Married To The Game

C:14 | Reincarnation

Walking to the door felt like the longest walk in my life. I swallowed my pride and ringed the doorbell first. Snow was a couple feet behind me, probably delighted I insisted on doing the talking. "Hello?What can I do for you?" The housekeeper asked. She opened the door halfway, and stuck her head out; as if she knew we were at the wrong house so the interaction would be quick. She looked irritated that we were interrupting her cleaning. I snickered to myself; I actually did her up-tight ass a favor.

"We're here to speak with Gianni." Unconvinced, she gave the "okay, if you say so" face before letting us in. "Is he expecting you?" She asked while dramatically extending her arm to look at her watch. "He will be when we talk to him. Is he around?" I tried to look past her head, but she met my graze with, "Can I have your name please? I don't recall seeing anyone on his schedule today other than Mr. Vitorski." I looked at Snow and Snow looked at me. When I hesitated, she followed up with, "I think you two may have the wrong house. If you would just-" She walked back towards the door, indicating for us to leave, "-Give Mr. Braswell a call and come back later, I think that'd be great." "We actually can't come back later. Is he here?" "Mr. Braswell is in his studies right now and doesn't wish to be disturbed." "Can you go get him?" "No, I can't just go get him, Mr. Braswell is very particular about not being disturbed in his studies."

"Ameilia? We have guest?" His voice boomed from the spiral stair case. Vito was nothing compared to Gianni. Gianni was basically Don Corleone in the flesh. From his slick back hair to his fat face, they were basically doppelgängers. No doubt they acted alike ; which wasn't good news for us. I watched enough crime-family movies to know how the mafia operated. They were a family, and they didn't take deaths in the family well. Okay, enough, I thought to myself. I didn't want to psyche myself out before we even officially met the man. By the time Gianni reached the bottom of the stairs, Ameilia's snitch ass couldn't wait to tell him she had done her job. "Well, I don't really know who they are, Mr. Braswell. I didn't think you were expecting company. I asked for their names but they haven't told me." She looked back at us, I guess expecting me to now state my name, but I didn't say shit. I wasn't feeling Ameilia.

"No worries. Ladies. How can I help?" He said, dubbing Ameilia's failed attempt to be a kiss ass. "Mr. Braswell, my name's Esther. Do you mind if we talk to you for a minute?"  "Sure. Right this way." Gianni had to be somebody important  if he was comfortable enough letting two strangers in his million dollar mansion. We followed Gianni to the other side of the house, to a detached living room. I stopped in my tracks, noticing Ameilia lingering behind us. This made her run right into me, as expected. "Careful, Ameilia." I said over my shoulder. She started to scrunch her face up, and by her attitude I could tell she wanted to say something, but decided against it. She was busting her ass trying to stay professional, and I could tell I was making it hard for her. I laughed to myself at her biting her tongue. "Please, have a seat." Gianni sat on the oversized suede loveseat, and motioned for us to sit on the one across from him. "Would you like a refreshment?" "I'd love a refreshment." I said, continuing to fuck with Ameilia. "Ameilia, a bottle of MONTALCINO please?" Gianni said.  "Chilled." Snow added, catching on to my pettiness. Gianni nodded in agreement, furthering Ameilia's frustration.

"So, ladies. What can I do for you?"  "Well, Mr. Braswell. My name's Esther, and this is my partner, Snow. I'm here today to give you your money." "I'm sorry?" I look at Snow, who hands me the duffle bag filled with his money. I set it in-front of him. "This is from what you gave Vito." "Ah, you know Vito." "I knew Vito. But not very well." I said, correcting him. "You knew Vito? What do you mean? He should be here soon, actually." I thought of what I was going to say next for a split second. "Well, Vito's not coming today. Actually, Vito won't be coming at all because he's dead." "Dead?" He repeated. He stroked his face, but said nothing. "Yes, dead." "And I assume...you're the one who killed him?" "That's right." I said with much more confidence than I actually had. "Hmm. And what'd you do that for?" He didn't sound surprised, or angry for that matter. He was giving a poker face. I ignored his question. "I was thinking that I - we - could replace Vito. Look at what we brought in." I wanted him to pick up the duffle bag and swim through the money. But he didn't blink. "I see." "That's almost triple what Vito would be bringing you." "Uh huh." He said. He was killing me with these not-really-an-answer answers. "So, what do you think?" "Money in exchange for Vito's position? No deal. But. I am a business man. And, although Vito was a good accessory to me, i'm always interested in making more money." "I like the way you think." "So, since you two decided to take Vito's position, you will be responsible for bringing in all of Vito's commission." "As expected." I smiled. This went better then I thought. "Now, hold on. As I said, i'm a business man. Vito was only handling cocaine. This is actually a good thing, because I need someone to handle more of my heavy produce." "Excuse me? I'm not following?" He holds his finger up, and like clock work, a different house keeper enters the room with a package in her hand. "Surely you know what this is." He held the package up so me and Snow could both get a look at it. It was similar to a brick, as it was wrapped in saran wrap. Taking a pocketknife out of his suit pocket, he sliced the package open so we could see.

"Oh, I know that's not what I think it is." Snow said, finally engaging in the conversation. I guess she forgot the talk we had about letting me do the talking. "Oh, but it is." Gianni replied. "What is it?" I spoke up, being the only one not saying anything. "It's dope." Snow said, as if the answer was clear as day. This nigga was on some other shit. I wanted to say "Do I look like Frank Lucas to you," but instead I went with, "So you want us to sell dope too?" I could tell Gianni wasn't the type to take no for an answer. He was the type to tell you "Okay, I respect your decision," while he had a hitman on standby, ready to pull the trigger before you made it off the estate. The game was brutal, but the mob was a whole different story. "Correct." "But we don't know how to sell dope." "I hope you're eager to learn." He said, running his fingertips along the brown powder brick.

This man was out of his damn mind. I only came to convince him to let me sell his crack, not learn how to sell dope. He was really reaching, right now. But something inside of me just couldn't say no. Dope was really where the money was at. Omari told me he tried to dab in it a few times, but the coke was his calling. "Well, nothing is un-learnable. As long as we have a good teacher, I think we'll be set."

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