Memphis Streets 2 (Urban)

Chapter 3- Lucifer

The crowd at Da Club is jumping, which means the cash at the registers is flowing.That's usually all it takes for me to be in a good mood, but tonight I'm having trouble trying to fake the funk, since I know Mason, or Fat Ace as he's known in the streets, is rolling over at that pig's crib, getting his dick wet. And now that bitch is supposedly having his baby? I don't believe that shit

I know my nigga better be asking for a DNA test. I don't like Officer Sasha Smith. I think she's as shady as her daddy. Everybody knows he's been sucking off the Cartel Lord's for decades now. And knowing that she used to date Snake back in high school c'mon, now. Is her pussy so damn good that niggas can't put two and two together? Of course not. What the hell am I thinking? If Mason was so smart, then he'd know that my ass has been in love with him since Adam gave Eve his rib. But, no, I have a DO NOT TOUCH sign on my forehead as far as Mason is concerned.

He and my brother Bishop have been best friends since grade school, which makes me like the sister he never had. It doesn't matter how hard I ride or how vicious I am in this street game. I am and always will be just his right-hand chick.

"Shit, Cutty. Give me a whiskey on the rocks," I say, pounding on the bar and then swiveling my head in a slow one-eighty to check out the dancing crowd.

A few seconds later, I have my drink and start edging toward the back of the club. Damn. I should try to get fucked up or grab one of these punk-ass niggas to rub out some stress. I find me a table in a dark corner at the back of the club and check out the scene. When my eyes land on one brother laughing with a group of niggas while quietly checking me out, I throw my head back to let him know that it's cool for him to approach me. He excuses himself, and I watch his confident pimp walk as he heads on back. Six foot two, chocolate, trim with a pencil goatee-I definitely see potential.

"Now, what's a fine woman like you doing hiding in the back of the club?" he asks.

So much for potential.

"Never mind, I'm busy."

I dismiss him and return to my drink.

"Whoa. Whoa." He holds up his hands.

"I'm sorry if I didn't come correct, but a nigga gets nervous when he gets around a beautiful woman. Let me try again."

I glance up, annoyed that he's still standing there.

"My name is Justin, and you are ... ?" Holding his gaze, I reevaluate the situation.

"Lucifer," I say.

He doesn't laugh, which tells me he recognizes the name.

"How's your head game, Justin?"

Not sure he heard me right, he blinks and then glances around, as if there are going to be cameras jumping out or something.

"Come again?"

"No. That's what I want you to help me with. How's your head game? Do you eat pussy?" His smile returns.

"I ain't had no complaints."

I lean back in my chair. "Then let me see what you're working with."

Justin's face twists in confusion as he checks around for those cameras again.

"What? Here?"

"Why not?" My cell phone starts ringing. It's Bishop.

"Hold on a second," I tell Justin, and then answer the phone.

"Whatever it is, I'm busy."

"They got Dice!"

"What?"

The alcohol in my system disappears as I jet up out of my chair.

"I thought he was at his prom tonight?"

"Hey!" Justin yells as I rush past him.

"He was. Those muthafuckas snatched him and his girl in front of witnesses on their way to the hotel! I'm trying to find Fat Ace, but he ain't answering his cell."

"Shit." I race through the crowd and then bolt out the front door.

"Where you at?"

"We're out here looking for these niggas. We got a tip... . Hey, is that the building? Yo, I think we've found-there he go!" I hop behind the wheel of my black Escalade.

"Give me a fuckin' address, Bishop."

"Over off O'Donnell. Where the abandoned warehouse buildings are."

"I'm on it." I

I peel out of the parking lot while straining to hear every little thing over the line.

"Talk to me, Bishop."

When I hear nothing, I glance down at my cell to see I've lost the signal. I toss the muthafucka aside and slam down on the accelerator. Less than five minutes later, I make it over to O'Donnell and see Bishop and a string of brothers from the set.

"Tell me something," I shout, racing out of my SUV with my gat ready to blast.

Niggas part like the Red Sea, and my gaze lands on the twisted, bloody body lying in the dirt.

"Shit."

Guys stand around and shake their heads.

"Them grimy niggas gonna pay for this shit."

For the first time in a long while, I'm stunned. I liked Dice, even though I'd known him for only a little over a year. The lil nigga had heart.

"We know who did this?"

"Who the fuck else? Those Vice Disciples," Bishop shouts.

"They want heat? We're about to bring it to them."

I kneel next to Dice's body and look down at his young face. So much potential. Leaning forward, I place a hand against the side of his neck, and my heart nearly stops.

"What?" Bishop asks.

I pick up Dice's wrist and then place my ear against his chest.

"Oh my God. He's still alive."