Coming from a life of drugs, money, and women, Michael "Meechie" Jackson had the world in the palm of his hands. He had power and his business, which he built from the ground up, morphed him into one of the most well-known drug lords in the city.
I...
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Michael called his employees from the first warehouse located miles outside of city limits. A meeting was being held about the next move to allocate the fourth warehouse in a different city an hour away to import more supply of drugs. So much been running low and immediately brought to his attention about the culprit who been stealing from him. Fucking with his money was the worst thing anyone could ever do.
A quarter million dollars went missing two weeks ago. Because of this issue he had to come out of his own pocket to pay the hefty debt as well as his employees who lost out on thousands worth of pay. Michael was wealthy and could show for it if he was a flashy type of man, but one thing he despised most is having to touch his own paper for anything that needed to be reimbursed where his occupation is concerned. He despised a motherfucker who could smile in his face after betraying him in the worst way.
He was the kind of man that made sure his people were good and never wanted for anything. If any of them needed money or whatever the situation was, they had his word and it was his bond. He was loyal to a fault, and in this lifestyle he had to be very cautious of who and where that loyalty went to. Everyone was not built the same.
With the cartel informing him of everything being imported their way, he needed his crew to be alert and aware of their surroundings when picking up, unpacking and stocking inventory. He couldn't afford anyone being busted by the feds, although getting them off wasn't an issue. Slipping up by other dealers and their employees in the surrounding area, yes. His name was powerful—masterful and something that most wanted to obtain. To obtain that power came in innumerable ways effortlessly but one had to have the mindset for such a powerful role.
"Paolo and his new people got everything in motion for us to get what we need, so we can keep the same in and out method. You already know the dos and don'ts and to be alert at all times. I can't afford to have another setback like last time which falls on me. The plane will be here by midnight. Make sure y'all asses there on time.
After that, head over to the fourth warehouse, start unloading and counting for inventory, then report back to me immediately. Make sure Rahj got everything he need for the trap, so this shit can be ready for customers by the end of the week. We good on all this?" Michael asked, looking amongst everyone before his eyes settled upon a particular someone he needed to speak with privately.
"Yes," everyone responded in unison.
"A'ight. Y'all dismissed." He eyed everyone preparing to leave, but stopped them in their tracks before they were out of eyesight. "Snupe, G, wait for me outside. I gotta speak to Rome real quick."
"A'ight" was their only response before they left the two men alone to have a conversation they already knew was about. All thanks went to Snupe for informing Michael of everything after initiating her own investigation. With him spending so much time with Irish, they were always second in command when in his absence. He trusted them more than anyone else to make sure everyone was doing their job as assigned to them. Once they were out of earshot, he remained calm as he stared at Jerome who he told to have a seat again.
