Me and My Hittas (24 page)

Panic was so caught up in the XXX movie playing
within the theater of his mind,that he hadn’t spotted the two
suspicious characters that had followed him in and out of
the store. They had clung to the shadows and masked up
with their chrome Uzis. When the big man went to stick his
key into the key-hole of the driver side door, he saw their
reflection in the window. His eyelids peeled wide open and
his mouth formed an O as he gasped. The killers had their
automatic weapons out stretched and were about to spray
him. He whipped around quickly, dropping his bag of goods
while in motion; he reached for the strap on his waistband.
But it was far too late; the masked assassins already had the
drop on him. Their Uzis fired in unison waking up the silent
night as bullets struck their mark, misting the air with his
blood. Panic danced on his sneakers as the bullets entered
him and exited out of his back, splattering his blood against
the side of his ride. It looked as if the bullets were
attempting to levitate his three-hundred pound body from
the surface. Panic crashed to the asphalt in the liquor store
parking lot, landing hard on the ground. His blood ran from
under him and mixed in with the alcohol that was concealed
inside of the Alize bottle. The masked gunmen fled into the
night, letting the darkness swallow them whole.

Later that night

Pavielle lay in bed asleep beside Vayda. His cell
phone’s screen lit up and it danced across the nightstand as
a call came through. The young kingpin stirred from his
sleep and turned on the lamp light. He checked the caller
I.D, pressed
talk
and brought the phone to his ear.

“What’s up, Blood?” he asked groggily into the cell
phone, wiping his eyes.

 

“Panic’s dead.” He spoke with a dead serious voice.

 

“Woo, it’s too late at night to be playing, fam.”

 

“I’m not playing, Bleed. Real spit, they hit’em
tonight.”

“Who?” Pavielle looked alive. His elevated voice
stirred Vayda from her sleep. She narrowed her eyelids as
she looked at him. By the look on his face she could tell
something was terribly wrong.

“Nike and Supacrab from tramps,” Woo told him, his
voiceslightly cracking under his emotions. “On Lil’ Face
it’s on now, Blood, me and Big Head ‘bout to murder every
last one of these niggaz. Dinosaurs ain’t gon’ be the only
mothafuckaz that’s extinct,on the set.”

“Y’all chill for a sec,” Pavielle began
, sitting up in
bed,“I’m a sic old girl on lil’ homie. I’ma call her in the
A.M and get the ball rolling, alright?”

“Alright, Blood. I love you, my nigga.”

 

“I love you, too, Duce Owe. Twenty minutes.” he
disconnected the call.

“Boo, what happened?” Vayda asked concerned,
scratching her chest as
she peered through
narrowed
eyelids.

Pavielle shut his eyelids and put his hands together in
prayer, having a moment of silence for Big Panic. When he
peeled his eyelids open, his eyes were glassy and attempting
to accumulate tears. Seeing the hurt in her man’s eyes,
Vayda sat up in bed and took him by the face staring into
his eyes. “Babe, tell me what’s wrong, what happened?” she
inquired, looking as worried as ever.

“My best friend was murdered tonight.” He told her
,
and as soon as he spoke the tears jetted down his cheeks.
He shut his eyelids for a moment and bit down on his
bottom lip, nostrils flaring.

“Panic?”

“Yeah, go back to sleep
, baby.” He kissed her on the
forehead and then cupped her face, kissing her on the lips.
He then turned off the lamp and rolled over to go back to
sleep, his heart heavy with grief.

***

Killa Dre scaled the fence of Inglewood cemetery
high and drunk out of his mind. Jumping down to the other
side, he staggered forward and fell to all fours. Slowly, he
got to his feet searching his person. He was relieved that he
hadn’t dropped the 40 oz of Olde English malt liquor, but
when he searched his ear for his half smoken blunt and
discovered he’d lost it, he was disappointed.

“Shit!” he cursed.

Wide eyed, his eyes scanned the grounds for the blunt
he’d dropped. When he didn’t see it, he shut his eyelids and
took a deep breath. “Fuck it.” He ran his hand down his face
and pulled his bottle of cheap alcohol from where he had it
stashed. After twisting off the cap, he took it to the head,
guzzling it. The bubbles floated to the bottom of the bottle
as his throat rolled up and down his neck. Taking the 40
from his lips, he wiped his mouth with the back of his fist.
Shortly thereafter, he shuffled forward drunkenly. Using
the illumination from his cell phone, he searched the
cemetery’s grounds until he found his deceased brother’s
grave stone. Coming across it, he put his cellular away and
stepped to it.

“’Sup with it, big bro?” He took the 40 oz to the head
guzzling it and then pouring some out into the lawn just
below his brother’s marble stone. Having screwed the cap
back on his alcoholic beverage, he went on to talk to his late
sibling. Once he wrapped up their conversation, he made
him a promise that he was definitely going to keep.

“The next time you see me here, big bruh, I’ll have
your killer’s blood on these hands,” he held up his hands
and looked between them. After balling them into fists, he
focused his attention back on the stone with his brother’s
name carved in it. “I swear to God…,” his vision was
quickly obscured by the tears that accumulated in his eyes,
outlining the rims of them. The teardrops fell hitting the
grass and the tip of his right sneaker. “No,” he sniffled and
snorted back some of the tears that wanted to fall. “No, I
swear to
you
, I’ma kill that nigga.”

Thunder rumbled and lightening flashed, hiding his
face in darkness and then revealing it, each time it made an
appearance. Suddenly, rain fell from the sky looking like
falling crystals. Killa Dre threw on the hood of his jacket
and sat the Olde English bottle down beside his big
brother’s marble head. Stashing his hands in his pockets, he
turned around and trekked back from where he came.

The next morning

“Thank you.” Black Jesus said to
his maid, Marisol, as
she sat his breakfast and his cup of coffee down on the table
before him. He slipped on his glasses and opened up the
news paper, reading over it. The doorbell chimed, but he
didn’t bother to tell Marisol to answer it. The paper held all
of his attention. Besides that, he already knew she’d get it,
because it was just one of the tasks that he was paying her
to do. Although he was focused on his reading, that didn’t
stop him from over hearing the locks being undone on the
front door and the maid greeting Tango as he crossed the
threshold.

“Jesus
Christ,are you, okay?” he overheard her. This
caused the drug lord to frown. He folded his paper in half
and set it aside.

“I’m fine,” he heard Tango say as he made his way
through the living room. “Where’s the jefe?”

 

“In the kitchen.”

Black Jesus turned around just in time to see his
bodyguard making his way toward him. He looked like he’d
been through hell and back and his arm was in a sling. When
he saw this, he immediately thought,
Oh, shit.
The old
gangster didn’t even have to say it, because right then he
already knew that his shipment had been hit.

Black Jesus’ face balled up and he removed his
glasses, sitting them aside on the table. He glared at Tango
and said, “I wanna know who hit my shipment, and I wanna
know now. So you for damn sure better have a name for
me.”

Tango nodded and said, “I do…Booby.”
To Be Continued…
Me and My Hittas 2
AVAILABLE NOW
By: Tranay Adams
The Devil Wears Timbs 1, 2 and 3

http://www.amazon.com/Devil-Wears-TimbsBook/dp/B010US8MQ0/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1454
647548&sr=8-6&keywords=the+devil+wears+timbs

Bury Me A G 1, 2 and 3

 

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ref=series_rw_dp_sw

 

Tyson’s Treasure 1 and 2

http://www.amazon.com/Tysons-Treasure-2-BookSeries/dp/B016QBD49K/ref=sr_1_1_ha?s=digitalSeries/dp/B016QBD49K/ref=sr_1_1_ha?s=digital
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A South Central Love Affair

 

Fearless

http://www.amazon.com/FEARLESS-Drug-DealerContract-Killer
ebook/dp/B017FGWUT0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digitalebook/dp/B017FGWUT0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital
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COMING SOON
By Tranay Adams
The Realest Killaz 2: The Game of Death

 

Me and My Hittas 2

 

A Hood Nigga’s Blues