Talk of the Town Read online

  Marquez smiled. “Yeah, it would be nice to have some lil’ ones runnin’ around,” he replied. “It would be cool if it was a lil’ girl, so I could protect her too.”

  “Marquez, you are always on guard duty.”

  “Yeah I know, but that’s how I get down when it comes to family, Diamond. Every since my mother died, I never really had anybody else to call family except the niggahs I was in jail wit’.

  “Yeah, I miss Aunt Faye,” I added. Seeing my mother’s sister die of cancer was another devastating blow to the family.

  “You the only family I got left, so I don’t wanna see anything happen to you. Atlanta is hot right now, and I can handle myself out here on the streets, but you, I wanna see you happy and wit’ that family you were talkin’ about. I see it in your eyes, you don’t want this anymore, you want somthin’ better and it ain’t too late.”

  “It’s not too late for you either, Marquez,” I countered, taking a sip of my Strawberry Daiquiri.

  He sighed. “Yo, I got two felony convictions, and this is all I know. I committed my first murder when I was fourteen and got locked up for my first felony when I was sixteen. I mean, Mama tried to raise me right and teach me better about life, but when you got that street mentality, your morals be out the door,” he responded.

  “Marquez, both of us are still young. Don’t you ever get tired of this shit? Don’t you have the urge to try something different with your life?” I asked.

  “I thought about it, but honestly, there ain’t nothin’ else out there for me. I know that I’m gonna die in this game.”

  I reached over and slapped his hand. ‘Don’t say that! If anything were to happen to you, I would lose it. I couldn’t stand losing anyone else at this point.”

  “Yo, you know I’ll always be by your side. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But let’s be real, the chances of me coming out of this happily ever after, are rare. If I’m lucky, I can just get another bid in prison.”

  “Marquez, don’t talk like that. I hate those negative ass thoughts.”

  “Baby Girl, you gotta accept the truth. Chances are, I’m gonna go out the way I live. I’ve made my choice, and if my fate is to die in these streets, then so be it. I can’t run from it.” He got quiet for a short moment, like he was thinking about something. “Promise me that you’ll step away from this shit.”

  I kept myself from tearing up. I knew this life wasn’t for me, and I didn’t want to end up like my brother. I knew if he hadn’t gotten sucked into this life of crime, he could probably still be alive today. “I promise.”

  We continued to talk and reminisce about old times, throughout the rest of the meal. I loved spending time with him. Marquez brought up Rashad and warned me to watch my back around him. I found myself always defending Rashad, but Marquez was adamant that he was not to be trusted. After going back and forth, I finally told him that I would be careful, and he warned me that if Rashad ever disrespected me, he would kill him. I didn’t take his words lightly.

  After spending over two hours at the restaurant, we finally left and Marquez walked me to my car.

  “I enjoyed having lunch wit’ you. We need to do this more often. Shit, I even wish we could have a family reunion like normal people,” he joked.

  I smiled. “I know, right. I’ll see you soon. I’m about to go home and take a nap.”

  We hugged each other tightly and he kissed me on the cheek. “You be safe out here, Baby Girl,” he said.

  “You too, Marquez.”

  After I got into my car, I watched him slowly disappear in my rear view mirror. I became teary eyed again, thinking about him, my mother and most of all, my beloved brother. After sitting in my car for a few more minutes, I started up the engine and slowly drove away.

  On the way to my house, I decided to take Marquez’s advice, and call the woman who I hadn’t spoken to in years. Hopefully her number was the same.

  I was nervous as I pulled down the sun visor, opened the small mirror and stared at myself for a few minutes at a traffic light. “You can do this, Diamond,” I said to myself.

  I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the number to the place I once called home. My hands began to shake as the call went through and started to ring. Suddenly on the third ring, I heard my mother’s voice and my heart seemed to stop.

  “Hello,” she said in a groggy voice.

  I couldn’t speak. I sat in the car with my mouth wide open and tried my best to form some sort of word, but it wouldn’t come out.

  “Hello,” she repeated.

  I sat there for a few more seconds before closing the cell phone, instantly disconnecting myself from the person who gave me life. I knew I should’ve had the courage to say something, but I just couldn’t do it. I wanted to talk to my mother when I got my life together, so she could finally be proud, so until then I had a lot of work to do.

  Chapter 23

  Mya

  Atlanta was on its way to becomin’ the city with one the highest murder rates in the country, next to New York and D.C. with both the media, and the cops pointin’ their fingers at me and my crew.

  The hoods and the drug game were becoming so violent that I heard the Feds were tryin’ to put together a RICO case against me and my crew. Since everybody in my crew was criminals, we all knew that the RICO act was for people charged with racketeering, and carried lengthy sentences. I’d gotten wind of this through a few paid cops and city officials that worked in the court system who constantly kept me updated. But a RICO case against me or anybody I ran with was the least of my worries. With all the power that me and Ace had in the streets, and the people on our payroll, nothin’ would’ve been able to stick.

  I loved my reputation and the intimidation I put into the people who I didn’t fuck wit’. I took pleasure in being the talk of the town. I knew once I was dead, my name would ring out in this city for years to come. And after what I had planned tonight, the city was about to get another major headline.

  As I watched the movie Scarface in the hotel room where I was stayin’, my cell phone rang.

  “Everything’s in motion, Mya,” the caller stated.

  “That’s what’s up. Y’all niggahs give this city somethin’ serious to read about tomorrow mornin’,” I replied.

  I hung up and laughed to myself. I had just signed off on Mr. G.’s fate. He was still in town on business, so I hired three shooters from L.A. for the hit, who Ace highly recommended. Apparently, the west coat niggahs knew how to put in work. Me and my crew were already under investigation, so it wouldn’t have been wise for us to do the hit. Being at the hotel all night was my alibi, even though I knew fingers would still be pointed at me.

  Suddenly, I began to think about the seed I was carryin’. I’d gone to the clinic and found out that I was six weeks pregnant, but still hadn’t mentioned it to Ace. I knew he was the father because every since we’d been having sex, I’d stop messin’ wit’ other dudes. Something about Ace had me thinkin’ about settlin’ down and finally just being wit’ one man. I wasn’t sure if it was his street power, or his dick that had me hooked, but either way I couldn’t get enough. However, despite what I loved about him, I still couldn’t make up my mind if I was goin’ to keep the baby. I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready to be somebody’s mother. As I continued to think, I sat back on the bed and watched Scarface tear shit up on the TV.

  Scarface was one of my favorite movies, and Tony Montana was my fuckin’ idol. I loved the way he caused chaos in Miami, got paid, and didn’t take shit from anyone. He reminded me of myself because I also came from nothin’ and now I had the city on lock. But I also remembered that Tony’s life came to a violent end, being gunned down numerous times in his mansion. I often thought about my own endin’. I wasn’t sure if it was gonna be by the hands of the Feds, or if I was gonna be gunned down by an enemy in the streets. Either way, I was ready. Besides, I didn’t have time to think about my fate. I had moves to make and streets to take over. Scarface w
as only fiction, and my life was reality.

  An hour later, I got another call. “We had a problem,” the caller said.

  I looked at the phone and clenched my jaw before puttin’ it back to my ear. “What do you mean, you had a problem?”

  “Like, I said, we had a problem. We tried, but it didn’t go like we planned.”

  “So, let me get this straight. I paid you for a job, but it didn’t get done? Now what the fuck am I supposed to do?” I replied.

  “Have your boy, contact us in a few days, and we’ll go at the target again,” the caller stated.

  “I can’t wait a few more fuckin’ days!” I yelled. “I want this shit done, now!”

  “If I were you, I would calm the fuck down and stop screamin’ in my ear. Have your boy, get at us.” CLICK…

  My mouth instantly fell open. I couldn’t believe one of the shooters had actually hung up on me. I punched in Ace’s number as fast as I could. I needed to tell his ass about his so called fuckin’ recommendation. After the second ring, he answered.

  “What’s up?” he said.

  “There was a problem, that’s what’s up. Your friends couldn’t handle their business.”

  Ace was quiet for a moment before he continued. “Let’s talk about round two later, when I see you in person.” CLICK…

  I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Here I was for the second time holdin’ a phone with nobody on the other end. Furious, I grabbed the remote and threw it against the TV, causin’ the small plastic device to break into several pieces. Now what the fuck am I gonna do?

  That night I went to bed feeling defeated. Tryin’ to take down a major figure like Mr. G. took some guts on my part, so now that the hit had failed, it was gonna be trouble. I knew repercussions from his crew were soon to come, so I had to get ready because there was a storm approachin’.

  The next morning, I woke up to the news recappin’ about what had taken place the night before. I turned up the volume and watched with a frown on my face.

  From what I heard, they said that three masked gunmen rushed their way into the restaurant with Uzi machine guns, and fired intensely at Mr. G. as he was eatin’ with friends. The media also said that one of Mr. G’s bodyguards had been shot in the chest, but wasn’t dead. Unfortunately for us, Mr. G. hadn’t even received a scratch.

  The media went on to say that the city was in shock, and the Mayor along with other city officials were outraged by the public shooting of a mob associate in his city, which also put other witnesses at risk. The Mayor claimed that justice would be served and the gunmen would be found, indicted, tried and given a maximum prison sentence. Of course it wouldn’t be right if he didn’t say that violence and drugs had plagued the city, and also put me and my crew on blast. The rest of the day, I laid low. Luckily, I had checked into a hotel out in Norcorss, to keep people from finding out where I laid my head. My cell phone kept ringin’ back to back, but I ignored most of the calls. I had to get myself together and figure out how I was gonna handle the situation. Not only did I have Mr. G. to think about, but I still had Marquez’s bitch ass to take care of. But his time was soon to come.

  A week after the attempted assassination of Mr. G. I started gettin’ back to business on the streets. During my brief vacation, I had my crew makin’ packages, collecting money and distributin’ the product. Business was still slow because of the heat and the pressure from the Feds and local cops, but we still had to get money.

  Now with Mr. G. being my new enemy, I needed a new connect. I knew that was somethin’ I should’ve taken care of before I made my move, but I was a hot-head. I had tried to take out a major problem, but created another one. However, findin’ a new connect in Atlanta was as easy as findin’ a strip club, they were on every corner. I just needed one with reasonable prices and someone I could trust.

  Diamond and her crew were on our asses when it came to gettin’ money. With Scottie being her connect, he kept the shipment of coke and ecstasy flowin’ into the city continuously. And with Marquez pushin’ the shit into the streets and gettin’ in the way of my business, my money was comin’ in slow, and if it was one thing I hated, it was slow money.

  Marquez needed to be taken out and was next on my hit list, but he was hard to get at. I had my crew always checkin’ his whereabouts, and who he was with, but the niggah was unpredictable. He was never at the same place twice, and his shooters were always by his side. I guess he didn’t trust anyone, but I couldn’t blame him for that.

  I knew with Marquez out the way, business for Diamond would slowly come to a crawl. Marquez was a get money, no nonsense type of niggah, and I respected that about him, but he was in my way.

  This was about money and territory, and I wasn’t takin’ the backseat for anybody.

  With my supply on low, I knew that there was only one way to re-up, and that was to take from Diamond, Marquez and their crew. But I knew after our hit on Simpson Road, their street team would be more cautious and fully armed. However, there was still a way to get at them.

  I had men watchin’ Diamond’s shop everyday just in case Marquez showed up. I was also payin’ out top dollar for information about him through my crooked cops, and for that amount of money, I knew it wouldn’t take long before someone took the bait and started talkin’. Surprisingly the source of information on him came from within the courts and not from the streets. It seemed that the local Police Department in Atlanta had a warrant out for Marquez’s arrest and were zoomin’ in on him for indictments on gun charges, assault and an old traffic violation he received back in North Carolina.

  With the help of a snitch, I found out a legit address to where he was stayin’. My source also said that we had to act quickly because the cops had planned on servin’ a warrant for his arrest and were raiding his place in two days.

  I quickly got my crew together and was soon on my way to cause demolition. Ace for once was skeptical. He was worried about there being a stakeout and the Feds settin’ us up, but even though I didn’t have a dick, I had a hard-on for Marquez and his cousin, and wanted to see him dead instead of locked up. With him dead, there weren’t any chances of him of gettin’ out, and tryin’ to come back at me. Marquez was a major player, and I knew if I got him out the way, it would be a major blow to his crew, especially Diamond.

  Two days later, we made our move. Marquez was stayin’ at an apartment complex in Scottdale, which was a few miles from the city. We drove out there in a rented truck, heavily armed with automatic weapons. Unfortunately, Ace was not along for the ride. He still felt it was a risk, and said that it was stupid of me to go, knowing there was a warrant for Marquez’s arrest, and a raid around the corner; but I was willin’ to take the risk. Shit, risks got me where I am today.

  We parked outside of the housing complex near N. Decatur Road and waited for our target. I knew I should’ve just sent some shooters for the hit like I did with Mr. G., but I needed to see the niggah dead in person, even if it meant by my own hands. And besides, it was business and personal with Marquez.

  Like the hit on most of our victims, we parked a few yards from the house we were watchin’, in a parkin’ spot that didn’t make us look too suspicious. We had a direct view of the door to his crib. I held the 9mm in my lap and prepared myself for another slaughter.

  “Mya, are you sure this is the place?” one of my goons asked. He was my top earner from Chicago.

  “My source never lies. He’s in there,” I replied.

  Another one of my goons was behind the steering wheel, while the third one sat in the back with my top earner, waitin’ patiently. The neighborhood was residential, quiet and peaceful, but with me and my crew out here, they were about to get a wake up call.

  We waited for what seemed like an hour, until the door suddenly opened and a man stepped out. It’s probably one of his shooters, I thought. Soon, another man stepped out, followed by Marquez, who walked out carryin’ a black duffle bag. The sight of seein’ him so vulnerable made me
smile. He was dressed in all black from head to toe. Damn, does he know he’s gonna die today? He was already dressed for a funeral.

  “There he is, let’s do this,” I said, grippin’ my weapon.

  “You sure you don’t want us to handle this, Mya? You’re hot right now,” my top earner mentioned.

  “I don’t give a fuck about no investigation or the Feds. I want that niggah dead!” I barked.

  He shook his head up and down and cocked his Glock back.

  We watched as all three men piled into a burgundy Dodge Magnum. Marquez was seated in the passenger side. When the car started and the driver attempted to back out of the parkin’ spot, we drove up behind them, blockin’ their exit. Our doors flew open, and we immediately jumped out.

  I heard someone scream out, “Oh shit, it’s a fuckin’ hit!”

  A barrage of heavy gunfire tore into their car, shatterin’ glass and piercing metal. Marquez rushed out of the car without one ounce of fear. He screamed, “Mutha-fuckas, y’all want some…y’all want this!” he shot back with the similar Glock that my top earner had. I’m sure the gunfire was chaotic and stirred up many people in the neighborhood.

  Gunshots were exchanged, instantly injuring Marquez. He was bleeding from his shoulder and other places, but he didn’t fall. The intensity in his eyes could have burned a hole in my shirt. Marquez ran and hid behind a parked car. Me and one of my goons approached him as we continued to fire. The men that were with Marquez lay dead in the Dodge that was riddled with bullets.

  “You fuckin’ bitch!” Marquez screamed out. It sounded like he was in pain.

  “It’s your time, niggah!” I yelled.

  “Fuck you, Mya,” he cried out.

  “Fuck this!” one of my goons yelled. “We ain’t got time for no damn stand off.” He ran up to where Marquez was, but it turned out to be a great mistake. Marquez sprang from behind the car and fired numerous rounds into my goon’s body, droppin’ him to the ground. He died instantly.