Animal 2 (13 page)

“On everything, I'm at that nigga like a tweet as soon as I hang up the jack,” Lakim vowed.

“Easy, my nigga. This is chess, not checkers. I'm on my way back to Mecca right now, so hold ya head until I get there. In the meantime, round up the crew, and tell them this is not a drill.”

“You already know!” Lakim said.

“Nigga tried to send a bitch at me, but that's cool. This shit just taught me a lesson,” King James said.

“And what's that, God?”

“Ain't no rules in war.”

“I keep thinking that if I blink, the image will fade, and you'll be gone again.”

—Gucci

I
T DIDN'T TAKE PRIEST VERY
long to find the Little Guy. Shai's spies had been keeping steady tabs on him since Gee-Gee had called in the contract. They kept a nice little file on him that included just about everything there was to know about the Little Guy, except the fact that there was nothing little about him.

Priest was taken aback when he first saw the mountain of a man in person. He had been staking out the motel room he was staying in. When the Little Guy came out, Priest had to do a double take. The Little Guy stood at least six-foot-six and was well over two hundred pounds. He was a typical grease ball, with overgelled hair and a jogging suit that fit him a little too snugly at the wrists. All his jewelry was slum, with the exception of the chain around his neck, fitted with a diamond square.

As the Little Guy crossed the parking lot, he was joined by two more men. They were both wearing cheap suits and sunglasses at night. They were either the feds or the last few soldiers loyal to the rat. They climbed into a black SUV with heavily
tinted windows and pulled out into traffic. Priest had hoped to hit him at the motel, but there were too many people around for him to risk it. He'd have to follow them and hope another opportunity presented itself.

He followed them out to Queens, where the SUV pulled into the parking lot of a seedy-looking strip club, and they jumped out and made happy steps toward the entrance and were greeted by the bouncer. He hugged the Little Guy like a long-lost family member. When Priest caught a glimpse of the badge hanging around the bouncer's neck, he understood. They were playing for the same team. The bouncer directed the Little Guy and his men around the metal detector and ushered them inside. It was all VIP treatment for the Little Guy. Here was a man who was about to turn state's evidence on his friends, the same friends he had broken the law with, and he was parading the streets like a rock star. The sight of it disgusted Priest. The fact that the snitch could walk around without apparent fear for his life was just further proof that the game had changed. The rules went out the window.

Priest waited a few seconds before following the Little Guy. He knew when he saw the off-duty officer and the metal detector at the entrance that bringing his gun inside was out of the question, so he left it in the car. It complicated things but changed nothing. The Little Guy wouldn't live to see another sunrise, but Priest would have to be creative about the way he killed him.

The inside of the place was more crowded than the parking lot reflected. There were mostly more grease balls, dressed just as badly as or worse than the Little Guy, and a few anorexic strippers with balloon breasts dancing on the stage. Most of the
guys in the bar seemed to know one another, which confused Priest at first. When he looked up at the banner hanging on the wall that read “Fond Farewell,” everything started to make sense. Obviously, the rest of the organizations hadn't gotten the memo about the Little Guy's extracurricular activities yet, and they were throwing him a going-away party before his phony prison sentence was to begin. Little did they know their going-away parties were right around the corner. It took everything Priest had to keep from laughing and bringing attention to himself.

He found a table in the back, in the darkest corner of the joint, and tried his best to remain inconspicuous. It wasn't an easy task, considering he was the only minority in the whole establishment who wasn't wearing some type of server's uniform or shaking ass on the stage. He watched patiently as the Little Guy and his goombas toasted and told war stories. After about an hour, the Little Guy's bladder finally started talking to him, so he got up to use the bathroom. That was when Priest made his move.

When Priest entered the bathroom, the Little Guy had his back to him, relieving himself in the urinal. Seeing him up close, Priest now knew that what he had mistaken as fat was all muscle. The Little Guy must've felt he was being watched, because he looked up from his leak and at Priest through the mirror. Priest lowered his eyes and went to the urinal on the other side, where he pretended to be taking a leak, too. When he moved to the sink to wash his hands, the Little Guy was still pissing. Priest let the water run while he slipped his hands up the sleeves of the suit jacket he was wearing. He was about to make his move when the Little Guy spoke.

“I've been coming to this spot for a long time, and I've never seen you. Did you just start working here?” the Little Guy asked, still facing the urinal.

“I don't work here,” Priest said.

“Figured as much. The only time I ever seen one of your kind in here, they were either washing dishes or dancing. You're dressed too sharp to be a dishwasher, and you ain't got enough curves to be a dancer. So I gotta ask, what brings you to these parts?”

“I guess lying would be pointless at this stage.” Priest turned around, holding two small knives. They were made of hard plastic and no good for cutting, but their pointed edges made them ideal for stabbing. “If you must know, I've come to kill you.”

The Little Guy shook himself. “I figured that, too. Well, I guess we might as well get to it.” He spun, holding a .22.

Before the Little Guy could get off a shot, Priest was on him. He lashed out with a roundhouse kick that sent the gun flying under one of the stalls. Priest swung one of the plastic blades overhand, only to have the Little Guy block the strike with one of his thick arms. The Little Guy's fist shot forward like a rocket and landed in Priest's gut, knocking the wind out of him. Before Priest could catch his breath, the Little Guy slugged him in the chin and sent him skidding across the bathroom floor.

“I'm going to break your neck, you fucking monkey!” The Little Guy charged.

Priest was able to roll into a kneeling position just as the Little Guy reached him. He buried one of the plastic knives into the Little Guy's side, causing him to wince but not stopping him. He tried to stab him with the other one, but the Little Guy
caught him about the wrist in mid-swing. The Little Guy pulled Priest up by the arm and smiled at him menacingly before head-butting him in the mouth, busting his nose.

“What's the matter? You don't wanna play anymore?” the Little Guy asked the dazed assassin.

In response, Priest kicked him in the balls. When the Little Guy released his grip, Priest stuck him with the second blade in the shoulder and then drove the first blade into his back. The Little Guy grabbed Priest around the waist and lifted him into the air. Hurling himself forward, he slammed Priest into the wall. Priest stabbed him over and over, but the Little Guy wouldn't release him. Twirling the plastic knives downward, he drove them into both the Little Guy's shoulder blades.

The Little Guy threw Priest across the room, but the blades stayed lodged in his flesh. In an instant, Priest was on his feet and back at him. The Little Guy swung, but Priest ducked the blow and launched two of his own into the Little Guy's stomach. When the Little Guy tried to grab him, Priest slipped under his arms and came up behind him. He pulled out his rosary and tried to wrap it around the Little Guy's neck, but a powerful swing from one of his opponent's arms sent him stumbling. In an attempt to keep his balance, Priest tried to grab the Little Guy's jacket, but his fingers fell short of the jacket and popped his chain. The diamond square that had been hanging on the end flew off and slid across the floor.

The Little Guy seemed to totally forget about Priest and dived for his diamond. Priest leaped onto his back, grabbing hold of the plastic blades and driving them deeper into the Little Guy's skin. A stiff elbow knocked Priest off the Little Guy's back, and he continued crawling toward the diamond.

Priest was back on him within seconds, this time looping the rosary around the Little Guy's beefy neck. He pulled with everything he had, forcing the Little Guy into a kneeling position. “Die already, you big son of a bitch!” He choked him. The Little Guy tried futilely to reach for Priest, but it was over. When Priest released his grip, the Little Guy's lifeless body collapsed to the floor.

Priest dropped to his hands and knees, breathing heavily. His lungs felt like they were going to explode in his chest. “I'm getting too old for this shit,” he said to himself. When he had caught his breath, he crawled over and retrieved his plastic knives from the Little Guy's back. “Shai was very specific in his instructions.” He rolled the corpse over onto its back. He stuck his hand into the Little Guy's mouth and pulled his tongue out. “And who am I to deny his requests?” He stabbed the Little Guy through the tongue. It took him three attempts to carve it loose with the plastic knife.

“May your rat-fuck mouth never speak the name of a stand-up nigga in a court of law, you piece of shit!” Priest spit on the corpse. After securing the tongue in a piece of cloth, he walked over to the bathroom door, where he plucked the diamond from the floor. “You must be worth a fortune if even on the threshold of death, that fat muthafucka was more concerned about you than his own life.” He held it up to the light and examined the diamond. Behind the stones, he could see that something looked off. Priest placed the diamond on the sink and retrieved the Little Guy's .22. Using the butt of the gun like a hammer, Priest smashed the jewel. “What have we here?” He held up the SD card that had been hidden within the diamond. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what he would find on
the card. “I guess not all your dirty little secrets made it to the grave with you, huh?” He kicked the Little Guy's corpse.

“He's been gone for a while. Let's go check on him to make sure he didn't fall in,” Priest heard someone say from the other side of the bathroom door.

A few seconds later, two goombas came into the bathroom to check on the Little Guy. All they found was a bloody bathroom and the corpse of the would-be snitch.

T
HERE WAS AN UNCOMFORTABLE SILENCE
in the room. Kahllah had gone out to run errands, so it was just the two lovers.

Animal hadn't said much since he'd come back from his expedition with Priest. Gucci had tried to bring it up in conversation, but Animal didn't seem to want to talk about it. He sat at the computer desk, taking deep pulls from a Newport cigarette. He'd been telling himself that he was going to quit but just hadn't gotten around to it yet. Through the cloud of smoke, he watched Gucci, sitting on the couch with her hands folded. Her face held a million questions, but her lips were still. So many things had come to pass, and so many more were still unfolding. This was the first time the two of them had been alone together in years. What once felt natural had regressed to first-date butterflies. They were both waiting for each other to say something to break the awkward quiet. It was Animal who spoke first.

“How're you feelin'?” he asked.

Gucci ran her fingers through her rough edges and thought about how badly she needed a perm. “Better than I look.”

Another long pause.

“Is your shoulder OK?” Gucci asked.

Animal rotated his arm. “A little sore but still functional.”

“Good. For a minute, I thought Priest had really hurt you.”

“It'll take more than a separated joint to hurt me. I've been through quite a bit these last few years.”

“I can imagine,” Gucci said, before going back to looking at her hands.

“What's wrong?” Animal asked.

“What makes you say something is wrong?”

“Because you've spent more time looking at your hands than at me.” Animal got up from the chair and walked to stand in front of Gucci. She glanced up at him briefly before averting her eyes again. He knelt and gently turned her chin so that she was facing him. “Why can't you look at me?”

“It's hard for me, Animal . . .” Gucci began. “I spent so much time looking for glimpses of your ghost that now that I have the genuine article, it almost doesn't seem real. I keep thinking that if I blink, the image will fade, and you'll be gone again.”

“I'm not going anywhere, Gucci. Now that I'm back in your life, we'll never be separated again. I promise,” Animal assured her.

“That's what you said the last time, Animal, but it didn't stop you from being ripped from me. My heart bled for so long that I thought it'd never stop, and as soon as I start to heal a little, you pop back into my life and reopen the wound. I'm still trying to process it.”

“Baby, you know if I'd had it my way, we'd have never been apart, not even for a second, let alone years. When I was away, there wasn't a minute of a day that went by when I didn't think
about you and the life I was forced to leave behind,” Animal said.

“Do you mean it?” Gucci asked.

“I put my soul on it,” Animal replied. “The thought that I'd be able to get back to you one day was the only thing that kept me going out there in them jungles.”

“What was it like?” she asked. It was an unexpected question.

“Honestly, it was hell.” Animal sat on the couch beside her. “I was in a strange place around strange people, nothing familiar to hold on to. I mean, my brother Justice was out there, too, but it wasn't the same between us. After how we parted company, I doubt if it'll ever be the same again.”