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“Do me a favor—Twist that up for me,” Black Justice said to Jimmy. “I need to think on your price. My mind functions better when I smoke.”
Jimmy put the cigar on the table and reminded Black Justice that he didn’t smoke.
Jasmine knew that Black Justice was testing Jimmy, who was making one false move after another. Her heart was in her throat.
Black Justice looked over at Poppy, who smiled and motioned his head in Jimmy’s direction before gesturing toward his own waistband. Black Justice shook his head to indicate to Poppy that he didn’t want him to do anything at that moment.
Jasmine said, “I’ll roll the shit up,” and she reached for the cigar. She knew in her gut that Jimmy had never rolled up any weed and was hesitating because he didn’t want to look stupid.
Black Justice went into the bottom side drawer of his desk and pulled out a chrome .44 Magnum and placed it on top of his desk. “Nah, Jasmine, I want this nigga to twist that shit up for me.”
Jimmy didn’t know what to say or do.
Black Justice reached forward and grabbed hold of the gun and held it sideways and pointed it directly at Jimmy and Jasmine. “Roll that shit up right now if you and Jasmine wanna walk outta here alive.”
Jimmy stood up to his feet and pushed the cigar and the we
ed off the table and onto the basement floor, and Poppy immediately made a move toward him.
“Nah, Poppy, I got this shit,” Black Justice said, his gun aimed at Jimmy.
The pit bulls sensed their master was angry and began barking violently.
“Jus, come on, chill,” Jasmine pleaded.
“The fuck this nigga think he is?” Jimmy squinted his eyes, trying to muster up the meanest screw face he could.
Black Justice was watching Jimmy’s hands to see if he was going to make a move for a gun and if he did Black Justice was going to blast him.
“You gon’ shoot me ’cuz I won’t roll your fuckin’ weed up? Come on then. Shoot me, nigga!” Jimmy yelled, his open right hand pounding on his chest. “You got big balls! Shoot me, nigga!”
Jasmine’s heart was racing more than on the night when Bebo had tried to kill her.
“Jimmy, shut up!” Jasmine pleaded. “Jus, please, come on, this ain’t necessary.” She stood up.
“Jasmine, who the fuck is this muthafucka?” Black Justice stood up.
“He’s my man!”
“Poppy, turn that music all the way up!”
Jasmine was ready to shit and piss on herself.
“What? You think I’m a cop? You think I’m fuckin’ five-o?” Jimmy lifted up his shirt to show that he had no gun on him and that he wasn’t wearing a wire.
Poppy turned the music up so loud, the sound of the dogs barking could no longer be heard.
Jimmy’s heart was racing as his life flashed before his eyes. Not knowing what else to do, he pulled his shirt all the way up and over his head until he was standing there shirtless. Then he reached for his pants and unbuckled the belt and quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pulled them down to his ankles.
“I ain’t no muthafuckin’ cop!” Jimmy yelled as he walked around in circles with his pants pulled down to his ankles, exposing his black briefs, and his hands raised above his head.
Jimmy looked as stupid as anyone could look, but he did that to convince Black Justice that he wasn’t strapped or wearing a wire. The move was brilliant because, in the process of making himself look like an absolute fool, he still managed to hide the wire strapped to his ankle on the inside of his Timberland boot.
Poppy couldn’t help but laugh at Jimmy. Black Justice motioned for Poppy to turn the music down.
Jimmy’s heart was coming out of his chest as he stood there with his hands still in the air, the dogs still barking loudly.
“Pull your muthafuckin’ pants up!”
