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“Yeah, you right,” Darius says, pullin’ out his gun and firin’ two shots in his chest. “Let’s dump this niggah’s body, yo.”
I stare at my son, my firstborn, and eye his best friend and one of my secret Mandingalings as they scurry around gatherin’ up sheets and blankets, then roll him up. They move the coffee table, then drag JT’s lifeless body to the edge of the five-thousand-dollar area rug I bought with his money. They roll his ass up in it.
Darius shoots me a look. He frowns. “Yo, Ma. Fuck you standin’ there for? Toss that niggah’s dick and go wash ya ass and get this shit cleaned up. Me and Beetle gonna handle this niggah’s body.”
“Yo, what about da niggah’s whip?” Beetle asks. Fortunately, it’s not one of his official shits. It’s one he uses to get his creep on in.
Darius starts pacin’. “Fuck! Shit! Let me think. Fuck!” He turns to me. His eyes are dark and scary. “Yo, why da fuck was this niggah up in here, Ma?! Why da fuck was you messin’ wit’ this grimy-ass muhfucka?”
I’m in so much pain. I can’t even speak. The reality of what just popped off has finally hit me. And I’m through. “I-I . . . ”
Beetle cuts him off. “Man, we ain’t got all day for this. We gotta move this niggah, now.”
“Yeah, you right. We gonna have’ta drop this nigga in da trunk, then dump his shit somewhere.” Everything is movin’ so fast. They have his body rolled up inside the rug. They have it all planned out. Beetle’s gonna drive JT’s car to one of their boys’ chop shops downtown. Darius is gonna follow Beetle there. Then later tonight, they’ll dispose of JT and his car. There’ll be no traces. This niggah will be M.I.A.
I swallow.
“Shit! We need da keys to his shit,” Beetle says. They drop the rug, then unroll it. Beetle quickly fishes through his pockets. He pulls out a roll of money, then tosses it to me. It lands on the sofa. “You keep that shit.”
I nod. Any other time, my pussy would be seepin’ juices at the thought or sight of collectin’ a thick knot of money. He digs in his other pocket, pullin’ out a set of keys. He tosses them to Darius.
Darius shoots me another look. “Why da fuck is you still standin’ there, holdin’ da niggah’s dick in ya hand. Flush that shit!”
I blink. “I’ll g-g-get rid of it as soon as y’all l-l-leave.”
They roll JT’s body back up inside the rug, then lift it. Beetle looks over at me. “Shut and lock this door behind us. Don’t open it ’til we get back. We gonna handle this, aiight?”
I nod. I watch as they carry his ass outta here. This is one time I’m glad ain’t nobody outside to see shit. And obviously they ain’t hear shit, either. And if they did, not one bitch called the police. For once motherfuckas mindin’ their own business.
I lock the door as soon as they walk out, then watch them toss JT into the trunk. Beetle slams the trunk shut, then opens the door and gets behind the wheel. Darius hops in his car. I watch them back out, then pull off. The whole time I’m holdin’ my breath.
I wince, touchin’ the side of my face. My jaw feels broken. I walk over to the mirror hangin’ in the dinin’ room and almost faint. The niggah beat my face to pieces. My right eye is so fucked up and swollen I can hardly open it. I have blood caked up all over me. But I’m glad the niggah didn’t gut my face or my ass like he said he was. Oooh, niggah, you did me dirty. I wince again
as I touch my face. But you got done dirtier, bitch. I glance down at his dick still in my hand. You was about to catch it anyway. Too bad you ain’t gonna be around for the rest of the fireworks, niggah.
I walk into the kitchen, pull out a ziplock bag, drop his dingaling in, then seal the bag shut. “I’ma use ya dingaling as my party favor, nigga-bitch,” I say to myself as I pull out a Tupperware bowl. Boom, nigga, boom! Sliced ya shit right down to the stump, bitch!
I lay his dick inside the Tupperware, seal the lid tightly over it, then open my deep freezer. I dig down into the bottom of the icy box, makin’ room, then drop the container in. I cover it up with frozen chickens and slabs of ribs, then slam the door shut.
I need a doctor, goddammit! But I ain’t tryna do shit ’til Darius and Beetle get back here. I don’t wait to shower or clean up before walkin’ back into the livin’ room and searchin’ for my cell. I get on my knees, groanin’ but relieved when I find it in back of the sofa. I take a deep breath. Then dial the number.
“That niggah-coon tried to kill me,” I hiss, feelin’ myself gettin’ overwhelmed at the thought of my kids findin’ me dead up in here.
There’s a gasp on the other end. “Oh God!”
“It was a close call. I thought he was gonna shut my light switch out. He fucked me up real good. But he got got. I’ma hood bitch. And you know we fight dirty, boo.”
“I knew this was a bad idea.”
“Oh nooo. It isn’t a bad idea; just an unexpected change of plans, that’s all. But this works out better. He asked for it, so now he got it. That niggah’s takin’ a permanent nap.”
“What now? I knew this might get messy.”
“It’s time to move into phase two, boo. And it can’t get no messier than it already has. Trust me. The niggah tried to do me good. But I took his ass down.”
“We should call it Operation Take Down.”
If my damn face wasn’t cracked, I would smile. “Ooh, yesss, goddammit. And we gonna do ’em up right!”
