“Yeah.” Hov nodded his head in agreement.
“What about them niggas?” Scotty asked?
Hov sat back in his seat, adjusting his pants legs. All the movement he was doing told me that he was uneasy about some shit, and I’m probably the only nigga at this table who noticed that because I’ve been around him since we were kids. Some shit was going on, and I can feel it.
“The Quatar Family has been selling to their people here for years, and we never bothered them, and they never fucked with us. They sold to the Arabs, a lot of other Muslim people, and we sell to the white, black, Hispanics, shit, everyone else in New York. That’s the treaty my father put together years ago to keep shit cool between us.”
Hov’s eyes looked over the room like he was giving a sermon.
“But when word got around that I was about to get locked up, I guess they sent word back home that the territories were opening up and they could expand their empire beyond their own people. Only they didn’t have any connections or knowledge of the blocks outside of their own world, so they reached out to the Torrez mafia to combine and take over. That was until the Hernandez family was wiped out in that massacre, but that wasn’t the only issue. The Quatar Families world was shattered in that massacre too.”
“What happened, boss?” Bam asked.
“The massacre happened on the weekend that they sent the head nigga Mecca’s son, Salah, to meet with the Hernandez Mafia. When the Hernandez Mafia was wiped out, he was there too and was shot in the head, leaving the next in charge for them dead on the ground.” I sat back in my chair, rubbing my chin.
“They have now sent a message that they want twenty heads for his one, and there is no age limit or gender limit. They said they will do what they can to get to the nigga responsible for their prince being dead.”
“But what does that have to do with us. They don’t know who killed them niggas.”
“The entire New York knew we had beef with them and that the temperature was rising between us all. Everybody knows that we spare no nigga we think deserves to die. With that reputation and their prince dead, they want war with us and whoever else they think killed Salah. Now until we get them niggas off our backs, we are going to have to all be on high alert around this bitch. Keep our locations under wraps. Move with our heads on a swivel and treat New York like a battlefield.”
Damn, I thought in my head.
“I for one know that I’m not trying to lose my family, and I’m sure you niggas feel the same. Mecca Quatar is not about to play fair with his baby boy being killed, as neither of us would, but my sympathy for him is not going to cloud my better judgment in the streets. So, hold everybody you love close. At least until we get these niggas off of our backs.”
Hov finished.
“For sho.” We all agreed, before it went silent for a few seconds. The silence was cut short when Bam threw out the cards needed for a royal flush.
“Now back to this shit. You niggas can’t fuck with me, baby.” Bam broke the tension in the room while Hov, Scotty, and I smacked our lips. This was usually the way poker nights went, and even news like war with some Muslims didn’t move us too much. I’m sure on the inside, every last one of us felt a way, but none of us would ever let a nigga see us shake, not even each other. I’m just happy to be seated at this table right now, especially with me causing all this shit.
When the game was over, Scotty and Bam walked to their cars first, leaving Hov and me behind, picking up the cards, poker chips, and the cans left on the ground. There was a heavy silence in the room until Hov cleared his throat and looked in my direction.
“I heard you went to talk to Pernelle. Happy you decided to step up.”
“Yeah, it was only right. I told her we don’t have to be together to raise the baby, and she seemed cool with it. At least for now.”
“Yeah, P is a cool chick. She is loud as hell and does the most sometimes, but she is cool. My wife loves her.”
I nodded my head.
“So, how are you feeling about court tomorrow? You think you're coming back home?”
“I know I am. Partially thanks to you. Part thanks to that smart mutha fucka I have working on the case.”
“Oh yeah, the chick Bria. Where did you find that beautiful mutha fucka? If you weren’t so happily married, I would think that was one of your little things on the side.”
Hov laughed and waved me off.
“She's pretty, but she's not worth me getting my head chopped off at home.”
“I hear that, my boy. I know her ass is married though, huh. Shit, that’s the type of woman I know niggas marry with no hesitation.”
Hov shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know if she is. She keeps things professional with me. That’s why I appreciate her. Most women would fall underthe pressure she is under with her sister dying and shit at that strip club.”
“Yeah, I heard about that?”
