Red hated being anywhere in the vicinity of downtown, ATL. He never partied or enjoyed nightclubs. Always about making that money, Red cast a hater’s glance at ‘the scene’ and being seen. All of his clientele lived in and around the suburbs therefore being in the city was never a necessity. Only if he were heading out of state on one of his business trips would he drive to the airport.
Unfortunately for Red, his sister, Torri, was coming into the airport tomorrow, and he was scheduled to pick her up. The thought of that trip made him sigh heavily. Red was well aware of how freely the ‘alphabet boys’ - FBI, DEA, and ATF roamed this part of the city. Their headquarters were in the downtown area. Red held onto the common sense belief of not showing his face at the local strip clubs, celebrity restaurants, and social events.
Staying out of the spotlight was what a lot of hustlers failed to do, and became a portrait for the ‘alphabet boys’. He was not only cautious, but was sharper than your average hustler. Red wanted to be in the game for the long haul, and avoided the ‘scene’ at all costs.
Taking the airport exit, heading toward the Royal Sonesta Hotel & Resort, Red shrugged off the dislike for being in the city. Torri would be returning home from four years of college at the University of Miami. Red hadn’t seen his beloved sister since her last visit a year ago. He couldn’t wait to see the huge smile she would be wearing when he presented the spanking new ‘09 db9 Volante Convertible, Aston Martin he bought for her graduation gift. Red went the extra mile with his gift. He had the luxury sports car shipped off to California, where it was gutted, and customized to his liking. Red even had ‘Torri’ stitched into all four of the car’s headrests in bold script.
He wanted to get himself, and Torri out the hood. Red accomplished this, but unfortunately he realized that Torri’s heart was out of his hands. All he could do was help her move on from her broken relationship. Along with the new car, Red leased a two-bedroom luxury condo in Atlanta’s exclusive Buckhead residential area for Torri. He also had fifty thousand dollars deposited into an American Express prepaid Credit card account. Torri was ready to start graduate school in the fall. Red planned on paying the full tuition—another surprise he wanted to reveal when she arrived.
Red guided his beluga black on black rims, two-door Mercedes Benz SLR McLaren to the front entrance lobby of the luxurious Royal Sonesta Resort Hotel, and Casino. He pulled to a stop in front of a valet. For a moment, Red wondered why Low booked a room at such a well-known hot spot. Then smiling, he quickly shook his head. Red knew that Low was a big-time trick, and a sucker for fine women.
The choice of hotel told Red that Low definitely had some five-star pussy up there with him, and he was trying to impress her. Two taps on the driver’s side window broke Red’s train of thought, and his smile disappeared into a frown. Turning the cars sound system off, he lowered the tinted window just enough for his eyes to be seen. Red glared at the young valet with a cold stare.
“Yo…?” he sneered.
“Uh… Yes, sir…”
A valet reluctantly approached when he saw the person sitting behind the wheel of the expensive vehicle. Smiling nervously, the valet said, “I was just kindly wondering if you had any luggage that needed to be taken up to your suite with you, sir?”
Sucking his teeth, Red said, “Nah, I’m just picking up someone.”
Then he gave the valet an icy stare, and with a sweeping gesture of his hand, Red signaled for the valet to get away from his car. The valet flashed an uncomfortable smile.
“Very well, sir,” he said, nodding, and rushing to another vehicle.
His driver’s side window up, Red turned up the volume. Suddenly his iPhone vibrated. Shifting his gaze down toward the phones screen, Red saw the message.
Daddy I’m soaking wet. Where R U?
It was the fourth text in the past thirty minutes Lovely sent him. She was blowing up his phone, but Red couldn’t blame her. He was supposed to be at her house an hour and a half ago. Red didn’t bother to respond. Letting out a deep sigh, he reclined himself in the cars leather seats, resting his deep waves on the seat’s headrest with a mischievous smile on his face, thinking. Lovely was one of Low’s bad bitches.
Lovely’s pussy was A-1. Behind Low’s back, Lovely had given Red a taste of the goodies. Since then, Red could not get enough of Lovely. His young- ass was sprung. Grabbing his crotch, Red began massaging his erection through his Armani silk slacks. Wild thoughts of fucking Lovely had him going, and his smile grew wider at the thought of getting more of Lovely. He rubbed his palms together, thinking life was good. Eventually Red would have to tell Low that he was fucking Lovely. That could be done much later.
Even though it was damn special, her pussy was not good enough to jeopardize his future, and livelihood. He was aware that Low hated secrets, but figured that Low wouldn’t give a fuck once he told him about Lovely. Women were an added luxury to a man of Low’s status. A long time ago, Low made it clear to Red that only his wife, Michelle was off limits. Red wasn’t going to allow Lovely to deter him from his destiny. This was a monumental turning point in his life. At this moment, Red’s mind was on presenting Low with a million dollars in cash tomorrow. He needed the dough to complete the final stage of his initiation then he would be an official member of Zoe Pound.
Raising the money was the final test. It had taken four years to raise the amount. Red did this without the guidance or help of Low, and he didn’t have the muscle of Zoe Pound. Low needed to see that Red was not only a hustler, but that he was sharp, and street smart. If Red were able to garner the resource to accumulate one million dollars without attracting the FBI, ATF, and DEA or getting set-up, or worse—getting robbed along the way, he would be worthy to carry on the torch of the Criminal Enterprise known as Zoe Pound.
2Pac’s, All Eyez On Me album rolled on, Check Out Time flowed through the car’s sound system. Nodding his head, Red’s mind drifted further into the struggles he faced in the last four years. Setting the foundation, he was in the midst of making the necessary moves to get a million dollars tax-free. Success came down to making the right decisions. That philosophy never rang as true as it did when it came to the final connection that eventually got Red over the seven-figure milestone.
It was the most critical decision he had to make throughout the whole ordeal. Keys were going for twenty-seven-five up north in Massachusetts, and two determined hustlers out of Boston were in town, and looking to cop thirty of them at fifteen a piece. The thought of killing these out-of-towners, taking their money, and doing away with their bodies seemed like the easiest route at first. Red’s long-term frame of mind kicked in. Quickly, Red realized that if these buyers were about money then not only would he surpass the million-dollar mark necessary, he would also have another out-of-state customer.
There was no necessity to flip coin on this deal. Red already had a solid circle of connections, and was making real good money locally. With close to seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars stashed away already, Red was not in a rush to get that last quarter million. Never the anxious one, Red knew it was better to be safe than sorry.
Knowing this deal could push him over the top, Red chose to roll with his gut feeling. He hit the buyers with the bricks they were requesting at a price tag of seventeen thousand dollars. The deal went down smoothly—that was three months ago. After hitting the Bostonians with their last ten keys earlier, and collecting one hundred and seventy thousand dollars, Red’s net worth stood at nearly a million and a half.
Red put Low’s million in a safe at his condo in Decatur. With the money he owed on the bargained price of two hundred thousand, Red was able to pay for a new Benz, and Torri’s Volante. He headed straight to the Aston Martin dealership, and paid them off. Then he put fifty thousand on a pre-paid credit card for Torri. While shopping at an Armani outlet in DeKalb, Red bought a few dozen outfits.
He booked a V.I.P reservation at P Diddy’s exclusive five-star restaurant, Justin’s. It was there that he