The Plug's Wife (10 page)

See, that’s how smart JB was.  He wouldn’t dare bring heat to himself by visiting me in the can.  Too many eyes on him.  Since we were kids, JB always thought his actions all the way through.  He was never a fly-by-the-seat-of-ya-pants type of dude,” Mitch said, his head rocking in earnest.  Summer shook her head in agreement.  She knew Jesse was good people. She also knew he was highly intelligent.  But if Jesse was that smart, how did he get caught?

“Did you stay behind bars for long?” Summer asked.  She wanted Mitch to tell her everything so she knew what she was up against with him. 

“Nah, I got off.  My dream team of lawyers fried that fucking snitch on the stand.  By the time they finished, his credibility was like a pile of soft baby shit,” Mitch chuckled. 

“Then what?” she asked. 

“Then I came home.  I wanted to party and get some pussy. I ain’t even gonna lie, that was first and foremost on my mind.  I didn’t realize until I was locked up like an animal how much I had taken all that shit for granted.  JB was different, though.  He wasn’t with none of the ripping and running during that time.  JB was stressed because his moms was literally dying right in front of his eyes.  He was real close to his moms.  I’m talkin’ like he was a gangster dude, but still called his mother “mommy” type of close.  That cancer was eating her away from the inside out.  It was to the point that the chemo wasn’t doing shit but making her weaker.  For a dude like JB who could buy his way out of every situation, it was real hard to stand by totally powerless.  I tried to cheer him up, be a good brother and shit, but nothing worked. 

JB ain’t want nobody to show him no sympathy.  He wanted to roll solo.  He hardly ever left the hospice she was in.  His businesses suffered, but he didn’t care.  I wasn’t close to my moms, so I never understood love like that.  All the years growing up, I never seen him show no real emotions, but he cried like a baby the day his moms passed.  Still, JB wouldn’t accept no hugs, no condolences, nothing like it.  He just wanted to be left alone.  JB disappeared for about a month after his moms closed her eyes.  But before he left, he made sure I had a place to stay and some cash in my pockets.  He gave me the keys to a small condo he had copped in Canarsie.  Far enough away from the hood but close enough for me to feel comfortable.  I was going stir crazy.  As bad as I wanted to stay away from the game, the streets were calling me.

In the one year that I was locked up while awaiting trial, shit had changed.  There was a whole new system out on the blocks that used to be mine.  It was like some underground sales shit—no more standing outside, hoodies on, stashing your shit in a brown paper bag, hand-to-hand transactions.  Nah, there was an elaborate code of cash exchange and transfer system. 

There was only one trap house in the hood—no more project elevator stashes or risky re-ups.  When the trap ran out, everybody scattered until the next re-up came through.  It was one delivery by one dude. He changed up his times and methods to avoid the stick up boys and the narcos.  Nobody was allowed to speak on the phone about anything at all.  It was all official.  That’s when I met, Billy, Doon, Scrap and Marco.  They were working the new system like pros.  It had all been set up by JB.  They respected him like he was the next messiah. Yeah, JB the fuckin’ smartest businessman in town had turned corner sales into a well-oiled business machine.  Even the fiends knew how shit worked and they respected it,” Mitch recalled, his tone changing again. 

“So where did that leave you?” Summer asked the obvious question.  Jesse taking over Mitch’s business seemed kind of foul.  Even if Mitch was locked up, he should’ve been able to grab the reigns back on his release.  At least, for someone like Summer, on the outside looking in, that’s how it should have gone down.

“For a while that left me nowhere.  I mean, JB never left me hungry—that’s a fact.  I can’t say he didn’t lace me with the finest clothes, jewelry, a spot to lay my head and shit.  I would never take that away from him.  But, when you grow up in the game, somebody taking your shit over, even when your dick was in the dust, is like taking away a baby’s milk and force feeding it steak.  It was hard to chew on.  When JB got over his mother, he came back on the scene and we had a big blow up about the blocks.  I went at that dude, ready for war.  Even though I knew in my heart I could’ve never went toe to toe with JB, I told him how fucked up I felt about him snatching up my business.  But, you know his style; he was a smooth talking motherfucker that could sell salt to a fuckin’ slug.  He told me he had bigger plans for me.  Told me, I was better than that penny street corner business.  JB convinced me that he wanted me to be his right hand, a position that would make me a lot more money.  Fuck all the street sales and the petty shit he said to me. 

I was hesitant at first.  Whatever doubts I had faded when JB opened two metal cases full of cash in front of me and told me it was all mine.  I could never forget his words, ‘This is just a start if you take my offer.  A smart dude never leaves out those who were around from day one.  If I do right by you, you’ll always do right by me.’  That’s what JB said and I believed him. We exchanged a brotherhood pound and chest bump that, for me, sealed the deal. From that day forward, I did whatever JB asked of me.  I would’ve followed him into the pits of hell if he asked me.  I was loyal.  Loyal like a dog.  Loyal like those guards outside of the palace in England.  But you know, as with everything, all good things get fucked up when other shit come into the mix,” Mitch said, his emotions raw.

Summer sensed he was still holding something back.  Some hurt between him and Jesse that was still too painful to talk about.

Summer’s eyebrows dipped low on her head.  She couldn’t understand what the problem was.  If Jesse had given Mitch a lot of money and made him his right hand man, why was he still complaining?  In her eyes, every man would’ve loved to be in that position.  It seemed like Mitch didn’t have to do shit but remain loyal. 

“JB was generous, smart, and rich, but he was also egotistical, mean, and sometimes cruel,” Mitch clarified.  Summer tilted her head, curious. 

“How long was I supposed to stay his lap dog?  It ain’t take me long to figure out that me and JB wasn’t partners.  Let’s face it, we wasn’t making equal stacks off the business deals.  That shit was real obvious too.  He was becoming a millionaire right in front of my eyes. Yeah, I had money, but none of us had the kind of cake JB was holding.  To me, the more money JB made, the more secretive he became.  I mean shit, I was delivering keys to bosses from up in Westchester all the way down to far ass places on Long Island, and I never knew exactly what cut JB was getting off that.  I mean, he paid me, but four or five stacks out of a duffle bag full seemed like nothing to me when I thought about him taking the entire bag minus just the pennies he threw to me.

I always wanted more.  I wanted in deeper.  I wanted to walk by his side, not follow like some slave bitch behind him.  I wanted to help make business decisions, not take instructions all the time.  JB never even introduced me to Cardinale.  I found out about Cardinale through a cat named Spanish Tony from up in Spanish Harlem.  C’mon…how that motherfucker know who the connect was and I had no clue?  After I confronted JB about being left out of the loop, he pacified me a little bit.  He told me about Cardinale and the Rios cartel from Mexico, but never took me to the meetings he had with them.  Spanish Tony disappeared after that too.  JB always tried to make it seem like I was an equal partner, but I realized quickly that I was no better than Doon, Billy, Marco and Scrap.  They were fuckin’ kids JB had working for him after picking them up from the streets.  I should’ve been more than a worker by then, especially after we got our own legitimate businesses.  Those businesses—the Bridge, the Gramercy Restaurant, Luxurious Ladies, the Sentinel car shop, the car wash―all those were set up so JB could launder his dirty money and make it clean.  That shit was lost on them kids who were just happy to think that they owned their own businesses, but it wasn’t lost on me.  We don’t own those shits.  JB had his high priced lawyers make sure of that.  Banks and Reid. Did you know Reid was my last name?  Nah, you didn’t know.  Do you think I own a real interest in that imports business?  Nah, from day one the company name just sounded good on paper.  I knew always the deal.  I knew JB’s intentions when he fronted those legitimate businesses, it damn sure wasn’t for the reason he said—so we could all eventually walk away from the game with fat pockets.  It’s like this…a hungry motherfucker who gets hungry enough gonna take food from anybody, even the bastard who starved him in the first place.  JB starved us and then fed us when he was ready, like them terrorist do when they capture hostages.  They can get them hostages to sell every secret they know just by offering them a crumb of bread. 

JB never fucked with anyone who could be his mental equal.  If a dude showed that he was too smart for JB, that dude would either be out immediately, or he would disappear, never to be heard from again.  JB figured all of us was poor, destitute, hungry motherfuckers who he would guarantee loyalty from so long as he threw us a bone. 

As time went on, JB started expanding his wholesale business.  He opened the imports business and the Mexicans were shipping the shit in by the boatload.  That shit came in paintings, food, toys, car rims, car engines…anything.  I never knew cocaine could be liquefied and turned into so many things.  JB had them port authority police in his pocket.  The mayor was on payroll and so was the police commissioner.  His shit was airtight.  All I asked was that I be cut into the business equally.  Truth be told, I was the one taking the risk because I worked the shipments.  I was out there at four in the morning when shit arrived.  I was the one in warehouses risking my life and freedom to distribute across the city.  Those bosses could’ve mirked me, took the goods, and kept their money at any time during those meets.  My job was worth more than I was getting and so I asked as a brother to be made equal. 

JB said no to my request.  I questioned that and he went off.  He got in my face telling me to fuckin’ remember where I came from—that he had made me. That shit hurt me like my own brother had stabbed me in the heart. I was mentally on some Cain and Abel shit after that,” Mitch gritted with contempt.  Summer’s eyes were round as she watched Mitch’s evil facial expressions. 

Mitch looked over at her as he pulled up to her house. 

“Why you looking at me like that?” Mitch asked her.  His face eased into a sly smile. 

“C’mon, you can’t be thinking what I think you thinking.  I said I was mentally on some Cain and Abel shit; I ain’t say I did anything to act on it.  I would’ve never done anything like that to JB…that’s my word,” he assured. 

I’m not so convinced.
“When can we meet to go over things?  Cardinale’s people will be contacting me soon,” Summer changed the subject.

“Oh it’s like that.  No more discussing JB?” Mitch replied.  He scrubbed his hands over his face, wondering if he’d said too much. 

“Look, I am really sorry that JB did you like that towards the end.  But I am not him.  I see you as my equal.  I guess we are both new to this in some way so that automatically puts us on a level playing field,” Summer placated, the lies rolling off her tongue freely.  She needed Mitch too much right now to let him go. 

“We can meet tomorrow.  We always meet at the Bridge,” Mitch told her. 

Summer nodded.
That’s going to change too.
Summer could feel the heat of his gaze on her back as she walked up the steps to her posh Brooklyn brownstone.  Both of them were thinking the same thing—
you need me just as much as I need you
.

Chapter 8
Feeling Powerful

Two weeks after her first meeting with Cardinale, Summer sat next to Mitch in the backseat of the second of three heavily tinted black Suburbans as they caravanned through Brooklyn resembling a presidential motorcade.  Her eyes were covered in what had become her signature dark shades as the Brooklyn streets rapidly whipped by the SUV’s windows.  Summer was always amazed that at 3 am in the morning, the streets of Brooklyn were alive with people like it was noontime. 

“Nervous?” Mitch asked, breaking the unsettling quiet inside the car. 

“Not really.  Just not sure exactly what to expect,” Summer responded honestly.  Mitch had given her a crash course in the business.  She felt confident about her abilities, but she wasn’t sure about who, if anyone, to trust. 

Summer shifted in her seat and peered out of the long back window.  The other vehicles were following close behind.  Summer exhaled.  For now, she could at least take comfort in the fact that Billy was in the vehicle directly behind her.  He seemed to be one of the few guys that hadn’t changed their attitude towards her. Summer knew her becoming boss had left a lot of people unhappy.  During her last meeting at the Bridge with the crew and the customers who purchased their supply from Jesse, Summer said she would no longer be holding those type of long table meetings.  Summer said she thought it was too risky.  She was even surprised that a man as smart and savvy as Jesse had agreed to these meetings.  “We are not the mafia.  We are not some big time Mexican or Colombian cartel either.  There is no need to risk ourselves by coming together like organized crime bosses.  If you need something from me or I from you, we can arrange to meet privately in a setting that won’t raise any red flags, but it won’t be once a week,” Summer announced during the last meeting.  Of course her announcement had been met with groans of protest, but she didn’t let that faze her.  The biggest protest came from Mitch.  It would be the first of many decisions she made without his input.

              Summer knew from listening to Mitch’s story that all it took was one snitch to blow the lid on those meetings and law enforcement would be able to swoop in and pick up everyone at one time on RICO.  For Summer, risking all of your distributors at once was a stupid business move.  A few men in the room that day hadn’t been thrilled, especially because she’d also told them that the prices of the supply were going up twenty percent across the board on the instruction of Cardinale.  Even though she was making more enemies than friends, she needed to find a quick way to recover the cost of the missing shipment.

The convoy of specially made security vehicles had finally stopped.  Summer clutched her bag close to her chest.  The vehicles had all stopped for a few seconds at a steel gate located at the end of a long alleyway.  Aside from the scurrying rats and the glint of the city lights in the distance, the area was completely desolate.  All of the surrounding industrial and factory-like businesses were shut down for the night and not set to open before the sun was shining bright in the sky.  Summer decided right away this was a place she would’ve never gone alone.  The two chain-linked gates in front of the vehicle moved open slowly like someone was controlling them with a remote control.  Each vehicle slowly inched forward.  Summer could hear rocks and gravel crunching under the SUVs wheels.  A red brick, windowless warehouse sat on the dark waters of the East River.  Billy, Doon, Scrap and Marco got out of the vehicle behind hers, guns in hand.  Summer went to grab the door handle closest to her.  Mitch clutched her arm, halting her movement. 

Summer whipped her head towards him and looked at him questioningly. 

“Hold up.  Let them do the sweep first,” Mitch said seriously.  Summer’s cheeks flamed over.  She felt like a stupid amateur.  A few minutes later, Billy tapped on the window and gave Mitch a hand signal. 

“A’ight.  We’re clear.  Bosses wait for doors to be opened for them,” Mitch taunted.  He noticed how embarrassed she was and didn’t miss the opportunity to exploit it.  Summer rolled her eyes at his slick remark.  The driver quickly jumped out and yanked the door open. 

Summer slid out of the vehicle sexily clad in an all black Diane Von Furstenberg pants suit, beautifully black embellished Ruthie Davis pumps and her usually curly hair pulled back, this time in a sleek, neat ponytail that hung down her back.  Summer removed her glasses so she could see all of the faces inside the dimly lit warehouse.  Mitch at her side, Summer glided over to the center of the warehouse, her security watching closely for any false moves. 

Four men approached from their vehicle.  The first man stepped forward, his dark eyes trained on Summer’s face. 

“You must be Summer,” the short, slick haired man said, his Mexican accent thick.  “Antonio Rios…my pleasure,” the man introduced himself, extending his hand towards her.  Summer did the same, exchanging a firm handshake with Antonio.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Antonio nodded, lowering his eyes as was tradition in his country when offering condolences.   

“Thank you,” she accepted, tilting her head as well. 

“Cardinale is confident this is the start of something good.  He sends his regards to you,” Antonio relayed.   

“I appreciate it. Shall we?” Summer wanted to get to the business at hand.  She wasn’t there to make small talk.  Mitch told her she needed to be stern, manly even.  Summer turned towards Mitch.  In turn, he turned towards the guys.  Marco and Scrap retrieved two black duffel bags from the spare tire well in the back of the vehicle they had come in.  Summer could see the strain on their faces as they lugged the bags filled with cash.  Antonio walked over, flanked by two of his men.  They all watched as Mitch unzipped the bags to reveal crisp new stacks of cash bound with thick red rubber bands and separated into twenty thousand dollar stacks. 

“The first bag is for what we received last night on the first shipment.  The second is the first half of what is owed for the missing shipment,” Summer said smoothly like she had been doing this for years.  In actuality her heart fluttered under her rib cage like a moth trapped in a jar.  So far, she’d said exactly what Mitch had told her say.   She was definitely getting the hang of things.  Selling off some of Jesse’s assets to meet the demands hadn’t been an easy task but she felt good about accomplishing it herself.

“Very well,” Antonio replied handing the bags off to his partners.  The three men meticulously lifted each stack of cash, flicking through them as if they were decks of cards.  As fast as they flipped, Summer knew they were still being meticulous about the count. 

“Sus todos aquí,” one of the men said.  Summer smirked to herself. 
Of course it’s all there.
  They didn’t know about her ability to speak Spanish and that’s the way she intended on keeping it.  When they were done counting the money and secured the bags in their vehicle, Antonio stepped closer to Summer.  Mitch moved in too, afraid he would miss something. 

“Summer, I’m sorry.  Cardinale wanted me to tell you one more thing,” Antonio said almost regretfully.  Summer raised her eyebrows in nervous anticipation of what was to come.  Anything was possible in this business. 

“I know this will be hard to hear but I have to do as I was instructed,” Antonio delayed.  Summer shifted her weight from one foot to the next, listening intently. 

“Go on,” she huffed impatiently. 

“Cardinale wanted me to tell you that there is a traitor in your midst,” Antonio relayed, his words dropping like a grenade in an open field.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Mitch exploded, placing his left hand on his waistband.  Antonio’s men moved in like ready soldiers, following Mitch’s lead with their hands on their weapons as well.  Antonio stepped to the side of Mitch as if he was completely irrelevant.   

“Summer,” Antonio addressed her directly again, agitation lacing his words as he bit down into his jaw.  “Cardinale asked me to deliver this as proof to his claims. Cardinale never makes allegations that he can’t support.”

Antonio reached inside his pocket and removed a manila envelope. Billy, Doon, Marco and Scrap all reacted by shifting in the distance behind her, the metal of their weapons clicking and cocking.  She took a few steps back, not sure what the next move would be.  Antonio’s men did the same, holding their guns at the high ready.  Antonio tossed the envelope onto the small metal table and stared at her expectantly.

Summer’s shoulders slumped and she inhaled deeply.  She swallowed the fear forming into a ball in her throat. 
What the fuck is this they have?  Were they following me? 
Summer’s mind raced.

“Proof,” he said calmly, folding his hands in front of him like a praying priest.  Summer hesitantly reached for the package.

“This is bullshit!  They tryna play games right now! You don’t have to look at shit they got to offer,” Mitch came to life again, blocking the table and her access to the mysterious contents.  “We came here to pay for the shipment.  Period.  All this extra shit is not needed!” Mitch shouted, his tone laced with panic.  Antonio chuckled. 

“Suena culpable. ¿Por qué tan nervioso?” Antonio said to his men as he eyed Mitch carefully.  The only thing that kept Antonio from blowing Mitch off his feet was instructions from Cardinale to let Summer handle her own workers. 

Summer had to agree with what Antonio had said to his men.  Mitch seemed guilty and nervous about what might be in the envelope.  Summer stepped around Mitch and lifted the envelope. 
There is a traitor in your midst.  There is a traitor in your midst. 
The words played out in her mind like a scratched CD as she tore at the sealed envelope.  Summer felt an uneasy tightness in her chest as she dumped six, small 3 X 5 photographs into her hand.  Her mouth hung open slightly as she scanned the first picture.  Summer squinted to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.  Her head moved from side to side involuntarily. 

“No,” she whispered breathlessly.  Heat rose from her toes up to her face, rendering her cheeks beet red.  She bit down into the side of her cheek as she flipped from one incriminating photograph to the next.  Summer looked over at Mitch, then back at Antonio.  Her nostrils flared as she tried to keep her breathing under control. 

“Where’d you get these?” she asked Antonio through her teeth. 

“A mole we have working inside the rival Millenia cartel turned the information over to Cardinale.  Our people followed up and this is what we found out.  We saved your life today with this information, Summer,” Antonio said gravely.  “If you cannot believe what I am telling you, we have more proof that this is true,” Antonio told her, raising his hand to one of his men. 

One Antonio’s men who looked like a WWE  wrestler rushed back towards their vehicle and snatched the back hatch door open.  Summer watched as they dragged a man out of the vehicle.  The man was quivering, blindfolded and gagged. 

“What the fuck is this?” Mitch growled, his voice unsteady.  Billy, Doon, Scrap and Marco were all on edge.  Summer could hear their angry murmurs. 

“Let’s go,” Billy barked.  “I’m not feeling this shit right here.”  The others mumbled their agreement.  Mitch was ready to get the fuck out of dodge as well.

“Wait!” Summer commanded, her voice more authoritative than ever.  She still clutched the pictures against her chest as if she could make what she’d seen disappear.

The tall, dark haired Hispanic man was dragged from Antonio’s vehicle.  Summer sucked in her breath at the man’s poor condition.  His hands were bound tightly in front of him and he was being pushed towards Summer on weak, shaky, bruised legs.  He only wore his boxers and a bloodied t-shirt. Summer could smell the fetid mixture of the man’s blood, shit and piss emanating from his body.  Someone had worked him over pretty damn good. 

“Tell her!” Antonio barked, shoving the man forward.  Summer looked at the man’s battered face—half shut eyes, his clearly broken nose and his protruding split upper lip.  The abused man refused to speak. 

Antonio snapped at his goons.  One of them rushed over, grabbed the tattered victim by his neck and hoisted him off his feet.  He squeezed the man’s throat until he was gagging. 

“Put him down,” Antonio demanded.  “Now…you tell her!”

“The guy…he told me…he told me,” the battered man coughed, barely able to formulate words on his lips.  He could barely speak English.  Summer had to strain her ears to hear him. 

“Louder!” Antonio barked, kicking the man in his ribs so hard that Summer winced.

“The guy…your guy...wanted to kill you.  He…he…made a deal with Millenia.  He told me about this meeting today.  He…he… set you up to be killed and robbed here today.  He would get paid once we took the money and the shipment,” the man said through his busted lips, blood dripping from his mouth onto the floor. 

Summer’s mind screamed as his words hit home.  She hadn’t even been boss for more than a month and someone in her own camp had already turned on her.

“What the fuck is they talkin’ about, Summer?  I want to know what’s going on right now!” Mitch demanded, getting in Summer’s face.  Summer’s mind raced one hundred miles a minute.  Everyone was vying for her attention.  Mitch was screaming for an explanation. Antonio was trying to convince her that what he was offering her was the truth. The guys were behind her yelling that they were ready to leave, that these Mexicans could not be trusted. It was all too much.