Flippin' The Game 3

By Myles Ramzee

After the convictions and deaths of the Black Top Crew hierarchy, Keenan Giles Junior sets out to clear his family name and build a relationship with the last of the Classon clan, Malik. Malik, now more mature and meeting the love of his life wants out of the game. Keenan Junior thinks Malik is getting weak and seeks to get rid of all the Classons will not let another family member tarnish the bloodline.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angel Eyes Publications
• Release date: Jan 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311316073

Book preview

FLIPPIN’ THE GAME 3

By

Myles Ramzee

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Angel Eyes Publications on Smashwords

Flippin’ The Game 3

Copyright © 2015 Myles Ramzee

Thank you for downloading ebook. This remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author. Quotes used in reviews are the exception. No alteration of content is allowed.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book is written in honor of my mother Marie Ricourt, my grandmothers Vera Ramsey and Marcia Lawlor. May the essence of who they were live on through their descendants and those who loved them.

I also salute and honor my ancestors who struggled in the name of Freedom, Justice and Equality.

I dedicate my life to my family. To my sisters and co-author Alethea who sticks by me through it all, our love can't be equaled.

To all my nieces and nephews you know I live for you, and I love you all. To my father I miss you and love you. Please stay strong. To all my aunts and uncles my heart is yours always. To all my cousins yall know I'm here for you all the time and we are close as ever. Khalilah you're my rock, the bridge that keeps me bonded to the family. I love you so much. Special shout out to Dennis D-Mac Boney, Kaquwan Footy Milligan and Cetewayo Cee Frails, the realest dudes. To Minister Alif for keeping me enlightened with truth and to all U.N.I. members. Peace to the N.O.G.E. and Father Divine and all my homies locked up. To those who've stuck by me through the rough times. Jodi Perry, Karmen Davis, Nicole Morston, Miqui McCoy and Thora Lashley. I love you all. To my home Niko stay real.

An extra special dedication goes out to my best friend and partner Monique Santiago. You’re a breath of fresh air in a world odor with madness. You're the true meaning of a woman. You’re love manifested in beautiful dark skin. You’re the completion of a man’s need of true love. You’re a classic and a Queen. I love you.

Last but not least to Anna J you're an inspiration to someone who wants to be at the top of their game when it comes to writing.

To RJ, thank you for giving me the opportunity to show my ability, to tell an entertaining story based on the reality of the streets. Real recognize real.

INTRODUCTION

Since I could remember, I've been hearing about a War on Drugs the government has waged. I have to ask the question, how do you take a drug to war? Heroin, Cocaine, Meth, Prescription Medicine etc., cannot engage in an armed conflict with anything or anyone.

These drugs can't preemptively strike a people that they assume want to do it harm. These drugs can't plan and carry out the occupation of a peoples' land or community. These drugs need people to manufacture, distribute, and sell them in order to become an epidemic that would warrant a war waged on them. So what is this war about?

It's about the young black male characters in this novel not understanding the cycle of death, drugs and guns purposefully and strategically placed in our communities so that a war that been waged on us since our ancestors step foot on these shores could covertly take on another name besides slavery replaced by a war on drugs.

It's about divide and conquer it's about keeping the rich richer and the poor poorer. It's about smothering and burying potential. It's about conserving the ideology of white supremacy. It's about population control.

The person reading this novel should walk away from it aware that The Game is a plan of failure. Though the Flippin the Game series are a work of fiction, there is nothing fictitious about the events taken place within these pages. There is nothing fake about murder and jail. The betrayal is real. I have experienced myself at a cost of my freedom.

Greed does cause people to make decisions that cost lives and freedom. Lust can blind people to ulterior motives of deceit. There is no one side to this game. It can and will be flipped. The choice is yours of what side you want to experience first. The worst side can come before the side you came for.

In closing I advise my readers to read this novel as a motivator to want to live a life of productivity instead of what the characters are living to die for. I encourage you to use consequential thinking. I beg you to Wake Up.

Myles Ramzee

PROLOGUE

Federal Courthouse Brooklyn

MALIK

You’re Honor, due to the defendant’s criminal history, affiliations with unsavory characters with access to large sums of funds, legal and illegal, along with the seriousness of charges the government has brought against this defendant and his co-conspirators we feel a million dollar bail is fair.

This bitch act like a mufucka got a million dollars just sitting around like its small change. These mufuckas just being vindictive because they didn't get me with my uncles so they come with this cornball ass case. They made it a R.I.C.O. case too.

I know my grandmother turning in her grave. If she were here she probably would be sitting in this courtroom right next to my cousin Lavelle sitting there in an expensive Italian suit between his sisters. I know they're tired of this drama but still the family bond is strong so they stick it out.

Bail is set at a million dollars

Damn that's a nice piece of change for bail. My lawyer told me the bail would be high but I didn't think in that range. Lavelle already made it clear he wasn't dishing out anything over a hundred grand.

He said that because he knew that's what I had in cash and I could give it back as soon as I made bail. Where the fuck am I going to come up with this kind of bread. This fucking D.A. bitch and Judge act like they getting a cut from this crazy ass bail. I guess the last name Classon still leaves a bad taste in the mouth of Lady Justice.

After I got my bail and I watched Lavelle, Toya and Tara leave the courtroom, (This nigga Lavelle shrugged his shoulders at me letting me know with body language that I was shit out of luck on that million). I was taken to the Fed lock up in the city. I wasn't there for an hour before the guard yelled my name.

Hey Classon!

I walked out of the bull pen to a desk where this badly tanned white guy with an army crew cut sat at.

I'm Classon. What's up?

Your bail was paid.

"Hold up....What....bail....Who the? Lavelle must have changed his mind. The nigga had the bread his label is the biggest in the music biz. His acts all have been doing them on the charts and in sales. Pockets have been doing it real nice. He kicked off a 30 city tour and his debut album is platinum in 3 weeks. I wonder how Lavelle think he going get that back though.

An hour later I'm walking out of the jail and the first thing I see sitting on the sidewalk is a cocaine white Maybach with that chick from the magazine standing in front of an open door of the Maybach. What the fuck is this about?

What's up Malik, good to see you out?

Damn this bitch is bad but what is she doing here. I already told her I ain't doing any interviews. I'm not a rap star or actor. Those are the people who suppose to do interviews, not street niggas. Fuck is a street nigga promoting, how good his dope is? How many bricks he got?

I told you I'm not doing any interviews ma.

She smiled that pretty smile still holding the door open.

I'm not here for an interview. I need you to tell me how you goin to get my million dollars back.

*****

PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA

POCKETS

This nigga calls himself disciplining my son....

Sitting in Nafiys barbershop just me and him kicking it like we always do I never thought I would see my old head get this emotional. Every time I come to Philly to see him he tells me to come to the shop when it's closed for the day so we could just talk. It's usually him giving me advice on my career and schooling me about the streets.

Tonight though was different. At first I thought the hot muggy summer night had a nigga feeling irritated but once inside the shop with the A.C. bumping to the 5th power Nafiys showed me a side of his mysterious personality I never saw. I even saw his eyes watery.

I ain't saying anything to Ryan yet. I went to pick my son up when I was in New York and my son told me. I'm not gonna draw on myself but this nigga got to go.

I had a feeling that Nafiys wanted this dude Ryan messing with dead before he decided to discipline his son again. I know Nafiys is still in love with Ryan and he wanted his family back at home with him. Obviously Ryan was playing hardball I wonder if she realizes whose heart she's fucking with. I guess she will have to find out the wrong way.

*****

SPECIAL AGENT KEVIN MURDAUGH

This night has to be humid and muggy while I lay under Malik Classon's Aston Martin installing a GPS devise after I already placed bugs inside the interior light and under the steering wheel. With technology so advance these days, the devices are so minute you almost need a microscope to see it.

Signal up? I had to almost whisper into my blue tooth speaking to my partner who was sitting at the corner of the quiet Cambria heights block in a dark blue minivan with tinted windows.

Up and running! He yelled in my ear. He actually wasn't yelling he just has one of those loud New York Italian voices. I slid from under the car quietly, slowly got up while looking up and down the single homed block for any onlookers that could potentially warn Malik of a man doing something under his car. Being black, I fit in the working class Queens neighborhood but I still was a stranger messing with one of the areas notorious drug dealers’ cars that was definitely enough to raise some eyebrows.

Happy that the hazy night drove the residents running for their air conditioned homes, I quietly walked to the minivan where my annoying partner, Paulie D from Jersey Shore look alike and wannabe sat with a laptop on his lap. He even used the term G.T.L. When he spoke to me about things he did on his day off. I swear these days the F.B.I. hires anybody who is willing to sit long hours on stake outs, follow a particular suspect everywhere he goes, even the bathroom to take a dump, and on the drop of a dime relocate to a city far away from everything and person they love in the name of justice.

Now what? My rookie fake Paulie D partner asks as soon as I sit in the driver’s seat.

We wait for however long it takes for our target to get in that car with someone and talks. I answered after sighing. The kid was annoying, at the same time when I was a rookie years ago I also had a lot of questions.

He may not get into that car until the morning.

Shrugging my shoulders, I had to let him know a thing about this job.

He may not get into that car for a week. And that's how long we will have to wait. Welcome to the F.B.I. I could see the thoughtful expression on my partners face when I said we may be in this car for a week. Dealing with a guy like Malik Classon it's plausible due to his love for cars. He has a small collection of cars and he drives them all.

What, this guy stays in one place for a week? My partner asked.

Even though he was briefed about Malik Classon being a drug dealer making a large profit in the sale of narcotics he wasn't given the man’s history. In order for you to understand who your target is and how he operates you must know his history so I filled him in on Malik Classon.

Malik Classon was born in Jamaica Hospital in Jamaica, Queens. He never knew who his father was. His mother was sixteen years old when she gave birth to Malik and had no idea who Malik's father was. It could have been a number of men who hustled on the streets of South Jamaica, Queens. It didn't matter to her who the father was; her baby boy made her the happiest teenager in the South Jamaica Houses that the residents call 40 projects.

She traveled with Malik in a stroller everywhere she went, even when she attended Hill Crest High School. The school officials complained to Phylicia Classon, Malik's grandmother about her bringing the baby to school. That was when Phylicia put her foot down and babysat Malik. Angry that she couldn't bring Malik to school she dropped out. She began working at a supermarket as a cashier to make money. Though her family helped her as much as they could, she still wanted to feel independent.

Malik was a calm baby and as he grew and his personality developed, she noticed that he was becoming a carbon copy of his uncle particularly her youngest brother Corey. Malik started walking and talking like Corey. He went from being a calm baby to an animated teenager like Corey. Corey talked with his hands as did Malik. Corey had a bad temper and Malik developed one. He even imitated Corey's bop.

When Malik was in elementary school he was a good student until he entered the sixth grade. In sixth grade he began acting out. He got suspended for fights and cursing out his teachers. He got expelled out of one school and sent to another. At the new school he got into a fight with another student who teased him about not knowing who his father was when the student was asked to do an essay about father’s day.

Malik threw a chair at the kid and was expelled. He was sent to a school for troubled kids. In New York they are called 600 schools. Being sent to a 600 school was taking Malik out the frying pan and into the fire. He was around kids just like him and Malik quickly made friends with kids who would grow up to be some of South Jamaica's infamous killers and gangsters.

Then crack hit the streets and Malik followed his uncles into an era that brought New York City to its knees. Just so happen that Malik was born and raised in a section of New York that the Crack epidemic had one of its most devastating effects on. South Jamaica Queens became what authorities and the media dubbed A crack infested killing field.

The neighborhood produced some of the city notorious Kingpins and violent drug gangs. Malik's uncles were at the forefront of the list of drug lords the area birthed. Not only did the epidemic make Malik's uncle infamous and hood rich but it claimed his mother who at first became addicted to heroin and traded in the needle for a pipe.

While Malik and his uncles became flashy and treated like hood stars, his mother became distant and strung out. She stayed out for days chasing the high. She didn't have to sell her body to get drugs because her brothers were the drug suppliers of the neighborhood. Unbeknownst to Malik, Corey and Class gave her drugs and ordered their workers to sell it to her if she comes to buy. They told them if she didn't have the money give it to her for free. They didn't want her degrading herself for a fix.

She was their sister and their nephew who was in the game also, they didn't want him to see his mother or hear about her fucking and sucking dick for a hit. Phylicia Classon tried to get her daughter to clean herself up, all to no avail. She became a crack head to the fullest. She lost weight going days without eating satisfying her appetite with a blast of crack. Then while hanging out at a rooming house with a male friend of hers who was a dope fiend he reintroduced her to an old habit with potency she has never had. The heroine was called 850 with a brown stamp on the bag. She was hooked.

Secretly Malik cried about his mother’s addiction. He beat up his own workers who sold her crack. He dragged her out of abandoned buildings that were shooting galleries where he found her almost unconscious. He held her up in rooms he rented at local motels to keep her away from heroine, but eventually he had to get her a fix because he couldn't stand the sight of her going through the painful withdrawals a heroin addict goes through when they don't have a fix.

To keep his mind off of his mother’s condition Malik smoked blunt after blunt of weed. He had sex with every female he could have at his disposal. He forced himself to be emotionally detached from loving a woman so he wouldn't feel the pain he was feeling from his mother’s condition and eventually her death from an overdose.

When Class returned from his stint in Federal prison and got involved in the sale of heroine Malik wanted no parts in selling heroine. A fact he stressed to his uncle Corey.

We don't need to get into that shit Cee. Malik said, to Corey while Corey placed stacks of money in a duffel bag to give to Class. It was money for Class to buy heroine from an Italian connect.

Nah, he goin do him with it, we goin continue to do us. The money he make off that shit we goin split. We ain't goin touch it. Corey replied while they stood in the basement of one of Corey's stash houses in Queens. It was the basement of a girl Corey was sexing in the Corona section of Queens. The niece of a Columbian guy Corey was buying cocaine from.

Malik stayed far away from heroine. He never delivered it or learned how to mix it. He let Corey do what he did with Class. While Class paid attention to heroine Malik pretty much ran the cocaine/crack side of the family business with Corey. With the money he made Malik secretly bought his own supply of Cocaine from a Dominican guy in Harlem.

He had Corey and Class workers in Jamaica Queens sell his product also. He was in charge of giving the workers the packages of crack so it was easy for him to slide his own work in. He stacked his money and waited for his time to shine. That day came when his uncles got arrested, indicted and Class became a rat sending Corey away forever.

By the time all that happened Malik had a stash of two-hundred and fifty grand in his grandmother's Long Island home. The feds never raided her home. There was no evidence it was used in any crime committed by the Classon gang. Malik's stash was safe and when he felt the time was right, he removed it from his grandmother's old twenty seven inch floor model TV she kept in her garage. She held on to her old stuff and used the garage as a storage spot. Malik had the T.V. gutted and used it to stash his money.

During his uncles trial he took the money and purchased ten kilos of cocaine from his Dominican connect. With five kilos he broke down to dime bags and sold them in the projects using the same workers his uncles used.

The other five he sold in weight to hustlers in Jamaica Queens. Mainly small time hustlers. His connect sold him kilos at twenty grand a piece. A price most hustlers weren't able to get from Dominicans. So he sold his ounces cheaper than the guys who sold weight in the area.

Malik wasn't making money like his uncles with the cocaine but he was hood rich. He realized that the heroine hustle was making a strong come back like it was in the 70's and local hustlers were getting richer than he was from crack cocaine. He decided to try his hand at heroine. Just when he was about to be a fully fledged heroine hustler he got indicted on a R.I.C.O. Case. Once out on bail he got the opportunity to come across a more potent batch of heroine. The question now became was Malik Classon going to jail forever or was he about to become one of New York City’s largest heroine hustlers?

CHAPTER ONE

Sherry Anderson

I think the sexiest thing about a man is his intelligence. A smart man turns me on and an added bonus is a sexy one who is good in bed. How many women can boast about having a man who can make love to their mind and make them cum every time they fuck? Not many.

I just happen to luck up when I met my soul mate. As I look into his eyes with my hands on his sexy chest to hold myself in place as I ride his hard manhood I thank god for him.

Oh god daddy it feels good. I bite my lip as he squeezes my ass, something he loves to do. He says my ass feels like puffy soft down pillows and he treats them like pillows when he sometimes falls asleep with his head on it. Yeah I'm a black woman with assets and a well toned body. I stay fit for my man.

Being fit allows me to be flexible and my flexibility makes sex an event. I get into a split and it makes my pussy grip his wood. His eyes damn near rolls in his head as I move up and down slowly. My juices soaking his rod.

Yeah baby give mommy that dick. I grunt as he pushes himself deeper matching my rhythm.

This is how my morning starts. I wake up usually with my husband’s hard dick in me or with my warm mouth wrapped around his balls and dick. We go at it for about 2 hours I cook breakfast while he showers. After breakfast I shower and then we talk about our day and what's planned. Usually for the streets is watching magazine. Whether it is tours, parties, printing, editing and who is being featured.

Daddy I'm cummin again! I squeal out as my legs began to shake and that feeling that goes through my whole body I can't describe I just know it's the best feeling ever. I