dammnn....,” Benjamin whispers.
“She was hot as firecrack’a on summ’a asphalt.”
“Shut the hell up negro fo’ ya’ get hur’ start’d ‘gain,” Slick sneers, about to chuckle.
As both men sit back in their chairs, they expect for Kelly to arrive back at the table. She does not, the young woman has called it a night.
The beauty is upset, tended to by Sally, saying all she is to say. Time to let men do what men are going to do.
“So how we gon’ do this?,” Benjamin whispers, thinking Kelly and Sally are still in the nearby kitchen.
Slick nods, trying to peep around the corner from his seat. “I got men already watch’in Ole man McClaren and all his bastu’ds,” he whispers, pouring a glass of wine. “In fact, yo’ kno’ they watch’in our every move.”
Benjamin nods, the comment making him suddenly laugh, pouring himself a glass of port as well. The creole curiously sniffs at the fine crystal glass, not pleased. He is not really a wine man. “Noth’in gets past those devil eyes of yu’rs huh?”
Slick laughs, his bright blue eyes sparkling. “Shhhhhh-iiiittt, not if I want to stay ‘bove fuck’in ground negro - best tha’ fo’ so.”
Benjamin grins, nodding as he sips. Hit men all have one thing in common, its a sixth sense they develop through the art of taking the lives of others for money. Some say it maybe the devil protecting his own, giving these harbingers of death an advantage over others.
Others that benefit from the revenge, the powerless, ultimate wrongs made right, they say its God sending Archangel Michael to guard those that vet out the almighty’s justice, his soldiers.
What one sees as an angel, another sees as a devil, a perfect analogy for Benjamin and Slick.
Listening to his half brother speak about their plan, benjamin's eyebrow raises, enjoying the fine wine, surprised. “How long?,” he asks, changing the subject slightly.
“A whole week naw’,” Slick says, thinking back.
“They started Sunday, tail’in me and tha’ misses all tha’ way home fru’m a family get-together’. Kelly saw’em befo’ I did fo’ sure.”
“That’s my girl,” he says with pride, taking a swallow.
After some time, the men say nothing, Slick peeking for Kelly on occasion. Benjamin rises, closing curtains that are open to the street below. His partner’s comments are making him more and more paranoid, as if death crawling up one’s spine.
“So how we gon’ do this. I seem to keep repeat’in my fuck’in self son.” the creole smiles.
Slick laughs, looking past his buddy, making sure that his wife is not eavesdropping. “Naw, not at all play’a.”
“And for that dick and ball snip’in shi.”
“We aint do’in all that. Trust me fo’sho.
“That’s the quickest way to be labeled a queer son.”
Grinning, Benjamin pours another glass of fine port. “Tha’ fuck we aint son.”
“If that’s what Kelly wants, give tha’ gu’d pussy wha’ she wants negro.”
“Besides-shhhiiiiiitt -- we aint do’in the snip’in at all,” the creole grins.
Hearing his partner, the blue eyed thug’s face contorts into a curious grin. “Yeah-I guess ya’ right. Anyways boy..tha’ plan is this,” Slick whispers a playful mock.
Benjamin cuts his partner off with a raised eyebrow.
“What tha’ fuck you just say, ya slaber-mouth'd devil eyed honkey?”
Slick laughs, snickering in his rim of his glass. “ I called you a boy.....nigg’a...”
“I see ya’ want ta’ do this by ya’ self Slick,” Benjamin leers, about to rise, right as his partner motions for him to sit down.
“How long have we known each other?,” Slick smiles.
Benjamin thinks back, sitting on edge of the fine dinner table, hearing it creak slightly under his weight. “Shit’- bout’ all our life.”
Relaxing, the white hustler leans back in his seat, the fine chair creaking under his weight. In his eyes he sees a man that he has known most of his life and all of his murderous career, a keeper of his darkest secrets.
“Nigga...when ya’ ate-I ate.”
“When ya’ shit-I shit. We have ate fru’m tha’ same plate, slept in tha’ same bed sense we both can rememb’a.”
“Fuck, I got mo’ black in my soul than you got in ya’ whole fuck’in bourgeoisie red ass, “ Slick laughs.
“When ya’ mama kissed yo’ on ya’ fo’head, she kissed me on mine too fuck’a.”
“Get off ya’ fuck’in high horse.”
Benjamin laughs, sitting back down. “If ya’ was anyone else-ya’ brains would be all ov’a that nice dinner cabinet mutha-fuck’a.”
“And I’d have new earrings fo’ Kelly,” Slick laughs.
Chuckling at his own words, the blue eyed killer watches his half brother sit back down, two peas in a pod, where ever one goes, the other will follow. Most of the time.
Brothers in the truest form.
Some folks even call Benjamin Slick’s shadow, because he is black ofcourse, a saying the handsome creole hates, even killing a man because if it.
Sipping a good fifteen year port, benjamin looks his friend in the eyes, liquid blue orbs of curiosity and grand intelligence, well past Slick’s second grade education. “Ya aint got a plan do ya ?”
Slick nods.
“Tha’ fuck I do nigga. And its a good on too.”
Chapter 3
Redeemer 's Logic
Upstairs, running her bath, Kelly sits down on the edge of the grand tub. As dark thoughts surround her being, the beauty gazes into the bath water.
Surrounding
