No More Tears In The End

If I hadn’t asked Jackie Washington, a very pretty robber-turned-gambler, who I’ve recently taken more of an interest in for more reasons than just business, to keep an eye on Mylo, I’d be dead now. Mylo used to run a high-stakes poker game for Freeze, but there was something about him that I didn’t trust.

Not only did Jackie keep an eye on him; she set up surveillance on his ass. Had bugs in his office, had GPS trackin’ on his ride and was tappin’ his phone. That’s one more reason why I don’t like using those fuckin’ things.

Phones I mean.

Jackie followed Mylo to a meeting with a man that I found out later was a DEA agent named Masters. She recorded the conversation and had pictures of the two of them at a meeting where they planned to kill me.

“So I killed them.”

But the question still stood. How the fuck was I supposed to know that they were DEA?

The answer was simple.

I should have taken my time. After I got the information from Jackie, I should have checked them out. Found out why those fucks wanted me dead.

But I didn’t.

As soon as I saw Masters sitting with Mylo at the fight I saw blood. I went after Masters, while Nick and Freeze took care of Mylo. That didn’t work out so well either. Mylo shot Freeze and he died in Nick’s arms.

I caught up with Masters at Meyers Garage on 34th Street. Once the parking attendant was out of the car, Masters jumped in and he rolled slowly toward the street. I stepped up to the car and fired three times. The first shot broke the glass. The next two hit Masters in the head.

“I ain’t sayin’ that you was wrong, Mikey,” Angelo said. “If it was me, and I’m glad it ain’t.”

“Thanks.” I interjected.

“No problem. If it was me, and they were comin’ at me like they was comin’ at you, I’da whacked them too. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

“I’m glad you see it my way,” I said and downed my seventh glass of Remy. No way I was lettin’ Angee out drink me. “All I’m sayin’ is that they’re dead, and I’m here gettin’ drunk with you.”

Chapter 2

I’d known Angelo Collette since we were in high school. We were both on the same path, but traveling in different directions. He became a soldier for Vincenzo Adalberto. Now he’s got his own crew. I went to work for Andre Hammond. Back then, Andre controlled most of the illegal activity uptown and I was his enforcer.

When I was fifteen, me and my best friend Bobby Ray started out sellin’ weed and doing a little number runnin’. But Andre was a drug dealer. As far as he was concerned, gambling and prostitution were just sidelines. That all changed when Andre was murdered. I took over his gambling operations and got out of the drug business.

“All I’m sayin’ is that whackin’ DEA agents is bad business. But you gotta handle shit the way you handle shit. You killed them.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a killer.”

“I fuckin’ know that. I was there when you made your bones, Mikey,” Angelo said.

“No you weren’t. You were there for number two. I was there when you made your bones, Angee. Nickie Nemecek. Two shots: One to the chest; one to the dome.”

“Make sure he’s gone,” Angelo said and raised his glass. “And I was too there when you made your bones.”

“No, Angee, I couldn’t do it ’cause of the kid. Remember?”

Angelo took another swallow and I guess he thought about it. “You know what? You’re right. His little girl came out the house and you backed off.”

“I knew you’d remember.”

“You did the right thing. I couldn’ta shot him in front of his kid either.”

“What did you say?”

“What, are you drunk? I said you fuckin’ did the right thing; Shootin’ him in front of his kid wouldn’ta been right.”

I got up and punched Angee in the face. He fell off his chair and hit the floor hard.