Читать книгу Get Down or Lay Down - Derrick MD Johnson - Страница 12

Sitting in the closet anticipating the next move, 740 sat patiently hearing KeKe move about in the bedroom not knowing when the cue would come, but fully ready to meet any challenges that lurked on the other side of the door.

See, 740, coming from the Southside of Minneapolis, was a part of the growing fad of being a Shotgun Crip. It seemed like ever since the movie “Colors” came out, the Crips, who are predominately on the west coast, niggas seemed to migrate toward the Midwestern states - seeking new territories to invade and bringing huge packages of narcotics of all kinds ready for distribution. They preyed on the smaller cities that had yet to be exploited, seeking out people who showed potential to help and establish their dominance.

They didn’t just need hustlers, they were looking for individuals who would carry out orders of violence when need be, and it was at that time 740 stood out up there like a sore thumb. He had a rep for sticking niggas up and peeling nigga’s and bitches’ caps back, thus making him a prime candidate for their hit squad. After many attempts of trying to get him to do both hustle and be the enforcer, it soon became clear he had one purpose in life – to kill. 740 couldn’t handle the stress that came with selling drugs. He’d eventually end up killing all of his customers because he had no tolerance or patience.

During the time Dig a Hole was looking for potential recruits for his Bogus-D-Siple mob, he was hearing a lot about this cat that went by the name 740 who was on the Southside giving bitch niggas the blues and especially cats that were new over there. He was known as a Southsider from anyone in Minneapolis or from out-of-state, that’s how he got down. Knowing this was exactly the type of person he wanted on his squad, Dig a Hole set out to find this young recruit. It wasn’t hard - all he had to do was go on Franklin and Chicago, the dope strip on the Southside. It was there he ran into 740. He explained to him that he wasn’t meant to be a Crip, nor was he meant to sell drugs. He was made to enforce things in his city not just his hood; to put those who weren’t deserving of life to bed permanently.

Knowing this is what would capture his attention, he went on to tell 740 he was forming a click of homies who, like him, didn’t give a fuck about the daily hustle. His motto was let the hustlers hustle, then go take the fruits of their labor and then he would kill them. Something he loved to do without the pressures of consequences or repercussions from his homies for the heat being brought around.

This was exactly what needed to be said because 740 wholeheartedly embraced the entire concept of Dig a Hole’s plan, especially the part of letting him do himself while still getting paid. He went in head first, pledging his loyalty to Dig a Hole’s every cause.

Wanting to show his prize bitch off to his boy Corleone, Steele was overly anxious for KeKe to come back out the room without the robe she had thrown on when she came to the door, revealing that hour glass body. Grabbing the remote control and flicking on the huge plasma screen TV, he kicked his legs up to relax and started discussing bizness with Corleone.

Corleone started by informing Steele that with the two hundred bricks he just brought in they would be relocating to Waterloo, Iowa. It was common knowledge that the Detroit boys would go set up shop in different cities, then after stacking a mil ticket they’d relocate to another city or state, just in time for the heat they had caused to cool down.

Hearing all this from the hallway closet Dig a Hole became excited. It was pure luck to run into both the connect and a large shipment of drugs at the same time. See, if the connect was in town that meant that Steele had sold out; so there was both money and a fresh batch of drugs to be gotten. Ready to explode out of that hot ass closet, he remained patient and waited on his cue.

Steele yelled into the other room to KeKe, “What’s taking so damn long?”

Replying back with her smart ass mouth she said, “I didn’t know I was on a time clock, or that you was bringing someone to my house without letting me know.”

Not liking the way she checked him in front of Corleone, Steele quickly replied, “Fuck what you talking about. I take care of your ass, so who and when I bring someone over here is my bizness.”

KeKe was smiling behind the bedroom door the whole time thinking, “Bitch ass nigga keep that attitude because in twenty minutes we’ll all see who does the barking around this bitch,” but for now she’d let him get his role out. At the same time she’d play hers out to the fullest. She walked out the room and was all smiles, bringing along a blunt of dro to further relax them. Handing it to Steele he leaned back to admire her juicy, thick thighs in those pussy cutting shorts, assuming she was rocking them for him.

Still gazing at her backside, Steele says to KeKe, “Baby why don’t you hook me and my mans something up to eat. He just came in from a long trip and could use some of that fire shit you be throwing down for me.”

“Sure, anything for you Daddy,” she replied, soothing his overinflated ego. Turning around she walked toward the kitchen knowing both sets of eyes were following her ass as it shook from side to side naturally. Being that the bedroom was closer to the living room, she went into the bedroom first to let 740 know to come out. She told him she was going to let Dig a Hole out as well, telling him now to post up by the door just in case. She then proceeded down to the hallway closet to let Dig a Hole know it was time to get down.

Coming out with the speed and agility of a leopard, he was down the hallway and in the living room literally in seconds standing over his prey. Not giving them a chance to realize what was going on he smacked Steele upside the head with the 40 Glock. The sound of Steele’s flesh meeting his gun was enough to wake Corleone up out his sleep only to be knocked out cold with 740’s Mac 11. It was then Big T emerged from the backroom.

Not sure what was going to happen next and thinking it was a petty robbery, Corleone held out his Cartier watch without saying a single word. Big T punched him in the face knocking him on the floor. Standing over him, gun in hand, Dig a Hole went to work duct taping him up hog style.

Judging from the fear in Steele’s eyes, it was clear he now understood this wasn’t a by-chance robbery. Scared to speak with two guns being pointed at his dome, he chose to play it by ear, while making a silent vow to remember all the faces of these niggas because they were definitely going to pay for this with their lives.

Big T was the first to break the silence by telling him to place his hands on top of his head and to roll onto the floor. Also instructing him to lay flat on his belly, making it clearly understood that any false moves and he would meet his Maker. Seeing nothing but death in his coal black eyes, Steele thought it would be in his best interest to comply, just hoping they didn’t discover the Glock Nine hidden in the small of his back. His hesitation cost him being smacked once again upside his head, rendering him unconscious.

Coming to in what seemed like hours, but was merely minutes; he was bound, gagged and naked as the day he was born. Steele could only open one eye, the other was swollen shut, and tried looking around to see if he could find Corleone but couldn’t. He then tried to figure out where he was. It only took him a few seconds to realize he was on the floor in KeKe’s bedroom. He thought it would be in his best interest to not let anyone know he was back conscious, thinking he might be able to at least hear what their intentions were, but the sound of a wounded and desperate man squealing brought him to the realization that things would only get worse.

Straining to hear what was being said in the other room was hindered by the increasing pounding from the headache that seemed to be explosive. From what he could hear, he could tell that Corleone was being interrogated and viciously tortured. After seeing KeKe pass through the room with what seemed like a frying pan, he closed his eyes and said a silent prayer.