Promise Kept, page 18
“And what happened to you being off that gangsta?” Don B. questioned.
“This ain’t gangsta; it’s strategic. Now do we have a deal or not?”
“You got it, Trap. I’ll let you have Keys, but you gotta hand over that tape first,” Don B. insisted.
“C’mon, Don. You know I just been trying to get you uptight. I’d never leak the tape. That would be gangsta.” Trap laughed.
“Fuck that. You include the tape in the deal, or I’ll take my chances. I might end up getting exposed, but you leak that tape and that umbrella you’ve been using to stay dry all this time will be gone, and make no mistake, I’ll use whatever pull I got left on these streets to make it rain blood on you and everything you love. An all-out war with me and the Dawgz ain’t something you want, Trap.”
That much was true. A war with Don B. wasn’t something he really wanted. Trap was well-respected in the South and building a reputation on the West Coast, but Don B. was a global gangster. His reach went beyond anyone that Trap had access to. At least, at the moment. Between his connections in the music business and the fools who followed him blindly on the streets, Trap knew that, if Don really put his mind to it, he could make shit real uncomfortable for him and his team. “A’ight, done deal. I’ll have Moochie take care of it as soon as you sign over Keys’s contract.” He extended his hand.
Don B. hesitated for a moment before shaking it. When Trap went to pull away, Don B. tightened his grip and pulled him closer. “And if you try and get cute and make copies of it to keep in the stash, I’m gonna have Red Devil pay a visit to that auntie of yours that you’ve been taking care of in that nursing home down in Tampa.”
This took Trap by surprise. Outside of his family and a select few others, no one knew about his auntie. This was further proof of Don B.’s reach. “That’s cold,” he said in an icy tone.
Don B. smiled. “It’s like you said, there’s no honor amongst thieves.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sin moved inconspicuously through the crowd at Dirty Wine. Girls were trying to get his attention, but Sin’s focus was on the door Keisha had escorted Don B. and Trap to a few moments prior. He had been hoping to catch Don B. alone at some point, or maybe even in the company of one of his crew, as he had no beef with the other rapper. Don B. was the main course, but Trap would find himself on the menu by default.
A few paces behind Sin was Bone. Where Sin was gracefully moving through the crowd, Bone was damn near shoving people out of his way. Sin blamed that on the fact that he was tipsy, which was the same reason that he was with him, instead of at his original post, which was to be covering their exit. Sin switched things up and had Unique on it. Bone wasn’t happy about Sin changing the plan, but Sin wasn’t happy about him having so much to drink while they were on a job. Had he not been so preoccupied, he’d have cut Bone’s drinking short. His brother wasn’t drunk to the point where Sin felt like he couldn’t handle himself, but he didn’t want to leave something as important as securing their exit to chance.
Sin cast a glance toward the VIP section where Inferno and his guests were sitting. Tone was talking to Inferno and Finesse, and Zod was trying to finger-bang Keisha while stuffing dollars down her G-string. The Big Dawg crew seemed pretty much preoccupied, but Moochie was a different case. She had a girl on her lap and two hands full of ass cheeks, but her attention was more focused on the door her brother had disappeared through than the tits being shoved in her face. She was going to be a problem, and Sin knew it. He looked to Unique, who was perched on a bar stool near the door, pretending to sip whiskey. When Sin made eye contact with him, Unique nodded in Moochie’s direction letting Sin know that he was already on point. This was why Sin trusted Unique to cover their backs, instead of Bone.
Sin had almost reached the door when it swung open and the two label CEOs came out. Sin stopped so abruptly that Bone ended up walking into him. His little brother opened his mouth to say something, but Sin raised his hand and silenced him. Don B. wore a look of irritation on his face, while Trap beamed like he had just gotten the best hand job ever. Something had changed in that back room, including Sin’s plan. He continued to watch them with the intensity of a leopard hunting two unsuspecting antelopes as they crossed the floor back to their respective crews. Trap said a few words to Finesse, which left Inferno with a bewildered look on his face, before collecting his sister and leaving Dirty Wine. Don B. exchanged a few words with Tone before taking a seat directly across from Inferno and Finesse, crossing his legs confidently and addressing them. Sin was too far away to hear what was being said, but he could tell from the look on Finesse’s face that he wasn’t feeling it.
“What the fuck is going on?” Bone asked Sin.
“Change of plans,” his big brother informed him, continuing his surveillance. He wasn’t totally certain what had transpired between Don B. and Trap, but if he had to guess based on the two men’s body language, he’d say they had come to an uncomfortable understanding. Their party was officially over. “We’re gonna have to take him outside. Go get Unique and y’all two post up across the street. Wait for my signal.”
“What signal?” Bone asked, irritated. He was itching to get to the action, and this spy shit his brother was on was blowing his.
“You’ll know it when you hear it,” Sin told him and moved closer to his mark.
Tone was the first one to his feet when Don B. and Trap returned. Trap was wearing an easy smile, but Don B. was wearing a look that Tone had become all too familiar with over the years. Whatever had gone on in that back room hadn’t landed in Don B.’s favor, which was why Tone didn’t want him going off alone with Trap. “Everything cool?” he asked Don B.
“Right as rain,” Trap said and gave Don B. a sly smile. Don B. flashed him a murderous look. “No pun intended. Me and Don B. have come to an understanding. That said, our business is concluded and we gone.” He motioned for Moochie to get up.
“Wait, you’re leaving? I thought we were in the middle of a negotiation?” Finesse asked. He’d prepared a whole speech in his head that he planned to use to put Trap and Don B. in a bidding war over Inferno.
“Unfortunately, our pockets aren’t quite as deep as Big Dawg’s, so we’re going to have to respectfully decline signing your artist. Sorry, kid. And good luck to you, Inferno. I’m sure you’ll make a fine addition to the Big Dawg roster.” Trap winked. “Don, I’ll be on the lookout for your email sooner rather than later.”
“I’ll have Tone get on it ASAP,” Don B. assured him.
“Have me get on what?” Tone was confused.
“Get the lawyer on the line. I’ve got something that needs to be handled in a timely fashion,” Don B. told him.
“But it’s after midnight,” Tone pointed out.
“For what we pay him, I don’t give a fuck what time it is. Wake his ass up and have him start drafting a transference of rights agreement.”
“But Don—”
“Tone, stop working your mouth and work that phone,” Don B. ordered.
Inferno sat there with a bewildered look on his face, watching the exchange between Don B. and Tone, while Trap waltzed out of Dirty Wine, along with the promise of whatever advance he might’ve been about to offer. He wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened, but Don B. would happily fill him in. The Big Dawg CEO took the seat directly across from him and folded his legs. “What’s this?” Inferno asked.
“This, my young friend, is the universe smiling favorably on you,” Don B. answered. “You see, for as long as me and Trap have known each other, we’ve never been able to agree on much, but the conclusion we both came to is that his label can’t do for you what Big Dawg can. Trap is good for breaking local artists, but I create global stars, which is what I intend to make you once you sign with me.”
“With all due respect, Don B., we haven’t exactly come to any type of understanding as to where Inferno will sign,” Finesse said.
“The understanding is that, without a label, your boy will be dead in the water. Word is out, and the thinking around the industry is that Inferno is a liability. The shit you’ve been stirring up over the last few years has these industry people afraid to touch you. Luckily for you boys, the Don does not do fear,” Don B. boasted. “Now, I’ll have Tone send you boys over a contract to review. It’s pretty simple and standard, so don’t go out of your way getting a lawyer to review it.”
“We don’t sign anything blindly,” Finesse told him.
“Of course you don’t. Knock yourself out and do whatever you gotta do, but this opportunity won’t be on the table forever.”
“Okay, send the contract over and we’ll follow up in a few days,” Finesse told him. He felt like the situation was spinning out of control and he needed to slow things down.
“Twenty-four hours,” Don B. announced. “That’s how long you have before I rescind what I think you’ll find to be the most generous offer you’ll get since the only other game in town walked out of here leaving you holding your dick.”
“Don B., it’ll take at least a week to get the contract reviewed. Twenty-four hours is not a reasonable timeline,” Finesse said. Don B. was trying to muscle them, and he didn’t like it.
“Maybe not, but it’s what you have. Now, you can either sign with Big Dawg and let me show you the world or turn down the deal and spend the rest of your youth doing shows in shitholes like this. On that note, it’s time for the Don to take his leave.” He stood to leave. Sammy led the way, with Tone behind him, still on the phone. Don B. brought up the rear. He made it a few steps before realizing that Zod wasn’t with them. He was still cuddled up with Keisha. “Time to roll, nephew,” Don B. called to him.
“Y’all go ahead. I’m trying to see what’s good with shorty. I’ll catch an Uber back to the spot,” Zod told him, never taking his hands off Keisha’s ass.
“A’ight, young thirst trap. See you back at the crib.” Don B. laughed before joining his crew.
“Lil boy, I don’t think you’re ready for what I got between these legs. This pussy is for bosses, and near as I can tell, the head nigga at Big Dawg just walked out the door,” Keisha told him.
Keisha’s slight wounded Zod, and he wasn’t yet skilled enough to mask his emotions. “Fuck you.” He pushed her off his lap and onto the floor. “My time is coming, and it’ll be sooner than you think. When it does, you’ll wish I had let you suck this dick,” he declared before storming off.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Asher’s brain had switched to autopilot after leaving his meeting with Zul. It was through the grace of God that he had made it out of that shack on his own two feet, instead of having his body being carted out in separate bags, which he was sure they had done to get rid of Danny, if there was even enough left of him to fit into bags. After what he’d seen those buzz saws do to that man’s flesh, he figured the mess could’ve probably been cleaned up with a hose and a mop. Danny had gone out bad, and Asher had no intentions of having his story end even remotely close to how Danny’s had.
He had spent his young career in the streets, playing fast, loose, and one step ahead of his undoing. He had come up under conditions just as bad as any man standing to his right or left on any given day, but unlike some of his comrades who gained their notoriety with pistols, Asher had made his bones with his brains. He was no stranger to bloodshed, as he had proven during his ascent to his current position, but that had very little to do with his success. His greatest strength was always being smarter than the most dangerous man in any room he entered. This tactic had served him well up to that point, but Zul was a different animal. For Asher to come out of this with his brains still intact, it would take more than a few well-spun lies. Breaking the rules wouldn’t do. This time, he’d have to rewrite them. This is what brought him across the Hudson that night.
With his latest scheme, Asher had made a mess of things. A mess that he would need to clean up with haste. Zul demanded blood for Asher to land back in his good graces, and this was nonnegotiable. Asher had fed more than a few souls of those he had claimed to respect, and in some cases love, to the demon he had foolishly bound himself to. What was one more back to step on in his rise to the top? But this wasn’t an expendable piece on the chessboard . . . this was Cal. Asher would meet Zul’s asking price of blood, but whose life would settle the debt was still up for question.
His first order of business was to get with Saud. He doubted that word of Danny’s untimely demise had reached him yet, but Asher needed to look him in the eyes to be sure. Based on his meeting with the old head, Asher would be able to determine what he would need to do next. He had no love for Saud, but at the moment, he was an important part of Asher’s expansion plan. He couldn’t risk Saud getting knocked off, at least not before he put a backup plan in place. When that time came, he would be food.
Asher hit Saud before he left Jersey, on his way to New York, to let him know that they needed to talk. Saud agreed without even asking what about, which was the first red flag. Saud was one of the most suspicious dudes he knew, especially when it came to Asher, because he had seen the young man’s body of work. Asher tried to call Saud back as he got closer to the city but got no answer. He tried twice more and got the same results. That was red flag number two. Something was definitely up.
Asher’s next call was to a chick named Shelly. Saud had been seeing her off and on since he had been tucked away in New York. He had been courting the young girl for some weeks, and he felt like he was making progress. Saud was notorious for running game on chicks that he planned to turn out and thought that he was roping Shelly in. But it was actually the other way around. What he didn’t know was that Asher had been the one who put her onto him. Asher knew that he couldn’t fully trust Saud, so he wanted to make sure he had eyes on the man even when he wasn’t around. It had been Asher who had arranged the chance meeting between the two, trusting Saud’s thirst and Shelly’s body to do the rest. So far it was working just as he had planned.
He learned from Shelly that she and Saud were supposed to hook up that evening, but he had unexpectedly canceled saying that he had something to take care of. When she asked what was more important than spending the night with her, he said, “business,” and left it at that. After doing a bit of snooping, she found a flyer in a pair of his pants advertising some sort of music showcase at a hole-in-the-wall strip club. Asher knew the place she named by reputation but had never been there personally and doubted that he would ever have a reason to. The way he’d heard it, the place was a shit hole, but also a prime feeding ground for a predator like Saud. He did most of the recruiting for his side business at off-the-radar clubs like the one Shelly was speaking about. He would scour the clubs for desperate girls that he could put to work in whore houses. He’d had a similar situation going in Newark before Zul had murdered one of his favorite girls and shut the spot down.
Saud prowling for girls wasn’t suspicious, but his blowing off the man who had been feeding him these last few months was. Asher’s gut told him that something wasn’t right. He had already been blindsided once that day and wouldn’t set himself up for it to happen a second time. This is why, before he left Jersey for New York, Asher stopped and picked up an insurance policy.
When Asher hit Atilla up and asked him if he wanted to hang out that night, the recently released man reacted like the ugly girl who had been asked to the senior prom by the star quarterback. He was beyond thrilled and smiling from ear to ear when the Benz pulled up in front of the house where he was staying. Asher had made sure to set it out for him, too. There was a fresh bottle of Hennessy in the back seat and several blunts already rolled up. Atilla accepted the offerings without question. The whole ride into the city, Atilla chatted about his life during his time away. He spoke about prison with the fondness of a summer vacation. It was weird to hear a man speak of spending years in prison as if he missed it, but Asher understood. He had met plenty of dudes like Atilla. Men who were average at best on the streets but larger than life behind the walls. These types of dudes were usually ones who went back and forth through the system like a revolving door. Men who felt more comfortable incarcerated than they did free because being free no longer felt normal to them.
“So, how come you didn’t invite Cal out with us tonight? That boy has been like your shadow since back in the days, so I’m a little surprised he ain’t rolling,” Atilla said.
Asher shrugged. “Cal ain’t never been big on strip clubs, so I didn’t bother to ask him to come along. Besides, this ain’t exactly a pleasure trip. There’s some business that might need to get handled, and the less people who know, the less likely we are to fuck around and end up in prison if this takes a bad turn.”
“You make it sound like a nigga might need to get his brain pushed this evening,” Atilla said. Asher didn’t respond, but the look on his face made Atilla probe further. “Ash, if you need me to ride, imma ride, but don’t come at me in riddles. If it be war, let me prepare properly, so that I can live in infamy or die in glory. This is the law of the Apes.”
