what you want to do with yourself. I can’t keep livin’ the way I’ve been livin’ hanging around you. I want more out of life than knockin’ people off to help you and Khalid put a strangle-hold on your little piece of the drug trade and waitin’ for the cops to catch me. I don’t get anything out of it, and I want to be happy. I deserve to be happy.” You’ll never be happy, and neither will I. I’ll make sure of that, Cyrus thought darkly.
Cyrus smiled wryly. “Is that what you want, Chase? ‘Cause if you want me to pay you to erase Wolf, that really ain’t a problem.”
Chase leaned all the way back in his chair and looked at him like he was a mangy dog. “Pay me? What the hell does that have to do with staying out of lockup and being happy? You just insulted me, Cyrus, but if you want to play around with me like that, I’ll tell you what. If you can have a million dollars on my desk by nine o’ clock tomorrow morning, Wolf will be pushin’ up daisies by sundown.”
Cyrus laughed. Chase had just requested the ridiculous, hoping he’d be left alone. Cyrus sat back in his own chair, tapping his steepled fingers together. Chase must have forgotten his infamous ace in the hole. “You got a real good sense of humor, little brother, but I ain’t laughin’. Now, I told you, I need Wolf gone, so if you want me to play hardball with you, I will.”
They stared at each other for a long time. Chase looked away first and stared out the window that had so recently claimed Corey’s attention.
Cyrus watched him in silence, reading his face, trying not to smile. I won! It had been a simple thing to bend Chase to his will, and he didn’t even need to say Corey’s name out loud. Cyrus wanted to lean over the desk and stick his face into Chase’s and scream, “Corey! Corey! Corey! That’s right, motherfucker! I’ll get Corey to do it, and he will if I ask him. You know how Corey hates to disappoint his brothers! He’ll do it, and he’ll fuck it up and go to jail! Even worse, he might get himself killed in the process! You can’t live with Corey’s sentencing or blood on your conscience…SO I WIN! Talk your righteous, better-than-me shit now, nigga! If I ain’t shit, you ain’t shit either! You do what I say, and I say fuck you ! Go kill him!” But he didn’t say all of that. Instead, he sat there and stared at Chase, unmoved by the tears that had started to slide down his face.
Cyrus sat, quietly watching his brother’s turmoil. Should I do it? What if I refuse?
Chase’s internal argument didn’t mean a thing to Cyrus, because he knew he was going to get his way. He hadn’t seen Chase cry in over ten years. Chase was as tough as they came. He had a good idea what these tears were for, but he’d deal with that when the time came. At the moment, he didn’t give a fuck. All he wanted was Wolf gone, and he wanted Chase to do the dirty deed.
Chase sat up in his seat and wiped his eyes with the hem of his Ed Hardy T-shirt. His face was a weird mix of emotions: anger and resentment, sorrow and hurt, and acceptance and resignation. He turned his head and looked at Cyrus; his eyes were like ice. “How soon do you need it done?” he asked, standing.
Cyrus also took to his feet, as he really didn’t want Chase standing over him at that point in the conversation. “End of next week at the very latest—but the sooner, the better.”
Chase looked at him with his icy eyes and nodded. “All right, Cyrus. I need to let you know a few things right now, if that’s all right with you. I mean, these things might not mean shit to you, but they mean something to me…and they carry weight. You ready?”
Cyrus shrugged. He wasn’t in the mood to hear a lecture, and he wanted to get out of there and tell Khalid the good news that they’d gotten their way, but if Chase felt like he needed to get up on his creaky-ass, crime-laden soapbox and preach one of his hypocritical sermons, then he had a moment to
Cyrus smiled wryly. “Is that what you want, Chase? ‘Cause if you want me to pay you to erase Wolf, that really ain’t a problem.”
Chase leaned all the way back in his chair and looked at him like he was a mangy dog. “Pay me? What the hell does that have to do with staying out of lockup and being happy? You just insulted me, Cyrus, but if you want to play around with me like that, I’ll tell you what. If you can have a million dollars on my desk by nine o’ clock tomorrow morning, Wolf will be pushin’ up daisies by sundown.”
Cyrus laughed. Chase had just requested the ridiculous, hoping he’d be left alone. Cyrus sat back in his own chair, tapping his steepled fingers together. Chase must have forgotten his infamous ace in the hole. “You got a real good sense of humor, little brother, but I ain’t laughin’. Now, I told you, I need Wolf gone, so if you want me to play hardball with you, I will.”
They stared at each other for a long time. Chase looked away first and stared out the window that had so recently claimed Corey’s attention.
Cyrus watched him in silence, reading his face, trying not to smile. I won! It had been a simple thing to bend Chase to his will, and he didn’t even need to say Corey’s name out loud. Cyrus wanted to lean over the desk and stick his face into Chase’s and scream, “Corey! Corey! Corey! That’s right, motherfucker! I’ll get Corey to do it, and he will if I ask him. You know how Corey hates to disappoint his brothers! He’ll do it, and he’ll fuck it up and go to jail! Even worse, he might get himself killed in the process! You can’t live with Corey’s sentencing or blood on your conscience…SO I WIN! Talk your righteous, better-than-me shit now, nigga! If I ain’t shit, you ain’t shit either! You do what I say, and I say fuck you ! Go kill him!” But he didn’t say all of that. Instead, he sat there and stared at Chase, unmoved by the tears that had started to slide down his face.
Cyrus sat, quietly watching his brother’s turmoil. Should I do it? What if I refuse?
Chase’s internal argument didn’t mean a thing to Cyrus, because he knew he was going to get his way. He hadn’t seen Chase cry in over ten years. Chase was as tough as they came. He had a good idea what these tears were for, but he’d deal with that when the time came. At the moment, he didn’t give a fuck. All he wanted was Wolf gone, and he wanted Chase to do the dirty deed.
Chase sat up in his seat and wiped his eyes with the hem of his Ed Hardy T-shirt. His face was a weird mix of emotions: anger and resentment, sorrow and hurt, and acceptance and resignation. He turned his head and looked at Cyrus; his eyes were like ice. “How soon do you need it done?” he asked, standing.
Cyrus also took to his feet, as he really didn’t want Chase standing over him at that point in the conversation. “End of next week at the very latest—but the sooner, the better.”
Chase looked at him with his icy eyes and nodded. “All right, Cyrus. I need to let you know a few things right now, if that’s all right with you. I mean, these things might not mean shit to you, but they mean something to me…and they carry weight. You ready?”
Cyrus shrugged. He wasn’t in the mood to hear a lecture, and he wanted to get out of there and tell Khalid the good news that they’d gotten their way, but if Chase felt like he needed to get up on his creaky-ass, crime-laden soapbox and preach one of his hypocritical sermons, then he had a moment to
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