City Lights Read online

  En route home, Cash picked up his cell phone and called B-Low, not realizing that a black crown Victoria driven by a federal DEA agent followed close behind.

  Chapter 4

  “Ya’ll niggas can’t fuck with the Deuce!” Deuce screamed as he and a couple of his workers played Madden on the big screen in the back of D-Cuts, his neighborhood barbershop, which was really his drug distribution center.

  It was two o’clock in the evening when four men dressed in all black with stockings over their faces entered Deuce’s two-station barbershop on MLK. It was a slow day in the shop. One barber was cutting the hair of one of Deuce’s crew members when the men rushed in. The last man, Big Trent, secured the door as B-Low, Jesse, and Pete pulled their weapons on the two men at the chair.

  “Don’t move, niggas!” Pete said firmly to the barber as he laid the Wahl clippers down on the counter.

  “Both of ya’ll niggas get in here!” Jesse screamed, holding the door to the utility closet open.

  “Okay, homies, we don’t want no problems,” the man in the chair pleaded as Jesse secured them in the closet.

  “Touch down!” Deuce screamed from the back of the shop, unaware of what was going on out front.

  “Ah, nigga, you ain’t did nothing. Get back!” one of Deuce’s workers screamed.

  Just as Deuce was resetting the game, the three men burst into the back room with guns drawn.

  Jesse, the deadliest of the crew, was leading the pack. “Don’t move, bitches!” Jesse screamed as he leveled his gun at the three men sitting on the leather couch.

  “Whoa! Hold up, folks!” Deuce screamed with his hands in the air.

  “All y’all get down! NOW!“ B-Low screamed.

  Just then, one of Deuce’s workers went for his gun. The worker let off a wild shot in B-Low’s direction that hit Pete in the side of his head, killing him instantly. Seeing Pete drop, Jesse and B-Low didn’t waste time unloading their guns into Deuce and his workers. Trent, who stood guard at the door, rushed to the back of the shop after hearing the shots. Seeing his lil’ brother Pete’s head splattered sent him into a frenzy. Big Trent promptly unloaded his Glock 40 into the already dead men.

  “Come on, man. Let’s go!” Jesse screamed to Trent, who was sliding another clip in his gun.

  “Let’s go, bro!” B-Low screamed as they all took off running through the shop.

  Just as Trent was about to exit the shop, he thought about his lil’ brother Pete in the back of the shop, lying there lifeless. Then he thought about the men in the closet. He almost got left behind while he unloaded another clip into the cowering men in the closet. A few seconds later, he was jumping into the stolen minivan with Jesse and B-Low.

  On the way back out to the south side, Jesse called Cash on his cell phone. “Shit taken care of,” Jesse said in a sinister tone, still thinking about poor Pete, who didn’t make it alive.

  “Much appreciated. The money will be at the usual spot at six,” Cash stated and ended the call.

  Chapter 5

  “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” Constance chanted as she brought the tray full of food upstairs to Real as he lay in bed.

  “All this for me?” Real asked groggily, rolling over.

  “Yep. So get on up,” Constance demanded playfully.

  “Well, yes, ma’am!” Real screamed jokingly.

  Real lay in bed and ate breakfast while Constance got ready for a meeting with a very important client who was looking to purchase a $12 million dollar property out in the Buckhead area.

  “Damn, somebody looking way to good just to be selling a house,” Real called out, admiring Constance in her designer pant suit and high heels.

  “A $12 million house! Get it right!” Constance shouted back playfully.

  “Excuse me! Can’t wait to see that commission check!”

  “Whatever. What’s up with the foreigners?” she asked, referring to the Italians.

  “I should be getting a call back soon. If not, I’ll just go see this Rossi dude myself.”

  “Just be careful, baby, please,” Constance said softly as she walked over to him sitting on the side of the bed and hugged him tight.

  “Everythang gonna be all good. Now go make that money,” Real said, patting her on her plump ass as she walked off on her way to her meeting.

  Five minutes after Constance pulled out of the driveway, Real’s phone rang. Checking the screen, he saw it was old man Moretti.

  “Hello,” Real answered, already knowing who it was.

  “Hi, my buddy. How are you?” Moretti asked with a slight wheeze in his voice.

  “I’m just fine, but it seems as if someone has a problem with me working with you,” Real said, taking a seat in his bedroom recliner.

  “No! No problem! What make you think that is so?” Moretti questioned.

  “I had a visit by some men last night that work for a man by the name of Rossi. They told me—”

  Before Real could finish, Moretti spat heatedly, “Fucking no good bastard! I spare him no longer! He knows better than to step into my territory! I will kill the unscrupulous son of a bitch! Angelo! Angelo!” Moretti screamed for his nephew, the second in command. “Hold for a second, my friend.”

  “Yeah,” Real murmured.

  “Angelo, that bastard Rossi is at it again! Let all the families know that the truce is off! After you alert everyone, report back to me,” Moretti barked. “Hello?” Moretti called out.

  “I’m here,” Real replied as he reclined back in the chair.

  “Sorry about that. My apologies. You will have no more problems from him or his people. Also, your delivery should be arriving real soon. Make sure you contact me when it does.”

  “Will do, and the remaining balance will be deposited in the Chase account Monday. Have a good weekend.”

  “You do the same, my friend.”

  Just as Real was hanging up with Moretti, his phone rang again. “Yeah?” Real spat.

  “Where you at, cuz?” Max asked in panic.

  “What’s wrong, Max?” Real shouted.

  “Cuz, you got auditions, remember? You got ten girls down here waiting on you to see if they qualify for the club,” Max declared.

  “Damn! I totally forgot. I’m on the way,” Real said. He jumped up out of the recliner and got dressed quickly.

  One weekend out of the month, Real invited girls in to try out for a dancing job in the club. He had totally forgotten that he changed it this month to Thursday. Speeding down to the club in his Range Rover Sport, he looked at his watch. He was only twenty minutes late.

  A few minutes later, he was pulling up into the club parking lot. He jumped out of the truck and rushed in the club.

  “Hey, cuz! Man, they waiting for you,” Max said, meeting him as he entered.

  It was lunch hour in the club—a time when it was more socializing than dancing. Most of the girls were still getting paid for their conversation.

  The G-Spot was Real’s special project. He had built the club from the ground up. The G-Spot held two full bars, a private party room, a glassed-in VIP section, two custom black and gold pool tables, and some of the most expensive handcrafted leather furniture with gold accents available. The G-Spot was the most luxurious strip club in the state—and he wanted the most luxurious girls to dance there, so he auditioned them all himself.

  Chapter 6

  Real rushed over to the half-dressed women that stood lined up in front of his office door. “Ladies, sorry for keeping you waiting. I’m Real, the owner, as some of you already know,” Real said recognizing two of the girls as he walked by them and into his office.

  Right after Real introduced himself, Max showed up with a clipboard and pen. After getting all the girls’ names, he entered Real’s office. A few minutes later, he came back out and told the first girl on the list to go in.

  After spending over two hours interviewing and inspecting the women, it was time for Real to head out and check on the drop. He gave Max the list
of girls that made the cut and then sent him to check on the liquor supply before he ducked back into his office and called Cash.

  “Yo! Yo!” Cashed shouted into the phone.

  “What up, bro? Did my mail get there?” Real asked, referring to the 120 kilos of cocaine that was set to arrive.

  “Yeah, it got here,” Cash replied, standing in the middle of the stash house looking at the blocks of pure, uncut cocaine stacked up in the corner.

  “I’ll be out there in a lil’ while,” Real said, promptly hanging up the phone with Cash and then calling Moretti to let him know everything was in order.

  Just as Real was hanging up with Moretti and getting ready to go, a text came through his phone from Cash that read: ‘West side eliminated’. Real smiled, knowing now his work would move a lot faster.

  Real was interrupted as he did the math in his head on the profit he would make off this most recent shipment. “Who is it?” Real screamed as he cleared his desk, getting ready to leave.

  “Cream.”

  “Come in.”

  Cream slowly stepped into Real’s office and closed the door behind her. Cream was the only girl in the club that Real had to think twice about. Cream was beyond beautiful. Her smooth, flawless skin, jet black natural curly hair, and light green eyes had Real tempted. Cream’s nice round ass, wide hips, big track star legs, flat stomach, and perfect perky C cups were almost impossible to resist. Her pearly white and pretty smile would light up any room. Constance was the only thing stopping him from having Cream as his.

  “Hey, Real,” Cream said softly.

  “What’s going on?” Real asked her as she walked over and stood bowlegged in front of his desk in her red rhinestone string bikini with matching top and three-inch heels.

  “You are what’s going on. I’m still trying to get me a blockbuster night,” Cream said seductively. She didn’t hear Constance enter behind her at first.

  Constance crossed her arms and made it a point to clear her throat quite loudly.

  “Oh, hey, Constance,” Cream stuttered when she turned and saw Real’s woman standing there.

  “Don’t ‘hey’ me, bitch!” Constance screamed as she rushed across the room and got directly into Cream’s face. “Look here, you ten-dollar, broke-down-ass ho! If you approach mine again, I promise you I’m going to beat your mutt ass all around this mutha-fuckin’ club! No more passes, bitch! Now get the fuck up out of here and let them thirsty niggas out there fondle your trick ass!” Constance barked, wishing Cream would get wrong.

  Real sat back quietly and watched the exchange.

  “It ain’t even like—” Cream started.

  “Bitch, get the fuck out of here!” Constance snapped.

  Cream turned and hurried out of the office with her hooker heels click-clacking down the hall.

  “Nigga, what you got that bitch all up here for with her shit hanging out everywhere?” Constance asked while walking around the desk and getting in Real’s face.

  “A’ight now. Sit down. You know better than to even think like that,” Real said, snatching her down into his lap.

  “I know you just ain’t puttin’ your hands on me,” Constance said playfully.

  “Yeah, I did so straighten your business,” Real told her as he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her roughly.

  Despite Cream’s pathetic advances, Constance knew Real wouldn’t ever betray her on any level. She knew they had a bond that could never be broken. Constance totally trusted Real. She counted the days to their wedding, which was set for the beginning of the upcoming year. Constance couldn’t also wait for the day that their love child was conceived. She regularly found herself saying a silent prayer after their lovemaking for Real’s child.

  On the flipside, Real knew he had a woman above the rest—a woman that couldn’t be anything other than loyal, devoted, and 100 percent down with her man. She was his Bonnie, and he was her Clyde.

  “What brings you to these parts of town?” Real asked Constance, rubbing her thighs.

  “I was in the neighborhood. My meeting was right down the street in the new office plaza off of Third Street,” Constance said, rubbing her long red manicured nails along his neck.

  “How did everything go?” Real asked, feeling an erection coming on.

  “Everything went great. We closing on it Tuesday,” Constance replied. She could feel his hard-on.

  “That’s my girl. I taught you well,” Real joked.

  “Yeah, whatever. Get your dick off my leg, freak,” Constance said playfully.

  “Can’t help it,” Real replied, reaching around and pulling her all the way into his lap.

  “Well, it’s time for me to go,” Constance joked, leaning to get up off Real’s lap.

  “You lucky I got business to handle, or else I’d fuck the shit out of you right here and now,” Real declared, letting her up.

  “Yeah, I am lucky—especially if you were going to fuck the shit out of me! Damn!” Constance laughed as she headed to the door.

  “Love you, girl,” Real said as Constance opened the door to leave.

  “Love you, boy,” Constance replied as she exited.

  “Say, fella, can I get a Coke, light on the ice,” the federal agent asked the bartender as he watched Constance walk by him, leaving the club.

  A few minutes later, Real exited his office and told Max he would get with him tomorrow. The young agent sat his glass down and followed as Real made his way to the parking lot.

  Chapter 7

  Constance turned left out of the club parking lot and headed home while Real made a right en route to the stash house. A while back, Real had purchased the small two-bedroom brick house that was located off Fairburn Road in a quiet neighborhood. Real and Cash were the only ones who knew about the house and its location.

  Every time a shipment came in, they would meet at the house to make sure everything was accounted for. Real made it his business to count every block of cocaine sent to him. After the product was inventoried, Real would contact Moretti to confirm everything, and Cash would take it to the streets for distribution.

  As Real turned onto the street that led to the stash house, he noticed a black official-looking car behind him. Playing it safe, just in case, Real made a quick detour and headed out to Greenbriar Mall. The black car continued straight as Real turned into the mall parking lot. One thing Real always practiced was playing it safe at all times, and he always followed his first intuition. Thus far, it had kept him and his business alive.

  After cruising the mall parking lot, Real determined that everything was clear. Five minutes later, he was pulling into the stash house carport.

  “What’s up, bro? Would have been here sooner, but a black car looked like it was following me. It was a false alarm. I still had to bust a block to make sure. What’s good?” Real said as he closed the carport entrance door behind him.

  “Everything accounted for—120 all wrapped up like presents on Christmas morning,” Cash said as he entered the room that contained the cocaine.

  “I wonder why it’s red this time?” Real asked, looking at the red tape the shipment was wrapped in.

  “Probably ran out of gray and black,” Cash said, walking over and inspecting one of the wrapped up kilos.

  After making sure everything added up, Real called Moretti again to confirm the correct count. After all confirmations, Real and Cash both vigorously dialed numbers into their cell phones. They were so busy with their biz that they did not notice the black Crown Vic cruising by the house.

  Thirty minutes later, they were pulling out of the driveway. Real was en route home, and Cash was on the way to meet his east side connect with twenty kilos.

  Cash cruised east on 285 in his beat up old Chrysler LeBaron work car, heading out to Decatur to meet with Thad and Reg, two brothers that had most of the east side on lock. Cash didn’t notice the black Crown Vic three cars behind. After following Cash for a short distance, the man behind the wheel picked up his
cell phone and called the other unmarked car up ahead. After a brief conversation, that man decided to dispatch a Georgia state trooper, and a few minutes later, the trooper was pulling into the lane behind Cash.

  “Shit!” Cash spat as the trooper turned on his lights, motioning for Cash to pull over. Having no other choice, Cash slowly pulled over into the emergency lane. Just as he was putting the car in park, the black Crown Vic pulled up behind the state trooper. “Fuck!” Cash screamed as he threw open the car door and made a mad dash for the woods.

  “Freeze!” the state trooper yelled as Cash continued running ignoring his orders. The two federal agents took off behind Cash, catching him before he made it into the woods.

  “Don’t fuckin’ move!” the young White federal agent screamed as he grinded his knee into Cash’s back.

  “Ya’ll got it!” Cash screamed out in pain as they roughly handcuffed him.

  Searching the car, they found the twenty kilos of cocaine, an unregistered handgun, an ounce of weed, and twelve ecstasy pills. They placed Cash into the back of the unmarked car, the fed thanked the state trooper, and then hauled Cash down to the federal holding facility.

  Chapter 8

  After handling business all day, Real decided it was time to give Constance some quality time. On the way home, Real stopped by the local florist and picked up a dozen red roses.

  “Oh, baby!” Constance screamed, placing her hands over her mouth as Real walked in the house holding the flowers.

  “For my special lady,” Real said as he handed Constance the fresh roses.

  “Thank you, baby! Love you,” Constance called out.

  “Love you too,” Real replied as he leaned around the roses and gently kissed Constance on the neck.

  “Ooh! Alright now,” Constance said faintly.

  “Alright what?” Real said playfully.

  “You win for now. Dinner will be ready in a minute.”

  “That’ll work. I’m going to grab a quick shower,” Real said as he turned and headed up to the bedroom.

  Constance prepared Real’s favorite: grilled chicken breast, buttered rolls, potatoes, green beans, and a glass of white wine. Constance called Real down to the dining room table that they rarely used as she poured his wine in his glass.