Hostile Takeover

“For killing Silky? I didn’t think anybody would give a fuck about that mutha fucka. I felt like killing him was a public service,” Bobby said.

I looked at Freeze. “I want you to run down all of his hoes and make sure that they know to keep their mouth shut.”

“Understood.”

“And find Joe Bones and end his ass.”

“I don’t know about Joe, but he ain’t gonna have to look far for the hoes.” Bobby laughed. “All them hoes been hangin’ around Drew’s, talking about they your hoes now.”

I dropped my head and laughed.

“Especially Veneshia.”

“Which one is that?”

“The one that wanted to give you that pussy. She says she’s your bottom girl now,” Bobby said, and continued laughing his ass off.

“Did Drew put them to work?”

“Hell no. He said them busted up hoes can’t work in his joint, but don’t worry, Veneshia got them hoes out on the corner humpin’.”

I shook my head and looked at Freeze. “Go on.”

“And you get that money from Veneshia,” Bobby said.

“Understood.”

I knew that by right and tradition, they actually did belong to me now. I killed their daddy. And if that was the case, I would clean them up and find them somewhere to ply their trade safely. I protect what’s mine.

“We still going to pay Sly B a visit tonight?” Bobby asked once Freeze was gone.

“For sure.”

His name was Sylvester Bradshaw and he ran the biggest bookmaking operation around. He liked to hang out and run book out of a pizza shop called Romans. I knew by now that he, like everybody else, had heard what was happening, so I sent Nick and Jamaica to feel him out, and see where his head was.

“You tell that nigga Black that he could kiss my natural black ass. And you tell André if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll call that nigga off and stay the fuck out my business.”

Oh really?

When Nick told me that, I started to go straight to Romans and deal with his ass, but I took a deep breath and realized that Sly B’s business was worthless without him. That pretty much made him untouchable, because without him, who would his people call to place their bets?

But he had a weakness and with Bobby’s help, I planned to exploit that weakness.

We left The Late Night and Bobby drove us to Sly B’s apartment. Not that we expected to find him there. I knew he’d be at Romans until the west coast NBA and NHL games were over. What we expected to find there was his weakness.

“Hello, Jelinda,” Bobby said, and shoved his gun in her lovely face. She was his woman and she was his weakness. That mutha fucka was desperately in love with her pretty ass. I can’t say I blame him, because Jelinda was sexy as fuck. She was a scandalous hoe, but you couldn't tell him that.

What?

I’m just being real about it.

Jelinda started backing up into the apartment as she stared down the barrel of Bobby’s gun.

“Hello, Jelinda,” I said as I walked in the apartment.

“Sly ain’t here, Black.”

“I know.”