The Streets Don't Love Nobody 2

Chapter OneThat night Cee Cee pulled up inside of the parking lot of The Drunken Monkey. She then looked to Flocka. He was reached between his legs and grabbed one of the two duffle bags. He then reached underneath the seat and grabbed his gun. After popping out the magazine and checking it, he smacked that b***h back in and c****d the slider on it. Flocka tucked his banga. “Keep her runnin’, I’ll be back Asap.” he hopped out of the Chevy and tucked his banga in the front of his pants. He then slammed the door shut behind him and grabbed up his duffle bag, heading for the back door of the establishment. He pushed open the door and took a quick look around the dimly lit bar. The patrons were drinking, smoking and/or indulging in a game of pool. Everyone seemed to be minding their own business and enjoying themselves. Flocka looked over to the bar and spotted the same bartender he’d seen when he and Menace first came in to holla at Raffy. Flocka ambled over to the bar where he ordered up a Heineken and requested to see Raffy. The bartender nodded and walked to the end of the bar, where he snatched a green beer bottle. Turning around, he grabbed a bottle-cap opener and popped the lid on the Heineken. He stopped before Flocka and sat the Heineken in front of him on top of a napkin. Flocka thanked him and dropped a blue face Benjamin Franklin on the bar top. “That’s all you, my boy,” Flocka took the beer to the head, throat rolling up and down as he guzzled its contents. “’Preciate it,” the bartender told him as he stuffed the bill inside of his pocket. He then walked over to the telephone, which was hanging on the wall. He pressed a single button and listened to the telephone as it rung. On the third ring, someone picked up his call. He swapped words with whomever it was for a second. He placed his hand over the receiving end of the telephone and looked over his shoulder, addressing Flocka, “My friend, what is your name?” “Flocka,” Flocka called out to him over the loud ass music. Flocka watched as the bartender gave him his back again and chopped it up with whomever was on the telephone for a second. Right after, he was hanging up the jack and telling him to head up to Raffy’s office. “My man,” Flocka tapped his fist against his chest and walked towards his destination. He climbed the staircase and knocked on Raffy’s office door. A moment later, he heard a buzzing sound and then the door was clicked unlock. Flocka opened the door and made his way inside of homeboy’s office. Once again, he saw Raffy sitting behind his desk, talking to someone over his Blu-tooth. His legs were crossed and he was squeezing a small royal blue ball, looking like he was really into the conversation he was having. Flocka whistled for his attention. Raffy glanced up at him and held up a finger, signaling for him to give him one minute to wrap up the conversation at hand. “Got cha, thanks again,” Raffy disconnected the call and set his sights on Flocka. His eyes then fell down to the duffle bag that the young gangsta was holding at his side. “My friend, is that my money in that bag?” “It sure the f**k is. I threw in interest too, since I’ma lil’ late,” Flocka walked over to Raffy’s desk and dropped the duffle bag in front of him. He then sat down in the chair that was positioned before his desk. Raffy sat up in his chair and pointed at the duffle bag, saying, “That’s my money? Every last red cent of it?” he asked like he couldn’t believe the young nigga was dropping a bag on him. He’d already made up his mind to smoke his ass because he felt in his heart that he wasn’t going to come up with the money to pay his debt. He had to put his foot in his mouth now though, homeboy had showed up with his due. “Like I told you the first time, homie, that’s you and then some,” Flocka stated proudly. “Go ahead and count that s**t up, ‘cause I ain’t leavin’ out this b***h, ‘til I’m sure we square. I don’t want no blowback from this. You Griff me?” “Right,” Raffy took off his Blu-tooth and sat it on his desk top. He then pulled out his calculator and a money counting machine. Next, he pulled the duffle bag closer to him and unzipped it. When he peered inside of the duffle bag, he saw several bankrolls with rubber bands wrapped around them. Raffy licked his lips and rubbed his hands together, greedily. He couldn’t wait to run through those bands to see exactly what he was working with. Flocka sat back in his chair and took the half smoked blunt he had tucked behind his ear. He held it up to Raffy’s line of vision, asking if he could smoke in his office. Raffy gave him the nod, and he pulled out his Bic lighter. He stuck the blunt in between his lips and produced a blue flame, firing it up. Flocka sucked on the end of the blunt and blew out smoke into the air. Taking the occasionally pull from the blunt; he watched Raffy count up the money he’d given him. Raffy finished counting up all of the loot and tossed it back into the duffle bag. He then he pulled open his desk’s bottom drawer and placed the items he’d use to count the money with inside of it. Next, he removed the portrait from the wall behind his desk, revealing a safe. He did the combination to the safe and opened it. He took out of all of Flocka’s jewelry and passed it to him, watching him put the jewels back on. While Flocka was busy putting his jewelry back on, Raffy was stacking the money from duffle bag inside of the safe. Once he shut the door, he laid back in his chair looking at Flocka and grinning. “You know, normally I don’t care how I get my money just as long as I get it. But due to these circumstances, I have to ask out of curiosity, how did you manage to get your hands on all of this cash in such a short time?” Raffy inquired as he clipped the tip of a Cuban cigar and pulled out a lighter designed like a jukebox to light it. Holding the flame of his lighter to the tip of his cigar, he sucked on the end of it, and waited for Flocka to answer him. Flocka smirked and said, “I made a few moves, called a couple of markers in. As it turned out, I hadda couple more dollas than I needed once thangs came together.” Raffy blew out a cloud of smoke and sat the jukebox lighter down on his desk top. He knew Flocka was full of s**t, but he wasn’t going to press his line for the real story. He was just happy to get what was owed to him without having to spill blood. “And there you have it, huh?” A smile spread across his lips. “And there you have it,” Flocka smiled back at him, lifting his hands from off the arm rests of the chair and then dropping them. There was silence between the two men as they stared at one another. Flocka finally stood to his feet, and decided to break the silence. “Listen, I gotta get goin’. I got some more moves I needa make, so I’ll get up witchu whenever. We good?” Raffy nodded as he sucked on the end of his cigar. He blew out smoke before responding, “Yeah, we’re good.” “That’s what’s up,” Flocka outstretched his hand to shake Raffy’s hand, but he didn’t budge to oblige him. The mothafucka just looked at his hand as if it he’d just pissed and didn’t bother to wash it. “Come on, my nigga, don’t leave me hangin’.” Still smiling, the Arab shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m a germaphobe.” Flocka frowned and dropped his hand at his side. “Whatever, Blood, I’m outta here.” he turned around and made a beeline toward the door, his walk slightly off thanks to his fake leg. Raffy frowned when he saw the difference in his walk, but didn’t mention it. He contributed it to the real reason behind him being able to pay him his debt. **** Once Flocka had gotten back outside, he switched seats with Cee Cee and drove her to her house. When he pulled up outside of her house, he put his Chevrolet in park and looked at her house, through the windshield. He then set his sights on her. Lightning fast, he drew his gun and pressed it to the side of Cee Cee’s head, bending her dome to the side. Fear ceased her eyes and she lifted her hands in the air again. Her eyes were staring out of their corners. Her heart thudded and her palms grew sweaty. At that moment she wondered whether homeboy was going to kill her or not. “I thought you said you weren’t going to kill me,” a fearful Cee Cee asked. “And I’m not, consider this a warnin’,” Flocka began. “If you mention anything about how we set up that lick, or where I just dropped that bag off to, yo’ ass is done for. I’m pullin’ back up to yo’ house and I’m knockin’ everybody’s head off. I don’t give a mad ass f**k who up in there. You hear me?” “Yes, I hear you. I’m not going to say a word to anyone, no matter what,” Cee Cee swore teary eyed. “Good. Now, get the f**k outta my ride!” he took the banga from her temple and sat it on his lap. He watched as she hopped out of his car, slamming the door shut behind her and making hurried steps toward her house. Flocka waited until she was inside before he put his Impala in drive and drove off. Later that night Flocka and LaRon were sitting on the couch playing Madden and sharing a blunt. They blew out smoke from their nose and mouth, as they continued to play the game. The smoke inhabiting the living room made it look like they were inside of a sauna. “Yeah, nigga, I’m getting all up in that ass!” LaRon talked that s**t to his sibling. He was twenty-one points up on his older brother. “Whatever, mothafucka,” Flocka waved him off and took a couple more puffs of the bleezy. His face was swollen from Menace pistol whipping him, but it was beginning to go down. “The game just getting started. I still can come back and chip you, fool.” “Bet something, then,” LaRon challenged him. Flocka looked at him like he was crazy, twisting his face up. “Bet these nuts!” Boom! The door swung open from a powerful force and splinters scattered everywhere. Menace and Fonzell, who were masked up, rushed inside with tranquilizer guns. Their handguns were tucked at the front of their pants. They pointed their tranquilizer guns at Flocka and LaRon, just as the twins were grabbing their bangaz from off the coffee table. LaRon grabbed his gun first. He whipped around to fire, but Menace shot him in the neck with a dart which was tainted by a sedative. “Gaaaah!” LaRon winced and dropped his gun. He clutched the dart in his neck and pulled it out. Looking at the dart with blurring vision, he realized he was about to fall asleep. Before he knew it, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he dropped to his knees. As LaRon fell flat on his face, LaRon pointed his gun at Menace, about to knock his head off. Bocka! Bocka!Bocka! Fonzell pushed his son out of the way just in time for the gun bursts to miss him. Pissed off that LaRon had tried to take his son’s life, Fonzell dove to the floor and scooted his back up against the couch. He sat his tranquilizer gun aside and whipped out his banga. “Nigga, you gon’ try to murder my boy? I’ll kill you, mothafucka!” Fonzell swore angrily. “Pop, no, I want ‘em alive!” Menace called out to his father from where he was inside of the kitchen. He’d crawled there once his old man had shoved him out of the way of the gunfire. “f**k this nigga, junior!” Fonzell called back out to his son. “Alive, pop, alive!” Menace shot back. “Ain’t nobody killing me, both ya’ll niggaz dead! That’s on everything I love!” Flocka swore. He kept his gun pointed as he kneeled down, placing two fingers to LaRon’s neck. Having confirmed that his brother had a pulse, Flocka picked up his gun. “Neither one of you cocksuckaz are leaving outta this b***h alive!” Flocka looked from left to right, pointing one gun at the end of the couch that Fonzell was taking cover behind, and the other in the direction of the kitchen. He scowled and clenched his jaws, before banging his guns at both locations.