Me and My Hittas 4
Page 9
“Are you still offering those five stacks for information on the whereabouts of that redbone of Booby Loco’s?” Turbo asked timidy. The nigga look like a mothafucking slave scared to look his master in the eyes as he asked for something.
Staring into Turbo’s eyes, Paybacc could see that he’d subcummed to the allure of crack cocaine. His face looked dry and ashy and his bottom jaw was biting to the side. The signs were there. On top of that, Turbo was avoiding eye contact which let him know that he was ashamed for Payabcc to see him in his current state. Looking at Turbo, Paybacc couldn’t help but think how the mighty had fallen. Before he had gotten locked up, Turbo was slinging and getting his slice of the American pie. Now he was a shell of his former shelf. Crack had really did a number on him.
Paybacc nodded. “The offer is still on the table, homie.”
“Well, uh, I know where she’s staying.”
This made Paybacc put the metal Chinese balls down on the coffee-table and sit up. Turbo now had his undivided attention.
“Where?” Paybacc could see that Turbo was leery about telling him where Vayda was without getting paid first, so he dipped into his pocket. He pulled out a wad of money and quickly counted through it. “This is twenty-seven hundred dollars.” He tossed the bills on the table. “You’ll get the rest once you tell me where this bitch is.”
“I gotta address, I wrote it down.” Turbo pulled a piece of paper from out of his back pocket and handed it to Paybacc. He continued to talk as Paybacc looked the address over. “I saw redbone coming home one day; she and the boy Booby. I was across the street cutting Mr. Johnson’s yard when they rolled up. As soon as they drove up into the driveway, about four or five brothers in suits swarmed the car, helping her get out bags and stuff. From their attire they had to be Muslims.They’re always there. I think they guard the place or something.”
Paybacc nodded and said, “I know exactly where this is. Good looking.” Turbo picked up the money from the coffee-table and Paybacc ushered him toward the door. “You know Rocko, right?” Turbo nodded. “Go see him. He’s at the trap over there on 45th; he’ll take care of you. I’ll let’em know that you’re coming. Oh, and, uh, Turbo,” Turbo looked to Paybacc. “If I find out you fucked me on this, I’m going to come see you…personally.” He stared the crackhead dead in his eyes wearing a serious expression. He knew that a fiend would do or say anything to get a fix. And even though he knew the nigga fairly well, his loyalty to crack was greater than his loyalty to him.
“Ah, nah, cuz, this is square business,” Turbo assured him. “You’ll see for yourself.”
Paybacc nodded and closed the door behind Turbo. He looked to Domino with a shit-eating-grin and he returned the gesture.
It was time to kill the head so that the body will fall.
Chapter Eleven
It was two o’clock in the evening and the sun was out in full bloom, warming the once cold streets with its rays and spreading light throughout the ghetto. The sight of the sun was The Children of the Night’s cue to take it in, while it was the working class sign to head out for their respective destinations.
McArthur Park was alive with children running around laughing and playing under the watchful eyes of their parents. Creeper pushed his kid sister, Arlene, on the swing as she giggled and smiled. Creeper wore a smirk on his face as he watched his sister enjoy herself. Seeing her happy was like therapy for him. He was so wrapped up in the moment that he had temporarily forgotten about the ills of his reality.
“Higher, Ruben, higher,” Arlene cooed.
“Alright, you asked for it.” Creeper pushed Arlene harder in the swing.
“Weeee,” Arlene said as her brother pushed her swing further into the air, her hair wafting at her rear and her feet sticking out in front of her. “Push faster, harder, Ruben!”
“If I push any faster or harder, you’re going to go flying into orbit.” Creeper warned her with a smirk on his lips. Looking up, he saw Gangsta, Pavielle, Gouch and Killa Dre hop out of a black Mercedes Benz and move in his direction. “They’re here.” Creeper looked back at Black Jesus who was posted under a tree with Bullet by his side. He’d been there smoking his Cuban cigar and watching Creeper interact with his kid sister. Bullet was parlaying on the table chopping it up with some one in Spanish about business. Once Black Jesus tapped him and pointed in Gangsta and company’s direction, Bullet told whoever he was talking to he had to go and put his cell on his waistline.
“Watch Arlene,” Black Jesus told Bullet. Bullet hopped off of the table and went to do as his brother commanded. He took over for Creeper, pushing his sister in the swing.
“I’ll be back, mija.” Creeper told Arlene and went to meet Gangsta.
Gangsta exchanged pleasantries with everyone and introduced Creeper to Gouch and Pavielle. Creeper, Gouch and Pavielle threw their heads back like “What’s up?” and slapped hand s with the Vato.
“So, what’s the reason behind this hush, hush meeting?” Gangsta asked Black Jesus as he buttoned his suit’s jacket.
“Your boy Paybacc…I’m his supplier.” Creeper informed Gangsta.
“How do you know we got funk with’em?” Gangsta’s brows furrowed.
“Creeper and I have a rapport.” Black Jesus interjected. “Naturally this enemy of yours name came up. That’s not all either. You guys may have an enemy in common. You know, Arsenegger? That crooked detective that’s been riding you like a wild bronco? Well, Creeper seems to think he murdered his brother.”
“I can tell you right now, that D is as dirty as they come. I wouldn’t put it past him.” Gangsta stated seriously. “Now back to Paybacc, how’d you come into contact with him?”
“Through a customer of mine, he goes by the name of Domino.” Creeper told him.
“Domino from Eastside Crips?” Pavielle asked from behind black sunglasses. The sun bounced off the side of them and birthed a sparkle.
“Yeah, that’s him. He brought him to me.” Creeper confirmed.
“Do you know where we can find this mothafucka?” Gouch asked.
Creeper shook his head and said, “No. But I am supposed to meet him for a re-up around seven o’clock tonight.” He glanced at the presidential Rolex that adorned his wrist.
“Where at?” Gangsta inquired, folding his arms to his chest. He appeared to be visibly interested in what Creeper had to say.
Creeper told him the address where he was to meet Paybacc to re-up. The Vato’s forehead wrinkled once he saw that Gangsta wasn’t writing anything down. “Don’t chu think you should be writing this down?” he asked.
“It’s all upstairs.” Gangsta pointed to his temple. “Listen, I appreciate chu hitting us with this info. I’m sure you have an idea of what’s going to happen once we get ahold of this cat. That means you’re going to be losing out on business, so why lead this dude to a slaughter? What’s in it for you? What do you want?”
“I’m doing this outta love for Jesus and Bullet, they’re my brothers.” Creeper told him. “They say you’re a standup guy, I could always use one of those in my circle. All I want outta this is your friendship.” He extended his hand and Gangsta shook it. “There’s one more thing.”
“Ahhh, the catch, there’s always one. What is it?” Gangsta smirked.
“Arsenegger…he’s mine.” Creeper said with fierceness in his eyes.
“You got that.” Gangsta slapped hands with him and embraced him.
The deal was chiseled in stone.
That night
Banga sat up in bed peering up at Killa Dre through hooded eyes. He was so high off of morphine that he could barely make heads or tails of where he was or who he was talking to. The night before the Doc had come out to Pavielle’s home re-stitched, stapled, and bandaged his wound. Now he lay in bed with his lady to take care of him.
Killa Dre snapped his fingers and waved his hand before Banga’s eyes. “Are you here with me, Blood? How many fingers am I holding up?” he held up the middle-finger.
Killa Dre smiled. “Man, you’re so shit faced right now.”
“Yeahhhhhh, buddy, this morphine is something…something wonderful.” Bang smiled happily. “I haven’t felt this good since…since…shit, a nigga ain’t never felt this good.” He chuckled.
“Don’t go turning junkie on me now.”
“Nah, never that, I done seen what drugs do to people, fam. How stupid would I be to fall victim to some shit that I know is bad for me?”
“I feel you, but how many niggaz know what drugs do to people, but still choose to Tango with addiction?”
“True that.” Banga agreed. “We’re all dogs, but I’ma different breed.”
“Two sho’,” Killa Dre nodded and glanced at his G-shock. “Well, look I gotta go. I’ll come back to check on you once I take care of this business.”
“You know I’m nosy, right? What business?”
Killa Dre leaned closer. “You know old boy that hit the trap with them broads? Well, we’ve gotta lead on dude, got it setup so he’ll come right to us.”
“Blood is a part of the crew that set it off on me, baby bro and Monk.” Banga said, hearing the name of the cat that orchestrated the hit on he and his brother damn near made him sober up. “Peanut, get my guns!” he yelled out to his girlfriend. When he threw the covers from his person and tried to get up, but pain shot through his stomach. He grimaced and Killa Dre helped him back in bed.
“You’re in no shape to put in work.” Killa Dre covered Banga back up. “Get yourself some rest; me and the homies can handle this.”
“Alright,” Banga nodded. He was too weak to put up a fight. “You just make sure you put a couple hot ones in that son of a bitch in honor of baby bro and Monk.”
Killa Dre gave Banga a nod then grasped his hand firmly in a display of love and comradery. “I’m up.” The young nigga rose from his iron-chair and left the bedroom.
$$$
“So, where this pussy at?” Wacko asked from the backseat. His head was beneath a hood and his eyes were behind black sunglasses. His hand was wrapped up in a blue bandana, which concealed the banger he was clutching. He was ready to add another body to his resume.
“42nd and Halldale, we’re almost there.” Paybacc said from the passenger seat where he was taking pulls from a blunt and exhausting smoke. He had a black beanie pulled over his brows and his hulking frame filled out a black sweatshirt.
“What’s up with you, cuz? You haven’t said shit the whole ride.” Wacko asked Domino as he took the blunt from Paybacc.
Domino looked up at Wacko through the rearview and shook his head. “I’m good. Just thinking on how this nigga ran off with this dough, fronting on the team like we’re soft or something. Shit really got me heated, cuz.”
Wacko nodded and blew smoke from his nose. “I feel you, Loc. But once I slump this chump the rest of these niggaz are gonna get the message loud and clear: don’t fuck with us. So, don’t wet this shit. Sit back, relax, and bare witness to my G.”
Wacko’s appetite for ghetto stardom would be his undoing. Paybacc had cooked up a story about some cat robbing one of his stash houses and making off with a hundred racks. He told the little nigga that he knew exactly where the dude was, knowing that the youth was hungry to earn a reputation and would be down to put in the work.
Paybacc and Domino were driving Wacko out to a crack head’s house that they’d rented out. Payback would allow Wacko to enter the house first then come in behind him to put one in the back of his skull, ending his life.
Paybacc’s cell phone rang and he answered it.
“What’s cracking?” he spoke into his cellular. “I actually had something on the line. What’s with the time change? Six?” he glanced at the clock on his cell phone. “Shit, that’s thirty minutes from now. Short ass notice; alright, fuck it. Peace.” He hung up and looked to Domino. “Turn this bitch around, Creeper moved the meeting up.”
“For what?” Domino asked as he busted a U-turn.
Paybacc shrugged. “All he said was that something came up, so I don’t know. I already got the dough in the trunk, so just slide to the address. You remember it?”
Domino nodded yes.
“Ah, cuz, I thought I was about to go split me a nigga.” Wacko stated disappoint-ed and set back in the seat.
“Oh, nah, that business is getting handled tonight, so I hope you’re still in killa mode then.” Paybacc looked to the backseat.
“I’m always in killa mode, cuz.” Wacko assured him.
$$$
“He should be here any minute now.” Creeper glanced at his Rolex while his other hand gripped a 12 gauge shotgun. He was standing in the far right corner of the living room of the condemned house.
“How many are coming in?” Gouch asked from the far left corner, holding an AK-47 with an extended banana clip. His trigger finger was itching to give a squeeze and catch a body.
“Three. But he may come in alone.” Creeper told him.
“You all right, Dre?” Gangsta asked Killa Dre from where he stood in the top left corner, his hand wrapped around a Tec-9.
“I’m two-hundred; I can’t wait to do this nigga and get’em outta our hair.” Killa Dre said from the top right corner both hands gripping an Uzi with the extender on the barrel.
“I can’t either. Booby’s gonna text me once he sees them pull up. Just be ready.” Gangsta told him.
It was almost that time.
$$$
Domino turned on the block that their destination was on. He coasted through the avenue looking for the address.
Paybacc tapped Domino’s arm and said, “I think that’s it coming up. The peanut butter colored stucco house with the boarded up windows.”
“Mothafucka looks spookier than a bitch.” Wacko said, peering out the backseat window at the house.
“Hell yeah, looks like Freddy Kruger lives there.” Domino commented, pulling over to the side of the curb across the street from the house.
Paybacc narrowed his eyes into slits once he saw someone poke their head up from over the dashboard of an H2 Hummer. He didn’t know if he was tripping out from being high, or was he actually being spyed on. He shook the thought from his head, reasoning that the weed was making him paranoid.
$$$
“He’s here!” Gangsta announced to everyone else as he glanced at the screen of his cell phone after it vibrated on his waistline. The announcement made everyone prepare themselves for the task at hand. Their fingers settled on the triggers of their respective weapons ready to give a squeeze and turn someone into a human cheese grater. Gangsta put his finger to his lips for the silence of his comrades once he heard the doorknob of the front door twist and turn as it was being fondled. The door swung open and the streetlights outlined the silhouette of the man standing in the doorway. The man peered through the darkness making out the figures in the far corners of the living room.
“What the…” The man managed to get out before his ears were filled with gunfire. He did a funny dance on his feet as slugs hit him from every angle imaginable. Once the gunfire ceased, the man tipped over and hit the floor, face first. The blood from his form slowly began to outline his form as he lay twisted.
Gangsta rushed over to the slain man with everyone else surrounding him. He grabbed the man by his shoulder and pulled him over onto his back. The man’s face was bloody. Gaping holes covered his face and his eye had been blown out by a bullet. His one good eye was wide open and his mouth was agap. The man wasn’t Paybacc, but his face registered in Gangsta’s mental. It was Wacko from Eastside Crips.
“This isn’t him!” Gangsta announced to his comrades. At that precise moment, the sound of screeching tires filled the air followed by gunfire. Gangsta and company ran outside ready to join the firefight.
$$$
“What chu looking at, cuz?” Domino asked Paybacc. He followed his line of vision and found a Hummer at the end of it. He studied t
he Hummer but didn’t see anything out of place.
Paybacc shook his head and said, “Nothing, cuz. Mothafucking weed got me paranoid.” He brought his hand down his face and blew hard. He thought he saw another flicker of movement inside the Hummer but paid it no mind. “Yo, Wack, make that exchange for me, Loco. The dough is in that duffle bag in the hatch underneath the sparetire.”
“You won’t me to go in there?” His face balled up as he pointed to the stucco house.
“Yeah, cuz, I know lil’ Wacko from The Bottoms ain’t scared? I know he ain’t.” Paybacc asked playing on his little homie’s ego.
“Never that,” Wacko retorted. He grabbed the duffle bag from the hatch of the Yukon and hopped out of the truck. Domino and Paybacc watched as he jogged across the street and into the yard of the house. He knocked first then turned the knob. They watched as he stepped through the door. For a moment there was silence then gunfire erupted, and Wacko went down in a roar of gun smoke.
Domino grabbed his heater and went to hop out, but Paybacc grabbed his arm saying, “Nigga, are you crazy? Get the fuck outta here! That nigga’s gone.” Domino resurrected the Yukon and screeched away from the curb. “Pull upon that Hummer, cuz!” Paybacc commanded as he pulled his Tec-9 from under the passenger seat. Once Domino pulled upon the side of the Hummer, he put his arm to his chest for him to lay back. He brought his Tec-9 around with the other hand, pointing it at the driver side window of the Hummer and pulling the trigger. The Tec vibrated in Paybacc’s palm as it cut loose, igniting its muzzle. He pulled his smoking weapon back seeing that he’d only left scratches behind on the driver side window of the vehicle.