Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Ain't Gold (Part Five)

"Where is he?" Maxell growled as he yanked Prage's head back. Prage cried out in pain. He'd been beating him for hours and he was nearly to the point of no return.
"I-don't-know," he whispered back. What part of that didn't these people get? Maxell wasn't satisfied. He shoved the gun in his mouth.
"Let's go over this one more time. My daughter is dead. I catch you in my house. You work for Rich. Can you add?"
Prage tried to nod around the metal in his face. He soiled himself out of fear. He had seen what Maxell did to people.
"Good. So my dead daughter plus you sneaking around my house plus equals Rich. Where is he?"
"Argh-har-rrf," he mumbled.
Maxell pulled the gun out of his mouth. "I'm sorry what?"
Prage began to cry. He saw the dark figure behind Maxell and knew that this was the end.

Shadow had been standing behind Maxell for much of this production and she had to be honest: he was quite boring. Was this his idea of a scare tactic? Of course, it would work on Prage, he was a bitch. But who was he really trying to scare? He was like one of those cats out of a bad gangster film. She had to keep it together, she'd almost started laughing a few times. And the look on Prage's face was priceless when he saw her. She wasn't here for him. She silently turned her back and disappeared into the hall.

Prince considered himself to be a Don-in-training. He very nearly had what every hustler wanted: ultimate power. He told his father he wanted to be like him on a daily basis. In his mind he wanted to be greater than his father. He wanted to be like Priceless Jones, but he would never say that to his face. His father would have him killed for uttering that name in his presence.
His father told him to stay in his room, as he was "handling" something downstairs. He knew that meant the maids would be on their hands and knees scrubbing blood off the floor before the night was over. He knew that man murdered his sister, and it hurt, but his father's first rule was show no emotion. He had to be stone faced and ready for war at all times. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror. The man that had snuck into their house earlier was clearly an amateur, he didn't even know what he was looking for. His father took one look at him and he disappeared in his room. They were on their way to his sisters funeral when they caught him snooping around. He bent over to wipe a spot of dust off his shoe. He heard a shot at present and smiled again. He straightened up. This time, there was a black figure behind him. The next thing he knew, all he saw was red as he collapsed to his knees.

Maxell let Prage's body fall to the floor. He looked at the fleck of blood on his wrist. He sucked his teeth and stepped back. Taking his phone out of pocket, he made a call.
"I need something cleaned up. I want it done before I get back from this funeral."
"You got it."
"And find Richard."
"Do him?"
"No. I don't want him dead. Just find him. Call me when you do."
"No problem."
Mookie hung up his phone. Sometimes he hated Maxell. He treated everything like a fucking business proposition. It was his daughter and he said "this funeral." What kind of psycho was he?
Shit, a psycho that paid well. He slid his phone back in his pocket and grabbed the suitcase Rich handed him.
Maxell hung up as well. "Prince? You ready? Hurry up, I don't want to be late."
There was no answer.

Shadow heard Maxell shout and knew it was time for her to get gone. She placed the gun on the floor next to Prince' body and opened his window. She lifted her legs over the ledge, took a breath a jumped. She hit the ground softly and took off running.

Maxell stood when he didn't hear Prince answer him. "Where the hell are you?" He left Prage's body where it lay in the living room and walked down the hall. A gleam of light peeked out from underneath Prince door. He swung the door open. A half gasp, half cry escaped his throat. His son, his firstborn, heir to all he owned, was dead. He moved the gun out of the way and cradled his child in his arms.
Oh Rich was going to suffer. He was going to beg for death before the end.

Shadow made it to her destination. Her first move was to call Rich.
No answer.
Rich leaned back in his seat, looking out the window at the New York City streets that whizzed by on their way to the airport.
"So it's done then?"
Shadow pressed a button.
"Good. I'm going to be in Jamaica. I'll be back on Wednesday. Come see me bright and early girl."
She hung up.
Toots rolled her eyes savagely from her seat across from him in the limo. She was filing her nails and thinking very deeply about jamming the file into his dick.
"What's with the face?"
"Fuck you."
Mookie started to laugh.
"Grow the fuck up Toots."
She sucked her teeth, holding off from filing. "No suck my dick Rich, aright? I coulda did that fine and well, but you had to call your little mute bitch cuz you don't trust me."
"That's what this is about? Toots please. You killin me, ma."
"I should," she muttered, returning to her fingernails.
Mookie stopped laughing and looked out his window. Don't worry about that ma, he thought. Don't you even worry about that.

Copyright (c) 2005 Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved.


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Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take and may this song play all the way, through. And if it skip a beat, hit repeat, this the realest shit I ever wrote, this is me. If it skip a beat, hit repeat, This the realest shit I ever wrote, this is me. -Juelz Sanatana, This Is Me, What The Game's Been Missing