ZYRO COLEMAN
The back room of the bar was dimly lit. I sat around a small, scarred table with Conrad and Zyleek, who was already downing his fist glass of dark liquor. Conrad’s face held a serious expression, his eyes flicking between Zyleek and me as he spoke.
“Love Grove PD is offering a quarter of a million for the wrongful arrest of Zyleek. Also, they have on camera Deputy Porter telling another inmate to take Zyleek out, and he’d say it was self-defense.
Zyleek snorted. “I wore that muhfucka out, too.” He then leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “A quarter mil?”
Conrad nodded with a smile. “They're not trying to have me take this to court. It’s basically a cover-up for their bullshit. Porter’s also been fired.”
I nodded, but still didn’t think that was good enough. Porter needed to be handled. Firing him was some soft shit. For fuckin’ wit’ my brother like that, I wanted his life. Mine and Zyleek’s low eyes connected, and a grim smirk slid on his dark lips. He knew exactly what I was thinking.
Conrad cleared his throat. “Whatever you two are thinking, I don’t want to know. Just make sure it’s clean and that you don’t leave any traces.”
Zyleek chuckled and waved a waiter over for a round of shots. “You know how we do, Conrad. We always cover our tracks. Shiiiid, no body, no case.”
“It’s no face, no case, nigga,” I snickered.
He waved me off. “What the fuck ever. Same thing.”
The waiter arrived with a tray of shots, placing them on the table and leaving with a nod. We all picked one up.
“To money, justice, and bitches!” Zyleek hollered.
I frowned as he threw his head back and shot the liquid into his mouth. Conrad shrugged and downed his shot.
“To the first two,” I mumbled. The liquor burned a path down my throat.
Conrad stood, shook both our hands, and dipped.
“I meant to ask that nigga when the check gettin’ cut,” Leek fussed. Then clapped his hands together and started dancing like his favorite rapper, YB. He immediately stopped and pointed a finger at me. “Don’t be telling my baby mamas ‘bout this money. They’ll try to milk my ass.”
“You better break all three of them off wit’ some, Leek. “
“Shit, I am. My foot off in their ass if they keep tryin’ me.” We both laughed, but one thing my brother was not was a deadbeat. He took care of his kids by all means necessary. That’s why all three of them wanted his crazy ass back. He was a good nigga, just a lil’ psycho.
“What’s up wit’ you and ole girl?” he asked.
My eyes narrowed. “Eriss.”
“Gah damn, you be getting out of body quick ‘bout ole Eriss. I know that’s right, nigga.” Zyleek sat back in his chair. “I might settle down one day. Not soon,” he added quickly. “But one day.”
I shook my head. “Mama nem wanna have a fish fry this weekend over at my crib. Fall through and don’t get pulled over, nigga. Can you get from A to B without incident?”
“Psh, when we gon fry that nigga, Porter? His ass got fired, so you know he's out for blood,” Zyleek said, and he told no lies.
Porter probably had all his loyal people looking for us now. It wasn’t hard to find in my big ass truck, and Zyleek definitely wasn’t in his bright neon green Camaro with LEEK going across his windshield.
“Tomorrow,” I said lowly. “We’ll get him tomorrow.”
The next night…
We had Porter’s house staked out all day, learning who all resided in the modest one-story home tucked away in a quiet suburban neighborhood on the north side. We learned his ass was divorced and had twin boys away at college.
The lights were off. Leek and I moved swiftly and silently with gloves covering our hands and ski masks. Zeek tried the handle, finding it unlocked. Muhfuckas were crazy, always thinking a neighborhood was safe enough to leave their shit unlocked. I was pretty sure Porter had guns in his home. He’d be crazy not to.
Removing my Glock from my waistband, we slipped inside. The house was dark with stale ass air. We covered our noses.
“This fool in here rotting or some?” Leek whispered. “Gah damn.”
