And as soon as he got back to his place, he was going to clean off the scent of the last chick off of him and consummate the relationship that he was positive that he was ready to start with Keisha.
SEVEN
A lone, luminous full moon shined as bright as the morning sun outside as a layer of dense fog permeated, hovering like gray smoke in the murky, dark night. An occasional car passed with its headlights illuminating through the night with placid white. A dog barked in the distance next to a house; Mase had carefully positioned himself in the adjourning bushes, outside the parking lot of the hotel that Trigga was staying in.
Too much of a coward, Mase couldn’t gather enough courage to come at a time when he thought Trigga was awake and would be expected him. Instead he decided to ‘creep him’, he wanted to sneak in and catch Trigga off-guard so he could shoot him in the back or in his sleep. That way he wouldn’t have to look his brother in his eyes when he did what he’d come to do.
He was watching and waiting for the perfect moment to do the inevitable. This would be his renewed version of Cain and Abel. This was the revenge he had been seeking ever since he could remember how to hate his own flesh and blood. The anxiety of it all quickened his heart to beat so fast he had to take in a tiny sip of air to contain his breathing. For some reason he had an erection as he shifted his bag of goodies from one hand to the other, making the metallic objects inside cling.
A flash of light illuminated from his brother’s hotel room window, causing him to squint his eyes to get a better look as the rain pelted his face. For some reason the dog had stopped barking and was now growling as Mase continued to back up to get a better view of the shadows moving in the window.
Vaguely, Mase could make out the willowy silhouettes of bodies.
Two people?
He stood perplexed. He wasn’t prepared to murder two people. Maybe his brother was in the room with one of them pretty thick, stripper bitches, the kind Trigga used to bring back to the crib when they use to share a condo together. It was before his brother kicked him out accusing him of stealing a couple of his girlfriend’s panties. So what Mase liked to sniff panties? He had never stolen them. All six pair of panties he found had been in the dirty clothes hamper. One time the chick walked in on him sniffing a pair while rubbing the other against his pelvis. She slugged him so hard that, when he came to consciousness, it felt like the blow she hit him with had actually helped one of his severely crooked tooth turn in the right direction.
Mase took another step back just as he thought he saw his brother removing the female’s blouse in the shadow of the window. The nigga was about to get him some action. A crooked smile crossed Mase’s face but it dropped when he heard the snarling of a vicious dog right behind him. He turned suddenly and his eyes fell upon a big ass Rottweiler.
“Lawd, Jesus… n…n… nice doggy,” Mase muttered and felt a drop of piss threatening to spill out into his pants.
Just as the dog leaped for his throat, Mase was able to thrust the heavy duffle bag with the tools at the animal’s massive mouth. He took off like a track-star across the parking lot with the dog momentarily dazed but in hot pursuit, barking and biting at his heels. Mase dove on top of a car but not before the dog was able to take a chunk out of his leg.
“Owwwch! Shit! Fuck!” Mase kicked and thrashed trying to fight off the attack. He reached in the duffle bag and pulled out a gun, then aimed at the dog.
Then things suddenly took a turn for the worse.
An old white security guard, an ex-military veteran still suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder after serving in Afghanistan in 1979, heard the commotion and came around in an old rickety golf-cart. Seeing Mase with a gun in the air, he sucked in a breath and immediately came up from the hip with an old ancient 45. Colt revolver. He aimed it at Mase just as he had been trained and shot for the assailant’s head. He had survived a tour of duty in the Afghanistan and damn sure wasn’t going be back on American soil and be murdered.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Miraculously, the bullets barely missed Mase head by a ninth of an inch and, at the same time, frightened the dog off. Mase leaped from the hood of the car and took off running around the building.
“Why you running you coward?!” the security guard exclaimed winded, while reloading the gun.
***
This had to be one of the worse days of his life, Mase was thinking as he watched the last cruiser police car leave the hotel hours after the security guard had attacked him.
The security guard most have filed some type of report, Mase reasoned as he sat hunched down across the street in a rented black Dodge Charger.
The damn dog had bitten a nice-sized chuck out his leg causing Mase to use a piece of his t-shirt to stop the bleeding. But still it hurt like hell and he prayed the dog didn’t have rabies. The last thing he needed was to start foaming out the mouth and go crazy.
After watching the last cruiser drive away, Mase hopped out the car with the duffle bag in his hand. He had already changed into a leather jacket and New York fitted cap. He dashed across the street and walked right up and tried the door, of course it was locked. He feigned being disgusted which wasn’t hard to do as he patted his pockets like he was looking for his keycard. Then out of nowhere he heard a familiar sound he would never forget, it was the fuckin’ rickety as golf-cart.
Suddenly a car came to a stop behind him as the security cart approached. Mase pulled the cap down over his eyes and prayed like a muthafucka the old dude would keep it moving.
He didn’t.
“Can help you?” the security guard asked with his thick long gnarly eyebrows raised. His skin was pale white as a sheet. He kept his hand on his holster.
“I’m stayin’ here,” Mase lied with his eyes casted down at the ground. His heart was pounding so fast in his chest it felt like it was going to explode. Then Mase thought of something. He had a banger concealed in the duffle bag.
“What room you stayin’ in?” the security guard asked trying to get a good look at Mase’s face under the cap. His voice was dry as sandpaper.
“The penthouse,” Mase lied, giving the room that Trigga was in.
“I thought I saw you and a pretty girl go up there hours ago? Or was that yesterday?” he pondered and scratched his bald head.
“Yeah, dat was me,” Mase lied and shuffled his feet.
Just then a car door slammed. A white man wearing a trench raincoat and a wide brim hat got out a cab and walked up carrying a briefcase.
“Howdy, gentlemen,” he said with a nod of his head and proceeded to install his keycard in the door.
He walked in and so did Mase. Through his peripheral he could see the security guard staring at him but Mase paid him no attention as long as he would leave him alone. Mase got on the elevator and entered the code to go to the penthouse. It opened right into Trigga’s room, but from what Mase had seen earlier, Trigga was having fun in the bedroom, which was clear across the room from the elevator and down the hall. It would allow Mase to come in without being seen or heard.
The elevator doors opened and Mase began to get excited. In the dim of darkness his heart begun to beat faster as he reached into the bag there was everything you could ever imagine.
As he groped in the darkness, his foot bumped into something making a loud noise. He stopped and listened as his heartbeat quickened like a small typhoon. There was no doubt in his mind that if his brother, a light sleeper, caught some shadowy figure creeping around in his hotel room he wouldn’t hesitate to blow them to smithereens.
His first mind was telling him to Stop! Abandon the mission! But he wouldn’t listen, it was a crucial mistake he would regret later.
Then Mase thought he heard something in the darkness. He detected movement. The click of a gun? He stopped perfectly still. After waiting, all he heard was music, this time clearer. The radio was on V-103, The Quiet Storm. Mase continued to creep along the wall.
In mid-stride, Mase s
topped, his hand was shaking like a leaf on a tree as he moved the gun to his other hand and reached for his phone. There was a small flashlight built inside of it.
Perfect for the occasion, he reasoned as his heart continued to quake in chest like a small typhoon.
He turned on the small flashlight and it stabbed at the darkness in a phosphorescent glow like he’d seen in them spooky paranormal movies he enjoyed so much where they cut up people. Like he was about to do.
A skinny beam of light caught on to something stewed on the floor. It looked like a pair of old crusty woman underwear? Then there were other clothes thrown throughout the suite. Shoes, shirt, a blouse a bra.
He continued to walk. He saw the bedroom door only a few feet away slightly ajar. His heart beat faster as he opened it and the fetid stench of sex hit him in the face hard. There was Trigga and some female lying on the bed with the covers up almost over their heads. More clothes were strewn across the room.
Gingerly Mase took timid steps, he aimed the gun at the back of his brother’s head. He could barely keep his composure. He would shoot Trigga in the head killing him instantly, burn him beyond recognition and take his body to Queen, playing it off as Lloyd’s. The chick had to go, too. He couldn’t leave any loose ends.
Leaning forward, as an old Whitney Houston song played on the radio, he placed the gun to the back of the head and hesitated.
This is my brother, my own flesh and blood, he thought.
A piece of him felt unsure of what he was about to do. Then he thought about all the times their mom favored Trigga over him and punished him for not being the ‘good son’. Everyone favored Trigga…even that bitch Queen. She would get hers, too. But, first, Trigga had to pay.
Pop! Pop!
The gun jerked in his hand as what looked like orange balls of fire exploded from the muzzle. He had a silencer on the end so it barely made a sound as the bullets embedded themselves in the skull.
Then to Mase’s utter shock, the woman in the bed sprung up like a Jack N’ the Box. Her face looked old and weary with her hair splayed everywhere on her head, untamed. She began to scream to the top of her lungs. Mase attempted to silence her with the hatchet he had in his other hand. He swung so hard the sound of the hatchet missing her scalp whistled in the air.
With the adroitness of a young woman, she ducked all three times Mase tried to assault her with the hatchel as she continued to scream what sounded like bloodcurdling shrills. Finally, Mase had enough and he lifted the gun, steadied his aim and fired at her. She knocked over a lamp on the nightstand and keeled over on the floor. The bullets struck her in the head, the chest and the lower torso. Things were definitely not going as planned.
Then his worst nightmare came true. In the pre-dawn of shallow light coming from the bedroom window, he could see a shadow as the bedroom door swung open. A barrage of shots rang out catching Mase completely by surprise. It dawned on him too late that the old ass security guard had been on to him from the beginning. As Mase stalked he was also being stalked.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
POP! POP!
Shots rung out from close-range as Mase fired back as if on a suicide mission. The old dude dropped after being shot and Mass leaped over him to run out. He was positive the security guard had called back-up and he needed to get out before it was too late. Just as he took off running, another shot was fired, hitting him in the ass. The surge of white heat nearly flopped Mase as he stumbled and barely managed to keep his balance.
“I think I got’em! Got him with one of my special Marine bullets! HOO-RAH!” he heard the old security guard exclaim as he lay on the floor.
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