by Tiana Laveen
“Where tha fuck you think you goin’? I’m still talking.”
Xzion looked up ever so subtly, his hearing tuned into the altercation. She struggled, trying desperately to twist away, to free herself from the intoxicated crack peddler. Xzion saw familiarity in her facial expression toward the brute. She seemed to know exactly who he was...but he didn’t recognize her—treated her like a stranger off the street. Xzion stood in the back of the small crowd and watched the scene play out.
Get your goddamn hands off of her...
He stared at her a bit too long, his eye twitching. Crossing his arms, he briefly turned away, but still listened to the entire exchange. He felt himself getting rather annoyed, but wasn’t certain as to why. One thing he knew for sure though was that she was a cop—though everyone else seemed oblivious to it. He had a way of ‘sniffing’ people like her out. After all of this time, Xzion had a knack for picking them out of a crowd. They moved and acted a certain way—even undercover as this one clearly was. While she danced on the stage, he wasn’t sure, but after he looked at her more closely, he was certain of it. It was imperative he not make direct eye contact with her; he didn’t need anyone derailing his procedures now that he was on to plan B due to the impromptu outdoors meeting…but he was ready. His train of thought fizzled as someone else burst through the glittery bejeweled drape.
A large, bald man with skin so pale, it made snow look tanned, emerged from behind the gold and purple beaded curtain. It clanked together loudly around him as he reached out his weighty hands toward the crowd of men. His triple chin masked his neck with the jowls hanging low, pulling the ends of his scraggy lips downward as if they were partially melted like pink candle wax. Everyone knew who he was—the owner, head of security and the wrong mothafucka to mess with. Aries Antigo.
“Preacher, do me a favor,” Aries’ low, scratchy voice eddied amongst them as he pushed the man’s shoulder, forcing him to step back. “Leave the new girls alone before you scare ’em away. I don’t mess with your business, don’t mess with mine.”
Carter grinned sheepishly. “Aww, Aries, it’s cool! She is new, huh? I thought so.” He ran his thick tongue over his upper lip. “I was just tryna see if she was interested in a professional proposition. I like helping people, especially good-lookin’ women.” He shot dagger eyes at her, making it clear he wanted to smack her so hard she’d forget her damn name, but it was too late—Aries would ensure that with one more false move would come dire consequences.
“She has all the business she needs right here.” The big man opened his black sports jacket, revealing two sparkling revolvers. The two men had a business arrangement, to stay out of each other’s way. Carter brought in money; Aries protected the entertainment and allowed him to stay strapped, as well as take care of his unscrupulous underhanded antics. The two men stared at one another until finally, Carter pushed past him through the beaded curtain.
“Fuck that bitch. You missin’ out!” he called out with a stiff laugh as he stomped through, his legs bending almost as if each step were a choreographed dance.
Xzion stayed closed behind, shoving his hands into his pockets as they continued on their way out of the club. Slicky turned and looked back at Xzion, grinning from ear to ear like a little kid devouring a stolen piece of candy. The man dipped to the side of Carter as they exited out the back of the building into a narrow trash-filled alleyway. Xzion followed close behind as they passed two more buildings, then a walkway that led into an open lot with a smattering of parked cars. The cold air ran through the crew, causing them to immediately zip up their outerwear. Xzion was, for once as of late, quite comfortable in the brisk winds. The sound of a trashcan being toppled over startled some of the men, causing them to immediately brandish their guns. Upon closer inspection, a homeless man clothed in a dirty tan sweater three times too large stumbled past them, holding onto a bunched brown paper bag with the slick, green neck of a wine bottle poked out.
“Now, I gotta make sure you ain’t no fuckin’ cop, a damn snitch,” Carter said after the homeless man rounded the corner. He snapped his fingers, prompting two of the men in the pack to search him once again for weapons and taps. They roughly ran their hands up and down his body, slapping his ankles, chest, and back, and removing his wallet, obviously not trusting the customary club pat-downs. Slinky took the wallet from one of his friends, and flipped through it.
“He clean. Ain’t shit in here, either.”
“Where is your supply at?’
“I can’t tell you that.” Xzion laughed. “That is for me to know. You just tell me how much you need, and I’ll get it. You already know, I’ve shown myself, made myself clear. You want to ride with me? I’ve got the inside track.”
“Do ya now?” Carter asked, as he grimaced. “You are saying all the right shit, but I don’t trust you. I understand you approached one of my men here with the proposition. Saw him hustling on the street. No one does shit like that—ain’t no damn cocaine fairies in D.C., man! You givin’ away snow fuh free, now? Is that your game plan? Treating me and my guys like fiends or tricks? Just enough to get us hooked on your supply—got the base heads coming over and over. Is that how this works?”
“Nah, nothing like that.” Xzion leaned casually against the graffiti covered wall of the drab gray textile building, the only light coming from the glowing crescent moon and a couple of cellphones. “I like it here in your spot. There’s opportunities and you are the best of the best. I’ve done my research. I want to be down, but in this world, you have to give something to get something. I understand that completely.”
Carter hesitated then grinned, nodding in approval of the syrupy words spoken.
“Tell me your run down, your plan. What’s next, mothafucka...”
Xzion nodded and clasped his hands together. “I buy wholesale.”
“No shit. Who the fuck doesn’t?”
“I need you to shut the fuck up and let me finish my point. Do you want to know the answer or not?” Xzion’s voice rose as he cut the air with his hand and his dark brows bunched.
Carter pushed Slicky out the way and grabbed Xzion by his leather coat collar.
“Don’t get tough!” he said between gritted teeth. “I’ll blow yo’ foreign motha fuckin’ ass away!”
“I sell retail,” Xzion said coolly. He understood Carter down to his basic core. The man was emotional, didn’t have a tight grasp on how to control himself—only others. A man easily played, but a loose canyon. He was too big on the food chain to pass up; he had to be dethroned and it was long overdue. An intricate part of the shake-down, he grated Xzion’s last nerves, making the prospect of killing him all the more tantalizing.
Xzion couldn’t let himself be walked on; then, Carter would be even more suspicious than he already was. He needed to show that he could only be pushed so far, not willing to lose face just to get on. Undercover cops sometimes made this mistake and it would end up costing them their lives. They’d never be heard from or seen again…vanished in the blink of an eye.
“Gimme your breakdown for your weed trade. I tried some of the shit too. Had some of yours... It’s primo.”
Xzion smiled. “I know. I’m glad you liked it. That was just my appetizer.” Carter let him go, but kept his face only a couple of inches away, his cigarette and alcohol laden breath strong and sickening.
“The reefer is easy. I do low scale, about four ounces, equaling one hundred and twelve grams. At five dollars a gram, you’ve got yourself five hundred and sixty bucks. So, just like that, I turn the two hundred investment into a profit of three hundred dollars per quarter pound...but of course, we are dealing with bigger fish to fry than that.”
Xzion let the words linger in the air, wetting Carter’s appetite, getting the man all gooey in his grip, lusting for the pending money train that approached—at least in his mind, before he wiped the stripper beating vermin from the face of the Earth.
“I just invested $40,000.00. At ten bucks a pop,
I’ve already received $60,000.00 back, $20,000 profit. I just reinvested it, and in a day or two, my shipment will be right back in.”
“Yeah, that’s what’s up!” one of the men chimed in, greed in his smiling eyes.
Xzion pressed his back against the wall and watched Carter work his tongue around in his mouth. Carter shoved his hand in his pocket, removing a small bag containing an assortment of drug paraphernalia. Xzion narrowed his eyes as he realized he’d be going through the same thing he’d gone through so many times in Columbia—a forced hit, ingesting the shit to prove yourself on the up and up. If you weren’t down, this is the part where you wouldn’t make it back home. Carter lit the pipe and shoved it in Xzion’s face. He took it and without hesitation, deeply inhaled, making the glass glow bright orange and heat like a Halloween lantern. His eyes turned to sooty slits and he went through his mundane routine of pretending to feel the buzz, and being high...Truth was, Xzion couldn’t get high. He was completely immune to it. It did nothing but leave a bad taste in his mouth.
Carter and his crew watched the antics, laughing and pointing. They’d laced the crack with meth not realizing it may as well have been candied sprinkles atop a vanilla school bakery cupcake.
“You feel tha power, man! Now tell us where the fuck you get the Rich White Girl at?!”
“My...supply is secret,” Xzion hissed, pretending to be falling further under the influence.
“Yo! Let’s roll out to this mothafucka’s crib!” Carter yelled, jerking him up by his collar once more.
Xzion continued to play along, dragging his feet as Carter dragged him further down the liter-filled alleyway, the pack of howling men close behind.
I can’t let them take me anywhere else. I need a controlled environment. I’ll have to do the hit right here.
He quickly looked around, assessing his surroundings.
No one around, no witnesses—perfect.
“Yo, motha fucka, you feelin’ alright?” Carter burst into screams of joy, yelling at the top of his lungs. “Yeah, we goin’ to ya house mothafucka, gonna take that load off ya.”
The men now stood by three cars, parked one behind the other. Xzion slid lazily on the passenger side door, keeping his lids low as he continued to play the role, and play it well. The dazzling shimmery green paint job on the Cadillac ATS sparkled as a thin layer of snow covered portions of it.
“Put that mothafucka in the damn car. After you give us a few more... free samples, then we’ll talk to you again about joining up. This is yo’ initiation!” He laughed even harder.
Go ahead, laugh your last laugh…
Xzion was abruptly pushed out the way and ushered toward the back seat. His right eye blinked, initializing the sequence of things to come.
Suddenly, he stood erect and craned his neck in Slicky’s direction.
System...Engaged...
He pushed one of the men down.
“Hey man! What tha fuck you doin’?” the guy called out as he hit the pebble covered pavement.
Pulling up his sleeve, Xzion pushed hard on his wrist and gritted his teeth as he raced toward Slicky at full speed.
“Ahhhh! He got somethin’! He strapped!!!” one of the men yelled before the scene turned into a war zone.
Shots rang out from all directions as Xzion glided across the gritty, semi-desolate landscape at warp speed. The bullets skidded toward him, barreling right at his torso and head. Falling low to the ground, he maneuvered like a snake, his back and chest now fully exposed as his shirt lay in shreds like ripped wrapping paper. Rising quickly, he did the unthinkable. Flesh cutting lasers emitted from his eye like vibrant red octopus legs, the waves gyrating like a Ferris wheel, cutting, slicing and dicing the men in half within seconds. His internal computers shot information and updates within seconds:
Target 1, eliminated. Target 2, eliminated. Target 3, eliminated....and so it went...
He looked up. At a mere glance, they looked still alive, their eyes and their mouths wide open. The upper portion of their bodies slid off the bottom, like children’s blocks that had been toppled from a misguided bump of a clumsy hip. Finally, one by one like dominoes the legs fell to the ground, too, joining the graveyard of freshly cut torsos. Cleanly divided and horrifically displayed. The one man near the car got to his feet, backing up in horror as the two made eye contact. Xzion sneered, cocked his head to the side and let the red light illuminate the terrified man’s frame...
Mission Complete...
Xzion took a deep breath and checked the time. He walked over to each body and waited as a long serrated piece of sharp metal emerged from his eye. Slicing through the warm corpses’ necks, he left his insignia. He pulled his hat further down, lit a joint and walked casually back to his parked car. As with all of the narcotics, alcohol and other methods employed to leave oneself behind, the weed did nothing for him—he just wanted to look relaxed, inconspicuous…part of his disguise. Sooner rather than later, he was sure, the five men would be discovered and mayhem would break loose—a swarm of police cars, followed by news coverage of the grizzly, unexplained murders. He’d kept a low profile, never looking any of the staff in the eye at the nearby club and they’d soon find out that all of the security cameras had nothing but static...
This shit is almost too easy...fuckin’ morons and clowns—all of them.
He placed his car keys in the ignition and hurried home to take another ice cube bath, this time, also filled with copious amounts of vodka, just for the hell of it...
****
Jayme sat in the dressing room and snatched her red wig off, laying it on the lipstick covered vanity. Annoyance didn’t come close to how she felt due to having to be the dancer tonight. Leah had called in. Typically, Officer Knight worked behind the scenes on these busts. She’d burst through the doors after the deal was made, dressed in her police uniform, hair pulled back and a look of satisfaction on her face as she hauled their asses in. Instead, she was the girl on the stripper pole tonight and she sucked at it, though she’d tried her very best. It obviously was convincing enough to warrant her a G-string full of money, despite her resistance to completely bare it all.
I’ll donate that to the orphanage...
With the help of theatrical make-up from a friend, she’d transformed herself and no one, not even the guys she busted on a monthly basis, knew who the hell she was. Her high school drama class was finally paying off after all of these years, too. She smiled at her conniving ways as she ran her fingers through her messy shoulder length spirals that had been bobby-pinned in place. After removing the pins, her fingers nimbly worked over her scalp and she closed her eyes in relief. At this time, 2:07 in the morning, her shift was over but the crowd didn’t leave for another hour. It would be good to go home early that night for a change. She rubbed her wrist where Carter had squeezed her.
The girls at Club Ecstasy were more than shaking their ass; they were being shaken down by in-store pimps and local drug dealers and Aries, under police pressure, allowed the cops inside to observe and seize. He wouldn’t be arrested for the illegal gambling and other extracurricular activities as long as he cooperated. Jayme had been on the case for two weeks and she’d had her fill of it already. She’d already dodged several bullets for ‘after hour’ favors that night and knew the scene was already getting hot. The pimps continued to solicit her throughout the evening and if it weren’t for Aries, she would have been attacked…well, that is at least how she played it—the helpless young lady just trying to make ends meet. Fact of the matter was, Jayme had been trapping pussy hungry johns, high-class madams and repulsive flesh mongers since her inception into the seventh district, working the nightlife sex scene as one of D.C.’s finest.
She knew the streets frontwards and backwards; it was where she’d grown up after all, and the people respected her. That made her a star amongst a few. Leaning forward, she looked into the smudged mirror and removed the false eyelashes. As she settled into her chair, she heard one of the g
irls, Marissa, moving in back of her.
“Hey Marissa, what are you still doing here? I thought you left early tonight, too.”
“I forgot my bag.” The woman looked around then spotted it and grabbed it. “The police are up the street and the coroner car, too.” She shook her head. “Ain’t no tellin’ what has happened now. It’s always something over here. Part of the road is blocked off too, so don’t go back by Kennedy Road.”
Jayme’s curiosity sparked, but she was too tired to grab her cell and race into the bathroom. Also, she couldn’t race up the block like she was running the show; she was still undercover after all. Besides, she was here for another case altogether. Later, she’d find out what all the hubbub was about—another drug deal gone bad no doubt.
“I gotta party for some guys from Albania later.” The woman chuckled. “This should be some good money. These guys are loaded.”
Jayme watched as Marissa, a petite, large breasted Guatemalan, dug in her hot pink carrier. Boxes of condoms, a stick of deodorant and a tube of lubricant spilled out onto the floor. She retrieved them and grabbed an outfit, glanced at it, then placed all the items back inside. None the wiser—she had no idea that she was in the presence of an undercover cop. Besides, Aries had vouched for Jayme, and it more than likely never even crossed the woman’s mind.
“Yup, everything is here.” She sighed and made her way toward the door. “Goodnight, Victoria.”
“Same to you...oh, and be careful, Marissa,” Jayme warned with a weak smile. She’d selected the name Victoria for this case, hoping to be victorious when it was all said and done. All of her pennames had hidden meanings, ones to encourage her during times when she wanted to simply say ‘fuck it’ and go back to petty mall thieves and ten dollar Mary Jane deals.
“Always!” Marissa grinned while leaving the dressing room. Jayme knew that smile—a deceptive one. The same old ‘happy face’ of a woman whose life was so troubled, she’d accepted that this was her lot in life—to be on her back, to be used for what was between her legs and she may as well accept it, as gracefully as possible, that she was nothing more than paid pussy.
