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“So you want people to die for us?” Eshon said.
“We’re gonna pay ’em.”
“So you want to pay muthafuckas to take our place and die for us?” Eshon asked. “And who’s gonna take the job to get paid to die?”
It sounded crazy.
“That’s where the ruse comes in. They won’t expect death but think it will be something else—reality TV maybe.”
Eshon and Brandy laughed.
“You think muthafuckas are stupid out here, Devon?” Brandy exclaimed.
“They do what we pay ’em to do,” he said.
“Obviously you didn’t think this shit all the way through,” Eshon said.
The Kid was watching his plan fall apart. The girls were skeptical. They were ready to walk away from it. He had to do something. Devon played his part well, but he wasn’t prepared for the backlash.
“I think it’s a great plan,” The Kid intervened.
“Really?” Eshon said. “And why’s that?”
“Look, if Maserati thinks we’re dead, then the threat is cleared, and it will be a lot easier for Devon and Papa John to get at him. Ghosts don’t kill people,” he said, sounding somewhat rational.
“Look, I don’t give a fuck who gotta die, as long as it ain’t me,” Brandy said. “And Jessica, I’m ready for that bitch.”
They all wanted to tear Jessica apart, especially Eshon. She wanted to wrap her hands around the traitor’s throat and squeeze tightly until there was no more breath inside her body. She wanted to kill her former friend with her bare hands. E&J Brandy bitches were no more. Jessica was a manipulative bitch that didn’t deserve life.
Eshon sighed. “So, how we supposed to do this? How we gonna get people—innocent people—to become decoys for us at this party?”
“Like I said, money and a con,” Devon said.
“You need to be more specific about the con you want to implement,” she replied.
“And I have a way,” he said.
They were all waiting to hear the con. The Kid sat and waited, too. He had to sell it to the crew first before they could sell it to anyone else, especially the decoys.
Devon had it memorized. The Kid steered him in the right direction earlier and tried to cover all the bases. Devon looked everyone in the eyes and said, “Everyone wants to get paid, right?”
“Not to die,” Eshon said.
“They ain’t gonna know they gonna die!” he repeated. “Look, we go out and find five muthafuckas that resemble us—”
“And tell ’em what?” Brandy asked.
“Look, y’all makin’ this shit more fuckin’ difficult than it already is,” Devon griped.
“That’s because it is difficult,” said Eshon.
“It ain’t fuckin’ difficult, a’ight? Shit gonna be simple as A, B, C,” Devon exclaimed.
Devon was losing control again. The Kid was watching him crumble under questioning. Devon looked at The Kid; he needed help with this one. It was going good so far, but Eshon and Brandy weren’t fools. They wanted to know every single detail of his plan. If it wasn’t right, then they weren’t with it. They were used to Kip having it all mapped out for them. He covered everything. He knew the ins and outs and predicted what could go wrong.
Devon wasn’t Kip—far from it.
“You can look for the men and women in shelters or troll the internet for those thirsty men and women who want to be seen. Give ’em a few dollars to be somewhere at a certain time, or find people that don’t have much to lose,” The Kid said, bringing the details to light. It made sense to them.
