Me and My Hittas

by Tranay Adams

  A few minutes later

  Gangsta, Gouch and Pavielle sat at the kitchen table playing dominos. The entire time that Gouch and Gangsta were having a ball shooting the shit, the alcohol guerilla inside of Pavielle was pounding on its chest in a rage demanding to be let loose. It also didn’t help that his mental was being assaulted with images of his uncle fucking the shit out of his woman. He got trailers of them sexing in his head and the more of them he saw the angrier he felt until, finally, he snapped like a twig.

  “Stay the fuck away from my bitch!” A scowling Pavielle spat at his uncle, his words were like automatic gunfire.

  The skin on Gangsta’s forehead bunched together hearing his youngest nephew get at him like that. Had it been anyone else he would have drew his banger and cracked his skull to the white meat with it.

  “Excuse me.” Gangsta frowned. Pavielle leaned in closer to his uncle and repeated himself, “I said, Stay. The. Fuck. Away. From my bitch, nigga! You heard me, Hotlink!” Hotlink was a name given to Gangsta when he was in high school. He was known for running up in some of everything raw. And on more than one occasion he had gotten burned with an S.T.D, hence his nickname.

  “You think I’m stupid?” Pavielle continued. “Nigga, I seen that shit earlier.”

  “Chill, Booby.” Gouch tried to tell his little brother, placing a hand on his arm. “Nah, fuck a chill, Gucci,” Pavielle’s face twisted and he snatched his arm away violently. “This old ass nigga ain’t finna run up in my bitch! Not this nigga here!” He smacked his hand up against his chest hard with each word. “The rest of these niggaz running around here may be scared of him, but I’m not.” he whipped out his .9mm, placed it on the table and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms to his chest. He mad dogged his uncle with the corner of his top lip twitching like an angry wolf.

  “Blood, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Gouch snapped looking at his brother like he’d lost his goddamn mind. “This is our fucking family!”

  “This mothafucka ain’t my family,” Pavielle stared Gangsta dead in his eyes. The O.G held his gaze, clenching his muscular, veined fists firmly. “He’s just a washed up, hasbeen gangsta, running around like he’s in his twenties, tryna relive his glory days.”

  “Don’t pay him any mind, unc. He’s just drunk.” Gouch defended his brother’s actions.

  “A drunken man speaks with a sober tongue.” Gangsta spoke, eyes still on Pavielle.

  “Booby, you tripping,” Gouch tried to snatch his brother’s gun but he smacked his hand. “I’m not playing with you, Gucci! Don’t touch my strap, fam!” Pavielle turned his hateful eyes on his brother for a split second before returning them to his uncle. “So how you wanna do this, old nigga? From the shoulders or with the tools?”

  Gangsta turned to his sister’s youngest son and said, “We can handle this shit from the shoulders!” “Alright then, step outside.” Pavielle went to rise and he fired on that ass. The young nigga winced and his neck bent at a funny angle. His weight shifted in the chair and it went flying backwards, spilling him onto the floor, unconscious.

  “He’s knocked out cold, Gucci,” Gangsta announced, looking at Pavielle snoring on the floor. “Help me get’em onthe couch.” he and Gouch carried Pavielle into the living room and laid him out on the couch. After draping a blanket over him, the O.G kneeled down to prop a pillow behind his head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, you crazy son of a bitch.” He kissed him on the forehead and cut the lights out in the living room.

  *** Pavielle woke up the next morning on the couch with a really bad hangover. He had no idea what had happened last night that left him with a sore jaw and Gangsta and Gouch didn’t bother to remind him.

  “Where’s Lil’ Gangsta? Fool was supposed to have been here this A.M.” Pavielle asked as he whipped out his dick to take a piss.

  “I don’t know,” Gangsta answere d, shaving his head in the bathroom sink. With each naked strip he created on his head, he rinsed the shaver off under the faucet.“He was ‘pose to have been here an hour ago.”

  “We’ve gotta hire better help.” Pavielle glanced over his shoulder as he held his meat, relieving his bladder. “I know that’s yo’ dead homie’s lil’ brother and all, but damn!” he shook his head because Lil’ Gangsta was a pitful mothafucka who was more so a liability than an asset.

  Lil’ Gangsta was Big Gangsta’s late homeboy, Tkay’s, baby brother that had gotten murdered in a drive by a few years back. On a winter night, lying on the sidewalk, with his blood pooling beneath him, he made Gangsta promise to look after his baby brother. Honoring the promise he made to his homeboy, Gangsta took his friend’s younger brother under his wing, just as he did his own nephews.

  “Let me worry about Lil’ G,” Gangsta said, washing traces of shaving cream from his bald head.“You and Gouch drop off that product. That work ain’t gone deliver its self.”

  “I’m on it, boss.” Pavielle flushed the toilet and washed his hands. “You know momma got dialysis today, right?”

  “Yeah, I’ma swing by there and drop her off once Lil’ Gget’s here.” He assured him.

  “Alright then,” Pavielle said, heading out of the bathroom.

  *** Pavielle threw on a throwback 49niners jersey, a matching snapback and Levi’s 501’s. He then got Gouch from the other bedroom and they advanced on the front door. The brothers were to make their rounds to all five of their uncle’s trap houses, dropping off work.

  Pavielle turned the knob and pulled open the door. To his surprise he found Lil’ Gangsta with his fist raised about to knock. Scum was in the corners of the hoodlum’s eyes and there was dry saliva around his mouth. You could tell he had awakened not too long ago.

  Lil’ Gangsta was a skinny, brown skinned cat with his hood tattooed all over his shaved head. He was known for playing with guns so niggaz gave him a wide berth.

  “Blood, where the fuck have you been?” Pavielle fumed. “Your ass was supposed to have been here, you’re fucking up our money.”

  “My fault, Blood, I over slept.” “Nah, you over partied! You were over at the Fun- Zone last night, getting high and fucking with the Swans. And don’t try to lie, ‘cause niggaz already told me.”

  “Damn, who the fuck are you, my P.O?” Lil’ Gangsta’s forehead wrinkled, as he looked him up and down.

  “Nah, homeboy,” Pavielle shot back. “I’m the mothafucka that’s gonna guarantee you have a closed casket if you don’t hold it down.” He lifted his jersey and exposed the Tec .9mm nestled in the front of his jeans.

  “Whatever, my nigga,” He waved him off and brushed past him into the house.

  “Whatever my ass,” Pavielle spat, “You betta keep that shit moving to the back where unc is.”

  “You don’t like Blood do you?” Gouch asked him.

  “Hell nah, fuck that nigga!” Pavielle headed out of the front door with his brother bringing up the rear. Gouch closed the door behind them as they crossed the threshold.

  ***

  When Lil’ Gangsta walked into Gangsta’s bedroom his big homie was getting dressed.

  “Good morning, big homie.” He greeted his O.G homie as he plopped down on the bed.

  “You’re late!” he told him, looking himself over in the mirror.

  “I know, Blood, I over slept, my bad.”

  “Unh huh, you talk to that fool Pussy yet?”

  “Man, hell naw!” “I called Blood bix times; hit both of his bontacts. And he ain’t never hit me back. I’m telling you, old boy is ducking us, real life. He doesn’t have any intentions on paying us for that half a bird. You need to let me slide by that fool’s house and put this thang to work. You know what I’m saying? I don’t know why you front that fool some work anyway, he’s a crab.”

  “Money talks and bullshit walks.” Gangsta proclaimed. “I’ll do business with whomever if they holding the right bag. Beef doesn’t pay the mortgage or the car note.”

  “I heard that, but I don’t know about doi
ng business with enemies, though.” “Right,” Gangsta replied, looping a gold necklace around his neck after sliding on a beautiful gold and diamond pinky ring. He studied his gear in the mirror while rubbing his jeweled hands together, biting down on his bottom lip. “We’ll I’ma holla at Pussy, if he doesn’t say what I wanna hear then we bringing them thangs out, you Griff me?”

  “That’s what the fuck I’m talking about,” Lil’ Gangsta exclaimed excitedly, whipping out a long nose .44 Magnum and a Glock .40. He pointed them bitches around the room, visualizing busting at Pussy. “Bang, bang.”

  Later that night Gangsta had put in one last call to Pussy about the half of bird he had fronted him on consignment. Calling from his cell, he didn’t receive an answer so he waited about an hour before using one of his workers cellulars; Pussy picked right up then.

  “Big Time, what it do, my nigga?” Gangsta aske d through the burnout cellular pressed to his ear. “You’re a hard man to get in touch with.”

  “A nigga been busy, loved one,” Pussy replied with his lying ass. “What can I do for you, though?” Gangsta was taken aback by how Pussy was acting, surely this mothafucka knows he owes me for that half of bird, he thought. There’s no way he forgot. What did he think? Half a brick of coke fell from the sky and landed in his lap? Nah, this nigga is tryna play me. It’s cool, though, I’ma just play along.

  “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you about that paper for that half.” Gangsta told him.

  “What half?” he played dumb. Pussy was really wearing on Gangsta’s nerves with his pretending to be dumb, but he maintained his composure.

  “That half of that thang I fronted you a few weeks ago.” he reminded him. “Oooooh, that half,” Pussy pretended to recall. He knew exactly what half Gangsta was talking about. “Homie, I’ve been meaning to call you about that. My baby momma caught wind of me fucking around with mylil’young ho. Mannnnn, I come home and this bitch done keyed both of my cars; my X5 and my Benz. She cut up all my gear. My shoes, my leathers, the minks, and flushed that shit you gave me. Not to mention, some work of my own I had stashed. I must have beat that bitch half to death. A nigga almost caught his third strike and shit.”

  Gangsta was nobody’s fool; he knew Pussy was capping him, trying to run that weak ass game.

  “I hear that, Big Time, but what the fuck does that have to do with me?”

  “Fuck you think it mean? Charge it to the game, you bitch ass nigga!”

  “On my momma, Pussy, if you don’t come up off mine, I’ma…”

  “You ain’t gone do shit!” he cut him short. “Suck my dick, you bitch ass trick!”

  He hung up on his ass. In the hood, telling another man to suck your dick was a violation punishable by death. Gangsta had to answer the call or forfeit his reputation. If it got out that Pussy had strong armed some work from him, then he would have to worry about every two-bit hustler trying to pull the same scheme. And he couldn’t allow that, because in his business ones reputation was everything. He could have easily sent some of his hitters by Pussy way to lay his ass down, but due to the disrespect and his his ego, Gangsta decided to answer back himself. It had been five years since he had killed something and he thought this was the perfect time to bring his strap out of retirement.

  The next night

  Gangsta and Lil’ Gangsta stalked Pussy to the Westside. On the way over they missed their chance to burn him at a red light on Slauson and Western. Gangsta had pointed his burner out of the driver side window at him and was about to blow the nigga’z noddles out of his head, when he spotted a police cruiser coming up beside them. Right then he thought that nigga Pussy had a guardian angel watching over him. And if this was the case then he was lucky that he couldn’t see him, because if he could he would have blasted on his mothafucking ass, too.

  The gangstas decided to keep following their prey until another opportunity presented its self. And so they found themselves at the Barbary Coast in the city of Gardena off of Western Avenue. Gangsta parked on a residential street, eight cars down from Western Avenure. He and his accomplice slumped low in the seats of his Cutlass Supreme, keeping their eyes glued to the entrance of the establishment. They were dressed in black from head to toe. Gangsta gripped a long nose .357 Magnum and his protégé clutched a Glock .40 with an extended magazine. So far the pair had spent a total of four hours staking out the Barbary Coast waiting for Pussy to make his exit. Lil’ Gangsta had grown impatient. All of his bitching and complaining was getting on his big homie’s nerves. The nigga acted like they were picking up a couple of girls for a drive-in movie and they were taking too long to come outside.

  “Fuuuck .” Lil’ Gangsta vented his frustration. He ran his hand down his face and blew hot air. “When this nigga gone show his ugly ass face so I can blow that bitch off, Blood?”

  “See, that’s the problem with you young niggaz today.You don’t have any patience. Haven’t you heard of the phrase, ‘Good things come to those who wait?’”

  “Yeah, and?”

  “Why don’t chu try applying some of that to this here situation.”

  “Whatever!” Lil’ Gangsta waved his big homie off. “What chu think they doing in thereanyway?”

  “The same thing you and I would be doing if we were in there; drinking, smokingand scheming on some hoes.”

  “Sheeeiiiit, I know that’s right.” He gave him a pound. “Shhhh,” Gangsta helda finger to his lips. “I think that’s him.” He nodded to the windshield at a man exiting thegentlemen’s club with two strippers.

  “Yeah, that’s his bitch ass,” Lil’ Gangsta smiled evilly and rubbed his gloved hands together in anticipation of the chaos that they were about to create. “Nigga just like Jesus, he might not be there when you want ‘em,but he’s always on time.” He checked the magazine of his weapon and then smacked it back into the bottom of it, cocking that bitch.

  Gangsta closed the chamber of his revolver after making sure it was fully loaded. “Let’s throw this nigga a farewell party.” he pulled the bandana over his mouth and so did Lil’ Gangsta. They hopped out of the Cutlass and shut their doors quietly behind them. Hunching over on their knees, they moved in on the Barbary Coast like a military trained unit.

  *** Pussy’s Pimp C looking ass made his way out of the thick, Oakwood door of the Barbary Coast with a beezy under each arm. It didn’t take much convincing to get two of the strip clubs most popular dancers to come home with him, especially since he’d been making it rain and popping five hundred dollar bottles of champagne since he’d gotten there. With the promise of them both leaving his condo a stack richer than they were before they left the strip club, they were all for the private performance he was bartering for.

  Pussy was a chubby light skinned dude who wore gold frames, several necklaces and a diamond pinky ring. On top of his dome there was a Chinchilla hat which he’d worn with a matching jacket. The hefty stud looked more like a throwback to pimps than the neighborhood dope man that he actually was. He was drunk and high, but had more than enough sense for the freaky shit he planned on doing to the girls once he got them back to his pad.

  “Unh uh,” he looked from each of his conquests’ ample asses, licking his lips and shaking his head. His chunky ass couldn’t wait to get them alone and all to himself. The thought alone had his dick nudging his zipper. The girls rested their heads on his shoulders. One slipped her hand between the buttons of his shirt and rubbed on his hairy chest, while the other groped his hardness through the fabric of his slacks. Feeling him stiffen further, she brought her head up and kissed him deep and hungrily. They could hearone another’s saliva sloshing around in the other’s mouth. When Pussy took his lips from the first girl and started locking lips with the other, he saw something that made his eyes bulge in his fucking head. Two niggaz dressed in all black were hurrying across the street with their burners at their sides. Their lethal eyes were set on him so he already knew what fucking time it was.

  “Oh, shit!” Pussy sho
ved the broad that he was kissing before Gangsta. He went to draw his own heat but grabbed air, remembering that he’d left it under the driver’s seat of his Benz,because he wouldn’t gain access to the gentlemen’s club with it. With that in mind, he turned around and broke back to the door of the establishment with a terrified look on his face.

  The broad that he shoved before his predator stumbled forward, but recovered her balance on her high heel pumps, only to lock eyes with the buff nigga with the shiny, revolver. His tool gleamed under the light post’s illumination as he lifted it up, pointing its deadly end at her. Her eyes bugged and she went to scream so he made her swallow a bullet, splattering a gaping, gooey hole at the back of her dome piece. She collapsed lifeless right where she stood.

  “Ahhhhh! Ahhhhh!” the other broad took off running as fast as she could in a pair of clear bottom stilettos and a tight leopard print dress.

  “Get that bitch, no witnesses.” Gangsta ordered, pointing his pistol in the fleeing woman’s direction. “She doesn’t make it off of this block, you hear me? She doesn’t make it off this block!” With the command given, Lil’ Gangsta took off after old girl moving like a track star, burner in hand. They both disappeared alongside the building. Gangsta didn’t even flinch when he heard the rapid gunfire that resonated throughout the night. He already knew that his little homie had earned himself his fourth teardrop.

  Bloc! Bloc! Bloc! Bloc! “Wait, wait…” Pussy called out to the bouncer that was hurriedlyslamming the door so the drama wouldn’t find its way inside of the club. He’d almost reached the closing door when his calves exploded one by one, causing him to fall to the sidewalk like he was diving to catch a football. He hit the ground hard as a mothafucka wincing. Groaning, he pulled himself along dragging his legs with him. When he looked over his shoulder he saw Gangsta approaching with the smoking steel in his hand. Pussy’s heart pounded inside of his chest and his eyes became as big as saucers. He struggled to move forth, breaking a sweat and causing beads to run down his forehead. A shadow eclipsed him and he felt Gangsta’s boot mash down on his wounded leg. He hollered out in excruciation so the O.G took his foot off of him.