Chapter Five
The Stylistics softly flowed from the speakers of Moon’s Regal as he drove down the freeway back to the hood. Tyson stuck his head out of the window and closed his eyes. He smiled as the fresh, cool air washed over his face and head.
Tyson pulled his head back inside and lit up a cigarette. He took a pull and then blew smoke, letting it be vacuumed out by the cracked window.
“So, what’s up, Zippa? What’re you up to now? Fill me in.”
“You know me, same old same old,” Moon said, looking from the windshield to his brother occasionally. “You know it’s always been the way of the gun for me. I stay with that mask and that bag, every night is Halloween. How you think your commissary stayed so fat? I got myself a new ride, too. BMW 745. This is just my company car, if you know wha
