Page 18 of Grand Master

A DEADLY DEBT…

“The Eastside always smells like shit.” Dre complained from the front seat of the truck.

I looked out of the back window and eyed the two trucks behind us.

My men jumped out like they were coming for war.

Precisely they spread out as quick as they exited their vehicles.

I didn’t come to the Eastside, that didn’t stop me from hearing about how high the death rate from overdosing was like on this side.

“Shit ran down, seem like it’s getting worse by the day.” Dre continued.

I nodded my head and took in our surroundings. Trash littered the ground; I spotted two young corner boys that looked to be no older than fourteen with their pants sagging low.

“Pull the truck up some more.” I instructed Tone.

One of the two boys across the street in front of the liquor store smoothly made a transaction to a fiend who had her two youngest children with her.

She bounced up and down excitedly on her two feet with the drugs clenched tight in her hands.

Her kids looked to be no older than five and eight years of age.

Something inside of me clenched tightly, I shut my eyes and told myself. You can’t save them all…

When I opened my eyes back up and saw the woman and her kids again, I became determined. There was no way I could witness the look of despair on the innocent little boy’s face. I imagined his feelings and mirrored them to mine when I used to witness my mom being high out of her mind.

“I want her before this meeting is over.” I said to Dre directly.

“You got it, Grand.” Dre replied then pulled out his phone to text the group of our men that I put him in charge of.

Tone pulled the truck up slowly to the curb outside of an old check-cashing spot that got converted into a cultural office with bulletproof windows. The only culture that moved through the place was dope, the kind that tore down a thriving community and gave urban cities a bad name.

“Get out, snatch her dumb ass up have your men put her in the first truck. Be sure to gag her. Her kids take them gently and tell them that you’re there to make their mom feel better.

They will be placed in the second truck.

Ask them what kind of snacks they would like to eat and provide it.

I want her on an eighty-day cleanse, if she have bad withdrawals, give her Owlette in rock form,” I stated.

I watched Dre get out of the car with his phone now glued to his ears.

I lit my blunt then let the cherry burn while I stared back at the building to the side of me.

I’ve been feeling the unspoken silence that spoke a thousand words coming from Tone.

He looked at me through the rearview mirror with tension set in his jaw.

He hadn’t said much since that night two weeks ago.

The boots that he wore today still had Darius’s dried up blood on the laces.

I knew Tone better than anyone, he could have cleaned the blood off his shoelaces and boots, but he wanted to remind me how I lost control of my anger.

“You good?” He asked finally breaking the silence.

I didn’t look at him when the question left his mouth. Instead, I eyed my busted knuckles. Tone found some of the best fighters around L.A. for me to fight to relieve what he called pent up stress. Crushing a man with my fist almost felt better than busting a nut.

“I’m always good. You still shook?” I raised my brows at him.

“I ain’t shook. I get worried when you go that far, since you haven’t done that in a while.” He sighed

I offered him a slow nod then tapped my blunt against the window to ash it.

“I should’ve gone further.” I stated, seriously.

“You haven’t had her play for you.”

“I’m not sure if I want her too anymore.” I answered honestly.

What attracted me to Mira was how she soulfully played the violin. Her playing made me feel something that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Peace.

“Kenric, you’re not a bad person… you deserve peace.” Tone turned in the front seat to look at me.

I felt a shift in the way that I was feeling. It felt like he threw a pebble rock at the stone walls that I had built up inside of me to protect myself from cracking.

“You don’t know what I deserve Tone. Don’t say no shit like that again.” I looked back out of the window.

“Look at what all your doing for the community. You smart as fuck, you’ve rehabilitated half of the Westside, Southside, and most of Northside with Owlette. Nobody?—”

“Tone.” I cut him off.

“I don’t need you to tell me what I already know… you’ve been pushing your luck a lot with me lately. The owls back home ruffle my feathers enough.” I flicked the half lit blunt out of the window.

“Get out.” I uttered.

“Just have her play for you tonight, she’s been playing down by the dungeon.” Tone chuckled. That was enough to get my full attention.

“The men love when she plays even though she cries sporadically as she plays.” He continued.

“Where did you place her exactly?” I frowned.

Jealously spread inside of me faster than a lit fire.

I wanted her playing reserved for me. Tone mentioned her crying, I thought about letting her go.

Women from the past that I captured hardly cried at all.

Once they experienced all of the luxuries of my building, they adapted then fell in line.

I saw potential in Mira’s owl-like eyes.

Potential that she didn’t see in herself.

Her beauty was raw and potent; I memorized every curve and dimple attached to her body.

I wanted to taste and devour her but not while she was weak.

Mira had to be a piece to my board, but I started to second guess her queen position in my life.

Life got the best of us and most people caved in and let life win.

It infuriated me that she cried over a man who never gave a fuck about her.

I didn’t expect her to call him her everything when he viewed her as nothing.

“She’s on the level above the cells?—”

“Why the fuck would you put her there?” I yelled.

“She was actually one level down from your room. When I heard her play for three days straight, I figured you’d want her down by the lab so you could hear her while you work.” Tone smirked.

I shook my head and told him to get out.

Tone always pressed buttons that I didn’t know existed with myself.

Most of the time he meant well, but I hated how he always thought he knew what I needed before I did.

I wasn’t a good person, I craved and enjoyed thriving off the next person’s fear.

Tone misunderstood my strong urge to randomly save certain individuals that I felt was worth saving.

There were certain things that I hated being surrounded by.

Crackheads was one of those things. So many men with power abused their positions and wealth on stupid shit.

I used mine to try to better my people, I poured into the same community that I came from.

I watched the news and laughed when they talked about local rehab facilities being empty.

They didn’t know that my particular drug Owlette, had taken over.

It slowly but surely healed people and strengthened them to do better while making them feel good.

I lifted one of my arms and eyed the new burnt marks that still showed some of my flesh mixed with the old tattoo ink.

It was starting to heal slowly. I hadn’t been down in my lab but planned on going tonight to get some work done.

There was a particular potion that I kept failing at.

I wanted to create a new feel-good drug, similar to Heroin.

Over time, I was able to transform Owlette into different forms. Powder, pills, and even grow it with weed.

People grew addicted to it but still went over to the Eastside to get something that would have them spiraling, high and incompetent of living a regular life. Which finally brought me to East side.

A man named Smack ran the East without giving a fuck about how bad it was ruining the community. I had most of the west, south, and north on board. Now it was time for me to force the east. I made it my last priority since I knew the east, and I would most likely go to war.

Smack is Rosco’s son, the same Rosco I put a bullet in when I was thirteen. I stepped out the backseat of the matte black Yukon and was greeted by Tone.

“He got all of his men spread out all around, all armed.” Tone said stepping next to me.

“Cool, men like Smack try to be tricky. He’s weak, given the history between us, I expect him to talk with emotions. Which is never good for business. Let him make the first move, then all of the chess pieces will fall hard.” I smirked.

There was plenty of men that called themselves trying to go to war with me.

I handled it before it could become a further problem.

Smack was considered child’s play to me.

Wasn’t shit street about him. Unlike my pops, his pops tried his best to keep him sheltered away.

Smack just wanted to prove that he was about that life.

Hood fame was addicting to him, he wanted the praise, wanted to be something more than he was.

Just another spoiled pussy trying to walk in grown man shoes.

I inhaled the air; it smelled like roach spray mixed with hot old piss.

There were a couple of fiends lingering around, some sat on the stained ground with no shame.

Their glass pipes were on display as the sun shined down on them.

There’s more to life than getting high. I shook my head in disgust. To some it was normal to see people strung out.

For me, it was a painful reminder to what all I lost from drugs. The childhood that was stolen from me. If I had the power to find the muthafucka who first pushed the poison throughout the black communities, I’d torture and kill them.

“Everybody on our side is in position.” Tone said.

“Good, let’s get this reintroduction over with.” I gritted out.