Promise Kept, page 14
During one of Asher’s trips west, he had become friendly with an up-and-coming dude with ties to the music industry. Much like Asher he was from the streets and trying to hustle his way into bigger things. He was doing well for himself, having established a few lucrative businesses and the buzz surrounding his fledgling record label had been steadily growing, but he was still knee-deep in the streets. Also like Asher, he sought to serve two masters and didn’t care about them. Their mutual love of the drug game and the glamour that came with being a boss was what had established their bond, but discovering each had an itch that the other could scratch was what proved to be the glue that would bind it.
One night, Asher offhandedly mentioned to Ab how he had met this big-time music guy on one of their trips to Cali and told him about a play they were working on putting together. Asher had already predicted what would happen long before he opened his mouth, and Ab didn’t disappoint. He spent the next hour or so picking Asher’s brain about his new friend. He presented it under the guise that he was trying to help his protégé plot the best way to cut into his new West Coast connection, but it was really just a ploy for him to poach Asher’s opportunity. Being the gracious big homie that Ab was, he offered to front the bill for Asher to fly his people out and would even put them up in a hotel in Atlantic City. “This will give you some clout in them Cali niggas’ eyes,” Ab had explained. He was really laying it on thick for this one. Ab was so thirsty to cut Asher’s throat that he didn’t think twice about it when Asher mysteriously came down with a case of food poisoning on the day they were supposed to drive down to Atlantic City to meet the guys from the label. Ab was all too happy to take the point in the meeting and bring Asher up to speed after. Less than a week after Ab’s body was discovered in a hotel room, Asher was the new king of the hood.
“I backed your play,” Cal said, recalling the part he had played in the coup, “but it isn’t like you were exactly forthcoming with what you intended to do.”
“I told you exactly what I planned to do. Remove Ab from power so that the organization could flourish. You agreed that it was the right thing to do,” Asher reminded him.
“Right! You said you had plans to remove him, not murder him,” Cal pointed out. Asher had revealed his plan to replace Ab with himself, but he had presented it in a way where Cal believed he was going to coax him into retirement or, at worst, find a new connect to undercut Ab’s prices. That had been half-true because, through Asher’s new bestie, He had managed to get a better quality of product at a friendlier price. Cal was cool with that, but murder? That was something Cal would’ve never signed up for had he known that had been his friend’s plan. Asher had probably known as much, which is why he kept Cal in the dark about it until it was too late for him to do anything to stop it.
“I ain’t did nothing other than what you did, and that’s look the other way when it went down,” Asher said.
Cal opened his mouth to respond, then clipped whatever he had been planning to say.
“What?”
Cal wasn’t going to respond at first, but he couldn’t hold what he was feeling. “Bruh, with a dude like B-Stone, I was able to turn a blind eye to him getting clipped and his killers never really being held accountable. Ab, though?” Cal shook his head in disappointment. “His hand didn’t call for it. We should’ve found another way.”
“Like what? Sit down, make nice, and try and do the right thing? I tried that approach, and for my trouble, he tried to snake me out of every opportunity I created, including that fake-ass deal I put together in AC!” Asher was getting frustrated. Cal was his right hand and the eyes in the back of his head, so he was the last person Asher felt he should have to keep explaining himself to. “Bro, I’m not sure what’s going on with you lately, but we’re in the long game now. Me and you.” He tapped Cal’s chest for emphasis. “If I ain’t learned nothing else from those two egomaniacs who came before me, I learned that, if I don’t wanna go out like they did, I gotta be willing to do and say some things that ain’t gonna gain me many popularity points.”
“Being unpopular also played a hand in their downfalls,” Cal pointed out. “That’s something else I meant to talk to you about. I know you’re running around starting new businesses and getting fitted for suits now, but don’t take your ear away from the streets.”
“Fuck is you talking about? I’m always in the hood,” Asher protested.
“Being in the hood and being aware of the politics are two different things. I feel like you might be forgetting that, which is why you keep acting like you see that nigga Milk in your rearview. He been chatting real big lately.”
“Fuck Milk,” Asher said as a matter of fact. “He just in his feelings because I knocked a bitch off that he was sweet on. Me and him have had a love/hate relationship ever since. Why? He saying some shit that I need to hear?”
“I’m not concerned by what he’s saying. It’s what he’s not saying that’s got me looking at him funny,” Cal clarified. “We ain’t the only niggas in the hood who been moving different since the power has shifted and everybody’s gotten promotions. You don’t feel it because you’re not tapped into the day-to-day antics anymore, and I’m only on deck long enough to make sure all of our spots are running accordingly, then I usually skate. We trust our lieutenants to make sure business is running smoothly, and it’s Milk they look to when we’re not around. He’s the voice most of our soldiers hear every day.”
“A monster of my own creation.” Asher already saw where Cal was going with this. And he was right. Milk was one of the original knuckleheads who had come under B-Stone and Ab when everybody was getting put on the hood, but he had never been a part of the hierarchy as Asher and Cal had been. He was a dude from the hood but had never put in any work of note. Asher had given him his new position on the strength that Milk was someone familiar. He had been around longer than anyone in their new regime. Milk had taken his new position and started running with it. Asher would be lying if he said that he hadn’t noticed the subtle flexes here and there, but he had never given Milk enough credit or respect to deem him a threat. The fact that Cal had mentioned it meant that there was something that, in all his arrogance, Asher had missed. He knew firsthand the fates of men who made those kinds of mistakes. “I’ll take care of it,” he assured Cal.
“Incoming call . . .”
“Fuck!” Asher cursed and hit the reject button again.
“Damn, shorty must be thirsty as hell for all the times she’s called you. Either hit the bitch back or pass her off to your boy,” Cal joked.
“Trust me, you don’t want no parts of that one,” Asher said honestly. “Speaking of bitches, I got that thing up and running.” He changed the subject.
“Say word?” Cal’s mood picked up when the topic switched to money.
“Yeah,” Asher confirmed. “It’s slow motion right now, but I officially hit the go-button on it.”
“Damn, kid. I thought we were supposed to christen that mofo together?” Cal was tight that he had missed out.
“We were, and we will. This is what I call a soft launch. I’m just trying to see where we’re at with it and what them numbers are going to read like. This is foreign soil we’re about to play on, and I wanna know what’s what before we plant that flag.”
“Smart.” Cal nodded, rubbing his chin. “Keep it off the radar so that it doesn’t attract the wrong attentions.”
“It’s gonna come out eventually, so there won’t be no avoiding that. Still, I wanna do it on my time, my way. Feel me?”
“Yeah, I feel you, but I can’t say that I like it,” Cal admitted. “Dark times we’re living in where you gotta hide your wins, so people don’t take them as a reason to add to your losses.”
“Unfortunately, that’s the nature of a hater,” Asher said.
“So, you trust him?”
“I don’t trust nobody,” Asher said in a tone that suggested it might’ve applied to Cal too. “The thing working on my side is that I got him over a barrel because of a bit of advanced planning on my end. Quiet as kept, I put some shit in motion that burned all his bridges so that mine is the only path he has left to walk. I’d be a fool to think that he’ll play fair because that ain’t in his nature, but he’s going to play nice because that’s the only way he can stay in the game.”
“Cold as ice,” Cal remarked.
“Cold above ground is better than cold under it. Even the most skilled snake handlers get bitten. That’s a given. The trick is to make sure you have the antidote long before the strike comes. To be honest, this is probably one of the last dudes I’d have placed this much faith in if I didn’t have to. The fact that he’s been successful at this before and already friendly with the locals makes him a necessary evil.”
“I get that, but honestly? I can see him becoming a problem one day. His ego won’t allow him to play it any other way,” Cal pointed out.
“You know I know. It’s like I said; playing fair ain’t in his nature, but thankfully it isn’t in mine either.”
Cal wouldn’t say it, but he couldn’t have agreed more with Asher’s statement. Since seizing the reins of power, Asher had shown him time and again that he was willing to color outside the lines to keep it. This wasn’t the same kid he had come up with who had been all about getting money and chasing women. Asher was becoming something else right before Cal’s eyes. What exactly he was becoming was still up for question.
Instead of going to Asher’s house to smoke like they normally would, Asher suggested they go to Cal’s. His mom, Linda, was off from work that night and was probably in the house. It wasn’t that Linda minded them smoking in the house. She was a former gangbanger herself and cooler than most moms when it came to their vices, but Asher claimed he didn’t feel like her being all in their mix while they were trying to chill. Cal suspected that it was really because Asher wanted to be away from the hood for a time.
A few minutes later, they were pulling up to Cal’s place, which was located in North Newark. He had started renting the place when he and Asher had started seeing real money. Unlike his friend, he was smart enough to move his family from the thick of where they did their dirt. He was out of the way, but still close enough to where he could be back in the block within fifteen minutes if he needed to be. It was a two-story rental house with a finished basement that could be accessed through a side door. Cal claimed the basement as his own, so he could come and go as he pleased, and left the women to the upper levels of the house.
“This shit again,” Cal said when he noticed shadows moving around on his darkened front porch. They could smell the weed smoke long before they got out of the car. Through the open door, they could hear music, as well as several other voices. Either one of his sisters or his mother must’ve been entertaining again. They seemed to do that a lot since Cal had been promoted and was able to upgrade their quality of living a bit. They now carried themselves as hood royalty, making sure that all their friends knew about their good fortunes. This irritated Cal to no end because he was so low-key. The whole point of them moving was so that they would be off the radar, but the women in the house insisted on leaving a trail of golden breadcrumbs to their doorstep. Cal had confided in Asher about how he often thought about moving into a place of his own and leaving them to their shenanigans but feared that his mother and sisters would end up pissing the house away and end up piled into his grandmother’s apartment on Clinton again. He stayed for the sake of her peace of mind, or so he said. Cal might’ve popped a lot of shit about his ghetto-ass mother and sisters, but Asher knew how deeply he loved them.
Asher followed Cal through the front gate and up the short driveway. They could make out Cal’s oldest sister, Bernadette, one thick ass cheek resting on the rail of the porch. She had on a tight polka dot dress with a high split that showed off way too much of her meaty thighs. She sipped from a plastic cup, talking to someone pressed into the shadows. From the way she was throwing all thirty-two of her teeth, Asher figured she must be talking to one of her old boo-thangs, or a new one. It was hard to keep track of Bernadette’s revolving door of men. Whoever she was talking to must’ve pointed Asher and Cal out in the driveway because she turned, lazy smile on her lips.
“Hey, baby brother,” Bernadette greeted him. She moved to greet them, but almost lost her footing when one of her heels hit the chipped concrete steps the wrong way. Thankfully, Cal caught her before she fell.
“What did I tell you about having random niggas over here?” Cal held her by the arm. He was speaking to his sister, but his eyes were locked on whoever she had been speaking to in the shadows. Cal still couldn’t make out the face, but he did recognize that there were two of them.
“Random?” a familiar voice called from the darkness. The man Bernadette had been smiling at stepped out into the moonlight, so the two youths could get a look at him. He was tall and handsome, draped in a forest green suit with a white shirt beneath, and the first three buttons undone. His dark eyes took in Cal and landed on Asher, who stood frozen in place. If the devil truly did walk the earth, there was no doubt it was in the skin of this well-dressed man. “And here I thought we were friends.”
“What are you doing at my house, Zul? Wait, better question, how did you even know where I lived?” Cal cut his eyes at Asher, who was just standing there, looking dumbfounded.
“Thank your sister. I ran into her earlier. She gets real chatty after a few drinks.” Zul gave him a wink. “I had planned to pay a call on your lovely sister eventually, but you can thank your boy Asher for expediting the appearance.”
Cal looked to his sister for an explanation, but she appeared too drunk to have noticed the remark. Was Zul taking his sister down?
“Had he answered his phone, I wouldn’t have had to pop up unannounced, and we could’ve avoided this little awkward meeting. You owe me money, Asher? That’s the only reason that I can see for you to be ducking my calls.”
“Zul, you know I’d never do you like that. What happened was—” Asher began but was cut off.
“If you try and spin me like I’m one of your bitches, me and you are going to have a misunderstanding tonight,” Zul warned. As if on cue, his henchman, Snags, came off the porch. He was an older dude with patchy, dark skin and a missing tooth in the front of his mouth. Snags was a headache, and he loved to do Zul’s dirt for him.
Asher swallowed his response. He wasn’t a sucker, but he was no Zul either. The man could be very temperamental, which was a nice way of saying psychotic. He had to be handled with the greatest of care or else you could run the risk of setting him off. Asher had seen what he was capable of when he was like that, and Asher didn’t want to risk bringing that down on Cal or his family.
“Smart man,” Zul remarked of his silence. “Let’s take a ride.” He plucked Asher’s car keys from his hand and started for the Benz.
“Where we going?” Asher asked with uncertainty in his voice.
“To hell if we don’t pray!” Zul called over his shoulder before sliding behind the wheel.
Asher didn’t feel good about this, and his face said as much.
“I’m riding too,” Cal told Asher. He was still pissed about Asher’s antics leading to Zul showing up at his house. That was a man whom you didn’t want knowing where those you loved laid their heads. Still, angry or not, Asher was his best friend, and he wouldn’t leave him hanging.
“Nah, man. This one is on me.” Asher gave him an appreciative smile and was off to whatever fate awaited him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I see you haven’t lost your touch with the ladies, Don,” Trap said with an amused grin.
“And I see you still have a talent for showing up at places uninvited,” Don B. shot back.
“Funny, the last time I showed up somewhere uninvited you were singing my praises, or have you forgotten about Miami just that quick?” Trap taunted.
Miami was one of several run-ins that Don B. and Trap had over the years. They were rivals of sorts: two young up-and-comers from the same backgrounds with different levels of success. They were both street cats who had built their respective empires on foundations of blood, but this is where the similarities ended. Don B. managed to crack the Matrix code of the industry and take Big Dawg to a global level, but Trap always played with one foot in and one foot out. He was an underground legend, but Don B. was a superstar. Throughout their careers, their paths had crossed, and there had always been slick, yet respectable, banter trying to outdo each other, but Don B’s flex was always bigger. That was until that one night in Miami when the scales were unexpectedly tipped.
Don B. had been a regular in Miami. His roots and his heart would forever be in Harlem, but the Don loved the 305. So much that he even owned a condo in a small suburb a few miles outside of South Beach. He would shoot down there at least twice every month or so. This last run-in between him and Trap had been during a random week when Don B. had come down for a business meeting, but as was his style, it had shifted from business to pleasure. He had spent so much time in Miami that he had started moving with the same ease as he did in Harlem. This is why it had been so easy to catch him slipping. Don B. found himself in a bad way and had it not been for Trap showing up unexpectedly, he’d have suffered a fate which he felt would’ve been worse than death. Don B. had always known that Trap was holding a marker that would, one day, be called in. It had been the guillotine hanging over his neck since it happened, and he had lived in fear of it one day falling. And now, here was Trap wearing the executioner’s mask and holding the rope that would release the blade.
