Just Business

By Anthony Gordon

Four friends bound together by love, trust and devotion cleverly steal 20 million dollars from a card club in southern California. Little do they know that one persons greed could be the death of them all. Its an old game called the Oke Doke. Who will survive and who will stay true to the game?

What do you do when your best friend wants to kill you?
What do you do when you find out that you received seven life sentences without the possibility of an appeal?
What do you do when you let 20 million dollars slip through your fingertips?
What do you do when you put a hit on someone and find out that you have one on you too? Its just business.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481756600

Anthony Gordon

Anthony Gordon Grew up in NYC where he started creative writing at the age of fourteen. He’s lived in Wagner projects on the east side of Harlem as well as San Diego, California, Mexico, Hawaii and now North Carolina where he met the love of his life Delores. He enjoys working in home improvement as well as computer systems. He also enjoys traveling and eating good food. He’s written short stories with suspense, drama, action and love. He hoped you enjoyed reading this book as much as he enjoyed writing it.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

GEORGE BAILEY CORRECTIONAL FACILITY (G.B.C.F.) in San Ysidro was the newest facility in San Diego, California’s history for holding prisoners with light weight misdemeanor offenses. It stood tall in its fourth year by serving as a revolving door for the justice system. With the growing population of San Diego over the course or ten years, the crime rate grew as well and so did the population at San Diego’s new holding facility. The ‘Big House’ which was named for San Diego’s maximum security prison was so overcrowded with inmates lodging side by side on rubber mats in the gymnasium that G.B.C.F. opened four modules to accommodate many of their prisoners serving life sentences.

In 1983 Frank Franks is incarcerated at GBCF for the deaths of a store owner, an innocent shopper (Mother of five children) A middle age couple, a young man, and indirectly causing the death of a police officer, and a State Trooper. The first two of his victims were viciously killed at the Imperial Beach Liquor Store in Imperial Beach San Diego, California. The rest of his victims died during a car chase off Hwy 805 N, and on the city street of Normal Heights S.D., CA. He stood six feet one inches tall. He was dark skin, a rough neck, with a broad jaw from upstate New York. His eyes were brownish black. His hair was black course. He kept it short and neat. He had a long nose with small lips. Women found him attractive at two hundred and fifteen pounds. Frank held his head low and closed his eyes as the judge gave him seven consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole. Frank was a pimp, a hustler, and a card shark. He was one of four partners in the Just Business (J.B.) crew was respected in the community.

Dee Dee was Frank’s best friend and lover. She owned five hair styling salons in La Mesa, and El Cajon, along with a beautiful ranch style house in the college area of San Diego. She drives a forest green 850-I BMW and at night she moon lights as a hooker on El Cajon Blvd’s track. She had been a part of Frank’s life for four good years.

Vincent Terry was Frank’s road dog. Together they called the shots of the J.B. crew. They called each other, Down by law. Vincent is a player and a drug dealer. He is of a black Cherokee heritage. He’s five feet nine inches tall at 190 lbs. He has black hair, dark brown eyes, a long nose, and full lips. His hair is long and braided. On the streets Adrian (his wife) likes it permed and in a ponytail. It’s symbolizes their lost daughter.

Debra Rose was Frank’s longtime friend from upstate New York. They stood side by side on a lot of issues and she always looked at him as a brother although Frank at one time wanted them to be more than that. She was a sergeant correctional officer at G.B.C.F.

The J.B. crew trusted each other. They were loyal to one another, and they loved each other until nineteen months ago. Frank’s outlook on life changed as he started to drink heavy and smoke dope. He slowly became greedy. The crew did not notice it until it was too late. His love for Dee Dee changed. She started disliking Frank as he started to disrespect her. She used to cry from the beatings, which came later. Then she stopped crying and started hating. She once asked the crew, How can you love and hate someone? It was a thin line between love and hate, the D.J. (Disk Jockey) sang, as the music played. One day she would just snap or just pack her bags and leave him. The crew drifted apart as lovers, but still trusted each other and was loyal, to a certain extent. The California Card Club was a 20 million dollar job that was to make it all right. So they thought.

Debra also took it hard, but as a Trojan, she took a deep breath and moved on with her life. Her words were, and you can kiss my tight ass goodbye Frank!

Vincent was worst hit because he had known Frank for many years. He believed his partner was losing it and that he couldn’t see the forest from the trees.

While under the influence of alcohol and drugs Frank thought that his woman and Debra betrayed him, but kept hope that Vincent would hang tough.

Now eighteen months have passed and Frank loathed them all. There was only one thing on his agenda and that was paying them back for dismissing him while he was incarcerated. This was not Just Business as everything else was, and had been. This was personal. Some say that Frank paid the devil to get even. This is Vincent story of a road dog turned mad.

Frank Franks sat in the huge dining hall at GBCF with one hundred and fifty other inmates in module5. All of the tables and chairs were bolted to the floor due to an accident with an inmate the year before. An inmate whose name is Jack Blank aka: Swa Zee stacked two tables on top of one another, then climbed on top of them and waved at the CO in the control booth before he executed a swan dive into the dining hall sixty four inch big screen TV. He was diagnosed as a manic depressive person. Swa Zee owed Frank Franks a large sum of money and could not pay it. Frank threatened his life, so Swa Zee ended it before Frank could. Frank became well known throughout the module. People feared him. Some people called him a shot caller, a king pin. Some called him an asshole or worst underneath their breath. He prayed on the weak and the new arrivals entering modile5. He believed that one day he would run the whole module including the CO’S he was paying under the table. Every day he sat at a table in the far corner of the dining hall with two inmates pondering the thought of how to get out of G.B.C.F. He was hell bent on getting the California Card Club (C.C.C.) money no matter what the risk was. He was dressed in a two piece dark blue cotton jail uniform with the letters GBCF was printed on the back of his shirt. His last name was printed on the left front pocket. GBCF was printed vertically on the left leg of the trousers.

The time was 7:50pm as Frank looked at the huge wall clock in the dining hall. He stood up and walked toward the big screen TV. He looked around at his fellow inmates to see if anything would be said as he turned the channel to eye witness news at eight o’clock. He stood at ease in front of as the news caster reported the highlights of the evening concerning the homicide of eight people in east San Diego. The news caster stated,

We are broadcasting live in front of a house on College Avenue and Seventieth Street, a few blocks from San Diego State University. The neighbors are frantic and scared as this once beautiful ranch style house is now bullet ridden. There are bodies in and outside the house. The victims were shot to death.

The cameramen took shots of the bodies as well as the house. The news caster continued, By the looks of things all hell broke loose in this quiet neighborhood. The neighbors are saying bullets were flying everywhere. The door of the house was blown off of its hinges. The furniture was tossed about the room with blood stains, and bullets holes as well; there is a lot of rubbernecking going on as police are trying to keep the crime scene clear.

A passerby screamed,

Oh my God! That man’s face is shot off!

The news caster gasped, and then fixed his face and tie. He looked at the camera with a blank expression then continued.

The names of the victims are being withheld at this time, and will not be released until further notice. Police are saying it could be gang related, or a professional hit. The people found dead held handguns, shotguns and rifles.

Paramedics quickly covered the bodies outside the house and the police rolled out the yellow tape making a barrier around the crime scene.

Frank smiled knowing he orchestrated the mayhem being covered by the news. Now it was just a matter of time to find out who was killed. A correctional officer tapped his shoulder. You have a professional visit in five minutes. Frank walked to the main gate to be let out, and escorted to the visitation hall. A sergeant and a correctional officer’s met him at the gate. The sergeant was very familiar with Frank the officer was not.

This way Frank, instructed the sergeant as she pointed toward the annex corridor I thought you were on vacation. replied Frank. I’m here on a special assignment. Frank was escorted through the annex corridor past the second gate where he met two more officers.

Here’s your prisoner, replied the sergeant as she and the other officer handed Frank over to the second pair of officers.

Hey! What’s going on? replied Franks as the second pair of deputies grabbed, and took him down the corridor where they disappeared into the darkness.

CHAPTER 2

VINCENT TERRY WAS A PLAYER of sorts, and a bass guitarist before joining the J.B. crew. His high life was writing music, chasing women and making money. The music playing and woman chasing came to a screeching halt as marriage has that kind of an effect on men. His wife says he is loved by her and his three children, but wasn’t fond of the company he keeps. The J.B. crew changed him. He became an arrogant asshole, but he admired his wife’s beauty and loved her and his children’s company. He said, It is what it is. He was shown The Life, as some call it by a self-made business woman and hooker named Dee Dee. The life of the streets is self-explanatory as is Murphy’s Law. Dee Dee once said,

If you’re true to the game, the game will be true to you. Vincent was so true to the game that he fell in love with the life, and is now a resident at the George Bailey Correctional Facility in San Ysidro, California.

Vincent paced his ten by nine foot cell anticipating his release forty three hours prior to Frank’s hit on Dee Dee’s house on College Avenue. GBCF accommodated him with a swivel chair, a desk, a sink and a bunk bed. He wore the same dark blue two piece uniforms with GBCF painted on the back of the shirt and on the leg of the trousers as Frank Franks. He was a resident for eighteen months. His charge was for drug possession. Vincent and Frank were boys for over twelve years. Now Vincent pondered the thought of their friendship. The white girl (cocaine), had Frank turned out. Vincent tried to turn him back around, but couldn’t. He rubbed his forehead and looked at the huge dorm clock through the window of his cell door. The module was on lock down status. The correctional officers walked past each cell tapping on the doors yelling,

Name and number! Then they checked off names on their inmate list.

Vincent thought to himself,

It’s eight o’clock. Two more hours and I’m a free man! He turned and smiled at the thought, then walked toward his bunk and sat down. He looked at the outside window. A small slit of obstructive glass, three inches wide by five let him know night from day. Vincent leaned back against the wall and started to reminisce as he often did with nothing to do. He thought about the heist at the California Card Club and the mistake that were made that almost got the crew killed eighteen months ago. Frank had fucked up being paranoid about his girl screwing the manager of the California Card Club instead of focusing on his table and playing the game. After he shot the first person, the mock up was easy for him to mock up again. When it was over Vincent thought if Frank wasn’t his boy he’d kill him himself. Everyone in the club was shot to death that night. Vincent yawned, stretched, the wiped his eyes as he sat bent over. He shook his head and said

Damn! The sun peeked through the room while he sat there thinking about an innocent young lady that died the following morning after the heist, at Imperial Beach California. He couldn’t shake the thought of her or the look on her face. It was all so clear, as if it had just happened yesterday.

The crew split up after the heist at the C.C.C. club except for Vincent and Frank. They left the scene together in Vincent’s black Mustang 5.0. He called it The Black Knight. It was customized with oversized mags and an enhanced computer chip that could push it from zero to sixty mph in 3.4 seconds. Vincent modified his fuzz buster for forward and aft detection of the highway police. After cleaning up and changing clothes they always went across the border after a heist, but for some odd reason unknown to Vincent, Frank wanted to hang out state side until morning. After bar hoping they parked at Imperial Beach