Prince of the City (9 page)

“How the fuck am I supposed to show 'im interest when you was the one doing all the talking?”

“Well, that's what the man said. I can't argue with you on that. I even asked the man to bend his own rules for you. He still said no. Now, if you want me to cop from him after these two kilos are gone, I'll do that for you. But after that, I'm through. And anyway, Luke will be back. You can hold fast and cop from him.”

“Man, fuck Big Luke and fuck Frank Mathews's bitch ass!” Sam stood over Mike. “You know what I think? I think you don't wanna turn me on to that connect 'cause you afraid I'ma be way more successful at this shit than you are.”

Mike laughed. “Come on, Sam. Be for real.” He tried hard to ignore his friend's aggressive stance.

“Nigga, I am for real. You always kept me in the dark ever since we were little. That's how you dominated everybody. You did it with finesse. Nigga, all this time we been hustling together you're the one who holds the money, makes all the moves, meets all the connects, and tells everybody what to do, while I'm out there in the blistering cold hustling my ass off.” Sam pointed his finger in Mike's face. “Nigga, you ain't shit. You don't wanna see me with nothing. You talk about me losing money gambling, but you got a fucking two-hundred-thousand-dollar bracelet. You sit up here looking over that fucking balcony, thinking you're the fucking king for real.” Tears rolled down Sam's face while Michael looked at Sam with love. Michael loved Sam, but Michael would still have to deal with him. After gulping down his Remy, Michael sat back, looked Sam deep in his eyes, and pointed his finger.

“Nigga, don't you ever in your fuckin' life raise your voice in my house. Like I told your ass before. Nigga, I do run this shit. Yeah nigga, I am the king. And if you ever in your life stand over top of me like that again, nigga, I swear I'll cut your dick and balls off and throw your ass over that balcony. Now sit your muthafuckin' stupid ass down and take a chill, nigga!”

Sam stood his ground as tears rolled down his face like a water fountain. Michael looked at him with disgust. “Nigga, didn't I tell you to sit your ass down?”

With that, Sam pulled out his Bulldog .44 revolver and pointed it in Michael's face. Michael looked Sam in the eyes and knew this man would kill. Sam also knew that if he let Michael live, then he would be killed. They both understood this reality, and Sam was the one with the upper hand. Michael knew there was no way he could finesse his way out of this one. Sam was a true killer. Michael knew it because he was the one who made him like that.

“Now you know you're gonna have to use that,” Michael told Sam.

Tears rolled down both their faces.

“I was taught this by you: If you ever pull a gun on a man, then you better use it. If you don't, then that same gun will be the one that closes your own casket.”

With that, Sam placed the gun to Mike's temple and pulled the trigger.

Boom!

 

* * * * * * *

“Connie, what was that noise?”

“Hold up, Linda.” Connie dropped the phone and ran out into the living room where Michael and Sam were conducting business.

Seeing her husband's brains splattered on the living room floor, she screamed as Sam pointed the .44 revolver at her chest.

“Oh my God! No, no Sam!” were the last words she uttered.

Boom!Boom!

Black Sam shot Connie twice in the chest. The impact sent her body flying across the room.

“Connie!” Linda yelled from the other end of the phone when she heard the gunshots. “Oh my God, Connie!”

 

* * * * * * *

Sam retrieved the suitcases of money and two kilos of heroin, while also relieving Connie of her diamond necklace that Michael had given her for their anniversary. He then wiped off the gun and placed it in Michael's hand, making it look like a murder-suicide. Since Connie was his wife, most likely the police would think he caught her having an affair, killed her, and then killed himself. Michael had previously done time for murder, so there wouldn't be much of an investigation.

While Sam was cleaning up and wiping off anything that could link him to the crime scene, he looked down at the person who was once his mentor and best friend. Sam loved Michael dearly, regardless of what he had just done. He bent over Michael's body and kissed his forehead.

“You held it down strong while you had it, but you fell weak, Mike. Now it's my turn to wear the crown.”

 

 

Chapter 11

-BURY ME A GANGSTER-

 

 

s Linda frantically kept calling Connie back, Malik could sense something was wrong. “Aunt Linda, what's wrong?”

“Nothing, Malik. Go back in the room and play cards with Butter.” Linda grabbed her keys and headed for the door.

“Hey, where the fuck are you going?” Butter asked her.

“Something's wrong at Connie's. I gotta go over there.” A few tears fell down Linda's worried face.

“What's wrong?” Butter asked her once he saw her crying.

“I don't know yet,” Linda replied.

“Well, call me when you get there.”

“Okay, I will. Keep Malik until I get back.”

“Don't worry 'bout him. Just go ahead and do what you gotta do.”

Linda drove Butter's BMW full speed while her mind replayed everything Connie had said on the phone.

“Oh no! Sam!” Tears rushed down Linda's face.

If anything had happened to Connie, Sam would be to blame and she would do whatever she had to do to get back at him. She knew the kind of man that Sam was.

As she pulled up to the front of the Wingate Condominiums, paramedics brought out two bodies. Police were everywhere. The crowd was eerily still, some crying and others shaking their heads.

As Linda walked up, she could hear the conversation from people in the crowd. Although she knew they were talking about her best friend, she still had to see for herself.

Linda wanted to break down and cry, but she had to be strong, at least until she was able to find some place to go and let it out. There wasn't a doubt in Linda's mind that Black Sam had killed her friend. She was the only witness to this homicide. Although she'd never go to the police, she was still determined to get revenge.

Back in the car, Linda rode down Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue until she found a secluded spot. She pulled the BMW over, put it in park, got out, and screamed the loudest she could. “Oh my God, Connie! No, this can't be! No God, no!”

Linda felt her prayers wouldn't be answered, so she got up off her knees, wiped her tears, and made a vow to Connie and Michael. “I want you to know that Malik is now my son, and I will raise him like a warrior just like both of you. My love for you will last forever, and I promise you this. No matter how long it takes me, Black Sam will never get away with this. There are only two people alive that knows what he did, and before I leave this earth, I promise there will only be one. I love both of you, and I promise I'll protect Malik by any means necessary.” She then looked up to the sky and blew a kiss.

“Love you two. You were my true family.”

 

* * * * * * *

Michael and Connie's funeral and wake were held at Mason's Funeral Home on Good Hope Road in Southeast. Major players from all over attended. The whole jungle came to pay their respects to the king and queen.

Lavish cars pulled up with people dressed in their best attire. Women who loved Michael cried their eyes out, and old ladies who loved his gentleness prayed over his body. Malik stood silently.

Linda broke it down to Malik hard. It was all she knew. She was raised hard, and she planned to raise Malik even harder. His understanding was beyond normal. Malik wasn't sad that his mother and father had been killed. Instead, he was angry their killer had gotten away. He was confused at how his father could fall victim to this. All he knew was that his father was king, and the king was invincible. Malik learned to accept that at some point in time, every animal in the jungle fell victim to prey.

This wasn't a funeral. It was a gangsta's goodbye party, a time when hustlers met connects and gangsters ordered hits. Pretty women attended just to meet these gangsters.

Right before the sermon, the funeral became silent, as if people had seen a ghost. Linda held Malik's hand tightly as Black Sam entered the funeral like a king. All he needed was a red carpet. He wore a black suit and the diamond in his ear was about five carats, setting off his shiny black head.

After Sam walked through, all the hustlers and gangsters started whispering to each other. Word on the street was that Gerald had robbed and killed Michael and Connie, and when Black Sam caught him getting in his 300ZX with the money, he put two bullets in his head and took over the operation.

Black Sam was now officially the new king, boss man, and CEO of Southeast. He came out looking like a hero, but deep down inside, he was too hurt to look at his friend lying in the casket. Linda peeped all the signs, and it was official that he was the killer.

When Sam came over to Malik, he jumped up to embrace him. “Uncle Sam!”

“Hey, lil man. Everything's gonna be all right.”

As Linda stared Black Sam in the eyes, he looked away and held Malik even tighter. “Everything's gonna be all right, Malik. I promise.”

Malik couldn't fight back the tears anymore. Sam was the closest thing he had to his father, and Linda was the closest thing he had to his mother.

Linda didn't talk, but her eyes pierced Sam's eyes. Nigga, your bitch ass killed them, and now you're gonna come in here and try to console their son? I swear on my life you will answer for this, she thought. With all her strength, Linda held her thoughts inside and grabbed Malik. “Come on, Malik. We gotta get going. Say goodbye to Sam.”

“Bye, Uncle Sam.”

“Bye, young soldier. Always remember everything your father taught you, okay?”

“I will, Uncle Sam. Are you gonna come pick me up from Linda's sometime?”

“Yeah, Malik. I'm a come and get you all the time. We gonna do everything together.”

With that, Linda headed out the door while mumbling under her breath, “Bitch-ass nigga, lying to my nephew. He doesn't give a fuck about you, Malik. He killed your parents.”

“What did you say, Aunt Linda?” Malik asked.

“Oh, nothing, baby.”

 

Chapter 12

-GANGSTER ACADEMY-

 

1990 . . .

 

 

y the time Malik turned twelve, he was a full bred, seasoned youngster that was soon to come up in the ranks as a gangster. Linda lived uptown with Butter on Seventh Street Northwest, which was the busiest market for crime. It was considered a gangster's paradise. Everything moved on Seventh Street, from drugs to prostitution, gambling to murder, life to death. This was where Linda raised Malik.

Uptown was more like Las Vegas, where tricks were constantly being played. If someone wasn't sharp enough to recognize game, then he would fall victim to everyone's play.

Linda taught Malik everything she knew about surviving the streets. Although Linda knew Connie would never raise her child this way, she also knew that whenever Michael had a chance, he planted the seed of the streets in Malik. It was Linda's turn to make sure the seed blossomed into a full-fledged gangsta.

She brought Malik up hard. At ten, Malik's first lesson from Linda was to fight back, no matter what, and to come out the winner. Linda signed Malik up for boxing, and within the first six months, Malik caught on fast. He became skilled in throwing every blow with speed, power, and precision.

The coach took an extreme liking to Malik. He told Linda that Malik was a natural born champion. Malik had power in both hands, the heart of a lion, and the cleverness of a fox. He couldn't understand how a ten-year-old kid was able to fight and think at the same time. Although Linda knew how, she still kept it to herself. Malik had built-up anger, and whenever he put gloves on, it was his way to release it.

After learning he was well-trained in throwing hands, Linda took Malik out of boxing class and put him straight into the gangster's academy. She didn't put him in boxing class to make it a career for him. She did it to create a highly skilled fighter on the streets. She knew one day the lessons he learned would be used in a life or death situation.

Linda took Malik to the pool hall on Seventh and T Streets, Northwest—what she called the gangster's academy. The pool hall was where one could learn how to be every type of hustler.

Shorty Jeff, the owner, was the first person introduced to Malik. Jeff was a short, chubby guy in his early fifties. Always neatly dressed, he wore expensive diamond rings, but never watches. He used to say there was no need for a watch when getting money was his only goal twenty-four hours a day.

Jeff knew Malik was Michael's son, and he knew that Linda was raising a gangster. He took a liking to Malik because he was eager to learn the tricks of the game, and Jeff wanted to teach him. Although Jeff knew the cops could close down the place if they raided the pool hall and found Malik inside, he still let Malik hang around.

The first thing Jeff taught Malik was how to shoot craps. He taught him everything from pad rolling to switching dice. Malik became good at shooting craps, but he failed at his talk game.

Linda then introduced Malik to Buttons, the pimp. Buttons was the biggest and slickest pimp in D.C. He often played pool with Butter while waiting for his hoes to come pay him. Linda always liked Buttons, but she never wanted to deal with him. Buttons was too slick for his own blood.

Linda wasn't the one to answer to a pimp. She'd already been through that with Butter long ago. Linda was her own person and had two whores in her stable that were bringing in at least a thousand dollars a day. Other pimps hated her, but Buttons respected her.