Promise Broken, page 15
“Can’t complain. How we looking inside?” Abdul asked.
“The crowd is light, but it’s still early so I expect it to pick up. Your boy still ain’t here though,” Bagley told him.
Ab checked his watch. “He ain’t but a few minutes late, why don’t you relax?”
“I’m trying, but that kid gives me anxiety. Do you know that he showed up drunk last weekend?”
“I never knew him to be a big drinker. Maybe he’s going through something,” Ab reasoned.
“Let him go through it on his personal time. I’m trying to run a business here,” Bagley told him.
“Did he kill it?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Then what the fuck are you complaining about? I don’t care if the kid shows up high out of his mind on smack. So long as he keeps drawing the crowds, you let him do his thing. Get me?”
“Yeah, I get you,” Bagley said sheepishly. “Your guests have already arrived. I sat them at one of our private tables. Let me walk you over.”
“I know the way.” Ab walked past him into the bar. Abdul couldn’t stand Bagley. He was sneaky, a liar, and got off on hating on people. For all Bagley’s faults, he had also proven to be useful. He was the reason that Ab had become a fixture at the hotel.
He’d met Bagley in the neighborhood a few months prior. He was looking to score some blow. Back then he carried a fifty-dollar-a-day habit, but once he got a taste of what Ab’s boys were slinging he stepped his game up. Bagley would sometimes come and get whole pieces. He usually paid for his drugs, but the few times he didn’t have it Ab let him slide. He knew where Bagley worked and what days he got paid so he wasn’t worried about the money not coming back. The first few times Bagley got drugs on credit, he paid his debt like clockwork on payday. As his habit grew, the more like a dope fiend he started to act. He would come up short on what he owed, with an excuse.
B-Stone wanted to break Bagley’s legs, but Ab let him slide. He was fine with letting Bagley dig a hole for himself. Whereas B-Stone and some of the others saw just another junkie with a habit he couldn’t support, Ab saw a pawn. A hotel manager in one of the city’s most popular hotels had more than a few uses. Ab started small by trading Bagley drugs for discounts on hotel rooms. Then he stopped paying for the rooms altogether. Ab could be found at the hotel regularly running up tabs which he hung on Bagley. The hotel bar became like Ab’s office, where he would broker deals or host events that sometimes got out of hand. When some of the hotel staff started complaining about Ab and his bunch their grievances all had to go through Bagley. The one time one of the staff had gone over Bagley’s head to the big bosses, Ab had Cal, Asher, and some of the boys put him in the hospital. That was the first and last time it happened. The hotel had become Abdul’s personal playground and there wasn’t much anyone could do about it. Even if Bagley did want to shut it down, he couldn’t. He was too deep in debt to Ab. All he could do was go along with the program.
He found his guests right where Bagley said they would be, at his private table in the back. Nobody was allowed to sit there except Ab or his guests. Even on nights he didn’t come in he had Bagley rope the table off. As Abdul had instructed him to prior, Bagley had always set them up with drinks; two bottles of champagne and a gallon of Hennessy. There were three of them, each was a face that Ab had seen before. The one sitting closest to the aisle, better to get a view of what was going on and react if necessary. He was a serious man. So serious, in fact, that Ab had been around him on several different occasions and couldn’t recall ever seeing him smile.
Next was a slender man, who wore a light jacket and jeans. He seemed to be more interested in whatever was on his phone than he was in the bar scene. Every so often he would look up to answer a question or say something to one of his party and then it was right back to the phone. He was the brains of the operation.
Last, but hardly least, was the main attraction. He wore a pair of black sunglasses and a black Reds cap with the red logo. His diamond-flooded chain rested against his black sweatshirt, flashing all colors of the rainbow. He was the boss, but more importantly the man Ab was betting on to change his life.
“My main man. I’m glad you guys could make it.” Abdul gave the man in the sunglasses dap.
“What kind of Don would turn down an invitation to break bread with a comrade. The Don is humbled by the offer.” Don B. spoke of himself in the third person, which he sometimes did. Don B. was the owner and headline act at Big Dawg Entertainment, one of the hottest labels in the industry. Don B. was like Suge Knight, Diddy, and Irv Gotti rolled into one person. He was a shrewd businessman, but also a notorious criminal. He had murdered, cheated, and bribed his way from the street corners to the top of the food chain in the music business.
Ab met Don B. through a mutual friend a few years prior. This was around the time Don B. had stopped gang banging and was starting to focus on the music and Ab was just starting to make a name for himself as a shooter. Their paths had crossed again a week prior at a listening party. By then Ab had already seen what Keys was capable of on the piano and hooked into him, but he still had no idea what to do with him beyond the hotel gig. It was obvious to anyone with ears that the boy had a gift, but Ab didn’t know shit about the music business so he had no way to break him in. Then he bumped into Don B. at the party and made his pitch.
“I trust my staff has been taking care of you?” Abdul asked.
“Yeah, they been taking real good care of us.” The serious man hoisted the bottle of Hennessy. His name was Red Devil.
“Glad to hear it. If you boys are hungry I can have them bring you out some food. They make a mean steak here,” Ab offered.
“Nah, we’d just like to get to the business,” the man who had been on his phone said. This was Don B.’s best friend and business partner, Tone. They came up together on the streets. Don B. had paid Tone’s way through college and when he came home with his degree he gave him a piece of Big Dawg as well as a seat on its board of directors. Don B. was the boss, but nothing moved at Big Dawg without Tone’s approval.
“Right, the kid is running a little behind but he should be here shortly,” Abdul told him.
“Well, I hope he doesn’t take too long. You know the Don don’t fuck with Newark like that.” Don B. said, filling his flute with champagne and spiking it with Hennessy.
“You ain’t got no love for the Brick?” Abdul gave him a look.
“Nah, I fucks with Newark as a whole, but me and some cats over this side have some unresolved issues,” Don B. said. He was speaking of one of his former artists, Lord Scientific, with whom he’d had a falling out. Word on the streets was that he was planning to get back at Don B., but had yet to make good on his threat. Don B. knew Lord Scientific well enough to know that just because he hadn’t didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Eccentricities aside, Lord Scientific was still a dangerous enemy. Airing on the side of safety, Don B. had been avoiding Newark unless he rolled heavy like he had that night. Devil and Tone were the only ones in the bar with him, but two blocks away, tucked on the side of a gas station, was an SUV full of armed Big Dawg shooters. The Don might’ve been arrogant, but he wasn’t stupid.
“Well, whatever your troubles in this city might’ve been, they don’t matter here. You and your boys are under my protection,” Abdul assured them.
“You calling them kind of shots? I’d heard that B-Stone ran this hood,” Devil added.
“We share in the leadership,” Abdul told him.
“Must be some Jersey shit, because in New York there’s only one boss of the crew,” Don B. bragged.
Abdul knew that Don B. was only giving him shit, but it still didn’t stop him from wanting to slap him. Dudes like Don B. irritated him. They thought that their money made them too far removed from their old lives to still have to live under the old rules. Ab knew that if he wanted to, all he had to do was make a phone call and there would be at least a dozen young dudes at the hotel within minutes to remind him of where he was. It would soothe the bruise to Ab’s ego, but wouldn’t put any money in his pocket and at the end of the day, that’s what the meeting was about.
There was an awkward silence between them as Ab thought of a response to Don B.’s remark. Spotting Keys at the bar saved him the trouble. “There’s my guy now,” he pointed to Keys. Ab waved him over to meet Don B., but Keys gave him the signal that he was late and continued toward the piano.
“What’s up? Your boy ain’t got no home training?” Don B. asked, taking Keys’s refusal of the summons as a slight.
“It ain’t like that. He’s just anxious to show you what he can do,” Abdul downplayed it.
“I hope his performance is better than his appearance. Who dressed that lil nigga, his mama?” Tone joked.
“Don’t sleep on my boy, Keys. He’s the real deal,” Ab assured him.
“He better be. You only get one chance to make a first impression and so far, your shit is looking suspect,” Don B. told him before settling in to watch Keys play.
CHAPTER 18
The sounds of YG’s “BPT” bumped from the speaker box that occupied most of the trunk of B-Stone’s CTS. The bass from the modified speaker box rattled the windows of the parked cars he passed while cruising. On the passenger’s seat, nestled like a lover was his trusty sawed off. It was chilly out, but he had the front two tinted windows rolled all the way down. He wanted to make sure people saw him, and his shotgun, and knew what type of time he was on. It was hunting season.
He bent a few corners, hitting first a well-known drug strip, then a popular bar where the dudes who hustled in that neighborhood were known to frequent. He made it a point to mad-dog anyone who came across who looked like they might’ve been affiliated. They might not have known his face, but they knew the red flag hanging out of his pocket. He wasn’t from that side of town. B-Stone had never been big on flying his flag, but he did so that day out of spite. He was itching for some action and at that point didn’t really care where he got it. Normally, B-Stone would’ve tried to keep a low profile while in what was considered an enemy hood, but he was a man on a mission. A mission to kill Zul and anyone affiliated with him.
Since getting the word that his rival was out of prison, B-Stone had been preparing himself for what was coming. To his crew he acted like Zul coming home wasn’t a big deal, but that was only because as their leader he couldn’t show nervousness. He had to be the picture of cool at all times, even if inside his stomach did flip-flops every time he left the house. Zul was a dangerous man, maybe even more so than B-Stone. B-Stone had the streets on lock, but Zul’s influence stretched beyond just the ghettos of Newark. Even before going to prison he had been building a criminal empire that was to be like nothing Newark had seen in decades. Then his plans got derailed by prison.
The circumstances surrounding Zul getting locked up had never sat well with B-Stone. He was a street nigga, a soldier, and he wanted to gun it out with his rival for control of the drug trade. He and his crew were getting their asses handed to them during the war, but B-Stone was willing to see it through to the end. This is when the old head Saud had come to him with a plan that would end the war quietly. B-Stone knew Saud from the neighborhood and remembered back when he had the town in a headlock, but he had been relatively quiet since coming home from prison. He seemed more content to play an advisory role to B-Stone rather than try and usurp him for his position. Over the years the old-timer had given B-Stone precious jewels and B-Stone had come to value his council, even depending on him to an extent. B-Stone didn’t care for Zul, but Saud hated him with a passion. No one was really sure why except that it had to do with an incident between one of Saud’s young boys who was still behind the wall and Zul.
Saud’s reasoning was that there was no way B-Stone would win with the guerrilla approach he had taken. Zul had too many soldiers for that. Saud suggested that they cut the head off the body. Remove the leader and the crew would implode. They couldn’t kill Zul outright, at the risk of making him a martyr and inspiring his crew to fight on in his name, but they still needed him out of the way. Prison was the lesser of two evils.
Saud had come up with the plan, and B-Stone grudgingly approved it. He never felt good about it because it felt too much like snitching, but Saud convinced B-Stone that if he didn’t involve himself directly then there would be no stain on his jacket. Reluctantly, B-Stone turned a blind eye and let Saud work. They had even recruited young Asher. The original plan was to plant drugs on Zul then call the police on him. Saud knew Asher’s connection to Zul through his sister and figured he was the best candidate to get close enough to him without raising suspicion. Asher had been hesitant in the beginning, so B-Stone agreed to promote him as a sweetener. The promise of money and power was enough to trump whatever loyalties Asher had to Zul. He even tweaked the plan and suggested they planted a gun on Zul instead of the drugs. The pistol would carry more weight. B-Stone never asked where Asher got the gun from, nor did he care. He just wanted Zul gone, and Asher made that happen. He kept his promise to elevate Asher’s position, but never really trusted the young man after that. How could he, after seeing how easy it was for him to line Zul up?
That plan had gone off without a hitch, and by the next evening Zul was in handcuffs. Asher had assured them that the gun he planted on Zul had been used in a crime, but much to everyone’s surprise it had been clean. Zul had received five years for being a convicted felon in possession of a firearm but managed to worm his way home in three. This was an unforeseen circumstance that created a problem that B-Stone had been left to deal with, which he planned to do immediately. He had no plans on waiting to see when and how Zul was going to come at him. He would strike first.
His phone, which was resting in the cupholder, vibrated. He spared a glance at the screen and saw that it was a text from Ab. He didn’t even need to read the text to know what it had been about. Ab had been on him all week about some meeting he had set up with a record executive from New York. A few months prior Ab and B-Stone had put some money together and formed a company called Brick Media. For B-Stone it was just something to do so that he could see that he owned a company, but Ab seemed to really be taking it seriously. He even had an artist, some piano playing little nigga from around the way. Here B-Stone was trying to ensure the survival of their crew and Ab wanted to play music mogul. B-Stone had promised Ab that he would be there for the meeting, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around anything except putting Zul’s brains on the sidewalk.
He was about to call it and head back to the hood to meet up with Ab when he spotted someone he thought he knew. She was a pretty girl, with butterscotch skin and long black hair. She was walking with a guy who was wearing a blue baseball cap, cocked on his head. It had been a few years since he’d seen the girl, and she had thickened out, but her face was the same as it had been back then. She looked just like her older brother, Zul. B-Stone double-parked his car, keeping his eyes on the couple. He removed one of the shells from the barrels before getting out of the car.
The girl and the guy were walking in his direction so they’d have to pass him to get to wherever they were going. B-Stone walked to meet them, watching the dude whisper sweetly to the girl, occasionally touching her intimately. He was either just coming from smashing her or on his way to smashing her. B-Stone hoped it had been the former because if he hadn’t fucked her already he never would. As the couple was passing B-Stone he made it a point to bump the kid in the blue cap.
“Watch where the fuck you going, Blood,” B-Stone spat, insulting the Crip on purpose. The girl urged her guy friend to let it go, but instead he took the bait.
“Watch that Blood shit. You know where the fuck you at?” The kid stepped to B-Stone, ready to swing on him.
“Yup,” B-Stone said and raised the shotgun. The girl screamed, but the sound was muffled by the shotgun blast. The kid in the blue hat was literally knocked out of his sneakers and into the street by the impact. If he wasn’t dead, he’d be shitting in a bag for the rest of his days. B-Stone didn’t care either way. It was what he had planned for the girl that would be the icing on the cake. He viciously slapped the screaming girl across the face, quieting her. “Shut up, bitch!” He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her around the corner. He then put the barrel of the shotgun against her cheek. She winced as the hot barrels burned her, but dared not scream.
“Please, I don’t gang bang. I’m neutral,” the girl pleaded with him.
“Bullshit, bitch! Your brother Zul is king crab around these parts. Where is he? I need a word with him,” B-Stone pressed her.
“I don’t know. We’ve only seen him once since he’s been home,” the girl told him.
“Whore, do I look stupid to you? You can either tell me where I can lay hands on your brother or I’m gonna blow this pretty face of yours off.” B-Stone pressed the shotgun barrels deeper into her jaw.
“I swear to God! He only came by once to tell us that he was out of jail but none of us have seen or heard from him since.” The girl was crying.
“Fuck it then. You wanna protect your brother so bad then I’m gonna give you what I got for him.” B-Stone shoved her roughly to the ground. He leveled the shotgun and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened except for the girl pissing herself. He had never planned to kill her, but only see if she was lying or not about her brother’s whereabouts. She wasn’t. “Today is your lucky day, little bitch. When next see your brother, you tell that nigga if he gets a mind to poking around what no longer belongs to him your blood will be on his hands. Now get!” he barked. The girl scrambled to her feet. He gave her a swift kick in the ass before she took off running up the block.
He was pretty sure that even if she didn’t know where her brother was currently, she would make it her business to find him and relay the message. If what he had just done didn’t draw Zul out, nothing would. The gauntlet had been laid, and now all B-Stone had to do was wait for his rival to pick it up.
