Last Feast for the Condemned Soul
WARNING: This chapter depicts a murder/execution and contains scenes of misogyny/violence. Reader discretion is advised.
“CASE NUMBER 765479-9876BL226- THE VICTIM, WAS AT THEIR PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT, WHERE THE CRIME ALSO TOOK PLACE”-
The night was goin as planned…the music was live, and so was the crowds. We entered the club via VIP, and went to the table they had reserved for us. Reagan had gone to greet the promoter; Kady and Melissa sat at the table, and enjoyed the drinks. It wasn’t too hard for me to not pay attention to Melissa…with all the shit that had gone down this week, I just shut errythang else out, and focused on the sell- it was all that mattered.
Erry once in a while, I thought about Corliss, and what she was doin…I kinda wished she was at the joint wit me, so we could have some alone time once “work” was done. I had to shake it off, and get back in form- this shit wasn’t gonna sell itself, without me doin the pushin…I put back a drink, then went onto the floor, and started doin my thang, as the music started to really thump.
“Yo yo yo yo! There that bish is,” they pointed out. Eyes watched, as she stepped out the side entrance as usual accompanied by her usual bodyguard, and companion of choice, Jerome Morrow…he wasn’t as tall as the other bouncers, but he was swol as hell. But he conversed well, which was what she enjoyed the most about him…they could discuss things from various business ethics and strategies, to “not bein able to wait” for the next episode of that ABC TV show, Revenge. He knew she had a man, and it wasn’t his intent to try to come between them…she was just a friend on the job, that made his coming into work that much enjoyable.
“Mutha fuckin bitch…think she too good for me. I’ll show her slut ass,”
They stepped out the ride, closing the doors and descended upon their prey. The two stopped short of reaching her car…Jerome turned around. “You again! Look mayne, we got a restrainin order against you…so you need to get up on outta here before I call the police,”
His lip twitched, showing his disgust as the situation…he looked past the big, burly, high yellow bouncer with the corn rows in his hair, to the object of his animosity- as she trembled in anticipation of his actions. She knew how violent and persistent he was, and that he didn’t give a fuck how far it had to go- as long as he won, in the end. She watched as his fists tightened…she knew what was next.
“Fuck yo restrainin order, shawty and fuck you!” he hissed, lookin a nigga up and down. “Nigga you look like a bowl of pissy yellow bread dough…move yo pudgy ass outta my way,”
“That aint gon’ happen shawty,” breathed Jerome. “You want her, you gotta go through me,”
“Jerome! Call for back up!” she gasped. “This is crazy!”
“That fat muthafucka know, he touches that phone, and we gon’ be all on him, like flies on shit,” he grunted. “It’s gonna happen, shawty- there aint nuttin, anybody can do about it,”
“AT APPROXIMATELY 1:00 AM, SHERYL MOSS, AN EMPLOYEE OF THE BLUE FLAME, UNDER THE STAGE NAME OF ‘EXPRESSO’, WAS BEING ESCORTED TO HER VEHICLE BY ANOTHER EMPLOYEE OF THE ESTABLISHMENT- A MISTER JEROME MORROW, WHO WORKS AS SECURITY ENFOREMENT FOR THE NIGHTCLUB LOUNGE. THE TWO WERE CONFRONTED BY A COUPLE OF MEN. MOSS IDENTIFIED AT LEAST TWO OF THE MEN AS KANTRELL SUMLIN, AND MARLON MASSAOQUAI. SUMLIN DEMANDED THAT MORROW MOVE OUT HIS WAY SO THAT HE COULD DO WHATEVER IT WAS THAT HE INTEND TO DO TO MISS MOSS, HER INTERPRETATION OF THAT, BEING “HAVE HIS WAY WITH HER””…
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HAM (Hard As a Muthaf**ka)
General FictionJacoby Martin, B.K.A. "J" turned his back on a higher education, to slang with his friends in the streets. After spending a stint in the county jail, Jacoby is starting to see that there is no future in sellin. His plan- to "go ham", and make all th...
