Great Families of GOP Bios

Hello everyone! I hope all is well. I know it’s been nearly two months since I posted a character bio. I’ve been focused more on the writing side and wanted to introduce more characters before making a new family background post.  Now that we’ve met Lupita and her father, cartel boss, Carmine Noriega, I plan on publishing the Noriega bio next.

You can read about the Vegas and Carters in the bio index.

Rico’s family, the Thomas’ will also be reviewed shortly. I plan on formally introducing his parents in his next POV.

I’m currently working on a couple of chapters. We can expect to hear from Bash again as we continue to follow the hostile takeover of Jupiter Works.  What lengths will Bash go to to get what he wants? We’ll also get to see the Banks family too!

Thanks for reading,

Camille

Chapter 8 will be delayed until next week

Hey everyone, I hope this post finds you well, and you’re having a good week. I just wanted to inform my readers that chapter 8 of Game of Power will be delayed until next week. It’s a little longer than the others. Chapter 8 will have 3 (planned) scenes and the previous ones had either one or two scenes. We’ll get to see Bella again, this time at police headquarters, we’ll meet her fellow detectives and find out about them a bit more. I showed some in chapter 2 during the search. We’re also gonna meet Bella’s family. If you have not read their limited biography, you can check it out here. Another scene is a little more secret. My readers will start to see Bella attempting to connect dots and seek information on her brother’s killer. Thanks all for reading and your support!

John & Jenn of America.

JOHN & JENN

“STRONGER TOGETHER”

John & Jenn of America is a Black American social organization created during the Reconstruction Era following (the legal) end of slavery. It was started by black mothers who wanted to form a bond with other families living in the segregated south. Over time the vision was catered to blacks that owned land and were educated at colleges and universities. Being among the black elite, people could network and benefit from shared interests and social standing.

Membership has historically been extended through legacy member inheritance or sponsorship. Many of the first Black American millionaires in the late 1800s were members of this exclusive organization. John & Jenn counted prominent Civil Rights leaders, blacks who were the first to receive medical and law degrees and entrepreneurs as members.

Throughout early the 20th-century chapters spread through several southern states. Membership was limited to Descendants of Slaves and their offspring. Due to legal segregation and Jim Crow laws, blacks were excluded from many public parks, pools, theaters, and shops. The families of John & Jenn established their own social functions for black children and single people looking to meet others in the same social class.

During the 1960s additional chapters opened in the northeast in cities like New York, Philadelphia, and Boston. By the 1980s there were few chapters in Los Angeles and San Francisco.

Over the years the organization has been the target of accusations of being elitist and not embracing “new money blacks.” The leadership of John & Jenn have vehemently denied this and has made an effort to reach out to professionals whose families aren’t legacy members nor products of generational wealth. Southern debutante balls may be a thing of the past in most areas, but John & Jenn has continued to host them each year as young ladies enter into society.

J&J has come a long way since their days of “the paper bag test and good hair requirements,” but there is room for improvement and inclusion to uplift the black community as a whole. However, there are members who are okay with the old way and want to keep membership limited to the upper crust whose been in the group for generations. Among degrees and money, you’ll find cattiness, deception and social climbing as it’s finest. As some potential members will find out that maybe not everything that glitters is gold.

****Please check out the limited biography on one of J&J’s most prominent families The Carters

(The work of this group is entirely fictional and any resemblance to real organizations or persons is coincidental)

Officer Colton Johnson Is an Unwilling Player in The Game of Power

 

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Officer Colton Johnson

nature

Colton has the Jungle Explorer/Nature Aspiration

Colton’s traits are: Athletic, Dog Lover, and Loves Outdoors

Colton Johnson has been a patrol officer with the San Myshuno Police Department for the last four years. He previously served in the US Army, completed two tours in Afghanistan and was honorably discharged after six years of service.

As an Army veteran and officer of the law, Colton believes in honor and duty to his country and those he was sworn to protect and serve. His family comprises of several military and law enforcement members.

Coming out of the academy, Colton looked forward to serving communities and ridding neighborhoods of crime. As a patrol officer, he interacts with the community he serves every day and believes he can make a positive impact in the lives of the citizens of San Myshuno. His immediate goal is to obtain the rank of sergeant, but from there Colton doesn’t have a clear idea of where he wants his career to go. His father, Carl is a high ranking member in the department with aspirations for his son and plans to direct him into a leadership position one day, but he’s never shared his father’s ambition and thirst for power.

In the blink of an eye, Colton’s life changes forever, and he’s thrown into a game he’s never had any real ambition to play. How can one compete in a game if they no desire to play? Others have thrust their ambitions onto him either for their desires, agendas, or the wills of others.

Now that Colton is in the lion’s den, not of his choosing, he may have to do others bidding when it’s never been something he’s wanted for himself. Will the game ultimately destroy him or will he find a way to play even it means giving up his dreams?

****Author’s Note: As you can probably tell, this character biography has less information and is shorter than some of my others. Although I believe the detailed biographies of Bash, Bella, Rico, and Ayana were fine, I did edit some of the information on Marquez out because I didn’t want to give too much of his storyline away. I am doing the same with Colton. Depending on the characters and what they all contribute to GOP, some of their biographies may be more or less detailed than others. I know for a fact, some will have more background information on them, but others I plan on keeping condensed to general information.****

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Link

(Sexual situations and nudity, language)

Bash Banks POV

“Damn girl, you feel so good,” I said through grunts as I gave Giavanna Gavino repeated hard thrusts positioned behind her against the side of my bed. I had a tight grip on her fast-moving gyrating hips, and her body slammed against mine.

She screamed out. “Oh, right there..so..good!” Giavanna struggled to get her words out. I was positioned behind her on the bed giving her the best fuck of her life. “Is that good?” I whispered. “Yes…”

I had been pursuing this girl for the last two months. GG worked near my office building downtown in at one of the most elite money management firms in the country. I had seen her and some co-workers at a bar in my building off and on over the last eight weeks or so.

She’d usually curved my advances when I attempted to flirt or get her phone number. But I knew it was just a game because of the way she flirted with me but made every excuse as to why she wasn’t looking to date, anybody. I think about her more than I thought I would. Now that I have her in my bed, I wonder if there could be something more between us; if I could ever be close to her. 

I saw her exchange numbers with one of those blonde, fair skinned pedigree WASP. You know the type, those fuckers who only got into Ivy League because they were legacy members or daddy made a substantial contribution to get their mediocre kid past the waiting list. Girls like GG usually went for those types with the prominent last names and good families. They would fuck niggas like me but typically choose not to date openly.

Giavanna was Brazilian, not one of those black Brazilians, but more so with the looks of like Adriana Lima with a similar exotic flair. If she wanted to get past the fact that she wasn’t blonde and blue-eyed, she could not procreate with a dark Brazilian, a black American, or anyone else that could taint her bloodline. I wasn’t a basketball player, making millions of dollars. That always seemed to ease the minds of white fathers’ racism if their little girls were to marry niggas with money. I did do well for myself, but nothing in the seven-figure range. It wasn’t enough.

I gave her one final thrust as I started to feel myself coming. GG had already came, more than once I must say. She screamed so loudly; she was wild. When women acted outright like animals in bed, it made me even more excited. If you ever wanted to know what the koochie was like on my end, just imagine a tight wet cave stuffed with soft pillows. You slide in, and you slide out, all the better when she made that shit rain.

I finally climaxed, and we collapsed onto my bed. I was hot and sticky; my body burned from the workout I just gave it. GG slid over and rested her head on my chest. Her hair smelled like jasmine, and her skin had a lustrous, silky feel to it. Panting and breathing hard, I looked at her body, admiring it yet again.

GG was so beautiful. She had this tanned olive skin, dark curly hair, perfect pouty full lips and greenish brown eyes. I preferred her phenotype to most other women. She was the definitely the sexiest woman I’ve ever been with. Usually, after I bed a woman, I’m not so eager to continue seeing her, but I felt differently about GG. I wanted to grow closer to her, know her thoughts, wants, and needs. 

“That was so amazing. You are so amazingly talented. What they say about black guys is definitely true,” purred GG, as she turned over to look at me. “Yeah, that’s one stereotype I’m proud to say is true. So I’m the first black man you’ve been with?” I asked. She giggled a bit. “No, you’re not.”

I raised my brow. “Oh? By the way, you were acting before I assumed you preferred Bobbys over Tyrones,” I said, which made GG giggle.

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“Don’t act so surprised, Sebastian. Besides those guys at the bar are just guys I have fun with sometimes and can get me into some pretty exclusive places. They’re like my bosses friends sons who have jobs because of who their fathers are. But you, you Bash, I want to be my big Mandingo. I think I need you a regular basis.”

GG sat up; slowly crawling toward me. Her stare was penetrating as she moved her hand over to my member. I laughed a bit. “I’ll give it to you anytime you want it, Baby.”  

I got up from the bed and went into the bathroom to take a piss. The air in the hallway was cold, but it felt good to cool my skin off.

I grabbed my bath towel and wiped the sweat from my chest and washed my hands. I headed toward my bedroom when I heard a notification of a text message I had received. I spotted my phone on the hall table; it was just after eleven. I opened up the text, which was from Rico Thomas, an old associate from Wharton.

Rico: Hey, it’s been a while since we’ve talked. We need to discuss your future. We’ll meet for drinks at Georgio’s.

That was the end of the message. Rico didn’t specify what day he wanted to meet. When you get a message like that from him, which isn’t often, you don’t ask questions. If you had something planned, you don’t call him back asking to reschedule; you break your date even if your wife is in the middle of giving birth, you see Rico. I was intrigued not so much by what Rico said, but what he didn’t say. What specifically did he mean by ‘your future’?

Rico had one of the fasted growing consultation firms in the region. He rubbed elbows with some of the most influential people in business, politics, and just about every other field. He must’ve heard about the latest promotion I was passed up for.I could only wish to have access to some of the people Rico deals with on a regular basis. My life would be so different right now. Instead of slaving away making the white man richer, I could be running my own firm, using my design with my name on it.

I was eager to talk with Rico, but I would have to wait until he made contact again wait to see just exactly what he wanted to talk about. I had to admit; I felt a little intimidated at the thought of meeting up with him. We knew each other from U-Penn. He was ahead of me in school; we took some of the same business classes at Wharton. He was also a graduate associate professor before he went to Harvard full-time and obtained his MBA. Periodically, we ran into each other at a bar in Cambridge, as I was at MIT, which is very close to Harvard.

I put my phone back on the charger and headed to my bedroom, as Giavanna was starting to get dressed. The room was hot and stuffy and smelled like a combination of her Clinique, my Hugo Boss cologne, and sex.

“I need to get out of here. I have an eight am meeting tomorrow,” said Giavanna. I wasn’t really ready for her to leave just yet, but I didn’t let on. I watched as she pulled her black lace panties on and pulled her dress over her head; she hadn’t worn a bra. Her titties looked as succulent as ever. I had every instinct to push her on the bed again and fill my mouth with each one while I licked and sucked on her nipples.

“I too have early meetings. I’ll take you home.” I told her, snapping out of my fantasy. “Sure, that would be great.” Giavanna walked over to me and kissed me softly on the lips. “Thanks again for tonight, it was great,” she said. “My pleasure.”

Giavanna seemed impressed when she got into my new Benz and complimented how nice the features and heated seats were as we cruised through the dark streets downtown.

It was nothing serious going on between us, and I wasn’t sure when we would hook up again. It was okay for now. Sometimes I think it would be nice to be in a relationship, but I work so much and the women I’m around, act like they’re in charge and control, but they’re not.

These millennial girls of my generation are educated and going out getting careers and competing with males for those same jobs. Yeah, that shit is okay as far as them getting an education, but I find most of the bullshit about independence is just that: bullshit.Most women are the same as they were in my grandma’s generation. They ultimately want a man to call the shots; to make the hard decisions and have most of the responsibility. They mainly someone to take care of them.

I don’t know how many girls I went to school with, fresh out of graduation, a degree in hand, and within a year of finding their Bobby Pedigree, they gave all that shit up. Usually first getting a nice little upscale, overpriced condo near work and later moving out to the suburbs to be near the rest of the pedigree families and join their country club.

The women of the club would organize tea and feel-good charities for the less fortunate little Tyrones, Jamals, and Kishas. It made them feel good to peddle some money into the inner city, to help those little poor black babies; even when those “poor black babies” came from two-parent households. Often when black kids came from two-parent middle-class families, some of the country club Jenns and Susans believed they were poor and unfortunate, because ‘hey, they were black so ultimately they suffered and needed saving right?’ I’ll be the first to admit, however, that some of the thugs that have taken over my family’s neighborhood could use some saving, no matter who it came from.

My family wasn’t living in poverty. They weren’t exactly middle class, but working class; which might as well be poverty if you think in regards of how the real world works, and the divide between the rich and unambitious people in my old neighborhood. They were the people I struggled to get away from all of my life.

I felt obligated to socialize with my family every once in a while to show them that things could be better and that they needed to stop thinking small and living a life of low means was okay. I knew it was too late for my father, the most unambitious man I know, but at least my little sister, Michelle had a chance at getting an education and bettering herself. But who was I fooling? The rest of my family was hopeless. That’s the life they were used to, and none of them had any desire to change it.

Giavanna didn’t live too far away from me in Art of the City, an upscale neighborhood similar to SoHo in New York. The price for living here was almost as high as well. But you get what you pay for.

Once we arrived at her apartment, I walked her up the front door of her high-end building. Her doorman gave us a hard look. I held on even tighter to her and kissed her deeply on the mouth. It will never cease to amaze me how shook some white boys get over the beautiful women I can pull any day and the ones I chose to have on my arm. It’s okay; the haters drove my ambition. As I rise, I’ll give them a real reason to hate me.

 

**My thoughts: I think it’s evident by now that Bash is struggling with some internal conflicts intensified by external problems. A lot of his thinking is or could be perceived as hypocritical. In his mind, he bashes the hierarchy of society, but at the same time, he longs to be part of it and even prefers women who are apart of it, all the while having resentment for their station in life. One thing I know is that people are complicated and sometimes on the surface we appear hypocritical and more often than not, we can be hypocritical internally as well. I don’t think most things are all black and white, but fall into gray areas. I’m looking forward to developing Bash’s character and exploring what it means to be human, with all of our flaws, fallacies, hopes, and the lengths we go through to survive in this system. Thanks for reading.** 

***Author’s Note: The title of this chapter is in reference to the song by the Purple One, Prince. Check out the lyrics to understand what it means from his perspective. I’m an 80s kid and Prince’s music was my life as it still is. As I was listening to this song the other day, I decided to name this chapter after it for Bash’s perspective as he does want to get closer GG even though their relationship appears to be mainly physical right now.

Check out the biography of Bash and other main characters here.

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Chapter 3 Greed is Good

Rico’s POV

Grazier Technology retained Thomas Global Strategies for our mergers & acquisitions services. I don’t directly acquire companies through acquisition. Depending on the logistics of a corporate takeover, I may use several different strategies on the target to gain control of the company for my client. For Grazier, I’d consulted with my mentor and activist investor, Harrison Edward. Another term you could use that was more popular in the eighties, is a corporate raider. Harrison makes all the raiding Carl Icahn did in the eighties seem like child’s play.

Now, Grazier is preparing itself to be the center of news yet again after their sexual harassment scandal. They were looking to expand their core business and wanted to acquire a smaller firm that had developed new and innovative crypto technology and financial data security applications. Grazier was one of the largest software companies concentrated in data technology. As more consumers conduct business and financial transactions on their thousand dollar smartphones and tablets, they were hard-pressed to tap into the highly lucrative mobile market. The road ahead would be arduous. Grazier was looking at Jupiter Works, a small but highly innovative software firm to get them to where they needed to be in the digital mobile market.

Not only will Grazier make millions, but they will gain a substantial amount of power from the Jupiter acquisition.

As Harrison mentioned in our brief conference call the other day, a takeover, especially a hostile one, is no walk in the park. Grazier approached Jupiter Works board of directors about a merger in the past, as did other firms with similar proposals. Their executives weren’t looking to join with anyone and desired to remain independent. The good news for Grazier and bad news for Jupiter is that their board can be replaced. We can take our fight directly to the shareholders, which is where Harrison would step in. You have not seen an actual artist until you’ve seen him in action. Gird your loins.

*****************************

I wanted to spend the evening preparing for my associates meeting tomorrow; I wasn’t expecting my doorman to call letting me know my on and off again lady-friend, Shoshannah Carter was on her way up. We dated throughout graduate school at Harvard. We had broken up for a couple of years but started seeing each other again a few years back. She and I never lost contact, and it was mainly Shoshannah pushing for a commitment. Some of her family members were pressuring her to put the heat on me to propose; that wasn’t going to happen. We were in our thirties, and Shoshannah wanted to settle down as expected of someone with her upbringing, but I won’t be manipulated into proposing or getting married; both were the furthest thing from my mind.

I opened the front door, just as Shoshannah was stepping off the elevator, I saw my neighbor, Panther’s star quarterback, Colin Stone heading toward his penthouse apartment.

There are two penthouses in my building; I owned one and Colin had the other; mine is bigger. He had been playing on the road, and it looked as if he’d just got back into town. He gave me a slight wave as I nodded at him.

She walked up to the door and brushed past me. I held the door open briefly before shutting it and turning the lock. Shoshannah, pushed her hair out of her face, revealing her silk blouse that fell slightly off her shoulders. She wore a tight black pencil skirt, and the twenty thousand dollar Birkin I gifted her some months back. You would rarely find Shoshannah in an ensemble that wouldn’t cost the average person a few paychecks.  “It feels like we haven’t seen each other in forever,” said Shoshannah, getting straight to the point. I sighed. “Been busy. You know this is one of the busiest times of years for me.”

I walked into the living room with Shoshannah close on my heels. “Have you had dinner yet?” I looked at the clock; it was already half past eight. I didn’t like to eat this late, but I couldn’t get out of it. I knew she would badger me about our “relationship” or needing to spend more time together if I didn’t silence her with a distraction.

“Not, yet,” I replied. “Looks like you’ve been working. We can try that new Italian place across the street, and then we could do something else,” said Shoshannah, suggestively.

“The cook left chicken alfredo for me. I’ll heat it up; we can eat that.” Shoshannah rolled her eyes. If she thought I was going to be leaving the house to take her out to a five-star restaurant at this hour, she had another think coming.

Shoshannah was from a well-to-do “John and Jenn” prestigious and prominent black family. My association with The Carters had been good for business over the years. The most important connect I had through Shoshannah was her father, Corliss Carter. He sat on the bench of the United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit, the second most powerful court in the country. Her mother, Clara Carter served in the last administration’s cabinet as the president’s Secretary of the Interior. It was good to have friends in high places.

It’s no secret to those closest to me, that I had no intention of marrying anytime soon, neither do I want to continue a relationship for several more years to come. Having one of the most powerful judges in the country one phone call away is always beneficial, and I knew I would need to continue to have favor with the Carters.

After I warmed the chicken Alfredo up, we headed to my upstairs deck overlooking the bay to eat our dinner. I quietly sat at the table, chewing the slightly dried out chicken,  while I half-listened to Shoshannah drone on about an upcoming gala her mother’s charity was hosting. She feigned resentment at her forthcoming duties during the party.

“If I have to meet and mingle with one more board member, alumni, or former White House aide, I’m going to go absolutely insane.” The truth of the matter is that Shoshannah loved the society functions her family was heavily involved in; she was obsessed with class and appearances.

Many of these functions were beneficial as far as networking goes. I used to attend them all the time with Shoshannah, but now not so much. I occasionally hobnob with her father and her mother’s friends and their associates. I choose more carefully which social events I attend as my firm and reputation grow within influential circles.

Networking was vital in my line of work, but I find that needing Shoshannah’s intervention on my behalf with her dad was becoming obsolete. As the judge and I have gotten closer and know more of the same people, he’s more open to taking a phone call to me or helping a client out when it’s needed.

Shoshannah is high strung at times, and her behavior is starting to become more of a liability. She can drink too much at times, and she tends to boast tales of elaborate million dollar weddings that she is currently planning, of which couldn’t be any further from the truth. No one can pressure me in any aspect of my life.

**************************

I had a meeting with my executive associates the following morning for a strategy session for the Grazier acquisition of Jupiter Works.

“As some of you with prior knowledge on this case know, Grazier’s most powerful shareholders implored the board and management that they needed to increase their presence in the mobile market. These days, companies could lose everything and be left behind with no significant digital mobile presence. They have a target, and that is what this meeting is about,” I said, addressing everyone in the conference room. It was after 8 am and my day was already half-over.

“Grazier wants to expand their mobile base, that’s why they want Jupiter. They’re a very innovative firm. What specifically is Grazier after?” asked Sam Watanabe, my college roommate at Harvard, and now one of my associates. “Jupiter has this new data encryption technology that Grazier wants, but even more than that,” I replied.

“Jupiter is working on a new application using crypto-technology that will be integrated into their current product allowing the ease of anonymous financial transactions using internet currency,” said Jefferson Lewis, one of the executive associates that knew of the current situation with Grazier. Jefferson was also an old associate of mine as we went to prep school together. He didn’t go to Harvard, but his MBA was from Yale. He was my second in command when it came to dealing with clients on the financial side of TGS.

Cressida pulled up Jupiter’s quarterly earnings on her tablet. “Jupiter isn’t direct competition right now, but they will be within three to five years. Therefore, not only does our client want to choke out their competition, but owning the design and software at Jupiter would be highly profitable for them in the long run.”

“TGS needs to employ the most cost-effective way to acquire the target. Looking at areas that are solvent, profitable, and any debt that may not be publicly available. We can’t just do that by looking at past performance and future projections,” argued Nixon Keen, one of the most prominent hardliners at the firm. He made valuable contributions to TGS, and his father is a former deputy director of the NSA. Nixon was a no bullshitter and told you exactly what was on his mind. He didn’t like to take on projects if a win wasn’t guaranteed.

“Last year, Grazier’s board voted to make a friendly takeover offer. Jupiter, not wanting to merge, declined. Grazier pushed the issue to meet with the executives at Jupiter, but each meeting grew more and more hostile. It wasn’t a deal Jupiter wanted, and they completely shut down any further talks,” I said.

“What happened with those negotiations?” asked Autumn. I could see the wheels churning in her head, putting together press packages and orchestrating damage control attacks against leaks in what will undoubtedly be an ugly battle in the coming months. She had her tablet nearby but didn’t make any entries, and rarely took physical notes but kept information in her mental rolodex. Autumn was more old-school at first glance, but she is a mastermind.

“Grazier’s terms didn’t interest Jupiter, but they’re not big enough; they don’t have enough capital to ward off these attacks. Grazier’s most influential shareholders and a portion of the board hadn’t changed its mind about acquiring Jupiter even after the talks fell through. We’re beyond negotiations now; we’re going to come up with the best plan of execution for our client,” explained Jefferson.

“Tanner, I will need you take a closer look at the technology. Find out if there are any bugs or issues with the development of their latest applications,” I said to Tanner Young, the firm’s computer genius. If there were anything on the internet or within a company’s internal network, Tanner had unique skills to obtain pertinent information. Some of this tactics may fall into the gray area of legal vs. illegal.

“I’ll get started on it right away. Jupiter has excellent security, and they’re very secretive so it will take me some time to get any useful information,” replied Tanner. “That’s fine, just keep me updated daily on your progress. I will meet with you privately,” I said.

What I didn’t mention to my associate is that I had a contact at Jupiter that I believed could provide me with some valuable insider information. Jefferson and Tanner were already aware of this. If my contact is as unhappy as I’ve heard he was with his job, he could be looking to make a deal with a much larger company and find favor with Grazier once the takeover was complete.

Jefferson and I laid down the framework of our plan over the next couple of hours with the rest of the associates. By the time our meeting had ended for today, everyone was clear on what I needed them to do. We were all looking at fifteen hour days in the coming weeks, so I told everyone to get comfortable because we were going into battle.

 

****Author’s note: The title of this chapter is a famous line from the movie ‘Wall Street.’

Check out the biography of Rico and other main characters here.

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(Sexual situations and nudity)

Detective Bella Vega POV:

The San Myshuno Drug Enforcement Task Force arrived early morning at the upscale Midtown Pointe Towers. It wasn’t your typical scene for a morning search; ten thousand dollar mortgage, a doorman, complimentary housekeeping, and all the fixings of high society life. The warrant was signed less than 24 hours ago. This wasn’t a Hollywood element of surprise raid.

I stood there, breathing through my nose, silently waiting. My hands were wrapped around my Glock, in the defensive position, as were the other officers on my team. Lt Lawrence Loomis, who headed the task force knocked loudly out the door. “This is the San Myshuno Police Department. We have a warrant to search the premises.”

I stood in silence with the other officers anticipating the next moment. The target isn’t some low-level dope boy on the corner with his pants hanging halfway down his ass. We weren’t hunting rabbit; it was bear season.

After what seemed like several long moments, the front door swung open. I looked up and saw Big Meech, also known as B-Money, but better known under his government name, Marquez Flex.

Meech was putting on a shirt, while he glared at the smug detectives on the task force and the two uniforms standing outside his door. He knew our announcement was a fake courtesy and we were here because he had no choice. The “law” required us to get a warrant to search the property, but guys like Flex believe they are above the law. He seemed annoyed, but not surprised to see us.

Loomis asked Flex a series of questions before informing him of his rights before he snatched the warrant out of his hands. He briefly studied the document before shoving it back in Lieu’s direction.

Flex turned away from the group of officers that had assembled in his living room, making his way over to the window, giving me a sidelong glance. His swagger was one of confidence, not a man that was worried about the SMPD finding any incriminating evidence this day.

Matter of fact, during the whole five-hour search, Flex didn’t utter a single word, didn’t make one phone call, nor did he leave to use the bathroom.

He stood there as officers went through every inch of the living room, followed us upstairs into his office, and silently watched as we confiscated his hard drives, files, and other electronic devices. When one of the detectives had to ask a question, Flex only nodded or shook his head.

I went upstairs to look through a few drawers in the office and sensed Flex staring at me. I looked around the room. Flex briefly held my gaze, then looked away.

I watched his eyes for a moment, trying to see if he was focusing on anything in particular; maybe there was an area he didn’t want detectives searching or something he didn’t want us to find.

“Vega, will you come over here?” called my partner, Detective Erik Moynihan. I shoved the papers back in the drawer that had been in my hand and walked over to him. “I found these cell phones, probably burners and wiped. There’s no way of telling what’s on them right now.”
“Bag and tag them; we’ll take it to the forensics,” I replied.

I helped Erik take pictures of the phones and record the model in a log. “The serial numbers had been erased on the SIM card; hopefully forensics can find it inside the phone,” said Erik. I placed the cell phones in the evidence bag and looked around to see what other areas in the apartment hasn’t been searched.

I decided to head to the bathroom. “Is it alright if I use your bathroom?” I asked while raising my voice. The look in his eyes could’ve pierced through steel. His mouth didn’t say a word, but the glare in his eyes spoke for him.

I smirked as I headed toward the bathroom and went inside. Flex could glare all he wanted to, but he knew he had no power in this situation.

I turned around to face him again and slammed the door shut, signaling a resounding “fuck you.”

***********************************

It was too early to tell if our search would turn up any evidence to help build our case against the growing cartel that has been taking over the Metro San Myshuno. Marquez was important enough to have an impact on the increase of traffic, but there were bigger fish in the sea we wanted to catch.


After a stressful long day, I needed a good fuck to ease my nerves. Hartley Fullerton is one of the men I’m sleeping with. He was at the search with me this morning, and he was my immediate supervisor, not to mention very married.

My legs were spread as far as they could go as I received Hartley’s impressively large manhood deep inside of me. “Fuck me harder! Harder!” I screamed. I liked it rough and sometimes Hartley wanted to act like this was some lovemaking session. He knew I didn’t care about the easiness or tenderness. He knew when I summoned him, that I needed to get my back blown out, as rough and as hard as possible. I didn’t want foreplay; I didn’t want to kiss and cuddle, just murder the shit and be done with it. Otherwise, what are you here for?

I didn’t know what time it was whether it was still nighttime or morning. I grabbed my cell phone off the bedside table; the time was 4:45. The battery was down to 11%.

“Shit. I forgot to charge this dumb ass phone,” I said aloud. I rubbed my eyes, trying to adjust them to the darkness; trying to spot my charger.

I heard a soft moan next to me. I looked over and saw Hartley laying naked in my bed. I’d forgotten he came over late last night. I felt a twinge of annoyance at him still being here. He knew I didn’t like it when he spent the night. I thought he showered and went home once I fell asleep last night.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he asked, groggily. “Nothing. Why are you still here?” I asked, irritated. “Didn’t know it was so late, Bella. I fell asleep last night.”

“And what do you plan on telling Nicole why you didn’t come home last night?” I asked. “That I had a case that went late, which is not technically a lie,” answered Hartley. I scoffed. “She can’t be that stupid to keep believing that same story,” I said, Hartley’s expression turned to one of hurt as if he was so offended I would insult his wife.


“There’s no need for you to be so condescending, Bella,” said Hartley, his voice tight. I looked up at him.”I’m not married to you, and you’re not my father; don’t begin to reprimand me. Go home to your fucking wife.”

Hartley grew silent for a moment, shaking his head. “Why do you always have to do stuff like this, Bella?”
“What am I doing Hartley? You know I don’t like it when you “accidentally” slip up and stay over. You need to leave,” I scolded him. “Fine. I’ll take a shower. I’ll see you later,” said Hartley, as he got up from the bed and headed to my bathroom.

I closed my eyes again, but the smell of Hartley’s cologne permeated my pillows. I quickly flipped them over to get the scent out of my nose. There was nothing I hated more than a man trying to leave his mark in my home.

As a supervisor, Hartley had “authority” over me at work, but it also made him think he had it in other areas of my life. Shit, he barely had any power over me on the job, I don’t know why he felt like he could come over and attempt to call any shots after laying up in my bed.

I’ve told Hartley time and time again that I was not interested in anything emotional and if I felt like I wanted to fuck him, I’d be the one to call, but under my terms.

After about fifteen minutes, I heard the shower cut off and the sound of the front door closing as Hartley left my apartment.
I rolled back over in my bed determined to salvage some sleep before my alarm went off at six.

*************************

I slowly rolled out of bed once my cell alarm went off at six and grabbed a cigarette off my nightstand. I took a long drag and held it, letting the nicotine ease my nerves. Fuck, if I wasn’t a cop, I could easily roll a joint.

I didn’t bother to put on any clothes before leaving the room and heading into the kitchen. I turned on the coffeepot and stood there, taking another drag of my cigarette.

After yesterday’s search, I had a late night at the station, and I didn’t feel rested. There was so much evidence that needed to be poured over and a lot of paperwork to file. It was the most shitty part of police work in my opinion. As a detective, I preferred to be out with my partner, gathering evidence and working on investigations. But sitting at a desk doing paperwork was a big part of the job.

After the coffee finished brewing, I took my cup and a newly lit cigarette over to my dining room table and flipped on the TV to check the news. There was no mention of the search in the upscale midtown neighborhood, as there wouldn’t be. It’s not like we ran in there with a battering ram disturbing the peace of all those lovely rich people in their gilded cages; if only the majority of Flex’s neighbors knew what his real business was. I won’t act like some of them weren’t aware, as he undoubtedly had clients as neighbors who were his customers.

“and news from Miami. DEA agents discovered a large amount of cocaine, Xanax, and hydrocodone in a home in South Beach. We’re told that the area has seen a rise in drug activity, mostly from importers outside of the US mainland, with most shipments coming in from the Caribbean.”

My ears perked up, and I listened intently to the anchorwoman. Any news of drug activities of the growing Caribbean cartels always sparks my interest. Any information I hear, I take note of it for my private investigation.

My older brother, Miguel also worked in the Narcotics Unit undercover before he was brutally beaten and killed in a sting gone wrong before I was on the force. His partner, Burl Griggs had also been gunned down during the time. Their killers were still at large.

Twelve years have passed, and the department is no closer to finding their killers now than they were all those years ago. It infuriated me to know the criminals responsible for killing my brother were still out there.

Narcotics turned over the case to the Cold Case department, probably the most inept and lazy unit in the entire San Myshuno Police Department. Those fat fuckers don’t do shit all day except sit on their asses and pretend to do real police work, searching dead girls who’ve been missing for thirty years. Their priorities were all fucked up; a cop killer case should come before anything else.

I have taken it upon myself to find out who killed Miguel and those most responsible. If you want something done, you must do it yourself. I am not interested in dragging them back to have their day in court. I want to do the same thing they did to my brother; beating him beyond recognition damn near and holding my Glock close enough for them to look down the barrel and know that death was imminent, but not before I made them suffer. That would be justice.

Check out the biography of Bella and other main characters here.

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Marquez “Big Meech” Flex Makes a Power Play to Win the Cartel Wars

 Marquez “Big Meech” Flex

Marquez had the Deviance Aspiration

Marquez’s traits are: Ambitious, Insider, and Romantic

Marquez “Big Meech” Flex is a mid-level underboss in the newly formed McQueen cartel. Ever since the execution of former boss D.M. Sanders by unknown assailants, there’s been a power grab over territory within the four boroughs in San Myshuno: The Spice District, Uptown, Fashion Row, and Art of the City. Not only are smaller factions on the rise and seeking to take over, but the bosses from the surrounding cities know that San Myshuno is ripe for the pickings.

Outside cartels threaten Lamar McQueen’s reign as the new boss. Meech and his crew; The Thetas report directly to McQueen. Pressure is starting to build within the organization as there are many including the Thetas who feel disenfranchised by McQueen’s erratic actions and increasingly ineffective operations.

Lamar was a mentor to Marquez and showed him the ropes of the business when he was a lowly street hustler. But Lamar has made questionable decisions in the last several months that have resulted in the loss of millions of dollars in product across the region, not to mention choices that have cost the lives of loyal members and those Marquez considered family.

 

You have to crawl before you can walk. Marquez is all about his paper and power and will use any and all means to cut down the competition in the cartel wars. They won’t see him coming for Marquez knows all too well how to play the game of power.

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Chapter 1.2 The Games Begin

 

Rico Thomas POV:

“I do understand power, whatever else may be said about me. I know where to look for it, and how to use it.”  It’s one of the many profound things I’ve learned from one of the most successful power brokers in US history, President Lyndon B. Johnson.

What I value in LBJ’s methods for attaining power is the practical means to deal with the obstacles and problems that befall a strong and capable leader. Similarly, when I set about achieving a goal, roadblocks are inevitable; it’s how I choose to deal with those roadblocks that determine the desired outcome. Power is a tool that I use to elevate my position and attain my goals. For some people, power is a drug, and if not used wisely and without self-control, it can overtake you.

Let me start with a bit of commentary on history for you. Say what you want about Johnson’s war record or his pre-Presidency civil rights record that doesn’t concern me, because I am living in the modern world. I could choose to be idealistic and cry about how things should be, or I could make changes that matter. Here’s the lesson: Great men, great leaders, go out and make the changes needed. They don’t wait on others to do it for them. Inertia and weakness never elevated anyone to a real position of power. Some methods used may not be favorable in the eyes of many, but the world runs, civilizations thrive, and we wake up with a false sense of security due to necessary evils. Not everyone will agree with what I do or the methods in which I do them; that doesn’t concern me.

For as long as I can remember, it has always been ingrained in my head to set goals and to achieve them by the best means necessary. Notice I did not say by any means necessary because they’re not all smart and “any” leaves you open to considering some less than smart options. No, complete your goals by the best and most effective means.

**************************************

I was up at a quarter past four this morning, which was typical for me. I kept my mattress extra firm; for not only did it keep my posture long and straight, I felt as if I had one that was too soft and comfortable I would not easily get up in the morning.

I stepped out of my bed and carefully smoothed out the percale sheets and bedspread. I was not a wild sleeper, I rarely moved. My housekeeper would come a little later and make over my bed again, not completely satisfied until everything in the house had her approval and final touch. I walked across the wooden floors, satisfied that I spent the money for custom heat controlled flooring throughout the apartment. For some people, it may seem like a waste of money, when I could just wear slippers. Not to me, this was my home. I was going to have every luxury afforded to me within these walls. I couldn’t be bothered with cold floors in the morning.

I keep late nights and early mornings, but I never feel unrested. All the same, I have my unique daily brew, rare Arabica beans naturally refined by elephants. I won’t get into the details; put it this way: it’s very expensive to drink coffee that has been processed through an elephant’s digestive system.

It’s worth it, however, because I wake up with one of the world’s finest coffees in my cup each morning.

After I’d poured my coffee, I headed to my office to check the market and read emails. As expected, I had just over fifty messages from after ten o’clock last night up until fifteen minutes ago. About half of the emails were from my work associates as well as what some may call an executive assistant, Cressida Castro. Her main role was managing the day to day operations of Thomas Global Strategies, my consultation business; that also meant managing me; as much as anyone can do that. Cressida did everything; therefore she doesn’t have an official title. Some of her duties included: maintaining my schedule, determining what was considered high priority, and which problems were salient.

Most of the firm’s clients except for a distinguished few went to Cressida as their first line of contact and information. Many times, my clients insisted on talking directly to one of my top-level team members or me. It wasn’t always convenient or necessary that they speak to me. And nine times out of ten, Cressida was able to answer their questions or handle whatever specific issue that needs addressing.

*******************************

I founded Thomas Global Strategies while I was in prep school; only it was more informal. I didn’t have any staff, nor did it have a name. We provide services to corporate clients with workforces that number into the thousands, to smaller companies with less than fifty people. We consult on matters such as mergers and acquisitions, valuation and financial preparedness, political and campaign strategy, crisis management, investigative forensics, information technology, analytics, and public relations. That may seem like a long list, but you’d be surprised at how closely related each of these areas are, none are mutually exclusive of the other. We meet our clients’ needs through a system I call SIR: Strategy, Integration, and Resolution.

I arrived at my office building a little bit earlier than usual. I wanted to answer some correspondence before my team arrived. I had been at my desk for roughly an hour when Cressida walk in, looking down at her tablet.

“Did you get the dossier on Grazier I sent?” she asked, not looking up. “Yes,” I replied. I pulled up the file on Grazier Technology’s last quarter performance Cressida sent last night.

“Boss, I know you’ve worked with this company before. I assumed you had me gather all this information for M&A. It couldn’t be for another PR scandal. That was before I joined the firm,” said Cressida, sitting down.

I sat back in my chair and looked across my desk at her. “You know what I say about assuming. Yes, a few of years ago, Grazier retained our crisis management services. The company was going through an ugly public relations crisis due to a sexual harassment suit against two members of their executive team.”

“Autumn handled the case?” asked Cressida, referring to Autumn Ross, our main public relations expert at the firm. I nodded. “What we found during our internal investigation was that human resources had failed at every turn to investigate the allegations against their director of marketing and senior vice president of operations. A female project manager had accused them of an inappropriate sexual relationship.”

“How does an adult accuse another adult of having an inappropriate sexual relationship? Relationship implies there was consent; unless her job was threatened,” said Cressida

“Yes. In this context, it’s a new pc way of saying ‘fucking your way to the top’ The woman alleged the director and VP sexually harassed her and demoted her from senior manager to a position one below. During our inquiry, we found out that the accuser had been in consenting relationships with both of these married men at different times. She pursued both men. While we found inconclusive information on the director’s part, we found enough correspondence from the senior VP that could cause the company a lot embarrassment. The woman claimed once she ended the affair, he demoted her, but there was enough evidence in her previous performance review that her bosses weren’t happy with her. Autumn said she was a piece of work and no one on her team liked her.”

“Did she end up leaving Grazier?” asked Cressida. “Yes, with a much smaller settlement than what she was suing for. The director was allowed to resign, and the senior VP took a leave of absence until the storm was over; he’s still with the company. It’s harder to replace an executive than a low-level project manager. It wasn’t a complete loss to Grazier.” I replied.

Pretending as if sex hasn’t been used for centuries in exchange either for money or other goods and services, is a fallacy. Here’s the lesson: It happens all the time, and a lot of people benefit from sexual favors. Not all. It sounds like bullshit, but you’re not living on planet Earth if you don’t think this happens and is accepted every single day. Am I saying that every little bright-eyed bell with perky tits and a fat ass spending years trading her southern accent away, started on her knees underneath the boardroom table to attain a leadership position? No, what I am saying is situations like this happen more often than you think; that’s the world in which we live. Here’s a pro tip: if you’re not playing the game wisely, you will get run out.

Check out the biography of Rico and other main characters here.

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Will Ayana Dinha Survive The Game of Power?

Ayana has the Family Aspiration

Ayana’s traits are: Good, Family-Oriented, and Cheerful

Introducing Ayana Dinha

Ayana Dinha is a former top fashion model who founded S.H.E magazine, an online publication shortly after she retired from full-time modeling. Ayana has always wanted something she could build from the ground up and make a success of it. She was born in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia before immigrating with her family to the United States at five years old. Ayana’s parents, Ahmed and Faizah Tesfaye have successful careers in the STEM field, and her siblings are headed along the same path.

The Tesfayes didn’t approve her choice to quit college midway through her freshman year to become a full-time model. They thought she’d come to her senses once she told them she had retired from the business, but they were appalled once their daughter told them of her plans to sink most of her savings into a fashion and lifestyle magazine. Ayana is very sensitive to her parent’s feelings, but it would be hard for her to live the life they want for her when she’s always dreamed of publishing her own magazine.

Everything Ayana makes from ad revenue goes back into the magazine. If it weren’t for her best friend and fellow editor, Parminder Patel who comes from a wealthy Punjabi family, giving her money each month, Ayana would not be able to keep a roof over her head. The Tesfayes have money, but they refuse to support Ayana in what they see as foolishness. Ethiopians are very proud people, so when Ayana began working for different fashion houses scantily dressed, she brought shame on her family. Her father didn’t even speak to her for nearly a year once she dropped out of college.

Ayana’s greatest fear is that her magazine will fail and prove her parents and other family members right. When she came over to the US, Ayana dived right into American culture, particularly Black American culture, so much, so she saw it as more of her own than the Ethiopian culture she was born into. Ahmed and Faizah were distraught when they saw their middle daughter turning her nose up at their customs and ways. They didn’t approve of the American guys she brought home during high school nor most of her friends. Ayana even stopped speaking their language to her parents, breaking her mother’s heart. It’s not easy for Faizah to talk to her daughter, she doesn’t get why Ayana can’t be like her sister, Fana and do what is expected of her. Faizah suffered immensely to get to where she is today and never wanted her daughters to go through what she did before she left home. Now that Ayana is throwing her life away, it’s a slap to her face for all of her hard work.

One thing Ayana has always had a talent for was getting men to fall at her feet. She learned from an early age how easy it was for boys to men to throw themselves at her and do just about anything to please her. She desires to have true love in her life, but she is never sure if a man is dating her purely based on what is on the outside. More than one gentlemen of means have offered to give her magazine the exposure it desperately needs. Ayana’s beauty is her asset, but it is also a hindrance in many ways because men find out that she’s in great need of help, help only they can give her, so they use it as a possible opportunity to bed her. However, Ayana’s beauty could be the only card she has to play. If she sacrificed her integrity, how could she look at herself in the mirror each day? Would the ends justify the means if it meant getting what she wanted; fame and success?

Ayana considers herself to be a classic model and she prefers the tried and true institutions and platforms of high fashion. Now, every Instagram girl claims to be a model. Ayana could not be more disgusted with the barrage of IG models, the ones with silicone butt implants, filtered pictures and several pounds of makeup. Whatever happened to real and natural beauty? Not only are the social media girls’ platforms getting larger by the day, but designers are also now flocking to many of them to wear their clothes or sign a branding deal with them. S.H.E and Ayana’s personal Instagram doesn’t even have as many followers as many of the “models” that are getting exposure and attention Ayana feels her magazine should be getting. She gets it, most of the people who follow those girls, are young everyday round-the-way girls, who believe with weave, ass shots, and good Facetune, they too could get millions of followers and get paid by companies eager to endorse them. Their looks and “beauty” isn’t anything special nor is it natural. Ayana was blessed with exquisite natural beauty that millions of women and girls pay thousands of dollars for. She embraces her looks and knows many women covet her features, so she doesn’t feel guilty for making money off her own vanity and allowing her to step into spaces most people could only dream about.

Every day it’s a struggle for S.H.E as Ayana fights for designers to send over their creations for a review, getting companies to advertise on the website, and fighting with Parminder about the content they should be showcasing. Parminder knows that Ayana needs to get her head out of the clouds; thinking S.H.E will be on the same level as Vogue or ELLE. If Ayana wants to get more viewership, she is going to have to market to the online social media crowd, no matter how much it pains her to do so. Ayana has a lot of pride and doesn’t want to sully her brand with the IG aesthetic, but her tunnel vision only allows her to focus on the more low brow side of social media modeling.

As an idealistic person and purist, Ayana’s methods are not cutting it in the cutthroat world of fashion publishing. She could barely deal with the backstabbing when she was a model. Usually, she has been the type to stick her head in the ground when she didn’t want to deal with something or give up when the fight got too tough. Ayana refuses to give up her dream, but if she doesn’t start getting in the game, making the right connections with the power players that can get her what she needs, Ayana will inevitably fail, and her family would look at her as the disappointment they believe she is.

One thing is for sure, if Ayana is unwilling to put her game face on and make changes to take S.H.E to the next level, she’ll pass on her one chance at success and lose the game. A lot of other players are more skilled than her, and they are willing to do whatever it takes, no matter what; something she may not be cut out for. As Ayana will soon begin to discover as her ambitious drive grows, she could be capable of almost anything to get what she wants. The world is waiting to see if Ayana can step up and survive the game of power.

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