Chapter 17
A week after the meeting with Kunta, Marcus and Shawn met up with one of Kunta’s runners at a neutral location to do business. The samples that they were given were everything they wanted and more. After putting the mix that Kunta suggested, Marcus went to some of the hardest dope fiends in the Holy City while Shawn stayed around Division area, giving fiends a sample of the blows (heroin) that they were going to have out on the streets. The reactions they were getting were phenomenal for what they were trying to do. Some of the hypes that shot up dope, which gets to main stream quicker, know most definitely, if the drug was potent or not immediately. Marcus asked one of his hard-to-satisfy shooters on a scale from one to ten, how would he rate the dope? When he was able to talk and focus, he told him a twenty and asked when and where they were going to open up shop! From that point, Marcus knew they had a winner and was anxious to put it out in the streets. Before any of the real hustlers opened up a big-time heroin joint (spot), they would always do major “pass-outs” on the block where the drugs were sold so the customers would know what they were getting; usually if the dope was a bomb, they’d come right back to purchase more. If you had excellent dope, this strategy was the key to success.
While sitting at the table in one of Shawn’s low-key, unoccupied apartments, Marcus and Shawn separated two keys of raw heroin into all grams. Kunta was willing to give them whatever they needed on consignment, but Marcus insisted on them purchasing their own product. After paying fifty thousand for a thousand grams, which was equivalent to a kilo, Marcus was getting a cheaper price than he was used to. Kunta still ended up fronting them an extra key.
“How that muthafucka reacted yesterday. I kno’ this shit gotta be a bomb!” Shawn eagerly said while in the process of laying out large square pieces of extra-heavy-duty aluminum foil across the living room glass table.
“Hell yea,” Marcus mildly replied while crushing a hundred grams of raw dope into dust particles, preparing to mix it together with the dormin pills. After putting the mix with the dope, he then put it all in a Mr. Coffee grinder, which was usually used to grind coffee beans, to make a fine blend. As Marcus pressed on the top of the machine to make it operate, he then shook it in an up-and-down motion repeatedly to make sure he got a proper mix.
After about ten minutes of shaking the dope, Marcus looked up at Shawn with a mischievous grin before taking the lid off and stating, “This is it, my nigga, the beginning of a ma’fuckin’ empire.” When he took the top off the blender, it let out a thick puff of smoke that had a loud vinegar smell, which usually indicates a sign of great potency.
A couple of hours into putting in work at the table, Marcus ignored a few calls that seemed to have bothered his focus. After the fourth consecutive unanswered call, Marcus finally answered with a slight attitude, “Hello!”
“Damn, this what I gotta go through to holla’ at’chú?” The familiar masculine voice on the other end spoke.
Knowing that it was Spoonie on the phone really annoyed Marcus at that moment, and he showed a disgusted expression once Spoonie made that statement.
“Aey, I’m busy right now let me hit'chu back in’a minute, Jo.”
“its sho’ll funny how you always busy and we out here fucked up in’a drought,” Spoonie said sarcastically in an evil-spirited tone.
Before responding to his statement, Marcus looked at his phone with a strange expression.
“Everything gon’ be a’ight in’a minute. Wassup though?” Marcus replied calmly, obviously trying hard to keep his composure. Even though Marcus may have surpassed Spoonie in the money department due to him being a bit more business savvy, Spoonie was still ranked higher than him with a five-star universal status. Marcus hadn’t been showing any signs of honoring Spoonie position since Smitty left the streets. He even ignored a couple of meetings that Spoonie called amongst the IVLN, which was something he never did when Smitty was on the streets.
“Chief wants all the elites to meet up on Twenty-first Friday around seven. That’s if you ain’t too busy,” Spoonie mentioned, taking another crack at Marcus.
“He must know how much time they’re tryn’a give him?”
“More than likely he gon’ let it be known who’s in charge of the entire nation’s business. If you ask me, he should’ve been done that so we could get back to work. Everybody should already know who’s next to being chief,” Spoonie said in an arrogant fashion, making references to himself as being the next chief of the IVLs.
“A’ight, I’ll make sho’ me and my team be there,” Marcus said before ending the call.
Marcus didn’t know what to make out of the conversation between him and Spoonie, but whatever decisions that were about to be made amongst the nation weren’t going to interfere with what he and Shawn had in the making on the other side of town.
Before passing out dope samples to the fiends from around Division and other surrounding blocks, Marcus and Shawn made sure to secure their joint (spot), which was a sixteen-unit, four-story co-way building on the corner of Menard and Division. They had one of the Shorty lords, from out of Marcus’s crew; post up in front of the cabstand to direct all the traffic to the specific floor where the dope was being sold that particular day. The day before, they spreaded the word throughout the entire land that it was going to be a pass-out from 7:00 a.m. to 9:00
A.m. anytime after nine, the customers would have to come with a dub (twenty dollars).
As you could imagine, at ten minutes ‘til seven, the building had a line wrapped around the corner with fiends anxious to receive free dope.
“Where that dope at!”
“Who got the blows, Shorty!” A couple of hypes muttered while staggering up frantically.
“Y’all better get some order and make a line or ain’t nobody getting shit!” The young lord demanded fiercely in the midst of all the commotion.
As the fiends began to flood the building by walking up in groups and some pulling up in cars, the Shorty started sending them to the lobby of the building by the tens while another Shorty frisked everyone down before directing them to the floor where the blows were being passed out that particular day.
Throughout the entire ordeal, Marcus and Shawn sat patiently in a low-key car with jet-black tint that was parked on Menard, where they were able to witness how their operation was being handled and how the customers reacted to the product. Previous to the pass-out, Marcus and Shawn had designed the setup to perfection, so all the workers and security had to do was play their position properly. Before it was all said and done, a hundred blows were passed out to a hundred different customers within thirty minutes. For the remainder of the pass-out time, the people that received free blows had to pay if they came back for more.
By the end of the day, $2,000 worth of blows was passed out and five g-bundles ($5,000) were sold, which was good for the opening day. This was a great sign of a successful joint!
Cars were lined up along Twenty-first Strip as if a car show was in progress. Everybody from the elites down to the pack runners was present on Twenty-first Strip to get the word on Chief Smitty statements. Everyone out there was affiliated with the mob, but they all stood separately within their own branch of lords. Marcus and his crew circled the block twice before finding parks. Marcus walked in the middle of his personal crew as they marched down Twenty-first. At least twenty guys barricaded around Marcus as if they were his personal shield. On their walk down the strip, they passed by nearly two hundred IVLs and even stopped on several occasions to talk with other elites and their crews before making it to the corner of St. Louis and Twenty-first where Big C (chief over the conservatives), Spoonie, Steve, and a few elites from both sides stood in a circle. Marcus noticed a vast majority of the people wore their personally made RIP “Mikey” shirts, paying their respects to a fallen IVL soldier. The environment felt more like a family reunion how everyone was mingling with the brothers they haven’t seen in a while.
?
??Wassup, ole man?” Marcus smiled while greeting Steve with a handshake and a half hug as he approached their circle.
“You wassup. Why you ain’t been by the crib lately?” Steve asked, sounding more like a concerned parent, pretending as if he was getting on Marcus’s case.
“I was jus’ over there the other day hollin’ at Momma and Chris. They told me you had jus’ stepped out for a minute. Then when they mentioned Big C was back in town, I knew what time it was . . . ,” Marcus claimed as he casually turned his attention toward Big C. “Wassup, Unc?” Marcus said, greeting Big C the same way as he did Steve. Coming up in age, Marcus always looked at Big C as an uncle figure because of the closeness between him and Steve, which they had over the years; he also admired how Big C controlled the mob.
“Wassup with’chu, baby!” Big C responded in a slick manner as he embraced Marcus.
“I can’t call it, Chief, what’s good?”
“You ready?” Big C suddenly asked with a mysterious grin covering his face.
“Ready?” Marcus replied while looking slightly puzzled as if the sudden question caught him off guard. “We stay ready,” Marcus stated with more seriousness and confidence but still not knowing what was behind the question.
“A’ight, I’m jus’ asking,” Big C smoothly retorted.
Marcus then acknowledged everyone else that was posted up in their circle. When it came time to acknowledge Spoonie, they embraced each other halfheartedly. After shaking up, Spoonie blurted out, “Glad you was able to make it.”
Marcus ignored the smart comment made by Spoonie; after a couple of seconds of awkward silence in the circle, Big C stated, “All we waiting on is for Smitty to hit the phone and give word on his situation and see who he wanna leave in control of the nation. Of course whatever decisions that are made I’m behind a hundred percent. We all a family.”
Big C was one of the long-lasting chiefs of any vice lord organization. The founding fathers and the few before him either died prematurely or were in jail for the remainder of their lives. The conservatives were one of the first movements established amongst the vice lord nation in the early sixties. All other branches came about when leaders in other neighborhoods started their own mobs within the nation. Big C was around as a youngster and was groomed by the founders that laid down the literature and laws for the nation. He and a selective few were legitimate overseers for the entire VL nation, despite everyone doing their own thing within’ their respected mobs. The same laws and it had to be followed by everyone. If for any reason the laws were being violated by any leader of any branch of the vice lords, Big C and a few other originals had the power to demote or replace their position.
After several minutes of everyone talking within their crews on Twenty-first, Big C received an expected call at 7:30 p.m. sharp.
“Yeah!” Big C answered on the first ring.
“Hey! wassup!” Smitty spoke through the receiver enthusiastically.
“Jus’ was waiting on you. Where you calling from?” Big C asked, trying to make sure it wasn’t a direct call from the feds.
“Everything good,” Smitty replied, secretly reassuring Big C that the lines were safe to talk on. “Was everybody able to make it?”
“All the important ones. They all standing right next to me,” Big C said while attempting to put the phone on speaker.
“Yeah, man, me and my lawyers came to a conclusion and decided to take what they’re tryn’a gimme.”
“Smith, I got'chu on speakerphone so everybody around me can hear you,” Big C said, calling Smitty by his last name.
“Good, good . . . Yeah, they tryn’a offer me a straight ten. The only reason I’mma jump on it ‘cause it’s gonna be tough tryn’a beat these people in a trial when they got all kinds of secret informants working for them that nobody knows about,” Smitty noted suspiciously. “Where my five key playas at?”
“We right here listenin’,” All the elites spoke at once.
“I was a little worried ‘bout'chu since ain’t nobody heard from you in’a few months,” Spoonie initiated, making sure his voice was distinguished out from everyone else’s.
“I jus’ had to get this case behind me so we all could move on. Now that it’s out the way, I’mma need y’all more than ever while I’m gone.”
“Whatever’ business that you need took care of, consider it done!” Spoonie eagerly stated, trying to show signs of leadership.
“Yeah, that’s the thing, I need business took care of the right way. I don’t need unnecessary wars getting kicked off and I definitely don’t need other brotha’s into it wit’ one another. I need my next leader to not only hold the mob down while I’m gone, but I also need him to take the nation to a higher level.”
The crowd around Big C was in complete silence while Smitty was reciting his expectations. In the midst of Smitty speech, everyone that stood out on Twenty-first Strip (which was close to five hundred lords) gradually made their way to the circle to hear Smitty speak.
After a few more demands and instructions to his elites, it finally came time to sanction a new leader to sit in Smitty seat.
“So with all that said, I decided to choose a leader that’s a thinker as well as an enforcer . . . ,” Smitty continued to explain. “After a few months of thinking and weighing out all options, me and a few other original heads of the nations decided to bless none other than . . . ,” he paused before finishing his power statement. “Where ya at, Marcus?!”
The entire crowd that stood out on Twenty-first looked around at each other in awe. Some even showed signs of excitement at the decision that was made. As you could imagine, Spoonie and the lords that he personally had control over showed no signs of excitement, In fact, Spoonie did everything in his powers to hold back the disgusted feelings that electrified him. With Spoonie having five stars and all the work he personally put in for Smitty, he felt it was a given that he was next in line if anything happened to the chief.
While everyone in the circle was proudly congratulating Marcus as their active chief, Spoonie demeanor showed a definite sign of displeasure toward the decision. When it came time for Marcus to face Big C and Steve, they looked upon him as if they were the proudest father and uncle figures in the world.
After about a minute of Smitty being silent on the phone, he interrupted the mini-celebration by stating, “A’ight! A’ight! Everybody settle down. I ain’t got long before this call ends. Now I didn’t make that decision to step on anyone’s toes.” Smitty said this speaking to Spoonie in particular.
Spoonie looked on with a stale expression as if a major thought was rambling through his brain. “The decision was based on what was best for the nation as a whole,” Smitty went on to explain. “Spoonie, I need you to keep doing what you do without all the negative attention. Even though I won’t be present, any orders and commands would still come from me through the wire.” Before ending his conversation, Smitty blurted out, “Aey, Marcus!”
“I’m right here, Chief. Talk to me!” Marcus responded graciously.
“I know this is a big step for you. I’m investing a lot into you. Now is the time to let it be known if you’a be able to handle this shit or not!” he said with meaning and emphasis behind every word.
Before answering, Marcus slowly glanced through the entire crowd, seeing a majority of proud faces, while having flashbacks of his life from when it all started, all the way to his present situation.
“Yeah . . . yeah, I’m ready, Chief!” Marcus claimed while staring at Big C, finally understanding the meaning behind Big C’s earlier question (“You ready?”).