He'd sold his soul to the devil, now he needed it back!
I woke up with a shit-list for your ass, and it goes a little something like this. Champagne sent his knockout boys after my ass for a funky few grand. The nigga know it’s been a true drop-drought for 47 days and that clientele is going elsewhere, some doing other things. My boss bitch Forte’ is a crack connoisseur with a most wicked addiction. I keep her super-sexy ass surrounded by top-notch name brand everything. Our three daughters are the only thing keeping us in the same space. They are the envy of the playground. If I must say, them three bitches laps in luxury. Tiring from all the chaos, and at last, I promise God in heaven that if I chill my killer, would he redeem me of my sins; Amen, and amen.
The shiny and new COLT hammer rest on top of the black vintage dresser over-crowded with recent and back-in-the-day photos of the do-or-die fam, of sometimey ass friends, an assortment of new and used makeup brands, an array of very expensive white, black and blue diamonds and gold and platinum jewelry ranging in prices of more than $10,000; Aspen For Women and White Diamonds and other costly what-nots.
The boils in my life have come to a head, so now I’m pacing back and forth, from the den to the back bedroom about to wear a path in my bleach-white Tibetan, considering how I should be reacting, as Reginald, Ashy and Compton bang unmercifully, like convicts on lock-down, on my four-inch burglar-barred back door. They’d come to squash the drug debt I have with their buster of a boss Champagne. The plan was to collect a debt of $6000, two front teeth and my blue diamond pinky ring, pinky included; what was told would be owed if I was not on time with the payment.
My baby girls Tomika, Jennifer and Raynell, ages 7, 8 and 9, slumber next to their project-infected yet bad-to-the-bone ass momma, who is once again comatose, going on 19 hours, from smoking up into my butter-colored profit after clowning on her home girls about all my available cabbage. I come to a conclusion; all this shit is over!
I gear up in one of my fourteen pair of fresh Timberlines, creased-up black Dickies, black Dickie T-shirt and a black & gray button down; as them niggas can’t get in. To icing this chocolate cake, I crown my zig-zag braids with a gray-on-black Dickie ball cap; it was about to be the hell on.
On one side of his 10,000 square foot, nigga-proof duplex he loves and tolerates his family and relatives while on the other side he treasures and worships his supply and demand. When users and abusers knocked on 813 the heavily armed keeper would take an urgent message and promise as soon as she saw him she’d give him the message; as he lives lavishly at 815.
For 4 years no one knew he lived fifteen feet away from his earnings, and heard everything. He was always very careful and made absolutely sure Forte’ was too, as best she could when her ass was coherent, when she invited over her hungry-ass family or greedy-ass friends. Raymond knew he had the police on locc that patroled his neighborhood, it was the niggas and fiends what was the issue.
Now I know I don’t have the necessary funds at this necessary time, because sales have slowed, so I prepare for war, refusing to pay out of my stash of ends; that's my cookie jar money for a rainy day. These muthafuckers out here begging for the grave.
I pull open the thick custom-made door to my huge, bullet-proof, sound-proof, fully-stocked; cell phones, plenty to eat and plenty to drink, 52-inch Plasma, Dell computer, 120x 150 walk-in ‘closet’; security.
The thundering starts again. They pound on his reinforced windows trying to spook him into giving up and coming out.
"These negroes ‘bout to wake my kids" I bark out loud.
Forte’ squirms from under the lime green satin cover as Raymond becomes aware of the now dangerous silence. Had they left? What were they doing now?
"Get up Forte’. Girl, get yo’ ass up" whispering loudly, while shaking her to life.
"Now what Ray" she moans irritated.
"What’s going on now boy."
"Major shit bitch. You know that cheese you snatched up. The profit was Champagne’s."
"Champagne" she repeats, rummaging through her auburn, salon-maintained, cheek-length BOB style.
"Yeah Champagne. I was suppose to break him off 6000 every week for 50Gs, but nothing aint been right since the drought and what that stank ass lawyer taggin’ a nigga’ and yo' ass."
"How much you still owe the lawyer?"
"Twenty Gs; You got it?"
"Twenty Gs. Damn! And yeah nigga, I got it."
"Me too bitch but he aint getting’ it, he getting’ paid like we agreed."
"Whatever dude. You need to fucc with that lawyer about that high ass bill."
"Hey I could be locked the hell up, and for a long ass dime."
"Where you at with Champagne’s ass?"
"The last 6Gs."
"And that fool can’t wait, all the ends you make. What the hell is that" Forte' now alerted to the fact this aint no joke, nervous, like a startled squirrel, when the banging begins again.
"That fool nigga sent Reg, Ash and Comp over here to die today" I tell, putting Tomika down gently beside Jennifer onto the air mattress, in the 'secret' place.
"They want blood right" she begins her fake caring.
"Them niggas text me to not forget my pinky and two fronts" I snap, placing my second nine snuggly in my back.
"What! Do I need to pull this sweet thang out" massaging between her legendary legs.
"Naw ass. Between you and that damn…"
"Don’t be blaming me for yo’ mess nigga. You’ve been feedin’ me that cheese forever to keep me inside, throwing a white T at him. Aint you getting’ what you kick out fo’. Yo’ thang don’t seem to have a problem with me smoking’ cheese nigga’" she lashes out dangerously.
"Yeah, you and all your greedy ass home girls you kick my shit out to; that shit is over."
"Fuck you" she screams.
Forte’ slides her still beautiful long legs to the floor to sit up on the $500 worth of bedding. She reaches for and lights a KOOL Filter King. After two drags she slides open the mahogany nightstand’s drawer. Raymond puts Raynell further back into the walk-in so her wild sleeping habits won’t wake her sisters. Inside Forte’s $50 chrome cigarette case she never kept cigarettes; she kept something to smoke. A 3-inch long glass pipe with a gold mouth piece and several new pieces of screen. As the banging once again ceases she gathers herself enough to load an ‘LA’ twenty.
"Is that what you gon’ do while I go through this shit; bitch!"
He turns the walk-in’s light to dim.
"What you want me to do. Damn" she screams.
"I be right back" I spit; since the bitch wanna be like that.
"And where you all G’d up to go. I thought yo’ ass was scared nigga" Forte’s shouts becoming agitated by the mere thought of Ray blaming her for his mess.
She blazes and inhales. Long and deep. Deep and long until her brain creates dizzying caricatures of familiarities that no longer make sense except to those who ride the same wind; she doesn’t give a damn as long as no one gets in the way of her ‘wake up’. All niggas are replaceable she smiles to herself.
Raymond kneels over his sleeping beauties. He prays intently and fervently for God to give him a way out. In the wavering is where Raymond allows his flesh to overcome his spirit. He closes the thick door and spins the combination. He flips open his cell, dials his mom and gives her the combination. The girls know what to do if they wake up in there; so he’s cool for the moment. Not even Forte’ could enter without his mom and little sister.
"Come get my kids in 20 minutes."
"Not a problem son. You want to tell me what happenin’."
"Watch the News. Love you mom."
Back in my flesh, I stand staring at the shiny hammer. I subconsciously step to stand in the bathroom door, where Forte’ is polishing her mouth full of permanent gold, holding the shiny and new COLT. With premeditation I swing, painting the ceramic walls with the warm blood pumping from her cold heart; bits of brain and bone, as my swinging won’t stop until what her and I have is resolved; nothing.
I step to and unbolt the front door as small pieces of Forte’ fall from my shirt. I take my stance on the front porch with two fully loaded MAC10s; one gripped in each hand. Compton, Reginald and Ashy appear from the dark armed only with guts and nuts. They figured to beat the debt out my ass. They forgot to remember I’d be crazy strapped. I take mental notes that there are no diligent homeboys standing around. No hard-hustlers fakin’ swag, chasing cars. No 24/7 consistent consumers. No pimped-out rides booming up and down the street. No dusty ass beggars parlaying.
"Champagne don’t care if you got the money example ass nigga. Ass check nigga" Compton barks. He and Ashy step towards me and I literally unzip them niggas; from their balls to the top of their heads.
Reginald’s nuts take off seconds before the rest of him. He could not comprehend what had happened. He’d seen numerous murders, committed 4 or 5 in his 17 years but never had he seen a body split in two halves. About the time Reginald reaches the corner I’m shadowing his ass.
"Wait a minute man, hold up" begging and swinging wildly, knocking himself to the ground. I stand directly over him, all six feet four inches of mad ass me. Reginald stops scrambling trying to get up; it was useless. He just lay there smelling like the shit in his pants.
"Do you pray man."
"Do you pray!"
"Naw! Yeah! What!"
"Right now I need to hear you confess yo’ sins and that I’ll be forgiven and able to come back from this hell you put me in, I hiss, snot running down his handsome dark brown face. Because of yo’ ass I did Forte’, punk ass Ash and Comp. Because of yo’ ass my kids are about to grow up without a mother and a father, all because of six funky Gs, y’all niggas couldn’t wait on. I said I’d pay it that bitch sucked it up. Damn! Do you pray" I bark viciously.
When the detectives lift the yellow tarp Reginald’s remains looks like a dropped bowl of vegetable soup. Raymond emptied the remaining bullets from the two semi-automatic clips into his ass, purposely reducing his remains to pulp; bill paid.
Champagne never sees his last six grand or another sunrise after I caught up with his ass that night. I’m still out here. I was never arrested; no witnesses.