Most of the street gangs are selling themselves out to this Italian American Mafia leader named Elio Bianchi. He's giving them drugs to push into their communities, get them addicted, and then watch the aftermath of everything he's done. Then he moves in cleaning up the projects just to buy up the block and turn them into some bougie high-rise apartment buildings.
I don't take offers or orders from no damn body. I ran my block how I wanted, gave back to my community, put kids in colleges, and helped single fathers who get overlooked by the government for assistances.
Getting involved with Elio Bianchi, a lot of niggas either end up dead because they crossed him or they got their families killed because again they crossed him.
Note never cross Elio Bianchi.
"I ain't worried about him. See these other niggas be ready to turn their ass up when a lil money is thrown at them." I said, sipping my lean. Which is true. A lil money gets you to turn on your street family, you see the loyalty was never there when they shoot a couple of rounds in you all for some fucking Benjamins.
"I heard on the block this Elio fool is recruiting people to work for him."
"Anybody from here thinking of working for him?"
Lil Red takes a sip of his lean. He looks around at everyone in the park before hunching over to whisper to me. "Some of our niggas been thinking about it."
I scoffed. "And I'm just now hearing about this shit?" Sweat trickles down my face. I use my blue towel to wipe the sweat away.
Lil Red is like my eyes and ears when I'm not around to see and hear shit myself. The shit ain't worry me too much. If fuckers wanna join up with Elio they could, I wasn't begging no grown ass niggas to stay loyal to me, you either fuck me with me or don't.
It's the sound of the older women a few feet away gasping that makes me and Lil Red break from our conversation. Some tall white guy is mingling with the sistas near the basketball Court. They drool over some white man like they ain't ever had white men talk to them before.
And who the hell wears a suit in this kind of heat?
He walks up to me and Lil Red.
"Mr. Jensen?" The man looks at me.
"Who asking?"
A smile creeps up on his face. "Elio Bianchi," he said. "I would like to speak with you."
Lil Red carefully watches him just in case he needs to pull out his gun and Elio knows what's up he doesn't hesitate to show Lil Red that he was packing too.
"Just friendly conversation," Elio said, letting the end of his suit jacket go, hiding his gun.
Even from here, you could see his men stationed around the park, not too obvious, but they are there if something pops off.
I'm not stupid enough to let things get out of hand especially when children are around. I tell Lil Red to give us a moment but to stay in earshot. Elio takes the seat Lil Red was sitting in. Elio crossed his legs at his ankles. He's looking out at everyone having fun.
"I like to fish. Do you know any great fishing holes in Houston?" Elio asked. He's casual with it like he's one of my homeboys or some shit.
"I know you ain't here just to ask me about fishing holes. Cut the bullshit."
He chuckles and relaxes in the chair. "How much?"
"How much?" I repeat.
"Yeah, how much to let me move my products through your streets."
And his products aren't just cocaine, or weed, not that light shit. It's more of that exotic shit from foreign countries.
"You ain't moving shit in my streets," I said.
"Not even for the right price?"
I fully turn to Elio. He's staring at me before his eyes drop to my lips for a moment then he's back to making eye contact with me. His gaze is strong and intimidating.
"Naw." I said.
"I can just buy out some of your men and have them move it."
"Don't shit move in my streets unless I give orders for it to. You might have punk these other niggas but you ain't gonna punk me into shit."
Kids run by us waving and laughing at Elio. He gives them a smile even calling them over as he takes out money, giving a couple of hundred dollars each to them.
"Mr. Jensen, I don't need your permission to move anything. If I wanted to I could start moving my products now without you even knowing. But I'm only asking because it's downright disrespectful to come into another man's territory and start making demands. So take it as me being respectful by asking."
I laughed. This fucking dude. He has a confident demeanor. Like he wouldn't waver if someone else who is far more confident and intimidating were to counter him.
"I take it as disrespect," I said shrugging. "This territory is my home and you don't come into another man's home disrespecting him in front of his people."
There are rules to this shit.
Elio puts up his hands like he's surrendering.
"No disrespect to you. " He laughs.
Elio stands running his hands over his suit. There isn't a lick of sweat running down this man's face. Before he leaves he tells me if I ever changed my mind to give him a call. He hands me a black matte business card with gold lettering with his name and phone number.
Lil Red takes his seat back and the frown on my face gives away I'm not in a good mood. I tell Lil Red what Elio wants to do. And ask me what I was going to do.
Only if he makes a move. Then I'll do something.
A man like him didn't care who they step on or even kill to line their pockets. Now I gotta keep my ear to the street because I have this gut feeling that something is going to happen.
Everyone was slowly leaving the park the later it got. Most of the old heads sat around drinking beer, chopping it up about the old days, and comparing the older generation of women to the younger generation of women.
It's around midnight when I get back to my house. I sat in my car staring at the window to the living room. The lamp was on which was supposed to be off since I had turned it off before I left. Which meant someone either had been in my shit or still was.
