CHAPTER 34
“So what you gonna do with your part of the money?” Blue asked. He was hunched over a small glass coffee table, sifting through a pile of cocaine with two playing cards.
“I would buy a phat-ass chain and a car!” Paulie said, lighting the weed.
Dre looked up from his position at the dining room table where he was chopping big rocks into smaller ones. “You sound dumb as hell. The bounty is only ten stacks, and we splitting that three ways. What kinda car you gonna get with thirty-three hundred dollars?”
“A beat-up-ass hooptie.” Blue snickered.
Paulie took a deep pull off the L and let out the smoke. “Fuck the both of y’all. If I catch him and get the drop, I ain’t gotta split shit.”
Dre laughed, shoveling small bags of crack into a Ziploc. “Nigga, stop acting like you wouldn’t shit your pants if you bumped into him in a dark alley.”
Paulie stood up and began strutting around the living room with his chest poked out. “Broad day or in the dark, if I run into him it’s on.” He pulled a .22 from his pocket and flashed it.
“Man, quit lying and pass the weed.” Blue snatched the blunt from him.
“Yo, at least wash your hands before you hit that. I don’t need no coke on the end of the blunt.” Dre reminded him of the cocaine residue still on his hands.
Blue looked at his fingers, which had stained the end of the blunt with white powder. He shrugged before placing the blunt between his lips and hitting it anyway. “In the mouth or up the nose, a high is a high.”
Paulie looked from one bickering friend to the other and shook his head. “I should’ve known I couldn’t talk to you two clowns about no real nigga shit. There’s a nigga running around disrespecting our team and y’all act like smoking weed is more important than taking this fool’s life!”
“Allegedly,” Dre said. All eyes in the room turned to him for an explanation. “I been hearing some things lately, like maybe this situation ain’t what certain people are trying to make it out to be.”
“Like a setup or something?” Blue asked.
Dre shrugged. “Dawg, I don’t know, but something about it doesn’t feel right.”
“Dawg, you killing me with this conspiracy theory shit.” Paulie waved him off. “We’re being offered a nice piece of change and a seat at the table for this job, so ain’t nothing to debate about. All I need to know is that the boss wants him dead and he’s willing to pay for it. Who he is and what he’s done is irrelevant. Fuck Li’l Monk!”
At that moment something heavy slammed against the door. By the time any of the young men realized what was going on, the second kick had landed and the door came off the hinges. Now standing in their foyer, wearing a trench coat that until that moment concealed the shotgun he was carrying, was the topic of their discussion.
“Fuck me? Nah, nigga, fuck you!” Li’l Monk barked and opened fire.
Blue had made it halfway to his feet when the spray of buckshot knocked off his Dodger cap, as well as half of his dome. Dre made a break for the kitchen, but didn’t get far. Li’l Monk jerked the trigger again and peppered the back of his leg with the shotgun, dropping him just between the kitchen and the living room. When he turned toward Paulie, he took a slug from the .22 high in the chest, knocking him to the ground and dislodging the shotgun.
Paulie advanced on Li’l Monk, holding his gun sideways like they did in the movies. His prey was wounded and at his mercy, so he was trying to savor it. Had he been a seasoned killer, he’d have picked Li’l Monk off from deep with the gun, but he was a novice. As soon as Paulie was close enough, Li’l Monk came up holding the P89 he’d borrowed from his dad. Paulie with the braids opened his mouth to say something and Li’l Monk put a bullet in his throat.
Li’l Monk tore his black T-shirt down the middle, exposing the vest he was wearing beneath it and the ruined .22 slug lodged in the chest plate. “Stupid muthafucka,” he mumbled, ripping the slug free and tossing it. He stalked into the living room, gun sweeping back and forth while on point for surprises. Blue was right where Li’l Monk had dropped him, but Dre was gone. It wasn’t hard to track him down, because his ruined leg had left a bloody trail.
Li’l Monk found him crawling through the kitchen, trying with all his might to get to the kitchen counter and the gun resting on it. His outstretched fingers had just grazed the butt of the gun when Li’l Monk pulled him back.
“Not so fast.” Li’l Monk dragged him by his ruined leg back into the living room.
“Please, don’t kill me, Li’l Monk,” Dre begged.
“I’m sure somebody will punch your ticket one of these days, but that honor won’t go to me.” Li’l Monk picked him up by the front of his shirt and held him against the refrigerator. “Lucky for your maggot ass I need you to live, at least until I get what I want.” He pressed his gun against his forehead. “I’m going to ask you some questions and you’re going to give me some answers. If you think about lying, I’m going to give you a headache that aspirin won’t be able to help you with.” He tapped the gun against the kid’s forehead. “Who else was in on this little plan to take my life?”
“I don’t know, man. We got the word from Ramses. He said if we knocked you out the box then we could have your spot,” Dre confessed.
“Pussy nigga, you couldn’t hold my dick let alone my spot!” Li’l Monk snapped. “But that’s beside the point. Did Omega know about all this?”
“If he did know, he never said nothing to us. If you plan on shooting him too, you can find him in the ICU at some hospital in Westchester,” Dre confessed.
Li’l Monk slammed Dre against the refrigerator hard enough to knock the magnets off. “Y’all niggas touched my family?” he snarled.
“It wasn’t us!” Dre protested. “Omega is the big homie. All any of us know is that him and King Tut went to handle something and only one of them came back in one piece.”
“Damn,” Li’l Monk cursed. His being marked for death and Omega getting taken out the game weren’t coincidences. Pharaoh and Ramses were cleaning house.
“That’s all I know, I swear, man!” the kid with the shaved head told him.
“I believe you, which is why you still have your fucking head. I’m gonna let you live, but I want you to take a message back to your boys for me. I didn’t start this family feud, but I’m gonna finish it. You tell those cocksuckers Ramses and Pharaoh that I’m coming and I’m going to keep wasting their soldiers until Pharaoh stops hiding and comes out onto the dance floor so we can settle this like gangstas. That faggot you works for thinks he’s a god, but I’m going to show the world he is indeed mortal when I make him bleed!”
“You got it, Li’l Monk, anything you say. I’ll tell him,” Dre fearfully agreed.
“Yeah, I know you’re gonna deliver my message, Dre, but you’re gonna have to write it down. I don’t know how well your mouth will work after I break your jaw,” Li’l Monk told him before proceeding to viciously pummel him.
Li’l Monk stepped out of the building and breathed deeply. The night air felt good in his lungs, especially after the light workout he’d had in the apartment. Sadly he had expected more from the men Ramses had selected to replace him and Omega. Dre and his crew were little more than flunkies, and hardly capable of running an organization. This meant they weren’t the head of the snake. Li’l Monk had a feeling if he turned over enough rocks, he’d find King Tut hiding under one of them. It was just one more blood debt he’d have to settle.
The burner phone he had gotten from Kunta vibrated in his pocket. “Speak,” he answered. Li’l Monk listened intently as the caller on the other end spoke. “Good looking out, Princess P.” He ended the call. Barely able to contain his excitement he pressed send on the only number stored in the phone and waited. “Yeah, it’s me. A little birdie just whispered in my ear and told me where to find Chucky. It’s time to end this.”