“My nigga, why you looking at me sideways?” Marcos asked.
“Nigga, you know something I don’t? Speak up,” Trent demanded.
Marcos leaned in the doorway as he sipped on his cranberry juice.
“Nigga, that’s what the fuck I came to see you ‘bout! I just got word from one of my customers that they seen that nigga Wiz earlier, but I seriously doubt it’s him because he’s on the run from the feds,” Marcos answered.
Trent and Marcos were well aware of what this meant. There was an ongoing war between the two groups that had caused mayhem and bloodshed in the streets of Los Angeles. Word on the street was that Wiz and his family had fled the country because the feds were after them. Now, they were back to handle an uneven score.
Trent was a thug in his own right. The streets knew not to fuck with him, but Wiz was feared. It was like he was Lucifer himself. He had the whole city on lock. Wiz came from a family that owned everything from apartment buildings to restaurants and grocery stores to clothing stores. Wiz even had the blocks answering to them. His family was notorious in Los Angeles. His parents had created an empire that was passed on to him. He had never had to work a day in his life. Wiz was the only kid, but he had several aunts, uncles, and cousins. There was one cousin that he treated as the brother he never had. They had done everything together. If you saw one, you saw the other. Wiz brought his younger cousin Alonzo into the dope game. He taught him everything, from weighing the dope to cooking it to cutting it down. He also explained to him street value and the amount of money he could make. Wiz also explained the importance of being good to their customers.
“If you are good to them, they will show you some love in return, and, before you know it, you will have a bunch of loyal fiends.” He also taught him to make sure he never got high off his own supply. He asked Alonzo, “How can you make millions when you’re smoking up your product? Don’t do shit asshole backwards. If you do, you will make a mockery out this family, ya heard?”
Alonzo agreed. Shortly after that, they were making money non-stop, building to their family’s empire. Money was coming from all angles. Trent was once one of Wiz’s heaviest buyers, but, one day things went totally wrong. To this day, Wiz wished he could have traded places with his cousin. The day of Alonzo’s death was a day he would always regret, and he had never forgiven himself for it either.
Trent used to cop dope from Wiz on consignment. Each key was twenty-two g’s, and, for each one Trent sold, Wiz wanted an extra ten grand off that. As Trent did calculations in his head, he realized that he would be making roughly about twenty g’s off of each. Wiz started Trent off with five bricks, which easily totaled a hundred grand a month for him. Eventually, Trent got greedy. He wanted Wiz to lower his price. He felt that he was making Wiz richer, and he wasn’t really seeing a profit. Wiz explained that it had to be his way or no way at all. Trent was very displeased with the decision that Wiz had made, so, from that point on, Wiz was Trent’s enemy. Trent and Marcos plotted on how they were going to rob and kill Wiz when he came to pick up the money.
“Fuck that nigga Wiz. His ass gotta go. Who the fuck he think he is?” Trent said, looking at Marcos.
Marcos, in return, looked at Trent and asked, “My nigga, you sure you want to do this?”
They knew that they just couldn’t up and kill Wiz without planning it thoroughly. They knew how Wiz’s family got down. They also knew that Wiz kept burners with him at all times. Because the streets feared him, he never came with an entourage, but he had people in all areas, so, if things were to pop off, a war would be what they would give them.
“Hell, yeah,” Trent replied.
On the last week of each month, Wiz picked up the cash and dropped off more dope to Trent, but, on this one particular Saturday, Wiz was caught up with a chick who he had met early in the afternoon. He knew he had to make that pick up, so he called Alonzo and said, “Baby boy, I need for you to pick this money up for me and drop these keys off to Trent. Make sure it’s a hundred and sixty in the bag. Don’t give them my shit until he cashes you out, understand?”
“I got you, man. Don’t trip, baby boy,” Alonzo said.
He was hyped. He couldn’t wait to prove himself.
“Matter fact, I’mma send Tray Dee with you just to make sure them niggas don’t try no funny shit,” Wiz warned.
“Nah, I’m goodie. Besides, I stay strapped,” Alonzo said, showing off his glock in the mirror.
“Aight, cuz. You sho you can handle this?” Wiz asked again.
“Stop worrying, bro. I got you,” Alonzo responded.
“Take the Impala. The dope is inside the trunk.”
“A’ight, cuz. I’m out,” Alonzo said while getting in the car.
Wiz had an eerie feeling that shit wasn’t going to go right, but that still didn’t make him stop what he was doing to protect his cousin.
Alonzo swerved in and out of traffic, trying to get to his destination. Traffic was so heavy. He started to curse, and he threw bottles at the car in front of him.
“Nigga, move yo’ slow ass out my way,” he yelled at the lady.
He made it to one of Trent’s spots over on the west side on Ruth Ellen and Exposition.
Trent noticed that Wiz wasn’t in the car and became pissed, but, at the same time, he was elated because it made his job that much easier. He didn’t have any animosity against Alonzo. It was just that he was at the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Game on,” Trent said to Marcos.
Marcos sat in the back, waiting to get things popping.
Alonzo walked in, nodded at Trent, and asked, “What’s good, my nigga?”
“Same shit, different day,” Trent replied.
Trent and Alonzo carried on small talk for a couple of minutes.
“You ready for this transaction?” Alonzo asked, getting down to business. He was ready to get back on his side of town.
“Fa’ sho. Come on. Let’s do the damn thing.”
Alonzo’s phone rang. It was Wiz asking if everything was everything.
“Yeah, cuz. I got you,” he replied. Then, he hung and said to Trent, “So I’m here to pick up a hundred and sixty grand. You got that?”
“Yeah. About that… Wiz told me I could give him a hundred even. Then, I’ll double up his profit next go round,” Trent said, trying to make sure he sounded sincere.
“Nah, my nigga. Wiz ain’t said shit about that. He just said make sure you have all his bread before I give you this one,” Alonzo reassured Trent.
Trent thought, This is going to be harder than I thought. He had to think of something quick to get the ball rolling.
“A’ight. Go ‘head and call yo cuz to get things squared away. I’mma step to the back to give you privacy,” Trent said.
Alonzo called Wiz back to ask him about the new deal.
“Nah, nigga. Get the fuck outta there! It’s a fucking set up!” Wiz yelled.
Seconds later, he heard several loud bangs, one right after the other. Wiz dropped the phone and sobbed like a little baby. How was he going to explain to his family that his cousin had died because of him? Wiz’s father would never forgive him because he had taught him early one that it didn’t matter who feared you. There will always be someone out there plotting on you.
Trent grabbed Alonzo’s phone out of his hand and put it in his pocket. He had shot Alonzo three times, twice in the chest and once in the head. Marcos grabbed the bag with the dope. They made sure not to leave any evidence as they closed down the spot.
“What you want to do with his car?” Marcos asked.
“Fuck it. Leave it here. Shit! We can’t be caught in that shit,” Trent said.