“Nigga, fuck you!” said Meka, laughing. They joked and tripped with each other for a few more minutes, until finally Meka said, “Mama, I need to holla’ at Ant for a minute.”
Gloria wasn’t stupid. She caught the meaning behind her daughter’s request. She said, “Sure baby,” and stepped out of the room to give her children some privacy.
“Where Mike at?” asked Meka.
“The police had trapped that nigga off a few days ago for some bullshit, but we bonded him out this morning. So his ass should be here any minute. That’s why I’m just now comin’ through. Mama told me how you wanted to see both of us, so I wanted to make sure he was out before I came. Meka, what the fuck happened? Who did this shit?”
Before she could respond, Mike came through the door and flashed his $40,000 smile. He walked over to Meka and gave her a brief hug, and kissed her on the forehead. “What’s the verdict, baby girl, how you feelin’?”
“Like shit. What about you? I heard they had yo’ ass locked up.”
“A lil’ light somethin’. Wasn’t nothin’ too heavy. I’m good though. Just happy to see yo’ ass is still alive,” Mike said, and lit up the other half of the blunt he was smoking on the way over.
He passed the el to Meka, and said, “You want some of this?”
She shook her head and said, “Naw, I’m good.”
After a couple of deep pulls, Mike passed the blunt to Ant D. “Meka, do you remember what happened to you?” he asked, with weed smoke coming out of his nostrils. “We put the word out on the street that we had a hundred stacks for any info on what went down, but we ain’t never hear shit. If you remember, you need to let us know what time it is, so we can handle that shit. ‘Cause whoever them niggas is, they livin’ on borrowed time, ya’ heard?”
Meka had known Mike long enough to know that he didn’t make threats without being 100% willing to carry them out. So she knew that once she told him and her brother the events that had led up to her being laid up in that hospital bed, there was no turning back. And that was exactly what she wanted.
Meka took a deep breath, and then proceeded to tell her story. “Y’all remember that nigga named Rico, right?”
Mike and Ant both nodded their heads, so she continued. “Well I ain’t never told y’all, but the night that shit went down with Twan, him and that dusty ass bitch from Fieldcrest, Tasha, saw us eatin’ at the Red Dragon together. So in other words, I was the last person Twan was seen with.”
“I never really thought about it again until Labor Day weekend. I had just finished getting my hair and nails done at Sylvia’s, and was walkin’ to my truck when outta nowhere, a nigga came up behind me and started chokin’ me out. I fought wit’ the nigga, and tried to get free ‘cause I remembered that .25 you had gave me was in my purse, Ant. I started to reach for it, but before I could get it out, another nigga who had been in the cut, came over and punched me in the stomach. I was like “oh shit!” That nigga knocked the wind outta me.”
Meka paused, and shook her head. “I blacked out, and when I came back to, they had me in some house strapped to a bed, with nothin’ on but my panties and bra. All of them had masks on, but one of the voices sounded familiar. Anyway, when I told them pussy muh’fuckas I wasn’t finna answer no questions, one of the niggas got mad and punched me in the mouth. So I spit in his face.”
Ant D and Mike exchanged little smiles, neither surprised by Meka’s last sentence. That was her all day.
She kept on. “After that, the nigga went off and started beatin’ the shit outta me. I couldn’t do anything but lay there and take it. After he finished gettin’ off, the other two clowns that were there with him started gettin’ scared, talkin’ ‘bout how some nigga named Zulu ain’t want no bodies poppin’ up.”
“Zulu? I heard that nigga ‘posed to be supplyin’ half the fuckin’ south!” stated Ant D.
“Yeah, well come to find out, the nigga Zulu was Twan’s uncle.”
“You bullshittin’,” said Mike in amazement. “How the fuck you was wit’ that nigga all that time, and ain’t know his uncle was the biggest supplier in the fuckin’ southeast? Shit, if we would’a known that, we could’a hit his ass instead of Twan.”
“Damn right,” Ant D chimed in. He and Mike young and brave.
“Twan ain’t never told me shit about what he did, or who he did it wit’. He used to always say he wanted to keep that part of his life away from me. Shit, I never even met that nigga’s mama. Anyway, them niggas kept yappin’. They either thought I was unconscious, or figured that when they killed me I wouldn’t be able to talk anyway, because they started talkin’ real reckless.”
“So this what it is. This nigga Zulu tryna find out who killed Twan ‘cause Twan was his sister’s youngest son, and he started him in the game. I guess Rico remembered seeing us at the Chinese place that night, and put two and two together. But he wasn’t really sure, that’s why he snatched me up. Them other two clowns was just going along wit’ it.”
“You ain’t never hear them say they names,” asked Mike.
“Yeah, one of ‘em is named Ty. The other one they called Black, or some shit. So anyway, like I said, after Rico finished beatin’ me up they got scared. Rico told them all they had to do was get rid of my body, and they’d be straight. He said that he already had it figured out, but before they got rid of me they might as well have a little fun. That’s when they took turns raping me.”
Meka stated this as matter of factly as a person would say it’s hot outside on a summer day. It wasn’t that the rape didn’t affect her. It really did, but she refused to be a helpless victim. Those bastards weren’t going to ruin her life. She couldn’t be breaking down, crying and shit. She didn’t do that. “Naw, that ain’t me,” she thought.
“After they raped me, they took turns pissin’ on my face, and all types of other crazy shit. I don’t really know what happened after that because I blacked out. The next thing I remember is wakin’ up and seeing mama over there in that chair.”
The silence that followed was louder than thunder. Mike and Ant were both stunned and speechless. They had to let what Meka had just told them sink in. Damn, she had been through a lot. The weed they smoked had the description of her ordeal playing in their minds as vividly as a high definition movie. Images of her being raped and pissed on had their blood boiling.
Ant D was the first to break the silence. “Meka, you ain’t even gotta say no mo’. Them niggas is dead!!”
“I just want y’all to do one thing for me,” said Meka.
“What’s that?”
“Get Rico, but whatever you do, please don’t kill him. Save him for me. Rico’s mine.” She nodded her head slowly.
“If that’s what you want, then that’s what it is,” stated Mike. He and Ant talked to Meka for a few more minutes, and then they left her room so she could get some rest.
About five minutes after their departure, Detective Daniel Patterson walked through the door. The strong scent of marijuana smoke still lingered in the air. The detective noticed it, and wondered what nigger had the heart to do something as dumb as smoke reefer in a hospital room in I.C.U. He decided against commenting, to avoid putting Meka on defense. He had come there for answers.
He gave Meka a fake smile, and said, “Tameka, my name is Detective Patterson. How are you feelin’?” His voice belied the fact that he could care less about her well being.
“I’ve been better.”
“Well I just need to ask you a few questions.” He wasn’t asking her permission, he was telling her.
Seeing that he wasn’t going to leave, Meka agreed. But she hoped he would be quick. She wanted that cracker to hurry up and ask his questions, and get the fuck on. She was ready to go back to sleep.
He cleared his throat, and said, “Tameka I’m investigating what happened to you several weeks ago. I need to know if you remember anything that might help me bring these animals in.”
Meka just thought for a second. She
also wanted the perpetrators brought to justice. The difference was that she had no belief or trust in the American criminal justice system. She’d seen rapists and child molesters go free, and drug dealers who’d been selling hand to hand get locked up for the rest of their lives. So the only justice that she had faith in was the court niggas held in the streets, with hot slugs and death as the sentences. Not in some racist cracker’s courtroom with a judge who didn’t really give a fuck one way or the other.
Finally, she said, “Detective Patterson, to tell you the truth, I really don’t remember anything that happened to me. You know, the doctors say that amnesia is pretty common in cases like mine.”
Twenty-plus years of experience on the force told Daniel Patterson that the little Black whore in front of him was lying through the few teeth she had left. For what reason, he didn’t know, but he definitely intended to find out. Hopefully he’d get things wrapped up soon, and get the publicity and promotion he’d been chasing all those years. After that, those fucking coons could kill themselves all they wanted.
Chapter 28
It was Halloween, 2006. October 31st. Some people called this nationally celebrated holiday the devil’s night…and for good reason. It was a well documented fact that throughout the United States, more crimes were committed on Halloween night than on any other night of the year. And that Halloween wasn’t going to be any different. In fact, in Greenville, SC the crime rate would get worse that year.
$$$
Sweaty, out of breath, and completely naked, Ty lay back on the bed and watched a young, brown skinned stallion mount his hard dick reverse cowgirl style. With her back to him, she began to slowly rock back and forth. The girl was only twelve years old, but had a body a full grown woman would envy. Her breasts were perky little C-cups with dime sized nipples that were rock hard. Her stomach was completely flat with a faint line of pubic hair on it, which ran from her belly button all the way down to the curly mass between her legs. She had no waist to speak of, which made her ass appear even larger than it was. Her thighs were thick, and her feet were small and sexy. The irony of it all was the fact that she had a face so young and innocent, a person who didn’t know her would’ve sworn she was still a virgin.
Ty was twelve years older than the girl, and needless to say, a lot more experienced when it came to the streets. His swagger, and the fact that he was stacking a little paper had lots of the younger girls over in West G-Ville, where he was hustling, infatuated with him. So when he had asked Shay to come to his spot on Perry Ave. to chill, she had readily and eagerly agreed.
Tired of fucking with immature, broke ass niggas her own age, she was more than willing to be with Ty. And do any and everything he asked. Young and naïve, and like so many other girls who grow up without a father figure around to guide them, Shay believed that her willingness to please a man sexually would make him fall in love with her. But in reality, she would just be another young freak that Ty would add to a long list of bitches he’d fucked.
Shay started bouncing on Ty’s dick, going faster and faster, until beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She closed her eyes and rode him, while simultaneously using her thumb and index fingers to pinch her hard, sensitive nipples.
While Shay rode his cock, Ty admired her firm, young, round ass as it went up and down. He loved the way her butt cheeks jiggled when she came back down on him. Ty rubbed two fingers on his right hand down Shay’s sweaty ass crack. He then brought those fingers up to his nose and inhaled her musty scent. After that, he licked both fingers clean.
Ty was a straight freak, and he loved turning young girls out. He placed his hand on Shay’s back and pushed her slightly forward. Now her ass cheeks spread open while she rode him, exposing her tight little asshole. Ty got excited just at the thought. He loved that “brown eye.” He spit on his middle finger and slowly inserted it into Shay’s asshole.
Shay tensed up at first. She wasn’t a virgin, but she’d never had anyone stick their finger up her ass like that. But the more Ty plunged his finger in her ass, the more she liked it. The sensation it gave her body threw her into a frenzy. She began to go crazy on Ty’s dick, bouncing and rocking faster and faster, until her whole body was covered in sweat. Her tight pussy was sopping wet, and her juices drenched Ty’s balls, along with the sheets underneath them. Unable to hold back any longer, he closed his eyes and curled his toes. He groaned, and got ready to bust his nut up in Shay.
Suddenly, there was a loud ass BOOM from the front of the house. It sounded like somebody had just blown the front door off its hinges with a bomb, or some shit. The noise pushed Ty over the edge, and he began to involuntarily skeet wildly inside of Shay’s hot, young, box. While he was releasing hot semen in her, two masked men entered the bedroom dressed in all black. One was wearing a Michael Myers, the killer from the movie “Halloween”, mask. The other one was wearing the infamous Jason Vorhees hockey mask from the movie “Friday the 13th.”
Ty opened his eyes and looked at the two figures standing by his bed. They each had large guns in their hands. He wished it was just a joke, but he knew that shit was for real.
Shay started screaming at the top of her lungs, so the one wearing the Michael Myers mask quickly pressed his black Glock 9mm to her sweaty temple. “Shut the fuck up,” he calmly ordered.
Shay fell silent immediately, and he continued. “You got thirty seconds to get yo’ shit, and get the fuck up outta here.”
She didn’t doubt that he would kill her so she took heed to the warning. Fearfully, she hopped off of Ty’s limp dick, and quickly grabbed her belongings while the gunman in the Jason mask counted down the seconds. “10, 9, 8, 7…” She didn’t even bother to put her shoes on. Shay ran out of the house, too frightened to even look back.
Paralyzed with fear, Ty just lay there on the bed unable to move or speak. He had a silly ass expression on his face. He looked like “what the fuck?”
The one wearing the Jason mask slowly lifted his sawed off twelve gage shotgun until it was in Ty’s face. Ty stared into the double barrels, and all he saw was darkness that seemed to stretch on for infinity. He realized he had met his demise.
“Trick or treat, muh’fucka!!” BOOM!! Blood and brain matter splattered all over the walls and bed. What used to be Ty’s face was now nothing more than a gaping hole of blood and flesh. His skull was obliterated from the force of the blast, which made it possible to see damn near all the way through his entire head.
The gunman in the hockey mask laughed, and said, “I think I can see this nigga last thoughts before he died.” Ant, A.K.A. Jason Voorhees, laughed again.
“Yeah, he was thinkin’ OH SHIT! And he was ‘bout to shit on his self too!” said Mike, laughing. Befittingly, he was Mike Myers. He lifted the 9mm in his hand and took aim at Ty’s already lifeless body. He mercilessly emptied more slugs into his partially headless torso. Once the clip was on “E”, the two menacing figures turned and fled from the house. They bailed on Ty’s mangled corpse, and disappeared into the moonlit night.
$$$
Later on that night, it was Black’s turn. Deeply engrossed in a dice game, he wasn’t even expecting the heat that was coming.
“Eight’ll get me ten! Eight bring ten, muh’fuckas! Y’all know what time it is. Get right or catch flight, niggas,” exclaimed the short dark skinned man, as he shook the dice in his right hand. After shaking them for a few seconds, he brought his cupped hand up to his mouth and blew on the dice for good luck. Afterwards, he dropped them and let them roll on the ground against the wall. One of the dice showed a six, and the other a three. It wasn’t Black’s point but he didn’t crap out either, so he picked the dice back up, and the side bets increased.
There were only five dudes directly involved in the game with actual money on the line. But just like at any other dice game, there were five or six other niggas just chilling on the sidelines watching the action. They were drinking and smoking trees, and talking trash just to hype shit up. The dice gam
e had been going on for a little over an hour. During that time, the pot had grown to over $10,000 cash money. The bread was piled up on the ground in an assortment of bills, so they were a prime target for some thirsty goons. But just about everybody out there was strapped.
As Black prepared to roll again, the other men made more side bets on whether or not he’d hit his point. Some bet on what the next number was going to be. Despite the cool weather, Black was sweating profusely. He shook the dice, and started talking that shit again.
“Eight bring ten, nigga! Get ya’ mind right, bitches! Eight bring ten, nigga!” Black was talking shit, but he was secretly saying a prayer to Jesus, Jehova, Allah, Yahweh, God, and any other higher power he could think of while he attempted to roll his eight. He couldn’t afford to crap out. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to pay the dude that had fronted him some work earlier that week. He wouldn’t be able to pay for his consignment, nor would he be able to re-up. If he crapped out, he was dead in the game - literally. So it was more than just a game to Black. It was so serious.
But if he did fuck around and hit a seven or roll snake eyes, he figured he could always pull out the chrome .357 he had hidden in his waistband, and rob those niggas. Black really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He blew on the dice and rolled them against the wall… and he hit!
“What I tell y’all niggas, huh?! What I tell you muh’fuckas, huh?!” Black shouted, relieved and excited at the same time. “Eight get me ten,” he yelled, as he bent down to pick up the 10 G’s he’d just won.
“Yo, Black!” somebody yelled from behind the crowd. Black turned around, and so did everybody else. What they saw made them all start reaching for their pistols. Black went for the chrome .357 magnum conveniently tucked in his waistband. Before he could get it out, two figures dressed in black and rocking horror film masks ran up on the crowd firing indiscriminately from an AK-47 and an AR-15 assault rifle.
ANYTHING 4 PROFIT (ANYTHING FOR PROFIT) Page 16