Chapter Twelve

Pop sat in his crib watching BET when he heard his phone ringing.

“What up?” Pop said into his cell phone.

“I need to see you, Fresh said before hanging up the phone.

Pop walked up in the warehouse and his attitude immediately changed when he saw Tito. From the look on Tito’s face, Pop could tell that he was drunk.

“Glad you could make it,” Fresh said as he passed the blunt to Rusty. “Yo, I need Tito, Pooh, and you to handle something for me.”

Pop didn’t really want to work with Tito, but he had to do what he had to do.

“What we gotta do?” Pop asked.

“It’s this new guy in town, Fresh paused so he could inhale the weed smoke. “He calls himself setting up shop on a few of my corners. Word on the street is he holding mad bricks ... I want those bricks and I need y’all to get them for me.”

“Don’t you even worry. Shit, I’ma make sure I personally teach this fuckin’ cocksucker a lesson,” Tito said, pounding on his chest. “You already know how I do,” he said loudly as he gave Rusty a pound.

Pop sighed loudly as he just shook his head.

“You got a problem over there, fam?” Tito asked, turning his gaze on Pop.

“No problem over here,” Pop said, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“That’ s what the fuck I thought,” Tito countered.

“Y’all two niggas better chill the fuck out,” Fresh said. “All this money out here and y’all wanna be arguing like some bitches.” He paused. “Now this nigga bitch goes and gets her nails done every week at this place right here,” Fresh said, handing Tito a piece of paper with the address on it along with a photo of the woman. “Get to her and she’ll lead y’all straight to him.”

“Say no more,” Tito said, stuffing the photo and piece of paper down in his back pocket. “Come on, let’s be out,” he said as he exited the warehouse.

Pop knew he had to control his temper while out with Tito, knowing how ignorant and foolish the man could act. Pop slid in the passenger seat of Tito’s gray Range Rover while Pooh climbed in the back.

“Yo, fam, don’t be slamming my fuckin’ door like that, B,” Tito complained. “Once you get you Range Rover then that’s when you can start slamming doors, until then don’t be slamming my shit,” Tito huffed as he looked for a CD. “Next time I’ma just smack the shit out you ‘cause I’m tired of talking to you.”

“Come on that shit ain’t even that serious,” Pooh said from the backseat, trying to defuse the situation.

“It ain’t that serious to you ‘cause it ain’t your shit he slamming,” Tito said as he pulled out into traffic.

For the entire ride Pop didn’t say a word; he just rode in silence, caught in his own thoughts. He couldn’t stand Tito, and damn sure didn’t want to work with him; it took everything in his power to not to punch him in his face. He just wanted to get the job over with and go home.

“Fuck you doing? You over there crying?” Tito said just to fuck with Pop.

“Yo, just shut up and drive, damn!” Pop sucked his teeth. “You always gotta be saying something—just shut the fuck up.”

Tito immediately pulled the car over to the side of the road and hopped out. “Fuck you talking to like that? Get out the car and say that shit.”

“Come on let’s get this shit over with,” Pop said and exhaled as he slid out the passenger seat.

“Yo, y’all niggas need to chill y’all attracting mad attention, and y’all know we riding dirty,” Pooh said, stepping in the middle of the two angry men. “Come on, Pop, get back in the truck and be the bigger man.”

“Nah, fuck that, I’m tired of this clown-ass nigga,” Pop said with his fist balled up.

Tito never took his eyes off of Pop. He wanted so badly to break his jaw, but he knew Pooh was right. “We’ll handle this later,” Tito said with a smirk as he slid back in the driver’s seat. All three men climbed back into the Range Rover as Tito pulled back out into the street.

Twenty minutes later Tito parked across the street from the nail shop that Fresh had given him the address to.

“A’ight, look, as soon as the bitch come out we going to follow the bitch to her crib, then make her talk,” Tito said, making it clear that he was in charge.

“Why don’t we just catch her before she gets in her car, ’cause what if she don’t go home?” Pop asked. “Then we gon’ just be following her all around the town for nothing.”

“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up,” Tito replied nastily. “We following the bitch and that’s that.”

“Yeah, a’ight,” Pop sighed loudly. Seconds later they saw the girl they were looking for walk out of the nail shop.

“There go our girl right there,” Tito said, making the engine come to life.

“Damn, she got a fat ass,” Pooh said undressing the woman with his eyes.

“I still say we should just grab her now,” Pop said once again.

“Shut the fuck up,” Tito replied quickly as he made a U-turn and began to follow the woman. “Yeah, this nigga must be getting some money,” Tito said, referring to the Lexus the woman drove.

“Yeah, we know she can’t afford that shit,” Pooh said from the backseat.

Twenty minutes later Tito watched the woman pull up into the driveway of a nice-looking house. “I’m about to pull up behind her; y’all go grab the bitch,” Tito ordered as he zoomed the Range Rover in the driveway right behind the woman’s car. Immediately, Pooh and Pop hopped out.

 

 

Tosha pulled up in her driveway and let the engine die. The only thing on her mind was a nap. She reached over and grabbed her Prada bag from off the passenger seat. Just as she was about to exit the car she saw a gray Range Rover pull up directly behind her. Tosha quickly panicked, thinking it was somebody coming to rob her. She quickly snatched the .380 that her man had given her from her purse. The first person she saw she shot.

Pow!

 

 

Pooh quickly hopped out the Range Rover and ran over to the driver’s door.

“Bitch, get the fuck up out the car!” he yelled as he snatched open the door. Just as he was about to grab a handful of the woman’s hair he heard the shot, saw the flash, and felt the burning. The bullet ripped through Pooh’s shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground. Next in the line of fire was Pop. Tosha aimed her gun at Pop and pulled the trigger. Pop managed to duck right on time as the bullet grazed his upper back. He quickly pulled out his 9 mm and did an army roll to get out of harm’s way.

Tosha hopped out of the Lexus and was about to run until she saw Tito in the driver’s seat of the Range Rover smiling at her. She immediately raised her gun and emptied the clip into the windshield. Once she was out of bullets she quickly turned and tried to make a dash for her front door, but the four-inch heels she wore made it impossible to run fast.

Tito hopped out the Range Rover with his P89 already in his hand. He held it with two hands as he walked in a straight line and pulled the trigger twice. The first bullet missed, but the second one exploded in the back of Tosha s’ leg, stopping her dead in her tracks.

“Dumb-ass bitch,” Tito huffed as he snatched the woman’s Prada bag from off the ground and took out her keys. He quickly walked up to the front door and let himself in.

“I need an ambulance,” Tosha cried out in pain.

Tito didn’t respond; instead, he just grabbed a handful of the woman’s hair and dragged her inside the house. Pop helped Pooh inside the house before he shut the door.

“Get your ass up, bitch!” Tito growled as he pulled Tosha up off the floor by her hair. The woman stood on one leg, not putting any pressure on her wounded leg. “Your man Randy, where does he keep all his shit?” Tito asked, still holding Tosha by her hair.

“What shit are you talking about?” Tosha said, still concentrating on her wounded leg.

“Now this bitch wanna be playing games,” Tito mumbled as he quickly flipped Tosha on the counter by her hair. He dragged her across the whole counter. He cleaned the counter with her face, and then let her body hit the floor.

“Bitch, you must think it’s a game,” Tito said as he grabbed a bottle of wine from off the top of the freezer and opened it with a corkscrew.

“Get up!” Tito snarled as he pulled Tosha back up on her one leg by her hair.

“You ready to talk now?” he asked, turning the wine bottle up to his lips.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Tosha said in between sobs.

Tito laughed loudly before he viciously busted the wine bottle over the woman’s head.

“Hey man, that’s enough,” Pop stepped in. “If she knew anything she would of told us by now.”

“What’s the matter, your stomach can’t handle all this, or you don’t have enough balls for this here business—which one is it?” Tito asked.

“Listen,” Pop began calmly. “The bitch is already knocked out. Why don’t we just sit here and wait until Randy comes home? It doesn’t make sense to just keep on beating her.”

“Damn, nigga, you talking like this your bitch or something. Tito smiled as he turned around and stomped Tosha in her face with his Nike boot.

Pop just shook his head, walked over to the couch, and took a seat.

“Just shut the fuck up and take notes,” Tito said as he stripped the woman naked and placed her in a chair, where he began to tie her up.

“You done did all that you might as well rape her while you at it,” Pop said sarcastically.

“Fuck outta here,” Tito said as he spit in the woman’s face. “I ain’t never had to take no pussy in my life.”

“Fuck all that shit,” Pooh said, breathing heavily. “Y’all need to hurry up ‘cause I gotta get my arm checked out.”

“Suck it up, you big pussy,” Tito laughed. “They don’t make ganstas like they used to I see.”

Tito’s laughs came to a stop when Tosha began to come back around.

“Where am I and what’s going on?” she mumbled, sounding drowsy.

“Today must be your lucky day, because I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me where the shit is,” Tito said as he picked up a can of gasoline from over in the corner, and began pouring it on top of Tosha’ s head.

“No, please don’t do this—I swear to God I don’t know nothing about nothing,” she whined as endless tears rolled down her face.

“Listen, lady, if you know anything you really need to tell us now before it’s too late,” Pop said, leaning in close so the woman could hear him. “Tell us something, please.”

“I don’t know anything about what Randy does, I swear,” Tosha told him. “Please don’t do this,” she begged.

“I believe her,” Pop said, turning to face Tito. “What sense does it make to keep torturing her if she don’t know shit?”

“You know what?” Tito paused. “I think you right, let’s just wait until Randy get here.”

“Plus, then we might use her as bait when he gets here, you know?” Pop said as he turned around just in time to see Tito tossing a lit match on Tosha’s head. The woman’s body was quickly covered in flames.

Pop just looked on in amazement as he watched the woman scream as the fire burned her to death.

“What the fuck is you doing?” Pop yelled. “That shit wasn’t even necessary.”

“Nigga, that bitch just tried to kill you outside,” Tito reminded him. “What is this bitch to you? Nothing, so shut the fuck up,” he said, answering his own question.

Pop was about to reply until her heard someone come through the front door. Before he could reach for his gun, Tito had already sent a shot through Randy’s leg.

“We was waiting for you,” Tito said as he dragged Randy inside the house by his wrist. “Pat this mu’fucka down,” Tito ordered as he walked over to the kitchen and grabbed another chair and sat it in the middle of the floor.

Pop patted the man down and removed a 9 mm from the small of the man’ s back.

“What the fuck y’all nigga want?” Randy asked.

“We want those bricks, cash, and whatever else you got,” Tito answered simply.

“I got four bricks and about $120,000 dollars,” Randy told it.

“So where it’s at?” Tito asked.

“At my other crib downtown.”

Tito handed Randy a piece of paper and a pen. “Write down the address and if you wasting my time it’s not gonna be pretty,” he said, nodding at Tosha’ s body that was still in flames while she was still tied up to the chair.

“Y’all didn’t have to do that to her, she didn’t know shit,” Randy said with a murderous look in his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up!” Tito growled as he kicked Randy in his face. “Just write down the address and shut up.”

Randy wrote down the address and handed the piece of paper back to Tito.

Tito took one look at the piece of paper, then turned and gave the piece of paper to Pop.

“Go check this out,” Tito told him. “And don’t take forever either.”

“What’ s wrong with your legs?” Pop asked with his face screwed up. “I can watch him while you go check the address.”

“Fuck outta here. I did all the work here, now it’ s your turn,” Tito told him.

Pop snatched the paper that had the address on it from out of Tito’s hand. “Where the fuck the keys at?” he asked, looking down at Randy.

“In my pocket,” Randy answered.

Pop quickly took the keys and was out the door with Pooh on his heels.

About ten minutes after Pop and Pooh left Tito pulled a chair next to where Randy laid.

“I have to ask you a question,” Tito began. “If you knew those blocks you put work on belonged to someone else why would you do it?”

’cause you don’t ask for blocks, you take ’em,” Randy said.

“I’ll give it to you, you got a lot of balls—not too much brain—but you got some balls,” Tito laughed as he heard his cell phone ringing. He spoke briefly before hanging up. He slowly stood up, aimed his P89 at Randy’s head, and pulled the trigger.

 

 

A week later, Pop stood on the block that Fresh had given to him not too long ago. He received stares from the local thugs; they couldn’t figure out how such a young man had been given such a high promotion.

“If these fools knew better they would do better,” Pop said to himself, noticing the looks he was getting. Along with the promotion Fresh had brought him a brand-new Benz, so he could really be stunting. Pop was quickly rising in the underworld and loving every minute of the fast life. He caught on fast and became a great businessman—he paid all his workers and runners fairly unless they fucked up a pack, and he always made sure Fresh got his cut. Pop ran a smooth operation; his only problem was Tito. No matter what he did Tito always tried to outdo him. Pop wanted to shoot Tito so bad but he spared the man because he knew Fresh cared for him, but sooner or later he would have to deal with Tito, and he couldn’t wait until the time came.

“Yo, I’m about to breeze, my dude, keep these niggas in line out here, B,” Pop said as he gave Jason a pound. Jason was Pop’s number-one lieutenant. He was in charge of collecting all the money from the workers and runners. Pop noticed the young man’s hunger and decided to give him a chance of a lifetime like how Fresh had done for him. Jason was a loyal worker as well as a good friend, plus it didn’t hurt that Pop trusted the young soldier.

“A’ight, I’m going to be on the block all night,” Jason responded.

“Damn, you must be trying to get the hustler of the year award?” Pop joked.

“This all I got right here so you know I’m going to get this money by any means,” Jason said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I respect that you a true hustler,” Pop said, answering his vibrating Nextel.

“I’m listening,” he answered playfully.

“What’ s good, my nigga?” Instantly Pop knew it was Fresh on the other end of the phone.

“I’m chilling. I’ma ’bout to go take care of something real quick, why what’s up?”

“Put that on hold until later on, I need you to come to the warehouse so I can talk to you about something,” Fresh said flatly.

“A’ight I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” Pop replied.

“Cool,” Fresh said, ending the conversation.

Pop hopped in his new Benz, leaving the whole hood staring at the sparkling rims and hearing the sound of Young Jeezy pumping through the speakers as he peeled off.

“I wonder what’s so important that Fresh couldn’t wait to holla at me tomorrow?” Pop asked himself as he weaved from lane to lane, doing about eighty on the highway. He parked his Benz a block away from the warehouse like he always did. Something just didn’t feel right—Pop could tell by how Fresh’s voice sounded on the phone.

“What’s up, glad you could make it on such notice,” Fresh said, giving Pop a pound.

“It’s all good, so what’s the big emergency?” Pop asked, taking a seat in a chair that looked very expensive.

“I got a very important job I need you to take care of for me,” Fresh said, handing Pop a drink. “You the only person I trust to take care of this job.” Pop could see in Fresh’s eyes that he was desperate. “A’ight, what do I have to do?”

“I need you to kill Amanda for me tomorrow night,” he stated plainly.

“What?” Pop asked, wondering if he had just heard correctly.

“You heard me, Pop, I said I need you to get rid of Amanda for me,” Fresh stated calmly.

“Why can’t you get Rusty or Tito to do it?” Pop asked, not liking the sound of the job.

“Because you are the only person I want knowing about this, Fresh said, reading Pop’s facial expression. “I got everything all mapped out so you can get away clean.”

“So what’s the plan?” Pop asked.

“It’s simple. Amanda goes to the supermarket every Sunday, so all you have to do is stake out around her building, follow her to the supermarket and clap her

“Nah, I’m going to get caught if I clap her in a supermarket parking lot—my cannon bark’s too loud,” Pop said, visualizing the whole shit in his head. Before Pop could say another word Fresh pulled a .380 with a silencer out of his drawer, and placed it on top of his desk. “Now what?” Fresh asked, getting impatient.

“Fuck it. It’s done,” Pop said, grabbing the .380 from off of the desktop.

“This is for your troubles,” Fresh said, placing a brown paper bag on top of the desk.

“I got you, baby,” Pop said as he took the brown paper bag and made his exit. When Pop made it back to his car he looked inside the paper bag and counted out $15,000 dollars. “All in a day’s work,” he said as he made the engine come alive, and fled the scene.

 

 

“Word just got back on that clown that robbed you,” Rusty said, passing the blunt to Fresh.

“What’s that fool’s résumé?” Fresh asked, taking the blunt.

“Some stickup kid that just came home named the Truth,” Rusty said, handing Fresh a picture of the stickup kid.

“You got an address for me?”

“I got it right here,” Rusty answered, handing the piece of paper with the address on it to Fresh. “You want me to put Pop or Tito on the job?”

“Nah, I gotta take care of this one myself,” Fresh said with a smirk on his face. “Mu’fucka thought he was just going to rob me and never hear from me again,” he said, shaking his head.

“Shit can, you blame him?” Rusty asked. “People is fucked up out here right now.”

“Well, he took something from the wrong mu’fucka, and now he gotta pay with his life,” Fresh said, seriously.

“When you want to go handle this?” Rusty asked as he passed the blunt back to Fresh.

“The sooner the better,” Fresh said, ending the conversation as he answered his ringing cell phone.

 

 

“I can’t believe that nigga Fresh gave Pop his own spot to run,” Tito said as he and Pooh sat in the tittie bar, getting drunk.

“Yeah, Fresh really likes that kid,” Pooh slurred.

“You done put in more work than Pop, and I put in more work then both of y’all put together,” Tito said with envy in his voice as he downed his drink.

“Yeah, I know but what we going to do, go head up with Fresh?” Pooh said playfully.

The only problem was Tito wasn’t playing—he had big dreams that he couldn’t accomplish rolling with Fresh. Fuck it I might just have to start up my own crew, Tito thought to himself.

“Yo, I’m going to have to catch up with you later,” Pooh said, breaking up Tito’s thoughts.

“A’ight, my dude, drive safe,” Tito said as he gave Pooh a pound. As Pooh got up to leave, a pair of eyes followed their every move from the back of the bar.

“Ma, come here for a minute so I can scream at you for a minute,” Tito said to a dark-skinned woman with a nice pair of breasts.

“If I’m coming over here I know you going to buy me a drink,” Nice Titties said in a hustler’s tone.

“Is this enough for your drink, tip, and number?” Tito asked, slipping the woman a hundred-dollar bill. Before the woman could answer, Tito felt somebody sit down next to him. When he turned around he was shocked to see Bamboo sitting in front of him.

“Long time no see,” Bamboo said, extending his hand.

“I should pop your fuckin’ head off right now, B,” Tito said, looking Bamboo dead in his eyes.

“Listen, Tito, don’t get ahead of yourself, I’m here to talk business with you.”

Before Tito addressed Bamboo he noticed Nice Titties was still standing there. “Baby, I’m going to get up with you before I break out, a’ight,” he said, dismissing the lady with nice titties.

“A’ight, just make sure you don’t forget about me,” she said seductively as she took her time walking off.

“Now what kind of business are you talking about?” Tito asked, sipping on his drink.

“Basically I’m about to make you a offer you can’t refuse,” Bamboo stated plainly.

“I’m listening, mu’fucka,” Tito said, giving Bamboo his undivided attention.

“It’s like this: I got mad work, but I don’t got nobody to move it. I got a few small-time hustlers but I don’t got that right piece to the puzzle, so I was thinking I could front you a few of them things, and we could take shit over. I could hire some workers and some muscle for you, and we just shut shit down out here. Plus, niggas won’t fuck with you anyway ‘cause of your street reputation. Instead of working for Fresh you could be the next Fresh,” Bamboo said, really trying to sell Tito his dream.

“Your plan doesn’t sound too bad,” Tito said, thinking about it.

“I been planning this shit for a hot minute, there’s no way this plan can go wrong—plus with me backing you up there won’t be no stopping you,” Bamboo said, looking over both of his shoulders as if someone was trying to eavesdrop.

“Damn, this just what the fuck I needed,” Tito said to himself, wondering if the plan would work. Tito was tired of waiting for Fresh. As soon as he came home he was supposed to have his own block already waiting for him, but instead he came home only to find out that a young street punk had stolen his position.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, if you deal with me you going to be getting the best product on the streets right now, the only thing is no funny business. If you deal with me you deal with me only. I got a hit squad on standby waiting for you if you even think about crossing me,” Bamboo warned.

“Look at my face—does it look like I’m scared of your little punk-ass hit squad?” Tito asked, putting on his killer face.

“Fresh wasn’t scared of my hit squad either and you see what happened to him,” Bamboo said, letting out a little chuckle.

“You know what, Bamboo, I think this just might work. Give me a day or two and I’ll get back to you, a’ight?”

“Take your time,” Bamboo said, downing his drink. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Fresh is still on my hit list, so if you got any information that will help me be able to hit him easier, I’m willing to pay for that info.”

“Shit, if the price is right I’ll hit him for you, that mu’fucka been shitting on me lately anyway,” Tito said, meaning every word he said.

“Here’s my card. Get back to me within forty-eight hours,” Bamboo said as he exited the bar. Bamboo knew he could get Tito to switch to his team, because he knew how greedy and money-hungry he was. However, things would turn out even better if Tito would take care of Fresh too.

 

 

The Truth sat in his apartment playing with the new AK-47 he had just purchased, while the movie Menace II Society played on his TV.

“Damn, I can’t wait, shoot me a nigga with this,” he said, admiring his new toy. The Truth was the kind of stickup kid that took his job too serious. He loved seeing the fear on his victimsfaces when he robbed them, just something about it made him feel more powerful.

“What you out here doing?” Krya asked, coming from the back room. Once she saw her man holding the AK she already knew what was up. “You know sometimes I think you love your guns more than you love me.”

“So what’s the problem?” the Truth joked as he blocked the pillow that Kyra threw at his head. Krya and the Truth had been together for twelve years. No matter what happen or what the Truth did Kyra always stood by her man’s side.

“Let’s go out and get something to eat,” Kyra suggested as she sat down on the couch next to her man.

“No can do,” he said, kissing Kyra on her cheek. “I gotta go out and get this money.”

“You need me to drive?” Kyra asked, rubbing the back of her man’s head.

“Nah, I can’t have y’all out there riding with me,” he replied, rubbing Kyra’s stomach.

“I ain’t even three months pregnant yet, I can still drive, baby.”

“No, and that’s final,” the Truth barked. “If something happened to you I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

“But I’m always your driver,” Kyra said. “And I don’t think we should switch up the program.”

“Fuck the program, you ain’t going and that’s it,” the Truth said, shutting down her plan. “And if you ask me again I’m gon’ smack the shit outta you.”

Kyra sucked her teeth but didn’t reply. She knew that if she continued to push the issue her man would make good on his promise to smack the shit out of her. So she decided to hold her tongue.

“Come on, baby, don’t act like that,” he said, noticing the frown on Kyra’s face. “I just can’t take that kind of a chance, I love you and not only that, you carrying my son in your stomach.”

“How you know it’s not a girl?”

“Because it’s not that’s how I know,” the Truth said playfully as he mushed her. “Nah, baby, but all jokes aside I want you to just chill here in the crib and relax.”

“I will only on one condition,” Kyra said, smiling.

“What?”

“Promise me you’re going to be careful out there and make it back home to me in one piece.”

“I promise I’ll be extra-careful and make it back to you in one piece,” he said and bent down and kissed her forehead.

 

 

“Damn, I’m hungry as fuck,” Rusty said, keeping up with the traffic.

“We can eat after we take care of this clown,” Fresh said, leaning back in the passenger seat with his hoodie on.

“We gon’ have to be a little careful,” Rusty said, keeping his eyes on the road. “My man told me this guy is a real gun fanatic.”

“You know I don’t give a fuck about none of that shit,” Fresh said with no emotions. “He lived by the gun, now he gonna have to die by it.”

Rusty pulled up a block away from the building they were headed to and let the engine die. He grabbed the Tec-9 from off the backseat. “You ready?”

“You already know,” Fresh answered as he tucked his 9 mm in his waistband and slid out of the passenger seat.

Just as Fresh and Rusty was walking to the building, the Truth was walking out. He wore a skully and shades, along with a trench coat to hide his AK.

“A yo, that’s him right there!” Rusty said, tapping Fresh.

The Truth turned and looked at Fresh. Immediately he knew the man from somewhere, but he couldn’t figure out where. But from the look the man had in his eyes the Truth knew he was trouble. He tried to run back inside the building but it was too late.

Fresh immediately snatched his 9 mm from his waist and sent three shots in the Truth’s direction. One of the shots hit him in his side, forcing him to spin around. But once he spun around his AK was already drawn.

Fresh and Rusty both quickly took cover behind a parked car as the AK lit up the streets.

The Truth dropped down to a knee and tried to apply pressure to his side to stop some of the bleeding. “Fuck,” he cursed loudly from the pain that he was feeling.

“You take that side and I’ma take this side,” Fresh said as he silently counted to three. Fresh ran up on the side of the car until he reached the Truth. The Truth laid on the ground holding his side with a smile on his face. “I knew you’d be back,” he said, looking up at Fresh.

“I told you I would be,” Fresh said as he kicked the AK-47 out of the man’s reach. “The head or the chest?” he asked.

“The head,” the Truth whispered, closing his eyes, preparing himself for his next life.

Fresh stood over the wounded man’s body and pulled the trigger.

“Come on we gotta go,” Rusty said, pulling Fresh back to the getaway car.

Upstairs Kyra sat on the couch watching Menace II Society when she heard three shots go off followed by several more. Immediately her heart sank. All she could think about was her man. “Please don’t let nothing happen to my man,” she prayed as she quickly threw on some clothes and flew out of the house. Once Kyra made it downstairs she dropped to her knees when she saw her man laid out in a pool of his own blood. “No baby, why didn’t you just let me come with you?” she cried, mad at herself for letting him change her mind. When the ambulance arrived and she watched them cover her man’s body with the white sheet, she immediately passed out.