Authors: Treasure Hernandez
Resurrection (5 page)
“What can I do for you?”
Malek took a seat and replied, “I'm going to be frank with you. I need an attorney that likes to make money. Do you like money, Mr. Hill?”
The attorney adjusted his necktie nervously. “Well, who doesn't?” he answered.
“I have some cash, a large amount of cash, that I need to show a source for,” Malek stated. “And I need a good lawyer to make sure I don't encounter certain aspects of the law.”
“Well, that type of service doesn't come cheap,” the attorney stated, trying to see what type of wealth Malek was working with.
“Will a quarter mill take care of it?”
The attorney's eyes widened at the amount of money.
“I'm trying to put you on payroll. I need to rely on you to make sure everything stays legit and accounted for,” Malek said.
“You've got a deal,” the attorney replied.
The two men discussed Malek's options, and Malek also expressed his expectations to his lawyer. Jacob Hill assured Malek that by the end of the week, he would be the owner of several profitable small businesses around the state of Michigan.
Malek knew that the only reason things had flowed so smoothly for him was because of the relationship that Jamaica Joe had with his attorney. Jamaica Joe's attorney had hipped Jacob Hill to how profitable it would be to have a major drug dealer as a client.
The attorney guaranteed that he would provide the financial statements and legal documents proving that Malek had been a major shareholder in a thriving business for the past three years.
By having a solid, successful company, Malek was free to purchase whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, without raising anyone's suspicions. Well, it wasn't actually free; it cost Malek a quarter of a million just to get in the door with Jacob Hill, as well as an ongoing 10% of the laundered money going to Jacob Hill. The money he spent and would continue to spend to make it all happen was well worth it. It ensured his freedom and gave him an ally that was skilled in the art of interpreting the law.
That same night, Malek put in the call to Fredro to pick up forty kilos of cocaine. He purchased the bricks at ten thousand apiece. After the house, the lawyer fees, and copping the coke, he would only have one hundred fifty thousand dollars left, but Malek was more than confident that he was about to come into his own.
The North Side had been in an uproar ever since Jamaica Joe's death. It had only been a couple days, but Malek knew that he had to take control over his hood. Niggas were getting money on what were once Joe's blocks, and Malek was about to claim what was rightfully his. He knew who he needed to see.
Mitch was a hustler on the North Side of Flint, a young nigga who was doing his thing, but could never do too much when Joe was alive. Mitch had taken advantage of the open market and put his young boys to work on the North Side. Malek respected his hustle, and wanted Mitch on his team. He knew that recruiting Mitch was the first move in this big game of chess he was about to play. He was about to take over the streets.
He drove through the hood in his Lincoln Navigator and came up on some of Mitch's workers who were posted up in front of Mitch's dope house. Malek sat his burner in his lap, just in case one of the young boys wanted to jump stupid. Then he rolled down his window and tapped on his horn to get the crowd's attention.
“Yo, my man. Come here,” Malek shouted to one of the workers.
The young boy's eyes shifted nervously as he debated whether or not to approach Malek. His friends looked skeptically in Malek's direction.
“Look, li'l niggas, I got five stacks for whoever can deliver a message to Mitch for me,” Malek called out.
The boys still hesitated, but one walked out of the pack. His jeans were low on his behind, and one hand was on his belt buckle. Half of his hair was braided, while the other half was all over his head.
“Shit, I'll make this money,” he commented as he trotted over to Malek's car. “Yo, you for real, fam?” the boy asked as he stood at Malek's window.
Malek tossed a rolled-up wad of money out of the window and said, “Tell Mitch that Malek needs to holla at him about something. Let him know it's all love, though. Tell him to get at me sooner rather than later too.” Malek didn't wait for the boy to respond. He put his car in drive and cruised down the block.
When Malek entered the house at around three in the morning, Halleigh was sleeping soundly on her side of the bed. The feeling he experienced when he saw her assured him that he still loved her. She was like a breath of fresh air. He stripped down to his boxers, placed his pistol on the nightstand, and slid underneath the covers next to her. He wrapped her in his arms, arousing her slightly.
“Umm, I found a house today,” she whispered groggily.
“Oh yeah? How much is it?” he asked.
“One fifty,” she responded without opening her eyes. “Can you come see it tomorrow?”
“Yeah, we'll go first thing in the morning. Get some sleep.”
Halleigh didn't respond, and her rhythmic breathing indicated that she had fallen back to sleep.
The next morning, Malek fulfilled his promise and escorted her to the house that she had chosen. To Malek's surprise, Halleigh had found a four-bedroom, two and a half bath in the prestigious suburb of Grand Blanc.
“Why is it so cheap?” he asked the realtor that was showing them around. He knew that houses started at $200,000 in that neighborhood.
“It's being foreclosed on. It was an older retired couple that lived here on a fixed income. They ran into some medical bills and decided to refinance their home, and after doing so, they couldn't keep up with the new payments. But, hey, this is really an excellent buy. Unfortunately someone else's pain will now be your gain. You may have to redecorate on the inside. Like I'd just stated, an older retired couple lived here, so the décor is a bit outdated, and the pool in the back needs some work, but everything else in the house is in mint condition.”
Malek admired the spacious layout of the house. He looked down at Halleigh. “You want it?” he asked her.
She nodded while smiling and replied, “I do. I know it looks old and funky on the inside, but I can do all of the remodeling and decorating myself. I can make it ours.”
“We'll take it,” Malek stated. “I'll be paying cash. How soon can we get the keys?”
The realtor looked surprised and also excited about the prospect of a quick sale. “I can have the paperwork completed for you by the end of today, and if you want, you can take possession of it first thing tomorrow.”
“Yeah, okay. Let's do that,” Malek stated as he held onto Halleigh's hand.
Halleigh clapped happily and jumped up and down in excitement. “I can't believe it. Now I have to go to Home Depot to pick out new carpeting.”
Malek laughed at her rambling and guided her out of the house.
They spent the remainder of the day picking out furniture and appliances, and hiring contractors to update the house. By the end of the day, the paperwork was signed, and they were packing up Malek's apartment.
The next day, Malek hired movers to relocate their possessions. Halleigh was directing the traffic that was coming in and out of the small apartment, while Malek oversaw the activities. He noticed an old-school black Monte Carlo with tinted windows sitting up the block. Malek had a feeling that there was someone in the car watching him.
After fifteen minutes of eyeing the car, paranoia kicked in. He didn't want to alarm Halleigh, so he didn't tell her what was going on. He knew that if somebody was watching his crib, then they were targeting him.
He walked into the house slowly as he continued to stare up the street at the parked car.
“Hal!” he yelled.
Halleigh walked toward him. “What up?” she asked.
“I'm about to go to the store. You want something?”
“Nah, I'm good, babe,” she responded as she kissed him quickly and then went about her business.
Malek strolled outside, his five-carat Jesus piece glistening against his fitted white T-shirt as he jogged over to his Navigator. He reached underneath his seat and retrieved his burner. His temperature was through the roof. He couldn't believe a nigga had the nerve to plot on him. “I know they ain't trying to bring heat to my home,” he said to himself as he took his gun off safety.
He pulled out of the driveway and drove in the direction of the idle car. He sped up until he was directly beside the Monte Carlo and then jumped out, leaving his car running. He snatched open the passenger side door and pressed the pistol to the passenger's head.
“Ohh shit! fam, hold up! Fall back, my nigga, damn!” he heard the driver state. “Malek, chill out!”
Malek aimed his pistol toward the driver and was surprised to see Mitch sitting there with a blunt in his hand.
“Fuck you watching me for?” Malek demanded.
“Fam, you came through the hood looking for me. I was just coming to check you out to see what was up. Damn!”
The passenger in the car was holding his face and groaning in pain.
“Nigga, you posted up the block from my crib like you lurking. My woman rests her head up in there. What the fuck were you sitting so long for?” Malek yelled.
Mitch held up the burning blunt that was still in his hand and stated, “We was getting blowed. Damn.”
Malek finally tucked his gun back in his pants and shook his head. “My fault, fam.”
“You got my man over here all shook,” Mitch said. “What's good? You came through the hood and paid my li'l man five stacks. You got them thinking you boss, fam.” Mitch's tone was light and joking, but Malek could sense the seriousness in his voice.
“Come spin the block with me for a minute,” Malek stated.
“I'll be right back,” Mitch told the guy in his car, who frowned at Malek.
“My fault,” Malek stated, finally acknowledging the passenger that he had roughed up. The guy didn't respond, but Malek didn't care.
He shouldn't have been posted in front of my crib,
he thought without remorse as a smirk crossed his face.
He shouldn't have been posted in front of my crib,
he thought without remorse as a smirk crossed his face.
Mitch caught his expression and burst into laughter. “You wrong for fucking that nigga up like that,” Mitch commented as he continued to laugh.
They hopped into Malek's car, and he pulled away.
“I know you know you hustling my blocks,” Malek said, no malice in his voice, but his tone serious.
“I'm hustling. And I know you used to roll with Joe, but I don't know too much about them blocks being yours,” Mitch responded.
“Look, I ain't against you getting money. What I'm against is you taking money out of my pocket and you pushing that bullshit-ass product on Joe's blocksâon my blocks. Now, I'm not trying to beef out with you. If we go to war, don't nobody make no dough, feel me?”
“Yeah, I hear that, fam,” Mitch agreed.
“So why don't we just do this together?” Malek stated.
Mitch was reluctant. “No disrespect, but why would I split what I'm making?”
“Because I've got Joe's connect.”
“Word?” Mitch said in shock.
“Look, I'm going to put it to you like this: You can get down or lay down. This is a movement what I'm about to do, and I want you on my team. If you not an ally, I'm going to consider you an enemy. I'm tryin'a give you a key to the world right now, fam.”
“You actually got Joe's connect?” Mitch asked in disbelief. He knew that Joe had the best coke in the city for years and that no one could seem to match his product. On occasions, he'd even lied to some of his buyers, saying that he had got the raw from Joe, just to get the sell.
Malek smirked and replied, “Your tune sound like it done changed, fam. You in or you out? I need a right hand.”
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