25

HIS CELLI RING, IT WAKE HIM UP.


“What?” he said.

“What are you, sleeping?”

Wake him up like that. No courtesy. Motherfucker don’t realize he living on the edge already with the way he fuck up the job the other night.

“You know I work last night. The fuck you calling me!”

“Yeah, I know you did. Quite something.”

“You next, fool. Waking me up.”

“Okay, okay.”

“And you calling me here.”

“Think I’d do that if I didn’t know for a fact it was safe? Besides, this is important. We gotta move on some of these others right away.”

“You better get out of my shit. I decide, understand? I’ma do the architect next, that Chinese bitch. That’s it.”

“Will you just forget her for now? She’s not important.”

“What you saying? Makes me wonder about you, son. She what the job about, far as I’m concerned. We don’t get that information, we don’t get paid.”

“We gotta think about basic survival. We got two problems. First off, Barbie Doll needs to go. Fast, before she talks.”

“That ain’t my problem. It’s yours. You kill her.”

“I’ll pretend you never said that. Second, Jasmine.”

“What about Jasmine?”

“She knows too much. And if they decide to squeeze her, she’ll give it up in about ten seconds. She’s a weak link.”

He paused. “You know Jasmine got my little daughter.”

“Well, what do you know? I never saw you shy away from taking care of business before. Very refreshing.” He chuckled.

“This a fucking joke to you?”

“Hey, whatever. I’m not telling you how to handle it. I’m just saying it needs to be handled. So forget about the architect and deal with these other two.”

“You seem to think you giving me an order.”

“Not an order. Just some sound advice.”

“You better hope I don’t find you, fool, the way you pissing me off!”

He shut the phone and smash it hard against the wall. Fucking worm, telling him how to do his thing, saying he ain’t take care of business. He take care of business, all right. But he decide who, when, and where. He decide, not nobody else. And one day real soon, he gonna decide that motherfucker gotta go. Real soon.

He get out the bed now, drink some Gatorade from the refrigerator. Shit never go bad-leave it in there for a year and it still taste the same. At least something you can trust. He got the humming in his blood again, from that fucking worm getting all up in his face, fucking up his concentration. His head pounding. He gotta try to calm down. Maybe he go down the basement and see No Joke in his special room. He gotta clean up whatever left from No Joke’s party anyway. He do the work last night, and the fucking dog get all the reward. That ain’t right. Things is fucked up. He need to get his shit straightened out.

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