He started shaking his head so fast it looked pathetic. “Nah, please, man, please?—”
I shot him in the stomach. His body jerked hard against the wall and his mouth opened, but nothing came out for a second. He looked down at himself like he couldn’t believe it. Then he looked back up at me. And I could see it. The exact second he realized he was gone die in that dirty ass room.
“You should’ve left her alone,” I said. Then I shot him again and this time right in the middle of his forehead. The back of his head hit the wall behind him and his body dropped sideways onto the floor. The room got quiet except for Maine’s blood dripping across the wood floor.
Tone looked down at the body for a second, then back at me. “You good?”
I stared at Maine a second longer. “No,” I said honestly. “I wanna cremate the nigga and then cremate the cremate. I wanna bury the nigga and put the grave on fire that’s holding his body.” My dark eyes were still on Maine. I lifted the Glock and shot him in the head, right in the middle. “But I’m better.” I told Tone.
Because the truth was, killing him didn’t fix nothing. It didn’t erase what happened and it didn’t erase the fear on Carmen face. It didn’t erase Kilo laying in that hospital bed with tubes in him because he took a bullet for my wife… but it did make me feellike I could breathe a little easier. I looked around the room one more time before turning toward the door.
“Burn this shit,” I said.
Tone nodded and got to it. “Already knew you was gon’ say that shit. I’m on it bro.”
By the time we came back downstairs, the house was quiet except for the moaning of one of the wounded niggas in the front room. Dique was standing in the kitchen eating out of a bag of chips he found somewhere like we wasn’t standing in the middle of a shootout.
“This nigga got all generic snacks in here,” he laughed. “He deserved to die for this shit alone.” Marco laughed too and Zo was standing near the front window keeping watch while Rell wiped blood off his hands with a towel. “You get him?” Dique asked.
I looked at him like he knew better and he grinned. “Stupid question, I know, but did he beg for his life? See man, you should’ve let me be there. I would’ve tapped dance on that nigga knees and tortured him some more.”
I ignored my lil brother and kept walking. The house smelled stronger now like fresh blood and gun powder filled the air. One of the younger soldiers came in from outside. “The Block clear Boss.”
I nodded. “Aight,” I said. “Let’s move.”
Everybody was walking out and the neighbors were peeking through windows now. The old ladies were standing on their porches. Niggas farther down the block was acting like they wasn’t watching, but they wasn’t crazy, they all knew what happened and more importantly, they knew who did it and that was the point. By the time I climbed back into the truck, my hands still smelled like gun smoke, but my mind was more at ease.
Tone got in beside me. Dique climbed into the front with his chips still in his hands. “Now what? We done in the playground?” he asked. “Shit was just getting’ fun.” He looked back at me over the seat waiting for a response, but he didn’t get one. “You know Carmen gon’ know something’ happened though right?” He said still talking.
I looked out the window while the trucks started pulling off the block one by one. The house behind us was still standing for now, but not for long because no sooner than we was to the stop sign did the flames go up. “She can know somethin’ happened,” I let him know. “She just don’t need to know what. She need to focus on getting the next Royal here.”
Dique laughed under his breath. “Good luck with that.”
O’SHYNN ROYAL
Iwas in my office overlooking the club cause from up there, I could see everything without people realizing I was watching them, including the damn bartenders who were moving too slow. Girls standing around talking too much instead of making money. Security paying attention to the wrong shit. Waitresses flirting instead of carrying bottles and it all mattered. That was the problem with people. The second they got too comfortable, they started slipping.
I sat behind my desk with my laptop open, heels kicked off under the chair, and one leg folded under me while I looked over numbers from the last three nights from payroll, bottle girls, VIP percentages, dancers, bar tabs, and what money needed to be washed from the Cartel. I looked at which girls deserved more sections, and which girls were about to get less shifts because they kept showing up late with a new excuse every damn weekend.
The club was open downstairs already even though it wasn’t packed yet. I could hear the bass through the floor, hear men laughing, glasses clinking, and girls talking loud. One of the dancers had on some cheap ass perfume that kept floatingupstairs every time my office door opened, and it was irritating the hell out of me.
“Tasha late again?” I asked without looking up from the screen.
The girl standing in front of my desk shifted awkwardly. “Yeah.”
I sighed. “That make three times this month.”
“She said her babysitter?—”
“I don’t care what she said,” I cut her off. “Every girl in here got a reason they late. Either they baby daddy tripping, they tire flat, they wig not done, they got a migraine, Mercury in retrograde, whatever… I don’t care… cut one of her sections this weekend.”
The girl nodded quick and started writing it down. I continued, “And if Diamond keeps arguing with customers over tip money, she can take her ass home too,” I added. “I’m tired of hearing about her attitude.”
“She said they was touching her though.” She informed.
“Then she should tell security to handle it instead of acting like she wants to fight every man in the club.”
That got a little laugh out of her. I liked Trina because she never caused trouble. She was one of the ones who did what she was supposed to do and stayed out of the way. I looked back down at the paperwork spread across my desk. One of the bartenders stole again and somebody always stole. You’d give people jobs, good money, chances, and they still found a way to play in your face.
