Hit And Sprint

six

"Smiley? I haven't spoken to that son of a bitch in years."

Robert was pissed as soon as the name left my lips. Rightfully so, I'd say.

"Damn weasel," Roy grumbles, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head.

Smiley was pretty decently known in Houston for being a high class pimp. He ran the prostitution industry like all hell, and dabbled in drugs, sometimes murder, if it was needed.

Anyone who broke the law for a living dabbled in murder, though. That was just how it was.

"Tell me about it," I mutter, though I can feel my expression becoming smug. I couldn't resist. This discovery was a win.

Roy takes note of my pleased demeanor, questioning, "What's that look for?"

My smirk crackles into a grin. "We get to kill him." My eyes wander away from the men as I delve into a short fantasy about his demise.

There would be blood. In a world where everything was right, I would be able to crucify him by his knees and elbows. He would sob and beg, perhaps even for death.

I would make him want it.

I'm pulled away from the daydreaming haze as quickly as I had been sucked in. "What'd he do to you?" Robert asks me, curious as to why I'd want the man dead.

I shrug, brushing it off. "Eh, he just has it out for me." That was pretty much it. He wanted me dead, so I had to want him dead. It was only fair.

Roy seems to smile, knowing vaguely what I had done. "Remind me again-"

"Screwed his bottom girl. His right hand man, Wyatt, too. Same occasion." I had no shame, regardless of the fact that I was stood in front of my closest friend's father. Really, I deemed it to be a subtle brag.

Roy chuckles slightly, proudly assuring, "That's it!"

When I look to Robert, his eyes are wide, his face beet red. I jerk my chin toward him, briefly apologizing, "Sorry about that. Anyways..." I look back and forth at the men. "We kill him, and that can very well start a feud. Is that what we want?".

I used the term 'we' quite lightly. This had turned into a team effort now, since I was helping on the basis of being a good friend (and, more recently, for my desire to cut Smiley up into tiny pieces).

Working with Roy was familiar, and fine. What I was worried about was Robert's involvement. He had kept to himself so far, but people like these could flip in the blink of an eye. The only thing that kept him on thin ice was Roy's judgement. Surely he could be decent, if he raised a man like Roy.

"That's what he started, isn't it?" my friend shoots back, his eyes seeming to pulsate when he blinks.

He was right. What Smiley had done was a punch to the gut, and what he was hoping to get out of it was a full fledged fist fight. He just didn't expect the Slingers to come back strong.

I still don't fully agree with Roy, knowing that I should press him. My eyes land on his father as I counter, "Depends. What'd you do to him?"

"I can't remember anything big," Robert responds, and I can tell that he's being honest.

"He's not about big stuff," I educate, hoping that one of the Slingers could think of something. "You could overprice him by like 5 cents and he'd slit your throat."

Roy looks to me inquisitively, tilting his chin upwards. "So, why are you still here?" he asks. He knew damn well that a degenerate like Smiley couldn't even think about killing me. What he really wanted to know was how he had never witnessed a fight between us, since he was also aware that Smiley would still attempt to get his revenge.