Chapter 9
Though Hov seemed pretty chill about the shit we went through and appreciative of me taking out Kairo, you still never know how the mind of an unhinged muhfucka works.
Sometimes your mind can switch, and that’s coming from experience.
I’ve been okay with some shit one day, and the next day I’ve slid through and killed up some people because I just couldn't get them trying me out of my head.
When I pulled up, I saw the cars of Hov, Bam, and Scotty lined up along the side of the building, like some luxury-car meet. This was probably one of the last hidden locations that we had left, and if this spot is found, then something is up on the inside of our crew.
I walked into the back door and had my hand on my back on my pistol up until I saw the three of them sitting in the middle of the warehouse, close to the only light above that was working, all handling a deck of cards.
Scotty spotted me coming into the warehouse first.
“You can chill and take your hand off your pistol, son. Nobody wants to do shit to you in here. We all family.”
Scotty called me out as he slammed a card down on the table.
“I’m never too chill. You know that chill can get you killed.”
I dapped each one of them up, but Hov never looked up from his cards to do the same, so I simply sat down across from them.
Hov adjusted himself in his seat, then threw out four of a kind, which let me know these niggas had a poker game going on.
Hov always took poker games serious even though we never played for real money.
We made enough of that on the streets, and we really didn’t believe in taking money from each other.
Poker games were always about relaxing, brotherhood, conversations, and plotting.
So, this meeting could be about a setup to kill me or to kill someone else.
Or shit, it could just be a time to get the guys together.
“You want in on this next hand, Crew boy?” Bam asked.
“Yeah, throw me in.” I took off my oversized jacket.
After the cards were dealt, we all had small conversations as we had our turns at the table. Bam had just started telling us about a chicken wing recipe he came up with when Hov put all his cards down and then sat up in his chair, getting our attention with no words.
“I’m sure everyone in here has heard of the Quatar family, right?”
“Quatar, that’s them Arab cats from overseas that have family here slanging to their people in Flatbush and shit?”
“Yeah.” Hov nodded his head in agreement.
“What about them niggas?” Scotty asked?
Hov sat back in his seat, adjusting his pants legs. All the movement he was doing told me that he was uneasy about some shit, and I’m probably the only nigga at this table who noticed that because I’ve been around him since we were kids. Some shit was going on, and I can feel it.
“The Quatar Family has been selling to their people here for years, and we never bothered them, and they never fucked with us. They sold to the Arabs, a lot of other Muslim people, and we sell to the white, black, Hispanics, shit, everyone else in New York. That’s the treaty my father put together years ago to keep shit cool between us. ”
Hov’s eyes looked over the room like he was giving a sermon.
“But when word got around that I was about to get locked up, I guess they sent word back home that the territories were opening up and they could expand their empire beyond their own people. Only they didn’t have any connections or knowledge of the blocks outside of their own world, so they reached out to the Torrez mafia to combine and take over.
That was until the Hernandez family was wiped out in that massacre, but that wasn’t the only issue.
The Quatar Families world was shattered in that massacre too. ”
“What happened, boss?” Bam asked.
“The massacre happened on the weekend that they sent the head nigga Mecca’s son, Salah, to meet with the Hernandez Mafia.
When the Hernandez Mafia was wiped out, he was there too and was shot in the head, leaving the next in charge for them dead on the ground.
” I sat back in my chair, rubbing my chin.
“They have now sent a message that they want twenty heads for his one, and there is no age limit or gender limit. They said they will do what they can to get to the nigga responsible for their prince being dead.”
“But what does that have to do with us. They don’t know who killed them niggas.”
“The entire New York knew we had beef with them and that the temperature was rising between us all. Everybody knows that we spare no nigga we think deserves to die. With that reputation and their prince dead, they want war with us and whoever else they think killed Salah. Now until we get them niggas off our backs, we are going to have to all be on high alert around this bitch. Keep our locations under wraps. Move with our heads on a swivel and treat New York like a battlefield.”
Damn, I thought in my head.
“I for one know that I’m not trying to lose my family, and I’m sure you niggas feel the same.
Mecca Quatar is not about to play fair with his baby boy being killed, as neither of us would, but my sympathy for him is not going to cloud my better judgment in the streets.
So, hold everybody you love close. At least until we get these niggas off of our backs. ”
Hov finished.
“For sho.” We all agreed, before it went silent for a few seconds. The silence was cut short when Bam threw out the cards needed for a royal flush.
“Now back to this shit. You niggas can’t fuck with me, baby.
” Bam broke the tension in the room while Hov, Scotty, and I smacked our lips.
This was usually the way poker nights went, and even news like war with some Muslims didn’t move us too much.
I’m sure on the inside, every last one of us felt a way, but none of us would ever let a nigga see us shake, not even each other.
I’m just happy to be seated at this table right now, especially with me causing all this shit.