The Score by Kiki Swinson Page A

you affording that blood?” I said to Dane. “Shit that make you say hmmmm.”
    â€œTake off everything!” Ak ordered. Next, Dane slowly removed his Maison Martin Margiela jacket. I could tell by looking at it that it cost at least a grip and better. This nigga was really out shopping with money he had stolen from me. I just shook my head in disgust.
    â€œThis shit look like my little brother size,” Boone said cruelly as he grabbed the expensive jacket and examined it closely. “Looks like this little nigga been living better than all of us. Take off that fucking Gucci T-shirt too, nigga. You like to be runway shopping I see.”
    I was taking delight in watching Dane get what was coming to him. My hand definitely didn’t call for Dane, of all people, to be stealing from me. I had literally taken his little dirty ass off the street. He was like twelve years old when I saw him outside of the takeout begging for change to get two chicken wings. I could see the hunger in his eyes. I handed him twenty dollars and told him to come see me the next day. He was there before I even arrived at my trap. I gave him a job as a biker runner so that he could just feed himself. I was paying Dane more than any of the other little dirty boys I had on my payroll. It was out of respect for his lineage. See, Dane’s pops was doing life but before he got knocked he was one of the most revered niggas in the game. Dane’s mother was another story. Back in the day when she was with his pops she was the bitch everybody wanted, but as soon as all the glitter and gold was gone, she realized she had no skills, no money, and no man. She quickly became the neighborhood ho and niggas started running up in her guts just to throw shade on her man who they knew would never see the light of day. By now, she not only had Dane; she had mad kids and didn’t give a fuck about none of them. It was a sad situation to say the least, but it was the hand the nigga was dealt. I understood that shit better than anybody so I gave the nigga a job and let him move up to holding his own package.
    â€œA’ight, nigga, run them Jordans too,” Ak demanded, pointing his gun at Dane’s feet menacingly. Dane took off his sneakers. Before long, he was standing in front of all of us butt-ass naked, balls out and shivering.
    â€œNow, nigga, you see how you standing here naked as the day you were born?” Boone asked. “Well this is how you gon’ be for the rest of your life. You can’t work in this town. You can’t eat in this town and you can’t buy shit in this town until you bring the boss every dime you stole with interest,” Boone said with feeling.
    Dane had his hand covering his dick and balls with tears running down his face. “This ain’t right, Big Matt. I ain’t even do nothing,” Dane cried.
    CRACK! Ak slammed his gun into the side of Dane’s head. The skin split like dropped watermelon exposing the white meat. Even I winced seeing that shit.
    â€œAhh!” Dane crumpled to the floor. Boone used his size thirteen Timberland boot to stomp on Dane’s ribs.
    â€œAghghgh!” Dane gurgled, then started coughing and wheezing from the force of the kick. He rolled onto his side and rocked back and forth pitifully.
    â€œDon’t address the boss unless you get permission!” Boone barked, kicking him again, this time in his spine.
    Ak and Boone hoisted Dane up from the floor. They dragged him over until he was eye level with me.
    â€œI guess the next time you decide to bite the hand that feeds you your ass will think twice. I suggest you get the fuck from around here and never come back. The only reason I ain’t spill your brains is because I got respect for ya pops,” I said to Dane.
    He lifted his bloodied, downturned head so he could meet me eye to eye. I was kind of taken aback that the little nigga wasn’t scared to force eye contact with