Knee Deep in the Game

by Boston George

  “Fuck that, I’m about to go crash that shit,” Tito said. “You coming?”

  “What you think, I’ma stay here and just let you have all the fun? Fuck outta here,” Bamboo said as he, Tito, and Tito’s entourage made their exit.

  “Damn, it’s hot as fuck out here,” Rusty complained, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a rag. “I ain’t never seen this many freeloader in my life.”

  “It’s all about giving back,” Fresh laughed as he saw Vanessa walking in his direction.

  “Hey, daddy, what’s up?” Vanessa said as she kissed Fresh on the lips.

  “Damn, baby, it’s about time you got here,” Fresh said playfully as he palmed her ass. “I thought you got lost for a second.”

  “Shit, it took me like thirty minutes to find a place to park,” Vanessa said, smiling.

  “It’s enough niggas out here to make a Tarzan movie,” Rusty said as the three busted out laughing.

  “You better go get you a plate before it’s all gone” Fresh said.

  “Yeah, I think I’ma go do that,” Vanessa said as she walked over toward the grill.

  “Loosen up and enjoy yourself,” Fresh said, throwing two phantom punches at Rusty.

  “I’m good,” Rusty said, bobbing his head to the music. Everybody at the cookout was enjoying themselves and having a good time. Vanessa stood over in the shade sipping on some bottle. Lil Wayne’s new song, “Always Strapped,” came blasting through the speakers, getting everybody hype.

  “Damn, baby, you over here looking all lonely and shit,” Derrick said, approaching Vanessa. Derrick was a petty hustler from around the way who thought he was a player, but really he wasn’t about nothing. “Looks like you can use some company,” he said, draping his arm around her neck.

  “Yo, my man,” Vanessa said, removing Derrick’s arm from around her neck. “It’s mad hot out here; I’ma need you to back up just a taste.”

  “Don’t act like that, ma, I was just coming over to keep you company ’cause you was over here looking all lonely and shit,” Derrick said, grabbing her hand.

  “That was nice, but I’m good,” Vanessa said, still trying to be polite.

  “Come dance with me,” Derrick said, pulling Vanessa closer to him.

  “Maybe later,” she said, pulling her hand back.

  “But I’m saying, though,” Derrick said seductively, getting all up in Vanessa’s face. “A nigga can’t get a dance?” he said, sliding his hand on Vanessa’s ass.

  “Nigga, don’t fuckin’ touch my ass,” Vanessa barked. “Fuck is wrong with you.”

  “Bitch, shut the fuck up!” Derrick said, debating on whether he should smack the shit out of her.

  “Make me, mu’fucka!” Vanessa countered.

  Fresh and Rusty stood over on the other side of the park dissing some corny nigga, when Rusty peeped what was going on, on the other side of the park.

  “Yo, fam, ain’t that Vanessa over there?” Rusty said, pointing over to where Derrick stood, looking like he was about to hit her.

  Fresh pulled his shades down so he could get a better look. “Who that, Derrick?”

  “Yup,” Rusty answered, quickly instigating. Once Rusty saw Fresh head over in that direction, he and a few of the goons quickly followed his lead.

  “Whack-ass bitch” Derrick said, sipping from his cup of Henny.

  “If I’m so wack why is you sweating me?” Vanessa asked with her face screwed up. “Bum-ass nigga.”

  “Sweating you?” Derrick said with a confused look on his face. “You can’t be serious. You out here looking like a fiend with a fat ass. Get the fuck outta here!”

  “Your mother look like a fiend,” Vanessa shot back. Those last words really hit Derrick’s heart because his mother was really on drugs.

  “What?” Derrick said, stepping toward Vanessa.

  “You heard me,” she said, taking a step back.

  Just as Derrick was about to swing he a felt punch to the side of his head. Before he knew what was going on he felt punches coming from all angles. Once Derrick fell to the ground Fresh stomped his head into the ground until Rusty and the rest of the crew had to pull him off of.

  “Yo, chill, you gon’ fuck around and kill this nigga by accident,” Rusty said, holding Fresh back. Once the scuffle was over Remy Martin’s song, “Conceited,” came blasting from the speakers and everybody continued on partying like a man didn’t just get beat half to death.

  “Look at these clowns,” Bamboo said, sitting in the driver’s seat of the van.

  “I’m about to dump on these niggas,” Tito said, ready to get it poppin’.

  “Hold up while I get a little closer,” Bamboo said, slowly cruising past.

  “Look at these faggots,” Tito said as he watched Fresh and his crew jump Derrick. “Man, fuck all this dump,” he said as he stuck his Mac 11 out the window and let it spit. Once Tito let that thing off his flunkies snatched open the side door on the van and began popping shots as well.

  “You a’ight?” Rusty asked, handing Fresh a drink.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” Fresh replied, sipping on his drink. “I can’t never just chill and enjoy myself.”

  Just as Rusty was about reply a series of gunshots rang out. Immediately everybody got low and began running for cover. Fresh quickly pulled his .45 and began returning fire as he backed away.

  Rusty took cover behind a tree as he returned fire. Once Tito ran out of bullets Bamboo put the pedal to the metal.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Tito yelled once they were on the highway. “I hit like twenty of them niggas,” he boasted.

  Once all the shots finished ringing out Fresh quickly ran over to where Vanessa stood. “You a’ight?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine I just skinned my knee when I heard the gunshots,” Vanessa said as she and Fresh headed to their car along with everybody before the cops arrived.

  “How much is this?” Pop asked.

  “That’s five stacks right there,” Jason answered, handing Pop the stack of money.

  “Yo, grab that work from out of that milk crate for me,” Pop said as he exited the basement of the bodega.

  Once he stepped outside Pop saw fiends coming left and right. “Another day, another dollar,” he said to himself, taking a breath of fresh air.

  “Yo, I’ll be right back I’m about to go hand out these packs real quick,” Jason said as he went to handle his business.

  As Pop stood on the block, he wondered what would be the better choice: to tell Fresh he wanted out or should he not say anything, and just be out?

  Pop’s thoughts were rudely interrupted when he noticed five cars pull up back-to-back right across the street from him. “What the fuck is this?” he asked himself as he watched at least fifteen guys hop out the vehicles posting up directly across the street.

  “Who the fuck are these niggas?” Jason asked, reappearing on the scene.

  “I don’t know but we about to find out I’m guessing,” Pop responded. Two minutes later Pop saw Tito cruise by slowly in his Porsche with an evil smirk on his face.

  “Yo, J, go strap up!” Pop ordered.

  “Say no more,” Jason said as he disappeared inside of the bodega. “Yo, Mannie pass me that toaster,” he said to the store owner. Without hesitation Mannie handed Jason a .40-caliber from behind the counter.

  “Yo, shorty, du-wop,” Pop called out to one of his young workers. “Yo, take this Benz and pull around to the back of the bodega,” Pop said, tossing his worker the keys to his Benz.

  “You want me to clear this shit out?” Jason asked, reappearing on the scene clutching the .40-caliber.

  “Yeah, clear this shit the fuck out,” Pop ordered as he headed for the bodega. Immediately Jason raised the .40 cal, and let it pop. Bak, bak, bak, bak, bak!

  The fifteen men quickly scrambled to hop back in their vehicles they came in. Unfortunately, only fourteen of the men made it off the block alive.

  Once Jason cleared out the b
lock he quickly ran inside the bodega. “Here, take this, I’m out,” he said, handing Mannie back the .40-caliber as he slid out the back door right into the passenger’s seat of the awaiting Benz.

  “Clockwork,” Pop chuckled as he stepped on the gas.

  “Yo, what you wanna do for your birthday?” Tito asked as he stopped at the red light.

  “Nothing really, I just want to spend the night with you,” Maria replied.

  “Damn, you don’t want to do nothing?” Tito asked, clearly disappointed.

  “I just want to spend the night with you only, just you and me,” Maria whined as she slid her fingers in between his.

  “We can do that,” Tito sighed. “My man just text me, he over at this lounge downtown. I told him to check it out for me, I was thinking about buying it.” He paused. “Let’s swing down there for about twenty minutes then I promise we can leave, and spend the rest of the night together,” he said waiting for her response.

  “Twenty minutes and that’s it,” Maria said flatly.

  Twenty-five minutes later, Tito parked across the street from the lounge.

  “Twenty minutes,” Maria said reminding her man so he knew she was serious. As soon as the couple stepped inside the lounge it was packed. The music was blasting and people were all around doing their own thing. Tito quickly made his way over to the bar to where a few of his Spanish goons stood.

  “What you think of the place?” Tito asked, handing Maria a cup of Grey Goose and pineapple juice—her favorite.

  “I like it,” she answered looking at the potential the place had. She knew Tito was a hustler and that he could make something out of nothing, so whatever her man had in mind she was behind him a hundred percent.

  “I get this popping, then I won’t have to be out in the streets too tough,” Tito lied, trying to get Maria to see things his way.

  “I like this, plus it’s in a good location,” she added, looking around.

  “I got big plans for this place,” Tito said, rubbing his hands together. “Let me talk to my man for five minutes, then we gon’ be out.”

  “Okay, baby,” she said as she helped herself to a seat on the empty bar stool. She sat on the bar stool, bobbing her head to the music, when she noticed Rusty enter the lounge followed by men. As soon as she Rusty she knew some shit was about to go down. Maria looked over at Tito and saw that crazy look in his eyes.

  “Yo, Tony,” Tito yelled, calling over the big bouncer. “You see those three niggas that just walked in?”

  “Yeah, what about them?” Tony asked, looking over at the three men.

  “Do me a favor, go ask your partner did he pat those three men down over there,” Tito said, slipping a fifty-dollar bill in Tony’s hand.

  Tito headed over to the bar as he watched Tony go over and talk to the other bouncer. “Yo, let me get a bottle of champagne,” Tito yelled over the counter to the bartender.

  “Yeah, they clean,” Tony said, returning to the bar.

  “A’ight, cool,” Tito said as he noticed Rusty and his two soldiers coming over to the bar. From the look on Rusty’s face Tito could tell that the man was coming toward the bar for some action.

  “Hey,” Tony said, placing his paw on Rusty’s chest. “Don’t come in here with all that.”

  Rusty quickly slapped the big man’s hand away and stole on him. As Tony went stumbling backward, Tito viciously busted the champagne bottle over Rusty’s head. Once Rusty hit the floor one of the men he came in with punched Tito in the face, then all hell broke loose. Since the majority of the people in the lounge were Spanish, the once-even fight turned into a one-sided battle. People who didn’t even have nothing to do with the situation took turns stomping on Rusty and the two men he came in with. After about ten minutes of beating and pounding on the three men, Tony and the rest of the bouncers dragged Rusty and the two men he came in with out back into the alley like they were trash.

  “Stupid mu’fucka!” Tito growled as he spit right on Rusty’s face. “Fuck you think this shit is a game,” he said out loud as he searched through Rusty’s pockets, stripping him of all his jewelry and money. “Tell that bitch Fresh he’s next,” Tito said as he gave Rusty one last kick.

  “Who?” Fresh yelled into the phone. “Fuck that, get there now,” he said, hanging up the phone. Fresh stood up from his desk and removed his .45 from the small of his back and checked the magazine.

  “Fuck that I ain’t got time for all this waiting shit,” he said, looking over at Tim, who was a new goon that Rusty had just hired the other day. “Yo, strap up you coming with me.”

  “What’s wrong?” Tim asked nervously as he grabbed his baby Uzi and stuck a fresh magazine in the base.

  “I just got word Rusty in the hospital,” Fresh said with a disgusted look on his face. “That mu’fucka, Tito,” he huffed as he slid in the passenger seat of the minivan.

  “Where we headed?” Tim asked as he started up the van and pulled out into traffic.

  “First, we going to swing by the lounge where they found Rusty and light that shit the fuck up,” Fresh said in a calm tone as he sat back and threw on his black shades.

  Twenty minutes later, Tim pulled up across the street from the lounge. “This the lounge right here?” he asked.

  “Yeah, pass me that Uzi,” Fresh said, tossing his hood on his head. “Swing this bitch around,” he said, rolling down his window.

  In front of the lounge stood Tony and few other bouncers standing around talking shit.

  “What’s poppin’?” Fresh said with a smile. The last thing Tony saw was his reflection in Fresh’s shades before his body got riddled and rocked. Fresh squeezed the trigger until he ran out of bullets. The front of the lounge was filled with holes and shattered glass everywhere.

  Once Tim heard the Uzi stop spitting, he immediately gunned the engine, fleeing the scene.

  “Where we headed now?” Tim asked, driving like a madman.

  “Slow this mu’fucka down,” Fresh said, reloading the Uzi. “We going to Tito’s first cousin’s crib,” he said as he punched her address in the navigational system.

  “Which house?” Tim asked, slowly cruising down the block.

  “The third house on the right,” Fresh answered, pointing to the house.

  “You need me to get out?” Tim asked as he pulled up in the driveway.

  “Nah, just keep this bitch running,” Fresh said as he slid out the passenger seat and headed toward the front door of the house. Once in front of the door he knocked with the barrel of his .45.

  Jasmine opened the door with a big smile on her face. “Hey, Fresh,” she said, sliding in his arms for a hug. “Where you been, I haven’t seen you around in a while,” she said, stepping to the side so he could come in.

  “My bad, I just been mad busy,” Fresh replied. “Is Tito here? I need to holla at him for a second.”

  “Nah, I haven’t seen him in a while either,” Jasmine said, walking over to the kitchen. “You want something to drink?”

  “No, thank you,” Fresh politely declined. He felt bad on the inside because he really liked Jasmine. Throughout the years she was always there when the team needed her. Whether it was holding drugs in her house, taking trips out of town, setting someone up, whatever it was, she was always down.

  “Why you got on that hoodie and those dark shades?” Jasmine asked with a smile. Her smile quickly faded away when she saw the .45 in Fresh’s hand.

  “No, no don’t do this Fresh,” she pleaded as she backed up. “Whatever is going on with you and Tito has nothing to do with me,” she cried as her back hit the counter. She quickly reached over and grabbed a knife from off the dish rack. “Fresh, please don’t do this,” she begged as tears rolled down her face.

  “Put that knife down,” Fresh said in a calm tone.

  “Please don’t do this,” Jasmine begged as she dropped the knife and dropped down to her knees. “Please, Fresh,” she continued to beg.

  Fresh slowly walked over to
Jasmine and he grabbed a handful of her hair with one hand as he struck her repeatedly in her exposed face with the gun until she was no longer recognizable. Once Fresh finished beating the woman he roughly tossed her to the floor and aimed his .45 at Jasmine’s head.

  “Please, Fresh, don’t do this,” she begged for her life. Fresh had his gun trained on Jasmine’s head, but he just couldn’t pull the trigger for some reason. Jasmine really didn’t have nothing to do with nothing, but Fresh had to send a message to Tito.

  “I’m sorry,” Fresh whispered as he turned around and exited the house.

  “Thank you, Fresh! she yelled as she watched his departing back exit her home. Jasmine lay on the floor thanking God that Fresh didn’t kill her. She knew for a fact that if she had been anyone else she would be a dead woman right now.

  “Everything went okay in there?” Tim asked, noticing he didn’t hear no gunshots go off inside the house.

  “Yeah, everything is good,” Fresh answered quickly. “Take me home, I need to get some rest,” he told him.

  “No problem,” Tim said, doing as he was told. He could tell something was wrong with Fresh, but he played it cool and decided to just mind his business.

  “This shit done got personal,” Tito said, filling his cup up to the top with straight Hennessy.

  “How you wanna play it?” Bamboo asked, playing with his .357

  “Somebody gon’ have to die,” Tito said simply. “I’m tired of playing with these clowns.”

  “Fuck it, I got my hit squad already on standby, just give me the word,” Bamboo said.

  “Nah, fuck that I gotta do this shit myself,” Tito said, looking at his P89. Fresh was the one who taught him everything he knew. So he knew the shit wouldn’t end until one of them got killed.

  “I got a plan,” Bamboo said, loading his .357. “You used to work for Fresh, right?”

  “Yeah, and?”