Chapter Fifteen
“Is that him right there?” Tito asked one of his flunkies as he pointed to a man standing on the corner.
“Yeah, that’s him, the flunky answered surely.
Tito slowly slid out of the driver’s seat of his Lexus, making his way over to the corner followed by his flunky.
“Yo, my man, ya name Carl?” Tito asked, approaching the man standing on the corner.
“Yeah, why, who wants to know?” Carl responded, looking Tito up and down.
“Yo, my man! Is this your block? I need to speak to the mu’fucka who’s running this shit,” Tito stated harshly.
“You talking to him now,” Carl replied, not afraid to get ignorant if he had to.
“Listen, I hear your block is going some good numbers,” Tito said as he took a short pause before he continued. “Long story short, I need in.”
“Nigga, you must be crazy! This my shit!” Carl said, raising his voice.
“Listen, either you take my package or you can step the fuck off. Simple as that,” Tito said, sounding smooth.
“This is my block and I ain’t about to start sharing it with nobody!” Carl said, standing his ground.
“Brother, either you take my package or I send my shooters up here every day and make this shit hot. Then you won’t be getting no money. With me, at least you’ll be getting forty percent and giving up sixty, so let me know how you wanna play it,” Tito said, slipping a blunt between his lips. Carl didn’t respond as he weighed the options in his head. Tito took Carl’s silence as acceptance. “That’s what I thought. Carl, my man will be up here tomorrow with that package. Sixty-forty split.” Tito chuckled as he walked back to his Lexus.
Tito knew if he threatened Carl to make his block hot he would fold like a paper bag, plus Carl knew Tito wasn’t bluffing. “This shit is too fuckin’ easy, Tito said to himself as he headed to the Bronx to go pick up one of his girlfriends. Tito wasn’t playing no games, if you were making money he was definitely coming to see you. His name really started buzzing after he shot this big-time drug dealer that wasn’t willing to share his real estate. He was making more money than he ever imagined. Life couldn’t get any better than it already was. Tito even went out and bought himself a big chain that had Tito spelled on it in diamonds, along with a diamond flooded bracelet with the pinky ring to match. He also went out and bought himself a brand-new cherryred convertible Porsche. Every other day Tito found himself getting pulled over by the cops due to him being so flashy, but he didn’t care. That’s just how Tito was; you could love it or hate it. Tito zoomed in and out of the highway lanes doing ninety in a fifty-five speed zone, when he heard his cell phone ringing.
“Yo, who this?” he asked.
“It’s me, Fresh.”
“Oh, what’s good, my nigga?” Tito asked, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Come to the warehouse, I need to talk to you,” Fresh stated, holding his cards to his chest and revealing nothing in his tone.
“A’ight I’ll be there tomorrow,” Tito said nonchalantly.
“Nah, I need to see you right now, B,” Fresh said, slamming the phone down in Tito’s ear.
“Bitch-ass nigga,” Tito mumbled as he closed his phone.
Tito parked his new Porsche in front of the warehouse. “What’s good, you wanted to see me?” Tito asked, helping himself to a seat.
“What’s really good with you, B?” Fresh asked in a firm tone.
“What you talking about?” Tito asked, cleaning his nails.
“I hear you in business for yourself now.” Fresh looked at Tito for a comment.
“Yeah, you know I had to step out, and spread my wings. We born to fly, you know?” Tito said in his best pimp voice.
“So who’s promoting you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Who’s supplying you?” Fresh growled, getting upset.
“Names aren’t important, Tito said nonchalantly.
“It’s like that now, Tito?” Fresh asked with ice in his voice.
“It’s just like that, B, I’m supposed to just starve waiting for you? I don’t think so, you feeding that nigga Pop more than you feeding me what kind of shit is that? That’s some sucker shit, I’m the one who been holding you down for years not him.”
“Listen Tito it doesn’t—” Fresh said.
“No, nigga, you listen,” Tito barked, cutting Fresh off. “I put in way more work than anybody on this team, and all you did was shit on me, who the fuck is Pop? Nobody!” Tito said, answering his own question. “Next time I see that nigga that’s my word, I’ma pop that nigga.”
“Listen to me carefully, Tito. You are no longer welcome in this family. You ain’t shit but a disloyal flunky,” Fresh said, staring Tito dead in his eyes. “I’m only going to tell you this one time: get your peoples off my corners or it’s going to be a problem. What, you thought you was just gonna muscle your way on everybody’s corners without me finding out? Those last three block you took over in the Bronx belong to me, and I’d appreciate it if you got your peoples off those three blocks before I do,” Fresh warned.
“No problem,” Tito responded drily. “Can I go now?”
“Get the fuck out of here, next time you don’t get no pass. Rusty, show this mu’fucka to the door,” Fresh ordered.
“Not a problem,” Rusty stated as he escorted Tito to the exit.
“Don’t touch me, mu’fucka, I know how to walk,” Tito jerked his arm from Rusty’s grip. “Get the fuck off me.”
Once Tito made his exit Fresh started up again. “This mu’fucka got a lot of nerves,” he said out loud.
“If you want me to clip that nigga just say the word,” Rusty stated plainly.
“Nah, I got something even better for that clown,” Fresh stated flatly, leaning back in his chair.
“Yo, this nigga Fresh tried to get fly with me earlier,” Tito said heatedly, not liking how Fresh came at him.
“Word? What happened?” Bamboo asked.
“Nothing, he just mad ‘cause I’m out here getting paper like it’s the eighties all over again, you dig,” Tito said, pouring himself a drink.
“So you gonna take care of him or do I need to send out my hit squad again?” Bamboo asked, knowing firsthand that Fresh was going to be hard to kill.
“Nah, I’ll take care of him myself,” Tito responded quickly. “He ain’t as strong as he used to be.”
“A’ight, once it’s done I’ll have twenty thousand waiting for you,” Bamboo told him.
“Now you speaking my language,” Tito said, finishing up his drink.
“I’ll see you next week, my dude,” Tito said as he disappeared out the front door.