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“The shit that makes real money. Not like that nickel and dime shit you’re doing,” Milton said.
He went on to tell DP about the porno film studio that he owned, which had worldwide distribution and brought in millions of dollars each year. As well as live online porn and video sales that ran out of a strip club called Enzo's Palace.
That conversation took place seven years ago, and over the years, Milton used his position at the Towne Services Credit Union to launder money for DP, who now had a healthy income from dealing drugs.
Before long, DP was working as a manager in one of the credit union branches and had several loan sharking businesses running that were making hundreds of thousands of dollars.
It was getting close to midnight and DP had just come in the house. Milton was in his office still working as usual. DP came into the office and sat down on the couch.
“What’s on your mind, David?” Milton asked and stood up.
“There’s something I got going on that I need to tell you about,” DP began.
“This sounds serious,” Milton said as he headed for the bar. “Can I make you one?”
“Thanks,” DP said and relaxed before he told his father what he should have told him months ago.
When Milton handed DP his drink, he said thank you and Milton sat down in the chair next to him.
“So what you got going?”
“I’m gonna take over Mike Black’s organization.”
Milton laughed at him; laughed so hard that he nearly fell out of his chair, he was laughing and choking that hard. But not DP, he sat there stone-faced until his father regained his composure.
“I’m serious, Pop.”
“You been smoking that dope you’re selling if you’re seriously considering going up against Mike Black and Bobby Ray.”
“That’s the thing; I won’t be going up against them.”
“So what’s your plan? You planning on walking up to Black and asking him nicely to hand over his organization? That shit ain’t happening. Them niggas done killed enough mutha fuckas to fill up a small country.” Milton laughed. “And before you even get to Black, you’d have to get through guys like Howard Owens and Sherman Williams.”
“You’re information is dated, old man,” DP said and finished his drink. He picked up his father’s glass and went to the bar to refill their glasses. “Black is retired to the islands and Bobby found God or some shit like that,” DP said and handed his father back his glass.
“What about Wanda Moore? Wasn’t she running things for a minute?”
DP took a swallow of his drink. “She was.”
“She’s just as dangerous …” Milton laughed. “If not more dangerous than Black and Bobby.”
“Gone back to working on the legit side of their business.”
“Who’s running things?”
“A woman named Rain Robinson.”
“Ain’t that the little young trick Nick Simmons used to fuck?” Milton laughed.
“Trust me, Pop, Rain Robinson ain’t no joke.”
“If that’s the case, why are you in such a hurry to take her on?”
“Because they’re weak now. All those people you were talking about are gone. Howard Owens and Cynt are dead and Sherman Williams is out.”
“Those were his Captains.”
“That’s my point. They got new Captains and they all got problems with their people.”
