4. Zelan
The chick that I accidentally bumped into was still on my mind.
With her rude ass, I can’t believe she cursed me out like that.
I even apologized, but her ass kept on going.
I didn’t know who the hell she thought she was talking to.
Her ass was lucky she was fine as hell, because I've killed nigga’s for less.
I really wanted to knock on my mom’s office door and tell her ass to let me have the room real quick, so I can fuck some sense into her fine mouthy ass.
One thing is for sure she needed to find something safe ‘cause fucking with me wasn’t safe for her at all.
I laughed thinking back because shorty continued to yell at my ass, even after I left her behind in search of my mom.
As I was leaving the school my phone started going off, and I saw that it was my right hand, Meek. Traffic was heavy as hell in New York, and it’s even more crazier leaving NYU.
“What it do, my boy?”
“Yo, we got a problem.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Betsy came up short on the count.”
I could feel the temperature in my body rise because in this game it’s always a fuck nigga trying to get you for your bread or your spot.
“What the fuck you mean, Betsy came up short? I gotta stop by crib real quick, I'll hit you when I'm on my way.” I was pissed the fuck off. I ended the call and headed to the house to change my clothes because after I killed a nigga or two, ain’t no telling where I'ma end up.
Once I made it home, I hurried and handled my hygiene. I walked into my closet and grabbed my all-black Nike track pants and a black Nike t-shirt. Going over to my shoe closet, I pressed the button for my sneakers to roll around, picking out my all-black Retro Elevens from the shelf.
After getting dressed, I headed down to my garage, but I couldn’t decide on which car I wanted to drive because I'm sure I wasn’t coming back home after I left the trap.
I had an eight-car garage, that right now only housed five cars: my 2018 Porsche Panamera, white on white Bentley GT, Maserati Grand, S class Benz, and my old school, souped-up Cutlass.
That Cutlass was my baby. I lived right across the bridge in Hoboken, New Jersey, so it took me about forty minutes to make it out to Harlem.
This was the first damn time that one of our houses came up short.
My brother, Juelz, was slowly turning the operation over to me, allowing me to be in the forefront, and now this shit happens.
Juelz and I ran the largest drug operations on the east and west coast. We ran weight in just about every damn state on the map.
Plus, we had the mayor, judges, local cops, and the Feds on our payroll.
When I say we were the shit, we were the niggas you better ask about in these streets.
We will definitely go down as the GOATs in this drug game.
Juelz was the smartest muthafucka I knew, and I will forever ride for him and have his back.
Not only did we tap into the drug game, but we got our legit businesses on lock as well.
We own clubs in four states, a casino, and Juelz owns a bank.
He is also getting ready to open up some rec centers in a few cities.
We may be heavy in these streets, but we also have a humane side to us as well.
We’ve always given back to our community, and any other community that may need our help.
We were some cold-blooded killas, but we had warm hearts for women and children.
That’s one of our number one rules, women and children could never be touched.
If you touched one and we didn’t give the order, your momma might as well get her black dress ready.
Cause yo ass gon’ lie in the dirt with them.
These chicks out here had a thing for me and my brother.
Man, these bitches will drop they draws in the middle of Lennox Ave, during rush hour traffic to give us the ass.
I’m that nigga though. So, if you ever think about doing that shit to me, just know, I’ma fuck the lining outta that pussy right there on Lennox.
Straight like that! After my breakup with my ex Char, I was just not feeling like getting into another relationship right away.
I wasn’t against it, I just wanted to be free to fuck whoever the fuck I wanted to fuck.
My brother, on the other hand, wouldn’t even give your ass the time of day.
These niggas envied and hated my ass, but the ladies loved me, and I love that shit for me.
They especially loved my hair. I had blonde coils with my sides in a fade.
They say I favored Odell Beckham. In my opinion I didn’t look like that nigga; that nigga wished he looked this good.
I guess my looks, muscular build and hair had them thinking I looked like the dude.
But I was in a league of my own. Fuck that!
When I pulled up to Betsy, our trap house, there were so many cars that lined the street and it was hard to find a park.
When we came up with the idea of our trap houses, we had to think of something out the box.
Most traps were in the hoods that we supplied, and we had houses in the hood that our workers lived in.
However, our houses that held the drugs for re-ups were in upper, and middle-class neighborhoods.
For instance, Betsy was a four-bedroom, three-bathroom brownstone.
It was Immaculate on the inside, my cousins, on my nothing ass Pop side, Rick, and his sister Posh lived here, but the folks in the neighborhood thought it was just a regular couple staying next door.
We also minimized traffic that came in and out of here as well we didn’t want it to seem like something was up over here.
Walking up the steps, my nigga Meek answered the door, already knowing it was me due to the alert on his phone. When someone shows up here, the sensor alerts us that someone is at the door, sends still shots, and a video to our phones. When I walked in, my eyes immediately landed on Rick’s ass.
“What the fuck happened?” I asked him.
“Man, Z, I don’t know,” he said, rubbing his hand across his face. “Lil’ Ron came in, did the count, and bagged it up for pickup. Meek came in and took the bag to his office in the back and did his count, but we came up $125,000 short!” Rick stated.
“Say what now? Run that shit by me again!” I yelled.
“Yeah, man $125,000.00,” Meek stated.
I took off my shoes and headed for the room that Meek did the count.
The door remained locked and could only be opened by Meek, Juelz, and me.
We had a security lock that would only unlock the door by retina scan, and this shit was in all our homes as well.
This was some Juelz shit, but the shit worked.
After the system scanned my eyes, Meek and I walked in, closing the door behind us.
What no one knew was that there were small cameras that they couldn’t see in every corner of this house; some more Juelz shit.
After walking to the wall and touching the book, Dom by Masterpiece, which was fire, the wall slid open because the book scanned my fingerprints. I told y'all this nigga was smart.
We walked down the stairs, which led underground to the monitor room.
“When did Lil’ Ron come do the count, Meek?”
“Rick said last night.”
So, we pulled the tape and watched this lil’ nigga Ron do the count.
He was one of our trusted lieutenants who had worked his way up.
The nigga had heart and was a cold-blooded killa, but I swear if this bitch took one dollar of my bread, I'm blowing his muthafuckin’ head off his body, and sending that bitch to his mama!
The recording was running, and I watched as I put my clothes in a bag and slipped on some scrubs that would later be burned.
“Look at this shit, Z,” Meek said. I watched the screen and couldn’t fucking believe my eyes. My own cousin was taking my bread on the video!
Rick came in the room, said something to Ron as he was about to walk out the room. As soon as Ron was gone, Rick started taking money from the bag, placing it in the waist of his jeans and pulled his shirt back over his pants.
“Ron wouldn’t count the money from the bag again, because that money had already been counted,” I said to Meek.
“Yeah man, I know. This is some fucked up shit!”
“So, what you niggas gone do about it?” a voice said from behind us, but we didn’t bother turning around because it was the grim reaper himself! Juelz!
“Bro, you see this shit?”
“I do, and I need to know what you got planned to resolve this shit when it’s so close to home?”
“Ju, I got this shit under control.”
“Alright, Z. Let me know when the meet up is,” Ju said then he turned and walked away. I put my clothes back on because what I needed to do couldn’t be handled here.
“Yo, call a meeting set for tonight and text me the time; act as if we still don’t know what’s happening,” I said to Meek. He nodded, so I walked out of the office and headed back out front where everybody was.
“Aye, where Juelz go?” I asked Rick.
“He said he had to make a run, and he will check us out later.”
“Aight. Well, keep everything on the low, until I can talk to that nigga Ron.”
“Gotcha, bro!” Rick said.
Meek told Rick we were calling a meeting and get all the soldiers rounded up ‘cause we would be texting the time out later. We dapped the nigga up and was out the door. Inside, I was on fucking fire! This nigga was family! But family or not, I was gon’ handle that shit in true Zelan fashion because fuckin’ with our bread wasn’t it.