Pimp

Seventeen

Mo was jerking off to Season 2, Episode 6 of Orange is the New Black when he heard the woman screaming and thought, Ah, shit, man, makin’ me pause fuckin’ prison sex an’ shit? Damn.

Headed up into the bedroom to see the woman curled up against the wall, mouth gagged, but her dress hiked up and panties off. Jo had his jeans undone and was sweating.

Mo grabbed Jo by the shirt, dragged him out to the corridor, hissed, “I told you not to be doin’ that shit.”

But something had given Jo a whole new set of cojones.

He squared up, sneered, “You ain’t my boss, yo, I’m sick of you tellin’ me how to act an’ shit. I go by my own rules, kid, by Colombia rules.”

Mo slammed his fist into Jo’s chest, harder than he intended. Jo staggered back, tottered at the top step, then crashed down the stairs, Mo would swear afterwards he heard a definite Ker-ast as the man’s neck snapped.

Mo rushed down but he could see from the angle of Jo’s head that Jo was a goner. Mo had killed men lots of ways but he’d never broken a man’s neck before. That was kinda cool.

If Jo hadn’t disrespected women, Mo may have been upset, or at least concerned, but he didn’t give a shit.

The producer’s wife was on the floor, mouth still gagged, crawling, trying to get to the window. Mo went and grabbed her, said, “Where you going, sweetheart?”

She was crying ’cause of what Jo done to her. She was suffering and Mo couldn’t stand to see her suffer. When a horse is suffering you got no choice, you got to put it down.

“Sorry, I can’t have you go on livin’ with this shame,” Mo said, and he broke her neck. Ker-ast.

He hoped it was the last woman he ever had to kill, but it had to be done.

He didn’t bother to clean up the bodies, figuring he’d be in Mexico before they started smelling, and then he watched a few more episodes of Orange is the New Black in peace and fucking quiet.

Later, he got a text from the boss, told him to go to the Four Seasons to get the money from Larry. Shit, the Four Seasons was fancy, so Mo put on his best suit — okay, his only suit — and went to meet the movie producer.

Mo got a text from the boss: How’d it go with Larry?

Mo texted back: meet me right now at the spot important

“The spot” was the meeting spot they’d worked out in advance, at a bar in Venice Beach. The boss thought he was meeting to get his share of the money, but Mo wasn’t planning to give the man nothin’, well, except a bullet it in the head.