A Gangsta's Son by Rio

Author:Rio [Rio]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sullivan Productions, LLC
Published: 2013-07-24T05:00:00+00:00

~Chapter 17~

“You’re gonna need some more dope soon, and I know just the person to contact. This girl I met at the strip club introduced me to him the night I started dancing there. I think his name is King-Royce or somethin’ like that; a Latin King wit’ connections to the Costilla Cartel. She said Royce had been sellin’ bricks to the Breeds for fourteen racks apiece. You’ll make a killin’ wit’ those prices.”

Lying back in the passenger’s seat of my Monte Carlo with my fingers interlaced behind my head while Kisha steered the new chrome 26-inch rims through the west side streets, I was trying to hide the fact that I was still angry about the GDs not wanting me at my father’s funeral.

I sat up and glanced around the street—we were soaring down Independence Boulevard—then said, “Ain’t nobody sellin’ bricks for no fourteen racks. Can’t even get half a brick for fourteen.”

Kisha sighed and sucked her teeth. “Haven’t you heard of the Matamoros Cartel in Mexico? I watched an episode about their war with the Zeta Cartel on Gangland. The Matamoros drug cartel is now considered to be the number one trafficker of heroin and cocaine in South America, and a lot of people believe the Matamoros Cartel is the Costilla Cartel. If King-Royce is plugged with them, then he probably is selling kilos for fourteen thousand.” She turned to me with a reluctant expression on her face. “I, uh… have his number somewhere in my locker at the strip club. I can drop by and get it if they haven’t cleaned out my locker yet. Or I can call the dancer who introduced me to him. I think I still got her number in my phone.”

I shrugged my shoulders and lit a Newport. “I don’t give a fuck. Just get me to 15th and Homan so I can check on my lil nigga Tyrone. He just got out the hospital last night.”

Kisha dialed a number on her smartphone and a few seconds later she said, “Hello, is this Lacresha?”

**********

There were over twenty teenaged gangbangers posted up on 15th and Homan when Kisha parked the Monte Carlo behind my nigga Tweet’s old school Cutlass; the red 1969 Oldsmobile had black rally stripes, black leather interior with red stitching, and a matching set of black 30-inch rims that hurt my pride a little as I stepped out to a barrage of TVL handshakes. The “ballers” of the clique—Tweet, Zo, and Roddy—embraced me first. Then came the young niggas, like Dre, Shorty Hustle, and Joe-Joe.

“Here you go, Joe,” Joe-Joe said as he handed me a wrinkled and folded knot of cash. I had given him three ounces of crack four days ago for him and his crew to get rid of, and he owed me $3,300.

“How much is this,” I asked.

“Thirty-three hun’ed,” Joe-Joe said. “Sold the last of that shit the other day. Been sellin’ Kush sacks and boy since then. Ain’t shit gettin’ sold right now, though. We just whooped one of the Breeds on Sixteenth.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.