Section 8

by K'wan

  For the rest of the ride Gucci stared silently out the window. Several times Animal tried to make small talk, but she wouldn’t even look at him. Of course, Don B. and Tionna were too busy petting each other and drinking to notice the emotional rift that had so quickly sprung up between the two lovers. When the Maybach reached the block, Gucci hopped out without even saying goodbye, and of course Animal was on her heels.

  “So, what, you’re never gonna talk to me again because I cut our date short?” he called after her.

  “It ain’t about cutting the date short and you know it.” She continued walking toward the building. “You’re a liar, Animal!” she called over her shoulder.

  “I didn’t lie to you,” he said.

  Gucci stopped and faced him. The tears hadn’t come yet, but he could see the moisture in the corners of her eyes. “Yes, you did. You lied to me and you lied to Don B. when you promised you were done with the streets.”

  “I am done with the streets,” he assured her.

  “Then where are you going?” She folded her arms. He couldn’t meet her gaze. “Look, Animal, I like you, but it’s not like we’re seriously involved, so you don’t have to make up excuses or feed me lies to pacify me. All I want you to do is be real with me, but I guess it’s too much to ask.”

  Animal lowered his head and sighed. “Gucci, you don’t understand. A friend of mine needs me to help him out with something and I couldn’t tell him no. Come on now, the big homey has been looking out for me for years; I can’t shit on him now. I gotta keep it real for my nigga.”

  “Animal, keeping it real would be you making sure I get home all right and going home to figure out what you’re gonna do with that money when it comes in, not running off to do God knows what with ya man Tech. Why risk fucking everything up just to say you kept it real with a nigga?”

  “Because he looked out for me, I owe him, ma.”

  “Animal, you don’t owe anybody shit, but yourself. You owe it not only yourself but to every little ghetto kid who never made it out of the ghetto, to take this opportunity and do something better. It’s not every day someone offers you a million dollars!”

  “Gucci, you don’t understand . . .” he tried to explain.

  “No, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. You’re about to risk throwing a promising future out the window because of some bullshit street code that’s got all you dumb little muthafuckas brainwashed.” She walked up the last few steps to the entrance of her building. “I swear, Animal, you’re just like those kids I work with at the center. None of you believe that the stove is hot until you’re actually on fire. If you go out there and let Tech get you into some shit, lose my number.” She went in and slammed the lobby door behind her.

  For a while Animal was frozen with emotion. He knew the car was waiting, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Gucci’s doorstep. Gucci was right about him jeopardizing his blessing, but she didn’t understand the position he was in. Tech had looked out for him when he was nothing and had nothing. He wanted so badly to tell Tech that he was out and wanted no parts of the heist, but he couldn’t bring himself to abandon his friend. He would meet Tech and help him with the robbery, but when it was done he was out, and he didn’t care how anybody felt about it.

  Tionna was good and twisted when she crossed the threshold of Don B.’s Harlem brownstone. After dropping Gucci and Animal off, they had continued partying until the sky was almost pink. For once, she didn’t have to worry about getting back to her kids, because Boots had them for the night, so she was going to milk her freedom for all it was worth.

  Don B’s crib was laid, but she hardly noticed because her head was spinning so intensely, but not so intensely that she’d lost her focus on the task at hand, which was getting that money up for Duhan.

  “You’ve got a nice place,” Tionna said, slipping her heels off and getting comfortable on Don B.’s couch.

  “You know I don’t do nothing but the best of everything, and if you didn’t know, then you’ll find out in a hot minute, smell me?” He was behind the bar, fixing them two more drinks, as if either of them needed any more alcohol. Don B. walked over to the couch, holding the two drinks and smiling like he had just hit the lotto. “I fixed us these to take the edge off. You know, a night out with the Don can be a bit much.”

  “I hear you talking, daddy.” Tionna took the drink and took a healthy gulp. Tionna put the drink on the coffee table and stretched out seductively, so he could get a good look at what she was working with.

  “That’s a blessing in itself, because I don’t do a lot of talking.” He got onto the couch and stretched out on top of her. Don B. started kissing Tionna’s neck and breasts, but when he went for her panties, she stopped him. “What’s good?” he asked.

  “Hold on, I think you’ve got me twisted.” She sat up and retrieved her drink. “You think I’m some groupie bitch that you can just take to dinner and fuck because you’re a rapper?” She took another gulp of the drink. “It ain’t that kinda party.”

  “Yo, I thought we had a connection?” Don B. sat up so that she could see the tent in his jeans.

  “We do have a connection, but we don’t have an understanding.” She looked him up and down.

  Don B. smiled because he knew it wouldn’t be long before Tionna showed her true colors. “So it’s about the paper with you, huh?”

  “It’s always about the paper with me, but that don’t mean that I came back here with you just to get paid. Tionna don’t fuck for money, boo, but I’m a high-maintenance chick, real talk.” The alcohol had her feeling herself. She tried to get up and ended up flopping back down to the couch.

  “See what you get for trying to drink with the Big Dawgz?” he said mockingly. His voice sounded distorted to her ringing ears.

  “Nigga, I can hold mine—and don’t try to change the subject.” She slapped him on the arm a little harder than she’d meant to. “Hold on. What I was talking about?” She had to think about it.

  “You was telling me how it’s always been your dream to fuck a millionaire.” Don B. traced the line of her clit through her panties, sending her body into spasms of pleasure.

  “No, I wasn’t, you nasty muthafucka,” Tionna slurred. “I was saying that you gotta pay to play in this pussy, because I’m a bitch that needs things.” The liquor and what Don B. had slipped into her drink had a firm hold on her now.

  “You know money ain’t no thing to the Don,” he said, lowering himself on top of her with his penis out. Tionna reached down and tested the girth of him in her hand. She was pleased.

  “You plan on sticking all this inside me?” she asked, while rubbing the head of his dick against her clit.

  “All that and then some.” He tried to force himself inside, but Tionna stopped him.

  She reached inside her purse and pulled out a condom, which she handed to him. “No glove, no love, baby.”

  “Never a problem,” he said happily, taking the condom from the wrapper and slipping it on. When she was satisfied that he had strapped up, she let him enter her. Don B. fucked her like a wild dog, making sure to christen every flat surface in the living room. The drug had Tionna on him like a mad woman licking, biting, and sucking him at several different angles. When Don B. felt himself about to cum, he pulled out and sprayed her chest, face, and hair, before collapsing on the carpet beside her.

  Tionna was wasted, but not so much to where she didn’t know that she had rocked Don B.’s world. She had done and said things to him that she wouldn’t have dared discuss with Duhan and loved every minute of it. She was pleased with herself not only for getting one of the best fuckings of her life, but for successfully cutting into Don B. She curled up beside her new sponsor and drifted to sleep with visions of the gifts he would shower her with in her head. In all her plotting, she never once suspected that her freak show wasn’t as private as she’d thought.

  CHAPTER 30

  The truck was deathly silent as it coasted down the West S
ide Highway. Tech stared absently out the window, with his mind on God knows what, more than likely the score. Silk was trying to look hard, but her eyes looked worried, as she tried to focus on the road ahead of her instead of the blind lick they were about to embark on. China just looked afraid, and truth be told, she had good reason to be.

  The bulk of their information had come from Rock Head, who was suspect at best, and whatever intelligence Tech had been able to collect on his own. He explained it like he had it all mapped out, but Animal knew Tech well enough to know when he was unsure about something. The fact that he wasn’t 100 percent with his information was more than enough reason to call the score off, but Tech insisted. Animal didn’t like it, but he was outvoted on the issue, so he was gonna ride it out.

  “Everybody knows what they’re supposed to be doing, right?” Tech looked to each of them. China nodded, while Animal said nothing. “You with us, little brother?” As an answer, Animal cocked his gun. “Good to know.”

  “So how many muthafuckas did you say it was supposed to be?” Silk asked, as if they hadn’t been over it a dozen times.

  “The cat bringing the work, and his bodyguards, plus the kid, his lieutenant, and Rock Head,” Tech told her again.

  “He’s about a thirsty muthafucka to put himself in harm’s way just to make sure he doesn’t get shorted.” Animal shook his head. In the original plan, Rock Head was to have met them back uptown to get his cut, but at the last minute he had arranged to be in the house by convincing the kid that he needed one more shooter with him in case something went wrong.

  “Well, if he happens to get in the way, I might clap his ass and cut him out of the picture altogether,” Silk threatened.

  “No killing.” Animal surprised them all with the statement.

  “What the fuck is you going on about, son?” Silk asked.

  “No killing. The police ain’t gonna be too worried about us robbing a drug dealer, but if we leave a body in there, that’s something different. If we was riding on some niggaz in the hood, I’d be a little more reckless with it, but you gotta think about where we about to roll to.”

  “Nigga, it’s a project!” Silk shouted.

  “It’s a project in Midtown, dumb ass! As soon as we go in there busting off, the police are gonna be all over our asses.”

  “Alright already,” Tech interrupted. “Okay, if it’ll make you feel better, we’ll only give ’em flesh wounds.” Tech grabbed Animal playfully. “Blood, you know us, so you know we know how to handle business. What’s with you lately?”

  “Ain’t shit got into me, man; I’m just saying we should be extra careful because we ain’t got a lot to go on about this shit,” Animal lied. Inside, his heart was racing, and a warning kept flashing in his head, telling him to turn back.

  “If Animal is spooked, then maybe we should call it off; we don’t really know a lot about these vics anyway,” China said.

  “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Tech looked from Animal to China. “China, you were the main one talking about maybe we should cool out for a minute; that’s what this lick is all about. Look, it’s a lot of coke and a lot of money gonna be in that apartment, and we need that shit to further our own gains. I promise y’all that once we snatch what these niggaz got, we’ll focus on moving this weight shit. We all agreed?”

  “Whatever, man,” Animal said, pulling his ski mask out of his pocket.

  “I’m wit’ you all day, Tech,” Silk assured him as they pulled up near the projects and parked by a fire hydrant. She slipped her ski mask halfway on her head and got out of the car, leaving it running.

  “A’ight then, let’s go get this money,” Tech said and slid out of the car. They stealthily moved up the path to their designated building and slipped into the lobby one by one. It was a short hike to the fourth floor, with them rotating for the lead at every landing like in the old army movies. Tech approached the apartment door and placed his ear against it. When he was sure that all the pieces were in place, he motioned for his team to get ready.

  “How we gonna get in?” Animal whispered.

  Tech smiled and showed him a can of WD-40 and a key. After thoroughly soaking the interior of the lock with the WD-40, Tech inserted the key. It barely made a sound when he turned it. The four of them all got down on one knee and said their silent prayers, as was their custom before they embarked on dangerous jobs. Tech raised three fingers and began to count down. When the last finger had dropped, they rushed the apartment.

  The meet spot was at the apartment of a crackhead named Shakes. She was a throwback smoker who had been hooked to the drug since it first came out and showed no signs of slowing down. It had been Rock Head’s idea to meet at the fiend’s house, because they could have privacy in addition to being able to see three and a quarter sides of the building from her window.

  Rock Head sat in a rickety wooden chair, chain-smoking Newports. Every so often he would look at his phone to check the time. He’d told him four forty-five; earlier or later could potentially ruin everything. Rock Head knew that the kid with the coke was supposed to be there at four in the morning, so he figured that by the time the pleasantries were exchanged and the drop had been made, everyone would be more relaxed. Of course, the kid was going to want to count his money, and for the amount of coke he was bringing it wouldn’t be a quick job. If it went as he had planned it, Rock Head’s little surprise would come just about halfway through the count. But, as it stood, it was four thirty-five and Shakes was still drying the little bit of coke she’d cooked to test. Rock Head started to get a very bad feeling.

  “Let’s get this over with so I can go,” the tall Latino said, pacing the apartment impatiently. It was clear that he felt uncomfortable in the crack den.

  “I got you; fam, just let my peoples tell me if it’s butter or not,” Fred said. He had a big Afro that was partially stuffed under a Yankee cap. Fred was Rock Head’s sister’s baby daddy, and sponsor of the little party. He wasn’t the toughest cat to speak of, but he had done a fine job of turning nothing into something. “Shakes, hurry up so these gentlemen can be on their way.” He motioned toward the two Latinos.

  “Give me a minute, damn! What, y’all wanted me to smoke it wet?” she said indignantly as she loaded the stones into her pipe. When Shakes lit the rock, she immediately started choking and slobbering.

  “Satisfied,” the tall Latino said, pointing at the gagging crackhead.

  “Yeah, man.” Fred tossed him the bag of money. “Tell your boss I said mucho gracias.”

  The tall Latino opened the bag and gave the bills a quick thumbing before rezipping the bag. “Whatever. Adiós.” He saluted them.

  Seeing his money walking out the door, Rock Head panicked and blurted out, “Don’t you want to count it?” Everyone in the room looked at Rock Head.

  The tall Latino paused and tested the weight of the bag. “Why should I have to count it? Should I be worried about y’all ripping off my uncle?”

  “Man, you know I’d never do that; I spend mad money with y’all cats,” Fred said, trying to defuse the situation.

  “Yeah, I know, but ya man is talking real funny.” The tall Latino parted his jacket so that you could see the butt of his gun. The short bald man who had been with him jammed his hand into his pocket.

  “Everybody be cool.” Fred raised his hands in surrender. “My brother-in-law didn’t mean any disrespect, but sometimes he doesn’t know what to say out of his mouth. Y’all just take money and split.”

  “How you gonna tell these niggaz they can leave with my money?” Tech rounded the corner. His face was covered by the ski mask, but you could still see his mocking grin, and the .45 he was holding.

  “What the fuck is this?” The tall Latino backed up. He looked from the masked robbers to Fred in bewilderment.

  “Word to my mother, I don’t know what’s going on, but we’re gonna find out.” Fred came from behind the table.

  “If you take another step you gonna f
ind out shit, but what it feels like to sit with your lord.” Silk gripped the .357 tightly. She had been dying to break it in since she’d gotten it. Animal covered Rock Head and everyone in the room with two 9s, while China brought up the rear with the HK.

  “Set out the money and the coke and we’ll be on our way,” Tech told them.

  “Money? What money?” The tall Latino said sarcastically.

  Silk walked over to him and looked in his eyes. “You think you’re a comedian, don’t you?” She smiled like she could actually find him attractive.

  The tall Latino matched her smile. “I’ve been called worse.” His grin was quickly wiped off his face when she slapped him across the bridge of his nose with the barrel of her gun.

  “Nigga, this ain’t no game. Run your shit or get dealt with.” Silk snatched the bag containing the money. China made her way over to the table and began dumping the packages of cocaine into a shopping bag, while Fred stared at her with unmasked hatred.

  “You ain’t gonna get away with this, you black muthafuckas. Do you know who you’re robbing?” the bald Latino said, speaking up for the first time.

  “No.” Tech put the gun to his head. “So why don’t you tell us who we’re robbing.” When Tech got a good look at the bald man, he recognized him. “You’re one of Rico’s boys, ain’t you?” he asked gleefully.

  “You’re muthafucking right, and he’s gonna hand you your fucking heart for this shit.” The bald Latino spit in Tech’s face.

  The whole room got quiet after the deed. Tech stood there, frozen in place, as the spit rolled slowly down the side of his ski mask. The bald Latino looked at Tech with defiance, and it was a look that would be forever frozen in on his face, because Tech blew the top of his head off. Everything got crazy after that.