Promise Kept, page 17
Asher was too smart to respond. It was a loaded question, and no matter how he answered, it would either call his loyalty or competence into question. He remained silent. What only a few knew was that Asher not only knew where Saud had been laying low, but it had been him who plugged him in with the dudes that he was currently eating with in New York. When Zul first gave the order to have Saud hit, Asher had every intention of carrying it out, but then he got to thinking. It had been Saud who turned out to be the X factor in the war between B-Stone and Zul. He had been one of the few people able to outwit Zul during their game of strategy. Zul’s ego couldn’t and wouldn’t allow Saud to live and run the risk of him creating another B-Stone, which ironically was the same reason Asher had allowed him to live. He had planned to use Saud as his trump card that would finally get him out from under B-Stone’s thumb for good. So, instead of killing Saud, he set him up on a nondescript block in Mount Vernon that he was supplying with drugs behind Zul’s back.
“Sounds like funny business to me, homie,” Baby Blue added, playing with the speed on the treadmill again. Danny’s legs pumped harder, and his chest heaved. At one point, he stumbled but didn’t fall.
“Fuck you,” Asher snapped at Baby Blue.
“Fuck yo mama!” the teenager matched his tone. Blue slid from his perch at the controls, as Asher moved toward him. It was only Zul stepping between them that stopped fists from flying.
“Blue, don’t let that disrespectful-ass mouth of yours have you waiting outside with the rest of the Mob. You out of line,” Zul checked him.
“Zul, you got nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of this thing with Saud,” Asher assured him.
“So you’ve been promising, but have yet to deliver. Sadly, it’s out of your hands at this point. I’m putting someone more qualified on this shit with Saud. I need Saud dead, but first I need answers, specifically how he not only managed to evade my crowned prince, but how he was able to land so effortlessly on his feet so quickly. His life is now in the hands of the Outlaw.”
That was a name that Asher had not expected to hear, and the fact that Zul had hired him spoke to how desperate he was to get rid of Saud. John Outlaw a.k.a Johnny Black, was somewhat of a folk hero to those who knew the name. He was the hood’s version of Billy the Kid—young, armed, and reckless. He’d get into it with anybody anywhere. Asher knew that Saud was old school gangster and as tough as they came. He’d done more time in and out of prison than Asher had been on earth, touring through some of the most brutal prisons in the state of New Jersey, and it hadn’t been able to break him. But this wasn’t the prison system. This was the Outlaw. He had ways of making the most thorough dudes talk when he applied the pressure. Zul having captured Danny was unnerving, but there wasn’t too much that Danny could say that would damn Asher. Saud, on the other hand? Asher was fairly certain that, when the Outlaw was done with him, Asher’s name would be the last thing that crossed Saud’s dying lips. This was a conversation that Asher couldn’t allow to happen. He needed to get to Saud first.
“If we’re done here, I need to get back to the streets. It’s almost time for shift change.” Asher turned to leave but found his exit blocked by Fangs. Asher looked to Zul.
“You can’t leave just yet. We’ve still got unsettled business here,” Zul told him with a knowing smirk.
“You’ve said you know where Saud is and already told me that I’m off the job of getting rid of him. I don’t see what anything else involving that situation has to do with me at this point,” Asher said in as calm a tone as he could muster. He felt like the walls were beginning to close in on him and desperately wanted to get out of there.
“According to what Danny has shared, this has everything to do with you, my man,” Zul told him.
Impossible! Asher had never had any direct dealings with Danny, or even Saud, for that matter, after their initial bargain had been struck. There was no way that Danny could connect Asher to any of this unless Saud had told him. Even still, he’d be hard-pressed to prove it. Zul was either lying or reaching. “You’re crazy if you believe anything that comes out of this cocksucker’s mouth about me. He’s lying to save his miserable life.”
“How can you be sure if you haven’t heard it yet?” Zul raised an eyebrow. “Even before this clown started bumping his gums, I had an idea that this had been an inside job. The only way Saud could’ve managed to avoid my traps was if he had help from someone who knew where I had laid them. I’m going to ask you a question, and I’d advise you to think on it very carefully before answering. What would you do if you were betrayed by someone you’d come to love?”
All eyes in the room turned to Asher. Fangs still lingered in his blind spot. Baby Blue was glaring at him like he was just waiting on Zul to give the word to end Asher. Then there was Zul. His face was devoid of emotions, but his dark eyes bore into Asher expectantly. Mentally drained and out of lies, Asher went for the truth. “I don’t know.”
“And that’s the saddest part.” Zul shook his head in disappointment. “Danny, my young prince says that you’re a liar. This is your chance to prove him wrong. Leave this world with some dignity and keep it one hundred for once in your life. Speak the name of the dead man who’s been feeding you and that pussy Saud.”
Asher tensed, waiting for the coward Danny to pass the death sentence over him. If he was lucky, they would just shoot him and not subject him to the Home Depot blades. Asher was a young, pretty nigga and all the women who came to mourn him deserved the gift of seeing his face one last time. Asher was vain, even on the threshold of his death. The insanity of the thought made him chuckle.
“You think this is a joke? Wait until you hear the punchline,” Fangs whispered in his ear.
“On my kids’ lives, I told you the truth!” Danny insisted. He was struggling to keep up with the ever-changing speed on the treadmill and having a hard time of it.
“Humor me and repeat,” Zul said, eyes on Asher.
“Fuck . . .” Danny huffed. “The money . . . the money Saud has been using to bankroll the New York operation came from . . . fuck!” he screamed before losing his footing.
Danny slid down the treadmill, nails digging into the track, futilely trying to prevent the inevitable. Blood sprayed on everyone in the room, including Baby Blue, who proceeded to retch up whatever he had eaten that day. Even Fangs had to turn away from the sight, but not Asher. Asher wanted to turn away from the sight unfolding in front of him but found that he couldn’t. He watched in an almost trance-like state as the Home Depot blades ripped Danny to pieces. It happened so fast that Danny barely had a chance to scream. Long after he had passed from this life, the blades kept spinning, cutting his corpse to ribbons. Asher chuckled inwardly, thinking at how the universe had finally decided to look favorably on him by dragging Danny to hell and, with him, whatever secrets he’d been planning on spilling.
“Damn you, Blue! I told you to stop fucking with the machine!” Zul cursed, wiping blood from his face with the silk napkin that had been in the pocket of his suit jacket. “I had my dramatic performance all set up and you ruined it!”
“How the fuck was I supposed to know his ass wouldn’t be able to keep up?” Blue asked, between gags.
“Maybe if you hadn’t been running him like a fucking nag at the Kentucky Derby, he would’ve,” Fangs offered.
“Idiots . . . I’m surrounded by fucking idiots.” Zul shook his head. When he turned to Asher, he found the young man trying to suppress a smile. “I guess you think you’ve dodged a bullet, huh? Think again. Danny already told me what I needed to know, but I wanted to see your reaction when you heard it for yourself that it was your boy Cal who crossed me by throwing in his lot with Saud.”
“What?” Asher was shocked. This was something that he hadn’t seen coming.
“Yes, it was your right-hand man who was feeding that snake. You didn’t know?” Zul questioned.
“I . . . um . . . no, that’s not possible. He had to be lying,” Asher insisted.
“I thought so too at first. Ironically enough, Fangs is fucking one of the chicks who works at the sneaker store in Market where Danny claims the last transaction took place. I had her pull the tape and saw Cal meeting Danny with my own eyes. You know what has to happen, don’t you?”
Asher was too stunned to speak. This was his bullshit, and in his scheming, he had put his best friend’s life in danger. He had fucked up in a major way.
“I knew that patchwork-looking muthafucka had larceny in his heart from the moment I met him. I wanted to have you cut him loose when I handed you the keys to the city, but I figured you’d keep him under control. Apparently, I was wrong.”
“Zul, this has got to be a mistake. Let me talk to Cal. I can straighten this out,” Asher pleaded.
“The time for talking is done, homie. When I first showed up at Cal’s house earlier, it was my intent to murder that back-stabbing fuck and his whole family, but then I had a better idea. This doesn’t look good on you, Asher. For as close as you two are, I find it hard to believe that you didn’t know what he was doing. If you did, that makes you a traitor as well, and you’ll be the next one running laps for Baby Blue. If you didn’t, then you’re incompetent and unfit to lead anymore. Neither conclusion is a favorable one. At least, not for you, but there’s an alternative. You want to prove to me that you’re not a complete fuck-up? Make this right. Balance the scales.”
“Cal is like my brother,” Asher said barely above a whisper.
“Did Cain not slay Abel? Either way this shakes out, those blades are going to have a second helping. Whether it’s you or Cal that gets served up is totally up to you,” Zul said flatly.
What Zul was asking of him was impossible. He couldn’t kill Cal, yet he wasn’t quite ready to die either. There had to be a way out of this, he just needed time to come up with a plan. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Of this, I am sure. Until then, Milk will be running the show,” Zul informed him.
“Fuck you mean, Milk? Milk ain’t fit to run shit but his mouth. With all due respect, this is my city, Zul. I earned it.”
“No, it was handed to you,” Zul corrected him with the simplicity of a child who had just mispronounced a word from a book they were reading. “I own Newark, Asher. You’re just the landlord. Don’t let me have to remind you of that again. You don’t like my decision? Do something to change my mind. Until then, get the fuck out of here. I don’t wanna see you again unless it’s to tell me Cal is dead, or I’m consoling your mama while she’s putting flowers on your casket.”
Asher opened his mouth to speak but didn’t trust what would come out of his mouth. If Asher had been strapped, he would’ve put a bullet in Zul right then and there, but he wasn’t. He held his anger and made to depart the shed. Zul had some parting words for him though.
“If you try to drag this out like you did the business of getting rid of Saud, I’m going to let Baby Blue put a bullet in your head. Clock is ticking, young prince. You’d better get to it.”
Asher didn’t respond. He just lowered his head and started for the exit. He could hear Baby Blue behind him snickering. Laugh now, lil nigga, Asher thought to himself as he stepped out into the night air. Once again Zul had put him in a trick bag of his own making, and this one wouldn’t be so easy to lie and scheme his way out of. Betraying B-Stone and even Ab had been choices that he had been able to live with, but Cal? They had been best friends since they were kids. Besides his mother, Cal was the closest thing he had to family and that lunatic had just ordered Asher to kill him. It was either that or end up suffering the same fate as Danny or worse. Asher loved Cal, but enough to die for him?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I would’ve died for him,” Trap said once they were out of earshot of their respective entourages. Keisha had led them to a back room where the girls did private dances, among other things. It was small and dimly lit, with the only light coming from the few LEDs that lined the ceiling and the exit sign over a fire door in the back. The air was stale, reeking of smoke and sex, and the floors were sticky. But it allowed the two men privacy.
“What’s that now?” Don B. asked, shaking a used condom from the bottom of his boot.
“Nutty, my homie that you threw up in my face a while ago. I would’ve gladly died for him if I had it to do all over again. I should’ve seen it coming, and if I had maybe I could’ve stopped it. It’s one of my greatest regrets. You ever do things in your life as a young nigga that you looked back on as an OG and regretted?”
“Can’t say that I have. The Don does as he pleases and lets the chips fall wherever,” Don B. said with a shrug.
“That’s that Harlem shit. Y’all gotta be some of the most cocky and egotistical muthafuckas that I’ve ever encountered.” Trap chuckled.
“I make no apologies for my confidence,” Don B. said.
“Maybe not now, but in time. In time.”
“So, what’s up? You said we can come to some kind of understanding. What you talking?” Don B. wanted to get right to it. There were a few broads at Dirty Wine that he planned to put on his late-night dinner menu, so he wanted to conclude his business, so he could get to the pleasure.
“The rap nigga, Inferno. He’s got a real gift, don’t you think?” Trap asked.
“He a’ight.” Don B. downplayed it.
“Don’t bullshit me, Don. The boy is wild, reckless, and one bad decision away from either going to prison or getting himself clipped. He’s perfect Big Dawg material.”
“Which is why you’re trying to poach him from me,” Don B. accused.
“In part, yes. I knew you had your eye on Inferno, so part of me meeting with him was to get under your skin. That’s the pettiness coming out of me. Old habits and shit. To keep it one hundred with you, the boy has got some skills, and I could sure turn a profit from his music, but Inferno doesn’t really fit the mold of where I’m trying to take my company these days.”
“Since when did you start shying away from controversy?” Don B. asked.
“Since the music business started becoming more dangerous than the streets,” Trap said honestly. “I’ve gotten into more shit since I got into the music business than I ever did in the streets. Every time you turn around, there’s a young nigga trying to prove he’s the hardest muthafucka ever born. I got in this game to get rich, not dirty. I’ve cleaned up enough blood to last me a lifetime. I’m off that gangsta shit and just trying to get to the bag. This is why I’m going to let you have Inferno and everything that comes with him.”
This took Don B. by surprise. For as long as he’d known Trap, the man had been like a pit bull on a bone when he wanted something. Him bowing out gracefully didn’t sit right with Don B. “So, you did all this just to let me have him free and clear? I ain’t buying this shit, Trap.”
“You and I both know that nothing in life comes for free. What I’m suggesting is a trade of sorts. I let you sign Inferno without trying to block the deal, and in exchange, you let me have an artist on the Big Dawg roster,” Trap suggested.
“I knew you was on bullshit! No way in the fuck I’m giving you one of the stars I created in exchange for an underground rapper who may or may not move units in the mainstream.”
“Don, you and I both know that boy has star potential. Once you sprinkle some of that Big Dawg black magic on him, that boy is going to blow up. And I’m not asking for one of your stars. I knew you’d never go for that. I’m talking about one of your castoffs. Word is that you’ve got a talented young producer tucked away out on the West Coast. Goes by Locks or some shit.”
“You mean Keys?” Don B. asked. Keys was a young guy he had discovered from out of Newark. He had been managed by a dude named Ab that Don B. had done business with. “Yeah, the boy has got an ear for music, but the single he released a few months ago never caught on. Nobody wants to hear that depressing-ass shit he was laying down.”
“Then you shouldn’t have a problem letting me have him. I’m even willing to buy his contract from you as a sweetener,” Trap offered.
Don B. thought on it. When he signed Keys, he had high hopes for the kid, but so far, he had been a disappointment. He hadn’t even earned out his advance, not that he would with the way Don B.’s accountants played with the books. The boy was a decent enough musician, but he sucked as an artist. This raised the question as to why Trap wanted him. He obviously had something up his sleeve. Inferno was just the type of artist that Big Dawg needed to get back on top. Still, something felt fishy about Trap’s proposition. “What’s stopping me from saying ‘fuck you,’ keeping Keys, and just outbidding you for Inferno?”
“Two things. The first being you ain’t got the kinda cash to outbid me. Everyone knows that Big Dawg ain’t moving the type of units it was when you had True and Animal. The second being, if you don’t do this deal, your little movie will be on every internet blog by morning. You think your company is struggling now? Big Dawg will become the laughingstock of the whole fucking industry when that tape drops. I know we live in a forward-thinking world, but it wouldn’t play over too well with the gangsters to see the notorious Don B. hog-tied with a rubber dick in his ass!”
“You a dirty nigga, Trap!” Don B. hissed.
“And that’s your problem, right there. You been hob-knobbing with these crackers so long that you’ve forgotten that ain’t no honor amongst thieves. One way or another, I’m leaving here with an artist. Whether it’s Inferno or Keys is up to you.”
Don B. could’ve killed Trap right on the spot. The little fucking troll and the tape in question had been a pain in his ass for years. During a trip down to Florida, Don B. had the misfortune of hooking into a stripper named Reign who worked at a club called Purple City. Reign was one of the finest women he had ever seen, but she was also bat-shit crazy. Don B. had done a lot of foul shit to women over the years, but his only offense against her had been being from New York. It had been a man from New York whom she held responsible for her baby sister’s death, so she took revenge on every man that she came across who hailed from the Rotten Apple. Instead of the freak session Don B. had been expecting, Reign kidnapped and tortured him. It had been Trap and Moochie who stumbled upon the scene and rescued Don B., but not before taking the video of him in a compromising position. Reign was long dead by then, so this left only Trap and Moochie with the knowledge of how he had been shamed. Don B. had been plotting on killing Trap and Moochie ever since, but the only reason he hadn’t yet was because he had no idea where to find the tape. It was a small Hi8 recorded with an older model camcorder.
