⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀INDISTINCTIVE CHATTER ZONED in and out as the silver Mercedes sped along the open streets. Corners were packed of pedestrians, both sellers and buyers next to stands of various items from fruit stands and taco trucks to clothing popular amongst the culture of the country. Large families, single women and single men stood around as some of the children's heads turned to watch the car pass--some having smiles, others with straight faces. Amos soaked in every exchange that he'd catch onto. He'd never been out of Virginia besides to Atlanta recently, but overseas? Never. So, to be present in Monterrey, capital of the northeastern Mexican state of Nuevo León was a lot for one nigga out the gutter of the hood to take in at once. He kept his calm composure however, his interests nor being visible over his straight face and lingering eyes.
"Liking what'cha' seeing huh, homes?" Eron asked, a hefty chuckle leaving his mouth as he read through Amos' demeanor. Not uttering a word, Amos only let his eye glance over at the man then forward to peer out the windshield as one of the workers drove into a secluded alleyway, passing many abandoned, tanned, and broken foundation buildings. The car's roof avoided the low hanging cloth lines along the alley, some bystanders standing far out the way but not giving the vehicle a second look once it'd passed.
"Esperar a ver a las mujeres." The lighter male, who he'd learned later was named Carleo, said amused. His cheekbones hitched upward as his teeth gleamed in a half smile, licking over his thin lips. He rubbed his hand back over his shaved short haircut as Eron nodded, rubbing his meaty fists together. "He said wait until you see the women, the honeys." He translates for the American. Amos scoffed, thinking, I'm just trying to see the money.
The Mercedes' tires slowed into a familiar spot, the gear being pushed into park. The headlights clicked off as the driver pressed the start/stop button next to the steering wheel. He spoke in his mother tongue as the door locks chimed and all doors were open at once. Eron motioned his head to the side for Amos to follow them and exit the car. He closed the backseat door shut once his feet touched the concrete covered in small bits of gravel.
Carleo retrieved the suitcase from the trunk, tossing it into Amos hands before the huddle of men carried off inside the building through the backdoor. That wasn't before Eron and Carleo searched the perimeter of the area for any snoopers or nosey homeless folk- other than the normals. The foyer area they'd stepped through was dark, lighting in the outline of doors and seeping through sunlight being the only sources of light. Amos followed the body heat of the person in front of him, the guy who'd sat in the passenger seat of the luxury automobile. Soon enough, women would pass, one by one, all resembling each other with straight silk hair flowing from the follicles of their head down just past their shoulders, face caked with neat makeup, and skimpy outfits that fit to their naturally curvy frames. Eron smirked at some, not bothering to look behind at them as Amos kept his poker face on every second until he was sure it was safe to breath in this foreign place.
Spanish music almost inaudibly played in a room that only he, Eron and Carleo entered as the rest stayed in the doorway, shutting the blockage off once they were inside. Amos refused to get a glimpse of the closed door, not caring to express the smallest streak of fear. A man that sat on the couch with his back towards them planted his feet down onto the hardwood polished floors as he moved through the clouds of smoke his cigarillo had caused. He extended his arms outward as he spun on his heels, a smirk evident despite the thick stick that hung from his pink lips. His brown eyes sat low as he swiped across his slick, jet black straight hair that was combed backwards.
One tattoo could be noticed beneath his low, ivory v-neck button down. He shoved his hands into his khakis swiftly, pushing the pockets deeper in avoiding to touch the designer belt that held them up. His hands found their way back up to his mouth, removing the cigar as exhaled smoke and exclaimed, "Welcome to Monterrey, my friend." This had to be Rico. He sprawled his arms then took steps around the floral sewed couch and pressed pause onto the remote that sat on the coffee table behind it, abruptly stopping the music. His face went straight as his right hand clutched his left elbow, standing toe to toe with Amos, his legs spread apart and knees sitting back on them. "You got something for me?" He questioned rhetorically, gesturing of both his head and hands in union.
Both workers put all eyes on Amos as he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, redirectioning the suitcase to face Rico. His fingers twitted above the the metal plate where a passcode was to go. He'd figured Gyro had personally customized it to whatever once getting inside, but what? He wouldn't send him on a mission for disaster, right? He refused to believe that at this very moment, scavenging his brain for anything that would spark a memory.
It would have to be a passcode they'd shared with each other. That's when it came to him, their passcode they used to store away their valuables--zero one eighty seven. Zero murders. So much had changed. He aligned the numbers up correctly until a pop sounded. He lifted the top, the bricks of cocaine sitting untouched.
Rico belches a soft laugh, lifting one of the plastic wrapped bricks up to his nose and inhaling a big whiff. He exhaled, relaxing his chest as he put it back in it's place. "The yonkis are gonna' get'a load of this. Take it, get Felix onto barco street with this asap. Buss that shit down, Llévalo ese tienda y haz que esas putas hagan su trabajo." Rico demanded of Eron and Carleo, one shutting the suitcase close before the other snatched ahold of it and they both exited. The other workers still stood guard before the door was close again. Amos adverts his eyes back to their boss, Rico, awaiting his end of the bargain. Rico held a smugly smile, waving his hand over his shoulder as he circled around the furniture. "Your money I'm sure you're lookin' for, of course."
His slender fingers grabbed the grips of hundreds that were wrapped tightly in bank money bands. He begin to personally stack the cash into a small duffle bag until it filled the top, making the zipper hard to slide across. "Ay', a friend of Gyro's is a friend of mine. We went to high school together, y'know?" Rico continued to try and make conversation with the mute of a man it seemed. Amos licked over his lips, mesmerized by the tons of cash he'd just accumulated. He stopped him from setting the bag down and took it from his hand instead.
"Oh, for'real?" Amos finally decided to reply, indulging in the small talk as he pulled the zipper to reopen the bag, grabbing one of the stacks and fanning the money between his fingers. The look, feel, and smell being very real--plus it was in American dollars giving him less of a hassle to take it through a bank and probably more laundering.
Rico shook his head, ignoring the offensive act as if he'd give him counterfeit bucks and took a seat back in his prior place on the plush sofa, relighting the previous cigar. He nodded his head. "Yeah, he was but'a freshman at tha' time, me senior. I showed him tha' ropes." Amos raised an eyebrow and Rico glanced up, catching his bewildered drift. "Around school. My . .business was only beginning then, I wasn't out open about neither am I now. Somehow, he'd got a whiff of me, did a lick for me, and ever since, I've been openly his go-to." Rico offered the place next to him, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the smoke release from his lips. Amos accepted the invitation, sitting down beside him. He sunk some into the cushions, resting his back.
"I'm guessing he did a lot of jobs for ya', huh?"
"Actually, no. This is only the second time he's asked to do work since." Amos stretched his lips backward in slight surprise, but stayed silent. Getting a better look at him, Rico eyeballed his distinct features. "I remember you, ay'. Ya' and Gyro hated each other back in grade school. Heh." He guffawed, shaking his head at the turn of events by the looks of the two now. He then remembered an extra member of trio, whose name he couldn't think off top of his head but he recall Gyro mentioning his recent death and said additionally, his condolences. "I'm sorry to hear about your dead homie, esè. Shit's sad."
"Yeah, 'preciate it." Amos cleared his throat and shifted his spot, still not comfortable with that as a topic of conversation. Catching the uneasy energy that bounced off him, Rico quickly dropped the subject. He stretched out his right hand beside him and grabbed ahold of an old style, cordless home phone--adding to his vintage decorated penthouse. It was obvious much of his inspiration came from Scarface, Tony Montana. Spanish transferred from his mouth into the device as Amos sat beginning to grow hungry. Seemingly reading his mind, or maybe hearing the growling of his stomach, Rico ended the call and proposed, "How about some dinner? Vanessa here will take you to where you'll stay, shower, get dressed, have some dinner, and we'll be going out." Rico clasped his hands together after he stood, directing his hands towards the female who walked closer to the two males.
Her platinum blonde hair went no further than her shoulders in the style of a bob. Her full, wispy lashes fanned above her eyes and brought out her freckles that lightly cover her cheeks. Her small, pouty glossed lips sat under her button nose. Her face was the most of innocence that you'd get from her appearance because neck down, her busty cleavage sat exposed in her low dipped, white crop top and her flat stomach was out in the open as her belly button glistened. Her tight, blue jean shorts hugged her small butt and hips tightly as if they'd cut her circulation--the fit making a small pudge of her stomach to hang over slightly but not unattractively.
Amos eyes roamed down her smooth, toned legs as her white painted toes were revealed out the opening of her heels. His eyes travelled back upward as she kept a sassy look plastered on her face, not even giving a smirk as she glared over him--more of a hungry look instead. That was when Amos reheard the words Rico has just spoken and tuned back into the present, reverting his head and furrowing his eyebrows. "Going out?"
Rico agreed as if that was obvious. "Of course. Oh. .you thought this was just a simple exchange." Rico continued, shrugging his shoulders shortly. "Somewhat so, but not so much. Gyro was to do a job for me but since you're taking his place. .it falls on you, my friend."
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀RICO, AMOS, AND Eron all walked past the red ropes that blocked off the party from the road, close in range of each other. Amos stood in the middle amongst the two, his eyes scanning over individuals faces while he bit his lip. Tunes blared through the surrounded speakers, people who occupied the dance floor danced and bopped wildly synchronizing along. Men took up wall space, preying over women who raunchily danced right in front of them. They'd sip from their drinks, their eyes basically undressing the females until they could physically take the action. Two women, one familiar as being one who walked the penthouse earlier and another who had tanner skin, trailed up to the trio and faced their backs to them--beginning to put work into the motion of their hips and legs. Amos nodded his head, stating, "I see y'all know how to party."
Rico agreed with a chuckle, holding his left elbow by his right hand, "Most definitely." His eyes were hooded as he tracked down the face he'd awaited to see. Hitting every facial feature in clear view, his orbs landed on the target-- Kentraiz "Trai" Chatman. That's exactly what he was, his last name being fitted, a chat man, ran his mouth to anyone about anything and it'd finally caught up with him in the worst way. Rico adverted his head to side and whistled, Eron able to hear despite the music.
He gained his attention and head nodded in the man's direction, his loyal worker catching sight of him and nodded, immediately adopting his game face. "You see that guy over there?" Rico vocalized, now to Amos as his index finger lifted in the place of the male. Amos searched out the alignment of his finger and connected the dots, nodding once he was up to speed. "He's interfering with my money', talk to much. Some American esé. Got motherfuckas' messin' up on my blocks and just.." Rico trailed off as his face scrunched and he trembled his hand from side to side. "To much. Go with Eron. Take care of 'em and double of that money, is yours. No attachments."
Amos felt his heartbeat speed in his chest, the thought of taking another man's life after the vow he'd made to himself wrestled with his mind. He clamped his palms together, the moisture of sweat already beginning to coat them as he stared at Kentraiz in the distance. Rico decided to enjoy his time, giving more attention to woman who danced in front of him, but not too much to where she'd feel special to him. He gave the guest of the evening no second glance as he looked forward onto the rest of the gathering. Throughout the entire visit so far, however, Amos found a way to keep his composure calm.
Eron, of course, being able to read him like a book and see through his front of a demeanor as if it was transparent. He had this gift of doing this because years ago, he was similar to him. He nudged his elbow into his side and head nodded to the right for him to follow him, avoiding gaining attention from bystanders, envious men and thirsty women. Amos took steps behind him, them back on the sidewalk of the streets and circling around the crowded area. Just then a jangle of keys chimed and caught Amos attention, noticing the set of two keys hanging from Eron's finger. He then took note of their surroundings, how darkness begin to close in around them as they entered an alley. Only the gleaming moon that twinkled in the sky and glared over the earth's surface. The stench of rotten garbage and sitting water hit the buds of his nose resulting into him scrunching up his face.
"Get in, Rook." Eron says, unlocking and yanking the old abandoned Buick car. He sat in the driver seat, turning the ignition once the key was placed in and kept the headlights off. He closes the door as Amos got into passenger seat, stretching his legs forward along the stained floor as he shut the door behind himself as well. "Aye', look in that compartment." Amos pressed the handle in, watching as it fell loosely open and small light brightening the area. The stainless steel caliber was what stood out in the compartment versus the napkins, car's handbook and old fast food restaurant condiments.
Amos grabbed it slowly, admiring it's makeup as Eron interrogated, "Y'know how to use that?" Nodding his head defensively, Amos glared at him with knitted eyebrows. He, Eron, raised his palms and said additionally, "Aye' I didn't know, act like you ain't did shit else homie. Load and crank that." He instructed, referring for him to insert a clip of bullets into the gun. Amos scoffed, grabbing the box of bullets and placing them in slowly one by one.
"Just because I ain't out just taking niggas lives for not shit, doesn't mean I haven't held a damn gun. Ay', you outta chill out like you my mentor or something. I don't need that. I'm here to get my business done and that's that." Eron eyes stayed on the guy who sat next to him through his entire speech. He scoffed a short laugh, his shoulders raising once as he did and he shook his head. He peered back up and asked, pointing up into the windshield, "So you down to take this cat's life, esé? Since you really with this shit." Amos leaned his head back against the seat head cushion, eyes not leaving the road ahead as every other moment a car would drive by. Eron eyes traced his frame and looked forward, answering himself with, "I guess so."
Amos clenched his jaw, begging to differ but avoiding the actual words from leaving his mouth. The car was quiet despite Eron's random moments that would make a squeaky sound here and there. The minutes of the clock on the radio display seemed to inch by, them not involved in any action making the night go by slower. The anticipation from the flowing of his blood is what kept Amos eyes wide open for a long time but once an hour turned into two, nearly going on three, his eyes begin to grow heavy. His day of back to back flights and staying fast pace was beginning to catch up with him. He blinked twice then eased his eyes shut completely, resting his mind and body.
"There we go." Eron whispered, smacking his hand against Amos chest, waking him with a racing heart rate. His eyes caught sight of the guy from the party who they were after being led by Vanessa, the same vixen from the house but now with the disguise of a long black wig. The adrenaline begin rushing back into his veins as Eron pulled the gear into drive and rolled out the alleyway slowly. The tires hit the pavement of the main road and turned right, driving the minimum speed limit as Kentraiz was placed into a car and Vanessa took the driver seat in the far distance.
Amos prepared himself, mostly mentally, of the upcoming events he'd not only witness but partake in. The car Vanessa drove was two door, green Pontiac, speeding off as Eron picked up his speed to trail the two. The street lights seem to stay green for a mile or two, the shining light lingering over their faces once they'd passed underneath. Amos mouth seemed to grow dry, he smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth but felt no moisture.
Both cars accelerated down the road, blending with the rest of the automobiles that took up the streets. The night was beginning to have less people wandering around the later it got. Vanessa drifted the Pontiac off into a nearby motel's parking lot. She parked in the middle of two guests cars, one being in the handicap park. Eron parked off far back of the lot underneath a blown street pole light. "Mm, little mama took me to a hotel, you trying to get this dick." Kentraiz said, obviously intoxicated. His eyes sat low and a shade of red.
They followed Vanessa as she stood next to the passenger door, pulling it open before tugging on him next. He smirked, lubricating his lips repeatedly as he assisted lifting his own weight the best he could. She smirked in return, the grey colored contacts that covered her pupils staring deep into his eyes. "Oh yes, papi." She purred, puckering her red lips together. She grabbed ahold of his hand, pulling the key card to the reserved room out of her bosom and led the way until they found the door with two nineteen. He lusted over her body, watching as she walked ahead of him. He was anticipating for what the two would indulge in for this one night.
Eron watched the entire scene unfold as Amos tucked the gun comfortably in his waistband after screwing the silencer on. He leaned his back further into the seat backwards for more access so it'd fit more comfortable. Eron's eyes scanned the parking lot, curious to find any setup cameras. Seeing one, he sketched out a route to take to avoid the eye of it and made to tell their perfectionist hacker to work his magic later on once reporting back to his employer. "Aight." He said as the magic word, stepping out of the car and Amos doing the same.
They followed the mentally sketched path and dipped off under the canopy that looped around the building of the first floor. The two surrounded the door just as it opened and Vanessa came out. Her sultry face instantly turning into a look of disgust. She shielded her body that was barely covered in lingerie from the night's breeze. "That puta fondled me good, oh, Rico owe me big." She emphasized, her accent thick in her voice. Eron bobbed his head forward and motioned his hand in a sway for her to move out the way.
"He's expecting me to come back with some tequila."
"Oh, no worries. We'll put something strong in his system alright." Eron grinned with his mouth remain closed. She took off to another car considering she'd driven the victim's. She was soon out the lot as the two entered the dark motel room.
"C'mon now girl, I'm not the one to wait for some cuddy. I got shit to do." Kentraiz slurred, his head motioning from each side. Amos slid the gun from his waistband slowly, his heart nearly ripping out of his chest. Kentraiz saw the shadows of obviously another person in the room. His vision blurred, faces zoning in and out but he wasn't sober enough to make out the features to realize they weren't familiar. Amos inhaled and exhaled through his nose as his finger landed on the trigger as the gun stayed next to his side. He raised it slowly, the imagery of seeing his best friend laid in the streets at the thought of someone hovering over him similarly angered but shied him away from pulling back onto the trigger.
Kentraiz finally furrowed his eyebrows, murmuring, "Wait." He tried to scurry to his side for his piece before Eron snatched away the gun, tilted it to the side and pulled back onto the latch twice. One bullet to the chest while the other landed between the man's eyes, neither making a sound other than a low clamp. Kentraiz's hand lowered down from his side as the gun he was reaching for, showed. Amos blew a relieved breath as he glanced over at Eron. Eron looked back, giving the gun for him to clean.
"We gotta' go." Eron announced and they exited the room, the door still left open from when they entered to lower the chances of a trace trailing back to them. They jogged off back to the car, hopped in and took off. As they were riding down the street again, Amos couldn't help but look back over at the male. "I wasn't gonna let you kill him." He furrowed his eyebrows as Eron continued, concentrating on driving too, "The first time you take another man's breath is when you start appreciate every one of your own you take. That shit changes you. I know yeen' with that lecturing shit and I'm not yo' mentor or nothing, homie, but. . .you got heart. I could see that at the airport. You might kill a motherfucka' one day, but I wasn't gonna be the one you'd be with when you did."
Amos was honestly speechless, blown away by the wisdom that left a gang member's mouth who he'd did nothing but bump heads with the entire day. It stayed quiet for a moment and he noticed he was going on two o'clock in the morning. "This between us. As for everybody else, you killed him. You get yo' cut." Eron finished, shrugging his shoulders. Amos cleaned the gun with the rag he was given, loosening the silencer. They were off into another alley soon, switching out vehicles to carry them the rest of the way to the hidden out penthouse.