Authors: Clever Black
Still getting no response, Naomi slowly entered the man’s home
with her cocked pistol and stood in the living room with a
disgruntled look planted on her face. The place was atrocious. Old,
dusty furniture covered with stained sheets, unlit lanterns on top of
tables, and every piece of junk known to mankind was stacked up in
piles against the walls from hubcaps, to old water hoses, broken TVs
and radios that looked decades old. The old man was a pack rat that
threw nothing away was Naomi’s best guess as she walked to her
left and entered the kitchen.
Naomi was taken aback as she slowly rounded the kitchen table that
was filled with old dirty dishes, some with mildewing food sitting in
them. There on the floor, lying on his back, was her nameless
neighbor. The grey-bearded, bald-headed, skinny old man eyed Naomi
and licked his severely blistered and chapped lips and looked towards
the sink. Naomi followed the man’s eyes and looked towards sink
and pointed at the faucet with her glove-clad hands.
“Thirsty?” Naomi asked as she eyed her neighbor coldly.
The old man was so weak he couldn’t speak. He uttered an
incoherent phrase and extended his hand briefly, but it seemed as if
it pained him to do so. He groaned and let his hand drop to his side
and heaved a dry cough. Naomi quickly surmised what’d happened
to her nameless neighbor. She hadn’t seen him for three days in
a row, and that was the key clue. To her, it seemed as if the old man
had stumbled in his kitchen and injured himself a few days earlier
and was unable to move or call out for help.
Three days was about the length of time a human being could go
without water, Naomi knew; and her neighbor was desperate for a
drink. Not one to be disrespectful, Naomi reached over and grabbed a
dirty glass off the table and filled it with tap water and knelt down
before the old man. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, il
mio amico,” she said calmly as she held the glass of water just
out of reach of her neighbor friend. “I mean, the name calling
and angry rants? We carried on like a bunch of angry teenagers you
and I. And you did accuse me and my family of stealing your fish once
upon time,” she added as she smiled brightly. “My
youngest son? I believe him. I believe you pulled a shotgun on him a
while back. He crapped his pants you know? Just like you as a matter
of fact. Tell you what, I’m gonna let by gones be by gones,
okay? You and I have much bigger issues to deal with, right? Right,”
Naomi said as she stood up and poured the water down the drain before
setting the glass back in its proper place on the table. “You
take care yourself, now. And have a happy Thanksgiving,” she
ended as she walked out of the kitchen and left the man’s home
exactly as she’d found it.
The old man’s body was found in January of 2003 by a city
worker who’d been sent out to inspect the man’s home for
an appraisal. The cold weather had held back his decaying corpse’s
stench and if it weren’t for the home appraiser, there was no
telling how long the man would’ve lay dead on his kitchen floor
because Naomi was the only person who’d known of his inevitable
death, and she wasn’t going to say a thing.
As for the rest of the family, no one was really moved by the man’s
death. He’d been a thorn in just about everybody’s side
for years and it couldn’t have happened to a better person was
the reasoning for many on the Holland Ranch.
The old man’s death had opened his land up for possible sale
within a couple of months. And by the start of spring of 2003, Naomi
was attempting to buy the land from the Kay County Board of
Commission at $2,500 dollars per acre, far less than what her land
was now valued at. Another 213 acres of land was up for grabs and
Naomi would use all her lawyer credentials to make sure that the old
man’s property came under the family’s control. It would
be a long and laborious fight, because the commissioners were
resolved to holding on to the land for an extended period of time to
increase its value, but Naomi would be there every step of the way,
waiting and watching.
*******
The start of spring of 2003 had also thawed out old bones of
contention in Denver and Saint Louis. Asa Spade had licked his wounds
on the failed hit against Desiree and Carmella, a hit in which Dougie
had taken a bullet to the leg and was forced to flee the scene with
Francesca, the two of them leaving behind two dead soldiers from
their main trap house in Shorter Arms, and having regrouped during
the cold months.
The Chicago Gang, meanwhile, had intensified their search for Toodie
and Phoebe. And as the weather began to heat up, so did the streets
in both cities. Shootouts erupted on occasion between drug dealers
who were siding with Carmella in Denver, and those who were riding
with Toodie and Phoebe back in Saint Louis. The tension in both these
cities was so thick one could barely breathe. Every day was lived as
it was the last and nothing was being taken for granted.
Doss and his crew were intent on retaliating, however; it had been
too long since the hit on Benito, Gaggi and Lucky and someone had to
answer. The war between these two factions was now about to reach its
first apex as the summer of 2003 got underway; and whoever made the
wrong move first would surely pay a heavy price because these
gangsters were all gunning for one another without fail and were on a
straight up collision course.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CAUGHT SLIPPING
Sitting just south of Interstate-44 and Russell Boulevard, which ran
east to west, and east of Jefferson Avenue, a street that ran north
and south, lay Ann Avenue—the main trap house for the Perez
sisters in Saint Louis. Tucked in between California Avenue to the
east and Ohio Avenue to the west, this short city block was a
fortress all unto itself. Cars coming in from either direction
looking to do harm would have a hard way out because Toodie and
Phoebe had gunners on each corner.
The two story red bricked row houses, which resembled many a
brownstone in New York City, sat a ways back from the street and
sidewalk and weren’t easy to access on this particular block.
Creeping in between the homes was nearly impossible because they were
bunched together in units of three or more. Toodie and Phoebe’s
trap sat in the middle of the block in a five block unit, dead
center. Numerous Mexican female soldiers were always out on the block
and here, the Perez sisters felt safe. This was their stronghold when
it got down to it.
Well aware of the attempted hit on Carmella and Desiree in October of
the previous year, the Perez sisters were on guard for possible hits
as they conducted their business throughout the months. Things were
going good for the crew in Fox Park. Q-man and his crew had gotten a
firm hold on a neighborhood in Cincinnati, Ohio known as Over the
Rhine, and they’d also expanded into the cities of Kansas City,
and Indianapolis, Indiana.
Carmella had increased her shipments of kilograms coming in from
Valle Hermoso, Mexico on through Brownsville, Texas from forty-eight
a month to seventy-two per month and the monies being made hadn’t
been this respectable in years. Ounces on up was the only product was
being moved and even then, Carmella could barely keep pace. During
this summer July month of 2003, she was down in Mexico looking to
further increase her shipments in order to maintain her grip on the
markets she served.
Twenty-two year-old Toodie and twenty year-old Phoebe’s
pristine Cadillac Fleetwood sat out in front their trap with music
blaring as the two shared a blunt while watching the block. Every so
often a car would pull up and a worker would escort one lone buyer
inside. The trap wasn’t more than a furnished two story drug
lab. Tables were all around the living room with one long suede sofa
and a single table set up with cocaine was in the kitchen. Four
female soldiers welding AK-47s to secure high dollar deals milled
about on the first floor and three queen sized beds and TVs were on
the second floor. When a two door Cutlass pulled up to the set,
Toodie whistled and one of the young Mexican females, a fourteen
year-old girl named Simone Cortez, jumped up from the stoop and ran
to the edge of the sidewalk.
Fourteen year-old Simone Cortez was as cool as fan and razor blade
sharp. She’d grown up in Fox Park and had been in the
neighborhood all her life. Toodie and Phoebe had been knowing her
since ‘99, and had been having her eye on her for a while. When
Carmella went down in Memphis, Toodie and Phoebe put her on when she
was only ten years-old. She had seen a lot in her young years and was
more than hip to how things flowed in Fox Park. It was fair to say
that Simone Cortez was the crew’s next up and coming soldier at
the tender age of fourteen.
“
Medio ladrillo.”
(
Half
a brick.) Phoebe told Simone.
Simone, a heavy set tan-skinned female with a bald-faded haircut,
nodded towards a dread-locked black male and followed him back into
the house. The man walked in and saw two females standing on either
side of him in the home’s pristine living room and he paused
momentarily.
“Come on, man,” Simone snapped. “Stick and move,”
she said as she walked around a small wooden table.
The man pulled out a knot of money and Simone went to work. “
Pepper,
quiere un medio.”
(Pepper, he want a half.)
she said as she walked towards one of the tables in the living room
and began separating the money in order to place it inside the money
counter.
Twelve year-old Peppi Vargas was now getting her feet wet in her
benefactor’s occupation. Before Carmella left for Mexico, she
stopped over in Saint Louis and dropped Pepper off and told Toodie
and Phoebe it was time for her to get her feet wet in the game and
for them to look after her throughout the process.
The first time Simone laid eyes on Pepper, it was an instant bond.
She was the little sister Simone never had. The two spent a lot of
time together and Pepper was learning a lot from Simone, but the
twelve year-old still had a dislike for Toodie and Phoebe because she
knew they could care less about her life. Phoebe was trying, but she
went with the flow of things, doing little to suppress Toodie’s
verbal abuse. Simone didn’t care all that much for Toodie and
Phoebe herself because she knew they were shady, but Simone knew how
to run game and go with the flow; and for that, she was always in
good standing with the Perez sisters.
Pepper was sitting at the table in the kitchen by her lonesome, a
.380 caliber pistol tucked in her backside with rows of ounces,
quarter kilograms, half kilograms and entire bricks staring her
directly in the face.
“
Medio ladrillo
,
Pepper!”
(Half a brick, Pepper.) Simone snapped from the
living room.
Pepper was still green. Street math was a little confusing for the
twelve year-old at times. Simone had broken the cocaine down from
smallest to largest, but Pepper would still get confused. She picked
up a neatly-packaged quarter kilogram and walked out of the kitchen
timidly and handed Simone the package. Right away Simone saw the
mistake, but instead of yelling at her the way Toodie always did, she
walked young Pepper back into the kitchen and broke the math down for
her again from smallest to the largest.
“
Ahora lo tengo.”
(I got it now.) Pepper said lowly. “
Lo
siento.”
(I’m sorry.)
“It’s all good. You still learning. Stick with me you be
all right.” Simone remarked as she left the kitchen, served the
young man and sent him on his way.
When the guy left with his product, Phoebe turned to Toodie and said,
“Let’s go up to the Mickey D’s on Jefferson Ave and
get the hook up on some lunch.”
“That McDonald’s is gonna be the death of your ass,”
Toodie snapped towards Phoebe before she took a toke off the blunt
she was smoking.
“We all gotta die from something someday. Come on! A bitch
hungry!” Phoebe chuckled as she tugged on Toodie’s shirt.
“This bitch here,” Toodie sighed. “What time is
it?”
“Three ‘o’ clock. Way pass lunch.”
“I guess, girl. Simone? Hold it down! We going get lunch for
everybody.” Toodie said aloud.
“I want a Big Mac meal!” Pepper yelled as she ran to the
front door.
“Get your young ass back inside!” Toodie snapped. “Ain’t
nobody ask you shit!”
“Damn, Toodie! She been in there all day! Let her breathe,”
Phoebe snapped as she watched Pepper walk back into the home
dejectedly.
“Fuck her!”
“Yo, Phoebe,” Simone called out as she stepped out onto
the stoop. “Two Big Mac meals for me and Pep!”
“I gotcha, homegirl!”
“You too nice to them li’l hoes, yeah?” Toodie said
as she hopped behind the wheel of the Hummer.
“Somebody around here has to be,” Phoebe ended as her
sister pulled off from the curb.
*******
“Bring out the big guns when you go out there tonight,”
twenty-five year old Junior told Dawk, Jay-D and Malik as the three
of them left Jay-D’s home and walked down the block towards
Connections
.
“Who ridin’?” Malik asked.
“Me, you, and Bay,” Dawk answered.
It was business as usual for the crew over in Saint Charles in July
of 2003. Junior, Dawk and Malik had just returned from the crew’s
trap house over in Granite City where Doss was repackaging product
with Eddie, and the three of them were going have a late lunch inside
their headquarters with Dooney, Bay and T-top as four ‘o’
clock approached.
Connections
still operated as a bar and
grill in the neighborhood and did good business. It was mainly busy
at lunch hour and around seven at night. The down time around this
time of day afforded the crew time to spend together and discuss
business.