The Viper and his Majesty by Tiana Laveen
CHAPTER THREE
Snitchin’ and Lyftin’
“They’re definitely snitchin’.” Pedro sighed as he slumped back in a black plastic chair in his new one-bedroom apartment in Little Havana. The bastard had returned to his roots, but the controversy and trouble soon followed. Many of the kings were gathered inside, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes and weed blazing, and the sounds of the big screen television mounted on the wall played in the background. Viper stood and pulled out his keys from his jeans pocket.
“Nothing we discussed today leaves this apartment. I’ll find out what’s going on. I told y’all last week that someone is talking to the police,” he stated angrily. “I told all of you to lay low! Play it cool. You were being watched. We’re not out here in the streets drawing attention to ourselves! We learned from the past. I had already heard from the inside that that is what was happening. Someone wants to take over that territory. We were warned. You got caught slippin’. I told y’all to be cool, chill, not drawing attention to ourselves, and now with the heat on, some of you decided to get flashy. No one listened. I’m not even supposed to be over here right now, but I had to come to this motherfucker and find out what the fuck happened because Showtime is dead, and Wild is looking at least at twenty to thirty, no questions asked. Someone fucked up. Big time.”
Everyone drew quiet as he raged, pissed about it all. What was the point of being in charge when people sometimes did whatever the hell they wanted to do? But as soon as shit hit the fan, he was expected to come out and fix all the chaos and confusion.
“You wanna make me step out of character, huh? You want to undermine me?! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS SHOWIN’ OFF FOR WOMEN AND CLOUT CHASIN’! Honking your horns, flashin’ your money, bringing haters to the block! Then you at first only tell me half the story of what went down last night, afraid I’d shoot one of you, that I’d teach everyone a lesson. I am going to teach a lesson all right, but I first need all the facts. I will find out. Your lies don’t work on me. Do you take me for a fool?!”
“No, Viper,” several of them said.
“I told you, if you’re fair with me, I’ll be fair with you. Stacks,” he pointed angrily at Pedro, “I told you to not get back in the game. You were just at Wild’s crib, and had you not left thirty minutes earlier, you’d be back in the joint for life!” Pedro hung his head. “You’ve been busted for drugs, narcotics distribution, too many times to count in the past, and your luck is runnin’ out. You have to be smarter, Pedro. What the fuck is wrong with y’all?!” Viper kicked a chair over, feeling like he was talking to mere children. “¡Voy a matarte! That’s it. We’re in deep shit. If Wild gets a long sentence, you know what’s going to happen: you’re all going down. The Council will demand answers. ¡Te has equivocado! The police don’t give a shit about him, you, or me. They want the big kahuna.”
“Wild got picked up. We know someone dropped a dime. We’ll find out who did it, Viper,” King EC, for East Coast, spoke up. “I know you’re angry, man. Your orders were disregarded by some of us, but not all of us. You sent direct orders, and now things aren’t right, but we’ll make this right. I promise you and Jaguar.”
Jaguar was second in command. What he said went, and if anyone stepped out of line, there were always consequences.
“It doesn’t matter. Damage has been done. If anyone, and I mean anyone, in this room is responsible, I will be given orders… and I think you all know what those orders will be.” If they were lucky, it would be a beatdown of epic proportions. The other scenario involved a headstone and a prayer.
King Wild was a good buddy of his, true blue, but even the bravest of the brave, and the most loyal, could snitch if the pressure was just right. Wild was different though. He was one of the few kings Viper knew who was built to last and wouldn’t fold at the drop of a dime. Wild had been dealing dope out of his apartment; the police pulled up the evening prior and nabbed him. Wild hadn’t been slangin’ on the street in years, but always kept that window of his open, doing business. Watching everyone, too. The man had been there in that apartment for so long he was like a fixture, and the local beat cops were well paid, but someone wasn’t on the payroll. Someone was talking.
Wild was important, a lookout. That was his post while business was being taken care of. He could be trusted; he knew what to peep out, and how to warn the crew. Now, he was gone. That entire street was Latin King territory and ever since the new police chief came into office, things had changed. Their enemies had just been looking for a weak spot, and found it. Between the cops and the Haitian gangs trying to get a foothold, things were a tangled mess. Wild could be replaced, that was no issue, but the fact that he was now facing time in prison due to the cops finding almost a kilo of cocaine in his spot meant he would be serving some serious time. That also meant some people would become paranoid, think he might become desperate and rat them out to lessen his sentence – anything to be set free from the cage of lifetime incarceration.
“I need to head back. Everyone, be cool. I’ll be in touch. In the meantime, handle all of your deals on burner phones exclusively. No new customers. No one is to be out on the street, either. Stay away from Wild’s apartment and that entire block for drop-offs. I’ve already got several lookouts there, trying to piece together what went down and what’s going on now. We can’t let anyone think the street is unprotected. Don’t keep product on you, either. You could get pulled over or detained at any time. Put it elsewhere, some place no one will look at, and tell no one where it is. I know I’ve been out of this game for a long time. I don’t slang, never did; the drug game is not my thing because we all have our talents – and you all know what mine is. But even though that wasn’t my assignment, I know what to do to keep you protected. I know what I’m talking about. Just ask any of the old heads. I know what the cops look for, all right? If anyone disobeys me again, your life is over. I will not hesitate. You will bring down others with you because of carelessness, and I can’t have that. Be on top of your shit, twenty-four-seven!” They all nodded in agreement as he headed towards the front door. “Pedro, I meant what the fuck I said to you.”
“I know…”
“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously, Stacks.” He glared at him. “If I find out you’re involved in selling any of this shit, in any fucking shape, form or capacity, be that online, in person at some club, on the street, through the pussy of a bitch holdin’ bags for you, I’m going to break your fuckin’ neck. I’d rather kill you than have you disgrace the Nation, or your mother have to deal with you being locked up for life. To some, that’s worse than death.” Snatching the door open, he slammed it behind him.
He headed to his black Bugatti with gold chrome and custom paint job, and got inside. He kept the beauty in his garage, protected under lock and key, and only took her out for special occasions. Today, he had business to attend to, but had also visited some of his family in Little Havana earlier in the day. He wanted to assure everyone that he was doing fine, that everything was under control. The best way to do such a thing was to look one’s best, and he did that so well. He stared at himself in the car mirror for a spell, then turned on some music. ‘Mas Maiz’ by N.O.R.E blasted through the speakers, and the white Pit Bull air freshener swayed back and forth as he zigzagged out of the parking space and merged into traffic.
He cracked his window and the scent of grilled meat and marijuana from outside filled his vehicle. He noticed all of the beautiful women standing around checking him out in his ride, some calling out to him… more than likely creaming in their lacy panties, wishing to be near him. Be seen beside him. Fuck him. They knew him by name.
“Viper! King Viper!”
“Dominic!!! Hey! Wait up!”
He smiled, offered a wave, and kept rolling until about an hour later, he was back in Boca Raton. He turned off the music as he pulled into his driveway and pressed the garage opener, beckoning for the door to rise while listening to ‘I Love My Life,’ by Norega. He enjoyed the earlier rap hits more than recent music as of late. His father called him a knucklehead with an old soul.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the Black queen known as Majesty across the street as he pulled in. He’d not spoken to her since the day she’d come to his home, demanding things, her hand on her hip and a sneer on her face. Her car hood was up, and from what he could make out, she looked downright frustrated. Moments later, he was out of his car and inside his home. After taking a swig of cold coffee, he headed out the front door to see what was going on. As casually as he pleased, he crossed the street and headed in her direction.
“Of course I can’t.” She had her back to him as she gripped her phone to her ear. “But I can’t miss work today, Porsha. That’s the whole point. I already had to take a few days off for this move… No… by the time you come get me, I’ll be extremely late. Besides, I don’t want to take you away from your job right now… I know… It keeps making this knocking noise, too. I have to drop off Troy at the babysitter. Now, I’m runnin’ late… I know, but it’s not working out! I don’t have time for this… Who? I told you that Mitch didn’t fix it right. I just spent five hundred dollars on this piece of shit and here it is, doin’ the same thing again. Some mechanic he is! I swear that—” She spun around, stumbled back, and her eyes widened when she saw him. “…I swear that he is trying to rob me… Let me call you back, girl.”
She disconnected the call. He looked her up and down, taking note of her button-down pink blouse that hugged her tits just right, and her tight black pants and low heels. Her long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her sweet, sexy perfume filled the air, mixing in with the smell of oil and grease. A black smudge stained her cheek, and her right hand was covered in soot. Stepping in front of the car, he looked down at the engine and began to tinker around.
“What are you doin’?”
He picked up a nearby wrench and got to work.
“What’s this? A 2018 or ’19 Dodge Charger?” he asked after a few moments.
“…’18. Do you even know what to look for? How do I know you’re not making it worse?” He ignored her and kept at it. After a few minutes of messing around, his fingers now black and slick with oil, he figured it out.
“These are the wrong transmission rods. They don’t fit right.” He pointed downwards. “It was an accident from the manufacturer. The car is stalling, right?” She nodded. “That’s because of the voltage regulator. Your mechanic fixed the wrong thing. You gotta take this to the dealer. They’ll fix the rods free of charge. It was a recall from years ago.”
“You’re a mechanic?”
“No. My stepfather is, my biological father is, too. So are two uncles, and a few cousins. I grew up around it.” He closed the hood. “I like cars too, so I stay on top of things like this.” He rubbed his hands on a paper towel he found lying nearby. “You’ve got some other car complications too, like this filter here, but they’re easy fixes. Get your purse and your child. I’ll drop your son off and drive you to work.”
“No,” she barked defiantly, then cleared her throat. He could see in her eyes she was afraid, but trying to stand her ground. He was used to people being afraid of him. It came with the territory. “I appreciate you comin’ over here, Viper, but I’ll take care of it. Thank you.” She made her way to her front door, her heels clicking against the concrete. He stood there for a spell, holding that wrinkled paper towel, staring at the closed front door. Then, he slowly walked up her driveway, towards her porch. And waited. He could hear her on the phone; she sounded frantic. Desperate. It wasn’t long before he heard a child in the background, and her asking the boy to quiet down.
He slid his phone out of his pocket, and made a call. Then, he knocked on the door. Everything inside became quiet.
“Majesty, it’s me. I know you know that I’m out here. Now you know that I never left. Look, I’m going to leave and go home.”
“Please do. I don’t mean to be rude, and I appreciate you coming by, I do, but you’re a… you’re not—”
“I don’t need you to tell me what you think I am, or how much you appreciate me, and all of that other shit. You don’t owe me any explanations, and neither do I. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. I offered you a ride; you said no. Cool.” He threw up his hands. “I can’t make you come with me, but uh, I arranged a Lyft for you. It’ll be here in ten minutes. The ride is arranged from my gift account, so you can drop off your son on the way, too. No charge to you.”
“I didn’t need you to do that,” she said after a moment of hesitation.
“I didn’t need to do it, either. But I did anyway.”
Having heard enough, he headed back home. It got to him – the hopelessness in her voice, how she could lose her job, how she didn’t have the money to call a cab or anything like that. She’d sunk all of her expendable income into that house she was renting to own, from what he could make out. Something about the way she’d looked him in the eye, shoved her fear aside when they’d first seen one another, resonated with him. She’d practically started shaking, but she’d stated her case about his music, and she’d meant what she said. She wasn’t the first one to complain – but she was the first one with balls big enough to confront him face to face versus taking the cowardly way out and calling the police anonymously. Perhaps she hadn’t known who he was before she’d come trouncing across the street, but once she did realize, the woman hadn’t backed down. He’d caught her eyes fixated on one of his ‘Latin King’ tattoos, a serpent wrapped around the letters.
She’d pushed her fear aside and done what she’d needed to do. Because of that, he had in fact turned the music down at eleven that evening, right on the dot. He’d kept his word.
It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful – her face and body were incredible. Something truly lovely to adore. It didn’t hurt that she smelled like soft music, reggae, and ocean waves. It didn’t hurt that she seemed to be fiercely independent, but possessed a soft, sweet femininity that called to him, deep within his soul. It was obvious she was a single mother. No real man would let their woman struggle with their car that way, at least not one worth his salt.
As he re-entered his home, he was playfully jumped on by his dogs as if they’d not seen him for weeks. While he freshened up their food bowls, he looked out the kitchen window and saw a black Toyota RAV4 pull up. Moments later, Majesty stepped out of her home, her son in tow, and got into the car. He smirked as he poured himself a drink, and watched them drive away…