Back in the Hood (9 page)

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Authors: Treasure Hernandez

BOOK: Back in the Hood
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Chapter Eleven
M
alek drove down I-75 on his way to his appointment with Ms. Wagner. It had been a month since he had turned over his money to the accountant to get cleaned. It was now the first of the month, which meant it was time to go check up on his investments. He was excited to see what dividends he'd made on his money. It had only been a short time, but he had learned that in the world of high finance, so much could transpire in a month. During one of his and Gary's discussion back at the island, Gary had hit him up on a time when he tripled his money in only one week. Malek would be more than satisfied to simply double his money.
Malek and Gary had been touching base on the telephone all month. They had arranged to meet up in Miami on the upcoming weekend to talk face to face. Hopefully, after his visit with Ms. Wagner, they'd be celebrating as well.
Malek finally reached his destination. He pulled into the parking lot and stepped out of the car feeling like a million bucks. Over the past month, just the mere thought of going legit had him feeling ahead of the game and prepared for the future. He'd managed to stay free and clear from the game, with the exception of the couple of times Mitch had hit him up with a few questions regarding contacts and whatnot.
As he walked up to the office, he noticed something strange. It looked like there was no light shining through the vertical blinds covering the office window. From a distance, the place looked closed.
The closer Malek got, the quicker he picked up his pace, with a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Upon arriving at the double doors to Ms. Wagner's office, his concern grew worse. He turned the knob and pulled on the door. It didn't budge. It was locked.
Malek nervously looked down at his watch. “One o'clock,” he said out loud. He was exactly on time. He tried the door again, hoping that maybe it had just gotten jammed or something and would open this time. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.
Looking down at his watch yet again, Malek tried to ignore his nerves, telling himself that perhaps Ms. Wagner had just gone to lunch or something and hadn't made it back. As his blood pressure rose, so did his suspicions. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was starting to understand the real deal.
Hesitantly, he exited the building and walked over to the window. He pressed his hands to block off the sun's glare, and stared into the room where he and Ms. Wagner had done business—the room where he had handed over pretty much every dime he had.
With a clear view of the office, he quickly discovered that what just one month ago had looked like a well put-together accounting office was now a vacant suite. “No fucking way!” He went back inside the building and tried the office door again. “Fuck!” Malek spat as the thoughts he'd tried to suppress began to rise.
Malek's heart dropped when he looked down and saw a shiny piece of paper with a piece of tape on it. He picked it up and turned it over, only to discover that it was a sign that read:
OFFICE SPACE AVAILABLE FOR RENT
. It must have fallen off the door.
“Son of a bitch!” Malek yelled as he stormed away from the building.
As he made his way back to the car, he called the number he'd reached Ms. Wagner on before. He heard a recorded voice saying that the number was disconnected.
Malek began to panic. He looked down at the phone to make sure he had dialed the correct number. Although it appeared he had, he still punched in the numbers again. He got the same response from the automated operator.
“Fuck!” Malek yelled as he gripped the phone tightly and pushed the end button. It took everything he had not to throw the phone across the parking lot and through the vacant office window. Instead, he surfed through his phonebook contacts and retrieved Gary's number. Malek couldn't wait to tell Gary about the sheisty accountant. He knew Gary would be just as pissed. After all, he had deposited more than a million dollars with her as well.
As Malek waited for the call to go through, he tried to convince himself that everything was just a misunderstanding. “That bitch better had moved her office or something,” he said to himself as he waited for Gary to pick up the ringing phone. But after a few seconds, an operator's voice notified Malek that Gary's number was no longer in service.
This couldn't be right. Malek had just spoken with Gary less than five minutes ago.
This time, Malek pulled up his calling log on his cell phone. Gary was the last person he'd called, so he simply redialed the number he'd just spoken to him on. When he heard the operator repeat her same spiel, the phone almost slipped from his hand.
“I promise to God, Ashton Kutcher's ass better pop out from somewhere and tell me I'm being punked or else—” Malek gritted his teeth.
Malek's hands began to sweat, and his heart was beating a thousand times per minute. He couldn't believe he had been swindled.
This can't be happening
. He scrolled through his phone and found Gary's office number. When he got the same recorded response, he knew for sure he'd been set up.
Malek jumped into his car, and out of frustration, pulled out his gun. He then got back out of the car, walked back toward the office, and emptied his entire clip through the office window. He stormed back to his car determined to be on the first thing smoking back to the island. He was about to go straight to Gary and see what was going on.
Malek was racking his brain on the whole plane ride back to the islands. He didn't want to worry Halleigh, so he didn't tell her about the mishap. He'd simply told her that he needed to meet with Gary face to face to handle some business. He didn't want to stress her out until he found out for sure what was going on. It was probably nothing but a misunderstanding—at least, that's what he kept trying to tell himself. But it had been two days since he'd tried to contact both the accountant and Gary, and he hadn't heard from either one of them. Up until that point, he and Gary had pretty much talked on a regular basis.
Even if it turned out that Gary was on the up-and-up and had nothing to do with the accountant going MIA, Malek planned on holding him accountable, since Gary had hooked the whole thing up. He was going to get his money back, one way or the other. And if Gary was behind this whole scam from the beginning, Malek had made up his mind that Gary would have to pay him back or else pay with his life.
His intentions were to pay Gary a surprise visit. He knew Gary would never expect him to pop up on him so quick, but he was about to bring the heat right to his front door.
Just hours later, Malek was at Gary's house. He banged on the front door after ringing the doorbell repeatedly and getting no answer. After a while, someone finally unlocked the door. Malek breathed a sigh of relief, but was somewhat puzzled by the person who stood on the other side of the door.
“Hello, sir. Are you my one o'clock appointment?” the professionally dressed woman with clipboard in hand asked as she extended her hand for a shake.
“I'm looking for Gary Williams,” he said as he frowned in confusion.
“Oh, I'm sorry. Gary Williams only rented this villa out for the month. This is the property of Prestige Rentals, sir,” she said confidently.
Malek wasn't trying to hear anything she had to say. For all he knew, she was just someone Gary told to get rid of him while he relaxed in another room.
Before the woman could say another word, Malek brushed past her and entered the house. “Gary! Gary!” He stormed around the house furiously. “Where the fuck are you?” he yelled as he searched the placed. He noticed that the few pictures of Gary and Marie that he'd seen around the house before were now gone. That's when he finally admitted to himself that his suspicions were true—He had been got.
“Sir! Sir, excuse me,” the woman said as she struggled to keep up with Malek's pace. “I'm not sure what's going on, but like I said, Mr. Williams is not here. This is not his residence. Never was. It's a timeshare rental. Now, if you're interested in renting this property, then by all means we can talk business, but if you are here for any other reason, then I'm going to have to ask you to excuse yourself.”
Malek just stood there breathing hard, casting an evil glare on the woman. He hadn't meant to be intimidating to her, but he couldn't help himself. This wasn't like one of his contacts shorting him on some dope, or one of his corner boys shorting him on some change. This was more than a million dollars at stake. This was his life. This was his future. Not just his future, but the future of Halleigh and his unborn child.
“I'm sorry, sir,” the woman said, trying her best not to show any fear, although her trembling hands were a dead giveaway. “You have to leave, or I am going to be forced to call the cops,” the real estate agent said.
“Fuck the cops!” Malek yelled just before he stormed out the door. With no other leads on how to contact Gary, Malek decided all he could do was go home. But then he remembered the office Gary had given him a tour of. Only thing was, he couldn't remember the name of the facility, nor where it was located. He didn't know what to do next, but he knew he couldn't give up, not just yet.
Malek sat on the plane on his way home, still trying to understand the fact that he had just lost everything he'd worked for. He'd hired a driver to escort him around, looking for the facility which Gary claimed housed his company. He was sure that they had covered every inch of the island, but it was to no avail. Malek was, once again, disappointed by his lack of results. At this point, though, he knew that even if he had found the building, it would most likely be vacated, just like the bogus accountant's office.
Malek felt like he'd lost his mind, like Michael Douglas in the movie
The Game
. He kept replaying the scenes in his head, starting from the moment Gary showed up to save the day at the pier. He wondered how he missed seeing the snake in the grass. While he was worrying about why Gary would trust him enough to go into business with him, he should have been asking himself why he should trust that fool. How could he have been so stupid to get caught up in the entire fantasy of the good life?
Everything had seemed so real, like destiny was unfolding and Gary was a part of it. In those few days Malek spent with the millionaire, he hadn't detected anything shady. Nor did he sense anything strange during any of their phone conversations. Unfortunately, Malek had to blame his lack of experience in the “real world.” Now he was paying for it.
Had it just been his future at stake, Malek would have simply chalked it up as a loss and kept moving, but that wasn't the case. He buried his face in his hands as he wondered how he would explain to Halleigh that he had been swindled, and that they now only had $10,000 to their names. He was grateful that he had kept even that little somethin'-somethin' to tide them over until his money made a profit. He had been tempted to put all of it in the hands of that accountant, and then he and Halleigh would have been penniless now.
How could I not see this shit?
Malek threw his head back against the coach seat. Just a month ago he'd been enjoying the good life of first class; now he was back in coach. And just when he thought there was no place left to go but up, everything was going right back down. In the past, he had always managed to come out on top no matter what. Now, he just couldn't imagine how he'd be able to pull that off one more time.
Chapter Twelve
A
s the moonlight shone into the room, Malek stood near the window and stared at Halleigh, who slept peacefully in their bed. He couldn't manage to get any sleep, knowing he had no money to take care of her and their unborn seed. It had been a couple of days since he returned from the islands, and every time he thought about telling Halleigh that he was swindled out of their life savings, he couldn't go through with it.
A part of him wanted to take the ten grand he had left and go flip it on the streets to avoid ever having to tell her. The last thing he wanted to witness was the look of disappointment on her face when she found out they were broke. He knew without a doubt he could once again reach millionaire status by getting back in the game. Although he had already vowed to leave the streets of Flint alone, things had changed. That promise was made before he found himself back at square one.
He slowly paced the room, trying to think of a way to make things right, but all of his ideas led back to the hustling. He didn't want to break his promise to Halleigh, but his back was up against the wall. His options were slim to none.
He clenched his jaws as he walked over to the night-stand and picked up his phone. He didn't want to do what he was about to do, but the way he saw it, he was between a rock and a hard place. Either way it went, he'd be letting Halleigh down. If there was a slim chance that he could grind without Halleigh ever finding out, he was more than willing to take that chance.
Slipping out of the bedroom with phone in hand, Malek scrolled through the contacts and dialed a number he never thought in a million years he'd be dialing. “Just a couple of flips and I'm out,” he whispered to himself as he walked into the living room so his conversation wouldn't wake Halleigh.
Malek stood in front of the window as he listened to the ringing on the other end. Like Jay-Z, it was time for him to make one more brief appearance in the game. Yeah, he was about to dive back into the game, but with a purpose this time.
Mitch drove down I-75 on his way back from meeting Fredro, his coke connect. It was nearly two in the morning, and the highway was clear and calm, just the way he liked it. He was able to cruise free and clear while listening to his stereo pump out his famous tunes. This always made him feel as though he was on top of the world—as did the fact that he had just negotiated a deal to bring a hundred kilos of coke back to Flint. It was the biggest order Fredro had filled since he had been supplying the city of Flint. Mitch couldn't believe how major he had become, and how quickly.
Mitch was preparing to take over the North and South sides of the city with an iron fist, and nothing or no one could stop him. He envisioned being the most notorious player Flint would ever know. Unlike Malek, it didn't matter how much money he banked; he wasn't giving up life on the streets. Even in corporate America, Mitch couldn't think of one millionaire who didn't want another million. And, by any means necessary, he was going to make sure the money continued to flow.
Mitch didn't have a beef with Sweets like Malek did, and he was prepared to put the war aside to make money.
Violence only begets more violence, which means police
. Mitch thought about how much money he was about to get as he switched lanes.
Since Sweets had agreed to cop coke from him, Mitch could, and did, set his prices as high as he wanted in the streets, seeing that his main competition, the person who had kept him from being “the man” in the streets, was out of the game anyway. A smile spread across Mitch's face. Malek was no longer a threat to him.
Just as quickly as the smile had appeared, it was gone, thanks to thoughts of Keesha's antagonizing words resurfacing and echoing through his mind. He thought about all that time he'd worked under Malek, and about the number of people who must have seen him the same way Keesha did—just a flunky sidekick to Malek. Even though Malek was now out of the game and cats in the streets were dealing with Mitch, a trace of jealousy was still evident in his heart.
Mitch clenched his jaws just as his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Keeping his eyes on the road and erasing thoughts of his predecessor, he answered the phone.
“Mitch, what's good?” the caller asked.
Mitch almost went left of center at the sound of the caller's voice. He wanted to kick himself for thinking him up. “What up?” he responded, instantly getting aggravated by the sound of Malek's voice.
“Shit all bad right now. I got caught up in some bullshit, and I need back in.”
A huge lump formed in Mitch's throat. “What you mean, you need back in?”
Mitch hoped Malek didn't mean what he thought he meant, but Malek quickly confirmed his biggest fear.
“I need back in the game. I need to go meet with Fredro and get hit with something,” Malek said, telling him more than asking.
Mitch didn't even have to think twice about his response. The game wasn't big enough for both him and Malek. “I don't think that's going to happen, homeboy,” he said, hate in his voice.
“What? What you mean?” Malek asked, not believing what he was hearing.
“You heard me, nigga. It ain't happening.”
Malek couldn't fully understand the sudden change in Mitch. The last they talked, everything was all good, so he couldn't imagine what had changed between then and now. “Mitch, what's the problem, fam?”
Mitch started, “I'm not the one with the problem! You—”
Malek cut him off, screaming through the phone, “Who the fuck is you talking to, nigga?” Had Mitch forgotten just that quickly who put him on? Just in case he did, Malek felt the urge to remind him. “I put you in the position you are in right now. You sound like a damn fool, telling me what I can and can't do. What's got into you, fam?”
“I'm boss now. If you want in, you can work one of the blocks in the Fifth Ward.”
“Work a block? I move bricks. I hit niggas that work on blocks. I'm not a worker, or did you forget? I don't know what has gotten into you, but all that shit gon' change when I get in Flint. Don't let the money go to your head, fam, for real.”
“Fuck you! Come see me then, nigga. You know where I'm at, son,” Mitch said menacingly, totally losing his cool.
“I see it's too late. Shit done already went to your head. I guess now your ass think you the king of Flint now, huh? Well, we'll see if you singing that tune later, homeboy!” Malek yelled then hung up.
Mitch smiled as he flipped down his phone, his ego fed, knowing he had just demeaned Malek. Hell, Malek should have been grateful that he'd even offered to put him on in any kind of way. When he turned over the reigns, it was a done deal. Mitch wasn't about to let Malek climb back up on his white horse and come riding back to Flint like some knight in shining armor. He had his chance at the top and had given it all up. Now, if he wanted back in, he had to start at the bottom.
Mitch couldn't control his excitement. For the first time, Malek would know what it felt like to play second fiddle.
Malek was furious as he flipped his phone down, not believing what he had just heard. “I put him on. He got the nerve to think he's going to stop me from getting back in. I am Flint!” Malek said, talking to himself.
As Malek paced back and forth in anger, he saw a figure in his peripheral view. It was Halleigh in her nightgown, looking as beautiful as ever, as she yawned and stretched her arms out.
“Why are you still up, baby?” she asked, seeing the concerned looked on Malek's face.
“Just thinking,” Malek said, still trying to figure out how to tell her that he'd just lost everything they had.
Halleigh walked over to Malek and began to rub his shoulders. “Want to talk about it?”
Malek was burning on the inside, not only because of his situation, but because of the way Mitch had showed total disloyalty. Back to back, he had been completely wrong about the character of the people he'd decided to do business with.
“No, I'm good,” Malek answered Halleigh. “I'll handle it. Just go back to sleep, baby.”
Malek headed toward the bedroom, and Halleigh followed behind him. She climbed back into bed, thinking that's where Malek was headed. Instead, he walked over to his dresser, opened drawers, and began slipping on some clothes.
“Where are you going?”
“I'ma take a ride just to clear my head, okay?”
Halleigh sat up in the bed, a worried expression on her face. “You sure everything is all right, Malek?”
Malek turned and looked into the eyes of the woman he'd die for. As much as he wanted to just crawl up in the bed next to her and tell her everything, he couldn't. He couldn't admit that he'd let her down.
“Everything is going to be all right, I promise.” Malek nodded his head up and down, all the while putting a plan together in his head to try to make things all right.
Mitch watched his sweat drip onto the small of Keesha's back as he grinded her deeply and slowly. She had been waiting for him to return from seeing Fredro so they could live out their planned sexual escapade, and that's exactly what they were doing. Mitch watched as his pelvic area hit Keesha's behind, and a small wave went through her fat ass cheeks. He gripped her love handles as he dug her out, enjoying every minute of it.
“Mitch! Ooh, baby! That's the spot right there,” she said as she gripped the bed sheets tightly and bit down on her bottom lip so hard that for a minute there, she thought she'd drawn blood. He was thrusting in and out of her so hard that it hurt so good.
“Who's the boss?” Mitch smacked Keesha's ass.
“You are,” she moaned.
“Who?” He smacked her again.
“You are.”
“I'm what? Say that shit! Say it!”
“You're the boss!” Keesha exclaimed as she climaxed.
Mitch pumped harder and harder as Keesha declared him the boss. That alone was turning him on more than the actual sex. He smiled as he thought about being the head nigga in charge. He had just put Malek in his place and he felt damn good about it. He pumped faster and harder as he thought about the demeaning comments Keesha had been making about him being under Malek, as if he wasn't boss.
Mitch was so busy trying to blow Keesha's back out, he never heard Malek creeping up behind him. The cold steel from the gun startled him as Malek pressed it to the back of his head.
“Surprise, mu'fucka!” Malek said from behind Mitch.
“Aghhh!” Keesha screamed as she turned around and scooted to the corner of the bed. She watched Mitch on his knees at gunpoint.
“Shut the fuck up!” Malek said to Keesha through clenched teeth, giving her a stare colder than the winter in January.
Keesha immediately stopped her yelling, knowing what was best for her.
Malek turned his attention back to Mitch. “Nigga, I can get to you anytime I want. Remember who the fuck I am. I'm cut from the cloth of Jamaica Joe. Remember that!” Malek pulled back the hammer on his gun.
Mitch was frozen in fear, and it was written all over his face. He'd just forced Keesha to declare that he was boss. Now he sat in front of her looking like a bitch-ass nigga.
“Turn around and look at me in my eyes.” Malek nudged Mitch in the head with his gun.
Mitch slowly turned around with his hands in the air and then looked in the eyes of the man he'd just betrayed.
“I can get to you anyplace, anytime. You can't push me out the game. I am Flint!” Malek said, getting louder with each word. He pointed the gun at Keesha and watched as she squirmed and her face became flush.
He released a small chuckle and then exited the room. He could have very well taken Mitch out right then and there, but that wasn't his intention. He was playing mental chess with Mitch, and just wanted to show him who was still boss.
Mitch's heart was beating double-time as he collapsed on the bed. It felt as if it would jump out of his chest. Not only was his heart racing, but his blood was boiling too. Mitch was furious. He hated that Malek just had his life in his hands and played with him like a cat did its prey
.
Now it's war
.
Mitch was breathing heavily. He heard the sound of his front door slam shut. Malek might have just slammed the door closed behind him, but he'd just opened up a new chapter to a novel—one that was sure not to have such a happy ending.

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