by Dion Perkins
He merged onto I-80 and just drove. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew that the police were looking for him. When he saw the tipped-over blue barrels of flour, he knew that the Ukrainians wanted him too. Tony decided that he needed a gun.
He asked himself, “Who the fuck can I holla at? Yes, Flaco!” He remembered one of the dudes that he had met in rehab.
Flaco was a real skinny Puerto Rican kid who could fight well. He had always kept in touch with Tony, and now Tony needed him. He pulled out his cell phone and called Flaco’s number.
“Hello?”
“Flaco, my man! I need you, dude!”
“Who dis? Tone?”
“Yeah, what up?”
Flaco was happy to hear from Tony, “Yo, what up, my nigga? What you need?”
“Well, I got four hundred, and I need a little fire power, ya dig?”
“You said four? Bet! Yo, come through. I got you!”
Tony said, “All right. I’ll be there in a minute.” Tony found himself in the Bronx in less than 15 minutes, but then he thought about the briefcase. Shit! I can’t leave that shit in the car and get out. Damn! He decided to just take it with him.
He parked about one block over and got out to walk. It was a pleasant evening, and the jacket he wore was making him hot, but he was going be quick. He lit a Marlboro as his stomach felt queasy. As he walked past some young boys, they called out.
“Yo, white boy! I got that butter, baby.”
He thought long and hard about his situation. Damn! Here I am, a white boy in the Bronx, carrying a lot of cash. He decided to keep it moving.
Not so long ago, he would have gotten lost in the Bronx with some hooker, doing drugs until he got robbed, beat, or put in jail. Times had changed. No matter how much his body hurt, he would not disrespect his father’s dying wish.
He spotted Flaco on the corner with two men. “Flaco, what up?”
“Pretty Boy Tone! What up, nigga?” He hugged Tony as if he was a long-lost brother.
“You been a’ight, my man?” Flaco asked.
“Yeah, you know. Shit has changed, Flaco. Man, my pops died,” he said, his heart heavy.
“Oh, word? Damn! I’m sorry to hear that shit, dawg,” he said as he reached in and gave his friend a hug. “Well here, check this out. Come on.”
He followed Flaco into the hallway, up one flight of stairs, and into an apartment. “Wait here.” Flaco left him standing in a living room. On the wall were all sorts of saints, candles all over the place, and an old lady sat on a plastic-covered couch watching a Spanish soap opera. He looked at the girls on the TV screen and thought, Damn! Maybe I should go to Puerto Rico!
“Yo, come here.” Tony walked down the hall, and as he entered the room, he was impressed. Flaco had everything from shotguns to Uzis. Tony said, “Cool, my man! Look at you!”
“What you need, my nigga? This is on me. A present, fam! You my people and we always looked out for each other. I know if you calling me, something serious about to go down. So, what also comes with this gift from me is a guarantee that whenever you need me, I’ll be there in a fuckin’ heartbeat!”
Tony was touched. He reached into the briefcase, grabbed a stack of hundred-dollar bills that were marked $5000. He handed the cash to his friend and said, “Buy your mom something nice, like a flat-screen.” Then he grabbed a Glock 45 along with three cartridges and said, “Thanks, man! I love you! Stay cool, Flaco.” With that, Tony left the building and headed back to his car.
As he walked, he felt somewhat safer but not much. A bullet always seems to equalize a situation, he thought. He pulled his keys out and hit the alarm. Beep-beep. Then….
“Yo, white boy! What’s in the briefcase?”
He turned around to see four men walking fast toward him.
“Oh shit, fuck!” Tony tried to hurry up and get to the car. The men were quicker; they had him surrounded in less than three seconds. “Wait, fellas, wait!” he protested, one hand in the air, surrendering. “Wait, let me reach into my pocket. I have some cash.”
As he pulled out the cash, one of the men snatched it while another punched him really hard in the back of his head. Tony was dizzy, but he refused to drop the briefcase,
He knew that something had happened, but just what he had no clue. What he did know was that he had the .45. As he stumbled forward, he was already reaching for the Glock. He let one shot fly. Pop!
The men screamed, “Oh shit!”
One dude reached into his jeans as if he was going to grab a gun, but he was too slow. Pop! Pop! Pop! Tony laid the man down.
The other guy drew his weapon just as Tony dove behind a car. He let loose again. Boom! Boom! Boom! The window of a nearby car shattered, and holes appeared in the side of the car.
The trio took off running, but Tony didn’t know that. He was reloading and preparing for war when he heard, “Yo, Tony!”
He looked behind him and saw his boy Flaco running down the street. He was with four other men who were carrying assault rifles.
“What the fuck?” Tony stood still when he saw them and pointed his gun toward the street where the men had just fired on him.
“Yo, my girl Julie called us. She heard them talking in front of the door about robbing you. Sorry I’m late, my nigga, but it seems like you took care of shit yourself! My man!” He gave Tony a fist bump. He continued. “Don’t worry, we know who the other motherfuckers are. I’ll handle that one for you. Get out of here, my nigga. Peace!”
Tony jumped into his car and took off down the road. He got back on the highway. “What the fuck else is going to happen? Fuck!” he said. As he drove, he realized that he was in bad shape. Tony didn’t know how long he could go without his drug, but he really didn’t have a clue as to what he was in for.
He had the cash up front with him and would look over at the briefcase every few minutes. Tony wanted to turn around and head back to New York.
No, no, no, he thought. He could see his father’s image in his mind’s eye as he heard his voice: “Please, promise me, Tony. Promise.”
He said out loud, “I promise, Dad!” He pushed the gas pedal down to the floor and headed west. He had no idea what he would do, and he knew he had the finances to do it.
He also knew that if they caught up to him, he was a dead man. Tony figured that he might as well keep it moving again. He thought about all the shit he had been through in the past few days. Suddenly, it occurred to him. “Holy shit! I haven’t slept in a couple of days!”
With his father gone from this Earth, he didn’t care about eating, sleeping, or any other thing. As he drove down I-80, he saw that the next rest stop was 80 miles away. He got off at one of the towns off the highway and went to the store. He bought some cigarettes and a lot of beer, planning to drive until he saw a hotel sign, where he would stop and check in.
But it didn’t quite work out that way. He was in pain. He had been on the road for a quite a while. Tony felt something horrible happening. It felt as if someone was inside of him trying to break his bones ever so slowly.
“Ahh!” he screamed out loud. If anyone had been nearby, he probably would have been punched in the face for screaming so loudly.
He pulled over to the side of the highway and exited his vehicle. Nausea did more than just set in. It came on full force. Tony began to throw up over and over again. Since he had not eaten, he was vomiting yellow bile.
Tony screamed loudly and hugged his body as tightly as he could. But no matter what he did, the intense pain would not go away. His body craved drugs, but he told himself no. “No! No! No, no! Nooo! Help me!” he cried out in the darkness.
Tony got back in his car and sat in pain for what seemed like an hour or so. He was fighting a demon and all the while, the promise to his father was planted firmly in his mind. Tony had to do this. He jumped back behind the wheel
and peeled out. He needed to get inside someplace safe.
He knew not the day, the time, nor for how long he had been out here. The feeling of withdrawal was much worse than he expected. As he drove, he spotted an illuminated sign that flashed the word MOTEL.
He pulled over, nearly hitting someone, but he managed to get into a parking space. Barely able to talk, he somehow managed to secure a room. He was able to get it because the young girl behind the counter admired him. Although he looked like he was about to die, she thought that he was the best-looking thing that she had ever seen. Tony noticed her too, even though he was jacked up.
She smiled, reached out, and grabbed his hand. “Hi, my name is Becky. I think maybe I should help you with your bags, sir.”
He smiled. “I only have this one bag.”
“Well, you don’t look well. How ’bout I help you to your room, sir.”
“Sure thing,” he said.
The young girl called to the back. “Gene, I’ll be right back. Watch the front desk!” She raced around the counter to hold the door open for Tony.
“Thank you, Becky,” Tony said. All of a sudden, Boom! the pain kicked in. “Ahh!” he dropped to his knees, unable to move.
Becky rushed to him. The scream was so loud that Gene came from behind the counter. “What the hell is going on out here?”
Gene was a funny-looking white guy with thinning hair in the front and oversize glasses. He walked out with a porno magazine in his hand and a hard-on in his jeans. It looked as if a little pinky finger was sticking out of his pants.
“Becky,” he said, “that boy ain’t right.” He looked back behind the counter and thought, I can send Becky out and get me a little jerk session going. “You should, uh, stay with the man for a while. I got the front desk.”
“Okay, Uncle Gene,” Becky replied.
Tony didn’t know what the hell was going on, but somehow the young girl managed to get him into the room. She opened the door, walked in, and plopped him onto the bed. He rolled over and hugged himself as tightly as he could. She looked at him with sadness. She wanted to help him. “Pain,” he said out loud. “Oh God! It hurts. Please, oh God!”
She walked over to him slowly and sat on the bed. Becky didn’t know what to do. “If you’re in pain, maybe I can take your mind off of it, at least for a little while,” she said. She stood in front of him and let her dress fall to the floor. No matter how much pain Tony was in, pussy always seemed to make him feel better.
The young girl was a little chubby, but she was definitely a cutie pie. She had long, blonde hair and hazel eyes. What he liked most about Becky was her candy-apple country accent. She was sweet. The girl got on her knees in front of Tony. She unzipped his pants, slowly pulled his manhood out, and inserted it in her mouth. Initially, he was flaccid. As she moved her tongue masterfully around the head, it grew in her mouth. She seemed to enjoy the feeling of it getting hard in her mouth. Becky reached down between her legs and began to play with herself while she sucked him. The more it grew, the hornier she became.
“Mm, mmm!” she moaned loudly as she took him down her throat. She was pleased that it had grown to a good size. She removed her other hand and was now bent over in front of him.
Tony was happy that he had run into someone who knew what she was doing. He leisurely moved his hands behind his head and began to moan. “Oh shit!” he said, watching the girl perform as if she had an audience. Tony looked down and he noticed that the girl was dripping love juice on the floor. It seemed that someone had turned on a faucet. “Oh shit!” Tony sat up and watched her masturbate while she deep-throated him. It felt as though he had passed her throat and had gone into her stomach. He had no choice but to reach down and grab the back of her head.
“Fuck me!” he moaned loudly in her ear. And as turned on as she already was, when she heard that moan come out of Tony, she let out a high-pitched squeal as if she was in a country hoedown.
“Yee-haw!” she yelled as she slapped the sides of her legs really hard and took him down her throat. With her left hand, she shoved four fingers into her soaking-wet pussy.
Tony didn’t know if it was the drug withdrawal or reality, but what he just saw was like a scene from a movie. He pictured Becky moving in slow motion, splashing her cum all over the room, hitting the walls, the floorboards, the ceiling. He was sure that he was dripping wet.
In a fantasy dream state, Tony shook his head from side to side, trying to get all of the water off of him. He stuck his tongue out and licked the entire room. He began to laugh hysterically while the young girl mounted him. Becky had never been with anybody as good-looking or as crazy as Tony.
“Damn!” she loved it, yelling out and moaning as she thrust him deep inside her wetness.
But what Tony saw was the amazing body of a beautiful, curvy girl jumping high in the air, doing an effortless split in midair, and coming straight down on him real slow. When she hit the bottom, more of her juices stained the walls, his face, and the ceiling. He was loving it. Tony felt no pain, only all pleasure.
The girl couldn’t believe it. She had never wanted to fuck somebody so badly in her life. From the moment that she saw him, she knew that she would have him. Tony had that flow with every woman he came across. Even married women did whatever they had to in order to take care of him.
All of a sudden, his phone rang. Tony, however, saw a big roller coaster with a midget at the bottom of it, turning it around and around. The bell was going on with every turn. Then the roller coaster turned into the girl, spinning around on him with her legs in the air as if she was floating. Of course, more juices splashed his face, but this time he thought that he would drown. Tony struggled to swim to the top of the pussy river. One, two, three strokes. Wait, was he swimming or was he fucking? He realized that his strokes weren’t swimming strokes, but fuck strokes.
Oh, shit! Becky’s young kitty was feeling too incredible! “Man, what the fuck?!” Tony yelped, flipping the girl over and starting to long-dick her.
In the corner of the room, a little red light came on, but nobody in the room noticed. They were too busy to notice.
As the camera zoomed in, Uncle Gene sat in a little room that he had built some years earlier. Here he could watch small monitors of footage taken by hidden video cameras that he had placed in every room. Nobody knew about it. He built this room in the back of the motel and never let anyone in. As he zoomed in on his niece and Tony, Gene pulled out his little pecker and began to whack off. How funny he looked. His tiny penis was no bigger than his pinky. He was a nerd who wore big glasses. When he jerked off, his head bopped up and down extra hard, and his glasses flopped all over the place. He got so into jerking off that he made a crazy noise like Nn, Nn, Nnoo-oo and then fell over to the side, crushing his already-smashed glasses. He needed more tape to fix them again.
From the time he turned the camera on, it took only one minute and ten seconds for him to pull his pinky out and nut all over himself. “Wow!” he said as he shut the light off, locked down his private spot, and hurried back to the front lobby.
Tony and the young girl had fallen asleep. In the middle of the night, Becky snuck out while Tony slept. Before she left, she kissed him softly and whispered, “Thank you.”
Tony was able to sleep securely knowing the Glock was under his pillow. With the intensity of the drug and his lack of sleep, he was in zombie land. The front door of the room creaked open. A shadow slowly moved across the room as if it were a ghost. Tony lay butt-ass naked on the bed, his right hand under the pillow, the rest of his ripped body in plain sight. The shadow watched the body of the man for a minute as a small moan escaped from its direction. In the darkness, Tony squirmed and moaned loudly. In an instant, the shadow was gone, and, along with it, so was Tony’s briefcase.
Veto Santoro
In the back of a small, Italian restaurant sat five dons. At a table next to them
were underbosses. Each man had a meal in front of him. They all had some type of scrumptious pasta with large meatballs or delicious mouthwatering sausages. The men sat, ate, and talked. Security was tight.
The five families held an emergency meeting, called by Don Veto. He wanted them to join up with him against the Ukrainians. Whether they joined him or not, he was going after them. Veto knew that there was a good chance that he would lose against the Ukrainians without the assistance of the other families. Together, they outnumbered the police force, and with the families’ help, he could attack from the inside and shut down all of Mr. Y’s businesses.
“Listen, Veto, we understand your gripe, but we gotta look at the situation here. Your brother Tony, may God rest his soul,” Don D’Agosta said as he made the sign of the cross on his chest and pointed in the air to show respect. The others followed suit. “We understand, but this thing here with your son we can’t get behind. I mean, even you know your son has been doing these types of things for years, and we shunned him from the family for his actions in the past. Now, if we go after them, we’re telling people that we support his actions, and that we cannot be a part of.”
Veto dropped his fork and knife, looked away from his steak, and pushed his chair back. Before he could finish, his bodyguard ran up behind him to assist. “You know I gotta say something.” He stood. “I cannot give my son a fuckin’ open casket! Why? Because he’s in too many fuckin’ pieces, that’s why! I watched my fuckin’ brother lay in a hospital with a fuckin’ steel rod in his head!” He began to get louder and louder. “And now you’re telling me that you won’t get behind me?!” He cleared his throat and continued. “Now, this shit is really fuckin’ funny!!” He sat down and went back to cutting his steak.
The other men didn’t bat an eye as they continued eating their meals. The waitress came in with the wine, filling everybody’s glasses. One of the underbosses pinched her butt and she flinched.
“Ay, what the fuck is wrong with you, Don Antonio from the Mazzareli family aid to his underboss?