Lighter Shade of Brown (Urban Fiction) BWHM

Chapter 5 Part 3

After he'd unloaded the Ten that was on order, another six flew off the shelf with five more of them thangs on stand-by. When he cleared three hundred, he put in a call to Pesto to let him know everything was all good and that he'd be through the next morning.

It had been a long day, and an even longer night. But C's had no complaints against all the things the day brought. Money, his girl, and must have information on a puto who'd been ducking him for three months over his change. Info that had led him to a new chick Estevan had started seeing. On his way home he decided to peep the scene before he brought the squad through. Gouge spots they could lay in wait to offer up a sneak attack. Never in a hustling day's work did he expect to see his target's, po' pimpin' ass, strolling down the block like the world was motherfucking his. Damn. No respect.

Without rubbing two thoughts together, he yoked the Neon on the side walk, wedging Estevan between the car and a six feet high privacy fence. Like a scared trapped animal, homeboy tried to look for an escape route. Dropping the window a crack, C's pinned him with a glare that oozed, 'don't fucking try it'.

"Holla at me," C's said through clenched teeth.

Estevan glanced longingly at the hood of the car. Like he was considering jumping over it to get away.

"If you run, ese, my hollow points will be talkin' to your brains when I finally catch yo' ass." C's caressed the handle of the gun in his lap. "Get yo' fuck ass in." He threw the car in reverse, backing the vehicle up just enough to give him room to walk around to the passenger door.

C's watched Estevan scuttle over and slide in the car. Once in, he turned to him. His gaze swung like a pendulum from C's to the nine in his lap. With a gulp and saucer wide eyes, he ran the palm of his hands down the front of his jeans.

"C's, look. Heard you been looking for me. Sheeit. Know that I should've checked in too, folk." His head bobbed up and down in a nod. "But things been real crazy, for yo' boy around here lately. Shit been falling like dominos. I got robbed-,"

"Fuck yo' excuses, hombre. If shit was goin' to the left for you, then you should've reached out like a G months ago. Not holla at my competition, like a puta." C's angled the car to a stop in front of the girl's house Estevan had been laying up with.

"And tell you what, homey?" Estevan asked. His voice a broken whisper. "I ain't got yo' money because a broad set me up to be robbed. Naw." Shaking his head, he waved his hand in front of him. "I wasn't goin' out like that. Uh uh, not yo' boy. I did the only thing a treal ass hustler on his grind would do." He pounded his chest with the side of his fist. "Make yo' change come back. Even if I had to snatch that shit out of thin air."

A humorless laugh fell from C's sneering mouth, while his finger never strayed from the cradle of the trigger on his nine. "Yo' time for excuses and explanations are over, E. The only thing I wanna hear come out your dick sucker is that you got my money, yo. Twelve-five large, motherfucker."

"Man damn. Only have six on me." Estevan reached for his pocket.

Within a fraction of a second, Estevan was eye to barrel with C's glock. "Keep yo' hands out yo' pants when you around me, vato."

"C's! I swear to...swear to god I wasn't about to try anything." A tear trickled from the corner of his eye. "Don't even have my piece on. See for yourself. Matter of fact, get the dinero while you're at it, homey."

Narrowing his eyes, C's pressed the gun to Estevan's temple. He should do him now and just be done with his ass, but he wasn't ready to charge twelve and a half to the game, yet. He wanted his fucking bread. "Six ain't twelve-five, E," he said, patting the pockets of his jeans.