60 Minutes

G STREET CHRONICLES PRESENTS

60 MINUTES

by

Fire & Ice

Copyright 2013 Fire & Ice

Published by:

G Street Chronicles, LLC

P.O. Box 1822

Jonesboro, GA 30237-1822

www.gstreetchronicles.com

[email protected]

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without prior written consent from both the author, and publisher G Street Chronicles, except brief quotes used in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to depict, portray or represent any particular real person. All the characters, incidents, and dialogues are the products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any references or similarities to actual events, entities, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, entities, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author/publisher.

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2012

Four winos stood in front of Pettaway’s store on the Avenue recollecting memories of Bridgeport.

“I lived here for sixty years and seen some of the craziest things take place in this city.” Lionel replied thinking back on his upbringing in Bridgeport. His thick grey eye brows furrowed together as he continued. “Between that little boy Jamal being burned in that fire and Trey and Tesh’a crazy asses raising havoc in the streets…”

Another man jumped in, “Let’s not forget Jamier and his shawty running that big ol’ expensive porn company; they went through some shit!” he said with a thick Caribbean accent.

“I hear you! I’ve been here for forty years. The eighties were pretty cool, the nineties brought a lot of bloodshed, and recently—I won’t even talk on that!” Albert responded in a deep, rough voice caused from smoking too much. He took a swig of his 40 ounce. The air surrounding them smelled of beer, bad breath and old clothes.

“What’s good ol’ time?” A youngin’ said as he walked by trying to go into the store when he was stopped short.

“Ain’t nothing puda, care to give an old man some money? I know you got it. Them VVS stones and gold rims tell me you gettin’ money!” Albert responded.

“Leave the youth alone you old bum!” the wino with the Caribbean accent intervened.

Puda still pulled out a roll of twenties in a rubber band and handed ol’ school one twenty then made his way into the store.

“Shit, I’ll be his charity case any day; him, Jamal, whom they now call ‘Flames’ and dem West Side Boys are making crazy dough!” the wino exclaimed, not ashamed to beg for money.

Lionel waved his friend off. “They also are wrecking the city. Don’t forget that. I remember a time when we used to hustle for money, not to gain a name. I recall a time when we put up our fists to fight.” He threw up his fists and kissed them both then began boxing the air. “Now, all these young boys are so quick to pick up their guns and blow you away instead of fighting someone one on one! Back in the day, we were never afraid to run someone a fair one! I love my city till the death of me. Bridgeport is a beautiful city; it’s not the city that’s corrupted, but the simple-minded muthafuckas living in it!”

“I know that’s right!”

“That’s the truth ol’ school!” They all agreed with him.

“There was one though. One good one; Madame J.” the wino with the thick accent replied. Everyone shook their heads as they remembered the Madame that took over the city.

“She had shit on lock!” Lionel responded, thinking back to the day when he could afford her services.

“Sad thing that happened there, she used to help build up the city!”

“Yeah, but you know they always bring the ones down that put a helping hand into the hood,” Albert responded.

“I’ll never forget that case,” Hanz said in his thick Caribbean accent as he went down memory lane.

Back Into Time…2000

Cash rules everything around me C.R.E.A.M. get the money; dolla dolla bill y’all.

Wu’tang’s song thumped out of a beat-up Honda Accord. The strong smell of loud, a.k.a. sour diesel, lingered in the air.

“Sssss…yesss!” The driver of the Honda moaned with his hand on the back of Camille’s head while she licked, sucked and slobbed on his little fat dick.

“Hmmm…” she hummed, knowing that Rico liked that. Rico was the lead detective on his homicide team. He had enough bank in his pockets; his accounts were flooded with money from work and having his hand in the local drug lords and underground criminal activity’s payroll. He was what you would consider a dirty cop, a rotten pig, and a sell-out to his colleagues; amongst other names. When he got service from Madame J’s escort service he used an old vehicle, not wanting to be recognized in his flashy red Escalade.

“You going too fast now Mami; slow down and do it real slow.” He said instructing Camille how to suck his piece. She got annoyed quickly; she hated sucking him slow and hoped he didn’t ask her to play with his musty ass balls.

“Don’t forget my two little friends,” he threw in as if he had read her mind. And “little” they were! Camille rolled her eyes as she began to work her tongue around the head and play with his balls.

“Put them in your mouth and do that humming shit,” he said as he got a little more comfortable in his seat.

Camille almost gagged, she’d been with much worst in her line of work, but it never got easier. Two loud taps to the window got her attention.

“Why you stop?” Rico complained.

“Someone’s at the window!” A flashlight invaded the car.

“Open the door and step out!” said a stern voice.

Officer Whitley had been called into the area about a domestic dispute on Howard Avenue. As he rode down the street and saw a Honda parked in the middle of a side street, he became suspicious and drove up Howard Court to where the car was. The smell of marijuana was enough for him to begin his investigation, then after peeking inside and seeing what looked like a prostitute giving a man head, he knew he could and should take the two in. The music in the car lowered as the passenger door opened first. He looked the scantily dressed woman up and down,
if she’d offer, I’d let her suck my dick and just give her a ticket!
Whitley thought to himself. He knocked again on the driver’s side window. “Come on now!”

The door slowly opened and Rico stepped out.

“Detective Coralle?” the shocked police officer stammered.

“Look, it’s not what it looks like.” Rico said putting his hands up in defense before he could be accused of anything.

“It looks like everything, and you’re high as shit!” Officer Whitley exclaimed with disappointment. “Well, you know the routine.”

“Come on man, you really going to do this?” Rico pleaded.

The scrawny officer shrugged his shoulders, “It’s my job and had you been doing yours you wouldn’t be in this predicament.” The prostitute he could stand, but the fact that a police officer was using drugs in the middle of the hood while listening to that rap garbage bothered him a lot. In his eyes, Rico was a scumbag sell out!

Rico nervously looked around, if Officer Whitley took him in and searched his car; he would find three grams of cocaine and a quarter of sour. Rico knew he would more than likely be fired from the force and face jail time; especially for soliciting a prostitute.

“Alright, alright!” Rico said sounding defeated. He slowly turned around and placed his arms behind his back, Officer Whitley put his gun in his holster so that he could cuff Rico. Camille quickly kicked off her heels and sprinted into the nearest yard, jumping over a fence.

“Fuck!” the officer cursed. With only one hand cuffed, Rico spun around pulling a chrome magnum from his waistline and wasted no time aiming at Whitley’s chest and putting a hole through it. Blood splattered on his clothes as Rico jumped in the Honda and screeched away. He made it three blocks before police Chargers were tailing him and finally blocked him in on Hancock Avenue. Rico would later be processed and questioned. His own colleagues looked down on him for the disgrace he brought upon the force. Rico wasted no time in snitching; hoping that by doing so he would get a deal. It did not take long for him to spill his guts about Camille and the escorting service she worked for. Before long he gave all the details he knew about the city’s underground sex rings and clubs that the police would never have imagined existed.

As the officers arrested one of their own that night, they had no way of knowing that the collar that they just made would lead to the biggest trial in the city’s history or that it would be against Bridgeport’s underground sex ring leader, Jani’rah Eldermira Jean.

Bossy

Light pen taps echoed throughout a large office as it hit repeatedly against a desk.

“Melanie, call Camille and tell her she needs to come see me in the next hour or two about some business I need her to tend to.” Jani’rah said into the phone to her assistant.

“Right on top of it. Is there anything else you need me to do before I go to lunch Madame J?” Melanie said.

“Just bring me back those new accounts so I can figure out which girls to send on the job tomorrow.” Jani’rah said as she disconnected the call. For the past week, business had been going crazy with new clients. Things were hectic as Madame J tried to keep her supply in line with demand. She sat back in her leather chair and closed her eyes thinking about the day when she would finally be able to take a vacation to get away from work for a while.

“Here are the files you asked for.” Melanie said as she walked into Jani’rah’s office. Without opening her eyes, Jani’rah instructed her to put them on her desk. “I called Camille. She said she was already on this side of town about to head to a client, so she’ll be over in about twenty minutes. I’m headed over to
Red Lobster
for some lunch; want something?”

This was why Jani’rah loved having an assistant like Melanie, because she didn’t always think about just herself, she was always looking out for others as well. “I’m fine. I’ll just get something on my way home, but thanks anyway.” Jani’rah said and turned her chair around hoping that Melanie would get the picture that she wanted to be alone.