The Block

by Treasure Hernandez

  “What about Detective Abraham?” Ice-T asked.

  “Bitch-ass nigga went running and hiding behind a car like a scared little bitch.” Nut gave another soldier dap.

  “I knew he was a bitch,” Ice-T said, shaking his head. “He try to act up again, and I’ma need you to finish him off, straight up.”

  “I got you.” Nut noticed mad police cars pulling up in front of the porch. “Everybody clean?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Ice-T replied. “It’s just two AK’s over there on the side of the porch. One of the soldiers can hold that down, though.” Ice-T watched Detective Abraham lead the pack toward the house.

  Detective Abraham yelled, “Everybody down on the ground!”

  Ice-T and his crew didn’t budge.

  “Get on the ground for what?” one of the soldiers asked.

  Immediately, Detective Abraham broke his jaw with the butt of his .44. “I said, ‘Everybody on the fuckin’ ground!’” he yelled again, and him and his fellow officers began tossing people on the ground and handcuffing them.

  When Detective Abraham reached Ice-T, he lifted him up to his feet so the two could be face to face. “That shit you pulled earlier was real cute.” Detective Abraham smiled. “The only problem is, I’m untouchable.” He head-butted Ice-T in his face then kneed him in his nuts.

  Detective Abraham smiled as he watched Ice-T melt to the ground in pain. “I see I’ma have to teach you young punks some damn respect,” he said, stomping on Ice-T’s head like he was a roach.

  Afterwards he grabbed Ice-T by his legs and dragged him off the porch and all the way to the squad car by his feet.

  “Put this piece of shit in the car and hold him downtown until I fuckin’ get there!” Detective Abraham ordered.

  Gruff got off the bus and looked at his watch. He knew something was wrong because Maxine was never late, no matter what. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed her number. Straight to voice mail. He tried again, only to get the same result.

  “Fuck!” he cursed loudly as he quickly flagged down a cab.

  He paid the cab driver and got out in front of the run-down motel where she last said she would be staying while he was gone. He pulled out one of his 9s and kicked open the room door. He stepped inside and turned on the lights. He scanned the entire room before putting away his 9. Gruff looked around and saw Maxine’s .357 sitting on the dresser. Immediately he knew she was dead, ’cause she never left her favorite gun just sitting around, unless she was only gonna be gone for a little while.

  “Muthafuckas!” Gruff said loudly. He didn’t know who did what, but he definitely was about to find out.

  Gruff pulled up in front of the corner store, where about eight guys stood. They looked like they was selling something. Gruff took one last pull of his cigarette, flicked it out the window, cocked back one of his 9s, and slid out the car. He walked up on the curb and fired two shots. His two targets dropped to the ground holding their leg, and the rest of the men ran for their lives.

  Gruff walked right up to the first man and placed the barrel to his forehead. “Who killed Maxine?” he growled.

  “Huh?”

  The last thing the man heard was the sound of Gruff’s 9 blasting. He immediately moved on to the next man. “Who killed Maxine?”

  “I don’t know no Maxine. Please don’t kill—”

  Gruff pulled the trigger—Boom!—and walked back to his car and drove off like nothing ever happened. He didn’t know who had killed his partner, but he was damn sure going to find out.

  Two days later Ice-T and his crew were finally released.

  “Hey, daddy,” one of his girls said as he slid in the passenger seat of the truck.

  “Take me home,” Ice-T said in an angry tone.

  The chick wanted to ask him was he all right, but she decided to just keep her mouth shut and do as she was told.

  As soon as Ice-T walked in his house, he walked straight over to the phone and placed a hit on Detective Abraham. “Muthafucka think he can just do shit any ol’ kinda way. He got another thing coming,” he said out loud. Detective Abraham had just messed with the wrong one.

  “Tell my man what you just told me,” Harlem said, putting the fiend on the spot in front of Young Mike.

  “I heard through the grapevine that Gruff out here looking for the person who killed his lady friend,” Malcolm reported.

  “Who the fuck told you that shit?” Young Mike asked, not believing the drug addict standing in front of him.

  “I was in the store trying to steal some potato chips when I heard a few shots go off,” Malcolm said. “I ran to the door and peeked out and saw him ask one of the guys who killed his friend, and when the man told him he didn’t know, he blew his head off right there in front of the store.”

  “Nigga, you sure?” Young Mike asked again. He knew fiends would say just about anything for a hit.

  “Positive, my brother,” Malcolm replied. “Now is y’all gon’ hook me up or what?”

  Young Mike reached down in his pocket and handed the fiend a ten-dollar bill. “Now get the fuck outta here!” He gave Malcolm a shove ’cause he wasn’t walking fast enough.

  “You believe that nigga?” Harlem asked.

  “Shit! I don’t know what to believe,” Young Mike said. “Just be on point, just in case.”

  “You know I stay strapped,” Harlem said, reminding his friend how he got down. “That fiend was probably lying anyway.”

  “He probably was, but what if he wasn’t?”

  “Whatever. I’m about to go get high. You rollin’?” Harlem asked.

  “Nah, I gotta go take care of a little something,” Young Mike said, giving Harlem dap, and the two men went their separate ways.

  “I don’t care how you do it, as long as it gets done,” Detective Abraham barked in the receiver of his cell phone. “The muthafucka tried to have me killed. Now it’s his turn to get put in the ground!”

  Detective Abraham stepped out the station and walked around the corner to where his car was parked and saw it burnt up. “What the fuck? This muthafucka is good.” He smiled as he examined his burnt up car. He quickly picked up his cell phone and dialed Maine’s number.

  “What up?” Maine answered.

  “Meet me downtown at our other spot in an hour,” Detective Abraham said before hanging up.

  About forty-five minutes later Maine pulled up across the street from the new stash crib. When he reached the door, he did the special code knock, and a worker opened the door and let him in.

  “What’s good, Li’l Man?” Maine said, giving the younger man dap. “How them weekly numbers been looking?”

  “They been looking wonderful,” Detective Abraham answered from over on the couch, where he was sitting. “Ever since we been getting this new product from Serena, our numbers been shooting through the roof.”

  “Speaking of numbers, I gotta go hit shorty in a few days,” Maine said, reminding himself out loud.

  “Who? Serena?” Detective Abraham asked, his face crumpled up.

  “Yeah, she is the only lead to the connect,” Maine reminded him.

  “Fuck that bitch! We gon’ short change her on this go-around.” Detective Abraham fanned the air. “We doing all the work any mu’fuckin’ way.”

  Maine asked, “But then, what if she stop getting the work for us ’cause that paper ain’t right?”

  “She ain’t gon’ trip ’cause she so in love with Tone. She won’t dare do nothing to piss him off, so basically we got this bitch in the palm of our hands,” Detective Abraham said, a wicked smile on his face.

  “Damn! But what if Tone get mad ’cause he’s getting shorted?”

  “Let me worry about all that. As long as you getting your money, what does it matter?”

  “That’s some fucked-up shit,” Maine said. “But you right—This a wolf business.”

  “Exactly. But I called you down here for something else.”

  “What’s up?”

 
“This Ice-T muthafucka is out of control, and he need to be dealt with as soon as possible.”

  “I don’t know,” Maine said, scratching his head. “That might be kind of hard. Every time he step out the house, he be at least twenty deep.”

  “I know.” Detective Abraham paused. “We going to have to find away to get at this clown, ’cause this muthafucka has to go.”

  “Give me about a week, and I’ll figure something out.” Maine looked at his watch.

  “If you don’t come up with nothing, then I’ma have to take matters into my own hands,” Detective Abraham said. “And when I do that, the shit going to get real messy.”

  Maine got up to leave. “Give me a week, and I’ll have something for you.”

  “Damn! Where you rushing off to?” Detective Abraham asked, noticing Maine kept on looking at his watch.

  “Got a super-hot date tonight with this chick I met.” Maine smiled. “All this business, I haven’t even had a chance to get no pleasure.” He winked.

  “Handle your business.” Detective Abraham gave Maine a pound, followed by a hug. “Just make sure you wrap it up.”

  “Always,” Maine replied, as he exited the stash crib.

  After making sure everything was running smoothly and all the money was right, Detective Abraham exited the stash crib. “Damn! I’m tired as fuck!” He yawned as he pulled off.

  For the entire ride home, all Detective Abraham could think about was doing harm to Ice-T. He was so caught up in his thoughts, he almost ran a red light.

  Detective Abraham cursed when he saw a bum walking up to his ride with some kind of liquid in a bottle and a dirty-looking newspaper in his hand. “Awww shit!” He hated when bums came up to his car trying to wash his windows. The bum sprayed the liquid on the windshield and began wiping away.

  “Yo, I don’t need that!” Detective Abraham yelled. “Get the fuck away from my car!” He beeped the horn so the bum could move. But the bum continued to wash the front windshield like that was his nine-to-five.

  Detective Abraham pulled out his .44 and hopped out the car. “Muthafucka, didn’t I tell you to get away from my car?” He slammed the bum on top of his hood and placed the gun to his head. He thought about pulling the trigger, until he realized the bum was his son.

  “Malcolm?” he said, releasing the strong hold he had on him.

  Malcolm struggled to get free. “Get the fuck off me!”

  “I should’ve put a fuckin’ bullet in your head and put you out your fuckin’ misery.” Detective Abraham shook his head in disgust at Malcolm. “All this money out here, and you wanna be out here getting high and shit.”

  “You got some nerve,” Malcolm said through clenched teeth. “You the one that got me hooked on this shit in the first place. I should be the one putting a bullet in your head!”

  “Testing your product and being a fiend is two different things.” Detective Abraham smirked. “You just a weak muthafucka, point-blank.”

  “Don’t you even worry about me,” Malcolm said with a smile. “My god told me everything is going to be all right, and my god is a forgiving god.”

  Detective Abraham smiled as he dug down into his pocket and pulled out two twenty bags of coke he had taken from the stash house. “Nigga, this is your god right here,” he said, holding up the two bags. “Here, take this. I know you want it, you fuckin’ junkie!”

  Malcolm walked up to his father, took the drugs from his hands, turned and walked off into the night singing an old-school gospel song.

  “Stupid-ass junkie.” Detective Abraham hopped back in his car and headed home.

  Gruff looked over at Tiger. “Let’s go handle this business.”

  The two hopped out the car and swiftly walked over to the building he was looking for. Gruff walked in the building and through the lobby toward the staircase. Tenants in the lobby waiting for the elevator quickly jumped back when they saw the big pit bull roaming free without a leash.

  Gruff hit the steps, skipping two at a time, until he reached the fifth floor. He then pulled out his twin 9 mm’s and walked to the apartment he was looking for. He aimed his 9 at the lock and pulled the trigger then came forward with a kick, forcing the door open.

  When the fat man sitting on the couch saw Gruff kick open his front door, his eyes got as big as saucers. He quickly turned to grab the pistol he always left under the cushion of the couch, but Gruff aimed his 9 and pulled the trigger.

  The fat man immediately clutched his bloody arm and rolled onto the floor. “What the fuck, man!” he yelled. “What the fuck you want from me?”

  “I know you keep your ear to the street.” Gruff slipped a cigarette between his lips. “Who killed my road dog?”

  “Who the fuck is your road dog?” the fat man asked, a confused look on his face.

  “Stop playing stupid, muthafucka!” Gruff said, his cigarette dangling with each word he spoke. “Maxine, who killed her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Gruff let a bullet rip through his thigh.

  “Awwwwww shit!” he howled in pain.

  “Last time I’ma ask you,” Gruff said, a plain look on his face. He was sick and tired of playing games with the fat man.

  “Man, I swear to God, I don’t know who did that shit, but I swear if you let me live, I’ll definitely find out for you.”

  Gruff smirked. “You gon’ find out for me?”

  “I swear to God,” the fat man said in a begging tone.

  Gruff sicced his dog on the fat man. “Get him, Tiger!” And he sat back and watched as Tiger ripped the fat man apart like it was nothing.

  Once the fat man was dead, Gruff yelled, “That’s enough!” and Tiger immediately stopped what she was doing and returned back to his master’s side. “Come on, girl, let’s go,” Gruff said, and him and Tiger exited the apartment.

  Maine and Sparkle was chilling in his living room, sipping on some wine. This was the first time he had Sparkle alone, and couldn’t wait to break her off.

  “For a minute I was thinking you wasn’t going to call me,” Sparkle said, rolling her eyes at him.

  He licked his lips. “My bad. I just been like super busy. Know what I mean?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Sparkle sucked her teeth. “Tell me anything.”

  “Don’t act like that. As sexy as you was looking at the club that night, you know you was going to get a phone call from me.”

  Sparkle crossed her legs, exposing her pretty feet. “Well, it took you long enough.”

  “All that matters is that you here now,” Maine said, undressing Sparkle with his eyes.

  “Your crib is nice. I sure wish I could get around this joint.”

  “You got it,” Maine said as he refilled both of their glasses with wine. He stood up and began giving her a tour of his crib.

  After showing Sparkle the whole house, he finally showed her the master bedroom. “Here’s where I sleep,” he said, patting the bed.

  “That bed looks mad comfortable. Maybe one day you might let me sleep on it.” She seductively sipped on her wine.

  Maine whipped out his dick. “Fuck the bullshit!”

  “Damn!” Sparkle sat her wineglass on the dresser and immediately slid down to her knees. “It’s about time.” She made sure she spread his legs wide apart, so she could really go to work on him.

  Sparkle started out licking all over Maine’s dick before she took the whole thing in her mouth. She made loud slurping noises as she sucked the shit outta his dick, using one hand to jerk his dick and the other to juggle his balls.

  Sparkle felt Maine’s dick swell up, and immediately she stopped. “No, I don’t want you to come yet, not until you feel this wet pussy.” She stood up and began wiggling out of her jeans.

  Maine just sat back on the bed and sipped on his wine as Sparkle stripped for him. Just from the way she moved on the dance floor the other night at the club, he already knew she had some good pussy.

  “Daddy, I’ma need you to taste this good p
ussy!” Sparkle lay back on the bed, her legs spread wide open.

  A perverted smile spread across Maine’s face as he quickly stripped down butt naked. He walked over to her and poured a little bit of his wine on her freshly waxed pussy and quickly sucked it off. Then he poured some more on it and repeated the process, licking and sucking all over Sparkle’s pussy like he owned it.

  Once Maine was sure she had come twice, he decided to introduce her to the back shots. He rolled on a condom and smoothly slid inside of her. Sparkle took both of her hands and spread both of her ass cheeks open, giving Maine better access to the pussy. Maine grabbed a handful of Sparkle’s hair, pulling her head back as he thrust himself in and out of her fat, wet pussy, until he exploded in the condom.

  “Damn, daddy! I ain’t know it was like that,” Sparkle said, laid across the bed butt naked and her eyes closed.

  “Damn! That was some good-ass pussy,” Maine said as he drifted off.

  Gruff sat in a car across the street from where Maxine was murdered. He turned up his bottle of Hennessy as he waited patiently for the person he was looking for to exit the club.

  An hour and a half later a big bouncer exited the club and flagged down a cab. Gruff quickly made the engine come to life with a turn of the key and followed the cab all the way to Brooklyn.

  The bouncer slid out the cab and fumbled around in his pocket for his keys.

  “Just the man I been looking for,” Gruff said, holding his 9 mm down to his side.

  The bouncer looked at the gun Gruff held in his hand, then down at the big vicious-looking pit bull. “What’s this all about?” he said nervously, throwing up his hands in surrender.

  “I’ll ask all the questions.” Gruff moved in closer. “Open the mu’fuckin’ door!” He pushed the big man through the lobby door. “What floor you live on?”

  “The third.”

  When they reached the bouncer’s apartment, Gruff put a bullet in his leg and watched the big man drop like a tree.