Guard the Throne Page 5

  Ashanti wanted to live like a basketball wife. She wanted more than just a beach house in Miami and some throw-around money. She wanted to be the queen bee bitch. She wanted the red-carpet treatment. She wanted to drive around in her own Bentley and flaunt million-dollar diamonds around her neck and wrists. Gucci, Prada, Coach and money were what she craved. The few thousand dollars a month was okay for the moment, but she yearned for more. She was seething with jealousy because she knew that Alonzo’s baby momma was getting the benefits from his score off the Haitians.

  She walked around the bedroom butt naked, taking drags from her cigarette. She was in Curtis’ ear like a snitch, because she wanted him to step up. She thought her little pep talk would help him take his business to the next level.

  She continued to praise Alonzo like he was God Almighty.

  Curtis sprang up from the bed and charged her. He pushed her against the wall and placed a firm grip around her neck. “Why you keep glorifying this nigga’s name, huh? You fuckin’ him?”

  Ashanti gasped. The cigarette dropped from her fingers, and she locked eyes with him. “Can you please remove your fuckin’ hand from around my neck!”

  Curtis quickly came to his senses and took a few steps back from her.

  “Like I was sayin, step your game up, Curtis, ’cuz I want out of the fuckin’ projects.”

  Curtis started to get dressed. Their rendezvous was over.

  5

  Curtis sat in his Benz under the cool moonlight in his Queens hood. He had a lot on his mind after leaving Ashanti’s place. Her affair with his friend and drug connect had him troubled. He felt disrespected and betrayed. Alonzo was his close friend for many years, and Ashanti was the love of his life, and for the two of them to be intimate with each other was like plunging a hot needle into his eye. It was an agony that was swallowing him up, and it was hard for him to forget, or forgive the sin.

  Ashanti never admitted to the affair, but Curtis knew it happened. The look in her eyes when she spoke about Alonzo and her silence gave her away—along with Alonzo’s scandalous past. His notorious reputation with women preceded him. For a long time, he had a thing for Ashanti.

  The hood was quiet, but Curtis’ inner thoughts were ear-shattering. He was seething. Business was good in his eyes. His respect passed through from borough to borough, but Ashanti saw otherwise.

  He was getting older. He and Maino were becoming two OGs in the hood, and in time, he saw retirement coming his way. He was ready to pass down the business to his two sons. Curtis was thirty-six years old and had survived the streets by being smart and always being one step ahead of his enemies and the police. He’d had many close calls with both, but he’d escaped death and extensive imprisonment. He had defied the odds against him and won. He’d made tons of money and was ready for an investment into something promising. In his mind, it was time to get out and do it right—before death or prison came his way.

  He and Maino were set to meet up with Alonzo the next day to re-up and talk business. But now, Curtis didn’t trust Alonzo. Alonzo’s dick in Ashanti had thrown a monkey wrench into things. Alonzo had been smiling in his face and conducting business as usual while fucking his woman. It was the ultimate betrayal. Curtis felt like a fool. He hated to be played.

  Curtis smoked his cigarette and hung back in the driver’s seat of his Benz, his mind spinning with wild thoughts and accusations. He peered out the window and rested his eyes on the front entrance to his building. For years, it was the place he had called home; where his kids were growing up and where his sons were becoming men. He wanted Chris and Cane to maintain his legacy.

  He looked at the lobby and remembered serving crack fiends in that same lobby when he was only twelve years old. He was hustling under the Supreme Team umbrella. He had learned the drug trade quickly and soon moved up the ranks in the drug organization, and by the time he was nineteen, he was running his own corner and had his own crew.

  Curtis thought back to when he and Ashanti had first met. She was a beautiful young girl with a magnetic style and smile. She was a Harlem-born wild child who had men chasing behind her like groupies. Her aura was unforgettable. She used to come to Queens to visit her cousin, and they would hit up the clubs with a fierce appetite to party and flirt with the men, especially the ballers and shot-callers from the hood. Ashanti was heavily into bad boys, and when she met Curtis in the Q club one night, she was instantly drawn to his bad-boy swag.

  Curtis, Alonzo, and Maino were surrounded by their heavily jeweled crew in the VIP area—popping bottles and capturing the attention of every woman in the club. They partied like they owned the place and had the respect from everyone in the club.

  When Curtis and Ashanti first laid eyes on each other, it was like love at first sight. Curtis invited Ashanti and her cousin to join them in VIP, and they quickly accepted the offer. The female cousins became the center of attention among the fellows in VIP, and right away, Curtis was drawn to Ashanti’s lively behavior. She was a party girl with a lust for the street life. The two began talking, and their chemistry was undeniable. He snatched Ashanti’s attention easily, and within six months, she was pregnant with Chris.

  Curtis put out the cigarette in the ashtray situated in the center console and exhaled. Alonzo had been his friend for so many years, but a line had been crossed. It was an unwritten rule—Keep your hands out of another man’s candy jar—but some men just couldn’t control their sweet tooth and had to taste certain forbidden sweets.

  The time on the dashboard read fifteen minutes after midnight. Curtis had been sitting in his Benz for over an hour pondering. He was about to get out the car when his cell phone rang. It was Maino calling. Curtis already knew what he was calling about.

  “What’s good?” he answered.

  “Yo, that thing for tomorrow, we still on it, right?” Maino asked. “That thing wit’ A?”

  “Tomorrow’s no good. Something came up with my daughter, and I gotta go handle that.”

  “I can go solo and handle that business, and you go take care of that business wit’ yo kids, you feel me? We need to hand that business ASAP.”

  “I already talked to A about it, told him we’ll meet him the day after to definitely handle that. And, besides, I wanna kick it with him for a moment. Pull his coat to something important.”

  “You already talked to A?”

  “Yeah, earlier today, and he cool with it.”

  “A’ight. What you need to holla about wit’ him?”

  “Nigga, not over the phone,” Curtis reminded Maino.

  “Yeah, you right.”

  “Get at me tomorrow.”

  “Fo’ sure.”

  Curtis ended the call and continued to scowl. He’d lied to Maino. The meeting for their re-up with Alonzo was still scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, but Curtis wanted to go alone and have a one-on-one talk with him—confront him about his affair with Ashanti. He didn’t want Maino in his personal business. The pain that lay heavy in his heart had him thinking about doing the unthinkable to a once close friend.

  Curtis stepped out of his ride, with his pistol tucked snugly in his waistband, and walked toward the lobby. The cold feeling he felt inside wasn’t going to go away until his issue with Alonzo was resolved.

  He entered his apartment and saw Citi asleep on the couch with the TV on. She was wrapped up in a blanket, and junk food was scattered across the glass coffee table. He removed his winter jacket, tossed it onto the back of the chair, and approached Citi. He watched his baby girl sleep for a moment. She looked so peaceful. Citi resembled her mother in so many ways, from her natural beauty to her persona. Her sudden explosion earlier would have easily matched her mother’s. Both women were so temperamental, but he loved them both.

  Curtis perched on the couch near his daughter’s toes, which peeked from underneath the blanket. She
was curled up in the fetal position, looking like a sleeping beauty, while MTV played on the 60-inch flat-screen. It seemed like she was alone in the apartment. Curtis made a mental note to talk to his sons. He hated when they left Citi alone in the apartment at nights. She was still a little girl in his eyes, even though she was going to turn sixteen soon.

  Curtis carefully picked up his daughter, still wrapped in the blanket, and carried her off into the bedroom, where he laid her gently in her bed.

  “Daddy,” Citi whispered softly.

  “Just sleep, princess. I’m here,” he said, stroking her hair.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to get so angry with you earlier,” Citi said drowsily.

  “It’s cool, princess. You know I still love you.”

  Citi closed her eyes and fell back asleep. Unbeknownst to Curtis, she was really high and had been drinking. She had fallen asleep on the couch just an hour before his arrival, and the bottle of Grey Goose she’d been sipping on had rolled underneath the couch.

  Curtis watched her fall asleep in the comfort of her canopy bed. That eased his mind somewhat from the pain and dismay he was feeling earlier.

  He lingered in Citi’s bedroom for an hour and then stepped into the living room. His sons were just arriving home. He glared at Chris and Cane, and barked, “How you leave your little sister alone for hours?”

  Cane replied, “She ain’t a little girl anymore, Pop.”

  “I don’t care!” Curtis approached his sons closer with his scowl. “You two are her older brothers, so start fuckin’ acting like it!”

  “We out there handling business, Pop,” Chris chimed. “We ain’t got time to be lookin’ after Citi. She a big girl now.”

  “I’m not asking you to babysit her, Chris. But you have to understand, I have enemies out there. People I’ve done harm to, to climb up in this business or to make an example out of, they’re quick to do harm back to me or mines, which includes coming after my children, and they won’t hesitate to use y’all to get to me.

  “I’m teaching you the streets to be smart and to stay ahead of your enemies and close friends too. You keep this family close, and you protect your sister. This shit here, it ain’t one big party. You always keep your guard up and pay close attention to the slightest infraction or disrespect against you. ’Cuz if you don’t, within time, something you thought was simple can become a major fuckin’ problem. Y’all hear me?”

  “Yeah, we hear you, Pop,” the brothers replied simultaneously.

  Curtis stared into his two young sons’ eyes. The respect for their father showed in their teenage faces. Curtis was the big dog in town, and he was training his young pups to become pit bulls in the streets and to follow in his footsteps.

  Chris took in his father’s words more seriously than Cane. Chris wanted to become like Curtis. He wanted to have the street smarts along with the business sense to take his father’s business to the next level. Cane, on the other hand, was like a wild animal ready to tear the streets up and take advantage of the name he was born under. He was more reckless than his older brother.

  Curtis turned and went into his bedroom. He had a lot on his mind and needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day for him.

  ****

  Late the next afternoon, Curtis came to a stop in front of the towering steel structure in Midtown Manhattan. The beautiful exterior, decorated with aluminum plating illuminated by the sunshine, was a fortress of luxury for the wealthy and elite. The building gleamed like a mirror, reflecting the concrete jungle.

  New York in the winter months was brutal. It was a chilling fifteen degrees outside with gusty wind, causing New Yorkers to bundle up tightly in their winter attire. A few residents looked like Eskimos, clad in their thick winter coats, ski hats, and long scarves, their faces covered like they were ready to commit a bank robbery.

  Curtis stepped out his Benz wrapped warmly in his black pea coat with the beanie ski hat. He wore wool gloves, and his pistol was concealed in its holster underneath the stylish coat. He was sharp as always. He moved like the world was his to control. He rushed for no one. He blended in with the Midtown crowd like he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

  He tried to teach his sons the ability to fit into a crowd. He warned them not to always dress and act like a hood nigga from the projects. A man who didn’t know how to adapt in his ways or style would soon become a marked man in life. Curtis could move with the wolves and not be harmed, and he could also move with the sheep and not be suspected as a predator.

  He walked into the grand lobby decorated with large crystal ceiling lamps and marble crystal pillars. He headed toward the elevators, pushed for one of the two doors to open, and waited. The lobby was quiet. He was the only soul in the place, a plus for him.

  The elevator doors opened, and Curtis stepped inside with his cool manner. He pushed for the penthouse and waited. The lift ascended like a rocket taking off in a crisp push upward. Curtis reached the top floor and stepped out into the plush hallway decorated with precious plants and elegant paintings. He strode to the double doors, adjusted his appearance, and casually knocked twice.

  Dino answered. He stood six-six and weighed over 300 pounds. He was a grizzly-looking muthafucka and could easily break a man’s neck with his thumbs alone. He was Alonzo’s personal bodyguard.

  “Dino,” Curtis greeted with a deadpan gaze.

  “Curtis, what’s good?”

  “Where Alonzo?”

  “He’ll be down soon.” Dino stepped to the side and allowed Curtis entry into the penthouse. The butt of a holstered Desert Eagle peeked out from his suit jacket.

  The place was immaculate with its marble flooring and marble crystal ceiling lamps. The tall and completely transparent French windows that opened up to the balcony offered a spectacular view of Manhattan from thirty-one floors up. There was a full bar and grand piano by the windows. The beautiful steel and glass aquarium, filled with exotically colored tropical fish, was the perfect addition to the living room in the penthouse.

  Dino stood behind Curtis. He trusted him, so there was no need for a patdown. Alonzo had been expecting him.

  “Where’s Maino?” Dino asked.

  “Something came up.”

  Dino didn’t think otherwise about it. He moved his wide frame over to the bar and began making himself a quick drink.

  A short moment later, Alonzo came down the spiral staircase with a smile aimed at his longtime friend.

  “Curtis, what’s good, my friend?” Alonzo greeted with open arms.

  “Alonzo,” Curtis replied halfheartedly.

  The two men hugged each other. Alonzo was happy to see his friend. He was dressed in a long white bathrobe and some swimming shorts, indicating he’d just come from the pool in his upstairs bedroom. A diamond chain with a diamond-encrusted cross around his neck and a diamond pinky ring were small indications of his wealth.

  “Yo, where’s Maino?” Alonzo asked, looking around.

  “He couldn’t make it,” Curtis said. “Something came up.”

  “It’s cool. It’s cool. We can all link up some other time.”

  Curtis remained nonchalant, but he kept thinking about Alonzo and Ashanti together—the two of them fuckin’ their brains out and laughing at him behind his back. When he looked at Alonzo, Curtis felt nothing but rage. He was ready to tear Alonzo apart for the violation he committed.

  Alonzo continued to be all smiles. Money and power had gone to his head. He wanted to be Tony Montana AKA Scarface with a passion. He was the rising king of Harlem.

  “You want a drink, Curtis?” Alonzo asked.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “You sure, my friend?”

  Curtis nodded. “I just wanna take care of business.”

  “Yeah, busine
ss is good out there. We all making money,” Alonzo said as he walked toward the bar to prepare himself a drink. “Just think, Curtis, when we was growing up, did you ever think it would be like this for us? Living large like muthafuckin’ rap stars? Damn, we some rich niggas!”

  Curtis didn’t reply.

  “I mean, you, me, and Maino . . . shit, we like the new Supreme Team out there. I feel fuckin’ untouchable.” Alonzo walked behind the bar gloating about his success.

  Dino moved to the side and sat in one of the plush chairs that decorated the living room.

  Alonzo removed a few bottles from underneath the bar and poured himself a shot of Goose.

  “I heard you came up, though,” Curtis mentioned.

  Alonzo lifted his head from the bar and locked eyes with Curtis. He smiled and chuckled. “People talk, huh?”

  “Everyone’s talking.”

  “Shit, you know a nigga gotta hit the streets out the blue sometimes and put in that work, like how we used to do back in the days.” Alonzo took a sip from his drink and removed himself from behind the bar. He stood across from Curtis, jovial about the stickup he’d committed on the Haitians from Brooklyn. He had no problems revealing to Curtis that he was the culprit.

  He continued the story with, “Yo, got a tip from this bitch I was fuckin’, some functioning addict named Marisol from the Bronx. Bitch snorts more coke than Tony Montana. But she bad, though. So, she’s into me for ten stacks. I got the bitch scared shitless over her debt to me, and she’s willing to do anything to pay it off. Well, come to find out, her ex-boyfriend’s cousin runs an operation out in Flatbush, and she knew the ins and outs of the nigga’s operation, mostly some off-brand muthafuckas wit’ some come-up. Bitch pulled my coat to it and I couldn’t resist. Niggas were sloppy with it, Curtis. They lived overtop a bodega in Flatbush and we caught them slippin’, me and Dino here. We went overkill on them niggas. Shit, it was either them or us. But it was a good score. I felt refreshed after jookin’ them banana-boat muthafuckas. Came out with more than we expected.”