himself.
* * *
Back at the filthy hotel, Marcus and Pony frowned at the eight ball on the table.
“I should smoke this by myself since I did all the work.” Marcus laughed, only half-joking.
“Man, something gotta give. We can’t keep going out like dis.” Pony sighed. The events of the night weighed heavily on his mind. People died. A child got molested. His best friend was ready to blow him. And for what? The eight ball on the table.
“All we need is one good lick, and we good,” Marcus coaxed, sliding a chunk of the drug to Pony as an incentive.
“We could get a pack and do our thang, huh?” Pony asked as he loaded his shooter.
“Shit, nigga. We could get money, hoes, everything,” Marcus said enthusiastically. Marcus wasn’t sure if he heard his friend’s reply properly and asked him to repeat himself.
“I said I’m down!” Pony repeated emphatically.
* * *
Marcus pulled the car in front of their intended victim’s house and cut the engine. “You ready?” he asked.
Pony nodded his head in agreement.
“Nigga, I said, is you ready?” Marcus repeated, seeking a verbal commitment.
Instead, Pony pulled his ski mask down and got out of the car.
Marcus got out and followed him up the walk.
Red wasn’t expecting anyone but rushed to the door nonetheless. Ever the businessman, he loathed the chance to miss a deal. He’d grown so comfortable with his personal rep and that of his sons that he thought no one would try him. It was that hubris that made him pull his door open without bothering to check and see who it was. Red realized his error immediately as the two masked men pushed their way inside, guns drawn. “You boys sure you want to do this? You do know who I am, right?” he asked warily.
“Shut up ol’ man!” Marcus said forcefully as he shoved the man backwards.
“Yeah. You know what this is,” Pony said, his voice strained with fear.
Red let out a heavy sigh as he reached into his pocket. “Here ya go,” he said, producing a huge wad of cash that satisfied Pony instantly.
“I got it. Let’s go!” Pony shouted excitedly after snatching the cash.
“Fuck dat. I want it all. Where da rest at, ol’ man?” Marcus growled menacingly.
“Man…I know you!” Red announced, his face contorted by the recognition.
“You don’t know me, nigga,” Marcus stammered, attempting to drop his voice a few octaves.
“Come on, Marcus. We got the money,” Pony said, nearly panicked.
“Marcus?” Red chuckled. “Boy, I thought that was you.”
Marcus pulled the now-useless ski mask up and raised his gun. “Gimme da rest of dat dough,” he demanded.
“What the hell you doing?” Pony asked desperately.
“Don’t matter now. We might as well go all da way,” Marcus said, inching closer.
It was at that instant that Red understood that Marcus intended to kill him. Being the A-Town vet that he was, Red sprang into action. He knew Pony was the weak link, so he went for his gun. Pony screamed as he and the older man wrestled for the weapon. Red was bigger and stronger than Pony and almost had him subdued until Marcus intervened. He calmly walked up to Red and literally blew his brains out the side of his head.
Pony screamed even louder as blood, bone, and brain matter splashed on his face and shirt. He felt his knees buckle and struggled to stay conscious.
“Come on! Let’s find dis money!” Marcus demanded.
Pony followed Marcus into the master bedroom and began to search. Marcus dove into the large chest of drawers, while Pony hit the nightstand. They were tossing out the contents of the drawers, ransacking the room. It only took a couple of minutes before they hit pay dirt.
“Come on! I got it!” Marcus yelled, holding up another large wad of cash.
Pony abandoned his search inches short of where Red had over $100,000 tucked away. The $10,000 Marcus found plus the $3,500 from Red’s pocket was more than the junkies expected to find in the first place.
In a
* * *
Back at the filthy hotel, Marcus and Pony frowned at the eight ball on the table.
“I should smoke this by myself since I did all the work.” Marcus laughed, only half-joking.
“Man, something gotta give. We can’t keep going out like dis.” Pony sighed. The events of the night weighed heavily on his mind. People died. A child got molested. His best friend was ready to blow him. And for what? The eight ball on the table.
“All we need is one good lick, and we good,” Marcus coaxed, sliding a chunk of the drug to Pony as an incentive.
“We could get a pack and do our thang, huh?” Pony asked as he loaded his shooter.
“Shit, nigga. We could get money, hoes, everything,” Marcus said enthusiastically. Marcus wasn’t sure if he heard his friend’s reply properly and asked him to repeat himself.
“I said I’m down!” Pony repeated emphatically.
* * *
Marcus pulled the car in front of their intended victim’s house and cut the engine. “You ready?” he asked.
Pony nodded his head in agreement.
“Nigga, I said, is you ready?” Marcus repeated, seeking a verbal commitment.
Instead, Pony pulled his ski mask down and got out of the car.
Marcus got out and followed him up the walk.
Red wasn’t expecting anyone but rushed to the door nonetheless. Ever the businessman, he loathed the chance to miss a deal. He’d grown so comfortable with his personal rep and that of his sons that he thought no one would try him. It was that hubris that made him pull his door open without bothering to check and see who it was. Red realized his error immediately as the two masked men pushed their way inside, guns drawn. “You boys sure you want to do this? You do know who I am, right?” he asked warily.
“Shut up ol’ man!” Marcus said forcefully as he shoved the man backwards.
“Yeah. You know what this is,” Pony said, his voice strained with fear.
Red let out a heavy sigh as he reached into his pocket. “Here ya go,” he said, producing a huge wad of cash that satisfied Pony instantly.
“I got it. Let’s go!” Pony shouted excitedly after snatching the cash.
“Fuck dat. I want it all. Where da rest at, ol’ man?” Marcus growled menacingly.
“Man…I know you!” Red announced, his face contorted by the recognition.
“You don’t know me, nigga,” Marcus stammered, attempting to drop his voice a few octaves.
“Come on, Marcus. We got the money,” Pony said, nearly panicked.
“Marcus?” Red chuckled. “Boy, I thought that was you.”
Marcus pulled the now-useless ski mask up and raised his gun. “Gimme da rest of dat dough,” he demanded.
“What the hell you doing?” Pony asked desperately.
“Don’t matter now. We might as well go all da way,” Marcus said, inching closer.
It was at that instant that Red understood that Marcus intended to kill him. Being the A-Town vet that he was, Red sprang into action. He knew Pony was the weak link, so he went for his gun. Pony screamed as he and the older man wrestled for the weapon. Red was bigger and stronger than Pony and almost had him subdued until Marcus intervened. He calmly walked up to Red and literally blew his brains out the side of his head.
Pony screamed even louder as blood, bone, and brain matter splashed on his face and shirt. He felt his knees buckle and struggled to stay conscious.
“Come on! Let’s find dis money!” Marcus demanded.
Pony followed Marcus into the master bedroom and began to search. Marcus dove into the large chest of drawers, while Pony hit the nightstand. They were tossing out the contents of the drawers, ransacking the room. It only took a couple of minutes before they hit pay dirt.
“Come on! I got it!” Marcus yelled, holding up another large wad of cash.
Pony abandoned his search inches short of where Red had over $100,000 tucked away. The $10,000 Marcus found plus the $3,500 from Red’s pocket was more than the junkies expected to find in the first place.
In a
Similar Books
