Gods & Gangsters 2 Page 13

“Interesting. Can you give us a minute, please?’

  “Certainly, sir.”

  The saleswoman walked away. Othello eyed all of the different style rings. Cash’s mind was in a whirl. He still hadn’t had a chance to talk to Mona. Every time they were around each other, Othello was there, too. He had caught her looking at him several times, so he knew there were things on her mind as well.

  “Cash.”

  I have to talk to her. I know she doesn’t want to marry O. She can’t, not after what we shared. How can she do this to me?

  “Cash.”

  Why should he be happy while I suffer the pain? Women love me, they would never pick this black, ugly muhfucka over me! But he is my man, I don’t know…

  “CASH!” Othello half-shouted, snapping him out of it.

  Cash looked up at Othello.

  “Nigga, you gonna help me pick out something, or what?”

  “My bad brah, my head is killing me. I’ma wait in the car,” Cash explained. He wasn’t lying, because he was dying, but it wasn’t a headache. It was the pounding of his own broken heart tearing him apart.

  He had to get out of the store.

  Cash went out to the car and slammed the door.

  “I’m….. I’m just gonna holler at her next time she around,” he said out loud to himself. “Just pull her to the side. But what will I tell O? I’ll tell him I’m feeling her girlfriend. No, no, that won’t work. Fuck it, I’m just going to start a fake Facebook page and friend her! Then when she hits back, I’ll tell her who I am…”

  It wasn’t exactly a genius plan, but it was something, and he had to be doing something. Cash snatched his phone out of his pocket and began to create the page. He didn't even have to think about a name for it…

  Black Love Hurts.

  When he was done, he sat back and smiled to himself.

  He had cast his hook in the waters.

  “Black Love Hurts?” Mona remarked, her face screwed up with confusion. She didn’t recognize it, or the icon, and they had zero friends.

  “What?” Celeste asked, disinterestedly, as she tried on a pair of stiletto boots in her mirror. “How do these look?”

  “Fine,” Mona answered, just as disinterestedly.

  They were both in their own world.

  Mona accepted the friend request.

  A private message came almost instantly.

  Thank you for accepting my friend request

  She fired back an answer. No problem. Why do you call your page Black Love Hurts?

  Because it does. My heart was broken by a woman I loved and I thought she felt the same way.

  I’m sorry to hear that. There’s always other fish in the sea.

  Not for me.

  “Nigga, you like a broad with that social media shit,” Othello chuckled, as they drove. Cash put up his phone and glanced over at his man.

  “What can I say, I’m in love,” Cash told him with a straight face.

  “Yeah,” Othello laughed, “With yourself.”

  5

  Joe looked around the table at the rest of The Commission.

  Every eye was on him.

  He had called this emergency meeting, something he rarely did, which meant it had to be big. The smoke from his cigar curled in a lazy corkscrew up in front of his face, then caught a light breeze and wafted around the light fixture, lending the room a hot, smoky feel.

  “I called this meeting for two reasons, but primarily because we have an outsider that wants to address us,” Joe began.

  “Who?” Malik wanted to know, not giving him time to finish.

  “In due time, Malik. But know this: I have vouchsafed this meeting. Nothing is to happen to him. No retribution. No violence shall be perpetrated, do I make myself clear?” He waited for each one of them to make some sort of acknowledgment. It took a while for the lights to come on. “All hostilities must be held in abeyance. That is my word.”

  Rome spat, “Othello?” contemptuously.

  “Yes,” Joe confirmed.

  Malone shook his head.

  “You expect me to sit on my hands when the murderer of my family stands before me? What sort of bullshit is this safe passage, Joe?”

  Joe looked at the man. There were so many things he could have said in that moment. “With all due respect to you and yours, Malone—and believe me I grieve with you— but we are running a business here. He asked to speak, and for that reason alone, I think we need to hear what he has to say. It will be enlightening,” Joe promised. “Especially when he gives up the name of his backer,” Joe explained.

  “This is bullshit, Joe,” Malik said.

  “Maybe, but you want that name as much as I do, and only one man is going to give it up, so what are you gonna do?” Joe replied.

  He rose and opened the door.

  The heat in the room boiled up from the rage radiating in the hearts of the men around the table at the sight of Othello walking into their haven like some sort of conquering general, a black Caesar expecting to be crowned.

  He did not look like a man one vote away from his execution.

  “Peace,” Othello spoke, adding a subtle bow, a little more than an inclination of his head that barely broke his erect stance.

  He looked around the table, face to face.

  No man returning his greeting.

  “You asked for this opportunity… Don’t waste it with petty bullshit,” Joe remarked.

  “Or pleas,” Rome hissed.

  Othello looked at Rome and smiled.

  “I never make excuses for my actions. That’s not what I came for. When we first heard of each other, we did so as enemies. I take the blame for that. But the stench you sought to attribute to me, that was coming from one of your own.”

  “Give us a name,” Malik demanded.

  “With pleasure. Black Sam,” Othello told them.

  The men looked one to the other. There were murmurs. Disbelief.

  It was Malik who broke the silence.

  “You mean to tell me, after all your accusations and shit you slung around the place, the traitor to this body was in your house, Joe?”

  Joe Hamlet looked at his soldier. “He was, but hear me, I was the first to be betrayed, Malik. But when you have a rotten limb on a tree, you cut it off, when you have a rotten limb on your body you cut it off or wind up a corpse. I have cut the limb off. Black Sam’s death wasn’t a suicide. He… fell on his sword.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Malone translated.

  “He took the last honorable step and jumped, but make no mistake he would have been pushed if he lacked the fortitude,” Joe responded.

  “Black Sam was conspiring with the gangs to take over The Commission and execute each and every one of you,” Othello said.

  “The fact remains, Sam may have been the ends, but you were the means. The blood on his tongue is on your hands,” Rome bassed.

  Othello nodded. “This is true, no denying it. But let me ask you, Rome, do you remember Bobitto?”

  Rome’s face clouded over with the guilt of recognition.

  “Bobitto was a friend of mine, a friend that you decided was no longer useful, and so he is no more.”

  “Bobitto was greedy. He wanted what wasn’t his,” Rome deflected.

  Othello laughed out loud.

  “On stolen lands, everything we get isn’t ours! Greed is good, greed gives us a reason to get up in the morning. It’s treachery that changes greed from a virtue to a vice, and to kill Bobitto in front of his own mother...” Othello allowed his voice to trial off, the silence making his point better than any words could.

  He turned to Malone.

  “Malone, I’ve heard several times over how you want to see me bleed for the death of Big L. You do know I did time with L, don’t you?”

  “And?” Malone growled.

  “L had a nurse bringing him coke packages. He was eating hard, until the bitch started supplying another dude. L caught feelings, and he had the dude transfer
red, giving a known rat the information to dime on him and the nurse.”

  Malone jumped to his feet. “Muhfucka, you don’t know that!” He spat, lunging away from the table, but Joe was quicker, moving to restrain him before it could turn ugly. He wasn’t about to let this be the spark.

  “Everything I say can be confirmed. Talk to your own connects on the inside,” Othello countered.

  “It’s true, Malone. I was told the same thing by my boy in there,” Malik seconded.

  Malone sat, chest heaving and glaring at Othello. “Bullshit.”

  “But it isn’t. Believe me, I take no joy speaking ill of the dead, but that don’t mean I won’t repeat that the dead bespoke ill with their actions towards me and the sanctity of this thing of ours, this sacred game that so many take lightly. I’ve brought you the head of your traitor, the man who was working with the Feds to end The Commission… I moved to save you. In return, I ask for one thing. I do not believe it is an unreasonable request.”

  “What do you want?”

  “A seat at the table,” Othello proposed.

  “A seat? I’ll give you a fuckin’ seat, in hell!” Rome barked.

  Othello took his rage in stride, waiting it out.

  “Outside of your walls, outside of the places you think belong to you, the wolves are waiting. They are stronger, and have less to lose and more to gain. These gangs that you think can’t unite, will unite. I can promise you this, because I stand in a position to do just that, courtesy of Black Sam. His treachery stands to be your gain. See, Sam’s plan was to unite the gangs, promising each flag portions of your territories, while he eliminated you. Unlike Sam, I don’t need the Feds, I’ve never been a rat and that’s confirmed by the streets and my pedigree. They trust me out there, they know me as the face of the very conspiracy Sam failed to complete. But I will, and when I do, I won’t ask for a seat. I’ll take the whole table,” Othello warned, with steel in his words. “Seems to me you got an easy choice to make, gentlemen.”

  Rome laughed in his face.

  “We got guns, too. We got money. We got the power of the city behind us.”

  “But for how long? What happens when the city burns and the people cry for peace? What I offer is a chance to remain on top, unmolested. I feed the streets and you can continue growing old, fat and rich,” Othello offered.

  Despite their hatred, they saw the seeds of truth in his words. The gangs were getting more organized. That had long been a bone of contention. So, if they didn’t bring them inside the house, sooner or later, they would tear it down. It was only a matter of time, and that was exactly the point Malone had been making for months. Thanks to Othello, he was confronted with the face of his own truth.

  “What makes you think we can’t make our own deals. Our own alliances?” Malone countered.

  “They don’t trust you. Plain and simple. The power you wield makes the streets think you’re too cozy with the city, with those very same judges you claim are in your pocket. They see it as the other way around,” Othello laid it out boldly.

  They listened, but they didn't like what they were hearing.

  “And you expect us to just trust you? And even if we did, a seat at this table means you can’t harm another Commission member, it’s got to be straight. The peace depends upon it. And the problem is you clearly hurt Don,” Rome pointed out.

  Othello nodded.

  “This is true. By killing Don, that would shut me out forever. But, suppose I hadn’t?”

  “We don’t deal in hypotheticals here, or are you trying to pin this one on Black Sam, too? Mighty convenient, since he’s not here to defend himself. Nah, you’re gonna have to wear it,” Malik chuckled.

  Othello’s smile looked like a checkmate.

  “You are right, Malik, Black Sam isn’t here. But I’m not asking you to take my word for it, I have a more reliable witness,” Othello answered.

  He turned to the door and opened it.

  Don walked in, leaning heavily on the crutches he used to support his weight. He looked pained from the exertion but remarkably healthy for a dead guy.

  “Don? What the actual fuck!” Rome exclaimed.

  “Alive and in the flesh.”

  “Someone better fuckin’ explain it to me, real slow,” Malone said.

  “When Othello first came to my home, unwelcome, I felt nothing short of hatred for him. Believe me,” Don said. “I would’ve loved for nothing more than to put a bullet in his head every day for a thousand years… but I listened and once he explained why he was at my door, well, I have to admit, gentlemen, Othello here saved my life.”

  “Explain more,” Malone pressed.

  “Sam wanted me dead, plain and simple. He saw it as a way to open up my territory for the gangs. Othello was smart. He knew it had to look real, and a couple of fucked up knees were a small price to pay for my life and my family’s lives. So, he came back and dragged me out of that burning house and stashed us out of harm’s way. It cost me my stash, and I won’t be running any fucking marathon’s for a while, but it was a decent price, because with that stash, he bought the respect of the gangs,” Don explained, then looked at Othello, adding, “This is why I come before you and propose his joining The Commission. He has my vote.”

  Joe couldn’t believe his eyes.

  It didn’t make a lick of sense. Don was dead, dead as dead can ever be. To see him walk in, to hear that Othello spared him, it changed things. It told Joe that Othello was a force to be reckoned with. He was not only ruthless, but ruthlessly deceptive and cunning.

  “I second his induction,” Joe voiced.

  “He has my vote,” Malone said. For him it was a no brainer. The pair shared the same goals.

  Malik didn’t speak but inclined his head. Another yes.

  Rome looked around, realizing that he was the lone holdout.

  He was no fool. He knew that if it stayed that way, the only thing standing in the way of the future, he would be sacrificed in the past.

  Reluctantly, as though he were lifting the weight of the world with that one hand, he raised his hand, and said, “I ratify.”

  It was done.

  Othello looked at Don.

  “One more thing, my friends. I promised you I’d give you a gift. It’s a simple gift, but it’s the gift that men of our stature value in times like these. The gift of revenge.”

  The door opened and Venus walked Benny in, hands tied behind his back and blindfolded.

  He was naked but for his boxers. His dick, half-hard, peeked out of the slit in them.

  “We almost there, baby?” Benny asked, voice full of lustful greed.

  The men around the table said nothing. It was plain that Benny thought Venus was taking him somewhere for some seriously fucked up kink game. She said, “Oh, we’re definitely here. You ready to be fucked like you never been fucked before?”

  “Hell yeah!” Benny cackled.

  Venus moved around behind him, fingers working the knot of his blindfold, and took the cover away from his eyes.

  The first face Benny saw was Don’s.

  “Surprise!” Don spat, punching him dead in the face with some serious brutality behind it.

  Benny hit the floor. His blood spat across the table top.

  He looked up, dazed, at Othello. Trying to understand. To grasp salvation. “O, what’s up? I did what you said.”

  Othello shrugged.

  “You’re a cockroach, Benny. You can’t be trusted. Look at it from where I am, if you gave Don up, then one day you’ll give me up, too. That ain’t loyalty. I demand loyalty.”

  Venus laughed, then leaned down and kissed Benny on the cheek. “Consider yourself royally fucked, puta.”

  Othello looked at Joe.

  Joe simply nodded, seeing that the young man had more than proven himself. He had done the impossible, earned himself a seat at the table. From that moment on Othello would be both an ally and an adversary.

  Mac came in and slammed the door, full of
rage.

  Kandi came out of the back, alert, her gun in her hand, tucked in beside her thigh as she approached the living room. Ready. When she saw who it was, she breathed out a sigh of relief and set the gun on the coffee table.

  Mac was already across the room at the bar, but instead of pouring himself a shot he knocked back a healthy swig straight from the Henny bottle.

  “I take it things didn’t go well?”

  “Oh no, it went well,” Mac said, taking another swig before adding , “For O.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Like you gotta ask.”

  She didn’t.

  She understood her man as well as any woman. She had an instinct for his rhythm.

  “You didn’t get a seat,” she stated. Cold. Hard. Fact.

  Mac sat down, balancing the bottle on his thigh.

  “Fuck no. He gave me that bullshit, talkin’ about how they were only willing to give up one more seat, but that ain’t even close to true. Fuck outta here, he didn’t ask but for one!”

  He hit the bottle harder.

  “You were right. Loyalty is only loyal to itself.”

  “Being right doesn’t make it just,” she quipped.

  “Naw it doesn’t, but now that I know, I know. Means I simply have to wait for my opportunity to move,” Mac planned.

  Kandi nodded, taking the bottle from him. She took a deep swig of her own.

  “You know what O’s weakness is?” She asked.

  “What?”

  Kandi handed him the bottle back.

  “His ego. Yeah, he’s a beast when it comes to puttin’ in work and puttin’ a plan together, but when it comes to who he is, his looks, true fact is his self-esteem is rock bottom. Always has been.”

  Mac nodded, taking in her womanly wisdom.

  She was not wrong.

  “True. Around women he gets tongue tied, less sure of himself.’

  “Exactly. You ask me, that’s where he can be attacked. When the time is right… you won’t need no gun… only a mirror.”

  How r u? Remember me?

  Cash typed the message into his phone, laying back on his bed.

  He had been thinking about Mona 24/7.