Dopeman: Memoirs of a Snitch (Part 3 of Dopeman's Trilogy) (4 page)

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Authors: JaQuavis Coleman

BOOK: Dopeman: Memoirs of a Snitch (Part 3 of Dopeman's Trilogy)
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Chapter Four
 
First Lady of the Streets
 
Braylon looked around the grungy motel room and shook his head in disbelief. He only had a small plastic bag to his name which was the only thing he could call his own. Inside the bag were his wallet, toothbrush, and small picture of him and Zoey. He looked down at the bag and took out the picture. Zoey smiled so bright while draped in his arms. It was a picture of them at a park, a picture that Braylon had a stranger take for them. The picture used to bring him joy but now it only seemed to magnify the guilt that weighed heavily on his heart. Braylon felt a tear forming in the corner of his eye and a blink propelled it down his face. He tasted the salty tear as he continued to stare at the picture of his beautiful love. He quickly wiped the tear away and kissed the picture just before propping it up on the dirty alarm clock that sat on the night stand.
Dame had dropped him off at the motel and told him that to wait there until he received further instructions. He was in a new city, a new environment, and it all seemed like a dream. Just forty eight hours ago, he was mentally preparing himself to serve a life sentence. Braylon looked at the paper with the address on it Braylon laid back in his bed and closed his eyes, preparing for his meeting in the morning.
Braylon looked at the address on the paper to make sure he was at the right place. He threw the government issued Mercedes Benz in park and stared at what seemed to be an abandoned building. He honestly thought about throwing the car in reverse and heading toward the nearest highway and go on the run.
“I should leave and take my chances,” Braylon whispered as he shook his head in disbelief. He knew that the car he was driving probably had a tracking device on it somewhere, so the odds were against him if he bailed. “Fuck!” he yelled as he hit the steering wheel with both hands. He then took the keys out of the ignition and headed into the back entrance. The big metal door was unlocked as he pulled it open and it seemed as if it weighed a thousand pounds. When Braylon entered he noticed it was a dimly lit boxing gym. The smell of old leather and moisture filled the air as he slowly walked in, wondering where Dame was.
I think this is the place,
Braylon thought as he slowly made his way to the middle of the floor. All of a sudden, the lights slowly began to pop on and what once was a faintly lit room became a bright open space.
“Mr. Kennedy,” a voice came from a distance, making Braylon turned around in a full circle trying to see where it was coming from. Dame came out of the shadows and exposed himself. He was carrying a black duffle bag. He approached Braylon and tossed the duffle bag at his feet. “That’s one hundred thousand dollars in there.” Dame said as he intensely stared at his new informant.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Braylon asked as he glanced down at the bag.
“Pick the bag up and follow me. I’m about to show you.” Dame said as he turned his back and headed to the back office. Braylon took a deep breath and reluctantly pick up the bag, following Dame. When Braylon entered the room, there were about five other people sitting in the office, which was set up like a small classroom. They were all sitting in front of a bulletin board as Dame stood in front of them all. Braylon stopped in his tracks and scanned everyone in there, almost embarrassed to be present in the room.
“Have a seat,” Dame said as he waved his hand toward the empty chair reserved for him. Braylon slowly took a seat and a young, slim, black guy extended his hand attempting to greet Braylon.
“Psst,” Braylon sucked his teeth and brushed past the man as he took his seat.
“Everybody, I want you to meet ...” Dame said as he looked at Braylon.
“Ball ... y’all can call me Ball.” Braylon said not wanting to put his government out there like that.
“Meet Ball. He’s the informant that is going to attempt to infiltrate Seven’s organization. This is the team that is going to take down that son of a bitch.” Dame looked over at Braylon and then proceeded to brief the crew. Dame stepped to the side revealing the bulletin board. At the top of the list was a mug shot taken of Seven a few years ago for drug possession. Just under his picture were lines that led to a couple guys and a female. It was the chain of command for Seven’s entire organization. He pointed to the girl first.
“This is the beautiful Lola Banks. Don’t let the good looks fool you. This bitch is connected and is as ruthless as they come. She’s a one-time felon from Harlem. We don’t know too much about her ... just that she plays with the big boys and has a reputation in the streets that is strong as any man. She moves heavy weight and is considered Seven’s right-hand woman. She had a couple run-ins with the law, but nothing major. The only thing we know for sure is that she is the daughter of the infamous Bunkie Green ... one of the biggest heroin movers back in the early nineties. He ran with Lucas back in the day. We believe that she allied Seven with some of her father’s old connects. Most people refer to her as the first lady of the streets.”
Braylon immediately noticed the beauty of the woman that Dame described as ruthless. She seemed like she was straight out of a Vogue magazine. The surveillance photos seemed to catch her in the best light and they looked more like model snapshots rather that stakeout flicks. Braylon listened closely as Dame explained the magnitude of Seven’s drug operation and empire. Braylon could tell by the look in Dame’s eyes that he wanted to take Seven down badly. It almost seemed personal.
Dame continued, “We are sending Bray ... excuse me ... We are sending Ball in for first contact to try to establish a connection. We only have one chance to get close to Seven so we have to make this count,” Dame said as he slowly paced the front of the room. “We were waiting for them to slip up and they finally did. The fight of the century is this weekend in Vegas and guess who will be there? We can finally put Seven in a spot at a certain time. One week ago Lola slipped up. She booked ten front row seats at the big fight ... just what we were waiting for. Mind you, these seats are twenty thousand a piece. Only celebrities and wealthy men will be in this area. You have to blend in and we will equip you with everything you need to do so. We’re going to seat you close to him and let you do your thing. The goal is to establish a connection with Seven,” Dame said as he stopped pacing and looked directly at Braylon.
Braylon began to realize that it was getting real and he wanted to push the envelope as far as he could. He smirked and decided to see how far Dame would go.
“Well, if you want me to play the part ... I’ll have to look the part, you feel me?” he said while rubbing his hands together and looking Dame straight in the eyes. “I’ll need a Rolex, a custom one... .”
“No problem. It’s done.”
Ball looked at Dame and saw that he was dead serious. So Ball decided to keep going. “Also, I’ma need a Maybach ... the Phantom joint.” He said naming his dream car. Dame paused for a second and then grabbed an envelope and handed it to Ball.
“We already rented you one for the week. You have a state issued ID, driver’s license, and car keys to that Phantom in there.”
Ball couldn’t believe his eyes as he looked into the bag. He knew that it was time to do his job, even though he dreaded it.... it had to be done in return for his freedom. Next stop: Vegas.
Chapter Five
 
Scared Money Don’t Make None
 
It was the night of the fight of the century. The heavy-weight champ of the world, Donte Diggs, had been favored to win the fight 3 to 1, and instead of a heavy weight championship fight, it looked more like a red carpet event. Flashing lights, exotic cars, stretch limos, and A-list celebrities, all made up what was to be a night to remember. Braylon took a deep breath as he hid behind the tinted window of a cocaine white Maybach, sitting in the back seat of course. He looked over at the thick Latino woman who was sitting next to him in a sparkly red dress. Actually, she was an undercover police officer who Dame had assigned to escort Braylon undercover. Braylon rolled his eyes and looked out of the window, still hating cops to the core of his soul. He watched people stare at the car and squint their eyes, trying to figure out who was in the luxury car that cost damn near a quarter million dollars. Braylon always wanted to ride in the backseat of a Maybach ... but not like this. He was riding in his dream car; but he was riding as a snitch and that shamed him. “This some bullshit,” Braylon whispered under his breath as he shook his head from side to side and then took the shot of Patrón that sat in his cup holder.
“Let’s do it,” he said as he slammed his cup down and glanced over at his date who was putting the finishing touches of her make-up on. Braylon closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he contemplated bailing out on the operation and taking his odds on the run from the law. The reality of his situation stopped him from jumping ship and Braylon decided go head and go through with an act that went against all of his beliefs... . snitching.
As the chauffeur opened the door, the massive sound of people and chatter overwhelmed Braylon and he slowly placed his Mauri gator shoe on the red carpet. That’s when he felt the buzz the entertainers often talk about. All eyes were on him as flashes and questions were directed at Braylon as he stepped out. He buttoned the last two buttons that went to his tight-fitting, gray Armani suit. He smoothly checked his cufflinks, and then reached his hand in the car to help his date out the vehicle. It was the beginning of what was too be a long road of grand deception.
 
 
Seven puffed on his Cuban cigar as he sat in the back dressing room watching the champ shadowbox and prepare himself mentally for the fight, while his entourage stood around him giving him words of encouragement. Seven looked over at Lola and tapped his watch, signaling for her to retrieve his Russian friend who was sitting front row awaiting the fight to begin.
Lola Banks was the daughter of Ohio’s legendary heroin Kingpin.... Bunkie Green. She followed in her father’s footsteps and got into the dope game at an early age. While other teenage girls were chasing niggas and dreams, Lola was using her father’s name to get her into the right circles and eventually linked up with Seven. She was a hustler to the core and was infatuated with fast money. She was dark as night, but with smooth skin and pearly white teeth. She stood five foot eight and with long legs, resembling a ghetto Naomi Campbell. She was a beautiful as they came, but just as deadly. She wore a small black dress, complimented by Louboutin red bottom heels. Her hair was tied back tightly, displaying her GS tattoo which stood for Goon Squad and identified her affiliation with Seven’s crew. Lola took her time as she made it to the main floor and amongst the 50,000 people in attendance. She made her way to the front row, where only millionaires and important spectators sat. Mostly rich men and A-list celebrities filled those seats, but her crew was there front and center. She finally reached the person who Seven had sent her to get. A powerful Russian man who was one of Seven’s business associates. She bent down to whisper in his ear and he immediately stood up and Lola escorted him to the back where Seven and the champ waited.
Meanwhile, Seven was in the back talking to Diggs.
“You know I got the bank on you tonight, my nigga. I need you to go hard.” Seven said just after he made smoke circles from his Cuban cigar.
“I got you fam. This one is going to be easy, baby. How much?” the champ said as he slightly raised his chin and grinned, knowing that his man had a lot riding on him.
“Two mil,” Seven said in a low tone being modest while returning the smirk. Just as Seven let the words escape his mouth, Lola and the tall, blonde haired Russian man entered the dressing room. Seven and the champ’s attention focused on them as they walked in. Seven raised his cigar and signaled for them to come over. Seven wanted to introduce his friend to the undisputed champion of the world. The Russian walked over and Seven introduced them. “Champ this is my good friend, Mikell. Mikell, meet the champ.” Seven said. Mikell spoke English but he nodded his head and grinned and the champed did the same.
Although Mikell spoke little English, he and Seven had a great business relationship. Money was a universal language and in the drug game it was all that mattered. Mikell was also a big gambler and Seven had invited him out to Vegas to meet the champ and place a seven figure bet on Diggs. The Russian was impressed that Seven knew the champ personally and that only made Mikell respect Seven even more. Gambling wasn’t the only reason Mikell came to meet Seven in Vegas. Seven was solidifying a fifty kilo deal in the midst. Seven usually went through the Diamond Cartel for his dope, but he wanted to test out another source. Seven potentially would begin copping from the Russian with the raw from that day forward. So in Seven’s eyes this trip was business and pleasure all rolled in one.
“I have very large money on you tonight.” The Russian said in broken English as he threw a hand on the champs shoulder. “Kill him for me my friend.” The Russian stated.
“I got ’em,” the champ replied as he looked at the Mikell and then back at Seven. “I will check you out after the fight. Party at my house, cool?” the champ said to Seven.
“No doubt. See you later on my nigga.”
“A’ight, one,” the champ said just before he pounded Seven’s hand and returned to the table to begin to get taped up for the fight. Seven, along with Mikell and Lola, headed down to their front row seats and get ready to view the fight. Seven glanced a couple of rows back and saw members of the Goon Squad in attendance and he nodded to one of them, letting them know to watch his back. The goon nodded back to confirm that he was on his job. It seemed as if the Goon Squad was there to enjoy the fight, but that was the furthest from the truth. They were solely there to protect their boss by any means necessary. While every other person in the building would have their eyes glued to the ring, the goon’s would be watching anybody and everyone around Seven.
 
 
Ball sat in his seat and watched as the undercards fought. People were filing in just in time to see the main event. Everybody was rooting for the champ to knockout the no name opponent. Ball knew better though. He was an avid boxing fan and knew that the champ had problems with southpaw fighters. He really believed that it was the night that the champ would get knocked out. He probably was the only person in the building besides the underdog’s corner that believed he would win. Ball looked around and noticed that stars and celebrities were all around him. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The first couple of Hip Hop were seated a couple seats down from him and the NBA phenom, King James was a row behind him. He was definitely in foreign territory but he loved every moment of it.
The lady he was with leaned over and whispered in his ear, “There goes Lola Banks.” Ball immediately looked at the woman coming down the aisle and she was far more beautiful in person. She wore a tight fitting black dress and six inch heels, red bottoms of course. Her wide hips were on full display as she swayed her assets back and forth, making her way to the front row seat. She was accompanied by a white man in a well-tailored suit. Just as they made their way to the seat a wave of young men wearing street clothes and heavy jewelry came down the aisles. None of them looked to be over twenty-one, but they all looked like money. These were the Goon Squad, which were Seven’s young killers and protection. They definitely let their presence be felt as they took their seats in a row entirely reserved for them.
Ball ordered a mixed drink and just sat back and observed. His date wasn’t much of company so he remained silent. Just as the main event was about to start, Ball saw the man of the hour walk down the aisle. It was Seven. He had a cigar in his mouth and a well-tailored Armani suit hung perfectly on his body. His Creed cologne invaded people’s nostrils as he walked by and everyone could feel the star power enter the room as he strolled by. He stopped and slapped hands with a few celebrities before finding his seat in the front row, right next to Lola. The show was about to begin and Ball had to find his way in. Ball grew butterflies in the pit of his stomach as he watched Seven’s movements. He never in a million years thought that he would be on the opposite side of the law. Everything happened so fast. He downed his drink and shook his head in guilt. The announcer began to introduce the fighters for the main event and the game had begun.
 
 
“Stop playing with this nigga!” Seven screamed as he stood up in frustration. Diggs was man-handling the underdog with ease. The crowd was on fire and everyone was on their feet cheering and rooting for a knockout. Seven was licking his chops knowing that he was about to come up on the big payday. He and all of his associates had a handsome wager on the odds of the champ winning. The bell rung just before the champ could knock the underdog out and the crowd cheered on, wanting more. Ball sat back and watched as Seven talked shit and enjoyed himself with his friends and he wondered how he would approach him. Ball had been watching the fight closely and knew that the champ had a great chance of losing if he didn’t win before the fourth round. The champ had no stamina and always had trouble with left-handed boxers; the challenger was a lefty.
Seven laughed and smacked hands with Lola and bragged about the new car he would buy with his winnings from the fight. Ball was going out on a limb and acted without thinking.
“Put your money where ya’ mouth is homeboy! Diggs bouta get knocked out!” Ball yelled as he looked straight at Seven. Seven frowned and turned around, looking to see who was talking reckless about his man.
“You talking to me?” Seven said as he pointed at his own chest and looked around in confusion.
“Yeah, I’m talking to you,” Ball said with sinister smile. Immediately the goons stood up and all attention went on Ball. Ball looked around and saw eight pair of eyes on him and he began to feel caged in.
“What’s up homie? We got problems?” One of the goons asked as they all stuck their hands in their waist and hoodies, ready to pop off in front of cameras and all. They just didn’t give a fuck about human life. That’s why Seven had them on his team. They were all young, wild, and thought they had a lot to prove.
Seven raised his hand, signaling for his goons to back down. He then focused his attention back to Ball. “Yo, how much you got to bet?” Seven asked.
“I got whatever,” Ball yelled over the crowd’s chatter as he stood up and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a big bankroll and held it up for everyone to see. “Ten racks sound good?”
“Bet! I’ll take that li’l ass money from you. Easy!” Seven said as he returned the smile and slowly nodded his head.
“This fight just got a little bit more interesting,” Ball said as he turned around just in time to see the fight begin once again.
The boxers emerged from their corners and went at it. The fatigue started to show in the champ and just like that.... Bang! He got caught with a left hook and rocked to sleep! The fight was over and the whole crowd erupted. Ball had never heard anything so loud. Flashing lights erupted and bells rung. It was a wrap. Ball had just won ten thousand dollars and also gained the attention of Seven. Seven clenched his jaws so tightly and slammed his fist against the armrest. His Russian friend buried his face in his hands because he had just lost a small fortune. He whispered in Lola’s ear and stormed out. Ball smiled and reached out his hand as Seven went by. Seven dismissed his gesture and brushed right past him. Ball stood there looking dumb with his hand out as Seven exited the arena. Lola came up seconds later and handed Ball a roll of money.
“That should be enough. If there’s extra, keep the change.” She said as she briefly stood in front of him. Before Ball could answer, she was headed out. He had made his first contact.
Seven made his way out of the back entrance of the MGM, with Lola and the members of the Goon Squad by his side. Seven was irate that he lost the bet, but kept his poker face and showed no sign of it. He stopped just before he reached the back exit and slid off his jacket and handed it to his henchmen.
“Yo, put this on and leave out of the front.” Seven said as he knew feds were potentially watching him. The henchman was about Seven’s build and same skin complexion, so Seven was about to put up a smoke screen for whoever was watching so he could enjoy himself for the night.
“And you two ... go with him,” Lola ordered as she began to put on her mink so they could exit through the back in the tinted SUV that waited for them.
“Send those feds in that black van on a ride around the city for a couple of hours. That should keep them busy for a while,” she instructed with a slight grin on her face. Seven and his crew were always a step ahead of the authorities so this was regular procedure for them. The henchmen followed her orders and left only Lola and Seven standing at the back entrance.

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