SIXTEEN
“That’s it, nigga, I’m serious. Honey wuz looking kinda fly. Tits ‘n’ ass in place, nothing really jiggling. You know wha’ I mean?” Lil’ Long asked.
“Yeah, true. No question, son, but she had mad trophies, sun!” Vulcha replied.
“Them kids. She only had those two, one in da carriage and one beside her,” Lil’ Long said.
“Nah, you bugging. Them three walking behind her were there for real too, sun.” Vulcha said and Lil’ Long scratched his fresh braids.
“Se-e-rious nigga! She still had a big batty.”
“I’m trying to tell you, muthafucka. Open your eyes and look.”
“Ahight, listen. Why you gonna try ‘n dis me on da low?”
Lil’ Long and Vulcha passed the stores as shutters came down at the end of the day. They had spent much of the day shopping for clothes. Both of them had two big bags in each hand. Lil’ Long shifted through the restless evening crowd. They took turns pinching and fondling women as they walked and shared a coolie, a marijuana joint laced with cocaine.
“Where are we fucking parked kid?” Lil’ Long asked. He sat the bags on a parked vehicle, setting the alarm off. “Damn, this shit is loud,” he commented. He kicked a dent in the car door.
“We parked over there, Lil’ Long,” Vulcha said. He led the way to the parked Navigator.
“Yo that meter-maid got da mad big, apple-shaped ass,” Lil’ Long said.
“Don’t sweat the ass, she’s fucking giving us a ticket.” Vulcha said walking faster. “Hey, baby doll. Yoo hoo mammy, wait-up.”
They arrived as the traffic summons was placed on the windshield.
“We in da car. Why you still ticketing us?” Vulcha asked feigning disbelief. The meter maid looked as if she was about to explain.
“I’m telling you, baby-baby. Baby-baby got the nicest ass I’ve seen all day,” Lil’ Long said. The meter maid walked away with a smile. “Ain’t that the nicest ass you’ve seen all this day?” Lil’ Long asked raising his voice so she could hear.
Vulcha was disgruntled. “We be seeing all flat, ironing-board ass, so no question that’s some ass. But that ass left us a fifty-dollar ticket.” Vulcha picked up the summons and examined it, skeptically.
“Fuck her big ass,” he said and started the SUV.
“Yeah, yeah. I sure would like to. Pull up close to her, Vulch. Let me kick some shit, right here.”
“Man, that bitch is getting in a car. Whatcha want me to do? Follow her around?”
“No, no. Ahight, I could see this ticket here is causing some problems. Lemme handle it. Give it here, kid.” Lil’ Long grabbed the ticket and ripped it to bits. “See how easy that was? Let’s go by the video store and re-up.”
“Yeah, let’s go check out Carlos,” Vulcha said.
A few minutes later they alighted from the Navigator and hustled through the crowd in a busy video store. They walked to the back of the store.
“Carlos, Carlos. Where are ya, you Colombian bastard? Yo, Carlos,” shouted Lil’ Long, searching the back of the store. Then they saw a chubby-faced, light- skinned man, wearing a blue T-shirt, a size too small.
“Hey, my friends,” he exclaimed, displaying a big toothless grin.
“Carlos, aren’t you afraid of eating yourself to death?”
“No, it’s how do ya eat so much?”
“Ah, si. Have mucho, lots a space,” Carlos said, tapping his stomach gently with the palm of his right hand.
“No, I mean, how?” Vulcha said pointing to his teeth.
“Oh, oh. Ha, ha,” Carlos chuckled. He slipped the set of false teeth in his mouth and came closer.
“Business, mi amigos?”
“Got any new joints, Carlos?”
“Always have new gifts for mi amigos.”
He led them to a corner of the store for special customers. He lowered a shelf of videos and a row of new artillery emerged.
“This joint come wit silencer? This some space age shit right here. Sigma Lasermax, hmm.”
For the next half-hour, Lil’ Long and Vulcha feasted their eyes and marveled at the display of firearms. They decided on two Desert Eagles with ammo, four black Kalakos, four magazines and four hundred rounds of Gemstar ammunition.
“Mix in some silicone tip and Teflon shit, ahight? Yo, Carlos you got any of those Rhino rounds, penetrate anything, huh Carlos?” Lil’ Long asked.
“No fuss, no problem.” Carlos always gave his customers complete satisfaction. He brought out two magazines filled with blue-colored bullets. He set the magazines apart from the other goods. “I have veinte black rhino rounds, straight from Texas. I give you both one magazine a piece for free.”
“Ahight, Carlos, my man. You all this and muthafuckin’ that,” Lil’ Long said.
“Yeah, we’ll tell you how these joints work,” Vulcha added.
After paying, Lil’ Long and Vulcha strolled to the front of the store.
“Enjoy the viewing, mi amigos,” Carlos said with a toothed smile. They left with what appeared to be a case of videos and set it gently in the back seat.
“Let’s drop the shits at my rest, son,” Vulcha said.
“Sounds good, nigga. Then we can get some food. Seafood, you know wha’ I’m saying? With that, the vehicle jerked away and rolled forward into the traffic. In the back seat were a couple of Donna Karan leather jackets and accessories, as well as four new Kalakos nine-millimeter weapons, with all the trimmings.
At Vulcha’s apartment, they changed into their new duds. The weapons fit perfectly. Lil’ Long snorted through a small straw and rubbed his nose reflectively. Vulcha, completely dressed down in a leather outfit, toyed with the guns.
“Yo let’s go to da spot, sun,” Vulcha said closely examining the trigger mechanism.
“Don’t tell me. No, your ass is pussy-whipped for a…”
“Nah, bust it. It ain’t even like that. Just wanna cool out wid peeps like us,” Vulcha said.
“Ain’t no one like us—at least, like me. I’m da one, da two and da three. That’s me. L-i-i-l’ Long,” Lil’ Long announced compounding his stutter as he beat his chest.
“I’m just saying…” Vulcha began.
“Listen up. I un’erstan’ ‘bout that shit.”
“What shit are you referring to, sun?”
“Being pussy-whipped, nigga,” Lil’ Long laughed.
“How you figure that?”
“Every time we got sump’n to do, your ass wanna go to da spot. When we don’t have shit to do, your ass still wanna be in da spot. Now you tell me, uh?”
“I like that spot. Everyone know who’s who, know wha I’m saying? No fronting allowed,” Vulcha countered.
“Ahight, you’re gonna tell me that da bitch don’t have your ass open?”
“Nah, I’m saying I ain’t open yet. Bitch still got a man,” Vulcha said.
“Ahight why da fuck don’t ya break da nigga off a piece an’ get rid of his ass?” Lil’ Long asked. “Huh? C’mon, let’s go pay that muthafucka a visit, nigga. We know where he at.”
“Yeah, let’s drop in an’ see what kinda offer this muthafucka is gonna accept.”
“Yo man, make him one of them mob offers, you feel me?” Lil’ Long smiled.
They packed away the new guns and walked out. The smell of new leather camouflaged the atmosphere of death as the traveling companions set off to do business with Kamilla’s pimp.