Wildin On Staten Island Page 8

  Without a word the white dude smashed him hard across the temple with the butt of the gun. Cookie slumped over in pain and the dude yanked him outta the armored vehicle and tossed him on the ground right next to Lil Smitty.

  Cookie looked up and saw a black dude wearing a ski-mask and holding a semi-automatic trained dead on him.

  “Over there,” the brother gestured. “Get your ass up under them fuckin bushes.”

  Cookie scrambled over to a bunch of prickly hedges and watched as dude reached down and dragged Lil Smitty’s limp ass over there too.

  “Come up out ya shit, bruh.”

  “W-w-what?” Cookie stammered, his eyeballs trained on the barrel of dude’s banger.

  “I said take off ya shit!” the guy spit impatiently as he kicked Lil Smitty in the face hard enough to wake his ass up. “Hurry up! Get all that shit off! Both of y’all!”

  Cookie hurried up and stripped outta his uniform. He pulled his shit off down to his drawers, including his boots. Lil Smitty was dazed so he moved a lil bit slower, but he came up outta his gear too.

  “Take off them drawers too,” the white guy said quietly as he trained his gun on them.

  Both men submitted meekly as they peeled off their drawers and held them out to the gunman.

  “Ball yours up and stuff ’em in his mouth!” the white boy demanded of Cookie.

  Cookie didn’t even hesitate as he turned to his homeboy and crammed his drawers all down in his mouth.

  “Your turn,” dude directed Lil Smitty as he choked and gagged. “It’s only right. Let your partner see what your ass tastes like too.”

  Less than sixty seconds later Cookie was naked on his hands and knees and hogtied the fuck up. He couldn’t believe he’d just gotten jacked for his shit. He wracked his mind tryna come up with a good lie because there was no way in fuck he was gonna be able to explain this shit to his bosses or justify his failure to follow company procedures.

  I got fuckin robbed! He thought in dismay. Suckers on this job got stuck for their load all the fuckin time, and every time he heard about it Cookie shook his head and wondered how in the hell the dumb-fuck driver had allowed somebody to get the drop on him and take his shit.

  Well now he knew. Bent over with his hands and feet tied in knots and Lil Smitty’s funky drawers crammed halfway down his throat, now he knew!

  Seconds later Cookie’s eyes got big as shit as the white boy walked up and loomed over him with his heat pointed dead at his grill. A silencer was on the tip and immediately Cookie’s bowels went loose because he knew what time it was.

  “Noooooo!” Cookie squeezed his eyes shut and screeched past his gag. “Noooooo!”

  Whewt! Whewt!

  Slick glanced over at Whitey as both security guards slumped over in the bushes, dead.

  “Yeah, I got it,” Slick told his manz before he could even open his mouth. “That’s why you took off ya mask, huh? No witnesses, no worries, right? Now let’s fuckin move.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Time is Money

  After checking to make sure the fifty million dollar Pink Lady diamond was safe and secure in the back of the Brinks truck, Slick and Whitey stripped down to their boxers and slid on the uniforms that they’d taken off the security guards. Slick’s joint fit short and tight, but Whitey got the fat dude’s gear and it fit him loose as fuck.

  They tossed their backpacks in the truck and climbed inside. Riding in the armored Brinks truck felt like being inside of a miniature military tank. They were strapped up crazy and ready to go gun-for-gun.

  Whitey took the wheel while Slick kept his eyes peeled for signs of static. After a few miles he realized that they weren’t being followed, but his senses stayed on high alert because with Jewelz’s life on the line there was very little room for error.

  The plan was to slide Goody one of the fabricated diamonds so they could get Jewelz back. And once Slick was sure the woman he loved was safe, he was gonna make those Goode Brothers pay dearly.

  “Yo, bruh.” Slick’s tone was cold as him and Whitey headed toward Handgun Goody’s warehouse where the handoff was going down. “You can best believe I’m tryna get Jewelz back at all costs, but if something goes wrong out there or those bastards try some fuck-shit then I’m getting dumb and going Rambo on all them niggas! I’m going for that nigga Goody’s blood even if it costs me my own. So if the bullets start flying then do what you gotta do and get low. I’m just telling you where my head is at.”

  “You can cool it with all that dumb talk, Slick,” Whitey said sounding annoyed as he maneuvered the truck through traffic. “We’re brothers, man. We’ve always been brothers. And that means we’re gonna go up in there and get Jewelz out together. And after that all three of us are gonna get the hell outta there. Alive. I don’t want you trying to go out on that hero shit, you hear me? But if those guys play games and fuck around with the fuck around, then we can all fuck around!”

  Slick nodded. For a white boy Whitey was a bang or bleed-type down-ass rider. Slick felt real secure knowing his manz had his back no matter what type of flagrant shit sparked off.

  And Jewelz…Slick shook his head. It was a shame that it had taken something crucial like this for him to finally admit how much pure love he had in his heart for that girl. But he had already come to terms with whatever the outcome was gonna be.

  He was getting Jewelz out no matter what. After that, maybe he would live or maybe he would die. It didn’t really matter to Slick as long as Jewelz got out safe. One thing he could be sure of, he knew his bro Whitey would look out for Jewelz if he fucked around and got cut down.

  “Remember,” Whitey said as they approached Goody’s maintenance warehouse. They had taken the diamonds out of their satin bags and placed them directly into their tiny boxes. Whitey had one of the fake diamonds in his pocket while Slick had possession of the other two.

  “Just keep the box with the real diamond in your right pocket,” Whitey reminded Slick, “and stash the fake one in your left pocket. We’re probably gonna be outnumbered and out-gunned when we get inside Goody’s warehouse,” Whitey admitted quietly, “but we won’t be outsmarted. All we have to do is keep our heads cool and handle our business and we can be in and out of there in less than five minutes flat.”

  “Straight up,” Slick said as he looked down the long driveway and spotted Handgun Goody posted up out front with two of his top street soldiers. “You just stay on point my G, and remember what the fuck I said. When it’s time to do the hand-off I’ll just slide them niggas that fake shit real easy like. Then once we have Jewelz safe and secure we can start going ham on those suckers.”

  “I got it. Don’t worry. Everything is going to go down righteously,” Whitey predicted with mad confidence.

  Slick nodded. “Yeah, I hope you right, but I don’t trust Handgun Goody. This shit is way past personal between us so I’m warning you right now. If them Goode Brothers show any signs of crossing us I’m letting off everything I got dead in Handgun’s ass. Zip ’em up style.”

  $$$$$

  Handgun Goody sat in style at a huge granite table surrounded by his team. The Brooklyn boss had rented out his favorite spot, Ruth’s Chris restaurant so his team could eat a good lunch and get prepared.

  Today was their final meet-up before Goody was gonna meet with Slick and retrieve the Pink Lady Diamond from his punk ass. In attendance were Handgun’s two remaining brothers, along with Ice’s bitch Cucci, and a five of his best shooters.

  “Shit is about to get real,” Goody said he pushed his plate away and drank from a glass of expensive wine. “If we do this shit right then we all get to ride the fuck off into the sunset, you copy? No more beating up the block on the daily just to get at a dollar.”

  Goody looked around the table and his crew was so transfixed that you could hear a pin drop. His presence and his message demanded all eyes and ears and attention be on him. But the gravity of the situation wasn’t lost on the Goode Brothers Gang. They had take
n some heavy losses and they’d been forced to paint the town red in order to maintain power on the streets of Brooklyn.

  “I’m ready to roll out and wash my hands of all this shit anyway,” Goody confessed. “I lost my baby brothers and a lot of good young hittas to this game. Everybody at this table has done some ill shit just to survive out here. Fuck it though, we made it this far and now we have a chance to make it even farther. Only a few more bodies have to be put in the dirt before we can get to this jackpot.”

  “I hear you, big homey,” Cannonball said. “So let’s get ready to go. Everything is all mapped out just like you instructed. The location is tight and the shooters know where they’re supposed to be positioned. That bitch Jewelz is wrapped up and ready to be transported. All we need to know is when to start sparking at that nigga Slick.”

  Goody lit up a cigar and sat back in his seat. He looked up at the ceiling and exhaled as he contemplated the brutality he wanted to inflict upon Slick.

  “I underestimated Slick a long time ago,” Goody said as he gazed around at his crew. “That was a mistake that I won’t make again ’cause he ain’t just some punk-ass flunky off the street that you can just walk up on and wipe out. Slick’s a smart, tactical shithead. He didn’t survive this long by being one-dimensional, so ere’body better be bouncing on they fucking toes and expect him to have a trick up his sleeve.”

  “One thing is for sure though,” Goody acknowledged as he leaned back in his seat. “After we get that diamond, neither him nor that bitch Jewelz is gonna live to see another day. Therefore, nobody make a fuckin move until you see me raise my left hand up high in the air. That’s the signal. And once you see that, then you fly that nigga’s roof back. I’ll add half-a-million to the split for whoever hits him first.”

  The crew of killers at the table nodded their heads and stood up, ready to go. They all wanted that extra half milli and they would be itching to be the one to deliver the kill shot.

  Cucci had sat beside Ice Pick quietly the whole time, hanging off every word of Handgun’s speech. She knew her spot in the lineup was solidified and secure because she was the only one who could broker a deal with the underground trader once they had the diamond in their hands.

  Standing up to follow the men out, she giggled inside with excitement. Now was her best chance to get one up on Honore and cash the fuck out. But Cucci wasn’t nobody’s fool. She knew how gooned-up these Brooklyn niggas really was, and in some ways Handgun Goody was more dangerous and cut-throat than Sly McFly was.

  Cucci shivered inside. She knew a shit-storm could possibly be brewing, because if them two psychos ever clutched up then shit was gonna get ugly as fuck. But whatever. She was fiending in the pockets and it was too late to turn back now. Handgun had given them the green light to move forward, and like it or not, everybody in the joint was on “go” mode. But still…Cucci just couldn’t shake the feeling that even though the stage was set for everything to go down nice and clean, somebody’s dirty-ass blood was gonna get spilled.

  $$$$$

  “All right, just relax,” Whitey said as he brought the armored vehicle to a stop. The old maintenance warehouse had two extra-wide double doors and Whitey parked several yards away. With a cool and calm glance at Slick, he cut the truck off and left the keys dangling from the ignition as he opened his door and climbed out.

  Handgun Goody stood there dressed in the utmost finery and sporting a big grin.

  “So glad you pussies could make it,” Goody said with a chuckle as he watched Slick and Whitey exit the truck with their hammers hanging out.

  “What’s all the hardware for, gentlemen? I thought this was supposed to be a simple lil business transaction.”

  “Punk-ass bitch!” Slick spit. “Ain’t never been no pussy in my blood! Ask ya dead brothers!”

  “Damn, Lil Slick! Fuck wrong with you?” Goody said in a real cocky tone as he grinned broadly. “You ain’t gonna say w’sup or ask me how I’m doing or nothin? Nigga you was raised by old folks! I know your granny taught you better than that. Where’s your manners at son?”

  Slick sneered. “Oh, you think this is a fuckin game, huh? You’s a certified child-killing coward, muthafucka, so miss me with the small talk.”

  “Oh, I’ma miss ya ass, alright,” Handgun said coldly as he dropped his grin and glared. “I’ma miss the fuck outta you because yo ass ain’t even getting up in the building, nigga!”

  “What?” Slick said, taking a step closer.

  “Ay, you heard me, lil nigga!” Handgun barked as his soldiers cocked their shit. “Back the fuck up! Back your black ass the fuck up! Matter fact,” Goody fumed, “go sit the fuck back in ya truck, bitch! You wanna get ya lil stank hoe back and conduct some bizz with me today? Then you stay ya ass out here and send the white boy in to handle the transaction!”

  Slick scoffed and raised his heat high too. Ignoring the soldiers, he pointed his hammer straight at Handgun Goody’s grill.

  “Nah, I ain’t staying nowhere, son. I’m coming inside and handling my own fuckin handle! Now where the fuck is Jewelz?”

  “Nigga what I just say?” Handgun aimed his shit at Slick’s dome too as they sighted on each other in a standoff.

  “Yo, Yo, YO!” Whitey barked, his voice deep and commanding. “Neither one of y’all motherfuckers knows what the word “business” means! This isn’t how it’s done, gentlemen! All this shit-talking and gun-pointing isn’t the way to get things accomplished in the modern world, okay? This type of thing will only get somebody deaded, and since I didn’t come here to get killed today, Slick, I’m going to ask you to wait outside and let me go in there and get Jewelz.”

  “What?” Slick glared at his roady. “Man you buggin! Hell fuckin n—”

  “Please. You have to trust me, man,” Whitey said, palming the tip of Slick’s gat and gently pushing the barrel toward the ground. He leaned in close to his manz and stared him deep in the eyes and whispered quietly, “You’re too close to this one, boss. Too emotional. Let me handle it. I promise you I’ll go in and bring Jewelz out safely. You can trust me, Slick. You know I’d never let you down.”

  Slick shook him off and aimed his shit at Goody again. “Nah, fuck this nigga! He must be smoking his own shit! The fuck I look like to you?”

  “You want that bitch back or not?” Handgun demanded. “Wait till you see her. She ain’t got much left in the tank anyway, so you might wanna speed this bullshit up.”

  “Yo, Slick, please just chill out here and watch my back,” Whitey insisted as he took a couple of steps toward the door. “Make sure no clowns sneak in behind me and try to sleep walk me.”

  Slick paused for a long moment. Then he nodded reluctantly as his eyes narrowed dangerously.

  “A’ight, man,” he said. “Go in there and get my Jewelz back, fam. You make sure they handle my baby real gentle too ’cause you already know I’m ready to rock out.”

  “Ay, you two bitches can hug and kiss and whisper all that sweet shit later,” Goody said, turning toward the door with his men bringing up the rear. “I wanna get my hands on that shiny get-rich come-up shit right now!”

  Left outside to wait by himself, Slick fumed like a raging bull. His whole body felt like a coiled snake, ready to strike. All he could think about was Jewelz. Jewelz. Jewelz. Her mental state, her physical state, and the safety of her entire spiritual being.

  “Lord help these simple niggas if they brought any harm to my woman,” he paced and vowed, his heart full and swole. There was no doubt in Slick’s mind that he was in love with Jewelz. He had fought against it hard and long, but he was finally ready to admit that she was his queen and his jewel, and right now his heart was bleeding for his closest and best friend in the whole fuckin world.

  He prayed to God that she still cared about him because as soon as this shit was over with he was gonna beg for Jewelz’s forgiveness and spend the rest of his life showering her with his love.

  But if his baby walked outta that warehouse
door with so much as a scratch on her there would be no restraining him. He’d spray that shit until every Goode Brother up in there had a hole in him and the filthy blood of their entire genealogy soaked into the ground.

  No doubt about it, Slick thought as he strode around to the side of the raggedy building gripping his heat. If Jewelz didn’t come up outta there in one fuckin piece then that’s exactly what he was gonna do.

  $$$$$

  There was a certain dirty cop on Staten Island who walked a certain dirty beat. He met up with a certain dirty prostitute on a certain day of the week.

  Patrolman Darren Wilson had a thing for dirty pussy. He was a funny-looking white boy from Missouri who was known for his hatred for black men. It looked like straight up racism to hood folks in the star-studded town of Staten Island, but in reality it stemmed from the fact that deep down inside, Officer Darren Wilson was secretly jealous of black men and he envied practically everything about them. He had studied black men closely, and there was something in their dominating physical structure and that natural athleticism in their DNA, that gave them a fearsome aura of power and stealth.

  Officer Wilson didn’t like that shit.

  He was of the pale and frail sort, himself, and he had barely passed the rigors of the police academy. In fact, two of his stupid black classmates had cheated for him on the final exam, and when it was all over he had turned them both in and accused them of helping each other pass the test.

  Today, Officer Darren Wilson was doing what he loved to do best while he was in uniform.

  He was eating black pussy.

  That was another thing that pissed Officer Wilson off about black men. They got to eat all the black pussy they wanted for free, while he had to give up his precious few dollars just to get him a taste.