Chapter 25 #2
“Me? Leave? I probably bought errthang in dis bitch, includin’ yo’ botched-ass body! I ain’t goin’ no muthafuckin’ where, bitch!”
“So whatchu ’bout to do? Fight me again?”
“Yup!”
“And then you goin’ back to fuckin’ jail.”
“I’ll go to jail as long as you in hell, hoe! Cuz dis time, after I beat the shit outta you, I’m puttin’ a hole in yo’ face and dis fuckin’ mutt!” I motioned the gun toward the dog.
“Noooo!”
“Shut da fuck up, Stella!”
“I… I wanted to come visit you, but I was scared you was gonna do something to me.”
“Bitch, you think? It was gonna take erry CO in dat bitch to get me off you! Now, where my shit?”
“I… I… I. Um, I have it.”
“You have what?”
“Your jewelry and—”
“What jewelry?” Pulling the chains from under the collar, she damn near looked like she saw a ghost. “The fuckin’ jewelry you pawned! Dat jewelry?”
“Tunan, I can explain.”
“You can’t explain shit! You pawned my shit, and not only dat, you relocated to Jagoda Bay, where my folks at. Dat cancer had to have ate yo’ fuckin’ brain cells like it did yo’ titty. Do dat nigga know if yo’ shit come out of remission, he gon’ have to wipe yo’ sour ass?”
“I-I-I’m sorry.”
“Fuck you, yo’ stiff booty, and yo’ weak-ass apology. See, I think you thought cuz I was eatin’ your pussy dat you was exempt from my wrath.” I gripped the guns, one pointed at Stella and the other at her nigga in case he got froggy.
She visibly shook while trying to keep a brave face. “You not supposed to put your hands on women.”
“Women? Yeah. But triflin’ ass hoes is a go.”
“Tunan, wait!”
Boom!
Jumping from the seat, the dog fell from my lap with a yelp as smoke filled the room. Her nigga was still on the floor screaming, so he hadn’t been the one to cause the blast.
Stella's eyes went slack, and her body fell like a sack of potatoes. I lifted the guns, ready to blast whoever was coming into the room. The smoke became thicker, and before I could shoot toward the door, my finger froze. The dog’s barking, which was high-pitched as hell, lowered to a slow, hard-to-make-out growl.
The smoke had no smell, but my body felt light as I swayed, trying to keep my arms straight.
The dog was no longer barking. Ronnie’s crying had stopped, and Stella’s shiesty ass was silent.
I tried to take a step, but as soon as I did, the guns slipped from my hands.
My body dropped on top of something small and furry.
I’d crushed the dog, but my eyes were too heavy to care.
The last thing I tried to do was roll off the little mutt. I was going to take him to Athena.
Then, it was all black.
Whup whup whup
Whup whup whup
Whup whup whup
The sound of blades and an engine rang in my ears, but my body felt so light that it almost felt as if I weighed nothing.
Whup whup whup
Figuring I must have been asleep, I let the sounds fade as I drifted back off.
“Wake the fuck up, Joe Jackson!”
A dull, throbbing ache pulsed behind my eyes as the distant sounds became clearer. Everything was muffled, as if I were listening with my ears plugged. Before I could sit up, my body locked up under the weight of the drowsiness.
Fuck. Did I get drunk or something last night? Shit!
“Niggas these days can smoke like a fucking chimney, but a lil’ sleeping gas knocks their asses out for hours. How long is this shit supposed to last, Preston?”
I felt dizzy as I drifted in and out of consciousness.
It seemed like the heavy fog of smoke was lifting as a wave of nausea hit me.
I struggled hard to regain consciousness, but I still felt like I was moving in slow motion, if I was moving at all.
I did sense some kind of motion; it just wasn’t coming from me.
Open your eyes, Tune. Fuck going on?
I didn’t know what the fuck Stella had going on, nor did I know how much time had passed.
My senses weren’t operating well, but when I gained some awareness and was able to open my eyes, I realized that I was on Stella’s funky, thieving ass.
A strange, detached feeling lingered as I tried to piece together my reality.
Stella’s apartment. Shot her nigga. Stanky sex. BBL. Scary-ass dog. Crushed the dog. SMOKE!
“Uuuuuugh!”
I sucked in a wad of air as I sat up straight and began swinging my arms. I felt suspended by something that prevented me from standing, but I kept swinging.
My eyes popped open again, fully expecting to see that Stella and her nigga had me tied to a chair, but instead, I was met by a motherfucker sitting across from me in a deep green tailored suit with gold cufflinks.
“Don?”
There were big-ass headphones around his head, his leg was crossed, and a big-ass pinky ring, along with his wedding band, was on his left hand that rested on his knee. The nigga looked cool as a fucking cucumber with that green on while I was fighting for my fucking life.
Whup Whup Whup
My ears were ringing as the loud thumping sounds pounded in my head. Don jutted his chin to the side of me, and there were the same headphones he was wearing. I snatched them up, placing them on my head, still confused by what was happening.
“Why you like beating bitches, Payne?”
“Hunh?”
His expression was neutral, and since he didn’t repeat himself, I closed my eyes. Whatever the fuck was going on was too fucking much, but the earphones helped with the loud-ass sounds, so I tried to calm myself enough to settle the lightheaded feeling.
This shit can’t be happening. The last time I felt like this, I woke up in the fuckin’ desert.
My eyes shot back open, and this time, instead of giving Don my attention, I looked to the left and saw nothing but clouds.
The endless blue and white stretch was a terrifying void, the cotton clouds mocking my fear as they floated serenely in the sky.
It was nothing serene about this shit here.
Suddenly, my stomach flipped. Air rushed past the windows as a knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach while the helicopter drifted through the blue expanse.
Looking down, all I could see was clouds below us.
How the fuck high up are we?
“What the fuck is this?”
I tried to remove my seat belt, but Don held his hand up. “Keep that shit on. You’ll be outta here soon enough. Ion need you dying before the real fun starts.”
Looking past Don, I was trying to see who was flying this big-ass copter, but past him was another seating area and beyond that nothing but buttons, dials, an empty pilot seat, and clouds.
“Who the fuck flyin’ dis hoe?”
“Money.”
“What?”
“Money, nigga! This is a self-flying copter. This is what the fuck money do.”
“Okay, well, why the fuck am I in it? And where the fuck is Stella?”
“Why the fuck yo’ married ass worried ’bout a bitch with a botched BBL?
I had high ass hopes for you, Tunan, but you showed me dat you indeed got Cuppacio in yo’ blood?
Them old niggas had a hand problem too. They loved knockin’ the shit outta bitches.
” He pointed at me. “That’s where you get that shit from. ”
“Mane, ain’t nobody no woman beater.”
“Says the nigga with a DV charge.”
“Stella deserved dat shit.”
“You deserve to leave that shit alone. You supposed to be getting ready to work. Not goin’ on quests with big-ass guns to murder bitches that ain't worth a day in jail, let alone the one fuckin’ calendar year you did behind her.”
“Mane, I been ready to work! I been waitin’ on you.”
“So is you ready or you waiting?”
I smacked my teeth in response while holding on to the seat as the aircraft turned. Looking down again, the clouds below seemed like a soft, deceptive blanket that I knew was hiding an endless drop.
“Did yo’ mama get a check for you when you was a kid?” I had to know.
“Tunan, you had the opportunity to ask me when work would start the other day.”
“When?”
“When you was letting bitches twerk on you and yo’ wife at the gender reveal. And when you brought the Ferrari back to the Dungeon.”
I was hearing Don, but I was too busy focusing on where the self-flying copter was going. How this nigga just sat there like nothing was wrong was beyond me, and I was sure copters weren’t meant to fly this high in the sky.
“Matter of fact…” Don leaned forward. “Did I ask you to give me the car back?”
My head snapped at him. “Fuck you talmbout? It’s yo’ fuckin’ car.”
“Do I look like the type of nigga to drive behind another nigga? If I gave you the keys, it’s yours.”
“I can’t take no car from you, Don.”
“You already did. I’m sick of you driving that mildewed-ass Infiniti around. Shit ain’t a good look. You making me look like a cheap, petty-ass Don whipping that busted shit.”
“I rather work for my shit. I’ll prove myself so I can earn my own riches and buy what the fuck I need. I appreciate it, but save the car-buying for the bitches.”
Taking money from my brother was one thing, but another grown-ass man buying or giving me a car was out of the fucking question.
“A nigga driving a hoopty with pride. Ain’t that some shit. But, shit… I’m glad you said that. You know,”—Don flicked his hand. “Proving yourself. That’s what you doing today.”
“Hunh?”
“You thought it was that easy? Yo’ brother vouch for you, you marry his bitch, and give his blind ass directions?” Don laughed. “Nah, ain't shit easy ’bout the Rinaldi Mob. You, for sho’, gonna have to work for this shit.”
The door slid open, and a gush of wind entered, making it hard to breathe. I was fighting with my lungs, and again, Don was sitting there poised as a motherfucker.
“We call this, survival of the realist. Four obstacles. At the end of each one, you’ll enter the next. You’ll have instructions on how to navigate at each habitat.”
“Habitat?”
“Yeah, nigga. Now get out.”
“What? Nigga… You… Outta yo’… Fuckin’ mind! Who?” I gulped.
Don chuckled. The wind was beating my ass, making it harder and harder to breathe. I’d never gotten hit the way this wind was taking me out.