Dirty Work: Part 2

Everyone got settled into the rooms. The girls showered and rested, while Papa John lingered outside the motel with a cigarette. His phone was keeping him busy, texting back and forth with Dina.

Devon laid his arsenal out on the bed and prepped his weaponry like a Boy Scout shining his medals. He wanted to put the gun Kid used to kill Jessica up on his wall as a trophy, but The Kid wanted him to get rid of it. He had big plans for the gun they would use to kill Maserati Meek—maybe get it dipped in gold and keep it as a souvenir.

The Kid sat in his wheelchair in the room with Devon and looked out the window. There were a lot of things he couldn’t forget. What Maserati Meek did to his home—the Manhattanville projects—and the innocents that lost their lives that night, he couldn’t let it go. Then there was Jessica. He couldn’t get her out of his head. It was haunting him to some extent. For years he had liked her, loved her even. He thought she was someone special. Now this—he had taken her life. There was some regret inside of him, but he knew that he had to do what he had to do. He had to bury that regret and become someone else. It wasn’t back in the day anymore—they’d all done changed. He had to live with that nightmare.

As The Kid lingered by the window, staring off into space, a knock at the door brought him back to reality. Always cautious, Devon picked up a .45 and moved toward the door. He glanced through the peephole and then relaxed, realizing that it was Eshon. He opened the door and she walked in.

She looked at Devon with the gun by his side and then stared at Kid. “How long is this gonna last?”

“Until Meek is dead and rotting in the fuckin’ ground,” Devon replied.

“Where’s Brandy?” The Kid asked.

“Sleep,” she said.

“What’s up?”

“I can’t sleep,” she said.

Devon went back to tending to his guns. His guns were like his children, and he inspected them like they were his little soldiers ready to go to war and he was the general. He sat on the bed and took apart an M-16 with ease, and Eshon was somewhat stunned to see him do it.

“Where’d you learn to do shit like that? You were never in the Army.”

“I got my ways.”

“You’re starting to really scare me.”

He smirked. “Fear is what I’m lookin’ for.”

“Well, I’m tired of living in fear. I just want things to be normal again,” she said.

“When was shit ever normal in our neck of the woods? This is what we do and who we fuckin’ are— fuckin’ criminals and dangerous people. We robbed and killed niggas for profit. It was like that with Kip, and it’s gonna be like that after Kip,” he proclaimed.

“It’s why Kip is dead,” she retorted.

“Kip knew the risk, Eshon. He was the main nigga that got us into this shit. Shit, my nigga being dead don’t make him a Boy Scout now.”

“But all this death—”

“What, you scared now? I’m not! A nigga can blow up a thousand fuckin’ buildings, and my heart still won’t be timid. He came for us and missed. Now we go for him and fuck his shit up!” Devon growled.

The madness in Devon’s eyes and in his soul was swelling like a tumor. He was a man on a mission, and there was no deterring him. He was going to avenge Kip’s death or die trying.

“I need to go for a walk. I need some air,” Eshon said.

“You strapped?” Devon asked.

She shook her head.

Devon picked up a .9mm and handed it to her. “Take it. Better safe than sorry.”

“I don’t think I’m gonna need it right now.”

“Take the pistol and watch your back out there. I don’t care if we are in New Rochelle, death is everywhere, Eshon. You should understand that.”

She was reluctant to take the pistol, feeling that it was not needed. Besides, where was she going to hide the gun? It was a balmy summer night with a full moon in the sky. The Days Inn was nestled in the gentleness of the New Rochelle suburbs. Who would recognize them in the area? Eshon turned and went to exit the room.

The Kid wheeled himself closer. “Wait, I’ll join you.”