𝓒HAPTER SEVENTEEN.
Life's A Wild Ride, Heads Up Even When It Throws Unexpected Loops. Trust, It's Like A Rollercoaster Switch –Folks You Bank On Might Surprise You. Therefore, It's coo' to Be A Bit Selfish, Check Your Seatbelt, & Navigate Those Twists 'Cause Self-Preservation Is Your VIP Pass To This Crazy Coaster Called Life.
- 𝒥uan Collins
𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐈 | VOLUME ONE.
❝ MONEY, POWER, BLIND. ❞
[ HARLEM, NY ]
She stared at the plain, white-painted wall, lost in contemplation. It had been a week since she found herself placed in a new foster care system in the Bronx. Adjusting to a different school, taking on household chores, and battling fatigue, she questioned the fairness of it all. The desire to reunite with her family intensified with each passing day, but communication was blocked by foster parents citing rules. Stripped of her belongings, she felt like a prisoner in this unfamiliar situation, relying on the basics they provided. In this unexpected and challenging scenario, she was navigating through a metaphorical hell hole. A palpable numbness enveloped her, leaving her devoid of words or emotions, the weight of pain etched in her eyes. Despite the impending milestone of turning eighteen in a couple of weeks, the abrupt separation led her to a profound introspection about her existence. Contemplating whether she desired to endure further hardships, she grappled with the overwhelming question of whether life still held meaning for her.
Trapped in a freezing room with inadequate bedding, she felt like unlucky, a coerced servant in her assigned space. Days were spent in isolation, avoiding communication, and engaging only when forced into household chores. As the sole foster child to addicted parents, another failure of the child welfare system, Emauni's anger intensified, particularly directed at Wayne. His inability to maintain a stable life fueled resentment, as she pondered the alternate reality where she wouldn't be in this predicament. However, she grappled with the complexity of blaming him, recognizing the harsh reality of her orphan status. Nightly, Emauni's thoughts circled, leaving her emotionally drained and tearful. A single tear traced down her cheek, her expression unwavering, as she allowed the weight of her emotions to envelop her. In these moments, she acknowledged that maintaining a facade of strength wasn't always the wisest decision.
Suddenly, the resounding echo of the front door slamming open disrupted the silence, unleashing a torrent of arguments downstairs. Unfamiliar voices clashed with those of her foster parents, their heated exchanges creating a cacophony that left Emauni bewildered, struggling to make sense of the distant uproar. Amidst the tumult, a woman's voice, charged with intensity, pierced through the chaos. It steadily approached, climbing the stairs, and Emauni, confined to her room, felt a mix of anxiety and anticipation as the confrontation drew nearer, shrouded in mystery. "Bitch, I don't give a fuck! I'm here to take the shits I left, then I'm gone!" The door swung open, and the woman stormed into the room, her back turned as she continued to shout, evidently oblivious to Emauni's presence. "You got ten fucking seconds, you spoiled brat!" Between the exchange of shouts between her foster mother and the woman, she kissed her teeth in frustration.
Without hesitation, she turned and made her way into the room, only to be caught off guard by the sight of Emauni sitting on the bed. In that moment, both women locked eyes, engaging in a brief but intense analysis of each other's appearance. — Emauni, sitting on the bed, observed the woman standing before her. The woman appeared to be around her age, maybe slightly older, with smooth chocolate skin. Her bold fashion choices were evident in the mini booty shorts, high-heeled boots, and a small top that showcased tattoos underneath and between her breasts. A thigh tattoo peeked out from beneath the shorts, adding to her edgy style. Her vibrant red hair, curled into a bun with a few cascading curls, complemented the overall aesthetic. Emauni couldn't help but admire the woman's voluminous hair. Adorned with long acrylic nails adorned with gold gems and rings, the woman's attention to detail extended to her accessories. Large bamboo hoop earrings framed her face, drawing attention to her captivating eyes, almond-shaped and beautifully normal-sized.
The woman's lips, adorned with a two-toned color and accentuated by a brown lip liner, featured gem piercings on both the bottom and top. Perfectly done makeup, including eyeliner and extended lashes, enhanced the intensity of her fearless gaze. The overall effect of her appearance, combined with her confident aura, created a presence that filled the room. The woman standing before Emauni took a moment to analyze her, recognizing a striking beauty in her warm lightskin complexion and sensing untapped potential. Despite the apparent borrowed clothes, there was an air of sophistication about Emauni that hinted at a background perhaps different from her current circumstances. The woman could almost sense a boujee quality, as if Emauni had come from a different world. Despite the evident fearlessness and gorgeousness, the woman keenly observed the pain in Emauni's eyes, an emotion that couldn't be concealed. Deciding to break the intense eye contact, she walked towards an old wardrobe, a piece of her past life before she ventured into the streets and carved her own path.
The woman unzipped the duffle bag in her hand, swiftly throwing in forgotten clothes. However, a sudden realization struck her, a disturbing thought about the echoes of mistreatment in this foster household. Having been a victim herself before running away, she sensed that Emauni was enduring a similar fate. With a heavy sigh, the woman turned towards Emauni and took a seat beside her on the bed. Emauni, a bit puzzled, looked at her, but a shared understanding passed between them. It became evident that the woman, too, had once been a foster child in this very place. "Look, I don't know you. And, you don't know me. But, I know what's going on around here, since they used to treat me the same way. I do wanna give you the chance to trust me, and come with me. You can live a better life than this, we can." The woman, without preamble, delved straight into the point, presenting an offer that caught Emauni off guard. A multitude of questions raced through her mind simultaneously, leaving her speechless and unsure of how to respond to such a straightforward proposition.
Observing Emauni's silence, the woman took note of her confusion, realizing she might have presented her offer abruptly. Rubbing her lips together, she looked away briefly before redirecting her gaze to Emauni. Recognizing the need for a more respectful approach, she extended her hand, a gesture meant to convey mutual respect, "Roki." As the woman introduced herself with her name, Emauni took a moment to absorb the unfamiliar unique name. Despite the initial surprise, she extended her hand, accepting the handshake, "Emauni." In return, Emauni introduced herself, as a warm smile spread across Roki's face, revealing braces that added a charming touch to her appearance. Roki's allure, a mix of gorgeousness, fearlessness, and an undeniable cuteness, captivated Emauni. "How do you feel about joining my run, and be a stripper lady with bunch of freedom?" Roki, with a directness that mirrored her earlier approach, proposed the idea of recruiting Emauni. The notion of not being alone in this situation appealed to her, and Emauni sensed that Roki was a woman unafraid to voice her thoughts and share her ideas.
Emauni contemplated Roki's proposal, recognizing the appeal of escaping from her current situation. The idea of starting afresh, unburdened and true to herself, resonated deeply. Roki's own embodiment of a free and unbridled life seemed like a dream Emauni yearned for. In that moment, it felt as if she had found her angel, a guide towards the liberation she sought. With nothing to lose, Emauni saw potential in this unexpected alliance. However, a lingering problem loomed. "I'm not sure, I don't know how to strip, and I'm only seventeen..." With a hint of embarrassment in her voice, Emauni expressed the obstacle she faced, eliciting laughter from Roki. Despite the embarrassment, Roki found Emauni's tone endearing and cute, appreciating the authenticity in her response. "Girl, you thought I was grown? I'm seventeen as well, my birthday in like a month tho. But, don't worry I'll teach you how to strip, same as the way I got taught. We all learn." Roki began speaking softly, offering reassurance to Emauni and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Emauni, struck by Roki's appearance and demeanor, marveled at how someone who seemed so mature and self-assured could be only seventeen. Understanding dawned as Emauni considered that one's appearance and demeanor often reflected the environment and experiences one came from. "I got nothing to lose." Emauni expressed her agreement, subtly indicating her willingness. Despite her excitement, a tinge of fear lingered, considering her lack of exposure to the outside world. Roki's apparent confidence contrasted with Emauni's sheltered life, making her slightly apprehensive. Roki, thrilled at the prospect of having a partner her age, eagerly clapped her hands, confident in her ability to guide Emauni into this lifestyle. Knowing the ropes, Roki was ready to pave the way for Emauni, recognizing that, in their line of work, appearances mattered more than background. Undoubtedly, Emauni possessed a body that would turn heads and fit the bill perfectly.
"Okay, let's start by taking every clothes and put it in this duffle bag. There's also another duffle bag under the bed, you can use that to put everything you need, and probably some more clothes of mine you're interested in." Roki rose from her seat and resumed her tasks, directing Emauni's attention under the bed. Emauni, following suit, got to work as well. The situation felt surreal, akin to living in a reckless movie where actions unfolded without much contemplation. The spontaneity of it all, particularly with a girl she barely knew, struck Emauni. Despite the uncertainties, Roki's sweetness and the shared desire for a fresh start resonated with her. However, Emauni couldn't ignore the intrigue sparked by Roki's accent, raising questions about her background and origins. "You from around here? You don't really sound like you from New York." Curiosity bubbling within her, Emauni questioned Roki while retrieving the duffle bag from under the bed, using it as an opportunity to learn more about her. Roki responded with a slight chuckle.
"Baby, I'm from Chicago. It's why they call me Chicago's Santa around here." Roki spoke with a confident tone, hinting at a sense of self-assuredness. Emauni responded with a slight smile, appreciating the confidence in Roki's demeanor as they continued gathering their belongings. "What are you two girls doing in there?!" The distant shout of the foster mother echoed from downstairs, prompting both Roki and Emauni to pause. Roki swiftly moved to the door, locking it as a precaution, while both of them gathered their belongings. Emauni, following Roki's lead, secured her items and put on her shoes, a sense of urgency palpable in the air. "Don't you lock that door from me! Roki! Emauni!" With the foster mother knocking on the door and the foster father approaching, Roki initiated their escape plan. She swiftly opened the window, revealing a manageable height from the ground. With a nod between them, Roki and Emauni slid out the window, landing safely on the ground just as the foster parents attempted to force the door open. The daring escape unfolded with caution, leaving the two girls now on the outside, free from the confines of the foster home.
As soon as they touched the ground, the sound of the door being forcefully busted down echoed, and the foster parents' heads appeared at the window. Shouting in frustration, as they caught sight of Roki and Emauni, causing the two girls to freeze momentarily in their tracks. "Hey! You come back here now! Before I call the cops and you'll never get to see your family again!" The foster dad's shout directed at Emauni, accompanied by a pointed finger, sent her heart racing with apprehension. "Fuck you, Fred! Call the cops, and I'll have them drug test y'all, lunatic ass drughead!" Roki retaliated with a shout, diffusing some tension. As she flipped the middle finger at the furious foster parents, Roki took Emauni's hands, and they began running together. It marked the start of a simple yet profound journey, an unexpected escape leading them down a path they never anticipated, seeking a better life despite the challenges that lay ahead.
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❝ — BEYOND THE WALLS
OF INTELLIGENCE, LIFE IS DEFINED.
I THINK OF CRIMES WHEN I'M IN A
NEW YORK STATE OF MIND. ❞
- N.Y STATE OF MIND, NAS.
ALBUM; ILLMATIC. 1994.
[ OPENING SEQUENCE— ILLMATIC I. ]
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Following a series of days marked by grief and a self-imposed withdrawal from the world, Juan emerged from the shadows, determined to reclaim a sense of normalcy. The tragedy involving his grandmother had left a deep and personal impact, prompting him to distance himself from calls and take a break from the routines of daily life. While he wasn't in trouble with Sosa or anyone else, his need for solitude was universally understood. During this hiatus, Juan missed several days of school, barely attending any classes. Fortunately, Travis, recognizing the gravity of the situation and as-well as their deal, stepped in and supported him academically, ensuring that his grades didn't suffer irreparably. It was a period of reflection, a time for Juan to step back and reassess everything in his life. Upon returning, there was a noticeable change in Juan. The carefree spirit he once possessed seemed to have intensified. Now, he approached life with a newfound sense of indifference, caring little about things that once held significance. His primary focus shifted starkly to the pursuit of wealth, as if making money became a therapeutic distraction from the weight of his personal struggles. In essence, Juan's return was not just a physical presence; it marked a subtle but significant transformation in his outlook on life.
Entering Sosa's exclusive office lobby, typically a gathering place for the entire group, Juan found himself alone. Roscoe and Santos were occupied with a task in Mexico, Malik was handling street matters, discreetly dealing with the aftermath of Pedro's dismissal—a detail concealed from the others. Meanwhile, BJ and Rico were occupied at the warehouse. In essence, everyone was engrossed in their own affairs, leaving Juan as the outlier who needed to realign. Upon opening Sosa's office door, Juan discovered him engaged in what appeared to be a discussion with a group, potentially investors or involved in a business dialogue. All attention shifted to Juan, yet Sosa maintained composure, indicating he had interrupted a crucial conversation.
"My fault." As Juan prepared to depart, he caught Sosa snapping his fingers, signaling everyone to vacate the premises. The group swiftly gathered their belongings, casting intrigued glances in Juan's direction as if they were familiar with him. Juan returned their gaze with uncertainty, finding the situation rather peculiar. In that moment, it was just Sosa and Juan, an unexpected solitude in Sosa's office, with even Pedro absent from the scene. Seating himself across from Sosa, Juan took the offered office chair. Holding a glass of rum with a circular ice cube, he swirled it in contemplation before taking a sip and carefully placing it on the table. Leaning back, Sosa fixed his gaze on Juan, signaling for him to initiate the conversation.
"I need a bigger task, fuck that Emauni shit. I need to get some' money, I need to feel like I'm apart of this game and not just some fuckin' slave puppy." Exhausted from the constant pursuit of Emauni and the relentless quest for information, Juan reached a breaking point. Their undisclosed argument was the final straw, and he found himself indifferent towards her. His focus shifted away, solely fixated on accumulating enough wealth to break free from the toxic New York scene and establish his own business. Expressing his straightforward desire to Sosa, he was met with a subtle chuckle. Unbeknownst to Juan, he unintentionally made it easier for Sosa, who was prepared to reveal that the matter with Emauni had already been handled — news Juan didn't have to know anymore. "Real question is, are you ready?"
Sosa's serious inquiry, catching Juan off guard, was perplexing given their initial meeting where Sosa had discussed positioning him as the face of Harlem, emphasizing his swift dealing abilities. The sudden questioning of Juan's readiness felt odd and unexpected in light of their earlier discussions. "The fuck typa' question is this? Did you, or did you not told me I'm the one and you'll make me the face of Harlem." Growing increasingly irritated by Sosa's words and the ongoing discussions, Juan desired to cut to the chase and address the real situation. He detested the feeling of being misled or treated like a child. "I indeed did, I have no problem with giving and showing you the respect you deserve, but are you ready for the circumstances that comes with it." Repeatedly, Sosa posed the same question with an unchanged tone and expression, leaving Juan puzzled about the underlying meaning.
Despite the uncertainty, Juan was resolute in his readiness and determination to become the face of Harlem. He yearned for the respect he believed he deserved, sensing a need to shift from his selfless demeanor and assert a bit of selfishness. "I am ready, I wanna be in a higher position. A more respectable position." Juan provided clarification, prompting Sosa to clear his throat and rise from his chair, rum in hand. He walked to his desk, retrieved a file, and returned to his seat, handing the documents to Juan. Without uttering a word, Sosa simply observed Juan as he opened the file, revealing a collection of authorization papers for new construction projects in Harlem and the Bronx. "The fuck is this?" Confused by the documents before him, Juan questioned their significance. Sosa directed his attention to the end of the papers, where signatures, including that of Francis Bourgeois, Travis's father, were prominently displayed. "It's funny, ain't it? That son of a bitch."
Sosa rose from his chair to light a cigarette, a surprising sight for Juan, who had never seen him smoke one before. Sosa gazed out the window, taking in the beautiful view of downtown city. Although Juan remained calm, he still sought further explanation to grasp the unfolding situation. "He's trying to replace the projects for some mansions houses, which got signed by a lot of rich expensive investors from France and just waiting to meet with the mayor, whom they're also great friends due to their rooted connections. This has me, my connections and the streets in concern, they're planning to kick everyone out from the 57th project, including yours as-well and a few more in the Bronx. You know what that means? If we lose our projects, we lose our corners and if we lose our corners, we lose our money." Sosa delved into detailed explanations, employing hand gestures and varying tones that conveyed his intense emotions. Juan sensed not just fury but perhaps stress in Sosa's demeanor. As the plan to target Juan's neighborhood unfolded, a place dear to his heart from his upbringing, Juan found his own anger escalating in response to the unfolding revelations.
"You know what we need? We need him dead, fuckin' six feet down! Puta de madré! He needs to be gone, for God's sake." As Sosa smoked and expelled the fumes out the window to avoid permeating his office, his visible distress became more pronounced. This triggered a realization in Juan's mind – if he took charge of the situation, handling it personally, he could earn respect from all corners and secure a higher position. Despite not being a killer and having a good heart, the pain he felt pushed him towards a ruthless decision. In that moment, all Juan could focus on was securing his money and respect, even if it meant casketing the construction without concern for who got hurt, not even caring if Travis suffered in the process. "I'll do it." Juan's statement hung in the air, causing Sosa to abruptly halt his inhalation, turning his head towards Juan in disbelief at what had just been uttered.
"Give me a map, a plan, a way, a set up. I'll do it. I'll kill him and put an end into this shit. This is our money on the line, and I don't play with that shit. Time and date is all I need." As Juan spoke from the depths of his heart, Sosa looked at him and saw a transformation unfolding. The boy with a pure heart seemed to be fading, replaced by someone marked by pain. Every bit of Juan's suffering manifested visibly, as if it could be seen in a mere glance. Despite his natural cold glare, it intensified, revealing the emergence of an evil spirit that Sosa had been anticipating. Aware of Juan's background, Sosa had expected this transformation, relishing in the revelation of Juan becoming the person he needed to be. Sosa desired a ruthless, heartless figure solely focused on money and power, and he believed Juan's evolving nature would fulfill that vision.
"That's what the fuck I'm talkin' about! Dios mío, I've been waiting for this moment." With a fleeting smile on his face, Sosa returned to the sofa, letting the cigarette between his fingers emit wisps of smoke. He gazed at Juan, who appeared resolute in his decision. Sosa recognized Juan's unwavering commitment, a trait he valued and believed in. Juan's seriousness resonated with Sosa, solidifying his conviction that Juan was the one he could trust above all. In Juan, Sosa saw not just a successor but someone who could surpass him and make a lasting name for Sosa. Juan had become Sosa's favorite, the man capable of taking charge and eventually replacing him when the time demanded. "This is big, man. If you're able to pull this off, I'll make you my Capo and the respect out there, will elevate more than you think. Same as the money." Sosa, pointing at Juan, continued to impart more advice, listing numerous reasons why Juan shouldn't let this opportunity slip away.
"You don't have to worry 'bout me, I'm a man of my words." Juan reiterated his decision to Sosa, who chuckled and poured another glass of rum, viewing it as a reason to celebrate. Unbeknownst to Sosa, Juan's mind was set on a darker path – the idea of killing being the means to earn respect and ascend to the position of Capo. Juan was driven by an intense desire to be independent and recognized, even if it meant embracing a newfound evilness within him. This transformation marked the beginning of the downfall of Juan Collins. Little did he realize, delving deeper into this business would only lead to a more dire state. As the old saying goes ; money has the power to blind.
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©𝐆𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐔𝐃𝐄
PRESENTING; — ILLMATIC I.
𝓒HAPTER SEVENTEEN.
Nas once said ; Time is Illmatic.
A phrasing to emerge through illmatic. — that death is all around you so you shouldn't waste a minute of your time on earth, while acknowledging that time is always moving forward and it's easy to get stuck in a rut in your life.
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— 01/03/24.
10 FUCKING K Y'ALLLLLLLL
🥹🥹🥹💕💕🩷🖤🖤
I'M ABOUT TO SCREAAAMM!!
I just wanna say thank you to all of my day ones, everyone who been there and showed me genuine love a year ago, really and sincerely, you guys motivated me to wanna continue this book! I wanna give a huge thanks to Noonie, Syd, Mel, Yana, Dia & Tima, my day one girls who really encouraged me to pursuit my book. Won't even forget about my supporters, really!! You know who you are forreal, anyone who supported and showed genuine love to this book I sincerely love you soo much words can't even explain.
Either way, I won't make a huge big deal out of this but Ima always remain humble and hope for more!
Just to wrap everything up and say thank you guys so much, maaaddd looove for each one of y'all!!
BIG MWAH 💋.
- sincerely, gianna. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪