Chapter 21

 

Six months flew by without a peek of Cream. The pressure forced Jahad and Tony into a frantic tug-of-war match of wills. Tony was all for sending a message to Cream by any means, even if it meant using his mother. Anything to make him show his face. Jahad on the other hand held back, insisting on using those measures as a last resort. He didn’t want to stoop to Cream’s level unless it was absolutely necessary, being he knew Cream’s mother well. Valentino, on crates and eggs himself, settled the matter by filing a bunch of bogus motions so that Jahad’s trial date was postponed for close to a year, giving him time to uphold his end of the bargain.

As the months passed, Jahad noticed a dramatic change in Tony. His usual laid-back persona was gone, replaced with a determined will to see the Coco Twins go down. He had always been a thinker, that’s where his success came from in the drug game. What he lacked was aggressiveness. Not anymore. Now he was aggressive, quick to make important decisions on his own, and would put himself in situations where his life could be taken at the snap of a finger. Something he would have never done in the past.

Derrick, Kwan, and Joey also noticed the change; being they were the ones subjected to Tony’s orders, which they followed without questions, knowing his purpose. Since Derrick was the hot head, his job was to keep a steady eye on Cream’s building in case he tried to sneak home. Tony was leery about having his hustle in the park, fearing that his temper and hatred of the Coco Twins might cause him to say the wrong thing around the wrong people. Joey and Kwan, Tony kept in the park with him when they weren’t trying to keep tabs on Hector and José, a job that kept them constantly on the run.

While Tony handled business on the street, on Riker’s Island Jahad, Sha’, Lord, Prince, and Star (the Five Heads they would eventually be named) formed a bond that would soon ignite one incredible idea; an idea that would make them rich beyond their wildest dreams and feared almost as much as God. Already their reputations were spreading as being official stand up dudes, and dangerous as a whole, or individually. Once a week, sometimes twice, somebody was sent to the infirmary for the slightest infraction. At the same time, they were quick to show love to those they felt were worthy. What made them so much of a threat was a combination of things. They were all thinkers and planned out every assault before committing the deed. Nothing was done on impulse, unless it was absolutely called for. They were all hustlers, charged with murdering the people who tried to stop them from making money. And most of all, they were all natural born leaders with their own little cliques on the street, who held them down. Sha’s clique was Crook, Black Face, Trigger, Killer, and Rugged. Lord’s clique was Ruff, Magic, Bullet, Vito, Trey, and Apple. Prince’s clique was Muta, Pop, Hammer, and Gift. Star’s clique was Flash, Monte, Mooney, Biggie, and Corey. Through visitation, Jahad got the chance to meet them all, and they all seemed to be solid brothers. This originally sparked the idea, but at the time he dismissed it, thinking that it was impossible.

Meanwhile, the Coco Twins still hadn’t forgotten about Jahad. In fact, a ten thousand dollar price tag had been placed on his head after the word reached them of what happened to Carlos, who happened to be one of their affiliates. Since Jahad cliqued up with Sha’, Lord, Prince, and Star, all potential threats had ceased, being the five were a force to be reckoned with. Ten thousand dollars was enough money to erase a lot of fears though. To make matters worse, Jahad only let the Puerto Ricans use the phone once a day from nine to ten in the morning, causing greater animosity. Something had to be done, but the Puerto Ricans were far from stupid. To move on Jahad while his friends were around would be a suicide mission. So the six Puerto Ricans who took up the hit waited until the other four were at the commissary before making their move on Jahad. The day it happened, Jahad sat in his cell, high as hell, listening to a DJ Clue mix tape when he felt the sting from a razor slicing across the back of his neck, followed by a deep penetrating pain in his shoulder from the ice pick stab that was meant for his neck.

“Here’s a message from the Coco Twins!” Someone yelled behind him.

Instead of standing to face his attackers, which would have been a deadly mistake being there were three Puerto Ricans behind him armed with razors and ice picks, waiting to stab him in the chest, Jahad dropped low and forced his chair out between them while snatching two ice picks from his waist. Spinning he swung the ice pick in his right hand, stabbing the Puerto Rican closest to him in the side, then kicked his chair back into him forcing all three out of his cell. To get trapped inside he knew would probably cost him his life.

“Let’s get busy, you cowardly muthafuckas!” He yelled, stepping out of his cell with both ice picks held out in front of him, in his fighting stance. Blood ran freely from the back of his neck, soaking the white Adidas sweatshirt he wore, but he paid it no attention. His mind and body was focused solely on the three Puerto Ricans. With some people, fear was a crippler, slowed their thinking process. Jahad was just the opposite, fear made his brain work faster, his reflexes sharper.

Seeing the reckless expression on his face, the three Puerto Ricans paused a second before rushing in. Jahad bounced on his toes and sidestepped the first Puerto Ricans swing of a long ice pick, then struck out, stabbing his second attacker in the neck. Blood skeeted from the wound directly into Jahad’s eye, just as an ice pick pierced the left side of his jaw chipping two of his back teeth before comin out on the right side.

“Ah Shit!” He screamed when the ice pick was snatched from his jaw. He spit blood and bits of his teeth to the floor and got back into his fighting stance, facing the two remaining Puerto Ricans with his confidence building. Inmates stood inside their cells watching the action, awestruck, too scared to enter the dormitory.

The second time they rushed Jahad slipped in a pool of blood when the first Puerto Rican swung his ice pick and was stabbed in the right side of his chest as he fell to the floor. The pain was so intense that tears sprung to his eyes, but he quickly pushed himself to his feet. Feeding off his rage, he turned the tables and rushed his attackers, stabbing one of them in the eye. Still in attack mode, he faced the last Puerto Rican, then all at once his confidence faded. From the back of the dorm, three more came rushing towards him armed with ice picks. Weighing the odds, he knew he was looking into the face of death. Instead of trying to escape which would have been the logical thing to do, he embraced it.

“C’mon muthafuckas! Ya’ll might kill me, but word to my mother, one of you bastards gon’ die with me!” He shouted preparing for what he figured was his last battle when out of the corner of his eye he saw Sha’ running up with two knives in hand, followed by Star, Prince, and Lord. “Word! Let’s even this shit out.”

In a matter of seconds, the three Puerto Ricans were on the floor unconscious and bleeding from multiple stab wounds. From there, they turned their assaults on the whole dorm for not helping Jahad. After a few minutes, from one end of the dorm to the other, blood and unconscious dudes were strung out on the floor. Being the action had spread to the front of the dorm, Correctional Officers, monitoring both North side and South side dormitories, saw the brutal attacks and called in the Emergency Response Team, better known as the Turtles. The smallest guy in their squad stood 6’4” and weighed no less than 250 pounds. The rest were bigger than a New York Giant defensive lineman, and fucking up inmates was their specialty. What happened when they arrived wasn’t a pretty sight for Jahad and his friends, or anyone else in the dorm, who was stupid enough not to lock themselves in their cells. Hours later they woke up in the infirmary with concussions and broken bones, from there pushed in wheelchairs to lock-up.

The next day, once the pain medication wore off, Sha’ was the first to wake up. They were in a sixteen-man lock up with two tiers, eight cells on the bottom, and eight cells on top, locked up beside each other. Each cell held a steel bunk, a small steel table, and a steel sink attached to a steel toilet.

“Jah! Ayo Jah!” Sha’ called out from his bunk, unable to move because of the cast on his right leg, “Jah! Ayo, what the fuck happened?”

A few seconds passed and a lot of moaning before Jah answered, “Shit, I don’t know. I’m over here fucked up,” he called out from two cells over. His left arm was broke in two places, his neck in a brace, his whole face swollen, even his forehead, and he had forty stitches on the back of his neck, twenty-five on his left forearm, and ten on his right shoulder.

“Nah, I’m talking ‘bout with you and them damn Germans.”

“The muthafuckas tried to body me. The Germans I was beefin’ with on the street sent ‘em... What up with the rest of the fam’, they up here?”

“What you mean, what up?” Prince called out from the cell in between Sha and Jahad’s, “Those fuckin’ Turtles fucked us up, that’s what up.” His leg was broke along with his wrist and two of his fingers.

“Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!” Someone grunted loudly from the cell next to Sha’s.

“Who the fuck is that... Lord?” Sha’ called out.

“Uh uh!”

“Star?”

“Uh uh!”

“What, you can’t talk nigga?”

“Uh uh!”

“Let me find out they wired your shit up.”

“Uh uh!” Star grunted painfully, besides his broken jaw two of his teeth had been knocked out and his left leg was broke.

“Ayo word up Man. If I ever see one of them Turtle nigga’s on the street, I’m a body ‘em on the spot. I don’t give a fuck where I see ‘em at.” Lord called out from the end cell beside Star’s.

“You a’ight?” Jahad asked.

“Hell nah I ain’t a’ight. They broke both my fuckin’ legs and my arm. I’m over this muthafucka lookin’ like a damn mummy.”

“Well shit, if we fucked up like this, imagine how fucked up those Germans are. They got it twice.” Sha’ called out, laughing.

“Fuck you Moreno bastards! It ain’t over!” One of the Puerto Ricans who like Sha’ said, got it twice, yelled from a cell further down.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Prince called out dismissing him.

Laid back on his bunk, Jahad felt a wave of gratitude for his comrades. “Ayo, ya’ll niggas hear me? I love ya’ll for holdin’ me down; word up!”

“Go ‘head with that emotional shit Jah!” Sha’ called out with a smile in his voice.

~~~~

 

The following week they went up in front of the Disciplinary Board, where they were sentenced to 90 days segregation time, which was good considering the damage they did. During this time, Jahad’s original plan took root in his mind, using what he had planned for the Coco Twins as the foundation. All that was left to do was convince Sha’, Lord, Prince, and Star that it could work. Being he wanted to keep it a secret and a lot of ears were on lock up, he decided to wait before bringing it to their attention.

Exactly eighty-six days later, they were released back into regular population. After the story circulated how they ran through the whole dorm before the Turtles stopped in, they were practically living legends on Riker’s Island. An attempt was made to break them up, send each one to a different housing unit, but they weren’t going for it. The promise to cause havoc in whatever house they were sent to held weight with the top administrators. In the end, they were placed back in C-74 in the same dormitory where Jahad once more claimed the Puerto Rican phone out of spite.

Three months after getting off lock up, Jahad finally spoke about what had been on his mind for nearly six months, while they were all in his cell, smoking weed after visitation.

“Ayo, check this out. I’m ‘bout to spit some real shit.” He said, taking a deep pull from his blunt, coughing a few times before continuing, “We all built like that, right? We all hustlers, we all leaders, and we all in this muthafucka ‘cause niggas tried to stop us from eating. Now I had this shit on my mind for a minute, but...”

“What the fuck you talking ‘bout Jah?” Lord interrupted, reaching for the blunt.

“Chill nigga, let me finish... the two Puerto Rican dudes I was beefin’ with got the South Bronx in a choke hold right now. I got a plan tho’ that’s gon’ dead all that. Now peep this, Prince you had a diesel spot on Broadway and a coke spot on St. Nick, Sha’...”

“Yeah, but...”

Jahad held up a hand to silence him, “Sha’ you were getting money in East New York and Brownsville, Lord you were snatching paper in the Stuy, Star, you were doing your thing in Queens. So what I’m sayin’ is we take all that shit over. All we gotta do is put our heads together.”

No one spoke for a few seconds, then Prince burst out laughing, “Ayo, Sha’, what the hell is in these trees? Sun buggin’...how the hell we suppose to take some shit over and we locked up?”

“Hold up Prince. Let’s see where Jah is going with this shit.” Sha’ replied, intrigued.

“Yeah,” Star added.

“It’s like this, I’ma get the fuck up outta here with help from my man’s on the street. I can help ya’ll get out too. If I touch before any of you, I’m taking shit over in my hood. That’s my word!”

“A’ight, I’m feelin’ that,” Sha’ sat his blunt on the steel table, “but say you or any one of us gets out first. How we supposed to take nigga’s spots? Muthafuckas got teams out there Jah. Shit, say we all get out at the same time, we still ain’t strong enough to move on nigga’s shit. You talking ‘bout taking over spots in the Bronx, Harlem, Queens, and Brooklyn? C’mon we only five niggas.”

“Wrong,” Jahad said with a crooked grin, “together we like twenty deep with our cliques on the bricks. As of now my clique is built like that. From being around you niggas I know ya’ll don’t fuck with no weak ass dudes. If so, I’m telling you now from experience, cut them niggas lose.” He thought about Cream and the advice Valentino gave him. “Like I was sayin’ tho’, twenty strong niggas are more than enough to move on any team. What we do is plug our mans on the street together and have ‘em move as one unit, feel me?”

Prince nodded, warming to the idea, “I see your vision Sun, but it’ll take more than twenty niggas, especially if we’ll be going against some major niggas. You gotta leave room just in case somebody or a few niggas on our team gets bodied. Another thing, what about startup money? Say we do take over niggas spots, how we gon’ supply the work? That’s gon’ take mad dough.”

“I feel you about needing more than twenty niggas,” Lord said with a mischievous grin slowly turning the corners of his mouth. “I know the perfect way to get some startup money, tho’. It’s how we negotiate with niggas in Brooklyn. We kidnap their asses. We all know big time hustlers in our hoods, shit, those same niggas we were beefin’ with. We snatch up their moms or seeds and make ‘em pay out the ass.”

“Word!” Jahad nodded vigorously, “I ain’t even think of that. I was gon’ kill them two Puerto Rican bastards and be done with it. Now, I’m a snatch one of ‘em up and get a couple hundred thou’, then merk their asses. . . That’s what I mean by putting our heads together. This shit can work!”

“Yeah, but what about the niggas we gon’ need tho’?

Sha’ asked, “Prince made a good point, twenty niggas won’t do it.”

The room grew quiet as everybody started thinking. After about five minutes Star stood and slammed his hand down on the table, “I got it! Where do most live niggas we know come from? Niggas who been through some of the same shit we been through, get busy, and live by the code of the streets?”

Sha’ frowned, “What the hell you talking ‘bout Star?”

I’m talking ‘bout right here nigga. The Rock! We put niggas on the team from right in here. Live official niggas!”

“Oh shit, that’s it!” Jahad looked out his window at the recreation yard where inmates were playing basketball and working out on the pull-up bar. “Niggas know how we get down too so they’ll rock with us like that. We gotta keep this shit crazy low tho’, for real! If we can pull this off a lot a muthafuckas gon’ get bodied and what’s the use in doing anything if we ain’t gon’ be on the street to enjoy it. One nigga can sink the whole ship. Look at what Sammy did to the mob. So we gotta keep it low and make sure the niggas we pull are stand up niggas.”

Lord nodded, “This is what we do then... the niggas we pull, we don’t even let ‘em know what’s going down.”

“I’m feelin’ that, ‘cause we can’t leave no room for even one mistake. This is some serious shit right here, and in the wrong ears it could get us all fucked up in the end. So now that we have all this time on our hands, we use it to watch certain niggas to see if they fit the roster,” Jahad said, grabbing Sha’s blunt off the table.

“Jah your mans still getting money on the street?” Prince asked.

“Yeah, and guess what, they’re hustling for the same Puerto Rican dudes I was beefin’ with.”

“What!” Sha’ screwed up his face, “What type of shit your mans on?”

Jahad smiled, “Nah, check it. My man Tone is holdin’ down a lieutenant spot for ’em, at the same time, he’s finding out where they rest at, who they fuckin’, where they hang out at, and what spots they own. When I come home I’ll know exactly where to get ’em at, feel me? That plan sparked this whole idea.”

“Word!” Star said, grinning, “That’s some ill shit right there.”

“Yeah, and ya’ll niggas need to do the same thing. Tell your mans to plug in with some heavyweights and do the one on their whole operation. When we touch the bricks we’ll know exactly who our target is and how to get at ‘em. That shit Lord said about the kidnapping ties in with everything.” Jahad turned to Prince, “What were you gon’ say when you asked ‘bout my mans?”

“I’m sayin’, my fam still getting money on the Nick. How about the rest of you niggas? Your fam still out there eating?”

Sha’, Lord, and Star nodded.

“This what we do then. The niggas we put on the team, if they get out before we do, whatever borough they from, we’ll have someone from our clique pick ‘em up and hold ‘em all the way down until we get out and do what we do. That way niggas will know it’s all the way official, plus our fam can watch ‘em and make sure they ain’t no crack head Or no shit like that. We all know how niggas get locked up, pick up a little weight, then get on some guerrilla shit.”

“Ain’t no crack heads in here now is it?” Jahad asked, grinning, looking at his friends who all gave him a scowl.

“We gon’ fuck around and jump your ass in here Jah. Ain’t no Pooky’s in this muthafucka. . . is it?” Sha’ burst out laughing.

This is where it all started. In a small eight by ten cell, with five determined hoodlums. Since they were all hustlers, they agreed to call their clique the M.G.’s, which stood for Money Getters. At the time, none of them had any idea how big the M.G.’s would grow, the lives it would affect, or the lives it would take including their own.