Life (39 page)

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Authors: Leo Sullivan

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Action & Adventure

BOOK: Life
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n’t answer, she just stared at me for all it was wor th as my joint

went soft in her hands. She pulled away. I adjusted my fly, taking

the opportunity to navigate my thoughts, it was an awkward situ-

ation. The last thing in the world I wanted was for this chick to

know that I was getting emotionally attached to her.


I’m sending Tomica to Chicago and Evette to Baltimore.

From here on out, we movin’ weight.”


But I thought you said we was never going to sell weight to

keep the feds off.”


No! You said we were never going to sell weight. I’m chang-

ing the game plan, flipping the script. It takes too damn long to

move a key of Boy in this country-ass town,” I said. For some rea-

son I was angry, hurt. It felt like she betrayed me.


Papi, why you into your feelins?” Her words chimed. I just

looked straight ahead, watched the rain dance off the windshield,

thought about all the cash I had stashed at her place, duffel bags

full. I couldn’t even count it all it was coming so fast.

Like round two, Trina’s whole demeanor changed. She placed

her hand into my lap. Her index finger gyrated a figure eight

motion on my thigh. I turned and looked at her, for the first time

I saw Trina Vasquez, the actress. She was as fake as a three-dollar

bill. I thought about what Blazack had said back there in the base-

ment, “that Brooklyn bitch playin’ you like a sucka.”

I hopped out of the car into the pouring rain, heard her shout

as she called my name. Emotions spilling over like some volcanic

reaction. That was the day that I decided to buy a money count-

ing machine, several of them.

I drove back to Quincy with Major as my sidekick. We drank

E&J bumping Too Short’s “The Ghetto” on my Alpine system. I

fired up a blunt, reflected back on my life. Trina’s words were

haunting me. I knew it was time to start thinking about getting

out of the game, but hell, I was just getting star ted. Besides, Trina’s

people had me hooked.

Two days later Black Pearl gave birth to a healthy baby boy.

When she came home from the hospital, the girls decided to give

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her a baby shower. I had never seen so many ruddy females in my

entire life. They even hired male strippers. I noticed that a few of

Trina’s fraternity sisters brought rulers with them to use on the

strippers. When dude showed up at the door wearing a cowboy

suit I knew it was time for me to get the hell out of there.

*****

It took me a few weeks, but I was finally able to purchase the

land that Black Pearl and I dreamed about. The old guy thought

I was crazy, so did ever ybody else, except Black Pearl. She had been

talking to decorators and architects about building a stylish man-

sion just like them white folks have out in Hollywood, so I flew in

decorators from California and paid out the ass for it, too.

*****

Trina finally graduated from FAMU after being there seven

years, majoring in a four-year course in Business Management.

On the same day Trina graduated, Black Pearl turned seventeen,

so I did the damn thang! We partied lavishly. I rented five stretch

limos and filled them with cases of Moet and Alize. The next day

I paid for thirty-eight tickets at eight hundred a pop, plus airfare,

to go see a Mike Tyson fight at Madison Square Garden. The fight

only lasted thirty-seven seconds. We still had a ball. For the first

time I saw Blazack with a smile on his face that wasn’t from mis-

chief, but the pure joy of being a big baller. The next morning we

flew back to Florida. We were tired, hung over, pooped and par-

tied out. I had another surprise for Trina. In the parking lot of her

building complex off campus sat a top-of-the-line Mercedes. One

of them big body Benzes. I even had it customized with a special

stash spot and some other nice amenities. We decided to give

Black Pearl Trina’s Lexus to zip around town in.

The most amazing thing happened. Something that a man

will never fully be able to understand, the metamorphosis that a

woman experiences with her body after childbirth. Keep in mind,

Black Pearl was like my baby sister, or for that matter, my daugh-

ter. After she had the baby she blossomed into a drop dead gor-

geous beauty. Her hips spread wide, her butt got big like Wow.

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One of them ghetto booties with a small taut waistline, punctuat-

ed by the symmetry of her figure like a deformed Coke bottle.

Lord, I tried not to look at that child’s rear end. If Trina, Tomica

and Evette were dime pieces, then Black Pearl was definitely a

twenty piece with her dark features, deep chocolate skin, perfect

white teeth with a dazzling smile that could make a man blush

from standing too close to beauty, not to mention body. She

named her son Shawn L. The L was named after me. I thought

that was kind of dope.

Shawn L. was a cute little booger. Looked just like his mama.

As soon as he started walking we called him Lil Man. The first

words that came out his mouth were “muthafucka” and “money.”

I taught him that.

*****

Two months later the remodeling of the Chateau was going

lovely and I was bringing in so much money that I had to hire

more workers. August 26, 1992, Lil Cal was found guilty. He was

sentenced to life in prison. I immediately hired attorneys to work

on his appeal. The last time we talked he sounded distraught, that

was my nigga, and with all my newly achieved wealth, there was-

n’t a damn thing I could do to help him other than send him

money.

*****

May 1994, two years later, I was still in the game, only then,

I wasn’t a playa, I was coaching from the sidelines, doing big

thangs. Moving major weight. Tallahassee was small to me, so I

gave Blazack the entire operation. That way officially it looked like

I retired, but actually I graduated into the Ivy League right up

there with the rest of the corporate American thugs. I was doing

all the things that I promised Trina I would not do. Only now, I

kept her out of my business. We were starting to grow apart.

Money can do that to a relationship. I knew of her disdain for me

selling dope. Even though I promised her I would get out, I could-

n’t and sometimes I wondered if her cousin, Willie Falcon, would

let me. I knew too much.

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To ever yone’s delight, Pearl and I remodeled the old mansion

into grandiose elegance with sprawling manicured landscaping of

picturesque green pastures surrounded by a white picket fence that

gave the estate the appearance of the White House. In the drive-

way and in the garage sat ten luxury cars including my two prized

possessions, his and hers Rolls Royce convertible Bentleys sitting

on dubs. We spent close to three million on remodeling the place.

I named it “Chateau G.P.”

For me, this was the testament of a hustler’s grind from hav-

ing a team of niggas with one common interest: money. Outside,

I lived lavishly. There was a waterfall connected to the swimming

pool, and of course, a basketball court. Inside was sixteen thou-

sand feet of nothing but plush luxur y. Black Pearl had everything

decorated white with sparkling crystal chandeliers, which accen-

tuated the marble floors. There was even a white baby grand piano

that sat in front of the picture window that overlooked the swim-

ming pool. I installed a state-of-the-art security system with cam-

eras set up so I could see any part of the house I wanted, both

inside and out. I even had a secret passageway built in behind the

bookshelves in my study, just in case I needed to make a quick

escape if them folks came looking for me. About a year ago, Willie

Falcon got nabbed in New York. The media had a frenzy. His bust

made world news. The papers dubbed him the second biggest

drug lord in the world. They said his empire was worth billions.

So I continued to make moves with his backing, only now since

his arrest, for some reason, more tr ust was bestowed to me. My

millions were crumbs compared to his billions. So I moved

weight, occasionally I would fly over to Colombia. The job was

risky as hell, but the rewards were great. I’d never seen so much

coke in my life. The last time I flew over there, the National

Guard with the help of the DEA tried to shoot our plane down.

Scared the shit out of me. That was the last time I flew to

Colombia.

*****

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Chapter Four

teen

Chapter Four

teen


Gangsta’s Paradise”


Life –

I pulled the old Cadillac off the shoulder of the old dirt road onto

the spiraling landscape of my estate as Lil Man sat on my lap. He

liked to play drive with the steering wheel. Now, at 3 years old, he

was a bundle of joy. I remember when I was a shorty, my old man

used to do the same thing with me.

It was one of them lazy Saturday mornings. I was just return-

ing from the Mom and Pop grocer y store up the hill. I was driv-

ing the first car that I purchased from back in the day when I first

came up on the grind. The ‘73 Caddy was in mint condition. I

made it a point to never let anyone see me drive my new whips.

They were like awards given to the most valuable playa. Besides,

Trina shined for the both of us. There is something about New

York chicks. Trina drove around town in a customized white

Bentley on dubs, she and her wild-ass homegirls.

As usual, as I approached the security gates of the Chateau,

with its large embellishment decorated in brown stone and white

marble. Looking at this filled me with pride. I noticed that the

gates were wide open and thought that was unusual of Major to

leave them open like that. As soon as I turned into the circular

driveway, I saw trouble, six unmarked police cars lined up. Spitler

was standing next to the statue with the waterfall. For some rea-

son it made him look small. My heart skipped a beat as I franti-

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cally stashed my heat under the seat. I saw Trina and Black Pearl

watching from the doorway of the mansion. I got out of the car

with Lil Man in my arms. I was trying to act nonchalant, but I

could feel my leg shaking.

Spitler walked toward me gingerly. I tried to read the expres-

sion on his face, but didn’t want to look him in his eyes. I learned

long ago that white cops are easily intimidated by that. Spitler’s

brown suit was wrinkled like he slept in it for days. His eyes were

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