Simmy
I’ve been trying to get up with Coop all damn morning. Blowing his line up. Calling every number I got for him. It’s time to get down to business. We’ve had eyes on the young niggas we think are involved in Chauncey getting popped since last week.
But the silence… not knowing anything for sure?
That shit has been dragging like a coffin.
Finally, Coop calls me back.
“Damn, Coop,” I snap the moment I answer. “I’ve been blowing your phone up all day.”
“I see,” he says calmly. “Shit, I was at the hospital checking on Chauncey. Seeing if he woke his ass up yet.”
“What did they say?”
There’s a pause.
Then Coop clears his throat.
“Aye… I think this nigga about to wake up.”
My body goes still.
“One of the nurses told Glock she got Chauncey’s dick hard this morning.”
For a second, I don’t say anything.
Then I burst out laughing.
Because I know Coop. And I know when this nigga is on some bullshit. I let the silence stretch for a moment, just long enough for him to start wondering if I’m irritated.
Then I breathe slowly through my nose.
“Aye, Coop… if you’re calling me with jokes, I ain’t got time for that shit. We got bigger things to worry about.”
“Nah, bruh,” he says quickly. “I’m serious. Glock said the nurse was smiling when she said that shit.”
My jaw tightens.
Chauncey is half-dead in a hospital bed, and these hoes are still trying to fuck my brother. I’ve been trying to give Rhy some space… but at this rate she might need to take her ass back up there and regulate before it gets worse.
These women are disrespectful as hell.
“I don’t care if she got his dick doing backflips,” I snap. “I’m asking about the drop on these young niggas.”
“Right… right. About that.”
Coop clears his throat again.
“Aye, we spotted two of them at the car wash off Irene Street last night.”
Now he has my full attention.
“One of them was wearing the same red True Religion hoodie from the footage. Bone got the plates and has been trailing them.”
He pauses.
“I heard they’ve been circling back around the area like they’re trying to make sure Chauncey stays down.”
Finally.
Something useful.
“Good,” I say quietly.
“Stay on their asses. No moves until I say so.”
My grip tightens around the phone. It’s time to make some niggas bleed.
“I’m ready to catch a few fucking bodies.” I exhale slowly.
“Let’s link up in a few. Do me a favor and drop the location.”
“Bet.”
The call ends.
Istare down at my phone, knuckles white around it. If these little crash-outs really think they can pop Chauncey and walk away breathing… they don’t know what the fuck happens if he wakes up and starts talking. I guarantee my nigga locked in on those faces.
They clearly don’t know who’s watching from the shadows.
And they’re about to learn it the hard way. We cornered these little niggas at the car wash.
Clear as day, they didn’t give a fuck.
Red hoodie.
The same one from the footage. This dumb little nigga walked straight into the lion’s mouth. Coop blocked the exit with the Tahoe, and True cut the pressure washer off mid-cycle.
The sudden silence dropped like a blanket soaked in gasoline. I stepped out of the shadows slowly.
No rush.
No noise.
Predators don’t hurry.
“What up,” I said, voice flat as pavement.
The little nigga froze halfway through wiping down his rims.
His eyes bounced from Coop… to True… to me.
All that bravado drained out of him so fast it damn near steamed.
“You’ve been busy,” I continued. “Real fucking busy. Moving around Jovita like the world forgot who runs this side of Teflon Hills.”
He swallowed hard.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I slid my phone out, screen glowing.
On it was a still frame from the footage.
His red hoodie.
Standing near Chauncey’s black Range Rover minutes before the shots rang out. His face went pale.
Got him.
“Aye,” I said quietly, “y’all niggas ain’t built for the war you started.”
I took another step closer. “And this? This right here?”
I tapped the phone.
“This is war.” My voice dropped. “You put hands on a king. You should’ve killed him.”
I shook my head slowly.
“But you didn’t.” Now I was standing right in front of him. “And now you gotta deal with me.”
His hands trembled around the rag.
“Look… it wasn’t me who pulled it,” he rushed out. “I was just driving.”
“Aye lil nigga… I’mma need some names or else I’mma pin this shit on you and my bullets gone sing.”
He blinked. I’m not fucking around.
“What?”
“Aye lil nigga, you heard what the fuck I said.”
My voice hardened.
“I need names. Full government.”
I leaned closer.
“I wanna know who pulled that trigger… and who paid for it.”
The kid’s breathing sped up. “I can’t?—”
Behind him, Coop slowly cocked his gun.
Metal clicked against metal.
The sound alone broke him.
“Okay, okay!” he stammered. “Mac… and Junie!”
My expression didn’t change.
“I’m trying to see who fucking paid them?”
“I don’t know!” he blurted. “The bag came through Uptown! I swear!”
“So, who moved the fucking money?”
He hesitated.
Then the words slipped out.
“Some lil bitch named Kori.”
Kori.
I tuck the name in my pocket like a blade.
“You see how fucking easy that was?” I said calmly.
“Talk… or bleed nigga.”
I nod toward Coop.
“Put that little nigga in the fucking trunk.”
My eyes stayed locked on him.
“He ain’t fucking walking away.”
Coop and True know the drill, we duct-taping and hog-tying niggas.
Hands.
Feet.
All that. Within seconds, the lil nigga was wrapped up and thrown in the back. We left his car sitting at the car wash and rolled into the night.
An hour later, we dumped the lil nigga at the warehouse. One down and three more to go. I watched the door close behind him, calm as ever.
We don’t chase rats.
We follow crumbs.
And tonight?
They just gave me the trail to the wolves.