The King Of The South (4 page)

“About 250 stacks and three bricks already bagged up.” Texas said.

Red smiled and nodded his head in approval.

__________

King, Kareem and the rest of his crew sat at the kitchen table in one of their stash houses. They had been thinking all morning on the right way to strike back at Red and his squad.

“So, we know they are on their damn guard. We need to find a way to get our shit back, plus a pound of flesh. Fuck that, four pounds of flesh.” King said, pacing the floor in his parents’ basement.

“You said Red did this, right?” Dirty said and laughed. “Well, you know everything in life happens for a reason. Guess who my fucking cell mate was when I was in the joint?”

“Who, nigga?”

“Titus… and do you know who Titus is?” Dirty asked with a huge grin.

“Your cell mate?” King said, getting annoyed with the twenty questions bullshit.

“Titus is Red’s cousin, and Titus really liked to talk about how his cousin was taking over the city. You know when you are locked up, you either write, read, talk or go crazy. Titus liked to talk, and he talked a whole lot. This nigga told me all about his cousin’s houses, hangouts, and women. I think he got a girlfriend over at Nikki’s. Her name is… damn. What is her name?” Dirty said, tapping his finger against his temple.

“Nikki’s?” King said, laughing. “The only dancer worth fucking with over there is Peaches.”

“Peaches? That could be her name. I know her house is one of his stash houses. He got her in a place off Sugar Creek. He stashes his guns and dope there, from what Titus told me.”

“He got his stash and ass in the same house? Damn he don’t give a fuck about that bitch, huh?” King said, shaking his head.

“Nah, he care, he just makes sure that nobody know that he stash his shit there. Titus knows because he used to fuck Peaches until he got locked up. Red fucked her one night and fell in love with the bitch. Titus said he wasn’t gonna fall out with family over no pussy.” Dirty said and grabbed another beer from the refrigerator.

“What else did Titus tell ya, brah?” King said and sat down. “We need to get our shit back and give these fools some act right.”

__________

Panama, Kirk, Mike, and Trip stood in the parking lot of the old Harris Teeter. King had called and told them to meet him and Kareem there at ten. The four of them had heard about what happened on Milton, and Panama was ready to spill some blood in the streets. Strap was his first cousin, and he was the one who had to tell his Aunt that her only son had been murdered. Each tear that fell from her eyes made his blood boil, and he wanted to go out in the streets and bring hell to Red. Even though his emotions were running high and he wanted Red’s head on a plate, he knew that letting feelings run him in this game would end with him not breathing. Panama had joined the service straight out of high school, and one thing he knew was to study the enemy. When you attack the enemy, it is crucial to make sure that they can never come back. That was something that Red obviously didn’t understand.

A pair of headlights cut the darkness of the parking lot. Panama made out King’s Jaguar as he pulled into the parking space beside Panama’s black Cayenne SUV. He pounded King, and nodded at Kareem. Panama really didn’t care for Kareem. The nigga was always cracking on people, and Panama’s large facial features made him the butt of a lot of Kareem’s jokes. But he also knew Kareem’s street credit went deep and niggas knew that he would put that work in, and his love and loyalty for King was undeniable.

“What’s good fam, you all know why we here,” King said, leaning back on the trunk of his Jag. “Red done fucking robbed us and killed our brothers. We got to set this right and send a damn message to the streets.”

“What you need us to do, King?” Panama said, not in the mood for a speech.

The men discussed the plan for thirty minutes, and then left the parking lot. Panama and Trip headed towards Fourth Street. Panama did not like using information provided by niggas he didn’t know. He was sure that most niggas always left something important out. He had to check the area for himself to make sure they were not walking into some shit that would put them in body bags.

__________

“You ready to do this shit, brah?” Kareem said, checking his AR-15.

King nodded as he pulled to the end of the narrow road.

King’s track phone buzzed. “Yeah? All right, call me when we can move.” King hit end on the key pad.

He had bought the temporary phone to make sure that no one could trace them. He didn’t give a fuck about Red knowing, but he didn’t need the cops being able to trace this shit back to him. He tapped his fingers on the trigger of his Colt. The car was silent, both men were preparing to go in and send people to hell. They had shot his boys down like animals without a thought, and King was going to make sure that they felt exactly what his family felt.

__________

Panama wiped the blade of his knife off on his pants. He had decided against guns, they were a little noisy and not as personal. He wanted these niggas to see death coming for them, and with the swipe of his blade across their throats, he would feel that he had avenged his cousin’s death.

“I thought Kareem said there was only two niggas up here.” Trip said, looking around.

“That is why we needed to check shit out for ourselves.” Panama said.

It was early, and the hood was hot. The fiends were keeping the dope boys busy. Cars were going up and down the street.

“It’s too hot here, bro, for this shit to go down tonight. Damn, and on a Sunday night too. This nigga got all this money being made, why the fuck he wanna come on our side?” Trip said as he watched the street with his night goggles.

“Shit, you know niggas greedy… but we gotta clear this shit tonight. We gonna need some more fire power. Get Shark and Marcus over here. I’mma call King.” Panama said

Panama leaned against the wall of the building’s roof.

“Yo, King, this block is on fire tonight. You sure you want to take this shit tonight?” Panama asked, while Trip continued to look down the scope of his rifle, watching the dope fiends and the hustlers.

“Yeah, I’m sure, fam. We might not get this chance again anytime soon,” King responded.

“Aight man, we got you. I got Trip calling in some more peeps, just in case.” Panama said before hanging up the phone. “So did you get them on the phone?”

“Yeah, they just two blocks over at Chip’s house. They on they way.” Trip said, still looking through the scope.

“Aight, we just waiting on King to give us the word.” Panama said as he sat down on the concrete slab.

__________

Red and his crew were still at the club. They had been drinking and smoking since the club opened. He and Texas watched the new dancer hypnotize the crowd with the movements of her full hips and thick thighs. Red’s entire crew was quiet, which was a rarity for them. Miguel’s
Adore
flowed through the speakers as she floated down from the pole. Floated was the only way that Red could describe how she moved. The song ended and the VIP room was quiet for a moment.

“Well damn, Nikki’s is getting some talent up in this piece.” Texas said as he took a sip of his beer.

Trixie entered the room and began clearing the bottles.

“Trixie, who is that new bitch?” Texas said, nodding toward the stage as the woman gathered her money from the stage floor.

“That’s Mystic, she’s new. She and her girlfriend just started. Since Peaches hasn’t been here, Tigga scouted for some new talent and found them in some little place in Virginia. They do
shows.
” Trixie said, making quotation marks in the air. “This is their second night, and the fucking line is wrapped around the damn block. I’ll be back with your drinks, okay? And I hear that Peaches is here, Red, she just got here about ten minutes ago.” Trixie said before walking out the door.

Red lit his blunt again and sighed. Although he missed Peaches, Mystic’s performance had pushed her from his mind for the moment.

The lights flickered, and the scent of strawberries flooded the club. It mixed with the smell from the weed smoke in VIP. The stage became full of pink smoke, and Rihanna’s song, “Pour it Up,” came over the speaker. Trixie even stopped to see what was going to happen on the stage.

A silk purple piece of cloth fell from the ceiling, and then in time with the music, five additional silk cloth strands came down.

As Rihanna let out a
Throw it up, throw it up,
two women descended from the ceiling, twirling themselves in the material.

Watch it all fall out
Pour it up, pour it up
That’s how we ball out
Throw it up, throw it up
Watch it all fall out
Pour it up, pour it up
That’s how we ball out

The women wore long black wigs with masquerade type masks over their eyes. As the music flowed through the speakers, the women moved from the fabric effortlessly.

“Damn, you seeing this shit, Red?” Texas said, standing up.

The music stopped and the material dropped. The women were hanging from a purple rope. Their legs were entwined around each other. One of them had her hand on the rope, supporting the two of them. The music started again, and one woman flipped herself upside down, putting them in a sixty-nine position. The crowd went crazy.

“Whoo, damn!” Texas said.

Trixie stood with her mouth open.
Nikki’s
had
never featured this type of act before. She looked at the flat screen TVs on the wall. The cameraman had zoomed in on the women. They had flawless bodies. Strong toned hips, thighs, flat stomachs, and full DD breast. The money began to rain down on them as they continued their routine. Their hands explored each other, and their facial expressions were making niggas’ shit rock hard.

Red sat mesmerized by the women. It was like watching two fucking butterflies on stage. This shit was too high class for Nikki’s. This wasn’t stripping, this was entertainment. The club went black for about thirty seconds and one red light hit the stage. The women were arm in arm with one leg straight up in the air. They slowly lowered their legs and took a bow.

The club erupted again, and dudes and females began making it rain down on the duo.

Trixie had just witnessed her fucking tips getting better, cause these bitches were not only going to bring in niggas, they were going to bring some white money from Uptown Charlotte in the place.
Shit, we are going mainstream,
she thought to herself.

__________

Panama and Trip watched the traffic on Fourth Street. They had been there for a little over an hour, watching the movement below. Panama was now satisfied that they would not have any surprises. There were three street workers, and from what he could see, there were maybe four or five people inside, including two women.

Panama called down to King to let him know the coast was clear.

“Did you say two ladies was in the house?” King asked with concern.

“Yeah, two hoes them niggas probably tricking off on.”

“Well, we need to hold up until they leave. I ain’t with killing women—”

“Brah, I thought you said this shit gots to go down tonight.” Panama said, cutting King off.

“Yeah, I did, but I got a mother and a daughter. Like I said, I ain’t with killing no innocent women, so we just got to wait!” King yelled into the phone, making his point clear.

Just as Panama was about to hang up, the two strippers came out the front door and started walking down the street. They were laughing and counting money, completely unaware of how close they had just come to death.

“All right, the bitches just left out. Are you ready?” Panama asked.

“Yeah nigga, we good,” King said, looking at Kareem, who nodded at him.

Panama was watching from the roof of the tire building, and he squeezed off two shots, taking out two of the street boys quietly with his silenced rifle. The two men fell without a sound to the ground. Panama waited for the third man to come out of the trap house. He had gone in to drop money and to get some product. As the third man walked towards the corner, Trip had him lined up in his sights. He exhaled as he squeezed the trigger and the man fell perfectly in front of a tree.

King opened the door of the old Pontiac that he used when he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He and Kareem walked down Fifth Street and jumped a fence to the house that was next to Red’s trap house. Kareem held his AR, ready to pop anything that moved.

Shark and Marcus approached from the front.

On King’s signal, the four of the stormed the house and in only ten minutes tops, Shark had stripped every member of Red’s crew. Marcus and Shark laughed as they packed up the money and the drugs. These fools had it out in plain sight, and their stash was in an obvious place under the tile in the bathroom.

“We got it.” Shark said as he threw the backpacks on his back.

King and Kareem stood in the living room of the trap house. Red’s cousin, Moose, was on his knees in front of King.

“Call your fucking, cousin.” King said, throwing Moose’s phone to him. The phone slid across the floor.

Moose spit on the King’s shoes and laughed. “Call him ya damn self, bitch.” Moose said, struggling to get free from his restraints.

Kareem laughed along with Moose. As he laughed, he patted Moose on the shoulder. Marcus and Shark looked at King in confusion. A loud crack filled the air, followed by a scream.

“Ahhhh, damn fuck… fuck. Nigga you broke my nose!” Moose yelled as blood squirted from his nose.

Kareem continued to laugh. “Well, since you want to be a fucking comedian, I wanted to make sure your clown nose was beaming red. Now you heard the man, call Red now!” Kareem yelled.

Moose whimpered. “Shit, man, I can’t even breathe!”

Kareem raised the butt of the gun to deliver another blow.

“Stop, brah.” King said as he walked over to Moose. “Now nigga, this is simple. You can make the call, or die slowly right fucking now. Make the fucking call!” King said, holding the gun to Moose’s shattered nose.’

“Fuck it, press six,” Moose said. He knew he was going to die, but he’d rather go quickly than have these fools torture his ass.