Me and My Hittas 4

by Tranay Adams

  “Yo, Monk, that bag of Loud over there by you, bruh?” Banga asked. His eyes were focused on the screen, but he was talking to the older G.

  “Yeah, it’s over here.” Monk replied, seeing the ounce of Kush on the counter.

  “Do me a favor, O.G. I got some Cigarillos over here, twist one up for me.”

  Monk put his cards down and turned around on the stool. “Young nigga, I got one goddamn hand, how in the fuck am I ‘pose to roll you a blunt?”

  Banga and Playboy busted up laughing.

  “My bad, G, I forgot you were handicap and shit.” Banga said.

  A car honking outside drew Monk’s attention to the window. He took a peek through the curtains and saw a white Celebrity idling inside the alley. He let the curtain fall and turned around to the twins.

  “Who that, Monk?” Playboy asked over his shoulder.

  “It’s them bitches that’s ‘pose to drop homeboy’s body off to us.” Monk informed him. “Y’all come outside with me. If this is some funny shit, lay them hoes out.”

  Banga and Playboy put on their game-faces. They picked their burners up from the coffee-tPlayboy and tucked them into their waistlines. They followed behind Monk as he headed into the kitchen for the back porch door.

  $$$

  Playboy unlocked the padlock and removed the chain from around the gate. He pulled the gate back and allowed the Celebrity to roll inside. The raggedy vehicle slowly coasted over the threshold. The first thing Monk noticed about the car was its busted headlight and knocking engine. It was a wonder to him how the old heap was still running, and more importantly, why its driver would risk using it to transport a dead body when there was a great possibility that it could break down or get pulled over by the police.

  As the Celebrity pulled upon the backyard lawn and executed its engine, Banga and Playboy joined Monk by his side. They watched as the doors of the hoopty swung open and two women stepped into view. The first was a slim chick who rocked her hair in burgundy cornrows. The second was a thick, chocolate sister with full lips. Both of the women were draped in black from head to toe. They wore hard faces as they stepped around to the trunk of the Celebrity.

  “What’s up?” Burgundy cornrows said in greeting, throwing her head back.

  “’Sup? What you got for me?” Monk asked.

  “You got our money?” Thick interjected.

  “It isn’t your money yet, at least not until I view the merchandise.” Monk stated firmly.

  “Alright, nigga, we’re gonna pop this trunk, but y’all bet not try to fuck us.” Thick balled her face.

  “Ain’t nobody gone try to fuck you. All we tryna do is see if y’all really killed this nigga or not.” Banga added his two cents. His scowling made him look like a young Ice Cube in his N.W.A days.

  “Right,” Playboy chimed in. “It’s kind of hard to believe King Crab is dead, especially with all of the stories we’ve heard about him. Niggaz will have you believing he’s the Jason Voorhees of gangbanging, like you can try to kill’em but he just won’t die, feel me?”

  “Ain’t nobody tryna fuck y’all.” Monk told them. “If y’all really got’em in the trunk like y’all said y’all did, then I’ll be fifty bands short of being broke. All I want is confirmation. After that y’all can get y’all paper and be gone.”

  Cornrows looked to thick and she gave a nod. Cornrows motioned Monk over as she went to open the trunk of the Celebrity. She lifted the trunk and exposed something wrapped up in black trash bags. She leaned over into the trunk and ripped open the trash bag, revealing Paybacc’s solemn face. Smiles emerged on Banga and Playboy’s faces and they gave one another a pound.

  While Banga and Playboy were busy celebrating, Monk was studying Paybacc’s face. He noticed something really peculiar about him but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His forehead crinkled when it dawned on him what wasn’t right. That’s when he looked to cornrows and said, “I thought y’all shot this nigga in the head.”

  At that precise moment, Paybacc’s eyes popped open and he swung his Calico around, cracking off two shots. Monk’s face twisted into agony and he fell to the ground, bleeding like a stuck pig. Playboy went for burner on his waistline and Traquila shot him his bellie; he screamed aloud and fell into a heap. Banga was right behind his brother reaching for his waistline. He’d already drawn his piece and sent a hot-one through Traquila’s throat. Dropping her weapon, she clutched the blood squirting wound in her neck and hit the dirt, grimacing.

  “Mothafucka,” Passion cried out, her eyes welling with tears. She pumped two through Banga’s belly; the slugs ignited a blazing fire inside of him upon entree. Before his back hit the dirt Passion was en route to her best-friend and lover. She stopped short to deposit two slugs into a groaning Playboy’s heart before dropping to her knees and scooping Traquila into her arms. She sobbed as she watched her friend gurgle up blood and spill it from the sides of her mouth. She stared up into Passion’s eyes as she fought for her life, tooth and nail. Once Traquila grew still, Passion closed her eyes with a brush of her hand and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

  “Who else is in the house?” Paybacc asked Monk as he held a sneaker to his heaving chest. His menacing eyes bored down into his face as he clenched his jaws tightly, nostrils flaring.

  “Go fuck yourself!” Monk spat between winces, his one good hand holding onto his enemy’s leg.

  “The house is clear!” Domino said from the back porch where he stood beside Wacko, both of them donning ski-masks and holding assault rifles. They’d kicked in the front door and stormed in as soon as the first shot was fired. They were going to execute anyone else who may be inside the house before they could act as reinforcements for Monk and them.

  “We found the dough, too.” Wacko held up the bag containing the fifty bands of cash.

  Domino pulled off his ski-mask and stepped off of the back porch. He looked passed Paybacc and saw Passion holding a lifeless Traquila in her arms. His face soured staring at the sight before him and he shook his head. “Damn. They got Tra.” he said to himself crossing his heart in the name of the Lord.

  “Yeah,” Paybaccc sighed and crossed his heart in the sign as well. “Watch her for me; I got something I have to attend to.”

  “Okilla,” Domino nodded.

  Paybacc grabbed Monk by the back of his shirt and pulled him up the steps of the back porch into the house. He smacked all of the items from off of the kitchen table and hoisted Monk’s body upon it. Next, he searched the kitchen until he found what he was looking for: a meat cleaver. He sat it on his intended victim’s stomach and tore off the sleeve of his shirt. Afterwards, he balled the sleeve up and stuffed it into Monk’s mouth, gagging him. He then picked up the meat cleaver and flipped it over in his palm.

  “I’m not even gonna bother asking you where Gangsta is ‘cause I already know what you’re gonna tell me. But what I am gonna do is, finish the job that I started ten years ago.” Paybacc held Monk’s last good arm down and struck it with the meat cleaver, with all of his might. Monk tried to scream, but the gag muffled the sound. Paybacc continued to hack away at the arm, and with each strike his victim’s eyes rolled further to the back of his head. Monk eventually went into shock, shaking slightly on the table top. Seeing that his arm was holding on to what little bone was left, Paybacc worked it back and forth until it eventually snapped off. He casted the severed arm aside and took the man’s right-leg. He lifted the meat cleaver above his head and brought it down.

  Thrack!

  An hour later

  “Oh God, no, fuck me! Fuck me!” Gangsta cursed, pounding the wall with the hand that held his chrome .45. He leaned his forehead against the wall for a moment, breathing heavily. He then looked back at the kitchen table Monk’s bloody torso was on. He closed his eyes and shook his head, hating to see what was done to his friend. Looking up, he saw open spelled out in blood across the cupboard above the stove.

  Gangsta opened the cupboard, and when he saw M
onk’s severed head he nearly lost his dinner. He tucked his .45 on his waistline and picked up his friend’s head. Sitting it on the table top, he noticed that Monk’s eyes were rolled to their corners and his tongue peeked out the side of his mouth. Upon further inspection, he also noticed that there was something stuffed in Monk’s mouth. He fished around in Monk’s mouth and produced a folded piece of paper. He unfolded the piece of paper and You’re next was written on it. Gangsta balled up the piece of paper and threw it aside.

  Gouch stepped into the house carrying his gun at his side. “Yo, man, Playboy is dead, but Banga is still…” the words died in his throat when he stumbled upon Monk’s bloody torso. The sight was grotesque and reminded him of something he once saw in a horror movie. Gouch hung his head and massage the bridge of his nose. He then looked up and asked, “Who did this, unc? Who you catch a beef with?”

  “Paybacc,” Gangsta answered.

  “Who the fuck is Paybacc?” Gouch’s forehead wrinkled.

  “A loose end I should have tied up a long time ago.” Gangsta admitted. He felt that it was all of his fault that his homeboys had gotten slaughtered like they had.

  Chapter Two

  Domino cupped his hands under the running faucet and splashed water on his face. He turned the faucet off and took a good look at his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. He closed his eyes and let the water drip off of his face. Images of Paybacc chopping off Monk’s legs and arm flashed behind his eyelids. He could hear the muffled screams of the man in his head, along with the sound of the meat cleaver hitting his warm flesh. He then saw Monk’s severed head with its eyes staring out of their corners and its tongue peeking out the side of its mouth. Suddenly, the head’s eyes looked to him at the same time someone was knocking at the door, startling him. He heard the door creep open and turned around, reaching for the banger on his waistline. He let his hand fall to his side once he saw that it was Wacko.

  “You all right, foolie?” Wacko asked concerned.

  Domino nodded and replied, “I’m one hunnit, cuz.”

  “Well, we out here. Paybacc is waiting for you so he can divide up that paper.”

  Domino and Wacko came back into the living room. Passion was sitting on the couch with swollen bloodshot eyes, staring aimlessly. She looked like she was about to crack up at any minute, if she hadn’t already. Domino and Wacko pulled up a chair at the table where Paybacc was already seated. Scattered on the table was a handgun, two blocks of cocaine and a few bands of dead presidents. All of which were recovered once they rushed up in Gangsta’s trap and twisted a few fools.

  “Alright, we gotta hunnit and twenty bands and two bricks of raw.” Paybacc announced. “I’ma split the dough up three ways, y’all can have that. I’m taking the bricks, though. I can put it into rotation with the rest of the shit. Is there anyone that objects to that?”

  “Nah, it’s cool.” Domino replied.

  “Fine by me,” Wacko answered.

  “Passion?” Paybacc called her.

  “Alright,” She agreed, wiping her tearing eyes with her fingers.

  Paybacc swept forty grand each into three paper shopping bags. He used an extra bag to place the two blocks of cocaine into and set it aside. Next, he picked up one of the bags and held it out toward Passion.

  “Passion,” Paybacc called for her. She approached him and took the bag. She leaned forth and kissed his lips. “Call me when you get home.” He told her as she pulled open the front door. Once she was gone, he handed Domino and Wacko their individual bags of money.

  “Yo, fam, I think you should let me follow old girl home and put her outta her misery.” Wacko said seriously, placing the bag between his legs. “You see how fucked up she is behind homegirl getting peeled? She’ll end up going on a guilt trip and spilling her guts to them boys. I don’t know about chu, but I aint even tryna have that happen. I’m allergic to prison.”

  “Nigga, you ain’t never been.” Domino frowned.

  “That’s right. Ain’t never been and ain’t ever tryna go, feel me?”

  “Nah, she won’t say anything.” Paybacc assured him.

  “How you figure?” Wacko twisted his lips and angled his head.

  “’Cause she’s dicknotized, fool.” Paybacc told him. “She already confessed her undying love for me. Why you think she agreed to go on this lil’ caper? Bitch loves me.”

  “I’m not one to gamble on another man’s dick.” Wacko stated. “You can put your faith in your swipe if you want to, but I prefer putting my faith in one of these,” he patted the gun that was bulging underneath his shirt, “its wayyyyy more reliable.”

  “Like I said, no one is to touch lil’ momma until I say otherwise.” Paybacc stated sternly, looking Wacko dead in his eyes.

  Wacko put his hands together and thought on it. “Let’s say I sleep walk, and I just so happen to take a drive over to her apartment, I make my way inside into her bedroom and my gun just so happens to go off? What if that was to happen? That’s hypothetically speaking, of course.”

  “Well,” Paybacc took his time lighting a cigarette and then blew smoke. “I’ll take a lil’ drive out to Pasadena, you know? To that retirement home that your grandmother stays at; I’ll creep into her room and hide in the closet and right when she comes back from recreation, I’ll slip a length of wire around her neck and then I’ll tighten it until the old bitch dies. Oh, and that’s not hypothetically speaking. That’s exactly what the fuck is gone happen should any harm come to my bitch, lil’ nigga!” he threatened, spittle flying from off of his lips.

  Wacko scowled and his face twitched with anger. Paybacc hit a soft spot when he threatened the life of his grandmother. She’d cared for him since he was a kid and had been a surrogate mother to him. Wacko pulled the banger from off his hip and pointed it at Paybacc’s smug expression. The O.G went about his business of smoking his cigarette as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Domino looked between his mentor and his protégé. He wore a shocked expression. He couldn’t believe the scene that was playing out before his eyes. “Yo, what the fuck are you two niggaz doing, man? We all homies, the enemy is out there.” He threw his head toward the door. “Our guns are supposed to be going off on them, not on each other. Wacko, I told you once before this man is like my father, and you’re like my lil’ bro. What the fuck, man. Y’all are my family.” He clutched his head trying to make sense of the madness.

  Wacko sat on the opposite end of the table with his banger pointed in Paybacc’s direction. His face was like a mad dog foaming at the mouth, but quickly softened to a childlike smile and laugh. “I’m just fucking with the big homie, cuz. You know it’s all love over this way.” He assured Domino.

  “I gotta go.” Paybacc said, grabbing his bag of bricks. “I’ll get up witchu niggaz later.” He slapped hands with Domino and Wacko before taking his leave.

  “Wack, what the fuck was that? You was ‘bout to blast the homie.” Domino asked once Paybacc had left. He was staring at the little nigga like he’d lost his goddamn mind.

  “Was? I still am.” Wacko said seriously. “Nigga gone threaten my grand momma life over some ratchet, fuck he think I am? I’ma finish what Gangsta should have long ago, that’s on the gang. But first, I’ma get whatever he got stashed in that chest.”

  “We’ve already been over this, cuz. We’re not robbing him.” Domino put his foot down.

  “You don’t wanna rob the nigga, and you don’t wanna kill the nigga.” Wacko said annoyed. “Well, what the fuck do you want to do then?”

  “We’re not robbing him, and that’s final.” Domino spat irritated. Homeboy was getting on his last fucking nerve.

  “You’re my nigga, and I love you like cooked food, but the friends of my enemies become my enemies.” Wacko glared at him and squared his jaws. “So when I walk out that door, I guess I’ll have to be looking over my shoulders for two of mine instead of one.”

  Domino bit down on his bottom lip and nodded his
head. “Alright, if you want cuz gone then fuck it, but let’s wait until he re-up so we can have something to bubble with.”

  “Fair enough,” Wacko smiled and slapped hands with his nigga. “You had me going for a minute, cuz. I thought I was gone have to zip up both of y’all niggaz.”

  “Nah, you don’t ever have to question my loyalty…ever.” Domino swore.

  Chapter Three

  Gouch road on the passenger side of Gangsta’s GT Bentley smoking a cigarette and listening attentively, as his uncle brought him up to speed on everything that occurred in his absence.

  “All of this shit happened over a few months span?” Gouch shook his head and felt the burn wounds on the side of his face, “It didn’t take long for Booby’s lil’ reign to go from sugar to shit. Did it?”

  “No, it didn’t.” Gangsta agreed. He watched Gouch feel on his burn wounds on and off again during their conversation, and it became evident to him that he had a complex about it. “Gucci, you know there are surgeons that could probably do something about that. You know my papers long and I got connections. I could see to it that you have the best of doctors to take care of you.”

  Gouch nodded and said, “I’ll have to take a rain check. First things first, we gotta get this nigga Paybacc out of our hair. This nigga bring more drama than four baby mommas.”

  “On sitas,” Gangsta agreed, saying mommas in Spanish.

  “You know them fools Arsenegger and Ortiz was there the night the Mexicans raided us and laid the homies down, right?”

  “For real?”

  Gouch nodded and continued, “I was barely conscious, but I could hear every-

  thing…” he began to recount what happened that night when the Mexicans raided the trap, and Arsenegger and Ortiz came in.