Chapter 34
“This is fuckin’ stupid,” Angel muttered, frowning at the scene. A whole in the wall lounge located in Ocean City in the section the locals called The Gutter. When the pair pulled up, there was a line of bright colored Chargers parked out front.
“Money sent us on a fuckin’ dummy mission,” Brantley responded, sitting at a bar picking over a basket of wings.
He looked around and observed a few hustlers who weren’t paying attention, too busy talking amongst themselves.
The thing about Brantley and Angel, they never wanted to work for anything.
Everything needed to come to them. There wouldn’t be anything to report back to Markus outside of the fact that they’d been sitting in a stale-smelling lounge for the day, watching hustlers shoot the shit.
A few runners move in and out, and the women lounge around waiting for someone to do.
Basic shit. No boss present, just a bunch of workers. Brantley frowned, the sting of him falling from grace only making him more and more bitter by the passing second.
“I’m getting tired of this sitting shit,” Angel huffed, leaning back in the chair as the door opened.
Brantley’s eyes moved from the bar in front of him to the man entering.
His presence seemed to spark attention. The chatter stopped, the women perked up, and the runners turned to show him some respect.
It wasn’t subtle at all. The people coming in for a plate of subpar wings and fries even noticed.
Nudging his brother, Brantley threw his head slightly toward the commotion.
“So what Javi say? We ridin’ on those niggas or nah?
” one of the loud hustlers asked, who Brantley took to be the leader.
That’s why he couldn’t see the bigger picture.
He thought being the loudest meant you had the most power.
Being loud and the loudest meant you were the weaker.
One thing Brantley and the loudmouth had in common was that they were truly the weakest links.
“Nah,” the man spoke. “But word is he wants his bitch back. Got money on her head and all. Apparently, some niggas up there dropped KC. He ain’t too happy about it.”
“His bitch? That stuck-up, saddity bitch, he was parading around?” another hustler asked. “What was that bitches name?” He snapped his finger, trying to jog his memory. “Reign.”
Angel looked at Brantley, and Brantley smirked, eyes going dark with a plan that would end his life, but bitterness, envy, and evil blinded him. “I see you thinkin.”
Brantley held up a finger, prompting his brother to pause.
The man began talking again. “If he ain’t going to wipe them niggas out for killin’ our niggas, I will. And grab his bitch. I’m gon to need more than half a rack to turn her over. You know, after we have our way with her.”
Brantley slid his gun out of his pants and took the safety off.
“Fuck you doin’?” Angel huffed before his brother opened fire.
They might’ve been misled, but their aim had always been good.
Hustlers, women, workers, and patrons who hadn’t run out had all been hit.
Brantley led his Timberland-covered feet over the sticky floor to the leader, who was holding his neck and gasping for air.
Brantley squatted down, smirked before speaking.
“Don’t worry about little Miss Reign. We’ll take care of her, nigga.” He stood and fired the final shot into the man. Angel followed suit with whoever was lying out on the floor before slipping out the door and down the block to the car they jacked to roll around the city.
As they sped away back to the hotel, Brantley chuckled to himself. “We back on top nigga!”
“Money won’t have a choice but to put us back on,” Angel whooped.
“Here’s how this shit is going to go,” Brantley shared, maneuvering through traffic.
“Listen and hear me good so you don’t fuck up, no shit.
We’re going to let him know that the taste the rainbow ass niggas was planning to come up to our turf and snatch Reign.
‘Cause of the bounty on her head and shit. We’ll let him know we put them niggas down and we in there. ”
When they arrived at the hotel, they strolled in like they saved Markus from his demise. It was apparent that Brantley had learned nothing in the years of being Markus’ right hand. The trust he was after was void. Markus wouldn’t trust him if he were the last man on earth.
They strolled through the lobby toward the elevator, finding Svyn and Markus stepping off with their bags. Angel stopped.
“That shit don’t look good.”
Brantley grumbled. “Stay cool. He always looks like that. Angry and shit.”
“What’s good, Money?” Angel asked when they got closer. “We got some shit to run by you.”
Markus stopped, obviously annoyed by the sight of them. “What?”
Angel held up his phone and showed Markus the evidence as Brantley spoke.
“That spot you sent us to, full of angry hustlers.”
Markus squinted. “Why are they dead?”
“That’s the thing. They were talking about coming to our fuckin’ hood and snatching your girl. Word on the street is that nigga Javier put some money on her. You know we not on the best of terms, but family is family,” Brantley shared.
Markus’ eyes bounced between the two. “So instead of picking up the phone and calling me, you shot up the whole fuckin’ establishment?”
“Y’all got to be the dumbest niggas on the planet,” Svyn grumbled.
“It was for you, Money,” Angel defended.
“For me? You stupid or fuckin’ slow?” Markus closed the space, scanning the scene before focusing back on Angel and Brantley. “You niggas don’t do shit for me but make a fuckin’ mess. Get your shit so I can put you back on a plane before I hurt you muhfuckas.”
“Money,” Brantley started.
Markus didn’t utter a word, just glared at him. Brantley stepped away, then around Markus, and Angel followed. Behind the closed door of the elevator, Brantley was the first to speak.
“I’m done with this shit. I ain’t heard back from G or Kay-Dee. We’re going to take out everyone in our way.”
Angel frowned slightly. “The only one in our way for real is Ma.”
“Yeah, she’s lived her life. It’s time I get what’s fuckin’ mine. The game Slim left is mine. You down?”
Angel was riddled with nerves and instant regret. “Yeah. I’m down.”