I Ain't Done Yet

Hello Sin City or Should I Say Lenny?

I pull up to Lenny's house at about 7 in the morning and I can't wait to get the weed out of the Escalade. So I walk up to the door with the cooler in my hands and kick the door a few times instead of using my hands. A little camera on the wall buzzes alive and focus's in on me.

"Who is it?" a mechanical voice says from a small pager next to the door.

"It's me, you prick" I say rolling my eyes. The door clicks and slightly opens.

"It's open" the voice says again and I push it open with my foot. I step in and the whole front hallway is lined with wires, blinking lights and electronic boxes. "Um, I'm in the back!" So I follow his voice to the back room and Lenny is in a wheelchair, hunkered over three giant iMac monitors.

What's left of his red hair, is combed over to the side, he has a bit of a gut, and has a pair of early 90's glasses on. Total nerd.

"So, what's up with you Cuz?" he asks still staring into the center monitor.

"Well, first of all, I got to get his off my hands" I say placing the cooler on a table filled with old Playboy magazines. "No life, eh?" I mutter.

"Ya, what is it?" he asks still watching the monitor.

"It's a pou-. You know if you peel your damn eyes off of PornHub for once, you'll be able to see what I brought." I say getting annoyed.

He slams his hands down next to the keyboard and spins to look at me furious. "I'm not fucking looking at some porn site. What I'm trying to do is-" he starts, but I lift two bricks of the weed out and he stops almost immediately.

"Holy shit! Where'd you get this? This is worth about 20 grand!" I says almost jumpin out of his wheelchair.

"Now calm your man panties and don't smoke it" I say pulling the weed out from his reach.

"I'm not going to smoke it. It's bad for my asthma. I know just the guy" he says wheeling over to the cooler and looking inside. "Holy shit! Where'd you get this? You know what? I don't want to know."

I laugh and hand him the lid. "Now, if I'm going to do this for you, I need you to do something for me" he says mysteriously and turning back to the computer.

"Ah shit. Now Lenny, I can't get into trouble as soon as I get here"

"Oh, stop complaining like a bitch and listen. Now there's this guy who is supposed to arriving at McCarren tomorrow and he's a big shot ASSHOLE who needs to be 'thrown away', if you know what I mean."

"What is your beef with this guy?" I ask, leaning against a wall.

"He is our only witness to the Union Depository hit from last year and he's in Vegas to get publicity and turn us in. I just need YOU to act like a body guard when he gets off his plane and get rid of him."

"You just make it seem SO easy" I say in almost disbelief.

" I know right? Now just get out of here, you smell and look like a horse just kicked you in face. I turn around and look in a mirror.

My dark brown hair looks like I just got out of bed, and my face looks puffy and bruised. My light brown eyes are surrounded by bruises and my lips are almost as big as Lamar's. My white tank top is ripped up, dirty and blood stained and so are my black basketball shorts.

"Here", Lenny says handing me a card, iPhone 5S and a pile of cash, "Take this. It's the key to your room and a phone since you don't have one anymore."

"Thanks man. Oh yeah, I need a car. The Escalade is kinda hot." I say, pushing everything into pockets.

"Ah, there's this used muscle car shop just a block from here. They sell mostly American muscle, but some Japanese and European exotic."

"Thanks Lenny" I say about to turn to go out the door.

"Oh yeah... Stop by a Suburban and get yourself some clothes. You gotta look like you belong here."

"I will" I say and step out the front door and into the dry 95 degree air. Its very bright and the sun reflects over everything. I look around from the porch of Lenny's house and all I see is just endless amounts of small suburban houses, cream colored buildings with red clay roofs. So, shading my eyes from the bright sun, I walk down the sidewalk to this shop so I can get my hands on a ride.

As I walk in the door of the red, rectangular and glass lined building, I notice there is no one inside. But why is the door open? I look around the building but I don't see anyone, until I pass the main office. Inside is two Mexican men and a white guy. They don't see me, but I see them and what they are doing.

One of the Mexican's have the white guy by gun point facing the wall as the other is trying to break into a safe.

I think how to help, but how? There is literally nothing I can do, except run in there like an idiot and hope not to be shot. Good plan. I'll go with that.

I look behind me before I barge through the door and see a large wrench. I guess I can use this. So, I back up a bit and then sprint into the door shoulder first and the door explodes open. Scaring all three of them and making them turn to me on a dime, but I don't stop. As I barge towards the guy with the gun, I pull up the wrench and swing down hard on his ribs. He falls over screaming something in Spanish and I turn to the other guy.

Dropping the wrench, I pop him in the jaw three times and grab him by the throat and say inches away from his face, "¡Vete a la mierda, recogeder de tomates retrasados!" and throw him out the office door. I glare back at the other guy and he scampers off after his friend.

"Thank you so much, sir! I'll do anything to pay you back" the owner exclaims in a Russian accent as he hugs me.

Slowly pushing him back, "Yo dude, I just need a ride."

"Take anything! I owe my life to you!" he says dropping to his knees with his hands folded and looking up at me.

"Dude, just get your ass up. Let me take a look" I say creeped out and I step out of the office and outside to where the cars are.

There are cars from almost every decade and all different types ranging from Lexus's to Ford's to Mercedes and to Chevy's. Anything. But one car really caught my attention; a white 2002 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am Ram Air 5.7L 6-Speed.

I walk over to it and open up the door. The smell of hot leather wafts up into my face. The interior is black and in almost perfect condition, just like the exterior. The only negative part of the car is that the pheonix is missing. The windows and T-tops are tinted very dark and it still has the original rims. I instantly fall in love with the car.

"I found the car that I'd like!" I call when I step back into the building. The Russian guy runs out to me immediately with papers in his hand.

"Which one do you like, sir?" he asks overly enthusiastic.

"The white Trans Am out there"

"Ooo. You want the power of the finest Pontiac ever created in your hands? It has 56,000 miles on it and when it runs, it sound AWESOME!" he exclaims grabbing the keys from a plastic container on a desk.

"Hell yeah. Can't wait to hear it run!" I say and the two of us walk out to the car in the blazing heat. It must have gotten hotter since five minutes ago.

We get out to the car and he hands me the keys like he's giving me the key to the city. So I open the door and sit down in the drivers seat. The smell of old leather engulfs me as I slide the key into the ignition and switch it to ON. The gauges light up and come to life.

"Get ready to unleash the power of a 5.7 Liter V-8 engine as soon as you turn that key" he says from out side of the car.

And with that note, I shift to Neutral and pull up on the parking brake. I breathe in and turn the car over. The car fires right up and with the push of the throttle, the engine roars over 4,000 RPM. Awesome.