hung up the phone Myron. turned his attention to Pat who had been sitting on the bed. She was looking up at him with fear and

concern. “Who was that, Baby?” she asked “I don’t know. But he knew a lot about me, and you,” he answered suspiciously. “He said he was watchin’ you while I was in the joint. Did you see anybody followin’ you or anything?” “No, I ain’t even go out that much. When I did, ain’t nobody follow me,” she answered. “Whoever he is he knows us both, and he thinks he’s a fucking comedian.” Myron looked into Pat’s eyes and saw that she was very afraid. He hated to see her like that so he didn’t mention the man’s statements about his death. Myron wanted her to feel safe, so he thought of the right words to make their 29

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mystery caller seem harmless. “Come here baby,” he said softly as he walked over to her and hugged her. “I don’t want you to worry, okay? It was probably just a worker I fired or some cop trying to scare me. Everything’s cool, alright. I promise.” His words relieved her, and she found comfort in his arms. “When is this all gonna stop baby?” she asked. “I wish we could just go somewhere quiet and never come back. Just me and you,” Pat said suggestively. “Maybe one day we will,” Myron agreed.

“It seems like all that’s around us is death. White people killing black people; black people killing black people. Even for Puerto Ricans it ain’t no different. It probably ain’t never gonna stop, so I need to know that one day we’re gonna leave all this,” Pat pleaded with Myron. He placed his hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead. “We will baby. One day we will.” Myron looked over Pat’s shoulder at the antique clock that hung near his closet. “We gotta get ready, sweetness. People are already here.” Pat agreed and went back to her closet. Having now decided on the night’s ensemble, she sifted through her clothes and shoes. “I know exactly what I’m gonna wear. Trust me I’ll be real foxy,” she said with a big grin. She took out a dress and stepped behind her partition to put it on. 30

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“What are you wearing baby?” she asked Myron. “Don’t sweat my pet! My threads is always sharp. I’m cool, baby,” he answered. As he spoke to Pat, he stepped inside of his walk in closet. He closed the doors behind him and pretended to focus on his stylish suits and shoes. Convinced that Pat was busy getting

dressed herself, Myron opened a small black safe he had inside. He inventoried its contents which included weapons and ammunition. Inside the safe, Myron hid 5 kilos of pure South American heroin. Since he found the safe where he’d left it with the merchandise still inside, he smiled fiendishly and rubbed his hands together like he was warming them. “Yeah sweet thing, you can come out now. Daddy’s home,” he said as he gently stroked the top package. “Wait ‘til they get a load of you,” he continued and lifted the package to kiss it. Each kilo cost him around eight thousand dollars. After he’d repackaged the stuff and sold it in smaller amounts, he’d usually get twenty four thousand dollars back. Therefore, he estimated a one hundred twenty thousand dollar profit from this stash. Sitting beside the safe was a black leather briefcase with silver trim. Myron put the package back in the safe and closed it. Then he picked the briefcase up and laid it on top of the safe. He flipped open the latches and opened the case. Inside were several neatly stacked rows of fifty and one hundred dollar bills. The stacks were bound with money wrappers and the total amount was four hundred seventy five 31

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thousand dollars.

Power and money always made him smile, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more and he only knew one way that he could get it…..

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Chapter Six Pusher-man’s plans

Myron and I had been planning something big before he was sent to prison. When he left the cases six months ago there were three kilos and two hundred thousand dollars. He could see that I had been very busy. Myron always admired me and his admiration turned into love. Not the way a child loves their mother or a man loves a woman, but the way a man loves his brother. There was only Myron and his two sisters in his family, so I was like the brother he never had. I often wanted out of the gangster life. Still, I knew I had to be loyal to him. I had done a lot for him, even things his family wouldn’t do. He even met Pat through a woman that I was dating. She picked him out of a crowd full of entertainers, politicians, and athletes. She allowed him to take her 33

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everywhere, and in every way. And she enjoyed it. Myron and I had a bond that was unbreakable. As we grew from boys to men, and Myron began to take over the streets, his power grew. But not like mine. I started as head of security for his organization and crew, but I grew in rank and status. As the younger of us two, Myron was always getting advice from me, and I felt obligated to protect him like a guardian angel. Myron’s love was so deep for Pat that his enemies would often use it as a weapon. He desperately hoped that none of them would ever get to her. Being under a multi agency investigation, I kept the product and workers under close watch. Lawyers were building cases, and some were lining their pockets with bribes. Some crew members were considering doing time, others were cutting deals. A group called The Black Mob or Black Brothers Co. was killing major players who refused to pay them extortion money. They were responsible for dozens of unsolved murders and kidnappings. Stan Bishop, who was the group’s leader, and probably the most feared member, decided to include drug trafficking into the organization’s businesses. Consequently, this started a rivalry with Myron and me. Growing up on the tough streets of North Philly, I knew the game of survival all too well. I acquainted myself with judges, politicians,

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As a private investigator for famous attorney and activist, Calvin R. Little, I’d learned the ‘ins and outs’ of courtrooms and the criminal justice system. Calvin was a feared and respected African American litigator, who worked primarily on racial discrimination cases; also cases where black people were being unjustly arrested and prosecuted. During ten years of friendship with Myron, Malik had proven his loyalty, and was known as the handsome twenty-two-year-old that protected Myron’s business and being. He selectively built friendships in both city hall and the underworld. With a history of making loans and granting favors, he controlled most of North, South, and West Philadelphia. It was all about money, respect, and power. However, the Black Mob wasn’t about to allow the two to play without paying the price. As she put on her make-up, Pat called to her friend Lana Grant, who was in one of the bedrooms down the hall. “Lana,” she said. “Can you come here for a minute?” Lana was a real fox. She was 5 foot 6, 120 pounds, and very well built; almost athletic. She had a medium dark complexion that made her look like she was from the Caribbean. She and

Pat had been friends since high school, yet they seemed more like sisters. Lana’s family moved to North Carolina when she was nineteen years old, and she’d been living with Myron and Pat for the past three years. “What’s up girlfriend?” Lana responded anxiously as she entered the room. “Damn you look foxy! You gonna 35

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knock ‘em dead tonight.” “Thanks girl,” Pat said holding two different ear rings up to her ears. “What do you think, diamonds or pearls?” Lana walked over and stood behind Pat who was again sitting in her vanity chair. She paused as she looked back and forth at each ear ring, and then having made a decision she said, “Definitely the diamonds. Keep it flashy, you dig?” Pat agreed. She wanted to look her best for Myron. Despite being worried and concerned about the phone call he’d just gotten, she tried to put it out of her mind and just enjoy the evening. As she put on the finishing touches of her make-up, she took one final look in the mirror and smiled. “So, how do I look?” she asked Lana.

“Outta sight!” Myron’s voice interrupted as he exited his closet. Pat stood up and turned toward him so he could get a better look. She smiled seductively. “Well, I’ll see ya’ll downstairs. I’m gonna check on the food,” Lana said as she excused herself from Myron and Pat’s bedroom. The guests were just starting to arrive. “Pat,” Myron said calmly. “Just know that whatever happens tonight and from now on, I ain’t ever going away from you again. I’m gonna be here, right here. That’s a promise.” Pat could hear people’s voices getting louder 36

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downstairs. But she needed to be alone with Myron just a few more minutes. “I know baby. ‘Cause I’m not letting you go away again. Not without me. I’m gonna be with you forever, and whatever happens to you is gonna have to happen to me too.” Myron glanced across the room and out of the window at the dozens of cars that had developed in his driveway. “Now that that’s settled, let’s party baby,” he said as he took her hand and lead her down the hall. “I want you to stay close to me, or at least where I can see you,” he told her. “Okay,” she whispered as they approached

the top of the stairwell. Myron prepared to make his entrance into the party, but he didn’t feel quite like himself. There was something wrong, something missing. The house was full of family, friends, and business associates, but Myron was without his partner. Pat grabbed hold of Myron’s arm and put her head on his shoulder. “It’s okay baby.” He was too worried to answer. “Myron,’” Pat said. “I’m sure everything is fine. He’ll be here. As he forced himself to focus, Myron finally spoke. “I was thinking that I just got home this morning and it seems like a lot is going on already. We got a lot of planning to do, ya dig?” he said. “You want to talk now,” Pat asked as she tried to guide him away from the staircase. 37

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“No, later when they all split.” “You know talking to you is more important than this jive party to me.” “I know,” Myron answered as he sensed her genuineness. “I also know that you think you could lose me for good,” he added as he held her hands in his. “That’s something that scares me, and I never want you to feel afraid. Not even for me,” he

concluded. “That’s why I’m never leaving your side,” she said as she gently touched his face with her right hand. “Never? Even when I go to the bathroom?” he asked humorously. Pat smiled and hit him playfully. “I might let you go to the bathroom by yourself. I might,” she answered. “Baby,” Myron laughed. “If you come in the bathroom with me, I know that we can handle anything together. “That’s right baby,” she giggled and took hold of his arm again. “Well, you ready?” he asked her. Pat adjusted the diamond necklace around her neck. “Yeah, I’m ready!” Myron stepped down to the first step of the staircase. Pat followed and the two walked down the stairs side by side, and arm in arm. “I feel like I’m at the Oscars or something,” Myron

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uttered in Pat’s ear as he smiled excitedly. “Sydney Poitier and Billy Dee better watch my

shit.” Pat’s eyes widened as she saw all the people spread throughout the party room and living room. “Damn! Are all these people here for you?” she asked in shock. “For us,” he answered. Pat fiddled with her ear ring to make sure she looked okay. “Look ya’ll, the man of the hour’s here!” someone in the crowd shouted. Just then everyone turned their attention to the super bad couple who had just reached the bottom step. “Give it up for Mr. and Mrs. Millionaire, ya’ll!” the person continued. People began to applaud, whistle and cheer. Groups of them greeted the couple with handshakes, hugs and kisses on the cheek. Myron imagined he and Pat were like the President and the First Lady. “What’s up blood? What it look like ma’ man?” he asked as he greeted the guests. “Hey Miss thing,” Pat said to some of the female guests. “Gracias,” she answered as they paid her many compliments. With everyone in the house wanting to be nearest to the couple and bodyguards being certain that no one was, the two almost separated from each other. “I told you I’m not leaving your side,” Pat said as 39

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she reestablished her hold on his arm. “I meant it.” “I can tell,” Myron spoke into her ear attempting to be heard over the music. As he continued to mill through the sea of people, he looked at the diamond encrusted, gold watch he was wearing on his left wrist to check the time. It was nearly nine o’clock and way past Malik’s scheduled arrival time. Even with all of the excitement surprisingly, all he could do was wait and wonder what was taking Malik so long. Myron hoped he’d get there soon…

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Chapter Seven Robbin’ The Hoods

Things were a lot different with us a few years ago. We were militant and actively trying to empower our community. But now we served the community in a different way. I was just an investigator , but I wanted to move beyond that. So I always talked about going to law school to become an attorney. However, in order to do it, I’d have to separate from Myron and our entire organization. I knew my loyalty wouldn’t allow me to, so I never tried. So now, in an ongoing war with rival crews and law enforcement agencies, I knew without me Myron would go down. I thought about those days long and hard in the back of the car as it continued on to Myron’s party. I snapped out of my daydream and looked

through the rear window of the car to make sure that the rear security car was following close. 41

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As the former head of his security team I knew exactly what it took to keep everyone protected. Even Cherry and Pat had been trained for months in the art of self defense. No one traveled alone and everyone was skilled in firearms and martial arts. My workers were all well disciplined. When shipments of heroin needed to be broken down and packaged, they were all willing to stay up all night until it was done. Once, they packaged eight kilos in one night. Even though I believed in their respect and loyalty, I kept watch with an eagle’s eye. They were seeing enough money to make people betray their own mothers, so my cautious nature was justified. Since I was satisfied with the way security was being handled, I relaxed myself and tried to enjoy the ride. Starting to reminisce again I thought about me and Myron’s teenage years. I remember being a student at Simon Gratz High School at 17th and Pike St. in 1965. Myron and I, just seventeen and eighteen at the time, were like local celebrities. We walked the school’s hallways like we were on a Hollywood red carpet. Myron was a star football player that

almost made it to college on a scholarship. I was what history referred to as a Renaissance Man. I was a poet, an athlete, an artist, a musician and a lady charmer. No one would even throw a party unless they knew the two of us were coming. Every guy wanted to be us and every girl wanted to be near us. 42

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Our lives changed when Myron ran a simple errand for a small time pimp who supplied all of his girls with heroin. After making several runs for the pimp, who called himself Jack Sweet, Myron saw an opportunity to make a score that would allow him to buy and sell on his own. During this time my brother Geoffrey and I were working at one of our many dead end jobs. We often worked at the same places together, but never for long. In 1968 we were working at Welding Tools of America, a steel company in South Philadelphia. When I received a phone call from Myron telling me what he’d done, I knew that Jack Sweet would find him and kill him. So I did what I thought was best. I quit my job at the steel company and became Myron’s bodyguard. As the leader of The Black Guard, a militant community activists group whose primary objectives were keeping the streets safe and black empowerment, I assigned some of the

members to assist me. So, it was Myron who would soon deal directly with the supplier and handle all the money, and I was in charge of security. At least that’s how it started. I remember one time in particular where my authority seemingly over rode Myron’s. We we’re standing on a corner at 21st and Norris St. with five of our crew. There had been a robbery at one of the houses that we used as a stashing spot, and we were discussing how to handle it. The word on the street was that the neighborhood’s ‘wanna-be Jesse James’, Damon ‘Day Day’ Tillman was the 43

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dude that was responsible. He was the kind of cat who would rob his own mother, and then act like he didn’t know anything about it. Sometimes he would even try to sell people the things that he’d robbed them for, but he wasn’t a coward. He killed two people for accusing him of robbing them. Then, after serving a short jail term, he was back on the streets and back to work. As he stood on the corner talking to me, Myron and our crew, he pretended to be just as angry as we were about the merchandise that was taken. Even though he had committed the robbery he acted as if he had no idea who’d done it, and we acted the same way.

Day-Day always wore a ski mask and used two Colt .44 magnum hand guns. He also kept a M-14 assault rifle inside his coat, just in case. He was a few years older than us, so he thought he could give Myron some advice to stop future stick-ups. “Look young blood, the word is out on the street that you movin’ some major shit and makin’ a lot of bread,” he said trying to patronize Myron. “You need some muscle with your hustle so niggas know not to fuck wit you or yo’ shit, ya dig?” He continued as he lit a cigarette and blew the smoke in Myron’s direction. “I got the muscle shit covered, chump,” I interrupted as I took Day Day’s cigarette and stepped on it. “If I need any help remind me not to ask a mutha fucker like you!” “Nigga please, if you got shit all under control, how 44

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the fuck did yall stash get hit,” Day Day answered with the brim of his hat now touching my forehead. “I’ll bet you it ain’t never gonna happen again. Believe that shit!” “That’s bullshit, sucker. Even if you knew who did it what the fuck would yo’ ass do Mr. Black Guardian Angel ass nigga?”

I didn’t like to be disrespected in front of my crew. I knew that Day Day was the one who boosted our stash, and now was the perfect time to take his advice and send a message to anyone else who thought about taking from us. “What? Man, if I find the mutha fucker who did this shit I’m gonna--,” I took my .357 magnum out of its holster. I walked over to Day Day and struck him on the forehead leaving a four inch gash above his left eye brow. The rest of me and Myron’s crew all put their hands on the guns they were carrying, but Myron ordered them all to wait. As Day Day staggered backwards he struggled to see through the blood that had run down into his eye. “Nigga is you fuckin’ crazy? I’m gonna kill yo’ ass,” Day Day said in a groggy voice. “Uh-uh mutha fucker. This is what I’m gonna do to the nigga that robbed us. Pay attention, sucker!” I noticed that Day Day was attempting to pull out something from his jacket. Judging by his reputation I assumed he was carrying a gun. I rushed over to him, grabbed his arm, and pulled his hand out of his jacket before he could reach anything. With Day Day’s other hand preoccupied with 45

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stopping the bleeding from his eye, I fired a

bullet through the hand I’d taken out of his jacket. This sent him hobbling down 21st screaming and crying. Myron looked on knowing there was nothing he could do to stop me. He’d seen me this way before and he knew to stay out of my way. Besides, this was the man who’d robbed our stash. If he tried stopping me our crew would think he was soft. So he just watched and smiled. “Damn, that nigga didn’t even say bye,” I said to our crew sarcastically. “Brothers, be polite and say good-bye to Mr. Day Day.” They all pulled out their guns and pointed them down the street at Day Day. He couldn’t run very fast since he’d lost so much blood. This made him an easy target and he hadn’t gotten far. “Put the guns down,” Myron said. “We don’t need no killing right now!” The crew acknowledged Myron, but by the look on my face they knew in this situation my orders were final. They all proceeded to fire their weapons at Day Day until he ran around the corner and out of sight. After hearing the sound of police sirens, we all jumped into two 1968 Cadillac Broughams and sped off. Myron and I were in the first car by ourselves. I drove while Myron rode in the passenger seat. Myron was furious. He instructed me to continue driving, but to listen to what he was saying. “Let me tell you something, man. I appreciate you 46

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tryin’ to protect me right, but I’m the boss of this here racket, you dig? “Yeah blood, I got you. But when I’m out on the streets I hear shit. Shit that you don’t hear.” “What you talkin’ about?” “Day Day robbed us so you would think you need him for protection.” “He knows I wouldn’t hire his ass when I already got you. What was he gonna do about that?” “He wanted to get rid of me and get as close to you as he could. Then he was gonna ice you so he could be the top cat.” “That mutha fucker is crazy,” Myron said in a surprised voice. “Do he think I’m fuckin’ stupid?” “That ain’t it. He also had his eye on Pat, brother.” “Really, I hope that’s the eye you busted open with your pistol. I guess the ‘eyes’ have it,” he added jokingly. He was the first man I had ever shot, but he wasn’t the last. I later heard that Day Day made it to the hospital. The word on the street was police found him passed out on 19th St. near Cambria, and he’d been shot a total of twelve times and survived. Back at the party Myron’s daydream was

interrupted by someone popping champagne cork. The DJ was playing ‘Psychedelic Shack’ by the Temptations, and the guests were all dressed in the best of suede, silks and velvets. He continued to escort Pat around the party. From 47

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the dance floor and bar area to the buffet they were greeted with handshakes and kisses. Looking around the crowded mansion, Myron smiled at the fruits of his labor. He and Pat walked to a set of sliding glass doors that lead to the pool and patio area. They stepped out and onto the patio and gazed at the star filled sky. It was a chilly autumn night so none of their guests were outside. In an instant Myron started to remember a question Malik had asked him once.It was a question that he didn’t fully understand at the time, but Malik told him one day he would. “Ain’t the stars pretty baby?” Pat asked him. “Yeah, I guess they are. I remember Malik asked me a question once,” he continued. “He asked me when I die Will there be any stars in my crown?” “What does that mean?” Pat asked. “I don’t know, but he said l would find out someday.”

As he stared at the stars and started daydreaming again, he remembered thinking that with the two of them back in business, the sky was the limit…

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Chapter Eight Enemy at the gates

As the car I was riding in crossed City Line Ave. and preceded into Lower Merion Township, I could see that Cherry was still afraid because of the killing of the limo driver. I held her hand and

tried to console her. “Hey, you alright?” I asked her in a comforting whisper. “I’m fine,” she answered. “Baby I’m sorry that happened. I’m gonna get with Craig as soon as we get to the house.” “Malik don’t you see? That’s two people dead and Myron’s only been home for one day,” she said, also speaking in a whisper. She didn’t want Craig to hear her over the music that was playing on the radio. “There was something suspicious about that driver. Craig thought he was protecting us.” 49

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“That’s bullshit. Craig’s just tryin’ to show Myron that he’s badder than you. He don’t give a fuck about us.” “I hope you’re wrong. But if you’re not, I got no problem takin’ him out myself.” Cherry looked at Craig in the front seat with hatred in her eyes. I moved closer to her and put my arm around her. She folded her arms defiantly as she prepared for my slick talking. “Baby, we work together,” I said as I tried not to sound patronizing. “A lot of people don’t like him, but there’s some good in everybody. Don’t worry about him, I’ll handle it.” “I’m worried about you, dummy. You

gotta watch your back. Know who your friends are, and who your enemies are,” she said. She reached over and kissed me on the cheek just as the car came to a stop. Craig rang the security bell at the front gate, and after a few seconds a voice came from the speaker. “Who is it?” “Tell Myron its Craig and I got Malik with me like he said.” “Cool. Pull up to the front and somebody will be right out.” The black wrought iron gate swung open and both cars entered, and drove to the front of the house. When we got there we were met by four of the mansion’s security guards who were holding automatic weapons.

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“What the fuck is all this?” Craig asked as he got out of the car. “Shut up chump,” the head security guard said. “Myron wants to be sure that no uninvited guests get in, you dig?” “Yeah I dig, sucker. I saw some dog shit in the grass back there. Get yo’ ass down there and clean it up.” “How ‘bout I clean my shoes on your face, nigga!”

“Well get to it, gizzard!” The two of them were face to face when I got out of the car and interrupted. “Craig!” “What?” “Shut up and wait for me at the front door!” Craig slammed the driver’s side door and walked past the guard nudging him with his shoulder. Jimmy and Al parked their car behind ours then got out and walked towards me. Stoney and Nate pulled up a few seconds later in a different car and did the same. The head security guard greeted me with a hand shake and a hug. “Mr. Malik, what it is cool breeze?” “Like you said man, I’m cool.” “I see you still keeping bad company,” the guard said with sarcasm. “Sometimes I keep the worst company. But I’m still the best people,” I said winking my eye. Jimmy and Al made sure all three cars were parked safely and checked around to make sure that we weren’t 51

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followed. Meanwhile Stoney and Nate had a quick conversation with the remaining guards. “Eh-hem!” Cherry cleared her throat to

signal for me to cut my conversation short. Everyone turned their attention to Cherry. “The party’s in there, and we’re out here. Can we boogie already?” “Yes Miss Cherry, ma’am,” Stoney said. You got the right idea. I’m feelin’ lucky so somebody point me to the craps table, he added.” Jimmy and Al joined the others after they were finished surveying the area. Nate stayed close to Cherry and me, and the four security guards led us up the mansion’s front steps to the door. When we reached the cedar wood custom hand carved door, Craig was waiting there as I instructed. He continued to taunt the head security guard by stepping in front of him to block his entering. The security guard looked at me knowing I would disapprove of Craig’s actions. I grabbed Craig by the lapel of his jacket and pulled him close. I looked him in his eyes so not only would he hear my words, he would feel them inside. “After the party, I think we’re gonna have a little talk,” I said with an angry whisper.

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Chapter Nine The Boss and the Boss

It was ten o’clock p.m. and the party had shifted into third gear. By then, Myron and Pat were now embraced on the patio and could hear the celebration well. Though it was hard for him to see over her shoulder and past her hair, he watched through the sliding glass doors as everyone inside hurried to the front door. He couldn’t help but smile as he noticed the men in the party who were left behind while their companions beat a path to the door. He knew that there would be a lot of tension in the room, but no one was stupid enough to fight here. Not in his house. Not against any of his crew. The men knew they were no competition with the women now. At best they may be privy to the unlucky ones who weren’t chosen. Like moths to flames the women were drawn to whoever just arrived. 53

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Myron watched Pat opened her eyes after they had been closed in dreamy bliss. She saw the smile on his face and wanted to know his thoughts. “What’s so funny?” she asked as she gave a smile of her own. Myron said he had to be careful with his words. Since Pat and Cherry were good friends he didn’t think it would be cool to make any statements that might incriminate a certain womanizing friend of his. As the sound of excitement got louder, Pat turned to see what was going on in the house. She and Myron stood watching determined damsels and disappointed suitors moving in the direction of the front doors. One of the women even searched the buffet for a banana so that she could demonstrate her talents to these high rollers. “Damn, baby, I wonder what the commotion’s about,” Pat said with her arms still around Myron. Myron just continued to smile since he was completely confident what was going on. He only knew one person that made women go crazy when he walked in a room like he was Marvin Gaye or Mohammed Ali. “C’mon let’s go see what it look like,” Myron said as he escorted Pat back into the house. When they walked to the front door he said they saw the crowd of people surrounding the new guests. Myron ordered the guards to clear a path through the crowd so that he could greet us.

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Myron and I exchanged the same smile and embrace as we did earlier that morning at the prison. Cherry and Pat exchanged heartfelt greetings as well. Everyone continued to express their love and respect for each other for about five minutes. This was traditionally the way it was at Myron’s parties. “Mr. Millionaire, need I say more,” I said with flattery. “Mr. Malik; sharp as a tack and that’s that,” Myron answered. A guard approached Myron from the side and whispered something into his ear. After Myron gave his approval the guard signaled for the other guards to follow him, and then he walked down the hallway to make preparations as instructed. Sensing that there was something wrong with him, Pat spoke up. “Baby, what did he say? Is everything is okay?” “Everything’s cool, love. We just got a little business to discuss right quick. You and Cherry enjoy the party. We won’t be long. Alright?”

My face had malice all over it and my anxiousness to start the meeting was apparent. Myron directed the members of our crew to his conference room down the hall where the guards had preceded. “You know a lot’s changed since you’ve been gone, brother,” I said as we walked towards the room. “Ain’t no way we can fix certain problems without eliminating the problem people?” 55

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“Cool,” Myron said as he put his arm around my shoulder. “Now we know what we gotta do. Is there anybody in particular ‘cause we can take care of that right now?” I looked at Craig who was walking several yards in front of me. “Now that you mention it, a situation may have presented itself today,” I said matter-offactly. “I’ll let you know in a minute”. “Alright, cool. But I mean it man; just say the word and it’s done.” Myron and I entered the conference room escorted by a dozen bodyguards and associates. “Here you go boss,” Craig said as he pulled out the chair at the head of the table. He hurried to the room ahead of everyone else so that he could secure Myron’s chair.

“Thank you, brother. Thank you,” Myron answered as he stood by the chair and unbuttoned his suit jacket. “Gentlemen please be seated,” Myron instructed. The meeting was ready to begin. I was seated to Myron’s immediate right side and Craig was to his left. “Today was the end of something and the beginning of something else for all of us,” Myron began. “Sometimes we have to get rid of the old and make room for what’s new to come. For us there’s a lot of new things to come. New merchandise… New markets… New money…” Everyone in the room applauded as Myron raised his hand for them to settle down. “One thing that can’t change is the structure and 56

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loyalty of our organization. Nothing and nobody takes from us without permission, and we don’t let no fuckin’ body punk us, right?” “That’s right, boss,” they all answered staggered. “I’m sure you heard that one of my former workers came to an end today as well. Now, that chump is on to a new beginning,” he continued as he held up a set of gold rosary beads he took out of his inside jacket pocket.

During Myron’s remarks I kept looking at Craig across the table, and he responded with his signature cocky smirk. “Which brings me to my next point,” Myron continued. “Ya’ll know my man Malik, right? And of course you know why he is who he is. But what ya’ll don’t know is that this cat here is a real boss; for real. Yeah, I know ya’ll look at me as the boss and I am, but let me break it down for ya. People respect me. They’re loyal to me. Shit, some folks even love me, but they don’t fear me. They might fear what I’ll have somebody do to them, but they don’t fear what I might do to them. This brother has all of things a boss should have and more. He’s the reason why I’m still here, and he’s the reason why some o’ ya’ll are still here. So from now on if he says something, I say it too. If he wants something, I want it too. If you try to fuck wit’ ‘em--,” he paused and started twirling the rosary beads on his left index finger. “I think ya’ll know what it be.” I looked around the room to see if I could sense any resistance from our crew. Craig folded his arms and looked at 57

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me with defiance. Just then Myron turned the meeting over to me. “There are several other orders of business,

but first listen to what Mr. Malik gotta say.” I stood up and pulled my suit jacket back with my hands. Then I slid my hands into my pants pockets. “Ya’ll know by now what the streets got waitin’ for us right? We’re under every gun and radar in Philadelphia. We ain’t just some two-bit hustlers or punk ass pimps who beat up hoes that’s strung out and shit. No brothers, we’re business men, and our business is MONEY! It may be the root of all evil, but it’s also what controls the people. We gotta stay alert and focused on business. We gotta know what them white cats know. That is that the chain of command must always be maintained, and respected.” I walked around to the other side of the table where Craig was sitting. I continued to address the workers until I halted my stride directly next to him. “Rules are made to be followed and if and when they get broken, the penalties will be severe. In other words—,” I leaned down next to Craig and spoke directly into his ear. “Chumps is gonna get fucked up, ya dig?” Again Craig arrogantly smirked at me. He knew he was safe. The fact that he was working for Myron before me made him feel secure in his position. He was technically Myron’s employee, but he knew now he had two bosses. “Are there any questions?” I asked in conclusion. The silence in the room told me that my point was made and 58

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understood. “Cool. Alright Myron, it’s all yours brother. I gotta go to the bathroom,” I said and then walked out of the meeting room.

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Chapter Ten A sister’s revenge

Myron continued the meeting after I left the room. I walked out of the conference room and into the lengthy hallway. When I reached the end, I turned right toward an even more secluded wing of the house. When I made it to the bathroom I turned the door knob to open the door. At that moment I heard a voice come from down the hall. “Hey, sweet daddy.” I looked to see who it was as I reached for my gun. I began to think lustfully as I saw a woman walking toward me with a physique that rivaled Foxy Brown. She was 5 foot 4 with dark brown hair and a honey colored complexion that shined. I stared at her titties as they bounced with every sexy step. The length of her skirt, or lack

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perfect view of her tight thighs and athletic calves. Her eyes were hazel green and her lips were round and full. She placed her hands on her hips and she was now standing only inches away from me. I smiled at her while I examined her from head to toe. “Let me guess, you gotta use the bathroom, right? You came all the way around here ‘cause the other ones were occupied right,” I asked. “Nope, I came all the way around here to fuck you superstar,” she said insistently as she pressed her titties against my chest. I considered that this could be a possible set up, so I pulled my pistol from my jacket and then I grabbed her by the arm. After pulling her in closer to me I glided the barrel of the gun down the front of her body. I went from her neck to her pelvis before I stopped and cocked the hammer. “Who are you and what the fuck do you want?” I asked sternly. “Like I said gorgeous, I just wanna show you the time of your life. I even brought tools for teachin’,” she said as she took out a pair of hand cuffs she was hiding in the back of her skirt. “So, you wanna hand cuff me?” “Yeah baby. I like to be in control. I want

you to be my slave, big daddy. I promise I’m gonna take good care of you.” “No mama. I got a better idea.” I reestablished my hold on her left arm and pressed the nose of my gun against her side. I checked the area to be 61

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sure no one had seen us, and then I pulled her into the bathroom with me. Afterwards I locked the door and pushed her against the wall. I rushed up behind her and grabbed her hips. She stood facing the wall as she moved her ass around in a circular motion, and I used it to massage my pelvis and my dick. “I’m gonna ask you one more time sister. What is yo’ name?” I said after I tickled her ear with my tongue. “I’m sorry sweet daddy,” she said now panting as my rough handling of her was turning her on. “My name is Thelma Samms, but you can call me ‘Brownie’.” “Well Brownie, is this what you want?” I asked her as I ripped her shirt from behind, and passionately squeezed her titties. “Hell yeah it’s what I want. Is it what you want? You like these titties don’t you baby?” I pulled up her skirt and bent her over one of the sinks.

“Yeah baby. I like this ass too,” I said as I squeezed it as well. “Mr. Malik,” she moaned to me. I turned her around and jerked her head back by her hair. “Sorry Miss Brownie; am I being too rough?” She licked her lips and then responded. “No way, you’re a pussy cat,” she said as she started to remove her panties. “Damn you got the prettiest pussy I ever seen, 62

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mama,” I said as I watched her pleasure herself a little with her fingers. “Why don’t you taste it then?” she asked invitingly. “It’s sweet as sugar, baby.” “Because, it could be poison.” Brownie ignored me and pulled my face between her thighs. “No poison baby… Just pussy,” she said seductively. She lay back on the sink moaning as I tasted her juices. After a few seconds I stopped. “I like it Brownie,” I said in a calm voice. “I wish I could do it longer, but—“ She put her finger up to my lips to stop me from speaking. “It’s ok baby. Let me give you something before you go,” she said as she kneeled down to

return the favor. Brownie had the skills of a modern day porn star. She took my dick into her mouth until her lips reached my pubic hair. “Thank you,” I whispered as I came down her throat after only three minutes. “Now I got some work to do.” I turned her back around and began to fuck her from behind. Every few seconds I would smack her on the ass and felt her pussy getting wetter and wetter. As I was about to cum I turned her around again, and again came in her mouth. Since she just had several orgasms this time she welcomed it even more than the first. “You’re welcome sweet daddy,” she said as she looked up at me still stroking my dick with her hand. 63

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“Do I need to say thank you again?” I asked a little annoyed. “It would be nice. I bet Cherry don’t fuck you that good, that fast?” “Not at all Brownie; as a matter of fact she does it better and longer. I mean c’mon. A cat like me ain’t stayin’ around for nothin’ average.” As Brownie was fixing her clothes, the opportunity to do what she’d really came to do presented itself. I had taken off my suit jacket and my gun was now on top of the toilet tank.

“Well, I guess I gotta keep workin’ on it ‘til I get as good as she is,’” she said as she adjusted her skirt and fluffed her afro. “Miss Brownie, ain’t gonna be no next time,” I said as I kneeled down to tie my shoe lace. “You’re right, there won’t be a next time,” she said devilishly. Just then she pulled out a silver two-shot Derringer hand gun with a pearl handle from the sleeve of her blouse and pointed it at my head. “Don’t move you mutha fucker,” she said through clinched teeth. I lifted my head and looked down the barrel of the gun. Seeing the look on her face, I didn’t believe that she was serious. I thought this was yet another one of her ‘turn-ons’. I smiled, looked back down and continued to tie my shoe. “Damn, baby you’re full of surprises,” I said with a 64

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chuckle. “That’s right, nigga, but you ain’t heard the best part yet.” “What you gonna do, suck the shit outta that gun til’ it shoots down your throat?” “Nope, I’m gonna shoot it down your throat, sucker! I’m gonna shoot yo’ ass the way you shot my brother!”

I then knew that this was for real. I just had sex with the sister of a man that I possibly killed. I had to think of a way out of this, fast. My gun was out of my reach, and I didn’t want to risk grabbing hers. Whatever I was going to do, I’d have to do it without a gun. “What the fuck are you talkin’ ‘bout, woman? Get that gun out of my damn face,” I added as I attempted to stand up. Thelma’s eyes got teary; she locked back the hammer of her gun, and then told me who her brother was. “I’m sure the name Jonathan Samms rings a bell. You knew him as Berks St. Johnny Banks. Do you remember him?” I was fuckin shocked. Berks St. Johnny was one of Myron’s workers before he went to the joint. He wasn’t happy with his money and wanted more. I think he always stayed close to Myron to learn everything about the business. When Johnny didn’t get his increase, he disappeared. No one could find him until I used my connections through Calvin R. Little and located him. 65

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He was rumored to have turned states’ evidence. In fact everyone knew that he provided important information that got Myron arrested

and sent to jail. When he was released, Myron ordered Johnny to be killed by Ox, one of his hit men, and Stoney. It was all starting to make sense to me now. Thelma was there to avenge her brother’s death. Disappointingly, her revenge would have to wait. I was standing in front of her while she continued to point her gun at my face. Looking at the tears falling from her eyes saddened me, but I felt no remorse for my part in her brother’s murder. I could see in her eyes that she was hurting, and compassion wouldn’t allow me to defend myself. I sensed that she was genuinely attracted to me, and had she been a real killer, I would have been dead already. “You did it, didn’t you? I wanna hear you say that shit,” she said, again clinching her teeth. “Say it!” As one of my crew’s leaders, I now had to sympathize with Brownie, and demonstrate strength and fearlessness at the same time. “I asked you who you were and what you wanted. If I’d known you were here for revenge, I would’ve killed you on sight. You came in here and fucked me, now you want to kill me?” “That’s right sucker, you’re fucked twice,” she answered as she took a step forward. “Well, seems like we have a problem sister, or should I say you have a problem. See if you wanted to shoot 66

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me you would’ve by now. If you do they’ll hear it down the hall. Then you’ll be in deep shit, ya dig? There’s gonna be so many guns shooting at you, you’re gonna think you’re the sky on New Year’s Eve,” I bragged now walking slowly around the bathroom. “You cocky ass sucker; you don’t even feel bad about what you did, do you?” She stepped in front of me and pushed the gun into my chest halting my next step. We stood looking into each other’s eyes as tears ran down her face. “My brother’s blood is on your hands,” she said, accenting her statement by pushing the gun into my chest.. “My pain is your fault, and I hate you for that.” I wiped the tears from her face and caressed her lips. I thought the touch of my hand on her cheek would make her feel a sense of euphoria. I was very charming by nature, but Brownie wasn’t about to be swayed. Although she was still filled with rage, she passed up on what appeared to be a perfect opportunity. She loosened her grip on the gun and lowered it. “You’re right I’m not a killer, but someday you’ll run into somebody who is. I hope I’m there when you do.” She handed the gun to me and headed towards the door. “Since you’re kind of in my debt I know you won’t stop me from walking outta here,” she

said looking back over her shoulder. “Thought not,” she said as she smirked and walked 67

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out of the bathroom. She left me there wondering if I did the right thing by not killing her. I had a load on my mind to say the least. I placed the gun in my waistband and buttoned my suit jacket. As I leaned on the sink and looked at myself in the mirror I heard the door knob turn behind me. I reached over and got my gun off of the toilet tank. I turned toward the door and aimed in its direction. “Easy Blood, you’ve been pointing guns at me all day. You tryin’ to tell me somethin’?” It was Craig Hines, again. I thought that maybe Brownie had changed her mind and came back to ice me. “Craig? Man I thought you was somebody else.” “At least now I know you don’t just point guns at me,” he said with a chuckle. “Who did you think I was? That fine piece of ass I just passed in the hallway? Don’t tell me the pussy was so bad you wanna kill ‘er?” “I wouldn’t know how her pussy was. I came to take a shit, that’s all. Got it?” I stepped in

front of Craig again to prove my authority, but this time Craig was cool and backed down. “Yeah, I got it boss,” he answered with a little bit of sincerity. I walked past Craig exiting the bathroom. “Hey boss,” Craig stopped me before I left. “I wanted to talk to you about the limo driver.” “Oh yeah, the limo driver; what you wanna tell me?” 68

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“The word on the street was The Black Mob swore that you would never make it to Myron’s party. I figured if you made it out of the house okay, maybe they would try somethin’ in the limo. That driver wasn’t for real, but at least we sent a message to those mutha fuckers not to fuck with us. I was just trying to protect you.” I didn’t believe his story, though I never said so. “No more unnecessary killing, understand? Trust me there’s gonna be a lot of blood in the streets. Be ready for that!”

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Chapter Eleven Girl Talk

It was 1 a.m. and Cherry and Pat were sitting in a booth in the party room having a drink. Like always they were both smoking a

cigarette thinking they looked sophisticated doing it. When Pat was finished her cigarette she extinguished it in the ashtray at the center of the table. Wanting to speak to Pat alone, Cherry ordered the bodyguard assigned to them to get them another drink from the bar and refreshments from the buffet. When he was gone she slid closer to Pat and continued to puff her cigarette. The DJ was grooving and Cherry snapped her fingers in rhythm with the music. Still, her enjoyment was put on hold when she saw the saddened look on Pat’s face. “Hey girl, you okay?” Cherry asked with concern. “Don’t mind me,” she said as she cracked a 70

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convincing smile. “I’m just daydreaming.” “You look like you’re ‘night-maring’.” Pat looked down at the floor and smiled again. Neither of them spoke for a few seconds, and then Cherry broke her silence. “Did you give Myron his welcome home present?” “I sure did. In the kitchen, in the bedroom, in the bathroom--,” she answered as she gyrated in her seat. “No, I meant the watch,” Cherry said hitting her playfully.

“No not yet. I wanna wait ‘til we’re alone again. How are things with you and Malik?” “Okay I guess. Since he’s always working with Myron or Calvin and trying to get his law degree, we don’t really spend much time together anymore. With all this new money it seems like he hasn’t been himself lately.” “I know what you mean. I’m worried about Myron too,” Pat agreed. “I mean I love the money and having all these nice things, but I’m worried that the next time he goes to jail will be for life. Even worse, he may wind up dead somewhere. I could never handle that, so I’m praying that one day he’ll walk away from all of this.” Cherry held Pat’s hand to comfort her and smiled consolingly. “Amen to that sister. If he gets out Malik will too, and I will feel so relieved,” Cherry said placing her other hand over her heart. “But you know what,” she paused and gave Pat a reassuring look. “I do like spendin’ all this money, girl,” she 71

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said jokingly and they both laughed. Just as the bodyguard returned with their food and drinks, three women from the party approached their table. The guard immediately stopped the group and asked what their business

was. “Hey Pat, hey Cherry,” the group’s leader greeted the them as she attempted to see around the guard’s big, robust body. “Do we know you?” Cherry said with attitude. “No. Well, actually we’re friends of Russell, Cliff and Eddie.” Cherry and Pat knew the men they were referring to. They were Myron’s workers that took care of the houses that warehoused and distributed his product. These three knew every addict, hooker and small time dealer in the city, and kept mental records of all of them. “We just wanted to say hello and maybe have a drink with you,” the woman continued. It was rare for them to let any outsiders into their circle, but this was a special celebration. Usually their group included Cherry, Pat, Lana and my twin sister Lydia. That night Lana was taking care of the bartenders, the band, and the catering crew. She didn’t have much time to sit and socialize, but she did check on her girls periodically. Lydia decided not to attend for personal reasons. She wasn’t usually much of a party person. Cherry looked at the women with disapproval, but Pat saw no reason to be rude. She signaled for the guard to 72

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allow the group to join them. The women sat on one side of the crescent booth while Pat and Cherry slid to the opposite side. “Thanks honey, you are too much,” the woman said as she slid over next to Pat. “I’m Delilah and these are my girls Carolyn and Tammy,” she said introducing her group to them. With Cherry and Pat having granted Delilah’s request, Delilah hoped that she could use it to her advantage. “Hey, security brother,” Delilah yelled to the guard as she pulled out a fifty dollar bill from her purse. “Get us a bottle of champagne from the bar. I wanna have a toast with my new girls.” Pat smiled while Cherry smirked disrespectfully. She hated the company she was presently keeping. As soon as the new ladies felt welcomed, they became intolerable irritants. They were all dressed like high priced hookers, and smelled like cheap perfume. Their jewelry was gaudy and their makeup was sloppily applied. Not surprisingly though, the three were shrewd in their ways. “I guess the guys invited you ladies, right?” Pat inquired. “Yeah, something like that,” Tammy answered. ”We heard about the party from them, but we’re here on business,” Carolyn included. The guard returned to the table with a bottle of 1965 Godet Grand Champagne and five glasses. He popped the cork and filled each of the ladies’ glasses.

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“So, what kind of business is ya’ll on?” Cherry finally asked. As Tammy prepared to answer, Delilah raised her glass and purposely interrupted her. “I’d like to propose a toast; to our gracious hosts Myron and Pat, or should I say Mr. and Mrs. Millionaire.” Cherry was growing impatient. “What kind of business?” “Nothing much,” Delilah said as she took a small packet out of her bra. Pat and Cherry saw a white powdery substance in the packet. They were beginning to get the hint that these girls’ business was Myron. Cherry was able to spot a hustler a mile away, but this was different; these were women. As the three women began to take turns snorting the substance from the packet, Pat knew a business offer was coming. Delilah finally handed the packet in Pat’s direction and used her elbow to nudge Pat’s arm, hinting. “What’s that? Why are you giving it to me?” “This is our business;” she answered nodding towards the packet. “Oh yeah?” The guard could sense that Pat was getting angry. He put his hand in his jacket and grabbed the handle of his .32 caliber hand gun.

Tammy and Carolyn sat still for a few seconds, both considering the consequences of any sudden moves. Even though Delilah noticed the guard’s gesture, her demeanor 74

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never changed. In fact it seemed that she became more comfortable with what she was doing. She moved even closer to Pat to get more personal. Fully aware that the guard was watching, they were all careful with their movements. The DJ played ‘ABC’ by The Jackson 5 which caused a small stampede of people to the dance floor, and drew the guard’s attention. Without a word and before Pat had a chance to refuse to sample the substance, Delilah slipped Pat a piece of paper with a phone number on it. Cherry took the piece of paper and read it while Pat spoke to Delilah. “First of all I don’t get high. Second, who are you doing business for because I know it’s not Myron?” Cherry handed the note to Pat, and looked at Delilah and Tammy with fury. Straining her eyes to see the writing on the paper, Pat clinched her fist in anger. “I don’t like riddles and I don’t like surprises. I’ve already figured out what you want, so why don’t you tell me who you’re trying to make a deal for?” Carolyn wiped the white powder residue from her nose and took a sip of her drink. She

leaned on the table supported by her elbows and looked at Pat and Cherry with a malicious grin. “We understand that Myron is the main man of this whole scene, and he only deals with heroin. But this right here is pure uncut Columbian blow. We figured a cat of Myron’s stature is always looking for new business opportunities.” “How about I go tell Malik that there are three 75

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wanna-be player bitches out here with a lot of cocaine that belongs to some dealer, and this dealer wants to be partners with Myron. I’m sure he’ll be happy to give you skanks the royal treatment,” Cherry said with threatening sarcasm. The guard, who had just refocused his attention on the conversation, saw Cherry taking a straight razor from her purse and he tightened his grip on his gun. A few seconds later, Pat reached next to her and grabbed Cherry’s arm to calm her down and signaled the guard to let go of his gun. “Now everybody just cool it, alright? No need to ruin the party,” Pat suggested to them all. “Look, don’t assume we don’t have the brains or the balls to have our own racket just because we’re ladies. You’d be surprised what

kind of shit we got moving on the streets. Let’s move on this deal and we can all get rich,” Delilah said. “Get rich? Girl, look around. Does it look like money is tight around here?” Pat asked contradicting. Just then Lana walked up to the table and stood next to Pat. Cherry looked at her and winked her eye commending her perfect timing. She slid over in the booth so that Lana could sit down. Pat lit two cigarettes and gave one to Lana. She and Cherry saw Lana’s joining them as evening the odds. If there was going to be a fight, at least now the numbers were fair. As she began to whisper in Lana’s ear about who their new guests were, Pat was starting to feel nagged by the 76

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arrogant giggling to her right. The feeling probably should’ve made her and Cherry throw the tramps out. Reaching for the packet on the table that still had residue from the cocaine, Lana took a bit of the white powder on her finger and tasted it. She looked at Cherry confused. She knew that this wasn’t Myron’s product because he never let Pat and Cherry anywhere near it, and if these girls

were addicts they certainly wouldn’t shoot up out in the open. Delilah and her crew continued to drink and chat amongst themselves as if they didn’t notice the tension in the air. Cherry’s mind was filled with images of her slashing their faces with her razor blade and throwing their drinks at them to burn the wounds. As Lana leaned behind her to ask Pat what was going on, she noticed how the three women were looking at Pat with malice in their eyes. She put her arm around Pat’s shoulder and whispered in her ear, giving Pat a report on how well the party was going. Pat whispered in her ear to warn her about how bad things were about to become. As always, Pat had things under control more than they appeared. Then the situation changed for the worst. Cherry stood up and threw a glass over Pat, hitting Carolyn on the left side of her head. There wasn’t enough force behind it to do any real damage, but it was the necessary spark to ignite the fire. The other four women stood up with Pat still in the middle. As the guard stepped in to restrain Cherry, Delilah grabbed a champagne bottle from the table and swung it at 77

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Cherry. Her haste and miscalculation caused her to hit the guard accidentally. To protect himself

and his assigned, he blocked the bottle with his left forearm and got cut by the broken glass. In the midst of the small fight, cursing and name calling, he turned over the table to separate the two groups. “Come on, bitch,” Delilah yelled to Cherry. “I’m gonna kick yo’ ass now!” Stoney heard the arguing from the gambling room. He ran over to control Cherry, while the guard called for a few of his cohorts to escort Delilah and her friends from the party. “Pat, you Puerto Rican bitch, you’re gonna pay for turning down my offer,” Delilah said as a guard carried her towards the back door. “I’m gonna have so much coke on the street ya’ll gonna be beggin’ mutha fuckers to buy yo bullshit smack.” Pat refused to address Delilah’s behavior, mainly because no one took a female gangster seriously anyway. Besides, she had greater concerns like, how she was going to get Myron to quit this life. After tonight’s events, it was crystal clear why she had to get herself and Myron out of this life.

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Chapter Twelve Questions and Answers

After the party calmed down and the guests got back to boogeying, the servers hurried to bring Pat, Lana and Cherry another table. Stoney came in after he heard what was going on and Cherry filled him in on what happened. “Man, I was on a roll in there. What the fuck happened out here?” he asked. “Look,” Cherry said moving over to let him in the booth.” You didn’t have to leave your game. You know I don’t play with these bitches.” “If you wasn’t Malik’s girl, I would be scared of you. You’re a little crazy with that blade.” “If I can survive the streets and courtrooms, I think I can handle these wanna-be player bitches.” “Look, I know you’re a handle business type of fox, but these streets will eat you alive if you ain’t careful.”

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“You ain’t gotta worry about me. I’m cool.” Stoney sighed. “Okay, just take care of yourself.” “It’s all under control, Stone,” Pat interrupted. “Me and Lana got her back. We’ll take care of her.” “Cool, I’ll catch ya’ll later,” Stoney said as he left them and headed back to the gambling room. Cherry took a plastic hair pick out of her bag and groomed her brown Afro. “I can’t be the queen in here with messed up hair.” Lana moved to the side, as did Pat, so that Cherry could have full view of the mirror behind them. “I know you, Cherry. You need lots of room to beautify, chile.” “That’s right girl,” Pat agreed. “You even need a mirror in the kitchen,” she added as they all laughed. Cherry looked at her reflection in the mirror and saw me and Myron walking into the party room. Lana looked at Pat and saw her blushing for the honoree of the party. “Twenty-one years old and sitting on top of the world. He should’ve been twins so that there would be two of him,”

she said as she and Pat shared another laugh. Along with two bodyguards, Myron and I joined our ladies in the booth. “Is all of the champagne gone?” I asked as I greeted Cherry with a kiss on the cheek. “Hell no,” Lana said. “Then why ain’t there a few bottles on this table? Business is done and we’re ready to party.” 80

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Myron smiled, but even as he pretended to relax and enjoy the evening, he couldn’t help thinking about the phone call he’d gotten earlier. I was also hiding my concerns about ‘Brownie’ who he knew was still at the party. I didn’t want to have her removed because any little dispute for fear that Cherry might find out that I was bangin’ Brownie’s sweet ass in the bathroom. So instead, I asked Cherry about the fight that I’d missed. “So baby, I hear you’re ready to pitch for the ‘Phillies’?” I said jokingly. “What?” Cherry asked, shocked by the question. “Yeah, I heard a shot glass for a ball beats a champagne bottle for a bat?” “How the hell do you know what happened already?” “This is my party,” Myron said. “We know everything that happens.”

“And you didn’t come to see if we were okay?” Pat asked disappointedly. “Look here Pat, if I know this lady right here, the only thing we would’ve had to check on was how bad them bitches got fucked up,” I said putting my arm around Cherry to implicate her. The suggestion flattered Cherry. “How can you say that, baby? I’m always a good girl,” she said with a wink. “But I’m not,” Lana said. “I can cut some bitches too, if I have to.”

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Both bodyguards stood at either ends of the booth. Each could see the party room entrance reflection in the mirror behind the seats. A bell started ringing in the gambling room like someone had just hit the jackpot. “Damn, sounds like somebody just hit,” I said to Myron. Myron leaned forward and peeked at the gambling room entrance. “I knew that would happen. That’s why I made sure it was plenty of bread at the tables, ya dig?” When the bell stopped ringing Pat sent Lana to the bar for a few bottles of champagne. “That’s my Lana,” she said and smiled. “She’s always been there for me.”

After the excitement in the party room calmed down, I reached across the table to put out a cigarette that was still burning in the ash tray. I couldn’t help but to notice a white substance sprinkled on the table. Myron was focused on the other side of the party room, until I brought the powder to his attention. “What the fuck is this?” I asked trying to control my rage as I waited for an answer. “That came from Cherry’s friend with the killer champagne bottle,” Pat replied. “He didn’t ask whose it is, he asked what it is,” Myron said insistently. Pat paused to think of the right words to explain. “First you have to promise not to get mad.” Her request seemed to calm Myron. “You know 82

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I could never get mad at you, baby.” “Alright,” Pat replied. “Those jive bitches that we had the little problem with were dealers. I thought they were dealing for somebody, but it turns out they’re working for themselves.” “You let them do business in this house?” I asked furiously. “No hot head; she wanted to make a partnership with ya’ll two. She took out a sample

pack for Pat to try,” Cherry said. “And, did you?” Myron asked meeting the top of his nose with his eye brows. “How the fuck can you ask me that? I’ve been around drugs all my life. Half of it with you, and I’ve never even took a pill. Why the fuck would I start now?” Myron’s demeanor changed. He felt bad about what he’d said to Pat. “You’re right, sugar. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” “So we don’t even know what this is, right?” I asked. Lana returned to the table with the champagne bottles just as Pat began to answer. Myron and I never took our attention away from Pat as we eagerly awaited her response. “She said it was blow. She bragged about it being straight from Columbia and uncut. They did a couple hits and said they wanted you as a partner.” “What the fuck is wrong with ya’ll?!” I shouted.

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Myron’s face still showed anger. “Why didn’t ya’ll send somebody to come and get me? We don’t know who they were, or what they really wanted,” I continued.

“Yeah, but we know their names. And we know who invited them,” Cherry said. “What you talking about?” Myron asked giving Cherry a suspicious look. “They said they knew Cliff, Russ and Eddie. With all the people them three know, I figured they were telling the truth.” I signaled to one of the guards. He leaned over and put his ear towards me so that he could hear my instructions. “I guess they’ll have to tell me more about the mystery ladies.” Myron nodded to me in approval. His angry expression was replaced with a determined grin. When Lana saw all of them getting upset with each other, she popped open a bottle of champagne and poured it to ease the tension. “Alright ya’ll, what we drinking to?” she asked holding her glass in the air and licking some spilled champagne from her other hand. Pat and Cherry, both insulted by me and Myron’s reactions to the information we had just received, didn’t raise their glasses yet. “I know,” I said. As I stood up and raised my glass. I asked Lana “May I?” “Get down, brother,” Lana replied. 84

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I pulled back the right side of my suit jacket and placed my fist on my hip.

“I’m sure the guest of honor won’t mind if I borrow his spotlight for a minute. I’d like to propose a toast to the two most beautiful, intelligent, classy women I know; Cherry and Pat. You two are the best thing that ever happened to jive turkeys like us. We love ya’ll!” “Cheers!” they all said in unison.

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Chapter Thirteen Chat with the champ

After the toast, and before I could empty my glass, someone tapped me on my shoulder. I turned to see who it was; knowing that I’d sent one of my guards on an assignment. When I recognized the man behind me, we immediately shared a hand shake accompanied by an embrace. Myron looked on as our greeting lasted only a few seconds. As the man looked over my shoulder and saw Myron he moved toward him to say hello. The man was former heavy weight champ Maurice ‘Moe’ Carver. He almost resembled one of Myron’s body guards with his lofty, titanium build, and his custom tailored gray suit. As Moe approached Myron, he stood up and the two exchanged playful punches. “Be careful champ, I don’t wanna hurt you before your next fight,” Myron said sarcastically. 86

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They stopped the slap boxing and shook hands. “Hurt me? You wasn’t in the joint that long. It’s cool, you’re still the champ of the football field,” Moe answered before he embraced Myron. “Damn, now I can tell my kids someday that I fought the champ and didn’t get knocked out,” Myron said as they all laughed. The ex-champ was being escorted by four women all of different races. I invited them all to join us for a drink and they accepted. Lana knew there wouldn’t be enough room in the booth so she hurried to find some of the serving crew to accommodate the champ and his entourage. “Good evening champ,” the head waiter greeted Moe. He instructed his staff members to bring two more tables to join together with our table. He also asked Myron if he’d like anything special brought from the kitchen for his guests. “Please send the very best servers for the champ and his friends,” Myron requested. The ex-champ ordered a bottle of red wine to go with the bottles of champagne. Still, even with the former heavy weight champ in my company, I was the desire of every woman; including the ex-champ’s women. See in the sports world he ruled, but this was the urban underworld. Here Myron the champ, and I was the number one contender. Several of Myron’s guests approached Moe for his autograph. “Thank ya’ll for your support,

but I’m having a drink with my friends right now. I’ll sign a few autographs 87

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before I leave the party, alright?” “Thanks,” I said as I lifted my glass to Moe. Myron nodded and sipped his wine quickly. Lana walked up to the joining tables to make sure that everything was going well. “Is everything okay here?” she asked excitedly. Everyone answered in the positive, so she felt she could spare a moment to be social. “Would anyone like to order anything from the kitchen?” “I’ll tell you what, from what I hear you’re the one who put all this together. So look, bring us whatever you recommend from the menu. I’m sure it’ll be outta sight,” Moe replied. “You got it, champ. Ya’ll better get ready for the best meal you’ve ever had,” Lana said with confidence. After Lana left to order the food, Moe turned his attention to Pat and Cherry, whom he’d overlooked during his greetings. “Oh shit, I don’t know where my manners are,” he said apologetically. “Good evening Ladies. Ya’ll both look gorgeous as always. Two knockouts, I’m glad I ain’t gotta fight against

ya’ll. I would get my ass kicked,” he jokingly added. “It’s been a long time, Moe. How’s everything,” Pat asked. “Everything is everything.” “For once you’re right; you would get yo’ ass beat if 88

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you was gonna fight me,” Cherry said humoring him. “Same ole’ Cherry, you ain’t changed a bit.” “How you feelin’, man? You ready for the big fight,” I asked. “I’m always ready, but the numbers ain’t lookin’ too good on this one.” “What you mean, blood? The odds is ten to one verses Deon ‘Two-Tooth’ Tinkman. I bet a lot of money on you ‘cause I know it’s gonna be one of the biggest upsets in boxing,” Myron said. Moe reached into his suit jacket and pulled out an envelope. “I wasn’t gonna bother ya’ll with this, but I figured maybe ya’ll can help me.” He passed the envelope to me, so I opened it and took out a hand written letter. The letter was from an anonymous writer warning Moe to lose the upcoming fight. He said he also received threatening phone calls while Myron was away in prison. One caller told him that he’d be dead soon

if he didn’t stay away from ‘Black Myron’ Walker. Moe finished his glass of wine and then he cleared his throat as he continued. “Well, like I said, I didn’t wanna say nothin’ ‘cause I thought it was just jokes, right? Now that I got the letter, I know somebody’s tryin’ to scare me. I think we all know who’s M.O. that is, don’t we? The Black Mob/ Black Brothers Company.” “But that doesn’t make sense. If they’re racket is extortion, why does it matter who wins? They’ll just shake down the winner for the bread,” I said. 89

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“Think about it, if they bet money on Tinkman and win, they can get that money, and put the squeeze on him for his,” Myron answered. “I told you, I didn’t even want to say anything,” Moe said with his heart racing from the thought of his demise being brought about by the Black Mob. He wanted to fight well enough to beat his opponent, which in his mind he knew he could. For a minute he even thought to score enough points for a draw. I could see the fear in Moe’s eyes and I knew he needed help. He knew after all the newspaper articles, television broadcasts and all the stories he heard on the street that the threats

were real. Encouragingly, I put my arm around Moe. I could feel how tense he was, so I tried to put his mind at ease. “It’s cool man,” I said as I poured him another glass of wine. Even though Moe’s life was seemingly in danger, I had a way of making people feel safe. “Malik, you a fearless mutha fucker, man. How the fuck can you take on them murderous ass cats on the streets, and then go stand in a court room and fight cases with Calvin like you fuckin ‘Johnny Law’,” Moe asked with a humorous chuckle. Judging by his new found sense of humor, it appeared as though I succeeded in taking Moe’s mind off the threatening phone calls he’d received. It was no secret that the Black Mob was a bunch of ruthless killers, but now he knew that Myron and I would provide him all the protection we 90

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could. I tightened my grip around Moe’s shoulder and took another sip from my glass. “I don’t know exactly what they plan to do,” I said as I gave Moe a stern look. “But I promise you that what I got waiting for them that night will definitely be the main event.”

I looked into Moe’s eyes and sensed that he felt the seriousness of my words. Still, in spite of it all, I had a feeling he felt something else. His overall demeanor was fearful, uncertain and concerned from the start of the Black Mob conversation. For a split second I didn’t think that he cared about his upcoming fight. He seemed to be consumed with the Black Mob. He took one of the wine bottles from the table and put it to his lips. Laying his head back, he stared at the ceiling. He was becoming restless and jittery, and it was disturbing to think that he could be this afraid of the Black Mob. Right then I started thinking about some their past victims, and believe me there were dozens of them. One of Moe’s girls moved closer to him and kissed him on the cheek. She caressed his face and ran her fingers along his thigh. Her hand neared his dick as she attempted to take his mind off of things. Before long he sat erect again, as did his dick. “Stop baby,” he said as he removed her hand. “I’m sorry. I just need to think for a minute,” he continued as he gently pushed her away. Just then I noticed that Moe didn’t appear to be convinced about his protection. His nervous fidgeting 91

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continued and his face had began to sweat. “Moe!” I yelled as I banged on the table. The banging caused a few glasses to spill, and surely got Moe’s attention. However, before I had a chance to express my disgust for Moe’s fear, Cliff, Russell and Eddie approached our table. The guard that I’d sent to find them had also returned. “What’s happenin’, party people?” Russell said. “Ya’ll cats enjoying the party?” Myron asked with a suspicious smirk. “Hell yeah, boss. We gonna close this shit down. Last ones to leave, you dig?” Eddie responded. “Would you ladies excuse us for minute? We got some business to discuss with these cats.” I requested. Moe’s girls immediately stood up, picked up their drinks and headed toward the gambling room. Pat and Cherry both hesitated with their departure. After Myron gave Pat a reassuring smile, she felt content to leave him and check on the rest of the guests. “Malik,” Cherry said with concern and grabbing hold of my forearm. “Please don’t,” she pleaded as she prepared to take leave. “Baby, I’m cool. I promise,” I said holding her hand. Cherry then excused herself and hurried to join Pat. “Have a seat,” I instructed them as I signaled for a server to come and clean the wet

table. “What’s up Malik? You wanted to see us?” Cliff asked as he put out his cigar. “You damned right! I hear you three got some very 92

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interesting friends.” “You know us, man. We try to keep up with the who’s who of VIP’s,” Eddie answered. “What’s your angle, Malik? Is something wrong?” Russell asked. “There were three bitches here tonight who said they were invited by ya’ll, and that by itself was cool. However the fact that they were players, in my house, trying to do business with a product that I deal in makes me curious,” Myron interrupted. “Boss, we didn’t invite nobody to the party. What you talkin’ about?” Cliff asked as his demeanor changed to dismay. “I’m talking about the blow, and the three women who said they were looking to be partners with me.” “Come on boss,” Russell pleaded. “We know all the shit that’s going on right now. Why the hell would we invite any outsiders to your pad?” “That’s right. Especially if we knew they was coke dealers,” Eddie added.

“Ya’ll cats have to excuse me if I don’t believe ya’ll, since these bitches got into a bottle fight with my fuckin’ woman,” I said. “Malik I swear man, we don’t know what the fuck is going on, but we ain’t have nothing to do with it,” Russell insisted. “I’ll tell ya’ll what, since ya’ll know the who’s who of VIP’s, and the what’s what of the streets, get out there and 93

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find out who the fuck had the guts to disrespect my pad and my woman,” Myron said sternly. “No problem boss. We’re all over it,” Russell said as he stood up from his chair to leave. “One more thing fellas,” I stopped them as Eddie and Cliff stood up to leave with Russell. “What’s up Malik?” they asked. “When ya’ll find out who it is, don’t do anything. Just bring them to me and I’ll take care of it. “We got it, boss. We got it.” “Hey champ,” Eddie acknowledged Moe as he got up from the table. “Make sure you knock that chump out on fight night, blood.” “That’s what I do, man. For real,” Moe answered as he held up his fists. The three of them then excused themselves and left the party. Knowing they had to find out

something fast, they hit the streets to start taking names. Shortly after they’d left, Moe excused himself to use the bathroom. This left me and Myron alone for the first time since his release that morning. “There’s a lot of strange shit going on, brother,” I said. “First the limo driver, then those bitches with the cocaine, and now Moe’s getting threats.” “I hear you, blood. Earlier tonight I got a phone call from some sucker that knew a lot about me and Pat. I couldn’t tell who it was, but he said I’d find out when the surprise comes. Then he said my days are numbered, but he’d take care of Pat for me.” 94

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“Fuck this! It’s obvious these mutha fuckers think that we’re some fucking hoes that they’re pimpin’. We built this shit man, and I ain’t gonna give in to no threats or no fucking police looking for a pay-off. You’re home now and this is our time. Before the meeting in Atlanta I think we need to turn up the heat on the streets.” “Mutha fuckin’ right!”

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Chapter Fourteen Black Mob Massacre

Several months had passed and I kept my word as I said I would. The streets took full notice of the new rulers of the underworld. Mr. Millionaire, King Malik and the Murderous Men were living the life of royalty. Most business owners and merchants opened their doors and welcomed us. They knew that having us as friends, would make any plans for anyone to extort them futile. It was a cloudy morning and it seemed like the start of any normal day. I was at home lying on my king sized water bed watching television. As I flipped through the channels I stopped at channel six when I saw a late breaking news story. “We are live at Deborah’s furniture store th on 4 and South St. where, just moments ago almost a dozen employees were beaten and held hostage by an unknown number of gunmen. The victims were tied up and robbed of over two 96

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thousand dollars cash. One employee was shot dead, and at least two others were critically wounded. After the shootings, the gunmen poured gasoline around the store and set it on fire. Leon Williams, the store’s owner, and his wife Deborah were able to identify two of the gunmen as Black

Mob members Stan Bishop and Rupert ‘Buddy’ Simms. Mr. Williams stated that he refused to pay protection money to the Black Mob last week, and that today’s events were a result of his refusal. Mr. Williams said that the thugs intended to kill him and his employees, judging by the way they set things on fire before leaving the store. The other victims are receiving medical treatment and are unavailable for comment. However, Police commissioner Hank Paluzzo was not at a loss for words. Commissioner Paluzzo was your garden variety Italian, Gestapo cop who moved up the ranks in twenty-five years to the top. He had a distinguished service record and was predicted to many to be the next mayor of Philadelphia. He was five foot ten with a robust body frame, slicked black hair and a clean shaven face. As he began to speak to the reporters wearing his dress uniform, impressively decorated with several medals and prestigious brass pins, he removed his silver wire rimmed glasses from his face and spoke with a scowl: “In all my years of police work, this has to be the most vicious and inhumane act I’ve ever seen. If I was given the opportunity I would pull the switch of the electric chair on 97

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these criminals myself. I am making a personal promise to the victims, their families and the rest of the citizens of Philadelphia that the men responsible for this heinous crime, the Black Mob and all of their affiliates, will be brought to justice, dead or alive”. The crowd continued to watch in awe as firefighters struggled to extinguish the blaze. Among them, watching with a sinister smile was none other than Stan Bishop. He managed to remain unrecognized by anyone in the crowd, and by the dozens of policemen and firefighters that were on location. I grew more and more disgusted as I watched the Black Mob leader stand unnoticed in the crowd. I knew this time, writing poetry couldn’t help me express the hatred and contempt I had for Bishop and his organization. Myron and I were both cooperating with Calvin R. Little on many cases that a prosecutor friend of his brought against the Black Mob. We had all seen the changes over the years, and we watched as local neighborhoods became very afraid from the crime syndicate’s tyrannous rampage. The need to vent my feelings overtook me, so I reached for my French style phone and called Myron. “Hello,” a guard said answering the phone. Myron had been screening his phone calls since the one he’d received the night of the party disturbed Pat and him so much. “What’s up Zeus? It’s Malik.”

“What’s happenin’ Malik? Everything cool over there?” “C’mon man, it’s like the North Pole over here. Let me 98

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speak to Myron.” The guard handed Myron the phone and informed him who it was. Myron started in speaking without even saying hello. “I know what you’re gonna say, man. I’m sittin’ here watchin’ it too.” “Animals… Fuckin’ animals, man.” I said with an angry voice. “Times are hard as shit out here, and these mutha fuckers is robbing hard working people.” Myron shared my anger. Unlike the other citizens of Philadelphia, we didn’t have fear of Bishop and Tarver. Consequently, there had been several confrontations between our two opposing organizations. Since Myron was still the boss, he needed to make a decision on what to do regarding our ongoing war. “Why did they have to kill any of them, man?” Myron asked. “They threatened Leon and his wife for protection money, and even though they didn’t pay it, those cats robbed them for it today. So I don’t understand, why kill anybody?” I paced around my bedroom, still longing

for the opportunity to have five minutes in private with the cowardly so-called gangsters. As members of Muslim Temple number twelve, located at Germantown Ave. and Susquehanna St. in North Philadelphia, the Black Mob had various religious and political connections. The mosque’s leader, Minister Hezekiah Salaam had significant involvements with City Hall officials, and several religious leaders all over the country. However, his quest to rule the underworld in Philadelphia, New Jersey, New York 99

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and Washington D.C. was even more significant. “I don’t think Salaam cares about being politically correct anymore,” I said presumptuously. “I don’t know. Maybe havin’ the police commissioner, who’s soon to be mayor, declaring war on you is good politics for him,” Myron answered with sarcasm. I stopped pacing and sat down on my bed. I thought of how Myron, me and the police could help each other. “Yo man, this might sound fucked up, but the more killing they do, the less attention there is on us,” I said as I attempted to not sound cold-hearted. “What do you mean?” Myron asked. “I think the attention is on us more. To those honkey

cops we’re all the same, nigger gangsters. So when the war is on, they ain’t gonna take no prisoners. We gotta be smarter than these other fly-by-night chumps, you dig?” A second later, news of two more murders was broadcasted. We paused our conversation to listen. “Last night two more murdered victims were found which brings the total this year to one hundred seventy-nine. Police say the victims were discovered just before three a.m. at Richmond St. and Delaware Ave. in the Port Richmond section of the city. Twenty year old Thomasine Pitt and twenty five year old Wanda Styles were both murdered sometime around eleven p.m. and apparently were dumped here a few hours later. The victims’ hands and feet were bound with duct tape, as well as their mouths and eyes. Homicide captain 100

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Clarence Ferguson said the causes of the deaths appears to be overdoses. “From what we can tell right now the victims, both females, were injected with a narcotic of some kind. There are no leads or witnesses at this time. There were no weapons found on or near the scene, and no signs of inflicted wounds on either victim. Hypodermic needles were found near the

scene and baggies containing an unknown substance. It’s unknown right now if this is the paraphernalia that was used for the crime and the investigation will remain open for the person or persons responsible.”

“Witnesses said that both women were dealers of narcotics, and did run and operate several prostitution houses in the South Philly area. Both women were mothers of one child; Pitt a three-year-old daughter, and Styles a oneyear-old son. The families of both victims were unavailable for comment as was police commissioner Hank Paluzz, but according to police spokes persons, to find the killer or killers of these women is a top priority. This is Kerri Heller reporting live for Channel six Action News.” Myron and I both listened to the broadcast in silence. “Oh well, what were you saying about the attention being off of us?” Myron asked. “Those mutha-fuckers. I told them not to do shit; to just bring the women to me,” I answered. “What does this mean for us now, Malik?” Myron asked with concern. 101

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“I don’t know,” I answered as I sat on my bed and rested my forehead in my hand. “Is this what we are now, the type of cats that would kill two mothers?” Bear, the guard outside of my door, knocked to announce that there was someone there to see me. “Craig Hines is here. Should I let him upstairs?” Bear asked. “No, have him wait in the living room. I’ll be right down.” I answered irritated by the interruption. Bear quietly closed the door to allow me to finish my conversation. “What do you know? Got a visitor,” I said clearly disturbed by the news of the two women’s deaths. Myron stayed silent to allow me the opportunity to answer his question. “Malik?” He said to let me know that he was waiting for an answer. “Yeah man, I’m here,” I answered with a sigh. “I want this to go away before the meeting in Atlanta, okay?” My remorseful feelings hardened as I stared at myself in the mirror. “Make it go away? No problem,” I answered. “I can take care of that with no problem.” “Oh yeah, one thing though,” “What’s that?” “No more killing on this one, got it?” “I definitely got it.”

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Chapter Fifteen Lessons

I hung up the phone and turned towards my bed room door. “Now let me see what this sucker wants.” I said to myself referring to Craig Hines. I called Bear to come back in, I gave him instructions, and then we proceeded down the hall. Craig greeted me as I came down the living room steps. “What’s happenin’ Boss? I heard what went down and the shit is real fucked up. You need me for anything?” As I reached the last step and entered the living room I declined Craig’s offer, and tried to pretend that I actually appreciated it. The murders of the two women made me feel sick, especially when I was partially responsible.

Still, I knew I had to do something to keep the heat off of our organization. Bear went into the kitchen to join a poker game with some of the other crew. He left me and Craig in the 103

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living room to continue our conversation. As Myron’s former lieutenant and now being envied by Craig, a lieutenant wanna-be, I loved to handle my workers like a general commanding his troops. I was a stickler for loyalty, and as such, I randomly tested my workers. Since my orders were deliberately disobeyed by three of them, an example had to be set. Besides, I loved setting examples in front of Craig. Craig was considered to be a fake gangster by the streets. He would only pretend to be a tough guy in my presence. I was loved in the community and greatly respected, as well as feared in the underworld. So, Craig would often act as if my reputation was his. As we moved our conversation into the kitchen to join a poker game that some of my crew were playing, Bear watched us closely and waited for my signal. The two women’s deaths weighing heavy on my mind as I pulled up a chair to the kitchen table. I could tell by the expressions on the faces around the room that

everyone shared my feelings. The players, Louis Dodd and Marvin Singleton were two young cats in my crew who loved hanging out at my house, whenever I’d let them. I sat down and asked if anyone would mind if I gave them a demonstration. The cards would be the perfect prop to use in making my point. “Do ya’ll cats agree that trust is important in life?” I asked as I picked up the cards I was dealt, and then arranged them in my hand. “Sure trust is real heavy man,” one of the Marvin 104

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answered. I looked over at Bear and saw anticipation in his eyes. “Why you asking, boss?” “You’re in a card game, right? So you gotta trust the dealer to be honest, and deal the cards fair?” “Sure man, I did deal fair. You want a new hand?” Marvin asked. He was a little frightened by my questions. His hands appeared very unsteady as he continued to deal. “See that’s my point. If you dealt fair then why offer me a new hand?” “Hey Malik, man---“ “No, it’s okay. Be cool. You’re helping make my point. See everybody in this world is

responsible for their own actions, and you got to remember that your actions can bring one of two things; reward or consequence.” Craig stood nodding his head agreeing as I continued. “The killing of those two women, innocent or guilty was a betrayal of trust, and it gotta be consequences for that. We’re not killers, brothers. We just happen to be in a business where killing may be necessary. Nobody better kill anyone without permission, ain’t that right Craig?” I asked referring to the limo driver. “Sure you right, blood,” Craig answered. Just as he did, I spread my cards faced up on the table revealing a Royal Flush. Surprised, everyone watched in disbelief. I hadn’t even thrown out any cards or taken any new ones. “Come on down to the basement, I wanna show ya’ll 105

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something,” I said as I moved back in my chair away from the table. I stood and gave Lou and Marvin a look of stone to let them know that refusal was not an option. I lead the way to my basement followed by the two of them, Craig and Bear. The basement had been decorated in seventies disco fashion. There were dining booths with red leather seats, and two red leather

couches that met in the same corner. A full bar, a restroom and a pool table were in the other three corners of the room. “Like I said before, I’m not a killer, but trust has to be maintained. Since the trust in this organization seems to be all fucked up now, in the tradition of reward and consequence I need to reestablish it.” Lou and Marvin had looks of fright and confusion on their faces, like they weren’t exactly sure what was going on. They knew that I was angry, and I wanted them to think that I suspected them to be involved with the deaths. It was very possible that I was preparing to punish them for disloyalty. I went behind the bar and took out an eighteen inch gray locked box. Lou and Marvin were standing in the middle of my basement facing the bar, and Bear was standing behind them. Craig went over to the pool table area and picked up a pool stick. He separated the stick into two pieces so that the screw was showing out of one end. He then positioned himself next to the Lou and Marvin with the screw tipped end of the pool stick rested on his left shoulder. 106

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Just then I opened the locked box and took out four stacks of one hundred dollar bills totaling

twenty five thousand dollars and tossed them to Lou and Marvin. “There’s twenty five thousand dollars there. I want ya’ll two to find the families of those two women and split twenty thousand dollars between them. The other five thousand ya’ll can split.” Lou and Marvin felt relieved. I knew that they had no idea why I was doing this, but they didn’t ask any questions. “I know what ya’ll thinking. Why, right? I’ll tell you why. My instructions were to find them and bring them to me. I was uncomfortable not knowing who had the guts to show up at Myron’s house to start some shit, and deal drugs to both of our women. Even if they were the ones, they shouldn’t have been killed. Ain’t no way for me to check and see if ya’ll do what I ask, so I guess I gotta trust ya’ll. Can I trust ya’ll?” “Sure you right,” Lou answered. Lou and Marvin knew what I wanted them to do was right. They had a lot of respect for me and I knew that it was important to them that I trust them. They both looked at each other and the same feelings showed on their faces. It was a feeling that I could see burrowed down in their souls. They wanted to prove they were loyal and could be trusted by me. Craig stood in the same spot tapping the pool stick on his shoulder. He kept his eye on the money that Lou was holding as if he was going to snatch it and run, but he was probably just wishing he had my wealth and power. Wrapping the money in a brown bag, Lou looked at

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Bear and now he looked like he felt relieved. He then shook hands with me, as did Marvin, and the two of them quietly left the house. Everything that was our reputation as men and as community figures was riding on this. There was no room for error. There was no way that this could happen again. I put the box back in its place and returned with Craig and Bear to the kitchen. Before we continued to play cards I turned on the jukebox in my living room. I played ‘Mr. Big Stuff’ by Jean Wright, ‘What You See, Is What You Get’ by the Dramatics, and ‘I Just Wanna Celebrate’ by Rare Earth. I also opened a few bottles of spirits from my kitchen’s bar. Although being hospitable to Craig wasn’t exactly high on my priority list, this was yet another opportunity to flaunt the fruits of my labor. That was my way of teaching him a lesson…

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Chapter Sixteen Hard two love

As the evening turned to night, Cherry returned home. She entered the house and put her cashmere coat and Italian leather hand bag on the living room sofa. After she picked up the mail that was laying by the front door, she walked across the lavish, butter cream carpet floor to answer the ringing phone. “Hello..? Hello..? Hello?!” After a few seconds the caller hung up. There was a brief moment of silence followed by a dial tone, and then Cherry hung up. I was still playing cards with the crew

when the call came in. Cherry walked over and took a bottle of gin from a cabinet over the sink and slammed the door. She poured herself a drink and then slammed the bottle down on the counter. 109

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The past few hours of drinking left the Bear, Craig and me slightly intoxicated, so we didn’t notice Cherry’s mood right away. As she started sipping her drink, I finally focused my attention on her and the angry look on her face. “Hey baby, what’s wrong?” I asked her projecting my voice to be heard over the music. “I need to talk to you,” she answered. “Alright, baby. Give me a minute. Wait for me in the living room.” I put down my cards and declared the end of the game. Then I instructed Bear and Craig to clean up the kitchen. I knew Cherry and I would need some privacy.“Is everything cool?” Craig asked. “I don’t know. She probably just wanna talk, that’s all.” “Cool. You want us to wait?” he asked as he straightened things up. “No, I’ll see ya’ll tomorrow at Silk & Satin’s.” ”Alright then; if you need me, just call.” “Alright.” After I walked the two of them to the door

and closed it behind them, I turned and saw Cherry standing in the living room waiting for me. She stood in the doorway with tears in her eyes. She held her drink and looked at me with fury. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” I asked her. “Where were you last night?” she said in answer to my question. “Working.” “Oh really; working on who?” 110

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“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” “You weren’t at Calvin’s last night because I called.” “We had a meeting at Andy Sticks’ office. Why all the questions?” “I’m not stupid, Malik. You think I don’t know what you’re doing when you’re not here? You think I don’t hear about you and Myron, and the fuckin’ harem that follows him wherever he goes? What about the late night phone calls and the hanging up? You coming home smelling like cheap ass perfume that I don’t wear? What’s all that shit?” “Woman, you don’t know what the hell you talkin’ about. You need to stop listening to other people and trust your man for once. Instead of accusing me, why don’t you tell me what the

fuck is going on between you and Milton Burns? What the fuck is that about?” “Oh, don’t even try that shit! You know ain’t nothing going on between us! I see you’ve been listening to other people, too. You’re not even home half the time, so how would you know what I’m doing?” “That’s my point; with me being so busy you’ve got plenty of time to be busy with Milton!” “What about you? How the hell do I know you’re working all the time?” I walked away and went back to the kitchen to get a drink. “You and Myron are the two biggest whores in the entire city,” Cherry continued as she followed me into the kitchen. “And Calvin ain’t no better, so do you expect me to 111

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believe that you don’t fuck every tramp in a skirt? I’m not stupid,” she said while I sipped my drink. “You mean like you’re fucking Milton? Is that what you mean? Then I guess that makes you a whore too, right?” I asked her as I slammed my glass down on the table. “I’m not a fuckin’ whore, we’re just friends! The only whore in this house is you! You make me sick! I’m sorry I ever fuckin’ met you!” Cherry picked up my glass and threw the

rest of my drink in my face. I grabbed her by both arms and attempted to restrain her. She dropped the empty glass and we continued to tussle and yell at each other. “Stop..! I said STOP!” I insisted. “No..! Get off of me!” Cherry refused. “Calm down damn it, listen to me!” “Get off of me! I hate you!” “Look, I’m getting tired of this shit! I don’t have time for all this damn arguing! I got too much going on to worry about this stupid shit! If we don’t trust each other then we don’t need to be together! We should just call it quits!” Cherry continued to cry. She pulled away from me and wiped the tears from her eyes. “You’re right, that’s exactly what you want. You want to be free to fuck any bitch that wants you. You know what, fine. Do what you want, but just remember, what goes around comes around.” She grabbed her coat and keys and headed toward the front door. I hurried to stop her. 112

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“Wait a minute. Where are you goin’?” I asked as I grabbed her arm again. “Out!” “Out where?” “To pick up my daughter; why the fuck do you care?”

Cherry pulled away again, but then I grabbed her by her wrist stopping her again. I gave her a piercing stare and warned her not to do anything that she’ll regret. “Be careful what you do, and never mistake my kindness for a weakness. You remember that!” She pulled away a third time, left the house and slammed the door. I walked back to the kitchen and poured another drink. I took it into the dining room and sat down at the mahogany, antique table. As I looked at the table I saw the pencil and notebook I’d left there a few days before. Subconsciously I began to draft a poem as I thought of Cherry: OLD FLAME You were once an enchanting scent But you left when springtime went You were once to me a peach On a tree, out of my reach You were once to me a flame Now you’ve burned out, and I’m to blame… I realized that night how much I really loved Cherry, 113

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and how I couldn’t imagine life without her. I knew eventually my cheating on her would cause problems in our relationship, and now that it had I wanted to make amends. Knowing I didn’t really want to end it with her, in spite of my earlier suggestion, I needed to figure out how to make things right. Whatever the circumstances were, I had to put it out of my mind and focus on business. Business was good, but I wanted it to get better...

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Chapter Seventeen Silk & Satin’s Night Club

More than two dozen flashy, luxurious vehicles, mostly Cadillacs and Lincolns, were parked two in a row on the historic 52nd Street strip in West Philadelphia. Hundreds of people strutted around dressed in the most expensive fashions to party in some of Philadelphia’s most popular nightlife spots. Silk & Satin’s, owned by Rus Sheery and his wife Margaret, was the hottest spot in town. High rollers would arrive in their limousines to mingle with Philadelphia’s elite. Comedian Phil Crosby, heavy weight champion Ali Hassan and R&B singer Reggie Fenderbush were just a few frequent patrons of the S & S, as it was often called around town. Myron and I were seated in the V.I.P. section of the club surrounded by a group of bodyguards and several

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beautiful women. The table was topped with glasses filled with expensive champagne and wine and ashtrays filled with the finest cigars. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of the sexy singer on stage performing with the band and she returned my interest with a flirtatious smile that told me she was digging me too. She had a light complexion, long beautiful eye lashes and dark hair. Her lips looked soft and sensual, and her voice sound like it should belong to an angel from heaven. “Damn, I want her singing to me tomorrow morning when I wake up,” I said suggestively to Myron. “Blood, you’re real funny. You just know you’re taking her home tonight, huh?” Myron answered. “Her and that back-up singer!” I said jokingly as I gestured in the direction of one of the females of the accompanying trio. We both laughed together as I got up to head toward the stage. Myron stopped me briefly to ask me about Cherry and my recent domestic dispute. “Malik, hang on a second. Sit down,” Myron said. I sat down and put out a cigar that was left in one of the ashtrays. “What’s up man? Everything cool?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, yeah. I heard about what happened last night. That’s some crazy ass shit.” “Sure you right. I don’t know what to do about Cherry, ya know? I haven’t been faithful to her for a while, and I know she’s fucking around with Milton Burns. I knew she was hurt 116

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when she found out about all the women, but I ain’t think she would do something like that.” The night of our last argument, Cherry slashed all four tires of my blue and white Pontiac Grand Prix.When I discovered the vehicle I decided to leave it and drive my gray Oldsmobile F-85. I always kept a spare gun in the glove compartment of my other car, and the Pontiac. When I opened the glove compartment to get it, it was filled with tarantulas and black scorpions. Some of them fell onto the front seat and floor, and the rest continued to crawl on the gun that was inside the box. Furious about what I was seeing, I took a gas can from the trunk and torched the car before I sped off in the other. “Shit!” Myron said with shock. “Is she really fuckin’ around with that chump?” “That’s what the word is. Plus some of our crew said they heard him on the streets braggin’ about it.”

“Look, I know Quincy personally. If you want, I’ll talk to him and find out if it’s true. And if it is, he’s iced!” “Naw man, everything is everything. I’m just upset right now. I’m gonna get me another drink, and then I’m gonna get me some singing lessons, you dig?” “Just call you the mack, right?” I got up from table and headed towards the bar. While walking through the crowded club I was greeted by several people, most of whom were women. When I arrived at the bar the bartender also greeted me. “Mr. Malik, what you know daddy-o? I see you ain’t 117

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lost your touch. Still a chick stick. I can dig it.” “Hey man, I’m just tryin’ to keep flyin’,” I answered with a smile as we shook hands. “I heard that. You want the usual?” “Yeah Tony, matter-of-fact, give me a double.” “You got it, man.” I was waiting for my drinks when I noticed three women entering the club that were greeted by Rus Sheery. One of the women was wearing an eye catching mink coat, and had a smile that got my undivided attention. She had a medium light complexion, her face was sprinkled of

brown freckles that looked like tiny pieces of cinnamon. When Tony returned I asked him about her. “Here you go man. You need anything else?” Tony asked. “Actually, I do. Who’s that fox talking to Rus?” I asked. “Oh that’s K.O.’s ole’ lady, Jeane.” “So that’s K.O. Haines lady, huh?” “Yup, and she is fine as frog’s hair.” “Yeah, you right about that. Thanks for the info. Later.” “Watch yourself now,” Tony said laughing as I walked away. I made my way to the entrance of the club where Rus was talking to Jeane and her friends. In my signature, suave, Don Juan style I interrupted them with urgency. “Sheer silk!” I said with a smile. “Hey, hey Malik. What’s happenin’, man?” Rus replied as we shook hands. “You lookin’ sharp, young blood.” 118

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“Almost as sharp as you, I better keep my eye on you, brother. And you are---“, I asked looking at Jeane and extending my hand to greet her. “I’m Jeane,” she answered as she gently

shook my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” “I’m sure it is,” she said with a smile and I could see in her eyes that she was diggin’ me. “Malik you got a minute?” Rus asked. It seemed like he was trying to kill my action. “I need to talk to you, it’s important.” “Later, I’m taking Jeane for a drink right now.” “I didn’t ask for a drink,” she said with flattered surprise. “No, but you want one so allow me, foxy mama,” I insisted. “It was good seeing you, Rus. I’ll catch up to you later,” Jeane said before she headed toward the bar with my arm around the back of her waist. “Alright, cool. Ya’ll two have a good time,” Rus responded. Jeane’s old man K.O., was one of the founders of the Black Mob. Rus knew my reputation for having a quick temper from my earlier years with the Black Guard. He never advised me against pursuing Jeane, so I decided right then that she and I would get better acquainted… much better acquainted! 119

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Chapter Eighteen Lust, Greed and Envy

Jeane and I walked each other to the bar for a drink, and then we both joined Myron’s party at his table. When we got to the table I made sure I introduced her. “Jeane, this is my partner Myron. Myron, this is Jeane.” “The pleasure’s all mine,” Myron said tipping his Italian made 1930’s gangster style hat. “Likewise, I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re the man they call Mr. Millionaire, right?” “Yeah mama, but you can call me Myron. Sit down and join us for a while.” “Thank you.” Jeane accepted the invitation and took a seat. I helped her take off her mink coat and handed it to one of my guards. Jeane took a cigarette out of her purse and, in spite of my disdain for smoke, I took a match book that was 120

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on the table and lit it for her. “So, I have to ask you this,” I said after I blew out the match. “What the hell do you see in a chump like K.O. Haines?” “Damn, I see somebody did some research, chile. He and I were dating on and off for a few years, and then he started this Black Mob shit. So I broke it off, even though he doesn’t seem to want to give up.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “Never mind that, tell me about you. What kind of work do you and Mr. Myron do?” she responded to my question with one of her own. “He’s a real estate developer, and I am sort of like his legal consultant.” “Sure you right,” she said sounding as if she didn’t believe me. “So, are you a millionaire too?” Humored by the question, I chuckled and clapped my hands. “Damn, you don’t take no time before you get personal, do you?” “Time can be vicious when you take it for granted,” she said as she playfully looked me up and down pondering the possibilities. “Well, let’s just say I have enough to be happy,” I said and avoided a yes or no answer. “Fair enough; I’ll find out for sure when I go to your house.” Her forwardness made me think that she had to be joking, so I laughed again before I answered. “What makes 121

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you think you’ll see my house?” “Are you saying I won’t?” she asked while she folded her arms in front of her. “Maybe I live with somebody,” I said matter-of-factly. “If that’s the case, then what’s your interest in me?” “We ain’t doin’ so well.” “So, how do you know that we will?” she asked anxiously. I paused and looked down at the table. Jeane then looked at me and gently grabbed hold of my hand. It was almost like she knew what I was thinking. She told me that we needed some privacy, but none was soon coming. She looked like she had something important to tell me, and I found out that she did. “Do you believe in fate?” she asked me, now holding my hand. “Not really,” I answered. “Well, I believe that everything happens for a reason, even meeting somebody in a bar when things ain’t good at home.” We both smiled at each other. Jeane went into her purse and took out a tube of lip stick. I stared at her as she applied it to her lips. First the top lip, then the bottom with slow sensual strokes. “You know, you’re really beautiful,” I said as I moved closer to her and gently touched her

cheek with the back of my fingers. “I know,” she said while she put the lip stick back into 122

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her purse. “I’m also married, but we aint’ doin’ so well either.” We both laughed and I continued to sip my drink. The attraction between us was obvious and intense. “So, I guess you didn’t expect that? Guess what, I didn’t expect this,” she said. I assumed that she was talking about meeting me. “Is that a bad thing?” I asked very enticingly. “It could be for both of us,” Jeane answered considering her marital status. “Maybe?” “Maybe, huh? So what are your plans when you leave tonight?” I asked her after I casually dismissed her last statements. “Nothing,” she answered. “My girlfriends are doin’ their own thing, so that just leaves me.” I had some real heavy ideas running through my head. “Where’s your husband?” I wanted to find out if he would be looking for her. “Is he out tonight too?” “Yeah, he’s probably out fucking some tramp,” she said with anger.

I had a look of surprise on my face. “Damn, I ain’t know married cats could fuck other women and still come back home.” “I ain’t know you cared, or are you scared that he might come here?” I finished my drink and slowly sat the glass back down on the table. “Damn, that would be something, wouldn’t it?” At that point I really couldn’t care less. If her husband showed 123

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up I was considering making her a widow, even though I wouldn’t tell her that. From what I now knew about her relationship with K.O. Haines, it was safe to say that Jeane was attracted to gangsters. Consequently, at that moment, it looked like she wanted to kiss me. I watched the other women in the club as their jealousy for Jeane was obvious. I had already planned to take Jeane to a hotel near the airport for the night, and in the morning I’d send her to the hotel’s in house spa for a day of pampering. Afterwards we would go shopping on South Street and have dinner at Bookbinders in Center City. I knew I had thirty thousand dollars in cash in my inner jacket pocket, and I planned on spending it all on her. In the few moments I’d spent with her, my attraction made me want to do things for her that it took Cherry months to have

me do. The lead singer of the band, who I had set my sights on prior to meeting Jeane, had gone off stage and returned after changing her clothes. “Thank you,” she said after the band finished a long instrumental set. They all took a bow as the crowd continued to applaud and cheer. After she acknowledged the important patrons in attendance, she proceeded to lead the band’s next set. With all the gestures of invitation and the shouted marriage proposals from her male supporters, I was amazed at how we maintained eye contact, and nothing seemed to distract us. I was starting to feel like a man on a mission for 124

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her, and if I was lucky she’d be on a mission for me. She smiled and waved at Rus Sheery after he raised his glass toasting her. “Thank you all, so much. It’s a pleasure to be here at Silk & Satin’s in the best partying city in the world. I’m Deidra Mason and we are Funkhouse.” The performers began waving with gratitude for the crowd’s applause. After the noise was reduced to scattered conversations, she attempted to introduce the next song. “I’d like to dedicate this next song to

someone. I can’t say if he’s special or not, since I don’t know him yet, but my eyes tell me that he is.” She kept her focus on me as the musicians began to play a sweet love ballad. When she started to sing, Jeane noticed the steady eye contact that she kept with me. “Don’t tell me you put the moves on her too,” she said with disgust. “I think I’ll leave so you can enjoy your song.” She got up from the table and pushed past me and one of my guards. “Hang on a minute, Jeane. Give me a few ticks.” I was begging Jeane to stay. At thevery least I didn’t want her to leave thinking that everything I’d said to her was a lie. I followed her to the coat check room where I was finally able to stop her. I grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her close to me. “Listen, I know we just met, but I need you to trust me and believe what I’m saying. There are a lot of women in this club and I could leave here tonight with any one of them, 125

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including that singer. Truth is, the only one I even want to look at is you.” As much as she didn’t want to believe me, I could see she was somewhat convinced. With strong attraction we stood staring into each others’ eyes, and judging by how close our

faces were, a kiss was coming. I took a one hundred dollar bill from my pocket and sent the cloak room attendant to get a drink from the bar. I insisted that he not hurry back. Then I took Jeane into the cloak room and we kissed passionately. I could feel my emotions slowly drifting into uncharted territory. It was a feeling I’d never felt before, but I liked it. I pushed her back against the wall and used my hand to shield her head. “No, I don’t want to do this here,” she said insistently. “I gotta get home to my kids.” Jeane paused, biting her lip. “On second thought, I’ve already got my mama watchin’ them, so I don’t need to hurry. Unfortunately, since you live with somebody, I guess that leaves us out of houses to go to.” I smiled and wiped her lip stick off of my lips and face. “It’s cool; I got plans for us any way.” “So, you were really tryin’ to leave with me? What made you think I would go?” I held her hand and walked toward the cloak room doorway. “We was two searching souls that found each other, and now we’ll never be separated.” 126

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“Well, where are you taking me since we

can’t separate?” she asked me, smiling anxiously. “Trust me. I promise you’ll have a good time,” I answered and we walked out of the cloak room. I walked her back through the club to the table where we were sitting. “Myron, I gotta split. I’ll give you a call in the morning,” I said while shaking his hand. It was becoming over crowded in the club, Jeane and I both agreed. Myron winked his eye at me as he studied Jeane’s sexy body. There was a brief moment of silence from the rest of our crew who was looking on.“Cool man, I knew yo’ ass was up to something.” “You know me, gotta make new moves and new friends. Oh yeah--,” I bent down to whisper to Myron. “Do me a favor; make sure that lead singer gets my number.” “Anything for you mack daddy,” he answered and patted me on the back. “Let me split, Jeane’s waiting for me. Catch ya’ll cats later,” I said as I prepared to leave.

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Chapter Nineteen Words of warning

After I returned to the front door I asked Jeane if she was as anxious to leave as I was. “I’m ready, baby. You cool?” “Damn right,” she said, again gazing into my eyes. “You taking me to the boss’ house or what?” “No, we were talking about something else.” “Ummm-Hmmm, I hope you weren’t telling him that you’re gonna score big tonight.” “Don’t even try it. Unless shopping and scoring are the same things. That ain’t what I want from you, believe me.” “Yeah right. A fine woman like me and you saying you ain’t gonna try to move on me? What’s the problem, you scared of me?” She asked me jokingly. I smiled confirming that the thought had

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the question, Rus Sheery yelled my name stopping me suddenly. “Malik! You leaving already?” he asked me before extending his hand to say farewell. “Big man, what’s happenin?” I said to him as I walked away from Jeane. “Man, I know we need to jaw for a few ticks, but I really gotta split, you dig?” I continued to converse with him while Janet stood waiting. “That’s cool, smooth. Can I just get a second of your time?” he asked. “Cool. Janet, can you wait here for a second?” Janet just nodded and stood to the side while I talked to Rus. “I gotta tell you about your little fox right there,” Rus said with concern. “What about her?” I answered feeling a little offended. “No disrespect man, but you know that’s K.O. Haines’ lady, right? This might not be a good move with all that’s been happening.” Rus’ words were true. I think he hoped that I would take heed to them, but if he knew me at all, he would know that his words probably just enraged me.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I got some business to take care of, that’s all. And I think me and Myron know how to handle that other shit, alright?” “Damn it Malik, at least wait ‘til she leaves first. Don’t leave with her, it looks bad. I know you, man. I know you a bad ass mutha fucker, but I’m worried about you. I love you 129

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like a son, so just say you’ll be careful. At least give me that much, young blood.” “C’mon Rus, I ain’t fooled by her fine ass. And I’m not surprised that she likes somebody like K.O. Most of these pretty young things is out for the cats with the most bread. My word is my bond; you ain’t got nothing to worry about. But speaking of K.O., I hear him and his Mob suckers is after a piece of this little gold mine you’re sittin’ on. Is that true?” Rus Sheery massaged the bridge of his nose between his eyes like he was getting a headache. He stopped after a few seconds and gave me a look of confirmation. “Some of them chumps been in here a few times to discuss this and that. They mentioned protection money once or twice, but they never actually tried to collect it. They know I got political connections, plus it’s a dozen off duty fuzz in here on any given night.”

Jeane continued to wait by the exit during me and Rus’ conversation. “Since you asked, what’s it to you?” Rus asked me curiously. “You and Myron seem to be the only cats that ain’t afraid of them suckers.” I cracked an arrogant smirk and scratched my left sideburn. “I just think it’s bullshit. They get pay offs from the 46 Club, The Kyzmyth, Cliff’s, Coupe DeVille’s, and the Ponytail. Your spot and the New Deluxe are all that’s left. It seems like you got enough to worry about yourself.” Rus put his hands on his waist and exhaled. “That’s true 130

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enough. What about that limo driver ya’ll iced? You know that was one of their crew, right?” I adjusted the spare gun I had tucked in the rear of my waist band. “I ain’t gonna talk about what happened. I will say that I ain’t okay with his killing. We ain’t got no problem with them mutha fuckers. They got their thing and we got ours. But we’re keepin’ all of our shit, and that’s it.” I kept looking back at Jeane hoping that she couldn’t hear our conversation. “Are you?” I asked him. “Am I keepin’ my shit?” Rus responded then paused, answering carefully.

“I don’t know…You think they care about doing the same shit here that they did at Deborah’s?” “Fuck that shit!” I shouted expressing my anger about the robbery. “I hear you man,” Rus said agreeing with my statement. “To be honest with you Malik, I don’t think they’re gonna care about my friends at City Hall for long.” I realized that Rus Sheery didn’t have the muscle or fearlessness that I did. “You remember ‘Day-Day’ Tillman, right?” I asked him trying to prove my point. “Yeah, I remember,” Rus answered matterof-factly. “I hate to bring up the past, but he thought he could take our shit and treat us like a bunch of twelve year old knuckleheads that needed help,” I said in conclusion before I walked out the door, beckoning for Jeane to follow. 131

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After he gave Jeane a comforting grin, Rus Sheery followed me, and Jeane followed us shortly after. Rus caught up with me while Jeane walked slowly behind us, knowing the conversation wasn’t over. “Yo man, that was different. He didn’t

force ya’ll to do shit, he robbed some of your crew and acted like he ain’t know who did it.” I had very clear memories of that day, and the next few days that followed. And I sure as hell wasn’t gonna let anybody else take what was mine. “Malik, that ain’t all. I hear one of your lieutenants is puttin’ the moves on your wife behind your back.” “Lynn? Which lieutenant? Where’d you hear that shit?” I grabbed Rus’ arm in fury. “Listen young blood, I love you and I respect you. I watched you grow from a teenage errand boy to the man next to the man. But I’m old enough to be your father, and I’ve dealt with some hustlers and players who made more money and did more murders than you could think of. I ain’t one of these jive ass chumps on the street, so don’t ever grab me again. Let me go!” I let go of his arm and hung my head in shame. I had a lot of respect for Rus, so I apologized for losing my temper. “I suspected Lynn was fucking some hustler cat, but it never crossed my mind that it might be one of my crew. Look, if you know anything you can tell me, lay it on me. You know the information will stay between us. You got my word on that, Rus.” 132

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“I don’t like the idea of Lynn fuckin’ around with these jive ass turkeys either. If I hear something I’ll let you know.” Jeane got tired of waiting for me. She walked up to Rus and me with a fast pace and rested her fist on her hip to hold her mink coat open. “Excuse me, but am I supposed to wait for you all night?” she asked rhetorically. “Calm down, baby. The night is young and we’ve got the rest of it to ourselves.” “Malik, when I told you earlier that I ain’t have to go home I didn’t mean that I was waiting around all night,” she said as she stood on her tip toes to whisper in my ear. “I never said I wanted to keep you all night. I said we have the whole night. When you leave is up to you.” “Look here, ya’ll. I gotta get back inside,” Rus interrupted. “Oh yeah, you’ve got some people waitin’ on you, right?” I asked him sounding very insistent. “Sure you right. Jeane it was good seeing you as always, sweetheart.” “You too Rus. You’ll see me again real soon. You know me and my girlfriends love your place.” “Sure you right, and I’m honored. Malik, live and love brother. Let’s talk tomorrow, cool?” “Yeah, let’s do that. And Rus—,” I put my hand on Rus’ shoulder and whispered to him. “Make sure you tell Myron what you told me ‘bout the Black Mob, and Lynn.” “You got it man, anything.”

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Chapter Twenty A night in New York

I knew that Lynn would come up in a conversation with me and Jeane soon, since she’d heard me say her name. As long as it came up later rather than sooner, I was okay with it. After Rus Sheery left us and went back into the bar, we continued with our plans to enjoy the rest of the night. It would prove to be a night that neither of us would soon forget. I walked Jeane to my brand new silver 1970 Cadillac Brougham with wine colored leather interior. The car had a black top, and whitewall tires with spoked hubcaps. The new car smell graced us when I opened the passenger door so that Jeane could get in. Jeane said she was eagerly looking forward

to a luxurious ride. Actually she humorously asked to switch places with me after I got into the car on the driver’s side. She said she loved Cadillacs, and she was very familiar with 134

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driving them. “My husband has a Chevy Camaro, but we’ve always talked about buying a Cadillac someday,” she said as she looked around the car admiring it. I pulled out of my parking space and headed down Spruce Street toward University City. At 38th and Spruce Street I made a right hand turn and proceeded in the direction of Interstate 76. As we traveled eastbound on the interstate we passed the Philadelphia Sports Complex, the historic Penn’s Landing and the Delaware Avenue waterfront. When we were near the Walt Whitman Bridge we saw the beautiful Philadelphia skyline, the romantic star filled sky above us, and the mighty waves of the river below us. This was truly a romantic moment that we’d both long forgotten could even exist. As the car cruised to the bridge’s highest point, to both of us, heaven had to be on the other side. Jeane reach over and massaged my right bicep and shoulder. I could see her becoming a fiend for me, and me for her.

“So where are we going?” she asked breaking the extended silence. “You don’t live in New Jersey, do you?” I never answered as I continued to drive the car toward the New Jersey Turnpike. When we got to the turnpike I handed Jeane a large stack of cash to put in her purse. “Here, take this and put it somewhere safe. Hold on to it ‘til we get there.” Amazed at how many one hundred dollar bills were in the stack, Jeane just looked at it for a while. 135

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“I love money in my hand more than anybody, but why? I know ain’t shit in this world free, so why do you want me to hold this?” I concentrated on the traffic and how many miles I had to travel before we’d reach the Lincoln Tunnel exit. “You just hold on to it okay, and just to let you know, a lot of things in this world are free,” I said with a smile. Jeane turned toward me in the passenger seat and put her left foot under her right thigh. “Like what?” she asked. “I’ll tell you, if you can keep an open mind from now on.” I pushed play on my eight track cassette player to listen to Sam Cooke. I made Jeane promise to be a little more trusting of me and my

intentions, since she didn’t seem completely convinced. “So, you think nothing’s free. Well then how much did it cost you to have that drink with me earlier? It ain’t cost you nothing. As a matter of fact, it ain’t even cost me. It was on the house!” I added and we both laughed. “And when you got in my car and decided to come with me, did I charge you a fee? I ain’t asked you for nothing tonight accept for your company. To me that’s priceless, and you’re here by your choice. I’ll tell you what; the money is yours to keep. We can turn around and I’ll take you home, or we can keep going. I’m sure you’ll find someplace to spend it where we’re going though.” Since Jeane didn’t have to rush back to her children, she 136

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had plenty of time to spend with me, and now she had plenty of money to spend on her. “Oh well, I guess if you can trust me enough to give me this money, I can trust that there’s no strings attached, so to speak,” she said smiling. “Malik, who’s Lynn?” I knew questions about Lynn were coming; I was just shocked that they came so soon. I paused for a second to think of an easy way to tell her, then I realized that there wasn’t one.

Jeane folded her arms while she waited for my answer. “Lynn is… It’ll hurt you if I say, and I don’t ever want to do anything to hurt you.” I said after I paused and loosened my necktie. “As long as it’s the truth I’ll deal with it. A lie will hurt me more. We just met. You should know one thing about me. I don’t like surprises like that.” “Lynn is my wife. We’ve been married for four years and we have a three-year-old daughter named Jennifer. I only married her ‘cause she was pregnant. I thought it was the right thing, but shit has been wrong with us for years.” “Yeah, I know what you mean. When I met my husband he seemed like my soul mate. I don’t know what happened.” I put my hand on her knee. “So, you ain’t mad?’” I asked her. “I told you, we just met and we’re getting to know each other. We’re both married and we both got kids. I’m sure we’ll find out even more things about each other.” We both looked at each other and smiled. 137

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“Some people know each other for years and still don’t really know each other,” I said about relationships. Later, during a long period of silence that

followed our conversation, Jeane stretched and had a big yawn. I showed her how to recline her seat in case she wanted to sleep for the rest of the ride. She removed her coat and used it as a blanket, and then nestled her body before she dozed off. I changed the music to something more relaxing, and played it at a low volume. As Jeane slept peacefully I continued to glance at her angelic face which seemed to glow in the dim lit car. I reached over and adoringly glided my thumb across her lips, but she never woke up. I was hoping that she could feel it, and was only pretending to be asleep while enjoying the pleasures of my touch. An hour and thirty minutes passed when Jeane awakened from the bright lights that shined into the car. “Hey, sleepyhead,” I said jokingly. “Did you get a good nap?” She started stretching and shielding her eyes, and for the first time that evening she actually felt worried. “Where the hell are we?” she asked with concern. “Lincoln Tunnel,” I said. “You okay?” “Yeah I’m cool now. My mom warned me to never fall asleep in cars. She said if the car is in an accident I won’t even know what happened.” “Well, Miss Jeane?” “Oh, so now I’m Miss Jeane?” she asked me and playfully hit me on the arm. 138

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“I’m just kidding baby. So do you know where we’re going yet?” “Call me crazy, but this tunnel only goes to one place, smarty pants.” “I see you’re wide awake now. Lights… Camera… Action!” Just then the car exited the New York City end of the tunnel. The traffic and congestion of the streets were typical of the Big Apple. “Damn, it’s been a long time since I’ve been here. I ain’t know they turned this corner into a gas station.” “Yeah, it’s been a while for me too.” “Lord, help me stay cool tonight, ‘cause this city right here makes you do bad things. I remember the last time I was here with my mother and my aunts. After they put us kids to bed in the hotel room, I heard they went out and got into all kinds of shit. And honestly, we got into shit back at the hotel too.” “Hey Jeane, I’ll bet you can think of a whole lot of shit to do with that money now?” I asked as I tapped on her purse where she stashed it. Jeane paused to think for a minute as she stared at her purse. “I know you said that this is one of those free things that life has, but I ain’t gonna lie, I don’t feel very comfortable spending this much money when we just met.” I picked up her bag and put it on my lap. “I guess I just gotta spend it for you then, won’t I? Either way it’s your money to enjoy and have a

good time.” 139

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“Well, if you’re only gonna spend the money on me any way, maybe I’ll just buy some things for my kids. I’ll feel better spending the money on them and not me.” “Sweetie, I think that’s cool. I dig that you love your kids so much. I’ll get something for my daughter, too.” Jeane found her way around New York like she was a native, and I was happy to escort her. “Malik, can I talk to you about something?” We were walking on the Avenue of the Americas in Midtown Manhattan and stopped to talk. “What’s up baby is everything alright?” Jeane stood close to me to avoid the rushing crowds. “Well, I know about your wife, your girlfriend and judging by your looks and your money there’s probably a few more. I’m just wondering what you want from me, and where I fit in to all this?” I took a deep breath, and then exhaled while my mind and heart searched for an answer. “I’m not sure of the right thing to say right now. I’m a business man. Always have been, and always will be. It’s the only thing about me that I know can’t ever change. I’ve made a lot of

mistakes in my life and most of them were women, but my heart is telling me that this is right. That this ain’t no mistake. I don’t know how I’m gonna do it, but I know I want you in my life, and I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make that happen.” I hoped my words made Jeane feel like I needed her. I was being honest as we continued to buy out the boutiques and 140

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toy stores of the Big Apple. When we were finished, we had spent twenty two thousand dollars and still planned on dining at a five star restaurant. We decided to eat at the famed Tavern on the Green, feasting on fillet mignon, sautéed potatoes, steamed vegetables and French apple turnovers for dessert. Accompanied by tossed garden salad and a bottle of red Don P wine, the meal totaled two hundred fifty dollars which included a generous fifty dollar tip for the waiter. After dinner we took one more stroll, this time down Broadway, and then headed toward my car. During our walk we passed the New York Hilton hotel. “Oh my God, I’ve always wanted to stay in that hotel,” Jeane said with unintentional insinuation. “That’s cool. So have I,” I answered and I

turned around and walked toward the hotel’s front doors. “Malik, where are you going? I ain’t say tonight.” “Look, just let me get a room, we’ll stay for two hours, then get on back to Philadelphia. Cool?” Jeane trusted me, so she agreed to stay. Not surprising, the so called two hours became the next day.

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Chapter Twenty-One Mama’s house

Craig and I drove up to the front of my mother’s house. As I parked my car I saw my soon to be ex-wife Lynn, standing at the bottom of the front porch steps with our daughter, Jennifer. “Daddy… Daddy!” she shouted excitedly as she ran toward my car. “Hey princess,” I answered lifting her up and kissing her. “How’s my baby doing?” “Fine,” she responded with a giggle. I laughed a little myself. “Wow, you’re getting so big and so pretty.” I looked at Lynn and then gave Jennifer another kiss. “Did you go in and see Bi-Bi yet?” Bi-Bi was a nickname we called my mother, Georgia Satterwhite. It meant grandmother in some language, not sure exactly which . “No,” Jennifer answered. 142

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“Okay, you go head inside and I’ll be there in a minute.” “Okay.” As Jennifer ran into the house to visit her grandmother, Craig leaned on my car and smoked a cigarette. He knew he’d have to wait while I went in to say hello to my family. I looked in the house and waved to my twin sister Lydia before I

was interrupted by Lynn. “Umm, excuse me!” “Hey Lynn, how are you?” Lynn was upset that she and I were getting a divorce and that I was living with another woman. She answered me with a tone of voice that strongly expressed her disapproval and disappointment. “Look, just have her home by six.” She turned to walk away and I stopped her. “Hang on a second; I wanna say something to you. I know you don’t like things the way they are, but you know it’s for the best. If we had stayed together shit would’ve gotten worse. At least this way we can split cool, and still be there for Jen.” “That’s bullshit! All you care about is yourself, and any bitch that will open her legs for you. If you cared about your daughter at all, you wouldn’t have walked away from her.” “I didn’t walk out on her, I walked out on you and a fucked up marriage. I was trying to do the right thing.” “How? By marrying me because I was pregnant?” “That ain’t what I meant.” “Yeah, I know what you meant. You think you’re a good man ‘cause you on this pro-black, save the black 143

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community shit, but the truth is you’re a no good lying dog who uses women and treats them like shit. Sure, you built those community centers and sponsor the youth athletic activities, and God knows Calvin probably won half of his cases because of your investigating. Still you protect a man who pushes dope to our people. How fucked up is that?” She walked away and got into her car. I sighed with disappointment as Craig walked up behind me and put his arm around me. “It’s cool man. Go ahead in and see your mama, and I’ll be there in a second aight?” Craig offered. “Cool man,” I answered and then walked up the steps and into the house. I didn’t go all the way in. Instead I stood behind the front door and left it slightly opened, Just wide enough to see what Craig was doing and hear what he was saying. Craig put out his cigarette and walked over to Lynn’s car. He knocked on the window and she lowered it to talk to him. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked her in a comforting voice as he rubbed her shoulder. She tried to keep from crying, but she couldn’t. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just can’t believe I fell for his bullshit. He doesn’t love me, and he never did. When we met I was 23-years-old. At that age I shouldn’t have been so stupid. It’s been four years and it seems like I’m just as dumb as I was then.” “You ain’t dumb. He’s just an asshole. He never deserved you anyway as far as I’m concerned.” “Hold on, I thought yall was friends?” She

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wiping tears off of her face. “We are, but it is what it is. Besides, if he was a real friend he would pay me more money, ya dig? He’s a selfish cat, period.” “A selfish son of a bitch is more like it.” “Okay baby, you’re right.” Craig reached inside of his jacket and pulled out a wad of $50.00 bills. He counted six of them and handed them to Lynn. “Look here, take this. I know you don’t need it but I want you to have it. I don’t want it to seem like I’m paying you for sex, it’s not like that. I want you to know that I can take care of you in, and out of the bedroom. Malik don’t know about us and I want to keep it like that. It’s better for everybody.” “How do you know for sure that he doesn’t know? Malik is a smart and clever brother. Maybe he’s just waiting to see how long we keep this up. We gotta be careful. I don’t want nothing to happen to you.” Lynn’s last statement showed Craig how worried she was. It also insulted him a little. He knew himself that between us two, I was the more physically superior, and he hated that. He hated being reminded about it by someone even more. “Look, I knew all along what his intentions

were toward you, and I feel like I should’ve helped you somehow. I was afraid then, but I’m not afraid now. Soon you won’t have to worry about him, I promise you that,” he said maliciously. “What do you mean by that?” Lynn asked surprised. 145

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“Don’t worry about it. Just go and enjoy yourself, and try to get your mind off of him, alright?” Lynn’s tears were quickly replaced with a smile. Craig’s underhanded scheme was camouflaged by a phi sod of sincere consoling. “Okay Craig, thanks.” Craig leaned into her car window and the two kissed slowly on the lips. The thought of me walking out of the house and seeing them never crossed their minds. They both knew each other very well, personally and intimately. “Alright, I’ll catch you later,” he said as he stepped back from the car and headed towards the house. As I closed the door and walked toward the kitchen I remember thinking to myself, ‘I got that mutha fucker now. Your day is coming real soon’. I was in the dining room when I heard the front door reopen and I knew it was Craig coming inside.

Inside the house Craig stood in the living room and looked through to the kitchen. I watched him as I was sitting at the kitchen table with Jennifer on my lap. My sister Lydia was also sitting at the table, while my mother was making breakfast. “That’s a nice suit,” Lydia said diggin’ on my sharp threads. “You like it? Just a little something I had made,” I bragged playfully. “Shoot, I could never afford to have clothes made,” Lydia complained. 146

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“Sure you can. I told you if you ever need anything to let me know.” “I know, but I can’t take your money twin. I have to take care of myself.” “I dig sis, I do. But you got a son now. Ya’ll are my family and I wanna help.” Lydia’s smile confirmed that she agreed, and then she got up to pour a cup of coffee. “So, how’s that community project coming along?” my mother asked me proudly. “Are you still working with Andy Sticks and Rus Sheery?” “Yeah mama, but I don’t trust Andy too much. Judge Hickinbock said that he was scamming state funding to put into that club that he’s opening with General Jackson. And he’s three weeks late with some money he owes me to

pay some of the project laborers.” Georgia shook her head and exhaled disgusted. “Maybe you should talk to the ‘Jack’ and let him know that Andy is trying to stiff you,” Lydia suggested. “Maybe ‘Jack’ already knows that Andy is trying to stiff you. He’s nothing but a two-bit con in a tired suit and tie, too. Catch my drift?” my mother added. “Don’t worry about it, mama. I got it all under control.” “Well, just don’t do anything stupid. You know that temper of yours,” she warned me. “C’mon mama, I said everything’s gonna be cool.” She smiled at me, and then continued to cook feeling convinced and at ease.“Alright then, you want something to 147

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eat?” “No thanks mama. I got Craig waitin’ for me and we gotta go.” I stood up from the table and kissed Jennifer who had been sitting on my lap. “Be good baby, daddy gotta go to work.” I sat Jennifer back down at the table and kissed Lydia and my mother as well. “Bye mama, I love you.” “I love you too, baby,” she said.

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Chapter Twenty-two

Big brother, little sister

Craig was still in the living room waiting for me. As I walked into the room I was met by my older brother Geoffrey, who was coming down the steps. Geoffrey was an armed robber and a drunk, and he was aware of Craig’s jealous feelings toward me. The only reason anyone even tolerated Craig was because of his association with Myron. “Yo Geoffrey, what’s happening, blood?” Craig greeted him sarcastically. “You tell me, brother. I’ve been hearin’ a lot of bad shit about you. What’s goin’ on?” Geoffrey responded in his normal slurred, baritone voice. “C’mon man, you listening to jive ass people again? Maybe you’ve been hittin’ that bottle too hard, blood?” Craig 149

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continued his taunts. “Fuck you, you chump ass leech. What I do is my business, and you know what the fuck I’m talkin’ ‘bout. You been hangin’ out with them 21st and Carpenter street mutha-fuckers, and you know my brother don’t like them. I even

heard you thinkin’ ‘bout joinin’ that fuckin’ Muslim Mob. What the fuck is wrong with you?” “Man, get the fuck out my face. You don’t know shit, sucker. Why don’t you take yo’ drunk ass and lay in the gutter somewhere.” Geoffrey moved closer to Craig and stood ready for a fight. Craig, who was only five foot ten/one hundred and eighty pounds had a reputation for throwing sucker punches, but Geoffrey, who stood six-foot-three and was very intimidating, knew it wasn’t going to happen today. “Why don’t you make me, mutha-fucker?” Geoffrey insisted as he towered over Craig. Before Craig had the opportunity to respond, I intervened and separated the two. “Alright enough. Are yall fuckin’ crazy doin’ this in my mama’s house?” “It’s this mutha fucker, man. He’s tryin’ to play you for a fool.” “Hey boss, you need to put this sucker in a rehab or somethin’? Detox’ em!” “Why, because I know what yo’ ass is up to? You wanna get rid of me so you can double cross my baby brother?” 150

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“Alright Craig, wait for me outside,” I stopped the argument and ordered Craig to leave. “No problem, boss,” Craig answered with

arrogance. As he walked pass Geoffrey he gave him a taunting glance, and then he walked out the front door. “You better watch yourself,” he said looking back at Geoffrey on his way out. “Fuck you, Craig!” “Now, Craig!” I insisted because I was growing impatient. After he left, Lydia entered the room to see what the commotion was. “Are you guys okay?” she asked in a timid voice. “Yeah, everything’s cool sis,” I responded. “Okay,” Lydia said. Before she returned to the kitchen, I stopped her. “Hey, hang on a second. I wanted to give you this in the kitchen, but I ain’t want mama to start preachin’.” I reached inside of my gray cashmere over coat and took out my usual stack of $100.00 bills. I counted off $2,000.00 and handed it her. “C’mon, you know I don’t like taking money from you. Especially this much,” she whispered to keep our mother from hearing her. “Look here, you take this money and that’s it. You know Jamal is my little man, and ain’t nothing wrong with taking care of my nephew and my sister.” Jamal was Lydia’s three-year-old son, and I was the only father that he’d ever known. His real father was a heroin addict who died of an over dose. There was a rumor that one 151

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of Myron’s crew, by my orders, gave him the product that ultimately killed him. I hated Jamal’s father and had done everything I could to keep my sister away from him. Despite my efforts, Lydia got pregnant and gave birth to Jamal around the same time that Lynn had Jennifer. With the money in her hand, and knowing that I wouldn’t take no for an answer, she gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks twin, I love you,” she whispered and then returned to the kitchen. Geoffrey and I sat down in the living room to talk. “What’s the problem, man?” I asked. “That mutha fucker’s dirty, Malik,” he answered nodding towards the door referring to Craig. “He’s been jealous of you since we was kids, and now all of a sudden he wanna act like your right hand man. I’m tellin’ you, you need to get rid of that chump.” “Trust me Geoff, Craig is alright. Don’t worry ‘bout him, okay?” “Alright man, if you say so. Anyway, how ‘bout I start runnin’ for you? I swear I won’t fuck it up. Plus, I can keep an eye on things whenever you working with Calvin.” “I don’t know man. You know how you are with that drinking.” “C’mon brother, I’ll be cool. If you can trust that fool Craig, you can trust me.” I paused for a minute to think. I needed Geoffrey to prove himself before I made him an official runner.

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“C’mon brother, please?” Geoffrey pleaded. “Okay, but I swear you better not fuck up. And you have to ease up on the drinking, ya dig?” I said to him. “You got it man, you got it.” “Alright then.” “So, when do you want me start?” “Right now,” I said. I handed Geoffrey an envelope with $5,000.00 in it. He didn’t bother to open it because he knew that I had instructions for him. “Take this. You’ll get a phone call around 2 o’clock. Pick up the package, pay for it, and bring it back to me at the pad,” I told him. “No problem. Thanks man.” I left the house and got into my car with Craig. I was angry with him for disrespecting my mother’s house and my brother. “Man, that cat is funny. How you deal with him, boss?” Craig asked me with a chuckle. I grabbed the lapel of Craig’s coat and pulled him close. “Look here sucker, that’s my fucking family, and my mama’s fucking house. Don’t ever do that shit again, you dig? And I swear to God, if I find out any of what he said is true, I’m gonna put your jive ass right where you put that limo driver. You got that shit?” “Yeah, I got it.” Craig answered.

“Let’s go, I need to see Andy, pronto!” Craig drove off to take me to the spot. I knew he hated me, and I knew he wanted to be Myron’s number one man. 153

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However, that wasn’t about to happen unless he could get rid of me. I always kept a close eye on him, but now I had to watch him even closer. Just in case he found a way…

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Chapter Twenty-three Still Death, Do We Part

Myron entered his home followed by one of his bodyguards. At the front door inside the house, another guard was seated who immediately stood up and drew his gun. After he saw that it was Myron he shook hands with the other guard, and helped Myron take off his beige camel hair trench coat. Myron headed upstairs to his bedroom. He could hear Pat in the bathroom taking a bubble bath.

“C’mon in baby,” Pat responded after he lightly knocked at the door. Myron opened the door and entered. “Hey beautiful, got room in there for me?” he asked her as he kneeled down to give her a kiss. “Always room for you, baby,” she answered him and opened her legs seductively inviting him to join her. “That’s cool sweetness,” he answered declining her 155

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invitation. “Enjoy your bath.” Myron left the bathroom and walked to his closet to change. “How was your day, love?” Myron asked her from inside of his closet. “It was good. Yours must have been busy. I’ve been waiting for you for hours,” Pat answered. “I had some business to take care of, and I stopped to pick up something special for you.” “Aww sweetie, what is it?” Pat asked excitedly as she splashed water attempting to get out of the tub. “Finish your bath. I’ll show you when you’re done.” Pat stepped out of the tub and quickly dried herself off. She was impatiently curious to see what Myron had for her. They continued to talk while Pat walked over to the sink.

“You know I got that meeting in Atlanta next week?” “Yes I know,” she said disappointedly. “How long will you be gone?” “Only two days. I have to be back for the grand opening of the club.” “Oh that’s right, I forgot about that. How’s it looking?” Myron walked over to the television and turned it on. He continued his conversation with Pat while he listened to the program in the background. “Baby, it’s a goldmine. I’m tellin’ you it’s gonna be the hottest spot in the city.” Pat finally came out of the bathroom wearing only a towel and combing her hair. Myron walked towards her with his hands behind his back. 156

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“That’s great baby,” she said referring to the club. The two of them kissed again, and then Myron handed her a box. “For you, baby.” Pat took the box and smiled. “Is this what I think it is?” she asked as she was now growing more excited. Myron shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “I don’t know, just open it.” Pat opened the box and saw a five karat

diamond ring. Her eyes lit up and started to tear. She placed her hand over her mouth as if she were holding in her words. “Oh my God Myron, it’s beautiful.” “So, is that a yes?” Myron asked like he didn’t already know the answer. “Well you haven’t asked me anything yet,” she said jokingly. “Baby, will you marry me?” “Yes… Yes… Baby, yes!” The two embraced and could both feel the others’ joy. As they stood kissing and celebrating their engagement, the program on the television was interrupted by a breaking news story: We interrupt this program to bring you this late breaking news story. Seven dead and two critically shot at a house in the Gold Coast section of Washington D.C. Among the victims were four children and an infant only nine days old. This happened in the seventy-seven hundred block of Sixteenth St. Police were called to the Hilaad Muslim Headquarters which is also the home of Farid Ahmed Amin 157

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and his family. Amin, a former member of the Nation of Islam, says that the attack on his family was ordered by Nation of Islam leader Muhammad El-Saleem for Amin’s speaking out

against El-Saleem’s teachings and beliefs. Amin’s wife and daughter managed to survive, although both had been shot several times. Both women are in critical condition but did manage to identify the gunmen as Philadelphia’s Black Mob members. Myron immediately paused and focused on the television. Pat followed since she’d lost his attention. They both watched as a newscaster was shown on the screen broadcasting from the station: Sources say that the Black Mob joined the Nation of Islam to strengthen its security forces against other organized crime consortiums, and now they act as the enforcers for the Nation. Again, three adults, three children and a nine day old infant were all murdered just hours ago at the Amin Muslim headquarters in Washington D.C. Police and F.B.I. officials say that the Black Mob members are wanted in connection with several crimes in Philadelphia, and that this, by far is their most heartless and vicious crime yet. Myron was sitting on the side of his bed with tears in his eyes. He couldn’t understand how so-called religious men could murder innocent women and children. Pat was also saddened by the vicious crime, yet she tried to comfort Myron. 158

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”How the fuck could they do that?” Myron asked Pat. “They’re cowards, every fuckin’ one of them, and I ain’t shit but a criminal just like them.” “Baby, don’t do that to yourself. You’re not them. You would never do anything like that. I know you,” Pat said while she rubbed Myron’s back. “Oh c’mon baby, I got rich selling poison. I’m doing the same thing that they do; I’m just doing it different. Everybody is somebody’s child. I’m killing children for a living.” Myron got up and walked to the bedroom window. As he looked out, Pat walked up behind him and put her arms around him. “You know what I think, I think maybe it’s time to give up this life and start over again. You’re a smart man, baby. You got all of this from nothing. Millions of dollars, everything we could ever want. You have a gift, and you can use it to become anything you want. Someone that we can both be proud of; and someone our children can be proud of. I would give this all up to see you become a better man. Please baby, I don’t want you to do this anymore.” Myron turned around and took Pat in his arms. After they embraced for a brief moment, they kissed. Pat always made Myron feel like everything was going to be alright. In her arms he felt free from the imprisonment of the urban underworld. At the conclusion of the kiss they again

hugged and stood with their faces against each other. “I love you,” Myron whispered in her ear. “I love you, too.” Pat answered and at that moment, 159

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Myron knew it was time to rethink his life. “I’m going to take a shower, baby.” “Okay.”

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Chapter Twenty-four Mr. Telephone man

Myron headed toward the bathroom. When he reached the doorway he paused and thought about what Pat said to him. “Oh yeah, you’re right baby. Maybe it is time to give up this life.” He entered the bathroom and Pat laid down on the bed smiling. She daydreamed about someday living in a small colonial house by a quiet lake with Myron and their children. She dreamed that they’d have a porch swing that she and Myron would sit on and watch sunsets in the

evenings. She even considered starting a garden where the two could spend their days after the children were gone off to college. She wanted to have peace and love in her life. and she wanted it with him. She knew she was finally getting Myron to give it some serious thought. He’d never fully agreed with her about it until 161

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then. Maybe by accepting his proposal she’d made him look at his life from another perspective. Just then the phone rang and broke her out of her trance. She rolled over to Myron’s night stand and answered it. “Hello?” “Now you know you’re not supposed to answer the phone. Mr. Heroine gave you strict instructions didn’t he?” The man’s voice on the phone sounded familiar, but Pat couldn’t quite make out who it was. “Who is this, and how did you know--?” “C’mon now Senorita Heroine, I’ve got my sources. Tell me something, is your fiancée around? I have something I think you two should hear together.” The longer she listened to the voice it sounded like a white man. She wasn’t sure how he knew so much about her and Myron, but her

instincts told her that he was a cop. She knew that she had to play dumb with him in order to get him to give up more information. “Whoever you are, I think you have the wrong number. I don’t have a fiancée and I definitely don’t use heroine. Maybe you’ve made a mistake?” The mystery caller grew impatient and became agitated from Pat’s act. “Look you fuckin’ taco bitch, are you gonna go get you’re drug-dealing, nigger boyfriend, or do you wanna end up like Lana?” Her plan worked. She knew now that the caller was indeed a white man. The two racial insults he used told her that he wasn’t from their two races, and in her opinion, his 162

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English was too good for an Asian dude. Right now, his identity was irrelevant. He mentioned Lana and said that Pat would end up like her. She didn’t know if she should continue to play dumb, or give in and call Myron to the phone. At first she was considering the latter since she needed to find out where Lana was and if she was okay. Somehow, she knew that he would tell her no matter what. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know any Lana. I don’t know why you’re threatening me or who you think I am, but you’re wrong.”

“Really, then I must apologize. I could’ve sworn you were the bitch who declined on a business proposal from some associates of mine. I was sure that you and Lana were at your boyfriend’s get-out-of jail free party. I suppose I’m still mistaken when I say that whore friend of yours, Cherry, started a fight with my associate at that same party? A fight she should have finished for Lana’s sake.” His words had finally pushed Pat over the edge. She was furious that he was involved with the three women that disrupted Myron’s party, and the fact that they were also involved in whatever had been done to Lana only enraged her further. “Okay mutha-fucker, where the fuck is she?” she asked with her jaw tightened. “Yes, see, that’s the Jalapeño Pat that I know and love. Man, you must be a great fuck.You probably scratch Myron’s black fucking back until it bleeds, don’t you? Or maybe you’re a pussy eater like Lana was? From what my associates tell me, her tongue goes very deep.” 163

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Pat knew that Lana wasn’t a lesbian, and that if she had performed oral sex on a woman she was forced to. “Okay sucker, I’ll make a deal with you. If you tell me where she is, and she’s okay, I’ll tell Myron and Malik to kill you quick. If she’s not, I promise you I’ll make sure that

they keep killing you for a month.” Her words made him burst into a sinister laugh. She could tell that they held no weight, and they amused him at best. “See, that’s what’s wrong with you fucking women, always talking when you should be cooking or cleaning. I’ll tell you what; I’ll take you up on your offer. Just make sure when they find me you’re with them. I wouldn’t want you to miss it. But first things first, check the railroad tracks area near 23rd and Ontario St. I got a feeling you’ll find something there. Have fun and I hope I’ll see you soon.”

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Chapter Twenty-five Revelations

After the caller hung up Pat rolled off of the bed and ran into the bathroom to get Myron. Her heart was racing and she’d been overtaken by fear of Lana’s well being. She snatched open the shower curtain and startled Myron with her hysterical actions. “Baby c’mon, we gotta go, now!” “Sweetie what’s wrong, what’s happening out there?” Myron asked her confused. “It’s Lana, something happened to Lana. We gotta go find her baby, please.” Myron stepped out of the shower and reached for his robe. “Alright, alright cool it baby. Take a deep a breath and stay calm. Tell me what happened. How do you know something happened to her?” “Remember that call we got a few months ago? Well somebody just called again. I think it’s the same guy ‘cause I 165

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recognized his voice.” “Damn it, Pat. I told you not to answer the phone,” Myron said disappointedly. “I know, but you were in the shower and I thought everything was okay now,” she explained as she started to cry. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Just tell me what else happened.” “He told me to get you to the phone because he needed to tell us both something. He said if I didn’t that he’d make sure I’d end up like Lana. He knew about the party, the fight, and he said the three women with the blow were his friends. And they’re the ones who took Lana. He told me to look near the train tracks around 23rd and Ontario Street. I’m scared baby; I know that they hurt her.” Myron’s anger was at its peak. His intuition told him that Lana had been hurt, maybe even killed. He hated to see Pat in pain even more so. “Look, we’re gonna find her, I promise. Get dressed, I gotta make some calls.” While Pat was putting on her clothes her mind was filled with thoughts of Lana. How she would come into her room when she was getting dressed and they’d talk about everything. How she took care of things around the house when she and Myron weren’t home. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever see her friend again. About thirty minutes after Myron hung up the phone, two gray Lincoln Continentals drove up the driveway to the front of Myron’s house. I

was the first to exit the front vehicle followed by nine body guards, four from my vehicle and five 166

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from the other. I was very specific with my instructions to my lieutenants. Not knowing if anyone was watching Myron’s house, I had to be sure that every precaution was taken. “Everybody just hold yall positions, I’m goin’ inside to get Myron and Pat,” I said to them as I entered the house. Two guards were posted at the bottom of the living room stairs. They greeted me as Myron and Pat came down the stairs. “Hey Pat,” I said as I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “How are you holdin’ up?” “I’m okay, I guess. I just wanna find her, Malik. I just want her to be okay,” Pat spoke still teary eyed and weeping. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll find her. Hey blood, let me see you for a second,” I said to Myron needing to speak with him in private. “Yeah no problem, be right back, baby.” We walked into the dining room to talk. “So, do we know if it’s true or not?” I asked sympathetically. “Nah man, we don’t know for sure. All I know is that Pat is upset, and this is the second time this mutha fucker done called my fuckin’ pad. The first time he threatened me, and now

he’s sayin’ he did somethin’ to my women’s best friend. I swear to God Malik, even if she’s okay, I’m gonna find out who the fuck he is. And when I get done with him, ain’t gonna be enough left of him for cremation.” I knew Myron all too well. It was obvious by the way Myron was reacting that this night would be the beginning of a lot of murderous retaliations. This particular situation was 167

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very personal to me as well because Lana and I had been secretly sleeping together for several months. Unfortunately, it was a secret that she may have taken to her grave. I shared Myron’s fury, as did Pat, but I felt even more responsible since the security of the crew members and their families was my job. All I could do was think about the last time that I saw Lana. Pat had become filled with anxiety so she came and interrupted me and Myron talking the living room. “Can we go please? I want her back, now!” Pat demanded that the search for her friend begin. Outside, the members of our crew had their guns in their hands. The trunks of the cars were loaded with tape, gasoline and more ammunition. “Damn, ya’ll cats ain’t playin’,” one guard said to another as he opened a box of bullets to

load his gun. His eyes lit up when he saw every sized bullet that would fit any of the guns that the gunsmiths had. “Load up, brothers. This is some heavy shit right here.” He held up his gun when he was finished and smiled. “Ya’ll cats cool it, and listen up. This ain’t fuckin’ fun time. Look here,” I spoke and prepared to command my troops. “Shit,” Pat whispered in Myron’s ear. “I ain’t know ya’ll was bringin’ all this.” “Baby I love you and Lana, and so does everybody here. We ain’t about to let shit happen to her, or let nobody get away with hurtin’ her.” 168

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The guards gave me there undivided attention as they eagerly waited for their assignments. “It’s obvious that the message ain’t getting across to certain mutha fuckers,” I said. “What we have here is a family. We’re not a gang, we’re not a group. We are a family, and we have to protect each other. We’re gonna go find Lana, and if she’s hurt or dead, as a family we gotta find the bitches that did it and make them pay the price for our sisters blood.” Reaching inside my jacket for my gun, I tried to hold back the tears I’d been hiding since hearing the news that Lana was missing. I managed to hold back the tears that threatened to

fall. I ended my briefing and ordered the guards to get in their cars and follow me to the suspected spot. I had ten thousand dollars in my coat to give to whoever found the people who took Lana; dead or alive. I thought about telling them about the money right then, but I wanted to see if they’d find her without it. “You ready, brother?” I asked Myron while the guards waited in the cars with the engines running. “Yeah, we ready,” he answered speaking for himself and Pat. “I’m standing here wishing I knew who the fuck this cat is that keeps calling, but later for that. Let’s go find baby doll.” “And when we do, somebody’s gettin’ fucked up!” Pat said before she stepped into the middle car of the group. “Easy baby, I don’t want you doin’ nothin’,” Myron said. “If somethin’ needs handling we’ll handle it,” he added 169

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as we both entered the car behind her. “Alright, 23rd and Ontario… Pronto!” The driver pulled off and headed to the railroad tracks after my order. I instructed the driver to move the car to the lead position of the other vehicles. “Why her? I knew I should’ve had a guard with her whenever she left,” Pat said blaming

herself. “No, it’s not your fault baby,” Myron stopped her. “He’s right. Lana ain’t involved in nothin’ that we’re doing. Whoever took her knows our shit pretty good. They knew that she wouldn’t be hard to get to. To them she’s just the help.” I commented. “Well then why not take one of ya’ll pushers or runners? They’re easy to get on the streets.” “You just said the answer. Anybody who works for us is takin’ a risk every day. They all know they can be alive today and dead tomorrow. If they took one of them it would just be business as usual. They needed somebody innocent that we all love,” I explained. The car radio played ‘She’s Not Just Another Woman’ by 8th Day. The lyrics made me think of Lana: she’s been just as close as a sister or brother, she’s done things for me I couldn’t ask my own father. Everyone was silent for a minute. “Let me be honest. Lana is more than a friend to me. We been seeing each other for a few months now, and I think maybe these mutha fuckers saw us together. They could be tryin’ to get to me by hurtin’ 170

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her?” “Goddamn, Malik! Why you ain’t tell me man?” Myron said with surprise. “What the fuck, Myron? It wasn’t supposed to be goin’ on, that’s why. If I had thought they was gonna hurt her it never would’ve started.” “C’mon ya’ll, we ain’t gonna start getting’ mad at each other. We gotta keep it together, alright?” Pat said to relax the tense mood. “She’s right man,” I agreed. “With all that’s goin’ on if them niggas see us getting divided they gonna hit us with everything they got.” “Sorry brother, I ain’t mean to sound like that. I know you feel bad enough. We cool man, and it ain’t your fault.” Myron said. I couldn’t shake the feeling that part of it was my fault and that I needed to make things right.

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Chapter Twenty-six Seek and find

The driver announced that we arrived at our destination. I immediately took out my gun in case this was a set up. I instructed the driver to drive into the restricted area of the railroad station, and to pull over when he reached the tracks. The rest of the cars followed the lead car and parked behind us at the tracks. As the guards got out of their cars there was the sound of a train approaching. I got out my car with Pat and Myron and instructed the guards to stay alert for ambushes. After the train loaded its passengers and left the station, Myron insisted that the search begin. We used flashlights to help us see in the dark area. The search ended after about fifty yards and our suspicions were tragically confirmed. The body of a young woman was laying across the train tracks uncovered and unhidden. It

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said it would be, purposely left out in the open. The woman had been badly beaten and raped. The dark coloration of her eyes and eyelids was from the broken nose that she sustained. Several of her teeth had been knocked out, and at least one was still lodged in her upper lip. Her blouse and jeans were soaked in blood, and her panties and bra had been removed. The areolas and nipples of her breasts had been cut off and there were many deep cuts that spread from her neck to her torso. A few guards had tears developing in their eyes as they looked at the woman’s lifeless body. Myron and I both stood silently while Pat dropped to her knees and cried hysterically. It was Lana. Her life meant absolutely nothing to her killers. They didn’t even let her die with dignity. There was a strong odor of manure because she defecated during her murder. Her badly beaten body had been dragged down the tracks, judging by the ten yard trail of blood that led to her head. I couldn’t help but think that her killers wanted to prove they were brutal and ruthless. There was a particular group I knew that fit this profile perfectly, but my instincts told me that this wasn’t their M.O. They only killed for money

or if someone hired them. There wasn’t any money in this. I still had to consider the phone calls that Myron had been getting and the altercation Cherry had at Myron’s party. One thing I did know was that whoever made those calls to Myron knew who killed Lana. My mind was racing with thoughts of getting revenge 173

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for a woman that I secretly loved and never got the chance to tell. My heart hurt even more as I listened to Pat’s weeping and the Spanish prayer that she was shouting to the heavens. There was nothing I could do to ease her pain, and no way could I ever bring Lana back, but I vowed to find a way to get even. The guards wrapped up Lana’s body in white sheets and put it in the back seat of one of the cars by Myron’s orders. He wanted her to be taken directly to a funeral home. As he helped Pat up from the ground and hugged her he assured her that her best friend would be buried with dignity and reverence. “Take her, I can’t look anymore,” Pat insisted to the guards. “No, wait a minute. We need to take her to the hospital to find out exactly how she died. We need information to use to find her

killers.” I said. I knew I would need certain questions answered to help me figure out why this happen and who did it. Myron and Pat agreed, so they instructed the guards to take her to Temple Hospital at Broad and Venango Street. After we left the train station me, Myron and Pat headed back to the mansion. We were all slightly confused about what moves to make next. “Who’s gonna tell her parents?” I asked. “I think I should since they’re gonna blame me,” Pat answered. “You? It’s not your fault, baby.” Myron was sick of 174

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every one blaming their self. “It’s not anybody’s fault,” he said reinforcing his prior statement. By now I had my mind made up on the issue of revenge. We had just reached the mansion and I needed to be alone to do some thinking. “I’m gonna take the car and split, man,” I said as I exited the car and walked around to the other side to shake Myron’s hand. “You cool man? You wanna stay here tonight?” Myron asked me while he helped Pat out of the car. “No I’m cool. I just got some things I gotta

take care of.” I said. I gave Pat a hug and kissed her on the cheek. “Alright then, take somebody with you, blood. I feel better when you ain’t ridin’ by yourself.” “Cool, I’ll take Theodore and Doc with me and I’ll call you tomorrow. Later.” The guards stayed in the car with me and I drove off. After I sped through Lower Merion and we were back in Philadelphia, I turned to the guard in the front seat and made him a proposition. “To either one of ya’ll that’s interested I got a little somethin’ for you. Cherry’s back with me and I don’t want shit happening to her.” “Sho’ you right, Malik. We gonna take care of her,” the guard in the back said. “I know that. The thing is I want her to be protected, but look unprotected.” “You mean use her as bait?” the guard in the front seat 175

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asked hoping the answer would be no. The plan I had in mind was not as bad as it sounded. I was still furious about Lana’s murder, and I wasn’t about to let it happen again. Rather than wait for the people responsible to come looking for Cherry, I would use her to bring them to me.

“C’mon man, ya’ll think I wanna put her in a fucked up situation? Hell no, but if I don’t get to these mutha fuckers quick they might ice somebody else.” The guards looked at me and their surprised looks quickly became looks of agreement. They were ready to back up my plan, and protect Cherry. “So what you want us to do, boss?” I had a look of meticulous deep thought on my face. In spite of my grieving heart, my mind was hard at work. I reached into the glove compartment and took out a yellow envelope. “Here take this downtown to Andy Sticks’ office in the morning. After he opens it wait for an answer, and then meet me back at my place tomorrow night.” “No problem. You and Cherry gonna be cool tonight? The guard in the front seat asked while he tucked the envelope in his jacket. “Yeah, we cool.” I only had certain guards that were permitted to stay in my home over night, and Theodore and Doc were not on the list. When we arrived at Apsley Street I paid them each one thousand dollars for the errand they would run the next day. “Thanks man. What time should we meet you 176

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tomorrow? “Around eight o’clock. I got a lot of business to square away in the daytime.” “Alright, we’ll be here. Later.” “Right on,” I answered and headed up the steps to my porch. I entered the house and walked through the living room. One of Cherry’s coats was laying on the couch and I could hear the bedroom television. “Baby you up there?” “Yeah, I’m in the bedroom”, Cherry answered. “I’ll be up in a minute.” Cherry wasn’t home when I left earlier that day. She hadn’t heard about Lana’s death yet, and I would have to be the one to tell her. Afterwards, I would have to convince her to take part in my plan. Somehow, I knew she would be willing.

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Chapter Twenty-seven Down in the bottle

Geoffrey and one of his girls were sitting in a bar at 17th and Dauphin Street having a conversation and a drink. The bartender continued to give him shots despite the fact that he was heavily intoxicated. Wearing a sharply tailored suit and flashy alligator-skinned shoes, Geff went to the jukebox to play a few songs. When he returned to his seat the bartender began talking to him. “So Geff my man, what’s happening? That’s some sharp threads you wearin’ brother.” “Thanks Jim. Hey man, bring me a bottle of Old Grand Dad to go with this,” Geoffrey answered with slurred speech. He seemed unusually happy and acting very oddly. Jim noticed and immediately inquired. “Everything alright, man?” “Yeah I’m cool; I just need some fuel to think so put a

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rush on that.” “You got it, man.” Geoffrey had just taken the money that I gave him to pick up a package, and spent it on clothes and shoes. Now he was at the bar buying drinks with the rest. He figured I wouldn’t be upset with him because we were brothers. Jim returned with the bottle and poured Geoffrey another shot. “So what’s the special occasion?” he asked. “I gotta start looking good from now on. I’m gonna be working with my brother and Myron. You know we all gotta be sharp. Maybe I’ll even get lucky and take some fox home with me to help me out of my suit.” They both laughed and then Geoffrey drank his shot. Jim poured him another and they continued their conversation. “Hey congratulations, blood! I hear those two are makin’ a lot of bread now. Why not get your piece of it, right?” Jim asked jokingly. “You’re damn right. If they let chumps like Craig work for them, I know they’ll share some of that dough with Malik’s own brother.” “I heard that. That Craig is bad news. Tell Malik and Myron not to take their eyes off that chump,” Jim said as he poured Geoffrey another shot.

“I tried to tell Malik, but he wouldn’t listen to me. That sucker is a real con artist. He has them fooled but I know his angle. He’s up to something.” Geoffrey drank several more shots for the next two hours. He stood up from his bar stool and walked into the 179

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bathroom. Just then Craig and I walked in. We headed to the bar for a drink and to speak to Jim. “Hey Malik, what’s up man?” Jim greeted me and we slapped each other five. “Jim my man, what’s happenin’?” I answered while Craig gave a smug nod. “Has my brother been in here today?” “Yeah, he just went in the bathroom. Ya’ll havin’ somethin’ to drink?” Before I answered, Geoffrey came out of the bathroom. “No thanks, man. Catch you later,” I responded, walking in Geoffrey’s direction. “Later Malik, give Myron my regards.” “You got it, blood.” I walked to the end of the bar and stopped Geoffrey to talk to him. Craig stayed at the other end to have a drink. “Give me a shot of Jack Daniels,” he said with arrogant insistence. “Shouldn’t a big-shot like you be getting the bottle?” Jim asked Craig with a smirk.

“Just get my drink and save all that other shit, bartender.” Craig was trying to insult Jim in response to his knuckle head question. “Coming right up.” Jim wasn’t very cool with Craig’s comment, but he still prepared his drink with a smile. He leaned on the bar top and waited while Craig lit a cigarette. “So who’s paying for this? Malik?” Craig never responded. He blew smoke in Jim’s face and continued to sip his drink. Jim laughed and then walked 180

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away. At the other end of the bar I sat down next to Geoffrey who by now was clearly intoxicated. “Hey man, how ya-doin’?” Geoffrey asked me with his speech very slurred. “What the fuck are you doin’ here, man?” “I’m just having a few drinks to celebrate my new gig, ya dig? Have a drink with me.” Geoffrey tipped his bottle to pour me a drink, but he missed the shot glass completely. The whiskey spilled on to the bar top and splashed my coat. I smacked the bottle out of Geoffrey’s hand, and yelled about my camel-hair coat. “I don’t want no fuckin’ drink,” I said. “Where’s the money I gave you yesterday?” I asked him while he was trying to wipe off my coat. “Oh, I got some knew clothes man. I gotta

look sharp if I’m gonna work for ya’ll.” “I knew you was gonna fuck up. What the hell is wrong with you, man? I try to do you a solid and this is how you repay me?” “Be cool man. You’re gonna make more bread than ever, now that your big brother is with you. Trust me.” I tried to keep myself from whupping my brother’s ass, or maybe even something worse. Instead I threatened and fired him. “You know what? I’m done with you. You can’t ask me for shit no more. Stay the fuck away from mama’s house, and you can forget about your job. You ain’t my worker, you ain’t my brother, you ain’t shit but a fuckin’ drunk!” As I stood up to leave the bar Geoffrey tried to put his 181

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hand on my shoulder, only to have me push his arm away and give him a piercing look. “C’mon brother, what’s the big deal?” Geoffrey asked as he was becoming impatient with my lack of forgiveness. “Get the fuck off of me. Don’t ever put your hands on me again,” I said while pointing my finger in Geoffrey’s face. Craig watched from the other end of the bar as I grew angrier. After Geoffrey stood up he looked down and saw a gun in my waistband.

“Alright man, no problem,” Geoffrey answered raising his hands in surrender. I walked away and yelled to Craig before leaving the bar. “Let’s go!” then I turned and walked out. Before he followed me, Craig took a five dollar bill from a roll of money in his pocket, and he balled it up and threw it at Jim. “Oh by the way, keep the change,” he said before he finished his shot. Jim smirked at Craig as he followed me to the door. Craig paused briefly to look at Geoffrey with a provoking grin, and then he walked out of the bar.. Geoffrey felt ashamed of himself as he looked in the mirror behind the bar. He regretted betraying my trust. Craig caught up with me outside and enraged me further. “See man, I told you this shit was gonna happen. I dig that’s your brother right, but he’s all fucked up with that drinkin’ and shit. You gotta cut that cat loose.” “Stay the fuck outta my family business Craig, alright? My brother is my fuckin’ problem,” I said stopping halfway down the street at my car. “Look, go back to Myron’s house 182

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and tell him that I’ll catch yall later. I got somethin’ I gotta do.” “You got it brother. You gonna be

alright?” “I’m cool. I’ll be there in a few hours.” “Cool… Later.”

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Chapter Twenty-eight My brother’s reaper

Craig got into his car and drove away. After I watched him leave I walked into an alleyway next to the bar. I was still furious about Geoffrey’s irresponsible spending of the money I gave him. Although the money wasn’t shit to me, I knew I had to teach my brother the meaning of accountability. By now Geoffrey had way too much to drink. Jim walked over to him and took away his shot glasses and bottle. “C’mon Geoff, you’ve had enough man. Go on home.” “Yeah alright man. Later,” he answered with his speech becoming more slurred. He stood up and slowly staggered towards the door. When he finally reached the exit door he was very much disoriented. He continued to stagger on the sidewalk outside of the bar. He felt the need to relieve himself, so he made his way into the alley next to the bar. As he tried to unzip his 184

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pants I rushed towards him from behind a dumpster. I put my arm around him like I was attempting to hold him up. “Whoa brother, you ok?” I asked him in a low voice. “Hey man, I’m just tryin’ to take a leak, ya know?” Geoffrey responded appreciating my concern. “Well be careful out here. I don’t want you to get hurt.” “Okay man,” Geoffrey said now smiling as he seemed to be forgiven by me. I patted him on the back and quickly walked away. Geoffrey was still talking to me not realizing that I was already gone. “Man, I’m sorry I messed up the bread, ya dig? But look here, this…” he turned around and realized I was gone. After he urinated against the wall he went back into the bar to see if I was there. “Hey Jim, did my brother come back in here?” “I don’t think so. You need me to call you a cab?” Jim asked him while he was drying glasses with a small white towel. “No I’m cool. Thanks.” Geoffrey attempted to stagger out of the bar again, when he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his right side. He opened his suit jacket and noticed that his shirt was soaked in blood. I stabbed him and he didn’t even know it. “What the fuck, he said as he looked at his hand dripping with blood. Even with the severe wound to his stomach

and all of the alcohol he had consumed, he managed to maintain his balance as he continued to stagger. 185

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“Geff what happened?” Jim asked him when he saw the blood on his hand and shirt. “Aw shit, somebody call an ambulance!” he shouted across the bar. There was chaos in the bar as Jim sat Geoffrey down and tried to keep him conscious. “Damn, it looks bad man,” one of the bar patrons said that was helping Jim. Jim rushed to the kitchen and came back with several towels to try to stop the fast bleeding. “Here Geff, let me hold this on there ‘til the ambulance comes.” “Thanks man. Can you get me my coat? It’s getting’ cold in here.” Geoffrey was losing a lot of blood and he was almost going into shock. Several of the people in the bar gave Jim their coats to keep him warm. As much as Geoffrey didn’t want to believe it, he knew that he had been stabbed by me, his baby brother. He started to think about how Julius Caesar must have felt when he was stabbed by Brutus. “What about my suit, Jim? Now I’m gonna have to clean my new suit.” Geoffrey was becoming delirious, a state he fell into very easily due to his intoxication.

“Come on man, stay with me,” Jim said as he lied him next to one of the booth seats and encouraged him to fight for his life. Geoffrey went into his pocket and took out a fifty dollar bill. “Hey Jim, can you get my suit cleaned for me? I can’t look sharp with blood all over it.” Geoffrey’s speech was still very slurred, but Jim knew his drunken rambling all too well. Having bar-tended for ten years he spoke fluent alcoholic. 186

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Jim put Geoffrey’s money back in his pocket and held his hand. “Man all the bread you gonna be makin’ with your brother, you gonna have a suit for every day of the week.” That was Jim’s way of saying fuck this suit, you should be worried about your life! Geoffrey wasn’t so sure about what Jim had said. If he lived through this he wondered if I would ever want to see him again. Jim heard the ambulance sirens in the distance. He was preoccupied with holding the towels on Geoffrey’s wound, but he could see the lights flashing through the front door. When he realized that the cops had arrived as well, he knew he had to help Geoffrey come up with a story to tell them. Like always the officers came in the bar and immediately began to insult people and push

them with their night sticks. Since both cops were white, the word nigger was used to address every person they talked to. “Yo Geff, it’s the fuzz man. What you gonna tell’em?” Jim asked him with a whisper, though he wasn’t too certain that he wanted a response. “I’m gonna tell’em to take my suit to the cleaners,” Geoffrey answered continuing his humor. “Geff c’mon man, this is serious. Never mind, I’ll handle it.” The cops were finally ready to question Geoffrey after the paramedics started giving him medical treatment. “Now what the fuck happened to this nigger?” the first cop asked as he pointed down at Geoffrey with his night stick. 187

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“I think I know officer,” Jim said interrupting the cop’s racist questions. “And who the fuck are you?” The second cop asked. “Jim, I’m the bartender here.” Geoffrey agreed to let Jim talk to the cops. “Alright then, what the hell did you see?” “This cat came in about three hours ago and started drinking real heavy. About two hours after he started talking to some chick who was sittin’ at the bar. I didn’t recognize her; I mean

she wasn’t a regular. Anyway they talked and drank for about an hour, and then they left together. Five minutes later he came back in to use the toilet and that’s when I saw the blood on his shirt. My guess is, she tried to rob him and it went bad.” Both cops knew that Jim’s story wasn’t true. They knew that judging by Geoffrey’s clothes, shoes and jewelry that he fit the profile of a gangster. Not just anyone would have the guts to rob this cat. They knew that this was somehow connected to the criminal underworld. “Thanks Sherlock Holmes, but I know you don’t expect us to believe that bullshit,” the first cop said expressing that he wasn’t convinced. “I really don’t care what yall believe. That’s all I know, and I doubt if you get a better story from him,” Jim said as he gestured towards Geoffrey. “C’mon, ‘Sambo’ you can tell us the truth. Who was it, the Muslims? The Black Mob? Who?” “Neither. If it was any of those cats he’d be dead. I told 188

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you who it was. Shouldn’t ya’ll be looking for her?” The two cops smiled and decided to play along with Jim’s game. “Alright wise guy, what

did she look like, huh?” Jim had to be quick on his feet and think of a way to send them on a wild goose chase. “She looked like every other chick that’s in here tryin’ to pick up a high roller; knee-high leather boots, short skirt, tight blouse and a lot of curves. She was fine enough to rob ya’ll even. And like I, said if I had to guess I would say she tried to rob him. “So smart guy, if it was a robbery what did she take?” “Yo what the hell is this? Shouldn’t ya’ll be out there looking for her or somethin’?” Jim asked the cops as he stood up to let the paramedics continue to work on Geoffrey. “Come on, we have to get him to the hospital,” one of the paramedics said to the other. “Come outside with me, Jim. She might still be out there man,” Geoffrey said as he was now going along with Jim’s story. “Alright man, but you should be cool. Philadelphia’s finest flat foots is on the case,” Jim answered with humor. “Don’t you go smart-mouthin’, boy. I still ain’t too sure you didn’t stab him yourself,” the second cop said. “Yeah right, I’d be on my way to the joint if you thought that.” They all walked out of the bar with the paramedics who had Geoffrey on a stretcher. Jim helped them lift the stretcher onto the ambulance, and then they drove off with haste. 189

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Chapter Twenty-nine Forgiveness

Geoffrey was taken to the emergency room at the University of Pennsylvania hospital, and then immediately went into surgery. There was no fatal or irreparable damage to any of his vital organs, so the procedure only lasted about two hours. When he woke up the next morning in the recovery room he realized that his intoxication was gone. So, in his sobered state, he finally felt the severe pain of his wound. He tried to remember how he’d gotten there and he was surprisingly able to remember every detail. He replayed it in his mind over and over as the nurses moved him to an inpatient room on the fourth floor. He’d spent several hours in his room with no visitors, when suddenly there was a knock at the door “Come on in,” Geoffrey moaned to the

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door. He was surprised when he saw that it was me walking into his room. “Hey man, how you doin’?” I asked him with a look of concern and remorse on my face. “I’m cool brother, I’m cool.” Geoffrey said with indifference. He wasn’t sure if I was there because I was sorry for what I did, or if I was acting and I’d actually come to finish him. “How’s everything with you?” “I’ve been better. Actually I’ve been a lot better,” I answered as my present mood became even more saddened. “Why man, what’s goin’ on?” Geoffrey responded, acting as if he didn’t know what was bothering me. For all he knew Myron and I had a falling out over the money I’d given him. Maybe I was there to kill him and I couldn’t handle it emotionally. “Look man, I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” I answered as I wiped a tear from my eye. “I lost my head and I wasn’t thinkin’ straight. You didn’t fuck up man, I did. I forgot that family is more important than money. You’re my big brother and I love you. I hope you get well real soon.” I walked back towards the door and grabbed the knob with intensions of leaving. As I

pulled the door open, Geoffrey called to me to stop me from leaving. “Malik, hang on a second. Let me talk to you, blood.” I closed the door and walked over to Geff’s bed. I stood closer this time than I did seconds ago, and this time I noticed how bad Geoffrey’s stab wound was. I immediately thought 191

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to myself, when I die will there be any stars in my crown? Geoffrey extended his hand to me as a gesture of forgiveness. “It’s alright man. I know why you did what you did, and I ain’t mad at you for doin’ it,” he said in his usual bass tone as me and him shook hands. I was starting to feel better as we exchanged mutual smiles. “Maybe this will make me get myself together and stop drinkin’.” Geoffrey said with a serious face. “Yo man, they takin’ care of you in here?” I asked him and tried to change the subject. “Blood, as long as they feed me and bring me medicine, I’ll feel like royalty.” “Well I gotta go, but I’ll drop some bread at the nurses’ station to make sure they treat you like royalty, ya dig?” “Thanks man. Hey, ya’ll be careful down there in Atlanta. I hear the foxes’ southern hospitality can give you the clap.” We both

laughed and I headed toward the door. “Don’t worry man, it’s a business trip. We ain’t gonna have time for no chicks.” “Yeah right. If I know ya’ll, it’s gonna be plenty of time for women.” “Yeah, right on,” I answered in the positive. “I’ll see you when I get back. Heal fast, alright?” “Hey Gil,” Geoffrey called to me prolonging my exit a second time. That caught me off guard since no one had called me that since I was a teenager. “Am I still working with ya’ll?” he asked in a way that made me see his desire to make good on the money he’d 192

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spent. “I don’t know man. You sure you want to?” “Yeah I do. I owe you, and I want to square up on that.” “I need time to think on it, after everything that’s happened, ya dig? I’ll tell you what, we’ll talk when I get back, alright?” “No problem, man. Later.” “Later.”

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Chapter Thirty Matt’s meeting

When our plane landed at the Atlanta airport me, Myron and four of our bodyguards were all stoned-faced and quiet. We had prepared for this meeting for several months, and couldn’t afford any mistakes. “You writin’ another poem, man?” Myron asked me as he glanced down at the small notepad in my hand. “You know me, man. I consider myself to be a well rounded cat. Poetry is the language of love, even though I never write about it,” I answered with humor. “Oh, excuse me Mr. Lover-man, but I hope whatever you got on that pad is gonna be useful in this meeting.” That statement came at a time when I was trying to forget the meeting, and escape to the paradise of my pen. “Who do you think this meeting benefits the most, us or the rest of them cats?” I asked as I was bothered by Myron’s 194

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statement. “I think it will benefit us all; maybe them more than us. Why?” “Look, I know for a fact that we’re more prepared for this meeting and its outcome than they are. So why should I spend time worrying?

Everything is everything.” “You know what? Maybe we need to be more prepared than everybody else. We’re in the middle of a war and a fed investigation. You say everything is cool, I hope you’re right man.” We got off the plane with our crew, and walked through the airport. When we reached the outside there were fleets of cabs and rented cars leaving with passengers. Fortunately the host of the meeting sent us a black stretched limousine for our travel, since cabs weren’t really our styles. The driver of the limousine stood outside of the car with a sign that simply read, Millionaire. Our gracious host felt that using real names could cause problems. We approached the limo driver and told him who we were, as if our expensive flashy digs, gangster swaggers and security force weren’t a dead give-away. The guards checked the limo driver for weapons, and one of them even rode in the front seat with him. In the passenger area of the limo there was complete silence. No one said a word as I instructed to avoid any possible tape recorders that may have been on board. The car was stocked with a full bar, food and even a mahogany box trimmed in gold with an unknown amount of 195

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cocaine inside. No one touched anything and we

made sure we took complete inventory of what was around us, in case anything turned up missing later. As the limousine cruised down the highway from the city to the Marietta section of Georgia, I continued to write just as relaxed as I had on the plane. Myron’s words had shifted from the front to the back of my mind, to allow for clear thinking and composition. As usual I tried to write verses of peace and tranquility, but reality would always defeat the forces of wishful thinking. THE STREETS The parasitic streets With larceny in their hearts The evil-grinned streets Sullen, gruesome Savage-minded The carnivorous streets Eating at the skeletal remains Of brothers’ dead bodies 196

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Drugs and the night The cold dusk air The gun shots, the screams, the sirens The marijuana smell of the streets The young prostitute mother Desperate for survival Infested, diseased Enslaved heron whore The streets And the boys in blue Threaten to take her freedom So she negotiates with oral sex Today I still belong to the streets 197

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The demon-nighted streets Some say I’m spellbound And some say, I’m hellbound “Give me a few ticks, man.” Myron asked me for my attention as we were quickly approaching the location of the meeting. “No problem, what’s up?” I answered as I closed my notepad and paused my writing. I hoped the conversation would make Myron feel more relaxed about the meeting. “Look man, I’ve known you all my life. I know you a bad ass cat and probably the toughest mutha-fucker I ever met, but we about to meet with some hard core, ruthless, wrath of God type dudes, ya dig? If anything goes wrong we all might end up iced. I ain’t to sure if that ain’t been the plan all along.” I smiled to assist Myron with calming his nerves. “Think about it, this cat might love to kill, but I know he loves to make money more. We all do. He called us here ‘cause he knows how much bread we makin’ up in Philly. That greedy muthafucker wants in on it. Greed is my favorite sin ‘cause as long as you can satisfy a niggas appetite, yo’ ass will always be on the menu.” “Yeah, but dead chefs don’t cook no meals,” Myron said as he was starting to smile. “You right, but as long as he cooks good food, the people that love to eat gonna make sure he stays around,” I

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answered with a bit of a cliché of my own. Myron slapped me five and was starting to laugh a little. I had succeeded at easing his tension. I thought about my brother and how I couldn’t wait to get back to see how he was recovering. I called up front to the driver and the guard who was riding up front with him. “Hey driver, Moose, give us a signal when we get to the house. I want to get a look at the outside spread before we ride in.” As the limousine approached the outside of the mansion there were several armed guards patrolling. One of them stopped the limousine as it rode up to the front gates. He checked the passengers in the car, and then announced them to the guards at the door. The limousine then rode down the two hundred foot driveway that led to the front door of the huge mansion. It took a few minutes to reach the end of the driveway, so Myron and I just marveled at the amazing structure. Even Myron’s mansion didn’t compare to this. If his house was Atlantic City, this one was Las Vegas. When we arrived at the front door there was a guard waiting. After I opened the rear door of the limousine we got out of the car. “This way please,” the guard said

instructing us to follow him. He led us through the house to the room where the meeting would be held. I couldn’t help but admire the layout and design of the home. There were several priceless statues, foreign vases, rare 199

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paintings and sculptures. The floors in the house were covered by plush carpeting and lavish furniture. This was truly a castle and I was looking forward to making the king’s acquaintance.

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Chapter Thirty-one Surprise Guests

Outside the meeting room there were two more armed guards. Surprisingly our crew was allowed into the house without being patted down, and it seemed like the same courtesy would be extended in the meeting room. The guard that was posted outside of the room knocked on the door. “Come in!” A voice

responded from inside the room. The guard opened the door and allowed us to walk in. Inside the room there were several men seated at a large, oval table. More armed guards were posted around the room at the windows and exits. As me and Myron looked around the room we noticed several unfriendly, familiar faces. Stan Bishop, Donald Tarver, General Jackson and the most powerful Mexican drug lord in Columbia, Alexandro Perez were all in attendance. The meeting which was hosted by Matthew Franklin, 201

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the biggest distributor of heroin on the east coast, was called to discuss new marketing opportunities for his product. He was seated at the far end of the table and he invited us to sit down. “Gentlemen, please come in and have a seat,” he said as he stood up from his chair. “Thank you,” Myron replied as we both sat down next to each other. “It’s good to finally meet you both face to face.” “The pleasure is ours Mr. Franklin,” I answered. I sat up and leaned confidently on the table with my hands folded. Myron and I both noticed

before we sat down that we were directly across from Stan Bishop and Donald Tarver. The tension was evident as the four of us arrogantly stared at each other. “I’ve heard so much about you Mr. Millionaire. They tell me you’ve had great success in Philadelphia, almost phenomenal. So I felt it an honor to have you at this meeting. As you all know the demand for heroin has increased in the last two years. There is a projected estimate of one hundred million dollars gross for the east coast alone with the proper distribution. My associate, Mr. Alexandro Perez, has guaranteed the delivery of two shipments per year totaling four hundred kilos. My problem is I have no steady market in Philadelphia and New Jersey. That’s why I’ve called you gentleman here today. You’re all the top businessmen of that region, and I need your assistance to distribute my product.” “With all due respect Mr. Franklin, I appreciate the 202

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compliment as well as your confidence in my organization. However I wouldn’t exactly call killing innocent women and children a business,” Myron said looking at Bishop and Tarver implicating them. “What is that supposed to mean?” Matthew asked seemingly insulted by the comment.

“Yeah, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Stan interrupted on the defensive. His temper was beginning to flare as he waited for Myron’s answer. “It means that we can’t make any agreement to do business with anyone who’s associated with the Black Mob.” “Oh is that right?” Tarver asked. “Oh yeah, that’s right,” Myron said. “The crimes and activities that have been linked to the Black Mob and the so-called Black Muslim Brothers, in particular the members of Mosque Number twelve, are such that I can’t jeopardize my organization with a business venture involving them. If you and Mr. Perez wish to do business with my partner and me, then we are prepared to negotiate. Unfortunately if you’re asking us to accept a partnership with common hoodlums, I’m afraid negotiations are over,” he concluded as he stood up to leave. “Hey Myron, hold on now,” General Jackson said stopping Myron and the rest of us from leaving. “When you guys hung Andy Sticks off the balcony of his office window for intimidation, was that common hoodlum behavior?” “You got your facts wrong, sucker. Get your shit straight before you make accusations,” I said in a threatening 203

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manner. “No, fuck that!” Stan said as he stood up from his chair and put his hand in his jacket to reach for his gun. Our bodyguards rushed up behind us and reached for their guns as well. “What mutha fuckers?” I yelled across the table. Matt was furious. He took out a .44 magnum handgun from under the table. He placed it on the table and signaled his guards to aim their weapons at his confrontational guests. “All of you sit down and shut the fuck up!” Matt yelled as he pulled back the hammer on his gun. “I have enough men in this house to kill every fuckin’ one of you, so sit your asses down!” We all stared at each other angrily and slowly sat down. Our bodyguards resumed their positions at the wall behind me and Myron. Matt’s guards continued to point their guns until they were instructed to lower them. “How dare you disrespect my home and my guests like that,” Matt said as he stood up at the head of the table. “Mr. Perez is a very busy man and he traveled a long way to be here today! You all owe him and his associates an apology!” Myron, who had always been known as a gentleman of class, was the first to apologize. “Please forgive me and my associates Mr. Perez.” “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” Bishop followed. Alexandro was also furious. He was guarded by six serious looking Hispanic men who were all wearing sunglasses and armed with high

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Knowing their employer’s murderous nature they grew anxious thinking that he would order a massacre. “I should have you all killed for this,” he said with a heavy Spanish accent. “You come into la casa de mi amigo, sit at his table and spit on his floor. Where I come from you’d be fucking dead, si? Let me tell you all something, I take my business and my money very seriously. If I feel that someone threatens either of them, I kill them. Matt wants to bring you all in on this deal, and I trust you because I trust him. So I’d suggest you put aside your differences for now and don’t fuck up. And if you become a threat I will send pieces of you to your familias. Te prometo eso!” There was a brief moment of silence while we all allowed ourselves time to think of a response. I continued to watch my enemies like a hawk. Alexandro had the attention of my ears, but my eyes were stationed on Bishop and Tarver. All three of us, and Myron had looks on our faces that insinuated that we would settle our differences later. “So, do we have a deal gentlemen?” Matt asked impatiently. “Sho’ you right,” Stan answered. “It would be our pleasure to move your product.”

“I’ll have to get back to you in a couple of weeks,” Myron said. “No, you have one week, no longer. Got it?” Matt insisted. “Understood,” Myron answered then he looked at me as I was now giving Matt a defiant stare. 205

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“Good.” Matt stood up from the table and handed his gun to one of his bodyguards. “Well, if that concludes our business I’d like to invite you gentlemen to partake in some of the best exotic entertainment in all of Atlanta. “Thank you, Mr. Franklin. We accept,” I said. I was never the type to say no to anything where women were involved. “No thanks, man. We gotta get back and take care of a few thangs, but we’ll be in touch.” Tarver said as he shook hands with Matt and then headed towards the door. Bishop also said good bye to Matt and Mr. Perez, then him and his mob of thugs followed Tarver. After they left I knew that they would make plans to cut me and Myron out of the deal, which was obviously worth millions. Along with General Jackson and their associates, they rode in another one of Matt Franklin’s limos back to the airport, and left for Philadelphia. What they

didn’t know was that when we returned home, we made plans to cut them out as well.

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Chapter Thirty-two Southern style hospitality

We were prepared to leave with Matt and travel to downtown Atlanta. Our destination was a hot spot called The Garden Of Eden, and much like the Biblical paradise that God made for Adam and Eve, there were forbidden fruits.

Since Alexandro Perez and his cartel decided not to go with us, we traveled in only two limousines. When we arrived at the club, Matt was the second to exit the limo after one of the bodyguards. We followed Matt into the club. Several of the clubs bouncers greeted Matt and were prepared to provide him with high-roller security. Matt introduced us to the club manager, who was called to the front door to greet him by the head bouncer. After the manager and head of security confirmed that we would receive the royal treatment, Myron and I walked into the club with Matt and our crews. Our groups totaled ten men. 207

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Inside the club dozens of beautiful exotic dancers paraded around wearing the sexiest high heel shoes and bare assets. The uniform of the day was skin only, and the workers were all in Alist attire. Atlanta’s biggest high-rollers, celebrities and athletes were enjoying the erotic atmosphere, and spending thousands of dollars on fantasies, fetishes and fancy fun. Matt was quickly pulled into a private booth by two gorgeous women and seduced. Myron and I watched from across the room in disbelief. “How does an old ugly ass cat like him get

that kind of action?” Myron asked me. “That old ugly ass cat is big business. He’s the head nigga in charge and they all know it,” I said. “Fuck him. We’re makin’ grand theft dough now, too. Besides, what kind of man would want to do business with a chump like Stan Bishop?” “We ain’t as big as he is. We control one city brother, one city. Matt and Alexandro Perez, those guys control almost the entire South and Eastern border. Not to mention Perez is a coldblooded killer. He would kill his own family and split.” “Kind of like you, huh?” Myron asked me. I paused and thought of Geoffrey. Myron had a way of saying things to me that made me think. As I sat next to him in the VIP booth that a dancer had escorted us to, I began to relive what I had done to my brother. “We are what we are, man. We’re successful and we know how to make money. Sometimes that over powers our 208

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good judgment and morality. We’re human. We make mistakes, but we make better lives for our families, and that ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.” “You’re right, blood.” Myron said. He raised his glass to me and then downed his drink.

Just then two dancers approached our booth and were stopped by our guards. “It’s okay,” I said and I waived my hand to signal the guards to let the dancers through. One stood in front of Myron and the other sat on my lap. “Would you like a lap dance?” the first dancer asked Myron. “Or something else?” the second dancer asked me as she started to pull down the zipper to my pants. Myron signaled to the guards to give us some privacy. After they left, both dancers got under the red tablecloth covered table and started sucking our dicks. They each took turns licking and stroking them until we both came hard down their throats. “Whoo, now that’s what I call southern hospitality,” I said. I was still gripping the back of the dancers head as she continued to swallow the cum from my dick. “Yeah man, too bad we gotta get back to Philly. I could get used to this,” Myron agreed. “Let’s get out of here before I never leave.” We both took out five hundred dollars and tipped the dancers for their services. “Ladies, buy your selves something nice,” Myron said, dismissing the two of them. “Alright, let’s get back and decide how to make a deal 209

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with Mr. Franklin.” “Sho’ you right!”

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Chapter Thirty-three Certain Uncertainties

I could see the skyline of Center City from the airplane window. We’d entered the Philadelphia city limits about ten minutes before and the pilot was giving the passengers landing instructions. Just glad to be home, I sat quietly in my seat thinking about my family, especially my daughter, Jennifer. I wanted to avoid any more emotional hassles with Lynn, but I wanted to see Jennifer very badly. Myron fell asleep shortly after the plane departed from Atlanta, and still hadn’t opened his eyes. Even as we landed on the runway, he looked as if he were enjoying some long overdue rest. Not knowing that the plane landed, I nudged him awake with my elbow. “Are we back?” Myron asked me. I was already standing to collect my briefcase from the over head carry-on

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compartment. Myron stretched his body and yawned. “Damn blood, I ain’t think I was gonna sleep the whole flight.” He rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. “Damn, I missed the meal too?” he asked me disappointedly. Our bodyguards and I shared a laugh since we made sure he missed his meal as a joke. “C’mon Black My, you know we gotta start you on that diet that you’ve been sayin’ you want to go on, ya dig?” I said with humor and patted Myron on his back. “I thought you was my main man, but I know now you gotta be my enemy if you gonna take food away from me,” Myron said with a big smile. He playfully hit me with his Italian stand then got off the plane with his bag. Myron and I talked as we walked through the airport towards the baggage claim area. Our bodyguards were several yards behind us, but still close enough to respond to any threats of danger. “You know what I think, man?” I asked Myron as I moved closer to keep our conversation private. “No, what?” Myron answered. “I think the longer we wait to get back to Franklin, we’re gonna be giving Bishop and those cats a chance to take over our racke,t and our

streets.” My words made Myron think. “Man, I’ve been thinkin’ about this shit since we left. I just don’t know if I can do business with a dude who trusts those mutha fuckers. That’s something we both need to think about even more than how 212

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much bread we’re gonna make, ya dig?” he replied as he readjusted the bag strap over his shoulder. “And you know what else? Don’t it seem strange that he called two organizations that are in the middle of a war to do business together? Why wasn’t Gorilla Green there? That cat deals dope up in Delaware, and parts of PA. What about Willis Redfield or Corvette Curtis White? Those cats are major players in the dope game in New Jersey. Why weren’t they there?” I paused for a second to think about Myron’s questions. Why hadn’t Matt Franklin called any of them to offer them a deal? After all, they were players in the game just as big as Myron. “Shit, I never thought about that,” I said snapping out of my daydream. “For real though, I think Mr. Franklin wants our war to get even worse. Then he can be the main supplier of whoever wins and have the Philly market cornered,” Myron said in conclusion.

Surprisingly, I started to think the same thing, and to hear it from Myron only made me more suspicious. That still wasn’t enough for me to consider saying no to Matt Franklin’s offer. “Look man, it’s like this, we gonna make ten million dollars on this deal in the first year alone. That’s more money than we ever seen. We’re gonna be fighting these dudes no matter what, so why not make some dough while we’re doin’ it?” 213

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“I like the sound of that.” “I knew you would.” “I guess I’ll call Matt and tell him we got a deal,” Myron said as he and I slapped each other five.

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Chapter Thirty-four The Watchers

The guards gathered the remaining pieces of luggage as they came around on the Conveyor, then they followed me and Myron to the airport exit. As we approached the exit, we noticed three

men dressed in conservative business suits and assorted colored trench coats walking towards us. All three men were white and had their suit jackets opened so that their guns and badges were clearly showing. Two of them were smoking; one had a cigar and the other a cigarette. The third man was drinking a cup of coffee. As they got closer I recognized one of them. “Shit! What the fuck does he want?” I asked Myron in a low voice. “I thought that was him. I see he’s breaking in some new partners,” Myron answered sarcastically. The man was DEA agent Thomas Miller, a former Philadelphia police officer who was assigned to a narcotics 215

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task force to bring down Myron and our crew. The other two were Agent Miller’s partner Ethan Lentz, and FBI agent Vince Scavetti. “I know these mutha fuckers don’t think they’re arresting nobody,” I said ready to fight them if they tried to put hand cuffs on us. “Just relax, I’ll handle it.” We all walked right up to each of them and stood face to face. Our body guards immediately stepped in to protect us. The three agents reached in their coats and took out their ID’s.“DEA and FBI gentlemen; if you don’t get the fuck out of

the way, I’ll have twenty police officers and customs agents come in here and make you stand bent over until I’m done with my investigation,” Agent Miller said ordering the guards to step aside. I instructed the guards to cooperate and allow the agents to speak to us. “It’s cool brothers. Give us a minute, alright?” “Mr. Millionaire and Mr. Malik, what’s up brothers?” Agent Miller asked sarcastically. “Good to see you, meter maid Miller,” I answered with equal sarcasm. “Oh I forgot you’re with the drug enforcement assholes now, right?” “That’s very funny, but if you really thought I was just a meter maid you wouldn’t have stopped you fucking monkey,” Agent Miller responded in an angry voice. “C’mon now Tom-cat; save the compliments. It was nice of ya’ll ladies to come down and offer us a ride home, but as I’m sure you saw outside, we already got first class 216

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transportation,” Myron said. “Ya’ll should come check it out, ‘cause I know ya’ll can’t afford to ride in style with them jive ass salaries ya’ll make,” I added. “You know what, you’re right,” Agent Scavetti agreed. “The federal government never did know how to properly compensate its

employees for their services. So why don’t you come with us and teach us how to sell drugs and kill people. Then we can wear tailored suits and ride in limousines too.” “Damn, they told me the FBI were dumb, but I ain’t think ya’ll can’t tell the difference between criminals and entrepreneurs,” I said in our defense. “As far as killing goes, I’m sure you crackers could teach us a thing or two about that. Since ya’ll been killing blacks for centuries.” Agent Lentz grew impatient with the repartee. He was a hot headed new-comer who didn’t like black people, especially so-called gangsters. After my last statements he lost his temper and threw a punch at me. Being skilled in the martial arts, I blocked his punch and struck him in the face with my elbow, breaking his nose. Agents Miller and Scavetti reacted by drawing their guns and pointing them at Myron and me. “Freeze you two pieces of shit! Get on the fucking floor you’re under arrest!” Agent Miller shouted at us. The bodyguards attempted to intervene, but Agent Scavetti met them with an ultimatum after he pulled a second gun from inside his suit jacket. “You fuckin’ coons move one more time and I swear to God I’ll plug ya!” 217

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The guards backed down and let the agents

arrest us. The altercation caused a panic, alerting the local cops and U.S. Customs agents. Realizing the situation was becoming uncontrollable for us and our crew, Myron and I decided to cooperate. Agent Miller explained to Myron that he was being taken in for investigation only, and even I, who had assaulted a federal agent, wasn’t being charged. The DEA wanted us both on the street to continue our business, until their real trap was finished being set.

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Chapter Thirty-five Confessions of corruption

After Myron and me were taken to DEA headquarters downtown, we were put in separate rooms for questioning. Before long, Agent Miller walked into Myron’s room with arrest files, surveillance photos and cassette tapes with wire tap recordings on them. He placed everything on the table in front of Myron, along with a cassette player and sat down. “I just have a few questions for you Myron, I mean Mr. Walker. What do you know about a man named Matt Franklin?” “I never heard of him,” Myron answered convincingly. “What about Alexandro Perez?” “I never heard of him.” “Look Black My, I’m sorry, may I call you that?” Agent Miller asked with his face covered with sarcasm. “Matt Franklin is wanted on various racketeering, narcotics and 219

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murder charges. Our sources informed us that he recently held a meeting in Atlanta, Georgia and individuals from the DEA and FBI’s most wanted list, including a Columbian drug lord named Alexandro Perez and Philadelphia’s Black Mob members attended. This airline ticket says that you arrived in Atlanta the same day that the meeting was held.” He handed Myron a copy of his plane ticket along with several photographs. “These surveillance photos show you and Malik entering a home believed to be owned by Mr. Franklin. So, would you like to tell me the truth now? What is your connection with Matt Franklin and Alexandro Perez?” Myron’s cool was outstanding. Agent Miller’s words and the evidence he presented didn’t change his demeanor at all. He was starting to figure out that this was a desperate attempt to gather information, or maybe even a confession of drug smuggling. He looked across the table at his interrogator and saw that he was very pleased with himself, almost cocky as he waited for a response. However, the information that he was looking for, he’d have to find somewhere else. “Like I said, I never heard of them. And if they were allegedly at this house why don’t any of the photographs show them? My partner and I are thinking about opening a night club, and we

were at this house to speak with some of our investors. As far as informants and photos linking us to whoever you’re investigating, it’s bullshit. We’re business men and you’re violating our rights. Either charge us so I can call my attorney, or let us the fuck go.” 220

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Agent Miller leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. He smiled at Myron like they were in a poker game and he was holding a royal flush. He knew he had more information to disclose, and now it was time to show his hand. “Just one more thing Myron, and then you can go. Do you know what’s on these tapes?” He asked him anxiously wanting to tell him. “Let me guess, a conversation with me, an Atlanta dope runner and a spic drug lord, right?” Myron answered with a smile. “No, this is even better than a full written confession from you. See I’m selfish, Myron. I don’t like niggers and I don’t like drugs. Also I don’t think prison quite punishes you animals adequately. So I made it my personal crusade to not only put shit like you in jail, but also to make you suffer along the way.” Myron was curious to know where this conversation was leading. He knew he had just

got back in town, and he was waiting for agent Miller to tell him something had happened to Pat. “And just how do you plan to do that?” Myron asked with his face now without a smile. “Patience, Myron. Patience or you’ll ruin the surprise.” Myron’s mind was boggled. He knew he’d heard that somewhere before, but there was so much going through his mind right now that he couldn’t remember where. “Have you been getting some strange phone calls over the past year or so?” 221

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Just then it all came back to his memory. He knew now that Agent Miller knew about the threatening phone calls, he just wasn’t sure if he’d actually made them. Myron had to stay cool until he got all the information that he needed. “As a matter of fact, I might remember one or two, why?” he asked nonchalantly. “Well, I think I know who’s been calling you. In fact, I know who it is since I had them do it.” Myron continued his blasé act and listened to Agent Miller’s personal confession. “See Myron I’ve had my eye on you for the past year and a half now. I knew you were getting rich from heroin before you went to prison, and I watched your operation continue to run under

Malik’s command while you were in. I see the way he tries to pretend that he gives a shit about politics in the black community. I also know that he carved up his older brother and left him for dead. I know about the murder of one of your former workers that happened the day you were released from prison; the twenty year old kid who was skimming off each pack that you fronted him, and eventually went into business for his self. I know that there was a limo driver murdered by one of your lieutenants the night of your party, and I knew that if I made those phone calls myself, you would recognize my voice. I also knew you would be at that meeting in Atlanta, which is exactly where I wanted you to be.” Myron could no longer hide his fury. However, he did control his rage. He loosened the tie around his neck and 222

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leaned forward on the table. “Alright, so who was the mystery caller?” he asked wanting to reach across the table and strangle Agent Miller. “Oh that’s right, I didn’t introduce you. I never really got the opportunity since your kungfu, nigger ninja partner broke his nose.” Myron was absolutely shocked. He was surprisingly impressed by Agent Miller’s cunningness. He now felt good about what Malik had done to Agent Lentz. A little bit of payback

for his disrespect to Pat and him was better than none. He felt himself regaining control of his emotions. Now all he had to do was cleverly deny all of the allegations that were brought up by Agent Miller. “That’s some interesting shit right there. The only problem is I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about. Whoever you got bringing you information is dumber than you are. Besides, I know for a fact that if you had any evidence proving any of that jive bullshit, I wouldn’t be here for investigation only,” Myron finished and smiled again. “Wow Myron! How did you get so rich when you’re such a fool? I’ll bet you think the reason you were released from prison is because the prosecution’s case was so weak. Or maybe you think that fuckin’ nigger attorney of yours is that good. Truth is I’ve been strategically placing you like a piece on a chess board ever since you were sent to prison. I called in some favors to the parole board and the warden, who coincidently was my classmate in college, to have you released early. I knew that your organization was at war with 223

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the Black Muslim Mob, and I needed that war to continue. But what was so surprising was that you kept creating opportunities for me.” The more Agent Miller talked, the more

humorous he became to Myron. He knew there was a lot of truth in his words, but not being under arrest made him feel at ease. He sat and listened to the his ravings, and just kept thinking about how many different ways he would have him killed when he was back on the street. “You’re party was the perfect place for my colleagues to get close to you. Did you think that those three women were really players? Maybe you should check your guest list better. They were all working undercover for my agency, Philadelphia police narcotics and the bureau. I knew that Pat would turn down their offer, and I knew that fuckin’ slut Cherry that Malik’s got a boner for would be agitated by their taunts. I needed her to start the altercation that ensued. She and Pat both fell hook, line and sinker. But you know what? The perfect piece to complete the puzzle was Lana. Sweet Lana,” he said as he looked up at the ceiling remembering her beauty. “Yeah, she was perfect. See Pat and Cherry assume a certain risk of danger, you know, being the whores of two gangsters. But Lana was just an innocent casualty of war. I needed to get your attention so my three female colleagues, and Agent Lentz, grabbed her when she was leaving a bar one night. The girls made her eat their pussys, while Lentz fucked her in that sweet, pretty little ass of hers. Even though they said that she was the best fuckin pussy eater they’d ever met, it 224

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was the girls’ idea to kill her, not mine. Still though, I didn’t object or feel any remorse. Anyway, her death is kind of your fault, and Malik’s. I own your ass nigger! So, the way I see it you’ve got two choices. You can tell me what I need to know about Perez and Franklin and the game will stop here, or you can walk out of this room, take your pawns, rooks and bishop Malik with you, and prepare for checkmate. It’s your move, Mr. Millionaire.” Myron stood up and started to applaud. His expression never changed, except to shake his head in disbelief. “Bravo Agent Miller. You put together this production all by yourself. I’m honored that I was one of your main characters. Brother, you are on your way to the top, for real. Unfortunately, as I said I don’t have any information for you. But I’ll tell you what, this little show that you put together deserves an award,” Myron said as he put on his coat and hat, pausing to tilt the hat to the side. “I promise I’ll be in the front row when Malik hands it to you.” Agent Miller was furious. He’d never been threatened by an alleged criminal before. Especially a black one who he strongly believed would make good on his promise. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Are you threatening me?” Agent Miller stood up from the table and threw his chair backwards into a wall. Myron turned away from him and walked out of the interrogation room. “Yeah that’s right! Get out of here you black piece of shit. Go enjoy your last few days

on this earth ‘cause I promise you, you’re dead!” Agent Miller continued yelling 225

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pointless vulgarities from the room, while Myron walked down the hallway and met up with me. I’d already been released and was waiting for him at the end of the hall. “You cool man?” Myron asked seeing my eyes beginning to well up with tears. “Hell no, blood. I ain’t cool,” I answered grinding my teeth. “Let’s talk outside. I don’t want them to see you like this.” We both walked down the steps that led to the exit and saw our bodyguards waiting for us at the door. Myron knew that it took a lot more than a rough interrogation to break me. Since there weren’t any dead agents, he knew that they hadn’t tried to beat me up. The only explanation for my tears was that I must have just received the same information from my interrogators. “You know about Lana, right?” Myron asked. “Yeah, I know. That fuckin’ jive ass cracker pig with the new nose told me,” I answered as the first tear rolled down my face. “I know it hurts man, but we can’t lose it. Not right now. If we do we’re all dead, blood.” “I’m cool brother, I swear. I’ll tell you

somethin’ though; they don’t realize what they did. I swear on my daughter ain’t nothin’ in this world gonna stop me from going back there one day and run through that fuckin’ building like locusts. They ain’t seen the wrath of God yet, but I’m gonna show it to them.” 226

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“Now ain’t the time, brother. Let’s focus on the Franklin deal, and them Bishop/Tarver suckers. Then, I promise you, we’ll get back to those fuckin pigs. I promise you.”

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Chapter Thirty-six My baby love

The atmosphere of downtown Philadelphia was noisy and congested as always. Today everything was times ten, including the gridlocked traffic. There were a few sky scrapers, but none of them stood taller than City Hall. A thirty-five foot statue of William Penn, with his hat at the apex, topped the city’s skyline for years. Jeane walked down one of the crowded

streets with her best friend, Carrie Lynn. They were heading to Calvin R. Little’s office to visit me. “So, how do you think he’ll react?” Carrie Lynn asked Jeane. “I don’t know. I can’t believe this is happening to me,” she answered worried. “I know one thing, that bitch better act like he knows. I got my knife in my bag and I’m ready to cut somebody.” 228

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“Oh stop it, girl. He ain’t like that. He wouldn’t treat me bad.” “Well I’m ready, just in case.” When the two of them arrived at the building where Calvin’s office was they entered the front lobby and proceeded towards the elevators. They took the elevator to the sixth floor and waited while the door slowly opened. Inside the office Calvin’s secretary, Mary was sitting at the receptionists’ desk on the telephone. By the look on her face it was apparent that she was unhappy about her visitors. After she finished her phone call she addressed them. “Yes, and what do you want?” “Look bitch, just do your job and tell Malik I’m here,” Jeane answered. “Excuse me?” “You heard me!”

“He’s in a meeting right now, Miss Thing. So good-bye and have a nice day,” Mary said as she turned around and faced her typewriter. “Oh, no she didn’t!” Carrie Lynn interjected. “Jeane, you want me to cut this bitch?” “No, she’s just a jealous little girl. She ain’t worth it. I’ll just wait for him, tramp.” “Suit yourselves, skanks,” Mary continued to type while Jeane and Carrie Lynn sat down on the lobby sofa to wait for me. While they waited, Jeane and Carrie Lynn looked through some fashion magazines that were on the coffee table. 229

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They taunted and teased Mary, but her only responses were disgusted glances. The meeting in my office was with my brother, Geoffrey. He came to me to ask for his job back. He promised this time he would keep his word and take care of business. Geff didn’t want me to play pin cushion with him again, for real. The painful memories of the stabbing and his hospital stay were enough for him not to mess up again. Also, Craig’s opinion of him had proved to be right. ‘He ain’t nothin’ but an old drunk ass sucker that’s gonna fuck this up. Just like he fucked up everything he ever did’. Geoffrey

replayed those words in his mind repeatedly. Now it was time to erase them. I was sitting behind my desk wearing a gray turtle neck sweater and gold, diamond studded chain around my neck. “Look, I know what I did was wrong and I’m sorry,” Geoffrey said. “I guess I was just taking advantage because we’re family. I swear if you give me another chance I’ll do right this time. C’mon brother, you owe me that much.” “You know what? I’m gonna give you another chance,” I said pointing my ink pen. “Not because you deserve it and not because you’re my brother, but because I know what I did was wrong, too. Just remember loyalty is everything, especially between brothers. If we ain’t got that, we got nothing.” “I got it, man. I promise I won’t mess up again.” “Sure you right.” We both stood up from our chairs and then I walked 230

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Geoffrey to the door. “I want you to go home and wait for me to call you, ya dig?” I instructed him as we shook hands to bid each other farewell. “Alright, man. I got it.” Geoffrey left my office and headed toward the elevator through the lobby. He saw Jeane and

Carrie Lynn and stopped to say hello. “Hey Geoff,” Jeane greeted him. “Hey! What’s happenin’ Jeane? How are you doin’, Carrie?” “I’m good. I see you’re feelin’ better. You look good,” Carrie Lynn said flirting. “Thank you. I feel much better. How have ya’ll been?” Just then, I walked out of my office and into the lobby. “Geff, ain’t you got somewhere to go, brother?” “Oh yeah, right on. I’ll see ya’ll later. Later, Mary.” “Take care Geff,” Mary answered. “Later Geff,” Jeane and Carrie Lynn said in unison. They watched Geoffrey as he walked out of the office, especially Carrie Lynn. I walked over to the ladies and greeted them with a compliment. “Good afternoon ladies. You’re both looking foxy as ever.” “Thank you, sir. You’re looking pretty sharp yourself,” Carrie Lynn replied. Jeane never responded. She stood looking at me with a serious face. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind. 231

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You wanna step in my office?” I asked as I directed her to the door.

“Yes, I do,” she said. Carrie I’ll be right back, alright?” “I’m cool girl. I’m gonna stay here and keep my eye on this heifer,” Carrie said referring to Mary. “That’s cute. I was just about to say the same thing about you,” Mary replied with sarcasm. “No you wasn’t about to say shit, ‘cause guess what--?” I stopped Carrie Lynn as she moved in Mary direction. “Ladies, is this any way to behave in Mr. Little’s office. What would he think if he saw this?” Calvin R. Little commanded respect even in his absence. He was a powerful and respected man, and he certainly wouldn’t have approved of the altercation that could transpire. Both women agreed that their conduct was rude. They promised to be cordial with each other until Jeane and I returned from my office. After I offered her a seat and we sat facing each other across my desk, I offered her a drink which she declined. I decided I’d have one myself so I walked over to the bar and made a gin and tonic. I returned to my desk and saw that Jeane’s expression never changed. She looked just as worried and concerned as she did in the lobby. “So what’s up? I didn’t know you were coming in today,” I said after I sipped my drink and sat it on my desk. “I have something to tell you,” Jeane said leaning 232

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forward in her chair. “Okay, what is it?” “I’m pregnant.” I looked shocked as I took another sip of my drink. “So, what are you gonna do?” I asked her with my hands folded on my desk. “I don’t know, but I really care about you, and I want us to be together,” she said sincerely. “Baby, you know that’s not possible. We’re both married and we can’t just leave our families.” “I know. I still want us to make a family together…” I stopped her in the middle of her last statement. “Jeane, listen. I don’t want to hurt you, and I want to do the right thing here. Just give me some time to think, and I promise we’ll figure out the right thing to do.” “Okay,” she said and then stood up to leave.

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Chapter Thirty-seven A little advice

I walked around to the front of my desk then Jeane and I hugged. We became lost in each others’ arms, as was always the case. Just then someone knocked on my office door. “Come in,” I said after Jeane and I finally broke our hold. The door opened and Calvin R. Little entered the office. “Excuse me, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were with someone. I’ll come back.” “It’s okay, I was just leaving,” Jeane said. As she stood up to leave, I watched as Calvin eyed her curvy frame and pretty freckled face. Jeane let her hips sway as she walked to the

office door, obviously aware of Calvin’s attention to her assets. “I’ll call you later, okay?” I said. “Okay,” she answered. She opened the door and gave 234

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me and Calvin another look, and then she left. “Mmm-mmm! Who was that?” Calvin asked me after he walked to the front of my desk. “She’s a very close friend of mine, counselor. We just had a few things to discuss.” “Damn, that was a foxy little number right there. I know you bagged that already,” Calvin said with an eye wink. “Yes, she is a lovely young woman. I care about her a lot, ya dig?” Calvin saw the emotion in my face. He could tell that Jeane wasn’t just another woman to me. “Is everything okay?” he asked. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Did you need me for anything?” “No, I just wanted to see if you wanted to get some lunch?” “No thanks, I have to go out later. I’ll grab something then.” “Alright then, I’ll see you later.” “Hold on, Calvin. You got a second?” I stopped him before he could leave. I wanted to see what he thought about the situation.

“Sure man. What’s up?” “I need your opinion on something. If you were involved with a certain young lady and she had a past relationship with a well known gangster and they conceived a daughter, what would you do for her love and for your survival if the gangster had already attempted to kill you?” 235

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Calvin thought for a minute. He could see that something was troubling me. He knew more about what was going on than I thought he did. “Malik, I love you like a son. You know that. And I am so looking forward to you becoming a great attorney someday. So to answer your question I’ll say this: on the record I think that no man is above the law, and anyone who takes the law in their own hands should be prosecuted to its full extent. Even if it’s a crime of passion the laws of the land must prevail. However, off the record I say that sometimes self defense is a good reason for disposing of the world’s garbage. In short if you really care about the young lady that just left, don’t let the Muslim Mob or K.O. Haines keep you from her. In other words live on so you can love.” His words made me feel more confident. Calvin was my mentor and his advice played a significant part in my decision making. Even in my business with Myron, Calvin was sort of a

silent partner. He wasn’t a supporter of anything that was illegal, but he genuinely had love for me and he knew that my mind was made up regarding Myron. Calvin always said that I showed potential and promise. He felt that I could become president of the United States if I considered pursuing a career in politics. It was Calvin that convinced me to go to college and then law school. He also admired the way I organized community activities and advocated black empowerment. There’s one story which he said always comes to mind when he thinks of me. We hosted a fund raising event and a 236

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brand new Cadillac Coupe Deville was promised to the winner of a raffle. Andy Sticks was one of the events coordinators and the person responsible for the purchase and delivery of the vehicle. When the raffle was over Andy decided that he wasn’t going to turn over the vehicle to the winner. Not only did I personally purchase another Cadillac for the winner, but some of my guards and me paid Andy a visit. The laws of gravity convinced Andy to reimburse me with cash for the vehicle, and it was donated toward rebuilding a community center and play ground at 12th and Venango.

“Thanks man,” I said to Calvin. I stood up and extended my hand. We shook and then Calvin hugged me. “Anytime man, anytime.” He left my office and went to have lunch. After I sat back down at my desk I thought about what Calvin said. I knew that K.O. Haines and I had some unfinished business that also included the rest of the Black Mob. I cared about my family more than anything in the world, and now with Jeane, there was going to be an addition. I knew I might have to kill, so I could live and love.

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Chapter Thirty-eight

All Sin Together Now

Cherry had been aware of Malik’s cheating for several months. She loved him too much to leave, so she did all kinds of things to try and make it work. His wife, Lynn was already being romantically pursued by Craig Hines, since their marriage had been rocky for a while now. Lynn had been on the verge of her own lusting and cheating before the two of them separated. She’d heard about my secret relationship with Cherry early in our marriage, so it came as no surprise to her when the two of us moved in together. Consequently, Lynn and Jennifer moved in with her parents in the Mt. Airy section of Philadelphia. Driving through Logan in North Philadelphia, Cherry was quite anxious to get to her destination. She was on her way to visit her confidant turned lover, Milton Burns. She and Milton met shortly after she met Malik, and they kept in touch 238

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as platonic friends. Throughout our relationship

the two of them grew closer together, as she and I grew further apart... At least three times a week Cherry would visit Milton, and they would comfort each other with conversation and sex. Milton, who was also married, knew that he and Cherry had troubled marriages in common. However, the fact that she had moved on from hers and was now living with one of his crews’ most feared enemies, made his lust for her even stronger. She parked her blue and white Desoto at the front of the low rise apartment building where Milton lived. After she entered the building and got on the elevator, she took a compact mirror from her purse to make sure that she looked Aplus. Her excitement and anticipation grew as the elevator reached the sixth floor. The doors opened and she walked the plush carpeted corridor to Milton’s apartment. Contrary to their location, the apartment and building were middle class luxurious. Money was pretty good for Milton, even though he was only a soldier in the Black Mob. When she arrived at his door, Cherry rang the door bell and knocked lightly. Milton hurried to answer it wearing a white shirt, bow-tie and black pants. He already knew it was her so he opened the door and quickly invited her in. The apartment was conservative and neat. There were statues that were symbolic of the Islamic faith included in the dwellings décor, as well as paintings and pictures of Elijah

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Mohammed. The coffee table was covered with Islamic newspapers, magazines and literature. As soon as Cherry was inside the two shared a long passionate kiss. She dropped her purse and Milton began to remove her waist length denim jacket. It was the beginning of spring, so she wasn’t wearing her usual mink coat. After the kiss they embraced each other tightly and began whispering endearingly. “I missed you baby,” Milton said. “I missed you too, honey,” she answered as she caressed his back and shoulders. They broke their embrace and stood holding hands. “So, how are you?” “Terrible,” Cherry said. Milton closed the door then returned to give her a sympathetic ear. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he sat her down on his couch. “Malik knows about us. We had a fight and he told me so.” “What do you mean a fight? Did he hit you?” Milton asked and moved closer to her on the couch. “No, and that’s not the point,” she said now sounding frustrated. “So what is the point, baby?” “The point is I don’t want to go on like this.” “Then why won’t you leave him?” Milton

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down and covered her face with her hands. Finally she said, “Because I love him.” “If you love him so much then why are you sleeping with me? “Because I care about you too,” she said as she began wiping the tears that had started to run down her face. “But you can’t be with both of us,” Milton said attempting to sound consoling and insistent at the same time. “I know,” she agreed. “I just don’t know what to do.” Milton held her hands again and she continued to cry. “It’s okay. I know how you feel,” he tried to convince her. “But you have to make a decision or it’s only gonna get worse. I hate to see you hurting like this. Just believe in Allah and he’ll help you decide.” Milton lifted Cherry’s head and they shared another kiss. Afterwards he stood up, took Cherry by the hand and attempted to lead her to his bedroom. Cherry followed hesitantly, and then she declined completely. “I can’t do this right now,” she said as she

headed back toward the living room. “Yes you can,” he said insistently. “You need something to take your mind off things.” “No, I have to go,” Cherry said and tried to leave the apartment, but Milton stopped her at the door. “Cherry wait, you can’t run away from this. We have to deal with this somehow.” “I know, but I need some time to think about things.” Milton put his arms around her from behind and spoke 241

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consolingly into her ear. “What’s there to think about? I love you and you love me, and that’s all that matters. You do love me, don’t you?” “Yes I do, but I’m in love with Malik. Do you know the difference?” “Yeah, I know the difference, but a better question is do you know what in love is?” He asked her as he turned her around to see her eyes. “Milton you work for the same fuckin’ suckers that been tryin’ to kill him and Myron for the past two years. Because of that, I was thinking about killing you myself when I got here today. After you were dead I was gonna move on to the rest of them Black Mob mutha fuckers one by one. I know I probably would’ve ended up dead after only two or three of ya’ll, but I was

willing to do it, for him. Does that sound like in love to you?” Milton felt his heart breaking. The woman he adored was in love with a man that he despised. He wanted to kill Malik, but his rank in the organization was low, and thus, he didn’t have the authority to carry out assassinations. However, after hearing Cherry’s last statements, he would request from his superiors that he be allowed to help them in bringing about Malik’s demise. “Damn, that’s some heavy shit, baby. I guess you do love him, huh? So, why didn’t you do it then? What stopped you?” “Because after I thought about it I didn’t see the need to. Especially when Malik and Myron are gonna do it anyway? 242

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The Black Mob is gonna be dead men, and you will be too. I love you, and that’s why I decided not to kill you. I want you to quit working for them before it’s too late. I don’t want to see you die.” There were a thousand questions running through Milton’s mind. Was she telling the truth about loving him? How did she plan to kill him before she changed her mind? Did Malik send her there to convince him to quit, and then kill him later? Should he let her leave, or kill her for

being possible threat? Cherry was looking at him as though she really loved him, and feared for his life. This was the same man who was an errand boy for Bishop and Tarver, so her feelings were mixed. Milton really wasn’t worth saving since he was cheating on his wife too, but something in her heart told her that he was different from his bosses when it came to killing. With all the pain that they had caused people she certainly didn’t have any sympathy for them. In fact, there were times when she felt the death that a colony of cock roaches could suffer at the hands of an exterminator would even be too dignified for the Black Mob. They had proved to have no remorse for the lives they’d taken. She couldn’t fully describe her hatred to Milton because she wasn’t certain that her words weren’t being triggered by other feelings of pain. Milton was hoping that Cherry would change her mind and have sex with him, unaware that it would be the last time. 243

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However, this time, she felt inclined to stay true to her feelings for Malik. She wouldn’t allow herself to be persuaded by the seductive look in Milton’s eyes. She controlled her feelings of lust and allowed her love to show, no matter how foolish.

Milton walked over and embraced her. He kissed her on her cheek and held it for a couple of seconds. Cherry hadn’t returned the gesture, and that let him know that this was the end. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked not letting on that he was hurting and furious. Cherry grabbed his forearms and moved them breaking the embrace. “Yes, I’m sure,” she answered having forgotten that she’d told him of her prior plan to kill him. “I love you, baby. I always will,” Milton said growing enraged by her answer. He grabbed Cherry and threw her on the couch. “That’s a shame, we could’ve been happy together!” Cherry looked at him from the couch. “What the fuck is wrong with you grabbing me like that!?” Are you crazy!?” Milton reached under the pillow of his leather recliner and took out a .38 caliber revolver. This was the gun he carried with him whenever he went out. This was also how he was going to deal with Cherry. “Am I crazy? Are you crazy? Do you think you can come in my pad, threaten to kill me, and then leave? Fuck Malik, and fuck you. Now all of sudden you love him enough to die for him. What is this shit?” “What is it? I’ll tell you what it is. No more fuckin’… 244

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No more studying the damn Koran… No more Mister and Mistress bullshit. And you know what else…?” “No, I give up. Tell me what else. What else you got to say?” She got up from the couch and fixed her clothes. After she put on a pair of designer sunglasses that she had in her bag and readjusted the bag on her shoulder, she warned Milton with a cocky smirk. “You may need the bullets in that gun later. So, if I were you I’d put that jive ass thing away. It may end up saving your life sucker.” She turned towards the door and attempted to leave again. Milton stuck the gun in his waistband and yelled to her as she was walking out. “You should spend the rest of your life on your knees thanking Allah. Because of my belief in him and my foolish love for you, I’m letting you walk out of here. Go in peace my deceitful sister. Give your life to Allah while you still have a life to give.” Cherry could still hear his pathetic rhetoric as she neared the elevators at the end of the hallway. When she reached the elevator and pushed the button the door immediately opened. Before she entered the elevator she paused and responded to Milton with a chuckle. “No, you mean while you still have a life to give, sucker!” She stepped on the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby floor.

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Chapter Thirty-Nine Destructive Bargaining

After the elevator doors closed, Milton slammed his apartment door. He paced around frantically second guessing himself about allowing Cherry to leave. He couldn’t decide whether or not to tell his bosses about her threats or not, for fear of her death. Just then the telephone rang surprisingly, since he hardly got any calls. “Hello!” he answered irritated by the interruption. “A salaam Wilakum Brother Burns,” the voice on the phone greeted in a deep tone. “Wilakum A salaam. Who is this?” Milton asked. “It’s Brother Simms, Milton.” The caller was Rupert ‘Buddy’ Simms, the

third in command of the Black Mob. He was probably as feared as Stan Bishop and Donald Tarver in the criminal underworld, 246

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but even more so in the Nation of Islam. He was six foot five inches tall with a slim build and a face that was scary to look at. He’d been in and out of jail for the last ten years and as a result he took control of the Muslim inmate population. Milton knew that if he was getting a phone call from him there was something wrong, or his bosses wanted to meet with him. Trying not to sound angered by his visit from Cherry, he made casual conversation. “Brother Simms, what’s happening? How’s everything?” “Everything’s cool. What’s happening with you? You sounded a little troubled when you answered.” “No brother, everything is okay. I was doing some studying and I knocked over a glass of water I was drinking when the phone rang,” he said with a chuckle to lighten the mood a bit. “Well then, I guess I owe you an apology. I hope none of your books got messed up.” “No apology necessary brother Simms. My books are fine. Everything’s fine, really.” Milton was beginning to feel more relaxed by Brother Simms’ concerned demeanor. He was still trying to deal with the pain of ending the

relationship with Cherry, though he hid it well when Buddy told him the reason for his call. “So anyway, we need to talk to you Brother Burns. Some new information has been brought to us about a very important business matter.” “Okay. Everything’s okay, right?” “All the details will be discussed at the meeting. Be at 247

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Temple number twelve in two hours.” Milton’s calm was now being replaced by confusion. He couldn’t tell if the reason for Simms’ friendly conversation was simply to persuade him with the organization’s invitation, or if his pleasantries were genuine. His instincts were telling him that it probably wasn’t the latter, but still he wouldn’t dare decline. “No problem, brother. Tell the brothers that I’ll be there. Thanks for calling me.” “I will. Peace brother.” After he hung up the phone, he continued to frantically pace the floor, but now his thoughts were of the Black Mob. Maybe someone had followed Cherry to his apartment and the meeting was called to question him. He couldn’t openly admit to being her lover since it would raise suspicions of disloyalty.

He paused, pulling his gun out of his waistband to check it for bullets. There was a feeling coming over him that said for this meeting, he needed protection. It wasn’t as if he thought that they wanted to kill him, but the outcome of this mystery meeting could be his death. For the next two hours Milton continued to think about the meeting and about what purpose it would be. Even though he was possibly facing death, in the back of his mind, thoughts of Cherry remained. There were mixed feelings of anger and love. He never thought that she’d actually break it off with him. She’d led him to think that her relationship with Malik was over. 248

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Milton arrived at Temple number twelve on Germantown Avenue at exactly six o’clock p.m.; two hours after the phone call. He entered the front door where he was greeted by several of his brothers, one of whom directed him to the meeting room. Inside the room several Black Mob leaders sat at a long conference table. Among them were Stan Bishop, Donald Tarver, K.O. Haines, Buddy Simms, and the founder of Temple number twelve Minister Hezekiah Salaam. “A Salaam Wilakum Brother Burns. So glad you could make it,” Minister Salaam greeted him from the far end of the table.

“Wilakum A Salaam, brothers. I’m honored to be here,” he answered bowing his head as a gesture of respect. “Please sit down,” Minister Salaam said. Milton found an empty chair at the end of the table on the left side of Simms. He sat down next to Filbert “Poppa Bop” Fairfax and Ronnie Knight who were also Black Mob bosses. Across the table from him were Montgomery “Crook” Emerson, Claude “Fruits” Rider, and Jerome Biggs. Milton was now certain that something had gone wrong, or there was going to be a hit put out on some one. No matter what information they had, if it was about him and Cherry, he would deny everything. “Now brothers, we can begin. You all know about our current business arrangement with Mr. Matthew Franklin. The product will be coming in large quantities and the responsibility will be just as big.” Salaam said with emphasis. 249

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“The profits will be substantial and some of it will be used to fund the temple.” His supporters all nodded their heads agreeing as he continued. “Our mutual business partner and his compadre’ are not men who tolerate hindrances or obstructions, which brings me to my next point. Of the other organizations that were included in

this deal one in particular poses a threat to our prosperity.” Milton knew immediately who the organization was, and one of the men in charge had very recently caused the woman he loved to depart. “Myron ‘Mr. Millionaire’ Walker and his second in command Gilbert ‘Malik’ Satterwhite have decided to do business with Mr. Franklin after being undecided at the closing of the meeting in Atlanta. It’s my understanding that at that meeting Mr. Walker expressed great contempt for Brother Bishop and Brother Tarver, and refused to do business with ‘baby-killers’,” Salaam said as he gestured towards the two men. Stan Bishop and Donald Tarver looked at each other, each wearing snide expressions on their faces. “My sources now tell me that they’ve agreed to Mr. Franklin’s terms and have designs to undercut our business so that eventually we’ll be excluded from the deal.” Surprisingly, Milton was happy about what he was hearing. If he knew Minister Salaam and the Black Mob leaders as well as he’d thought, there would definitely be a discussion about assassinations to follow. Still he hadn’t figured out why he was there. 250

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Only one other sergeant-at-arms was in the room, Jake “J.B” Biggs. He was Jerome Biggs’ younger brother and had been unusually called to the meeting. “With all due respect Minister Salaam, you know me and my partners handle problems like these,” Stan Bishop said. “And this particular problem existed with us long before the deal with Matt Franklin.” “I understand your concern and your eagerness to eliminate this threat. However, your organization can get very careless and reckless at times. Shoot-outs in the streets of our communities is not the answer. First, it destroys our peoples feeling of safety and well being, and second it’s already been tried on these enemies and been proven ineffective,” Salaam answered. “We need some suggestions then on what will be effective,” Simms said rather insistently. “Look, I know a woman who used to fuck Malik and she said he’s a bad ass mutha fucker,” Ronnie Knight said. “She said he got a lot of respect on the streets and from his guards, and he’s well connected with politicians and judges thanks to Calvin Little.” This wasn’t new information. There had been attempts on Malik and Myron’s lives in the past and somehow the police investigations were always cut short because of witness intimidation. Salaam wanted a different solution and a different approach to his organizations problem. He wanted the hits to look random and be kept quiet. “I’m sure you’re all aware of the killings that have been

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connected to Mr. Millionaire and his Black Guard partner? First there was “Day-Day” Tillman, and then it was “Berks Street” Johnny Banks. If we’re not careful brothers we could meet the same fate.” “Fuck that!” Donald Tarver interjected. “We need to stop playin’ with them chumps and just take every fuckin’ one of them out.” He pounded the table with his left fist furiously to exclaim his last statement. “I dig you, brother,” ‘Poppa Bop’ Fairfax agreed. “But it ain’t like we ain’t tried.” Milton turned his attention toward the entrance door of the room. One of the men that were in the hallway when he came in had come into the room and walked towards Minister Salaam. Buddy Simms kept his eye on Milton since the meeting started. He was now leaning forward with his elbows on the table and switching his attention from Milton to Minister Salaam. Simms decision to not tell Milton what was to be discussed at the meeting proved to be a good one. It seemed like the subject matter caught Milton off guard. “I can appreciate everyone’s enthusiasm, but first may I remind you that we’re in the house of Allah. I’m afraid I must insist you choose more appropriate and respectable language from here

forth,” Minister Salaam insisted. ”I apologize for the brothers’ language, Brother Minister, but I think it’s time we took more drastic measures 252

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to take over this dope hustling,” Stan Bishop said. “We ain’t never took ‘no’ for an answer from nobody, and we never been scared of nobody. It’s time to protect the business and ice all the enemies to the brotherhood.” Beads of sweat began to form on Milton’s forehead. “That is the plan Brother Bishop, but we must give some thought to the fact that enemies could also be within the brotherhood,” Minister Salaam added. As Milton readjusted himself in his chair the rest of the men in the room began to look around the room at each other. Who, if anyone, was the brother minister referring to, and were they in the room? “Excuse me brother Minister, may I say something?” Jake Biggs asked rather uncharacteristically. “Sure Brother Biggs. Speak,” Minister Salaam responded. “I have an idea about how to off our enemies and take over their percentage of the dope racket as well.”

“Cool young blood, let’s hear it,” Ronnie Knight insisted. “I don’t think all out war with Myron’s crew is the answer. We need a more ‘sneak across enemy lines’ strategy.” “What did you have in mind brother Biggs?” Minister Salaam asked eager to hear his suggestion. “Well Sir, Myron, Malik and I were in high school together. We weren’t exactly best friends, but we did talk from time to time in passing. We even hung out a few times after school drinking wine and shooting dice. A few years ago 253

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Myron offered me a job when he first got into the dope racket. I told him I couldn’t because servants of Allah don’t sell drugs. I’ve seen him a few times over the years and we still talk about him giving me a job.” “That don’t make sense, J.B.” his brother Gerald interrupted him. “Why the hell would he trust you in his crew when he knows you’re my baby brother? You jivin’ us or what?” “This ain’t no jive, man. I think he wants to hire me to make ya’ll look bad. Me working for him makes the brotherhood look weak. Maybe he got some secret war plans of his own.” As he looked around the room he watched as the meetings attendees became more

convinced. “Brother Biggs, after all that’s happened over the last several months, what makes you think his offer still stands?” Minister Salaam asked. “I don’t know, but if he and Malik have become a threat to the brotherhood, I volunteer to help eliminate them.” The rest of the men in the meeting all looked at each other undecidedly, except for Bishop and Tarver who liked the idea and smiled at each other fiendishly. “That sounds good, young blood. I got a lot of respect for you for volunteering,” Donald Tarver said with enthusiasm. “I agree,” Stan Bishop said. “Sounds outta sight.” With Gerald being his older brother they wanted to at least get his approval before they finalized the assignment, even though his disapproval would have been over ridden. “I 254

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aint happy about this, but it’s worth a shot,” Gerald said hesitantly. “Good, then that’s it. Tomorrow Brother Biggs will start to execute his plan and keep the brotherhood informed every step of the way,” Minister Salaam instructed. “Does anybody have any questions? Good, meeting is over.” As they all stood up to leave Minister

Salaam stopped them suddenly, “One more thing, brothers.” They all stopped moving and directed their attention to the minister. “Brother Burns, since you seem to be very interested in Malik’s little fox I’m sure you’ll take the liberty of disposing of her, as a bonus?” Milton was shocked at minister Salaam’s request, and knowledge of his affair with Cherry. He was relieved that an ultimatum was being presented to him instead of just a last request and a prayer. Even though he knew in his heart that he could never hurt Cherry, much less kill her, he had to accept the brother Minister’s assignment. He answered in the positive and the meeting was then officially dismissed. “A salaam Wilakum brothers.” “Wilakum A salaam, Brother Minister,” they all replied in unison, and then they bid each other farewell with hugs and handshakes. As Milton walked out of the temple he was stopped outside by “Buddy” Simms. “Hey Brother Burns, come here.” “Peace Brother Simms, is everything okay?” Milton asked. “Yeah it is, and just to make sure it stays that way, there 255

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will be somebody watching you until the job is done. All praise is due to Allah!

“I understand, brother. I understand.”

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Chapter Forty Deception’s Conception

As our plane flew out of the Philadelphia airport en route to Atlanta, Myron and I discussed life and business while sitting in first class. We finalized an agreement with Matthew Franklin and were returning to transport a shipment of heroin. “So, how did you get that chump to fold?” I asked Myron about Matt Franklin. “I told him that he would be losing a lot more by not doing business with us. And I told him that we would have the whole city covered.” “I guess Matt is smarter than he looks,” I said smiling. While we continued our conversation, a stewardess brought us both some champagne and menus. She gave me a flirtatious smile as she leaned over to pour the champagne. “Would you gentlemen like a few minutes to look at the menu, or are you 257

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ready to order?” she asked. Her cleavage was in my direct view and I enjoyed it as I sipped my champagne. “We just need a few minutes foxy mama,” Myron replied. “Certainly sir. Just signal for me when you’re ready. Enjoy your champagne,” she responded to Myron, and then she turned and winked at me. She walked away from us with a sexy swing in her hips now, making it a point to bend over as much as possible while I was watching. “The Mack strikes again,” Myron said nudging me with his elbow. “C’mon man. You know I got enough problems already. The last thing I need right now is another chick.” “Oh yeah, you’re still thinking about Jeane, right? I meant to ask you about that. What you gonna do?” “I don’t know, man. I mean, I love her, but I can’t just leave Cherry like that.” “What about the baby?” “She wants to have it.” “What you want?” “I wanna use the bathroom!” We both started laughing as I stood up and headed toward one of the plane’s restrooms. I passed my admiring stewardess on the way. In the restroom I washed my face and then stared into the mirror. I didn’t know what to do about Jeane, and I needed to clear my mind for the meeting with Matt Franklin. I stayed

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in the restroom a few seconds longer, and then returned to my seat. “You alright, man? Myron asked as I sat back down. “Yeah, I just felt a little air sick,” I said. “Look blood, you know whatever you decide to do, I’m with you, right?” “Right on, thanks man,” I said shaking hands with Myron. “You just make sure that if it’s a boy you do whatever you have to do to keep him away from this shit.” I looked at Myron with a serious face and kept a hold on his hand. “Even if it kills me, I will.” I started to daydream as I looked out of the window of the plane. The blue sky and clouds made me think of heaven and my usual question. When I die will there be any stars in my crown? There had been bad things happening for the past three years, and inside I was crying from the death in the streets. My daydream quickly changed to flashbacks of a conversation I’d had with Jeane a few days earlier. She told me about a disagreement that she had with her brother, Darryl. He was a Philadelphia police officer who didn’t like me to say the least. He was three

years older than Jeane and very protective of her. She told me that she was leaving for work once, when Darryl pulled up to her house in his patrol car. He stopped her as she stepped off of the porch and walked down the front steps. “What’s happenin’ little sis?” “Hey Darryl, what’s up?” 259

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“Crime is up, that’s what. You okay?” “I’m fine,” she said matter-of-factly. “You sure? I heard you might be in some trouble.” The look on his face showed that he knew something and he wanted Jeane to confirm. “Well you heard wrong. I’m fine!” She was becoming disgusted with his hassling. She tried to walk away and get into her car, but again he stopped her. “C’mon Jeane, don’t lie to me. I already know. How could you do this to yourself? How could you do this to your family?” Darryl asked now showing his disgust. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told you, I’m fine.” “What is with you and these gangsters,” Darryl asked. “First ‘K.O.’ Haines and now this Malik chump. You got a good husband at home. What the hell is wrong with you?” She said that Daryl somehow figured out

that she was pregnant and was really laying it on her about her choice in men. He especially had a problem with the fact that she was seeing me while she was married. Jeane was angry with Darryl’s accusations. She didn’t like him hassling her about her private life. Her marriage had been very unstable for quite some time, but she chose to stay for the sake of her children. There had been rumors that her husband also had a child out of wed lock, but nothing was ever confirmed. “Look, I already told you nothing’s wrong! Now I gotta go to work,” she said insistently. 260

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“Yeah, okay. But you’re still my baby sister and I’m going to do whatever I can to protect you. Even from yourself,” he said. “Well if I need you I’ll be sure to let you know.” With that she got in her car and drove off. Her leaving was good since being upset was dangerous to her pregnancy. Back on the plane I thought about the situation. And I knew that as the father of Jeane’s unborn child there were responsibilities coming. She still had the worst part since she and her husband still lived in the same house. Her first thoughts were to deceive her spouse of 15 years into believing that he was the biological father, and she seldom questioned her instincts.

Any bad feelings I had about Jeane having the baby stemmed from concerns of how it would affect Jennifer. She always hoped that her mother and I would get back together. When we all lived together as a family Jennifer was so happy. Maybe her daddy having a new baby with another woman would break her heart. I sat in my trance for a few more minutes. My trip with Myron to finalize the deal with Matt Franklin had now reentered my mind. With Myron there I had to forget about Jennifer, Jeane and the baby for a while and focus on the meeting. I raised my hand and signaled to the sexy stewardess who was still waiting for our lunch order. “Gentlemen, are you ready to order?” the stewardess continued to entice me. “Yes, I’ll have the fish and vegetable meal, and a slice 261

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of apple pie for dessert, please,” I ordered and then handed her my menu with a wink. “And for you sir?” she asked Myron still blushing from my flirts. “I’ll have the same, without the apple pie,” he answered. “Certainly sir, I’ll be right back with your meals.” She headed towards the kitchen but made sure I was watching her as she walked away. She

repeatedly looked back over her shoulder and smiled at me. Even though the meeting was less than three hours away, I gave it some thought and then tried to relax and forget about it. I always tried to clear my mind before each meeting. Myron said he didn’t understand how I could be so cool about a meeting this important. “Are you sure you okay?” Myron asked me after I’d rested back in my seat with my eyes closed. “If I’m not okay, I think we’re in deep shit when we get back home.” My answer was followed by a humorous smile. I wanted Myron to stop worrying so I attempted to cool him out a little bit. “Hey man, relax and enjoy the flight. I got everything under control. Don’t even worry about me. My family is special to me, you know that, but nothing is going to affect the way I do business.” I wanted Myron to feel confident that I meant what I was saying. I knew it would help him to hear me say that everything would go over well. 262

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“Yo man, by the way that stewardess keeps looking at you, I wouldn’t be surprised if she brings you back a fuckin’ marlin,” Myron said as

we both laughed. “C’mon blood, you know shit is complicated for me right now. I was thinking when we land maybe you could lay somethin’ heavy on her, Black My,” I said jokingly. “The thing is, she don’t want me. She wants you Gilbert”. He called me by my real name in retaliation for my joke. “Oh, alright chump. I owe you for that one.” We both shared another laugh as the stewardess served our food. I thought it would be funny to put Myron on the spot, so I decided to play cupid. “Here we are gentlemen. Two fish meals with vegetables and one apple pie. Can I get you anything else, more champagne maybe?” “As a matter of fact there is something,” I said. “What’s your name sweetheart?” “Wanda Coleman. And you are?” “You can call me Mr. Married, but I want you to meet my good friend Mike,” I said referring to Myron. “It’s very nice to meet you Mike.” “I apologize for my friend’s forwardness. It’s very nice to meet you too,” Myron answered as he gently shook her hand. “So Mike, are you going to Atlanta on vacation?” “Not exactly,” I interrupted. “He’s a professional football player. We’re going to finalize his contract with the 263

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Atlanta Falcons.” I wanted to humor Myron by running a hustle on Wanda. I also knew that playing football had been Myron’s dream since junior high school. I could tell by her reaction that she was impressed. I only hoped that Myron would go along with my act. “Really, I love football. What position do you play?” she asked as her interest in me seemed to have shifted to Myron. “Defensive end, I like to tackle.” Myron’s last statement was very suggestive, and so was the look in his eyes. Surprisingly Wanda wasn’t intimidated by his status, or by his subliminal invitation. “Well you never know, you might get tackled,” she said with implication. “I think I can take it. Can you?” Myron was really beginning to enjoy the whole act. For a brief moment, it seemed like he’d actually forgot that what he was saying about being a professional athlete wasn’t true. Surely the lifestyle he lived fit the profile, and in some cases he lived even more luxuriously than some pro athletes that he knew. “Well I don’t know, Mike. Why don’t you invite me to see you play? We can tackle each other after the game. Who knows, maybe I’ll even give you a few good hits to use in your games.” I was seriously entertained by Myron’s playboy performance. Women always threw

themselves at him, so I very seldom heard him attempt to be charming. Not to mention the fact that he was just about as committed to his 264

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relationship with Pat as he possibly could be. Still, his intentions for the Wanda seemed obvious. “I’ll tell you what,” Myron said with enthusiasm. “When we land I’ll give you the number to the hotel where we’re stayin’ and you give me a call.” “That sounds good. Well, it was nice meeting you both. See you on the ground Mike.” “You sure will.” Myron and I watched as Wanda walked away with the same sexy sway as before. “Man, if you don’t get down with that little fox right there, I’m gonna start to wonder if you’re shooting straight or not, blood.” I laughed out loud after. “Shit, I know you jokin’, chump. I ain’t no blade and I never will be. I just see all the hassle that you go through with your chicks, and I don’t need Pat findin’ out about me messin’ around on her.” “I can dig it man, but you need to get down with that groovy fox just once. Ain’t like she gonna show up at your pad or nothing’. We live in Philly, remember?”

Myron continued to watch Wanda as she served other passengers on the plane. “I’m cool man, I’ll do all the gettin’ down I need at your birthday party. I’ll show you how straight I shoot then with all them fine as dolls that’s comin’.” “Man you know damn well Cherry and Pat are gonna be there,” I said with disappointment. “My brother, I’m talkin’ about the party in Las Vegas. That’s where the real celebration is happenin,’” Myron said. 265

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“Yeah, sure you right. They won’t even know about the second party. What goes on in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?” We both slapped each other five just as the seat belt lights came on. The plane was preparing to land and Wanda came back to check on her football player. “Make sure your trays are up gentlemen we should be landing momentarily. I’ll see you on the ground, right?” “You know that, baby,” Myron answered. Myron and I looked at each other as the plane landed. We could tell each other’s thoughts. It was time to refocus on our meeting with Matt Franklin and make it safely back to Philly with our shipment. We wanted to fly back home with the answers to all our problems, but I knew our problems were just beginning.

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Chapter Forty-one Penalty of Betrayal

Myron and Pat were having dinner at an Italian restaurant in Center City. Though it was

small the ambience was very elegant. It was furnished and decorated with a downtown Venice theme, and a romantic medley was being played by a group of violinists and accordionists. A white tablecloth covered all the dining tables, and a bottle of champagne was chilling in an ice bucket at the center of each one. Pat was looking over the menu as Myron sat in a still daze. “You okay baby,” Pat asked him as she laid the menu on the table. “I’m cool, sweet thing. Don’t worry about me.” He didn’t want Pat to know how extremely consumed his mind was. He didn’t want her to worry, but he couldn’t get the load 267

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off of his mind. It was March 1972 and a week had passed since he and Malik returned from Las Vegas. Myron gave in and had been unfaithful to Pat, which was uncharacteristic. What was even more uncharacteristic of Myron was his decision to allow Jake J.B. Biggs to accompany our crew on the trip. J.B. Biggs convinced Myron that he’d quit his job as sergeant-at-arms for the Black Mob. He also disclosed pertinent information about his former organization’s operations. With the history that Myron had with his brother, J.B. knew it would be difficult to build his trust.

During the Las Vegas trip, Myron agreed to front J.B. two hundred fifty thousand dollars worth of heroin on consignment. The plan was to have J.B. work the streets that were considered to be Black Mob territory, so that they would be completely cut out of the business. If J.B. was successful in taking over the area, Myron would be sure of his denunciation of his Black Mob ties. Ironically, the day after returning to Philadelphia, Malik had a confrontation with K.O Haines at Green’s drug store on 52nd and Baltimore Ave. He went there to see Jeane who had been employed there for several years. When he learned of Cherry’s involvement with Milton Burns, he immediately asked Jeane to accompany him for a weekend to the Poconos. K.O. Haines was there harassing Jeane about rekindling their long burned out flame. However after Jeane refused, and Malik gave him a severe warning to never bother her again, K.O. left the store with little resistance. 268

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Back at the restaurant a very attractive waitress approached Myron and Pat’s table. “Good afternoon sir, ma’am,” the waitress greeted them, breaking Myron out of his daydream. “Are you both ready to order, or would you like to start with an appetizer?”

“Appetizers sound good. I’ll have the shrimp cocktail and a garden salad please,” Pat said. “Certainly, and what can I get you sir?” “I’ll have the Maryland crab cakes and the clam chowder, thank you.” “Yes sir, I’ll be right back with those and you let me know when you’re ready to order,” the waitress said. “You sure you’re okay baby?” Pat asked. “You’ve been acting funny since Malik’s birthday party.” “I just got a lot on my mind that’s all. I told you not to worry. Just enjoy the restaurant, love.” “Well, since you say nothing’s wrong, have you given any thought to what we talked about?” “Yeah, I thought about it.” “And?” Pat asked impatiently. “And I have to go to the bathroom.” Myron was trying to avoid an angry conversation. He stood up from his chair and excused himself from the table. Before he had a chance to retreat, Pat stopped him knowing what he was up to. “Myron, don’t do that. You’ve been avoiding this subject long enough. You know as well as I do that the money has become too much. Nothing good has come from it, and it 269

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seems like it’s all you care about anymore.” Myron took a deep breath and exhaled. He looked down at the floor to avoid eye contact with Pat. He knew that if they had the discussion now his words would come out all wrong. He needed to free his mind and heart of all the mixed emotions he was feeling about his business. However, he was too overwhelmed by his lifestyle. “Love, that’s not true. You know nothing means more to me than our life together. If you love me than believe me when I say that everything is gonna be cool, and we gonna live a happy life,” he said to her after he sat back down to talk to her. “Can you guarantee that? Tell me you know that for sure after what happened to J.B Biggs.” What Pat was referring to was the murder of Jake Biggs that occurred a few days after he’d gotten the kilos of heroin from Myron. J.B. claimed that he had set up a stash house near 5th and Cambria Street and was rumored to be selling his product at a lower price to lure all of the Black Mob’s clientele. Forty eight hours after he’d opened for business he reported to Myron that he had been robbed. He said that his former organization learned his location and just boosted his product by gun point. He also said that before they left they warned him not do any more business from that house, or on their turf. He insisted that the men who robbed him were members of the Black Mob, and the only reason they didn’t kill him was because of his brother’s status in the organization.

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Myron and Malik were furious. They learned from a frequent customer, the sister of a woman that their sergeant-at-arms Nate Downing was fucking, that they had been suckered by J.B. by orders of Muslim Minister Hezekiah Salaam. The woman told Nate that she’d overheard J.B.s conversation while she was in the house getting a fix the night that it opened. She overheard him on the telephone telling a man he kept referring to as ‘Brother Minister’ that he was doing exactly as he was instructed. She later learned through street gossip that the man on the phone was Minister Salaam. After Myron flew into a rage he warned J.B. that he never wanted to see him again. He said his days as an errand runner and dope pusher was over. He told him that if he ever saw him again, that the only thing that would save his life would be two hundred fifty thousand dollars. Myron didn’t even want the product. He said that if he did have it returned to him by some major miracle, it would probably be so cut that there would be no reason to package and sell it. Malik and Myron agreed that a message had to be sent. Two days later, J.B.’s body was found in the trunk of a brown Buick Skylark that was parked on a back street in North Philly. His hands and feet were tied with duck tape, and he

had been shot twice in the head. It was rumored that Malik and one of his sergeant-at-arms did the hit, but nothing was ever proven. Black Mob retaliation was inevitable; it was only a matter of time. Back at the restaurant, Myron wanted to give Pat the 271

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reassurance that she sought. He wanted her to feel safe, but he didn’t want to give her false hope. “Sweetie, I promise you that I’m doing everything possible to protect us and my crew. Nothing is guaranteed. Nobody knows what the future holds. I just know that I love you, and that’s worth living for.” Pat looked at Myron with love in her eyes and fear in her heart. She laid in bed many nights over the last two years thinking of a way to get Myron out of this life. She’d thought about getting Malik to talk him about quitting, being the only person that he would listen to. As Pat stared across the table into Myron’s troubled eyes, she reached over and caressed his cheek. She moved closer to him and they kissed as if it were their last. The other patrons in the restaurant looked on while the two continued their display of affection. Just then the waitress returned to their table

with their food. “Here you are ma’am, sir.” She interrupted them with discretion and subtlety. “Is there anything else I can get you?” the waitress was still smiling about Myron and Pat’s lengthy kiss. “No, we’re fine for now. Thank you, everything looks delicious,” Pat said. “Thank you so much,” Myron said handing the waitress a twenty dollar bill. “One other thing, could you bring another bottle of champagne please?” “Certainly, I’ll bring it right back.” The waitress left the table and Myron and Pat continued their conversation while they ate. It seemed that the mood was 272

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somewhat brighter now, and they shared several laughs for the next thirty minutes. Myron looked toward the front entrance and saw Cliff and Eddie coming into the restaurant. The two bodyguards that Myron had posted outside followed them to his table. “What’s happenin’ boss?” Cliff greeted Myron first. He was somewhat out of breath and certainly seemed anxious about something. “What’s up Cliff, Ed?” Myron answered as he wiped his mouth with a white napkin. “Hey Pat, sorry to interrupt but we got some real heavy news boss,” Eddie spoke with

the same urgency as Cliff. “What’s wrong ya’ll?” “Yo, some heavy shit just went down at Malik’s house, ya dig? I’m talkin’ ‘bout gunshots and the whole nine,” Cliff said with a loud whisper. Pat dropped her fork making a clanging noise on her plate. She put her hand over her mouth in surprise and thought the worst part was yet to be told. “Did anybody get shot?” Myron asked his question calmly, as his heart rate doubled. He knew that I had to have been home; otherwise none of the other members of the crew would have been there. He was waiting for Eddie and Cliff to tell him that one of his crew was dead. “Sure you right, Malik shot that muthafucker Tarver in the ass right before they split outta there burnin’ their wheels,” Eddie confirmed. Myron signaled for the waitress. He instructed his crew 273

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to go outside and wait for him.The four men headed toward the exit just as the waitress came to the table again. “Is everything okay here sir? Can I bring you anything else?” “Yes, could I have the check please?” “Certainly, did you want take out bags for

your food?” she asked suggestively. “No thank you. Just add the cost of the champagne and you keep it for yourself.” “Thank you sir, thank you so much. I’ll be right back with your bill.” Pat stood up from the table and started putting on her coat. She knew that Myron was going straight to Malik’s house, and he would have one of his crew take her to the mansion. She hoped that none of Myron’s people were hurt, but she also felt that this might be what he needed to see that it was time to quit. When the waitress got back with the bill Myron paid it and gave her a fifty dollar tip. “Thank you for the dynamite service,” Myron said as he finished putting on his coat. “No, thank you sir, and ma’am. Have a nice day and please come again.” Myron took Pat by the hand and quickly walked out of the restaurant. Outside Eddie and Cliff were waiting with the two bodyguards. Cliff was pacing back and forth still upset about the shootout. He wanted to go and find Donald Tarver and finish up where I left off, but he would have to wait a while for his revenge. Pat hugged Myron before he could say anything to her 274

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or give instructions to his crew. “I already know

I’m not coming with you, I just want to say I love you and please be careful.” Her eyes began to tear so she just held him close to keep him from seeing them. “Baby, you’re right. You can’t come with me; this shit’s too hot right now. I don’t want you worrying though. I just want you to go home and think about where you wanna go when we leave this jive shit.” Pat’s eyes began to dry, but she had to make sure Myron meant what she thought he meant. “Baby, does this mean…?” “Yes that’s what it means. As soon as I can tie up some loose ends we’re getting out of here.” “What about the guys? What about Malik? If they stay in they’ll still be on a hit list.” “I ain’t told nobody yet, but Malik and I were talking about starting a sports agency when he finishes his law school. Ya know, manage some athletes, negotiating some contracts and getting out this shit for good. We still gonna need a staff and workers since we plan to have security for them as well. Maybe it’s time to stop talking and start doing?” Instantly, Pat stopped worrying about her future with Myron. Hearing him say those words, and feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat on her chest gave her a small sense of hope. When her eyes stopped tearing she lifted her head from his shoulder, looked him in his eyes and gave him a slow soft kiss. Myron was serious for the first time since he started

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dealing drugs about getting out. He called to one of the bodyguards and instructed him to take Pat home and stay with her. Before they left Myron took the gun he was carrying and gave it to Pat. It was a Taurus, nine shot .380 automatic. He knew that the guard who was escorting her had enough fire power to protect them both, but he didn’t want her to feel defenseless. Cliff started the car that he and Eddie came in to let Myron know that they needed to hurry. Pat promised Myron that she would wait up for him and that she would be okay. Afterwards, she and her guard got into the other vehicle together. Eddie opened the back door to the first car for Myron who stood watching as the second car left with Pat waving good-bye from the rear window. When the car was out of sight, Myron got into the other car and headed to Malik’s house.

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Chapter Forty-two The theory of relatives

The police had already arrived, but there were no arrests made. Calvin R. Little was there to make sure me and my workers weren’t having our rights violated. When Myron arrived, Calvin and I were sitting in the basement at the bar talking. He walked through the living room and kitchen which were both heavily guarded with at least twenty men. I beckoned Myron over to where Calvin and I sat while we continued to talk. “So, did you tell them exactly what I told you on the phone?” Calvin asked as he turned to see who was coming down the steps. “Yeah, them dumb ass cracker cops don’t

give a fuck about blacks shootin’ blacks. They just came here to see if I was dead.” “Man you too stubborn to die. They ain’t know that?” 277

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Myron said as he came behind the bar and gave me a hug. “What’s happenin’ counselor?” Myron reached across the counter and shook hands with Calvin. “Mr. Myron, I’m always doing well when I’m in your company,” Calvin answered with a smile. “I hate to rush off but my wife wasn’t happy about my leaving home during lunch. So, if you two will excuse me.” “No problem, sir. I appreciate you coming out,” I came from behind the bar to give Calvin a hand shake and a hug. “I’ll have a few guys follow you home and stay outside there tonight.” “Malik come on now, you know I refuse to accept protection from my people. My life is in God’s hands, He determines my fate.” “I hear you man, but just do it tonight, for me?” “Okay young blood. You know I can’t say no to you,” Calvin smiled and accepted my offer for an escort. Cherry was upstairs in the bedroom

waiting for me. This was the second shooting that she had been in with me. Since she didn’t want to stay in the living room with all the thugs and guns, I convinced her to go upstairs to lie down. Myron knew that Cherry was home when the shooting started. He knew me well, so he knew that my priority would be to tend to her, so he was quick with his conversation. “Look man, I ain’t gonna keep you long, but brother we got some shit to rethink, ya dig?” “Yeah, I dig. I ain’t never think they would bring this 278

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shit to my house. Lydia is stayin’ here too for a while, and she was here when them jive ass suckers started that shit.” “Damn blood, I’m surprised she came with you after that shit at the banquet hall. When she found that box with all your guns in it, I thought she would stay far away from you.” “We’re twins, man. It’s gonna take more than that to separate us. You see she’s still here, even after the bullshit that just went down. Besides, I knew that junky mutha fucker that she got pregnant by wouldn’t come here ‘cause he know what it be.” “Sure you right. Maybe you need to supply that nigga with a pack of that special shit we give

to all of our problem chumps,” Myron suggested. “Yeah, maybe I do. My sister and my nephew will be better off,” I agreed. “So what you think we should do about this shit with Salaam and his Muslim Mob monkeys?” “I don’t know, man. I don’t wanna risk none of my crew gettin’ killed by an all out war in the streets. If it gets too hot the fuzz is gonna make it expensive for us to do anymore business. Still, I can’t see us just waitin’ around for them mutha fuckers to kill us, ya dig? Whatever we gonna do we gotta do it fast. This is heavy shit, but we can’t let it take us down.” “I can dig it, blood. I think this is a good time to take a vacation. We can think better in the Bahamas, man.” “Yeah, a vacation sounds good. Let’s go!” 279

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Chapter Forty-three

The First to Say Goodbye

March 1972, I ran into my house and went directly to my gun cabinet. I opened it and took out my AK 47 assault rifle. After I made sure the gun was loaded with an extended banana magazine, I went back out to my front porch. I checked the area in all directions for the car that had just followed me. Only one week after my twenty fifth birthday and it appeared that I just escaped another attempt on my life. It all seemed very ironic. I needed sometime alone, so I sent my guards home. I assured them that I could take care of myself, but I probably shouldn’t have been so nonchalant. I had even left my gun in the car I was driving. As I stood there with the rifle pointed down, but still prepared to fire, the telephone in the living room rang. I let it ring several times to see if the caller would eventually hang up. The ringing continued forcing me to go inside and pick up 280

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the phone. “Hello,” I answered excitedly. “Malik, what’s happenin’? You okay?” I sighed with relief and put down my rifle.

“Myron, man I think them mutha fuckers was tryin’ to ice me again. I’m getting sick of this shit man! I got my rifle out and I got a good mind to find every fuckin’ one of them and take’em out!” “What? You sure it was them?” “I don’t know. It could’ve been the feds or some of them narc pigs tryin’ to scare me to do somethin’ stupid.” “Hang on. I’m on my way there.” “Okay.” I hung up the phone and leaned against a wall with my head back. Still holding the rifle, I stood there and waited for Myron. It was one thirty a.m. and almost an hour had passed since I’d spoken to Myron. I saw a Bright light from outside through the shades of my living room window coming from the headlights of a car. Seconds later, there was a knock on my front door. I chambered a bullet in my rifle and answered the door. “Who is it!?” “Yo brother, it’s Myron.” I opened the door and saw Myron, Craig and half dozen bodyguards on my front porch. I stepped back from the door to let them in. The lights in the living room stayed dim to make it hard to see in from the outside. “Did you recognize the car?” Myron asked. “No, it was too dark,” I answered. 281

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“Man, I told you not to go anywhere alone. You know what it be right now.” “Yeah brother, I know. I fucked up.” “Look man, this shit is getting’ out of hand. All they want is the one hundred thousand dollars pay off money for the hit on J.B. If you think about it, that cat’s brother is one of their top players, so the price is actually good,” Craig said interrupting the conversation. “Maybe we should just pay’ em?” “What the fuck you mean we?” Myron asked Craig with anger. “First of all I’m the H.N.I.C. of this here flow, ya dig. I decide who gets paid and who don’t. The only other opinion that matters is Malik’s. I ain’t never gave them niggas shit and I ain’t about to start now, you got it?” “I’m just sayin’ it’s not worth all this killin’ and shit, that’s all,” Craig responded taking extreme caution with his words. “We in a killin’ business, blood. That’s what it is.” I said agreeing with Myron. “And, them mutha fuckers got theirs when J.B. cost us two hundred fifty thousand alright? Truthfully, they owe us!” “That’s right. They’re the ones that crossed the line. If this is a war, J.B. was just a casualty of it,” Myron said. “Okay Myron, you’re the boss,” Craig said before he sat down on the couch in the living room. Myron and I walked into the dining room and sat at the table. “Maybe it was the feds. Word on the street is they were gonna hit one of our spots and let us think Bishop and Tarver

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did it. Then they was gonna offer us protection for a small piece of the bread.” Myron said. “It’s hard to say. Somethin’ about the way the car followed me was too sloppy to be Feds, but anything is possible.” “Listen man, I know this might not be a good time to bring this up, but one of my crew told me that they saw Cherry riding in a car with Milton Burns,” Myron said. “Now I don’t know what it be, but I do know that turkey is in with Salaam. Maybe that’s how them suckers know all of our moves.” I sat still listening, sad and confused. I was still upset that the woman who shared my home, slept in my bed and received my love could even talk to one of my worst enemies. The fact that he was now a Muslim, with ties to Salaam and the Black Mob was even more heartbreaking. “Thanks man, I appreciate you looking out for me,” I said. “C’mon, you’re my brother. Nothing ever comes before that,” Myron answered. The front door opened and all the guards reached for their guns, except Craig. They all cooled their defenses when they saw that it was Cherry. She walked through the living room and greeted them all with a look of disgust and confusion on her face.

“Hey baby, what’s going on?” Cherry asked me. “Alright blood, we’re gonna split. I’ll leave some guards here for the night. I’ll get’ em to stay in the car so ya’ll can be in private, cool? Call me if you need anything. Later,” 283

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Myron said as he was leaving. “Later man,” I answered then we shook hands and hugged. “Later Cherry,” Myron said. “See ya, Myron.” Myron went into the living room to speak to the guards and Craig. He instructed three of them to stay outside my house for the night, and the others would be his protection. Craig volunteered to stay with me, but his request was denied by Myron. As they were all leaving my house, they all tipped their hats to Cherry and saluted me with a raised fist. During it all, Cherry never took her eyes off of me and the rifle on the dining room table. After the last person left and the door closed, Cherry looked me in my eyes. “Why do you have that gun? What happened?” she asked sounding very annoyed. All of the shootings over the last three years had become very disturbing. “Where have you been?” I countered her question with my own. I didn’t feel like I needed

to answer any of Cherry’s questions at that moment. “I went shopping, and then I went to my mother’s. Why?” she asked. “Oh yeah? So what were you doing in a car with Milton Burns?” “What the hell are you talking about?” Cherry said raising her voice. 284

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I was furious. I walked toward Cherry leaving the gun on the table. “I’m being a gentleman about this, for the moment. However, you know better than anybody that I will get crazy up in here,” I said as loosened my tie and rolled up my sleeves. “I wasn’t with him. Anyway, you can get crazy all you want to,” she answered challenging me. “Don’t lie to me woman. What the fuck were you doing with him?” “Look, I don’t want to hear this shit right now.” Cherry turned away from me and walked up the steps to the bedroom. She left me standing in the living room in hopes that I’d drop the discussion. However, to her disappointment I quickly followed her up the steps. “Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you,” I said. “Get the fuck outta my face, Malik!” she

answered with defiance. Inside the bedroom I grabbed her by the arm and a struggle ensued. “Come here!” I shouted to her after she snatched away from me and walked toward the bathroom. “Keep your fuckin’ hands off me, damn it!” “Are you fuckin’ him!? Are you!?” I hurried over toward her and the struggling started again. The commotion eventually woke up Lydia who was asleep in her bedroom at the end of the hall. “Get off me! You got some fuckin’ nerve questioning 285

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me with all the shit from you I put up with! You’re never fuckin home anyway! So, if I decide to go out with my friend that’s my business. No matter who it is!” Cherry again broke my hold, and again headed toward the bathroom. I hurried to block the bathroom door to stop her. “You fuckin’ bitch! I want you out of my house right now! I don’t need this bullshit!” “That’s fine with me! I was planning on leaving anyway! You can get whatever bitch you took to the Pocono’s for the weekend to come and live with you. All you’ve ever done is lie to me! I wish I never met yo’ ass! I hate you!”

Cherry left the bedroom and slammed the door. She stormed down the steps to the living room and stopped at the front door. She stood there looking around the room and she began to cry. While she was out with Milton Burns he convinced her to come with him to Temple #12. He explained to her that Minister Salaam and the other members had found out about their relationship. A price had been put on her head as well, until Milton asked them to spare her because he loved her. After lengthy discussions and tough decision making a deal was agreed upon. Cherry’s life would be spared if she agreed not to interfere with the inevitable demises of me and Myron. Also, she had to pledge her allegiance to Islam and become a member of Temple #12. Milton agreed to the terms and convinced Cherry to meet Minister Salaam. While she was at the temple Minister Salaam was in a very big meeting with some high profile 286

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people. At the meeting were Stan Bishop, Donald Tarver, General Jackson and Andy Sticks. The co-owner of Philly Universal Records, Benjamin ‘Benny’ Sample and agent Thomas Miller of the DEA were both there as well. She could barely

hear what they were discussing, but she did hear Myron’s name mentioned. When the meeting was over Milton took her to meet Minister Salaam. Back at the house, tears began to run down Cherry’s face very heavily. Thinking about what she’d done, she felt the least she could do was tell me about the meeting and what she’d heard. So, she stopped crying and headed back up the steps to the bedroom. Inside the bedroom I had started undressing. I took off my pants and noticed that my under shorts were on backwards. Cherry opened the door startling me, and immediately looked down at my under shorts. “That must have been some really good pussy. I sure hope so since you couldn’t even get your clothes back on right. I should’ve left your ass a long time ago, but now is even better. Goodbye!” I couldn’t believe the mistake I’d made. I couldn’t even go after Cherry and apologize after all the things I just said to her. I was even a little embarrassed that she saw me wearing my under shorts incorrectly. I had finally given her the final reason she needed to walk out of my life forever. 287

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Lydia knocked on the bedroom door. “Twin, are you okay?” she asked. “Is it okay if I come in?” I didn’t respond for several seconds, I just stayed silent. “I promise I won’t upset you more, I just wanna make sure you’re okay.” The light knocking she was doing on the door along with her sweet sounding voice convinced me to finally answer. I turned away from her and walked with my back to her. “I’m fine. I just need to be alone for a while, alright?” “Brother I heard the whole thing, and I know it’s not my business, but don’t you think you need to change your ways with women? Think of Jennifer, do you want her to end up like Cherry, or Jeane, or Lynn or any of the others? I’m only saying this because I know how they feel. I went through the same thing with Jamal’s dad. The only difference was his other woman was that needle. Just look what happened to him. He chose her over me and his son. Now he’s dead!” I was beginning to feel even worse than I did. It was rumored that one of my crew sold Jamal’s father the bag of heroin that ultimately killed him. The bag had crushed up pieces of glass in it and borax powder which is commonly used to kill roaches. “Lydia I know I’m not perfect, but I try. I really try to do what’s right. I took care of all three of those ladies at the same time. They came to me when they needed things and I gave it to’ em, no questions asked.” “See, that’s the difference though. You give money and material things, and good Lord

you have plenty of both. 288

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Women give their hearts and they only have one. When a woman is heartbroken, the unbroken heart is gone forever and she’ll never get it back.” “This might be hard to believe, but I’ve been in love before. I know what it’s like to love. It’s the greatest thing in the world to love and be loved, even better than money. I know I’ve got a lot of enemies, but when all else failed I always knew that my family loved me. I can’t remember how or where things got out of hand with all the women. I just know I don’t wanna it to be like this no more.” “That’s outta sight, brother. It ain’t never too late to change. I’m proud of you,” Lydia said as she gave me a hug. “I’m going back to bed now since the sun’s gonna be coming up soon. Good night.” Lydia left and went back to her room. She left me sitting on my bed thinking. I really did want to change a lot of things in my life, I just didn’t know how. It seemed like the whole world was on my shoulders and I wasn’t about to break. These tribulations were just a test for me to see if I was as strong mentally as I was physically. I was getting tired so I lied down to get some rest. Tomorrow was a new day for me, and hopefully a new beginning.

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Chapter Forty-four King of the Last Days

It was April 2, 1972 and I was in Atlantic City celebrating Easter Sunday with Myron and our crew. The flashing lights and glistening glamour of the nightclubs were spectacular. Fancy cars and limousines transported celebrities and high rollers to try their luck at big jackpots. Myron and I had just returned from a trip to Bermuda with Pat. We reserved a suite at the most luxurious hotel on the boardwalk where we were going to hold a meeting with our crew. Our

celebration destination was the famed Club Harlem where several top selling recording artists were scheduled to perform. The show was headlined by Philly Universal Records artist Willie Carl. Craig and I were in a room that was connected to the main suite having a discussion, while Myron was next door getting dressed. “Damn, I hope Mr. Mack is 290

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almost ready,” Craig said. “I wanna hurry up and get to the club before all the good seats is takin’”. “What? You jivin’, right? You know damn well we ain’t gonna wait to find no table. Our shit’s been reserved since last month,” I corrected him. “I dig, I dig. Ya’ll only do shit first class. Ain’t no way ya’ll gonna wait for no tables.” I continued to look at myself in the mirror and critique my attire. ”Shit boss you and Myron are the real main attraction. Ain’t none of them foxes gonna be lookin’ at them jive performers.” I put my black chinchilla coat over my shoulders and knocked on the door of the main suite. Craig, me and the two bodyguards that were with us were ready to leave. Myron answered the door wearing a green silk shirt and cream colored pants.

“Hey, hey man. Lookin’ sharp,” Myron said. He stepped back from the door to let me and the others inside. “Brother, look at you. Looks like you wanna go back to Bermuda,” I said with a smile. “I do man, I do. I needed to get away for a while. Look here brother, let me rap to you for a few shakes,” Myron continued as he put his arm around me and led me away from the others. “I heard about you and Cherry, man. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry, brother. We’re done. It’s over,” I said 291

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with a confident tone and a heavy heart. “It’s fucked up that it had to end like that.” “It’s cool, man. I know now that I shoulda never been with her anyway.” Myron and I walked over to the suite’s bar to have a drink. I sat on one of the bar stools while Myron went behind the bar to pour the drinks. “Don’t worry about it, we gonna have us a good time tonight and forget everything else, ya dig?” Myron handed me a glass of juice and we touched glasses in a toast. “Sure you right,” I said. We began to sip our drinks when Pat came out of the bathroom. “Hey Malik, fellas,” she said as she was putting her ear rings in her ears.

“Hey Pat,” I responded giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Craig extended Pat a similar greeting, minus the hug and kiss. “Yo boss lady, you gonna break a lot of hearts tonight,” he said patronizing. One of the guards nudged him with his elbow to advise him to choose his words with caution. He could see the displeasure on Myron’s face. “What’s up baby? You need help with those?” Myron asked her about her ear rings. “No, I’m fine. I heard so many voices out here, so I came out to see if ya’ll were ready to go?” Craig started pacing very nervously. He was very fidgety and kept looking at his watch. Even one of the now four bodyguards in the suite noticed Craig’s suspicious 292

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fidgeting and nodded his head towards me to check it out. “Yo man, I’ve been meaning to ask you, why you been so damn jittery around us lately?” Craig gave a look that made it obvious that he didn’t like being singled out under suspicion. “Look, it’s hard enough as it is tryin’ to get clean, alright?” Myron knew already that he wasn’t an addict. He knew that his act was to distract them from whatever was really going on. What was it

that he was hiding? “Yo man, I didn’t know. You hid that shit real good, blood. I’m glad to hear you straightening up now.” This was my way of playing along, since I found the whole thing very amusing. “‘Cause you know nobody does drugs in this crew. So if you do well…” I smiled and looked at Craig with a piercing stare. “I think you know the rest, right?” Myron turned away from us while Craig thought about my warning. “Malik, everybody knows. I’m cool now, I swear.” Craig said. Still, he knew that his body language was clearly telling his secret. It turned out that before he got to Myron’s hotel room he was riding in a stretch limousine with some very malicious men. There in the hotel room he stared off into space and began to daydream. He thought about his limousine ride and the instructions he received from his not so gracious hosts. Inside the limousine were Minister Salaam, ‘K.O.’ Haines, Milton Burns, and Philly Universal Records coowner Benjamin Sample. They were discussing an assassination plot 293

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on Myron to be carried out by Stan Bishop and the Black Mob enforcers: “I am requesting your assistance to bring to justice those who murdered one of our

brothers and insulted the nation, Brother Sample,” Minister Salaam said. “I am a loyal servant of the holy prophet, Minister Salaam. Whatever I can do to help would be my honor.” “Excellent. Brother Burns will be coordinating with other members of my temple to ensure that there are no problems. Brother Hines here has provided us with all the information on our enemies that’s necessary. Everyone must proceed exactly as ordered to prevent inexcusable mistakes.” “Everyone will be ready, and they won’t fail. You got my word,” Milton assured him. “Minister Salaam, I think you need to understand something,” Craig interrupted. “If you’re people aren’t careful, they might end up like J.B. Forget Myron and his security, and give some serious thought to MALIK!” “I promise you Brother Hines, everything is under control,” Minister Salaam said with arrogance. Back at the hotel Craig snapped out of his daze as everyone was leaving the suite to go to the show. They all walked down the plush hallway and got on two separate elevators. Myron had arranged for a limousine to pick them up outside of the hotel. I was flashy and sharp, as always. Even more than usual, everyone was in what they considered to be their best 294

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threads. We got in the limousine which was already waiting out front, and I instructed the driver to take us to Club Harlem. After a fifteen minute ride the limousine arrived outside of the famous club. Hundreds of people were making their way through the front entrance, and dozens of limousines and fancy automobiles were lined up out front. Myron, Pat, me and the others got out of the limousine and made our appearance outside of the club. As we were greeted by security and several patrons who weren’t granted immediate entry to the club like the celebrities and high rollers, another limousine pulled up behind ours. The door of the limousine opened and two members of Muslim Temple number twelve exited followed by Benjamin Sample. Minister Salaam and Milton Burns exited last. As we walked toward the entrance I looked back and saw Milton. I hurried back through the crowd to confront him. “You jive muthafucker! You been runnin’ around with my woman behind my back!?” I said with anger. “First of all sucker, watch how you talk to me!” Milton responded. Myron and one of our guards rushed over to the altercation and grabbed me. “Malik, be cool brother. Not out here, not now.” Myron didn’t want any fighting since it would cause problems with the Atlantic City Police Department.

“Look nigga, she came to me,” Milton said with a taunting smirk. “She told me she was done with yo’ ass, since you was getting’ down with all them other broads“. 295

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“Ain’t none of your damn business what I do. I should fuck you up, right now!” “No!” Myron interjected knowing I would definitely act on my thoughts. “Go ahead, that’ll just triple what you already owe the nation,” Milton said with his face now showing anger. Myron told the guard to bring me into the club. A crowd was beginning to develop and the head of the club security asked Myron if he needed help controlling the situation. Myron assured him that everything was cool, and I finally started walking into the club. ‘I’ll see you again!” I shouted back to Milton. “I doubt it,” Milton uttered with a tight jaw. Just then, Stan Bishop arrived in a gray colored Lincoln Continental with four other members of the Black Mob, including Donald Tarver. They exited the car and walked to the club’s entrance where Milton was still standing. “What’s going on, brother Burns?” Sam asked noticing his angry demeanor. “Nothing after today,” Milton answered.

Stan looked at Milton sort of matter-offactly as he adjusted his Italian style hat. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” he said. He waited for his crew and then they all entered the club. Myron, me and the rest of our crew sat at our reserved table near the club stage. The club walls were covered with mirrors that gave a reflection of the seven hundred people in attendance. While we waited for the show to begin Myron spoke to 296

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me about the altercation with Milton Burns. “You okay, man?” he asked me touching me on my shoulder. “Yeah man, I just lost my head. I’m sorry ‘bout that.” “You ain’t gotta apologize. You know I’m with you no matter what.” Pat looked across the room and saw Cherry sitting at a table with some friends. She whispered to Myron and pointed in her direction informing him, who informed me. “Man, don’t even worry about that,” Myron said to me as he noticed the sad look on my face. “You said it’s over so let it be.” I still wanted to go over and talk to Cherry, or have her come and watch the show with me. Even though in my heart I was in love with Jeane,

I really missed Cherry. Benjamin Sample walked up to our table snapping me out of my yearning stare at Cherry. “Mr. Millionaire,” he said with a smile as he shook Myron’s hand. “Mr. Sample, what’s happening blood?” How’s the record business?” Myron asked. “Not as good as your business,” Benjamin answered. “Mr. Malik, what’s happening? Still popular with the ladies I see,” he said referring to the four women who were sitting very close to me and the other guards, Nate and Stoney who had just arrived. “Not today, Benny. I just want to enjoy myself and watch the show,” I said very stonefaced. 297

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“Good enough, brother.” The crowd started to applaud as Willie Karl walked onto the stage. “Enjoy the show,” Benjamin said smiling as he shook hands with Myron again. During Karl’s opening song, Stan Bishop and four of his crew wearing dark suits and bowties were watching me and Myron from a table across the room. When the song ended and the applause started Stan Bishop and his crew got up and walked over to our table. All five men strategically surrounded us as

Stan spoke to Myron. “What’s happening, Black My?” Stan asked. His approaching the table caused Myron’s bodyguards to stand up. “What the hell do you want?” Myron said. “Can I talk to you for a second?” I readjusted myself in my chair and interrupted the conversation. “We ain’t got shit to talk about. Get the fuck outta here!” “No man, it’s cool,” Myron said as he began to stand up from his chair. “Baby, don’t do this.” Pat grabbed Myron’s arm in an attempt to prevent any fighting. “It’s alright, baby. I’m cool,” he said to her. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked Stan. Stan quickly pulled out a 38 revolver and shot Myron in the face. The bullet entered only inches below his left eye, and he fell on the floor behind the table. In only a few seconds Stan reached over the table and shot him two more times in the chest. The other four Black Mob members reached for 298

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their guns followed by me and Myron’s bodyguards. Before I could even get my gun out of its holster, I was shot twice in the back of the head by Black Mob lieutenant Harry Parks. Our guards

returned fire hitting Parks several times in the legs. There was a flurry of gunfire and the exchange resulted with Pat being shot in the neck, perhaps on purpose. There was a melee of people, broken furniture, bullets and shell casings. Stan Bishop and his crew managed to escape the club when they heard police sirens nearing; even though some of them had been shot. During the gun battle Craig Hines never fired one shot or attempted to protect Myron. He stayed hidden and looked on. The Black Mob enforcers’ attack left four people dead: Myron, Pat and two other women who were sitting near me during the shooting. After the shooting stopped Cherry rushed and kneeled down next to me. She placed my head on her lap as my body lay lifeless on the floor. Pat’s body landed directly on top of Myron’s, and it looked as if they were hugging one last time. Craig came out his hiding place and walked toward the sprawled bodies. He stood over Cherry and smiled, then he walked away shaking his head. Milton rushed over to Cherry and grabbed her by her arm, and was attempting to get her to leave with him. She snatched her arm away from him in refusal, and he hurried out of the club with Craig. Cherry rested my head back on the floor, and with her blood soaked hands she covered me with 299

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my chinchilla coat. Not wanting to speak to the police, she stood up and rushed out of the club still crying frantically. A week passed and thousands of people filled the Church of The Advocate at 18th and Diamond Street in Philadelphia to pay their respects to Malik. There were even more people outside than there were inside. Some of them waited outside for hours just to view my body. There were several police officers present who volunteered to protect my family and friends on this day of mourning. Calvin R. Little spoke during the service, as well as several city hall officials. Malik’s mom Georgia, Lydia and Geoffrey were seated in the front row of the church to say good-bye to their slain brother and son. Lynn and Jennifer were sitting behind them, and Cherry was also there. Jeane, who had just recently given birth, was on the opposite side of the church toward the back rows. She knew that no matter which of his other women were there, he truly loved her, and she would always love him. Before the service ended, Georgia requested that the choir sing a special song for her beloved son. So, as they proceeded with the final viewing, after Lydia approached his casket and placed his custom made crown inside, the choir sang knowing that his spirit could hear the

word’s:

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I am thinking of that beautiful land I shall reach when the sun goeth down When through wonderful grace by my savior I stand Will there be any stars in my crown Will there be any stars in my crown When that evening sun goeth down When I wake with blest in the mansion of rest Will there be any stars in my crown. By the strength of the Lord let me labor and pray Let me watch as a winner of souls So bright stars might be mine in the glorious

day When his praise like the sea billows roll Oh what joy it will be when his face I behold Living gems at his feet to lay down 301

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It would be my bliss in the city of Gold Should there be any stars in my crown…

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Chapter forty-five Retribution

It was March 15, 2002 at approximately seven o’clock p.m. Two men walked into Hakim Saleem’s on 52nd and Walnut St. in West Philadelphia. Both men were dressed in three quarter length black leather coats, striped Italianstyled button up shirts, baggy dark colored jeans and tan timberland boots. Both had sun glasses, diamond ear rings and determined, deliberate

demeanors. They walked up to the counter and requested to speak with the owner. ”Excuse me, we’re looking for Brother Saleem,” the first man said. “Who should I say would like to see him?” the employee at the counter asked. The two men took out their ID’s and showed them to the employee. “I’m officer Thomas Williams and this is my brother Timothy.” 303

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“Sure, I’ll let him know.” The employee returned after a few minutes with Brother Saleem. “Yes, how may I help you gentlemen?” he asked in a timid voice. “Yes, are you Hakim Saleem?” “I am. Is something wrong?” “Actually we just have a few questions,” Timothy said. “Do you remember a man name Gilbert ‘Malik’ Satterwhite?” “Yes I do. He’s been dead about thirty years now. Why do you ask?” “Because, Brother Saleem, a.k.a. K.O. Haines…” The two men took out their .40 caliber SIG Sauer hand guns, “He was our FATHER…”

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About The Authors

Troy and Trevor Parham were born and raised in Philadelphia, PA. They bring to their readers a new genre of novels that will give them insight on stories that would otherwise go untold, or partially told. Stories about real events and real people, with a creative twist that will keep them hooked with every page.

They attended West Catholic High School and The Art Institute of Philadelphia where they majored in music and video. Starting as songwriters/producers in the in the 80’s and 90’s, the twins traveled around the country freelancing for several recording and production companies. They eventually returned home to Philly in 1999 where they started their own company, Twiin Tone Entertainment. In the years that followed the company released several independent CD’s and the twins continued to produce and write songs for several local artists. They decided to expand the company’s repertoire by adding novel writing, screenplay writing and publishing to their list of services. Troy and Trevor make their literary debut with MR. MALIK (will there be any stars in my crown), a novel that is based on the adult life, and untimely demise of Gilbert ‘Malik’ Satterwhite. Troy lives in Pennsylvania with his fiancée Shelby, and is the proud father of two children, (a son and a daughter). His talents include spoken word, song writing, poetry and acting. Trevor lives in Newport, Delaware. His talents include screenwriting, music production and acting. You can visit their website at www.twiintineentertainment.com

COMING SOON

Between Us, Love

A Smile for Life (The Chinika Perez Story)

The Move of Africa Club Harlem