Authors: Tranay Adams
Nightmare hopped out of the car and made a beeline
to where the older gentleman stood. As he approached Julio
moved into his path with his hand inside of his suit, ready
to lay him down if necessary. The older gentleman waved
him off and he stood aside.
“Step into my office,” The older man moved aside to
let Nightmare crawl into the backseat of the Hummer. Once
he had crawled inside, the older gentleman snapped his
fingers; that was Julio’s cue. The bodyguard handed
Nightmare a folded up piece of tinfoil. When he unfolded
the tinfoil there was a line of cocaine inside. He scooped
some up into the long fingernail of his pinky and snorted it
up his right nostril. He experienced an amazing sensation
that made his eyes water. He blinked a couple of times than
he scooped up some more and rubbed it on his gums, tasting
it.
Nightmare and his Spanish connect made their way
through the mall side by side. They discussed business and
held their hands over their mouths. Due to the connect’s line
of work he never knew when he was being followed, or
when the Feds were present. The Alphabet Boys had some
of the best lip-readers in their employ, and with a pair of
binoculars they could make out what you were saying on
the moon. The connect had switched up cars twice before
he made it to the indoor mall, but he was still taking extra
precautions. It was better to be safe than sorry. No drug
dealer wants the pressure of a thirty year bid hanging over
his head.
“I was thinking, fifteen a key. Fifteen a block and I’ll
cop thirty at a time from you. I know you can show me some
love with that.” He spread his arms and angled his head,
raising an eyebrow, hoping he’d fuck with him.
“Hmmm,” he thought on it
for a second, “Ok, but only
because you’re good friends with my god son. You’ve got
yourself a deal.”
Lil’ Gangsta sat on a leopard print couch, smoking a
blunt and snapping his fingers to Marvin Gaye’s
I’d rather
be with you
. The song was on the oldies mix tape playing
inside the PS4 that was lying on the floor beside the floor
model “40 inch television set. Lil’ Gangsta was holing up
in Bellflower with some BBW named Shawna and her four
kids in her Section 8 apartment. He was happy as all hell
because he had finally figured out his next move. He was
going to move out to Lancaster. The rent out there was dirt
cheap. He heard that you could get a three bedroom
apartment for about $650 a month. After finding a cool little
spot to lay his head he was going to hook up with this
Mexican broad he was fucking with brothers. They were
moving some serious weed down there and he was sure
they’d give him a good price on a few pounds of Kush. He’d
then get her to rent him a second apartment in her name.
Next, he’d turn that into a trap and push weed out that bitch
all day every day. That’s how he’d make his living, as the
neighborhood weed man. He and Maria would have a
couple of babies and then they’d use some of the money he
made from slinging weed to buy a house to raise their little
family in. And then a few years on down the road, when the
homies had forgotten about him snitching, he’d return back
to the hood. Yeah right!
Everything would be all good then
, Lil’ Gangsta
thought, smiling as if he had brainstormed a fool proof plan
before taking pulls of his blunt. Seeing that he had an ounce
of Kush left and no swishers to roll up with, he decided to
make a run to the liquor store. He tucked his long nose .44
revolver into his waistband and snatched Shawna’s car keys
from the coffee table. The kids were gone with their father
for the weekend and Shawna was sound asleep from the
dick down he’d given her twenty minutes ago. So he didn’t
have to worry about her waking up any time soon and
bitching about him running off in her car when he came
back.
The elevator came to a stop on the parking garage
floor.As soon as Lil’ Gangsta stepped off of the elevator he
heard pitter patter at his right. When he turned his head he
locked eyes with a German shepherd. The beast tilted his
head and glared up at him, snarling and growling. Lil’
Gangsta’s eyes lit up and he swallowed the lump of fear in
his throat, slowly stepped backwards. The sudden barking
of the dog startled him and he took off running in the
opposite direction, heart threatening to explode it was
beating so hard.
“Haa! Haa! Haa! Haa!” he continuously glanced over
his shoulder as he hauled ass with the vicious dog on him
like stink on shit. His forehead was shiny from sweat and
he was breathing like he had a bad case of asthma. “Oh shit,
oh shit!” he repeated seeing the hostile animal right on his
heels.
Boomp!
He grimaced having ran into a parked Astron
van and crashing to the ground. Peeling his eyelids open, he
lifted his head from the cement and looked around. As he
rubbed the back of his head he looked around expecting to
the dog lunging to attack, but that mean bastard wasn’t
anywhere in sight. The scenery was silent save for the
occasional car driving by on the upper level outside of the
black garage gate.
“Grrrrrrrrr!” he froze where he was about to get up
and his entire body trembled. At this point and time he was
on his hands and knees. Sweat dripped off the end of his
brow. He shut his eyelids for a moment and swallowed the
ball of nervousness in of his throat. Once he peeled his
eyelids open, his eyes shot to their corners and he gasped.
Slowly, his head turned to his rear and he found the German
canine there. Its head was tilted down and it was glaring at
him and baring its flesh tearing teeth. Its growling seemed
to grow louder and louder the longer it stood there.
Suddenly, Lil’ Gangsta scrambled to his feet and took
off running. He nearly slipped and fell but kept at it; trying
to put as much distance between himself and the wild beast
that was on him. Still in motioning, he continued to glance
over his shoulder, terrified that the hound was going to
make him his dinner. When he turned back around and ran
dead smack into what felt like a brick wall. His face balled
up and when he looked up he saw a faceless man wearing a
big hat that shaded most of his face. Lil’ Gangsta’s eyes
widened and his mouth moved animatedly. He was scared
and didn’t know what the fuck to say.
The machete sounded as it was unsheathed from
somewhere within the recess of The Ghost’s trench coat.
The young nigga didn’t have enough time to do anything
but throw up a hand to shield his face. His face twisted up
and he prayed for a quick death. That prayer would go
unanswered.
“Arrrrrrrrr!” He threw his head back shrilling like a
victim in a horror movie. He brought his quivering head
down and looked to his right; his hand had been completely
severed. Blood squirted out from the stump uncontrollably,
pelting the ground as well as his shoe. When he looked
down he saw his severed hand lying there beside his
sneaker. The hit-man swung his machete back around and
his nose came loose from his face, flying across the parking
lot. Lil’ Gangsta shrilled louder than before and grabbed the
space on his face that his nose once was. Blood spilled from
between his fingers and slicked his hand wet. When he took
his hand away from his face it was met by the hitman’s
blade once again, leaving both of his arms handless. His
fearful eyes shot up to his attacker and his razor sharp
weapon went across his neck. His head fell off to the side
and he dropped to his knees, falling flat on his chest.
The Ghost whistled and Hank came stepping from
around a car. He tossed the victim’s severed hand up in the
air towards him and he snagged it out of the air. The beast
chewed on the fingers of the hand hardily as its master
watched attentively. Next, the killer pulled out a fist full of
green rat poison capsules and dropped them beside Lil’
Gangsta’s lifeless body. With the deed done, he wiped the
machete’s blade off on the arm of his trench and sheathed
it. Once he took pictures of the corpse that he’d created, he
walked off and whistled for his companion. The dog
snatched up the severed hand it had been devouring and
followed its master’s lead.
Black Jesus awoke in a cold sweat, panting out of
breath from a nightmare. It was the same nightmare he had
been having for the past five years now; the one where he
was beaten, sodomized, paralyzed and left for dead in the
woods. Every time he’d awake from the horrible
experience, he’d be relieved that it was just a bad dream.
That’s when he’d look over to the wheelchair beside his
bed, and realize that his life was very much his reality.
Black Jesus wiped the sweat from his forehead with
the back of his silk pajama sleeve. He looked over to the
clock on the dresser; it was 1:00 A.M. He pulled his
wheelchair to his bed and slid himself into the seat. After
he was good and settled, he rolled over into the bathroom.
Flipping on the light-switch, his heart almost leapt from his
chest when he saw The Ghost standing before him.
“Oh, fuck!” Black Jesus shouted, holding his hand
over his heart “You scared the living shit out of me
fantasma! How did you get in here?” The hitman didn’t
utter a word, he was as still and mute as a mannequin. The
big brim hat he wore shaded all of his face, except his
mouth. That was all Black Jesus could see when the killer
spoke.
“I took care of your rodent,” he said, tossing a manila
folder over into the drug lord’s lap. Black Jesus opened the
folder; inside there were three photographs of a deceased
Lil’ Gangsta laid the fuck out.
Bullet ran into the bathroom with just his boxer briefs
on and a pistol dangling at his side. “You alright?” he asked
Black Jesus.
“I’m fine. Look,” he handed him the three
photographs. As Bullet looked over the photographs a smile
broadened his face.
“Downed that mothafucka, that’s what I’m talking
about.” Bullet said, his
eyes
lingering over
the last
photograph.
“You did a good…” the rest of the sentence died in
Black Jesus’ throat, when he turned around and saw that
The Ghost had vanished. He looked to the bathroom
window and saw its curtains ruffle as a breeze blew in. He
rolled himself over to the window and shut it; he then spun
around to his little brother. Bullet was still looking over the
photos.
“So what do you think about Lil’
Gangsta?” Detective
Ortiz asked his partner of thirteen years, as he took swigs of
a Corona in between flipping the meat over he had cooking
on the grill. He had a few guys from the force and their
families over to his house for a barbeque. There were
chicken, beef franks, beef patties, pork ribs and hotlinks
going on the Black & Decker grill. There were ice cold
beers and sodas on ice inside of the ice chess. While the
adults mingled amongst each other, their children played in
the pool.
“No way, he definitely bailed. The little bastard hasn’t
answered the cell we gave him, and he has yet to report
back. We should have never let that spade walk. If he hasn’t
skipped town bynow, he’s lying somewhere in a ditch,
courtesy of his own homies.” He took a swig of his Corona
and savored the flavor.
“You know when he walked that Gangsta’s
conviction pretty much walked with him.” Ortiz told him as
he turned the meat over.
“How are we going to do that? When he got picked
up his entire crew went AWOL figuring he’d use them to
bargain his way out of prison. There’s no one left to flip.”
Ortiz closed the lid on the grill and took a seat next to his
partner, letting his Corona dangle in between his legs.
“Then we’ll go above and beyond the law. We’ll go
into our vigilante bag, we dead Gangsta, his nephews and
their entire operation. That’s the only way I can see this
thing ending. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of
playing this little cat and mouse game we got going with
these clowns. It’s time to kill them all and let the good Lord
sort them out. All I want to know is that you have my back
when the time comes.” He looked Ortiz dead in his eyes,
forehead furrowed and lips twisted. Determination twinkled
in his pupils, causing them to look like crystals.