Love and a Gangsta (23 page)

“Yo, Mega, is that po-po behind us?”

I turned to look and saw the marked blue and white following us.

“Fuck they want?”

We had two Glocks concealed in a crafty stash box over the glove compartment. But besides that, we had nothing else that could incriminate us.

“Just play it cool, yah heard son? Let’s see how the fuck they play it.”

Greasy kept the ride going at a moderate speed. He then turned right onto a residential block, using his signals. They followed right behind us. I knew what was coming next.
Whoop-whoop

I heard the cop car echo out with its overhead lights blaring behind us.

“Fuck!” Greasy muttered.

He pulled over to the right in the middle of the block and put the truck in park. I remained stretched out in my seat, wanting to get the harassment over with.

“You good, right?” I asked Greasy.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

I didn’t even bother to turn around to see who was coming toward us. I already had the passenger window down and stared out the windshield.

“Hey baby.”

I was stunned and turned to see Judy standing by the passenger side. Her partner, Ivory was by the driver’s side.

“Shit Judy, why you gotta nigga stress right now? I’m thinkin’ you real police and shit,” I said.

“I am the real deal,” she smiled.

“You know what the fuck I’m sayin. What’s good though?”

“I know you’ve been busy, baby, but I wanna know, you got that for me sometime soon?” she asked.

Her partner Ivory was a meth addict too, so it wasn’t a problem for her to been in our conversation.

“You know I don’t ride dirty, baby. You gotta get at one of my boys for that. I’ll make a call for you.”

“Cool. So you down to see me tonight? It’s been a minute?” she asked.

“Tomorrow night, I’ll come through,” I smiled, asking. “Everything’s cool out here?”

“Yeah, it’s been quiet. We only had that call about a man shot dead at some club on Liberty a few days back,” she revealed.

“Yeah, what you heard about that? Any news?”

“Nothing, no witnesses came forward and the dead man had a sheet
a mile long,” she joked. “You don’t know anything about that right?”

“Nah,” I lied.

“Mega, remember we got that thing to take care of in a half,” Greasy reminded.

“Ahight baby, I know you’re busy and all, so I’m gonna let you be. If I hear anything about that other thing, I’ll let you know. Be careful, okay,” Judy said. She then leaned into the window and gave me a kiss.

“Peace,” Greasy said.

We watched them walk back to the radio car, and I was thinking, even in uniform, that bitch got a body.

“Why you ain’t say shit to her, Greasy. Damn, you fuckin’ the bitch almost every night,” I said.

“Yo, as long as Greasy see that bitch in that uniform, I ain’t got shit to say to her. But when she’s outta that pig skin, it’s fuckin on,” he sucked his teeth and said.

I laughed. Greasy put the truck in drive and drove off.

As always, to ease my mind from the drama in the streets, I went to pussy. That was my drug. It gave me a high. It made me feel good. I linked up with Cindy, this bitch that Soul brought to the club the other night. She was a young cutie who was moved by niggas like me—thugs and hustlers. Just looking at her made me want to fuck her. It was so easy that it was almost a turn off.

Three days after we met, I had her see me at the club. I wasted no time taking that bitch into one of the backrooms and had her on her knees sucking my dick. She was ahight, but I had better.

She was sucking on my dick, and I was thinking about the drama that was playing out. Tiny had gone into hiding. None of my peoples had seen that bitch-ass-nigga on the streets lately. I was going to put the squeeze on him and his crew. I was still seething from the previous shootout and I had to retaliate quickly so I wouldn’t begin looking weak.

I put my boys, Whistle and Monk on the job. With the two of them hunting and preying, it wouldn’t be long before they came back with a kill.

“Hmm, hmm… Oh, ugh, ugh.”

Cindy was going to town. I grabbed her hair and enjoyed the bliss. While she was still sucking on my dick, there was a knock at the door.

“Who?” I shouted.

“It’s Biscuit.”

“Come in.”

Biscuit walked into the room and he smiled. “Damn nigga, can I get next?” he asked.

“Nigga what you want?” I asked.

“We got sump’n,” he said.

“Like…?”

“Whistle and Monk got two of Tiny’s men. I thought you might want to hear that immediately.”

“They alive right?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell ‘em we’ll be there in half.”

“Ahight.”

Biscuit stared at Cindy still blessing me and said, “Shorty a freak and shit. Mega, can that bitch suck me off, too?”

Cindy stopped and looked up at Biscuit with contempt and said, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Bitch, I’ll take that weak pussy from you!” Biscuit snapped at her.

“Biscuit, be out nigga, and make that call,” I ordered.

“Ahight, fuck that weak ass bitch,” he said to her before leaving.

On the streets, Biscuit was skilled, ruthless and feared, but when it came to the ladies, sometimes this nigga used his wrong head. I’ve seen this nigga raped bitches before, because it was one way of him getting some ass. They never reported him due to his reputation and fear. Despite his street savvy, Biscuit was still young and dumb.

After he left, I pulled Cindy up off her knees. I had her out of her tight jeans and panties. Cindy’s ass was in the air. I was curved over the desk, fuckin’ her doggy style with the magnum on. I was rough with her, pulling at
her hair, and smacking that bitch on her ass, while sliding in and out of her.

Later that night, Biscuit and I met up with Monk, Whistle and a few other soldiers at one of my undisclosed locations. I used to get truly needed information from niggas who liked to keep a tight lip. We walked into the faintly lit, underground seedy area, exposed pipes overheard, asbestos baring ceilings and walls. There were two of Tiny’s men bonded with duct-tape around their wrists, ankles and over their mouths. The pair was butt-naked on the hard concrete.

They saw Biscuit and me walk into the room, and started to squirm, mumbling incoherently. Their eyes wide with fear, bodies were already beaten bruised and bloodied.

“Y’all fucked up!” Biscuit said glaring down at them.

We stared at them knowing their fates. I needed information. It was a no-win situation for both. They could either die slow and screaming, or quickly. It didn’t matter.

“Remove the tape,” I ordered.

Monk crouched near them, and ripped the duct-tape from their mouths.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah, shit,” one of the men screamed out, wiggling.

“What’s good, fellas?” I asked.

“Fuck you, nigga!” one boldly shouted.

The second man remained quiet. He was scared shitless. His boy, on the other hand wanted to be hard. His end will be very painful and agonizing. I smiled.

“This nigga talkin’ shit,” Biscuit exclaimed.

“I ain’t telling you all a got-damn thing! Fuck you, Omega!” he shouted.

“Nigga shudafuckup!” Biscuit yelled.

The man then spit out some teeth along with blood, compliments of Biscuit’s Timberlands cracking his jaw. He screamed in pain, but it was only the beginning for him.

“Why you gotta make it difficult for us?” I shook my head and asked. He didn’t say a word. He just continued spitting out blood.

“Don’t get that shit on my boots, muthafucka!” I warned turning my
attention to the second man, “You good?” His facial expression was frozen in panic. I looked down at him and asked, “What’s your name, yo?”

“Mike,” he replied.

“So Mike, we can make this easy on you. You wanna go home right?” I asked, sounding so sympathetic.

“I ain’t do shit, man. I was just chillin’ wit’ my nigga and I got caught up in this shit,” he explained.

“This your boy?”

“We cool, but yo… I don’t know nothing,” he pleaded.

“Somehow Mike, I don’t believe you.”

“Yo, man, c’mon man, I’m begging you…I ain’t do shit to you. I got kids, yo. My girl just had a baby. She’s two months. I don’t wanna die, man… Please. What you wanna know?” he asked, begging for his life.

“I don’t give a fuck about your kids, Mike. I care about my biz. I almost lost my life the other night, Mike. You care about me, Mike?”

“We supposed to be brothers, yo,” he exclaimed.

Everyone started laughing.

“Brothers?” Biscuit replied. “Nigga, we ain’t your fuckin’ brother… This bitch ass nigga…”

Mike had tears streaming down his face as he stared up at me, awaiting his fate.

“Don’t cry, nigga,” I said to him. “Just tell me what I need to know, and it’s all good wit’ us.”

“Man, I don’t fuck wit’ Tiny like that,” he exclaimed.

“I don’t believe you,” I said.

“Yo, this ain’t me.”

“Ahight whatever, the truth shall be set free tonight,” I said. I then turned to look at Mr. Tough Guy and said, “You finish spitting up blood?”

“You gonna get yours, Omega. You don’t know who you’re fuckin’ wit!” he barked, still having some fight in him.

“Ahight, whatever… Y’all niggas break out the toys. We gonna get sump’n from these niggas one-way or the other. I tried being nice to muthafuckas.”

“Hey, they wanna make it last, then I’m down,” Biscuit said.

“C’mon man, I don’t know nada yo,” Mike shouted.

“Well, we’re definitely gonna find out for sure,” I returned.

I had Whistle plug in a hot steaming iron. We picked up Mike from off the floor and suspended him up from the ceiling, having his arms outstretched, and every part of him exposed and vulnerable. His body was limp and bloody from the beaten bestowed.

“C’mon man, please don’t do this to me… Please, I beg you. I just wanna go home to my girl and kids. I never did shit to you man,” he pleaded, sobbing like an infant. “If I knew shit, I’d a told you already.”

I gripped the burning hot iron and held it to my side. Mike knew what was coming next. Sometimes the simplest household appliance can be the most perfected methods of torture on a muthafucka.

“Mr. Tough guy, you got sump’n to say, to save your boy from this shit? I can make it quick for him and you,” I said.

“Fuck you, and that bitch-ass crybaby,” he spat.

“Yo, you just don’t fuckin’ learn,” I scolded, getting upset. “Ahight nigga, you wanna be hard, fuck this!” I said pressing the hot iron to the side of Mike’s face and holding it there.

“Ah… Ah… Ah Fuck this! Fuck this. Muthafuckas… Ah-ah-ah-ah!” he screamed.

I pulled the iron from the left side of his face and left a disfiguring burn mark there with his skin melting like hot caramel.

“Anything?” I asked again, being upset.

Nothing from neither, Mike was whimpering, and his boy remained glued to the ground feeling no remorse.

“Fuck it, again,” I said.

I pressed the iron to the other side of his face, and Mike let out a piercing loud scream that echoed beyond these walls. But he couldn’t be heard, because there weren’t any neighbors around. My location was far off and isolated. Mike cried out, he was ready to fall and crash to the ground, but he was still shackled to the ceiling from his wrists, with his body sagging from the pain.

“Please stop…please,” he faintly cried out.

“Anything?” I asked again.

Once again, no one knew a damn thing. I pressed the iron to his face again. Then began working down to his chest, eventually I had to press that scorching metal iron against his genitals. The scream he let out after that hot metal iron came meshed with his skin and nuts, made my ears pop. Mike started to smell. And still he didn’t budge.

“Yo, Mike might be telling the truth,” I said.

I mean after something like that, he would have been told a nigga something. The pain was too unbearable. I looked at Mike, and he was a mess. His skin was burned badly, and he could no long support himself up.

“Mike, you okay? Hang in there wit’ me Mike, we’re almost done here,” I said to him, sounding like an assuring friend. He was whimpering, his speech incoherent. His skin was red and blistered, and bruised.

“Yo, that nigga is done, Mega,” Biscuit said.

“Let him loose,” I instructed.

Whistle and Monk unshackled him, and he collapsed to the cold ground. He looked dead, but I knew he wasn’t. I looked over at the next nigga. “It’s your turn, muthafucka!”

I wanted his ass, this brazen fucking loud mouth nigga. He knew something. Monk and Whistle picked him off the ground and shackled him to the ceiling, suspending him.

“Ahight nigga, I’m gonna take my time with you. You got sump’n to say?”