The Holy City
Chapter 18
Despite a few shoot-outs with some hating Four Corner Hustlaz around Division and a couple of mishaps with the stickup men, the spot on Menard was moving beyond Marcus’s expectations. Within a month’s time, Marcus and Shawn had the building on Menard operating like a real ‘cartel,’ how they had customers flowing in and out twenty-four hours, seven days a week. The Division area wasn’t used to seeing this much action every day of the week before Marcus brought his hustling ways around the area. Even though the twins, Dre and Drew, was getting rich and had shit on smash around Division, Marcus and Shawn had some heroin that no other hustler in the area could stand up to. They climbed the ladder of success pretty quickly by staying consistent with great product and treating their customers well. From the time they had a pass-out, they went from making five thousand a day to anywhere from thirty to forty thousand a day off of dimes and dubs. Prior to opening up their spot, Shawn came to terms with the twins that they would only sell heroin while the twins continued to sale crack. Most dope fiends that snort blows usually need a rock to follow the dope to enhance their high. So it was safe to say, by the dope selling so good, it put extra dollars in the twins’ pockets, which was all good with the twins, but other higher-ranked officials in the Four Corner Hustlers mob didn’t agree.
It had been nearly a month since Marcus was blessed with chief status. He definitely was moving differently in the streets; he rarely was seen joyriding through the streets of Chicago. He always kept a selected few with him at all times, which was Pee Wee and Marlin, two of his main go-getters. Since they had the joint on Menard off the ground, he began focusing on restoring the blocks in the Holy City. This was a good thing as well as a bad thing because without Marcus being around Division as much, it left some doors open for certain conflicts to indulge on their operation, not to mention that all vice lords from out of the Holy City were running a joint in an all–Four Corner Hustler ‘hood.
As Shawn proceeded to exit off the Austin Boulevard ramp, he began dialing a number to one of the Shorty lords who was running the afternoon shift on Menard.
“Yeah!” announced a male in an aggressive tone.
“Aey, I’m gettin’ off at Austin right now. I should be pullin’ up in about ten, fifteen minutes.”
“About time, these muthafuckas gettin’ real impatient.”
“Next time don’t wait ‘til y’all dry before callin’ me! You know them people be needin’ that shit.”
“A’ight, jus’ hurry up, big homey. We got’a fuckin’ soup line out here!” The young hustler said, continuing to talk recklessly over the phone.
Before Shawn was able to end the call with one of the pack runners, his other line beeped.
“A’ight, I’ll be there in’a minute, let me catch this other line real quick.”
“Hello!” Shawn answered without noticing the number.
“Wassup, foe!” The voice on the other end spoke.
“Yeah, wassup, who this?”
“This Dre, nigga. Where ya at?”
“Heading toward Division. ‘Bout to handle some'nt.”
“Call me when you get around, I need to bump heads wit’chú, it’s important.”
“A’ight. Everything cool?” Shawn asked with concern.
“I don’t know, we’ll see in’a minute,” Dre, one of the twins, said suspiciously.
Once ending the call, Shawn was trying to figure out what was the sudden meet-up about. He wasn’t too worried because everything was set in stone with him and the twins.
After taking care of business, dropping off ten g-bundles to a Shorty, Shawn met up with Dre outside the building on Menard. To his surprise, Dre was accompanied by the prince of the 4CH’s, B-lo. B-lo was the leader over all foe’s, one step under King Rodney. B-lo was a treacherous leader and whenever he came around it had to be something major going on in their territory. The moment Shawn witnessed them both exit the car, he instantly got bubble guts, not knowing what to expect from the two.
“Wassup, foe!” B-lo greeted Shawn aggressively with their nation’s handshake as they approached each other in front of the cabstand.
“Prince Lo, what’s good?” Shawn replied with his eyes filled with intimidation. B-lo had this effect on just about anybody, with his six-three, two-hundred-seventy-pound stance and a facial expression that kept a permanent frown.
“You, that’s what’s good, I hear you and that hook-azz nigga ova’ here doin’ y’all thang!”
“We doing a’ight,” Shawn said reluctantly.
“A’ight?” B-lo questioned with a strange look upon his face. “Word on the street is that you muthafuckas pullin’ in damn near forty thousand a day!”
Shawn simply shrugged his shoulders, not really having a response to B-lo’s statement because it was the truth.
“I mean, I ain’t got no problem wit’chú gettin’ some paper on the land, but it seem like you ain’t tryn’a fuck wit’ the foe’s at all and I jus’ think that it’s time for you and dat nigga to start paying homage!”
After a split second of silence, Shawn replied, “I’m sure somethin’ can be worked out. What we talkin’?” Shawn pleaded, feeling more than helpless at that moment.
“I don’t know about twin, but I’mma need’a light,” B-lo hesitated as if he was thinking of a figure in his head. “Let’s say fifty stacks.”
Shawn stood there emotionlessly and puzzled from the situation at hand. There was no way possible that he could have left the scene without agreeing to all of Prince B-lo’s terms.
“Awe yea, I wouldn’t mind having contact with that connect who you getting that fire-ass dope from, either. And for future references, get them niggaz off our land, including that nigga Marcus,” B-lo continued to instruct Shawn. “I really should be getting on the twins’ ass for allowing this shit to go down.”
Dre stood there the entire time in silence. He really didn’t have a problem with Marcus and the other lords, but it was way over his head now. Even though Shawn’s uncles had juice amongst the foes, their rank was held in another ‘hood and Prince B-lo was over their heads too. “So, I’mma give you and Marcus by the end of the week to come up wit’ what I need, understood?”
Shawn simply nodded his head in agreement, but what was really going through his mind was trouble. He knew once he informed Marcus about the situation, it was going to be a problem, especially now that Marcus was a chief.
Before walking off, B-lo stated, “Cheer up, baby, it’s all good. There’s still a lot of money to be made.” He said this as they shook up.
While B-lo and Dre walked off toward the car, Shawn stood there until they pulled off. Once they drove out of eyesight, Shawn instantly began dialing numbers on his cell phone.
“Hello,” the voice on the other end spoke in a bored tone.
“Wassup, homey. Aey look, I need to holla’ at'chú. We got’a problem on our hands that needs to get dealt with.”
“Okay, I’ll get wit’chú a little later on,” Marcus simply replied.
Since the meeting with Kunta, the Nigerian dope connect, Marcus escalated his relationship with him tremendously. Now that Marcus was sitting in the highest seat for the IVLs, he had an entire mob to supply. Even though Big C had his own connections, he couldn’t resist going through Marcus to get his supply of heroin due to the fact that the potency of the product was rare. Marcus was getting keys of heroin for thirty thousand, the cheapest anyone in the city could have possibly gotten it for unless they traveled outside the States, and that was very unlikely. Every week Marcus had a high demand of twenty keys of heroin to distribute, which was way more than Kunta bargained for. Ten went to Big C, five for the spot on Menard, and the other five keys were separated into grams for the elites to feed the land that they were in charge over. Since Marcus was getting it for so cheap, he had room to put taxes on his price tag and still would have the most competitive prices in the city. He charged Big C ten thousand more t
han what he was paying for a key. All the elites that were over a particular area, he fronted however many grams they needed for sixty dollars a gram, which was a far better price tag than they were getting when Smitty was in the seat. Marcus was making a pretty nice profit off just dealing weight alone, but he was beginning to make an even bigger fortune off the growing spot on Menard and Division.
On a very seldom day of driving around different areas in the city where the IVLs dwelled, Marcus passed through Avers Street, where he allowed Lil G to reopen the block and have complete control over it. Of course Marcus kept him supplied with the best product, but since Marcus wasn’t hands-on with the block anymore, for some reason Avers wasn’t making the same type of money. Avers went from bringing in twenty thousand a day to now making anywhere from two to five stacks a day. Part of the reason for the decline was because of the surrounding blocks that had dope that was just as good, all sponsored by Marcus, and the lack of discipline.
Marcus and Pee Wee pulled up on Avers in his blue ‘96 Suburban with Pee Wee driving. The truck had jet-black tint on every window, so in order to be seen, the windows had to be let down.
“Wudd up, lord!” Lil G hollered out while pursuing the truck. “Jus’ the person I needed to see!” he said once noticing Marcus.
“Jump in and ride wit’ me so we can holla’.”
Before getting all the way in the car, Lil G instructed one of the shortys on what he needed done while he was gone.
They drove through the surrounding blocks so Marcus could check on things in the area when lil G blurted out, “Aey, lord, it’s been slow than’a muthafucka for me the last couple days.” He continued to state, “My customers been telling me somebody opened up down here on Lawndale.”
“Shouldn’t nobody be working on Lawndale,” Marcus calmly replied while being carefully observant of the blocks they drove through.
“Spoonie the only person close to you I gave some dope to and he got his guys working the Twenty-first Strip.”
“Let’s ride through Lawndale. I bet’chu we see some ma’fuckas out there working!” Lil G claimed as they accelerated a few blocks down Cermak. Lawndale was only a four-block radius from Avers Street. Once making it to the block, true enough they witnessed a steady flow of traffic; fiends frantically walking up with cash in hand, cars holding up traffic in the middle of the block, Shorty lords ripping back and forth, rotating packs—all signs of a booming joint!
“Damn!” Marcus inadvertently blurted out. “You what’nt bullshittin’, huh? Who that is standing over there on’a phone like he runnin’ some shit!” he said in an uneasy tone as they slowly exited down Lawndale.
“That’s Spoonie cousin,” Lil G answered while they yielded behind a car, with someone excitedly hollering back and forth with Spoonie cousin who stood on the sidewalk. “The nigga name Peanut. He one of them New Breeds from out of K-Town.”
As soon as Lil G mentioned “New Breed,” it instantly struck a nerve inside of Marcus. Not only was the opposition hustling on Vice Lord land, but to make matters worse, Marcus didn’t give permission, and his right-hand man’s toes were being stepped on. After the traffic cleared up and Marcus was able to pull closer to Peanut’s presence, he shouted out the window, “Aey, let me holla’ at'chu real quick.”
“Get out and holla’ then!” Peanut replied arrogantly.
“What!” Pee Wee reacted dramatically while instinctively grabbing hold of the handle of his pistol resting on his waistline. Marcus stopped Pee Wee in his tracks before he could let another word out.
“You right. Don’t go nowhere, let us catch’a park real quick,” Marcus calmly shouted out to Peanut as they swerved into the nearest park.
When Marcus and his two comrades got out approaching Peanut, he continued on with his phone conversation as if Marcus was some type of small-time street punk.
“Who put some work on this block?” Marcus boldly asked Peanut as they faced off.
“Let me call you right back,” Peanut said through the phone receiver. “What is it to you?” he replied in a cocky manner.
Marcus again had to restrain his guys from making a move against Peanut for being disrespectful.
“What is it to me?” Marcus said in disbelief. “Do you know who the fuck I am?!”
The shortys that gathered around the commotion felt the drama rising in the air once Marcus made that comment. They began to scatter away from the crowd, scared.
“Yeah, I know who you supposed to be. To my knowledge, my cousin runnin’ this sh—”
Smack! Was the loud sound that was heard from Marcus’s open hand landing fiercely on the jaw of Peanut before he was able to finish his statement. In the same motion, Marcus untucked his .9mm and muscled it in Peanut’s mouth.
“Listen here, muthafucka . . . !” Marcus aggressively spoke in a devilish tone. “Whoever gave you the green light to work over here steered you in the wrong direction. Now I advise you to get the fuck out’a dodge if you wanna live!” With one hand gripped around Peanut’s throat and the other with the pistol positioned in his mouth, Peanut still managed to show no signs of fear while coldly staring Marcus directly in the eyes.
In the midst of Marcus handling the situation, Lil G and Pee Wee had their pistols untucked in hand when Lil G yelled out to the lords on the block, “Whoever got the rest of this work better gimme that shit right now or a’ma’fucka getting violated!” Once that was said, the Shorty that was running the block immediately ran up and dropped the remaining of the blows in Lil G’s hands and demanded one of the other shortys to get the other packs from the hidden stash spot on the block.
With the pistol still rested in Peanut’s mouth, Marcus aggressively stated, “Muthafucka, you got thirty seconds to get the fuck out of my eyesight ‘fore I change my mind.”
By this time, a nice crowd had developed around the scene, and it was obvious that Peanut’s manhood and pride were crushed from that episode by how he slowly strolled off. Marcus knew it would’ve been a costly move to blow Peanut’s brains out in front of everyone on the block, but at the same time, deep down inside he knew it was a big mistake to show his pistol and not put it to use!