Power Page 6

  Deion was relaxing on his bed when he noticed Passion’s name come across his caller ID. “Hello,” he answered, actually looking forward to hearing her voice.

  “Hey babe, you know you’re one funny-ass dude. Was that supposed to be a joke or something?”

  “Huh?”

  “That money you gave me was fake.”

  “What are you talkin’ about?” he asked, rising up off the bed.

  “Deion, you gave me some counterfeit money.”

  Deion thought about what Paris had said earlier about the money being fake. Now Passion was saying the same thing. He highly doubted them chicks had orchestrated a scam together to try and swindle him, so there had to be some truth to it.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious, babe.”

  “I swear I didn’t mean to fuck you, man. Let’s meet up later and I will replace the money.”

  “No worries, you can just give it to me the next time we see each other.”

  “Thanks for understanding.”

  “Of course. I’m sure you’ll make it up to me in New York…right?”

  “No doubt.”

  When Deion ended the call with Passion he went straight to his closet and pulled out two shopping bags of money. He’d sold the eight that he’d gotten from the Mexicans to a little dude named DeMarco on the West Side. DeMarco’s money was in a Neiman Marcus shopping bag. He’d left that bag in the closet because he’d seen Paris before he’d made the purchase from the Mexicans. The other shopping bag was a paper bag from Whole Foods. He’d gotten that money from J.D. It was money he and Alex had divided up the night J.D. was in town. He removed a stack of hundreds from the bag, then went to the kitchen drawer and got a counterfeit pen. He ran the pen over ten one hundred dollar bills.

  “What the fuck! I can’t believe this shit,” Deion said, tossing the bills down. “I know this nigga ain’t stupid enough to give us counterfeit money! I thought that motherfucker valued his life.” Deion immediately called Alex.

  “What’s up,” Alex said, when he answered.

  “We got problems.”

  “What kind of problems?”

  “That funky breath nigga J.D.”

  “What about J.D.?”

  “J.D. ain’t right man. I knew we shouldn’t have trusted his ass when he wanted a break.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at home.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes so we can talk face-to-face.”

  Deion was at Alex’s front door so fast he barely had enough time to put some clothes on. “Must be serious for you to rush over like this,” Alex said when he opened the door to let Deion in.

  “J.D. has fucked us good!” Deion said, with anger dripping from each word.

  “How?”

  “The money he gave us was counterfeit.”

  “Counterfeit?”

  Deion tossed a thousand dollars on the table “This is monopoly money!”

  “That bitch-ass nigga. You positive it was J.D.?”

  “Hell yes!” Remember when I left your house that night? I took a Whole Foods bag.”

  “Yeah, I gave you that bag. And you didn’t put nobody else’s money in there?”

  “Nope, just that motherfucker’s.”

  Alex went in his bedroom to get the suitcase that J.D. had given him. He hadn’t even had a chance to touch the money. Alex pulled a stack of money. All hundreds. He went back into the living where Deion was waiting. He ran the counterfeit marker across the bills.

  “See, it’s all fake,” Deion said through clenched teeth.

  Alex dialed J.D.’s number. It was out of service; it had been disconnected. “What the fuck!” Alex barked before slamming the phone down.

  “Thinking back, J.D. had seemed a little off. He just didn’t seem quite like himself. But you know what? We slipped too. We normally always have a counterfeit marker with us, but we been doing business with J.D. so long we figured we could trust that nigga. But we both know in this game you not supposed to trust nobody.”

  Alex dumped the rest of the money on the floor. They unbounded it from the rubber bands. Deion marked it. All fake.

  “Three hundred thousand dollars counterfeit,” Alex said, as his stomach tightened up from disgust. “So how did you find out about this?”

  “A stripper told me I’d given her fake money.”

  “So you’ve spent some of yours?”

  “Yeah some of it,” Deion said, looking away.

  “Besides a stripper, what else?”

  “I made a move.”

  “What do you mean you made a move?” He assumed Deion was talking about the Mexicans, but he wanted to wait and see if he would admit it himself.

  “I know you told me not to do it, but I did it anyway.”

  “Did what…bought some coke?”

  “Yeah.”

  Alex took a deep breath and tossed the money back in the suitcase. “I told you not to fuck with that coke,” Alex said, not in the mood to welcome the stress that comes with dealing with illegal street shit.

  “I know, but the deal was too good to pass up.”

  “You haven’t learned yet that shit that seems too good to pass up be the biggest pile of fuckery.” Alex made his way back to the window. He paid extra for this particular unit simply for the views; it was almost like therapy for him to look out and see the city of Atlanta. Tonight Alex felt he needed that healing touch more than ever. Between business and his personal life, it had him feeling some type of way. As he stared out he looked down and could see people wearing shorts and enjoying the summer night. The sky was blood red. He thought about how much Tierney liked red skies, and he wondered where she was. Then he thought about J.D. and where the fuck he was.

  “An amazing offer, huh?” Alex questioned, stepping back into reality.

  “Texas prices right here in Atlanta.”

  “Who did you get it from?” Alex turned from the window and was now facing Deion.

  “Mexicans. It was 2Glocks’ connection.”

  “You and your little pissy-ass rapper are gonna fuck everything up.”

  “What you mean?”

  “You don’t know these fuckin’ Mexicans.”

  “They’re cool.”

  “You mean cool like J.D.,” Alex spit with sarcasm. “How the fuck do you know?”

  “Man, listen. I was tryna make what I thought was a good business move. It’s easy for you to fall back, you got money!”

  “Nigga, you have money too.”

  “After I gave you the money for the attorney and the real estate investments, I wasn’t left with much,” Deion complained.

  “But you had money. Maybe not as much as you wanted, but you was good.”

  “You right.”

  “I was hoping you would invest more money, but it looks like you can’t handle it right now.”

  “Nah, I can’t do it. Not now. I just don’t have it to give. You know if I did, I would.”

  “Lets get back to them Mexicans that you don’t know.”

  “What about them?”

  “Can’t you see what that can lead to?”

  “I do.” He looked away from Alex.

  “I don’t believe you do.” Alex sat down across from Deion and clasped his hands together. His face oozed of seriousness. “Let’s say the Feds are watching the Mexicans and you and 2Glocks walk right into an investigation. Then they are watching you and then they start watching me and even my connect. I’ve seen this happen time and time again.”

  It took Deion a moment to respond because he was lost in his thoughts. “Yeah, I know a few dudes that got cau
ght up in on some shit they didn’t have anything to do with.”

  “You have to be more careful.” He stood and walked over to Deion and fist bumped him. “Don’t get us fucked up.”

  “I won’t, but if I see that bitch-ass J.D. again, I’m killing him. We can’t take losses like this. This ain’t cool. Not at all.”

  “Best believe we will see his ass again.”

  Chapter 11

  Dig A Hole

  Joaquin looked like an ordinary white man, but he was Mexican. He had blue eyes and if it wasn’t for his dialect, people would assume he was American. He was dressed in expensive jeans, driver shoes and a watch that cost as much as a car. He arrived at Alex’s condo in a chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce Phantom. There was a Colombian girl who appeared to be a teenager in the back of the car with him. Alex instantly thought about what Isabella had told him.

  “This is Penelope,” Joaquin said proudly when Alex approached the car. Alex shook her hand. The girl looked like a younger version of Isabella. Alex led them into his building. They took the elevator to Alex’s penthouse and when they were seated Joaquin immediately began to talk business. “I have a plan for us.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Isabella told you about the new product.”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you think?”

  “It’s risky.”

  “How?”

  “People OD on heroin and die.”

  ”If you’re fortunate enough to live then you’re unfortunate enough to die…it’s called life. So what’s your point?” Joaquin was very casual when he spoke of mortality, probably because where he grew up he was surrounded by death on a daily basis so he had become indifferent to it.

  “I have a conscience.”

  “I have one too.”

  That comment made Alex eye Penelope who hadn’t spoken a word. Alex wondered if she could speak English, so he offered her something to drink using a hand motion.

  “Agua,” she said, confirming Alex’s thought that she spoke little-to-no English. Alex came back with a glass of filtered water and handed it to Penelope, who was now sitting on Joaquin’s lap.

  “If somebody overdoses it’ll bring heat,” Alex said, feeling uncomfortable watching Isabella’s husband sport his side chick in front of him.

  “Alex, you don’t understand. You are working with an elite group.”

  “And?” Alex questioned. He was actually about to say something else but he was distracted by Penelope rubbing on Joaquin’s chest and giving him small pecks on the jaw. Alex still thought that Isabella was prettier. This girl was just replaceable arm candy. As if reading Alex’s mind, Joaquin barked something in Spanish, which brought all that unnecessary foreplay to a halt. Penelope stood up, smiled, walked to the other side of the room and sat on the sofa.

  “My lawyers make cases go away.”

  “This is Georgia. It’s a little bit different out here, friend.”

  “I know about Georgia. Alex, you’re not the only one I’ve been supplying out here.”

  Alex’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

  “I already have a guy out here and he’s selling tons of heroin, maybe the biggest heroin dealer in Atlanta.”

  “So what the hell do you need me for?”

  “I want to get rid of him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He crossed me, Alex, so he must die,” Joaquin smiled and said, as if the idea of that person dying brought him some sort of pleasure. Alex thought about the night he’d gotten head from Isabella. He knew if Joaquin found out he would die too.

  “How did he cross you?”

  “He is getting product from a rival cartel. Somebody that I know.”

  “You’re going to kill him for that?”

  “I made him into a multimillionaire. For that alone I deserve loyalty.”

  “But you benefited, too.”

  “That’s not the point. Loyalty is everything to me.” Alex couldn’t help but think that that same loyalty must not apply to his wife and marriage.

  “I understand that, but I’m still uneasy about dealing heroin.”

  “Over twenty thousand motherfuckers died in Mexico last month. It’s part of the business. It’s part of fate. When it’s your time to go, it’s your time to go.”

  “I’m trying to get out the game, not get into it even deeper. After I make a certain amount of money, I’m done with this.”

  Joaquin stood and walked over toward Penelope, who was still sitting looking pretty like a baby doll. He kissed her and took a sip of her water. “So what are your goals?” Joaquin asked, turning towards Alex. Alex seemed confused by the question. “What are you looking to make?” Joaquin asked, simplifying his question.

  “Well, I guess a few million.”

  “What’s a few million…six or seven?”

  “That’s a nice number.”

  “Heroin will help you make at least ten million dollars in the next six months.”

  Alex thought about it. If he could make ten million dollars in the next six months he could retire from the game, find a wife to start a family with, and keep flipping houses. “Damn, so you really think I can make ten million dollars in the next six months?”

  “I can guarantee it. So how much do you think you can handle?”

  “What?” He knew what Joaquin was talking about but he was nervous. “How much what?”

  “Product.” Alex looked over at Penelope; she was nursing her glass of water.

  “She doesn’t speak English.”

  “I don’t like women in my business.”

  “That’s not true, you speak to my wife all the time.”

  “True but you all were together when I met you.”

  “¡Vaya al baño!” Joaquin said to Penelope.

  She stood and headed to the restroom like Joaquin had asked. When Alex heard the door shut he felt comfortable enough to discuss numbers.

  “I can handle maybe two kilos.”

  “I want to send you five.”

  “Why so much?”

  “I want you to run this town.”

  Alex couldn’t dispute that. The two men shook hands and then Joaquin shook a little harder before saying, “Death is about to surround us, but we can’t worry about that. It’s time to get rich. Very rich.”

  * * *

  “We have a motherfuckin’ problem,” Deion said to 2Glocks, as they sat at a corner table during lunchtime at the Pink Pony strip club.

  “What type of problem? Shit been lookin’ real good from where I’m sittin’,” 2Glocks shot back, while eating French fries and sipping on a coke. Deion had water.

  “I’m stuck with a shitload of counterfeit money.”

  “What the fuck? How did that happen?”

  “This clown nigga J.D. from Tennessee gave it to us.”

  “Does it look real?”

  “Not only does it look real, the shit feels real as fuck too. Like a bitch wit’ an excellent ass and tit job.”

  “Word…so then what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is I took a loss and I think I gave some of it to your connect.”

  “Really?” 2Glocks questioned, as if unconcerned. He dipped three French fries into a puddle of ketchup. “Ain’t nobody said shit to me about it.”

  “That’s strange.”

  “I’m serious. Nobody has said one word to me.” He stuffed the three fries in his mouth and continued, “Well, that’s not so strange. Those motherfuckers make so much money. They probably haven’t gotten around to counting yours yet. Gotta figure they making millions of dollars.”

  Deion sipped his water, thinking about J.D. It was ripping Deion’s insides up that he had gotten over on
them. It seemed like every minute of the day he was visualizing the different ways he was going to slice the motherfucker up when he got a hold of him. That fact was the only thing that was keeping Deion sane. “Eventually they’ll find out.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. By the time they do, maybe they won’t be able to trace it back to you. As a matter of fact, he called me last night and asked if we were ready for more.”

  “They have more?”

  “Yep,” 2Glocks said, taking another sip of his Coke. “They have plenty.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “They heavy in the game. This ain’t no hobby or part-time job, them motherfuckers full-time in this shit.”

  Deion was about to ask 2Glocks a question when a skinny blond girl with no ass and no tits attempted to sit on Deion’s lap. He pushed her away. She smiled, revealing a meth mouth before saying, “Somebody is afraid of pussy.”

  “Naw, I just need you to step. We in the middle of something.”

  Meth-mouth turned to 2Glocks and said, “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of pussy too.”

  “You ain’t got no ass,” 2Glocks stated, ready for the chick to bounce.

  “You need to go to Onyx for ass.”

  “That’s why I’m here for lunch, now scoot,” 2Glocks barked, obviously irritated. After the meth-mouth eased away, 2Glocks jumped right back in the conversation. “So what are you going to do with the rest of the counterfeit cash?”

  “Probably just throw it away. Haven’t really thought about it.”

  “How much you got?”

  “About fifty thousand dollars worth.”

  “Hell let’s take the rest of it to the Mexicans.”

  “Man, doing shit like that is dangerous. I want no part of that.”

  “So you gonna just take a loss like that?”

  “I’ma get the motherfucker that gave us the bullshit money. But if I can’t get the cash back, I just have to chalk it up to the game.”

  “But in the meantime?”

  “Naw, we can’t do that.” Deion noticed Meth-mouth come running back to the table holding a black girl’s hand. She introduced the girl as Chyna. Chyna had a huge ass and an even bigger stomach.