Mira had to be a piece to my board, but I started to second guess her queen position in my life. Life got the best of us and most people caved in and let life win. It infuriated me that she cried over a man who never gave a fuck about her. I didn’t expect her to call him her everything when he viewed her as nothing.
“She’s on the level above the cells?—”
“Why the fuck would you put her there?” I yelled.
“She was actually one level down from your room. When I heard her play for three days straight, I figured you’d want herdown by the lab so you could hear her while you work.” Tone smirked.
I shook my head and told him to get out. Tone always pressed buttons that I didn’t know existed with myself. Most of the time he meant well, but I hated how he always thought he knew what I needed before I did. I wasn’t a good person, I craved and enjoyed thriving off the next person’s fear. Tone misunderstood my strong urge to randomly save certain individuals that I felt was worth saving.
There were certain things that I hated being surrounded by. Crackheads was one of those things. So many men with power abused their positions and wealth on stupid shit. I used mine to try to better my people, I poured into the same community that I came from. I watched the news and laughed when they talked about local rehab facilities being empty. They didn’t know that my particular drug Owlette, had taken over. It slowly but surely healed people and strengthened them to do better while making them feel good.
I lifted one of my arms and eyed the new burnt marks that still showed some of my flesh mixed with the old tattoo ink. It was starting to heal slowly. I hadn’t been down in my lab but planned on going tonight to get some work done. There was a particular potion that I kept failing at. I wanted to create a new feel-good drug, similar to Heroin.
Over time, I was able to transform Owlette into different forms. Powder, pills, and even grow it with weed. People grew addicted to it but still went over to the Eastside to get something that would have them spiraling, high and incompetent of living a regular life. Which finally brought me to East side.
A man named Smack ran the East without giving a fuck about how bad it was ruining the community. I had most of the west, south, and north on board. Now it was time for me to forcethe east. I made it my last priority since I knew the east, and I would most likely go to war.
Smack is Rosco’s son, the same Rosco I put a bullet in when I was thirteen. I stepped out the backseat of the matte black Yukon and was greeted by Tone.
“He got all of his men spread out all around, all armed.” Tone said stepping next to me.
“Cool, men like Smack try to be tricky. He’s weak, given the history between us, I expect him to talk with emotions. Which is never good for business. Let him make the first move, then all of the chess pieces will fall hard.” I smirked.
There was plenty of men that called themselves trying to go to war with me. I handled it before it could become a further problem. Smack was considered child’s play to me. Wasn’t shit street about him. Unlike my pops, his pops tried his best to keep him sheltered away. Smack just wanted to prove that he was about that life. Hood fame was addicting to him, he wanted the praise, wanted to be something more than he was.Just another spoiled pussy trying to walk in grown man shoes.
I inhaled the air; it smelled like roach spray mixed with hot old piss. There were a couple of fiends lingering around, some sat on the stained ground with no shame. Their glass pipes were on display as the sun shined down on them.There’s more to life than getting high.I shook my head in disgust. To some it was normal to see people strung out.
For me, it was a painful reminder to what all I lost from drugs. The childhood that was stolen from me. If I had the power to find the muthafucka who first pushed the poison throughout the black communities, I’d torture and kill them.
“Everybody on our side is in position.” Tone said.
“Good, let’s get this reintroduction over with.” I gritted out.
We approached two men when we entered through the double doors. They did a horrible job at checking Tone and me.That told me multiple things in itself. They didn’t have loyalty to Smack, nor did they give a fuck about his safety. It also told me that they were being starved. Smack wasn’t making sure his men ate good financially which would be an advantage for me.
The revolver behind my back was still secure as Tone and I walked down a dimly lit hallway. The overhead lights buzzed like they were filled with flies. The place smelled pungent, like Smack never hired a cleaning team to rid the space of all the dead bodies that was killed inside of here.A kingpin with no structure.I shook my head and continued to follow behind one of his men who guided us to Smack.
The man pushed an office door open, the smell inside the room greeted me first. Weed smoke and cheap cognac. Smack looked up, his red dreadlocks were tied back, his diamond grill shined matching his iced out Cuban chain that hung from his neck. Red freckles spread across his high cheek bones and nose as he tried to intimate Tone with a so-called icy stare down. Two more men stood behind him gripping their Glocks like they knew how to use them.
They didn’t, in fact they never caught a body. I could see the innocence in their eyes. There was always a soulless look in a man’s eyes that took a life. These men of Smacks looked like they were serving him just to say they were gangsters.
“I didn’t think the west would pull up so boldly. Thought y’all only sent text messages.” He said leaning forward on a gray worn leather couch. His eyes danced across me like he was looking for me to crack with emotion.
I’m all of L.A., not just the face of the west…I thought with the corner of my lip lifting into a half smirk.
I stayed quiet for a second, letting my silence weigh the room. I inhaled as Tone stepped in before me. Once Tone stepped in, he crossed his hands in front of him and stood to the side so he could watch my back. Finally, I stepped forward, eyeslocked on Smack. He felt me, hated the man that stood before him. I gave him enough time to soak in that; my presence alone rattled him in ways that he would never get over until I put him out of his misery.
“You talk like a man with a plan.” I said with a shit eating grin that was meant to taunt him.
“Only thing is, this ain’t poker, Smack. This is chess.” I chuckled.
And…I’m always on the board of chess...I looked around the dirty room then dug in my pocket. I pulled a king chess piece from my pocket engraved with diamonds. I fisted it in my hand then rolled it back in forth making it stimulate the chess piece inside my head, once it moved, it was game time for me. Tone chuckled purposely; he kept his hand rested on the butt of his gun.
Smack stood, adjusting his Gucci belt. He brushed his shirt down like I was considered the nagging piece of lent that stuck to an expensive shirt.
“My pops used to say the same shit, you probably remember since you spent a lot of time with him, right?” He finally replied.
There it is, the emotion…it flickered in his eyes. He was looking for me to offer some sort of an apology, perhaps condolences. I smiled at him coldly.
