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“Moscow Mule. And could you make that with Devil Springs Vodka, please?” Gavin said and the bartender looked at him.
She had been wondering for months who they were carrying the Devil Springs Vodka for. “Right away,” she said and went to make the best Moscow Mule she could for who she could only assumed was the mysterious absentee owner.
“You wanna dance?” a woman said.
Gavin put his drink on the bar and looked at the dark-skinned woman with long jet-black hair that hung down her back standing in front of him wearing nothing but Dolce & Gabbana pumps.
“Yeah, go ahead,” he said, but that was when he saw Clip come out of the VIP room.
When he made eye contact with Gavin, he pointed toward the rear of the club and then he headed in that direction. Gavin reached in his pocket, peeled off some bills and handed them to the woman.
“What’s your name?”
“Nubia.”
“Well, Nubia, I need to talk to somebody for a few minutes, but when I get done, you need to dance for me.”
“I won’t be hard to find,” Nubia said, kissed Gavin on the cheek and walked off.
Gavin finished his drink and went to the rear of the club where Clip was waiting for him. After shaking hands, they went to the office together to wait on Twan.
“This room clean?”
“Swept it myself before we opened.”
“Okay,” Gavin sat down and relaxed.
“Before that nigga get here, I need to talk to you about Mays.”
“What about him?”
“For a number of reasons, mainly that the nigga walk in and outta jail like it ain’t shit, a lot of people are suspicious that Mays might be cooperating with the Feds.”
“He may be trying to provoke an inculpatory conversation. How many times he been popped?”
“Three that I know of. And every time the nigga get arrested, seems like he back on the street. And it’s always that the cops fucked up some shit.”
“That’s a situation that needs to be handled delicately, but with extreme prejudice.”
“Understood,” Clip said, understanding that Gavin had just ordered his execution.
“I know that’s Twan’s boy, so there’s a lot of shit that could go wrong with that, so I need for you to see to it personally.”
“Done,” Clip said as Twan came through the door. “What up, Baby Boy. How them Beantown hoes treating you?”
“Lovely. It’s lovely, it’s lovely. You can get pussy quicker than you can get a meal,” he laughed.
Twan had been in Boston trying to make a move into that market. As Gavin explained to London, the deaths of Greg Mac, who controlled the Wakefield area and Drum, who controlled the Kingsbridge area, made the Boston project much more attractive.
“What up, Magic?”
“What’s up?”
“I need some help, that’s what’s up.”
“It’s in the works,” Gavin said. “I’m freeing up some capital as we speak.”
“That’s cool. That’s cool and all that, but what I need more than paper is manpower,” Twan said and Clip rolled his eyes. “Some of the locals haven’t been exactly happy that there’s a new sheriff in town and they’re pushing back.”
