TWELVE
“Check, muthafucka. I got your ass now. Yeah, nigga, you thought you were gonna avoid this one. Make that move so I can take care of that ass. It’s da only move your non-chess-playing-ass got,” Lil’ Long taunted.
Vulcha stared at the chess pieces. He knew Lil’ Long was right. He made his only move.
“Checkmate, nigga,” Lil’ Long yelled. He got up from the table. “Can’t fuck wid da muthafucking Whiz. Four games to zip, kid. Can’t fuck wid me.”
“Ah, lucky streak, nigga,” Vulcha said. “You know that sometimes I be whipping that ass dead, muthafucka.”
“Now when wuz da last time you whip my ass, nigga?”
“You know when. I ain’t got to…”
“Damn. That’s da time, man?” Lil’ Long exclaimed as he looked at the clock.
“Aw, shit. I guess we can’t kill that blackmailing bitch,” Vulcha said.
“Nah, nah, kid, we could hit da bitch on her way to work. Like we wuz gon’ rob her or sump’n,” Lil’ Long said.
“Yo, da bitch is all that,” Vulcha replied.
“Yo, I don’t give a fuck about that shit. We got some BI to handle, dogs” Lil’ Long said.
“Yeah, I’m just saying da bitch is bad,” Vulcha said.
“Which bitch are you fucking dealing wid?” Lil’ Long asked.
“Yo, I wuz talking ‘bout da bitch from da strip joint. Fuck that other bitch. She’s dead and stinking.”
“You talking ‘bout da big - ass bitch? Da one you spent da whole night wid, muthafucka?” Lil’ Long asked. “After two nights, you’re pussy-whipped now?”
“All I’m saying is da bitch is all that,” Vulcha said.
“She must’ve dropped some shit on your ass last night, got your head all fucked up. She ain’t nothing but a ho. You need money to pay that ho.”
“What if she becomes my personal ho? Yeah, I’m gonna make her my personal ho.”
“You on some other shit, kid,” Lil’ Long laughed. “Let’s go bag this blackmailer,” he said, checking his waistband. The nine millimeter was there.
“She goes to the office about now.”
They walked out of Vulcha’s tiny apartment. They had taken two women there from the strip club and spent the night. Both were satisfied now. Lil’ Long held the elevator as Vulcha locked the apartment door.
As the car neared the selected station, they saw their target. She was a beautiful woman who stopped to buy the morning paper like so many other commuters, only she was marked for violent death. She was guilty of blackmailing her ex-lover, who happened to be a rich, respectable family man.
Lil’ Long jumped from the slowing Navigator. The target was leisurely crossing the street. He ran up behind her, grabbed her handbag, and passed her. Instinctively, she ran after him.
“Stop you hoodlum! What are you doing? Thief! Thief,” she called in pursuit. Vulcha blocked her with the Navigator. Lil’ Long hopped in.
“In my quest to become immortal, whole lot a bitches and weak muthafuckas must die,” yelled Lil’ Long. They both opened fire on the surprised woman. The shooting pair riddled her body with holes. Their weapons sprayed even after she fell into a pool of her own blood. Vulcha stepped on the accelerator and the vehicle was gone with a screeching of tires as commuters emptied the train station and watched.
“Da bitch wuz like, coming after you, nigga,” Vulcha laughed.
“Yeah, yeah. ‘Stop thief.’ It’s like, bitch, you’re da thief, bitch. Put my mug on muthafucking T-shirts. I’ll be back. Let’s get some food,” said Lil’ Long. Vulcha drove uptown. They laughed all the way, and Lil’ Long continued his tirade.
“You know da deal. Many weak muthafuckas will have to die in my quest. Shit is real, kid.”
“But I’m saying,” Vulcha said as he parked in the diner lot. “I think we should’ve hit da fucking cheating husband, man.”
“Nah, we got the right one. She ain’t paying us, kid. It’s all about them Benjamins,” Lil’ Long said.
“What she had in her purse?”
“Sixty dollars, credit cards, Haltoids, and condoms. I threw that all that shit away already.” Lil’ Long peeled the black gloves off.
“Muthafucka, you just love to come to this spot. Bitch gotcha ass wide open.”
“Nah, nah, da food’s good,” Vulcha said.
“So why we sitting on da side where that bitch be serving?”
“Cuz we gonna get served right. Know wha’ I’m saying?” Vulcha winked. “You might as well take over for her pimp. Da muthafucka probably a old-ass nigga and can’t handle it anyway,” Lil’ Long said and a big grin appeared completely polishing his mug.
As the two settled down to their breakfast, the police asked questions at the train station. The latest victim still lay outside in a pool of blood, the bullet-riddled body contorted on the pavement.
The commuters had not seen much, but had heard her yelling: “Stop thief!” They also heard the sound of gunshots. It could have been one, two or three men, they said. It could have been a robbery. The crime-scene unit moved in. The police were unsure, but leaned toward a robbery motive. Whoever had done it definitely wanted to make sure that the victim identified no one. She herself remained unidentified. Her body had been converted to a bloody pulp by a shower of bullets. She had paid the price. Shortly after the medical examiner arrived, she was pronounced dead.
Vulcha studied the waitress’s plump backside. He puffed slowly at his cigarette. The rings on his fingers clanked as he raised the cigarette to his lips. Lil’ Long got up from the table.
“Yo, you keep dreaming. I’m gonna drain my tank.” He headed for the men’s room. Vulcha watched Kamilla’s body as she moved from table to table. She sensed his gaze and flashed a smile at him.
Lil’ Long returned. “Nigga, you in a daze or bugging out?”
Vulcha came alive. “Yo, she likes me. I’m a get her,” he said.
“Nigga, I told your ass. Girls like that, they always got a man - pimp juicin’ on da side.”
“I’m a give her that pimp juice. She needs a nigga like me. Nah-mean?” “You’re gonna have to get rid of da other old Mackdaddy”, Lil’ Long said as he stood and watched Vulcha peel a hundred dollars from a wad of bills. He left it as a tip. Lil’ Long smiled and shook his head.
“Admit da shit! She gotcha open, kid,” Lil’ Long said as they headed for the exit.
Vulcha stumbled, looking back. Kamilla picked up the hundred, her smile stopped Vulcha in his tracks.
“Will you look where da fuck your ass is going? Think you’re Superman or sump’n, muthafucka? That bitch is like a drug, kid. Damn nig,” Lil’ Long complained. Vulcha was almost smooth driving the Navigator away.
“Let’s go shopping,” Vulcha said.
“No, let’s go get that dough,” Lil’ Long countered. Vulcha drove to the pre-arranged pick-up spot.
