“Fam is good, believe me. This ain’t no kidnapping. More of a social ploy. I knew if I didn’t resort to drastic measures, I wouldn’t get your attention,” B-Murda explained.

I stepped up close to him. “So what kind of game you playin’?”

“No games, yo. This is business, and I’m hopin’ we can come to an understanding . . . for both of our sakes. I already know how you get down, Faheem, and I know how you used to have shit on lock. Niggas been buzzin’ ever since you came back, so I already knew you had plans. But after your team ran up in my territory, I was able to peep what those plans are. You still got it. But it’s enough for all of us. So, regardless of District Seven, just so you know, shit done changed a lot around here.” B-Murda tried to be firm without being disrespectful.

“Yeah, what’s changed?”

“The Eastside is King City now and I run it,” B-Murda replied, in the tone of a man sure of his power so he didn’t need to flaunt it.

“And you can still run it. It’s just that I control all of the product.”

B-Murda’s eyes turned cold. “Apparently, I know who you are, but you don’t know about me. I got soldiers in these streets like roaches with the heart of suicide bombers, except they don’t die; they ride for the cause. Shit is real, so a war ain’t to either of our benefit.”

“No need for war. Like I said, all product coming into the city needs to have my stamp on it, and if you want to trap out of District Seven, it’s your decision.”

I couldn’t help but to respect how the young boy was bringing it. I could tell he had a good head on his shoulders. “Do you like quality?”

“Yeah but—”

“Is the price right?”

“Yeah.”

“Look, I don’t mind you eating, but for now we have to eat at the same table.”

“If I say no?” he asked.

“Then I hope you can survive a drought. It’ll be a fuckin’ desert for you. ‘Cause nothing moves through this city except through me.”

TRAE

Customs had detained us for almost twenty-two hours before they put us in a van and drove for hours to what was known as the Black Jail. Was I nervous? Hell fuckin’ yeah. First off, I didn’t know what the fuck was going on; and second, from what I understood, when a nigga was detained over here, there was no trial, no hearing, nothing. Now, that’s the shit right there that had me nervous as hell.

I had no control over anything.