Slide

Fifteen

When they drove into the lot, Felicia saw the SUV and the two Spanish dudes talking to Kyle at the window and she said to Sha-Sha and Troit, “Do me a favor, yo-don’t kill the white boy, Kyle. He ain’t done nothin’ wrong and he was the one hooked us up to begin with, know what I’m sayin’? Maybe shoot him in the leg if you gotta, or some shit like that, but don’t kill the boy, a’ight?”

She was hoping to hell they wouldn’t turn, give her that dead-eye, I-fuckin-hate-you-bitch look they been practicing. Hell, with Troit, there was no practice necessary. Few dudes chilled her ass but, man, this motherfucker was born crazy.

Up front, they were chilling with jazz, goddamn Wynton Marsalis, and Felicia didn’t think they was hearing a damn word she was saying. Felicia didn’t like all this getting in with Troit bullshit. She didn’t know why Sha-Sha had to bring that sick-ass along in the first place, why he couldn’t keep it in the family and shit.

Sha-Sha braked the car and cut the tunes and said to Troit, “Hold up,” and Troit went, “Fuck that shit.”

Troit had his piece out and Sha-Sha had to take his out too. Damn, was they AK 47s?

Felicia said to Troit, “See? I knew you was gonna fuck all this shit up.”

But Troit was already out the car and Sha-Sha was with him. Before Felicia knew it, they was both shootin’ like they was in Iraq and shit, blowing people’s heads off, blood going everywhere. Felicia heard Max screaming and she hoped he was gonna get it next. Yeah, she hoped that muthafucka suffered real bad ’fore he went straight to hell. Shit, she couldn’t wait for that ol’ crackhead to be dead, and it looked like Kyle was gonna be dead too. Shame, dick like that gotta go to waste, but what you gonna do?

The two Colombians went down-that was good-but then the S.U.V. started moving and, shit, was that Max stickin’ his head out the window, screaming his ass off, shooting a piece? That flabby white no good motherfucker was shooting? He missed Sha-Sha, but he got skinny-ass Troit down. She couldn’t believe it-bad-ass Troit taken down by the most useless piece of white trash she ever had in her mouth.

The SUV went right by Felicia and Max was looking at her, aiming the piece right at her. Funny the shit people’ll think about when they think they time’s up. She hadn’t thought about her momma in years, didn’t even send Christmas cards to the old ho bitch no more, but now she thinking, Momma you save me now, I’m gonna come visit y’all, send some bucks too. Y’all see, I be a good daughter now.

Max’s eyes got all wide and shit, like he was gonna start coming in his pants, but he didn’t shoot her. Then the SUV sped away, out of the lot, and Felicia said out loud, “Fuck you, Momma! You never did no bullshit for me anyway! I don’t care if I see yo’ big, fat, ugly ho ass ever again!”

The money was gone but at least they got the rock. Once they split the profits up, she was gonna be on her way to St. Louis. She was nearly laughing now, so happy to be alive, and she yelled, “I’m goin’ to St. Louis. Hell, yeah, baby! Hell yeah!”

Felicia watched Sha-Sha get the rock out of one of the Colombians’ pockets. He stared at the guy for a minute, then put two more rounds in the guy’s face, turned then as if something occurred to him, and kicked the guy in the head, twice, keep the numbers level, then came back toward her. The fat man didn’t look too happy. She didn’t know, but Troit, the psycho motherfucker, was Sha-Sha’s boy, his back-up bro and shit. And, yeah, Sha-Sha’s face showed it. He couldn’t believe his boy was down.

Looking down at Troit’s shot-up body, Sha-Sha was thinking, Damn, man, why you gotta be so stupid and start shooting the motherfuckas so fast? If they got up close first, they could’ve ambushed the niggas, got the white dudes and the Colombians at the same time, and when everybody was good and dead they’ve could’ve got the rock and the money both. But cause Troit was so wild and shit, they only got the Colombians, and got his own ass killed too.

His head still buzzing from all the guns and shit, Sha-Sha couldn’t believe it. The nigga was gone, wasn’t gonna come back ever. Man, why was the world like that? Why’d bad shit always happen to good people?

Sha-Sha looked up at the sky and wailed to God, “Fuck you! Fuck you, you sick-ass motherfuckin’ piece of shit asshole prick-face motherfucker!”

He went back to the BMW, thinking, This shit, this shit ain’t right, some messed up shit goin’ on with this deal. But he had to get them the fuck outa there fast, cause he could already hear the cop cars coming.

Sha-Sha drove away and Felicia wouldn’t shut her ho ass up. She kept going on, bitching about Troit and asking when she was gonna get her part of the money. Sha-Sha told her to shut her ass up, but she kept going on, giving Sha-Sha a damn headache. He was still seeing his boy, running towards the SUV, like the fool thought he be bulletproof. He could almost hear the sick-ass brother’s voice, yelling as he ran.

On the Belt Parkway, going past the Verrazano, Felicia was still going on, “I want the money tonight. Let’s go see whoever you gotta see right now. And don’t give me no bullshit about it neither. You ain’t playin’ me for no sucker. And if you think I’m gettin’ down on my knees again, suckin’ yo dick one more time, you crazy.”

Sha-Sha couldn’t hear Troit no more cause the damn ho was screaming, drowning out his boy’s voice. He felt all that acidy shit coming up, spat on his own lap, turned around, and shot a big-ass hole in the middle of the bitch’s head.

“That’ll shut yo ass up good,” he said.

He felt better already. Yeah, he could do with a cold one, a little tote of some crystal, count his profit.

He got off the Belt, drove into some dunes and shit. Left the ho’s body there for the seagulls to come eat. He reached down, took her bag, cheap damn Gucci reject shit, like her whole cheap damn reject life. Yeah, he’d heard her back there, hollering for her momma. He’d fucked her momma when he was fourteen and now he’d fucked the whole damn family.

He looked up at the sky, waved his big arms, shouted to the birds, “Dinner time, y’all! Got y’all guys some real fine dark meat!” Then he laughed hard, muttered, “Hope you fuckers like silicone.”