4. Scotty #3
“Okay, Travis, stay in your room. I’m on the way, baby boy.” She hung up the phone before she jumped out of bed.
“Blakeney, you need to tell me something before you run your ass out of here.” I got out of bed to put clothes on myself. There was no way she would leave this house without me. She had me fucked up if she thought she would.
Her beautiful legs rushed her around my bedroom to the dresser where she had two drawers with her clothes in them.
Yeah, a nigga made room for her in my place just like she made room for me in hers.
“Travis is one of the kids I look out for on one of our blocks. I think his mother’s on that shit now.
He said that she just came home high, and he’s scared. I have to go get him,” she rambled.
I stood there for a brief second. Something in my spirit didn’t feel right about this. It was three in the morning. “Why that lil nigga not sleep?”
She spun on her heels. “Scotty, I don’t know. I don’t care. He said he’s scared.”
I grabbed my gun out of the bedside table. After I checked it to make sure I was good, I grabbed an extra clip. “Alright, let’s go.”
I lived about twenty minutes away from Travis’s house.
The neighborhood that he lived in with his mother had seen better days.
You could tell that once upon a time, the neighborhood thrived.
If I had to bet my bottom dollar, there were probably a lot of elderly folks in this neighborhood who raised their children here.
What happened was that rift raft started to move in and devalued the area. The economy tanked, and people became desperate to downsize or have liquidated assets. They allowed the fuck-ass dope boys to buy their homes and turn them into trap houses.
I didn’t necessarily have issues with trap houses, because I was a part of the business.
What I didn’t like was when these niggas didn’t have the respect to maintain the property in a way that it looked like another house in the neighborhood.
Then they allowed these junkies to take over the space.
That shit was never good for business or the neighborhood.
Since Blake knew where the house was, I rode passenger. We pulled up to a house that was nice but needed lawn care. The porch was large, and the lights were off.
My hand grabbed Blake’s arm before she opened her door to get out of her car. Her head snapped in my direction. Confusion, frustration, and angst sat on her expression. “I need you to slow down. You in mama bear mode, so you got blind spots.”
Her eyes softened for a quick second before they hardened again. Yeah, she’s not trying to hear shit I have to say. Her eyes rolled. “I don’t have blind spots, Scott.”
Oh, I’m Scott now. “Blakeney, does that lil nigga have a cell phone? Is there a house phone in there? How that lil nigga get a phone to call you? Wait, how old is he?”
Her scoff was low, but I saw her take a short pause. She pulled her arm from my hold. “He’s eight. We’re wasting time out here talking about bullshit, and he could be in there hurt.”
I lifted my hands and tilted my head. “Alright, let’s go.” She could say whatever the fuck she wanted to say, but I wasn’t trusting the shit. Back in Chicago, I knew eight-year-olds who already had a body or three. I didn’t put shit past a kid.
My gun was in my hand the second I got out of the car.
My annoyance was high because Blake had yet to pull hers.
She was in rare mama bear form, which I saw took away from the killer in her.
There was no doubt in my mind that she would tear it up if she had to.
From what I saw, this situation, for whatever reason, made her underestimate that it could be some shady shit because a child was involved.
Right when she got to the door and knocked, two niggas came out of the covering of the darkness of the night from the sides of the house.
Without hesitation, I let off two head shots.
My silencer covered the overall sound, but Blake heard the bodies drop.
That prompted her to pull her shit. Thank God she did because the door opened to a nigga with a gun.
Blake’s gun sounded off. She didn’t have a silencer on hers.
That was the shit I meant. We never moved without our silencers for our pieces. Her ass rushed out of the house so fucking fast. Children were my baby’s weakness.
I rushed to the porch and pushed Blake out of the way to get into the house. When I got inside, I noticed that she hadn’t taken a kill shot. My foot rose. When I dropped it, it was on this fuck nigga’s chest. Yeah, I wanted to cave his chest in. “Fuck nigga! You got us fucked up!”
He rolled around on the floor like he would die. I mean, he would very soon. I wanted to have a conversation with him first. When my foot rose again, he lifted his hands. “Wait, wait! It was Yolanda and Travis’s idea. They said we could rob her.” He pointed at Blake.
My head slowly turned to Blake. She looked confused and, worse, like she didn’t believe what this nigga just said. Her head shook. “Travis wouldn’t say no shit like that. Yolanda’s trifling ass, yes. Travis, no!”
When I glanced down at the bitch on the floor, he looked up at me with deathful fear.
Even with the fear, I knew his ass told the truth.
“I swear!” He grunted with his words. “Me and Yolanda were talking about how to get money. Travis said that you had a lot of money and that we could take it from you. Lil nigga said we just had to buy him a PS5.”
I nodded my head, lifted my gun, then put a bullet between his eyes. There was no more use for his ass. I pulled my phone out before I looked at Blake. “Go find that lil fuck nigga and his mama.”