Authors: Kiki Swinson
The Score (9 page)
“Agh! I swear! I swear, Big Matt,” he cried, holding his face and trying to stop the blood from gushing from his nose.
“Don't swear, nigga. I ain't tryna get hit by lightning fucking with your lying ass,” I laughed sarcastically.
“Now, I'ma ask you one more time. Where is the money you stole? 'Cause we know you stole it, motherfucka,” Boone gritted.
“Let me get at him. I ain't catch a body in a minute,” Ak said as he walked over and put the barrel of his Glock to Dane's temple. Young Dane's bladder involuntarily emptied and piss soaked his pants. We all started laughing.
“Oh, now you wanna be scared and pissing on yourself? Nah, you wasn't scared when you decided you was gon' violate that man right there,” Ak growled, pointing to me.
“I . . . I . . . didn't,” Young Dane stammered. Boone rushed over and drove his fist right into Dane's stomach. Dane's frail, skinny body doubled over at the waist and he coughed and gagged.
“Stand up like a man, nigga. Matter of fact, you ain't no fucking man, so I take that shit back. You a pussy and I'ma show you how pussies get dealt with 'round this fuckin' hood. Take off your shit, nigga!” Ak barked using his gun to hit Dane's chest for emphasis. “I want you to strip down 'til you ain't got on nothing but your fucking boxer shorts. As a matter of fact, take them shits off too. I want you to look like you did the day your sorry ass was born.”
Dane was shaking but he knew the drill. He wasn't no stranger to me and my crew. He had been around us when we had made examples out of other lame-ass niggas before. So, this beatdown wasn't nothing new to him. When we stripped a dude and sent him on the street it was our way of telling other crews and stickup niggas that the dude was open for the taking. Trust that the street vultures would be waiting to make an example out of a nigga like Dane.
“Pl . . . Please . . . I ain't do nothing,” Dane pleaded. His eyes were starting to swell shut from his broken nose. His mouth was filled with blood too.
“Nigga if you don't . . .” Ak began. He didn't even need to finish his sentence. Dane began to comply because he knew what was up. I was laughing the whole time watching this show.
First Dane removed his long, iced-out Jesus piece and chain. Boone snatched it from his hand. “Oh, a nigga went to see Mr. Ice the jeweler, I see. Don't this look like a Mr. Ice piece?” Boone said, swinging the chain so me and Ak could take a good look at it.
“For real. I thought only bosses get to go see Mr. Ice. How you affording that blood?” I said to Dane. “Shit that make you say hmmmm.”
“Take 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.
“This 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.
“A'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.
“Now, 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.
“Ahh!” Dane crumpled to the floor. Boone used his size thirteen Timberland boot to stomp on Dane's ribs.
“Aghghgh!” Dane gurgled, then started coughing and wheezing from the force of the kick. He rolled onto his side and rocked back and forth pitifully.
“Don'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.
“I 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 me. The look in Dane's eyes was one I had never seen before. There was not one ounce of sorrow or remorse in that kid's eyes; instead, the piercing glare he locked in on me with was filled with so much hatred, jealousy, and vengeance it literally gave me the chills. I couldn't let my crew know that the young kid had actually scared the shit out of me.
“Toss his sorry ass in the street just like that . . . butt-ass naked. Let's see how far that nigga gets before the desperate stickup kids grab his ass and fuck him up,” I commanded, breaking eye contact with Dane.
Dane didn't cry out. He didn't beg for mercy anymore. He didn't show any emotion as Ak and Boone dragged him to the door. I had to admire the nigga's bravado, though. As I turned away from watching them toss the kid onto the street I felt real uneasy. I had a feeling deep in my gut that it wouldn't be the last time I seen or heard from Dane. I was right.
* * *
Not even two weeks after Dane's beatdown, Lauren and I were asleep in my mini mansion on the outskirts of the city. We were both stark naked after a night of hot and heavy fucking. Life was still good back then.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! It sounded like the house was being bulldozed.
The thunderous noises had yanked me out of a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.
“Oh shit! What the fuck?!” I huffed and immediately grabbed for the gun I kept at the side of my bed. The first thing that came to my mind was a stickup kid robbery. That's how hood niggas rolledâmiddle of the night so they could catch a nigga sleeping. This was the best way to catch a nigga off guard. And if you're lucky, you'd probably walk away with a big payday. Dope, money, and drugs.
“Oh my God, Matt! What was that?!” Lauren screamed, her eyes round and wide. We were both dazed and confused by the loud crashing sounds coming from downstairs but I wasn't trying to let shit happen to her.
“Yo! Go out on the terrace and climb down,” I whispered. “You need to get out of here.”
“I don't want to leave you,” Lauren cried.
“Get up and fucking go!” I whispered harshly. I gripped my gun, but I still needed to put some clothes on. I could hear the footsteps getting closer and closer with each second that passed. With one hand I kept my gun trained on the door. With the other hand I reached down for my clothes that were scattered on the floor. The whole time I was thinking,
I can't let niggas take me out with my dick hanging.
I can't let niggas take me out with my dick hanging.
Before I could fully get into my boxers I heard the words that all hustlers and street niggas dread all their lives.
“Police! Search warrant! Don't fucking move! Let me see your fucking hands!”
I gasped in a lungful of air and never let it back out. My world came crashing down around me minutes after those words sunk into my mind. The footsteps and the crashing noises never stopped after that.
Police officers and federal agents in raid gear swarmed our bedroom and our entire house within seconds. They were smashing my expensive Italian furniture with sledgehammers. They were drilling holes through the walls. Throwing our clothes and shoes out of the closets. It was massive chaos and all I could do was stand there with my mouth hanging open and my insides burning.
“Matthew Connors, we have a warrant for your arrest and a search and seizure warrant for the property,” a burly, white DEA agent said to me, just before he threw me down on my stomach, dropped a knee into my back, and handcuffed me like an animal. I don't think I had ever seen that many law enforcement motherfuckas in my entire life. You would've thought they had come to pick up a serial killer or some terrorist.
I could hear Lauren crying and saying something but I knew she wasn't snitching or telling those pigs anything. Lauren knew the drill. We had been over this shit many times. I had always coached her on the what-ifs of my business. Police raids was a big one.
My mind raced with all sorts of thoughts but I was confident that Lauren would get off. She wouldn't say anything about my business. She didn't really know that much anyway. I was sure there was nothing in the house for them to find because it was a new crib and I never shit where I ate. I was too smart for these fucking pigs. I was going down, though. Just them having enough PC (probable cause) to be up in my crib was already a parole violation for me. Lauren was going to get off though. Those bastards wouldn't have shit to hold her for. Far as they knew, she was an innocent girlfriend with no ties to the criminal activities of her man. It was a role I was confident she would master.
“With friends like the ones you have who needs enemies, huh, Connors,” a tall, white fed I recognized as Agent Stiffly said to me in a sarcastic and demeaning tone. I just closed my fucking eyes. I knew then that somebody close to me had snitched and cooperated with the feds and the cops. There was no other way for the cops and the feds to know about my new house.
“Maybe you should've stayed focused on keeping everyone happy rather than humiliating them and acting like a king,” Stiffly taunted with a wink. He was trying to let me know that he had an insider working with him. I immediately thought back on who I had dealt with lately. Who did I have to straighten out?
“Dane,” I whispered under my breath as I was dragged up off the floor and led down the winding staircase in my house. I was thrown into the back of a police vehicle and before it pulled out I got one last look at Lauren. She was shaking and her face was red from crying. It broke my heart to see her like that.
“You fucked up, Dane,” I mumbled to myself. “You really fucked up.” That little nigga had blown the whistle on my entire operation. Jealousy was a motherfucka but so was revenge.
* * *
I left Lauren in our bedroom brooding like a crazy person. She was something else once that temper flared up. I returned to the living room to deal with my other problem. Yancy was holding a rag to her face and pacing the floor when I walked in.
“I want my money now!” she barked at me.
“Yo, you just have no chill button, right?” I gritted at her. “I told you to be easy, but you just can't do it. I told you shit was going to work out but you couldn't just hold that tongue and let it ride.”
“That bitch attacked me. I'm so sick of how she's been acting lately. I'm telling you she knows. But, I don't give a damn; she fucked with the wrong one,” Yancy spat.
“We have to settle out the fees for the hacker and then split up the money, Yancy. Nobody is going to cheat you out of shit. Give me twenty-four hours and I will hit you off. Just go home and relax until shit settles down. Just do that for me. Please,” I said, trying to keep my voice in a comforting tone. I realized if I didn't change my tone this bitch would never go away. She was playing hardball all of a sudden and it was starting to wear on my nerves.
“Matt, I swear you got twenty-four hours to make shit right. I want my third of the money
before
the hacker fee. Fuck that, I found the wallet. You and Lauren pay him out of your take,” Yancy said flatly. She was truly bugging. Yancy was letting her feelings over being the side chick cloud her good judgment once again. I was regretting that I ever fucked with her like that.
before
the hacker fee. Fuck that, I found the wallet. You and Lauren pay him out of your take,” Yancy said flatly. She was truly bugging. Yancy was letting her feelings over being the side chick cloud her good judgment once again. I was regretting that I ever fucked with her like that.
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