prologue-meet the streets

“This will be over in two minutes.”

In a car full with three of the most ruthless people to be born on the East Coast, that statement meant a lot of things. All three men were brothers that went under one name: Street. They were a family made up of 7 brothers and 5 sisters. Their parents were both in the military and taught them the art to surviving very young. If you cross the path of any of the Street clan, two minutes was all you have left.

The most dangerous brother of the family was one of the passengers of the car. Larenz Street, known as L-Train because his punches felt like you got hit by a train, was the third oldest boy and the fourth installment in the Street unit. Like his older brothers, he used the military to get a college education and also to gain access to the most sophisticated weaponry this side of the Atlantic Ocean. While everybody in the family knew how to use guns, only one of the brothers that were born after him and himself loved guns. They had weapons stashed in warehouses, underground cellars, even police stations. In fact, the second oldest brother and the two of the brothers below Larenz were in law enforcement.

Larenz was the troublemaker out of the bunch and had been chastised many times by his parents for acting out. In fact, he got so use to getting spanked that by the age of nine, his father had to literally fight him to at least act appropriate. If Larenz had a problem with someone or if that person messes with his family, from his sisters to his cousins to his nieces, that person had better learn to be a hermit. Because if Larenz found you, where ever you were at, that was where they would be identifying the body at.

Amard Street, the driver of the vehicle was not as troublesome as his older brother Larenz but was just as bad. Amard was the fifth oldest and the fifth installment. Larenz and him were born about 18 months apart so they were thick as thieves. Out of all the brothers, Larenz and him had the strongest bond. If Larenz had a problem, Amard had a problem. Amard was Drama spelled backwards because wherever he went that was what he caused. Even in the womb, he was fighting with his mother. His nickname was short and sweet and said everything about him: Problem.

The brother in the back seat was the second born of the Street household named William. All the family members called him Wolf because he could attack at any time. He wasn’t outright violent as the two members in the car but if you caught him on the wrong day, it was trouble. It didn’t help the fact that he was a cop as well. He would bust drug dealers, find their stash and make them smoke their own product. He had turned one of the major drug dealers on his corner into a fiend.

“This nigga is really stupid,” Larenz was saying from the passenger seat of the Ford Explorer. “He thinks he can get away with it. I feel so sorry for him.”

As the Explorer turned another block, a couple of people on the street knew that there was going to be trouble. Everybody on the block knew about that Ford Explorer and the occupants in it. It was commonly known as the “Street Sweeper.” If you saw that car with the license plates, Strtswpr, you knew to go the other direction.

“Do what you gots to do,” William said cleaning the semi-automatic he had in his hands. “I check the scanners. You got a ten minute window. But I knew them boys so you cool.”

Larenz nodded his head in agreement. It was good to have a police officer in your corner, in case things got out of hand. His older sister, Latrice, was a lawyer and another one was a certified nurse. It was plenty of times having those two assets helped the Street family out.

Larenz pulled out his trusted Smith & Wesson .45 handgun and admired the polish. He took care of his guns almost as good as his younger brother, Amard.

“This is going to be fun,” Larenz giving the slide handle of his gun a quick kiss before snapping back the lever. It snapped back in place.

“In and out, two minutes,” He repeated and looked at his watch.

“There he go,” Amard said pointing at one of the four men standing in front of a bodega.

The one Larenz was after was wearing a black hoodie and a pair of Air Jordans one of his brothers had said they wanted for his birthday.

Larenz pressed the stopwatch function on his watch to begin timing and hopped out the car. Larenz walked straight to the guy in the hoodie, raised his hand with the pistol in it and smacked the guy dead in the mouth. The guy fell hard on the concrete from the blow. The other boys that were surrounding the man were about to reach under their garments when they heard a whistle and turned around. William and Amard were standing by the hood of the Explorer looking at them and shaking their heads. The goons knew they were no match for the Street team so they backed off and let Larenz continue his business.

Larenz hit the guy again with the butt of his firearm letting more blood spray out from the fellow’s mouth.

“I hear you talking shit, Alonzo,” Larenz said as he began kicking Alonzo in the stomach.

Larenz lifted Alonzo’s head a little bit and hit him again. Larenz could see Alonzo gasping for air, covering his face with one hand and trying to reach for something with his other. Larenz beat him to the punch.

“You got something for me, huh?” Larenz kicked him in the face with his boots making Alonzo head snap back.

Larenz lifted his hoodie jacket and pulled out the .38 special Alonzo had tucked in the waistband of his jeans.

“This was for me,” Larenz said tucking his .45 in his waistband and using the .38 now to pistol whip Alonzo. “This is my present. Thanks.”

Larenz knelt down beside Alonzo who was now covered in blood and his face half busted in and whispered in his ear.

“The only reason you are not dead is because I own you now,” Larenz said. “You are my bitch. You don’t make a move unless I tell you. You don’t breathe unless I give you permission. Do you understand?”

Alonzo with both of his eyes almost shut closed and his mouth busted just stared at Larenz.

“I’m only going to ask once,” Larenz preparing to raise his hand again.

Alonzo slowly nodded and spitted more blood unto the pavement.

Larenz smiled and got up. He looked at the thugs that were still standing there.

“As of now, this piece of shit, Alonzo Tate, is my bitch,” Larenz announced. “If anyone of y’all so much as talk to this dude, drink, smoke or as so much as piss next to this nigga, y’all become bitches by association. Is that understood? I control that motherfucker’s every move from here on out.”

The hooligans looked at each other and then the brothers and walked away.

“Two minutes and a half,” Amard said smiling as he got in the vehicle.

“Shit, I owe you lunch,” Larenz laughed. “I got you.”

Larenz bent down and went into Alonzo’s pocket and took out his wallet and pulled out the money from it. He threw the wallet back in Alonzo’s face and stood up.

“Yo, what size shoe Ashon wears?” Larenz yelled at his brothers in the car.

“Ten, nigga,” William said from the backseat window. “Get your silly ass in the car.”

Larenz looked at the size tag on the inside of the tongue of Alonzo’s sneaker.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Larenz said smiling. “Bingo. You are good for something after all.”

 

 

 

On the wall painted on the corner two blocks away from the Street Family House lays a mural. The mural is made to look like a tablet with the four commandments to survive in that neighborhood.

The words on the tablet is in big red letters. It reads: Street Laws. Don’t Compete with the Street. Don’t have Beef with the Street. Don’t Tell On the Street. Don’t Cheat on the Street.

Anybody that lived on that block, that area, or even the side of town obeyed those laws like they were sent down from Moses himself. It was also known that although the Street brothers were treacherous, the sisters were just as bad. If they even suspected the man they was with of cheating or doing anything extra, he might find his balls glued to his thigh, rat poison in his food or drink, or a good old fashion pistol whipping. The sisters were not to be played with. They all were beautiful in their own way. And even though they came from the same gene pool, they all varied in shape, skin tone, and other body features. Together the Street family were the perfect people to have as a friend but even worse to have as an enemy.

“Yeah, that nigga must be crazy,” the third sister with the chinky eyes, Latoya, was saying to her little sister, Natasha, the skinniest sister out the bunch.

The two sisters were out on the stoop of their house sipping lemonade and doing what they do best: gossip. Latoya was petite but had a backside that Jennifer Lopez would beg to have. She never understood why her waist was so small but her butt was big. Her sister, Natasha, on the other hand was a little smaller but had no ass and barely enough titties to fill a shirt. What guys liked most about her was her voice. It was so soft and sexy that most guys got off just talking to her.

Latoya, aka LaLa, was what men would bag up and call wifey but she had one problem: her mouth. She would cut a brother down to size real fast and if you couldn’t come back at her, she would chew you up. If you did not come correct when you approached her, be prepared to get your feelings hurt. She liked the thug type guys with a little gentleman in them. Her Mocha brown skin, chinky eyes, and firm backside were what brought all the boys in the yard. Her father couldn’t count how many boys his sons and him had to run off because of her. Out of all his girls, Latoya and Natasha was the most troublesome.

Latoya could have been moved out of her parents’ house. So many suitors had tried to convince her to move in with them. Latoya refused. As much as she loved going and spending their money, she was not ready to get tied to no man. Besides she had more fun watching her brothers beat a guy up if he got out of line.

Natasha, aka Nay-Nay, had a seductive voice but stayed quiet. She was told many times she should be a phone sex operator. However, her body was shaped more like a small boy. She had a small waist and a cute face but with a small bra size and a mini rear end, she basically wore wife beaters and jeans making her look like a project chick. But her voice always made men surprised. And like her sister, LaLa, no man was worthy enough yet for her to settle with. Let alone meet their father.

“So why he beat Alonzo again?” Natasha asked her older sister taking another sip of the homemade lemonade she had made earlier.

“Something about the guy was talking about him,” Latoya informed her. “If you ask me, Renz be taking things to the extreme.”

“Isn’t that guy Alonzo supposed to be big time?” Natasha questioned knowing she had heard his name before.

“Not when it comes to Street,” Latoya said proudly.

Just then her cellular phone rang from the clip on her hip.

“Yes, this is LaLa,” Latoya greeted the caller. “Yeah, boo, I’m at the house. What time? Yeah, I didn’t see that movie. Sounds cool. Are you taking me to that restaurant? You better. My sister here. Don’t be hooking her up with none of your lame ass friends either. She too good for that. They better proper like she is. Okay, call me when you ready. Bye.”

Latoya closed the flip of her cell phone and looked at her sister.

“That’s Raheim,” Latoya said bluntly. “He wants to go out and check out this movie. I basically don’t do movies but fuck it, it will keep me entertain for two hours.”

“Why you still messing with that dude?” Natasha inquired.

“Because I like having that punk think he got baller status,” Latoya said. “Him being with me is like him being with a star. He don’t know how to act. He thinks he get money. All I want to know is where he be getting it from so I can put Tommy unto him.”

“You no good,” Natasha said laughing at her sister.

“You got that right,” Latoya agreed. “Wait a minute. Who is that?”

Natasha turned around and almost turned deaf from the loud music blasting from a white Denali coming up the block. The windows were tinted and you could only see a shadow from the driver’s seat.

The Denali stopped in front of the sisters and a woman got out of the truck from the passenger side. She closed the door and waved as the vehicle pulled off. When the female turned around, the siblings were surprised to see it was their baby sister, Ariel.

“Look at you,” Latoya said as she checked out her baby sister outfit from head to toe. “Wassup, Get ‘Em Girl?”

“Nothing much,” Ariel said with the biggest smile holding her Fendi bag in her hand like a trophy. “That was Rolla. He from the other side.”

“Okay, that’s whats up,” Latoya said. “Glad to see you still pimping.”

Ariel laughed at that comment. To her, she always had been ‘pimping’. Ariel was what the family called the mixture. She had her sister Latoya’s ass but a little smaller, Queen’s Double Dees chest size, Natasha’s soft voice and Lisa’s slanted eyes. She was the total package. She was the worse one out of the bunch that neither her parents, nor her sisters, nor her brothers could control. She was nicknamed ‘Get ‘Em Girl’ because anything she wanted she went after it. Nobody ever refused Ariel. No man ever had the power to resist. She loved when a guy showed no interest in her because that made her pursued him more. She had men leave their wives, their kids, their houses, even their jobs to be with her. From the hustlers to the executives, she had men lining up to get with her. If she liked you, you were the luckiest man for the time being. When your time was up, your best bet was to just remember the good times. Because what Ariel hated was a weak man. So far the only guy that hadn’t fell for her advances all the way was a college basketball star named Roland Power who everybody called Rolla because he would roll right over you. He liked Ariel but he never gave her the type of attention all the men she ever dated give her. She liked that. He was her new conquest. When she really trapped him and he became a sucker for love like the rest, his timecard would be clocked too and she would be off to the next man.

“What’s up, Get ‘em?” Natasha asked. “You trying to put that dude on the roster?”

“Ummmm, I might,” Ariel said with a cheese smile. “He’s a cool guy and I like him but you know me, love me and leave them. What about you two hoochies? Whose roster got upgraded since I’ve been gone?”

“Naw, still working on my small forward,” Latoya laughed.

The ‘roster’ was something invented by their brothers but the sisters adopted. The term came from players on a basketball team. The point guard is usually the baller or a man that has money. He’s the one you go to when you want to be wined and dined and felt like a queen. Most of the ‘point guards’ the sisters dealt with were usually married but that didn’t bother them as long as the men were good to them. The power forward is the thug of the group. He’s somewhat of a baller but he’s known for being reckless. He mostly would be a hustler primarily a drug dealer of some sort. The sisters like someone that can gain control sometimes and handle business. Small forwards are the dominant men who are well respected. They are what the sisters call Executive Thugs. They share hoodlum qualities but are businessmen. Mostly they were men who use to be drug dealers but found better ways but still had the hood mentality. The shooting guards were the ones that stepped up to the plate when one of the other potentials started lacking and they just needed that fulfillment. And the Center was the grand Daddy. He had it all, money, respect, and power. He was the one that had connections and was in everything. He would be the Nicky Barnes of the drug game or the Bill Gates of the executive world. Centers were hard to come by so if any of the sisters ever caught one, that would be it. However, usually the small and power forwards try and portray themselves as centers but they get called out rather quickly.

"Well, my power forward coming to pick me up," Natasha bragged. "And he’s bringing a friend for LaLa. I can see if he got a friend for you."

Ariel snickered.

"Please," she said.

Natasha laughed and rolled her eyes.

"I forgot Get 'em only fucks with the elite," Natasha laughed.

"Exactly," Ariel smiled. "But naw, I'm good. I got to get some sleep. Who in there?"

"Ashon nerd ass in there studying," Lala answered. "That's about all."

"Cool," Ariel said walking past the two sisters and heading to the front door of the brownstone.

As Ariel entered the brownstone, a Ford Expedition pulled up in front of the two sisters.

Jacob, one of Larenz' street workers, hopped out the car wearing a Lakers jersey and jeans and a yellow and purple LA hat covering his head. He walked up to Latoya.

"Sup, LaLa," he addressed. "Sup, Nay. Y'all seen Renz?"

"No, what's up?" Latoya asked.

"Some dudes been looking for him hard," Jacob replied. "They rolled up on the strip on some real debo shit. They didn't flex, just said their piece and bounced."

Latoya shook her head.

"They say what they wanted?" Latoya asked.

"Not in so many words," Jacob said. "Just they needed to speak with him. While anyway, i got to hit the bricks but let Renz know if you see him before I do to get at me."

"Will do," Latoya said with a smile.

Jacob was about to walk away but then turned around.

"Yo, LaLa, when a brother going get that chance to take you out?" Jacob asked Latoya.

Natasha laughed and Latoya gave her a stern look.

"You know I would love to," Latoya said. "But you know I have a rule against dating any of my brother's peoples."

"Yeah get your weight up, nigga," Natasha added then laughed.

"I feel you but when I get straight, I want you to think about it," Jacob said then went back to his jeep.

He waved at the duo as he pulled off.

"Why you always got to play him?" Latoya asked her sister.

"Because he a bum," Natasha remarked. "Sure he dress fly and he got a nice little whip but that's all from being Renz' lieutenant. That's like fucking with the help. You said it yourself."

Latoya shook her head. She had to admit it Natasha was right. She could never fully respect Jacob as long as he was under her brother.

"Ok, hoe, let's get dressed," Natasha said getting up off the stoop. "I got to give these bitches a reason to hate and niggas a reason to fantasize."

"Stop biting Ariel's line," Latoya laughed.

"Shit, she stole it from me," Natasha informed.

 

Alonzo looked at his last hope. His face was still bruised up from the pistol whipping he received last night from Larenz. He been humiliated in front of his peers and he couldn't walk the streets no more without people laughing.

Alonzo was a drug runner for Luther Arnold, aka Big Luke. He figured as long as he was under Big Luke's watch, he was protected. Big Luke had posted him up on a nice block to make money. In fact it was the only block still getting money that hadn't been taking over by the Street clan. Big Luke had other small corners seeing some profit but Street had stopped a lot of his business.

"So you see how this is a problem?" Alonzo asked the six foot six giant that was standing over him.

Alonzo was in one of Big Luke's stash apartments where mostly drugs or money was kept. Big Luke was on his way to pick up last night take when he got the call about the incident that happened between one of his main workers and Larenz Street. He immediately sent word that he wanted to speak to Alonzo and to meet him at the stash house.

Alonzo walked into the apartment that had about five guys holding automatic weaponry and giving him cold stares. Big Luke greeted him halfway in and told him to explain himself.

"You know them Street boys are trouble," Alonzo said darting his eyes around the room. "They came at me out of nowhere."

"You know I got you out there to handle business not to get your ass whipped for nonsense," Big Luke stated. "That shit looks bad on both of us. And it wasn't out of the blue. You were running your mouth to some bitch and she somehow managed to put a bug in his ear. Now we got you out there getting ya ass whipped and forced off the block. You know it only takes that nigga's brother to make one phone call and the whole strip is done."

"Look..."Alonzo was about to say but Big Luke turned his back on him.

"You cost me money because nobody will fuck with the corner as long as you on it," Big Luke said. "Once news hit and it already has, you won’t be able to sell shit in the hood. You been marked. So you done off the block."

"What?" Alonzo said stunned. "I'm off the block. Look I admit I made a mistake and I paid for it but come on, what am I supposed to do? We should be trying to get at these niggas."

"You mean start a war?" Big Luke inquired.

"Yeah, we can..." Alonzo never got a chance to finish his statement before Big Luke turned around and backhanded him across the face.

Alonzo went flying back against the wall.

"You fucking stupid!" Big Luke said with spit spewing from his mouth as he talked. "I'm going to start a war because you were trying to impress a hoe and you got your ass whipped. You lucky I don't shoot your ass on principle, nigga! You fucked up and you want me to go to front street? for YOU? Nigga, please. You done from the block! You are done getting money over here! If I see you on the strip, it better be you just passing through because that will be the last place you stand! You know what? Get out of my sight before I make you a homicide victim."

All the guns turned to Alonzo as he slowly picked himself up.

Alonzo wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand and looked at Big Luke and his men. He just walked to the front door, opened it and left.

Alonzo couldn't believe it. He was off the block and he couldn't make any money anywhere else. All the other drug spots belonged to Street. He would have to go to another borough or another state to start making moves again. Damn, he fucked up. His current girlfriend, Delotta, had his seed on the way. His other baby mother was already on his back because he wasn’t bringing enough money over to take care of Alonzo, junior. Alonzo needed to make something happen and fast. He cried all the way down the stairs until he left the building.

Big Luke was still upstairs with his men counting up the money collected from last night. Big Luke sat his colossal frame on the loveseat that had been worn down from use. It made a loud squeaking sound like a plea for help as Big Luke sat on it. He picked up the remote and pointed it at the big screen television posted up by the wall and turned the system on.

His cellular phone rang from the phone holster connected to his hip. He had to adjust his weight to pick it up.

"Hello," He said when he finally had the phone to his ear.

"Yeah, you got my money straight," the voice on the other end said.

Big Luke looked around at his comrades who were busy putting money through the money machines or guarding the perimeter with their guns swinging from their shoulder straps.

"Yeah, I got it," Big Luke responded.

"Good, good," the voice said. "Make sure I get it, you fat fuck."

Click! The other line went dead and only a dial tone remained. Big Luke pressed the off button on the cellular and leaned back in the chair as it gave another cry for help.

He looked around the room again and then dialed a new number into the phone. The other end picked up after the second ring.

“This is Rah,” the caller stated.

“Yeah, is everything a go?” Big Luke asked.

“Yeah, most def,” Raheim said with confidence. “I’m picking up that bitch in a little bit. She just think I’m some small time hustler and she can juice me for my connects. I knew she trying to set a nigga up for her punk ass brothers.”

Big Luke smiled. He hated the Street family with a passion. Larenz and his older brother, William, had already successful took over majority of the drug trade in the city. Until Street came in the picture, Big Luke was sort of a big deal in this neck of the woods. So when the two top siblings of the Street family became the Mayor and Governor of the Underworld, he was forced to limit his operations. Big Luke knew he could never get at the Street men directly but he knew their weakness: their sisters. Even through the Street Empire was vast and already had each sister liquidated, the sisters still believed in pulling in their own ballers and that was going to be their downfall. Jaren Locke, aka Raheim Taylor, was a professional con artist and killer for hire. He was good at his trade of deceit and manipulation. He was the perfect tool to extract revenge on the Street saga.

“I got everything under control,” Raheim reassured. “Just make sure you have your end set up.”

“Okay,” was all Big Luke said and the phone went to dial tone again.

` Big Luke eased back in the chair creating a bunch of squeaks and smiled again to himself. He knew what he was doing what be the end of him if he got caught. So Big Luke had to make sure he had everything set up so he wouldn’t get caught and nothing could be linked back to him. He had to make sure this plan worked or leave town forever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

           

“The streets got to go.”

Those were words coming from a desperate man, Ricardo Sanchez, street alias El Jefe Mujer (Boss Major). He was at his wit’s end and was losing money left and right, thanks to the Street family.

Larenz and William had totally taken over majority of his blocks and enterprises. And with the help of their other brother, Timothy Street, who was also a cop, raids and seizures had been set up all over to reduce Sanchez’s empire. Sanchez was down to almost one quarter block that obviously the Street brothers didn’t know about or didn’t care about. Why should they? It was the less profitable block that they probably left him to taunt him. Give him just crumbs was probably their sick version of a joke.

Sanchez was sick and tired of it so was a lot of other dealers that had got the short end of the stick due to the Street family. The Streets came into all their territories like a hurricane or a tornado and swept all their profitable markets from right under all their noses. The Streets became worse than the police to these dealers even the fact being that the Streets also had law enforcement on their side.

The Streets had all the advantages in this game. They had the law and the courts. The Streets could order a raid in two seconds because they work with judges and district attorneys. The Streets were a drug dealer’s worse nightmare because they had more power and more means to take whatever they wanted.

So Sanchez, like other dealers, had to make deals to stay alive. Sanchez couldn’t make a move without the Streets knowing about it. But the thing about the Streets was they were personal. They never sent soldiers to get at you if they had a problem, they would come themselves, especially Larenz. Larenz loved drama and loved gunplay. No dealer could get away from Larenz’ outburst of violence.

Some dealers even want as far as going to the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the department of Alcohol, Firearms and Tobacco to get rid of the Streets. However, as bold as the Streets were, they were also smart and crafty.

That craftiness came in the shape of the Street’s first born son, Kenod, Jr. Kenod, Jr., although never involved in the gritty and shady deals his siblings take part in, makes sure they cover all their tracks. The oldest sibling took part as the patriarch of the family when their real father died. He was more like an Underboss of the Street family. He controlled all the real moves the clan did and made each business they venture in, successful.

Sanchez knew a lot about the Streets, the same as everybody else, because they were all over the place and ran everything that was illegal and even legit businesses. The Streets were like an entity that nobody could penetrate or destroy and they were getting stronger. Add to the fact, all of the older members of the family are military trained. Strategy, tactics, and weaponry are all tricks of the trades they were taught from birth even from their parents.

Sanchez along with the rest of the dealers could write about a book about Streets. It would be a best seller. The only problem was that no matter how much info they gathered about them, they couldn’t get at the Streets the way they wanted to.

So an alliance was formed with other dealers to handle the Street problem. The coalition of the top dealers of the area were formed to make the Demolition Group. Seven members, with Big Luke at the head, made up the team that was going to be an end to Street. The Demolition Group, simply named DG, was put together to gather Intel and find a way to use it against their worst common foe. As much as most of these dealers hated each other, they hated Street more and that was all that really mattered. Getting rid of Street was the only way that they could start flourishing again.

The DG met secretly. They didn’t even tell their lieutenants or street soldiers where they were meeting up at. They couldn’t be too careless. Some of the dealers believed that some of their own workers were assisting the Street. So they met in secret and planned in secret.

Tonight was no different than any other night when the DG talked about Street. They were in the basement of one of members’, Lucky Loochie, clubhouses. The seven members were all sitting around a large conference table all looking at each other expressing their concerns.

Big Luke sighed as he heard Sanchez say what all of them were thinking since they first heard the name Street come into their circle. Big Luke waited until Sanchez finished, then spoke his piece.

“I am in total agreement with El Jefe,” Big Luke said. “I had to let go of one of my best workers because he said some foul shit about that Larenz character. I mean, damn, you can’t even joke with these bastards without it getting personal and somebody going off the handle.”

“Shit, I’m losing customers because I have to charge higher prices to keep up with the extortion money them bastards are taking from me,” another member, Jaren Wright, alias Smoker, added to the table.

“Yes, it’s getting real bad out in the streets, no pun intended,” Lucky further stated. “I barely have enough to pay my workers. Shit, they probably make more money being informants now then working for me.”

There was a small chuckle from the group then back to seriousness.

“Any new suggestion?” Sanchez asked the group.

“Besides just a full onslaught gun battle,” Lamont Markson, street alias MurderVille, replied with a deep sinister laugh.

“Yes, besides that,” Smoker said. “Because it would only be bad for us. Coming straight at them would not do anything but make any of us hot and then we will have nothing. Despite the bullshit, these guys are good at what they do and they are very well skilled at it.”

“What about the younger ones?” Sanchez suggested. “They’re vulnerable. My little cousin goes to the school the littlest girl goes to.”

“I mean that’s extreme,” Big Luke stated. “Going for their youngest might end up catastrophic. They would tear this city apart finding out who did it. Predicting the future they would shut all of us down until they found out who did it.”

“Then we give them a patsy,” Sanchez chimed. “Yeah, but in the meantime, they wouldn’t be focused. That might work in our favor.”

“Okay, okay, it sounds good, look into it but don’t make a big move until we all agreed on the right action,” Big Luke said. “Repeat, no action until it has been put to an actual vote and can be carried out properly.”

All of the men agreed with a head nod. Big Luke still had a funny feeling someone in that group was going to disobey that order and then all hell was going to break loose. Luke, himself, had a plan in the works but he never reviled it to the Demolition Group because he still wasn’t sure about it and he didn’t trust all of them either. Technically, they were all in competition with each other except one family had made it impossible for them to keep functioning at the rate they had been. Sure, at one point, these same seven men had declared war on each other to keep or expand their own territories but now it was different. Adversity makes strange bedfellows. If that statement ever held true, looking around at that table proved it without a shadow of a doubt. Big Luke would never in a million years link up with such drivel conspirators as the ones before him but he had no choice. They were a means to an end. And when he got rid of the Street family, he wouldn’t need them, either.

Big Luke smiled at the possibility of that day, a day without Street interference.

“Ok, meeting is adjourned,” Big Luke said then got up from his chair. “We all got other business to attend to.”

The rest of the union got up and proceeded to leave except Lucky who stayed because it was his establishment. As they crowded out, all headed to their respective rides, they never noticed a dark sedan parked two block down. They drove right past it as if it was another vehicle by the curb. Little did they know inside that car was a man more treacherous than all his brothers combined and yet he was one of the quietest. He was the one that made it easy for all his siblings to flourish in all their endeavors by keeping up abreast and up to date and all that was out to get them. He know now there was a new threat gunning for his brothers, a committee in fact, dedicated to his family’s demise. Thanks to the recording device one of the members was wearing, he heard every word and made a mental note to add more protection to his little sister. But first he would make an example.

 

 

 

“And they said they were looking for me?”

Larenz looked at his lieutenant in charge of street distribution, Jacob Myers, street alias Jae Millions. Larenz used to laugh at the way dealers called their top workers ‘lieutenants’ like they were in the military or something. He thought that idea was so stupid plus it disgraces the integrity of the military by associating the type of lifestyle to it. Thugs weren’t soldiers. He seen soldiers and stood next to real soldiers. Soldiers that defended their country and purpose with honor. Hoodlums didn’t give a fuck about principles, honor, or loyalty. They only respected and fought for money. Lieutenant meant you was a leader. Larenz knew that because he actually was a real Lieutenant in the Navy. So he never gave that title loosely. Jae Millions, or Mills for short, was about the only person Larenz even gave credit enough to be named something close to that respective title.

Jacob had been trying to get in connect with him all day about some people coming around the block asking for Larenz by name. Now Larenz knew his name rang bells. Not only was he a neighborhood legend, he was a war hero as well with many decorations and medals to show for it. But in the line of work he was in now, your name ranging bells is not always a good thing. Your name is always being challenged. Your name is always put in the limelight to see if you can stand the heat. Larenz was used to it. It came with the territory and he ran the territory.

Larenz, when he finally responded back to Jacob, told Jacob to meet him in the parking lot in front of a diner that he frequents. Larenz showed up early and waited patiently in a little Toyota Corolla that looked like something one of his little sisters would drive. Larenz liked the vehicle because it looked inconspicuous. You saw the car and you wouldn’t think this guy is into illegal activity. The driver of the car must just be a working stiff that never gets into trouble. And that’s what Larenz wanted people to think about him, sometimes.

Jacob arrived in his all black Ford Expedition blasting music from the subwoofers he had installed in the trunk. Larenz shook his head. Sometimes Jacob just spelled the perfect stereotype for drug dealer. Jacob knew how police profile criminals. His brothers in law enforcement trained him well and that was how he was always able to stay under the radar and he tried to spread that knowledge towards his following but they just didn’t get it. Larenz flashed his taillights. Jacob parked his jeep on the far end of the parking lot and turned off his music. Jacob got out, looked around and walked towards the car Larenz was in. Jacob got in the passenger seat of the car and told Larenz about the people visiting the block looking for him.

“Yes, they said they had business to discuss,” Jacob replied and reached in his pocket. “They even gave me a business card with a number on it.”

Jacob gave Larenz the card that he had in his pocket. Larenz looked at the name then the number.

“You never heard of them?” Larenz asked.

“No, you?” Jacob said.

Larenz looked at the card again.

“Open your shirt,” Larenz finally said after another minute of silence.

“What?” Jacob asked with a puzzled look on his face.

“Open your shirt,” Larenz repeated.

“Why?” Jacob questioned.

“Because I told you to,” Larenz simply replied. “Just open your shirt.”

Jacob had on a polo shirt which struck Larenz as odd since Jacob mostly only wore team jerseys. 

“That’s crazy,” Jacob laughed.

“What’s going to be crazy as what I’m going to have to explain to your mother about her son’s brain being all over the sidewalk because he wouldn’t lift up his shirt,” Larenz looked Jacob straight in the eye as he spoke.

“Okay, okay, fine, but you know me, boss,” Jacob said lifting up his shirt to reveal a tank top underneath.

Jacob pulled up the tank top too to show nothing but his bare chest.

“Cool,” Larenz said.

Jacob pulled down his polo shirt.

“Now, take off your jeans,” Larenz said.

“What is this?” Jacob asked. “You think I’m wearing a wire? That’s some bullshit. I’m going around town looking for you to give you a message and…”

“Yeah, that’s what’s getting me,” Larenz said. “You looking for me to give me a piece of shit card. You could have waited to give me this. You made this urgent. Negroes look for me all the time on the block and it’s never been urgent. I got enemies all over because I shut half of their operations down. Why is this one so important you had to look for me?”

“They looked like they meant business,” Jacob replied.

“They all looked like they mean business,” Larenz retorted.

He flung the card at Jacob.

“I said to take off this jeans,” Larenz ordered again. “Or do I have to have a conversation with your mother about that too.”

“I thought we was cool,” Jacob said unzipping his jeans and pulling them down to the ankles.

“We are cool and if you want us to continue to be cool, you’ll do what I say,” Larenz said calmly.

Larenz saw nothing but Jacob’s boxer briefs.

“Okay,” Larenz said satisfied. “Put your clothes on, you look like a trick.”

Larenz laughed. Jacob got his clothing together and looked a little angry about the whole encounter.

“Listen, let me explain something to you and once,” Larenz said looking out the back window, then the rear view and then vanity mirror above the dashboard.

Jacob started looking around too.

Larenz stopped looking at all the mirrors and brought his attention back to Jacob.

“Here goes,” Larenz said. “I like you, dogs. I think you a good worker and a good money maker. Unfortunately you’ve been compromised.”

“Wha…what?” Jacob looked baffled.

“Look, I know how it is,” Larenz continued. “We all go through it. We want to be bigger than the hand that feed us. I’m with that.”

“Renz…Renz…”Jacob was about to talk but Larenz put his finger up gesturing silence.

“Give me your phone,” Larenz said.

Jacob was going to object but saw the killer look in Larenz’ eyes and handed Larenz the cell phone that was in his side pocket.

Larenz strolled through Jacob’s recent call log and saw what he was looking for. He tapped the number a message and tossed Jacob the phone.

“It’s going to be hard to replace you but I think what’s his name…um…you know the kid with the limp?” Larenz said.

“Sid…Sideway Willy,” Jacob answered.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Larenz said then grabbed Jacob by the back of the head and slammed Jacob’s forehead into the dashboard.

Larenz leaned in real close to Jacob so he could whisper in Jacob’s ear.

“Tell your boys tonight was a bad night to set me up,” Larenz half whispered in Jacob’s ear.

“What…what…what?’ Jacob stammered.

Larenz pressed Jacob’s head into the dashboard.

“I’m Larenz Street,” Larenz stated and spat in Jacob’s face. “I want you to remember the name when you and your boys are talking about how you ended up in hell.”

 

 

The three man that was in the purple Roadrunner all sat patiently in the car waiting for the text to come through that was going to make them rich.

They couldn’t believe the concept when their boss brought it to them. It was a way to get rid of Larenz Street. They thought it couldn’t be possible but here it was, an opportunity of a lifetime. However, Larenz was hard to tail. He was too crafty. You just had to know where he was at.

And you couldn’t just arrange a meeting with Larenz Street. He came to you, it wasn’t the other way around.

Their boss had the perfect person that could arrange such a meeting. Now all they had to do was wait until that person texted them when and where.

The driver of the vehicle had his phone on the dashboard that started to vibrate. The driver picked up the cell phone and looked at it. A text had popped up. The driver read it and smiled.

“He’s in the parking lot. Our boy coming out first and heading straight in the other direction. Then that bitch is going to wait and come out later. That’s when we blaze him,” the driver said to his passengers after reading the text.

“Good, I can’t wait,” said the man on the passenger said cleaning off his Uzi with a rag cloth. “I’ve been waiting to spark that fool.”

“Me too,” said the driver with a smile.

They were a block away from the parking lot where they saw Jacob’s Ford Expedition go on. They waited a couple of more minutes and saw Jacob’s jeep coming out of the parking lot then head in the direction away from them.

“That’s our cue,” the driver said starting up the engine.

The phone vibrated again. The driver picked up his cell phone again.

The message read: Do it now! If he leaves that parking lot, you might not get him! He’s in a blue Toyota Corolla!

 “Fuck it, change of plans,” the driver said pulling off the curb. “We going for the bitch ass nigga now while we got the element of surprise.”

The driver drove the Roadrunner right into the parking lot and spotted the Corolla right away. The individuals in the car knew Larenz was known for driving low model cars as a way of sneaking up on people. The car fit the profile. They all saw there was a man inside the car. They didn’t hesitate. They jumped out the car, Uzis in hands and lit the car with an onslaught full of bullets. Then they jumped in their vehicle and pulled off. In their mind, that was they had just slayed the great beast. It was all going to be smooth sailing from now on.

Chapterc 3

 Chapter 3

 

Kenod Darrell Street, Junior, only known to his family as K2, was the first born of the Street family and therefore took on the most responsibilities. Unlike his younger siblings, he wasn’t fascinated with the low level end of illegal trade. William and Larenz may have been the influencers of the family but he was the main one everybody had to look up to and respect. Kenod made it his business to make sure all the family knew he was the main boss of the house especially after their father died. Following in their father’s footsteps, all four of the older brothers went into the military. Larenz went to the Navy while the other brothers kept tradition and stayed with the Army. Each brother did their tours, wore their Class As and BDUs with pride and lived up to the name their father had already made famous in the military ranks.

When the younger brothers decided to branch out and do their own sort of businesses, Kenod helped them set it up the right away. He had used his military training and funding to help him get into a top notch university and obtained his master’s degree in Business. He was fluent in five different languages thanks to his parents always bouncing around different Army bases in different countries. All his siblings had the same educational background as for as their parents were concerned but only his first sister and him took their teachings to really better themselves. His oldest sister, Kendra, was a lawyer and he was so proud of her. However, the two of them kept all their other lower siblings afloat and tried to lead by example.

Kenod was the top part on a very large enterprise. He made a lot of investments with the money he got from his trust fund when his parents died as well as any money that his siblings brought to the table that might need to be ‘cleaned’. He owned a lot of business usually under the name of a subsidiary company Foyer Services but the main two businesses that he kept under his hat had his brand, Street Value Enterprises. One was an advertising firm that specialized in urban clothing and fashions and the other one was a music company and recording studio.

His music company, Street Value Records, was becoming a big indie company competing with the likes of Jive Records and Def Jam Studios. The only twins of the family, King and Queen, were already his star artists of his company. King Street was a rapper and Queen was a rhythm and blues singer. They already made two albums and the last one went platinum.

The company had three floors in a recently new high rise building structure that overlooked Park Avenue. He had two top floors for his offices and other endeavors and the recording studio was on the eleventh floor of the huge orifice. However, the recording studios could be seen from the multi cameras that was placed around the area and visually transmitted back to small TV panel monitors he had placed on the dashboard of his desk in his office.

Kenod spent most of his time in that office looking in those monitors at all his artists letting off their creative juices on wax to be distributed. He especially liked looking at King doing his thing on the microphone that was in one of the studios. Queen wasn’t there that day because she preparing to do a solo tour. King had already came from their duo tour just two months ago and wanted to take a break to get back to his lyrical art. Queen wanted to do it again. She loved going to different countries and hearing her name being screamed.

Kenod was in his office today like any other day. He had a meeting with his distribution team, then his A & R department and then his stockbrokers. Then he told his secretary to get his brother Larenz on the phone for a meeting. Larenz got back to him and said he would come to the office. Kenod just sat back in his leather recliner chair and waited.

Larenz wasn’t that far so the wait wasn’t very long. Kenod heard, through the intercom in his office, his secretary say “your guests are here.” Kenod did a hidden laugh at that. His secretary was a Caucasian petite Betty homemaker type of female. She was perfect for the clientele that came to the office on business. She had a warming smile and she was very courteous. But his brother…well, that was a different story.

“Send him in,” Kenod said after pressing the button on his intercom.

Larenz walked in wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, with the emblem SA on the back pocket and on hoodie’s sleeve. SA was the family’s clothing line, Street Attire. Larenz looked like the perfect spokes model for anything hood. He was tar dark with cornrows and an assortment of tattoos all over his body. The only tattoos visible now were the one on his neck that had his nickname ‘Renz’ written in cursive and the Libra scales of justice with fire coming out of both scales with his birthdate underneath it on his leg because one of the pants leg was rolled up.

Kenod was used to Larenz coming to his place of business like a thug despite all that his brothers taught him. Larenz did take heed to a lot of their lessons but fashion was never one of them. He just liked the way certain clothes felt on him and suits were never one of them.

The person behind Larenz, the secretary did say ‘guests’, was a different story. William, the second oldest brother, loved suits just not the expensive tailored kind Kenod did. Williams liked suits from the Steve Harvey collection or anything else from the Portabella clearance rack. Kenod never understood it. Williams looked like the very essence of a plain clothes cop or detective. And that was how William wanted it. He wanted you to know what he was before he approach you. The second rate tweed jacket and brown slacks definitely did the trick today.

Kenod greeted them both with a handshake and an offer of a drink. Kenod had a small mini bar in the corner for when he had to entertain guests. The president of Def Jam was just in his office last week trying to get Kenod to sign SVE over.

Larenz was quick to accept the offer but decided to pour his own drink. As he put it “Big bro always hid the good stuff from family.” Larenz knew Kenod had top shelf liquor but that was only reserved for big clientele. Larenz considered himself ‘big clientele’ and helped himself to some imported brandy.

William took a seat on one of the comfy leather guest chairs that placed in front of Kenod’s desk. Kenod sat on the reclining chair behind the desk waiting for Larenz to join them. Larenz poured himself two glasses of brandy and walked over to sit in the other guest chair next to William.

“How is everything?” Kenod started off with a smile.

“We know you big bro and you ain’t one for small talk so what is it?” Larenz cut in. “Let’s cut down to it.”

“Okay,” Kenod took a deep breath. “You know y’all got a lot of enemies?”

“We had enemies since birth,” William’s raspy baritone voice interjected. “What’s your point? Why you needed to see us?”

“Listen, I heard about the attempt,” Kenod looked at Larenz.

Larenz took a sip from one of the glasses he held in his hand.

“What attempt?” William was puzzled.

“That thing at Bridgeview,” Kenod said.

William now looked at Larenz too.

“That was for you?” William asked.

“Yeah, one of my workers tried to set me up,” Larenz said matter of factly. “I took care of it.”

“Who did the set-up?” William inquired because he didn’t like his little brother’s nonchalant attitude about the situation.

“Some punks,” Larenz replied. “Who cares?”

“You know that…”William was about to start in but Larenz started sipping on his wine glass slurping loudly like he was trying to ignore William.

Larenz finished all the brandy in that glass and put it down on the desk. Kenod quickly placed a coaster under the glass.

“You’re such an ass,” William said. “You really think you going to live a long time being stupid?”

“Brothers, please,” Kenod said. “We got more problems than Larenz’s little death attempt. We are being targeted by the same people y’all two knuckleheads supposed to be muscling. Bet you didn’t know those idiots have formed some sort of committee to get at us. Not just you. They want to get our families.”

“We got contingency plans for that sort of shit,” Larenz stated.

“Yeah, because I implemented them,” Kenod said. “Larenz, by yourself, I think you can be the next Scarface or Gotti or whatever it is you trying to be. The thing is that all those thug legends died which I guess it would be cool with you. But these people nowadays are not just going to gun for you always. They will come for the family.”

“Who set you up?” William asked again.

“I don’t know,” Larenz replied. “I’m not Detective Scully. I didn’t do no investigation.”

“Detective Scully is from the X-Files, you fool,” William said then shook his head.

“I don’t care where he from, all I’m saying…”

“And Scully is a woman,” William added.

“Gentleman!” Kenod’s voice rose a little. “Back to the matter at hand.”

“Look, tell us what’s going on so we can handle it,” William said.

“What you said ‘niggas we muscling’ Larenz said like he had an epiphany. “You mean these motherfuckers are not joining together to get us?”

Kenod nodded.

“Some of them are still trying to do shit on their own like that diner attempt,” Kenod informed. “But it’s at a larger scale if all those people get together with one common goal.”

“So how do you know?” William asked.

“It’s my job to know,” Kenod said.

“Well don’t keep us in the dark,” Larenz proclaimed.

“That’s the problem,” Kenod said. “Y’all should be in the dark. People are not supposed to know what you are and what you doing? People are not supposed to know about your family. People are not supposed to know you. You supposed to be a mirage. And yet people not only know you, know your whole resume to the point they getting bold and making attempts at you out in the opening.”

Larenz and William said nothing.

“Listen, these people that are tracking you and they will come for you,” Kenod continued. “Through our sisters. That will be the way.”

Still no reply from the younger brothers.

“Do you get it?” Kenod asked.

“What do we do and who’s after us?” William asked.

“I’ll do better than tell you,” Kenod said and pulled out a manila file from one of the drawers of his desk. He placed it on the desk and opened up. Williams leaned over and saw pictures like the ones private detectives take. He recognized the faces of the people in the pictures so did Larenz. There was six pictures, each containing a picture of one person coming out what look to be a closed club. Each picture was of whole body shot of a person taken from far way but clear enough to show the face. Larenz looked and smiled.

“I got a surprise for that fat bastard,” Larenz said. “And just to think we was being nice to those son of bitches.”

“I will have every strip shut down by nightfall,” William said, anger in his tone.

“No,” Kenod said getting up from his chair. ‘That will be too messy. They would know something is up. The only thing we know is that an alliance has been formed but we don’t know much. Even in their meetings, they basically just talking about how much they hate us. But I know now they do plan on making a family move in the future.”

“How you want us to play it, Kay,” William said leaning back in his chair again.

William was a person that acted on impulse, the same as his younger brother Larenz. However, Kenod was a thinker. He was a strategist. He would think of plans that always made him the victor of any obstacles. So William would let him run the show for now. After all, Larenz and William had been sleeping at wheel. Their enemies were getting bold and that meant a shift in structure was coming. Moves had to be made if the Street name was going to remain a superpower.

“Examples will be made,” Kenod said. “Trust me. But I’m worried about my sisters. Y’all knuckleheads I couldn’t give two shits about because y’all both grown and stupid. But y’all will protect our sisters. You got that shit? I will have both of y’all heads if something happen to any one of them.”

William and Larenz both nodded. They knew it was serious if Kenod cursed before he never used profanity.

“Now for now, we wait,” Kenod said. “I’m just telling you two jackoffs to be on point.”

William nodded and got up. Larenz followed suit.

“One more thing,” Kenod said. “How did you know it was set-up?”

“Because he told my sisters,” Larenz answered. “He never went to my sisters.”

Kenod smiled and waved his hand as to dismiss both of them. Both of his brothers left him alone with his thoughts and his monitors.

 

 

 

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Publication Date: 11-12-2013

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