Mia's Journey: An Erotic Thriller (20 page)

“Three thousand jurisdictions across the U.S. are estimated to have had gang activity in 2001. In 2002, 32% of cities with a population of 25 to 50 thousand reported a gang-related homicide.”

Bob Filner

Chapter 55

Flynn slowly rolled down Martin Luther King Bvld., scanning for someone. This specific someone had the skills and motivation for the job Prescott needed done. Truthfully, this was against Flynn’s better judgment. He told himself that this was the last God damn favor he was doing for that rich prick. He almost believed himself.

As he came to a stop at an intersection, he spotted his “friend.” How could anyone miss him in that ugly, ostentatious piece of shit Caddy? It was an 80’s model, white for fuck sake. He probably bought it off of Nick Nolte after they finished filming ‘48 hours.’

That wasn’t the worst of it, though.

This wonderful member of society was a wannabe rapper. Just like all the other shit-for-brains wannabes, his ego was far bigger than his talent.
Why did they all want to be rappers?
thought Flynn,
the least they could do is pull up their pants.

What Flynn couldn’t figure out was how they thought they were supposed to look bad ass with the pants turned around and down around their ankles.

His car represented his ego perfectly; big on flash, small on substance. It had huge letters and graphics airbrushed over the entire thing. It was a moving advertisement for himself. There were the huge letters D.O.P. plastered over both doors and the hood.

The wannabe idiot had named himself the “Duke of Pussy.” The witty thug even put images of crowns and scepters on his car. If you took a minute to look hard enough, you could see that the heads of the scepters were female genitalia. Assuming he could even find feminine genitalia in person.

What a fucking class act,
Flynn thought.

As he pulled up behind the Caddy. Flynn did a quick whoop-whoop with his siren and added lights, just to make a scene and maybe piss them off. He exited his patrol car, and two men tried getting out of the back.

“For your own safety, stay in the car.”

They both shot him the look. The look said ‘I have no problem shooting a cop’s ass right here in public’.

Flynn gave them a look back that said ‘go ahead. We’ll see who wins.’ That actually made Flynn smile while he walked around his car. He loved his job when it included fucking with dirt bags. Even so he undid the safety strap on his Glock.

“Dope! How the hell are you?” He loved the way that got under his skin. This guy was just born to be someone’s punch line. “Step out of the car, please.”

“What the fuck you want?” Tavon Ward, aka D.O.P., threw his arms up, with added theatrics.

Flynn came to stand next to the young thug with his saggy jeans and straight-billed cap. Ward’s friends, didn’t listen, and got out of the car and backed up to join the rest of their small posse standing a few feet away.

“Dope, is that anyway to speak to your old friend?”

“It’s D.O. motherfuckin’ P., bitch!” Again, his arms flew around trying to look intimidating, but instead he almost dropped his low riding pants on the ground. Violent hand gestures gave way to pulling his pants back up.

The gang of men started to howl and holler. There was a “smack the shit out of this bitch” or two thrown around.

“All right, all right, Duke. We need to talk.”

“We don’t need to do shit mutherfucka.”

“Okay, well I guess I’ll just do all the talking then.” Before the other man could react, Flynn grabbed him by the back of the neck, spun him and bent him over the hood of his gangsta-mobile. In one fluid motion, he bounced his head off the hood. Flynn used his other hand to pull his weapon and jam it into the Duke’s ear. He could hear yelling and movement from the crowd.

“Now tell your shit-eatin’ boys to stay put before my trigger finger gets a cramp. You know what could happen if it gets a cramp, don’t you?”

The Duke swore under his breath, “Piece of shit.” Louder,

“Yo, yo, yo. Wait, fuckers.”

Flynn heard the audience calm slightly. Most of the movement stopped.

“Now, that I think you are ready to listen. I have a job for you,” Flynn growled into the man’s ear.

“Why the fuck would I do anything for a punk ass cop?”

“Because you like my sense of style would be my guess,” Flynn pressed the thug’s face harder into the hood of his Caddy. “Or because I could take you in right now for the shit I’m sure is in your pockets and car. What would I find there, huh, Duke? And if I did take you in, I might accidentally mention how grateful we all were that you rolled on your boy last month. You remember, right? That shooting outside of the recording studio. I’m not sure we would have been able to solve that without your help. Maybe I could see to it you got a community service award you could hang on your rear-view mirror.”

“You got some mutherfuckin nerve coming to my block and threatening me.”

“Well, maybe your crew here would like to hear the story of Duke Of Snitch.” Flynn raised his voice and directed it at the posse, “Hey guys! Did I ever tell you the story…”

“Fine, what the fuck do you need?”

“Be at the Third Street warehouse at eleven p.m. Then we can discuss the help I need. Oh, I will have friends around so don’t even think of bringing the get-along-gang.” With that, Flynn shoved the Duke’s head one more time roughly into the airbrushed picture of a pussy scepter.

“Here Duke…eat some pussy.”

The cop returned his weapon to its holster and nodded to the group of men. His smile quickly faded, however, as he got back into his patrol car.

Why the hell was he in this shit so deep? Fuck Prescott. Elder and Junior. Fuck them both.

“The genius of our ruling class is that it has kept a majority of the people from ever questioning the inequity of a system where most people drudge along, paying heavy taxes for which they get nothing in return.”

Gore Vidal

Chapter 56

“You’ve been served,” the process server slapped the papers in Jeffery Prescott’s hand.

What new shit is this?
he thought. He was sitting in the “Bar Exam,” a watering hole for, you guessed it, lawyers, when the process server strolled in and walked right up to him. He didn’t even bother asking Prescott to identify himself, which means he must have been getting a lot of press lately.

He was sitting with a group of lawyers and members of the planning board. None bothered to ask what the lawsuit was about. Getting served was as common as ordering a martini lunch. Jeffery Prescott accepted the envelope nonchalantly, and put it beside his drink.

“I think I’ve been able to answer all your concerns about this project,” he continued smoothly, as though there had been no interruption, “furthermore, I don’t see any reason we can’t proceed on schedule. Do you, gentlemen?”

Every single person on the planning board had been bribed. Since they also had gotten smarter, and compared their bribes, adjustments had been made to include the lowest-paid members to the highest. In other words, everyone now had the feeling they were being screwed equally. Of course, no one alluded to the bad smell of corruption. It was the fart in the confessional no one wanted to talk about.

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far, or so fast, Jeffery,” said one of the senior members. “For example, you managed to evade the question of the ‘no compete’ contracts all going to the same contractor. If the city is giving this project a ten-year tax holiday, we have a right to want to open up the bidding to the best contractor.”

You mean, one of your contractors,
thought Prescott, instead he said, “I wouldn’t characterize it as a ‘no compete’ contract. It simply represents the reality that all things taken into consideration, we can’t go into an over-budget situation. While you may be giving us a tax holiday on the property tax, the city stands to gain over one hundred million dollars a year in tax revenue. I would call your end a ‘holiday’ long before mine.”
You cheap fuck.

Right then, the current mayor decided to amble over and grace the table with his presence. The city employees made a show of scraping and bowing. Each trying to outdo each other in bootlicking and bringing ass kissing to a whole new level. Prescott watched the show with interest.
This is how these same jackals will treat me once I’m elected,
he thought.

The Mayor finally got around to recognizing his opponent in the next election.

“Jeffery Prescott! How is your father doing?”
You privileged little dick-licker,
he didn’t add.

“Mayor, it’s good to see you,” Jeffery stood up to shake his hand.
I’m going to stick my dick so far up your ass in the next election you’ll think it took the place of one of your molars,
Prescott thought inwardly and smiled outwardly.

“Dad is fine. He wishes you’d come out to the house more.”

“Well, I’d love to. It is barbecue season and all. Nothing like kicking back, having some brews, and watching a game.”
I bet I could score an easy five hundred bucks off you, you little twit, by the time the game is over.

“You know you’re always welcome, Mayor.”
Did I tell you I fucked your daughter?

“Thank you, Jeff. Best of luck with the election. If you can unseat the incumbent you deserve the office.”
I’m going to grind you into puppy dust, you little blow-dried, wife-beating, faggot.

The table was quiet after the Mayor left. Jeffery Prescott thought that he had gotten out of all the awkward situations for the day, when Robert Nailer, one of the previously slighted planning board members took the opportunity to ask,

“Pity to hear about John Gilheart’s suicide the other day. You just never know who you’re dealing with, or what they’re capable of. Has anything been heard about your wife? The shock of what that monster did must have been horrible for you.”

Prescott looked at him and decided then and there, if he was elected he was going to crush this insolent little shit.

“Yes, it has been a shock. One I’d rather not talk about, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, of course,” said Nailer, “I do hope the police find those responsible.”

Another planning board member, seeing the situation also chimed in.

“And this was a man teaching our children. Putting ill-deserving people in positions of responsibility is something which has got to stop.” Leaving no doubt as to his meaning.

Okay, I guess I can’t count on their votes,
thought Prescott.

“Well, the present reality with our system as it stands is that sometimes ill-deserving people do get put into positions of responsibility. When that happens, a lot of
undeserving
people can certainly suffer,” said Prescott, pointedly, standing up, looking at each member in turn. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I think our business is concluded, and I’ll expect the planning board’s approval by tomorrow. Good day, gentlemen.”

Jeffery Prescott got back to his office, and slumped into his chair. Layla, his secretary came in with the missed calls, and put them on his desk, being sure to bend over far enough that her boss could see her nipples. Not getting the distraction she wanted, she went behind the desk so it would look to the world like she was just talking to her boss. She hiked her short skirt up high enough so he could stare at her shaved and smooth pussy.

“Is there anything I can get for you?”

“I think we’ll be working late at my house again tonight. Are you available for overtime?”

“Of course I am, Boss.”

Prescott nodded in dismissal, and opened the process server’s envelope. It was a Petition for Dissolution of Marriage. That little bitch filed for divorce!

Which meant if she aired the dirty family laundry, it would kill any chances at the Mayor’s office.

That little bitch, in one smooth motion, held all the high cards.

“If the KKK was smart enough, they would’ve created gangsta rap because it’s such a caricature of black culture and black masculinity.”

Jackson Katz

Chapter 57

Flynn killed time calmly by the Third Street warehouse, waiting for DOP to arrive.

Normally in such a situation, he would be absolutely sure that DOP would try to set it up so he would be beaten. Killing a cop, of course, was dirty business. Even the gang bangers with all their puffery and playacting, didn’t contemplate it lightly.

Even so, Flynn had a number of off-duty sharp-shooters he could call on for favors, who never asked questions. They were situated all around the open-air warehouse. Rifles zeroed, awaiting a command in their earpieces. They would have no hesitation in dropping them where they stood.

Twenty-five minutes past the agreed-upon time, Flynn could hear loud rap music in the distance growing closer. The DOP mobile rounded a corner by the edge of the warehouse, came forward, and stood idling with the headlights on.

Another intimidation tactic. Flynn was supposed to be blinded, while they could see. Flynn could smell, and see marijuana smoke rolling out of the car windows in clouds like in a Cheech and Chong movie.

Dipshits. Come to a firefight stoned, that’s brilliant,
thought Flynn.

“Yo, mothafucka. D.O.P. is in the house.” DOP climbed out of the driver’s side. Another home boy came out the passenger side, and three more out of the back. They all stood there, tough, fingering, and looking bad with guns in their belts.

I wonder how many gang bangers have shot their dicks off accidentally?
thought Flynn,
not enough for them to quit sticking their guns in the absolute worst place possible, I guess. I wonder how many of these clowns have the safety off?

“What happened to coming alone? I thought I was pretty clear on that point.”

“Me and my niggas are never caught slippin’. When you meet the Po Po, you be having some witnesses, you feel me, Flynn?”

“I don’t feel a God damned thing, Dope.”

“It’s D.O.P. bitch. Check your fuckin’ tone.”

“Or what’s gonna happen?”

“Shit, look at this ballsy cocksucka’. You want to find out?”

“Sure DOPE, let’s give it a whirl.” Flynn flicked the cigarette he was smoking in their direction, which was the signal. Bright-red laser dots appeared on the chest of every person present except Flynn.

“You still want to dance, DOPE?”

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah, shithead. Keep talking your shit and see what my boys think about it. I’m getting the feeling the Duke of Pussy doesn’t trust me. That’s good. Because I don’t trust him either. Which gives us the basis of a good working relationship. You with me so far, or has pussy juice clogged up your ears?”

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, good. You do understand. Maybe you aren’t as stupid as you look. Now be a good business partner and come over here so we can chat.”

DOP shuffled over, pulling his pants up as he came. Flynn rolled his eyes. When he was out of earshot of his home boys, Flynn pulled him around so DOP’s back was to them.

“I got a little job I need done.”

“What kind of job?”

“A snatch and grab. Two people. One man, one woman.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Spoken like a true urban hero. For openers, I’ll let you keep on selling meth out of that whorehouse you call a recording studio.”

“Dude, you don’t fuckin’ know me. I ain’t be selling shit out of shit.” He said this just loud enough for his boys to hear so they would think Flynn was rousting him.

“Shut the fuck up. Here’s the way this is going to work. You’ll take this phone. You’ll get an address text. You do the deed, right then. Not the next day. Right fuckin’ then. Are we clear on this point?”

“Yeah, yeah, right then. Pronto, ASAP, and all that cop talk. So we be like level, then?”

“We ‘be like’ nothing. You do me a favor, and I do you one. If you don’t fuck it completely up, I might have more. If you fuck it up, I’m coming down on you hard.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Another thing. You touch the woman, and I do mean, you so much as don’t open a door for her, I will personally break your head open and feed you your brains. We need to be real clear on this point. No fun with the woman. No copping a feel. No sniffing her panties.”

“What about the whitebread homey you want to snatch?”

“Who said he was a whitebread?”

“I’m not new to this fuckin’ game, Officer. If it was a brotha’ you wanted, any cop could swoop in.”

“Right, I forgot how smart you are, Duke.” Flynn snorted. “You can take your jollies out on him for all I care. But don’t touch the woman.”

Flynn looked over at the other gang bangers. The red laser dots were still on their chests. They were standing there like they were nailed into the ground.

“Since we now in bidness together and I’m sensing your generosity. I got…”

“I’m not feeling generous, DOP. I’m feeling mean as a snake, because I know you’re going to fuck this up.”

“No man, really. I be understandin’ and all. Simple snatch and grab. Don’t touch the woman. Me and my boys could do that any day of the week.”

“Oh, by the way, I got to make this look good for your buddies and mine.”

“Huh?”

Flynn decked him. A straight upper cut that came out of nowhere, that started under his solar plexus and continued up to his chin. It literally knocked DOP out of his pants and lifted him off the ground.

His posse surged forward as one. Muffled shots at their feet stopped them. Flynn wagged his finger back and forth at them. No, no.

“Man, what the fuck was that for? Here we be businessizing and all,” said DOP, when he could catch his breath. He was rubbing his jaw, and cradling his gut, still sitting on his ass on the ground with his pants around his ankles.

“Just making sure you were awake. Pull your pants up for Christ’s sake.”

“Fuck you, Flynn.”

“Fuck you too, Dope.”