The Diamond Syndicate

“Come on, Trey. Remember I told you about this insurance thing I wanted to do that we could get paid some real money?”

“No, but go ’head,” Trey said, lighting a blunt.

Diamond sat up in the bed and frowned. “Do you have to smoke that now?” She hated the smell of weed.

Trey blew the smoke from his lungs and put the blunt out in the ashtray that sat on the stand next to the bed.

“Thank you,” she said, lying back down. “Anyway, Michael is a doctor.”

“Michael? It figures.” Trey sucked his teeth.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I hate white people, Diamond, and I don’t trust them muthafuckas, especially ones named Michael. That’s a typical white name.”

“This muthafucka that you don’t even know is about to fatten your pockets.”

“Psst, do you think I need him to stack chips? You got me fucked up for the next man. I got the game on lock. How you think you walking around with this expensive shit you rockin’?”

“Trey, you ain’t the only one throwing loot my way. Di

d you forget about the others I get money from?”

“Baby, you can’t be serious. Them niggas’ flows can’t touch mine. Besides, who do you think employs them? Me.” Trey was feeling himself extra special.

Diamond lay there looking up at the ceiling. If Trey only knew that in time he wouldn’t be able to hold a candle to the type of bread Dr. Ricci was eventually gonna start making. But she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so she just let it go.

“Sure, Trey, you’re right.” She smiled.

“I know I am, and don’t you forget it. You laying up in my shit. Them other niggas don’t own two condos. I do. I got two whips.” He continued to fuss.

Diamond just lay there and waited for him to calm down.

“Now tell me the rest about Michael, the doctor.”

Diamond rolled her eyes. “Like I said before I was interrupted, he is the kind of doctor I was looking for. He’s a chiropractor.”

“What’s that? One of the pussy-feeling doctors?” Trey asked a little louder than Diamond cared to hear it.

“No, Trey.” She rolled her eyes up in her head. “That’s a gynecologist, fool! Michael is a spine doctor. He works on the back.”

“Yeah, OK, he works on the back. How is he gonna bring loot our way?”

“Well, the plan is to get some people who may wanna get down with us and make some extra cash. We gonna have to create a fake car accident and call the police—”

“Aw, naw!” Trey cut her off. “Hold up. Count me out. I ain’t dealing with no cops.”

“Trey, you don’t have to deal with them.” She sat up and turned to him.

“A’ight, so tell me why we gotta call them?”

“Because it will be a fake accident, and in order for it to work, we have to call the police to take the report.”

“Naw, baby, I ain’t with that. I mean, I’ll help you in any way I can, but I don’t want to be nowhere near the cops. You do remember what I do for a living, right?”

“How can I forget?” She sucked her teeth.

“Well, then I don’t need them getting to know my face. I ain’t with that. Now if somebody get out of line, or you need some muscle, then I’m your man.”