The Crossfire | Revised | Sample

i | 19.5 | the p r e c i s i o n

❝ THE PRECISION ❞
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───── ⋆⋅Favio⋅⋆ ─────

Despite whatever fuckry Antaro waa believe - I am a businessman.

Consequently, I hate being in Kingston for fuckry.

I watch as two small boats depart. As soon as they disappear beyond the horizon, I walk away from crimson sand and bloodstained stones that salty water is rubbing clean.

I go back to the car, shove the bloody axe into an acid-doused trash bag and secure it with a worn shoelace. The suffocating scent of fumes stings my nose and I quickly hand the bag to Antaro's goon. "Mek dis nuh exist," I tell him.

"Teeth?" I ask another. Despite the loud sound of waves washing away one of my many sins, I can clearly hear the next burdens click against each other from within the pouch Lizard shakes. "Sprinkle dat when Rush seh e body drop."

My phone rings. It's the old guy. He's good at getting information. "Deh a Runaway Bay. Need fi link e inside source before we can mek a one move."

I hang up.

Jah. Mi hate everything relating to Steer Town. Even more so now seeing as I'm in a sticky situation. . .

Rush fellowship to Antaro cause him fi send a prisoner fi brutally execute waa Shottaz lowlife. In exchange for his freedom, he framed that Blood Paw claimed ownership.

Then, the man weh mi trust most in that fucking place find himself a lockup. Now, mi stuck wid dis old man weh gwan fraid fi hold waa gun.

Mi fuckry fadda a play a cat and mouse game fi try keep mi ina both a him passtimes.

And mi balls blue nuh fuck cause all me can think boh a my B pussy. Cocky fit ina dat like a glove.

Cazzo, mi forget fi answer her text from dis morning. Staring at her text, I wonder if I should even reply. Mi cya badda wid the bagga texting more while. I'd call her but she should be at school right now. Me need fi buy her a phone cause this shared phone business nago work wid me. Mi kiss mi teeth when mi remember how she did instantly turn it down when I had offered. I smile at her humility. {Translation: Fuck.}

"Slitta," Lizard come a mi window come knock and mi quickly text her back fi avoid a potential cussing.

Text sent, mi wind down the window fi listen to wa tha fassy ya have fi say. . .

That was four hours ago.

Now, it's ten, marking the end of a nine a.m. meeting.

"Well done, figlio," the heartless bastard actually sounds genuinely proud. "The Board knows the right choice is you." {Translation: Son.}

Ignoring him, I continue to stare at the wrist of my white shirt. I'm pleased with how I managed to erase the speck of the bastard's blood that almost soiled it. Nothing I hate more than messes. . .

What Antaro did in Steer Town is the epitome of messy.

"Wa the fuck dat yu do?"

Ensuring we are alone in the meeting room, he calmly replies as if he isn't the one who interfered with my carefully thought out plan. "You were taking too long - I told you."

"And you feel seh dat a sum fi do without contact me first?"

"Don't take that tone with me, Favio," he straightens his suit. "Whatever happened, I'm sure you handled it."

I release a loud breath, balling my hand into a tight fist. This man really knows how to get me short-tempered.

"You sent Rush out of spite."

"I don't do anything out of spite."

"Bugiardo," I hiss. "Keep fuck wid yu own operation. Just keep me out of it, remember we have a deal." {Translation: Liar.}

"I'm sticking by it."

Dis man tek mi fi the biggest claffy. . .

I stand up, walking pass him to leave the room. He calls out to me, causing me to stop. Looking back at him, I see that he's giving me an intense, meaningful stare. Slowly, I nod my head before I leave.

Of course him neh afi question if mi get e job done.

Fi a person with hardly any interest ina dis, Antaro know seh mi extremely thorough. Mi neva leave room fi error.

After all, I'm a businessman. Being precise is what us men in business do.

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