Don't Feed the Ratz: Part 2
By Phillip Ford
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About this ebook
While still not having the slightest idea of who may have killed his family, Geo was hit with another powerful blow to his already shattered emotional state, as he now has to deal with the loss of his brother, Rollo. Geo is now more determined to take over the city by any means necessary, as he enlisted the help of an old friend. Will Geo triumph in his quest for dominance, or will the streets take him down again?
Strap up your boots as the ladder to the top of the drug game will be a long one, as Geo faces unforeseen forces trying to keep him from reaching the top.
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Don't Feed the Ratz - Phillip Ford
Don't Feed the Ratz
Part 2
Phillip Ford
Copyright © 2023 Phillip Ford
All rights reserved
First Edition
PAGE PUBLISHING
Conneaut Lake, PA
First originally published by Page Publishing 2023
ISBN 979-8-88793-615-4 (pbk)
ISBN 979-8-88793-609-3 (digital)
Printed in the United States of America
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
About the Author
Chapter 1
On this exact day for the past two years, Geo would excuse himself from everything going on around him: the business, the hustle, and the crew. This day was and always had been an emotional one, putting him in a fucked-up place. To where he couldn't function right. So instead of putting himself in a vulnerable situation to slip up, he ignored everyone and dedicated this day to Rollo. The fucked-up part of this day for him is when Rollo was killed, no one was allowed to attend the funeral or pay their respects on the orders of Rollo's mother. So she had him cremated and held a small and private ceremony for family members only.
Geo had reached out to Rollo's mother many times, to offer his condolences and support-by offering to help with anything they may need—his offer was declined. Not to take things personally, he took her not accepting his help as part of a grieving process, knowing she was only lashing out due to losing her son. So Geo reached out to Ty—who also threw shade his way and vowed revenge if he found out he had something to do with it. Geo found the threat hilarious! But then again, he knew the feeling all too well. He, too, lost people he loved.
All this started the day Spaz was arrested in connection with the murders, although he still claims his innocence. He was still booked on murder charges. The police told him that they had an eyewitness who placed him at the scene. They also have the smoking gun that killed the girl, but his prints were never found on it. Geo knew Spaz was innocent because he was the one who dropped him off the night of the murder to give him his profits from the dope. So he knew they were trumped-up charges, Rollo was alive when Spaz left because he had him picked back up.
Chapter 2
Fast forward some months
I swear on everything. I'm going to kill every one of them! Starting with those two niggas over there.
Ty pointed to the three men standing outside the collection agency where Took That, Spaz, and their homie Boo. They stood around like a couple of gangsters in front of a social club.
So, what we are waiting on? Let's go get them now,
J-Bird said, curling his finger around the firing pin. He was high and anxious to kill anyone of the three men. If he can kill both Spaz and Took That, that means a step closer to the plug.
This isn't the right time. Plus, It's not just them out there.
Nigga! What are you talking about! Are we looking at the same people? Because all I see is three dead motherfuckers, so why are we stalling?
Ty was thinking about what his people told him: Never underestimate the other guys' greed,
quoting Frank from the movie Scarface.
You see three niggas outside doing what they do; I see ten or more ready to do what they're paid to do.
J-bird let the logic Ty was speaking fly right over his head. Simply because he didn't know these people like Ty and his folks did. So it was impossible for J-Bird to see the danger of running up on these men would cost them.
See the old raggedy tire garage two houses down on the left of where they're standing? And the house next door. The tire place is owned by an old head named Mr. Lee. A big black burly monkey-looking motherfucker, who used to be a golden gloves champion back in the days… But after enduring a head injury in what would become his last fight, he opened the garage and has been changing tires ever since,
Ty told J-Bird, pointing to the large man removing lugs with the power drill.
What has he got to do with these niggas? Are they related or something?
J-Bird was curious to know why Ty telling him about the old monkey man.
Not by blood! But he's connected, has ties to the community. He's the people's champ, and he's on payroll.
Dude, get the fuck out of here. What the fuck can he do besides giving the niggas a discount on those wore-out tires?
That had them both laughing.
He's a hired gun. Mostly they pay him to keep an eye on the agency when business hours are over, the house next door.
From where they were parked, J-Bird could see the house Ty was referring to. The house looked like a single-family, nestled between the tire spot and the agency. He could make out three cameras mounted on it. Two were in front—one each above the two windows, near the peak. The third was mounted on the side facing the yard.
What you think's in there? Because the way the cameras are positioned, they're trying to protect something,
J-Bird said.
I don't know! But we are going to find out soon.
After giving J-Bird a crash course outlook, Ty decided it was time to leave before they were spotted, so he put the car in drive and drove away. The little intel they had on Geo's people was useful, but they were amateurs playing in a treacherous game of murder and deceit that many don't survive in. Which is why they never paid attention to the old lady in front of them with her phone glued to her ear. She was on the phone with Spaz, telling him that two guys were sitting in a gray Durango, watching them, and had just pulled off.
Chapter 3
Buffalo has always been known for its murder and mayhem since before the sixties or further back. There were popular gangs like Matadors, Mad dogs, and Manhattan lovers. Fast-forward twenty or thirty years, when the crack hit the city and brought with it violence. Geo had an earlier glimpse of the hustle at the young age of nine. When he used to watch his mother's then boyfriend, David Mims, who had gotten his brains blown out inside of Tay's, a popular hood fast-food joint located across the street from Wollert Park Projects. He supposedly owed half a million dollars to a notorious gangster named Sly. He watched and learned from so many people he'd come across; seen a lot by hanging with his cousins, dirty Dee and his brother Deshawn. At that time, they were coming up in an era when niggas were only selling weed, powder cocaine—those were your only choices of narcotics back then. Geo used to see his cousins move a lot of cocaine and move through a lot of women too. They had a crew of niggas who called themselves BRC—Bum Rush Committee. They were one of many crews in the city that's getting major paper.
Idolizing and wanting to be like them, Geo tried to be down with them so bad, but was told he's too young to be playing in a grown man's game and to stay in the sandbox. Three years later, you could find Geo and his crew, Trauma Cartel, wreaking havoc.
Ty and J-Bird walked into a clothing store and headed to the back where Slim was seated behind a desk with stacks of money piled on top—a hundred thousand, to be exact. Slim was another ruthless drug dealer who's been infiltrating the West Side for control of the drug trade. Heroin, pills, and coke were in high demand, and Slim planned on accommodating their pleasures. In the short time he's been there, Slim took control of the lower half of the West Side, part of the upper. He and his crew were slowly pushing the Puerto Ricans out.
What's up, big dawg!
Ty shouted out to Slim while giving him their signature handshake. J-bird just took a seat on the sofa and started going through his phone.
Ty took a seat across from Slim and said to him, She successfully passed her interview, will be starting next week.
That was the kind of good news you get when you're about to fuck for the first time. This felt like taking candy from a baby, except he'll be taking from someone much bigger.
*****
After traveling down memory lane, the time he missed with his homie Rollo…and the fact he's not here living their dreams. He wanted so desperately to at least have the chance to visit his grave so he could tell him about all the things that have been happening, good and bad. For now, he had to settle for the old-fashioned way—on his knees, hunched over in prayer. While spewing words of ghetto gospel to his friend, Geo's phone vibrated in his Tom Ford slacks, interrupting him, and he cursed himself for not turning it off. Grabbing it out of his right pocket, he read the message: Stop by my office.
It was all that needed to be said.
Chapter 4
Crawford was in with another client when the sexy twenty-two-year-old redbone secretary named Tasha buzzed in on his intercom letting him know his twelve o'clock has arrived.
Give me ten minutes, and then send him in. And Tasha, hold all my calls.
Exactly five minutes on the dot, Tasha told Geo that he can go right on in. Geo stood and straightened out his suit as his Melon Strass red-bottom shoes clicked against the marble floor heading to the lawyer's office. Three dudes emerged from Crawford's looking like they are getting a little money. One of the dudes was on his phone, barking orders to someone, while the other two followed closely behind. The dude on the phone, not paying attention to where he was going, bumped into Geo, and knocking him off his balance a little.
Watch where you're going, stupid motherfucker,
Geo growled, looking at these three clown-ass niggas. These little fucks are just begging to get killed these days.
Fuck you say to me?
The phone dude asked Geo, ready to throw down, his two comrades stood in silence with menacing stares. I'll tell you what, old nigga. Since I'm in a good mood, I'm going to let you slide and go about your day, but best believe we will see each other again.
He turned his back to Geo, a clear sign of disrespect, and walked away.
You'll see me sooner than you think! Geo said to himself.
The inside of Crawford's office smelled of a mixture of weed and alcohol, with a faint hint of cigarettes. This was why Crawford is spraying Glade all over the place. Good thing he has a state-of-the-art ventilation system, so the smell would be gone soon.
Thanks for coming on such short notice. I know you're a very busy man, so I'll try to make it quick.
He then got up and walked over to the office door and drew the blinds closed. Geo noticed the Gucci duffle bag sitting atop the desk which Crawford just tossed aside like it was just merely trash.
The reason—
Who was them niggas that just left?
Geo asked, getting right to the point. He wanted to know who the dead man was.
That was Raymond Bland, but goes by Killer B. And the other two are his brother, Tommy, and childhood friend, Slugs.
Any other lawyer would have gotten disbarred for revealing details of another client's info. But this wasn't just any Joe Shmoe he chose to run his mouth to. He and Geo had become very close in the past few years and established a great rapport. Plus, he was part of the syndicate, so he was obliged to divulge the information.
What's his story?
Out on bail for a triple shooting yesterday on Genesee Street, Wendy. Two were killed and one in critical.
Crawford saw the disposition change in Geo the moment he'd asked about the men and knew their souls were on borrowed time.
Okay, talk to me.
And just like that, Geo was back to business. He had got what he needed about the three musketeers.
Crawford had thought he had too many fucking legal files and other miscellaneous bullshit piled in front of him that you would think he wouldn't never get through it all. But that was the opposite. He didn't give a shit—it was all for show. He had a team of the best minds, savvy to give legal counsel and to get the worst criminal off the chopping block—even if they were guilty.
As I was saying. Shipment will be delayed by a couple of days; the route has changed also, so there would be no deliveries by the trucks. It's only temporarily! Agent Pratt's on assignment in Mexico assisting in the war on drugs entering the US.
Geo thought of the irony in that statement. Why would the agent help stop something he's bringing in?
"On another note, we've filed a motion for summary judgment in Mr. Richardson's case. It's simply to get the judge to make a ruling before any trial can commence. I'm pretty sure he'll never see a day in jail…but he'll have to stay off the grid until then. I'll be in touch."
Chapter 5
Niagara Café is a Latino-owned diner, voted number 1 in the city for its unique twist on Spanish food, and has been a staple in the Spanish community for years, serving up great food and rich history. The patrons who filed in for their favorite Puerto Rican cuisine were disappointed to find most of the tables occupied. Many were local and loyal customers, who would order the exact same meal and would sit at the same table, day in and day out. Shit was different today, though! As majority of seats were taken up by Spaz, Took That, Boo, and a host of Puerto Ricans. Spaz didn't really come for the food. He preferred ribs and greens, a taste of his Down-South roots, and thought they could keep their refried beans and tacos. This was business, so he agreed to meet these men here.
Try the roasted pork with the fried rice. It's simply heaven,
a Spanish kid named Angel suggested. He was the reason Spaz and his people were there.
Look, I'm going to keep it one hun'd!
Spaz said a little too loud for even himself. I only agreed to this sit-down to find and kill that nigga Slim. So if you point me in the right direction, I can achieve that goal and get my ass back to the east.
Angel spoke something in Spanish that had the men with him laughing.
Speak English, motherfucker,
Took That told him through clenched teeth. Looking at Angel, with his tall, lanky frame and arched eyebrows, his hair in a neat bun, and a perfect lineup, Took That knew he was soft and wanted to shoot him in the face.
Take it easy, Papa,
he said back while signaling to the man next to him not to pull his weapon. "We're all here for the same reason—revenge."
After the tension among the men had subsided, Angel continued, I want y'all to look across the street, to the building that says ‘Perfect Cuts.'
Everyone peered out the window to see the barbershop with another Spanish restaurant attached to it. In ten minutes, you'll see two women exiting the building, carrying two duffel bags apiece.
The women came out five minutes early, carrying the bags just like Angel said.
Watching these bitches with those big-ass bags had Spaz conflicted. On one hand, he wondered why Angel and his people never made a move on them, and he also thought it would be a come-up for him, Took That, and Boo if they ran up on the bitches.
Angel read his mind. It's not that easy, papa. What may look simple…is not!
Spaz was confused. Where they're from, you see motherfuckers carrying anything that might be worth taking, it's getting taken. But his thoughts were quickly changed when he saw all the dudes hop out of the trucks and escort the women into them.
Chapter 6
Watching the trucks pull away from the barbershop, that's when everyone poured out of the café and got into their vehicles to follow the money—except angel. He was sticking around for a few more minutes waiting on Slim. When he spotted the all-black 2021 Tesla Y Long Range pulling into the same spot the trucks just left, he paid the food bill and made his way over to the barbershop.
Perfect Cuts is