Brick (Double Dippin') (32 page)

I want to cry, but my tear ducts are fucked up. Instead of tears, blood trickles from my eyes. I’m bleeding all over. I can feel sticky warm blood oozing from the top of my foot and seeping down into the sole of my shoe. My pant legs are sopping wet from a mixture of urine and blood. The stench wafts up to my nostrils.

Despite the circumstances, my will to survive is stronger than ever. I refuse to go out like this. I muster strength, twisting and struggling to break free from the chain that holds me.

“Should we leave him here…let him bleed out, or should I finish him off?” the crazy chick asks in a matter-of-fact tone.

“That’s your call,” the dude says. They’re conversing in calm tones like they’re discussing the weather.

I grunt and flail. Long, frantic minutes go by. Suddenly, the tape is ripped from my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I say in a coarse, agonized whisper.

The girl pushes the barrel of the gun to my lips. “Suck it. Like it’s a juicy dick. Wet it up; I wanna see a lot of slobber.” Her voice is husky, seductive, and vicious. “Do it right and I’ll let you live.”

Hope ignites like blazing fire. I’m gon’ live. I’m about to get out of this jam. I submit like a bitch, and suck the hot barrel. I put my heart into it, sucking like it’s the sweetest dick I ever tasted.

She taunts me, slowly pulling and pushing the barrel in and out of my mouth. Desperate to please her, I lick up and down the barrel, trying to work up some saliva. Then it dawns on me; she’s saying the exact words I said to her mother. I gulp, refusing to believe karma is in action. This is merely a coincidence.

“Suck it!” she yells, and then the nutty broad rams the barrel down my throat.

I choke, cough, and gag, putting a terrible strain on my injured eyeballs. She’s getting entirely too rough with the pistol, yanking
it around so harshly, it clanks against my teeth. As if aroused by the sound of metal against teeth, she pulls the barrel out and bangs my mouth with the handle of the gun. My lips split and multiple teeth crunch and crack. Tooth fragments float in blood and mucous that pools inside my mouth. I try to spit the teeth out but I can’t. My lips are swollen and busted.

“So what’s the verdict? We gotta get out of here,” Brick says.

I’m somewhat in a daze, but I’m alert enough to know that I don’t want to die. I moan for them to please forgive me.

“I still have some bullets left.”

“All right. Use ’em. Put a bullet between his eyes, and it’s a wrap for ol’ boy. But I’m not disposing of his worthless body.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not hurting my back, carrying dead weight. He can hang right where he’s at.”

“But his body is evidence,” the chick says, sounding alarmed.

Body!
I wish they’d stop referring to me as a body. Goddamn! I’m still alive and kicking and I plan to stay this way.

“There won’t be any evidence after the rats get through with his remains.”

“Rats! You told me there were only mice in here,” she says in a high-pitched voice.

“Fuck if I know what’s running around in here. Rats…mice…a little bit of everything. I’m ready to roll out. This place stinks. And that killer is adding to the stench.”

“I know, right? He’s reeking of piss and blood,” the cunt says. “I’ma need a long, hot shower to get his smell off of me.”

Are those two cold-blooded killers seriously gon’ let me hang on this chain until rats find me? Don’t leave me in here!
I scream in my head.

At that precise moment, I desire a quick death more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Sex and money…the two things I’ve
cherished most in life, don’t mean shit to me. If my lips weren’t swollen up and my teeth knocked out, I’d yell out the truth to those two crazies: “I’m still a menace to society. I might strike again if you don’t give me a bullet to the dome!”

More shots ring out in quick succession.
Ah! Shit! Ow!
My thigh, my hand, and my stomach are hit. I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate this trigger-happy bitch!

“Good job, Anya,” Brick says, praising the slut. “Aye, we out. Ol’ boy can hang in here with the sewage and the vermin.”

I hear their footsteps as they hurry away. The door creaks open and then closes.

Leaking blood, I pass out.

I wake up but my eyes can’t see anything. There’s only darkness and silence. I don’t know if I’m dead or alive. Waves of pain inform me that I’m still alive. Head to toe, every part of my body is hurting; especially my stomach. That broad shot me in the gut. I’m still hooked up by a chain. But I refuse to go out like this. Somebody had to hear all that gunfire. A rescue team is gonna be here any minute to take me to the hospital.

I feel something crawling on my sneaker. A rat?
Aw, shit. Come on; don’t do this to me!
Nah, it ain’t no rat. It’s something small. I wiggle my foot, tryna get it off of me. That sucker runs inside my sneaker…moving all crazy, squeezing down into the sole of my sneaker. I wish it was like an insect or something, but I can tell that there’s a little-ass mouse, fucking around inside my sneaker.

I shake my foot, hoping to knock my sneaker off, but my laces are tied tight and my sneaker’s not budging.

Oh, my God, I feel two more mice, burrowing into each side
of my sneaker. Now there’s a swarm of them nasty suckers, squirming around, fighting to get in.

Some are crawling up my pant legs now.
God, help me. I don’t deserve this.
They’re slithering into the holes on the knees of my pants. Hordes of mice are crawling all over me. I can’t get ’em off. They’re nibbling and biting on my wounds. They’re feasting on my foot, my kneecaps, and my stomach.

Aye, I’ve had enough of this crap. For real, I’m not playing.
Do you hear me, God! Take me! I’ve had it. I’m ready to die!

God isn’t listening to me. I must be in hell. Something large and menacing is moving at a fast and determined pace. Sharp claws dig into my skin as this thing…this… I know what it is, but I don’t wanna say it. This fat fucker is clinging to my shirt as it chews on the open wound on my shoulder—razor-sharp teeth taking bites.

Oh, fuck. It’s moving to my face.
Get the fuck off me. Shit, shit, shit. A big-ass rat is fucking with my face, gnawing on my bloody eyeball.

As death finally claims me, I feel great relief. My life flashes before me. Childhood days. My first kiss. Cruelty to animals. Stealing money from my mom’s purse. Gang-banging. Carjacking. Rape and murder. Prison life. When I finally get to my last moment in life, I’m ready to meet my Maker, but there’s a click and a freeze-frame.

Nooo!
I’m not going forward. I’m trapped in the warehouse. Stuck with the horrible sensations of rodents nibbling on me. I cry out in outrage and pain, my voice seeming to echo throughout eternity. I plead and wail as I wait for a benevolent God to please have mercy on me.

I
n the cover of night, Brick lurked in the shadows, watching and waiting. He knew that a mama’s boy like Cash Money couldn’t go very long without seeing his mother. Brick smiled when he saw the scrawny dude slip out the back door.

With his cap pulled down, Cash Money trotted down the dark alleyway.

Brick was parked at the foot of the alley. When Cash Money drew close, Brick stepped outside his nondescript, dark car.

“What’s good, Cash Money? What it do, man?” Brick smiled.

Cash Money stopped in his tracks. He grimaced and jerked his shoulders in agitation. “Fuck! Not you again! Come on, man. I told you everything I know.”

“Let’s take a ride. I got some more questions to ask you.”

Cash Money made a quick motion, preparing to make a run for it. Brick zapped him, and then threw his spastic, lanky body into the back seat of the car.

“Fuck you do that for?” Cash Money groused after he stopped quivering.

“We can do this the easy way or I can go hard. It’s up to you.”

“I got enough problems. Why you keep fucking with me? You took my phone. What more do you want from me?”

“There wasn’t shit in that phone that was helpful, except your mother’s number. Yo, I got my tools on me this time. They in
the trunk. A brand new collection of interesting weapons…all designed to produce pain. And a slow death.”

Cash Money groaned.

“I wonder how long your lil’ frail ass will linger after I start working on you?” Brick shook his head grimly. “Probably not long. It don’t seem like you’re built to last, but I’ll figure out a way to prolong your life and make you suffer.”

“I told you everything. What else do you wanna know?”

“I been all through your cell; and I’m coming up with blanks. No leads to Smash Hitz.”

“Ain’t no numbers for him in my phone because I’m tryna steer clear of that psycho.”

“Where’d she meet Spydah?”

“The hotel where he was staying when he did a show in Philly.”

“I can’t picture Misty hanging out at a hotel tryna rub shoulders with a celebrity.”

“I was with her when she met Spydah. She was chasing that paper. One of the dudes that worked for her put her on with Spydah.”

“What dude?”

“Man, I don’t remember. Misty had a revolving door of niggas that worked for her and some of ’em lived with her at the apartment. Dudes named Sailor, Izell, Lennox, and Horatio. But they’re all from outta town. I don’t know how to get in touch any of ’em.”

Brick scowled at that information. “Okay, back to Spydah. Is he on the down low? Was he looking for a dude to trick with?”

“Nah, he didn’t even know the extent of what Misty was into. That night she met him, he wanted ten groupies to come through and entertain him and his crew.”

“Misty don’t fuck with females, so how did she find ten groupies?”

“She called a stripper that used to work for her. The chick’s
name is Felice. Felice called on some of her stripper friends and they came to the hotel, expecting to get paid a certain amount.”

“Okay. Any reason why I should consider the stripper chick as a suspect?”

Cash Money scratched his head. “Now that I think about it…yeah. Felice ended up having beef with Misty.”

“What happened?”

“Felice brought the other strippers. Misty told her that she would pay Felice and all the girls—”

“Hold up! Why would Misty offer to pay for Spydah’s strippers?”

“Spydah didn’t request strippers. He wanted free pussy from groupies. And since Misty wanted to get close to Spydah, she offered to pay the chicks.”

“That don’t even sound like Misty…getting chicks together in order to rub elbows with a celebrity.”

“Misty wasn’t interested in Spydah. She only used him to get to the big man…Smash Hitz.”

Brick nodded. Now
that
sounded more like Misty. She was always scheming and looking at the big picture. “Aye, so what happened with the strippers?”

“It was all good. Everybody had a good time. Then, the next morning, Felice was blowing up Misty’s phone, but Misty wouldn’t take her calls.”

Felice?
The name wasn’t familiar. Brick frowned, trying to think back to his days with Misty. She had one female working for her, but the name Felice didn’t ring any bells.

“Felice dances under the name Juicy. Her pussy is fat, man. Real swolled up, like a piece of ripe fruit.” Cash Money closed his eyes in fond reminiscence.

Juicy! Yeah, I remember that name.
Now shit was finally starting to add up. Misty did have a hooker named Juicy selling pussy for
her once upon a time. Misty posted the chick’s fat pussy up on her website, and customers were feening to get between those big, juicy lips. Brick frowned as he recalled the incriminating pictures of himself that he’d allowed Misty to post online.

“Misty promised the stripper chick a lot more dough than she actually gave her. And she told her she could get her tickets to Spydah’s show. She promised a whole bunch of shit that she didn’t deliver. Misty thought it was funny that she burned Felice.”

“Misty had a malicious streak, there ain’t no doubt about that. And could be shady from time to time, but it sounds like she had a personal problem with that stripper. Any idea what that was about?”