by Tranay Adams
“Nah, I got it.” Paybacc bent down and took a look at his tire. It was as good as flat. He leaned over inside of his whip to pop the trunk so he could get the spare tire and that’s when he noticed that the briefcase with the million dollars in it was gone. “Mothafucka!” he bellowed and pulled himself out of the window. He looked back and the man on the bicycle was riding off with it. Paybacc grabbed his Tec-9 from underneath his seat and ran after the man, firing at him as he went along. Winded, Paybacc stopped running and lowered his Tec-9 to his side. Hunched over, he looked on as the man rode off on his bicycle carrying the million dollars along with him. Suddenly, the man exploded sending burning Benjamin Franklins into the air and leaving a cloud of smoke behind. The explosion was so loud that it set off the car alarms of near by parked cars and imploded their windows. Paybacc couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed. He ran back to his car, tossed his Tec-9 inside and popped the trunk. He removed the spare tire and quickly changed his flat.
Present
Pavielle, Gouch, Killa Dre, Vayda, Black Jesus, Bullet and Creeper were all sitting inside of the waiting room at UCLA hospital. Everyone wore grim expressions as they impatiently waited for the doctor’s verdict. A tall, slender white man in a lab coat stepped into the waiting room stealing everyone’s attention from their thoughts. Pavielle rose from his seat and approached him. Everyone was on the edge of their seats hoping that Gangsta would be all right. Once the doctor left, Pavielle closed his eyes and hung his head. In a fit, he punched the wall and sobbed, allowing tears to cascade down his face. A weeping Vayda rose from her seat and comforted him. Gouch buried his face into the palms of his hands. A glassy eyed Killa Dre gripped his shoulder trying to console him. Black Jesus and Bullet hung their heads, while Creeper tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Everyone was devasted by the lost of Gangsta. He had impacted everyone’s life in the waiting room in one way or another. Without him they knew that life would never be the same.
Chapter Seventeen
Months Later
Vayda lay in bed with her hair in a mess and her face glistening from perspiration. She wore a loving smile as she stared down at her bundle of joy. She’d just given birth to a healthy baby boy. Pavielle stood beside her bed wearing a smile as he peered down at his son.
“Wow, babe, we created this lil’ man, he’s beautiful.” Vayda said of their baby boy.
Pavielle kissed Vayda affectionately. “What do you wanna name him?”
Vayda thought on it for a moment, then said, “Nasheed Charles Hood; after the two men that died protecting his life.” She looked to her fiancé for his input.
Pavielle nodded, “OK.”
He scooped the little Nasheed into his arms and walked around the room, cradling his seed. He talked in a tone that only him and he could hear. Little Nasheed was a mirror resemblance of his father, except he had a scalp full of dark curly hair and grey eyes. Pavielle didn’t know exactly who he’d inherited his eyes from, but he assumed it must have been from Vayda’s side of the family since he didn’t know of any relatives of his that had grey eyes.
Pavielle looked to the doorway; Gouch and Killa Dre were just stepping inside. They both wore smiles.
“Is that my nephew?” Gouch asked excitedly as he approached. Pavielle nodded and allowed his brother to take his little nephew into his arms. “Hey, man. What’s up? I’m your uncle Gucci. Welcome to the world, blood drop. Booby, this lil’ nigga looks just like you, that’s brazy.”
Gouch continued talking to little Nasheed while Vayda and Pavielle looked on. Pavielle looked over to Killa Dre who was standing beside Gouch admiring his son. The young kingpin whispered something to his lady and she nodded.
“Let Dre hold’em, Gucci.” Pavielle told his big brother. Gouch handed the baby over to Killa Dre. The young nigga beamed as he held the baby in his arms. Pavielle gripped the young boy’s shoulder and said, “Killa, me and Vay would like you to be lil’ man’s Godfather, what do you say?”
Killa Dre smiled proudly and said, “Alright.”
“We’re gonna set it up and make it official.” Pavielle told him. “But listen, if anything was to ever happen to me, you gotta take care of lil’ dude like he came out of your nut sack. Do you understand, Blood?” Killa Dre looked into Pavielle’s eyes wearing a dead serious expression and nodded yes. “Alright,” Pavielle patted him on the shoulder.
Pavielle, Gouch and Killa Dre chilled out in the cafeteria chopping it up. The night was dark and cold, so when ever they spoke they could see their white breath.
“This is a new beginning for me; I gotta fiancé and a seed now. That means I gotta get rid everything out there in this fucked up world that poses a threat to them, you Griff me? We gotta put the smash on Paybacc, Blood. Until that mothafucka is six feet under, this world ain’t safe for either of us.” Gouch and Killa Dre nodded in understanding. “Are y’all with me?”
“Blood, you ain’t even gotta ask.” Killa Dre slapped hands with Pavielle and embraced him.
“We’re brothas, nigga; you already know what it is.” Gouch embraced his little brother.
Together the collective would be a force to be reckoned with.
The next day
Beth sat behind the plexiglass impatiently waiting for her husband to come out for his visit. Arsenegger was charged with double homicide and sentenced to life without the possibility of parole. He’d been locked up at Corcoran state penitentiary for the past three months. He’d been doing his time in protective custody for a time, but after a month in he requested to be moved into general population. He knew that it was probably a bad idea given that he was an ex homicide detective and all. But he couldn’t do the remainder of his time in P.C. Twenty-three hours on lock down with only his thoughts to keep him company was starting to drive him bat shit crazy. So he decided to throw caution to the wind and take his chances in general population.
A smile emerged on Beth’s face when she saw her husband walking towards her draped in his prison uniform. His face was shaved cleaned and he’d grown his hair out. He now rocked it past his shoulders. He beamed brightly when he locked eyes with Beth and sat down on the tiny stool. He picked up the telephone and pressed it to his ear.
“Hey, beautiful,” Arsenegger addressed his wife with a loving smile.
“Hey, there, hubby,” Beth replied, happy to see her man.
“Where’s my little princess?”
“My mother’s watching her; I think she’s coming down with the flu. I’ll be sure to bring her on my next visit.”
“OK. But don’t bring her if she’s still under the weather. How is everything at home?”
“Everything is just peachy. You’ve left plenty of money to take care of me and Tonai. Though I have to admit that it isn’t much of a home without you there,” Her eyes became glassy and displayed her hurt over his incarceration.
“I know, sweetheart, and I’m sorry. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it.”
Beth wiped her tearing eyes. “So, how are you doing? Are you making it all right in here? I mean, does anyone know that you used to be a…”
“No one knows a thing. I’ve been getting by in here just fine. I ran into a couple of knuckleheads when I first got in, and I made an example out of them. After a few guys saw what I did to them, I was given a wide berth. Don’t you worry about me, I can hold my own.”
Beth closed her eyes and blew hard. She opened them and said, “Thank God. I’ve been really worried about you in here.”
“Aye, look at me,” Arsenegger knocked on the plexiglass for his wife’s attention. “This is a school of gladiators, and only the strong will survive.” He stared Beth in the eyes. “Only the strong will survive.”
Arsenegger and Beth went on with their conversation until his visit was over. He placed his palm flat on the plexiglass and his wife placed hers on top of his from the opposite side. She mouthed “I love you” and he mouthed it back.
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After the visit
Arsenegger stood before the small mirror in his cell smearing cherry Kool Aide on his lips. His hair was parted down the middle and he wore it in two pigtails. He was in a wife-beater that he wore tied into a knot above his navel. A muscular, bald head brother approached him from behind and hugged him lovingly, kissing on the side of neck and nibbling on his earlobe. Arsenegger closed his eyes trying to fight back the urge to vomit. He was repulsed by the thought of another man touching him. The bald brother turned Arsenegger around to face him and caressed his cheek. Arsenegger took his hand and sucked on his middle-finger, staring him square in his eyes. This caused the brother to smile and his dick to get as hard as steel prison bars. He pulled his meat out from the opening in his boxers and lowered Arsenegger to his knees by gently pushing his head downward. Down on his knees and face to face with a rock hard dick, Arsenegger closed his eyes to fight back the tears. He repeated what he’d told his wife “only the strong survive” before taking the hard black cock into his mouth.
$$$
Chingo was hunched over a glass table before three lines of cocaine. He had a rolled up $100 dollar bill and was snorting the white lines through it. Beside him there were a box of sandwich bags, a digital scale, two playing cards and a black Glock .9mm. Chingo was a mixture of Mexican and African American. He had the complexion of a dark skinned Latino and the features of a black man. He rocked twisties and a shallow goatee. Black shades sat at the top of Chingo’s head. He had a top row of gold teeth which spelled out his name. Homeboy was about making money, and he was not above murdering anyone that was in the way of him doing so.
After taking a line into his right nostril, Chingo lifted his head up and wiped his nose. Seeing the reflection of someone behind him in the glass table, he grabbed his Glock .9mm and whipped around. He was just about to squeeze the trigger when his vistor’s face registered inside of his head. Sighing with relief, he lowered his gun and continued to wipe his nose.
“Cuz, you scared the shit outta me.” Chingo told his uninvited guest.
“I thought I would have seen you at Domino’s service.”
“I had a few moves to make. The homie will forgive me, he knew my heart. I dropped by the repass though, and dropped a few bands on his moms.” Chingo went along snorting another line. His guest sat at the opposite end of the glass table. He leaned back in his chair and propped his boots upon the table, nestling his hands in his lap. Chingo noticed the specs of blood at the toes of his boots. “What’s up with that?” he nodded to the red stains on the man’s boots.
“Couple of youngings didn’t wanna pay their taxes; they weren’t familiar with me and my sins so I had to bring them up to speed.” The man winced. He pulled a revolver from his waistline and sat it down on the glass table. It had been digging into his hip.
Chingo looked from the revolver then up into his guest’s eyes, scowling. “Cuz, I know you didn’t come here to put the strong arm on me for no taxes. You already know that under The Three Headed Monster I operated under immunity for all that I’ve done for the set. So, if you think you’re ‘bout to put the muscle on me for some paper, we can grab our hammers and get to it. Notta drop of bitch pollutes this bloodline.” He spoke the truth from between those gold teeth of his. He may have been a lot of things but he for damn sure wasn’t no punk ass nigga.
“Be easy, Loco, I’m not here for that.” He held up his hands to let Chingo know he came in peace. “I just came by to see if you were going to be with me when I go to pay a call upon Mr. Booby Loco. I’m recruiting a pack of hungry young wolves for this special mission, and I want chu to be the pick of the litter.”
Chingo’s nodded and said, “I’m with chu, cuzzo. I fucked with Domino and Nightmare, and Wacko was the homie; a trill nigga fa’ sho’.” He pounded his fist to his chest.
The man smirked and nodded. “Good.”
He walked over to Chingo’s end of the table and picked up the rolled up $100 dollar bill. He snorted a line, leant his head back, and pinched his nose shut so he wouldn’t sneeze. Feeling the effects of the powdered substance, his eyes rolled to their whites and his body shook. “That’s some decent coke, who’s your connect, cuz?” He flicked and wiped his nose.
“What’s it to you, Paybacc?”
Elsewhere
Porno lay back on his plush black leather couch smoking a fat ass Kush blunt while a slim blonde’s head bobbed up and down his dick. Slurping sounds bounced off the walls of the living room. While the Becky handled her business, Porno read over an old news paper clipping. Its headline read: Dirty detective sentenced to life in prison. There was a picture of Arsenegger inside the court room standing before a judge. Porno smiled victoriously.
To Be Continued…
Me and My Hittas 5
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