Dirty Work: Part 1

The block sounded like Syria as the night was lit up with intense gunfire from machine guns.

Two of Meek’s men went down from body shots.

Devon was the devil that night, possessed like a hellspawn, with a murderous rage that fueled a complete bloodshed. “Fuck y’all muthafuckas! Fuck y’all!” he screamed madly.

Bullets slammed into the vehicles and ricocheted off the concrete, and somehow, Maniac and Devon were crazy enough to drive Maserati Meek and his men back. Impervious to death, they moved like they were made of Teflon from head to toe.

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!

Meek rushed into his Escalade and managed to speed away from the craziness. He had come to talk, b

ut Kip and his crew had other plans.

Devon continued to release hellfire at them but then fumed that Meek had gotten away. “Fuck!”

Papa John cried out, “Oh shit! Kip!”

Devon spun towards his friend’s howling. What he saw nearly took the life out of him. Kip was down, shot in the neck and bleeding profusely.

Devon and Maniac rushed to Kip’s aid. His eyes were still open, but he couldn’t move. He was choking on his own blood.

“C’mon, my nigga, don’t die on us! C’mon, nigga, not like this … not like this!” Devon cried out.

“Kip, you good, nigga. We gotta go!” Papa John shouted, tears welling from his eyes. He tried to lift his friend, but Kip was in grave shape.

It couldn’t be. They stood crouched around him, panicking as their friend’s life faded. Almost immediately, he was dead.

“We gotta go!” Maniac hollered.

Devon and Papa John couldn’t leave him. They didn’t want to leave him. It had to be a nightmare. They wanted to wake up from it, but it was real. Kip’s body lay dead in front of them, his blood staining the ground with crimson.

Maniac shouted, “He’s dead! We need to go!”

Reluctantly, they piled into the Expedition and sped away, leaving Kip’s body behind. They had to leave him. If not, then they were looking at jail time, and there was no way they would be able to avenge his death from behind bars.

Thirty-Four

Kid sprung up suddenly out of his sleep, sweating profusely and breathing hard. It was late, and the room was lifeless and silent. He needed to catch his breath.

He’d had a dream that both he and Kip were in the park playing chess on a sunny day. Kip continually kept knocking over the King piece. Each time Kid picked it up, Kip knocked it back down. Frustrated, Kip wanted to tell Kid something. His mouth kept moving, but Kid couldn’t understand what he was trying to say. He couldn’t hear him in the dream.

Suddenly, it turned dark with rain clouds. Kid looked past Kip, and several gunmen came out of nowhere and opened fire.

Then the dream took them to a lake. Both he and Kip were young boys in a fishing boat. Kip was smiling and focusing on catching a fish, while Kid was nervous of the vast, deep water. Kip looked up and said something incoherent to his brother.

Next, Kip jumped in the water and continually asked Kid to join him. Kid told his brother he can’t swim, and Kip motioned him to come in.

Suddenly Kip began to drown. Kid reached his hand out to save his brother, but he slipped from his grasp and went under.

Kid squirmed toward his chair and slid into it. He felt such sadness inside of him, the tears came soon after.

Before long, there was a knock at the door, and Kid wheeled himself to answer it.

Devon and Papa John walked into the Extended Stay hotel room, but there was no Kip. The two men stared at Kid with forlorn faces, not knowing how to tell him that his only family and caretaker had just been murdered. They stood in front of him looking and feeling guilty.

But Kid already knew. His tears were already pooling down the sides of his face. His pain was showing. He looked at both men gloomily. “He’s dead, right?”

Devon and Papa John stood silent for a moment, still unable to answer. The two thugs began to tear up, and for them to cry, especially Devon, the truth was there. Papa John nodded.