Roc was usually a calm, mild mannered man, cut from the cloth of the smooth ass hustlers who had come before him. There was a time to be a gentleman and a time to be a gangster though, and at the moment Roc was in a much more reckless mode than usual.
“Yo, open the fuckin’ door!” hollered Roc, as he banged on Marv’s front door.
Roc could tell from the lights and television that was on inside that someone was in the crib. Since the person inside wasn’t cooperating, Roc had to improvise. He began kicking on the door until finally, he’d had enough. Then, Roc took a step back and glanced up and down the block to make sure no cars were coming and that no eyes were on him. He fired a single shot from the .40 cal through Marv’s front window, shattering the glass.
Roc used his foot to kick out the remaining pieces of glass, and then crawled through the broken window, cutting his arm pretty badly in the process. However, he blocked out the pain and focused on his task at hand.
“Oh my God!” screamed out Joy, as Roc made his way uninvited into the house.
Joy had only been fucking around with Marv for less than a month and already she was caught completely up in all of his drama. Now that she was in the house all alone with another intruder, she was even more scared than before. All Joy could manage to do was sit petrified on the couch, with her hands to her face, praying that the man didn’t shoot her.
“Where the fuck is Marv?” hollered Roc.
“He ain’t here! Please don’t hurt me!” she wailed.
Roc snatched Joy up by her dreadlocks and flashed the barrel of his gun in her face.
“You better get on that phone and get him here! Right now!” threatened Roc.
*****
Joy was dialing Marv’s cell phone like she was instructed, but he was much too preoccupied to answer. Instead, Marv was leaving the bar and was more concerned with the whip he saw parking up on the block. He wiped his eyes to make sure the codeine, marijuana, and liquor weren’t playing tricks on him. Even though he was faded as hell, Marv’s vision was indeed an actuality. He was looking dead at the burgundy Cadillac truck that he had been searching all day for!
Marv focused his attention closer on the truck and got himself a better look. The Ohio tags confirmed his suspicions that it was indeed the same vehicle. To him, that only meant one thing; it was turn up time! Marv could tell the driver of the Caddy truck was still in the vehicle, from the silhouette he saw through the driver’s side window. He was obviously trying to ‘parking lot pimp’ and be noticed by the patrons of the Watusi. If Marv had his way, he was definitely going to make everyone on the block take notice of him!
Stumbling just a little bit due to his inebriated state, Marv made his way back across the street to the spot where his Bonneville was parallel parked. He fumbled with the key until he was finally able to slide it into the lock. Marv’s phone was still ringing with back to back with calls from Joy, but answering it was the last thing on his mind. The only thing Marv was thinking about was revenge.
“I’m gonna light this disrespectful little nigga Tone up. He got the nerve to rob me, and then ride through here like it’s all good? I hope Lotta’s ass sittin’ in the car with him so she can get it, too. I run this hood…” he drunkenly mumbled to himself.
Marv retrieved the husky ass Desert Eagle from under his seat, and clutched it in his hand. The gun was loaded with hollow point bullets, which he had previously dipped in pig fat to ensure his enemies’ deaths would be as terrible as possible. Quickly, he reemerged from the car and turned to face the Cadillac truck. After a quick deep breath, Marv sized up the truck and got it into his line of fire.
Finally, Marv squeezed the trigger and let loose! He sent an array of bullets spiraling toward the vehicle as his hand struggled to control the aim of the bulky firearm. Over and over, Marv pulled the trigger until the damage was finally done. Amidst people screaming, hollering and frantically trying to get out of the way, Marv surveyed the damage that he had caused. He wasn’t the most accurate shooter, but he had managed to land over a dozen bullets into the truck. Windows were shattered, alarms were blaring, and there was a constant wail from the horn being depressed. Then, the unexpected happened.
One of Marv’s bullets had lodged itself between the fuel pump and gas tank area of the car. After a slight ricochet effect, the tank exploded and the leaked gas instantly caused the whole truck to engulf in flames! The explosion was loud enough to wake up half of West Philly and the flames were visible from blocks away.
Pandemonium ensued, and Marv followed suit of everyone else in the area and fled the scene urgently. Not everyone was quite sure what had happened, but there was one thing that each person who had witnessed the shooting and explosion could be sure of. There was no way that anyone in that vehicle could have survived!
*****
“Call that nigga again! Before I get ugly!” said Roc, as he flashed the cold, hard butt of his gun in Joy’s face.
“He’s not answering! What you want me to do?” cried Joy, as Roc threatened her.
Roc was screaming and hollering like a lunatic, but in actuality he had no intentions on hurting Joy. After all, she was even younger than Lotta and Roc wasn’t the type to harm a defenseless woman.
“Well where did he say he was goin? And don’t lie to me,” demanded Roc, still clutching the .40 caliber pistol in his right hand.
“He’s looking for the guy that robbed him and his niece. Cause he think she set him up.” said Joy, amidst tears of fear.
Joy’s answer was what Roc was afraid of hearing. Knowing Marv was out there searching for Lotta did not sit well with him. He had desperately hoped to catch up with Marv before he was able to do anything drastic, but he was obviously too late.
“Please, just don’t kill me. I don’t want to die,” said Joy.
Roc relaxed for just a second, then lowered his gun.
“If you don’t want to die, you need to stop dealing with stupid niggas like Marv,” he said.
Joy was finally starting to understand what everyone was talking about when they advised her to steer clear from dating hustlers who were ‘bout that life.
“It’s just that Marv is the only man who…” started Joy, before Roc interrupted her.
“Shh,” he said, as they watched the front door swing open.
Marv walked into his house looking like he had seen a ghost. The events that he had just witnessed combined with the mélange of drugs and alcohol in his system had him in a whole other world. He was zoned out, but Roc was about to snap him back to reality.
“Yeah, nigga! I know I’m the last mothafucka you was expecting to see when you opened that door up,” said Roc, with a menacing smile.
Roc was looking crazy as hell. In the street he always kept a fresh bald head and neatly manicured beard, but in jail he had let his hair grow in a sort of scraggily and unkempt way. Roc usually stayed sharp in Gucci loafers and Polo button-downs, but since his wardrobe had been confiscated, he was rocking an all black sweat suit from the Goodwill. Combined with the crazy glare in his eyes, Roc was definitely not looking like himself. He had completely caught his stepbrother Marv off guard and had him scared shitless. Marv was wishing that he still had his Desert Eagle in his hand, but instead he had tucked the bulky firearm down the front of his pants.
“What’s up with all that gangsta shit you was talking when I was in jail behind that glass? Talkin’ about killin’ Lotta and all that. Huh, Marv? What’s up now?” inquired Roc, as he aimed the .40 cal at Marv.
“Yo Roc, you know I would never do that, bro. I was just upset. That’s all. You gotta understand,” back tracked Marv.
“So where is she at now, huh? Where’s my daughter?” demanded Roc.
Roc needed answers, and he needed them fast. He was only free on borrowed time and he had to make sure that his daughter was safe first. If he didn’t do that, his whole agreement to snitch would be in vain.
“Look bro, I don’t know where Lotta is at. She left wi
th the bul, and I ain’t seen her since. She ain’t been back. I swear on that,” explained Marv.
“He ain’t lying about that. The dude that broke in here made her leave out with him. His name was Tone,” chimed in Joy.
Roc cringed at the thought that an intruder had possibly taken his daughter as a hostage. The more he heard about Lotta’s situation, the worse things sounded.
“Just put the gun down, Roc. Don’t kill me. We brothers, man,” pleaded Marv.
“I don’t give a fuck about us being brothers, nigga. You threatened my daughter’s life,” reiterated Roc.
“I’d never do anything to put Lotta in danger,” lied Marv, knowing full well that he had just shot up a car hoping that she was inside of it.
Roc took a deep breath; his frustration was evident. His face started to tighten up as he realized that his whole plan was going wrong.
“I ain’t gonna kill you, bro. I just gotta make sure my daughter is all right before I go do this time. Shit!” said Roc, who was just tormented by the whole situation.
Roc was a beaten man; mentally and physically he was defeated. He sat down on Marv’s couch and for the first time, he let go of his gun. Roc was drained and he put both of his hands to his face. Eventually, he had to go and setup some Mexicans who had been nothing but fair and loyal to him, and that was killing him inside. Roc had allowed himself to become a pawn in the Feds’ dirty game in order to make sure that his daughter was safe, and he hadn’t even been able to do that. The irony was that he was sure that the Mexicans who he was helping to indict had daughters of their own, too. Who was going to provide for their families once Roc helped put them into prison?
Roc was having that reflective moment that all hustlers have once it is already too late. He was wondering how he had even gotten involved in all this mess in the first place. He had let money become more important than the things that he really cared about. Roc knew that he should have walked away from the game a long time ago, but he didn’t. Now, there was no going back and erasing the past. After all that he had accomplished, Roc was going to wind up as another snitch that had left the only family that he had left alone in the streets to fend for herself.
Roc was sitting on Marv’s couch stressed out, but the personal time he had taken for reflection was just an opportunity for Marv. Quietly, Marv reached into his pants and whipped out the Desert Eagle.
“Yo, you done became a real sucker ass nigga, Roc. I guess that’s cause you sittin’ up out there in the suburbs and I’m still in the hood. You feel me?” Marv said, training his gun upon Roc.
Roc tried to dive out the way as he saw what Marv was up to. Unintentionally, he ended up behind Joy. Being the man he was, Roc normally wouldn’t allow himself to use a young woman as a shield. That was some cowardly shit, and he was better than that. However, it was a matter of life and death. Roc could tell by the tone in his stepbrother Marv’s voice that he was most certainly about to kill him!
“You think I care about that little bitch? I’ll put a bullet through the both of ya’ll!” hollered Marv, as he squeezed the trigger.
“Marv! No!” screamed Joy, who was shocked to learn how little Marv actually valued her life.
Roc closed his eyes and prepared for the worst, but his fear was for no reason at all. In his high state, Marv had forgotten that he had already emptied his clip into the Cadillac truck! He was so fucked up that he couldn’t tell the difference in weight between a loaded gun and an empty one.
Quickly, Roc realized what had happened and lunged back towards his .40 cal. He snatched the gun up off of the table and aimed it at Marv. Now, the shoe was back on the other foot. This time, Roc wasn’t going to miss his chance. Marv tried to bolt for the door, but the drugs in his system had him moving in slow motion like a severely injured turtle. Instantly, Roc pulled the trigger and put three quick shots into Marv’s chest! Marv’s body instantaneously dropped to the ground.
Then, Roc walked over to Marv and looked down at his stepbrother’s profusely bleeding body. He raised his gun and then put one more hot metal slug right between Marv’s eyes, ripping the flesh clean off of his face. Finally, Roc bolted out of the front door without any hesitation. Killing Marv was something that he never imagined himself doing back in the day, but sometimes in this cold world, it is kill or be killed. This was definitely one of those cases.
Joy just looked on in horror. She had officially seen it all and swore for as long as she lived that she would never, ever date another hustler again. The lifestyle was just too reckless and dangerous. Joy knew that she had to get her ass out of Marv’s house and never look back. She stood up and glanced at Marv’s dead body lying on the ground. It was the first dead man that she had ever been that close to. Horrified, Joy made her way towards the front door, but something dawned on her.
Quickly, Joy stepped back over her dead boyfriend’s body and hustled up the stairs. She went into the bedroom and hopped up onto Marv’s bed. Joy stood up and slid the tile in the drop ceiling back and reached up into the crawlspace area. After fiddling around for a few seconds, she pulled out the red duffle bag with Marv’s stash in it.
“He ain’t gonna be needing it,” said Joy as she tossed the bag over her shoulder.
Joy didn’t know how much Marv had in his stash, but there was no need to let even a few thousands go to waste. She hustled back down the stairs and paused just long enough to get a good look at Marv’s dead body. Joy was still irate that he was actually going to shoot her with no regard just a few minutes prior.
“You fuckin’ bastard. You deserve what you got. I hope you burn in hell,” she said, as she spit onto Marv’s corpse.
Joy ran out the front door and up the block as quickly as she could. She tried to remain inconspicuous and thought that she had escaped without being seen by anyone, but unbeknownst to her, there was one familiar set of eyes who was staring directly at her!
*****
After murdering Marv, Roc managed to toss his gun into the sewer and make his way back to his house out in the county. He showered and got all the traces of Marv’s blood off of his body and then burned up the cheap Goodwill sweat suit. Having a murder case to go along with the drug charges that he was already facing was absolutely the last thing that he needed.
As if he hadn’t been through enough, the U.S. Marshalls had informed Roc that it was time to get ready for his part in the cocaine delivery sting with the Mexicans and summoned him down to the location. The 18 wheeler had successfully made its way to the Mexican’s location and was on its way back up North. Pablo had one of his workers with a certified CDL license driving the big rig into Philly. The back of the truck was loaded with oranges, lemons, broccoli, and lettuce but that was all just a front to conceal the 20 kilos of pure cocaine, which were stashed in a hidden compartment.
The Feds were tracking the truck state to state by helicopters and GPS. They could tell exactly where the truck was and knew that it would be arriving shortly. Their surveillance system was intricate as hell, and kept them one step ahead.
“So this part goes under your shirt like this,” said the DEA agent, fitting Roc for his wired microphone.
“Wait! I ain’t agree to wear no damn wire! Nah, I ain’t goin’ for that,” argued Roc.
The cocky agent laughed in Roc’s face.
“You play for our team now, Roc. We make the rules, you don’t. No wire, no deal. You back out on us now and I will personally see that we give your ass life. I’ll get these charges trumped up so fast that you won’t even know what hit you! Do you understand that? We’ve invested hundreds of thousands of dollars of taxpayers’ money in this investigation. You’re wearing the wire!” said the DEA agent.
Roc had officially gotten to the point where he wasn’t even in control of his own life. The Feds knew that he was desperate and they were going to make him do whatever they wanted him to do. He had no say in the matter. Once they started talking about those 4 letters; L-I-F-E, Roc had to do whatever they asked o
f him.
Reluctantly, Roc slipped the wired microphone underneath his shirt. The Feds wanted to have a clear audio recording to play for a jury, in the event the case ever went to a trial. They had the warehouse where the truck was set to arrive equipped with motion video cameras also. In short, the Feds were covering all bases and weren’t going to blow their sting!
After Roc was wired for sound and instructed exactly what to say and do, it became a waiting game. Finally, after a few hours, the 18 wheeler pulled into the warehouse and backed up to the dock. The Feds watched via surveillance camera as the Mexican driver hopped out of the truck. He was exhausted after his cross country drive, and wanted to get straight down to business. Finally, he walked up to Roc and spoke. The wire that Roc was wearing captured his rusty English.
“I Ernesto. I looking for Roc,” he said.
The driver was an illegal Mexican immigrant, who had only been in the United Stated for a few months. The jailhouse tattoos and battle scars that covered his body proved that he was definitely ‘bout that life. He was obviously a gangster and the tattooed teardrops on face symbolized that he was also a killer.
“What’s up amigo? I’m Roc. How was the drive?” asked Roc.
Ernesto was not big on conversation.
“You have cash?” was his only response.
Roc smiled, and responded.
“You already know that. Pablo knows I always got his money ready to go. That’s how we do.”
Roc had the marked bills that the Feds had provided him with in a duffle bag. After he exchanged the cash for the drugs, the Feds were hoping to have the lead directly back to Pablo, who was the supplier. After all, at some point, the man had to deliver the cash to the boss. Just arresting the trafficker would not a major win in the Feds eyes. They wanted the man who was supplying the cocaine, not just the one who was bringing it into the city.
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