Payback Ain't Enough (28 page)

“I spoke to Nick today.” As soon as those words left my lips, I knew I had fucked up.

Briggen started breathing heavy. “Why in the fuck are you calling that nigga?” his mood going from sugar to shit.

“He owes me money, Briggen. We had a deal. I want my money, that’s why.”

“You want your money or do you just want to be in the nigga’s face?” Briggen yelled.

“He owes me money. I just want my money!”

“Your money? That’s why you are in this predicament now. And just so you know, you got all you gonna get out of that nigga. He done sold all of your dope as soon as you gave it to him. Don’t you think if he was going to pay you he would have done so by now?”

I wasn’t going to answer that because this was my business. Briggen could think whatever he wanted to think.

“Shan!” He interrupted my thoughts. “The nigga beat you for your money, so let it go. I don’t want to hear about it no more. And I don’t want you talking to him.” Briggen sounded as if he was threatening me.

“He wouldn’t beat me.”

“Well, he did.” Briggen looked at his cell, and then rushed into the kitchen and picked up the wall phone. He dialed and turned his back to me. I still didn’t understand all of this gangsta and drug stuff. Are the money and drugs more important than your word to your family?

“Shan, I’ma need you to get yourself together.” Briggen
burst out of the kitchen, urgency in his voice. “Start by getting up off that couch. I need you to do what you need to do to get back to your old self ASAP. I need you to go to Keeta’s and get our son. I need to get y’all out of here. After you pick him up, I’m sending y’all away.” After he said that his phone rang. He answered with a few one-liners, and then hung up.

“Away?” I tossed the blanket off me and sat up, feeling more fear than when I had a gun pointed at my head. “What do you mean away? Who was that on the phone?” He was making me nervous.

“Don’t worry about that. Just concern yourself with getting everything together. I’ll let you know more when I get back,” he told me as he snatched the keys off the coffee table and rushed out the door.

I was ninety-nine percent sure that shit was about to hit the fan. I had just hung up the phone with my man. He said that a list was given to the Feds with the names, numbers and a few addresses of each member of The Consortium. Cisco’s wife apparently had some serious connections up high and she was angry and determined to avenge her husband’s death.

I was faced with the decision to walk away from all this shit or stay and fight, which I did before, and won. But at the same time you gottta know when to walk away. And the more I thought about it, the more my heart was telling me that it was time to walk away.

Things were moving at a rapid-fire pace. All of the news stations were running the same story meaning that our run was over. I kept the news on Channel 7.

“This is Michel Brant, live from Channel 7 News. I’m here in front of the Federal Court Building where officials just brought in reputed crime lord, Nicholas Powell. According to inside sources, there had been an ongoing investigation for the last four years of several drug rivals in the area. However, officials reveal that they never knew the mystery man behind it all, until now. And that mystery man is allegedly Mr. Vincent Garibaldi. Investigators say that Nicholas Powell has been the silent partner of drug kingpin, Mr. G. AKA Vincent Garibaldi.

An anonymous tip came through and federal officials raided several warehouses allegedly owned by Mr. Powell, including some property in Palmer Park and one right here in the city. Officials also say they have confiscated nine million dollars in cash along with pounds of heroin and cocaine with a street value of seven million dollars. Investigators say that this is only the tip of the iceberg and are anxiously waiting to see what will unfold. Again, this is Michel Brant and I’m live here—”

I turned the TV off and fumbled around for my cell. I had to get a hold of Dark. Our time had run out.

I flipped from Channel 7 News. I was done with the game. It was no longer the same. I used to only participate when I felt it was necessary because my dad would handle everything. Me trying to run our family myself was not going to happen. Doing those twenty or so months, believe it or not, just about knocked all of the taste out of my mouth for this shit. Niggas were more cutthroat than ever. Bronson wouldn’t meet with us unless Nick was present so all the work Tiny put in was for nothing. There was no honor among thieves as it was back in the day.

Me and Boomer had a long talk last night. We were on the same page. He said he wasn’t up for going to war with Mr. G and figured it was time to throw in the towel. I was so relieved to hear him say that. He had no idea. I had planned to move to Charlotte with him to run his three gas stations. He told me that while he and my dad were on the run they made millions stealing gas. Yes, gas! I had never even heard of or would have thought up no shit like that. He said they invested in one gas station and never paid for the gas. It didn’t matter who delivered it. They would resell it and never pay for it. And they bought stolen gas trucks. After they made all the money they could make and had a hand in putting The Consortium together that’s when my dad said it was time for him to turn himself in and get us out.

So with the millions upon millions of dollars he had stacked, why in the hell did my dad want me to be in the drug game? Boomer said only my dad could answer that for me. He said as for him, he didn’t want that for me and he and my dad argued about it often. But when it all boiled
down to it, I was my father’s daughter. But I told Boomer that I could make my own decisions and I was deciding to get out, whether my father liked it or not.

These were critical times and except for Dark and Nick, we were all seated around Boomer’s dining room table.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Six-Nine said. “What proof is a damn list? Besides Nick, we don’t even know who’s on it. We could be running for nothing.”

“I’m out,” Briggen said backing up from the table as if the table was hot to the touch. “I’m not waiting on muthafuckas to run down on my ass. I’ve pimped this game for all I could, and I have no regrets.”

“Looks like it will be more for us.” Born looked over at Six-Nine. Then he looked at me. “Baby girl, if your daddy was here, he’d be looking at this as a challenge.”

“Well, he ain’t here, is he? Me and Boomer, we out. I wish y’all much success. Uncle Boomer, I gotta go pick up Marquis.” I got up from the table and looked around at the faces of what was and what was to come. Then I walked out of that dining room feeling brand new. Grabbing my Gucci bag and keys I was ready for a new life. I didn’t even feel this invigorated when I stepped out of the prison.

My car was parked up the street, and I felt so free I felt like skipping. That was, until I saw that same Escalade that ran me off the road. I turned around and started running for the house.

“Booooooom… er!” I screamed. “Booooooom… er!” I heard gunfire, and then I felt a burning sensation shoot through my whole body. I was forced flat down on the ground. I was hit. I was shot.

My uncle’s door flew open, and I heard footsteps, cursing
and yelling go by me and more gunfire. The war had officially begun.

After four days we thought that we had finally found out where Joy lived. When I got the call that Nick had got popped… hearing that shit threw my concentration and focus on the job at hand. It appeared from the way that this nigga was moving around he was invincible, but now I begged to differ.

If Cisco gave this bitch the ins and outs of who everybody was, then she must really know some people. Either that, or Cisco was a fuckin’ plant. The very thought of this nigga being a snitch or a cop began putting the whole picture into perspective. When you look at it, why, all of a sudden, was everything unfolding since his disappearance? Who was Cisco? If his wife was that high up, how could he be so deep in the dope game? The shit wasn’t adding up for me and I knew this bitch had to go.

“What’s up, boss man? You ready to do this or what?” Mook obviously sensed my sudden mood change.

“Let me think about it for a few minutes.” As far as I knew, that bitch could have surveillance all around her. They could’ve been waiting for us to strike. For all I knew, they could have put her up to calling me. If Cisco was an undercover agent the whole time, then that bitch had more than names. We had been doing some real grimy shit for the last year, and my name was behind it all. I was stuck. What if I was being paranoid? What if I allowed it to stop me from removing a witness? I paused to listen to my gut. My gut
instinct warned me not to move, but I wasn’t listening. A dead witness couldn’t tell any lies.

“Aiight. Let’s do this,” I said, putting on my gloves and opening the car door.

Damn.
I sat on a hard-ass bench retracing all of the moves I had made in the last six months. I didn’t see any mistakes other than Tiny. The same way I fell for Brianna, I did with her. Bitches always got me fucked. I thought about Tiny’s actions and our own conversation. Hell, other than her, I was so very confident in the moves I was making that I didn’t even have a lawyer. It had to be them Consortium niggas. Once I told them I was the man, they started plottin’ and hatin’. They wanted me to get out of the way. But like I said in the beginning, when the smoke cleared, they would see who the real boss was.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“I am so sick of this, Briggen. Why do you do this to me? Why do I allow you to do this to me?” I asked for the thousandth time as I watched him pack his things. “We have this same conversation over and over again.”

“Mia, this is not the same conversation. You obviously ain’t heard a word I just said.” He came over to me and grabbed my shoulders. “Listen to me. It’s time to go. Shit is about to get real ugly. I’m out, and I’m not suggesting to you or asking you. I’m telling you. Just like you followed me from Memphis to Detroit, follow me to the next city if you want to. We done raped this city for all we could. Pack your shit and go. It’s not like you have any ties here. You don’t have any children or anything.”

“Oh, I don’t, huh?” I was now into my feelings and emotions. This was not supposed to go down like this. This was supposed to be the happiest moment of my life. “I’m pregnant,
Briggen. I’m pregnant with your child. How do you think you can just come lay up in my bed whenever it’s convenient for you, and then quickly walk out of my life? Not anymore. I’m having your child, and you are going to give me the same respect you give Shan.”

Briggen continued to pack but at a much slower pace. Yes, I dropped a bomb on him, and I knew it. Mr. Careful finally got caught with his dick exposed.

“Like I said, you need to pack your shit and get the fuck outta here,” he told me, not bothering to acknowledge the bombshell that I just dropped on him.

“So, you are simply going to ignore what I just shared with you?”

“Mia, baby, I’m not ignoring you. I just need you to understand that these are dangerous times—the clock is ticking—and you need to get outta here.”

“You selfish… self-centered… son of a bitch! You don’t care about me at all, do you, Briggen?”

“You know the answer to that, Mia. This is not the time to be acting all insecure and shit.”

“Briggen, answer me with a yes or a no. Do you care about me?”

“Mia, you know I do.”

“Then take me with you. Take me and our child with you.” I went over to him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Mia, you need to pack your shit and go. I gotta stay behind and tie up a few loose ends.” He removed my arms from around his neck.

I couldn’t believe him. I mean, this was the straw that broke this bitch’s back. “Where are you sending Shan?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Then send me wherever it is you are sending her. Don’t just discard me like I’m a piece of trash. That shit ain’t fair.” I was crushed.

“Life ain’t fair, Mia. I got your number. Stick around if you want to, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll be in touch.”

Those words felt like a stab to my chest. I couldn’t believe he was so nonchalant about the whole thing. Before I knew it, I ran to the kitchen and snatched my .45 from the cabinet. When I made it back into the living room he was already at the front door. “Briggen, stop.”

He turned and said, “I’ll call you.” His gaze then dropped to the gun in my hand. I finally got his attention. He stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his bags as he walked toward me with a look in his eyes that I had never seen before. It wasn’t anger or hate but a look of worry and defeat. As he walked closer to me I gripped the handle tighter. I wanted to let him know that I was mad as hell and I wasn’t gonna take his shit anymore! He stood in front of me not saying a word as I held the pistol to his chest.

“I’m sick of your shit, Mia!” he said as he gritted his teeth. “You want to kill me now? You got the heart, so do it. You really think I give a fuck? What? Okay, you pregnant? Fine! So the fuck what! Go on TV and tell the world. You finally got what you wanted and look at you, your ass still ain’t happy.”