Game Recognize Game

19. Rock Em' To Sleep: Part 1

>>>>>>>>Picture On The Side of Nikko's Parents>>>>>>>

Nikko

     "Three days, Giovanni! I'll send you the address, and the pictures of the place. I want you to furnish only the areas I tell you. I'm not paying for anything more," I spoke harshly as I waited outside of Poochie's house for him to come on. He'd went inside to get his last bag for the trip to Nevada. I couldn't wait to chill with Jovani again, but I hadn't decided if I should tell him about Ebony's pregnancy yet. I knew I could trust him to keep my secret, I just didn't know if he'd try to entice me into telling the rest of the family. I didn't need him on my back this whole trip, I already had the shit embedded in my mind. All I could think about was a little boy that looked like me. It was a worrisome situation for me, because fatherhood was a big responsibility, but with Ebony's background it made it that much harder.      

        "Yes sir, mister Rivorie, I'll have it done," Giovanni said in his heavy, fake, french accent. I rolled my eyes, but knew he was the best at what he did, which is why I put up with him. "Good looking out," I thanked him before hanging up. I looked for Poochie and when I didn't see him, blew the horn. I still had shit I wanted to do before going out of town. I exhaled loudly, and started to get out when he came walking from his place, locking his door behind him and coming to the car. "Damn, why are you in a rush," he asked? "I told your dumb ass we got something to go handle. Usted no escucha follando!" (You don't fucking listen) "Oh yeah, some little nigga you wanted to holla' at right," he asked? I shook my head in annoyance and passed him the Vanilla folder with all of the little homies information. "You going to his door, and once we get in...," I started but he interrupted me. "How we going to get into this dude's apartment," he asked? "Shut the fuck up and listen! Damn," I barked before telling him the plan.

     We pulled up to The Banks Project's forty-five minutes later, where the little nigga I was here to see stayed. It was kind of far off, which just raised my suspicions more. "So, why do I have to be the investigator," Poochie asked, looking at his fake badge? "Because he knows my face, and probably wouldn't open the door jack ass. Now get the fuck out and lets hurry this shit up," I snapped. "You act like we don't have a private plane," he mumbled, getting out of the car. I made a mental note to smack him for that shit later. I checked out the neighborhood, looking around the hood, as curious eyes looked at us. I felt a pair of eyes burning into my back and turned to look at a crack house, where on the porch stood four dudes. All of them looked like a bunch of hustlers, but two had the eyes of scavengers a.k.a. crooks. I locked eyes with them each, before leaning into my White BMW M3 and grabbing my Beretta from under the seat, making sure they saw me stick it in my waist band.

       "Come on lets get this shit done," I told Poochie, pulling my snapback lower over my face and heading to the door of the apartments. It wasn't like my place, where you needed a card key to even get in the lobby, as a matter of fact the door knob that was supposed to be on the rusted iron door was gone.

       Damn, I'd only heard of growing up like this! Even though I had an abusive child hood, at least I didn't grow up hungry, in a piss smelling apartment building like this one. Almost made me not want to kill the kid, especially since his brother was just murdered last year, but I didn't tolerate disrespect. In my line of work there was no room for it. "I hate places like this," Poochie whined as we entered the stairwell, since I didn't do those fucked up elevators. I chuckled and covered my nose and mouth with my shirt. "Entodaspartes hay baño," (Everywhere is there bathroom) he scoffed into his own t-shirt. He continued complaining up until we got to the top floor where my next victim lived. "Door 5," I told, Poochie taking the safety off my gun. I took my place on the wall by the door, as he knocked and we waited. "Who the fuck is it," his voice boomed from the other side of the door. This kid still got a smart ass mouth, I scowled. "Open up! My name is Detective Scott and I need to speak to the residence of this apartment."