work with that.” I flashed his ass another smile and shook his hand.
About thirty minutes later I drove out of Pido’s shop in the Charger with ten thousand more dollars in my Marc Jacob bag. I stopped at a T-Mobile store owned and operated by some Cubans, only a couple of blocks over. The Latinos had the south side on lock. They owned the majority of the businesses in their neighborhoods and they kept their cash flowing amongst each other. Their sense of unity had always been fly to me.
They weren’t trippin about the Samsung Galaxy 5 I’d taken from Hector being hot and even gave me a credit towards the iPhone 6 plus I bought from them. Once it was activated I walked out of the store relieved that the only thing left to connect me with Hector’s suck ass was the dope and jewelry. And with all of the muthafuckas I knew in the streets, the dope would sell itself.
After checking into the Brookfield Sheraton, just outside of Milwaukee County, I slept for the next twelve hours. When I did awake, I ordered room service, stuffed my muthafuckin face, and slept some more. Once I woke up the second time, the sun was on the verge of closing shop for the day. I sparked some more the Indigo Gold to get my mind right, ordered some more room service, and hopped in the shower. It was time to get back on my job. I had a triflin ass nigga and a white bitch to hunt down.
I sat and watched the boogie little bitch from the parking lot across the street. I could see her running her mouth on the telephone behind the counter through the large glass windows on the rental car business. Adrienne was Ivan’s inside plug and got him any rental car they had. If he didn’t have any stolen identification to use, Adrienne would put the rental under another customer’s name that was already in their computer.
It was real convenient when we needed a car for a lick we had up. The only problem I ever had with any of it was that I always had the feeling that Adrienne, the car rental tramp bitch, was fucking Ivan. A gut feeling I first got when I went along with Ivan to get a rental and she couldn’t even look me in the eye. But that wasn’t the reason I was stalking the bitch. I was positive that Ivan and Kim came to get a rental after their flight landed. The only whip Ivan owned was the white Vette he was driving the night we met. He considered that his old school trophy and only pulled it out on whatever he felt was a special occasion.
He always preferred to keep flipping rentals, whether we were on a lick or not. I got out of the Charger hoping that whoever’s info he used this time would lead me straight to his punk ass. It was ten minutes to nine as I crossed Wells Street. There was no shopping, clubbing, or grubbing going on in the part of the downtown I was in. And all of the tall ass buildings and skyscrapers I was surrounded by were finished doing business for the day.
The area was still lit up and the traffic was still flowing. This is why I was rocking the Denver Bronco fitted real low over a blond wig, with some Marc Jacob shades on. I also wanted to make sure any cameras around didn’t record a bitch’s true identity.
“Um, we’re just about to close ma’am. But we open at 9 am, so you’ll probably want to come back then.” Adrienne went back to running her mouth on the phone until she noticed I was still approaching the counter.
“Um ma’am? Did you hear what I said? We’re closed in less than ten minutes.” She told whoever she was chopping it up with on the phone that she would call them back.
“Ma’am, you’re going to have to leave. I forgot to lock the doors…” Her voice trailed off when I shoved the 9mm in her face.
“That was yo fault bitch. Now shut up and listen.”
“Oh my god. Oh my god. We don’t keep much cash here because most of the transactions –”
I leaned a little farther across the counter and shoved my strap into her chest. “Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck
About thirty minutes later I drove out of Pido’s shop in the Charger with ten thousand more dollars in my Marc Jacob bag. I stopped at a T-Mobile store owned and operated by some Cubans, only a couple of blocks over. The Latinos had the south side on lock. They owned the majority of the businesses in their neighborhoods and they kept their cash flowing amongst each other. Their sense of unity had always been fly to me.
They weren’t trippin about the Samsung Galaxy 5 I’d taken from Hector being hot and even gave me a credit towards the iPhone 6 plus I bought from them. Once it was activated I walked out of the store relieved that the only thing left to connect me with Hector’s suck ass was the dope and jewelry. And with all of the muthafuckas I knew in the streets, the dope would sell itself.
After checking into the Brookfield Sheraton, just outside of Milwaukee County, I slept for the next twelve hours. When I did awake, I ordered room service, stuffed my muthafuckin face, and slept some more. Once I woke up the second time, the sun was on the verge of closing shop for the day. I sparked some more the Indigo Gold to get my mind right, ordered some more room service, and hopped in the shower. It was time to get back on my job. I had a triflin ass nigga and a white bitch to hunt down.
I sat and watched the boogie little bitch from the parking lot across the street. I could see her running her mouth on the telephone behind the counter through the large glass windows on the rental car business. Adrienne was Ivan’s inside plug and got him any rental car they had. If he didn’t have any stolen identification to use, Adrienne would put the rental under another customer’s name that was already in their computer.
It was real convenient when we needed a car for a lick we had up. The only problem I ever had with any of it was that I always had the feeling that Adrienne, the car rental tramp bitch, was fucking Ivan. A gut feeling I first got when I went along with Ivan to get a rental and she couldn’t even look me in the eye. But that wasn’t the reason I was stalking the bitch. I was positive that Ivan and Kim came to get a rental after their flight landed. The only whip Ivan owned was the white Vette he was driving the night we met. He considered that his old school trophy and only pulled it out on whatever he felt was a special occasion.
He always preferred to keep flipping rentals, whether we were on a lick or not. I got out of the Charger hoping that whoever’s info he used this time would lead me straight to his punk ass. It was ten minutes to nine as I crossed Wells Street. There was no shopping, clubbing, or grubbing going on in the part of the downtown I was in. And all of the tall ass buildings and skyscrapers I was surrounded by were finished doing business for the day.
The area was still lit up and the traffic was still flowing. This is why I was rocking the Denver Bronco fitted real low over a blond wig, with some Marc Jacob shades on. I also wanted to make sure any cameras around didn’t record a bitch’s true identity.
“Um, we’re just about to close ma’am. But we open at 9 am, so you’ll probably want to come back then.” Adrienne went back to running her mouth on the phone until she noticed I was still approaching the counter.
“Um ma’am? Did you hear what I said? We’re closed in less than ten minutes.” She told whoever she was chopping it up with on the phone that she would call them back.
“Ma’am, you’re going to have to leave. I forgot to lock the doors…” Her voice trailed off when I shoved the 9mm in her face.
“That was yo fault bitch. Now shut up and listen.”
“Oh my god. Oh my god. We don’t keep much cash here because most of the transactions –”
I leaned a little farther across the counter and shoved my strap into her chest. “Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck
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