by Noire
Everybody in this damn book must be dead! Slick and his gang are probably a bunch of gunslingers! They gotta be! Not just murderers, but real-life mothafuckin hit men!
$$$$$
Handgun Goody was sweating like a hooker at a mega church, from his head down to his toes. It was after hours and he was in Ray-Ray’s Gym finishing up a hellacious workout. Back in the day when he had done his first bid on Rikers Island he had been as skinny as a light pole, but not anymore. There were cats behind those walls who could break your fuckin neck with just a few calculated moves. Goody had gotten into a couple of violent fights trying to earn his rep and prove he had heart, but they had usually ended with him getting fucked up.
And that’s when he learned the value of pumping iron. He understood that if he was gonna survive in the joint then he had to get his weight up and sharpen every tool in his box in order to keep niggas off his ass. He had hooked up with a gang of thoroughbred niggas and started getting in shape. He learned to love the feeling of lifting heavy steel and pushing his body to its maximum capacity in order to forge a strong and muscular physique.
The niggas he was locked up with also taught him the value of being mentally strong. He’d devoured books like The Art of War and Blood In My Eyes and began to adopt different patterns of thinking. By the time he hit the streets again he had absorbed enough lessons from tried and true career criminals to become a well-rounded leader.
Goody had gotten on his grind and garnered the same ruthless rep of legendary stick-up kids like Crazy Haz, Killer Ben, and King Tut. Before long, Handgun Goody was a major player on the streets of New York City and Brooknam was his kingdom.
“Ay, boss,” Ray-Ray poked his head outta the back room and called out. “I got a hot chickenhead coming through for you. Ice Pick already picked her out and paid her. His treat.”
Handgun had been slamming the heavy weights up and down and throwing that solid iron all around, but that raging fuckin monster of fury was still riding on his back. A nice piece of pussy would be real chill right now, and when the hoe walked through the door he was visually stimulated and real pleased by what he saw.
“Get on the floor,” he ordered her gruffly, his shit already bricking up. Mami had came to put in work, and when she took off her jacket and handed him a glove, all she had on her gorgeous body was a hot pink thong and a matching bra.
Goody ripped all that shit off. He slid the condom on, then threw her legs over his shoulder and got up in that pussy right there in the empty gym. There wasn’t no kissing, no caressing, no licking, no sucking, or none of that other sweet shit he had done with Jewelz. This was some straight up fuck-fighting he was doing as he shoved his heavy package up in her and started pounding into her guts like she was a measly piece of meat.
His hands were hard and heavy as he squeezed her titties and pulled on her nipples. The hoe squealed and gasped as he thrust his meat into her as deep as he could, scraping his knees on the gym mats as he banged into her pussy so hard her weaved head damn near slid under a weight bench.
Goody handled the hoe like a ruffneck. He deep-drilled into her and gave that pussy a black eye. He pounded the shit outta her guts, popping his hips powerfully and smacking into her hot flesh like he had a piston in his lower back. But no matter what Goody did to her, no matter how cruelly he fucked her, he couldn’t cum. For the life of him his nut just wouldn’t fuckin rise, but his anger frustration damn sure did.
“You wanna stick it in my ass?” the hoe suggested after he flipped her over on her stomach for the third time and entered her bronco-buster style again.
“You take it up the ass?”
“Hell yeah,” she shrugged. “You paid for it.”
Instantly Goody’s dick went soft and he pulled his meat outta her. He was disgusted as he stood up and looked down at her waiting patiently with her ass in the air.
“Yo get the fuck outta here!” he barked as he mushed her in the ass with his foot and stuffed his limp shit back in his shorts. “How the fuck a nigga supposed to nut when your nasty ass around here stanking the joint up like it’s a goddamn fish market! Get outta here and go put some soap on your filthy ass!”
Goody left the naked hoe cowering on the floor as he stormed off and entered the men’s locker room. He cut on the shower and stripped outta his clothes, then stood under the steaming water until he got his rage under control.
Wasn’t nothing wrong with that girl’s pussy, he went on and admitted to himself. Her shit was clean, she had a prime body, and she knew how to fuck.
She just wasn’t who he wanted, that’s all. She just wasn’t Jewelz.
After showering and getting dressed Goody stepped outside the gym with a thick towel around his neck. He was feeling a lot more relaxed as he breathed in deeply and let the cool night air fill his lungs. He walked towards the parking lot located in the back of the building with his gym bag over his shoulder and a chrome pistol on his waist. His eyes were on mad alert for anything that looked unusual.
He had just reached his glistening black Mercedes coupe and clicked the unlock button on his key when he heard a voice boom from deep in the shadows of the lot.
“Well if it ain’t the infamous Hand-Job Goody,” a heavy voice growled from the cut. “I see you living it up and enjoying the fruits of your crimes, my nigga. Too bad you won’t be enjoying that shit for much longer.”
Goody whirled around and reached for the blicky on his waist.
“Don’t do nothing stupid now nigga,” Slick said as he slowly emerged from the shadows wearing a hoodie. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he faced the cat he wanted to slump more than he wanted to draw his next breath.
“Believe it, if I wanted to blow your hoe-ass head off you woulda been dead by now. Look at ya punk ass,” Slick sneered coldly. “You still the same bum-fuck dope-fiend Dirty Mike you was back when you was crab-hopping on Big Haz’s nuts! Only difference is, instead of riding stolen bikes you got you a nice shiny Benz now. And instead of slaughtering entire families, now Haz is the one dead and you next on deck for the grave, nigga!”
Realization slowly flooded Goody’s eyes and he took his hand off his burner. He let the gym bag fall from his shoulder and started clapping his hands like he had just watched a good-ass movie and was giving it a standing ovation.
Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.
“Now ain’t this some shit,” Goody smirked at the killer who had emerged outta the shadows. “It’s Lil fuckin Slick! Goddamn, baby boy! You’s a hard dude to catch up to!” Goody grinned broadly.
“Look at you,” he beamed. “All grown up. Glad to see you still alive and well. But what can I do for you, son?”
“Cut the dumb shit,” Slick spit as he lowered the hood from his head to let Goody get a good look at him.
“What happened, my nigga?” Goody stared at the bandage on Slick’s cheek. “You cut ya’self shaving lil boy?”
“Don’t worry about me. I know you snatched Jewelz, you wack-ass nigga! You better not a’ done no idiot shit to her neither ’cause I will run straight through you, nigga! You know, the same way you and Haz ran through me and my fam.”
“Ya know,” Goody chuckled. For the moment he igged the tough talk, but he definitely filed it in his mental Rolodex under “M” for murder. Because that’s what he was gonna do to Lil Slick Williams. Murder his ass! On the strength of his brothers’s lives, Goody had to off the coward who stood in front of him! But not tonight. There would be plenty of time to make this nigga pay for his violations after he delivered that fuckin diamond.
“You got some heavy balls on you, Lil Slick. I gotta admit that shit. I mean, I don’t know how you and Jewelz got up and walked away from ya mom’s crib that day, but I have to admit I’m very impressed. And I see you’ve developed some other skills over the years too, huh?”
Slick nodded. “Skills? Yeah, I got plenty of those.”
“Uh-huh. My lil nephew Trill—you know him, that slanga you chased down in the street and put in
the hospital a while back? He told me you done turned into some kinda project ninja warrior playing the retarded wino role. You catch niggas sleepin cause they think you can’t get right. And then you blast on ’em. Now that’s real fuckin smoove, man.”
Goody took a few steps toward Slick so he could look directly into the eyes of the young cub who, against all odds, had lived to become a full-grown lion.
“I bet you and Jewelz been waiting all these years to gimme a long dirt nap, am I right? Since you already did Haz and you bodied my lil brothers and some of my best soldiers too, I guess that means you gonna be gunnin for my throat next, huh?”
Slick chilled and held his tongue, letting the nigga talk himself out.
“Yeah, a’ight,” Goody said, his deep voice cock-sure and arrogant, “I prolly do deserve the same treatment ya Unc Haz got but see, I’m not ready to go just yet, you feel me? I mean I got a whole lot to live for! I got a whole lot more pussy to fuck! Seriously, that bitch of yours is sweet as fuck, son! She got them big ol titties and a mean piece of ass on her, my nigga! I bet you do wanna get her back. And guess what?” Goody chuckled again. “I’ma let you have her back too. And I’ma make sure you get her back in real good condition, homey. All you gotta do is go get me a diamond and you can have Jewelz back whenever you want her.”
“Get you a diamond?” Slick almost laughed at him. “Nigga, fuck is you talking about? Do I look like a fuckin ice burglar to you? Don’t fuck with me, Goody! Fuck I look like—”
“No muthafucka!” Handgun Goody roared. “You best not fuck with me! What you look like? You look like the nigga who killed my brothers! You look like a nigga who wants his bitch back alive! You look like a nigga who’s gonna do exactly what the fuck I tell him to do! You look like the nigga who’s gonna get out there and steal me that fuckin fitty-million dollar Pink fuckin Lady diamond!”
Slick shook his head in disbelief. “Is you high, homey? What Pink Lady? I ain’t in the jewelry game! How the fuck you expect me to steal a goddamn fifty million dollar diamond?”
Goody shrugged. “Ay, figure it out just like you figured out how to handle that five million dollar Fulton Street job you scored, bruh. I don’t give a fuck how you do it. I just know the shit better get done!”
“I don’t know shit about no five million dollar job—”
“Play pussy!” Goody barked, swelling all the way up. “Ga’ head, muthafucka! Play pussy and see don’t your bitch get fucked! I know your team ain’t new to this shit! You think I got this far by sleeping on my homework? Fuck with me and you’ll find Jewelz’s bald fuckin head stuck on a pole at the top of that pigeon-shit roof of yours! I’ll turn that whole fuckin building into a Friday the fuckin 13th movie! Fuck with me, nigga! I want you to fuck with me!”
Hot blood rushed through Slick’s veins and he fought to keep himself from yanking his trigger and decapitating that nigga right there in the parking lot. He wanted Goody’s head so bad he coulda ripped his neck in half, but instead he forced himself to keep his cool. Because somehow this nigga knew more than he was supposed to know. And in some ways he seemed to know more than Slick knew.
Figure it out just like you figured out how to handle that five million dollar Fulton Street job you scored!
Something told Slick he needed to ease up and walk this shit out. He needed to see where it led, and find out exactly which cards Goody was holding in his hand.
“Now that I got your attention lil nigga make sure you listen up,” Goody said as he watched Slick fighting like hell to keep himself in check.
“That shiny rock I need you to yap for me is gonna be going up for auction at a new museum on Staten Island. Like I said, they call her the Pink Lady, and I wanna marry that hoe and make her all minez! You go get her for me and I’ll give you Jewelz back in one piece. You try some funny-style shit and I’ll finish what I started all them years ago. I’ll slice that bitch up in strips and send her back to you one piece at a time. And after that you and me can go to war until one of us drops. Because by then won’t none of this shit even matter.”
Slick grilled Goody to the bone as the kingpin’s murderous words hung in the air. He wanted to bite that nigga’s face off. To devour him the way a snake swallows up a fuckin mouse. He could easily lick one off right now and stretch Goody out where he stood. But Jewelz’s life was on the line, and one wrong move could get her zipped up.
Slick didn’t mind going to war with the Goode Brothers Gang. And he didn’t have a problem dying out here on the streets in a hail of bullets neither. But he wasn’t about to leave Jewelz in the hands of a madman, and nothing in the world was gonna stand in the way of him finding her and keeping her alive.
“Yo, why the fuck should I trust you?” Slick barked. “How the fuck do I know Jewelz is cool? How I know she ain’t already dead?”
Goody grinned. “You don’t know, chump! You gotta take my word, nigga! Cause believe it, if she ain’t dead now she damn sure will be if you fuck this shit up. Now you go get that diamond and bring it to my maintenance warehouse out on Staten Island, you got it? You dish that shit off properly and I’ll toss you back ya cute lil hunny. But I’m telling you now, my nigga. Don’t try no hero shit and don’t fuckin be late, you feel me? You better not be two fuckin seconds late bringing me that pink bitch, or word to the life of my brothers, your hoe is dead!”
Slick couldn’t do shit except stand there and watch helplessly as Goody hopped in his whip and started up his ride. That nigga was laughing loud as fuck as he punched the gas pedal and jetted outta the lot. Slick wanted to pull out his tool and Swiss cheese that nigga and his Mercedes full of holes.
But he didn’t. Because he was a soldier and he had been given a mission to accomplish, and as far as he was concerned it was the most important mission of his entire life. Slick knew he couldn’t fuck it up, but he also knew he couldn’t go at it alone, neither.
Jewelz’s life was in his hands, and right now there was only one gunslinger in the world that he could trust without a doubt to have his back on a hundred. And with the smell of Goody’s exhaust fumes funking up the air, Slick pulled out his cell phone and called him.
CHAPTER 4
Life’s on the Line
“Ay,” Slick barked when his ace answered the phone. The bitter taste of rage burned in his throat and his whole body trembled with fury. “I got a crucial mission standing in front of me, yo,” he said, his voice quiet and deadly. “It’s a matter of life or death, and I’ma need some back up.”
Whitey was all over that shit.
“Whattup, chief? Where’s the static? What kinda reinforcements you need?”
“It’s Jewelz,” Slick blurted out, trying his best to choke back the fury that flooded his heart. “Me and her got into a lil dust-up and the Goode Brothers snatched her. She was rolling up outta my joint and they rained on her.”
“You and Jewelz had static between y’all? Fuck for?”
“Man, she rushed up in my crib banging a burner! She almost fuckin shot me, but that shit don’t even matter. Them bitch-ass Goode Brothers got her, Whitey. Them cowards got their paws on her and they gonna clip her off if I don’t give ’em what they want.”
“What the hell do you mean they got her?” Whitey demanded. “What the fuck is going on here!?! I thought we voted against going after those guys. Why would they wanna snatch Jewelz?”
“We were casing them,” Slick admitted. “Lining them up. Them niggas musta got wise and peeped the plot, then got the drop on Jewelz. She came over to my crib making noise on my lil side piece and she messed around and popped a hammer off in the air. I told her to chill with that madness and to get the fuck—”
Slick hesitated, feeling guilty as hell as he remembered the look of pure pain in Jewelz’s eyes, “She almost shot me and I told her to kick rocks, bruh. I put her the fuck outta my spot. But then when I looked out in the hallway a few minutes later I saw her shoe laying out there and there were drops of blood all over the floor and shit…”
“What?” Whiteys voice was full of pain. “You guys were casing those cats and they snatched her? Why in the world would Goody wanna get with Jewelz though?”
Slick could barely speak it. “He don’t wanna get with her. He just wants to use her. So he can get at me. That nigga said he’s gonna wet her up if I don’t come up with some pink diamond ice he wants me to steal from a goddamn jewelry auction.”
The surprise in Whitey’s voice was deep as hell as he spit back at his man sharply, “Hold up! Does Handgun Goody want you to steal the Pink Lady diamond?”
“Yeah!” Slick frowned. “You know something about that shit, or what?”
“Um, nah,” Whitey played it off, rubbing his hands together like his palms suddenly itched. “I mean, I don’t know nothing more than what I heard them talking about on the news the other day. They just opened up a new branch of the Sotheby Museum right here on Staten Island. The Pink Lady is supposed to be one of those extremely rare jewels, and if I remember right, they say she’s worth a pretty deep grip.”
“She’s batting at fifty mill and I gotta get my hands on her!” Slick spit. “Them Goode Brothers got Jewelz stashed outta sight somewhere and if they don’t get that ice they’re gonna off her. If I fail with this shit Jewelz is as good as gone.”
“Fuck!” Whitey cursed out loud as his mind moved a million miles a minute. “Come on, Slick. This shit is impossible! What makes those guys think you can get away with stealing a high-profile piece of jewelry like that without getting hit up?”
“I don’t know, but ay, man,” Slick switched the flow up quietly. “Lemme ask you something. What the fuck was in that briefcase that night, my brother?”
“What briefcase?”
“That red jawn we snatched outta the jewelry store on Fulton Street. You know. The briefcase the BBU ordered us to stash in that locker in Midtown.”