Chapter 74

An hour after the killing at the Murder Mac, I sat inside a restaurant near the casino watching the news coverage of my work. Jay sat across from me, speaking clearly about what Debo discovered in the rat’s Lexus.

“Yeah, that nigga must’ve been making a drop somewhere, ‘cause ain’t no nigga in they right mind just gon’ be riding around in the D like that with twelve on ‘em.”

“You get your cut from Big Boy?”

“Yeah, but I told him he had to kick in some work, ‘cause at the end of the day, he wouldn’t have shit if it wasn’t fo’ you.”

“You ain’t satisfied with six bricks?” I asked, slightly irritated. “That’s a come up that most niggas dream about and never get.”

“See, that’s the problem right dere. I ain’t like most niggas. I never forget my blessings. So here’s the deal. I took three birds, gave Debo three birds and brought you six of dem thangs. If a nigga can’t bubble off three of dem thangs, den, he’s just in the way, fo’ real.”

“You brought me six bricks? Fuck I’ma do with that shit?” I asked, staring directly into Jay’s eyes. “I’m not a hustler no more, homes. I got a million niggas on lockdown all over the world depending on me to get their revenge and I’m trying to get this shit over with and get back to my city soon as possible. I can’t be carrying around six bricks with me.”

“Put it up in your room, I don’t give a fuck. You deserve that shit; you put the work in for it. Look, there’s a lotta money you can make off dat work just by selling it wholesale back in your town.”

“Hustler’s Ambition” suddenly filled my mind before the wheels of my cranium began turning. Before going to prison, I had never seen one kilo of cocaine up close and personal. During those hustling days, my goal had always been to reach a kilo status and take off from there. Now I had six bricks and didn’t really need them. I had more money than I could count and a legitimate hustle with the nightclub and publishing company. I figured I could just dish off the work in my city and get paid handsomely by the middle of next month. Catching another view of Murder Mac on the television, I turned back to Jay and nodded. “A’ight I’ma take the work, but what I really want is you to show me where the rat’s mother lives on Archdale.”

“Fo’ sho’!” He got up and began walking towards the elevators with the bookbag full of kilos slung over his left shoulder.

 

For the next three hours, I sat in the rental on Archdale Street watching the rat’s mother’s house, feeling hopeless until the break came that I’d been waiting on. A sleek platinum drop top Corvette ZR-1 pulled up and parked. When the driver jumped out of the convertible carrying a Louis Vuitton print tote bag, he turned out to be the same rat I’d seen earlier at the basketball court. As Gy rushed up on the house’s front porch, I got out of the rental and eased up behind him. By the time the rat opened the front door, I had my gun out and aimed at his back. As the rat turned to take another cautious look before entering the house, he froze at the sight of me.

“Omerta!” I said with a smile before shooting him once in the forehead, which pushed his thought, brains, and blood all over the front door, making a crimson mess.

“Live by it, die by it!” I said before putting two more slugs in his face and two more slugs through his heart. I squatted down and took the luggage off his shoulders and walked calmly back to the rental.

Two down and two more to go, I told myself as I drove back the hotel/casino, geekin’ to see the contents inside the Louis Vuitton tote bag that had a little weight on it.