We have been working hard on this book and are happy to announce that the release date is almost upon us. To get your juices flowing, we are going to post snippets of the story until the release day. We hope you enjoyed the first snippet. The second snippet is Chapter 1. Enjoy.
SEVEN MONTHS PRIOR
The large, luxurious mansion was professionally decorated with black and gold balloons, banners, and various party items. It was Ace’s 25th birthday, and he wanted everyone and everything decked out in his two favorite colors. To him, black represented power and gold represented royalty. Seeing as though he was one-fourth of one of the most powerful groups to ever run the streets of Atlanta, it was only fitting that he was fond of the colors, black and gold. The STREET KINGS were bosses in the “A,” and everyone knew it. Starting off as small-time drug dealers, they grew into investors and property owners. Ace always talked about how each member of the group was the perfect fit for each other. Christopher “Cashflow” King was the son of an infamous cocaine dealer, Corey King. Cash learned everything about the drug game from his father, despite Corey’s efforts to keep his son away from the streets. Cash would constantly beg his father to front him some “work” so that he could deal with his friend, but his dad refused. This never became an issue because Cash’s best friend, Trey Davis, found a marijuana connect in Bankhead and the two started selling to students at Clark Atlanta and slowly worked their way into the hood.
After about a year of selling, the duo was bringing in consistent money. Although Cash had the financial backing of his father, he enjoyed spending money he earned. It was all about a sense of pride that many called foolish. He didn’t care too much for handouts. His Dodge Charger sat in the driveway, next to a luxurious collection of vehicles from Aston Martins to Lamborghinis. Despite the tantalizing options he had to choose from, the choice was always simple. Cash always drove his car.
He and Trey made a killing for years. They stacked up their drug money and purchased matching iced out chains, gold grills for their mouths and BMW 650s. Cash bought his BMW in black and Trey copped his in white. Whenever you saw one, you definitely saw the other. The two were inseparable. It didn’t take long for Cash’s cousin, Donovan “Don” King, to link up with the duo.
Don graduated from Clark with a Bachelor’s Degree in Business. Along with being the plug for the students that were looking to buy marijuana, Don carefully watched his cousin’s progression. Knowing that once he graduated he wouldn’t be able to help bring Cash customers, he proposed the duo invest in stocks and real estate. They knew everything about the streets but nothing about investing, so they were hesitant to move forward with Don’s proposal. After badgering them for months and finally being able to convince them to get on board with his vision, they gave Don cash every month and allowed him to handle their business affairs. Although Cash’s father was a self-made millionaire, he never took the time to legitimize his business. Any property he owned was used as a way to move his product at a larger scale. He was proud of the decisions his son and nephew were making.
Cash slowly walked through the living room. His spiked, red bottom shoes tapped on the marble floors with each step he took. He couldn’t help but admire himself while walking parallel to the wall-to-wall mirror. A fitted black suit covered his smooth brown skin. The suit jacket had gold trim around the collar, which matched the gold rose lapel, gold jewelry, and gold Cazal shades. Cash was dressed like a true boss. He headed up the stairs and stood over the balcony, which overlooked the large den area. The guests were all decked out in black and gold attire. They were being entertained by a live band and waited on by a five-star catering company. A large, custom cake was centered in the room, replicating a bottle of Ace of Spades. Cash had dropped a couple of stacks to have that cake designed for the party. Everything met Cash’s approval, and he couldn’t wait for Ace to see everything.
His friend was turning 25, and that was a big deal to the streets. Most young, black men don’t expect to live past the age of 21, so Ace had even more of a reason to celebrate. Three years prior, Cash had celebrated his 25th birthday by flying his crew out to Dubai. He wanted to do the same for this celebration, but Ace wanted to stay local so he could be around his family. The Newton family attended, eager for the festivities to begin. Ace’s little cousin, Ramir, held up his glass to honor the man he idolized his entire life. Ramir couldn’t wait for the day he would be one of the figureheads in the organization. The caterers glided through the room, which was filled with about three hundred people, as they handed out hors d’oeuvres and glasses of champagne. They were happy to be around the fun crowd and even happier to be in the presence of the Street Kings. Serving a party of this prominence would earn them more in one night than they would make in a month.
Cash entered one of the six bedrooms in the mansion and saw Ace standing in front of a mirror, admiring how fresh he looked. His custom black and gold Versace blazer would surely be the talk of the town, especially because he had the Versace shoes to match. Ace’s neck was covered in gold chains and his fingers with rings. The piece that stood out was a gold Cuban link chain with a medallion that was designed as a lion’s head. This piece sat in front of the rest. The diamond Rolex watch he was wearing stood out too. He was a very flashy person, and on this night, he was living up to everyone’s expectations.
Trey and Don were also in the room, scrolling down their iPhones like two teenage girls. Don was always looking for another property or investment to invest in. He was constantly on his phone monitoring the Bitcoin craze. Hundreds of thoughts ran through his head as he tried to think of all the different moves he was ready to make on behalf of the crew. Don didn’t want just to be rich. He wanted to be wealthy. He wanted the type of wealth that would ensure his great-grandchildren didn’t have to work. He was a major asset to the crew because no one else was on his level when it came to business. Trey was probably messaging his wife, Naomi, because they just had their third child. She had him on a very tight leash, and whenever he wasn’t in her presence, she was on his phone line.
“Let’s make a toast,” Cash announced as he raised one of the four bottles of Ace of Spades that was on the nightstand. “A toast to our goon, our hitta’ and our brother. Ace I love you bro, and I hope you enjoy your night.”
“To Ace,” Trey and Don said in unison while holding their bottles up.
The four men took swigs of the expensive, brut champagne. Each of them twisted up their faces after consuming the rough beverage. “I just want to thank you guys for allowing me to join the crew. I would do anything for you mu’fuckas’. I would not be here with these blessings if it weren’t for y’all. I love y’all.” The four took another swig of the champagne and got ready to head down to the party.
As soon as the bedroom door opened, loud cheers erupted from below. Ace stepped out of the room first, dripping in swag. He was very confident and stood at the top of the spiral staircase with his arms raised in the air. The rest of the crew stood behind Ace, allowing him to soak up the moment. All of this shit is for me, he thought as he slowly descended the stairs. Once he reached the bottom step, two beautiful women were waiting to lock arms with him and escort him through the party. They were caramel beauties with long black hair. One wore a gold dress and the other a black. Both of the dresses were fitted and hugged their curves, causing every man in the party to stare. Even some of the women were checking them out. Ace wrapped each arm around the waist of both women and palmed their ass cheeks as he walked through the luxurious event. Two photographers and a videographer followed closely behind, snapping shots of the man of the hour. He made his way over to the center of the party and admired the gigantic cake that was perfect for him. “Damn, this cake is dope as shit,” Ace said. He was smiling from ear to ear. The band discreetly finished the tune they were playing, which left the room quiet. Ace grabbed one of the bottles that were placed around the cake and raised it in the air. “I just want to thank every—“
The front door was rammed in, and a swarm of law enforcement agents rushed into the Buckhead mansion. There were members of the Atlanta Police S.W.A.T. team pushing their way through the crowd, alongside agents from the ATF, DEA, and FBI. They were all focused on the Street Kings. Ace tried to make a run for it, toward the kitchen, but quickly realized some of the caterers now had badges draped around their necks and pistols pointed at him. “Get on your knees,” one of them ordered. “NOW!” Ace looked over his shoulder and noticed more agents closing in on him. The room was complete chaos. Guests were being detained, and some were actually fighting the agents. Punches were being thrown, and loud screams filled the air. Ace looked over at the staircase and watched as the other members of his group were being placed in cuffs. He quickly darted for the back door but was tackled after the first few steps he took. As his face was being mushed into the marble tile, the feeling of cold steel being clamped on his wrists sent a slight chill up his spine. The same cold steel was also placed around his ankles. Even though he was now cuffed, one of the members of the S.W.A.T. team continued kneeling on Ace’s back. The pain from the knee in his back was nothing compared to the pain he felt watching his crew being carried away in handcuffs. A total of twenty-three arrests had been made at the party and thousands of dollars in damages to the home. Ace was emotionless and didn’t say a word.
“Ace Newton,” one of the agents stated as he kneeled over the young man. “You are under arrest for murder, aggravated assault, extortion, racketeering and a slew of other offenses. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you free of charge. However, judging from the looks of things, I’m sure you can afford an attorney,” he sarcastically said as he checked out the interior of the mansion.
Ace was still silent, and the agents lifted him to his feet. For some, being arrested at your own birthday party would be embarrassing but for Ace, it was expected. He knew this day would eventually come. His eyes locked onto those of his family members as he was escorted through the crowd. Tears flowed down everyone’s eyes, including Ace’s. Police officers were on the scene trying their best to control the situation, but it started to get out of hand. It had the potential to get dangerous. After squeezing Ace into one of the police wagons, he and members of the crew were taken back to the precinct for processing. There was a lot of chatter in the back of the wagon and Ace watched as some of his goons began to sound like bitches.
“Rule number one, is what?”
“No snitchin’,” they all said in unison.
“Right. So keep those lips shut. Nobody say nothin’.”
A large knot sat in Ace’s stomach as they took the ride to the police station. He noticed Cash, Trey, and Don weren’t in the wagon with him. Sweat beads began forming on his forehead, and his nerves were getting the best of him. There was no way he could break now, not in front of the underlings in the organization. Ace was someone they looked up to and if he showed any sign of weakness, they would surely flip on him. His poker face was very intimidating, and his opaque eyes seemed to be looking into the souls of each man in the back of the wagon. Something was not sitting right with him. His crew was very careful with their operations, from dealing to investing. Ace took care of all of the crew’s dirty work but was careful with the moves he made as well. The last thing he ever expected was to be in sitting in a cell on his 25th birthday.
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