World loved being the man his position made him. And it wasn’t just the money. It was the power and respect, a respect he knew he had to rep to maintain.
He walked over to the dresser and picked up a picture of him and Dutch at a Roy Jones fight. World admired Dutch’s finesse. The smirk that framed his chocolate face told the world he knew he was that nigga. When Young World first met Dutch, he knew he was destined to be a legend and he wanted to be just like him, the way he bopped, his sharp Newark accent, his smooth style. But when Dutch peeped it, he checked him quick.
“I like you, lil’ nigga, word up. You a thoroughbred. You just been misled. I see you wanna be like me, but if you really wanna be like me, don’t be like me. That’s why I am who I am because ain’t another muthafucka like Dutch.”
Dutch wasn’t his mentor. One-eyed Roc was. It was Roc who put him on, but Dutch would often come scoop him off the block and sharpen his game. World knew if Roc and Angel hadn’t been locked up, he would’ve never had the opportunity he had now. So he looked at it as a fate he was destined to fulfill. But he needed answers, and he knew who had them.
Roc.
He needed to go see Roc.
World cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner, but things were so damned hectic. It was hard enough to catch some sleep, let alone think straight.
Young World slid open the drawer and gazed at its contents. Dutch’s dragon chain.
He lifted the heavy piece from the drawer and cradled it in his hand. The diamonds and rubies glistened and sparkled on the twenty-four-karat gold nugget barrel link. Before Dutch, Kazami had worn the chain. Kazami, the wild African who everyone feared until Dutch murdered him and took the chain. Afterward, Dutch locked down the streets. Ever since World had the chain, he had worn it only occasionally. Now it was time to rep it to the fullest.
World kicked off his shoes, lay on the bed fully clothed behind Lana, and cradled her body to his. His touch instantly awoke her.
“Hey, baby. I missed you,” she cooed sleepily.
“Go back to sleep, boo. It’s late,” World softly replied, his mind a million miles away.
“You hungry?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.
“Naw, I’m good.”
They had been together too long for her not to recognize the troubled tone in his voice. She turned over and faced Young World, tucking her right hand under her head.
“Everything okay?” she questioned with concern.
He shrugged, “It is what it is.”
“So, what is it?” She smiled, still probing.
World looked his love in the eyes, their faces only inches apart, and asked, “Do you think I’ve changed?”
“Changed?” Lana echoed with a wrinkled brow. “Changed how?”
“I don’t know, just…”
“Is this about earlier? If it is, you were right. I trust you,” she assured him, cutting him off from what he was about to say.
“Not like that,” he began. “You think I’m gettin’ soft?”
“Soft? Baby, you know I keep it all the way gangsta with you, but it’s been so long since I’ve been around you like that to know,” Lana replied, then added, “You locked me out of that part of your life.”
“But you lay with me, therefore you know my weakness,” World answered.
“Remember before Jazz died, y’all was beefin’ with Chancellor?”
“Yeah.”
“I heard you say to him that a gun may get you power but a gun can’t keep you in power,” Lana explained, using the jewel against him. He had heard it from Roc and now he better understood the difference between a gangsta and a goon. He had the goon part down. He just needed to learn the ways of a true gangsta. He smiled and gently kissed her forehead.
“I’m sayin’, you my wifey or my godfather?” he joked.
Lana giggled and replied with the godfather rasp in her voice, “Just call me Vito Corleone.”
They both laughed. Lana caressed his face.
“Just do what you have to do to come home to me every night. Shahid, promise me you’ll never let them take you away from me.”
“I promise, baby. I love you, Lana.”
“I love you, my World.”
Duke slipped out of bed, stretched his arms wide, and embraced the morning sun. He had always been an early bird, a habit he acquired from his days on the block. Duke was the type of hustler who worked harder, not smarter. His strength lay in his endurance, not in his swiftness. A good trait for a soldier, but Duke wanted to be the general.
His mind went back to his conversation the night before with Young World. It had been a week since their meeting with Ceylon, and Young World had been on his grind trying to meet the deadline. World had told Duke that he was going to see Roc, and of course, he was in charge during his absence.
“Yo, Duke, stay sucka-free,” he added because he knew Duke’s love for drama.
Duke was a live wire for gunplay, which was the main reason Young World had cliqued up with him back in the day. Once World’s man Jazz had been murdered, it was only right that Duke fill the position. But Duke wasn’t content being the man next to the man. He wanted to be that nigga.
He glanced down at the two naked white girls in his bed and his mouth twisted in a wicked grin as he remembered the lusty episode from last night. Duke had a thing for young girls and he found out that white women were real loose with black dick. The two sleeping seventeen-year-olds were no exception. He had pumped them full of “E,” then pumped them full of his “D,” and with his adrenaline pumping for what lay ahead, his bone hardened on the spot.
Both girls were blondes from their heads down to their pubic hairs, which turned Duke on. He slipped his fingers between the legs of the shorter of the two, who had been sleeping on her stomach, and slid inside her forcefully, waking her up with one pounding thrust.
“Arrrrgghhh!” she groaned in shock, trying to squirm from under Duke’s thug fuck. He pinned her wrists to the bed and spread her legs wider until she was spread-eagled on her belly. All the moaning and shouting woke her friend from her slumber. She opened her eyes and caught sight of Duke’s long black dick sliding in and out of her friend and it made her horny.
“Oh, Duke! Duuuuuke!” the first girl groaned, loving the muscle Duke was running up in her.
He felt the buildup in his balls and pulled out just in time to gag her friend’s throat with his load.
“Good morning to you, too, daddy,” the shorter blonde cooed, rolling off her stomach, sore and satisfied.
Duke used her shirt to clean himself off.
“Y’all gotta get goin’, yo. I got shit to do.”
Duke headed for the bathroom to clean up. After his shower, he dressed in his favorite Carolina blue Roccawear velour suit and Carolina blue Jordans. He headed for the kitchen and found that the girls were gone. He fixed himself breakfast like they usually did. They were at his beck and call, and because they lived in the same condominium complex, he had easy access to their favors.
Duke sat down to his omelette and turkey sausage and mentally planned his day. For him, it was the most important day of his life. His idea had been on the back burner for quite a while. So as soon as World said he was going out of town, Duke knew the time had come. He figured if he pulled it off as he planned, they could easily double distribution in one day.
He was going to have Roll killed.
Roll controlled major spots in New Jersey, and Duke believed if you killed the head the body would die. Besides, if Young World was afraid of an all-out war, this was the perfect solution.
If he could pull off the murder.
Roll wasn’t someone to fuck with. He had been in the game for years, so he was sharp and always on point. He kept no pattern that could be used fatally against him, so he wasn’t an easy target. But Duke felt confident in his plan. His greed told him that if he killed Roll, then all that was Roll’s would be his. Then World would be dependent
