Dark Beauty

C H A P T E R 11: Darien.

Tuesday

December 18th, 2011

12:15 a.m.

"Darien, please," I listened to him beg as my bodyguards snatched him up and threw him back onto the brick wall. "I can have the money to you by tonight." he negotiated as we stood in the dimly lit alley.

   I shook my head no. Everything he was saying was going in one ear and out the other. "Nah, man," I told him, "I gave you to many chances already, remember?" I reminded him. Before he could speak, I continued talking. " I'd be a fool to give you one more, man."

   He paused for a moment. Fear clear as day in his eyes. The crackhead gulped hard; I could see his Adam's apple move. "Please?" he begged. I scoffed. "I have some of it now." His eyes were becoming red and teary. He was trying vigorously not to let a tear fall.

   I sighed, annoyed at his endeavors to stall and make this whole situation take longer than it needed to be. "How much you got, nigga?" I asked.

   He glanced from Chris to Micheal and then back at me. "Well, if they let me go, I can show you." he replied. "It's in my pocket, I can pull it out and show you."

   Instead of acknowledging what he had just said, I instructed Chris to reach into his pocket. Chris did as I asked and pulled out a wallet. He opened it up and looked through it.

"He got something in here, De'," Chris said.

"It better be worth it," I said and continued talking, "and if it over a hunnit, then don't even pull it out, Chris."

   Chris chuckled. "Only fifty-dollars man."

   I laughed hysterically and then paused when we made direct eye contact with each other. "Do you think I'm playin' with you, man?" I aggressively asked.

   Micheal laughed as he instigated. "I think he do take you for a joke, boss." he said.

   Tears fell from his eyes; the crackhead hung his head low. "This is it, ain't it?" he asked as he rose his head back up. "Please, Darien, I go-"

   I swooped upon him and placed my hands around his neck. "Shut the fuck up nigga," I told him. I pulled my gun from my waist. "All that begging and shit is annoyin', it ain't gettin' you nowhere shut the fuck up." I spat.

   Through sobs, he begged, "Darien plea-"

BAP!

   The butt of the gun connected with his jaw, and he fell to the ground, gripping his face in pain. He looked up to me, shocked. Here he was, a grown man who had just gotten knocked out by a young boy. "What the fuck did I just tell you?" I asked.

"Beg..beg..beg..." he studdard.

"Beg, beg, beg what nigga?" I mocked. "Speak up," I told him. "What the fuck I just say?" I asked again.

"Beggin' gets me nowhere." he reiterated.

"Exactly." I agreed. "So, why the fuck you still begging like I give a fuck?" I asked.

"I'm sorry." he apologized.

"Fuck the apology, dawg, what was our agreement?" I asked him as I bent down in front of him.