too, but his vanity was too stimulated not to bite.
“Ray don’t never miss no ho he go after, ’cause he don’t go after every ho,” Ray stated, speaking about himself in the third
person.
Dutch took out two thousand dollars and handed it to Ray, whose eyes lit up like the tip of his cigarette every time he inhaled.
He smoked out of the side of his mouth, holding the cigarette with his lips as he thumbed through the wad of money.
“That’s just a little something to think about, to show you we dead-ass. And even if you swing on the girl and miss, my word,
the BM’s yours,” Dutch promised.
“The BMW?” Ray’s interest was definitely perking up. Ray sat back, rubbing his chin, and inspected the young man in front
of him.
Who is this nigga?
he thought to himself. He knew Craze and liked the little dude, and Craze had told him a lot about Dutch while he was locked
up. He knew the cat had heart trying the port.
But this nigga is crazy, trying to knock that nigga, Kazami, and I know he not really gonna bet his BMW, is he?
Kazami was the biggest heroin dealer in North Jersey. So far, he was untouchable. Ask the mob.
What the hell, I’ll just tell the lil’ nigga I missed and cop the Beemer. If he try to get funny, I’ll whoop his lil’ ass.
“Okay,” Ray finally stated. “Show Ray this bitch, but I’ma tell you lil’ niggas something ’bout baggin’ broads, especially
the kind that fuck wit’ niggas like Kazami. See, that nigga can give a bitch everything she want, except that understanding,
which niggas like him ain’t got time to provide. That’s where Sugar Ray come in at, lil’ man. I’m the shelter in a bitch storm.
But see, Sugar Ray need a storm,” said Sugar Ray, continuing to talk about himself in the third person.
“A storm?” asked Dutch.
Yeah, muhfucka, you in over your head. Maybe, I won’t even have to crack on this bitch. I’ll just talk this nigga out his
head.
“Yeah, a storm. Some emotional shit that Kazami can’t buy his way out of. A storm.”
“Like what?” Craze asked, not understanding.
“I don’t know, youngun, shit,” said Ray, taking a long drag on yet another Newport. “Go kill the bitch daddy or somethin’.”
Ray chuckled, blowing out smoke, knowing these young asses couldn’t pee straight, let alone be crazy enough to do something
like what he had just suggested. He started laughing a little harder.
Dutch just smiled at him as if they were sharing the joy.
“We’ll call you,” he said before turning and walking away. Craze shook Ray’s hand, then he and Qwan rolled out behind Dutch.
“Yeah, lil’ man, you do that,” he said, stuffing the two grand Dutch had handed him into his pocket.
Back on the stand, Qwan felt a little more relaxed from his cigarette break until Jacobs began questioning him about the story
of Mr. and Mrs. Smith.
“So, you say that Sugar Ray suggested it, even though he wasn’t serious about you doing it?”
“Yes, Dutch knew Ray wasn’t taking him serious, so he did it to show Ray and us that he was prepared to do anything to get
Kazami.”
“Can you tell us about the murder of Mr. Smith?”
Dutch listened as Qwan began to tell his story, but Dutch was there and knew what Qwan was about to say. He remembered how
he felt killing Mr. Smith. That death served as a message not only to Kazami, but to Ray and his clique as well. But the stronger
message he sent was that he proved to everyone that he could do anything to get what he wanted…
Anything.
The Smith family lived in Paterson, New Jersey, a small town compared to Newark, but with the same kind of people. The poor
and working class rubbed elbows in the daily struggle for survival. But compared to Newark, Paterson was a suburb.
Simone came from a respectable home. Her mother was a schoolteacher and her father was a mechanic who owned his own garage.
Angel had found out the address, through one of Sheryl’s customers at
“Ray don’t never miss no ho he go after, ’cause he don’t go after every ho,” Ray stated, speaking about himself in the third
person.
Dutch took out two thousand dollars and handed it to Ray, whose eyes lit up like the tip of his cigarette every time he inhaled.
He smoked out of the side of his mouth, holding the cigarette with his lips as he thumbed through the wad of money.
“That’s just a little something to think about, to show you we dead-ass. And even if you swing on the girl and miss, my word,
the BM’s yours,” Dutch promised.
“The BMW?” Ray’s interest was definitely perking up. Ray sat back, rubbing his chin, and inspected the young man in front
of him.
Who is this nigga?
he thought to himself. He knew Craze and liked the little dude, and Craze had told him a lot about Dutch while he was locked
up. He knew the cat had heart trying the port.
But this nigga is crazy, trying to knock that nigga, Kazami, and I know he not really gonna bet his BMW, is he?
Kazami was the biggest heroin dealer in North Jersey. So far, he was untouchable. Ask the mob.
What the hell, I’ll just tell the lil’ nigga I missed and cop the Beemer. If he try to get funny, I’ll whoop his lil’ ass.
“Okay,” Ray finally stated. “Show Ray this bitch, but I’ma tell you lil’ niggas something ’bout baggin’ broads, especially
the kind that fuck wit’ niggas like Kazami. See, that nigga can give a bitch everything she want, except that understanding,
which niggas like him ain’t got time to provide. That’s where Sugar Ray come in at, lil’ man. I’m the shelter in a bitch storm.
But see, Sugar Ray need a storm,” said Sugar Ray, continuing to talk about himself in the third person.
“A storm?” asked Dutch.
Yeah, muhfucka, you in over your head. Maybe, I won’t even have to crack on this bitch. I’ll just talk this nigga out his
head.
“Yeah, a storm. Some emotional shit that Kazami can’t buy his way out of. A storm.”
“Like what?” Craze asked, not understanding.
“I don’t know, youngun, shit,” said Ray, taking a long drag on yet another Newport. “Go kill the bitch daddy or somethin’.”
Ray chuckled, blowing out smoke, knowing these young asses couldn’t pee straight, let alone be crazy enough to do something
like what he had just suggested. He started laughing a little harder.
Dutch just smiled at him as if they were sharing the joy.
“We’ll call you,” he said before turning and walking away. Craze shook Ray’s hand, then he and Qwan rolled out behind Dutch.
“Yeah, lil’ man, you do that,” he said, stuffing the two grand Dutch had handed him into his pocket.
Back on the stand, Qwan felt a little more relaxed from his cigarette break until Jacobs began questioning him about the story
of Mr. and Mrs. Smith.
“So, you say that Sugar Ray suggested it, even though he wasn’t serious about you doing it?”
“Yes, Dutch knew Ray wasn’t taking him serious, so he did it to show Ray and us that he was prepared to do anything to get
Kazami.”
“Can you tell us about the murder of Mr. Smith?”
Dutch listened as Qwan began to tell his story, but Dutch was there and knew what Qwan was about to say. He remembered how
he felt killing Mr. Smith. That death served as a message not only to Kazami, but to Ray and his clique as well. But the stronger
message he sent was that he proved to everyone that he could do anything to get what he wanted…
Anything.
The Smith family lived in Paterson, New Jersey, a small town compared to Newark, but with the same kind of people. The poor
and working class rubbed elbows in the daily struggle for survival. But compared to Newark, Paterson was a suburb.
Simone came from a respectable home. Her mother was a schoolteacher and her father was a mechanic who owned his own garage.
Angel had found out the address, through one of Sheryl’s customers at
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