The Mike Black Saga Book One (2 page)

We both put on gloves and stood up.

“Let’s do it,” Bobby said, and we walked toward them at the bar. Once we were standing behind them, it was like time was standing still.

I can’t speak for Bobby, and we never talked about it after it was done, but honestly,
its
one thing to talk shit about doin’ it, but
pullin
’ the trigger and blowin’ a hole in the back of somebody’s head is another. To that point, we had collected money and roughed up a few people, which was fun, but we were about to kill these muthafuckas.

We never even knew their names, much less who they were and what they had done for André to want them dead. But the time for thinkin’ was past; nothing to do then but pull and blast. I looked at Bobby, we pulled out our guns and we fired.

After that,
me
and Bobby worked for André. First, we were runners. Then we started collecting for André, but he liked us, so he started taking us around with him. Sometimes we felt like pets, two pit bulls. One day André took me and Bobby us to collect from a guy that owed him twenty-five grand. I was eighteen at the time. After we tied the guy
up,
and André started in on him.

“Where the fuck is my money?” André and Bobby started torturing the guy. Then his wife came home. André took her in the back and raped her.

Now Bobby’s idea of torture was while he slaps the guy around he tells him jokes. Some of them are funny, some aren’t. If you laugh, you get slapped. If you don’t laugh, you get hit. Hard. While all that was going on, I was sitting quietly watching
The Soldier
on TV.
 
When André got finished with the wife and came out of the back room, he slapped the guy a couple of times.

“Where the fuckin’ money?”

But by now the man is too out of it from the beating he got from Bobby to talk. André looked at me. “‘Yo, Black, come here.”

But I didn’t even answer him.

“Yo, Black, I think this guy’s dead,” André said.

I looked at them, got up, and walked over to the guy.

“Look at me,” I said and shook the guy, but he didn’t move. So I said it again. “Look at me.” This time he opened his eyes and looked up me.

I took out my gun, held it to his forehead, and shot him. One shot in the head. Then I looked at André. “Now he is.”

André freaked out. “Damn! You just a vicious mutha fucka! A vicious black wearin’ mutha fucka, ain’t you?”

“Whatever, can we go now?”

After that the name stuck. I became known as Vicious Black.

After that, Vicious Black’s reputation grew. It wasn’t long before Nick and Jamaica began working for André. He was a drug dealer. As far as he was concerned, gambling and prostitution was just a sideline. But I thought there was plenty of money to be made there. So since none of our crew
were
into the dope game, we found other ways to make money.

Nick started out runnin’ a crap game. He made a lot of money runnin’ that game. I remember there was this guy named Big Willie that used to always wanna fight everybody. He was always talking about killing niggas when he lost. So one night, I was there with Nick. Big Willie was there and he’s losing big money. Everybody was betting big money. There was a kid named Ricky Wells and he was on a roll. Big Willie lost again and started screaming about how much money he had lost and how the dice must be loaded. Then he turned to Nick. “
You
usin
’
loaded dice.”

“Ain’t
nobody
usin
’ no damn loaded dice,” Nick said while he counted his money. “You need to shut the fuck up and take his broke-ass home.” Nick picked up the dice and handed them back to Ricky and took his eyes off Big Willie. Before Nick knew it, he was on his back, and Big Willie was standing over him pointing a gun.

“Nobody talks to me like that!” Big Willie yelled and cocked the hammer.

When I saw what was happenin’ to run over to Nick and punched Big Willie in the face. I hit him so hard that it broke his jaw. Willie dropped the gun and grabbed his face. I pulled out a gun and held it to Willie’s head.

“You ain’t killin’ nobody tonight; especially him. Get the fuck outta here and don’t ever let me catch you ‘round here.”

Me and Bobby went freelance and did a few jobs
on their own
. It Wanda, who always had a head for
business, that
insisted that the first thing we should do was to start a business to run our money through. The name of our company was Invulnerable Security, specializing in private security and personal bodyguards. I chose a security company because it would afford them a license to carry guns. We began
highjacking
trucks in New Jersey, Northern Pennsylvania, and Connecticut. Sometimes we would park the truck on the block and give the stuff away. We robbed a few warehouses early on. But I decided that all that time waiting to load the truck was time waiting to get caught. Hijacking trucks on the other hand was quick, clean, and extremely profitable.

Me
and Angelo used to do a lot of work together those days. Angee had started to get around with a
made
man named Carmine xxx and was makin’ a name for
himself
. I was with Angee the day he made his bones. The guys name was
Nickie
Nemecek
. Two shots: One to the chest; one to the dome to make sure he was dead.

We had planned to hijack a load of cigarettes from a truck at the Molly Pitcher service area on the New Jersey Turnpike. It was to be me, Angee and Joey
Delfino
. We used to call him Crazy Joe. On the way to the job,
me
and Angee stopped to rob a jewelry store to settle an argument.

“I ain’t scared of shit, Mikey. You fuckin’ know that shit,” Angelo boasted as we drove to New Jersey to meet Joey.

“All I’m sayin’ is I like to plan a job before I do it. That don’t make me scared; that makes me careful,” I told Angee.

“You won’t do it ‘
cause
you’re scared, Mikey. Scared ‘
cause
you don’t know what you’re walkin’ into. Me, I don’t give a fuck. I’m ready for whatever they got in there.”

“Fuck you, Angee. Fuck you and fuck that dumb shit you talkin’. We just passed a jewelry store ‘bout a block ago. If you such a bad mutha
fucka,
turn this car around and go rob the mutha fucka.”

“Never challenge me, Mikey. You know better that shit. You know I will turn this heap around and do that shit, but we gotta meet Crazy Joe.”

“What’s that I smell? Is it pussy I smell in here? ‘
Cause
it sounds to me like somebody’s scared.”

“I ain’t scared of shit, Mikey, and I ain’t no fuckin’ pussy,” Angelo said and made a U-turn. Angee double parked the car in front of the store. “
You comin’
with me, chicken shit?”

I put on my gloves. “Let’s go,” and got out of the car. The robbery went off without any problems, but we got stuck in traffic coming across the George Washington Bridge. When we got to the service area we found Joey’s car, but no Joey. Angee found out the next day that Joey was arrested. Since me and Angelo didn’t show up, Crazy Joe
did
the job alone. He was arrested by Newark Police at the tollbooth when he got off the turnpike.

Me
and Angee did got into a lot of shit together. Talk about two mutha fuckas that used to get drunk. We used to go to Yankee Stadium, sit out in the bleachers and get drunk on draft beer. One night,
Me
and Angee are out drinkin’ in Long Island when Angee saw somebody that he knew. “Hey, Mikey.”

“What?”

“You see that guy over there?” Angelo slurred.

“Which one?”

Angelo pointed. “The white guy.”

I looked at Angee’s finger and followed it. “They’re all white guys, Angee.”

“The one wearin’ sunglasses at night.”

“Oh.”

“That fucka owes me money,” Angee said.

“So what you wanna do? You gonna kiss him or we gonna get your money?”

“What are you, Mikey? A fuckin’ fruit or somethin’? Hell no, I ain’t gonna kiss him. But the chick with him, now her I’d like to fuck.”

I looked closer. “Damn, Angee, that’s a fuckin’ man!”

“It is?”

“What are you, Angee? A fuckin’ fruit,” I laughed.

“No, I’m fuckin’ drunk!”

“Shit, so am I. But I ain’t talkin’ about fuckin’ no man. What are you? A fuckin’ fruit!” I laughed so hard that my head hurt.

“Come on, Mikey,” Angee said and stumbled in that direction. “Hey, hey. Hey you, fuck face. You with the glasses,” Angee said as we staggered up.

“What’s up Angelo?”

“Fuck that, fuck face. Where’s my fuckin’ money?” Angee demanded to know. He grabbed the guy by the collar and led him around behind the club. “Now, fuck face. Where’s my fuckin’ money?”

“I don’t have it on me. I’ll bring it to you tomorrow, I swear to God Angelo.”

Angee turned to me and when he turned back it was with one to the gut. The guy doubled over and held his stomach. Angee hit him in the head a few times.

“Hey, fuck face. I’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you, fuck face. Where’s my fuckin
money,
and you better not tell no shit about it you ain’t got it.”

“Really, Angelo, I’m gonna give you your money. I just ain’t got it on me.”

“You hear this shit? You hear this shit, huh Mickey?
This piece a shit don’t
have my money.”

“Yeah, I hear him.”

“
This fuckin’ fuck face piece a shit don’t
have my money. Shoot this prick, Mikey.”

I took out his gun and shot him.

“What the fuck!” Angee screamed. “Are you out your fuckin’ mind, Mikey?”

“What? You said shoot him, so I fuckin’ shot him,” I slurred and put my gun away.

“I was fuckin’ kiddin’. I was just tryin’ to scare the bastard,” Angee said as he paced back and forth over the body. “Fuck it, let’s get outta here.”

Me
and Mike were collecting for
Andréand
he sent us to collect from a dealer named Hector Villanueva Hector. Hector was a little slow payin’, which wasn’t any big deal, Hector was a stand up guy. When he had the money, he always paid. But
Andrédidn’t
like Hector and wanted me and Mike to lean on him. So we go around to this bar Hector hangs out in and have our usual
you’re late
conversation with Hector. Only
this ,
another wanna-be dealer name Diego
Estabon
was there. His father, Gomez
Estabon
, was a major player in the dope game and Diego was just punk kid, fresh off the boat from Peru, trying to make reputation for himself.

So Mike is talkin shit to Hector like be always does, but Diego hears him and rolls up behind Mike.

“Why you come up in here, talkin’ shit like you all bad and shit?” Diego asked.

Mike doesn’t even look back, he just wheels and back-hands Diego to the ground. Then Mike stands over him and says, “I wasn’t talkin’ to you.” And went back to talking to Hector like it wasn’t shit.

So Diego gets up from the floor and leaves the bar.

He went to his car and got a gun and was on his way back in the club to kill Black. But the cops see him walking in the club with the gun in his hand. They stopped him and when they searched the car Diego’s carrying two ounces of cocaine. That day Diego swear that one day he would get revenge on Black.