Memphis Streets 4: Skeletons

Chapter 35- Le'Shelle

"How in the fuck is that nigga still breathing?" I snap at Snake with my M4 holstered up in the air.

He's looking like he's stuck on stupid while we watch this muthafucka and his boss bitch peel out.

"MASON!" I clench my jaw and roll my eyes toward Diesel, mentally telling him to get his cousin before I knock the shit out of his ass.

Diesel steps forward and places a hand on Snake's shoulder. "Let it go, cuz. We got to roll out."

Snake stands, huffing and puffing as if he'd raced a marathon. When Diesel touches his shoulder again, Snake jerks away from him. "Goddamn it," I hiss, pacing around in circles.

I gotta calm down before I approach Snake. I'm not in the mood for another episode of As The Hood Turns. Clearly, his ass is back to tripping on that brother shit. I got his ass to bury that bullshit since the nigga was dead any goddamn way, but now here his ass is back among the fuckin' living. These damn Carvers are immortals or some crazy shit.

"If they'd made it into that warehouse, we would have killed him," I catch Snake muttering to himself.

"Good," I shout. "His ass deserves to be six feet under."

Snake spins and roars, "He's my fucking brother!" Without thinking, I backhand his ass.

SLAP!

"Snap out of it!"

BAM!

I reel backwards, hitting the building's concrete roof and dropping my M4.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT

Niggas duck and run. Snake ignores all that as he grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me up against his growling face. "If you ever disrespect me like that in front of my men again, it'll be the last fuckin' thing you do. You got that shit?"

The left side of my face swells and throbs like he hit me with a two-by-four. I turn my head and spit out the pool of blood in my mouth. It's getting harder to respect this gangsta when he's pussying out over this brother shit all the time. "You got it?" he yells.

"Got it." I flash my bloody smile and then snatch myself out of his grasp.

Snake towers over me like he's thinking about stomping my ass. Diesel approaches up behind him. "We got to head out, cuz."

"Fine. Round these niggas up and let's go." Snake rakes me up and down and then storms past me like my ass ain't shit. Muthafucka. Diesel lingers and then offers me his hand. Knowing what will happen if I touch him, I ignore it and pull myself up on my own.

"Pride before the fall," Diesel says, chuckling.

"Get the fuck out of my face," I tell him, slurring my words since my lips are also swollen.

"I told you that you wouldn't bag that bitch."

The amusement dies in his eyes. "Blame your man. We had them surrounded," he says and marches off.

Our army was reduced by five—one of them was Diesel's homeboy, Chrome. We quickly stack the bodies, pack up our shit, and roll out as the sound of police sirens fills the air behind us. During the flight back to the safe house, I stare a hole into the side of Snake's head. What I wouldn't give to wail out on his ass right now. Why am I the only muthafucka thinking straight? Fat Ace needs to be eliminated.

Full stop—period. Two cars return to the safe house. Ours with Snake, Diesel, and myself and security guards Kane and June Bug. After a bottle of Henney and a few bumps of cocaine kickers, Snake barks out orders.

"I want to know everything. Put ears everywhere. How did Fat Ace survive that crash? Where has he been? When did he return? Everything."

Kane and June Bug nod. "We're on it, boss."

When they don't make a move for the door, Snake yells, "NOW!"

They jump like toasted Pop-Tarts and scramble for the door. Diesel speaks calmly, "I'll get you some more security out here."

"I don't give a shit about that."

"No. You're on that brother shit again," I mumble.

Snake jerks toward me. "And you. Shut the fuck up! I don't want to hear another goddamn word out of your slick-ass mouth. This is my shit and I'll handle it!"

"Handle it how? Handle it like you told me to handle Brielle—or are you too much of a pussy for that shit?"

Snake lunges for me. I smash a beer bottle on the coffee table and lift the neck and its jagged-shard edges up, ready to rumble. "What the fuck you gonna do?"

Diesel jumps in between us. "Whoa. Whoa. Slow down." He holds his cousin back.

"Le'Shelle, maybe you should give us a few minutes?"

"Fine. See if you can screw his head back on right. I'm tired of trying."

I turn with a flourish and storm back in to the bedroom with my broken beer bottle. How the fuck am I going rule the streets with a mad king on the throne?