The Jersey Wars

Chapter 4 - The Ghost & Killa Crazy

July 1988

In the subsequent weeks after Takeera's murder things were going haywire on the streets. Our bootlegging venture continued to yield positive capital, namely a $6,755,000 profit for the month of June. Once word got out that the wife of a Garden State Syndicate member was killed and that I wanted to speak with those responsible, crews went out of their way to find out just who was involved.

Everybody knew that whoever brought me the perpetrators would have the North Jersey Family in its debt and that motivated a lot of street cats to put in work on our behalf. In the meantime, Takeera's funeral went off without a hitch.

All of the Syndicate members and their respective crews attended and offered condolences to Tre and the Stone family. Even Vincenzo Ditta (flanked by two immense bodyguards) traveled to Newark and Whigham's Funeral Home (which I had a piece of) to pay their respects.

The graveside burial was very somber and Tre couldn't keep his composure as the $55,000 black pearl coffin was lowered into the ground with his wife inside of it. As the oceans of tears ran from underneath his shades, it was then that Dunna, Lil D, Mark, Ghost, KC, and I surrounded him in one big North Jersey embrace. We wanted him to know that above all else we were there for him as friends, but more so as brothers.

As I began the moderate walk back to the limousine (KC wasn't driving today), I felt a presence on my right hand side. I looked down and saw that it was Shoshanna Stith B.K.A. Lady Spice, leader of The Spice Girls.

Now before those British broads infected the world with their annoying voices and music, The Spice Girls were a crew of female robbers/extortionists/assassins/hustlers/whatever who operated out of Montclair and East Orange. I used Spice and her girls for assignments that required "special" attention therefore making them associates of North Jersey.

"What's up Spice?" I inquired while continuing to walk at a leisurely pace. "Thank you and the girls for the flowers."

Standing 5'1" and weighing 125 lbs., Spice had curves for days and it was those curves as well as the curves of her crew that caught niggas slipping. The dimples showed on the cheeks of her beautiful brown-skinned face as she waved her hand at me,

"Come on now Jason, how long have we known each other? Thanks aren't necessary. How's Tre handling it?"

I shook my head as I responded, "Not too good. I think that once we take care of whoever did this, my boy will then be able to mourn appropriately. The fact that these people are still able to see the sunlight doesn't sit too well with any of us as I'm sure you may know."

Spice and I had history. We'd dated maybe five years or so ago and I fell for her hard. Unfortunately our particular professions were a conflict of interests and we had to kill the relationship all in the name of business. Anyway, she smiled a smile that she knew always affected me deeply,

"Funny you should bring that up," she said as she adjusted her shades. "I came across some information in my travels that may be of some interest to you."

"How much is this information going to cost me Spice?" I asked with a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

Waving her hand at me again, Spice responded, "I come to you on behalf of our friendship and you want to insult me by bringing up money? Dealing with the Italians has cost you your manners I see."

As we reached my limo the middle aged Black driver (I forgot his name) opened the back door for Spice and I as we climbed inside. I poured myself three fingers of Hennessy and prepared the same for her. We clinked our glasses together in a toast and after we'd ingested a generous amount of the alcohol, I looked her directly in the eye and said,