We followed the deacon for almost thirty minutes before he pulled into the parking lot of a run-down club that hadn’t seen a good day since the Pacers won a championship. Not a recording device was in sight. We didn’t wait long as the deacon was in and out in less than ten minutes.
I hopped out of the car with Brooklyn following me. Before he knew what was going on, I had the deacon hemmed up against his car, with Brooklyn’s gun to his head.
“I’ain got nothin’!” he cried.
Gripping his shirt tighter, I lifted him off his feet. “Nigga, that’s the first thing you think about? We know damn well yeen got shit. Look where the fuck you at.”
He sputtered and, wide-eyed, glanced back and forth between me and Brooklyn.
“We’re lookin’ for that bum-ass nigga, Teddy. Where is he?” Brooklyn questioned.
“Teddy?” He looked confused. “I-I thought he was dead.”
“What?” Brooklyn and I spoke at the same time.
“Word on the street is he shot somebody, and they got him.”
“Word on what street?” I asked. Wasn’t shit like that floating around the city.
“Yeah, Teddy called me and said he was dead.”
My dumbfounded expression mirrored Brooklyn’s.
“Nigga, we know you high as fuck right now, but listen to what the fuck you just said.Teddycalled you and said he was dead.”
The deacon moved his head up and down like a bobblehead.
Brooklyn shook his head. “Did you go to a wake? A funeral?”
This time the deacon shook his head no.
“Nigga, how you a deacon and ain’t go to the wake or funeral of a friend of yours?”
He shrugged. “I can’t be associated with him.”
“Hate to break it to you, but you’re associated with him, my nigga. Now tell me where the fuck his ghost ass is ‘fore I fuck you up in this parking lot,” Brooklyn threatened, sticking the barrel to the deacon’s head.
“I don’t know!” he cried. “I haven’t seen him since that phone call. Please, I got a wife and kids.”
“A wife and kids that you fuckin’ around on!” I spat. “Save that shit for somebody who gives a fuck.” I went upside the deacon’s head, sending him to his knees.
“Ahh!” he screamed.
We walked off, leaving him a crying heap. Angry, we both were quiet on the way back home. Nothing was going as planned. All we were trying to do was kill a nigga. Teddy had some angels on his side. That was the only thing I could think of that was savinghim. Because for anyone else that had crossed me or my family, they hadn’t lived to see so many days.
CHAPTER 7
SIN
Ipaced the floor of our warehouse while looking at Zoo and Brooklyn like they were two bad-ass kids. They both sat there with an equal expression of them not giving a fuck about shit and was only ready to get back out there to fuck up the streets some more.
“The deacon, though, Brooklyn?”
“You lucky he wasn’t attached to the pastor.” He shrugged off. “All I’m saying is, rightfully, I give ‘bout as much of a fuck as Teddy did when he did the dumb shit. You can be upset but whatdid you really expect? You let me and Zoo loose without any proper supervision. Shit is bound to go left before we ever get it right.”
Running my hand down my face, I took a seat in front of them then gave them my attention. “I get everything you are saying, but this reckless shit y’all been doing is gon’ get all of us fucked up. It’s bad enough that you found this nigga grandma and jacked her teeth”—I pointed over to the jar of water with perfectly placed dentures inside—“but you didn’t stop there, you found his mama, sister, and now the deacon. I’m starting to think both of y’all were adopted because ain’t no way two Smith men can’t find one crackhead.”
“Don’t even play us like that,” Zoo spoke up. “Nigga probably couldn't figure out life, but he mastered this fucking crackhead hide and seek game. Just be cool and know that we have everything under control. We are working our way down his list of kin, friends, shit I’on care if they rode the bus with this nigga, they are connected and they gon’ have to see us.”
