plans change, my nigga,” Don B. said as if it was nothing.
“Yeah, I should’ve known something was funny when you insisted on bringing Herc and the rest of them ass pirates along. My nigga, Arthur Weis is a scumbag, but he’s still a fucking lawyer! We might’ve been able to get away with beating his ass, but there’s no way in hell this shit is gonna ride.”
“Sure he is. To a man like Arthur money is more precious than his pride. If he gives up what happened then all his shady shit comesto light and that’s the end of his career and his lifestyle. Nah, he ain’t gonna say shit.”
“I guess you got it all figured out, huh?”
“Don’t I always? That’s why I’m the Don and these niggaz is soldiers,” Don B. said smugly. His statement wasn’t directed toward Devil, but the truth in it still stung a bit. “Now, on to the next order of business; did Animal make his flight?”
Devil shrugged. “He said he would, but the plane landed hours ago and I still ain’t heard from him.”
“See, this is the problem when you’re dealing with these
Rain Man
ass niggaz. He knows we’ve got a lot going on and his ass is MIA . . . again. That’s my word, B, if this nigga ain’t on deck for the session I booked for him and Chip we gonna have an issue.”
“Yeah right.” Devil laughed. “You talk that shit now, but I know ya lying. Animal done put so much bread in ya pocket I’m surprised you ain’t never tried to kiss the nigga in the mouth,
pause
.”
Don B. chuckled. “Yeah, that crazy muthafucka is hella talented, he’s just weird as hell. Did Shawna ever call you back and confirm our appointment with ol’ boy?”
“Yeah, she said he griped about you wanting to do another walk-through, but eventually saw it our way and agreed.”
“Fucking right he did for as much bread as I already dropped on this shit, just the licenses alone cost me a grip. Sal and them really fucked that club up and I don’t even wanna talk about the back taxes.” Don B. massaged his temples. “It’s gonna take some work, but I know I can bring the beat back. The Zone might be dead, but Code Red is gonna be alive and kicking come the grand reopening.”
Code Red was Don B.’s latest venture. The midtown club had had several different names, but the most recent had been The Zone. The cat Sal who had bought the spot had champagne dreams with
beer
money. The Zone had gotten off to a good start, but it wasn’t long before Sal’s poor business moves had him spending more than he was bringing in. Sal had lost everything and the city was aboutto seize the place before a friend of a friend introduced him to Don B. It was only supposed to be a loan until Sal got on his feet, but when Don B. saw the potential in the place he muscled his way in and just like that Sal now had a partner and his club a new name, Code Red.
Devil shook his head. “Don, I still can’t believe you went through with it. That spot ain’t jumped like that in damn near ten years. How do you figure you can do what the last five owners haven’t been able to?”
Don B. just smiled. “Because I’m the Don. Now let’s go see a man about a club.”
By the time Don B. and his entourage pulled up on the corner of Ninety-sixth and Amsterdam Sal was already standing outside the spot. Sal looked like he was snatched from the cast of some B-rated mob movie dressed in a salmon-colored jogging suit and white sneakers. He was a sour-looking Italian man with thinning brown hair and a plump red nose that made him resemble W. C. Fields. Between his stubby ringed fingers he pinched a brown cigarette, which he took deep pulls on while watching Don B. through his fishbowl glasses.
“Sal, what’s up, baby?” Don B. extended his hand and Sal reluctantly shook it.
“Don, I swear you’re the biggest ballbuster I know. We’ve gone over this stuff a hundred times already so I don’t see why I gotta rush outta my kid’s basketball game to do this shit
“Yeah, I should’ve known something was funny when you insisted on bringing Herc and the rest of them ass pirates along. My nigga, Arthur Weis is a scumbag, but he’s still a fucking lawyer! We might’ve been able to get away with beating his ass, but there’s no way in hell this shit is gonna ride.”
“Sure he is. To a man like Arthur money is more precious than his pride. If he gives up what happened then all his shady shit comesto light and that’s the end of his career and his lifestyle. Nah, he ain’t gonna say shit.”
“I guess you got it all figured out, huh?”
“Don’t I always? That’s why I’m the Don and these niggaz is soldiers,” Don B. said smugly. His statement wasn’t directed toward Devil, but the truth in it still stung a bit. “Now, on to the next order of business; did Animal make his flight?”
Devil shrugged. “He said he would, but the plane landed hours ago and I still ain’t heard from him.”
“See, this is the problem when you’re dealing with these
Rain Man
ass niggaz. He knows we’ve got a lot going on and his ass is MIA . . . again. That’s my word, B, if this nigga ain’t on deck for the session I booked for him and Chip we gonna have an issue.”
“Yeah right.” Devil laughed. “You talk that shit now, but I know ya lying. Animal done put so much bread in ya pocket I’m surprised you ain’t never tried to kiss the nigga in the mouth,
pause
.”
Don B. chuckled. “Yeah, that crazy muthafucka is hella talented, he’s just weird as hell. Did Shawna ever call you back and confirm our appointment with ol’ boy?”
“Yeah, she said he griped about you wanting to do another walk-through, but eventually saw it our way and agreed.”
“Fucking right he did for as much bread as I already dropped on this shit, just the licenses alone cost me a grip. Sal and them really fucked that club up and I don’t even wanna talk about the back taxes.” Don B. massaged his temples. “It’s gonna take some work, but I know I can bring the beat back. The Zone might be dead, but Code Red is gonna be alive and kicking come the grand reopening.”
Code Red was Don B.’s latest venture. The midtown club had had several different names, but the most recent had been The Zone. The cat Sal who had bought the spot had champagne dreams with
beer
money. The Zone had gotten off to a good start, but it wasn’t long before Sal’s poor business moves had him spending more than he was bringing in. Sal had lost everything and the city was aboutto seize the place before a friend of a friend introduced him to Don B. It was only supposed to be a loan until Sal got on his feet, but when Don B. saw the potential in the place he muscled his way in and just like that Sal now had a partner and his club a new name, Code Red.
Devil shook his head. “Don, I still can’t believe you went through with it. That spot ain’t jumped like that in damn near ten years. How do you figure you can do what the last five owners haven’t been able to?”
Don B. just smiled. “Because I’m the Don. Now let’s go see a man about a club.”
By the time Don B. and his entourage pulled up on the corner of Ninety-sixth and Amsterdam Sal was already standing outside the spot. Sal looked like he was snatched from the cast of some B-rated mob movie dressed in a salmon-colored jogging suit and white sneakers. He was a sour-looking Italian man with thinning brown hair and a plump red nose that made him resemble W. C. Fields. Between his stubby ringed fingers he pinched a brown cigarette, which he took deep pulls on while watching Don B. through his fishbowl glasses.
“Sal, what’s up, baby?” Don B. extended his hand and Sal reluctantly shook it.
“Don, I swear you’re the biggest ballbuster I know. We’ve gone over this stuff a hundred times already so I don’t see why I gotta rush outta my kid’s basketball game to do this shit
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