Authors: David Weaver
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Even though Kyla was dreaming, Malcolm had no way of knowing that she was lying there thinking pleasant thoughts. The doctor had told him that she was doing much better, but he couldn’t tell. He just kept replaying the scene in his head over and over as though he could mentally change the outcome and Kyla would be awake and flirting with him. After about an hour and a half, Malcolm started wondering about what Kyla would say if she knew that he was not handling business. He knew then that it was time. He said a prayer for her and kissed her on the lips. Then he left the room with business on his mind. It was time to handle it.
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Catfish was sitting in the waiting room when he saw Malcolm walking down the hallway. After not being able to reach him on his cell, at home, or at The Power Building, he called Pam. She told him that he would be there visiting Kyla, so Catfish rushed over as soon as possible.
“Malcolm. Hello my brother. How’s Kyla?” “Aww man Cat, she’s fucked up real bad. A coma is not a place for a woman like that. You know?”
“Yeah man, I feel you ... Hey, you know I been calling you all night? I got a serious fuckin’ problem Malcolm.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Come out to the van so that I can show you.” Despite it being a beautiful spring morning,
Malcolm’s day quickly turned sour when he saw the bloody faced woman duct taped in the van.
“Is this The Wolf?”
“No ... this is Sweetback Fatty’s child’s mother.” Malcolm looked at Catfish like he had vomit on his face.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, you imbecile?”
“Man I been tryna’ tell you what happened all night ... listen...”
After Catfish told Malcolm what happened, Malcolm pulled out his cell phone.
“Who you calling yo?”
Malcolm ignored Catfish.
“Heey, whassup Sweetback? What’s poppin?”
Catfish stared at Malcolm intensely, trying to figure out what he was up to. He knew that Malcolm had a serious level of respect for the man, but he didn’t know how serious.
“Yeah man ... my right hand man made a mistake last night...”
Catfish could here the man’s boisterous voice even though the speakerphone option wasn’t on.
“You got-damned right yo’ folks made a mistake last night!” Sweetback was enraged, his voice sounding hoarse, yet psychopathic.
“I’ma’ make your whole squad pay for that!”
Malcolm took a deep breath and walked away from Catfish to talk to Sweetback privately.
“Aye Sweetback ... don’t do it like that. It was a mistake. We’re better than that. Where do you want me to drop your girl off at?
Despite Malcolm utilizing his psychological skills and remaining calm amidst a crisis, it had no effect on the cold-blooded killer.
“Nigga, you can
have
that bitch, prepare for war you soft-ass nigga!” With that, Sweetback and Malcolm both hung up their phones concurrently.
When Malcolm turned around, the look of dread sparkled in his eyes, Catfish eyed him suspiciously.
“What did he say Mal? Drop her off?”
Malcolm looked Catfish in the eye and spoke what he hadn’t had to speak in over eighteen months.
“Let’s prepare for war.”
“A war with Sweetback?” Catfish asked in a lifeless manner.
“Not only with Sweetback, and not only with The Wolf, but a war with everyone in the city. It’s time to remind people who runs shit around these parts.” Catfish smirked at him slyly. He had great difficulty suppressing his smile because he knew. He knew that the young, hungry Malcolm was back in full effect.
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Marco was fuming. He wasted half of his night with Catfish, trying to help him out only to come home to gargantuos sized problems. Every soldier that reported to him said that they were out. They needed coke. Fast! It usually wouldn’t be a problem, but that was because Kyla would work her magic. But with no Kyla ... no magic. Marco knew that there was a big chance that the Dynasty Cartel could take over easily if they stayed out of product long enough, and he wasn’t having that. He hit speed dial 1 and called Malcolm.
“Hey bro ... we out ... completely.”
There was a pregnant silence as Malcolm measured the effects of his next statement.
“Okay ... I’m sending contamination control this evening to fix things....” Silence again.
“Man, you know that shit’s not gon’ work Malcolm...”
“Fuck, it
has
to work right now! Besides, we got bigger problems ... Sweetback declared war!”
The pitch of Malcolm’s voice was eerie. It reminded Marco of the times when Malcolm used to go handle shit
with
Catfish, instead of just sending him solo or sending him with Prince Tron.
“Damn ... a war? It’s gone be another war going on in the streets if The Dynasty Cartel confiscates our turf, our street and mid-level soldiers, and our clientele. Nigga’ ... we need product!”
Malcolm sighed into the phone.
“Marco, I said I was sending Contamination Control. Everything’s about to be back on track.”
Marco shook his head as if Malcolm had lost all comprehension.
“Mal, they are not going to do business with someone
new
and you know it.”
“Homeboy calm down, I got this ... trust me. If worse comes to worse then I have a reserve that should last us about long enough to find a new connect. But we’ll take this one step at a time.”
“Okay then, your the leader ... just keep me posted so I’ll know what to tell these young hungry niggas.”
“One.”
ten
P
am was dressed to impress. She had on a skin tight black and red mini shirt with some closed toe black and red heels. Her hair was dark and
silky; not to mention laser beam straight. It made her look as if she had walked straight off of the cover of a magazine. Her nails were french-tipped, her skin was glowing, and she had applied a light coat of lip gloss which truly transformed her into a supermodel. Malcolm had called her and told her to meet him at the Ihop for lunch and so that they could discuss some urgent matters. Pam was already there when Malcolm arrived. He didn’t even know if she was early or if he was late because he was so stressed out. He gave her a hug when he reached their table and couldn’t resist getting an erection when he wrapped his arms around her body. Her body was so tight and petite that he couldn’t help but to imagine himself toting her around her bedroom on his dick. Malcolm noticed that Pam wasn’t in a hurry to break away from the hug and politely took it upon himself to pull away. As he sat down, she couldn’t help but to smile as her eyes wandered from his bulging crotch to his handsome face.
“You look beautiful, as always Pam.” Malcolm said, truly meaning every word.
“You look good too Daddy.”
There was an uncomfortable silence lingering in the air as they both thought about what happened the last time she called him “Daddy.” Kyla had been outraged and ready to fight her at The Power Building on that fateful day. Malcolm cleared his throat.
“Pam, I was going to wait before I sent you and Brink to see Franco Roberto, but Marco told me that we’re completely out of cocaine. I trust you to make the deal go through just as smoothly as Kyla would have. The only issue existing is the one that Marco raised.”
Pam glared at Malcolm defensively.
“What did that bastard have to say about me this time?” Pam said, rolling her eyes at no one in particular.
“Nothing major ... he only stated that Franco Roberto wasn’t going to do business with someone new. I just want you to prove him wrong,” Malcolm said to her while staring in a different direction.
Pam reached out and tilted Malcolm’s chin towards her so that she could make eye contact.
“Anything that Kyla can do, I can do too. I won’t let you down Daddy,” Pam spoke in a seductive tone.
Malcolm kissed her on the back of her hand, and then dismissed the waiter irritatedly. He glanced out the window and saw Catfish pull up in his Escalade.
“Pam, I want you to be careful because a war has been declared against us and I don’t know when or where the first strike will come, nor do I know who it will come against. I left you some weaponry in your Aston Martin. Brink is in the Escalade with Catfish. He’s going to drive it to your house since he also has to go over some do’s and don’ts of the negotiations game.”
Pam nodded her head, all the while thinking “
what have I gotten myself into ... a war?”
“Pam ... try your best not to let me down baby.”
Even though she was nervous inside, she still managed to display her most confident smile.
“I won’t let you down Daddy.”
“Okay, good. I’m about to ride with Catfish and see if I can have this war shit settled by the time you return from your trip. Be careful Pam.”
“Noooo, she said with concern in her voice, you be careful Daddy.”
He smiled at her and exited the restaurant. She didn’t know whether to have a solo lunch, or leave the place like Malcolm did.
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The last time that Catfish was involved with a street war, he tried to send his wife clear across the country so that she could go stay with her sister until the mayhem died down. Instead, Tricia’s home girl convinced her that she could just stay with her and just
say
that she was in Boston. This time was no different from either angle. He told her to pack it up and she asked him why. He told her not to question his authority and she acted like she was mad. He paid for her a plane ticket and she went straight to her girlfriend’s house.
“Not again Tricia. What’s wrong with Catfish? Hasn’t he made enough money so that he can get outta’ this shit? You know if you play with fire, you might get burned!” Tricia’s girlfriend, Bonnie, said as she fired up a blunt.
The weed was so strong, that when she exhaled, a wheezing sound stirred from within her lungs as if she had the flu.
“Damn! Tricia, where the fuck you be getting this weed from girl?” Bonnie managed to choke out before passing it to Tricia.
“Shit, Catfish and Malcolm nem’ be flying to Egypt to get this shit,” Tricia said before almost choking on the second hand smoke.
“Egypt? Niggas smoke weed in muthafuckin’ Egypt? Got damn.”
Both women started laughing at Bonnie’s silly joke, but both women secretively wondered if niggas really did smoke weed in Egypt. Tricia got up and walked into the kitchen. After looking into the refrigerator, she went back and sat down on the sofa.
“Damn Bonnie, what you got in this house to snack on?”
“Man my food stamps ain’t came yet girl.”
Tricia eyed her with a teasing look on her face,
“Damn, B, you just as ghetto as I don’t know what.”
Bonnie giggled, then shook her head at Tricia’s remark, although it
was
true. No doubt about it, Bonnie ... was ghetto as hell.
“Shit, I ain’t got it like you Trish ... you wanna’ go to the grocery store?”
Tricia already knew that question was coming. She was beginning to think that Bonnie only invited her over so that she could buy the grocery, and Bonnie could just sell the food stamps. Nevertheless, Bonnie was her home girl and she had no problem with that. Besides, Bonnie was always there when Tricia needed her.
“Yeah B, let’s run to the grocery store ... wit’ yo trifling ass.”
Bonnie started laughing and went off to retrieve her keys. Bonnie’s car was an ashy black, 1996 Nissan Maxima. She had possessed the same vehicle for numerous years. When Tricia got in the car, she couldn’t get away from noticing the similarities between Bonnie’s apartment and her Nissan. They both could use a thorough cleaning, and both smelled of cheap weed masked with an even cheaper cherry incense.
“Damn B,” Tricia said after observing the empty Mc-Donald’s’ bags covering the floor of her car, “you need to clean up yo’ car, girl.”
“Yeah Trish ... I know right? It’s just that I haven’t been motivated to do nothing lately. I need to find me a man ... I’m gettin’ so sick of using my Lil Pocket Rocket that it’s a shame.”
“B, that’s too much info.”
Both women started laughing. Bonnie inserted the keys and turned the ignition, but the car wouldn’t crank.
“Damn! You see what I mean Trish? I don’t know shit about cars ... I’m sick of being lonely.”
Bonnie got out and pulled up her car hood, more in an effort to signify that she needed help, because she definitely had no clue as to what the hell she was staring at. After a few minutes, a guy pulled up in a Ford pick-up truck. He got out of his truck wearing a Jiffy Lube jacket and a concerned look on his face.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” The guy asked in a concern manner.
Bonnie instantly started flirting as she told the man about her vehicle not being able to start. He grabbed his toolbox from off the back of his truck and made his way back to the car.
“Hey Miss Lady, turn the ignition so that I can try to fix it for you.”
“Okay,” she said delightedly as she hurried back to get behind the wheel, “I hope you can fix everything.” She smiled at Tricia, who smiled back at her girlfriend’s inside joke.
“Okay, hold it ... now turn it ... hold it ... try it again ... okay stop.”
The man fidgeted in his tool box until he found the tool he was looking for. Then he walked around to the driver’s side and motioned for Bonnie to roll down her window.
“Hey, ain’t yo’ name Bonnie or something like that?” The man asked while smiling.
Surprised, and caught completely off guard, Bonnie stared at the man, trying to see if she knew him from somewhere. She couldn’t recall.
“That’s my name. Where do I know you from?” She asked inquisitively.
The man started to laugh, and then his face turned serious.
“You don’t know me from a can of worms!”
He then laid the stainless steel Glock on the side of her head and despite the women screaming, and despite the “Please! You can have everything!” Plea from Bonnie, he still blew her brains clear across to the passenger side window. The woman slumped her lifeless body over sideways as blood rushed from her head onto Tricia’s trembling hands. The gunshot itself sound like four 15-inch subwoofers being powered by four 3,000 watt amps all hitting simultaneously. The car was the speaker box. It was good music for Sweetback Fatty, who was sitting inside the Ford pickup truck behind the tinted windows. Another one of Sweetback’s men jumped out and helped carry an already traumatized Tricia into the truck. She was shaking and convulsing so hard, they thought that she was going to shatter. They gagged and hog-tied her, then they drove off. Sweetback had struck, and he was only warming up.