Carl Weber's Kingpins
Carl Weber’s Kingpins:
Harlem
C. N. Phillips
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue - September 1996
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
About the Author
Urban Books, LLC
300 Farmingdale Road, N.Y.-Route 109
Farmingdale, NY 11735
Carl Weber’s Kingpins: Harlem
Copyright © 2020 C. N. Phillips
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-8931-9602-5
eISBN 13: 978-1-893196-05-6
eISBN 10: 1-893196-05-4
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
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Dedication
This book is dedicated to Nipsey Hussle. I love you forever, King. I will forever thank God that He guided me to your words. I was a new mom when I first heard your voice all those years ago . . . You made me believe that I could really build a good life for my daughter. For us. I will always be grateful for that. I will always appreciate you for helping me pull myself back up after those long nights. This dream of mine is one that nobody supported, but when I heard your words, it made me okay with being on this marathon by myself. “This life is short; let’s make it worth it, nigga. We all so far from perfect, nigga. The cameras rollin’, no rehearsals, nigga. Plus scared money never made a fuckin’ purchase, nigga.” You were and will always be great. Nobody can take that away from you. You were more than an artist to me. You touched my soul, and for that, you will be with me forever. RIP to the greatest!
“The path to success is to take massive,
determined actions.”
—Tony Robbins
Prologue
September 1996
“Touch me, tease me. Feel me and caress me. Hold on tight and don’t let go. Baby, I’m about to explode!”
Case’s voice boomed from a loudspeaker and into the hot New York air. The smell of barbecue and sound of laughter filled the backyard of Arnold “Sunny” Walker’s three-story home. Most hustlers wouldn’t take a day off, but for Sunny, Sundays were a day for family to get together and mingle. He’d built the biggest cocaine operation Harlem had ever seen, and he wanted to reap what he’d sown. He stood over the grill, flipping burgers in a pair of sneakers, shorts, and silk floral button-up that was open at the top. The thick gold chain on his neck matched the Rolex on his wrist, and both glistened in the sunlight. Sunny was what the women called one pretty-ass man because he was just that handsome. He had soft hazelnut eyes with long eyelashes, full lips, a strong jaw structure, and kept his hair cut in a short high-top fade. His good looks mixed with his light skin was what always made the girls go crazy. Sunny’s looks were also why some people thought he was soft, but he liked that. It gave him a reason to unleash the beast within him; however, this wasn’t one of those times. He was enjoying the family time and watching while his children swam in the pool with their cousins. The women and elder folks were sitting at the bench tables chatting while his boys stood around the grill with ice-cold beers in their hands.
“Man, you need some help with them burgers? I don’t want no pink in my shit!”
Sunny grinned at the sound of his right-hand man, Kyan’s, voice. The two had been in it since they were waddling in diapers and carrying bottles everywhere. “Day” and “Night” was what they were called growing up, and not just because Sunny was high yellow and Kyan was chocolate. No, it was deeper than that. Sunny and Kyan each had a personality that balanced the other. Sunny could admit that his operation wouldn’t be nearly as successful without Kyan’s muscle, nor would Kyan be eating as well as he was without Sunny’s brain. Both men were tall, but Kyan was taller and was more muscular. He too was a handsome man who wore his hair cut low so that his waves busted out. That day, he wore a baseball cap to the back and a baseball jersey completely unbuttoned.
“Nigga, you better shut ya ass up before I ‘accidently’ leave some pink in ya burger,” Sunny said, waving the spatula at him. “Gon’ be callin’ me tomorrow talkin’ ’bout ‘Dog, I can’t put in no work today. I’m on the toilet.’”
“You would do me like that, God?”
“You the one playin’ like a nigga doesn’t get busy on the grill,” Sunny said with a laugh.
“Yeah, Kyan, you over here playin’ my boy,” their friend Cross piped up. “You know the food is the top reason I make sure I’m here on time every Sunday!”
Sunny nodded his head and dapped up Cross.
“Yeah, nigga,” he said, looking back at Kyan. “How my soldiers hype me, but my right hand don’t?”
“’Cause I’m already at the cool table. I don’t gotta dick ride ya ugly ass!”
“Yeah, whatever,” Sunny told him and closed the grill so the burgers could cook a little longer. “Aye, Cross, watch the grill. I gotta holla at my mans for a second.”
“Word,” Cross answered and took the spatula.
“Let’s go in the house for a second,” Sunny said and nodded toward the patio slide door.
Before he took a step, Sunny felt a cold, wet hand grab his arm. When he looked down, he saw his 8-year-old daughter, Mariah, looking up at him with a towel wrapped around her body.
“Daddy, is the food done? I’m starving!”
“Not yet, baby, but if you need somethin’ in ya stomach right away, go ask Mommy for some chips.”
“OK, and, Daddy?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Man Man keeps pinching our legs under water! He’s pissing me off!”
“Aye! Watch ya mouth,” Sunny said, gently popping Mariah’s lips. “Don’t speak like that. You’re only a kid, remember? And tell ya brother I said stop pinching legs, or I’ma pinch him, a’ight?”
“OK, Daddy,” Mariah said and ran back to the pool instead of to the table with the chips.
“Kids,” he said, shaking his head. “Come on, Ky, before another one of these crumb snatchers harasses me for some eats again.”
He slid the patio door behind him and led Kyan into the basement of his lavish home. Sunny had to admit, his wife, Keisha, had outdone herself when she decorated their house. She was an interior decorator, and their home was her big project, and every time Sunny walked through it, he felt like a king. She’d done the basement specifically for him. It was his man cave, complete with a bar and a pool table. Sunny went behind the bar and poured two glasses of Rémy Martin on the rocks. Kyan sat on a bar stool across from him and picked
up his glass.
“What’s good, boss?” Kyan asked, swiveling the liquid around in the cup.
“The streets are talkin’, and that ain’t good,” Sunny said, giving Kyan a look before taking a gulp of his drink.
“The streets are always talkin’, so you’re gonna have to be a little more specific with that one.”
“They’re talkin’ about that cat we ran out of town a few weeks back.”
“Kameron?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Well, what can they be sayin’ about that nigga that has ya drawers in a frenzy? He came here tryin’ to expand. We said no and kicked him out of our territory. That’s how this shit usually goes.”
“Yeah, I know, but Cross told me that he’s talkin’ retaliation.”
“Retaliation for what? We ain’t even do them niggas how we usually do niggas movin’ in on our turf. We let them go. That nigga Cross be sayin’ anything, man. I wouldn’t even pay it no mind.”
“You ain’t think they went a little too peacefully?” Sunny asked. “I mean, why even ruffle the birds’ feathers in the first place if you don’t care about the outcome?”
To that, Kyan just clenched his jaws. He set the glass he was holding down on the bar and leaned back in his seat. From where Sunny stood, he could tell his boy’s head was reeling just by the expression on his face. Or maybe he thought that because his own mind was going fifty miles a second. Kameron was a few years older than Kyan and him, but his operation hadn’t quite taken flight yet. To do that, he needed Sunny. What he’d brought to the table was something more than a cocaine empire. He was proposing that they take over every market, and that included marijuana and pills. It was something to think about, and the way Kameron was talking, it was clear that he had a plan, but Sunny could tell that Kameron was the type of man that didn’t like not being in charge. There was something about the look in his eyes that couldn’t be trusted, and not only that, Sunny knew he had a great thing going. Downfall only came to the greedy man, and for now, he had all that he needed. He didn’t want to risk adding more eyes, ears, and hands to his pot. So he declined Kameron’s offer and told him in so many words to make sure he stayed out of Harlem with his work.
“You worried?”
“Nah, not worried. Cautious. Men like Kameron want to take over the world and never give up this game. Those are the ones you have to look out for. The ones who want to live like this forever.”
“I mean, I don’t know about you, but I could be on top forever,” Kyan said with a shrug of his shoulders.
“I feel that, and I definitely want to be on top forever. But my forever doesn’t involve being a kingpin.”
“What, you gonna go legit and become some top chef or some shit?”
“Maybe,” Sunny grinned. “Or maybe I’ll buy some more property and invest, but all I know is that in order to ensure I see that future, I have to dot all my i’s and cross all of my t’s, starting with Kameron.”
“I feel it. We have a few more years to put in before we can call it quits, though.”
“Word,” Sunny said and raised his glass. “To our future.”
“Our future,” Kyan said, lifting his glass and putting it to his lips.
The men had barely swallowed a drop when they heard a sound that made both of their hearts drop.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
The gunshots caught the two of them off guard, and when they didn’t stop, Sunny knew they weren’t celebratory rounds. He quickly pulled his 9-millimeter pistol from his waist and rushed to the patio door with Kyan closely behind. He peered outside the window and saw all of his men dropping one by one like flies. He couldn’t get eyes on the shooters, but when he saw his children cowering under a bench, Sunny knew it was time to be about action. When he slid the door open and stepped outside, the glass on the patio door instantly was shot out.
“There he go!” he heard a voice shout out. “Lay that nigga down!”
He and Kyan dropped to the ground and rolled out of the way. Looking around the large backyard, he saw many of his family members on the ground bleeding out, including Keisha. She was holding her stomach and trying to crawl to the kids, but a man was standing over her with a gun pointed at her head.
“Keisha!” Sunny yelled and tried to aim his gun, but the grill was in the way of his shot.
Boom!
Kyan fired his weapon, and his bullet caught the man standing over Keisha in the temple. Sunny began firing shots at the other two men who had materialized standing near the entrance to his backyard. His guests who weren’t already on the ground were screaming and scrambling, trying to get out of that backyard. Little did they know, they were making their survival rate plummet. Their bodies kept getting in the way of bullets, and they were dropping like flies. Sunny saw Cross’s lifeless body by the grill and figured that the men must have caught him off guard. Kyan and Sunny seemed to be the last ones left, and they were holding their own.
“Daddy!”
Sunny saw Mariah emerge from under a table, and he tried to shout for her to stay there, but it was too late. She saw where he was taking cover and decided to run toward him.
“Mariah, no, baby!” he yelled, but it was too late.
She never saw the bullet that caught her in the back of the head. She dropped dead instantly, and Sunny’s eyes grew as big as saucers. The gun in his hand wavered after watching his only daughter get gunned down in front of him.
“Mariah!” he shouted, and hot tears fell down his face.
“Kameron sends his love!” One of the men shouted and headed toward the spot Mariah had just left.
Sunny’s son was still there under the table hiding with his hands covering his head. Sunny tried to aim for the man after him, but there was no use. Every shot he made missed, and the incoming fire at him made it almost impossible to make a move. Sunny’s clip was empty, and he was out of ammunition. He had no other choice; he had to get to his son somehow.
“Cover me,” he told Kyan and took off toward his son just as the man wearing all black reached him.
Sunny ran the five feet to his terrified child. He put his body in front of him and looked into the eyes of his enemy. He saw humor in them, as if it had all been just a game.
“Kameron said you’d be tougher than this,” the man said.
He wore no mask, and that meant there were to be no witnesses that day. He looked to be the same age as Sunny, yet his eyes had the look of a man who had never known happiness. He raised his gun at Sunny and applied his finger on the trigger.
“What do you want? Whatever he’s payin’ you, I can double it,” Sunny heard himself plead.
“Loyalty don’t work like that,” the young man said and cocked his gun. “I hope ya son was worth savin’.”
Boom!
The bullet caught Sunny in the side of his forehead, and he felt a piercing pain when his neck snapped back. His vision went black, but not before he saw the man standing over him get gunned down.
Chapter 1
“One finds limits by pushing them.”
—Herbert Simon
2019
Klax Turner hated when things didn’t go as planned. When it came to business, he was a very particular man. He liked things to go smoothly so that they didn’t have to get ugly. But it seemed that somebody was dead set on forcing his hand. In a short period of time, someone had ordered hits on two of Klax’s stash spots. The gunmen didn’t make it into Harlem; nobody ever made it into Harlem. And if they did, they didn’t make it very far. It was too easy to tell if you didn’t belong there. However, over $100,000 of cash and cocaine were stolen from a storage unit in the Bronx. There was only one other person who knew about the storage unit, and that was the person who was in charge of watching it. Big Tony.
Big Tony had worked for Klax’s father, Kameron Turner, before his untimely death. He was ten years older than Klax and had worked his way up in rank during his service. He’d gone from running errands to runn
ing every corner in the Bronx. There had never been a problem for years, and Big Tony was a hardworking man, but something was off. Klax was supposed to be in a meeting early that morning for a property that he was about to acquire, but instead, he was on his way to figure out why Big Tony had slacked at his post. He drove his silver G-Wagen through the morning New York traffic until he finally made it to his destination. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when he parked his car in Big Tony’s driveway. Klax smoothed down the Saint Laurent button-up he was wearing as he looked around the neighborhood. The large houses were about twenty feet away from each other, and it seemed as if everyone had already left for the morning. Other than the cold wind blowing and a few cars pulling out of their driveways, it was quiet. Klax stepped out of the truck and went to the front door of the house.
Ding, dong!
After Klax rang the doorbell, Ransom, one of Big Tony’s workers, opened the door. He stood tall but straightened up even more when he saw Klax. He nodded his head in respect and backed out of the way so that Klax could enter.
“Where’s your boss?” Klax asked, standing in the foyer of the house.
“He’s in the back. Follow me,” Ransom said and started to walk, assuming Klax would follow.
“How about you tell him to meet me in the front room,” Klax suggested and pointed at the all-white room to the right of them. “I’ll wait.”
“Yes sir,” Ransom said and left.
Klax didn’t bother looking around at anything that wasn’t obvious to the eye in the house. He walked, as if he owned the place, to the white couch in the sitting room and patiently waited. Big Tony knew that he hated waiting, so it was a good thing he showed his face soon after.
“Klax!” Big Tony said loudly entering the room resembling Barney in the purple crewneck shirt he wore.