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H A R L E M "BLACK" MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE TEN pm
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"Dump that muhfucka in the river." I took a long drag from my blunt, allowing the smoke to overtake my lungs. Leaning back on the hood of my whip, I watched as Quae and Miles pushed the heavy storage bin closer to the edge of the river bank. They struggled pushing it closer and closer to its destination, sweat coating their brows. Inside, Kendrick's lifeless body was bound by duct tape and folded over in ways that the human body shouldn't have been. Of course, his comfort didn't meant a damn thing to me and with him being dead and all, it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter any way. Concrete blocks were lining the bottom of the bin, ensuring that it wouldn't float. Hearing it bump and roll down the bank, before hitting the water with a large splash gave me a feeling of satisfaction. I'd been plotting to take him out for years and I'd finally gotten him.
When I realized Kendrick Knighton was shooting at me, an immediate feeling of excitement overtook me. It was as if he'd served himself to me on a silver platter— willing and ready to be slaughtered by my hand. I couldn't believe the good fortune. Now he was sinking to the bottom of the Loosahatchie river and I couldn't have felt more vindicated.
As Quae and Miles marched back over to me, huffing and puffing from the tiring task, I was reaching into my coat pocket. I held out envelopes with their names on them, which they both gladly accepted.
"What you gonna do about her, boss?" Quae asked, nodding his head in Chioma's direction. She was sitting in the passenger seat of my car, knocked out— literally. Truth be told, I should've felt some kind of remorse for beating her so badly, but I didn't. I couldn't believe the bitch had spit in my face.
Chioma pissed me off greatly and it wouldn't have been the first time. She had a bad habit of getting under my fuckin' skin, but usually I could keep my temper at bay. When she spit in my face however, I was instantly met with unwanted flashbacks. I imagined it was Mitch spitting at me, as he'd done many times before. Once I had that image in my mind, all I could see was red. Regardless of her being the only woman I ever loved, she had to pay for that shit— and I made sure that she did. She wouldn't even fix her lips to spit on a dick from now on.
