CHAPTER NINETEEN

Wyld

“What Difference Does It Make How E.M. Get’s Dicked Down?”

 

It was midnight at Black Blood Tattoo Studio in Washington D.C. and although it was after business hours, Ryan sat in a tattoo artist’s chair getting new ink from Halo, the best artist in town.

Halo hadn’t even begun the coloring when Wyld, flanked by two men, swaggered inside and up to Ryan who was shocked, although faking it, to see him. One of Wyld’s men covered the door while Bosh hung at his right side.

Ryan looked up at them and grinned before focusing on the needle that was running over his skin. “So you finally about to let Halo ink them chicken sticks you call legs? If so you have to wait your turn, cuz. I’m up now.”

Wyld grabbed a chair from another station, sat down and rolled it next to Ryan. Next Wyld pantomimed for Halo to get lost which he did quickly and without a word.

Irritated, Ryan looked at the artist’s back before refocusing on his cousin. He scratched his scalp and took a deep breath. “What the fuck you do that for? I’m getting ink and you gonna tell the artist to leave? Don’t you know this can get infected out in the open like this?

“Everything’s a game with you.” Wyld’s nostrils flared. “Why? How come I gotta worry more about you than niggas on the street?”

“Correction, I took care of the nigga on the street who was giving you grief. Remember? If anything I’m your savior.”

Wyld slammed his fist down on Ryan’s tattoo and hit him in the throat with the side of his hand when he tried to rise. “I’m not fucking around, nigga. Why you coming unraveled lately?”

Ryan’s body locked with rage and pain but he knew Wyld well enough to know that if he did too much that moment could be his last on earth. “Can…you…at least be clearer on what you talking about?” He asked through clenched teeth before rubbing his throbbing throat.

Wyld scooted closer. “What happened to E.M.’s dude?”

Ryan looked at him and shook his head. “You come all the way out here to ask me about her nigga and you can’t even say his name.” He coughed a few times. “Having problems calling another man Dick huh? Well welcome to my world.”

“Where is he, Ryan?”

Ryan considered Wyld’s disposition a little longer. “So you been talking to Spyrit again huh? He putting stuff in your head that I may be responsible, just because I don’t like the nigga? And we had a few words?”

“I don’t know what you rapping about right now. All I know is that E.M.’s dude is gone and you the only one giving him trouble. You say you give a fuck about her but then you pull this kind of shit. In all my life I’ve never met a nigga more selfish than you.” He pointed at him. “So I’m gonna ask you again and I doubt very seriously I’ll repeat myself. Where is he?”

“I don’t fuck with the nigga, Wyld so why would I keep tabs on him? I been saying it from the gate that the only reason I thought he was buzzing around was to get at her for the money you be dropping in her lap. Plus he treat her like a toilet, fucking her like she’s some young broad off the street. I ain’t got no love for a dude like that. She too old to be getting fucked in that manner. He could’ve killed her.”

Wyld frowned. “What difference does it make how E.M. get’s dicked down?”

“I just said it don’t make no difference.” He waved the air. “Anyway I’m done getting wrapped up in her love affairs.”

“Did you rob his house?” Wyld continued. “His niece said someone broke in and took all of his collectibles. So not only is he possibly dead but they hit his house too. This shit got your name written all over it.”

The grin melted off Ryan’s face. “I don’t know what you talking about. And to be honest I’m getting irritated. You coming down here asking me about a pussy ass nigga I don’t fuck with, like I’m really supposed to know where he is these days. What’s up with that?”

Wyld grabbed Ryan’s wrist and raised it in the air. “Then what is this?”

Ryan snatched his arm away. “Stay out my business, man.” He pointed at him. “You moving beyond your level right now and don’t know what you talking about.”

“That’s a vintage Heuer Skipper watch, Ryan. The type of shit E.M.’s dude collected and it’s worth over $5,000. You don’t have enough class to rock a piece like this.”

“So what?” Ryan shrugged.

“Nigga, you don’t own a watch worth more than fifty bucks.”

“So just because I get a little culture about myself I robbed the nigga now?” he shook his head. “The most tragic part is I feel like Spyrit filling you up with all these lies. He talk too much and need to master the art of silence for a while. I may have to help him.”

“You still blaming him when you the one hot enough to wear the shit around town. What you think gonna happen when his body rinse up? You’ve been seen everywhere with a watch they don’t even make no more. How you gonna explain that to the police, Ryan? That’s why I don’t fuck with you because you not smart enough to think first before making moves.” He tapped on the side of his temple. “You prove to me everyday that the best thing I could’ve ever did was take you off my blocks.”

Ryan looked into his eyes and breathed heavily. His expression went from anger to pain; as if he wanted to know something but was afraid Wyld would lie. Taking a deep breath he asked, “Did you know?”

Wyld leaned back and the chair squeaked. “Fuck you talking about now?”

“Do you remember or did they tell you about us? About what happened when we were growing up?”

Wyld raised his hand and dropped it at his side. “Fuck this got to do with E.M.’s dude?”

“Everything! It got everything to do with it.” Ryan yelled as he leaned in as if he wanted to do Wyld physical harm. “I’m tired of niggas lying to me! How about the truth for a change?

Bosh stepped up but Wyld subdued him. “Don’t even worry about it, Bosh. Because if this nigga move closer I’m gonna drop him. That’s on Anna’s soul.”

Ryan leaned back, stared at him and laughed. “Do you read, Wyld?”

Wyld stood up. He was getting nowhere with him and decided to do the legwork himself if he wanted to find Dick’s body. Because one thing he learned by speaking to Ryan and it was that he was definitely dead. “If I find out you—”

“What did you hear about us? The three of us? When we were growing up?”

Wyld looked down at him and for a moment felt sorry for him. He could tell he was the type of nigga that would do everything to get attention. And instead of love he made people hate him even more. “I think niggas right about you.” He pointed at him. “You gotta be bipolar.”

“I want you to read the story about Minotaur and get back to me, pussy ass nigga.”

Enraged, Wyld stole him in the face, drawing blood about the corner of his lips. Pointing down at him he said, “Careful, Ryan. I may be the one man in this world who ain’t afraid of your ass. So that makes me your savior for not killing you…not the other way around.”