The Score by Kiki Swinson

telling you I got robbed,” Young Dane pleaded. He would say anything now that my crew surrounded him with guns pointing in his face.
    â€œNah, nigga. Robbed once maybe, but two and three times . . . nah,” I snarled. I could tell the little nigga was lying. He was trying to insult my intelligence, which wasn’t a good look. I was a good read of people like that, plus, mad dudes in the street reported back that this nigga Young Dane was flapping his gums about being on the come up. I had heard that Dane told more than one person he was stashing so he could branch out on his own. The one thing I didn’t tolerate was shorting my paper.
    â€œListen, nigga, I was born at night not last night, feel me?” I growled. I nodded at Ak and Boone, my two right-hand men, to do their thing. They had been my enforcers for years.
    â€œWhere is the stash at?” Boone snarled in Young Dane’s face. “Last time we asking.”
    â€œI’m telling you—” Young Dane started like he was trying to be tough. WHAM! Boone brought his gun down on the bridge of Dane’s nose before he could even finish his sentence. I heard the cracking sound before Dane screamed out in pain like a little bitch.
    â€œAgh! I swear! I swear, Big Matt,” he cried, holding his face and trying to stop the blood from gushing from his nose.
    â€œDon’t swear, nigga. I ain’t tryna get hit by lightning fucking with your lying ass,” I laughed sarcastically.
    â€œNow, I’ma ask you one more time. Where is the money you stole? ’Cause we know you stole it, motherfucka,” Boone gritted.
    â€œLet me get at him. I ain’t catch a body in a minute,” Ak said as he walked over and put the barrel of his Glock to Dane’s temple. Young Dane’s bladder involuntarily emptied and piss soaked his pants. We all started laughing.
    â€œOh, now you wanna be scared and pissing on yourself? Nah, you wasn’t scared when you decided you was gon’ violate that man right there,” Ak growled, pointing to me.
    â€œI . . . I . . . didn’t,” Young Dane stammered. Boone rushed over and drove his fist right into Dane’s stomach. Dane’s frail, skinny body doubled over at the waist and he coughed and gagged.
    â€œStand up like a man, nigga. Matter of fact, you ain’t no fucking man, so I take that shit back. You a pussy and I’ma show you how pussies get dealt with ’round this fuckin’ hood. Take off your shit, nigga!” Ak barked using his gun to hit Dane’s chest for emphasis. “I want you to strip down ’til you ain’t got on nothing but your fucking boxer shorts. As a matter of fact, take them shits off too. I want you to look like you did the day your sorry ass was born.”
    Dane was shaking but he knew the drill. He wasn’t no stranger to me and my crew. He had been around us when we had made examples out of other lame-ass niggas before. So, this beatdown wasn’t nothing new to him. When we stripped a dude and sent him on the street it was our way of telling other crews and stickup niggas that the dude was open for the taking. Trust that the street vultures would be waiting to make an example out of a nigga like Dane.
    â€œPl . . . Please . . . I ain’t do nothing,” Dane pleaded. His eyes were starting to swell shut from his broken nose. His mouth was filled with blood too.
    â€œNigga if you don’t . . .” Ak began. He didn’t even need to finish his sentence. Dane began to comply because he knew what was up. I was laughing the whole time watching this show.
    First Dane removed his long, iced-out Jesus piece and chain. Boone snatched it from his hand. “Oh, a nigga went to see Mr. Ice the jeweler, I see. Don’t this look like a Mr. Ice piece?” Boone said, swinging the chain so me and Ak could take a good look at it.
    â€œFor real. I thought only bosses get to go see Mr. Ice. How