Flippin' the Hustle Page 15

  Somehow, Derrick felt that his extensive training and subsequent knowledge would keep him from suffering the fate that so many before him suffered. His problem was getting RJ to fall in line with him.

  He stepped from the large walk-in shower as his cell phone chimed. Slowly, he walked across the ivory colored plush carpeted floor and grabbed the ringing phone. He eyed the tiny screen. Noticing ‘RJ’ on the colored screen, he placed the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

  “We got a problem!” RJ revealed in a distressed voice. “Big problem.”

  * * * * *

  RJ paced back and forth in his luxury automobile-lined driveway. It wasn’t until Derrick pulled into the driveway that he slowed his gait.

  Hopping into Derrick’s Cadillac, RJ threw his head against the headrest, and exclaimed, “They called my crib this morning, man! They got Eli somewhere torturing him!”

  “Calm down, B! Tell me exactly what they said,” Derrick stated calmly.

  “They said if I don’t bring them $500 thousand by tonight, dude is dead.” RJ attempted to remain calm. “But I know them niggas trying to get Eli to tell ‘em where I lay my head,” he added in a defeated manner.

  Thinking fast, Derrick said, “Go get Trina and Naria. We gonna handle this shit, son.”

  * * * * *

  Eli’s naked body jerked aimlessly as one of his captors placed a torch under the steel chair he was bound to.

  One of the men announced, “Maybe you’ll be willing to give up that address once that heat gets to your ass.”

  Squirming helplessly, Eli felt the cold steel of the chair become hot. Gradually, the chair became unbearable for his bare cheeks. Attempting to balance his weight from side to side, Eli screamed into the dirty sock stuffed in his mouth.

  Once the skin on his bottom began to sizzle, as meat being cooked would, Eli yelled incoherently while tears poured down his cheeks.

  “You ready to talk now?” one of the men in the empty room asked, smiling defiantly.

  Unable to withstand the gruesome pain of being cooked alive, Eli violently nodded his head.

  Motioning to one of the men in the room, the leader of the torture said, “A’ight, you’ve got one more chance, then I am going to watch yo’ ass cook like a roast.”

  One of the men removed the torch from under Eli, while the other doused him with a bucket of ice water. Nearly losing consciousness, Eli struggled to stay alive.

  * * * * *

  As soon as RJ entered his home, two things were clear. Eli had been murdered, and just before he’d been murdered he disclosed RJ’s whereabouts. Kicking through the rubble that littered the floors, RJ turned to Derrick with a demented glare in his eyes. “I got to murder these niggas, yo.”

  Derrick replied, “Yeah. But it’s got to be real, real smooth, son.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Damien entered the interrogation room inside of New York’s DEA headquarters with a great deal of trepidation. His last sit-down with the same agents had won him a brain scattering, cross-country race that pitted him in every state west of his birthplace. As the sounds of his handcuffed and shackled limbs reverberated throughout the large room, Damien hesitantly took a seat opposite the trio of federal agents.

  Standing, Director Douglas Gold said, “Mr. Gregory, I’m Director Gold, these two are Agent Collins and Agent Latham.” He motioned toward the two authorities seated on each side of him. “You may remember these two gentlemen from the day you were arrested,” Gold stated somberly. “Things really got mixed up since the last time you spoke with us. But Mr. Gregory, I’m here to promise you that if you continue cooperating, you won’t spend six months in jail.”

  Damien had been listening to the agent halfheartedly, until his final statement. Damien had so much as written himself off to serving a minimum of ten years in prison. However, the agent’s offering shed an entire new light onto his situation.

  * * * * *

  In the weeks following Eli’s kidnapping and murder, RJ and Derrick kept a very low profile. After an intense investigation by Hakeem and Biggs, the culprits were narrowed down to two individuals. RJ and Derrick wanted their plan of attack to be extracted in a smart manner. The longer they lay in wait, the more information they gathered.

  * * * * *

  Damien looked into the various shades of blue-eyed men sitting across from him. After a brief summary of his situation, Damien found their overture attractive. Besides, he had already cooperated to a degree by naming Tree. However, once Director Gold opened his mouth and began to speak, Damien sat astounded at what he revealed.

  “Damien, the man you knew as Tree was actually one of our own.” Pausing to judge his reaction, Director Gold continued once shock registered on Damien’s face. “Yeah, Tree, aka Derrick Richards, was an operative of the DEA. However, now he’s turned on us and is running with your buddy, Robert Jordan.” Leaning in toward Damien, Gold added, “Now, all we need you to do is . . .”

  * * * * *

  After being shuttled off to the condominium, Naria and Trina knew there was a perfectly good excuse for the move. Nonetheless, they each prayed that whatever the outcome was, both their men came out on top.

  Naria lay on the couch eyeing the television. At her waist her niece Raven lay rubbing her growing belly. Their vacation of sorts had not only given her and Trina time to reconnect, but also her and her niece.

  “Auntie Naria, when we going home? I miss my dolls,” Raven whined.

  Rubbing her niece’s head affectionately, she replied, “I don’t know, baby. It won’t be long. Besides, your dolls will be all right until you get there.”

  “I know, but I miss my daddy too.”

  “I miss him too, pumpkin,” Naria said, feeling a sense of anxiety. It had been nearly a month since Derrick and RJ whisked them out of the city. Even though either RJ or Derrick gave them a call daily, Naria couldn’t help but worry about the two most important men in her life. It was forcing her to stress to both men even more about the importance of leaving the streets behind. Naria wanted so desperately to call Derrick, yet she knew that she had to portray the strong one for Trina.

  Had it been up to Trina, they would’ve been back in New York weeks before. However, Naria thwarted any such efforts by simply being the leader she was. Cradling her cell phone in her hand, she toyed with the numbers getting close to pushing SEND. Nevertheless, every time she’d tapped Derrick’s number into her phone, she pushed CLEAR. After doing this several times, Naria pressed SEND.

  With the phone pressed against her cheek, Naria struggled to listen to every ring intently as her heart beat loudly against her chest.

  Suddenly, there was a noise at the front door of the condo, and then the knob slowly turned and there stood Derrick and RJ, hands full of grocery bags.

  Naria covered the space between them in haste, hurdling the coffee table effortlessly. She gripped Derrick as if she never wanted to let go. She still held the phone in her hand.

  “Hold on, baby! Let me see who this is calling me like crazy or something,” Derrick, said, struggling to sit the bags down and balance Naria simultaneously.

  Realizing that she still held the ringing phone in her hand, she retorted, “I am crazy. Crazy for you.”

  “Ain’t that special,” Derrick joked.

  “We need to talk.” Naria pulled Derrick onto the balcony of the condo.

  “What’s up? Everything all right?” he asked.

  “You can’t be serious. Of course everything ain’t all right.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “You can’t see?” Naria asked. “Look in the mirror.”

  “Where’s all this coming from?”

  Naria shook her head and sucked her teeth. “I love you, but I didn’t sign up for this. Drifting around the city because you
and my brother are into some shit y’all have no business in.”

  “Oh, I get it. Is this the ‘leave the game behind speech’ again?”

  “Yeah, the same one you were giving my brother until you left the DEA and dove headfirst in the game with him.” She paused, tears coming from her eyes. “Do something before I do.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’m not bringing my child into the world as the son of a drug dealer.”

  “I know you not talking no abortion shit?” Derrick blurted.

  “You’ll be the only one getting aborted.” Naria stormed off the balcony before Derrick could respond.

  * * * * *

  After preparing an exquisite meal of crustaceans and pan fish, both couples retired to their respective suites.

  Derrick snuggled up to a pregnant Naria and attentively massaged her shoulders and neck. Totally losing herself in bliss, Naria tossed her head back and enjoyed the sensations that Derrick’s hands were bestowing upon her. “Mmmm, Daddy, I missed you soooooo much.” She paused before overthrowing her lower desires. “But you can forget this until you get yourself together.” Naria moved Derrick’s hands and got out of bed.

  Derrick couldn’t believe it. “Where you going?”

  “Be happy I’m playing the couch and not you.”

  “This shit is getting out of control.”

  “That’s what I say every time you walk out this door and hit those streets.”

  “Come here.” Derrick got up. “Take the bed. My pregnant girl ain’t sleeping on no couch.”

  Naria doubled back, walking silently past Derrick and brushing off the kiss he tried to plant on her. She flopped down on the bed and looked at him. “Oh yeah, you need to be honest with my brother since you hang with him so much.”

  “What?”

  “Tell him about the DEA instructing you to bring him down.”

  “Don’t start this.”

  “Just tell him before I do. Good night.” She turned off the lights. “Or either leave those damn streets alone and I’ll keep my mouth closed.”

  This chick is buggin’, Derrick thought. She was giving a dangerous ultimatum that he had been contemplating, but was fearful of revealing. He looked at Naria’s silhouette in the dark room, wondering if she was just threatening him. It was hard to tell, because he thought he knew her well, but she had totally transformed. Her tone of voice, the words she chose, her line of thinking—everything. Derrick hated himself for sparking something within Naria that may have been beyond his ability to extinguish. The woman he loved who was bearing his child had given him a proposition that put millions of dollars, death and friendship, and a relationship in jeopardy.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Armed with a two-way radio and a barrage of weapons, Derrick and RJ were about to exit the stash apartment for separate destinations.

  “Yo, RJ,” Derrick spouted from what seemed like nowhere.

  “What’s up?”

  Derrick was silent.

  “Fuck is up, son? You all right?”

  “Yeah, man.” Derrick struggled with whether he could muster the strength to reveal his past to RJ. “Yo, I just wanted you to know that you a real dude.”

  RJ nodded and chuckled. “Everybody know that.”

  “On some real shit. I know we be bumping heads sometimes about strategies in the streets, but I got mad love for you.” The way RJ looked on in silence, Derrick didn’t know how to finish. “I never been so close to somebody since my brother died.”

  “That’s real. Me too,” RJ added. “I put a lot of trust in you, and you ain’t failed me yet.”

  Fuck. I can’t tell him the truth. Definitely not after that, Derrick thought. “I’m gonna always have your back.” He gave RJ a pound and hug before RJ exited the vehicle. As he watched RJ walk off, he thought of his conversation with Naria and whether she would actually tell her brother the truth. Her sex deprivation told him she was serious about him leaving the game. Derrick wasn’t sure what she would do, but he was certain he had to do something to appease her soon.

  Right now, Derrick had to focus on the streets. He laid the duffle bag on the passenger seat, and then headed straight to his first and only stop. The contents in the bag would transform him into a vagabond.

  After parking his car off Flatbush Avenue, a mile away from the Islamic Masjid, he went to work transforming himself into a bum. It didn’t take long before his transformation was complete and he exited the car, veiled in his deceptive disguise.

  * * * * *

  Derrick’s feet burned from the constant walking in the shabby shoes along the avenue. The pushcart full of miscellaneous junk wasn’t making his plight any easier. He’d been strolling the avenue for nearly four hours, making sure he stayed within a quarter of a mile of the large Masjid on the busy strip. He pushed the ‘talk’ button in the pocket of the dirty overall, “I got you son. Just keep your eye on ‘em,” he replied.

  Gripping the handle of his Glock, Derrick made his way in the direction of the Masjid. He noticed the religious site come to life. Derrick eyed the kufi wearing men and veiled women as they entered the holy establishment.

  “They’re getting off the interstate right now! Get in position!” RJ blurted in his ear.

  Eyeing the two men as they exited the black Mercedes, stylishly dressed, Derrick instantly shifted into attack mode. Casually pushing the shopping cart, he gripped the powerful handgun in preparation to kill.

  Hakeem and Biggs approached Derrick, totally oblivious to the danger that the obvious bum presented to them. Nonchalantly, the pair made their way toward the entrance of the Masjid.

  It wasn’t until Derrick asked the duo in a raspy voice, “Young bloods, can I get some change?"—did they acknowledge him.

  Casting a contemptuous glare at the beggar, Hakeem spoke, “You can’t be begging in front of—”

  Abruptly cutting his partner off, Kareem held his arm up. “Okay, come on, man. Zakat.” He began to dig into his pocket.

  Before he could retrieve the money from his pocket, Derrick produced the Glock, which caused both men’s eyes to become wide in shock. Hakeem yelped. “Man, take everything!”

  Without a word, Derrick began to squeeze the trigger. “Pop-Pop-Pop-Pop-Pop-Pop!” Each shot caused traumatic damage to each man’s torso. Their designer shirts became drenched in crimson blood.

  As both men crumpled to the ground, Derrick stood over them and put a .357 slug in each man’s head. He then casually strolled away.

  “Ya, Allah! Oh, Allah! Ya Allah!” the Imam screamed, kneeling over the two bullet-riddled bodies.

  Gradually, the entire congregation filed out onto the sidewalk in front of the Masjid.

  Holding his head as if he was in terrible pain, the Imam yelled, “Takbir!”

  Suddenly, the men assembled around the two dead men, leaving the women and children on the outside of their circle. “Allah u Akbar! Allah u Akbar! Allah u Akbar!” the men bellowed in unison, getting louder with each chant of the sacred declaration.

  Chapter Twenty

  Once RJ and Derrick’s adversaries were dealt with, they once again ruled the streets. With everything returning to normal, Naria, Trina, and Raven were summoned back to the city. Since then, Naria had eased up on Derrick about him leaving the streets. She had been trying unsuccessfully to get her brother to leave also, and realized that neither man was ready to make that move.

  Naria was seven months pregnant, and looked as if she was ready to go into labor any day. Derrick loved the way she wobbled around the house. In fact, Naria’s stomach had gotten so big it was impossible for her to drive her BMW. This prompted Derrick to stray away from his normal non-gaudy self and purchase her an X5 BMW. Once he shelled out sixty thousand for her SUV, he visited a neighborin
g Mercedes lot and spent another 100 grand for his own G-Class Mercedes truck, closely resembling RJ’s.

  Cruising down Church Avenue, Derrick was en route to meet his number one distributor, Lil’ John.

  The black paint on the luxury truck garnered stares from everyone who laid eyes on it. To set himself apart from his partner, Derrick outfitted his SUV with a set of black 24-inch Stingers, making the boxy truck seem menacing.

  Somehow, the purchase of the truck caused a domino effect in Derrick’ flamboyancy. He’d also purchased a nearly twenty thousand-dollar motorcycle, and was waiting on a Porsche 911 to be delivered.

  RJ loved his partner’s newfound ornateness, and even encouraged some of his senseless purchases.

  Pulling up on Lil’ John’s block in Brooklyn, Derrick hopped out of his truck freshly dressed in a bright colored leather Bapes jacket and matching sneakers. He gathered the attention of every set of eyes on the packed block.

  * * * * *

  After reestablishing himself in the streets of New York, RJ once again sat on the throne of the infamous BTB Crew. However, now with Derrick’s keen business sense and his own pharmaceutical skills, their crew’s notoriety was even greater.

  Pulling his own G-Class beside Derrick’s in the crowded parking lot of a newly opened nightclub, RJ noticed his partner surrounded by beautiful women dressed provocatively.

  Derrick’s outfit was casually blended with a short hooded mink coat, Cavalli jeans, and a pair of Timberland boots. That is until one laid eyes on the extravagant piece of jewelry dangling from his neck.