The King Of The South Read online

  Tony nodded and Red sat back on the leather couch.

  “Trixie, have you seen Peaches?” Red asked as he lit his blunt.

  Peaches was Red’s main girl, but she had been pissed at him for the last two weeks. She had caught him sleeping with this little young girl, Cara, who had just turned 18, three months ago. Red had seen her at one of his parties, hanging with one of his young street dealers. Her long naturally curly brown hair, large brown eyes, and full lips that would make a dude’s toes pop when she put them on his pole, along with nice high round tits, a little slim waist, and some 38 inch hips that were toned and tight from her running every day were hard to resist.

  When Red saw her, she was wearing a two-piece red string bikini and walking around like a grown woman. He could tell she was not some hood chick. When he introduced himself to her, she simply smiled and thanked him for having her at his party. She had class and upbringing, which explained why she was with Dexter, who was a college kid, just trying to pay his tuition.

  Dexter was a nineteen year old college sophomore, and he had known Cara since high school. When Red told Dexter that he was not to see Cara again, the little nigga actually bucked at him. That lasted all of fifteen minutes, until Red had two of his guys persuade Dexter that it would be best for him to step aside quietly.

  As soon as Cara became legal, Red made sure that pussy stayed wet for him only. He began taking Cara shopping, clubbing and out of town on trips with him. Cara was young, but it was obvious she liked to fuck, and she liked trying new tricks in the bedroom. Shit, she had almost turned Red into a bitch the first time she went down on him.

  Cara, like many little spoiled girls, was rebelling against her parents. She had a strong will and a good head on her shoulders. One thing Red really liked about her was that she was about her business. She was in her senior year, and had been accepted to several colleges on a full scholarship. If he called her to come over and she had something to do that dealt with her education, she would turn his ass down quick. Yeah, Cara was something different for him, and she was making his ass slip on his female game. Shit, Peaches was his main girl, although he always had four or five other birds on the side. But, since having Cara, she was all he wanted, well… her and Peaches. But Cara had been causing him to slip up on his main girl, and his slip up may have cost him Peaches.

  Peaches had shown up at Red’s downtown apartment and found Cara naked in the kitchen preparing lunch. Red wasn’t sure what was said or what happened exactly, but when he heard a commotion coming from the kitchen, he ran in to find Cara about to put Peaches’ face in the frying pan filled with hot grease. Red grabbed Cara, and he had to struggle for a minute to get her to let go of Peaches. Red could not believe that this little refined girl had beat Peaches’ ass. Peaches was a street chick, she had about twenty pounds, and was ten years Cara’s senior. He had seen her shut bitches down and send their asses to the hospital, and now she was laying on the floor, bleeding and damn near crying. The girl that put her there was from an affluent family in Lake Norman. He struggled with Cara for a few minutes.

  “Cara, chill out, baby. Chill out.” Red had told her as he carried her to the bedroom.

  It took some time to get her to calm down and stay in the bedroom, but she finally calmed down and went to take a shower. Red waited until he heard the water run and the shower door close before going back to the kitchen.

  As he approached the kitchen, Peaches was pulling herself up from the floor. Red winced as he looked at Peach’s face. Both of her eyes had begun to swell, her lip was split down the middle, and she was nursing her side.

  “Damn baby, you okay?” Red said as he handed Peaches a dishtowel to wipe the blood from her face.

  “Fuck you, Red! Who is this bitch?” Peaches said, holding her side.

  Due to swelling, he wasn’t able to see the look in her eyes, but he could tell she was fuming.

  “You know what? I don’t care. I’m done. I can’t do this shit no more.” Peaches said as she walked toward the door. She held her side as she grabbed her purse and keys.

  Red didn’t even try to go after her. He knew that more than being mad, Peaches was embarrassed that she just had her ass beat by a pup. Peaches was raised on the west side of Charlotte. She had fought almost every day as a child, and was known around the neighborhood as the chick you didn’t mess with. Losing a fight was something that didn’t happen to her. Especially losing a fight to a little teenage rich girl.

  Red had called and texted her a few times without any luck. Tonight, he was in a good mood. He had some extra cash, and he knew that with money and the right words, he could make Peaches forgive him.

  “I haven’t seen her in about two weeks. You can tell she ain’t been here, because the crowd has thinned some.” Trixie said, looking at herself in the mirror. “I can go check and see if she back there, if you want.”

  “Nah, don’t worry about it. I ain’t got time to worry about that crazy girl. I got business to handle.” Red said, nodding to Dover.

  Trixie smiled and left the VIP room.

  Dover leaned over close to Red. “Ok man, we stepping our game up or being suicidal?” he said, sitting on the edge of the leather chair.

  “Yeah, dude, we robbed fucking Carlton and King. Them niggas ain’t no light weights.” Texas said, sipping his gin.

  “Man, fuck them niggas. Don’t worry about that shit, I got back up if we need it… How much we end up with, anyway?” Red said, while watching the dancer slide down the pole on the center stage.

  “About 250 stacks and three bricks already bagged up.” Texas said.

  Red smiled and nodded his head in approval.

  __________

  King, Kareem and the rest of his crew sat at the kitchen table in one of their stash houses. They had been thinking all morning on the right way to strike back at Red and his squad.

  “So, we know they are on their damn guard. We need to find a way to get our shit back, plus a pound of flesh. Fuck that, four pounds of flesh.” King said, pacing the floor in his parents’ basement.

  “You said Red did this, right?” Dirty said and laughed. “Well, you know everything in life happens for a reason. Guess who my fucking cell mate was when I was in the joint?”

  “Who, nigga?”

  “Titus… and do you know who Titus is?” Dirty asked with a huge grin.

  “Your cell mate?” King said, getting annoyed with the twenty questions bullshit.

  “Titus is Red’s cousin, and Titus really liked to talk about how his cousin was taking over the city. You know when you are locked up, you either write, read, talk or go crazy. Titus liked to talk, and he talked a whole lot. This nigga told me all about his cousin’s houses, hangouts, and women. I think he got a girlfriend over at Nikki’s. Her name is… damn. What is her name?” Dirty said, tapping his finger against his temple.

  “Nikki’s?” King said, laughing. “The only dancer worth fucking with over there is Peaches.”

  “Peaches? That could be her name. I know her house is one of his stash houses. He got her in a place off Sugar Creek. He stashes his guns and dope there, from what Titus told me.”

  “He got his stash and ass in the same house? Damn he don’t give a fuck about that bitch, huh?” King said, shaking his head.

  “Nah, he care, he just makes sure that nobody know that he stash his shit there. Titus knows because he used to fuck Peaches until he got locked up. Red fucked her one night and fell in love with the bitch. Titus said he wasn’t gonna fall out with family over no pussy.” Dirty said and grabbed another beer from the refrigerator.

  “What else did Titus tell ya, brah?” King said and sat down. “We need to get our shit back and give these fools some act right.”

  __________

  Panama, Kirk, Mike, and Trip stood in the parking lot of the old Harris Teeter. King had called and told them to meet him and Kareem there at ten. The four of them had heard about what happened on Milton, and Panama was ready to spill
some blood in the streets. Strap was his first cousin, and he was the one who had to tell his Aunt that her only son had been murdered. Each tear that fell from her eyes made his blood boil, and he wanted to go out in the streets and bring hell to Red. Even though his emotions were running high and he wanted Red’s head on a plate, he knew that letting feelings run him in this game would end with him not breathing. Panama had joined the service straight out of high school, and one thing he knew was to study the enemy. When you attack the enemy, it is crucial to make sure that they can never come back. That was something that Red obviously didn’t understand.

  A pair of headlights cut the darkness of the parking lot. Panama made out King’s Jaguar as he pulled into the parking space beside Panama’s black Cayenne SUV. He pounded King, and nodded at Kareem. Panama really didn’t care for Kareem. The nigga was always cracking on people, and Panama’s large facial features made him the butt of a lot of Kareem’s jokes. But he also knew Kareem’s street credit went deep and niggas knew that he would put that work in, and his love and loyalty for King was undeniable.

  “What’s good fam, you all know why we here,” King said, leaning back on the trunk of his Jag. “Red done fucking robbed us and killed our brothers. We got to set this right and send a damn message to the streets.”

  “What you need us to do, King?” Panama said, not in the mood for a speech.

  The men discussed the plan for thirty minutes, and then left the parking lot. Panama and Trip headed towards Fourth Street. Panama did not like using information provided by niggas he didn’t know. He was sure that most niggas always left something important out. He had to check the area for himself to make sure they were not walking into some shit that would put them in body bags.

  __________

  “You ready to do this shit, brah?” Kareem said, checking his AR-15.

  King nodded as he pulled to the end of the narrow road.

  King’s track phone buzzed. “Yeah? All right, call me when we can move.” King hit end on the key pad.

  He had bought the temporary phone to make sure that no one could trace them. He didn’t give a fuck about Red knowing, but he didn’t need the cops being able to trace this shit back to him. He tapped his fingers on the trigger of his Colt. The car was silent, both men were preparing to go in and send people to hell. They had shot his boys down like animals without a thought, and King was going to make sure that they felt exactly what his family felt.

  __________

  Panama wiped the blade of his knife off on his pants. He had decided against guns, they were a little noisy and not as personal. He wanted these niggas to see death coming for them, and with the swipe of his blade across their throats, he would feel that he had avenged his cousin’s death.

  “I thought Kareem said there was only two niggas up here.” Trip said, looking around.

  “That is why we needed to check shit out for ourselves.” Panama said.

  It was early, and the hood was hot. The fiends were keeping the dope boys busy. Cars were going up and down the street.

  “It’s too hot here, bro, for this shit to go down tonight. Damn, and on a Sunday night too. This nigga got all this money being made, why the fuck he wanna come on our side?” Trip said as he watched the street with his night goggles.

  “Shit, you know niggas greedy… but we gotta clear this shit tonight. We gonna need some more fire power. Get Shark and Marcus over here. I’mma call King.” Panama said

  Panama leaned against the wall of the building’s roof.

  “Yo, King, this block is on fire tonight. You sure you want to take this shit tonight?” Panama asked, while Trip continued to look down the scope of his rifle, watching the dope fiends and the hustlers.

  “Yeah, I’m sure, fam. We might not get this chance again anytime soon,” King responded.

  “Aight man, we got you. I got Trip calling in some more peeps, just in case.” Panama said before hanging up the phone. “So did you get them on the phone?”

  “Yeah, they just two blocks over at Chip’s house. They on they way.” Trip said, still looking through the scope.

  “Aight, we just waiting on King to give us the word.” Panama said as he sat down on the concrete slab.

  __________

  Red and his crew were still at the club. They had been drinking and smoking since the club opened. He and Texas watched the new dancer hypnotize the crowd with the movements of her full hips and thick thighs. Red’s entire crew was quiet, which was a rarity for them. Miguel’s Adore flowed through the speakers as she floated down from the pole. Floated was the only way that Red could describe how she moved. The song ended and the VIP room was quiet for a moment.

  “Well damn, Nikki’s is getting some talent up in this piece.” Texas said as he took a sip of his beer.

  Trixie entered the room and began clearing the bottles.

  “Trixie, who is that new bitch?” Texas said, nodding toward the stage as the woman gathered her money from the stage floor.

  “That’s Mystic, she’s new. She and her girlfriend just started. Since Peaches hasn’t been here, Tigga scouted for some new talent and found them in some little place in Virginia. They do shows.” Trixie said, making quotation marks in the air. “This is their second night, and the fucking line is wrapped around the damn block. I’ll be back with your drinks, okay? And I hear that Peaches is here, Red, she just got here about ten minutes ago.” Trixie said before walking out the door.

  Red lit his blunt again and sighed. Although he missed Peaches, Mystic’s performance had pushed her from his mind for the moment.

  The lights flickered, and the scent of strawberries flooded the club. It mixed with the smell from the weed smoke in VIP. The stage became full of pink smoke, and Rihanna’s song, “Pour it Up,” came over the speaker. Trixie even stopped to see what was going to happen on the stage.

  A silk purple piece of cloth fell from the ceiling, and then in time with the music, five additional silk cloth strands came down.

  As Rihanna let out a Throw it up, throw it up, two women descended from the ceiling, twirling themselves in the material.

  Watch it all fall out

  Pour it up, pour it up

  That’s how we ball out

  Throw it up, throw it up

  Watch it all fall out

  Pour it up, pour it up

  That’s how we ball out

  The women wore long black wigs with masquerade type masks over their eyes. As the music flowed through the speakers, the women moved from the fabric effortlessly.

  “Damn, you seeing this shit, Red?” Texas said, standing up.

  The music stopped and the material dropped. The women were hanging from a purple rope. Their legs were entwined around each other. One of them had her hand on the rope, supporting the two of them. The music started again, and one woman flipped herself upside down, putting them in a sixty-nine position. The crowd went crazy.

  “Whoo, damn!” Texas said.

  Trixie stood with her mouth open. Nikki’s had never featured this type of act before. She looked at the flat screen TVs on the wall. The cameraman had zoomed in on the women. They had flawless bodies. Strong toned hips, thighs, flat stomachs, and full DD breast. The money began to rain down on them as they continued their routine. Their hands explored each other, and their facial expressions were making niggas’ shit rock hard.

  Red sat mesmerized by the women. It was like watching two fucking butterflies on stage. This shit was too high class for Nikki’s. This wasn’t stripping, this was entertainment. The club went black for about thirty seconds and one red light hit the stage. The women were arm in arm with one leg straight up in the air. They slowly lowered their legs and took a bow.

  The club erupted again, and dudes and females began making it rain down on the duo.

  Trixie had just witnessed her fucking tips getting better, cause these bitches were not only going to bring in niggas, they were going to bring some white money from Uptown Charlotte in the place
. Shit, we are going mainstream, she thought to herself.

  __________

  Panama and Trip watched the traffic on Fourth Street. They had been there for a little over an hour, watching the movement below. Panama was now satisfied that they would not have any surprises. There were three street workers, and from what he could see, there were maybe four or five people inside, including two women.

  Panama called down to King to let him know the coast was clear.

  “Did you say two ladies was in the house?” King asked with concern.

  “Yeah, two hoes them niggas probably tricking off on.”

  “Well, we need to hold up until they leave. I ain’t with killing women—”

  “Brah, I thought you said this shit gots to go down tonight.” Panama said, cutting King off.

  “Yeah, I did, but I got a mother and a daughter. Like I said, I ain’t with killing no innocent women, so we just got to wait!” King yelled into the phone, making his point clear.

  Just as Panama was about to hang up, the two strippers came out the front door and started walking down the street. They were laughing and counting money, completely unaware of how close they had just come to death.

  “All right, the bitches just left out. Are you ready?” Panama asked.

  “Yeah nigga, we good,” King said, looking at Kareem, who nodded at him.

  Panama was watching from the roof of the tire building, and he squeezed off two shots, taking out two of the street boys quietly with his silenced rifle. The two men fell without a sound to the ground. Panama waited for the third man to come out of the trap house. He had gone in to drop money and to get some product. As the third man walked towards the corner, Trip had him lined up in his sights. He exhaled as he squeezed the trigger and the man fell perfectly in front of a tree.

  King opened the door of the old Pontiac that he used when he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He and Kareem walked down Fifth Street and jumped a fence to the house that was next to Red’s trap house. Kareem held his AR, ready to pop anything that moved.