Me and My Hittas (9 page)

“Yeah, that’s his bitch ass,” Lil’ Gangsta
smiled
evilly and rubbed his gloved hands together in anticipation
of the chaos that they were about to create. “Nigga just like
Jesus, he might not be there when you want ‘em,but he’s
always on time.” He checked the magazine of his weapon
and then smacked it back into the bottom of it, cocking that
bitch.

Gangsta closed the chamber of his revolver after
making sure it was fully loaded. “Let’s throw this nigga a
farewell party.” he pulled the bandana over his mouth and
so did Lil’ Gangsta. They hopped out of the Cutlass and
shut their doors quietly behind them. Hunching over on
their knees, they moved in on the Barbary Coast like a
military trained unit.

***

Pussy’s Pimp C looking ass made his way out of the
thick, Oakwood door of the Barbary Coast with a beezy
under each arm. It didn’t take much convincing to get two
of the strip clubs most popular dancers to come home with
him, especially since he’d been making it rain and popping
five hundred dollar bottles of champagne since he’d gotten
there. With the promise of them both leaving his condo a
stack richer than they were before they left the strip club,
they were all for the private performance he was bartering
for.

Pussy was a chubby light skinned dude who wore
gold frames, several necklaces and a diamond pinky ring.
On top of his dome there was a Chinchilla hat which he’d
worn with a matching jacket. The hefty stud looked more
like a throwback to pimps than the neighborhood dope man
that he actually was. He was drunk and high, but had more
than enough sense for the freaky shit he planned on doing
to the girls once he got them back to his pad.

“Unh uh,” he looked from each of his conquests’
ample asses, licking his lips and shaking his head. His
chunky ass couldn’t wait to get them alone and all to
himself. The thought alone had his dick nudging his zipper.
The girls rested their heads on his shoulders. One slipped
her hand between the buttons of his shirt and rubbed on his
hairy chest, while the other groped his hardness through the
fabric of his slacks. Feeling him stiffen further, she brought
her head up and kissed him deep and hungrily. They could
hearone another’s saliva sloshing around in the other’s
mouth. When Pussy took his lips from the first girl and
started locking lips with the other, he saw something that
made his eyes bulge in his fucking head. Two niggaz
dressed in all black were hurrying across the street with
their burners at their sides. Their lethal eyes were set on him
so he already knew what fucking time it was.

“Oh, shit!” Pussy shoved the broad that he was
kissing before Gangsta. He went to draw his own heat but
grabbed air, remembering that he’d left it under the driver’s
seat of his Benz,because he wouldn’t gain access to the
gentlemen’s club with it. With that in mind, he turned
around and broke back to the door of the establishment with
a terrified look on his face.

The broad that he shoved before his
predator
stumbled forward, but recovered her balance on her high
heel pumps, only to lock eyes with the buff nigga with the
shiny, revolver. His tool gleamed under the light post’s
illumination as he lifted it up, pointing its deadly end at her.
Her eyes bugged and she went to scream so he made her
swallow a bullet, splattering a gaping, gooey hole at the
back of her dome piece. She collapsed lifeless right where
she stood.

“Ahhhhh! Ahhhhh!” the other broad took off running
as fast as she could in a pair of clear bottom stilettos and a
tight leopard print dress.

“Get that bitch, no witnesses.” Gangsta ordered,
pointing his pistol in the fleeing woman’s direction. “She
doesn’t make it off of this block, you hear me? She doesn’t
make it off this block!” With the command given, Lil’
Gangsta took off after old girl moving like a track star,
burner in hand.
They both disappeared alongside the
building. Gangsta didn’t even flinch when he heard the
rapid gunfire
that resonated throughout
the
night. He
already knew that his little homie had earned himself his
fourth teardrop.

Bloc! Bloc! Bloc! Bloc!

“Wait, wait…” Pussy called out
to the bouncer that
was hurriedlyslamming the door so the drama wouldn’t
find its way inside of the club. He’d almost reached the
closing door when his calves exploded one by one, causing
him to fall to the sidewalk like he was diving to catch a
football. He hit the ground hard as a mothafucka wincing.
Groaning, he pulled himself along dragging his legs with
him. When he looked over his shoulder he saw Gangsta
approaching with the smoking steel in his hand. Pussy’s
heart pounded inside of his chest and his eyes became as
big as saucers. He struggled to move forth, breaking a sweat
and causing beads to run down his forehead. A shadow
eclipsed him and he felt Gangsta’s boot mash down on his
wounded leg. He hollered out in excruciation so the O.G
took his foot off of him.

“Turn yo’ ho ass over, nigga!” Gangsta ordered him,
leveling his banger down at his punk ass.

Pussy slowly turned over moaning in agony. He
looked alive once he found himself staring down his
enemy’s hollowed barrel. He swallowed the ball of
nervousness in his throat and shut his eyelids for a moment
before peeling them back open. His heart pounded inside of
his chest but he had to calm down, because he didn’t want
to leave this world like a mark. The G in him was reborn.
He would face his certain death with bravery.

“I’ll see you in hell.” He scowled and squared his
jaws.

“Take these with you!” Gangsta snarled and pulled
the trigger, causing the chamber of his revolver to spin.
Each time his weapon fired a golden orange illumination
shone on his scowling face.

Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!

Pussy’s dome exploded like a rotten pumpkin hitting
the ground from a fifty foot fall. There was no way in hell
that the dope man would get an open casket funeral now.
Gangsta took the time to admire his handiwork before
stuffing his warm weapon into the front of his jeans.
Hearing hurried footsteps and heavy breathing, he looked
to the corner of the establishment. He saw Lil’ Gangsta’s
shadow as he was running toward him. The young nigga
darted out into the street motioning for him to follow. The
O.G took off right behind him. They recovered their G-ride,
busted a U-turn on the residential street, and left in the
opposite direction of which they came.

Just another 187.
Chapter Five

“Take this mothafucka over to those factories over on
11
^th
avenue and torch it,” Gangsta told Lil’ Gangsta from
the passenger seat as the Cutlass idled out in the alley
behind his mother’s house. “Wipe them straps down and get
rid of them. I don’t care if you toss’em in a lake or bury’em.
Just get rid of them mothafuckaz, we don’t need anything
connecting us to them bodies over there, you Griff me?”

Lil Gangsta nodded his understanding.

“Call me once this shit is done.”
Gangsta handed him
his strap and hopped out of the car. He made his way to is
mother’s house as his little homie drove off down the alley.

Turning out onto Central Avenue from the alley, Lil’
Gangsta smiled like the cat that had swallowed the canary.
He was ecstatic about having carried out a mission with his
big homie Gangsta, the urban legend. To him putting in
work with the O.G was an honor, a memory to cherish for
a life time. It was right up there with shaking hands with the
president.

Thirty minutes later

Lil’ Gangsta ran down the block as the G
-ride caught
flames and then exploded, scattering burning wreckage
everywhere. Turning the corner at the end of the avenue, he
pulled the .357 from his hoodie with his bandana and
dropped it into the gutter. A fire truck with its sirens blaring
blew passed him in a hurry. He was just about to dump his
Glock but then he saw an unmarked police car pulling up.
He quickly sat on the bus-stop bench and played the role of
a pedestrian waiting on his ride. The unmarked car pulled
up and his stomach twisted in knots as his eyes met those of
Detectives Arsenegger and Ortiz. He was familiar with the
crooked law enforcers and their reputations as they were
his.

“What’s up, Jerome?” Arsenegger addressed Lil’
Gangsta by his government name with a sinister smile,
showcasing all thirty two of his straight, white teeth. He had
jet black hair, ocean blue eyes and a fiveo’clock shadow.
You could tell by his sixteen inch biceps and washboard
stomach that the gym was a second home to him.

“What’s up, Blood?” Lil’ Gangsta
responded behind
a scowl. He was putting up a front though, because he was
scared as shit.

“Long time, no see,” Ortiz
threw his head back like
What’s up? He was half Scottish, half Puerto Rican but as
equally as scandalous as his Australian partner. He sported
a shaved head and a muscular physique.

“Not long enough.” Lil’ Gangsta
retorted under his
breath, looking down the block as if he was waiting for the
bus to arrive.

“What chu got there, my nigga?” Arsenegger asked
before taking a sip from his cup of coffee. He noticed the
hoodlum had his hands stashed in the large pocket of his
hoodie, which was odd because it wasn’t that cold outside.

“Shit.” Lil’ Gangsta replied nonchalantly.

“Oh, you got something, little man!” Arsenegger said,
swinging open the passenger side door. As soon asLil’
Gangsta saw him plant a foot on the pavement, he broke up
the avenue.“Mothafucka,” Arsenegger fumed, throwing his
cup of coffee and hopping back into the passenger seat.
Ortiz floored
the Crown Victoria and
hit the sirens,
speeding toward their suspect.

The Crown Victoria mowed down a water hydrant
and sent a geyser of water into the air. A stray cat shot out
from the path of the speeding car like a bolt of lightning,
looking like a blur. A homeless man pushing a shopping
cart saw the car heading his way; he dove out of its way,
missing it by a foot.

Boom!

The shopping cart went up in the air, spilling its
contents. All of its items came raining down upon the
pavement. Lil’ Gangsta bent the corner of the block and ran
into an alley, with the Crown Victoria in hot pursuit. The
unmarked car lit up the trashy alley as it barreled after the
hoodlum, trying to catch up to him.

“You want me to mow this mothafucka down!” Ortiz
looked to Arsenegger, the alley walls looked like flashes of
gray they were moving so fast.

“Nah, just s
hake his little punk ass up,” Aresenegger
told him. Ortiz quickly closed the distance between his
vehicle and their suspect.

Boom!

“Ughhh.” Lil’ Gangsta
went over the hood of the
Crown Victoria and rolled off it, crashing to the ground. His
Glock went spiraling across the ground in in circles until it
bumped up against a pile of black trash bags. Arsenegger
and Ortiz hopped out of the unmarked car and casually
made their way over to their suspect who was sprawled out
on the ground, groaning in pain.

“Uhhhhhh,” Lil’ Gangsta moved his head from side
to side wincing. He was hurting like a mothafucka.

“Where were you off to in such a rush,
Blood?”
Arsenegger smiled and kicked him in the side causing him
to grimace. He rolled over holding his side groaning.

“Well, look
what we’ve got here.”Ortiz smiled evilly.
When Arsennegger looked to his partner he was holding up
their suspect’s Glock by the trigger guard with an ink pen.

Lil’ Gangsta
raised his head to see what the crooked
law enforcer had on him. Once he saw it was his gun, he let
his head drop to the ground.

“Ah, fuck me!” he spat.

 

Arsenegger smiled and saidto him, “That’s yo’ ass!”

 

Right after, he was pulling his handcuffs from around
his back to cuff him.
An hour later

Gangsta sat on the couch watching ‘
The Godfather’
on cable TV, while eating a bowl of Cookies & Cream and
Rainbow Sherbet ice cream. He was in his sleep wear: a
black Pro-Club, tan Dickie shorts and black corduroy house
shoes. He glanced up at the cable box; its digital clock read
2:00 A.M; well into the next morning. Lil’ Gangsta was
supposed to have called him after he got rid of the guns and
disposed of the G-ride. Four hours had passed since his little
homie had dropped him off and he hadn’t heard a word from
him. He’d been blowing his cell phone up for the past two
and a half hours but never received an answer. He had a
feeling something was wrong but he hoped that it was just
paranoia.

“Man, I wish you would have let me and Gucci get
down on that lil’ situation with Pussy for you,” Pavielle said
from the reclining chair as he took pulls of a Kush blunt; his
eyes were bloodshot red and glassy. “You’re a boss; you’ve
got soldiers in these streets to put that work in.”

“Yeah, I know,” Gangsta sat the empty bowl onto the
table. “But that mothafucka was so disrespectful, I had to
getat ‘em myself, or I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.”

“I Griff you; what’s done is done. All you can do is
put this shit behind you and move on.”

“No doubt. I just wish Lil’ Gangsta would hit me back
though, gotta nigga on edge. I should have sent you or
Gucci with him.”

“Yeah, ‘
cause niggaz like that will fuck up a wet
dream,” Pavielle blew smoke rings into the air. “I never did
like that lil’ mothafucka, man, it’s something about his lil’
punk ass.”