Carl Weber's Kingpins

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Table of Contents

Four People. Two meetings. The same location. The same topic. Drugs. On the far right side of Charleston's restaurant, Toni was smiling at Flamboyant. Toni liked the confidence he seemed to possess. Everything about him suggested success to Toni.
But can he withstand any pressure?
Toni wondered, and continued to listen to Flamboyant speak confidently of his operation.

“There's nothin' that I can't move in this city. So, as long as you keep me properly stocked, I will bring you that paper. Guaranteed.”

“Would you have a problem if I set a certain timetable on the delivery of my money?” Toni asked, with that smile still firmly in place.

“It depends. Shit may fall differently from time to time, so I'd have to see how well my team is rockin' before I'd accept terms like a time limit and shit.”

“That's understandable. I'm in no rush; as long as I get my money in a timely fashion I'll be satisfied. I told you when we first met that you fit my qualifications as a moneymaker. That's why we're here today. I have a few more questions I need answered before we get to the next phase of this meeting.”

“Ask away,” Flamboyant said in his normal cocky manner.

“I can tell that you're confident in your team. That's a good sign; it shows me that there's loyalty in your camp.”

“No doubt. No one on my team would ever cross me.”

“What if you found out that there was an informant within your camp? Or, worse, someone was planning on trying to take you out? How would you deal with a situation like that?”

Flamboyant sat back in his seat, sipped his flute of Krug Rosé champagne, and said, “If any member of my team ever crossed me in any way they'd have to be dealt with.”

“How?”

He stared at Toni momentarily and answered, “Severely.”

Toni smiled and said, “You don't strike me as a man who tends to resort to violence.”

“Violence is a tool of our trade. When a certain tool is needed to get the job done that tool is put to use. Period. Don't let this smooth taste fool you, Toni. I do what needs to be done in order to maintain a strong team.”

“Understood. So, tell me something. Which would you prefer: to be loved or to be feared?”

“In what, my personal relationships or business?”

“Both.”

Flamboyant smiled brightly and said, “I'd rather be loved.”

“Why?”

“As long as my team loves me they'll continue to do what it takes to make sure that I'm happy. As for relationships, I have only one and I don't plan on havin' another, so that's pretty much the same as with my business. Wifey knows the love is real on my part so she'll continue to love me just as much as I'm lovin' her. Real talk.”

“Interesting. I've always thought the streets had no room for love.”

“The love is out there in them streets. Some niggas just don't know how to use it to their advantage.”

“And you do?”

“We wouldn't be havin' this meetin' if you didn't already know the answer to that question, Toni.”

Toni laughed and said, “True.”

On the opposite side of the restaurant, Charlie was telling King exactly what was to be expected of him. “I have complete confidence in your ability to move the ya-yo. What concerns me is everything else. I'm about to be supplying you with everything from X pills to PCP. If you want pounds of that potent California weed, then that'll be available to you also. Are you positive that you can handle that much product?”

“When we first hooked up you asked me if I was ready to get some serious money. I was fresh outta the pen for the second time; that was five months ago. Since that time I've gotten my squad as well as myself in order. I've been waitin' for an opportunity like this my entire life. I have a plug now and I plan to take full advantage of that. Makin' money isn't new to me, Charlie. True, I've fallen a few times in this game, but who hasn't? I will move whatever you give me. The more you have the better it is for me and my squad,” King said convincingly.

“Good. Before we get down to the specifics of how we'll be conducting our business, I want to ask you something.”

King didn't say a word. He stared at Charlie and patiently waited.

Charlie grinned and asked, “Which would you rather be: loved or feared?”

Without any thought or hesitation King replied, “Feared.”

“Why?”

“As long as niggas out in them streets fear the King, they gon' respect the King and never try to do the goofy.”

“The goofy. Hmmm. Okay, what if someone in your immediate circle did do the goofy? How would you handle it?”

“If I even thought someone on my squad was on some stupid shit they'd quickly become a mama's memory. I don't play games, nor do I withhold this information from those around me. Every member of my squad knows how the King gets down. This ain't no TV or make-believe shit crackin'. I've stressed that to my squad so they know what to expect from me.”

“What are some of your weaknesses, King?”

He stared at Charlie for a moment before replying, “I don't have any.”

Charlie started laughing and said, “Okay, let's get down to the particulars.”

“Let's,” King said, and for the first time during their meeting, he smiled. It was finally time for him to get some of that serious money and, man, was he ready.

Forty-five minutes later Charlie watched as Flamboyant left the restaurant, just as Toni watched King as he strolled toward the exit. Though they were only a few steps from one another, both King and Flamboyant were now tied to the same plug in the game. Charlie smiled, pulled out a cell phone, and sent a text message to Toni, who was still sitting on the other side of the restaurant. It read: Let the game begin!

It had been six months since his meeting with Charlie. Since that time King and his squad had been extremely busy. Not only had they surpassed all of Charlie's expectations, they actually shocked the shit out of Charlie.

Toni was all smiles because, on the other side of Oklahoma City, Flamboyant and his team were equally impressive as King and his people. “Looks like we've picked two winners, huh, Charlie?”

“Just because they've started out well doesn't necessarily make them winners, Toni. Let's sit back and continue to monitor our newly crowned kings of the streets. It's still early in the game.”

“True, but our money is coming faster and stronger than even we expected it to. That should make a certain person very happy, don't you think?”

“That greedy mothafucka will stay happy as long as we continue to bring in the meal tickets. It is what it is! I got to go. I'll holla at you later.”

Toni smiled and said, “See ya, Charlie.”

“The block is wildin' right now, dog. Ever since we got that new batch, shit has been crazy! They lovin' that shit!”

“That's cool, real cool. But you got to make sure that niggas don't be slippin', 'cause the money is rollin' way faster than usual. Keep 'em on their toes,” Flamboyant said as he continued to stare out of the window of his Mercedes-Benz S-Class 600.

“Don't worry about it, Flam. We got this for ya boy,” Prince, Flamboyant's right-hand man, replied.

“A'ight, make sure that everyone continues to eat, my nigga. I'll get back at ya later.”

“Gotcha,” Prince said as he watched as his man, Flamboyant, pull away from the curb and left the block that was making them so much money. The south side of Oklahoma City was theirs and it seemed like so was the entire world.
It feels real good to be on a winning team,
Prince thought as he went back into one of the several trap houses they had running on the block.

* * *

On the other side of town, King sat on the porch of his main trap house and watched as the many fiends came to spend their money. Tippi, his most trusted soldier, sat next to him and watched the fiends as well as the other squad members as they got that money. Everyone knew that Tippi was not to be fucked with. Not only was she King's number one, she was the top killer of the squad.

Tippi was a damn fool and everybody on the north side knew it. When she got hot there was no telling what she'd do to a nigga. For that matter, niggas on the north tried their damnedest to stay on Tippi's good side. She was a fairly small woman who had deceptive strength. Though she looked and acted like a tomboy, she was very attractive, if one took the time to really pay attention to her looks. Her light brown complexion and her long sandy brown hair that she kept braided in several French braids gave her a kind of distinct look. She chose to keep her hair braided straight to the back and held tightly in a ponytail, or had crazy Allen Iverson–like braids all over her head. Though she was small, she was thick when it came to her thighs and ass. She stood about five three and normally could be considered a dime. But to those around her Tippi was considered a damn fool and was not to be fucked with.

Tippi was extremely nimble for her size. She was even more accurate with whatever weapon she chose to use to do a nigga. She was known to carry several different types of pistols on any given day. It was also another well-known fact that Tippi had killed men with her bare hands as well as with knives. Her murder game was definitely up to par. For that reason alone the word all over the north side of Oklahoma City was, “Do not fuck with King or his squad.” The north, northeast, and the northwest sides of Oklahoma City belonged to them. Every penny that was made illegally on them streets from cocaine, X pills, weed, and PCP, you best believe that King's squad got a percentage.

King was loving the fact that all seemed to have fallen right into place for himself and his squad. So far there had been no wrinkles in his game plan. He chose to stay hands-on at all times. That's why he was on the block so much. He wanted those around him to understand that this was a team effort even for the star and the captain of the squad. Tippi hated the fact that he exposed himself so much. She felt that he should play in the background more and let her handle the day-to-day hassles of getting their money. He knew how Tippi felt but still chose to play the block daily. He was more comfortable around his own. No amount of money was going to change him from being where he felt he belonged. The block was his kingdom, so the block was where he'd be. Period.

“Here comes 'em two funny style–ass niggas, Trey and Vaughn,” Tippi said as she lit up a Newport cigarette.

“Where have 'em fools been? I haven't seen them for a minute!” King said.

“They went to Tulsa to see if they could set up shop down there with some of their cousins or some shit like that. You gave them the green light, remember? Or has Lawanda got you slippin' now?”

King grinned at Tippi. He knew she hated his kids' mother. He also knew that she was madly in love with him. That gave him an advantage over her wild ass, 'cause he knew if he ever pissed her off for real he'd have to kill her before she killed him. That's why he chose to keep their relationship strictly business.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that shit. Thanks, baby,” he said playfully.

“Baby? Nigga, you gon' make me do you somethin' for playin' wit' me. You know how bad I want that dick.”

He laughed and said, “After we get about fiddy million and retired from the game I'm gon' take your ass somewhere and fuck you for as long as you can take it.”

“Promises, promises, nigga! I'll be right back. I don't like these fake-ass niggas,” she said as she stepped off the porch, just as Trey and Vaughn made it to the first step.

“What up, Tippi?” asked Trey as she passed him. Tippi ignored him as she went across the street and started talking to another member of the squad.

“What it do, King?” Vaughn asked.

“What's up? You niggas get that shit crackin' out in Tulsa?”

“Kinda. 'Em Crip niggas down there were hatin' and shit, but once we told them some of our prices they told us they'll think about fuckin' wit' us. So we left it at that for now.”

“Yeah, wasn't no use in pressin' the issue,” added Trey.

“Is that right? So, what's what?”

“We're 'bout to hit the northwest side and get with Keko and see if he needs any help over that way.”

Shaking his head no, King said, “Nah, I need y'all to stay out this way. Y'all can go over to the North Highlands and check with Damus over there. See if they're good. If they ain't, tighten 'em up.”

“That's cool. So, have you thought about what we talked 'bout?” asked Trey.

King stared at them for a moment then said, “If that thing works out in Tulsa for y'all I'm gon' let y'all have it full time. So that way y'all will have y'all own spot to run and maintain. As long as you understand that you are to never, and I mean never, get any work from anyone but the squad.”

“That's fa' sho'. You know we ain't tryin' to go against the grain, baby,” Vaughn said.

“Yeah, we know what side our bread is buttered on,” added Trey.

For some strange reason Trey's corny statement made goose bumps pop out all over King's arm. He smiled and said, “A'ight, then, go on and check on 'em niggas in the Highlands for me. Get back at me after everything is good over there.” King pulled out his cell and started dialing. Their meeting was over.

As the phone was ringing, King watched as Trey and Vaughn got into Trey's Chevy Avalanche and left the block. King closed his phone and smiled, then jumped off the porch and called Tippi. When Tippi came back across the street he asked her, “You hungry, boo?”

“‘Baby,' ‘boo,' damn, I must really be gettin' close to gettin' me some of that dick I've yearned for all of my life, huh?” she asked with a smile on her face.

He laughed and said, “Maybe. Come on, let's go get our eat on. We got some shit to talk 'bout.”

Her smile quickly faded as she asked, “Am I needed?”

He shrugged his shoulders and said, “I'm not knowin' yet. Come on, let's go talk about it.” Tippi followed King as he led her toward his black Dodge Magnum.

* * *

Trey and Vaughn stopped at 7-Eleven right outside of the neighborhood called North Highlands. Trey needed a pack of cigarettes and Vaughn wanted a bottled water. When they walked inside of the store, three Bloods from North Highland were inside, harassing the store's cashier. When they saw Trey and Vaughn they walked over to them and spoke. Trey stuck out his chest as if he was the big man and asked, “Y'all good over there in y'all hood, or do we need to hook y'all up?”

B-lo, one of the main go-getters in the Highlands, said, “Yeah, we need to holla. When can we get down?”

“Check it, let me make a few calls then I'll meet you on Eighty-third over at Pimpin' Steve's niece's house,” Trey said as he grabbed a pack of Newports.

“That's straight,” B-lo replied as he led the other two Bloods out of the store, much to the cashier's relief.

After paying for their purchases, Trey and Vaughn stepped out of the store and saw two white men standing next to Trey's SUV. Fear gripped them both instantly.
Ain't no cracka got enough nerve to be around my shit unless he's the Ones,
thought Trey as he stared at the two white men.

“Excuse me, is there a problem, Officer?” Trey asked sarcastically.

“No, as a matter of fact, there isn't, Trey,” answered one of the white men.

Before they could say a word, the other white man pulled out a badge and showed it to them and said, “FBI. We need to ask the both of you some questions.”

“Are we under arrest?” asked Vaughn.

“Not at the moment, Vaughn, but if you don't hurry up and get into Trey's truck you might soon be,” said the FBI agent who had spoken first.

“What?” asked Trey.

“The both of you need to get inside of your truck and follow us. If you don't follow us and we have to come find you, neither of you will be seeing the streets for a very long time. Now move it!” the agent said with authority.

They did as they were told and climbed back into Trey's truck. They watched as the white men got into a navy blue Tahoe that they hadn't paid any attention to previously. The FBI agents pulled out of the parking lot, followed by Trey and Vaughn. B-lo, who had forgotten to ask Trey if he could get fronted some sherm, had decided to come back real quick and ask him, but stopped short when he saw Trey and Vaughn talking to some white dudes. Once he saw one of the white men flash a badge, he quickly turned and got the fuck away from that 7-Eleven.
Hope them niggas ain't dirty,
B-lo thought as he headed back into his hood.

The FBI agents led Trey and Vaughn to a Motel 6 right off of I-35. Once there one said, “My name is Agent Bullock and this here is my partner, Agent Van Horne.”

“Man, what the fuck is this shit about? We ain't done shit!” said a nervous and frustrated Trey.

Agent Bullock smiled and said, “Now, Trey, you know as well as we do that the both of you work for King.”

Vaughn's eyes grew wide as saucers when he heard the agent mention King's name. “What . . . what do y'all want from us?” Vaughn asked nervously.

Agent Van Horne smiled and mockingly said, “You ain't know? We know you two are small fish. We want the shark. We don't have any time for negotiations so let me tell you how it's going to be. Either you help us get King, or you remain loyal to him by doing a minimum of twenty in Leavenworth.”

“For what? You ain't got us with shit!” yelled Trey.

“We're the FBI, son. Haven't you ever heard of conspiracy? Or, better yet, we can get the both of you for distribution.”

“Distribution of what?” asked Vaughn.

Both of the agents laughed, then Agent Van Horne said, “Of anything we want to put on ya, son. Cocaine, weed, sherm, X. Hell, we could even hook you up with some crank. So, what's it going to be, guys? Are you going to help yourselves or are you going to remain loyal to King?”

Trey was sitting on the edge of the bed slowly shaking his head from side to side. “I ain't doin' no dub for no nigga. What up with you, Vaughn?”

Vaughn shook his head and said, “This shit ain't cool, Trey.”

“What other choice we got?”

“Nigga, do you know what King's goin' to do to us if he ever finds, no, when he finds out we got down on him? Better yet, what he gon' have Tippi do to us? I ain't wit' it, my nigga. I'd rather take my chances in the pen.”

“Did you hear what this cracka told us, fool? They talkin' 'bout giving us a dub, nigga! I can't do no number like that there. Fuck that shit!”

Vaughn sighed heavily as he stared at his closest homeboy. “Are you positive you want to go out like this, dog?”

“Like I said, what other choice do we got, Vee?”

“This is some real fucked-up shit.” Vaughn turned toward the two FBI agents and asked, “What y'all wanna know?”

* * *

King and Tippi were enjoying their meal of catfish and French fries when King's cell rang. He wiped his mouth and answered the phone. “What it do?” He shook his head in dismay as he listened to whoever was speaking to him on the other line. “A'ight, I'll get at y'all in a li'l bit. Good lookin' out,” King said as he ended the call.

“Was that the call?” Tippi asked.