by Jacob Spears
These muthafuckin’ Mexicans are getting bolder each day that passes, he thought as he hid from the man in his bedroom closet.
He had a good angle and view of the bedroom door if the killer did come looking for him there.
Come on, man. It’s too early to be playing these games! Smooth thought as he waited for the Mexican to walk through the bedroom door.
“Smooth, mi amigo!” the assassin called out in a deep voice.
At least he knows that he’s at the right address, Smooth thought as he trained the gun toward the entrance of the door while Zorro hid under the bed growling at the assassin.
Don’t blow our cover, Zorro! Smooth thought.
“Smooth, mi amigo!” the assassin called again.
Smooth could hear the hall bathroom door being kicked open. He was close.
“Come on, stupid Mexican,” Smooth whispered to himself, anticipating the Mexican’s appearance in his bedroom.
Smooth was sweating excessively as he awaited the Mexican coming through the door.
“Smooth, mi—”
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
The shots were distinctive from the TEC-9, and Smooth easily picked up on it. As soon as he was about to make his move, Smooth heard the call of victory.
“Smooth!” China called out for him.
“I’m in here with Zorro!”
When China rushed into the room with a smoking Glock .40, she stood in the doorway with an evil look on her face.
“Do you still think $2.3 million is too much to move?”
“Smooth, you can move anywhere you want. Like I told you, I’m done with you. I’m just here to get my work clothes. You better be glad I keep this baby with me,” she said while holding up her Glock.
“Isn’t that the twin to mine?’
“Yeah, and you’re not getting it back!”
“China, do you gotta do this? You’re tripping for real.”
“Smooth, it’s too late to try to talk about anything. You’re staying out late, coming in smelling like another bitch, and got too much love for your damned homeboys. I’m done, and I mean with men—period! At least I’m not leaving you for another man!” China said as she grabbed her work clothes and then strutted out of the room and apartment.
Damn! I think I fucked up! Smooth thought regretfully.
Smooth picked up his iPhone from the closet floor and called his cleanup crew.
“Yo!”
“I need the cleanup crew sent to my apartment,” Smooth said to Big Mitch.
“I got ya, bro.”
“Alright!” Smooth answered as he hung up the phone.
“Zorro, we have to move. It’s no longer safe here, boy,” Smooth said to his dog, who climbed on top of the bed and lay down next to Smooth, who was sitting on the edge of the bed.
The $2.3 million is definitely about to go toward the house, with or without China, Smooth thought.
When his phone rang, Smooth answered on the first ring. “Hello.”
“Good news or the real good news?” Spencer’s voice boomed through the phone.
“Either one is better than being almost killed by an assassin,” Smooth replied.
“When was this?”
“Shit! Just a few minutes ago!”
“Where?” Spencer asked.
“At my damn apartment!”
“Damn! But, yeah, the good news is I got a Mexican that knows how to speak English, and this muthafucka is defini-
tely talking English,” Spencer told him.
“That’s damn good news, bro! I’m ready to take it to these muthafuckas hard,” Smooth announced.
“Just know that you are not alone, bro. I’m here for you.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate that.”
“I promised the two Mexicans that I won’t kill them if they talk. But I also told them that I would do what my boss says. So if you want them out, let me know, and I’ll get rid of them,” Spencer said.
“Where are you?”
“I’m at the pad.”
“Keep them there. Once I get this mess cleaned up, I’ll be over there,” Smooth told him, and then hung up.
Smooth was fortunate that everyone in his vicinity was at their jobs. No one ever heard the war zone in his apartment. There were no sirens and no witnesses.
“I could have been a baked chicken if not for China,” Smooth said to himself as the cleanup crew arrived.
“I don’t want to ever see them again. Take ’em to the Everglades,” Smooth ordered.
“Yes sir, boss.”
“Come on, Zorro!” Smooth called out as he clipped on the leash and they walked out the door.
* * *
“Damn, Jane. You okay? It’s not like you to be so damn quiet,” China asked.
“Nah, girl. I’m just thinking of some shit in my past.”
“Damn, he was that bad!” China said, getting a laugh going.
“You’re crazy, China! I’m good, though. What about you? Your ass came in here all mad and shit!” Jane acknowledged.
“Yeah, I was. But I’m good now. It’s no pressure. I just stopped fucking with Smooth.”
“Girl, get the fuck out of here! What happen?” Jane exclaimed.
“It’s a long story.”
And my gain now! Jane thought, instantly realizing how much time she and Smooth could spend booed up. Shit! He minds anyway. It’s too late to pull out now!
China went on to explain her and Smooth’s breakup and her new beginning. There was no way that Smooth could take back the mistake, even if he tried to.
Eventually, I would have gotten him. And now with this good news, I just know it’s all for a reason that I met Smooth, she reflected.
* * *
Smooth pulled up to the slaughter pad and parked behind Spencer’s silver Camaro Z28. Next to it sat Spencer’s old Dodge van. Smooth stepped out of his Range Rover with Zorro and then walked into the abandoned building. All the windows were boarded up, and all the exits and entries were secured. When Smooth got to the main door, Spencer had to unfasten the chain on the door.
“So you brought Zorro, huh?” Spencer asked while rubbing Zorro on his head.
“Yeah, I couldn’t leave him in the mess. So I brought him along,” Smooth said while looking at the two teens hanging from a joist and bound by their hands, two feet off the ground.
“Are both of them talking?” Smooth inquired as Tic came through a side door with a chainsaw in his hands.
“Yeah, both of them are talking.”
“Come, Zorro!” Smooth called as he unleashed his dog, who immediately ran over to sniff the boys.
“He can smell the fear on ’em,” Smooth said as he walked toward the teens.
“It’s cutting through the air like a knife on butter,” Spencer said.
“Tic, we meet again,” Smooth said as he shook Tic’s hand.
“How are you, boss?”
“I’m ready to get this show running. What ’bout you?” Smooth asked.
Tic then riled up the chainsaw with an evil smirk on his face. Zorro began to growl at the sound.
“Zorro, calm down!” Smooth called as his dog immediately lay down on the ground.
Smooth then walked closer to the teens and looked the first one in his eyes.
“What’s your name, Mexican?”
“Julio.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m seventeen.”
“So you know where to find Juan?”
“I know his father. He owns a Mexican joint on 33rd. Juan comes every Friday to pick up his money and drop off more cocaine for his dad,” Julio explained.
Smooth then walked to the second boy and looked him in the eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“Dias.”
“How old are you, Dias?”
“I’m seventeen. I’m turning eighteen next week.”
“Do you know where to find Juan?”
“Yes, just like Julio told you. He com
es by every Friday to get his money.”
“Are you two M-13s?”
“Yes, we are M-13s.”
Smooth looked at Tic and then gave him the green light. “Tic! Legs, arms, head. Dispose of them!” Smooth ordered, and then walked away. “Come, Zorro!” Smooth called out as the chainsaw riled up.
“Nooooo! Please! Arggghhh!” Julio screamed as Tic sawed off his left leg.
The boy was killed instantly when Tic then took the saw and ran it down the center of his torso.
17
Choppa and Mall were back on 112th as soon as the crime scene cleared up, just like they planned. There was no more unmarkeds sitting on the block. Money was coming left and right, and the trap house was like an ice cream truck stopping in the hood.
“Yo, I’m hungry as hell! I’ma go to the Jamaican restaurant on 12th. You want something?” Choppa asked Mall, who was sitting on the sofa in the trap watching the Dolphins get their asses beat by Tampa Bay.
“Yeah, go ahead and get me that jerk chicken special,” Mall said as he pulled a wad out of his jeans and gave Choppa a twenty-dollar bill.
“When Money gets back, tell that nigga to go pick up our ARs from Phat Zoe in Lil Haiti,” Choppa reminded Mall.
“Okay. I’ma go ahead and do that, bro,” Mall said as he then looked at his time on his Rolex. “It’s eight o’clock now. Try to be back before nine!”
“I’ma be back before that,” Choppa said as he walked out the front door.
* * *
“Yellow!”
“Cuzo, I need some help over here,” Ham said.
“Talk to me. What’s good?”
“Trap is booming. I need like fourteen ounces.”
“Give me an hour, cuzo, and I’ll be ’round there,” Banga promised.
“Okay. I’ll be here,” Ham said as he then hung up the phone.
Tina was at a doctor’s appointment and wouldn’t be back until nine o’clock, being that she was driving from Miami. She was with her cousin Janye, who Ham trusted and with whom he approved for her to associate. Ham sat at the kitchen table in his and Tina’s one-bedroom apartment and finished up counting his re-up money. When he was done, he took the crumbs of his crack from inside his pill bottle and laced his weed inside a Philly blunt. After rolling the crack-weed blunt, Ham took his lighter and put flame to the blunt. Ham inhaled the smoke, choked on it a bit, and then took another hit.
“That’s right! Good shit!” Ham said as he put the blunt out on the table.
Ham was high as a muthafucka! He couldn’t help smoking his product. Ever since he started for the first time two months ago, he became hooked. He had no clue that Tina was using again, and neither did she nor anyone else know that he was now using his own product. To kill the smell before Banga made it over to drop off his product, Ham sprayed cologne and then began frying eggs to satisfy his munchies. Before Ham could finish cooking, he grabbed the blunt again, lit it from the heat on the stove, hit it twice, and then put it out again. He was definitely hooked.
* * *
Inside the Jamaican restaurant on 12th, Choppa had his eyes on a bad-ass big booty Jamaican waitress who couldn’t keep her eyes off him either. When the waitress walked past him to go clean out her bucket and refill it with new water, Choppa made his move and stepped in front of her.
“Two eyes always watching each other establish our first thing in common,” Choppa said in his smoothest mac game.
“Oh yeah? Why you tink I’m watching you, mon?”
“By that smile you’re trying to hide on your face,” Choppa replied.
“Whatever, mon!”
“What’s your name?” Choppa asked.
“Bree.”
“Choppa, Bree,” he introduced as he offered his hand with his number folded on a small piece of paper.
“You plan good, huh?” Bree asked.
“Naw, I’m just always ahead of the game, ma,” Choppa replied.
“I hear you. I’ll give you a call, Choppa. Right now I have to get back to work. See you later,” Bree said while blushing as she turned around and walked away.
“Yeah, I’ll see that phat-ass booty later too,” Choppa said as he stepped up in line to order his food.
After ordering, Choppa blew a kiss to Bree, who smiled. He then walked outside to his baby-blue Chevy Impala on twenty-eight-inch custom rims. Choppa then turned up the thunderous bass to the Rick Ross/Meek Mills hit and pulled off into traffic. He was feeling good about himself, especially since fucking with Smooth had gotten him on a high level of getting money. Mall was the key that got him and Money through the door.
Before Choppa and Money started slanging dope, they were Miami’s finest jack boys. They didn’t care who they robbed; when the gun came out and a nigga didn’t hit the ground, his brains were left on the pavement for CSI.
When Choppa came to a red light, he dug inside his bag of food for a piece of chicken. He never saw the van pull up alongside him, or three ski-masked Mexicans who had hopped out with M-16s. One of them opened Choppa’s door, and it was too late for him to react.
“What the?”
Bam!
Before Choppa could say anything else, he was struck in the temple with the butt of an M-16 rifle and knocked completely out. The Mexicans braked the car and slammed it into park before the car could roll. Before the light turned green, Choppa was abducted and knocked out cold in the back of the van.
* * *
China and Tracy were getting off work and walking to China’s Mercedes, when Smooth pulled up and parked directly behind her, blocking in her car. Both China and Tracy rolled their eyes, not wanting to be bothered by him.
“China, can I talk to you? Both of you?”
“I have nothing to say to you, Smooth,” Tracy said as she got in the car.
“What do you want, Smooth?”
“It’s not dawning on me. All I ask is that you hear me out.”
“China, hear me out. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yes, I am!”
“But damn, Smooth, what happened when you wouldn’t hear me out, huh? When I told you how to handle your damn empire? You can’t love the streets and your queen, Smooth. I meant what I said, Smooth,” China said.
“You’re being blinded. This is not you. From day one, I noticed.”
“From day one, I lost a childhood sweetheart. It was only a matter of time to see that I was tripping. Smooth, you could have lost your damn life! Instead of coming home with a different game plan, you came home with the same one that landed you in the hospital. I don’t want no part of it,” China said while looking Smooth in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, China,” he said as he walked up to her, reached into his pocket, and came out with a velvet box.
He opened the lid and showed China a big-ass diamond rock.
“One more chance. I promise I won’t fuck up, China.”
China looked at the rock with tears cascading down her face. When she looked in the car at Tracy, she saw Tracy shaking her head left and right. China looked at the ring while swiping tears away, and then back at Smooth. He could tell that she still loved him unconditionally. It was the ring she had been looking for, and yet she was shaking her head no.
“I can’t, Smooth. It’s over,” China said as she got into her Mercedes, leaving Smooth standing alone.
Smooth looked toward the restaurant and saw Roxy from inside, looking at him. She threw her hands up in pity for him. She knew China well. When her mind was made, it was made!
Damn, I fucked up! Smooth thought as he jumped back into his truck and pulled off.
* * *
When China and Tracy made it home, they made love and then fell asleep to a movie. They were exhausted and drowning in each other’s love. Tracy emerged from bed and left China still asleep. She grabbed her phone and then walked into the living room. Tracy sat cross-legged on the sofa and called Juan, who picked up on the second ring.
“Hola!”
�
�Why is he still walking, Juan?”
“Woman, I can’t help that the Negro is smart.”
“Juan, please get him out of my life,” Tracy said.
“I will, bonita. Don’t worry. We got this, okay? You find out where he’s laying his head at,” Juan instructed her.
“Okay, I will do that.”
“Te amo, bonita,” Juan replied.
“Yeah, whatever!” Tracy said before she disconnected the call.
Kill him and kill him fast! Tracy thought.
* * *
After seeing the abduction of Choppa on the news, Mall became furious. No one could identify the abductors as the Mexicans, but Mall—and everyone else—knew that their enemies were responsible. At the trap house, Smooth called an emergency meeting of all his high-ranking soldiers.
“These crackas ain’t gonna do no justice nor look for Choppa. So we gonna play the game how it’s supposed to be played. Choppa is family, and we going to show these Mexicans that he is indeed our family,” Smooth said to everyone gathered in the living room.
He looked around at everyone’s faces and saw the grief all over Mall.
“Remember, for every one of us they take, we take three of them down!” Smooth reminded all of them by holding up three fingers.
“Dat’s right,” one of the Smooth’s lieutenants, Jay, said.
“Let’s go get these muthafuckas, my nigga!” Smooth said as he racked his AK-47.
“Hell yeah, my nigga!” Big Mitch shouted and then racked his.
Everyone in the room racked their AK-47s, ready to go out and shed blood for Choppa. Mall just couldn’t figure out how Choppa had let the Mexicans creep up on him.
What the fuck was he doing? Mall thought as everyone in the room filed out of the trap house to go make the streets
bleed.
* * *