Hood Don't Love You (HDLY#1)

Chapter eighteen

Train wiped the drool off his mouth and opened his eyes as he heard the door open and two detectives walk in. He sat up straight in his chair ready to go through the routine he knew all so well.

Train looked at the detectives and the room and realized he was probably in the same room Tamel was in a couple of days ago. Probably with the same detectives, then again probably not. He recognized one from homicide but not the other one. The look of confusion must have been mistaken by the detective he didn't know because that detective started smiling.

"Hello, Mister Darren Bishop, alias D-Train, I'm Detective Larry Wilson," identified the tall and lanky black detective that Train never seen before. "You may not know me. I mostly work small crimes. But I know you know Detective Stout over there."

Train nodded. Train knew Stout and Stout's name matched his appearance. Stout was short and stubby and looked like that actor that played on the old cop show NYPD Blue, Dennis Franz. Stout even tried to act like that arrogant character on the show. Train wasn't impressed. He dealt with guys like him since he first went to the juvenile detention center at age 14. However, Train was surprised Stout was there. Train hadn't kill anyone yet, that he knew of at least.

"I see we had quite a night, Mister Bishop," Wilson was talking again. Train figured Wilson was going to be the good cop. "First of all, you break a guy's arm. He's downstairs right now, arm in a cast, ready to charge you with assault. And from the reports I get from the officers that showed up at that little club you was at, you was involved in a hostile situation and when they tried to come and detain the situation, you resisted arrest and tried to send one of them to the hospital. Hmmm, seems like a little but trust me, we can make it a lot. So what do you have to say for yourself?"

Train remained quiet. It was Stout's turn now.

"Don't sit there all smug," Stout said right on cue. "The detective asked you a question, you scumbag. I may not have you on murder like I, oh, so want but I got you here on a charge that will guarantee you stay here a couple of hours. But by then I'm sure I can get somebody to say something else. That assault charge isn't going away. I'm going to make sure of that. That's enough to detain you but that resisting arrest and assaulting an officer. That's juicy. So like that good detective said, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Train smiled.

"Like I told you the last time I was in here with you," Train said. "Unless your wife is putting me up on charges for murdering that coochie, you can kiss my ass with glittery lipstick."

Stout nodded. "You still think shit is funny?"

Train shook his head. "No, I don't think shit is funny. I respect shit. I think you're just funny."

Stout laughed. "You're not going to weasel your way out of this, funny man. An assault charge by a respectable citizen. Yes, he's a councilman's son, you son of a bitch. And that resisting arrest and police assault charge will definitely add creditability on top of that. This may not even by my department but I wanted to be here when the word went down we got your punk ass for something. And your little buddy, Drama, he's probably in the next room snitching on you for fun. That little girl y'all had in that joint, her father's shop burnt down and I'm figuring she came there for some payback and God bless her if she didn't try. She's in recovery right now but when she gets out, I'm sure I'm going to get enough to close the lids of both you punk motherfuckers. It's over, Train. What kind of alias is that anyway?"

"Ask your sister," Train winked. "She knows what a train is."

"You really think you're slick?" Stout said. "I got news for you, bastard. You going down and soon you will be giving a buff job to some big dude named Trigger."