Crave All Lose All (14 page)

“I’m gonna see him soon. But I need to run to my room and change for the night. I don’t wanna be out too late,” I said.

“Okay, sweetie, but we’ll talk,” my mother said refocusing on the photos.

I rushed in my room, closed the door and took a deep breath. Was this really me about to do the unthinkable tonight? Defy my father’s beliefs about human life…? He taught me that no man had the right to take another’s life. He believed that every man should treat each other as equals.

When I was out in the streets, I loved it. But when I walked in through the front doors and had to face my mother, I hated it. I was lying to my mother about everything. The guilt sometimes ate at me. I was her son and always her baby boy. The Vincent she once knew was changing to someone she didn’t want to know. I had to do this to prove myself. If I didn’t there’d be doubt about me. When there’s doubt death was soon to follow.

 

A little after ten, I jumped into Tip’s burgundy Escalade. I was wearing black
sweat-shirt and jeans. Tip had on wife-beater, jeans and Tims. It seemed he didn’t want to be bothered with me. There was a job to be done. It felt like some kind of initiation. He drove in silence until we were about ten blocks away from my home.

“Who we gettin’ at…?”

“You cannot fuck this up,” he said coldly.

“I understand.”

“This dealer, P.R. from Hollis feels that because he’s down with Law, he can cut into our cheddar coming from Liberty and 177
^th
street. He robbed a few of our dealers from around there. He’s a pain and he’s gotta go down.”

Tip was on Liberty. When we came to a red-light, he reached under his seat and handed me a fully loaded, black .9mm.

“The safety’s already off, just point and squeeze, drop the nigga. Be out,” Tip instructed.

I gripped the steel and nodded. It was like a bitch about ready to lose her virginity. My hands were sweaty and the closer we got to the area, my heart was racing so fast and hard. I thought Tip heard it.

We came to the corner of Farmers Blvd and Murdock Av. P.R. fucked with a bitch in the area. The bitch he was fucking had juice with Spoon. She instantly gave up P.R. for a few G’s and a pound of haze. She called Spoon and set up the hit.

Tip parked the truck near her crib on the residential block. He shut off the lights and engine. Tip knocked out the bulb to the streetlight and we sat in the truck waiting in the dark. After an hour, P.R. emerged from the shabby, two-story corner house on the street. We had cover and concealment from the many trees and shrubberies on the block.

But P.R. didn’t come out the house alone. He was with another dude who looked just as shady. They were heading to an old Toyota Camry out front. I held the 9mm tighter in my hand. They were talking and laughing without a clue.

“Here, put these on,” Tip said, handing me a pair of white latex gloves.

I put them on, and Tip made me wipe the gun down before I popped off, making sure there were no prints on the weapon.

We watched P.R. get into the car on the driver’s side and Tip said,
“Do you. Pop the driver first then his boy after.”

“Both?”

“Yeah, muthafucka,” he exclaimed.

I got out the truck. The nine at my side, I trotted over to the Camry using darkness to hide my approach. I heard the engine idling. P.R was in my sights as I got closer.

I raised the gun to P.R’s chest and fired.

BLAM BLAM.

The night around me lit up in two quick blue flashes. P.R. slumped over the wheel, two shots in his chest. The car suddenly rolled forward.

“Oh shit!” His boy screamed.

The car crashed into a tree. P.R.’s boy tried to make a quick exit. I ran up on him and fired three shots into him, dropping him face down on the concrete. Tip raced up to me in the truck. I jumped in and he peeled off.

My heart thumped like I was having a panic attack. I was sweating, my hands were shaking and I couldn’t breathe. The nine was in my grip. I wanted to get rid of it with the quickness. I leaned back against the headrest wanting to disappear.

“Relax, just breathe…you did it, nigga. The first is always the hardest. But once you get past that, it gets better.”

They actually want me to do it again? I already proven myself. What more was there? There was no turning back. I just committed the ultimate sin. How could I repent—I didn’t know. I knew my father was spinning in his grave. And knowing my life would no longer be the same.

Tip pulled up in front of Tyriq’s sports bar on Linden. We dumped the gun in a distant sewer drain. I was a bit calmer. The place was crowded. I followed Tip pass security as we made our way upstairs into one of Tyriq’s private rooms. When we walked in, Tyriq and some bitch was counting money and Spoon was on his cell-phone. Tip gave them a head nod, and Tyriq nodded back.

“Ayyite, welcome to the family, my nigga…” He got up, came over and embraced me. “You good…?”

“Sure…”

He pulled me closer and whispered, “I told you, everybody’s a killer. You just gotta know how to bring that animal out.”

I looked over at Spoon and he had no words for me. He just gave me a head nod, and took a puffed on a Black & Mild.

Tyriq called the bitch over counting money. She walked over with a bulky white envelope and passed it to Tyriq. He placed it in my hands.

“Vince, here’s twenty grand, you did good.”

I took the money.

“Yo, I want you to leave town for a minute, until things blows over,” Tyriq suggested.

“Go where?” I asked.

“I don’t give a fuck; you paid. But get your mind right and don’t even think on what went down.”

“I’ll do that.”

“But yo, I need you to make another run out to Philly,” he said.

I nodded.

After that I left the club. I wasn’t in the mood to stay. I wanted to go home, pack my bags and go somewhere far. It was a good idea to leave town, because the more I stayed in my people’s crib, the guiltier I got. It was making me angrier. I couldn’t live pretending that it was one thing in my mother’s eyes, when I was totally the opposite. Something had to give.

 

Two FBI agents sat waiting in a black four door Caprice parked in an all night rest stop on the Turnpike. Agent Pena and Smith were thirty miles from Philadelphia. They munched on peanuts, sipped on hot coffee and talked about baseball and the upcoming World Series.

Agent Smith glanced at the time on the dashboard for the umpteenth time in one hour, and said, “Where the fuck is he?”

“Give him time, he’ll show,” Agent Pena said tossing a handful of nuts into his mouth while peering out the window.

“He better…”

“So, who’s gonna win the World Series?” Agent Pena asked.

“My money’s on the Giants, that Barry Bonds and Reggie Sanders gonna take them somewhere,” Agent Smith proclaimed. “And you?”

“I’m a diehard Yankees fan from the Bronx, Smith, can’t go wrong rooting for my Yankees,” Agent Pena said.

“Yankees are overrated.”

“Explain the twenty six world series titles.”

“Luck...”

“You my friend know nothing about baseball.”

Agent Pena was born in Santa Domingo and moved to the Bronx when he was ten. He’d been in law enforcement since he was twenty-one and saw what drugs, gangs, and violence could do to a community. His older
brother was gunned down in a shoot out when he was seven. The only right way to avenge his brother’s death was to work in law enforcement.

Pena was in his early thirties, married with two beautiful offspring.

Agent Smith was six-one and handsome African American. He was in his early thirties and graduated with a criminal justice degree from John-Jay College. He had a hard-on for upholding justice in the city of New York.

They had their eyes set on Tyriq and his crew. He knew Tyriq was making millions from drugs, extortion, prostitution, and had a murderous crew at his command. South Jamaica, Queens was being torn apart by drugs and violence. But Agent Smith knew that Tyriq was small fish, compared to his number one target, Demetrius.

Demetrius was a descendant from the Jamaican Shower Posse, and was responsible for eighty percent of the drugs coming into Queens and Brooklyn. Demetrius ran with a fierce Jamaican crew called, Shotta’s, who were from Kingston and Tivoli Gardens, in Jamaica. They killed, extorted and shipped tons of drugs into dozens of communities in New York. It was estimated that Shotta’s were sitting on a hundred million dollar empire.

It was a big case for both agents, and with the help of their confidential informant, they seemed closer to making a major bust. It was a career case, bringing down the ruthless Jamaican drug cartel.

“I told him ten O’ clock,” Agent Smith angrily shouted. “It’s eleven fuckin’ thirty. He thinks we got time to wait around. I’ll shove his ass into the prison ground if he screws us around.”

Agent Pena tossed another handful of peanuts into his mouth. “We’ll give him another fifteen minutes. Maybe he got stuck in traffic.”

“Stuck in traffic my ass,” Smith remarked.

Five minutes later, headlights were approaching the sparse parking lot. They sat up in their seats and observed the red Accord.

“Think it’s him?” Pena asked.

“It’s him,” Smith responded.

The Accord parked parallel to them, and then a male figure got out from the driver’s side and quickly got into the backseat of the Caprice.

“You’re late,” Smith said.

“What the fuck you want me to do? Traffic was a bitch in New York. It took me damn near an hour to get over the Verrazano.”

Smith turned to look at him and asked, “What you got for us?”

“Nothing new…”

“What the fuck you mean nothing? It’s been two months since you checked in,” Smith barked.

“It’s the same thang like last time I saw y’all muthafuckas. Tyriq ain’t changing up a damn thang. He don’t trust niggas like that. He watches everythang.”

“Yeah, but ain’t you suppose to be his right hand man?” Pena asked.

“I know, but he’s cautious.”

“What about the Jamaicans, when is he meeting with them again?” Smith asked.

“Don’t know, the last shipment we received from them was five-hundred kilos two months back.”

“From where…?” Pena asked.

“Jersey, but them Jamaicans are careful. They never do a deal in the same spot. They switch up a lot, and Demetrius ain’t never there when the deal’s going down. His man, Jagged takes care of that.”

“We need something useful, Spoon. It’s been months and we still ain’t any closer. What good are you, huh? We’re giving you a chance to do right but you ain’t doing Jack.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder, or your black ass is going to jail for a long time and you can forget about ever seeing your kids again,” Smith threatened.

“Fuck you, Smith and leave my kids out your mouth.”

“No fuck you, cuz you’re giving us bullshit!” Smith shouted.

“Alright, everyone chill out!” Pena shouted and tossed some pictures on Spoon’s lap. “Who’s the new guy?”

Spoon looked through the large glossy photos of Vincent and the crew then sighed.

“He ain’t nobody,” Spoon said.

“You sure, he looks like a major player,” Smith said.

“We came up together. He just likes to be around the life. He ain’t no thang, y’all ain’t gonna get not a damn thang outta him.”

“You better be real with us, Spoon…no more games,” Pena said.

“I know.”

“What about the drugs, how’s he still shipping them out of state?” Pena asked.

“I told y’all before. He got bitches trafficking that shit for him and if he ain’t using his bitches, then he got cars with compartments. You never know with him, he’s got a routine, sometimes he switches it up on the humble to be safe.”

Pena looked at Spoon.

“We need something on audio.”

“Fuck that. No wires. I get caught wearing that shit and that’s my life. My kids, my family,” Spoon said.

“You scared of your boy?”

“Fuck Tyriq! The Jamaicans find out and they’ll kill not just me but my kids, their mothers and whoever the fuck I know.”

“We can protect you,” Smith assured him.

“It ain’t going down like that,” Spoon said.

“You don’t have a choice, Spoon. We need something concrete,” Pena said.

“When the shit hits the fan, Spoon, think. You’ll do time, not life. With your priors, that’s a damn blessing. Five years will be the most you’ll do for helping out. Then you can see your kids have a future and your real estate that you love so much, can be saved too. You fuck up on this and I guarantee, everything you love will turn stink shit,” Smith warned.

Six months ago, Spoon got busted with 20 kilos of uncut cocaine in Connecticut. While locked up in Connecticut, a witness linked him to a murder he committed a year back in New Haven. His back was against the wall and the feds flipped him when they threatened to take away everything he loved. They wanted to also lock up his baby-mother Melissa and charge her with conspiracy. They threatened to take away his kids, even put them in different group homes. The authorities were going after his family, his businesses and his real estate. Spoon was a major player and the feds offered him a deal because they were after much bigger fish. After his rendezvous with the agents, Spoon drove back north on the Turnpike.