Trapstarz

by Hector Stone

Overview

Nearly every city has a Ghetto, a Gutta, a Trap, and products of those very environments. In Trapstarz Raine Carter and Davae Sanders are doing all the Trappin’; as well as reaping proceeds from their actions. Along with rubberband bundles of blood-stained cash, expensive cars and promiscuous women—led on by the alluring street life—comes dishonor, deception, betrayal, and oh, murder, as the two childhood friends fight for a more substantial position on the totem pole of life. Like every other obstacle-course, there’s hurdles and surprises around nearly every corner. So many in Trapstarz that Raine and Davae manage to lose themselves in the thick of things. Could it be the newly discovered drug Ecstasy abruptly interjected into their world? Wear and tear from the coarse streetz taking its toll on their lives? Or even worse, the wrath of Karma vindictively finding her way back to the two? Even though the game has a predictable ending in most cases, this grimy street tale will definitely leave your stomach twisted in knots. Will they finally make it up and out of the traps, or will they remain Trapstarz for the rest of their lives?

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781463422080
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	11/23/2011
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	212
File size:	356 KB

Read an Excerpt

Trapstarz

A Fiction Novel

---

By Hector Stone

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Hector Stone
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4634-2210-3

---

Chapter One

RAINE

"Ding, dong," chimed the portable doorbell unit located near the rear of the house. "Ding, dong. Ding, dong."

I acted as if I heard nothing. Instead, I remained glued to my seat with the X-Box controller in my hand. At that time I wasn't thinkin' 'bout no dope fiends or the crumbled up bills in their pockets. The only thing I was thinkin' 'bout was dominating the San Antonio Spurs in NBA Live. But I wasn't alone, and my partners feelings weren't mutual.

"Hey, man," spat Da'Vae, "get the door, it's your turn."

I remained seated, staring at the big screen in front of me.

"Raine, I know you hear me. Get the door, man!"

I tapped the controller a few more times. "Grab it for me, bro'. Please."

"Hell, naw," he fussed. "I been getting it all night long. It's about time you put in some work. No! I ain't doing it."

"C'mon, bro' ... this the championship game right here. I'm close to beatin' these chumps. Gone 'head and handle it for me. Please."

"No, man. You tripping. It's your turn, you get it."

I didn't respond. Didn't get up to answer the door, either. I continued with my game.

"Bam!" I yelled as I stole the ball from my opponent and sank a three pointer. "Tied up! You nigga's can't see me! Ha, ha ... 'Vae, you see that shit, boy?"

Out of my peripheral I could see Da'Vae shaking his head. He sighed, rose from his seat on the couch and scoffed. "You starting to get on my nerves with that game, Raine. I'ma get it this time, but—" but before he could finish his sentence I cut in.

"Aight, aight," I said, "next three on me—promise. Just hurry up and get it before they leave. You know we can't be missin' no money. We already been doin' way too much spendin' as it is."

Da'Vae looked over at me and, although I couldn't see his face, I could tell he was upset. He snatched the .357 Magnum from the edge of the glass table and started for the back door. He got halfway there before I shouted, "Can't serve the custy without the product, baby ..."

Da'Vae grunted, turned back and picked up the product, and just as he headed back towards the back door the doorbell sounded off again.

"Ding, dong. Ding, dong. Ding dong."

It was obvious the person on the other side of the door was growing impatient.

"Hurry up and get it before they leave, man!" I yelled out as Da'Vae walked swiftly through the narrow hallway. "Hurry up, B!"

When Da'Vae reached the back door I pressed pause on the controller. I leaned back in my seat and stuck my head out into the hallway to observed from behind.

I could see Da'Vae clearly. I watched as he flipped the small latch on the chute and looked out onto the back porch. "What you need? What? Speak up!"

I couldn't quite make out what the man on the other side of the door said, but I did get a good glimpse of him when Da'Vae bent down to dig into the bag of capsules he had sat on the kitchen floor. The man had beady eyes, pale skin, scruffy hair and a gray beard.

"Money first, man," Da'Vae ordered, product cuffed in his left hand, revolver in the right.

As ordered, the fiendish feller passed his money through the chute, and in return received his fix. Da'Vae closed the chute, fastened the latch, and walked back into the living room. "You need to ease up off that game, Raine."

I smiled. "Or what?"

"Or, or," Da'Vae stuttered, "or ... man, I'm just saying."

"You sayin' what, 'Vae? What you sayin'?"

"I'm just saying—"

"Yeah, I heard that part already. Now what you sayin'?"

"You too relaxed, Raine."

"Too relaxed?" I asked facetiously.

"Yeah, too relaxed. Why you tryna be funny, man."

I laughed. "Ain't that the purpose of being trapstarz, 'Vae? Huh? Ain't it?"

"Yeah, I mean, but—"

"But what? Ain't that what we here to do, relax and get money?

Ain't it?"

"Of course, but—"

"But what, 'Vae? Seems to me you lookin' for manual labor, B."

Da'Vae shook his head. "Why you trying to be funny, Raine?"

I chuckled. "I ain't."

"Yeah you are, man. I know you better than anybody."

"I ain't. But if its manual labor you lookin' for, you need to take your black-ass down to Grismer Tire or sumthin'. Don't bring that miserable shit here. This is a place of peace and prosperity. I come to get money and chill. Feel me?"

Da'Vae was irritated. Very irritated. But I didn't give a damn. I only cater to bitches and babies and he obviously isn't either. "Why you always trippin', 'Vae? Somethin' you wanna holla at me about?"

"I'm always tripping 'cause you clown."

I pressed pause. "A clown?"

"Yeah, you heard me. A clown. Look at the stuff you say and do. Only a clown could be so foolish."

"Ha. A clown, huh? So, now I'm a clown? Me, a clown? Boy, ain't that the pot callin' the kettle black?"

"Yeah, whatever, man. You know you a clown though. I mean, what other explanation is it? Just think about it ... here we are, in this hot-ass house, on this hot-ass street, in this hot-ass neighborhood, and you still talking about relax and get money? You gotta be a clown talking like that."

Now I was irritated. "Yeah ... um ... I think you need to calm down, fam. You gettin' besides yourself now. Gone 'head and chill on out before you say somethin' you gone regret in the next hour or so—when you lickin' ya wounds."

Da'Vae hissed. "Yeah, whatever. I don't need to calm down. You need to wake up, that's what you need to do."

"Wake up?!"

"Yeah, wake up! You think the world revolve around your little high-yellow ass, but it don't."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah, it is, but guess what? It don't!"

"Is that right?"

"Yeah. And you know what else?"

"Naw. But I'm sure you 'bout to tell me."

"Sure the hell am."

"Preach on brother! Preach!"

"Funny. Real funny, Raine. But I know what ain't funny—these streets!"

I threw my hand over my mouth "Whaaat? You can't be serious. Foreal?"

"There you go. Always joking. But ain't no time for joking in the streets."

"Say it ain't so?"

"Nope. It ain't. The streets ain't like that kiddy stuff you over

there playing, baby boy."

"Um-hum. I hear you. Continue on, Dr. King."

"Why you playing you gone look up one day and its gone be too late. You can't start this game over if it don't end right, you know? Ain't no do-over's if the cops start kicking the front door in. And it ain't no do-over's if one of those dudes you beefing with come for your life, either."

"Whaaat? Tell me you ain't serious?"

"I am. This ain't no game, Raine."

I wasn't really showing it but was I on fire!As I sat there staring at that television screen, all I could think of was punching Da'Vae in the face. I couldn't stand it anymore. I was about to flip my fucking lid!

Hold on ... Before I go any further, allow me to explain something about myself. I suffer from napoleon complex. In case you never heard of it, it's where people like myself, short people, blow minor situations out of proportion, from the fear of seeming feeble. Something in our minds tell us that these individuals believe they're superior over us, and in the end, our anger wins the war.

I dropped the controller to the floor and lunged at Da'Vae with my fist balled. He quickly sat the product and the pistol on the edge of the coffee table and tightened his fist as well.

While I stare up at Da'Vae, he stared down at me, his tall, muscular frame putting my small body to shame.

We stared into each others eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Then I broke the silence. "Hey! I told you to watch yo' tone when you talkin' to me, nigga."

Da'Vae sighed and stuck his chest out. "Whatever. I'm sick of you. You need to take stuff more serious."

"Sick? Of me?"

"Yeah. You need to grown up. That's what you need to do."

"Grow up?"

"You heard me. You act like you wanna fall, and you want me to fall with you."

"Man fuck you! You scary ass fuck! We bolted, boarded, and chained in this muthafucka, and you still actin' like a bitch."

"Now you done went far with the 'bitch' word."

I threw my hands up and pivoted "Whatever, bitch!"

Da'Vae backed up and took his figting stance as well. "Oh ... okay ... I see you wanna cruch. Come on then, tough guy ... won't be the first, won't be the last ..."

Just as we began to fill one another out, slowly inching closer and closer with tightened fist, the sound of shattering glass invaded. The noise was somewhat faint, but still loud enough to intervene.

Da'Vae's eyebrow rose to a peak. "What the—" he said with his head twisted backwards towards the flight of stairs that lead to the shabby homes second floor. Before he could finish his sentence, there was loud "boom!" followed by the sound of more shattering glass. Another loud noise followed, and then came the blinding light.

As soon as I dropped to my knees and covered my eyes, that's when I heard the shouting in the distance. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I knew all the well who it was: it was the cops, and they were on their way in!

While I struggled to regain composure, the cops had already began to penetrate. They rammed and rammed the front and back door's with extreme vigilance, each strike sending a vicious roar through the dilapidated structure. But it was going to take more than a little banging to get through those two-by-four's mounted on the doors.

The first thing that came to my mind when they hit was, Da'Vae cursed us! I couldn't believe that shit was happening. But I knew I couldn't just stand there and do nothing. So I quickly shook the cobwebs from my brain and ran for the bag of dope. I grabbed the zip-lock bag and bolted towards the metal container of battery acid sitting in the corner. My stomach eased as I watched the small soluble containers quickly dissolve into the batch of toxic gum, but when I looked over at Da'Vae my stomach turned again. He was paralyzed, standing in the middle of the floor, like a deer caught in the headlights.

I couldn't believe it. After all that 'serious' talk and Da'Vae had froze up.

I shouted Da'Vae's name several times, but to no avail. He was stuck. My calls fell on deaf ears. But I wasn't trying to see the inside of a jail cell again, so I took things into my hands.

It took the cops close to twenty minutes to make it inside, but, they made it nonetheless. It was a blessing that all the capsules had long dissolved in the battery acid—and the gun wiped down and concealed within a loose piece of floor boarding—by the time they made though. Of course, they did find the thirty-six thousand in cash in the back of the couch, but, we managed to escape gun and drug charges that day, and that's all that mattered, right?

Chapter Two

RAINE

Da'Vae and I were separated as soon as we entered the precinct. He was forced into interrogation room one, and I, interrogation room two. There we were wait for Detective's Bell and Ramirez.

Detective's Henry Bell and Enrique Ramirez were devout assholes. Everyone knew this. They were they type of cops who'd manipulate and coerced witnesses, plant evidence and rob stash houses, and, as rumor has it, they were into killing kingpins and selling their stash to rival dealers. But of course, this was all hearsay, and truthfully, none of my fucking business. I only wanted to know why the detectives had a sudden interest in us.

I squirmed about in the metal chair for an hour before Detective Bell entered the room. When he did the small, confined area was immediately filled with the pungent odor of cheap aftershave and cigarette smoke. He limped towards me dressed in a white button-down, khaki pants and wingtipped shoes. He was very short—even shorter than me—with dark, blotchy skin and thinning hair. He grinned and he hobbled towards me.

Detective Bell sat. "Hello, my name is—" he said.

I quickly intervened. "I exactly know who you are."

"Oh, do you now?"

"Yeah. I do."

"So, it's safe to say you know about me, hey?"

"Yeah. I know all about you."

"And what exactly do you know about me, might I ask?"

"I know you're a slimy-ass pig! That's what I know."

Detective Bell smiled. "Oh, am I? I didn't know you were a tough-guy, Mr. Carter. Mr. Raine Carter."

"I'm not a tough-guy. I just not stupid, that's all."

"Stupid? And why would you insinuate that—"

"Spare me the bullshit, detective. I'm extremely uncomfortable.

Now either read me my rights, or let me go."

"Why so apprehensive, Mr. Carter?"

"Look, you're starting to annoy me."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. Spots like this make my dick shrivel up."

"I understand. Why won't you let me help you?"

"You just don't get it, do you, cop. You can't help me. I don't deal with your kind."

"So," the detective said rubbing his chin, "what you're saying is that you deny any involvement in the felony drug-trafficking charges we have you guys on."

I snickered. "First off, pig, I didn't say shit. Secondly, you don't have nothing on us. And third ... third ... you really shouldn't be questioning me without my lawyer present. That's a violation of my constitutional rights, you know?"

The detective smiled and shook his head. "So, you're a smart, tough-guy, huh?"

"Yeah. Somethin' like that."

"Well, with you being smart and all, you must know that you're making it harder on yourself, Mr. Carter."

"Harder?"

"Yes. All I want to know is who you guys' supplier is, Mr. Carter. Just tell me that and I'll dismiss all the charges."

I laughed loudly at him.

"What's so funny?" the detective asked.

"The fact that, not only are you bluffing, but you also don't know who you're dealing with. You couldn't have checked my file."

"I did. I sure did, Mr. Carter. But I'm here to offer you and Mr. Sanders a chance."

"Ha! A chance? To do what? Make it outta this shit-hole before the club closes? Man miss me with all that bullshit. Matter of fact, let me contact my lawyer. Right now!!!"

Eight hours and two cheese sandwiches later, Da'Vae I were released on our own reconnaissance.

Chapter Three

RAINE

We left the precinct on foot headed towards my condo. Neither of us said a word the entire walk. I guess we were both replaying the events in our head, thinking about the close call we'd just had.

We when entered my condo I sat my keys on the glass coffee table and switched on the central air. Da'Vae immediately took to the wet bar to fetch himself a drink.

While Da'Vae poured vintage cognac into the glass before him, I looked over at him and smiled.

"What's so damn funny?" he demanded through a pair of stern lips.

I broke. "They had you shook, nigga! Ha-ha!"

Da'Vae stood staring at me for a couple seconds, as if he were trying to stare away my amusement. Then he cackled. "They did have me shook didn't they?"

"Hell yeah they did! They had that ass up in there doin' the runnin' man! You were like ..." I said and mimicked the old school dance move.

Da'Vae was bent over, clutching his stomach, he laughed so hard.

"Hey ..." I said through hiccups of laughter, "and ... and ... what was up ... what was up ... with Detective Bell-head?"

Da'Vae roared in laughter. "I don't know, man ... I don't know ..." Da'Vae said with tears in his eyes. "He was tripping, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. He was. Fuckin' oversized Webster! Let's see how that bitch trip when our lawyer get at that ass though. Ha-ha!"

In a flash, Da'Vae's postured changed. He went from being all smiles and giggles, laughing so hard that he had tears in his eyes, to standing behind the wet bar with a rather tightlipped expression plastered on his face. Then he quickly turned and faced the floor-to-ceiling window that skylined downtown Dayton, Ohio.

As Da'Vae stood staring out of the window, I watched him closely from behind. I was puzzled, perplexed, wondering what the hell I was seeing. I wondered if my eyes were deceiving me or not.

While I sat on the edge of the sofa, contemplating rather or not this was a figment of my imagination, or a case of brute reality, my cell phone went off. I picked it up and glanced at the screen.

BLOCKED.

I sat the phone back down, realigned my eyes and thoughts back on Da'Vae, and finished watching him from behind.

I hope he didn't ...

My phone went off again. I picked the phone back up and glanced at the screen.

(Continues...)

---

Excerpted from Trapstarz by Hector Stone Copyright © 2011 by Hector Stone. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---