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During the next two days, Keith continued with his regular routine. He was mindful not to do anything out of the norm to avoid any type of suspicion. Unsure of the twin’s fate, combined with not hearing from Mack, Keith became nervous because of his role in the kidnapping.
After washing up and getting dressed, he grabbed a sandwich bag containing fifty ten-dollar bags of crack, his 9 mm Rugar, and left his apartment. He secured the door. When he turned around, he stopped in his tracks, and locked eyes with Mack who sat in the passenger’s seat of Terry’s new Mercedes S550.
“Wassup, cannon? You gon’ get in, or you gon’ stand there and stare at me?” Mack asked.
A sly smile crept onto Keith’s face. He jumped in the back seat, happy to know Mack was safe. “Nigga, why you ain’t answer your phone?”
“I’ve been real busy, but I tried to call you this morning.”
Keith pulled out his phone and looked at it. “I ain’t even turn it on, yet.”
“Keith, I want you to meet my man, T-Lova.” Terry turned partially in his seat and gave Keith some dap.
“I heard a lot about you,” Terry said. “You wanna ride with us for a while?”
“Yeah, but I’m dirty. I got some work and my gun on me. Let me run back in my crib and put it up. Plus, I gotta get ya money, Mack.”
Keith got out of the car and rushed into his apartment. A few minutes later, he was back in the Mercedes. Terry pulled off. Keith tossed a brown paper bag over Mack’s shoulder. It fell on his lap. “That’s the eight stacks you gave me.”
Mack removed the money from the bag. “Are you sure it’s all here?”
“Yep,” Keith said proudly.
“If I count it, and it’s not all there, then what?”
“Then, I’m responsible for whatever’s missing.”
Mack twisted in his seat and handed the cash back to Keith. “That’s the right answer.”
“Huh?” Keith slowly extended his hand to accept the money, but his facial expression displayed confusion.
“When a soldier does wrong, he must be disciplined. When a solder does well, he must be rewarded. This is your reward.”
“Damn. Thanks, Mack.” Keith marveled at the money differently knowing that it now belonged to him. “How can I ever be disloyal to someone who wants me to do good?”
“Stay loyal to us and the sky’s the limit,” Terry added.
“It’s not every day that we allow someone in our circle,” Mack explained. “So, I think we should celebrate. You ready to spend some of that bread?”
“Hell no! I want to flip this bread. I never had this much money at one time before.”
Terry and Mack looked at each other and laughed. “As long as you do the right things, you may have some problems, but money won’t be one of them,” Terry assured Keith.
“I’ll tell you what, if you can blow those eight bands tonight, I’ll give you another eight bands in the morning,” Mack challenged. All Keith could do was smile. “Let’s go to King of Prussia Mall, then tear Atlantic City up tonight.”
“Shit, you just gave me an offer I can’t refuse. Let’s do it.” Keith sat back in the comfortable leather seat.
After everything they said settled in, he leaned forward. “Ya’ll know I’m only twenty, right?”
“So? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not going to be able to get in the clubs out there.”
Terry giggled. “When you’re with SP you have diplomatic immunity.” They eased into the mall’s huge parking lot, got out, and entered.
“We ain’t goin’ shopping for hoodies and boots, li’l nigga,” Mack joked. “You gotta be on your grown and sexy shit tonight.”
They strolled into Nieman Marcus and Keith ran around the department store like a puppy taken off the leash. Within ten minutes, he came back to Mack and Terry holding a Prada knit sweater and a pair of Polo cotton slacks.
He displayed the outfit that he had picked out, waiting for their approval. They simultaneously shook their heads in disdain.
“You goin’ to the gambling spot on 32nd and York wearing that?” Mack cracked.
“Put that shit back on the sale rack, and come with us. We gon’ get you right, young bawh,” Terry said.
They left the mall carrying bags containing tailored button down dress shirts and slacks by Giorgio Armani, Hugo Boss and Salvatore Ferrogamo. They chose different designer hard bottom shoes that matched their outfits.
As evening approached, Mack picked up the champagne tan Maserati Levante SUV, which was pre-ordered specifically for Dynasty Luxury Rentals, before they boarded the highway.
Once Atlantic City, New Jersey, became visible, Keith couldn’t contain his excitement. The young man was captivated by the larger than life casino hotels and beautiful bright lights that accompanied them. Never had he been afforded the opportunity to travel outside the State of Pennsylvania. He was inside the most luxurious vehicle he’d ever saw in his life, with more money than he’d ever had in his life. And he was in the company of two of the richest men he’d ever met. Mack and Terry had single-handedly changed his quality of living. In such a short period of time, they had become amongst the most important people to him.
“Oh, shit!” Keith blurted out. “That’s the Borgata Hotel and Casino right there!”
“You heard of that place before?” Mack asked.
“Damn right. That’s where all the stars go,” Keith shot back.
“Well, since we’re hood stars, then that’s where we need to be,” Terry suggested.
Mack navigated the Maserati into the parking lot. Once inside the grand hotel, Terry used one of his credit cards to rent three indulgent and expensive suites.
With bags in hand, they retreated to their quarters. Less than two hours later, the trio reunited at the hotel’s main lobby. People who crossed their path had little choice but to take notice of the impeccably dressed men. Their demeanor and attire cast an aura of prestige.
Keith was very perceptive. He quickly came to the understanding that he had to take control of his youthful energy and emulate the laid-back swagger of Mack and Terry. He remained in step with them as they strolled to the casino.
Their first stop was the blackjack table. They sat down and began to play, and the cards were not kind to them. In a short amount of time, Mack lost six thousand dollars in chips, Terry had lost a little over four thousand, and, Keith, who had been playing conservatively, was down nine hundred.
“This muthafucka is raping us.” Terry gave the evil eye to the dealer. “Let’s hit the craps table,” he suggested.
“Alright. This is my last hand.” Mack placed six thousand in chips on the table. The dealer dealt him two cards, a jack and a ten. Mack had twenty points. The dealer’s two cards was an eight and a seven. “Yeah!” Mack jumped to his feet with a confident smile. “I’m good. Hit yourself,” he instructed the dealer.
The dealer removed a card from the deck and expertly flipped it. The card was an ace. With only sixteen points, he was forced to hit himself again. Removing another card, he turned it over. The card was a five. The dealer now had twenty-one points. Mack’s smile vanished as he stared at the cards in disbelief. The dealer glanced at Mack, then swooped up his chips and the cards.
“What the fuck you lookin’ at me with that stupid ass expression for?”
“Sorry, sir,” the thin, older white man said nervously.
“Sorry? You just took more money from me than you make in a month and all you can say is you’re sorry? Don’t be sorry, be a dealer, and deal me another fuckin’ hand!”
“P...please place your bet on the table, sir.” The man was afraid to look Mack in the eyes.
“Come on, bruh. If you stay you’re gonna be chasing the money you lost all night. Let’s try our hands with the dice.” Terry stood up, and Keith followed suit. Reluctantly, Mack got up from the table, as well. He glared at the dealer while he stood to his feet. The dealer’s eyes remained on the table.
“H...have a good night, gentlemen,” the dealer pushed the words out.
“Shut ya ass up!” Mack snapped.
It didn’t get much better for them at the craps table. Mack was on the dice and he couldn’t hit his numbers.
“Mack, let me get the dice,” Keith suggested.
“Aaight, hold up.” Mack rolled a six. After placing three thousand dollars in bets, he rolled the dice again. The numbers on the dice added up to seven. Terry was just as upset as Mack, because he was betting on Mack’s shot.
“Mack, I’m telling you, let me get the dice,” Keith pleaded.
“Here, man.” Mack relinquished the dice in frustration.
Keith placed a one hundred dollar bet and rolled a seven on his first shot. He won.
“Beginner’s luck,” Mack mumbled.
“You told me not to believe in luck, remember?” Keith shook and threw the dice onto the felt lined table. The dice landed on...eleven. He won again. “Yes!” Keith exploded, throwing his hands in the air victoriously.
Terry saw that Keith was hitting his numbers at an alarming rate. He placed a three thousand dollar bet on Keith’s roll. Keith rolled and Terry won. That made Mack a believer. By now a small crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle. Roll after roll, he barely missed. Because of Keith’s hot hand they won all that was lost at the blackjack table, plus a lot more.
Noticing that he was a few thousand dollars richer, Keith dropped the dice as quickly as he initially picked them up. He began to gather his chips.
“Whatchu doin’? Terry asked confused.
“I’m done.” Keith was now organizing his chips.
“You can’t be done. You’re killing ‘em,” Mack said.
“Let’s quit while we’re ahead,” Keith stated flatly.
“Fuck this money. We’re always going to be ahead,” Terry shot.
“It may be nothin’ to ya’ll, but this is everything to me. I’ve never had this much money before and I ain’t gon’ lose it as quick as I got it.” The look on Keith’s face gave them a clear view of just how important that money was to him.
After looking at the situation through Keith’s eyes, Mack smiled. “Say no more, cannon. Let’s go.”
“What it do, Mack?” Everyone turned around to see who was the source of the southern accented voice.
“Oh, shit. Wassup, 2 Chainz?” Mack walked up and greeted his friend with a pound and a hug.
Terry gave him a pound as well. They had been introduced to 2 Chainz through a mutual friend who recommended their rental car service to him. 2 Chainz instantly took a liking to them. Just like him, they were brought up in the streets, and now working towards creating a legitimate lifestyle.
“I’m on my way to HQ. I’m performing there tonight. Ya’ll comin’ through?”
“You know we can’t miss that,” Terry said.
2 Chainz reached into his pocket and pulled out three tickets. “Here, these are VIP tickets. Only the best for the best.”
Mack accepted the tickets. “Thanks, man. We’ll see you later on.” They shook hands and 2 Chainz left.
Keith remained frozen in the same spot holding a shocked expression the entire time.
“Damn, this night keeps getting better and better.” Mack tucked the tickets away with a generous smile spread across his face.
“Do ya’ll know who that was?” Keith finally spoke up. Before anyone had a chance to respond, he continued. “That was 2 Chainz in person!” Keith was talking more to himself than to Mack or Terry. “My favorite rapper was just in front of me. I gotta get his autograph.” He spun around in the direction that 2 Chainz left.
Mack quickly reached out and was able to get a hold on Keith’s arm. “Slow down young money. You’ll see him again tonight,” Mack promised.
––––––––
2 Chainz’s performance was electric. The crowd remained in a frenzy even after his show was over. The intense energy that he cast to his audience was undeniable.
Moments later he joined Mack, Terry and Keith in the VIP section, a slightly elevated area above the dance floor, separated by a waist high wall. The tables were adorned with chilled bottles of Ciroc, Ace of Spades, Conjur and D’Usse’.
2 Chainz, Mack and Terry sat back, relaxed on the comfortable couches with bottles in their hands, enjoying the music. The combination of alcohol and youthful energy had Keith too wired to remain seated. He diddy-bopped to every song while waving his bottle of Ace of Spades Rosé in the air.
“Yo, Mack!” a man yelled out from the floor. “Mack, wassup, nigga? Can I get in VIP with you?”
Mack looked to see who was yelling his name. It was Raheem, a stocky man, medium height, with a Caesar cut. He was wearing a black T-shirt, black fitted jeans and three large gold chains. Mack used to serve him weight, but he hadn’t dealt directly with him in about a year.
“If I could, I would...I’m a guest myself, Scrap,” Mack shouted over the music.
“Nigga, you actin’ funny ‘cause you with 2 Chainz? Stop dick ridin’. He ain’t the only nigga with money!” Raheem pulled out a pocket full of bills and flung them into the VIP section.
Mack’s anger had risen in a heartbeat, but before he had a chance to react, Keith grabbed a fresh gold bottle from the table and hopped over the divider. The champagne bottle glistened as the club’s lights reflected off its shiny surface. In one fluid, swift movement, Keith raised the bottle in the air. He was so quick, Raheem could only raise his hands to block what was surely coming. His reflex wasn’t enough. Keith’s momentum caused the bottle to come down with brute force, splitting Raheem’s forehead. The impact buckled his knees. Keith swung again, connecting. That blow dropped Raheem. Keith straddled him, raining blow after blow to his mug. The thick bottle never broke as it was continuously bashed against Raheem’s face, causing distorting damage.
Mack and Terry rushed over to pull Keith off Raheem. Blinded by anger, he struggled against them to get back at his victim. The club’s security came and quickly dissolved the situation by escorting everyone outside.
“Yo, what the fuck’s wrong with you?” Terry scolded Keith.
“Man, fuck that. Ain’t nobody gon’ disrespect ya’ll in front of me. I don’t give a fuck who it is.” Keith looked Terry in the eyes as they stood outside the club, feeling the crisp bite of the night’s weather seep through their expensive fabrics.
“You know what, I gotta respect that,” Terry admitted reluctantly. “But you can’t always react out of anger. People judge us by our actions. You’ve heard the saying a million times: Real G’s move in silence. You gotta keep the gangster and the gentleman separated. No one should be able to pull the goon out of you, but you.”
“You’re right,” Keith acknowledged.
“What’s done is done. We’re not gon’ let that shit spoil our night. It’s still early. I’m about to text 2 Chainz and tell him to meet us at the Borgota casino. Let’s see if we can knock off some broads...”