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A masked up Te’Qui and T.J. hopped out of their car and tossed their pickaxes over the fence. They then scaled over the fence and jumped down into the backyard of their intended victim. They looked around to make sure there weren’t any dogs around, although they’d been told that there wouldn’t be any hounds on the premises. Seeing that the coast was clear, they grabbed the tools they’d tossed over the fence and jogged across the lawn to the backdoor. Te’Qui was the first nigga at the back door; he placed his ear against it and listened closely. He didn’t hear anything so he opened the door and crept inside over the threshold. He didn’t have any trouble getting the door open because Poochie’s inside woman had left it unlocked for them.
The only light on inside of the house was the one inside of the kitchen. No one was down stairs but Te’Qui and T.J. could hear R. Kelly’s Sex me playing upstairs loudly. They propped their pickaxes up against the refrigerator and exchanged glances. Te’Qui gave T.J. the signal to follow him up the staircase and he nodded his understanding. They snuck through the dark living room and crept up the steps as quietly as they could. Once they reached the landing, the music seemed even louder. With knowledge of which bedroom R. Kelly was crooning from, Te’Qui and T.J. made their way down the hallway, with their guns held up at their shoulders. Reaching the master bedroom, they took their places on either side of the door. Te’Qui gave T.J. another signal that let him know exactly what he had in mind. Again, he nodded his understanding.
Te’Qui counted down to three inside of his head. He then swung out before the door and kicked that mothafucka wide open. He flipped the light switch on and he and T.J. rushed into the master bedroom. They found a nigga with what looked like an S-curl fucking the white bitch that was in on the lick, doggy style. Her name was Jane, and as soon as she saw them masked up niggaz, she started screaming hysterically.
“Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhhh!” Jane screamed over and over again as she cowered against the headboard, pulling the covers over her bosom.
“Bitch, shut the fuck up ‘fore I shoot chu in yo’ trick ass mouth!” T.J. commanded as he and Te’Qui pointed their bangaz at Jane’s hollering ass.
Seeing movement at the corner of his eye, Te’Qui’s head snapped in the direction of the dude with the curly hair. He clocked him reaching for the chrome .45 handgun with the pearl handle on the dresser. Swiftly, Te’Qui pointed his gun and shot the lamp which was beside the gun, shattering it into pieces. The shock of almost being shot caused homie with the curl to snatch his hand away from the dresser. He quickly threw his hands up in surrender and looked Te’Qui in his eyes, defiantly.
“Fuck!” He cursed under his breath wishing he’d gotten to his gun before the masked up nigga had noticed him. He knew that if he was lucky he’d walk away from the home invasion alive, but if he wasn’t, his black ass would be getting fit for a suit and casket by next week.
“You must be Quervo,” Te’Qui walked in his direction with his gun pointed at him. “The half black, half Puerto Rican bitch we gon’ squeeze for everything he’s got. Where the money at, nigga?”
“I ain’t giving you shit, puto! As a matter of fact, nigga, suck my dick!” Quervo snarled and spat at his feet. The nasty yellowish glob that flew from his mouth splattered against Te’Qui’s sneaker. Angry, Te’Qui exchanged glances with T.J.; neither of them could believe the size of Quervo’s balls.
Te’Qui flipped his gun over in his hand and whacked Quervo upside the head with it. The vicious blow knocked Quervo off the bed and he landed on his side hard as shit. Lying on his side, he winced and held the side of his bleeding head. Te’Qui straddled him and continued to pistol whip him until he gave up the whereabouts of the money he had stashed. Right after, Te’Qui grabbed Quervo by his ankle and dragged him towards the bedroom door.
“Grab that bitch and bring her ass down stairs, too!” Te’Qui ordered T.J. He then glanced over his shoulder to make sure he wouldn’t bump into the wall as he dragged Quervo down the hallway, kicking and screaming. T.J. was right behind them, pulling Jane along by her long stringy hair. Her face was red and she was holding on to his wrist. His grip was so tight that it felt like he was going to rip her hair from out of her scalp. She winced and whimpered, but she never complained about what was happening to her for fear she’d get her face blown off.
Bunk! Bunk! Bunk! Bunk!
Quervo’s head banged off each step as Te’Qui drug him down the staircase by his ankle, not giving a mad ass fuck about the injuries he’d sustain. Once they reached the landing, he continued dragging his ass inside of the living room, where he eventually released him at the center of the floor. Afterwards, he tucked his gun on his waistline and went inside of the kitchen to get the pickaxes. T.J. entered the living room behind him, throwing Jane to the floor, roughly. He then walked over to the light switch and flipped it on, restoring light to the living room.
While this was going on, Jane was looking around the living room, terrified. Teardrops fell from her eyes and her bottom lip quivered. As she begged and pleaded for her and her man’s lives, Te’Qui returned to the living room with two pickaxes whistling Dixie. He sat the pickaxes on the couch. Next, he pushed the couch and the love seat out of the way, leaving a clear path to the portrait of Malcolm X hanging on the wall.
Once he was finish doing this, he picked up one of the pickaxes and spared a glance over his shoulder. He found T.J. holding Jane and Quervo at gunpoint. Turning back around, Te’Qui knocked the Malcolm X portrait off the wall with the pickaxe. He gripped the pickaxe with both hands and slammed it into the wall, yanking out plaster and shit. Chunks of the wall and residue spilled down onto the floor at his sneakers. But he didn’t waste any time as he continued to attack the wall, pulling out chunks of it along with plaster. As he continued to hack away at the wall, bricks of money wrapped in plastic began to appear. Having grown exhausted, he turned around to T.J. breathing heavily, chest expanding and then compressing.
Bloody faced and bruised, Quervo stood upon his knees beside Jane holding his aching head. His shit was throbbing from being bumped against the steps when Te’Qui dragged him down the staircase. Seeing Te’Qui tear his stash of money from out of the wall enraged him. His face twisted into a mask of hatred. He couldn’t believe Te’Qui and his punk-ass homeboy was in his house jacking him. The entire situation made him feel like a straight up bitch! And he didn’t like that shit one bit.
“You niggaz is dead, you hear me? Both you bitchez!” Quervo pointed a bloody finger at T.J. and then Te’Qui. “I’m puttin’ stacks on you bitchez heads; fiddy grand each! You fucked with the right one this time! The right goddamn one!” he smacked his hand up against his chest as he emphasized, leaving a bloody hand impression on his bare chest.
“Yo’, big mouth,” T.J. called for Quervo’s attention and his head snapped in his direction. His eyes bled his mortal hatred for the masked man standing over him. “You forgetting something.”
“Fuck is you talm ‘bout, fat boy?” he frowned curiously.
“You gotta be alive to put that change onna nigga’z brain.”
Quervo’s eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open, displaying his teeth. Right then, he realized that T.J. planned on bodying him on the spot.
“Wait...” Quervo lifted his hand to shield his face as T.J. pointed his gun at him. Before he could finish what he had to say, T.J. was pulling the trigger of his banga. His gun bucked and a slug ripped through the bones and ligaments of Quervo’s palm, splitting his wig and splattering his brain fragments on the kitchen floor. The dope man’s body collapsed to the linoleum and Jane screamed in horror over and over again, with her trembling hands pressed to her face.
“Poochie said-Poochie said you weren’t going to kill anybody!” Jane said as she looked up into the menacing eyes staring out of the holes in T.J.’s ski-mask. Tear spilled down her cheeks and threatened to drip off her chin. She felt like she was going to piss on herself right then, feeling her bladder growing hot.
“I don’t give a fuck what that nigga told you, bitch! Don’t nobody run this nigga here!” T.J. tapped the barrel of his gun against his chest. “Now, you gon’ shut cho up with all of that gotdamn screaming, or I’ma leave yo’ skinny white-ass lying right beside this nigga!” he pointed his gun at Quervo’s dead ass. “Is that understood?”
Jane nodded as she sniffed back snot and wiped her dripping eyes with her fingers. Her body quivered as she tried to pull herself together. She was falling apart before her eyes. She was an emotional wreck. All she wanted to do was get payback and a little bit of money for Quervo always fucking around with other women behind her back. She thought Poochie’s niggaz were just going to scare Quervo. At least that’s what he’d told her. So, imagine her surprise when the heftiest of the masked men blew his brains out on the kitchen’s floor.
Oh, my God, oh my God, what the fuck have I gotten myself into?
Jane thought as she stared at her shaky hands once again. She balled them into fists and they continued to shake uncontrollably. It was as if they had a mind of their own.
“Good. Now, take the pick from my homeboy and finish knocking down that wall so we can get them coins up outta there!” T.J. pointed to Te’Qui with his gun. He then watched Jane take the pickaxe from Te’Qui and start hacking at the wall. Once she had finished, her face was shiny from perspiration and she was breathing huskily. She wiped her moist face with the lower half of her shirt.
“Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, baby. Show me the money.” Te’Qui grabbed two duffle bags. He tossed one over to Jane and ordered her to help him fill the bags with the stash they’d uncovered inside of the wall. They got right down to business filling the duffle bags and zipping them up.
“Alright now, let’s get outta here.” Te’Qui said as he hoisted the strap of the duffle bag on his shoulder and headed for the door. Jane was right behind him with the other duffle bag, and T.J. was on her heels.
“You try to run and I’m smash yo’ ass. You got that?” T.J. whispered into her ear as he followed closely behind her, banga pressed into her back. She nodded rapidly when he asked the question, fearing for her life.
Te’Qui jetted over to that nigga Poochie’s spot. He pulled in through the alley and Poochie unlocked the gates to let him inside of the backyard. He closed and locked the gates once Te’Qui had pulled inside on the dirt patched lawn. He then motioned for everyone to follow him as he headed back inside of the house and led them down inside of the basement. They pulled up chairs to a round table. Te’Qui stood upright dumping the blue faces from out of the duffle bags onto the table top. With the help of Poochie, he tore the plastic from off the money and removed the rubber bands from off them. They were about to start counting up the money by hand until Poochie remembered that he had a money counter upstairs inside of his bedroom closet.
“Hold up, fam. We’re liable to be down here all fuckin’ night countin’ up this bread.” Poochie told Te’Qui. He then turned to Jane. “Baby, run upstairs and get me that money counter off the top shelf inside of my bedroom closet. It’s behind that old Nike sneaker box. You can’t miss it.”
“Okay.” Jane replied. She looked like she was trying her best to keep calm having witnessed Quervo getting his head blown off. Seeing someone she’d known murdered had really shaken her up and she was trying desperately to appear normal.
Jane pushed herself away from the table and rose from her chair. She then hurried up the staircase to do like Poochie’s bidding.
Poochie watched Jane climb the staircase until she’d gone out of his sight. He then leaned back in his chair and pulled out a syringe which he bit down on. Next, he took out a small bottle of something that looked like its contents were insulin. Te’Qui and T.J. exchanged frowns and looked back to Poochie.
They watched as he stabbed the needle of the syringe into the small bottle and withdrew some of its contents. Once he was done, he stuck the bottle back inside of his pocket and held the syringe before his eyes. He pushed on the plunger and squirted some of the contents out of the syringe. Hearing Jane coming back down the steps, he looked to Te’Qui and T.J. and placed his finger to his lips, signaling to them to be quiet about what they’d seen him do. Te’Qui and T.J. went back to counting up the money, pretending like they didn’t just see some suspect shit a few seconds ago.
“You got it, boo?” Poochie asked Jane as she reached the landing with the money counter.
“Yeah. It was exactly where you said it would be.” Jane handed him the counter.
“Thank you, baby,” He puckered up his lips.
“You’re welcome, honey.” She kissed his lips and sat down at the table. With slightly trembling hands, she went on about her business, turning on the counter and dropping stacks of money inside of it. While the task at hand consumed all of her attention, Poochie gave Te’Qui and T.J. a knowing look and pulled the syringe from where he was hiding it underneath the table.
“I gotta take a piss, y’all, I’ll be right back.” Poochie pushed his chair back from the table and stepped behind Jane as she was running dead presidents through the money counter. As she watched the machine flicker the cash rapidly before her eyes, Poochie smacked his hand over her mouth and yanked her head aside. Her eyes bulged and she tried to gouge out his eyes but he turned his face, frowning and gritting. Out of the corner of his eye, Poochie spotted the pronounced vein in her neck and brought the syringe into play. The pointed needle tip of the medical instrument twinkled before it pierced Jane’s vein, causing a burgundy cloud to taint the contents of the syringe.
“Mmmmmhmmmm!” Jane struggled against Poochie’s powerful grip. She thrashed her arms around and kicked her legs, causing herself to fall out of her chair. Poochie held fast to her though, and pushed the poison into her system. Jane’s eyes rolled to their whites. All that could be seen were the red webs set against her moist eye balls. Once Poochie had pushed all of that shit into her bloodstream, he let her drop to the floor. Te’Qui and T.J. who were holding stacks of money that they were pretending to be counting, stepped back from the table and looked at Jane’s body.
Jane’s dying body danced on the floor wildly. Blood ran from out of her eyes and ears and red foam formed inside out of her mouth. The foam slid out either side of her mouth and dripped to the floor. She continued to dance on the floor until she eventually went still. Her head fell to the side and she took her final breath. Her eyes were as big as baseballs and foam was still running from out of her mouth.
Poochie stared down at Jane remorsefully as he held the empty syringe. His chest rose up and down as he breathed. He sat the syringe down on the table top and leaned down, touching the pulse in her neck. He then looked to Te’Qui and T.J. confirming her death. Next, he brushed Jane’s eyelids shut and stood upright, capping the syringe. As he continued to stare down at her lifeless body, he took a deep breath like he’d done the hardest thing in his life. He then crossed himself in the sign of the holy crucifix and turned to Te’Qui and T.J. The young gangstaz were surprised to see that he had tears in his eyes.
“That was my lil’ suburban white bitch, man, I loved her to death. I didn’t wanna do what I did, but it was a necessary evil.” Poochie explained to them. “I know if The Boys ever came around questioning her, she’d eventually breakdown crying and tell. She’s always meant well, but she was soft. She don’t know nothing ‘bout this street shit. I shoulda never gotten her involved in it. She wasn’t cut out for this shit. You feel me?” he snorted back snot that oozed out of his left nostril and then wiped his dripping eyes with the lower half of his Clippers jersey. “Alright, man, y’all come on so we can finish countin’ this paypa up.”
Poochie sat back down at the table and placed the syringe down upon it. He picked up where Jane left off, feeding the money counting machine cash. As soon as a stack would finish, he’d remove the money out of the counter and tangle a rubber band around it. Afterwards, he sat the stack on top of other stacks of money. Every now and then, he’d stopped running money through the machine and used one of the stacks to fan his face. He would then take a breath. It was hot as a mothafucka down in the basement.
Before Poochie knew it, he was finishing counting up the blue faces. Once he laid down the last g-stack, he’d lean back in his chair and look over the stacks of dough lined up before his eyes.
“Alright, my niggaz,” Te’Qui began rubbing his gloved hands together. “What we have here is three-hundred and fifty thousand dollas in blood money. Now, T.J. and I will split a buck seventy-five each and you’ll hold the change.” He looked at Poochie to see if he’d buck, but he didn’t. The way Te’Qui saw it. Although Poochie put them down on the lick, he and T.J. had done all of the work so they deserved the biggest slices of the pies. “Okay then. I’ma divide the spoils.” Te’Qui bagged up he and T.J.’s cuts of the blood money and left Poochie’s share out on the table. “You okay, my nigga?” Te’Qui asked as he hoisted the strap of the duffle bag over his shoulder. He couldn’t help seeing the hurt in Poochie’ eyes.
“I’ll be straight, my nigga. Y’all gon’ and get up outta here.” Poochie told them as he mashed out the cigarette he’d lit up while they were counting up the mula. His eyes were red webbed and moist. You could tell that he was suffering from a broken heart.
“You don’t want us to help you dispose of lil’ momma’s body?” Te’Qui asked.
“Nah, I got it. Don’t even wet it.”
“Alright, dawg, we outta here,” Te’Qui dapped up Poochie and so did T.J. With the exchange having been made, the gangstaz made their departure.
***
“Yo’, I think yo’ man is gon’ snap.” T.J. said to Te’Qui in a hushed tone as they came out of the house through the backdoor.
“For real?” Te’Qui’s forehead wrinkled. “How you figure that?”
“Yeah, him killing that white broad really fucked up his head.”
“I guess so. The way I see it, I didn’t twist his arm for ‘em to go ahead with this lick. He brought it to me and included his bitch.”
T.J. nodded his understanding as he massaged his chin, looking to be thinking about something. He then looked to Te’Qui and said, “You think he might rat us out over a guilty conscience?”
“Nahhhh.” He frowned up and shook his head.
T.J. looked him dead in his eyes and said, “You willing to bet cho freedom on that?”
Te’Qui looked at him and then focused his attention back on the road. He didn’t say another word, which let T.J. know the answer to his question.
“I thought so.” T.J. looked out of the passenger window, with the scenery of the streets reflecting on its glass.