Bankroll Squad by David Weaver Page B

Cartel. Rally just couldn’t see the war being an intelligent response during the time. Besides, he figured that all those young niggas lacked the wisdom that the dope game required in order to have longevity. He estimated that they would all have Federal convictions within a year’s time frame. His estimation was wrong. The only person to catch a case in the Bankroll Squad was Veronica; and she only had about a year left on her manslaughter conviction. During the first year of the Bankroll Squad’s reign, Rally just sat back and watched. He didn’t need the money and he was planning on taking an extended vacation anyway. But during the year that he prayed for their downfall, he saw them floss, stunt, and ball like no other. He saw them do things with their money that wasn’t possible for him to even think about during his first year hustling. They threw parades for the city, had food drives every month, celebrity-hosted parties every week, and did donuts in Bentleys. When Malcolm started the potato chip business, Rally nearly lost his mind. The Bankroll Squad’s lifestyle had become so attractive, that almost half of the Dynasty Cartel’s remaining soldiers were begging to be a part of their squad. That was the last straw for Rally, who had no intentions on having his Cartel dissolve completely. However, it was nothing that he could do to prevent that from happening. Malcolm paid his soldiers double of what Rally paid his, and since Rally was aging, it also made his Cartel less appealing. Rally was suffering of jealousy until one day he came up with an ingenious idea. He had to send multiple buyers to the Bankroll Squad; all of them requesting a different product from them, just to see if the idea would work. And it did work. It turned out that they had almost every other drug except for meth. On a hail mary attempt, he tried to flood the city and state with the drug. And they bought it. He was back in the game, but not the game that he loved the most: cocaine. His Mexican connect berated him as if he was beyond incompetent for letting a young group of niggas take over the coke game. The part that hurt the Mexican the most was that he had tried to supply the Bankroll Squad at $12,000 per kilo; provided that they buy at least 100 at a time, and Malcolm declined his offer. Then Malcolm had the audacity to try to sell him his coke at $9,000 a kilo. The Mexican was baffled, and when he told Rally, he too was baffled. Rally stepped back into the shadows, while continuing to peddle his meth. He stepped back because of two reasons that he always believed in: one was that every dog had its day, and two was that all things must come to an end. The day he had waited for for so long had finally arrived. The run had come to an end.
    eleven
    R
    ally was sitting in the game room of his mansion massaging his temples when Diaz, his right hand man barged into the room.
“Hey Ral, guess what?”
    Rally gave Diaz a dumbfounded expression before covering his face with his hands and shaking his head.
    “I’m in no mood for guessing games Diaz.”
    Rally then leaned back on his leather couch and stared at Diaz weary-eyed. Knowing Diaz, he would probably force him to guess before he told him what the deal was.
    “What D ... you saved a whole bunch of money on your car insurance by-”
“No silly,” Diaz said, cutting him off.
“I got a surprise visitor for you with some surprising information. Information that I guarantee will make you a very, very happy man!”
“Diaz,” Rally said with a hint of heavy fatigue in his voice, “I’m not sure that any visitor can surprise me. When you get to be my age, my man, the feeling that most people identify with as surprise starts to register in your brain as irritation.”
Diaz’s forehead wrinkled up, then he shook his head at Rally’s foolish philosophy. He walked out of the room, then a tall, lanky guy entered the room. The man looked in both directions, as if he was crossing a street