

Bankroll

Squad

By: David Weaver

**Bankroll Squad Revised**

David Weaver

Copyright David Weaver 2010

Published by SBR Publications at Smashwords

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

LCCN:

ISBN: 978-0-615-25055-7

Cover Design/ Graphics: Marion Design

Author: David Weaver

Typesetting: Brian Holscher

Consulting: Lakiesha Weaver

Editing: David Weaver

Copyright 2008 by David Weaver. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except by reviewer who may quote brief passages to be printed in a newspaper or magazine.

Dedication

This novel is dedicated to my gorgeous daughter, Deja Weaver. Daddy loves you, now and forever. To my Queen, Lakiesha Weaver, who has had my back since day one? My grandmother, Rose Weaver, whom I will always love. Thank you Grandma, for everything you've done for me. To my mother, Dian King, look what your oldest son has became ... a published author! Thanks Mom, for everything. Thank God for blessing me with the gifts of wisdom and forgiveness ... and for being my comforter when nothing, nor no one else could comfort me.

acknowledgements

My two brothers, Cameron King and Trevor King. Stay focused and realizes that anything is possible. My cousin, Britteney Weaver ... thanks for being there for me throughout the length of my incarceration. It takes a real person to write a prisoner every week when the prisoner is facing 10 to life. I love you cuz. My family ... Uncle Robert, Aunt Sheila, Uncle Charles, Uncle Candy, Aunt Ree (Rose), Eugene King (that's my Dad), the entire King family in Ellaville GA and beyond, the entire Haven family in Los Angeles and beyond (whassup Gary), my cousins Keisha Swanson and Akeen Harvey (fish), my cousin Dee Dee in Jacksonville, Florida (thanks for showing me Jville). To my cousin Deroderick, who has had my back and believed in me in the beginning. I love you all.

A special thank you to Joann for keeping the guards screaming my name at mail call. It's the small things that count.

Shout outs to J.P. and Ivory P (even though that lifestyle is behind me, for ya'll I pray and show my respect), Kendrick Slaughter (the drop top Bentley is now in my tax bracket ... thanks for all the advice), Antoine Royal ... oh, I'm really REALLY bout to stunt now! Nigel C., Smoke, Big O, Nakia B., Ceyanti C., Yo yo yo, Ice Cap! My homey Wade... what's poppin? Chris W., Taryl T., "Uncle Matt," Derrick F., Derrick H., the whole town of Buena Vista, GA. The city

of Houston, TX. Pittsburgh, PA (whassup Kennethia). Shout out to all the soldiers on lock (federal or state, it's still a hell-hole). Trigger Boy (it's a real treat when pimps and gangsta's speak ... I'm looking you up when I touch down). Amba, Vegas, Pig, Leary, Rob, Gucci, ya'll motivated me to keep pushing the pen. Marlandow Jeffries (hold ya' head up playa'), Willie Sylvester a.k.a Smiley, and if I forgot someone's name, blame it on my mind and not my heart. Smart, Black, and Rich on deck.

one

Kyla eyed Malcolm's dark skinned, muscular arms as he held the steering wheel at the red light.

"Errrrrrck!",The lime green Lamborghini Gallardo went from zero to sixty when the light turned green; then slowed down to 53 to avoid a collision. It then switched from the left lane to the right lane, passed two vehicles and sped up to 72 mph in a matter of seconds.

"Malcolm, why do you always drive like a mad man when I get in the car?"

Malcolm swerved the wheels lightly to the right to avoid the potential damage from a pothole, and then straightened the wheel. He slowed the $200,000 vehicle down so that he could safely make it on to the expressway.

"Kyla. Don't start with me, I was driving like this before you got in my car."

"Oh stop flexin'. You know you just tryna' get home to your white bitch!"

Malcolm immediately broke his speed and shifted to the emergency lane. He slowed to a halt, took a deep breath, the reached over and grabbed Kyla's throat with his right hand, "I'm sick of you talking about my wife all the time Kyla. I'm sick of it!"

Kyla fought back for a few seconds, but from experience she know that he was strong enough to have his way no matter what it was that she did. Malcolm let go of her neck upon seeing a police car ride past him on the way to combat crime. She wheezed briefly, then tried to breathe in as much oxygen as possible as fast as possible. Sobbing, she leaned downward and covered her face with her hands.

Malcolm maneuvered the Lamborghini back onto the expressway, occasionally glancing at Kyla. "I'm sorry Ky. It's just that . . . you know how I get when-"

"Malcolm! Stop apologizing to me. No amount of apologies in the world can justify everything that you put me through and continue putting me through, you heartless bastard! You left me for a white woman!"

"Ky, why is it always about race with you?"

"Because you left me!"

"Well, if I'm so damn heartless, why do you still deal with me? Why are you wit me right now?"

Kyla was in tears. Malcolm hated when Kyla started crying because he knew that he was wrong for what he did. He hurt her beyond repair. He made her a criminal. He destroyed her innocence, her dreams, and their engagement. He knew that she loved him. It had been two years since he left her and she still did everything he asked her to do. She still had not moved on, he was the first and last lover she had. He reached over and

tried to caress her shoulder, but upon contact she jumped. She is scared of me, Malcolm thought to himself. He reached out to hold her hand with his free hand and she reluctantly allowed him to do so. After a few moments, he again placed his hand on her shoulder and attempted to caress her. This time she allowed it. She had her guard down. Malcolm just felt right to her, he was her comforter.

"I love you Malcolm."

Malcolm glanced in Kyla's direction and noticed that she was gazing at him intensely. He regarded her for a moment. Kyla was gorgeous. She was of black and Puerto Rican descent, had long, curly hair, and perfect bronze skin. She was 5'5 and weighed 128 pounds. Kyla was everything that anyone could ask for from a woman. At times, though, her negative traits would override her positive traits. She could be cool one minute, and the next minute she could be a jealous, crazed maniac. The moment that she felt insecure about something; no matter how minute, she never let go of the subject, and most of the times, these moments led to violence.

$ $ $ $ $

2 years ago, Malcolm's best friend Catfish was planning a proposal to his girlfriend, Tricia. He had shelled out

$50,000 on a splendid 5 carat diamond engagement ring. Catfish couldn't make it to the jewelry store to pick up the custom ring when it was done because he was in Miami on official business. It was December 19th and he wouldn't be back

in town until the 21st. The jewelry store, however, closed for the holidays on the 20th. Catfish called and left a brief message on Malcolm's home answering machine. The message said: "The ring is finished. Pick it up Mal. Or, if you want you can send somebody. J.K. knows. Holla."

At the time, Malcolm was sleeping and Kyla didn't want to disturb him so she took it upon herself to retrieve the ring. When she arrived at the store, J.K., the owner, was not present. Instead the salesperson gave her the ring gift-wrapped and said, "You must be Tricia. You are a lucky girl." Kyla gave the salesperson a forced smile and left the jewelry store with a rage building up. She climb into her new Range Rover and called Malcolm right away. She didn't even take the time to ask legitimate questions before she started firing off her rampant accusations.

"Malcolm! You bastard, you dirty snake in the grass, you sick trick-"

"Hey man, what the hell is wrong with you?"

At the time, Kyla's temper had flared up like a camp-fire and could not be controlled. "You mothball son of a bitch! Who the hell is Tricia?"

Malcolm sighed. "Is this another one of your pathetic accusations Kyla? If so then you-" The phone clicked off on the other end. "Hello? Kyla? Son of a bitch!"

And that was the last time Malcolm heard from Kyla for at least a month and a half. 45 days later, when she finally realized who Tricia was, Malcolm had moved on. Kyla tried desperately to reconcile and reconnect with Malcolm, but to no avail. After she remained persistent about it for close to three weeks, Malcolm told her that the only way she could be with him is to become a part of the Bankroll Squad. Eager to show him that

she loved him, she ditched medical school and hung onto his every word and command. Even after he married someone else, she remained the Bonni to his Clyde. After a while she soon became fascinated with the lifestyle. On her right breast, the tattoo said 'Bankroll' and her left breast had the word 'Squad'. Even though Malcolm was the leader of Squad, Kyla quickly became the most prized member. Partly because of her ability to go to Colombia and negotiate prices for bulk kilo shipments of pure cocaine. On one deal in particular, she negotiated a price of $6,000 per kilo and sold all 1,000 kilos for $14,000 a piece before Malcolm even knew she had them to begin with. He sent her on a private jet with 6 million in cash and she came back with 14 million dollars. She was also coveted because of the 100 girl international and cross country prostitution ring that she controlled. She came up with the idea and worked out all the kinks, including recruiting 100 girls, then she tested it without Malcolm's knowledge. After a week of "testing," she brought the idea to Malcolm along with about $500,000 in pure profit. The girls made between $1,500 and $3,000 a day. A piece. She brings Malcolm about $800 per girl per day. With that addition, it makes Bankroll Squad the #9 ranked crime ring in the country. Before the addition of prostitution, the Squad wasn't even in the top 10.

$ $ $ $ $

"You passed the exit Malcolm! Damn baby, something must be on your mind."

Malcolm sharply snatched his hand away from Kyla's shoulder and placed it on the 200 grand steering wheels. Kyla reached over and started pulling down Malcolm's zipper.

"Ky, what are you doing, tryna' make me

wreck?"

She knew Malcolm never wore boxers or underwear and wrapped her hand around his suddenly erect shaft.

"Stop Ky."

Kyla pulled it out his pants and went down on him.

"Move Ky, I mean it. Stop!"

Kyla sucked, and then made a catlike purring noise.

"What if I don't wanna' stop?"

As she went down again, Malcolm suddenly exited off of the expressway.

"Ky, get out. Now."

The car came to a screeching halt. Kyla came up looking confused and disappointed. She looked around the area.

"Where the hell am I Malcolm?"

Malcolm unlocked her door and picked up his Iphone.

"Who you callin'? Why you act so funny?" She tapped her finger against her knee.

"Catfish? Yeah, this Malcolm man. Aye, I'm right outside of your condo and I need you to take Ky to get her truck. Huh? Nall, she called me and asked me to pick her up from the mall earlier, she had taken a cab there but I think she was really just setting me up. She's in one of her little moods Cat. Aight. Peace."

Kyla was bouncing her knee up and down nervously, her hands in her lap clasped together.

"Is that how it is, Boss?"

Malcolm rolled his eyes

"Kyla Brent you know I'm married! I don't know why you're in denial."

Kyla sighed loudly.

"So what if I'm in denial. I love you Malcolm. I'm not just here because of money like your damn trophy wife! She doesn't even do anything for you. Why can't you see this, damnit! I don't need Catfish to take me anywhere."

She climbed out of the Lamborghini and proceeded to walk. Malcolm pulled off staring at Kyla on the rearview camera. She was giving him the deluxe middle finger. He gave the machine gas and it almost ripped the pavement apart. Zero to sixty in the duration of a sneeze, a "bless you," and a "thanks."

$ $ $ $ $

Malcolm arrived at his lavish estate about twenty-five minutes later. To even gain entrance onto the premises he had to scan his thumbprint and index finger at the primary control center. After making it past that gate, he had another gate that was operated with actual people. Actually, they were trained snipers converted to bodyguards.

"Good evening Mr. Powers."

Malcolm Powers simply waved and kept moving forward. The Lambo moved swiftly down the 2-mile paved driveway on route to his mansion. It was mid- spring and the pine trees lining the pathway were a rich shade of green and gave the pathway a mystic effect due to the shade. The Power mansion, equipped with some 27 rooms, had a indoor pool and studio. Malcolm was so

avid of a car collector, that instead of building a garage to house the vehicles, he had an underground closed quarter's parking lot. He pulled up to his home and cursed for having to wait on his butler to come out and park the car. He blew the horn and watched the door to the mansion open up as a nervous acting bookworm ran out so that he could park the vehicle.

"Jeffrey, I've told you over and over to keep alert and pay attention to what's going on around here. You didn't see me coming with all of this surveillance posted?"

Jeffrey wiped the sweat off of his face with a white handkerchief.

"I'm sorry Mr. Powers. I was helping to move your library from the right wing to the left wing as you requested sir. I may park your car now sir."

Malcolm exited the vehicle and went into his home.

two

Jennifer was 5'9 and 122 pounds. She had glowing white skin, deep dimples, voluptuous breast, long

brunette/blond hair, and no job. Not only was she

exit of an occupation but she was also exit of a hustle. She was without goals, but was filled to the rim with constant requests of material items. Malcolm was first attracted to her because of her beauty. He launched his Crispy Frisbee potato chip line around the time that Kyla left him, and needed a model for his debut TV commercial for the brand. He was launching the brand in 5 states and planned to expand to at least 25 states if the brand proved successful regionally on the small market. He held open call auditions, but found women more suitable to be in music videos than a potato chip commercial. He had originally planned for Kyla to be the face of the brand but her sudden disappearance saw him on a sudden search. One morning Malcolm was leaving the Galleria mall in Houston, TX and while opening the door to his baby blue Bentley, he

exchanged flirtatious looks with a beautiful white lady headed to her black BMW 650 convertible. She had on a plaid Versace skirt

and had long brunette hair with golden blond streaks. She had Versace bags in her hand and she gave off the aura of a celebrity actress. That day they exchanged numbers and that night they went out to have dinner.

He found out that she wasn't a celebrity, but nevertheless fell in love with her personality. It was the first time that he had ever met a woman who was just as fashion savvy as he was. She expressed her love and desire to live the good life openly; something that Kyla expressed no interest in whatsoever. Jennifer knew all about cars, rims, clothes, upscale clubs, restaurants, and even private hotels. She never knew that Malcolm did anything illegal, she just took his word that he was a successful entrepreneur. Jennifer trusted Malcolm and did what was told of her. Catfish had even noticed that Malcolm was in a happier mood with Jennifer than with Kyla. Jenny always tried to cook breakfast and dinner at home when they weren't eating out and always put a smile on Malcolm's face when he was in the worst of moods. She cleaned, trusted, and entertained as if it was the end of the world if it didn't happen. Whenever the two of them went shopping or attended any place together, onlookers gawked at the couple in amazement and envy. Black women were sick to their stomachs upon watching them go out on the town and be carefree and happy. White men simply turned their heads in disgust and hoped that the image would soon fade from their memory. On the contrary, black men and white women simply wished that they could live so elegantly; if just for a day. In the beginning it didn't matter that Jenny had no job, it just mattered that she had his heart. He

asked her how she got her car and how she was surviving and she expressed that her father had passed away and left her with $250,000 of insurance money. She asked him if he needed some investment money for his potato chip brand. Malcolm thought the gesture to be cute. He smiled at her, politely declined, and dropped down to one knee. That was one of her happiest moments. She accepted the engagement and they were married four months later.

$ $ $ $ $

"Jen, what the fuck is wrong with you? You look like shit and smell like a liquor barrel. What the hell?"

Jennifer's face was red, both of anger and of exhaustion. Malcolm knew that the look on her face

meant trouble.

"Malcolm," She screamed.

"You lied to me!" She slung a Vodka bottle in his direction and missed.

The bottle shattered against the marble floor. Another bottle came at him, it was half full of liquor. He tried to catch it so that it wouldn't fall but it slipped out of his grasp and shattered, spilling Vodka on his shoes and his creased khakis.

"Jen- Jen, get a hold of yourself!"

He went toward her, arms stretched out in an effort to hold and comfort her, no matter what the reason was that she was in distress.

"Don't come anywhere near me Malcolm! You lied!"

Damn this is the second distraught women in one day, Malcolm thought.

"What did I lie about baby? What's wrong? Talk to me please."

Stumbling, she walked promptly into the kitchen and made her way to the sink. Without speaking, she continued coating the chicken in flour. But something was wrong with the scenario. One of his business briefcases was open on the counter. Damn, he thought, she found my cellar. Malcolm kept a hidden underground cellar underneath the library that was formally on the right wing of the mansion. There were a few rare wines, but the main idea was to keep what he called "fallback," extra kilos in case a shipment went horribly wrong or in case of a drought. Since he now dealt directly with Colombia via airplane, a drought would only happen if Hell froze over.

"Jen, is that my shit?"

Jennifer started laughing hysterically; a crazed maniac almost.

"What shit Malcolm? Huh? What is it Malcolm? Cocaine?

"Oh looky looky, you're mad now! Hahaha. You're mad? You put my life in jeopardy and you got the right to be mad?"

Jennifer dumped a zip lock bag of cocaine into the sink with the water washing it away. Malcolm grabbed her by the waist, picked her up and attempted to take her out of the kitchen but she kicked everything in reach, forcing him to let her go since she was kicking coke-filled zip lock bags to the floor as well. She turned and faced him, tears rolling down her face and madness building up in his.

"I hate you Malcolm!" She swung at him but he grabbed her arms and jammed her up against the wall. In a dangerous voice, Malcolm spoke sternly and precisely.

"You hate me? You live a life of luxury with no job and you hate me?"

Jennifer was crying.

"You're hurting me Malcolm."

"Fuck that Jen. Listen to me! You drive Bentley's, wear million dollar jewelry, and live in a multimillion dollar mansion and you have the nerve to complain about how the money was made? You must be out of your rabbit ass mind!"

A tear rolled down Jennifer's face and her body was trembling.

"Let go of me Malcolm. Now!"

Malcolm let go of her and watched as she walked out of the kitchen in slow motion. She was hurt, damned near on the verge of going into shock. Malcolm approached her and put his arms around her, stopping her in place. She stopped and closed her eyes in an attempt to control her crying. She felt Malcolm's warm breath caress the back of her neck, sending erotic shudders down her spine.

"Baby," Malcolm was whispering in her ear now, in a soothing voice,

"You know that I love you Jen, you know that. I loved you since day one and I'll continue to love you until the day that the love that I give you is not returned."

When Jennifer turned around to face him, Malcolm saw that her whole face was wet with tears. Seeing how much hurt he had placed upon her hurt him. He kissed her on the lips.

"I'm sorry Jennifer, but this is who I am and either you're going to accept me or reject me."

Malcolm turned away from her and went to change his clothes. Jen followed him into the bedroom, "Malcolm, where are you going?"

Malcolm finished changing his clothes without speaking.

Jen was furious. "Malcolm!"

Without speaking, Malcolm walked out of the bedroom and went to retrieve the keys to his baby blue Bentley.

"Malcolm you don't even have the fuckin' courtesy to answer your wife's question?" Jennifer was in a rage.

Malcolm kept ignoring her for a few more moments, then he glared at his wife with one of the most menacing looks that he could possibly put together.

"Jennifer I'm giving you some time to think about what I said. You're going to have to accept me-"

Jennifer cut him off before he could finish and finished his statement for him.

"Or reject you! I heard you the first time you said it Malcolm, what do you think I am, some type of deaf tramp or something?"

Malcolm walked out the house. Jen followed behind him, she was beyond furious.

"Where the flying fuck are you headed Malcolm?"

Malcolm tossed the keys to Jeffrey so that he could bring his vehicle around for him. He turned and faced Jen one last time before leaving.

"Don't ask me a question and interrupt me when I'm giving you an answer and then turn right back around and ask me the same damn thing again. I'm going to the Power Building, I have a couple of things on my schedule that I need to attend to. Afterwards, I'm going to check out this nightclub that this guy is trying to sell. If I think it's worth it then I'll buy it, In the meantime, you need to take a nap, sleep off some of the alcohol that you've consumed today. Then, when you wake up, think about what I said."

Jen stood still with her arms crossed as she watched her husband climb into the convertible Bentley. He let the top down and searched for his Young Jeezy "Trap or Die" CD. He found it and inserted it into the CD deck.

"Jen, put the rest of my shit back where you got it from."

He reached his hand out so that she could put her hand in his, she did, then he violently pulled her against the car so that he could enforce the tone of his next statement.

"And Jennifer! Make sure that Jeffrey doesn't start running his mouth about what he's seen. Your little outrageous outburst could be my downfall! Don't let it happen. Is that understood?"

"Yes Malcolm."

Then he released her hand and turned the volume up in the car. He pulled off, leaving Jennifer standing in the same spot with her arms crossed again, pouting. Even after he drove out of the gate and past security, and even after she could no longer see her husband's vehicle anymore, she could still hear the sound system in the distance, "I'm the realest nigga' in it/ You already know/ Got trap of the year/ 4 times in a row.. ...

$ $ $ $ $

Catfish was the head of Bankroll Squad's Special Victims Unit. The SVU was specifically developed for the people who either refused to pay their debts to any member of the Bankroll Squad or for people who owed money and decided to run and hide instead of paying their bills. Catfish was 6'4, 270 pounds, and a most intimidating presence to all violators. He kept a .45

Magnum with a silencer on it that he used efficiently and effectively. He had a brand new Cadillac Escalade with custom

paint, rims, and a custom interior, but he had to be reminded by Malcolm to drive the SUV. Catfish could care less about being flashy because he was so dedicated to his job. Even though Malcolm pays Catfish a million dollars a month, Catfish still continues to ride around in his black van. It was his signature. Whenever Catfish had to pull out that .45 and use it, the body always went inside that back seat of the van until he could go burn of the body properly. Today's Special Victim was a guy named Waller. Waller just didn't know how to keep his mouth shut. Catfish heard from a friend of his that Waller was down at the pool hall a couple nights ago bragging that the Bankroll Squad fronted him 10 kilos of cocaine and only wanted $15,000 a piece for them. This angered Catfish because he was running his damn mouth for unnecessary reasons and making the Squad hot. Catfish had to stop this before it got back around to Malcolm; because if it got back around to Malcolm without the situation already handled, he would be thoroughly pissed. He would also think that Catfish was slipping on his job.

$ $ $ $ $

"Get in the van Kyla."

Kyla stared straight ahead and kept walking up the sidewalk. It was a pretty spring evening and she had every intention to take a walk to the hotel four blocks away and catch a cab to her house. But it was Catfish.

"Kyla get in the mutha' fuckin' van. Now!" Kyla glared into the van.

"Stop fuckin' cussing me you idiot! I don't need a damn ride, I'm fine."

Catfish slammed on the brakes, threw the gear into park and jumped out the van. As soon as his feet touched the ground she swiftly walked to the passenger side door.

"Stop playing Cat, I don't want no problems, I'm gettin' in!"

They both had to be at the Power Building in three hours and Kyla wanted to go to her house and get a couple hours of sleep since she had been up all night.

"Cat, drop me off at my house if you don't mind"

"I'm on my way to go do something."

"Yeah I know, I assume you're on your way to my house to drop me off so that I can get some rest."

"No, this is urgent. If I'm forced to drop you off anywhere that you can rest, it'll be the ocean." There was silence for a few moments.

"Catfish I'm really sleepy and I'd appreciate it if you would just...."

Kyla's voice trailed off when she saw Catfish pull his blue gun case from underneath his seat. She knew that Catfish was nothing to play with even though they had developed a sisterly/brotherly type bond. Sure Catfish joked around with her a lot, but he rarely smiled so it was hard to tell when he was serious or not.

"What's so damn urgent that you can't take me to the house?"

Without answering her question, he slowly merged off to a side street. The street had a vacant warehouse on it with a fence around it. The fence had a No Trespassing sign on it and there was a residential home located diagonally across the street from the warehouse. There was a U-turn area at the end of the street.

Catfish speed dialed a number with his cell phone as he slowed to a crawl near the entrance of the warehouse parking lot. Prince Tron was on the other line.

"4530 Wekin Street right?," Catfish asked.

"Yeah, how far away are you Catfish?"

"Shit I'm already here man. Where the hell am I gon' park my van at?"

"Damn Cat, you drove that big muthafucka? Hurry up and park it behind the warehouse before you start looking suspicious."

"Aight Tron, where you at?"

"I'll meet you there in about 10 minutes, stay put Cat."

"Aight Tron. One."

"One."

Prince Tron was in control of accounts and balances and kept a long standing direct relationship with Catfish. He was the man who looked into his computer at the end of the week and reported the overdue accounts to Catfish. He was also adept at finding the location of the overdue account holders regardless of where they were hiding. And since he was good at finding people, Catfish had requested information on the whereabouts of Waller. 4530 Wekin Street was the address of Waller's baby-mother's house, and according to Prince Tron, no one was home at this hour except for Waller. Catfish pulled his van around the back of the warehouse and parked it. He pulled his .45 out of the gun case with the silencer already assembled, along with the infrared beam. He quickly explained the situation to Kyla, who immediately understood why he didn't take her straight

to her house. Tron pulled up besides Catfish in his Porsche truck and shut off the engine. He climbed out.

"Kyla, stay put in this van. If we get any visitors before we come out, call my cell phone."

"Okay Cat I'll do that. Leave the keys so that I can listen to the radio."

Catfish left her the keys, got out and greeted Tron. Tron had a custom made crown on his neck that had every bit of $100,000 worth of diamonds invested in it. And for some reason, even when he went with Catfish to do dirty work he always kept his crown on. No matter how bloody the situation got, that chain stayed on his neck. Catfish had on his usual attire, black t-shirt and black jeans. Black gloves and black shoes. Black gun, black bag, black diamond watch. A person could take one look at Catfish and instantly be reminded that they will one day die. Tron and Catfish crossed the street and knocked on Waller's door. Catfish kept knocking and Tron kept ringing the doorbell.

Knock, knock, knock, ring, ring. Then the sound of footsteps approaching.

Then a voice. "Who is it?"

It was Waller indeed on the other side of the door.

"Cat and Tron!" Catfish said in his deep, husky voice.

Waller opened the door smiling,

"What's up my niggaz? Ya'll come on in."

Prince Tron and Catfish walked into Waller's house, scoping out the scene just in case there were surprises. Waller looked puzzled.

"How did ya'll know I was here or that I even stayed on this street?"

Silence from Catfish; Prince Tron asked Waller a question.

"Waller, is anybody else here with you?" "Naw Tron, why you ask me that?"

"Because I got something that I wanna' show you. It's some private shit Wally."

Waller was starting to look suspicious now, his forehead wrinkling up and his eyes darting back and forth from Catfish to Prince Tron. The telephone rang and he jumped; startled. He turned to the direction that the phone was ringing and when he turned back around there was a sawed-off shotgun in his face, sponsored by Prince Tron. Also there was a red shaded light in his eyes. He wiped his eye and realized that it was an infrared beam from a .45 magnum.

"Wh-wh-what did I do?"

Waller was shaking and was on the verge of tears.

"Pl-pl-please don't kill me. I have a child to raise. Please!"

Catfish hit him on the side of the head with the butt of the pistol. Waller collapsed and fell through the living room coffee table.

"Tie him up Tron, and give him a shot to keep him out for a few hours."

Prince Tron tied him up and gave him a 6 hour knockout serum while Catfish pulled a small case out of his black Kenneth Cole bag.

"Cat, What the hell is you doing man?"

Catfish glared at Tron as if he had lost his mind for questioning him. Cat opened up the small case and pulled out a needle with thread running through it. Wasting no time, he proceeded to thread Waller's mouth shut.

$ $ $ $ $

Every section leader of the Bankroll Squad was in attendance for the meeting at the Power Building. Kyla, of Negotiations/ Special Services, Catfish of Special Victims Unit, Prince Tron of Accounts and Balances, Brink of Aerial Transportation, Marco the Associate Director, Pam of Contamination Control, and their leader, their boss, the brain to the body, Malcolm Powers.

three

Malcolm graduated from Georgia State University, majoring in psychology and minoring in Business Management. He hustled in order to pay for his expensive education and had every intention of leaving the "game" alone and getting a top-notch job once he graduated. But after he graduated, he realized that his dream job of becoming a psychologist would never be able to match the salary he was making by hustling. And he was only hustling part-time. By his calculations and with his connect, he figured that he could become a millionaire in 12 months maximum. Along his path to millions, other people with the same drive and motivation reached out to him for assistance. He couldn't turn away everyone that approached him and still expect to continue maintaining the kind of business he was involved in; which at the time was coke and weed, so he put his ego aside and recruited a very small group of thoroughbreds to roll with him. To keep everybody happy, he kept everybody paid. To keep everybody paid meant that more money was required. He decided that the best way to

maximize a group's earning potential is to first get organized, and only after organization comes expansion. If everybody knew which role they played, then there would be fewer questions down the line. And fewer questions meant less talking; thus less talking meant more thinking. Taking a cue from his Business Management courses, he knew that a business or organization, no matter how big or small needed an identity. To have an identity was to have a name. He named his organization The Bankroll Squad. After making his first million, he soon realized that by taking control of a group of hustlers to get paid and then leaving them behind would be detrimental to his health. He had assumed a responsibility as a leader and there would be no easy, quick exits, no matter where he graduated from. To organize The Bankroll Squad, he created creative job titles for his employees. Brink, of Aerial Transportation, was simply the pilot that flew their private jets to pick up whatever was required, no matter where it was located. Marco, the Associate Director simply made sure that all of the "workers," or associates were fulfilling the supply and demand in the streets for coke, weed, ecstasy, LSD, heroin, and crack. Pam, of contamination control took all of the dirty money and made it clean. She made it appear that all of the proceeds were derived from legitimate sources and also invested a lot of the money into gold bullions, which are 1 ounce bars of gold. She also placed millions of dollars into offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands.

$ $ $ $ $

They sat in the conference room at a polished oak table. Malcolm Powers was walking back and forth slowly, with his hands behind his back. He had asked a question and did not hear the answer that he wanted to hear. He decided to ask it again, just maybe Catfish heard the damn question wrong. He glared at Catfish and tried again.

"Catfish. I received word that a guy named Waller was out in public blabbering on about us fronting him 10 kilos of coke. Have you heard about this?"

Catfish shifted in his seat nervously. He could feel his deodorant giving up as sweat rolled down his arms.

"Yes," he answered.

Malcolm stood in place, staring Catfish down.

"When do you plan on handling the situation since you've already heard about it?"

Catfish glanced at Tron for help, but Tron was paying no attention to Catfish. Tron was staring at the floor.

"I've already handled it Boss. I handled it today."

"Oh yeah? You handled it today? Did you kill him?"

Catfish stared at the floor.

"No I didn't because—"

"Well how the hell did you handle it if you didn't kill him?"

Tron's heartbeat sped up while listening to Catfish explain what happened. He thought for sure Cat was about to implicate him in the threading and he knew that Malcolm strongly disapproved of torture. His motto was "either they get lectured or deaded" and he stressed this to the Squad because in the streets the shoe could always be on the other foot.

"I went over his house and I knocked him out. Then I. ... I ... I threaded his mouth shut."

"What!"

Malcolm walked to the water fountain and filled his cup up. He drank half of it, then he slung the rest of the water across the room. Then he kicked the shit out of an aluminum trash can. The trash can skidded briefly, then flipped until it hit the wall. It made a mark on the white, clean wall.

"Fuck," Malcolm exclaimed,

"You sewed a human beings mouth shut ... What the fuck, do you think that it's impossible to just cut the fuckin' thread?"

"Naw, I know it can be cut, I just-"

"Do I pay you a million a month to be an amateur? No I don't, I pay you for professionalism Catfish, and every since I've know you, you have always been the best problem solver in existence.... Do you know why I'm so pissed off at you Catfish?"

Catfish looked at Malcolm confidently.

"Yeah Boss, you don't want me to turn a nigga's mouth into a dishrag."

There were light snickers around the table. Kyla found it amusing that she had fallen asleep in the van while Tron and Cat were sewing a real live person's mouth shut.

"Catfish, I care about you nigga'. But I don't approve of that stunt you pulled because there is no doubt about the fact that that nigga' Waller is going to try to retaliate. The streets' code is humiliation equals retaliation!"

"Boss, I doubt seriously that Waller will ever try any one of us."

"Let's just hope so Cat."

Malcolm went to his desk and pulled out a manila folder. He started reading silently for a moment then set the folder down

onto the table and looked at Pam. Pam had on a Cristian Dior skirt. A skin tight white skirt with red lipstick and red and

white stilettos. Pam was gorgeous. So, gorgeous, in fact, that Kyla swore up and down that Malcolm had hired her based solely on her looks. This assumption was only partly true. Pam also did a good job of making it seem like his potato chip line was doing phenomenal sales. Granted, it was selling but just not the way Pam made it look. Every now and then though, like today, Malcolm would have questions about particular decisions that Pam had executed. Pam stared back at Malcolm with beautiful hazel eyes that could hypnotize a hypnotist if he stared into them long enough.

"Pam, baby," Malcolm's vocal tone mellowed down to an almost seductive octave.

"My beautiful Pam. How are you feeling?"

Pam smiled blushingly and fluttered her eyes. Kyla thought she was generic and always putting on a show.

"I'm doing absolutely terrific Daddy. How are-" Kyla cut her off.

"Bitch quit muthafuckin' flexin' before I beat that ass!"

"You didn't beat that white girl's ass for taking your man."

Kyla jumped up and tried to lunge at Pam but Catfish grabbed her and held her back. Malcolm slammed his fist on the table startling everybody at the meeting.

"Calm the fuck down!" He was talking loud now.

"Pam, what the hell are these two transactions with 250x besides them? Explain."

At first Pam had a puzzled look on her face, and then she realized exactly what he was referring to.

"Oh yeah. Those were donations. By donating money, it cuts down on how much money you'll have to pay around tax time Malcolm."

Malcolm reached and picked back up the manila folder. He glanced at it again.

"So ... Pam, what organizations did you donate the money to?"

She looked at him with confidence.

"I donated it to R.U.C., Relief for Underprivileged Children and I made a donation to Barrack Obama's presidential campaign."

"Oh okay, that's cool. All you donated was $250 to both of them?"

Pam squinted her eyes up. A few wrinkles appeared on her forehead before she responded.

"No not $250, I donated $250,000. Apiece."

"You did what!"

Pam's once seductive look had melted into the look of a scorned puppy; her face drooping and her mouth shaped in the form of a cartoon sad face.

"Malcolm, you told me that you trusted my judgment and direction, so why are you negatively charged up right now? You snapped on Catfish, then you snapped on me for no reason whatsoever. I would never misuse you or misplace any of your money, Malcolm. Think about it baby. This is Pamela Jones. I have nothing but respect for you, everything that you do, and everything that you stand for. I will die before I dishonor the Squad and I would resign from my job if I didn't feel that my decisions were going to be adequate."

A tear rolled across her beautiful skin as she spoke, and as the words decorated the atmosphere, Malcolm knew she was speaking the absolute truth. The words sank in like the Titanic;

and Malcolm realized that at that very moment that he was taking out the woes and frustrations from his marriage out on the Squad. He had never been as inconsistent as much as he had

been at that meeting. He walked to where Pam was sitting, and wiped a tear from her cheeks with a kiss. He was comforting her for his outbursts, but in actuality, he was the one that needed comforting. He took his manila folder and placed it back into the filing cabinet. He dismissed the meeting and grabbed the keys to his Bentley. Everybody got up from the table to leave as well, and they watched as Malcolm headed out of the conference room in a hurry.

"Malcolm," Marco screamed.

Malcolm stopped in the doorway and turned around.

"Yeah, Marco?"

"What time are we going to Club Splash tonight? Or are we still going?"

Malcolm almost forgot about the club.

"Oh yeah, we'll hit the club around 12:30 a.m. Thanks for reminding me, I'll see ya'll tonight."

"Aight," The men said in unison.

Kyla smiled weakly, then she started towards the door.

"Malcolm I don't know if I'm coming, being that I'm sleepy, and I have a couple of things that I need to attend to. But I might ... I'm not sure yet."

Pam, who always wanted to outdo Kyla in an attempt to keep Malcolm's favor, decided to try to one-up her. When Kyla started getting close to the door where Malcolm was, she spoke loud and clear, interrupting any potential moments that could have developed between Kyla and Malcolm.

"I'm sleepy too, but I'm about to go finish working on bill consolidations for everybody, then I have to in-process yesterday's proceeds that I received today. And when I finish that, I have to check the earning report of Frisbee Crispee; and see if it needs any alterations. And then ... I'll be at the club".

She rolled her eyes at Kyla and walked past her. Then she walked past Malcolm, who caught a whiff of her Cool Water for Women perfume. After she got past him, she knew his eyes would be glued to her ass. She was bow-legged and her ass jiggled with every step that she took. Malcolm stared at it. He swallowed as he thought to himself, "Damn, that ass is perfect. It's shaped like a heart!"

$ $ $ $ $

The Wolf was broke, dead broke and was in desperate need of a come up. He sat at the gas station in his girlfriend's beat up Dodge Neon. The car was in such bad shape that whenever it was refueled, it had to sit still and cool off for about 15 minutes before the engine would start without catching fire. He was miserable, but he wasn't alone, the Cowards were with him. Sure they had names, but Wolf called them The Cowards. Cowards shoot out of fear; and more times than not, a coward would kill you quicker than a gangsta' would. A gangsta' would have morals, principles, rules, and guidelines, and a coward would have fingers full of fear. Fingers full of fear, coupled with guns full of bullets led to morgues full of bodies. They liked to act like they killed because they were cold, hard, and

heartless; when in all actuality they killed because they were scared and softer than tomato sauce. They were all broke, the Wolf and the Cowards. It's a lot of money in this city, the Wolf

thought, we should have no problem getting some of it. He lit his last Newport, and the Cowards reached for it as soon as he took his first puff. He exhaled, and smiled to himself because he thought how funny would it be to change their name from The Cowards to The Clowns. He ignored the fact that they were reaching for his cigarette, and took another puff.

"Pay attention!" He barked at the Cowards.

They were supposed to be scouring the scenery in search of a come-up. So far, they had spotted a gray BMW 330 that they intended to take free of charge, but when they walked up to the vehicle to ask the white woman "directions," they noticed that it was a 6 year old child in the backseat. They did have a tidbit of a conscience, and within that tidbit, they had a tidbit of a rule. They didn't rob or kill when children were present. They had also spotted a limousine, but the tints were too dark and there could have been a bodyguard present. They would be no match for a trained body- guard, after all, they were cowards. They had spotted a black Mercedes Benz 550, free for the taking, but the police were in the area. The Wolf was out of cigarettes and was running out of patience. He glanced at his watch and took a deep breath. I'll have to try again later, I guess, Wolf thought to himself. He figured that he should at least move on to another gas station before the manager started getting suspicious and called the police on them. They were all riding dirty; convicted felons with firearms. They drove away. Maybe about ten minutes later, they were at Prime Stop, the last

gas station downtown before the 25 north and 25 south expressway exits appeared. Everybody stops here ... I'll

give it an hour, the Wolf thought to himself as he parked away from the security cameras. There are 30 gas pumps at this huge store, the Wolf quickly noticed, I'm bound to hit a lick soon.

$ $ $ $ $

Kyla Brent was leaving the Power Building in her kandy pink Range Rover and was lost in her thoughts. Pam had just hit her where it hurt the most back in the conference room. There were dozens of unanswered questions unwilling to remain unanswered. She knew exactly what she needed. She needed closure. She needed to know why. Why ... and how.... How could Malcolm go and marry a fuckin' white bitch? How does he live with himself knowing that he went completely against the grain? Is he doing this for get back? Did he marry her out of spite? Kyla knew she had faults ... a bad temper ... a stubborn attitude sometimes, but the love ... was always there. She has always and will always love Malcolm. Why can't he see that? She thought to herself as her eyes flooded with tears. She wiped them off of her face as she drove through traffic. She knew she looked like a superstar in her Range Rover, and she knew she looked like a supermodel when she wasn't in it. But no matter how good she looked, it never helped how she felt. She felt empty, betrayed, hurt. Her soul was hurting and it was nothing that she could do to comfort it. She was about 4 cars behind Malcolm, and about to get on 25 south so that she could go home when she saw him pull into the Prime Stop gas station. At first,

she was going to continue going on about her business, but she needed to talk to Malcolm. It was almost as if she was possessed, the way she yearned for Malcolm's touch ... Malcolm's love ... Malcolm's kiss. She wanted him and she

didn't care how long it took, she knew one day that she would be back in his arms where she was supposed to be.

four

Malcolm tried to park as close to the entrance of the Prime Stop as possible. Shit, he wasn't driving a Chrysler 300, he was driving the real deal. He couldn't just park it anywhere. A Toyota Camry backed out of a parking space on the left side of the store entrance, and zoomed on about its business. Malcolm pulled right into the empty parking space listening to 50 Cent's "I Get Money/ Money I got." All eyes were on him as usual. He relished this type of attention and recognition. It's what he hustled for, what he wished for and what he lived for. He knew that if his day was fucked up, him riding in his most prized possession could cheer him up when nothing else could. A series of horns blew back on the highway, as the vehicles started to exit to get on the 25 south expressway. He turned around to see if he could make out who

it was, and realized that it was Pam, Catfish, Brink, Marco, and Prince Tron headed back to their respective homes. He turned the engine off, opened the door and placed the keys in his

pocket. Little kids were pointing at him and his car screaming "look mommy! Look! Wowwww!" Another vehicle pulled up

along side him on his right side. He glanced up and saw Kyla's big Kool-Aid smile. He rolled his eyes, shut the door, and started walking towards the store entrance. Kyla rolled down her window and spoke out of desperation,

"Malcolm, can we talk for a minute?"

He reached the store entrance, opened the door, and spoke in an irritated tone,

"Wait till I come out!"

He went in the store searching for some Tylenol and orange juice to give to his wife when he got to his estate. He figured that she would be suffering from a hangover pretty soon. Kyla exhaled and laid back in her seat waiting on Malcolm to come out of the store.

$ $ $ $ $

One of the Cowards saw it. His eyes got huge and his breathing sped up. It was a drop top Bentley. Free of charge. The Wolf saw it too. They showed the other Coward and he immediately put one in the chamber and got out of the Neon. The Wolf started to tell him to wait, but what the hell, he had already started walking across the parking lot towards the Bentley. When Malcolm came out of the store, Kyla rolled her window down again.

"Malcolm?"

He held up a finger.

"Hold up a second," He arrogantly remarked as he went and sat in his car.

Then he rolled his window down the same way that she had hers.

"Yes Kyla?" He shouted.

Kyla looked at him lovingly.

"Why can't we get back together Malcolm? We belong together. I just-"

In the middle of her sentence, Malcolm started backing his car up, about to leave. His logic was that Kyla left him once, so she would do it again. That's why he never gave her another chance.

"Malcolm!" She screamed as loud as she could.

"Please, Malcolm talk to me!

He ignored her. She knows I'm married, Malcolm thought to himself as he continued to back the Bentley out of the parking lot. Looking in his rear view, he realized that there was a line of vehicles behind him trying to exit the parking lot to get back on the highway. The car at the front of the line seemed to be waiting on the next red light in order for it to pull out into the road. Malcolm exhaled and pulled back up into his parking slot until he could get enough room to back his car out and go. Kyla was still sitting there staring at him. He pushed a button and the roof of the Bentley evaporated. Every man was giving him thumbs up and every woman was giving him the eye. Occasionally, someone would ask him "how much?" Nonchalantly, he would reply "200 thou." "Damn!" Would be the typical response. One of the Cowards were approaching him from the driver's side of the car, looking as if he was dazzled and impressed and had a series of questions that he wanted to ask the owner of the vehicle. He had on blue jeans and

a white polo shirt and the gun was in his right hand; his right hand behind his back. Kyla saw him, he paid no attention to her,

since he was smiling and attempting to make eye contact with Malcolm. Malcolm saw him approaching and thought,

"Damn, another car question. He's probably gonna ask me if I wanna sell it or some other weird shit."

Malcolm glanced away as the Coward approached.

Kyla had a bad feeling in her stomach, she could sense that something was wrong. Then she realized it, she couldn't see the guy's right hand ... and when she did see it, he had laid the barrel on the side of Malcolm's head. Malcolm froze. He couldn't believe it. One of the most horrible feelings that a human being could ever feel crawled through his body. It weakened his bladder, but he was too strong and too gangsta to piss on his self. He wasn't scared of dying, he just didn't want to. He was as mad as he could possibly get. Red hot. He couldn't believe that he had relaxed so much that he had failed to pay attention to his surroundings. He was mad at his self. This was an internal failure. A failure between brain and eye to communicate with each other. Had he not failed to pay attention, a fuckin' gun would not be resting on the side of his head.

"Take the watch, those rings, and that chain off and throw it in the passenger seat!" The Coward barked at Malcolm.

Malcolm started relieving himself of his jewelry.

"Hurry the fuck up!" The Coward screamed.

Damn, Malcolm thought, this is really happening to me. If only he knew ... I could make a phone call and have his whole face removed from his head. This idiot doesn't know who the fuck I am. Kyla ducked down in the seat of her truck so she could pull her .380 from the compartment under the seat. She grabbed it.

It was loaded. The Wolf saw her duck down in the seat and started driving over to help out. He could tell that the Coward was paying no attention to the girl in the pink truck. What a costly mistake he could be making. The Wolf and the other Cowards were about 20 feet away when they saw Kyla put the gun in the air and point it at the robber. The Coward in the Wolf's car panicked, and without warning, he pulled the 12 gauge shotgun from the backseat, and pointed it at Kyla's truck aimlessly. BOOM! Glass shattered, people started screaming, car alarms went off from a few parked cars, and blood splattered against the cream white seats of Kyla's Range Rover. Kyla was hit. Buckshots burned through her body as she tried to focus on what had just taken place. She was in pain. Her body went into rapid convulsions, and then the horn sounded. And sounded. And sounded. Kyla had passed out on the steering wheel, face down, the Range Rover horn screaming out for her. The other Coward smacked Malcolm with the butt of the gun; knocking him out cold. He pulled Malcolm out of the Bentley and jumped into the driver's seat. The Wolf smiled. For the first time, the Cowards had done something perfect; well ... almost perfect ... if it wasn't for the body, it would have been a brilliant job. But a damn good job of Coward 2 for saving Coward 1' s life. Coward 1, sped off in the Bentley, the Wolf and Coward 2 followed. Fuck it, the Wolf thought once they hit 25 north, the job was fuckin' perfect. The vanity plate on the Bentley read: IM PAID. The Wolf smiled again.

$ $ $ $ $

Jennifer Powers plopped down on the butter soft sofa in the great room. All sorts of thoughts ran through her head. After Malcolm left to go to the Power Building for a meeting, she had taken a zip lock bag filled with cocaine and poured a small mound of it onto an ESSENCE magazine. And tried it. She did it the same way she saw it get done in the movies.

She snorted it once and thought that maybe she had done it wrong. She started to panic because she couldn't feel her face.

"Oh my God, I hope I'm not allergic or something. Ohmi God ohmi God ohmi God!"

Her chest felt like she was standing in the club directly in front of the speaker. House music. No, yes, ohmi God, ohmi God, what's happening to me? Jennifer thought to herself. Her nose burned ... then went numb. It tasted bitter. She rubbed her hand across her face to make sure it was still there. It was. She pinched it hard and then jumped from the sofa. She looked around the room frantically, she thought she heard someone talking. It was someone talking. She quickly poured the mound from the magazine to her purse, and threw the zip lock bag into the purse as well. She brushed off her nose so that no residue showed. She ran to a mirror, her nose was red. She took make-up from her purse and quickly coated her nose. She went back and sat down. Her left foot was tapping against the floor at the same pace as her heart beat. She put her hand to her chest ... yes, it was still beating at a rapid pace. She listened ... the people in the house were still talking. It sounded like they were in the next room. She ran and grabbed the biggest knife she had out of the kitchen. It had a soft black flexi-grip handle. The blade was a

whole chicken's worst nightmare. She ran back into the great room, knife in hand, purse on arm. It was dark outside, so she was a bit scared since it sounded like complete strangers in the house.

"Malcolm, is that you?" No response.

"Jeffery! Is that you? Who are you talking to?"

No response, but the damn voices continued. I don't understand how anyone could get past all of our security and end up in the house. It must be Malcolm ... and he must have company. She thought to herself, even though the voices didn't sound like his. She decided to go find out what the hell was going on. She jumped up and ran towards the voices that she was hearing. Then she saw them. It was the intruders. It was the television. Jennifer was high.

$ $ $ $ $

The get-together at Club Splash that night was canceled. Pam, Brink, and Malcolm were at Sinai Memorial hospital in full support of Kyla. Catfish, Prince Tron, and Marco were out hunting. They took the surveillance footage from the Prime Stop by posing as FBI agents. They told the manager that they were in a hurry and left them a phony business card. The real police officers were searching the crime scene for clues and/or witnesses. The ambulance had already come and gone when Catfish came out with the footage. After studying the footage, Marco stated that he knew one of the guys. The driver. He lives on the east side and they call him "Cat," or "Bird," or "Wolf," it

was one of those three animals. Then they started the animal hunt. They were on a mission like no other. A member of

the Bankroll Squad was on her death bed. The leader had been robbed. Retaliation was mandatory. If the streets caught wind of the Prime Stop incident, there's no telling what would happen next. Everybody would be plotting. We have to make some examples, reasoned Catfish. They were all in the van dressed in all black. Even Prince Tron left his chain at home for this. The artillery they had was dangerous and illegal enough to get them all federal life sentences. Rocket launchers, grenade throwers, car bombs, and uzies. They had their ears to the streets and were following up every possible lead on the Animal's whereabouts. At one of the bars, when Catfish went in to ask questions about the Animal, the bartender told him that she hadn't heard anything about a stolen Bentley or a shooting. Then, after Catfish displayed a photo printout of the driver, the bartender recognized him

" Ohhh, I know him. That's Wolf." She said.

"Wolf, you say? Tell me about him if you don't mind."

The bartender glared at him for a moment.

"Well, actually I do mind, I'm working here. If you're not going to tip me then you need to keep it moving so that the people that do tip me can sit down and tip comfortably."

She walked away and went to a customer. Catfish pulled a $50 bill out and waved it at her in order to get her attention. She saw it but continued serving the other customers. He looked at the long string of drinkers that were ahead of him and decided that since he didn't have much time to just be sitting around waiting on her to serve them all, he reached in his pocket, pulled out a fistful of 100 dollar bills, and held them in

the air. The bartender wasted no time in pouring Grey Goose for her current and hurriedly made her way back to Catfish. She was grinning, so was he.

"I figured that I could get some type of attention if I went about it like that."

"Don't be so sure of yourself. I just came to tell you to put your money back in your pocket. I'll get to you when I get to you."

With that, she smiled seductively and went to service another customer. If she wasn't so pretty, Catfish would have pulled a pistol out on her. He went outside to tell Tron and Marco to give him a little more time, he might have a good lead. As soon as he told them that, they started reaching for their guns.

"Wait a minute." Catfish directed.

"It's just a girl. A bartender actually. I don't need any help. Ya'll just give me a few minutes!"

"Man fuck that!" Marco exclaimed.

"Anybody that has a lead on these bastards gotta' come with us. Now!" Marco tucked the gun under his waist-band and try to get out the van.

"Wait muthafucka!" Catfish was getting irritated.

Sometimes it seemed as though Marco thought he was in charge.

"You don't think that I can get information out of a bitch?"

"Not if you thread the bitch's lips together you ass-hole!"

"Fuck you Marco!"

Sensing that the situation was getting entirely out of control, Prince Tron intermediated.

"Stay focused!" Tron was shouting.

"Catfish, you're the leader of this shit, so you know what's best! Marco, this is not your specialty, so let this nigga' do what

he does best!"

He looked at Catfish with eyes of trust.

"Do your thing man, we gonna' follow your lead regardless of what Marco says. We're doing this for Kyla. We're doing this for Malcolm, for the Squad, for respect and principles. We're down for whatever!"

Catfish gave Tron a nod and walked back in the bar. Marco laid back in his seat. He exhaled.

$ $ $ $ $

Sinai Memorial Hospital smelled like Lysol and death. It was gloomy and ice cold. The emergency room had a variety of different types of patients. One guy had endured a stroke at a gay porn theater. Another guy was suffering from internal bleeding, he had been hit by a car while trying to run across three lanes on a freeway to save a dog. It didn't work. A construction worker had fallen off of a house and couldn't feel anything on his body. These were Kyla Brent's new neighbors. She was in a coma. Buckshots had been removed from her chest, shoulder, arm, and there were even a couple in her neck. When her truck window shattered from the 12- gauge blast, a small piece of glass flew back and scarred the right side of her face. There was white gauze taped from the side of her eye down to the bottom of her cheek. The doctor told Malcolm that she probably wasn't going to make it. He asked probably wasn't? So there was a chance, right? The doctor answered No, more than likely she will not make it. Don't get your hopes up. But she was

fighting. She hadn't let go yet. Malcolm, Brink, and Pam were in the waiting room in a prayer circle. They knew that it was only one person who could deliver her, and He would do so if it was His will. Pam was crying. Brink was crying. Malcolm was going crazy. If there would have been a gun around, he would have killed himself. Malcolm fell to his knees with his hands clasped together. Please Lord, please bring Kyla through this. He sat down and covered his face with his hands out of shame. Pam and Brink came to his side to comfort him. Pam put her hand on Malcolm's shoulder reassuringly.

"It's going to be okay Malcolm. We all love Kyla. I know we argue all the time, but nevertheless, she's just like family to me. You know God always has a plan for everyone and everything. on't worry."

"Don't worry?" Malcolm asked.

"You're telling me not to worry about Kyla, my ex-fiancé, who damn near gave her life trying to help me tonight? This woman adored me and I treated her like shit. And now I'm about to lose her!"

Malcolm's eyes were wet and he was completely shaken up of the incident. In his mind, he kept replaying the scene. The robber's instructions, then BOOM! He was knocked out afterwards, so he had no clue that Kyla had been shot until he saw her slumped over on the horn of the steering wheel. She had lost huge amounts of blood. Her fragile body had suffered from the effects of a 12-gauge blast. Why didn't they just shoot me too? He thought to himself. At that very moment, he felt like the worst person in the world. He thought of all the horrible things that he had made Kyla endure and how no matter what he put her through, she still loved him completely. She loved him

for who he was, not what he possessed. Not for what he did for

a living, but for the characteristics that he was composed of. Unconditional love that never wavered regardless of the conditions. Malcolm thought of the good times that they shared. All of the times before the misunderstanding. She was the type of woman who was fascinated by the simplest of activities. Fishing. Cooking. His wife couldn't cook a rat in a house fire, but he was attracted to the fact that she tried every day and night. He thought back to the time when him and Kyla graduated from college. She was headed to medical school and always had him factored into every single one of her plans. He had other plans, one that required him to put aside everything that he had worked for. In her desire to make Malcolm happy, and against his and her family's wishes, she threw her plans into the exact same bucket as Malcolm; and tried to follow his new, fast- paced plan for success. She followed it faithfully. Now she was on her death bed.

"Excuse me. Umm, Mr. Powers?" The doctor interrupted Malcolm's train of thought.

"Yes, Doc?" He answered, expecting to hear the most horrible news that he had ever heard in his life.

"Let me speak with you privately sir." He got off of the floor and walked up to the doctor.

"We're all family. Whatever you can say to me, you can say to all of us."

The doctor adjusted his glasses and flipped a couple of pages through the notes on his clipboard.

"Okay well.... She lost a lot of blood. The impact of the buckshots threw her body into immediate shock, which in turn, caused her to faint. After passing out, the blood loss was so

severe that it caused her to flat line. Twice. Both times we were able to bring her back, but she's in a vegetative state. She's being kept alive via life support. I advise you to pull the plug-"

"What! Why are you out here telling me to pull a fuckin' plug instead of replenishing her blood. If she dies, I swear the GOD that-"

"Well, sir, Dr. Henry has already found her a match and is giving her a blood transfusion as we speak. However, if she does recover, she'll more than likely be partially brain dead and bound to a wheel- chair."

"A wheelchair! She didn't have any spinal injuries, what the fuck are you talking about MAN?"

Pam rubbed Malcolm's shoulder in an attempt to calm him down, but he jerked away and scowled at her as if she was an enemy.

"Mr. Powers, please try to relax a minute so that I can explain the situation. One of the buckshots that we re-moved from her neck severely injured one of her spinal nerves. It doesn't look hopeless, but when added to the rest of her injuries, it doesn't look promising. I'm sorry

that I couldn't deliver you any better news, but I wanted to be truthful. You understand?"

Malcolm's shoulders slumped down. "Yes Doc....."

"I'm also sorry that I suggested for you to pull the plug. I didn't know if you would be able to handle the financial aspect of it. That machine is very expensive, but if you can pay, we'll leave her on it as long as you can pay for it."
Typical ... he thinks I can't afford it, Malcolm thought.

"Doc, how long do you think she could stay on life support until she becomes conscious?"

The Doctor rubbed his chin briefly and his forehead wrinkled as he appeared to be lost in thought.

"Well," the doctor said, "there are different situations and results for every individual. There are some people who awaken after 2 months, or even pass away after 2 months or even less time than that. However, there are situations, though extremely rare, in which a person stays on life support in a coma for 7 or 8 years and one day ... wake up." Malcolm pondered this for a second.

"Pam, cut this hospital a check for $2,000,000. That should cover at least two years, right Doc?"

The doctor's eyes seemed to bulge out of his head like a cartoon characters'.

"Uh ... certainly Mr. Powers."

The doctor looked as if he had lost his train of thought for a minute. Then his whole demeanor changed. "Mr. Powers, I assure you that me and my staff will do everything in our ability; and use every medical procedure available to bring Ms. Brent back."

"Thank you Doc. I appreciate it. Can she have a visitor now?"

The doctor wanted to say "no," but realizing that he was speaking to a very rich man, he catered to his interests.

"Ummm ... sure, but just one visitor for right now ... actually ... give us another hour or two to finish up and you can visit her. Okay?"

Malcolm nodded his head at the doctor and sprawled out in one of the seats in the waiting room. Brink, unusually silent, went and sat right besides him. The doctor brung them out some pills to calm them down; and after taking the pills, they went to sleep. Pam stayed awake thinking to herself. I can take her position without any problems now. And since Kyla won't be following Malcolm around all day and night, I should be able to finally make my move. His wife is no match for me ... besides, he don't love that bitch anyway.

five

The Wolf and the Cowards had that Bentley broken down to the smallest denominator. A.S.A.P. After taking it, it had become unrecognizable and untrackable within 35 minutes. Jelly, the man who was the owner of the North side Chop Shop, gave them $80,000 for everything at first, and the Cowards were happy. The Wolf said no. Actually, he said "hell no." He demanded at least $100,000 for the vehicle parts and engine. Jelly said $80,000 was his final offer. The Wolf took it. Then they showed Jelly the jewelry. He said $40,000 after inspecting the diamonds and checking to see if it was real platinum, and again, the Wolf said "no." $80,000, the Wolf demanded.

"Fuck your jewelry!" Jelly exclaimed nonchalantly.

The Cowards were getting frustrated at The Wolf for messing up sure money by trying to be a negotiator. Desperately, Coward 1 said, "Okay, forty thousand dollars is fine. We'll take it."

Jelly looked directly into Cowards 1' s eyes. "I said ... fuck your jewelry!"

Shit, Coward 2 thought to himself, Wolf just fucked us out of forty thousand dollars by trying to be greedy. Fuck! When they left the chop shop, Wolf acknowledged that he did overstep his boundaries with Jelly. Instead of him getting his usual 50%, he decided that he would take $20,000 and let the Cowards take $30,000 a piece. They happily agreed, and all negative thoughts left the Cowards' minds. They turned the radio up in the Dodge Neon and sang along with the music. They were all in festive moods. Wolf put on the stolen watch, Coward 2 put on the stolen chain. They were ballin' now, Coward 1 thought to himself as he rubbed his hand across the stack of money that belonged to him.

$ $ $ $ $

Jennifer had been calling Malcolm's cell phone for about four hours now. Every single phone call went straight to his voice mail. At first she thought that maybe he had been arrested, but after calling the jails, that concept was never confirmed. He has never done this before, Jennifer thought to herself. He's cheating on me. That bastard! Around this time of night, Jennifer would usually be sleep, but the cocaine had other plans. She was fully energized and there was no chance of her going to bed anytime soon. She went and took a bubble bath, dried off, then took a stroll into their walk in closet. Once you walk in, there was a computer that kept inventory of every outfit available. All you had to do was type in the particular occasion, and a picture of every outfit that was either new or clean appeared on the monitor. Jennifer typed in "club, dress." She didn't like what she saw when she hit enter, so she typed in "club, skirt." Jennifer hadn't been to a club in three years, but if Malcolm was cheating, then so be it. A short, black Prada skirt appeared on the monitor; along with the section that it was located. She clicked the "Accessory" feature and a patent leather pair of black high heels appeared on the computer monitor. The heels had straps that would wrap around her leg and stop at the bottom of her thighs. Since Malcolm started fucking her, her ass had spread about four inches. She went from 34C-24-32 to 34C-24-36. Her ass was phat! At least, that's what she heard whenever she went to the grocery store or the mall to go clothes shopping. Guys always swarmed over her and every time it happened, she always made sure that they understood the fact that she was married. She never cheated on her husband, not even once. But tonight, two could play at that game. Besides, he hadn't gave her any dick in two months now. If you turn a woman into a freak, you must service that freak. Other-wise, it will attempt to get service elsewhere. Jennifer got dress and went to stand in front of the life-sized mirror. She turned to the side and admired her "apple bottom" pushing out the limits of the skirt. There was a split going down the middle of the front and the middle of the back. No bra tonight. No panties. She grabbed about $500 and went to go wake Jeffrey up. Jeffrey was stunned but he did not comment. She asked him to go bring out her BMW.

"The old one?" He asked.

"The old one." She answered.

He went to retrieve it. She went to the mirror and started applying lip gloss and a light coat of make-up. She stuck her fingernail in her purse to dig out more cocaine. She snorted it. She felt a rush surge through her body. She felt good. She got in the car and turned the radio up loud, listening to Trina's "The Baddest Bitch."

$ $ $ $ $

Catfish was trying to get more information from the bartender.

"I'll pay you $1,000 to show me where the Wolf stays."He said.

"I don't want your money. I'll show you where he stays for free, and then I'll show you where I stay." She said.

Catfish was slightly irritated because it wasn't the right time to be flirting, but at the same time, the bar-tender was nice. Plus she said that she was going to show him where the Wolf lived, so his job was still getting done.

"What's your name? Or should I just call you Ms. Bar-tender?"

"No you should not. You should call me in a hour when my shift is over with."

She smiled at him and held out her hand; her other hand was on her hip. Catfish didn't know what she wanted. He assumed that she wanted money so he tried to put some in her hand. She looked insulted.

"Baby, you don't do a good job listening do you? I told you that I didn't want your money. Gimme' your phone so that I can program my number into it."

He pulled out his phone it was an Iphone just like Malcolm's. He handed it to her.

"It's hard to listen when I'm always giving orders." Catfish said.

"Oh. ... so you're a boss. ... that's what's up. My name is Tracy ... but everybody calls me Wet."

Catfish's eyes seemed to enlarge after she made her last statement. He glanced down at her waist. It was tight, slim, flat and exposed. He glanced at her shorts. They could almost pass for a pair of bikinis. He saw her pussy print and started thinking about what he could do with a wo-man like that.

"Ahem...." Wet cleared her throat and handed him his cell phone back.

"Don't forget to call me in one hour."

Catfish nodded and turned to leave before Wet called out.

"Damn, I can't catch your name?"

He stopped. Damn, where is my mind at?

"My name's Catfish." He smirked at her and left out of the bar.

Catfish, Wet thought. I knew that was that nigga'. Motherfucker!

$ $ $ $ $

Seeing Kyla with tubes, needles, tanks, monitors, and machines going into her body made Malcolm cry. His heart hurt. He owed this woman his life, and if she ever recovered, he vowed to give it to her twice over. Maybe even three times over, depending on how many kids that she wanted. I hope she still feels the same way about me when she recovers, Malcolm thought. He took his left hand and rubbed it across the left side of her face. There was no wound on that side of it. It was beautiful; smooth and bronze.

She appeared to be sleeping, but Malcolm knew this wasn't true. He knelt down besides her bed and said a prayer for him and for her.

"Lord, I know that I've made some mistakes in life. Sins. Some sins unintentional and Lord, you know that

I've even made some intentional sins. Lord, I wanna ask for forgiveness for everything that I've ever done that went against God's will. With a clean slate, Lord, I wanna' ask you to deliver Kyla out of this coma. Forgive her for all the sins that she's committed. Please help her Lord, and please help me to have her. In Jesus Christ's name, I pray. Amen."

"Amen," came three voices in unison from behind him. He stood up and turned around. It was the doctor, Pam, and Brink.

"I'm sorry Mr. Powers, but there are a couple of tests that we have to run on Ms. Brent. Why don't you go home tonight and get some sleep, it's been a very long day for all of you. Just visit her tomorrow, whatever time that is convenient for you and your friends. She's in good hands, and in the event of a miracle or an emergency, someone from the hospital will contact you." The doctor offered his hand to Malcolm.

"Wait", Malcolm said.

He turned to Kyla again, wiped the tears from his eyes, and gave her a kiss on her left cheek. He turned, shook the doctor's hand and Malcolm, Brink, and Pam left the hospital. Malcolm had arrived at the hospital via ambulance, but when he heard Pam pulling out her keys, he knew that she had driven her vehicle instead of Brink driving his. He didn't know what vehicle she'd brought out until she pushed a button and a raspberry colored Aston Martin roared to life. They all got inside, Malcolm in the passenger seat, Brink in the back. Pam started to turn the music

up, but Malcolm told her to turn it off, there was an important issue that needed to be discussed. She turned it off.

"Okay Pam, I need you to take over where Kyla left off. Brink is your pilot, as he was Kyla's when she was able to ... be mobile. You will be making flights to Columbia as well as to the countries where the prostitution operations continue to thrive. Brink will teach you everything that you need to know about Kyla's position. I think you can handle it."

Pam was stunned and excited simultaneously. She stuttered at first, "You-you-you.... You really think I can?"

"Hell yeah you can!" Malcolm exclaimed.

"Well, drop me off at my house so that I can get some sleep. We got business to handle tomorrow evening." Brink said.

At that, Pam put the car into gear and drove off. Malcolm had turned his cell phone off when he went in to see Kyla. It was the only thing that the robber didn't take from him. He turned it on. There were three unheard voice messages and three unread text messages. The first text message said: ANSWER YOUR PHONE! It came from Jennifer, his wife. The second text message said: I KNOW UR CHEATING. I HOPE IT'S WORTH IT. 2 CAN PLAY @ THAT GAME! That message pissed him off. He deleted it and checked the next text message. By this time, they had arrived at Brink's residence.

"Bye Boss. Pam, be ready tomorrow night at 7 p.m. We fly out at midnight, but it's going to take at least five hours to go over the rules. Okay?"

"Okay" Pam said with a smile on her face. "By Brink."

"See you tomorrow Pam."

He shut the door and went into his house as the Aston Martin sped off into the night. Malcolm had a furious

look on his face, so Pam didn't say anything at first. She thought that she had done something wrong. Malcolm

laid back and stared out the window of Pam's car thinking about what the third text message said: DON'T BOTHER TO COME HOME 2 NITE. I KNOW I WANT BOTHER.

$ $ $ $ $

The Wolf dropped Coward 1 and 2 off at their residence, then he went home and jumped in the bed. Coward 2 was drifting off to sleep when Coward 1 asked him if he could borrow the stolen chain.

"Take it ..." Coward 2 mumbled.

Coward 1 was about to hit Club Lynx, one of the biggest and hottest clubs in the city. It was about fifteen minutes after midnight, so he had at least two hours and 45 minutes before the club closed. Flaunting his newly earned wealth, he rented a limo for eight hours on short notice, by calling Exotic Rentals, a company he found in the Yellow Pages. The limo was elegant, the receptionist explained.

"It comes with champagne, a highly skilled driver-"

"Okay, just hurry and send it." The Coward exclaimed, cutting the receptionist off mid sentence.

He took a shower and got dressed. As he was spraying cologne on, the limo arrived. He put the chain on and grabbed a small bag full of X-pills. There were about 15 pills in the bag. They were very potent. It was all he would need to get some ass tonight. He did it all the time. He got in the back of the stretch

limo and instantly felt like a celebrity. He had about $10,000 in cash on him and he was ready to have a good time. He hadn't had a good time in months.

"Where to?" The driver asked.

"To Club Lynx Sir."

The driver tipped his hat at Coward 1 and said, "As you wish."

The driver had a very formal, British accent. He gave it gas and they were on their way. They arrived at the club at about 1 a.m. The line to enter the club stretched down the block and curved around the corner. The women were beautiful. High heels or stilettos were on almost every pair of feet. The women wearing flats were leaving the club and had their high heels in their hands. There weren't many women leaving the club. Coward 1 searched the line of women looking for a potential one night stand. There was a beautiful girl who looked like Halle Berry in the line, but she was in the front and he knew that he would have a better chance getting a girl out of the back of the line. When his limo got to the extremely short VIP line, he told the driver to loop around one time. Halfway through the loop, he told the driver to slow down by the end of the line so that he could pick up his "friend." The driver slowed down to a snail's crawled as Coward 1 searched the end of the line. Then he saw her. She was exactly what he wanted. She looked like a star. He felt like a star. It made perfect sense.

$ $ $ $ $

Damn, I hope that's not Malcolm in that limousine, Jennifer through as she fidgeted in line. The limousine stopped. Fuck! It is him! Jennifer got so nervous when the door opened that she almost pulled her heels off and ran to a security guard. Instead, she tried to turn and slip around the corner unnoticed. It didn't work.

"Hey, where you going gorgeous," the voice said. It was not Malcolm's voice. This voice was gentle, almost musical. She turned around to see the face. The face was smiling. She smiled back.

"I was going to leave because the line is just way too long. Why?"

"Because I thought maybe you'd wanna go in VIP with a star" The Coward explained.

Jennifer looked at his necklace. She knew it was expensive because Malcolm had the same type of cross pendant, and he had shelled out $120,000 for it. A real star, Jennifer thought.

"What's your name?" She asked excitedly.

"Everybody calls me Ward 1. What's yours?"

"You can call me Jen, and yes, I'd be delighted to go in the club with you."

The Coward extended his arm. She wrapped her arm around it and went with him back to the limousine. Jennifer was so excited that she could barely control her emotions and statements. Her inner groupie was starting to leak out.

"What do you do Ward?" She asked him.

"I'm a rapper, plus I just did a new movie with Will Smith."

Wow, she thought to herself, now I can leave Malcolm and still live the good life. The Coward had thoughts of his own, I'm

fucking her tonight, no doubt about it. Jen reached in her purse with her pinky and dug out so cocaine.

"Do you mind?" She asked.

"It's a new habit but it makes me feel good as hell."

The Coward glanced at the white substance and shook his head.

"Go ahead, but I have something that will make you feel ten times better then coke."

She thumped the coke back into her purse and stared at the celebrity with eyes of wonder.

"What could top that?" She was curious.

The Coward grabbed a champagne glass and poured some orange juice into it. He did not add liquor, wine, champaigne, or beer. He reached in his pouch and handed her a blue pill with a dolphin inscribed on it.

"Ward, what is this?" She asked while putting it up to her nose to smell it.

"It's beautiful. The greatest feeling ever. It's an ecstasy pill."

"An ecstasy pill huh ... it's not going to have me going crazy or living in the streets trying to collect cans and sell them for another pill is it?"

The Coward laughed at her naivety. But cut his laugh short when he noticed that she was serious.

"No Jen, an X-pill wont have you selling cans. That's crack." He got a giggle out of his statement.

She put the pill in her mouth and swallowed it. It's a wrap, the Coward thought. The driver dropped them off in the VIP area of the club. The Coward leaned back in the car to whisper something to the driver.

"Give us an hour and 20 minutes max. Pick us up from the same spot."

The driver nodded his head. He understood. Jennifer and the Coward went in. It was on and poppin'.

six

Catfish walked to his van with a smile on his face. He was suddenly confronted with the possibility that he could find Wolf and solve that problem on the same night. Malcolm would be elated. He would be rewarded. The Squad's reputation will strengthen. He couldn't wait! Tron woke up when he heard the door to the van open. His gun was in his hand

awkwardly as he focused on the face and put the gun back down.

"Damn Cat, you was in there forever my nigga'.

What's the word?"

Catfish hoisted his body up until he was settled in the driver's seat of the van. He smirked at Tron and laid back in his seat, exhaling.

"Shit, I told ya'll I could handle my job!" Catfish exclaimed enthusiastically.

"I got a bitch that's about to get off in about an hour and she gon' show us where that fuck nigga' Wolf stay at."

Tron grinned at Catfish's arrogance and nodded his head in approval.

"Hell yeah, that's what the fuck I'm talkin' about," Tron expressed.

He looked over at Marco, who had a straight face on display. He was expressionless, emotionless, just ready to handle business. He was tired of waiting. Tired of riding around in a van when he had major business that he needed to attend to.

"Fuck this," Marco stated.

He grabbed the sawed off shotgun and threw it into his Louis Vuitton Sports duffel bag. He slid on a basketball wrist band and matching head band so that he could exude the image of a basketball player having a late scrimmage. Catfish had anger darting out of his eyes as he gave Marco a menacing look.

"Where you think you goin' Marc?" Catfish bellowed.

"Nigga' I'm bout to go get something to drink, I ain't' bout to sit here for another hour."

Catfish and Tron exchanged glances. Catfish rolled his eyes, then he slammed his arm against the door, startling Marco.

"Nigga', everything is already set up so DON'T fuck nothing up, I'm warning you!"

Marco looked at Catfish and mumble something inaudible as he moved Catfish's arm and hopped out the van. What's wrong with that nigga, Catfish thought as he watched Marco enter the bar.

$ $ $ $ $

The bar smelled like a big ashtray to Marco. As soon as he entered, he squinched his nose up in an effort to minimize the

second hand cigarette smoke. There were four pool tables, all of them fully occupied. He went to the bar, but stood at an angle so that he could still look out of the small window at the parking lot. He wouldn't let the police roll up on that van if he could help it. That would be an instant federal case. Weapons of mass destruction. Marco put some money into the jukebox as R. Kelly's "12 Play" album boomed out of the speakers. A few women put their drinks down and got up to exhibit some of their drunken dance moves. It looked horrible, Marco thought as he fanned cigarette smoke away from him. The nerve of this bitch ... to walk up this close to me blowing cigarette smoke. She was smiling at him; he was frowning at her. She caught the hint, frowned back, and walked away. About thirty minutes or so had passed before the bartender saw him and started making her way to him. Before she could make it over to Marco, her cell phone rang. She had about a zero percent surprise factor, as Marco listened to T-Pain's "Bartender" play as her cell phone ring tone. She answered the phone and turned her back in order to have a private conversation. Marco checked his watch and listened as the R. Kelly song faded out. The lower the volume on the song got, the more of the bartender's phone conversation he could hear. He really wasn't trying to hear it, but listened absentmindedly; not focusing on the dialogue between the bartender and the caller. Then he heard something that struck a nerve. He could barely make out the complete statements since there was so much noise in the bar. Women giggling, men whooping, and the constant sound of billiards clacking against each other on the pool tables. All he could make out was "Catfish ... van ... yeah ..." Marco moved so that he could get closer to her. He could hear a little bit better now.

"You said you was 15 minutes away? Okay baby, be careful, you know that nigga' Catfish is crazy. If you want me to, I'll seduce him and kill the bastard myself.... Oh okay then, I'ma' fall back. I love you."

Marco turned and stared at a game going on at one of the pool tables so he wouldn't seem so suspicious. He was shocked at what he had just heard the bartender speak into the phone, but he couldn't let it show on his face. He kept his cool. He drummed his fingers against the clear plastic counter top and jumped; startled, when the bartender came up to him. She smelled like baby powder and had an enchanting smile.

"Would you like something to drink, sir?"

Thinking at a frantic pace, he devised a plan.

"Sure baby ... just pour me some Hennessey."

"On the rocks?"

"Hell no ... just straight Hen."

She smiled and went to pour his drink. Marc stepped back so that he could survey the parking lot for any new vehicles arriving. He didn't see any. The bartender approached him with his drink in her hand, still smiling.

"That'll be $3.50 sir."

Marco reached into his pocket and retrieved a $10 bill. He handed it to her. As soon as her hand touch-ed the money, Marco grabbed her arm and pulled her across the counter top, knocking over glasses in the process. She let out a scream, and Marco jammed the $10 bill into her mouth, causing her to gag. Then he slapped her across her face and told her to shut the fuck up. He grabbed a handful of her hair with his left hand and grabbed his duffle bag with his right hand. He started to turn and leave when the owner spotted the calamity and yelled out,

"Hey buddy! Let that woman go or I'm calling the police! Tracy, baby don't worry!"

The owner grabbed the business phone as if Marco was really going to sit there and watch him call the police. Marco grabbed the sawed-off out of the bag and heard people start screaming,

"Watch out, he's got a gun!"

The owner looked shaken when he saw the men and women that were at the pool tables duck down onto the floor. Marco raised the sawed-off shotgun in the air and aimed it at the owner.

"Nooooo-"

KA-BOOM! His head split open like a piñata as blood and skull fragments splattered across the Patron and Seagram's Gin bottles. The women in the bar started screaming, Tracy started trembling. Marco aimed the shotgun around for a minute just in case someone wanted to jump up and play superhero. No one moved. He looked out of the window and saw Catfish and Prince Tron getting out of the van carrying AK- 47s. He dragged the bartender like a rag doll as she cried out of pain and fear.

"Please don't hurt me, I didn't do anything," She whined to Marco.

Marco smacked her across the head for spitting out the $10 bill and mashed her face against the dirty tile floor, instructing her to put it back in her mouth. She was crying hysterically and shaking so bad that he was sure that she was about to pass out. Catfish barged in with Prince Tron right behind him. When the bar attendants saw the sizes of the guns that they were carrying, they sounded like a group of kids gasping all at once. A couple of guys were down on the floor in prayer. Catfish damn near pissed his pants when he saw what was unfolding.

"Nigga! What the fuck is going on in here!?" Catfish was careful not to say Marco's real name in front of all of those witnesses.

"Chill dude! This bitch was tryna' set you up!" Marco expressed, forehead wrinkled up and eyes full of rage.

Tracy shook her head; frantically denying the accusation. Catfish looked up and saw blood splattered from the counter top to the section where the drinks were sitting. He walked over to get a better look and saw a man with half of his brain missing.

"Holy shit," Catfish said as he jumped at the sight of the body.

"That's not what we came for man ... damn!"

"Shit, he was talking about calling the police on me nigga!"

Catfish looked around the room at all the potential witnesses and had the right mind to blow everybody's brains out to take extra precaution. Instead, he had a better idea. He told Prince Tron and Marco to take Tracy, toss her into the van and wait for him. He grabbed the duffel bag from Marco and watched them as they carried the bartender to the van. Then he proceeded to go to work.

seven

"What's wrong daddy"

Pam's voice sounds so sympathetic, so concerning ... soothing ... erotic, Malcolm thought, as the Aston Martin whipped through the night like a shooting star. He thought about all that had happened that day. The fight with Kyla, the fight with Jennifer, the uncharacteristic behavior that he exhibited in front of his squad. He thought about the 12 gauge blast that should have been for him, but instead had Kyla lying in a coma strapped to advanced equipment. His emotions were unreadable, even to his self. He looked at his Iphone again, thinking about the text messages that were manufactured by his wife. The coldness of it. The reality of it. He stared at Pam as she maneuvered the steering wheel as if she was a professional driver. She smiled at him. A warm, sexy, confident smile that seemed to comfort him; if only but temporarily.

"Nothing's wrong Pam. I'm just lost in thought, that's all," Malcolm lied. Well, half-lied since the other half was true. Pam shot Malcolm a knowing look as she slowed down approaching the intersection. The light was red, but that only gave her the green light to continue flirting. She had to flirt indirectly and gradually build up to the direct requests that she wanted to ask.

"You wanna' hang out at my house for a while?" She regretted asking that question as soon as it left her mouth.

Silence. The type of silence that makes nervous and uncomfortable. Malcolm heard her question but he was at a loss for words. He wanted to believe that none of the horrid events had taken place at all. He knew what he wanted, but his body and soul knew what he needed. He needed to be comforted. He needed to be loved. He needed his wife to apologize, for her to send a text mess-age saying that she was at home. After the long, lingering silence, he finally gathered up enough complete thoughts to make a statement.

"Yeah, Pam. We can hang out."

Whoa, Pam thought, Pam and Malcolm, hell yeah. Pam intended to take full advantage of the opportunity at hand. She had her man and she wasn't letting go. Catching her by surprise, Malcolm reached over and started caressing her right thigh. Damn, she thought as she felt her juices roll from her pussy to her pussy lips. He got exactly what I need, she said to herself as she reached over and grabbed his left thigh. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Malcolm pull off his wedding ring and put it in his pocket. Her hand moved to the inside of his thigh where she felt a thick, long, rock hard dick laying against it. She jerked her hand back to the wheel, she had almost run off of the road. Malcolm smiled. She was slightly embarrassed. She saw a sign that said that her exit was only 5 miles away. Almost there. She smiled.

$ $ $ $ $

When they entered the club, the DJ was playing rap music. Some Lil Wayne, Rick Ross, and Young Jeezy. After about 30 minutes, everything switched to reggae. This was Coward 1's cue. He knew she couldn't dance, and he knew that the pill had kicked in. He grabbed Jennifer's arm and led her on to the dance floor. As soon as he touched her arm she felt goose bumps pop up on her body. Her two major goose bumps were sticking out through the front of her outfit. She noticed her nipples protruding and realized that there was nothing that she could do to hide them. She was too embarrassed to let the Coward see her like that so once they made it to the dance floor, she turned around and started grinding her ass against the Coward. The Coward instantly got an erection and Jennifer noticed it immediately. His manhood wasn't as big as Malcolm's, but it was hard and exciting her more and more. It seemed like the more she grinded against it, the wetter she got. After about two minutes, a trickle of cum rolled from her pussy down to the inside of her thigh, and then down to the inside of her calf muscle. When the Coward noticed this, he leaned forward and put his warm tongue behind her ear and circled his tongue from the back of her ear to the front of it. A tremor ran through Jennifer's body when he did that, and her pussy only got wetter. The Coward kissed her ear, then his lips went down the side of her neck, where he kissed her passionately. A sexual rush had run through Jennifer, and Coward 1 was caught completely off guard when she reached back and wrapped her hand around his crotch. The other club attendees were dancing and having fun, but the Coward and Jennifer were taking it beyond the extreme on the dance floor. After about seven minutes of the dance floor foreplay, Jennifer became self conscious because she realized that there were a lot of club patrons staring at them. The Coward was oblivious to the attention, seemingly caught up in his own little world, until Jennifer pulled him out of it and led him to the bathroom. Jennifer was horny. The Coward was horny. They had both taken X-pills, two bodies power-less to the effects of the Blue Dolphin. Jennifer looked into the women's bathroom and noticed that there were too many women putting on make-up and standing around conversating. She turned and looked at the Coward, then shook her head solemnly, letting him know that the women's bathroom was a complete "NO." Determined, the Coward took charge. He grabbed her by the arm and led her to the men's bathroom. He knew that the men's bathroom would be empty, with all the ass out there on the dance floor, so it was no surprise when the only dude that was in the bathroom made his way past Coward 1 en route to the dance floor. He led Jennifer to a stall and locked the door. The Coward pulled her skirt up, revealing a shaved and perfectly pink pussy.

"Ward, do you have protection?"

Knowing that he had no protection at all, he french kissed her while circling his middle finger around her clitoris. Her kisses became more aggressive until he broke from the kiss and started sucking on her right nipple. In her mind she was thinking about telling him to get a condom, but the stimulation proved to be too intense for her to try to mumble those words again. Unable to withstand the teasing any longer, she reached down and

started unfastening his pants, then she wrapped her hand around his wood. She was staring at Ward, waiting on him to make the next move. He wasted no time. He turned her around and bent her over, sliding a finger in her pussy to test her readiness. When he pulled his finger out, it was covered in cream. She was soaking wet. He wiped her pussy cream around his dick and slid it through the opening of her warm pussy. He then pulled back, parted her pussy lips, and slid his manhood as far as it would go. He stroked and stroked, his dick sliding against her vagina walls, bringing her to cum again and again. She was panting, breathing uncontrollably when she managed to whisper the words " let me get on top." He pulled out and sat down on the toilet, dick still covered in pussy cum. Jennifer was high off of cocaine and ecstasy and the Coward had never had a woman on that combination of drugs before. She climbed on his dick and threw her pussy up and down on it frantically. She slammed against his dick until it hurt him, and when he moaned out of painful pleasure, she went even harder. After a few more strokes, the Coward cried out,

"I'm coming," to which she replied "Oh baby, me too! I'm coming!" The bathroom stall sounded like a porno movie as the Coward pumped semen into Jennifer, while she simultaneously released a stream of cum around his dick. As soon as they came, it seemed as though she was ready to fuck again.

"Wait a minute," The Coward exclaimed, out of breath.

"You wanna go get a hotel room instead of fucking in the bathroom of a club?"

"Yeah Ward, let's go."

Jennifer was having the time of her life. I'm having sex with a real celebrity kept running through her mind as they both climbed back into the limousine.

"To the Hilton," the Coward directed the chauffeur.

"Downtown?"

"Yeah, the Hilton Downtown."

The chauffeur obliged and drove off, headed to the hotel. Jennifer cuddled up next to the Coward, fondling with his penis. The limo hit a deep pot-hole and Jennifer's purse fell off the seat, causing the contents to spill to the floor. When the Coward saw how much cocaine she had in her purse, his eyes bulged out like a cartoon characters'. Instantly devising the next scheme for him, Coward 2, and the Wolf, he decided to ask a few questions first.

"Jen, how much did you pay for that blow?"

"Blow?"

"Yeah, the white shit that was in your purse?"

"Ohhh, the cocaine."

The Coward looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"Yea Jen ... the coke ... the blow."

She giggled at herself for not catching on to the slang when he first spoke it. After all ... it was only last week when she was actually watching a movie on HBO that was entitled "Blow," and it was about cocaine.

"Well, I didn't actually pay for it."

She unzipped his pants, pulling his erect penis out. Slumping down in his seat, the Coward tried to stay focused on his series of questions.

"How did you get it if you didn't pay for it?"

She giggled again thinking about how the truth was about to sound once she spoke it aloud.

"I just took it."

"You took it from a drug dealer? As in you stole it?"

She pondered the question for a brief moment before answering.

"Well ... yeah ... I stole it."

"And what are you going to do if he finds out you stole it?"

"He would never find out, trust me Ward." The Coward looked at her suspiciously.

"How can you be so sure that he won't find out?" She didn't particularly enjoy being questioned over and over and a look of frustration invaded her facial features.

"Because he has a room full of it. It's wall to wall, over 100 feet long, and coming up to my knees," she snapped.

The Coward noticed that he was irritating her with his inquisitions and leaned over to start kissing her. Noticing that both of their mouths were dry as sandpaper, he grabbed two bottles of bottled water. She drank half of hers, then she leaned down and wrapped her lips around his dick. She sucked him until they arrived at the Hilton. The whole time that he was getting his blow job, the Coward just kept thinking to himself, I'm bout to be rich!

$ $ $ $ $

eight

Catfish was in total control of the situation at hand. "Everybody get in a single file line and shut the fuck up! If any one of ya'll muthafuckas fail to cooperate accordingly, or try some ol' funny ass shit, I will blow your brains out of the very head that holds them!"

The men and women lined up even quicker than he could finish his statement. They had already saw what happened to the owner, and they could only imagine what would happen to the bartender.

"I'm walking by with an open bag. Each of you need to drop your driver's license into the bag. Don't worry about not having license because in three days I will personally bring everyone's

license back to their homes, provided that none of you go to the authorities!"

While collecting ID's, he ran across a knucklehead. Catfish saw the guy drop the ID on the floor and cover it with his boot before he was even approached.

"I.D. in the bag, shit stain!"

"Sir, I do not have an ID."

Catfish was amused at how the guy could tell a lie directly in the face of imminent threat.

"You have no type of ID at all?" Catfish asked him.

"No. I-"

BLAT-BLAT-BLAT-BLAT-BLAT-BLAT.

"They'll be able to ID you with your dental records then," Catfish told him.

He collected the rest of the ID's with no problem, then he picked up the two bodies from the bar and took them to the van. Into the seat they went. Tracy's mouth was gag-ged shut with duct tape and a $10 bill, so her words were indecipherable. She was trembling like it was ten degrees below zero. She was thoroughly frightened and mad at herself for even being a part of this situation, when it initially had nothing to do with her. Catfish back-hand smacked her across the face so hard that the entire van started rocking side to side.

"Stop speaking bitch!" Catfish screamed at her.

Then he ripped the duct tape off of her mouth.

"Speak bitch!"

Tracy was so frightened and confused that she didn't know whether to speak or shut up. She knew another slap was about to come across her face so as soon as Catfish made the slightest movement, she flinched like a scared child who knew that he had done something terribly wrong and greatly upset his parents.

"Wh-wh-wh ... what do you want from me?"

"I suggest we just blow her shit off!" Marco exclaimed, still clutching the sawed-off shotgun.

"Nooo, please don't hurt me, I-"

Catfish cut off all her whining with a back hand slap that had such a profound impact that it made her flip to the floor cartwheel style, and that was from a sitting position. Catfish picked her up off of the floor and slam-ed her against the seat.

"Who you workin wit?" Catfish hollered at her in a deafening decibel.

Shaking, she finally managed to whisper out the answer to his question.

"I'm not ... working with anyone ... it's just ... my baby's dad told me to keep an ear to the streets and to alert him if I ever heard anything about the name Catfish."

Catfish gave her a confusing look.

"Who the fuck is yo' baby's daddy?"

"Sw-sw-sweetback Fatty..."

"SWEETBACK FATTY!?" They all surprisingly yelled in unison.

They all knew that Sweetback Fatty was the head of the Organized General Committee, which dealt strictly with hit man work. Marco and Prince Tron shook their heads in disgust as they thought about what Sweetback would do to them once he found out that they had abducted his baby's mama. No one wanted to piss off Sweetback. Starting the van, Catfish picked up his cell phone to call Malcolm, but put it back down because he knew that Malcolm had been under a lot of stress in the past 24 hours. Thinking about what happened to Malcolm and Kyla earlier gave him a sudden rage of fury.

"Arrgghh!" Catfish screamed as he slammed his heavy fist against the dashboard, resetting the clock in the process.

"Tracy," Catfish started, staring at her in his rearview mirror, "What the hell does Sweetback want me set up for? I thought we were on good terms."

"His little brother told him that you hurt him for no reason, messed his mouth up to the point that drinking water makes him scream out in anguish from the pain."

"What? Who the fuck is his little brother?"

"A guy named Waller."

When she said that, everyone put their hands to their foreheads. They knew that fucking with Sweetback's gang was bad for your health. He once blew up a whole gymnasium full of kids and adults, just to get 1 person who had a price on his head.

"Tron, why didn't you tell me that Waller was

Sweetback's brother?"

"Catfish, I had no possible way of knowing that type of information. Man you know how secretive Sweetback operates in these streets."

Catfish drove in silence, contemplating his next move and occasionally shaking his head in disgust of the situation.

$ $ $ $ $

Pam's mother was red-boned, her grandmother being a young black paralegal back in her days who was seduced

by a young white attorney. As soon as the lawyer found out that he had impregnated his Negro paralegal, he paid her $200,000 to get as far out of town as possible, preferably to another country. She left the state and had Pam's mother at a hospital in Dallas, Texas. Pam's mother was the envy of all women dark and light in high school and college, and was the object of desire for all men, dark and light. She dated a caramel-complected guy whom everyone thought was definitely going to the NFL. He was the top college quarterback in the country as a sophomore, but fell victim to a career ending injury in his junior year. Her mom fell in love with the guy even more since they then had more time to spend together and more time to develop their relationship. After they graduated, they got married and Pamela Jones was born. A yellow girl with hazel eyes, the perfect body, and long shiny black hair; guys were after her since she was in the 6th grade. She was raised in a good home, by great parents, and had a strong set of values instilled in her. As a high school freshman, just like her mother, she was envy of girls and the desire of boys. She was so beautiful that even her female teachers were jealous of her and they often gave her a hard time. Her first love was a player, a cheater, a complete liar. Her mom used to always warn her about dating seniors when she was only a freshman, but she was under the impression that she could have whomever she wanted. When the guy took her virginity and left her heart broken, she used all of her anger and fury as fuel. That harsh taste of the real life let her know that everything wasn't peaches and pears. She learned how to be cold at times, calculating and manipulative, seductive, and aggressive. She would get what she wanted and keep it. She would let no one get in her way when she wanted something, and she definitely wanted something.

$ $ $ $ $

"Good morning Malcolm! I made you some breakfast.... I'll go get it. Don't move."

Before he could reply, Pam was gone to the

kitchen to retrieve the breakfast that she had cooked.

After arriving at Pam's house the night before, they drank some champagne and fell asleep watching a movie. Malcolm was distraught over everything that had unfolded, so emotionally, he was extremely vulnerable. Although they flirted heavily, they never took it all the way to a complete sexual level. Although Pam really wanted him, she knew that the best way to capture her man was psychologically, not sexually. She cuddled up next to him, constantly reassuring him that everything was going to be absolutely fine. After a while, she opened up to him about her relationship problems. She told him that it was very difficult to get a real man be-cause every man that she encountered was always intimidated both by her beauty and possessions. She knew that the only way to get a man to open up, was to open up first. And it worked. After venting over some of her relationship woes, Malcolm felt compelled to make an attempt to relate to her. He told her about the argument that he and Jennifer had. He also told her about the text messages that she had sent him. He expressed how he felt about Kyla, and Pam said that her feelings for Kyla were mutual; that she also loves Kyla. Pam knew that Malcolm's heart was fragile due to all it had just endured, so she had to handle it delicately. Malcolm looked around Pam's plush bedroom, admiring the decor and the original interior design. The carpet was about 5 inches thick, and was the color of a chinchilla coat. Her carpet looked like it cost the same amount as a hard-top Bentley. The blanket was chinchilla, and the mattress on the bed actually contoured to every curve on his body and it did the same thing on her side without disturbing his. Malcolm was impressed with her place and was delighted when she told him that he could stay as long as he wanted to. It wasn't really about the house, it was more about the home. Malcolm knew, as well as Pam, that he could go buy another house before lunch time and be in it before dinner, but Malcolm also knew that life was too short and too valuable to spend alone. Granted he still loved his wife but what good is that if love don't love you back, he reasoned. Besides, the love that Kyla had just exhibited made him realize the difference between telling someone you love them and showing someone you love them. Kyla had shown her love by sacrificing the most important thing that she would ever own ... her life. Pam walked into the bedroom wearing a red and gold silk kimono carrying a plate of pancakes, bacon, sausage, and eggs. In her other hand was a bowl of Captain Crunch.

"That's my favorite cereal, Pam ... how did you know I liked Captain Crunch?"

Pam smiled, as she sat his plate and bowl of cereal on the lamp stand.

"Because you told me years ago, and when you told me, I remember planning out this very exact breakfast for you if ever provided the opportunity. So ... lo and behold."

She turned to go back into the kitchen to get her break-fast, the sunlight highlighting her golden skin tone; as if to underline her beauty in order for the world to see it. When they got through eating, she laid back cuddled up in Malcolm's arms. He checked his Iphone and saw that he had missed 24 calls from Catfish throughout the night. None from Jennifer, he thought to himself.

He thought of Kyla laying in the Emergency Room of the hospital in a coma and promptly broke away from Pam and got dressed.

"Pam, I'm on my way to the hospital. I'll be there for a couple of hours. How about I call you around lunchtime, so maybe we can meet up?"

"That'll be perfect for me because I still have a little work to do, and if I finish in time, I planned on going to the mall to pick up a few things. Take my Aston Martin, I'll just drive my Benz today," she said as she tossed him the keys.

Malcolm kissed her on the cheek and left her house, looking for the nearest Flower and Gift shop so that he could get Kyla something nice while she was in the hospital. He was going to nurture her spirit to good health, because he knew that the spirit would eventually ... nurture the body. And once her body was nurtured back to health, he was going to nurture their relationship until it was completely repaired.

nine

As soon as Coward 1 and Jennifer arrived at the hotel the previous night, Coward 1 realized that he had bit off more than he could possibly chew. After two hours of sex, he was thoroughly exhausted, but Jennifer was still full of energy. When he realized that he wasn't going to be able to keep up with her drug induced sexual marathon, he decided to snort some of the cocaine that she was sniffing. He had done coke before, but it wasn't his drug of preference because it was so difficult for him to come down off of the high. He preferred the almighty X-pill over every- thing. Until he tried Jen's coke. He snorted half of a line and immediately stopped because he thought that a drug this powerful must be either one of two things ... either mixed with something else or just completely PURE. It burned his nose as if he had just snorted rubbing alcohol, but that small side effect was nothing compared to the immense high that he was experiencing. He did the rest of the line, and after a few minutes they took more X-pills. They had marathon sex all night. They took a nap at 7 a.m., and at 9:30 a.m., they were both laying in the hotel bed staring at the ceiling wide-eyed. Reality had set in on both of them. Jennifer Powers' reality was that she was now a slut ... a groupie ... something that she had never been because she had done something she'd never done. She'd cheated. She had officially violated the sacred sanctity of her marriage. Malcolm's words ran through her body like a laxative.

"I loved you since day one, and I'll continue to love you until the day that the love that I give you is not returned."

She lay there knowing that yesterday was the day that she didn't return her husband's love. After sending him all those text messages, he tried to call her once, and she sent that call directly to voice mail. He sent her a text message that she didn't even read. She looked at the sender and quickly replied: FUCK U. She got out of the bed and went to get her purse. She turned on her cell phone and viewed the text that she didn't read. Her legs wobbled when she read the message. It said: DO U LUV UR HUSBAND? A deep sense of regret flushed her heart as she slowly walked into the bath- room to take a shower. She regretted going out, she regretted cheating, she regretted doing drugs. She had turned her life into a nightmare. She turned on the water and got into the shower. Coward 1's reality was that he was a nothing. He was not a rich actor, hell, he was a robber. He shot people out of fear, and robbed people out of greed. He was worthless to society, but he felt good because he didn't slave for anyone. He made his own way and he aspired to be rich like his Uncle Brandon. His Uncle had encountered a similar situation back in his day. He'd run upon a beautiful girl that the top drug dealer in the city trusted. The dealer paid her to rent upscale homes in the suburbs so that he could stash large amounts of cocaine in them. Uncle Brandon won the girl's heart and the girl told him about everything. He convinced her to get him a key to the house and then they would be able to move to Paris in about a week and be filthy rich, never having to look back again or worry about a thing. This appealed to the woman greatly, who had two small kids, and didn't want to continue having the stash house rented in her name once she saw the amount of drugs it held. She gave Uncle Brandon a key and his squad of goons retrieved 300 kilos. 100 feet long, the Coward thought as he lay down plotting. That's a lot of cocaine. Now I gotta' get her to take me to it.

$ $ $ $ $

Although there is no concrete proof, there are variations of accounts of what a person goes through when they're in a coma. Some of the people that have made it out of comas claim that they were unaware of their existence for that time period. Some people say that they were sleep; and when they came out of their comas, it seemed like only one night had passed. Kyla dreamed. The doctors didn't expect her to make it through 24 hours, but she was still alive. It seemed as if her body was repairing itself without the need of a physician. Love was keeping her alive.

$ $ $ $ $

Four and a half years ago, Kyla was working part-time at Pizza Hut as a delivery person. She was about to graduate

college and the extra money helped out with various small expenses. She and Malcolm had been dating for two years already. She knew he hustled, but since he was never flashy, she thought nothing of it. Besides, he would have his diploma soon and then he would be able to start his career. One evening she had to deliver a large pepperoni pizza and 2 liter Sprite to nearby Hampton Inn. When she arrived at the specified room with the delivery, the door was wide open with R&B songs playing from a small boom box. She knocked on the door as hard as she could, but soon realized that her knocking would not be heard over the sound of the music. She took it upon herself to walk into the room. After taking about four steps, she was able to see around the wall that separated the kitchen from the bedroom. The room was a double bed, and smelled of an exotic strawberry-themed fragrance. On one bed was what looked to be a million dollars in cash, and on the other bed was her man, Malcolm. Malcolm had a huge grin on his face, and Kyla had her poker face on.

"Malcolm, what are you doing? Why is all of that money on that bed?"

Malcolm got off of his bed and went to embrace Kyla.

"Baby you don't even have to work again. Money is no option. You can quit your Pizza Hut job now if you like."

Kyla broke free from Malcolm's warm embrace and stared at him.

"Malcolm, I don't want money. I want a life ... I wanna' be a doctor one day-"

"But Kyla, I'm telling you that you don't have to do anything, just be my woman. You don't have to worry-"

"Malcolm, you have a listening problem. I want to be a doctor. I want to be able to help people. I don't want to get caught up in the illusion of a free ticket because nothing's free. Everything has a price.

"Everything."

"Including you?" Malcolm said, smirking.

"No! Because first of all, I'm not a thing, I'm a person! I can't believe-"

Malcolm cut her off with a delicate kiss on the lip.

"Malcolm, we're about to graduate college, we don't need this dirty money. We-"

He kissed her again.

"Malcolm...."

He kissed her on her neck, then sucked on one spot which caused a passion mark to show up on her light skin.

"I love you Kyla."

"Ooooh baby, I love you to. ... but that doesn't

change-"

"Ssshhh. Relax baby. I'm your man, your protector, and your lover. I promise you that nothing's going to happen to you as long as we're together."

Malcolm took the pizza out of her hands and laid it on the dresser. He turned back towards her, and noticed that she was trembling. It had only been two weeks since Malcolm had taken her virginity, and they had not had sex again. Malcolm didn't believe in making sex the focal point of a relationship. Besides, every time he got close to Kyla and kissed or touched her intimately, she always started shaking. She trembled out of a mixture of nervousness and eagerness. Malcolm fell in love with her easily. For a woman whom every man wanted to be with, she

had every right to be arrogant, conceited, and self absorbed. Especially when that type of output was expected from her. People that thought she was arrogant couldn't be more wrong if they said that two plus two equals seven. Kyla was the ultimate defiance of the stereotype.

"Baby, try not to be nervous ... relax Kyla ... I got you baby," Malcolm whispered into her ear.

Then he softly exhaled a warm, moist stream of air into her ear. Kyla shivered, a soft feminine moan escaping her throat. Malcolm laid her down on the bed and pulled her shirt up so that he could kiss her navel. As soon as his warm , wet tongue made contact with her stomach, she gasped harshly. Her breathing pattern sped up twofold, and her petite hands grabbed the side of his head in a feeble attempt to stop him from torturing her.

"Mal ... ahhh ... ooohh ... you know I'm working right now..."

Malcolm's tongue trailed from her navel to her hip bone.

"I'm working too, Kyla."

He started sucking on her left hip bone, causing a shudder to run straight through her entire body. She could barely take all of his tongue massaging, which was evident in all of her shaking and fidgeting. He pulled her jogging pants and panties down at the same time, pulling them completely off of her body. Instantly he went from sucking her hip and waist area to twirling his tongue in circles on the inside of her right thigh. She had never had a man's tongue nowhere close to the area that Malcolm was terrorizing. He slowly slid his tongue from the bottom of her right thigh, all the way up to her right pussy lip, then he licked it once like it was a ice cream cone. She squirmed, trying to get away from Malcolm's grasp, but she couldn't pry herself away as Malcolm licked her left pussy lip. She jerked and twisted while simultaneously moaning and screaming from the foreign pleasure of receiving oral sex. Malcolm gripped her ass to hold her in place, then his lips softly wrapped around her clit, causing her to sweat from the pleasure. Then he flicked his tongue gently across her clit over and over until she let go of an orgasm so big that estrogen combined with adrenaline; and gave her enough supernatural strength to throw Malcolm off of her. She didn't even realize what she had done, nor did she realize what had just happened to her. When Malcolm looked at her again, she was laying sideways with her legs shut and her thumb in her mouth. She had her eyes closed and she seemed to be mumbling some incoherent dialect to herself. When he took her virginity; she did the same exact thing afterwards. He knew that she would be sleep soon so he went into the bathroom to wash the female juices off of his face while she fell asleep. He need her to be sleep in order for him to carry out the next part of his plan.

$ $ $ $ $

Even though Kyla was dreaming, Malcolm had no way of knowing that she was lying there thinking pleasant thoughts. The doctor had told him that she was doing much better, but he couldn't tell. He just kept replaying the scene in his head over and over as though he could mentally change the outcome and Kyla would be awake and flirting with him. After about an hour and a half, Malcolm started wondering about what Kyla

would say if she knew that he was not handling business. He knew then that it was time. He said a prayer for her and kissed her on the lips. Then he left the room with business on his mind. It was time to handle it.

$ $ $ $ $

Catfish was sitting in the waiting room when he saw Malcolm walking down the hallway. After not being able to reach him on his cell, at home, or at The Power Building, he called Pam. She told him that he would be there visiting Kyla, so Catfish rushed over as soon as possible.

"Malcolm. Hello my brother. How's Kyla?"

"Aww man Cat, she's fucked up real bad. A coma is not a place for a woman like that. You know?"

"Yeah man, I feel you ... Hey, you know I been calling you all night? I got a serious fuckin' problem Malcolm."

"What kind of problem?"

"Come out to the van so that I can show you."

Despite it being a beautiful spring morning, Malcolm's day quickly turned sour when he saw the bloody faced woman duct taped in the van.

"Is this The Wolf?"

"No ... this is Sweetback Fatty's child's mother." Malcolm looked at Catfish like he had vomit on his face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you imbecile?

"Man I been tryna' tell you what happened all night ... listen..."

After Catfish told Malcolm what happened, Malcolm pulled out his cell phone.

"Who you calling yo?" Malcolm ignored Catfish.

"Heey, whassup Sweetback? What's poppin?" Catfish stared at Malcolm intensely, trying to figure out what he was up to. He knew that Malcolm had a serious level of respect for the man, but he didn't know how serious.

"Yeah man ... my right hand man made a mistake last night..."

Catfish could hear the man's boisterous voice even though the speakerphone option wasn't on.

"You got-damned right yo' folks made a mistake last night!" Sweetback was enraged, his voice sounding hoarse, yet psychopathic.

"I'ma' make your whole squad pay for that!" Malcolm took a deep breath and walked away from Catfish to talk to Sweetback privately.

"Aye Sweetback ... don't do it like that. It was a mistake. We're better than that. Where do you want me to drop your girl off at?

Despite Malcolm utilizing his psychological skills and remaining calm amidst a crisis, it had no effect on the cold-blooded killer.
"Nigga, you can have that bitch, prepare for war you soft-ass nigga!" With that, Sweetback and Malcolm both hung up their phones concurrently.

When Malcolm turned around, the look of dread sparkled in his eyes, Catfish eyed him suspiciously.

"What did he say Mal? Drop her off?"

Malcolm looked Catfish in the eye and spoke what he hadn't had to speak in over eighteen months.

"Let's prepare for war."

"A war with Sweetback?" Catfish asked in a lifeless manner.

"Not only with Sweetback, and not only with The Wolf, but a war with everyone in the city. It's time to remind people who runs shit around these parts."

Catfish smirked at him slyly. He had great difficulty suppressing his smile because he knew. He knew that the young, hungry Malcolm was back in full effect.

$ $ $ $ $

Marco was fuming. He wasted half of his night with Catfish, trying to help him out only to come home to gargantuos sized problems. Every soldier that reported to him said that they were out. They needed coke. Fast! It usually wouldn't be a problem, but that was because Kyla would work her magic. But with no Kyla ... no magic. Marco knew that there was a big chance that the Dynasty Cartel could take over easily if they stayed out of product long enough, and he wasn't having that. He hit speed dial 1 and called Malcolm.

"Hey bro ... we out ... completely."

There was a pregnant silence as Malcolm measured the effects of his next statement.

"Okay ... I'm sending contamination control this evening to fix things...." Silence again.

"Man, you know that shit's not gon' work

Malcolm..."

"Fuck, it has to work right now! Besides, we got bigger problems ... Sweetback declared war!"

The pitch of Malcolm's voice was eerie. It reminded Marco of the times when Malcolm used to go handle shit with Catfish, instead of just sending him solo or sending him with Prince Tron.

"Damn ... a war? It's gone be another war going on in the streets if The Dynasty Cartel confiscates our turf, our street and mid-level soldiers, and our clientele. Nigga' ... we need product!"

Malcolm sighed into the phone.

"Marco, I said I was sending Contamination Control. Everything's about to be back on track."

Marco shook his head as if Malcolm had lost all comprehension.

"Mal, they are not going to do business with some-one new and you know it."

"Homeboy calm down, I got this ... trust me. If worse comes to worse then I have a reserve that should last us about long enough to find a new connect. But we'll take this one step at a time."

"Okay then, your the leader ... just keep me posted so I'll know what to tell these young hungry niggas."

"One."

ten

Pam was dressed to impress. She had on a skin tight black and red mini shirt with some closed toe black and red heels. Her hair was dark and silky; not to mention laser beam straight. It made her look as if she had walked straight off of the cover of a magazine. Her nails were french-tipped, her skin was glowing, and she had applied a light coat of lip gloss which truly transformed her into a supermodel. Malcolm had called her and told her to meet him at the Ihop for lunch and so that they could discuss some urgent matters. Pam was already there when Malcolm arrived. He didn't even know if she was early or if he was late because he was so stressed out. He gave her a hug when he reached their table and couldn't resist getting an erection when he wrapped his arms around her

body. Her body was so tight and petite that he couldn't help but to imagine himself toting her around her bedroom on his dick. Malcolm noticed that Pam wasn't in a hurry to break away from the hug and politely took it upon himself to pull away. As he sat down, she couldn't help but to smile as her eyes wandered from his bulging crotch to his handsome face.

"You look beautiful, as always Pam." Malcolm said, truly meaning every word.

"You look good too Daddy."

There was an uncomfortable silence lingering in the air as they both thought about what happened the last time she called him "Daddy." Kyla had been outraged and ready to fight her at The Power Building on that fateful day. Malcolm cleared his throat.

"Pam, I was going to wait before I sent you and Brink to see Franco Roberto, but Marco told me that we're completely out of cocaine. I trust you to make the deal go through just as smoothly as Kyla would have. The only issue existing is the one that Marco raised."

Pam glared at Malcolm defensively.

"What did that bastard have to say about me this time?" Pam said, rolling her eyes at no one in particular.

"Nothing major ... he only stated that Franco Roberto wasn't going to do business with someone new. I just want you to prove him wrong," Malcolm said to her while staring in a different direction.

Pam reached out and tilted Malcolm's chin towards her so that she could make eye contact.

"Anything that Kyla can do, I can do too. I won't let you down Daddy," Pam spoke in a seductive tone. Malcolm kissed her on the back of her hand, and then dismissed the waiter irritatedly. He glanced out the window and saw Catfish pull up in his Escalade.

"Pam, I want you to be careful because a war has been declared against us and I don't know when or where the first strike will come, nor do I know who it will come against. I left you some weaponry in your Aston Martin. Brink is in the Escalade with

Catfish. He's going to drive it to your house since he also has to go over some do's and don'ts of the negotiations game."

Pam nodded her head, all the while thinking "what have I gotten myself into ... a war?"

"Pam ... try your best not to let me down baby."

Even though she was nervous inside, she still

managed to display her most confident smile.

"I won't let you down Daddy."

"Okay, good. I'm about to ride with Catfish and see if I can have this war shit settled by the time you return from your trip. Be careful Pam."

"Noooo, she said with concern in her voice, you be careful Daddy."

He smiled at her and exited the restaurant. She didn't know whether to have a solo lunch, or leave the place like Malcolm did.

$ $ $ $ $

The last time that Catfish was involved with a street war, he tried to send his wife clear across the country so that she could go stay with her sister until the may-hem died down. Instead, Tricia's home girl convinced her that she could just stay with her and just say that she was in Boston. This time was no different from either angle. He told her to pack it up and she asked him why. He told her not to question his authority and she acted like she was mad. He paid for her a plane ticket and she went straight to her girlfriend's house.

"Not again Tricia. What's wrong with Catfish? Hasn't he made enough money so that he can get outta' this shit? You know if you play with fire, you might get burned!" Tricia's girlfriend, Bonnie, said as she fired up a blunt. The weed was so strong, that when she exhaled, a wheezing sound stirred from within her lungs as if she had the flu.

"Damn! Tricia, where the fuck you be getting this weed from girl?" Bonnie managed to choke out before passing it to Tricia.

"Shit, Catfish and Malcolm nem' be flying to Egypt to get this shit," Tricia said before almost choking on the second hand smoke.

"Egypt? Niggas smoke weed in muthafuckin' Egypt? Got damn."

Both women started laughing at Bonnie's silly joke, but both women secretively wondered if niggas really did smoke weed in Egypt. Tricia got up and walked into the kitchen. After looking into the refrigerator, she went back and sat down on the sofa.

"Damn Bonnie, what you got in this house to snack on?"

"Man my food stamps ain't came yet girl." Tricia eyed her with a teasing look on her face, "Damn, B, you just as ghetto as I don't know what."

Bonnie giggled, then shook her head at Tricia's remark, although it was true. No doubt about it, Bonnie ... was ghetto as hell.

"Shit, I ain't got it like you Trish ... you wanna' go to the grocery store?"

Tricia already knew that question was coming. She was beginning to think that Bonnie only invited her over so that she could buy the grocery, and Bonnie could just sell the food

stamps. Nevertheless, Bonnie was her home girl and she had no problem with that. Besides, Bonnie was always there when Tricia needed her.

"Yeah B, let's run to the grocery store ... wit' yo trifling ass."

Bonnie started laughing and went off to retrieve her keys. Bonnie's car was an ashy black, 1996 Nissan Maxima. She had possessed the same vehicle for numerous years. When Tricia got in the car, she couldn't get away from noticing the similarities between Bonnie's apartment and her Nissan. They both could use a thorough cleaning, and both smelled of cheap weed masked with an even cheaper cherry incense.

"Damn B," Tricia said after observing the empty McDonald's' bags covering the floor of her car, "you need to clean up yo' car, girl."

"Yeah Trish ... I know right? It's just that I haven't been motivated to do nothing lately. I need to find me a man ...

I'm gettin' so sick of using my Lil Pocket Rocket that it's a shame."

"B, that's too much info."

Both women started laughing. Bonnie inserted the keys and turned the ignition, but the car wouldn't crank.

"Damn! You see what I mean Trish? I don't know shit about cars ... I'm sick of being lonely."

Bonnie got out and pulled up her car hood, more in an effort to signify that she needed help, because she definitely had no clue as to what the hell she was staring at. After a few minutes, a guy pulled up in a Ford pick-up truck. He got out of his truck wearing a Jiffy Lube jacket and a concerned look on his face.

"Hey, what's the matter?" The guy asked in a concern manner.

Bonnie instantly started flirting as she told the man about her vehicle not being able to start. He grabbed his toolbox from off the back of his truck and made his way back to the car.

"Hey Miss Lady, turn the ignition so that I can try to fix it for you."

"Okay," she said delightedly as she hurried back to get behind the wheel, "I hope you can fix everything." She smiled at Tricia, who smiled back at her girlfriend's inside joke.

"Okay, hold it ... now turn it ... hold it ... try it again ... okay stop."

The man fidgeted in his tool box until he found the tool he was looking for. Then he walked around to the driver's side and motioned for Bonnie to roll down her window.

"Hey, ain't yo' name Bonnie or something like that?" The man asked while smiling.

Surprised, and caught completely off guard, Bonnie stared at the man, trying to see if she knew him from somewhere. She couldn't recall.

"That's my name. Where do I know you from?" She asked inquisitively.

The man started to laugh, and then his face turned serious.

"You don't know me from a can of worms!"

He then laid the stainless steel Glock on the side of her head and despite the women screaming, and despite the "Please! You can have everything!" Plea from Bonnie, he still blew her brains clear across to the passenger side window. The woman slumped her lifeless body over sideways as blood rushed from her head onto Tricia's trembling hands. The gunshot itself sound like four 15-inch subwoofers being powered by four 3,000 watt amps all hitting simultaneously. The car was the speaker box. It

was good music for Sweetback Fatty, who was sitting inside the Ford pickup truck behind the tinted windows. Another one of Sweetback's men jumped out and helped carry an already traumatized Tricia into the truck. She was shaking and convulsing so hard, they thought that she was going to shatter. They gagged and hog-tied her, then they drove off. Sweetback had struck, and he was only warming up.

$ $ $ $ $

The Dynasty Cartel was the most powerful organization in the city before The Bankroll Squad emerged. At one time they were pumping coke, crack, weed, and heroin on almost every street corner and project housing unit in the city. They had even infiltrated the suburbs by setting up trap houses in some of the most upscale communities inside and on the outskirts of the city. Those days, Malcolm's newly formed crew simply wanted the South side, leaving The Dynasty Cartel with the North, East, and West side of the city. Out of courtesy Malcolm set up a meeting with Rally, who was the leader of the cartel. At the meeting Malcolm made his case, and by the end of the meeting, Malcolm's request for control of the South side was denied. He politely shook Rally's hand, then he exited the meeting. That same night Malcolm made a decision that would propel the Bankroll Squad from ambitious hustlers to the ultimate bosses. Malcolm, Catfish, Marco, Prince Tron, and Veronica all went on a rampage. It was mayhem in the city. They successfully took out entire blocks and neighborhoods that were being run by the Dynasty Cartel. They shot up trap houses and used the street sweepers to clean up the corners where the work was being served. Rally was pissed when he heard that all of his soldiers were getting knocked off the map, so he immediately sent a message to Malcolm to let him know that him and his Squad can have the south side. But by the time he could deliver that message to Malcolm, the Bankroll Squad was already running the whole city. They had run the Dynasty Cartel off of all major corners within the time span of four hours. Just like that, they went from asking for the south side to setting up shop on every side; leaving the Dynasty Cartel powerless. The Bankroll Squad's reign went from local to global in under four months. Malcolm had weight and break-downs selling in his city, but had Marco strategically place small teams in every other major city in the U.S. that strictly sold weight. Rally was seething with anger because of what had turned out to be a huge disaster for the Dynasty Cartel's reputation and for their income. But there was nothing that he could do about it without placing his entire fortune at stake. He would have to rerecruit and spend money to go to war with a group of young wild ass niggas who had nothing to lose. It wasn't as if he didn't have enough money to handle it, it was just the opposite. He had too much money to handle it. He didn't want to risk catching a case and not being able to enjoy the fruits of his labor; or somebody in the Cartel catching a murder case and telling on the whole Cartel. Rally just couldn't see the war being an intelligent response during the time. Besides, he figured that all those young niggas lacked the wisdom that the dope game required in order to have longevity. He estimated that they would all have Federal convictions within a year's time frame.

His estimation was wrong. The only person to catch a case in the Bankroll Squad was Veronica; and she only had about a year left on her manslaughter conviction. During the first year of the Bankroll Squad's reign, Rally just sat back and watched. He didn't need the money and he was planning on taking an extended vacation anyway. But during the year that he prayed for their downfall, he saw them floss, stunt, and ball like no other. He saw them do things with their money that wasn't possible for him to even think about during his first year hustling. They threw parades for the city, had food drives every month, celebrity-hosted parties every week, and did donuts in Bentleys. When Malcolm started the potato chip business, Rally nearly lost his mind. The Bankroll Squad's lifestyle had become so attractive, that almost half of the Dynasty Cartel's remaining soldiers were begging to be a part of their squad. That was the last straw for Rally, who had no intentions on having his Cartel dissolve completely. However, it was nothing that he could do to prevent that from happening. Malcolm paid his soldiers double of what Rally paid his, and since Rally was aging, it also made his Cartel less appealing. Rally was suffering of jealousy until one day he came up with an ingenious idea. He had to send multiple buyers to the Bankroll Squad; all of them requesting a different product from them, just to see if the idea would work. And it did work. It turned out that they had almost every other drug except for meth. On a hail mary attempt, he tried to flood the city and state with the drug. And they bought it. He was back in the game, but not the game that he loved the most: cocaine. His Mexican connect berated him as if he was beyond incompetent for letting a young group of niggas take over the coke game. The part that hurt the Mexican the most was that he had tried to supply the Bankroll Squad at $12,000 per kilo; provided that they buy at least 100 at a time, and Malcolm declined his offer. Then Malcolm had the audacity to try to sell him his coke at $9,000 a kilo. The Mexican was baffled, and when he told Rally, he too was baffled. Rally stepped back into the shadows, while continuing to peddle his meth. He stepped back because of two reasons that he always believed in: one was that every dog had its day, and two was that all things must come to an end. The day he had waited for for so long had finally arrived. The run had come to an end.

eleven

Rally was sitting in the game room of his mansion massaging his temples when Diaz, his right hand man barged into the room.

"Hey Ral, guess what?"

Rally gave Diaz a dumbfounded expression before covering his face with his hands and shaking his head.

"I'm in no mood for guessing games Diaz."

Rally then leaned back on his leather couch and stared at Diaz weary-eyed. Knowing Diaz, he would probably force him to guess before he told him what the deal was.

"What D ... you saved a whole bunch of money on your car insurance by-"

"No silly," Diaz said, cutting him off.

"I got a surprise visitor for you with some surprising information. Information that I guarantee will make you a very, very happy man!"

"Diaz," Rally said with a hint of heavy fatigue in his voice, "I'm not sure that any visitor can surprise me. When you get to be my age, my man, the feeling that most people identify with as surprise starts to register in your brain as irritation."

Diaz's forehead wrinkled up, then he shook his head at Rally's foolish philosophy. He walked out of the room, then a tall, lanky guy entered the room. The man looked in both directions, as if he was crossing a street with heavy traffic. He made his way up to Rally and kept looking around as if he was paranoid. Rally recognized the man instantly, he had known him since he was still in Huggies. It was his little brother, Dexter.

"Hey bro-"

"Don't hey bro me after you betrayed your own flesh and blood by working for that damned Bankroll Squad! You sell out!" Rally snapped at him.

"Ral, I begged you to give me a job in the Dynasty Cartel and you told me no! I wasn't good enough to work for you? I needed money man, and my joining them was an attempt to get paid. It was a decision that any young hustler would have made. Even you, my brother." Dexter shot back.

"I'm not your brother!" Rally snarled at Dexter.

"Ral, we will always be brothers. We are two men, blood and flesh of the same, and products of the same source."

Dexter extended his hand to Rally, who finally let his arrogance subside long enough to accept his brother's hand.

"Dexter, I didn't give you a job because I didn't want you to be a part of this world. A world of living above the law and above your means and doing any and every-thing possible to get to the top. And even at the top, you're still at the bottom. And we'll always be, because this is the underworld. I wanted so much more for my little brother." Rally said with sadness in his voice and concern in his eyes.

"I understand what you're telling me Rally, but look at how successful I've become. The game is in my blood."

The door opened and Rally's personal servant brought in two champagne glasses and a bottle of Ace Of Spades. He poured both men a glass and left the room without speaking a word. Rally took a sip from his glass, then stood up and walked to his window. His brother sat for a couple of minutes, and after finishing his glass he soon joined Rally at the window.

"There is no way for me to deny the fact that the game is in your blood. You've made a serious name for yourself in the streets, but when are you going to graduate to being a boss?"

The words sank in as Dexter imagined himself owning a sprawling estate like his big brother Rally.

"Rally, that's why I came to you today. I've been putting in major work for the Bankroll Squad by following directions from a guy named Marco. As long as I've been risking my life and freedom for the squad, I have yet to meet Malcolm or even get a promotion. I came to you to let you know that I'm ready. I've proven myself Rally. Make me a boss."

Rally met Dexter's gaze briefly, then turned away.

"Dexter," Rally said while rubbing his chin, "your clientele and specialty is cocaine, am I correct?"

"Yeah, cocaine and crack. Why?"

"Because I don't deal coke! I deal meth! You and your little group owns the coke game, so how could I possibly make you a boss?"

"Well, I came to let you know that if we make a move now, the coke game will belong to the Dynasty Cartel, and things will be back to how they're supposed to be."

Rally frowned at Dexter suspiciously.

"Dexter, do you owe them some money or something? Keep it real with me please. What's going on little bro?"

Dexter smiled at Rally's outlandish assumptions.

"No Rally, I don't have any type of personal vendetta or anything, it's just that ... I tried to re-up last

night and Marco didn't answer the phone. Then I finally get a hold of him this morning and he gathers the nerve to tell me that he's out. So at first I think he's yanking my card right? But nah man, everybody in the streets is buzzing about this shit cause it's the first time they ever went dry. Right now, I got 100 niggas that are willing to switch sides if you can get the work. Our clientele are lining up as we speak, waiting on your reply Rally."

Rally looked at Dexter in astonishment.

"Dexter, don't you realize that you're standing here begging for a war? All 100 of your little friends could end up in the morgue, don't you see?"

Dexter shot Rally an icy glare.

"You think that we don't already know this Rally? We're all grown men; just put me in charge and I promise that failure is not an option. I'm ready for war!"

Rally admired the spark in Dexter's voice, but wondered if his little brother could perform under pres- sure in the most critical situations of a full-fledged street war.

"Diaz! Come here!" Rally shouted through the inter-com microphone.

It only took a few seconds for Diaz to arrive in the room.

"Dexter, you know Diaz has been my best friend since forever right?"

Dexter looked at Diaz, then at Rally and nodded his head.

"Okay then Dexter, now kill him."

Diaz looked like a deer standing in the headlights of a speeding truck as Dexter pulled out a .44 at lighting speed and pointed it at Diaz's chest. Before Rally was afforded the opportunity to yell "wait," Dexter pulled the trigger. *WHAM!* The bullet penetrated Diaz's shirt and knocked him off of his feet and across the couch. Before Diaz could move again, Dexter had jumped over the couch after him with a Glock 40 in his other hand and slammed the barrel against Diaz's hairline.

"Dexter!" Rally screamed ferociously. "That's enough! Good job. And Diaz better be thankful I made him wear his bullet proof vest!"

Rally walked around the couch and gave Diaz a hand so that he could get up.

"Diaz, call up the Mexican and tell him we need 600 kilos within the next three hours. We're back in business."

Rally embraced Dexter warmly.

"Welcome home kid. And before I forget, hey Diaz ... never let people come into my house with a weapon on them again."

Diaz nodded and walked off, still clutching his sore chest in agony.

$ $ $ $ $

Catfish and Malcolm took Tracy to the Bankroll Squad's main trap house; which was located a couple of miles south from the downtown greyhound station. The house was nicknamed "Trapquarters" by Marco since it made the most money of all twelve houses. The house was headed by a young lieutenant named Luther, who carried an AK and looked like he hadn't showered in days. Marco had stopped by earlier and explained that there would be more cocaine later on in the evening, so for now, push the heroin, X, and weed. Luther called him back two hours later and told him that their clients wanted crack, and the traffic was the slowest he had ever seen since he started working there. Marco passed the message along to Malcolm, and also told him that every employee at Trapquarters were getting antsy about the situation. Malcolm decided that since they didn't have anything to do, they could just watch Tracy for him. Catfish knew, as well as Malcolm, that those young niggas would end up fucking the shit out of her against her will. When Malcolm, Catfish, and Tracy went inside the house, there were a series of fiends knocking on the door. They thought that Trapquarters had re-upped its coke supply. When Luther told a few of them "no," it seemed as if they disappeared into thin air. Before Malcolm could explain the situation to Luther, his cell phone rang. When he glanced at the caller ID and saw Sweetback Fatty's name blinking, he knew that he had to take the call. He hit the speakerphone option and it seemed like volts of electricity ran through Catfish's body when he heard his wife on the phone screaming his name for help. Then the screaming stopped and Sweetback's voice came crisply through the speaker.

"In this particular war, the theme is chess and the city is our chessboard. Catfish, it is only fair that if you take my queen off the board, then I find it imperative that I remove your queen from the board. I do this shit for a living, so it's no possible way for you to checkmate me in three moves. On the contrary, you

have no idea what kind of shit your whole squad is in. I will prevail from your mistakes and you will collapse under my pressure. Now I advise you to move. You are in check!"

The window shattered and everyone hit the floor as bullets flew throughout the house. Malcolm looked out of the broken glass and saw an old model Monte Carlo speeding up the block.

"Cat, let's go!"

Malcolm and Catfish ran towards the door when they heard Luther tell a guy named Mike to watch Tracy and keep the house intact. All three of them jumped in the Escalade and sped off.

"Fuuuuuuuuuccckk!" Catfish screamed as he bent around the corner speeding after the vehicle.

He slammed his clip in his .45 and screamed out again as the thought of his wife being kidnapped ran through his mind.

"I'ma' kill that bastard! That's my word Malcolm, I promise! Sweetback is as good as dead!" Catfish said, but seeing that he wasn't going to catch up with the Monte Carlo, he decided to bust a left and drive to the heart of the ghetto.

He was headed to Sweetback's soul food restaurant. Under normal circumstances, Malcolm would have objected to attacking a place that held so many innocent bystanders, but today was not a normal day. As soon as they got within eye sight of the eatery, Catfish rolled all the windows down, and Luther hung out the back window with a loaded AK and let loose. Malcolm stuck his machine gun out of his window and let loose, Luther and Malcolm shot up the restaurant, shattering all the glass and causing everyone to duck for cover. Malcolm aimed his .45 at the big, bright neon sign that said "SWEET'S" and put a hole in every letter, causing the sign to come crashing against the cement. As Catfish sped from the scene, Malcolm's phone lit up

again. It was Jennifer. He hit connect, but he couldn't hear her over Catfish's ranting.

"Cat ... Catfish! Hold the volume down for one second, let me take this call. Whassup Jennifer Powers!? What

the fuck is wrong with you?" Malcolm screamed into the phone.

"Fuck is wrong with me? The fuck is wrong with you? Out all fucking evening yesterday with your little whore? Is that what happened? Is that why you had your phone turned off?" Jennifer shot back with an attitude.

"No Jen ... I was at the hospital with Kyla, she-"

"For what? Is that bitch pregnant? Fuck this, it's over with me and you Malcolm!"

There was a silence on the phone as both of them registered the effects of that statement.

"Jen, you got the nerve to divorce me over some petty shit like that?"

"Malcolm, this is far from petty. Our relationship has been going downhill for the past three months," Jennifer said while starting to cry,

"I know you dream about that Kyla chick, because I hear you calling her name in the middle of the night. I know it's her you want. Your mind says Jennifer, but your heart and soul screams her name!"

Jennifer's voice was trembling so bad that she could barely finish.

"I've already packed up and moved out Malcolm. Good luck. Criminal."

They got back around to Trapquarters and dropped Luther off. They told him that they would take Tracy with them, Malcolm had a strategy that he was about to implement. Luther escorted her back to the Escalade and dapped up Catfish and Malcolm.

"Aye Luther," Malcolm said, "Program my cell number into your phone, I'm proud of you young nigga'. I want you to call my phone direct if you have any problems. Also, in a few hours the coke will be here, so hold tight and tell everyone else to do the same."

This meant a lot to the young guy, for the big man himself to reassure him that he was doing a good job. He took Malcolm's number and went back into Trapquarters with his head held high. Before Catfish could pull off, Malcolm got into the backseat of the Escalade with Tracy. He took the duct tape from over her mouth and untied her wrists. Her eyes were bloodshot red and the rope was so tight that her wrists were bruised. Malcolm felt sorry that she had to be a prisoner of war, and felt even worse for Catfish. Catfish's other half was in the same exact predicament. He simply hoped and prayed that she would remain okay until they got a chance to rescue her.

"Will you p-p-p ... please ... just kill me?" Tracy asked Malcolm in a hoarse voice.

Malcolm stared at the woman, who happened to be very attractive.

"No, I will not kill you Tracy. You've done nothing to harm me. I just wanted to know if you were hungry."

When he showed concern and common courtesy, her eyes lit up like Christmas lights.

"Yes! Please sir, I am both hungry and thirsty. Please sir!" She pleaded, almost on the verge of begging.

Malcolm placed his hand on the back of her hand gently, and looked into her eyes. Her window to the soul revealed both fear and surprise.

"Everything's going to be fine Tracy. Just relax.. I know this is a very difficult situation for you. I apologize for the inconvenience. And ... From now on, don't call me sir, call me Malcolm."

Catfish shot a glance at Malcolm in the rear view mirror and shook his head. He knew that Malcolm could play mind games like no other.

twelve

Franco Roberto would not accept a substitute for Kyla. He had lived in the United States for five years before the FBI indicted him. The charges were heavy and his penalty was more than likely going to be life in federal prison. His extremely high paid team of lawyers were able to get him a million dollar bond. Before trial, they tried to get him to settle for a 30 year plea deal. He told them to let him think about it and he would get back to them later. At midnight, right before the deadline for him to choose between the plea deal and the trial, he became a United States fugitive. He went back to Columbia and only trusted a select few people. Pam was certainly not one of them. As soon as he saw her and Brink on his security monitor, he immediately thought that she was a backboneless gold digger. He felt like if the FBI pressured her enough, she would definitely lead them directly to his whereabouts. He decided that the best thing for him to do was to never let her see him. He'd only do business with either Kyla or Malcolm, but he had long since stopped Malcolm from taking those trips. Franco figured that the feds

would waste no time investigating a black man who took frequent flights to Columbia, but wouldn't press so hard on a low-key Puerto Rican who could pass for Columbian. But this chick ... this woman ... she was absolutely too flashy.

She drew way too much attention to herself for this line of work. Pam stood at the gate, impatiently twirling her hair around her finger. She buzzed the intercom alert for the tenth time. Finally, a voice came through the speakerphone.

"May I help you?" The voice spoke, in broken

English.

Pam then cleared her throat, and tried to sound as professional as possible. The whiteness in her genes was more than obvious in her vocal accent.

"Yes, Malcolm sent me to see Franco Roberto..."

Silence decorated the atmosphere. Pam hit the buzzer three more times before the broken English speared its way through the speakers again.

"Are you Kyla?" The voice said.

"No, I'm Pam. I'm a part of the Bankroll-"

The voice then cut her off.

"I'm sorry. I know nothing about a Bankroll, and furthermore, there is no Franco anybody residing at this residence."

Brink then rolled his eyes because he'd been taking this same trip for years and hearing that same voice forever.

"Come on man, she's good people," Brink added in.

"Is this the fuckin' pilot speaking to me? Listen close knucklehead ... take your saddity looking broad and go back

where you came from. I don't even like sugar substitute, much less a Kyla substitute. Be gone!"

The intercom beeped off and Pam was about to buzz it again but Brink stopped her arm in mid-air. A look of frustration and defeat eclipsed her face and her skin was red. She scowled at Brink with eyes that could

kill.

"Brink, you know I gotta' make this work! Malcolm told me not to let him down!"

She started wrestling with Brink's grip, trying her best to free her arms, but to no avail. Brink went ahead and put her in a bear hug so that she couldn't move.

"Pam, listen! It's not going to work, so we need to leave before we get ourselves killed out here. Look around, don't you see what's on the roof?"

When Pam looked at the roof, all of her determination leaked out of her and was replaced by a mixture of anger and terror. Anger because she felt like everyone favored Kyla over her. As if Kyla was a fuckin' Queen or something. Terror because gunmen were aiming at them from all angles, just waiting on them to try something funny. Finally defeated, they returned to their friend's house where they had landed the jet.

"Brink, why can't Malcolm just give that loser a call and tell him that I'm substituting for Kyla?"

"Malcolm and Franco never talk on the phone, it's way to risky for the both of them. I'm sure that Malcolm will understand the situation so try not to stress over it too much."

"But I wanted to prove myself to him! I wanted him to know that I could be the Bonnie to his Clyde!"

Brink realized that he was no longer hearing deter-mination in her voice. He was listening to emotions. Emotions left room for mistakes. He shook his head and went to go refuel the jet.

$ $ $ $ $

Sweetback was far from pleased when he found out that Malcolm and Catfish had shot up his restaurant. His eatery was not only his hangout spot; it was also his pride and joy. He had saved quite a bit of money up from his hit man work in order to build a legal establishment that his son could be proud of one day. His heart fell to the ground when he saw his soul food restaurant shot up and reduced damn near to debris. He was unable to secure any type of insurance on the place simply because it was located in a drug infested area. It was located in the heart of the ghetto, but the food was so good that it attracted business from all over the city. Now it was gone. The only good thing about it was that none of the customers got hurt. That, he was very thankful for. The police arrived at the scene while he was calculating the damages. Bone, Sweetback's right hand man, peeped the cops and pulled off in the Ford 1500 while Sweetback handled his business. He wanted to stick around, but he couldn't because he still had Tricia held hostage in the vehicle. Plus the truck was loaded with guns. He certainly wasn't trying to go out like that. When the police finished up with their questioning of Sweetback, Sweetback called Bone and told him to come back around and pick him up.

"What they talkin' bout' Sweet?" Sweetback sighed and looked into the extended cab at his potential kidnapping charge.

"Man, them crackers talkin' about they're going to position two police officers outside of my house for the next ten days! I told them that it wasn't needed but they insisted because they think that this shooting was an attempt on my life. Mann ... Bone, we're going to have to end this bullshit with Malcolm and them. I can't afford to have the police watching me while I'm keeping this bitch hostage. Besides ... when me you, and Waller rode by Trapquarters, Waller didn't fire one single shot. You were driving so that's explainable, but Waller ... it was his fuckin' idea and he just sat in the back watching me shoot. Sometimes I don't believe that he's really my little brother when he does shit like that. The man had his mouth sewed shut because he couldn't keep it closed, and here we are fighting a war and risking our lives and possessions for him. He's a grown man now. It's time for him to man-up. I'm going to have to let him fend for his self."

Tricia was happy to hear that they were going to let her go, but she was haunted by the fact that these two heartless men killed her best friend in front of her. They

literally blew her brains out of her skull and were acting like if they let her go, everything would be okay. Fuck that, she thought. She would avenge her friends death by any means. She sat in the extended cab, gagged and bound, thinking about how she was going to pull it off.

$ $ $ $ $

Malcolm took Tracy to his private quarters, and fed her a healthy sized T-Bone steak, eggs, toast, and orange juice. He apologized again for the situation, and she told him not to worry about it. She was amazed at the size of his house and shocked by his hospitality. She didn't even get this type of treatment in a real relationship. When she finished eating, he asked her if she would like something additional to eat. After she declined, he went into his bathroom to fill up the Jacuzzi for her to have a nice relaxing time after all she'd been through. The Jacuzzi was purchased in China and had a state of the art, oscillating water distribution system. The water spins around and back around, giving whomever was in it a satisfying body massage without the need of a masseuse. Tracy got into the contraption and was on the brink of an orgasm within two minutes. It was feeling to good to her at first, so she climbed out and started drying the water off of her body. However, she didn't want to leave out of the bathroom hot and horny and have no way of fixing her dilemma. She threw the towel onto the floor and climbed back into the tub. The water twisted and tick- led against her nipples, vagina, and clitoris simultaneously, pushing her deeper and deeper into the valleys of ecstasy. Her pussy started contracting and convulsing involuntarily as an orgasm rippled through her body, causing her to moan and squirm in the exotic Jacuzzi. After the first orgasm, another one immediately proceeded to develop after-wards. She came again, afterwards she jumped out of the tub and grabbed the towel. Her knees were wobbling and her body was weak, but her pussy was soaking wet. Malcolm had given her a gray sports

bra and some gray cotton boy shorts that fit her voluptuous body like biking shorts. The attire came out of Jennifer's closet

and had never been worn. Jen's ass was 36 inches around, but Tracy's was 38 inches. Tracy came out of the bath-room and sat on the waterbed. When Malcolm entered the room, she had her legs spread, rubbing lotion onto her skin. He saw that but he couldn't avoid spotting the huge wet spot in her vagina area. Her pussy cream was leaking through her panties.

"I'm sorry," Malcolm said, as he turned to exit the room.

"Wait," Tracy's voice called out, "it's okay, I need your help anyway..."

A look of surprise framed Malcolm's facial features as he stood still without moving. She held up the bottle of Lubriderm lotion.

"Can you rub this onto my back please?"

Malcolm hesitated for a minute, and just kept staring at her. Finally he broke out of the trance and made his way over to the bed. He grabbed the lotion bottle and she turned over and laid on her stomach. When Malcolm saw her beautiful body from the rear, his dick immediate-ly got rock hard. He pulled up her sports bra and she grabbed it and pulled it all the way off. He kept staring at her wet pussy print as he massaged her lower back in a circular motion. When he heard her moan in ecstasy, he felt like he had to try her. He tugged at the band of the extra tight boy shorts and she lifted her waist up so that he could pull them all the way off. He un-buckled his belt and slid down his Donald Trump slacks. Malcolm was sporting a revolutionary erection and was positioning his manhood at a downward angle so that he could enter. He planned to take his time, but Tracy had other plans. She reached behind her and wrapped her petite hands around Malcolm's thick manhood. She was amazed at how thick it was and nervous when she stroked her hand down it's length. It was longer and thicker than any dick she'd ever taken, but as wet as her pussy was, she knew she would be able to take it. Malcolm moved her hand out of the way and placed his thick piece of meat at her wet, warm entrance. He parted her pussy lips with his left hand and slid half of his shaft inside of her with his right hand.

"Ooooohhh," she moaned as she fell face forward to the pillow, running away from his dick.

As soon as she hit the bed, Malcolm straddled her by sitting on the back of her upper thighs. His dick was already dripping wet from her pussy cream, so he used it as an additional lubricant and slid his dick all the way inside of her. Her fingernails dug into the sheet and her teeth sank into the pillow. Her pussy was sloppy wet as Malcolm continued to slide in and out. Every time she tried to squirm away, he would go harder into her. His long, thick strokes were causing her to scream out into the pillow. Although the sounds were muffled, they were still audible throughout the room.

"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-oooh-ah-ah-ah-shit-ah-ahdamnah-ah-ah- this dick is gooood-ah-ah-ah."

The only other sound was her pussy farting as she came all over his thick dick. The farting noises were constantly happening every time he slid his dick all the way back into her sloppy wet pussy. Pussy cream had splattered out of her as he fucked her and had created a big, dark wet circle underneath her on the champagne colored sheets. After she came for the fourth time, Malcolm pulled out of her convulsing body and went to go wash off. As she lay there thinking, she

knew that that dick was all she would want for a long time to come.

thirteen

Sweetback and Bone dropped Tricia off at the car wash and gave her $150 for cab fare and some- thing to eat. They called Malcolm and explained

their standpoint on the whole Waller situation and that they didn't want to take it any further than it had already gotten. Catfish was anxious to go pick up his wife, but Malcolm was wary that it might be a setup and didn't want to go for the "Okie dokie." However, when Tricia called Catfish's cell phone from the pay phone booth and all she could do is cry for the first few minutes, Catfish jumped to his feet and said that he would go get his wife with or without Malcolm. Malcolm felt his pain, and told him to give him a couple minutes to call for back up. He called Prince Tron, Luther, and Marco, and all three arrived within the span of twenty minutes. Malcolm's plan was to drop Tracy off at the same location that they were picking up Tricia. They all hopped into the Escalade; and all five of them were carrying firearms with military strength scopes and ammo to go with each gun. When they approached the car wash, they saw that there were no vehicles there. They checked their surroundings,

and when it looked like it was fine, they pulled the SUV into the car wash parking lot. Before they could even stop good, Tricia came running from the side of the building towards the SUV. At first it scared the men, who had pointed AK's and M-16s at the female that seemingly came out of nowhere. Catfish hollered at everyone, "put the guns down!"

Malcolm dropped the AK when he saw the familiar face, and everyone else followed his lead. Catfish unlocked the door and Trica jumped into the truck, crying frantically.

"They ... they ... they ... killed her...! Catfish, they killed her! Malcolm, Catfish, they-!"

"Tricia, calm down a second. Tell us what happened. Who killed who? "Malcolm inquired.

A look of horror was displayed on Tricia's face as she stared straight ahead without responding.

"Tricia!" Catfish screamed.

Still no response. Tracy, recognizing the symptoms of traumatization, slapped her across the face, surprising everyone. Tricia instantly snapped out of her trance and slapped Tracy right back across her face. Everyone in the SUV started smirking despite the seriousness of the situation.

"The people who kidnapped me, killed my best friend, Bonnie!"

Catfish was beginning to get irritated.

"How the fuck did Bonnie get in this shit?"

Tricia dropped her head down because she knew that she had disobeyed her man.

"I ... was at her house and they-"

"What the fuck were you doing at Bonnie's house when you were supposed to be in Boston?!" Catfish blared at his wife.

"I was sick of having to leave my home, my city just because of these games that ya'll are playing in the street! I'm sick of this shit Catfish. I can't keep living like this."

The SUV got quiet as Tricia started back crying. Malcolm opened his door and got out with out saying a word. He shut the door and got on his cell phone. After about five minutes, he climbed back into the truck.

"Tracy, I told Sweetback that I was going to drop you off here so that he could pick you up and he said "fuck that broad." And hung up on me. What's the deal with you two?"

"Fuck that nigga! He care about his child, but he don't give a damn if I die or live. He hates me!" Tracy said.

Malcolm checked his watch and saw that it was about time for Brink and Pam to check in.

"Well hey ... look ... I'll personally take you to wherever it is that you're trying to go in a couple of hours if you can wait, because right now I have something very, very, important that I need to tend to."

Tracy was more than happy as she thought about the possibility that she would be able to spend more time with Malcolm.

"I can wait. I'm ready when you're ready."

Catfish started the vehicle and started to head

back towards Malcolm's estate when he remembered something.

"Say Tracy, didn't you say you knew who The

Wolf was?"

All eyes turned towards her.

"Ah ... yeah ... why?"

"Do you know where he stays?"

"Of course I do, it's only about ten minutes from here." Catfish glanced at Malcolm, and Malcolm nodded his head, letting Catfish know he was on the same accord.

"Okay ... show us where he stays at."

After Tracy showed them where The Wolf stayed at, the Squad decided that they would handle him later and let Malcolm handle his business. Like Malcolm, everyone else was anticipating Pam's return, and hoping that she would return with good news. They headed back to Malcolm's estate and waited on them.

$ $ $ $ $

Pam was a failure. When she told Malcolm the news, it hit him like an anvil and he felt sick to his stomach. His face displayed a look of disgust and his mind was gently approaching panic mode. Marco was raising hell, talking about how the Dynasty Cartel was going to lock the city down. Luther was speechless; he had never been in such a situation in his life. He was used to the Bankroll Squad's coke coming like clock- work 24/7. Catfish just twiddled his thumbs because that wasn't his line of work anyway. He was still pissed off about the Kyla situation, and even more so now that they knew where The Wolf stayed and he was still breathing. Prince Tron was also pissed, but what could he do but what his leader ordered him to. Brink tried to take up for Pam.

"Malcolm, this girl tried her hardest man."

"Fuck that Brink. Her hardest was definitely not hard enough," Malcolm said while getting up off of the couch.

He walked over to Pam, who was standing up with her head down and her hands behind her back.

"I'm sorry Malcolm ... he just wouldn't give me a chance," Pam said somberly, as she raised her head

up to his chest, still avoiding eye contact.

Her self esteem was shot. She really wanted to prove that she could do whatever Kyla could do but she had not been very successful.

"I wouldn't give anybody a chance if they were dressed like you're dressed. You don't look like you went to conduct a drug deal, you look like you went to set a motherfucker up and have him killed."

If those same words were spoken by anyone else, they would have had no effect on her, but when Malcolm spoke those words to her, she could feel the hurt and pain deep down in her soul. She was embarrassed and didn't enjoy being made a fool of by the very man that she wanted.

"Malcolm, no one told me what the damn dress code was supposed to be!"

"Ohhh, so you figured that you would just dress like a slut and that would be fine?"

"I didn't dress like a slut, Malcolm, I dressed with taste, something your honky wife doesn't have and Kyla will never have!"

"What?! Get a taste of my front door, then get a taste of the highway before you get a taste of blood in your mouth!"

"Malcolm!" Brink and Catfish shouted at him in unison.

"Bro, you know it's not Pam's fault. I say we fix the root of the problem ... The Wolf," Catfish blurted.

"Naw Cat," Malcolm said.

"Actually this is Pam's fault. It's her fault because she's a jealous and conniving bitch who always wants to try to outdo Kyla in some form or fashion."

When Pam heard him say that, a single tear rolled down her face and she finally looked Malcolm in the eyes. She wanted to search his gaze to see if he actually meant the words that he was speaking to her, or if he was speaking out of frustration and anger. She stared into one of the coldest gazes that she had ever seen Malcolm form, and was immediately at a loss for words. To her it felt like her heart had short circuited and her life had vanished right before her very eyes.

"Malcolm ... I've never told you this ... but I have always loved you. That's why I tried to outdo Kyla all the time. I wanted your attention. I wanted you to love me in return."

Pam wiped her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Just telling you the truth about how I feel makes me feel a whole lot better. Now ... I just wanna ask you one thing Malcolm. Why wouldn't you love me?"

Malcolm had a confused look on his face.

"Pamela, first of all, this is the first time that you've ever revealed your feelings to me. I couldn't read your mind. Second, how could I love a woman who is scared to be herself. If a woman is scared to be herself, then I'm scared of who she really is."

Pam stood there for a moment, letting the words sink in while finally coming to grips with reality. The reality was that Malcolm did not love her, nor would he love her anytime soon.

"You know what Malcolm? You're absolutely correct about your assessment of me. I'm really not being myself. Here I am with a college degree and I'm still risking my life and my freedom by playing these silly games in the streets. I could have ended up like Kyla ... a beautiful woman with a college degree who may never make it out of the hospital. It was fun in the beginning, the lure and attractiveness of large sums of money coming at breakneck speeds, but now I walk ... I will no longer risk my life for the Bankroll Squad again. I'm rich; as we all are, so I don't see the point in continuing this lifestyle."

Pam kissed Malcolm on his cheek, turned and walked out of the mansion, leaving everyone's jaws hanging on the floor. Everybody knew that Malcolm had over reacted; as he tended to do a lot of at times. Pam walked out of the organization. She was finished.

$ $ $ $ $

Dexter had 590 kilos of coke left. He had been successful in putting The Dynasty Cartel in control of only one of the Bankroll Squad's trap houses. The leaders of the other trap houses declined the offer, saying that they would just wait it out a while. The house that he put the Dynasty Cartel in control of wasn't that difficult of a task since it was actually the same house that Marco had put him in control of for the Bankroll Squad. Rally gave Dexter a small crew and told him that he had thirty days to show him that he deserved to be a boss. Dexter accepted the stipulations, but he had butterflies in his stomach because he

had never been in such a powerful position before in his life. He definitely didn't wanna' let Rally down, but he just wished that he could have as much faith in his own self as Rally had in him. Diaz and Rally were at the estate sitting back watching the two strippers that they had hired play in the pool. Diaz always went to the strip clubs and recruited the best of the best. He always paid them $2,000 a piece to spend the whole day with them, but Diaz, nor Rally

ever paid them any attention unless they wanted to have sex.

"They look like dolphins," Diaz said as he watched the naked girls swim from one end to another.

"Well shit ... you certainly treat them like damn Dolphins," Rally remarked.

"How so?"

"It ... certainly doesn't take a genius to answer that question Diaz. All you do is feed them little pieces of fish and let them play in the water!"

Both men started laughing at the wisecrack. The men got silent as they watched the women climb out of the pool, water glistening off of their bronze and brownish skin tones. The short girl's pussy was so fat that they could see it hanging almost 30 feet away. Diaz felt his self getting an erection and decided to quickly change the subject before he ended up locked in a bedroom for the rest of the evening when it was still business that needed to be handled.

"Rally. You think your little brother can get off of all of that coke? It's damn near ... what ... a life or death responsibility, am I correct?"

Silence from Rally as he twisted the top off of his bottled water and downed two pills.

"Diaz, if a man can't move 600 kilos in a drought, he don't deserve to live. Kin or no kin. It'll take about a week before people start realizing that Dynasty runs the city again, so until then, let the dealers stay in denial. Once they spend everything but their re-up money waiting on the Bankroll Squad to make it out of their drought, they'll have no choice but to switch sides. This is not about loyalty, this is about business. If, in one week, we haven't gained control of Trapquarters ... then we'll buy the house across the street to trap out of and let the hustlers in Trapquarters know that we mean business."

"That's a helluva stunt boss. I like that shit."

"Diaz, I don't need a co-signer, my credit is A-1!"

Rally then stood up, tossed the empty bottle of

Viagra onto his seat, and jumped into the pool to be with the girls. SPLASH! The girls started giggling and then jumped back into the pool after him. They were apart of the Bankroll Squad under Kyla's prostitution ring. They hadn't heard from Kyla in almost two days, and her cell phone was going straight to voice mail, so at first they decided that they would wait until she finally felt like calling. But this was urgent. They had heard way too much juicy information in the past seven hours to keep waiting on Kyla to call. The girls knew what they had to do now. They had to contact Malcolm.

fourteen

Kyla was still in the hospital dreaming. Dreaming about that life altering day when Malcolm licked her to sleep. No one had ever satisfied

her, in any way, to the capacity that Malcolm had satisfied her. The doctors figured that she wouldn't be in a coma that much longer the way her vital signs were improving. It was still not clear if she would be able to talk or walk or even if she would be able to speak coherent sentences when, and if, she regained consciousness.

$ $ $ $ $

When she awoke in the Hampton Inn, the music had stopped playing and all the lights were off except for the glow from the television. She smiled when she realized that she had gone to sleep cuddled up next to Malcolm. Her mind wondered off as she started replaying the sexual torture that Malcolm had administered to her that evening. As she got up to go use the bathroom, she noticed two things ... two potential problems. One, was that she had not returned to work. The red Pizza Hut heating bag was just sitting on the table beside the keys to the store's delivery vehicle. Her boss must be blazing hot by now. She was surprised that he hadn't called the police yet. Two, was that she had a ten page project that was supposed to be due in two days. She had told Malcolm earlier that day that she had quite a bit of research that she needed to double check before she made her edits and drafted her final copy. She made it up in her mind that she would confront him about this after she came out of the bath- room. However, on her path to the bathroom was one of the most absurd things that she had ever encountered. It was a path of roses. Not even on TV had she ever seen a path of roses leading to the bathroom. It just didn't seem as though it made good sense to form something so pretty and delicate to lead to the place where humans go to take a dump. She wanted to question Malcolm about the purpose of the flowers, but she figured that she would let him get a few more minutes of sleep since he was sleeping like a baby. She used the bathroom and stood at the sink rubbing soap on her hands before noticing the bright red tomato paste on the mirror. On second thought, maybe it was lipstick. After reading the words, she knew that it was time to wake him up.

"Malcolm!" Kyla screamed out.

This was his cue ... he knew that she would wake him up. He knew her like the back of his hand. Malcolm entered the bathroom and saw Kyla staring at the words in the mirror with a confused look on her face.

"Malcolm, what is this about?"

Malcolm stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her petite waist. He kissed her on the neck and whispered in her ear.

"Kyla, it's actually not that complicated. I asked you to marry me by writing it in the mirror so that you could look yourself in the eyes and give me the answer I deserve. I've already went through the delightful trouble of buying you a $40,000 engagement ring, so I hope you don't turn me down."

Kyla could barely get her thoughts together. She was very emotional, and the prospect of marriage almost made her pass out from excitement.

"Malcolm, you don't even know what size ring I

wear. How-?"

"Kyla, I know you like the back of my hand ... the very least you could do is know the back of your own hand."

Kyla realized that Malcolm was literally speaking as she held her perfectly manicured hand up to the light, revealing a staggering six carat diamond solitaire mounted onto a platinum setting. Kyla let out what sounded like a hybrid of a scream and a squeal then turned around and gave Malcolm a passionate kiss on the lips.

"Yes Malcolm! Yes! I will marry you! Without a shadow of a doubt baby!"

Malcolm picked her up and swirled her around one time. He was the happiest that he had ever been in his life. He had found a million dollar cocaine connect named Franco Roberto; and he had secured a wife on the same day.

$ $ $ $ $

Marco had been waiting for the perfect time to ask, and it occurred to him that there would be no greater opportunity than the present.

"Malcolm, you said that you had some extra coke put away, right?"

Luther's eyes widened as he listened to the bosses conversation.

"Yeah, I do," Malcolm replied nonchalantly.

Marco got up and started walking towards the stairs.

"Where is it? The attic?

Malcolm stared at Marco as he stood at the bottom of the stairs awaiting a reply.

"Malcolm, you did tell me that if Pam's situation didn't work out, we would use the reserve until we could find a new connect."

Malcolm knew that the only reason that he had initially made such a ridiculous promise, was that he thought for certain that Franco would have no problem dealing with Pam. Now he was forced to eat his words.

"Yeah ... you're right Marco. Follow me."

The two men started walking down the long, expensive, state of the art hallway. The ceilings were deco-rated in gold chandeliers and the walls held over two million dollars worth of paintings and security monitors. They walked past a bag of trash that was obviously in the wrong place; as the very sight of it made Malcolm grimace. He always let Jeffrey have the weekend off, but he made a mental note to make him work over time when he came back to work. Malcolm and Marco got into the elevator and Malcolm pressed G for ground floor. After the elevator stopped, the door opened automatically, revealing a stunning collection of exotic and foreign cars.
"Damn," Marco exclaimed, "you doing some major shit over in this piece."

Malcolm ignored him and pressed the G button again. The flat screen security monitor that was mounted on the elevator wall immediately went blank; and then a virtual keypad covered the screen. He knew that Jen must have hit the G button again by mistake and then effectively guessed the pass code. The pass code was easy to guess for Jennifer because he used the same pass code everywhere from the ATM machines to internet passwords. When the elevator door opened again, he almost passed out from what he saw. The cellar was empty. He had been cleaned completely out, left not even with an 8 ball of coke to his name.

"Fuccckkk!" Malcolm exclaimed as he grabbed a bottle of wine and slung it across the room.

The glass shattered, and the sound of it echoed off of the walls in the empty storage. Malcolm and Marco exchanged worried glances and stood in place for a while, motionless. Marco didn't even have to ask. The scene spoke for itself. Malcolm and Marco then took the elevator to the security room. Malcolm walked up to the central computer and hit a few buttons. He was checking for the last ten minutes of recorded movement in the cellar. The computer searched its archives for a few seconds and finally produced a file. He hit the "play" option and the video clip instantly filled him with anger and rage. The guy who robbed him was wearing his chain and fucking Jennifer doggy style while one guy looked on. At first he thought she was being raped, but when he fast forwarded the clip to about four minutes, he saw Jen laughing and hugging on the robber. Then another guy emerged out of the

background with another four kilos in his hands. Marco looked at the screen hard. The guy holding the coke looked vaguely familiar. Then it hit him.

"Malcolm ... I know who that is." "Who is it?"

"That's the fuckin' Wolf!"

They had just hit Malcolm for 17 million dollars in untouched cocaine.

$ $ $ $ $

There was nothing left to discuss. Malcolm, Catfish, Prince Tron, Luther, and Marco were waiting outside of The Wolf's house. When the Wolf arrived, he was driving a new Lincoln Navigator with paper tags. He had Coward 2 with him. They left the vehicle running and hurried into the house. Malcolm and Catfish were at the front door; Marco, Luther, and Prince Tron were at the back door. Catfish kicked the front door, but The Wolf must have saw them outside and locked the door. The door was dead bolted. Malcolm and Catfish took out their .44's and shot the door off of its hinge. When it was barely hanging on to the frame, Catfish took his heavy foot and kicked off what was left of the door. Malcolm stepped into the house right after Catfish, and frantically searched the living room. There was no one in sight. Marco, Tron, and Luther had specific instructions from Malcolm to just wait at the back door, and if The Wolf tried to slip out, kill him and that clown with him. But when Marco heard gunshots, he grew extremely impatient. Not knowing who was doing the shooting or who was receiving the bullets, he kicked in the back door despite Malcolm's instructions. The back

door led directly into the kitchen where The Wolf and Coward 2 were trying to hide underneath the dining table. Marco pulled back the pump on his Mossberg shotgun and let off a shot that turned the wooded table to firewood chips. But he hit no one, and by the time he could aim the gun again, hollow point bullets opened up both sides of his stomach. He dropped the gun and clutched his sides, which felt like a bed of fire ants had crawled inside of him and bit him on the inside of his skin. He looked down at the blood that had turned his hands into fire hydrant paintbrushes and felt his legs start to give. The Wolf seized his opportunity and ran at Marco with a professional strength wooded baseball bat. Whack! Marco died on impact, as the bat broke his skull and the velocity from the baseball bat sent the broken piece of skull straight through his brain like an ice pick. Catfish peeped around the corner and saw Marco on the floor with the whole top left portion of his head smashed in. He threw the .44 down and grabbed the flame thrower out of his bag. "Whooosh!" The flame enveloped The Wolf completely. He screamed out from the excruciating pain of being burned alive. The Wolf staggered back and dropped the baseball bat on the floor.

"Aaaaargh!" The Wolf screamed as he fell towards Coward 2.

It never failed. Coward 2 was scared as hell and didn't know what else to do, so he closed his eyes and started shooting. He emptied the whole clip and hit nobody. Malcolm ran over to him with his .44 in hand and kicked him in the nose. Blood started gushing out of the Coward's nose as he started screaming,

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorryyyyy!" All the bitch flowed out of him when he ran out of bullets.

"Where the fuck is my shit at?"

"I-I-I know I made a mistake-" The Coward stammered.

"You got-damned right you made a mistake ... coming up in my motherfuckin' house and stealing my mother-fuckin' work! Where the-"

"But we didn't steal it," Coward 2 blurted out of desperation, "that white girl gave it to my homeboy!

"They're down at the Hilton hotel with it right now!"

Images flashed through Malcolm's mind of Jennifer getting fucked in his own house by another man. Images of Kyla slumped over on the steering wheel of her Range Rover, bleeding to death. Images of the elevator door opening and revealing an empty cellar. Marco was dead, his wife betrayed him, and Kyla was in the hospital. Malcolm was against using torture techniques; after all, he had just got on Catfish's case about sewing Waller's mouth shut when they were back at the Power Building, but this was different. The man in front of him had caused him so much pain, that the only way to pay him back was to torture him. Malcolm grabbed the baseball bat and slammed it down on his right shin, causing it to snap. WHACK! Across his knee cap. WHACK! Across his shoulder blade. Coward 2 screamed out in pain. He had never in his life been in as much pain as he was in now. Catfish stood back and watched Malcolm finally unleash all of his pent up aggression. WHACK! Arm. WHACK! Scrotum. WHACK! Ankles. WHACK! Elbows. It was officially the ass beating of the century. Malcolm had snapped. After a few more swings, Malcolm sat down in a chair right in front of Coward 2 and watched him suffer. Watching him scream, squeal, and squirm because of the intense pain made Malcolm fell better. It was like therapy. Luther and Prince Tron had walked in halfway through the beating and

were standing besides Catfish. They had never seen Malcolm lash out like that, ever. After about 15 minutes of watching Coward 2 squirm and grimace from the pain, Malcolm finally noticed his surroundings. He was in a zone and didn't even realize that the rest of his crew were watching him torture the Coward. The Coward had begged for Malcolm to take his life 260 times (he counted) since the beating had ended. He didn't want to suffer any longer and was unable to move a limb. Malcolm noticed that it was getting dark outside and went ahead and granted him his wish. He stuck the .44 barrel in his mouth and blew his tongue out the back of his neck. Then, just to be on the safe side, he blew his brains out of both the right and left sides of his head.

"Two down, two to go," Malcolm remarked. "Two?" Catfish was curious.

"I thought it was only one to go."

Malcolm glanced at The Wolf's scorched body and shook his head.

"Naw, Cat ... Jennifer must die too! If you hang with dogs, then of course you must get treated like dogs."

Luther just listened intently; hanging on to every word and quote that Malcolm spoke like it was the gospel. He wanted to be the top dog one day, just like Malcolm.

$ $ $ $ $

Malcolm had called the Hilton's front desk and asked to be connected to Jennifer Power's room. Eight times. After the eighth time, he waited about fifteen minutes before he decided to call back. When he called, the receptionist recognized his voice from all of the repeat calls.

"Hey sir. Are you the one calling for Powers?"

"Yes I am. Jennifer Powers."

"Okay, let me send someone up to the room to see whether someone is in there. Please hold."

"Sure."

Malcolm was put on hold for about five minutes, only to have the receptionist come back on the line with bad news.

"Sir? Are you holding for someone?" "Yeah, I'm holding for Powers?"

"Oh okay, well, there is no one in the room at the current moment. Would you like to leave a message? I can make sure she receives it whenever she arrives."

"No, but thanks," Malcolm spoke as he hung up the phone.

Catfish had been driving around in circles waiting on Malcolm to tell him to go kick the door in. He didn't give a damn that Jennifer was his wife. He would kill that bitch with no remorse. All violators, male and female, must pay the fee for violating. Catfish suddenly made a U-turn in the middle of the street.

"Damn Cat, what you doing?" Malcolm asked.

"We bout' to go post up at the hotel and wait, if

she's not there by now!"

They drove up to the Hilton and backed the Escalade into a parking slot at an angle so that they could retain a clear view of the front entrance. After waiting for over an hour,

Jennifer's BMW sped through the parking lot. Everybody in the Escalade picked up shotguns and AK'S; preparing for a straight slaughter. Catfish opened his door, but before his left foot could touch the ground, he pulled it back in and slammed the door. Every door that had initially opened when they saw Jennifer's car, closed immediately after Malcolm, Luther, and Prince Tron caught a glimpse of what Catfish saw. Jennifer was being trailed by three police cars; each car's light was flashing, illuminating the dark night life. Malcolm wanted to help out. To reach out ... as she was still his wife regardless of the sheisty shit she had pulled. Then the images flashed through his mind again. Her getting fucked by another man. Then the thought that she could possibly have kilos of cocaine in the car.

"Let's get the fuck on Catfish, we'll handle this shit another time," Malcolm spoke, as calmly as he could.

"I was thinking the same thing Mal. We got one too many guns in this vehicle and I don't want to have to kill a cop tonight!"

Damn I'm slipping, Malcolm thought. I forgot all about the consequences of getting caught with all this shit.

Catfish started the vehicle and slipped his way out of the parking lot. Malcolm looked back to see what the cops were doing. Confused and stunned, he sighed. Jennifer looked horrible. Her hair was a frizzy disaster, and her eyes were bugged out. She looked like she had just seen a ghost and her outfit was dirty. Luther was observant, absorbing and analyzing the entire situation at hand. He knew that look all too well. It was the same permanent paranoid look that his cocaine abusing customers kept on their face. Malcolm noticed it too. He sat back in his seat gathering his thoughts. All the drama that had unfolded as of lately had threw him off of his square. It was time to live again.

"Aye ya'll, lets go get dressed up. We'll hit Club Supreme first, then, after a couple of hours there, we'll hit the Red Carpet strip club."

Prince Tron and Luther's mood lightened up a little bit, but Catfish's mood stayed the same. Catfish knew Malcolm would say that. After all, they had just lost Marco and instead of sulking over his death, they were going to celebrate his life. Plus, Malcolm always treated the clubs like his press conference to the streets. He answered all questions, regardless of if it was positive, negative, critical or sarcastic. He also used it to show the streets that the Bankroll Squad was unfazed amidst a crisis. And ... Just like the rap stars and music executives do, he used the clubs for photo opportunities. As every club attendee knew, the Bankroll Squad always bought out the bars, and always made it rain. Say cheese!

fifteen

" I put on for my city/ On, on for my city/ Ooooooooooonnn,"

The Young Jeezy song blasted through the huge club speakers. This song ignited the Squad's swagger, and made them feel that it was okay to put on. So they put on ... in a major way. All eyes had already been on them when they first entered Club Supreme, but now, they were the absolute center of attention. All the lights in the club had dimmed except for the spotlight that shined on the Bankroll Squad as they stood on the toptier balcony, over the dance floor. Their wardrobes were immaculate. A couple of lower level ballers knew that all of their clothing had to have been custom made, because they had never seen any of the apparel in any of the upscale clothing stores. The jewelry that they were sporting was so bright that it looked blurry. Ears, necks, and wrists were sparkling so strong that every- body swore that their diamonds were moving; as if the jewels had miniature lives and business that they needed to get handled.

"I Put Onnnnnnnn," the DJ played the chorus one last time and then let the instrumental play without the vocals.

The DJ screamed into the mic over the instrumental, then he stopped the instrumental.

"Wait, wait, wait! I don't think ya'll understood me when I said that these niggas were about to make in rain! Show some respect to the biggest ballers in the city and some of the biggest in the state! The Bankroll Squad!"

"I Put Onnnnnnnnn."

As the song started back playing, Malcolm started emptying a duffle bag filled with one dollar bills out over the dance floor. Both women and men dropped to the floor, frantically scraping up as many of the dollar bills as they could. Malcolm smiled at the sight of literally throwing away $25,000 like it was a candy wrapper. The spotlight was so addictive to Malcolm, that as soon as he made it rain in memory of Marco (Marco used to say that he made $25,000 a minute, so what's spending a minute on a watch) he bought out the bar in memory of Pam. All the females wished that they could catch one of the members of the Bankroll Squad and all of the guys wished that they could have it like they had it. When the valet pulled the Lamborghini up to the door, all the women went crazy trying to give Malcolm and Catfish their cell and home numbers, but the club's security worked diligently to protect their biggest customers from the harassment. Luther was soaking it all up. He knew that if he stayed down, his dedication wouldn't become overlooked and Malcolm would possibly reward him by giving him Marco's job. Luther rode with Prince Tron as they trailed Malcolm's Lambo on the way to the Red Carpet. Catfish rode with Malcolm, but he was paranoid as hell sitting in the expensive car with him. He

held on to an Uzi and looked all around him at the traffic lights and stop signs, thoroughly prepared to let any robber, jack-boy, or nemesis have it.

$ $ $ $ $

As Malcolm drove to the strip club, he couldn't help but to think about what Pam had said to him earlier. It made sense ... they were all rich so why were they still hustling? It certainly wasn't the money, he had plenty of that ... $170 million in cash, $12.5 million in stocks and bonds, and an extremely lucrative potato chip company that had just expanded its products from Plain and BBQ, to Salt and Vinegar and Sour Cream and Onion. The property alone that he owned was worth millions. Maybe it was time to quit. Kyla had told him a long time ago that the money meant nothing to her. She was happy just spending time with him, but Malcolm wanted to spend more then time. He was born in the ghetto and had never been afforded the opportunity to splurge, but that could no longer be used as an excuse. He had been given his opportunity 70 plus times over and he was still using his old excuse. When they arrived at the Red Carpet, they headed straight to the VIP section. Malcolm waved off the strippers and the waitress.

"Give us a couple of minutes please," Malcolm told them with a forced smiled.

He wanted to have an emergency meeting. He had called Brink's home and cell number, but it was going directly to the voice mail. That was highly unusual for someone of Brink's importance to not answer his phones. He's probably at the hospital with Kyla, Malcolm thought. The manager, seeing that it was Malcolm, personally brought a bucket of Cristal over to the table. He knew what Malcolm wanted, since he had been doing the same thing every month for the past year and a half.

"Thanks," Malcolm said as his crew each grabbed a bottle of Cristal.

Luther smiled because this was an absolute dream for him. He felt like he had already been promoted.

"As you all know. We lost a good man today ... what made me initially put Marco in command was his heart. And I don't mean heart as in love, but heart as in he would take your head off if you fucked with some- thing you had no business fuckin' with. He didn't take shit from no one and he was smart as hell. I called this meeting to let ya'll know that his death took a lot out of me. I wish he would have followed my directions and just stayed at the back door, but I guess if you give directions for a living, then it's pretty hard to follow them." He paused for a minute and let his last words sink in.

"I'm letting ya'll know right now ... that I'll be leaving" Just as he was about to speak, two strippers came up to Malcolm firing questions left and right.

"Where's Kyla at?" One stripper asked.

"Why won't she answer the phone? We got the money we owe from last week." The other stripper said.

Prince Tron had a bewildered look on his face and Luther didn't know what the hell was going on. Prince Tron had never been introduced to any of the prostitutes because Malcolm knew that he would trick off compulsively which would start rumors amongst the gold diggers that the leaders of the Bankroll

Squad were just a group of tricks. He didn't want Prince Tron to set that type of precedent and have to dodge every

gold digger in the city every time he exited his car. So he never introduced him. Until now...

"Tron, Luther, this is Sunshine and Rain ... they work for Kyla, therefore they are an extension of the Bankroll Squad, of course, Catfish ... you already know this."

The girls smiled at the men seductively. Sunshine had golden skin and long black silky hair. She was 5'7 and weighed 125 pounds. Prince Tron guessed her measurements to be around 36-21-36. She had a tattoo on her breasts that was almost identical to the tattoo that Kyla had. The right breast had "Bankroll" on it and her left breast had a picture of a roll of money. Her tattoo was colored green and had a black outline. Rain was dark-skinned and short. She was 5'2 and weighed about 136 pounds. She gotta' have the fattest ass in the city, Prince Tron thought. Luther wasn't even thinking anymore, all he could manage to do was stare.

"Ya'll go ahead and sit down," Malcolm spoke while fanning away two more strippers that were on the verge of approaching them.

The other chicks walked off with an attitude.

"Hatin' ass bitches," Rain muttered to Sunshine, who nodded her head in agreement with her girlfriend.

"Kyla is in the hospital," Malcolm said to Sunshine, whose face had immediately turned red.

Rain put her hand over her mouth and her forehead wrinkled up when she heard those horrible words. Kyla was like a sister to them.

"What happened?" Sunshine asked, concern evident in her voice.

Malcolm looked over at Catfish, who was shaking his head as if to answer Malcolm's silent question of whether or not he should tell them.

"I don't want to ruin you girls' night by discussing the situation. It's really not the time nor place for it, but I'll tell you what ... call me tomorrow evening and we'll meet up so that I can fill you in."

The girls nodded their heads, but remained silent. Just the mere thought of Kyla being in the hospital had the girls feeling down and depressed.

Suddenly, Sunshine spoke.

"Oh yeah ... um ... we was tricking with Rally and Diaz earlier today ... and we heard some stuff we thought you might need to know."

"Rally? As in the Dynasty Cartel Rally?" Malcolm asked.

"Yeah ... him."

"Well? What did you hear?"

"Ummm ... what's his name? Umm ... Rain what was old boy's name?"

"Who? You talking about Dexter?"

"Yeah! That's his name! They bought a lot of coke and put Dexter in charge of moving it. They said some-thing about the Bankroll Squad was out of cocaine and they were going to reclaim the city within the next week."

Luther couldn't control his silence after hearing such a preposterous statement.

"Dexter?" Malcolm looked at Prince Tron for help.

"Oh yeah ... Dexter works for us Malcolm. He runs Trap Eight over by the Wilmert Projects." Prince Tron said while stroking his goatee.

Malcolm was so hands off with his workers that he had no idea who Marco had hired.

"He doesn't work for ya'll anymore." Rain spoke in her softest voice.

"He switched sides; along with everybody else in Trap Eight. They were also talking about taking over Trapquarters by choice or by force. If Trapquarters don't get down with the Dynasty Cartel, they said they would just operate from directly across the street."

Catfish smirked at the thought of Dexter betraying the squad.

"If it ain't one problem it's a motherfuckin nother," Malcolm said aloud in an exhausted tone.

"It seems like every since the situation unfolded with Kyla, everything just went fuckin' haywire. Ladies, I appreciate the loyalty and honesty that you two continue to display, and I want you two to know that your efforts are definitely appreciated. Don't forget to call me tomorrow evening okay?"

The girls smiled and nodded their heads at Malcolm.

"Now excuse us ladies, we would have stayed longer and had a little fun, but there are a couple of things that we need to get handled."

Malcolm went and paid the manager, then they left out of the Red Carpet.

sixteen

Traffic at Trap Eight had been booming all day and had not broken its speed deep into the wee hours of the morning. The fiends were literally lined up and were from all over the city awaiting the almighty high. Business was beautiful for the Dynasty Cartel, and Dexter couldn't wait to tell Rally how much Trap Eight had made in one day. It was looking like the 80's again. Until the van showed up. The van sat in front of Trap Eight and waited until the line died down a little. Then the passenger side window of the van rolled down, where Catfish was sitting. He pointed the machine gun at the house and held the trigger. Tat-tat- tat- tat-tat-tattat- tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat- tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tattat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat. He didn't give a fuck who he hit and he didn't give a shit what Malcolm's orders were. He was doing the only damn thing that he was good at. He was handling shit his way. After they left the Red Carpet strip club a few hours earlier, Malcolm conducted a meeting which basically said for everybody to go to

the house and rest and they would strike first thing in the morning. Everybody did as they were told simply because it was their leader that was giving the orders. They all wanted to exhibit a display of loyalty. Except for Catfish. Catfish felt like Malcolm was speaking from a stand- point affected by depression instead of setting his emotions aside and speaking like a commander. His wife Tricia had begged him to let her drive the van for him but he declined her offer. He managed to convince Prince Tron that Malcolm was confused and that he needed to drive the van for Catfish. After Catfish let out fifty shots, him and Prince Tron came back 10 minutes later and let off fifty more shots. He ended up knocking of six fiends and fourteen workers.

The morning news had declared it to be a drug war. Catfish heard about it on the radio. Malcolm was sleep.

$ $ $ $ $

Dexter was at the car wash when he got the call. He wasn't mad when he heard the news, he was scared as hell. He had built a solid reputation when he was with the Bankroll Squad, but it was all small stuff. After receiving the call from one of the workers at Trap Eight that survived Catfish's attack, he kicked the female crack head out of his Dodge Challenger while she was in the middle of her blowjob.

"Can I still get a dime?"

Dexter ignored her, slammed the passenger side door, and sped off. He wasn't carrying a gun on him because he was a known drug dealer and a convicted felon who constantly got harassed and humiliated by the local law enforcement. They wanted to nab him bad, because they knew he was in deep. Dexter turned on the air conditioning and turned his sound system up almost to the maximum so that he could try to stay alert behind the steering wheel.

"I don't like it if it don't bling bling, and to hell with the price nigga, money ain't a thang." The song by Jay-Z and Jermaine Dupri was coming through the speakers.

When he reached a stoplight on his way to his stash spot, he took the opportunity to take that CD out because it didn't reflect the mood that he was in. He put the CD aside, and in it's place, he inserted a Tupac mix CD. The first song blared out of his sound system: "It's either my life or your life/ and I'ma bomb first." Dexter bobbed his head to the song while waiting at the red

light. The whole time that he was sitting there fumbling

with the CDs, he never noticed the black van on his left with the door wide open. Catfish jumped out of the van and ran towards Dexter with a pistol gripped Mossberg pump shotgun with a cooling system on the front aimed directly at Dexter's head. Boom! The shot split his head open like a watermelon dropped onto the pavement. The only thing that Dexter saw was the front end of a hole before the shot turned his cream white interior to cranberry sauce. Catfish jumped back into the van and Prince Tron hit the gas.

$ $ $ $ $

Tracy had made herself at home and was granted the opportunity to stay overnight in Malcolm's guest room. That morning, she went and woke Malcolm up at 10 a.m. She had on a Louis Vuitton bathrobe that belonged to Jennifer. Even sporting a bathrobe, Malcolm noticed that she was very easy on the eyes. It had been a while since he had actually had sex with a dark skinned woman, and it was definitely a wonderful experience. Tracy had a shape that made men's mouths water. At 4'11 and 129 pounds, she was stacked! Full lips, full breasts, slim waist, long, black, curly hair, and a bubble butt made her a helluva catch. At one point, Sweetback was in love with her and took her everywhere he went, but when she started working as a bartender he started keeping his distance. He was too jealous of a man to let a woman belonging to him work in such a flirtatious environment. He argued against it for weeks, but she kept insisting that she continue because she was tired of sitting around in the house all day and night, doing nothing. Sweetback got mad, and kicked her out. She had been on her own for several years now, but always tried to maintain a cordial friendship with her child's father.

"Malcolm, I just wanted to thank you so much for being a gentleman. I've always been attracted to you, but I didn't even know if you would like me because-"

The house phone started ringing and interrupted her in the middle of her statement.

"Excuse me for a second Tracy," Malcolm said as he got up and answered the home phone.

What he heard brought a flabbergasted look to his face.

"This is a collect call from the Potson County Detention Center from: Jennifer Powers. For rate information, press one. To accept, press two. For inmate call blocking, press-"

Malcolm pressed two and immediately heard noise in the background.

"Hello?"

"Hello."

"Jennifer? What the fuck are you doing in jail?"

Malcolm shouted into the phone. Tracy left out of the room to respect his privacy. "I'm so sorry Mal! I fucked up big time! I never

should have-"

"Not on the phone, Jen. This call is being recorded!"

"Sorry..."

"Jen, what are you locked up for? Tell me your charges," Malcolm said as he laid down across the bed.

He laid on his stomach and closed his eyes when he heard Jennifer start to cry on the phone.

"He tricked me Malcolm! He took my anger that was directed at you, and used it against me."

"What are your charges Jennifer?"

"Hhhhhh," Jen exhaled a deep breath into the phone, "possession of crack cocaine." Jen started crying hysterically.

Ignoring her cries, Malcolm continued to prod deeper despite the fact that he could barely believe his ears.

"Jen ... now you're trying to sell crack? What the fuck has gotten in to you?"

"Malcolm, I wasn't trying to sell nothing...."

This caught Malcolm completely off guard.

"What...? What's...? Jen...?" Malcolm stuttered over his words trying to figure out what to ask.

"He made me smoke it Malcolm!" Tears ran down Jennifer's face as she sobbed into the phone.

"FUCK!" Malcolm screamed as he jumped out of the bed.

"You're smoking rock?" Malcolm couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Malcolm! He tricked me. I swear!"

The sound of the agony in Jennifer's voice, combined with the complications in his life, almost brought tears to his eyes. He had always heard the phrase, "what goes around, comes around," but he never knew when or how it would come. He made his fortune by constantly and consistently pumping drugs into the lives of out of control abusers. The same vice that he utilized to build his fortune with, has come back and destroyed his life. His heart sank as he stood there thinking about what his wife had just told him. Never would he have imagined that a wife of his would ever have stooped so low. And despite all of the transgressions that she had committed against him, he still possessed an everlasting love for her.

"You have ... 1 minute, remaining." The operator's recording split through the silence of Malcolm, and interrupted the crying of Jennifer on the telephone.

"Jennifer don't cry ... I'm about to come downtown and bail you out."

Jennifer's tears of sadness immediately turned to tears of happiness. She didn't initially believe that Malcolm would even accept the collect call, much less bail her out.

"Thank you so much Mal!"

"Jen ... where are my things?"

"That dude got it. He got my car too! He's downtown at the-"

"Thank you for using PCS communications."

The fifteen minute phone call had come to an end, but it didn't matter because he already knew where the guy was at. He was just verifying it through her. Malcolm threw the house phone across the room, where it shattered against the wall.

"Shit!" He muttered.

Life never ceased to amaze him.

seventeen

After calling Brink and still getting no answer, Malcolm called Catfish using his cell phone. After he explained the situation, Catfish made

his way over there driving the Escalade. The plan was to pay the Coward a visit, then they would ride to the city jail and bond out Jennifer. They rode past both of Malcolm's security checkpoints and reached the end of the driveway. There was a medium flow of traffic and as soon as he could get a break, Catfish was going to pull out and get into the right lane so that he could head left towards the downtown exits. Suddenly, a car slammed into the front left side of Catfish's Escalade. The impact shook up Catfish and Malcolm and by the time the Escalade stopped rocking from the crash, they were surrounded by FBI. ATF agents had guns drawn and were yelling as they approached the vehicle.

"Hands up! Hands up! Get your fuckin' hands up!" Malcolm and Catfish complied.
"Keep your hands up and step out of the fuckin'

vehicle!"

They did as they were told.

"Lie face down and put your hands behind your back!"

As soon as they touched the ground, they were bombarded by agents and cops carrying guns and handcuffs. The Feds? Malcolm thought, as he was read his rights and placed into a police car. Catfish was placed in a separate vehicle. For a moment Malcolm stared at Catfish with cold, demented, and suspicious eyes as if to say "you set me up?" But when he saw the look in Catfish's eyes, he recognized the familiar look of innocence that he often displayed. Catfish felt bad for the murders he'd done against Malcolm's orders and prayed that Malcolm wouldn't have to take a murder rap for some shit that he didn't even know had taken place. Malcolm asked an agent what he was being charged with and he told him that he would find out later. He shifted uncomfortably in the police car and sat there being the only thing that he could be: patient.

$ $ $ $ $

"Conspiracy for international drug trafficking, 30 years to life. Unlawful possession of unregistered firearms, 2 to 10 years, and Unlawful possession of an automatic assault rifle, damn Malcolm ... what the fuck were you thinking? Money Laundering ... Racketeering and RICO charges..."

"Man Bill", Malcolm said as he placed his hands across his eyes and shook his head, "throughout the years, I've paid you close to $1.3 million dollars in retainer fees. Will you fight for me honestly and fairly for that amount?"

"Of course I will," his lawyer, Bill Green, said.

"What is Catfish charged with?"

The lawyer flipped through some paper, and adjusted his glasses in the process.

"Catrell Smith is charged with everything that you're being charged with Mr. Powers. It's clear that they are applying a divide and conquer strategy in an attempt to pressure Catrell into rolling over on you."

Malcolm took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. His heart was pounding as he visualized spending the remainder of his 25 year old life rotting away in the government's prison system. His soul bled of a deep puncture. Hope was leaking out of the wound. Life was dripping away. In its place, failure and hurt were substituting.

"Bill, I've been locked up for three days now.

Can you get me a bond?"

"It's highly unlikely that you be granted a bond. Your other co-defendant, Bradley Finks has been locked up for four days. He lost his bond hearing yesterday. You're scheduled to go in front of the judge tomorrow, but even if you were granted a bond, how would you make it?"

Malcolm forehead was wrinkled up as he frowned at Bill Green.

"What the fuck! What is Brink charged with? And what do you mean by how would I make bond! I'm RICH!"

Bill opened up another manila folder and studied the contents.

"Bradley is only being charged with the conspiracy count which, as I said earlier, carries a 30 year mandatory minimum sentence. And as far as you being rich.... Your assets have been seized under the forfeiture provision and accounts have been frozen."

Malcolm's eyes got wide upon hearing the news and small beads of sweat began forming on his forehead and face.

"Look Bill, I got at least $25 million remaining in an offshore account in the Cayman Islands. I need you to contact my friend, Pamela Jones, and let her know what happened. Tell her that I have a bond hearing tomorrow, and I need her there."

Bill took his glasses off and laid them on top of the table. He sat the folder down beside his glasses and stared directly into Malcolm's eyes.

"You still don't get it do you Malcolm? There is no reason to call her, Malcolm ... she has already planned on coming to your bond hearing. She'll be sitting directly beside the prosecutor."

"What?" Malcolm asked. "Why would she be sitting beside the prosecutor?"

"Shit Malcolm, that's where the special agents

sit!"

$ $ $ $ $

Even after four months of being detained, Malcolm still had not gotten over the fact that Pam was an undercover federal agent. She was the only evidence on the conspiracy charge, but he knew that she would be heavily protected by the FBI until after the trial, so it would only get him in deeper shit if he had her eliminateed. Luther and Prince Tron kept at least $5,000 on

his books, and visited him every other week. One week they visited Catfish, then the next week they visited Malcolm. Although he always made store, and always had a visitor, nothing could stop Malcolm from stressing out. He began to find himself emotionally dependent on Tracy. She accepted all of his calls, and visited him faithfully. He had received only one letter from Jennifer. And it said:

I DID 3 MONTHS IN JAIL. I'M ON PROBATION NOW! THANKS 4 NOTHING! LET'S GET THIS DIVORCE OVER WITH. CAN I MAIL YOU THE DIVORCE PAPERS? - JENNIFER.

Since the beginning of his incarceration up until the fourth month, he had lost a total of 40 pounds. The food they served was complete garbage. A rat would prefer a bowl of rat poison over the so-called food that the jail served. He spoke to Catfish and Brink when they were allowed to go on the rec yard. All three had been offered different types of deals. They offered Catfish 3 years if he testified against Malcolm, and he declined. Brink had been offered one year if he turned up Malcolm and Franco Roberto. He declined. Malcolm had been offered a 3 year plea deal, if he led them to Franco Roberto. He also declined. They all had high powered attorneys and were prepared to endure whatever the government threw at them. They knew the consequences of their actions the first day that they got involved. It was their morals and principles that gave the government a hard time. They couldn't get anyone to mutter a word!

$ $ $ $ $

"Aye man, if ya'll beat this shit ... I wanna' be down with ya'll. The Bankroll Squad! Channel 13 said you was bringing in $19 million a month! Is that true?" Malcolm's cellmate asked him.

Malcolm laughed, ignoring the question like usual.

"Mail Call!" The stubby guard said as he stood by the nearest table with mail in his hands.

"Powers!"

Malcolm walked to the table and retrieved his mail, which consisted of a new XXL magazine, KING magazine and three letters.

"Aye, let me get that book when you finished!"

"Let me get it after him!"

There had been ten requests by the time Malcolm made it back to his cell. He put the magazines down and looked to see who the letters were from. The first was from Jennifer. He didn't even open it because he knew it was the divorce papers. The second one was from Tracy, and when he saw the hearts that she had drawn on the envelope, he smiled. The last letter blew his mind. His heart beat sped up to almost double the speed when he saw who the letter was from. He ripped the envelope open and read the letter:

Dear Malcolm,

I love you so much! I've been out of the hospital for three months now. At first, I was temporarily paralyzed and I didn't know what to do. I was lost. The doctor told me what happened to me and I didn't even care. I just kept asking him where Malcolm Powers was. He said

that he hadn't seen you in over a month, so I thought that you had given up on me. I called your cell and house phones

constantly ... with the help of the nurses. After I came out of the coma, the doctor told me that I would never walk again and initially, I was going to give up and let that be that. Then, one day I got a visit from Prince Tron, who told me everything. When I heard the news, I was desperate to walk again. I had to. I asked for Tron to enroll me into a rehabilitation center, which he did. In there, I worked harder than I ever worked in my life. I can now stand tall and look into the mirror with no assistance. But now when I look at myself, instead of being weak, I see strength! I can walk, run, and function as if nothing happened, but something did happen. Something monumental happened. You showed me that you loved me by putting me on life support when the doctor said that I was dead. A check for $2 million on a "dead" person? And now I'm alive. I feel the pain that you're going through while being held with no bond. And they're alleging that you sent "Special Agent Jones" overseas to retrieve cocaine? Ha, what a backstabbing bitch. A 30 year charge? I promise that it's not going to stick. I'm coming to see you this weekend, from this point on, I wanna' be know as Mrs. Powers, and I promise to never disrespect your last name. How do you feel about it being me and you? Because when I was paralyzed, that was the only thing that I

COULD feel....

Your Wife,

Kyla Powers

P.s. I'm handling all of your "problems" in the streets. One down, a few to go. Watch the news.

STORY CONTINUES IN BANKROLL SQUAD 2

**Bonus scene—

This scene goes at the beginning of this current book:

_Curves._ Malcolm Powers handled curves in his Lamborghini as if he was on a surfboard riding the waves.

_Speed._ He handled high velocity like he was a Nascar professional racer.

He guided the car like he was its master. In and out of curves; he drove it as if he was inside of a video game- as if, if he wrecked the car he could just click reset and start his life over. He handled his car like he handled his business... smooth and swift, and constantly attempted to steer clear of potential potholes.

Malcolm glanced at the speedometer and saw that he had finally gotten the nerve to hit 125 miles per hour on the Houston expressway. He was young and adventurous; fearless and ambitious, and his passion for driving was as accurate of a reflection of him as possible. He was a leader, and the expressway reflected that as well.

He looked in the rearview and saw Pam trying to catch up in her Maserati. Right beside her was Kyla, who was also supposed to be racing with them in his other Lamborghini; but seemed to be uninterested in winning the race, and more interested in just keeping up.

Catfish had rented a Ferrari for the occasion. He could afford it; no problem... but he had better things to do with his money. Especially since that new MDXIK assault rifle was about to be available on the black market. He knew that gun alone was going to cost him $200,000 and he needed that! He pushed the Ferrari effortlessly as he dipped in and out of the Houston traffic. He was wowed that Malcolm would push that car that fast amongst all of those night time commuters... but he knew that Malcolm had a bit of a wild side sometimes- and he knew that he wouldn't purposely lead everyone wrong. He had initially been in front of Malcolm, but that damned Lamborghini left him in the dust. If it wouldn't have been so much traffic, he knew that he would have been able to catch Malcolm.

Prince Tron was the only person close enough to Malcolm to be able to catch him. He was in an older modeled Camaro with a racing engine in it. It was powerful, but it wasn't about the power of the engine; it was about the power of the driver. The driver didn't have the nerve or the will power to match Malcolm's 125 mile per hour speed on the expressway. He wished he could push that pedal to the floor stronger, but truthfully; he was a little bit on the cautious side. He just couldn't do it.

Malcolm slowed down when he reached the exit to TrapQuarters, which was their racing destination. He down geared in the exotic car, and as soon as he was getting off of the ramp; the car cut off and started rolling. He looked down trying to see what had happened, but didn't have a clue. He was panicking because he was sitting on the ramp unable to start his car with a large stream of traffic behind him. He flicked different switches and hit different buttons to no avail... He just wasn't familiar with the Lamborghini, and he didn't know what he was doing. He grabbed the cell phone to call Prince Tron to tell him to slow down off of the ramp, but it was too late.

_Pucccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkshhhhhhhhhh!_ The heavy steel Camaro crashed into the back of Malcolm's Lamborghini and caused the car to roll down the ramp and crash into a stop sign pole. Tire rubber had turned into a magic marker, signifying to all the path that the accident had taken them. The heavy steel of the Camaro barely showed any signs of an accident, but the lightweight fiberglass of the Lamborghini was in complete ruins. Prince Tron climbed out of the wreckage with only a busted lip that he got from banging it against the steering wheel. He staggered like a drunken man and fell to the ground due to the dizziness that the accident had caused. He sat there watching the sky spin until he passed out.

Pam was the first person to jump out and check on Malcolm. When she looked in the car, amongst all of the broken glass; she saw Malcolm Powers sitting there smiling. "Oh shit you scared the hell out of me! Are you ok!?"

But before she could answer, Kyla gave her a light shove. It pissed her off, and Pam was intending on shoving her back; but she knew that there was a time and a place for everything, and that just wasn't the locale. She also knew that Kyla was angry because she was able to help Malcolm run his business on a larger scale, and she was only one of the street workers in Houston. Instead of pushing her down, she smirked at her. That smirk told it all...

It told Kyla how she felt exactly. The fact that... she would never be above just a normal little street worker and that she would rise up in the Bankroll Squad organization until she was on par with being as close to Malcolm's equal as possible. "Call for help bitch!" Kyla screamed at Pam, who was just standing there. Pam knew that help was needed, and almost kicked herself for sitting there wasting time worrying about Kyla when she knew she should have been focused on Malcolm. She walked off and made some phone calls to the hospital.

Kyla leaned down into the wrecked car and attempted to wrap her arms around Malcolm's body. "What are you doing Kyla?" He asked her out of curiousity.

She stared at him blankly. It was one where anything could be drawn on or determined from it; but her specific meaning didn't require speech to be heard. She was a protective lover; one who was willing to do whatever it took to make sure her man was ok- and whether he knew that he was still hers or not didn't matter in the least! _She_ knew that Malcolm was still hers, and she would go to the deepest reaches of the planet in order to prove what she knows to be true. But for the moment, her only intention was to pull him out of the wreckage if she could.

"I love you Malcolm! Are you ok? I'm so sorry! Are you- Can you-"

He chuckled lightly and interrupted her worrying. "It's ok baby. It's all good. Nothing's wrong except my leg is a little numb, that's it..."

She looked at the back of the car and was amazed that he had survived such a horrifying wreck. She knew that it could only be one reason that he was allowed to survive a wreck so horrendous; and it was clear as day. She bit her lips as she thought to herself silently... _God wants us together! And if that means that I have to try harder to get my man back, then oh well! I am not going to lose Malcolm! Ever!!_

When Catfish pulled up, he was nervous and anxious because he hated seeing his right hand man in a situation like that. He felt like he should have been able to protect him, and made a mental note of never being in a situation like that again.

The ambulance screamed in the distance, alerting everyone within earshot that it was in the midst of a rescue. It screamed proud and boastful; letting anyone that would listen- know that it was true king of the road. It didn't matter if you had or drove a Lamborghini, Bentley, or a Maserati... _everything, no matter who or what it was..._ had to yield and call on the true King of the road when it was required to.

The paramedic pulled Malcolm out and took him to the nearest hospital.

*******

"Ouch! That hurt!" Malcolm told his wife, Jennifer Powers.

"I was trying to see how bad it-"

"Well got damn Jen, I'm still in the hospital with a broken leg! That alone should tell you how bad it is, furthermore; it should also tell you not to be fucking with it!"

"Well I'm sorry!" The gorgeous blonde spoke in a hushed tone, so that nobody could hear her. "I love you Malcolm... and I can't wait until you get out of this hospital so that we can go out to dinner again! You know how I love our dates!!"

Malcolm just lay there in the bed staring at the wall. Jennifer was getting on his last nerve, and there were many times where he found himself questioning the loyalty that she had for him. It seemed as if it was tainted by material possessions; but he couldn't be for sure because she came from money.

"Don't you want to go out Malcolm? I know you can't wait!" Jennifer had a dazzling smile plastered across her face while she spoke. She kissed him on the cheek, and tried to kiss him on the lip; but he turned his face away from her. It was obvious that there was a disconnect, but Jennifer didn't have the energy to address it right then at that moment. She had a shopping appointment to get to! She planned to shop for 3 hours, and get pampered for the remaining 5 hours, capping off her normal "work day."

"O.K., I'll just see you later on Malcolm. I love you baby, even if they have to remove your leg... I'm here for you!" And she walked out of the room.

Kyla had been standing by the door entrance listening in to the conversation with a sad face. She hated that that ditzy bitch had sunk her deceptive claws into a good man. She knew that Malcolm was such a genuine person that he would overlook all of her obvious flaws just because he only looked for the good in people. And his style was right up Jennifer's alley. Kyla hated that.

When she heard the rhythm of Jennifer's high heels beating against the tile floor, she walked away from the door so that she wouldn't appear disrespectful to Malcolm. If it wasn't for that, she would have just grabbed Jennifer by her flimsy hair and whipped her flimsy ass. She was walking to the vending machine to get some refreshments when she heard the pace of the high heels speed up behind her. She knew it was Jennifer, but she wasn't going to turn around and look her dead on; especially when she didn't really know who she was.... She didn't think.

When she got close to the vending machine, a body shoved into her; knocking her on the ground. Kyla jumped up immediately with her fists balled up. She was a petite fireball, compact and flooded with aggression. She stood there staring at Malcolm's "wife," Jennifer Powers; who had a fake shocked look plastered across her face.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Jennifer squealed as she stuck her hand out at Kyla. "Will you please accept my apology? I wasn't looking where I was going... I- I-.... I guess I had so much on my mind concerning my _husband_ and everything... But anyways... ta-de-lou!" Jennifer said as she smirked and walked away.

_Ta-De-Lou????_ Kyla's hands were in the shape of an egg, and she couldn't wait to crack it on the edge of Jennifer's skillet! Pissed didn't even begin to describe the taste that had developed in her mouth. Disgust was so strong that it was leaking out of Kyla's pores and blending in with the condensation of hatred that had become plastered on her surface. She was indeed not a fan of Jennifer Powers. She hated her and everything that she stood for.

To Kyla, she seemed like an opportunist. She seemed like one of those women who were born to believe that they would one day be some man's "trophy," and would never have to stick their fingers into the mud to retrieve the gold. She seemed the type to allow another woman to dig into the muddy confines of the murkiest mixture of dirt and water possible; and sift through it until a glimmer of gold is shown. Then she would swoop in and convince the gold that she was the person who did all the dirty work the entire time! She hated her!

She released the clenches of her fist and relaxed her body as she opened up and allowed the deep dose of oxygen to seep into her blood. All of her instincts and reasoning told her to just go beat that ho to the concrete... but Kyla knew that she was better, and much smarter than that. She was already in the streets running one of the Bankroll Squad trap houses, but what she needed to do was to move up in the organization. She knew that to have a bigger title required a bigger risk, and she was prepared to accept that if it meant that she could somehow get Malcolm to understand that she still loved him and still wanted to be with him.

She gathered her composure, and walked into the hospital room that Malcolm was in. It was obvious that his leg was in extreme pain, so she knew not to ask how he was feeling. "Baby, do you need anything? Do I need to get a doctor for anything? Are you hungry?"

Malcolm smiled out of appreciation, his smile so dazzling and effective that it made Kyla's skin crawl just thinking of how it felt to be in the clasp of his embrace. "I'm great Kyla. I don't need anything... I was just-"

Not wasting a second, Kyla interrupted him and decided to unleash her plan. "Malcolm, since your leg is broken; let me fly to see Franco Roberto with Brink... I'll handle the things that you would normally handle until you get well...."

Malcolm exhaled and closed his eyes. Kyla had been the second woman to ask him that question within the past 3 hours. First it was Pam, and now it was Kyla. He was irritated because it seemed as though they could possibly lose focus of the overall goal of the Bankroll Squad with their silent bickering. BRS was about family, unity, power, honor, respect, and love. It was about all of the adjectives that are supposed to be used when describing a real family member- but the only difference was that these complete strangers embodied these circle of words even more than biological family.

Kyla eagerly paced back and forth while waiting on Malcolm to respond. She loved him sooo much, yet there was so much going on in his fast paced life, that the only way for her to reach him was to be able to match his speed. And her running the trap house was certainly not fast enough. She _needed_ the bigger position. She _needed_ for him to trust her with his life in her hands. She was _certain_ that that would do the trick.

"Kyla... we'll have a meeting at TrapQuarters tomorrow morning. I should be out of the hospital today. Just let everyone know that we'll meet at 8 A.M."

At first, Kyla was disappointed because he didn't answer her question; but she realized that he was still in a bit of pain, and she didn't want him to have to stress even in the slightest way. She smiled and took a deep sigh. "O.K. Malcolm... I'll see you in the morning baby." She kissed him on the forehead, and hesitated while staring at his lips. She wanted to taste them. Wanted them, needed them, wished they were hers...

"Bye Kyla." Malcolm spoke, knowing the level of arousal that often enveloped him whenever he was in Kyla's presence. It wasn't that he didn't still love and care for her... it was that he still cared too damn much to be a married man.

Kyla grinned at him and left out of the hospital room.

*********

While in the hospital bed, Malcolm Powers reflected on the decisions that he would have to make in regards to his cocaine shipment. He would definitely have to have a reliable representative to go over there with Brink, because he was certainly in no condition. Simultaneously, he hated having to trust someone with a bigger responsibility than was already required of them. He knew that by doing so, it took people slightly out of their natural comfort zones and thus elevated the overall risk level.

He was satisfied with the jobs that Kyla and Pam were doing; and really didn't want to put them in positions where they could possibly be able to trade his life for theirs. He closed his eyes and thought back to his childhood... He thought back to the last time that he had to make a decision like this... When he was 16 years old...

" _Malcolm, I'm sick of just walking everyday. We need to get a whip man!"_

Malcolm looked at his brother and shook his head. His brother had a calm demeanor, but a lot of his thinking process was completely irrational. He loved him, but there were certain things about his character that he didn't quite agree on. But.... He always knew that blood was thicker than water, and he completely ignored his flaws and loved him still.

Malcolm cleared his throat before he spoke. "Five... you are forever scheming! What do you have planned now?"

Five was older than Malcolm by one year, but he still seeked approval from him whenever he decided on trying something. Malcolm's character was just so powerful, that it just seemed a natural thing to do... run everything by him.

" _Malcolm, I know this dude on the SouthSide of Americus; he sells dope out of the back of a convenience store. I think-"_

" _Five, I'm not a robber!"_

" _Malcolm fuck that! This isn't about robbing!! This is some inside information shit I got bro. I got a bitch that works in the convenience store part of the store, and when the owner is in the back selling drugs, we'll just go in and take the convenience store money! Genius right?"_

Malcolm shook his head in disgust. "Really bro, that's your plan?"

" _Man, roll with me one time lil bro. I'm always listening to your plans and rolling with them!" Five whined in disgust._

" _My plans aren't so ridiculous... but you know what... I'll roll with you on this just one time. I'll do things your ways and see if I enjoy the outcome or not. If I don't, then you will certainly hear about it!"_

******

It had been much easier than expected.

Malcolm and Five simply walked into the convenience store and the girl behind the cash register just handed Five a bag of money. Five said a couple of things to her, of which Malcolm paid no attention to. She spoke back to him and stood there for a second until they had made it outside of the store.

Then they heard her scream. It was a sound level defying scream, one that ripped through the calm silence like a gunshot. Five and Malcolm took off running down the sidewalk, going as fast as they could possibly go. But their fastest didn't seem fast enough. People from other stores were outside of their stores watching the robbery in progress.

" _Five, what the fuck did she scream for? Doesn't she know we don't have a damn get-a-way car?"_

Five kept running and taking in deep breaths. "Man I forgot to tell her that man. I should have told her we were getting away on foot! Damn!"

" _See!!!!" Malcolm exclaimed, "that's exactly why I don't like fuckin with your plans! You never get shit right!!"_

The boys kept running until they heard police sirens in the near distance. There was no way they could run the next 6 blocks and get home without the police not catching them. It was not going to work.

" _Five, gimme that bag of money!" Malcolm screamed while trying to find a way out of their mess._

Hurriedly and like a coward, Five tossed the bag over like it was a hot potato. Malcolm caught it and kneeled down to the ground by the street. He kneeled up under a stranger's vehicle that was parked there, and hid the money under the car carriage. He ran behind the car and memorized the tag so that he could possibly retrieve it later if it was still there.

Then he ran and tried to catch up with Five who had ran off of the main street and onto the side street. When Malcolm looked on the side street where Five was at, he knew that Five had made a bad turn. That street was a dead end alley, and the cops were sure to catch them both if he turned down the street with him.

That one moment was one that changed Malcolm's life forever. A car pulled up beside him and the driver rolled the window down. Malcolm glanced at the face and knew exactly who it was. One of his friends from high school had just gotten a vehicle, but had been acting shady since he had made the purchase. He used to hang with Malcolm real tough, but the car caused all types of strange separations between the two.

" _Malcolm, get in bro! Come on!" His old friend hollered out the window._

Malcolm held 1 finger up to his old friend and turned so that he could tell his brother Five that they had a get-a-way car. But before Malcolm could open his mouth, his old friend hollered out of the car again. "I'm not giving your brother a ride Malcolm! Five is a foul negro! Either you take the ride or you leave it."

As bad as Malcolm wanted to get in the car with his old friend, he just stood there staring at him. He couldn't believe that he had been forced to make a decision like that, but such was life. "Press the gas muthafucka! Nail your toe into the accelerator until you wreck that shit! Fuck you thought I was? A traitor? Get the fuck on!"

With a shocked look on his face, his old friend pressed the gas and mashed the vehicle up out of there. Malcolm saw the cops approaching them from down the street, and ran over to Five; who was sitting down with his back on the wall and his head in his hand. Malcolm spoke to him, "Bro, I'm here... I stashed the money, so we shouldn't have to do much time for a robbery without much evidence. They didn't even have a video camera in the store. We'll be fine brother."

Five looked up and smiled at his brother. "You know... you've always been just too damn real brother. All of our life you've been that way. Why didn't you catch a ride with your friend?"

Malcolm shook his head. "You know that's not me! I'm not that person, don't try me like that."

The cops rounded the corner with their guns drawn and screamed at Malcolm and Five. "Put your hands in the air! Now!!"

Malcolm lifted his hands up and all of a sudden, the dumbest shit possible transpired courtesy of his brother. Five pulled a pistol from off of his waist and threw it down onto the ground between them. Malcolm looked at him in disgust; but Five simply stared back as if everything was just fine. "A fuckin pistol bro?? Really? Why didn't you throw that shit?" Malcolm tried to mumble under his breath. Five's hands were in the air and they both sat there and endured the aggressive and extremely physicial arrest that was taking place. Malcolm was hurt that Five had done such a thing, but he just knew that Five wasn't going to let him take the rap on his own; so just maybe things would be ok.

The officer looked them both in the eyes with sweat dripping down his face. "Whose fucking pistol is this on the fucking ground?"

Malcolm waited on Five to reply to the officer's request, but instead; he heard nothing. After hearing silence for a while, he had to sit up and stare Five down. He couldn't believe his own brother would do him like this. The police officers figured they had run across an interesting situation, so he followed routine. He handcuffed Malcolm and Five to each other, wrists and ankles; while the other officer put his gloves on and entered the pistol into the evidence bag.

The first officer looked at them both. "I see we have a little confusion going on here... I'll give you two 5 minutes to decide who's going to take the charge for the pistol; and if I can't get a confession then I'm charging the both of you. Get it together!"

When the officer walked off, Malcolm turned and looked at Five as if he was a peasant. "What's up brother?" Malcolm spoke while trying to prevent talking to him like a maniac. There were a thousand more things that he could have said to Five instead of "What's up brother..." but he didn't want to go there... he shouldn't have had to go there with his own flesh and blood.

" _What's up with what Malcolm?" Five spoke calmly without any worry evident in his voice._

" _What's up with that fuckin pistol charge nigga? Are you going to own up to it or what??"_

Five chuckled and looked away. He sighed and looked back at Malcolm. "Little bro... you know I'm not taking no pistol charge by myself. We're in this thing together right?"

Malcolm's look went from angry and evil to cold and indifferent. He sighed and shook his head, then plastered a smile on his face. Through his smile, he spoke the coldest truth that could possibly be expressed. "Well... Five... I just wanted to say rest in peace. To me you are a dead man... I am ashamed that I am related to you. I am ashamed that we have the same bloodline, it is obvious that yours contains a defect in the structure. I'm going to endure the punishment for this gun just because I made the mistake of hanging with a lame. But I swear to God on everything I ever loved... you better change your last fucking name as soon as possible. You will never in your life again be referred to as Powers! Change that shit, or I will kill you with my bare hands the first chance I get. Disconnect yourself bitch!"

Five was shocked that his brother had threatened him and talked to him that way, but he had no choice but to do as Malcolm said. He knew that Malcolm was one of those guys who would keep his word until his very last day. He wanted no part of his wrath... And with all of the characteristics that Malcolm possessed, he knew that he would just have to change his damn name to Powells.

****

Malcolm sat there and thought back to those days... He ended up on probation as a juvenile; and he didn't like the power that the probation officer held over him even as a teenager. To him it felt as though someone had given him life and threatened to take it back from him everyday... and that was certainly not the way that he wanted to live. That's why he was so hesitant when it came to putting Kyla or Pam into a situation like that. He closed his eyes and slept with the situation heavy on his mind.

****

Catfish whipped the van into the parking lot while double checking the address written on the paper. Satisfied, he hopped out of the van carrying a loaded shotgun. He glanced at his surroundings, but he didn't give a fuck who saw him or who didn't. He walked up to apartment 293 and knocked on the door. He stood there silently and listened carefully when he heard some paper being rustled around inside of the apartment.

After a few moments, the door opened; and Seezle stood there with his mouth dropped to the floor. "Catfish.... What's up? I got that money for Malcolm.... Let me go get it real quick and-"

"Don't bother."

"Nah, I got it. I got it! Hold on one second cuz..."

Catfish held the shotgun while he stared Seezle down. They were first cousins, and he had introduced him to Malcolm because he thought that he was a real nigga. Boy was he wrong. Seezle had gotten almost $150,000 worth of cocaine from Malcolm and hadn't paid him a dime in two months straight. Catfish didn't want to do his cousin like that, but _his_ name was on the line for doing the introductions.

"So you saying you got all the money Seezle?"

Seezle bit his bottom lip when he saw the strange demeanor on Catfish's face. "Come on cuz... I only got $10,000 in cash.... Things are slow right now..."

Catfish shook his head and sighed. "O.K.... well bring the $10,000 and bring the other $140,000 worth of cocaine and we're good..."

Seezle started sweating. "O.K. I'ma stop bullshitting you... I got robbed for that shit a couple of months ago; that's why I don't have it. I'm sorry cuz."

Catfish stared at him emotionless. "So why didn't you say it when it happened? Who was the person or people that robbed you? What are their names, what do they look like?"

Seezle seemed to be lost in thought for a second. "I really.... Just can't remember off of the top of the dome. I just- I thought I could maybe find another connect and get some coke so that I could pay Malcolm off. I didn't mean any harm, really cuzzin."

Catfish raised the shotgun like he was raising a child; only this was 18 years ahead of time, and much messier. The shotgun blast at point blank range turned his cousin's face into confetti, even though there was no celebration in sight. He just had to clear his name. There was no way that Seezle was going to be in the streets talking shit about how weak the Bankroll Squad was. The Bankroll Squad was the strongest team to ever rule the streets; and as long as he was the enforcer, he would always live by those words.

******

Kyla was driving like a mad woman. Malcolm had scheduled a meeting at TrapQuarters and she was _late..._. She had overslept... not overslept because of laziness, but she overslept because she had been pulling long hours doing everything under the sun for Malcolm. She had been working and working, and had completely forgotten to prepare so that she could be alert for this meeting.

It hurt her because she knew that this was the very meeting that she had been looking forward to for quite a while. This was the meeting about who was going to be flying overseas in Malcolm's place to go pick up the coke shipments. She was _angry_. If Malcolm would just give her _one_ chance, then she had thought of a plan so smooth that she was sure he would never regret it...

When she pulled up, she saw everyone else pulling out one by one; which definitely did nothing for her nerves. Her heart was beating a mile a minute as she jumped out of her truck and ran into the house. She saw Malcolm sitting in a chair holding a crutch in his left hand while Catfish was standing beside him with the other crutch. Kyla admired Catfish for his loyalty, but she just knew that one day Malcolm would no longer need anyone but her- just like the old days.

"Malcolm, I'm so sorry I'm late." She began. "But I have been terribly busy doing things for you. I went and got your-"

"Pam is doing it Kyla." Malcolm spoke emotionless and without looking.

A burning rage built up inside of her as she stood there staring. "Pam is doing _what_? You trust that bitch over me? You-"

"It's not that I trust her over you... but you didn't show up for the meeting Kyla. What was I to do? You want me to just-"

But Kyla had ran out of the house in tears of anger. She was sad that she had gotten all of her hopes up. Sad that it was such a difficult task in getting her man back. Sad that she had to crawl through so many hoops and angry that Pam was seemingly getting all of the breaks with Malcolm. She shuddered at the thought of Pam taking Malcolm from her. _Oh hell naw,_ she thought to herself as she backed out of the driveway in her truck.

As the tears leaked down her face, she bit her lip... bit her tongue trying to suppress the bubbling amount of energy and emotion that was threatening to tear a hole in her heart. She only got angrier when she looked up and saw Jennifer Powers at the intersection in a pearl black Benz. She had the right nerve to block traffic and beat that bitch's ass. She needed to take it out on somebody, and she was the most worthy candidate. But as soon as she got the idea, the light turned green and she had to press on.

By the time she had driven a few more blocks however, her anger had returned to her 100 times over- Right beside the road was Pam, who apparently had a flat tire or something. She was bending over and looking at her vehicle like she knew what the problem was. With the plan of a hood chick, she pulled over behind her. Initially, she just wanted to help her because she knew that if she was in her situation; she would want someone to help her too.

She got out and closed her door. "Hey Pam... what happened?"

"Bitch get the fuck away from me."

_What?_ "Pam, I'm just trying to help you... as angry as I am, I'm still rational. I'm not crazy as I appear to be, I'm just venting because my situation is so frustrating. If you had been in my shoes and made the hot-headed mistakes I made in order to run my man off, then you would feel the same way I feel right now."

Pam looked at Kyla and sneered. "Well bitch guess what? I don't know what the fuck you thought you-"

Right at that moment, Kyla's left fist came out of nowhere. _Wham!_ She hit Pam so hard that she swore she heard her snort while trying to catch her breath. When she was falling down, Kyla grabbed her and picked her back up. It was obvious that the punch had dazed Pam a little bit due to the frown on her forehead and the silence that had overcome her.

Kyla stared at her and shone her one of her brightest and most passionate smiles. She stood there holding the woman while waiting on her to come to her senses. And as soon as Pam realized what had happened and what was going on, she weakly tried to fight back. She swung and Kyla stepped back with the reflexes of a springboard, causing her to miss everything.

But just as fast as she stepped back to avoid the spring, she had springboarded herself right back on Pam's ass! Every since Malcolm had left her, she had been channeling her energy into her daily boxing classes; getting training for any potential street fights and building her stamina up just in case she needed to exert it.

She gave her two more consecutive lefts, and by the time she was ready to deliver the right hand knock-out blow, she heard exactly what she needed to hear. "I'm sorry!"

"What was that bitch?" Kyla asked as she held Pam in place.

"I said-I- I-I.... I'm just.... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I'm sorry."

Kyla didn't know or give a damn what she was sorry for, but her weak ass apology was good enough for her! She let go of her and watched her fall back against the car in a daze. She shook her head at Pam for even _trying_ her to begin with. She turned and walked back towards her truck, but on the way back; she thought she heard Pam say something strange. She glanced back and stared, but there was no evidence that she had said it; plus Pam's facial expression didn't reflect the fact that she'd said anything. _Maybe I'm just imagining_ , Kyla thought as she climbed into the truck and called Malcolm back.

When he answered, she spoke her peace. "I just wanted to let you know that I am available to make these cocaine shipment pick-ups if Pam ever became unavailable. So I'm pretty sure that I will hear from you soon. I'm looking forward to it baby. Talk to you later."

Kyla smiled to herself as she tried to picture the baffled look that Malcolm probably had on the phone while she was talking. But there was no need to be baffled at all. He knew in advance what type of woman she was. He was still in love with that part of her. That strength and resilience, the powerful attitude; and she knew that he missed her dearly. The persona that she provided was fit for a boss only. She couldn't downgrade because she was overqualified for any other position. She just remained true to what she believed in, for she knew that in due time; all of her plans would fall directly into place.

She knew that over time, the Bankroll Squad was going to be a force so powerful; a family so united, and a team so clever; that no one would be able to stand before them and call themselves competitors. She was going to see to that because she was _that bitch_. A boss!

Author Notes-

I was already going to re-release "Bankroll Squad 1" after I got it officially edited and reformatted... so I decided while I'm going through the trouble of getting a new cover done; I may as well add the extra 6,000 words or so. Besides... I felt as though the revelation about Five was necessary for when "The Power Family" is released this October on the 30th. That's going to be a pretty big release, and I wanted to make sure that all of my bases were covered.

I wanted to say that I took a break from writing several projects in order to get these 6,000 words done; and that now I have locked right back in with my other projects. There are several epic releases in route from myself, David Weaver; so make sure you stay on the lookout. You can follow me on Twitter: @bankrollsquad

Thank you all so very much for supporting me and the #TeamBankrollSquad movement. Thanks again for purchasing a book that has already been released. Thanks sooo much! I would be nowhere without my readers enabling me to just "write." Thanks again and again.- David Weaver

Bankroll Squad

Book 2

Out Now!!!

