the time came.
Wink’s pleasant thoughts vanished as he crossed Outer Drive back onto his street. Hate and some more shit ran through his veins as he passed by his mom’s house.
“I’ma show they ass,” he said, shifting the stick into third gear. Within minutes, Wink was coming up on the Chrysler Expressway on Linwood. He rode past the spot, and everything seemed to be normal, so he kept going. He knew it would be a long day and night in the spot, so he thought it best to get as much air as possible before going in.
He pulled into the parking lot of Hank’s liquor store on Grand River and parked beside a fresh-to-death IROC Camaro. Four niggas, each sporting Jehri curls and thick gold rope chains, decorated the hood of the IROC. They were drinking forty-ounce Old English and just shootin’ the shit when Wink got out the car.
Wink kind of nodded to the men on his way inside Hank’s. The men didn’t seem to be paying Wink any mind. He walked to the back cooler and grabbed a two-liter Pepsi, two bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, and some Snickers bars. He knew he and Krazy would have the munchies after smoking the leftover weed they had back at the spot.
There were four chicks standing at the counter, directing one of Hank’s Arab brothers as to which slices of pizza they wanted. Two of them were bucketheads, cool for the late night. But Wink was caught up on the two yellowbones. They looked as if they were sisters or cousins.
Damn, thought Wink as he allowed his eyes to travel up both girls’ gleaming thick legs, resting on their onions.
“You gon’ go?” a guy behind Wink asked.
“What?” asked Wink, snapping out of his trance. “Oh, my bad,” he said, setting the chips and Pepsi on the counter.
“You J-Bo’s li’l man, ain’t you?” asked the man as he watched Wink dig out one of the stacks of money.
“Yeah, that’s my nigga,” said Wink. He wasn’t paying ole boy behind him no never mind. He was too busy flaunting the bankroll, hoping the girls would catch a glimpse of it.
“Yeah, and let me get a pack of Zig-Zags,” he said to ole Hank.
Wink caught the eye of one of the girls. He motioned her over, using the bankroll as bait.
The man who had been standing behind Wink in line was Keon, one of J-Bo’s cohorts. He slipped out of the store and walked over to the pay phone. He put a quarter into the slot and dialed seven quick digits, then turned to face the entrance of the store.
“Come on, pick up,” he said as he tapped his foot a thousand miles per second.
“Hello,” answered J-Bo.
“Bo, it’s me, Keon.”
“What’s the business?”
“I’m up here at Hank’s, and ya worker is up here flossin’ with all yo’ money on him.”
“Word,” said J-Bo. He became furious.
“Yeah, what you want me to do?”
“The only thing to do. Teach his ass a lesson. But don’t hurt him,” ordered J-Bo.
“I got you. Here he comes now.” Click.
Wink came walking out the store with the four girls in tow. Zeta, the one he pulled, was on his side. She was all smiles as she jotted her number down on a lottery ticket.
“When you gon’ call me?” asked Zeta as the group stopped in front of the parking lot. Her sister and two butt-ugly friends were standing a few feet back, snickering like little schoolgirls.
“I’ma hit you up tonight. We can set something up for tomorrow,” said Wink.
“Okay,” gushed Zeta. She turned on her heels and purposely threw her thick ass as she walked away.
Wink was already making plans on how he’d get up in that young pussy, then maybe her sister, too, if he was lucky. Wink daydreamed on his way through the parking lot. That was the kind of respect he knew he deserved and was worthy of receiving.
“It’s all about the money,” he told himself.
Wink set the bag of munchies on the roof of the car, then opened the door. Before he could reach for the bag and get in, an empty forty-ounce of Old English shattered across the back of his head, sending him straight to the ground. He was dazed but came to when he felt hands probing his body.
“Get the fuck off me!” yelled Wink. He lay on his back with his feet propped up, ready to kick the two men like a wild horse if necessary.
“You wanna kick, huh?” asked Keon. He pulled out a chrome .45 with a pearl-white handle. He pointed it down at Wink’s face. “You ready to die, young nigga?” he asked.
“Nah, man,” Wink answered. He lowered his legs in defeat. His throat was dry, and his lips became instantly chapped. “Don’t kill me, man. Please.”
“Get that up off him,” Keon ordered his cohort.
This cock-diesel, shitty-black nigga bent down and snatched both stacks of money and handed them to Keon.
“Now close your eyes,” ordered Keon.
“Please don’t kill me,” pleaded Wink. He was so scared he nearly shitted himself.
“Nigga, close your eyes!” yelled Keon as he cocked the hammer back on his .45.
Wink closed his eyes and sparked a conversation with God. He hadn’t called on the Lord all his life, never went to church, now all of a sudden, some nigga standing over him about to cancel Christmas, and he wanted to call on God.
That day, God must have been listening, because when Wink opened his eyes, he was still alive. He scanned the parking lot, and it was empty. He hurriedly rolled onto his knees and stood up. Pain shot through his entire body, starting at his head where the bottle had struck him. He patted the back of his head, then looked at his hand, covered with blood.
Just like a nigga, Wink forgot to thank God, the one who saved his life. He jumped in the Escort and spun out the lot. He shifted gears like he was part of the Daytona 500 and made two sharp turns, reaching Linwood Ave. Wink pulled up at the spot and jumped out of the car, leaving the engine running. He climbed the porch four steps at a time, ignoring the begging crackheads. Wink busted through the door of the spot, startling Krazy from what he was doing. He was butt-ass naked on the floor with Amy and her friend. Krazy was in mid-stroke, fucking Amy from the back while she ate her best friend’s pussy. And that’s exactly what the spot smelled like—beat-up pussy.
“Fuck happen to you?” asked Krazy as he slid out of Amy’s pussy. He stood up and put his boxers on, then walked over to the fireplace mirror, where Wink stood nursing his wound and picking glass out of his scalp. “What happened, my nigga?” asked Krazy.
“Some niggas just got out on me up at the liquor store. They took all the money too,” said Wink, turning to face Krazy.
“What?” yelled Krazy. He quickly got dressed, all the while talking shit. This was what Krazy lived for—drama.
“Where
