that.”
For the first time that day Bolo didn’t seem to have any words. He recovered with, “The little fuck picked the house.”
“That true?” Vesper looked over at Saul.
“Kinda, yeah,” Saul said. “I picked it.”
“Why?”
“No reason, just picked.”
“You pick the neighborhood too?” Vesper asked. He set the remote down, and didn’t look at either of them.
“Just the house,” Saul said, it wasn't time for the whole truth, he could sense it.
“Fuckin’ shit, bullshit,” Bolo said.
“You tellin’ me that my shorty here drove all the way out to Arlington Heights and picked a little girl and her momma to off?”
Bolo was quiet, thinking.
So was Saul.
“You gotta taste for killin’ B, I know it, and I use it. But from what I’m seein’ here, you got other tastes too. You hung your ass out, which means that you hung my ass out. Time to calm down a little.”
“It’ll blow out man,” Bolo said. “Won’t be a day.”
“Yeah, it’ll go away, but not for a long time. The bitch ain’t dead, the daddy ain’t dead and his daddy is some kinda face.” He pointed again at the TV where the aerial scene of the house was replaced by a muted anchor woman. WTTG was the only television station in D.C. with its own helicopter, and it was now orbiting Arlington Heights. FOX was willing to foot the gas bill.
“Gonna be awhile.”
“I tagged it up,” Bolo said suddenly.
Vesper looked up, “Yeah?”
“Fuckin’ SMG Crew. Not us. I tagged it all good."
“Well you did somethin’ right then, but the cops’ll get through that sooner, not later. They’ll start shakin’ peeps down hardcore if we keep seein’ this shit on TV.” Vesper smiled, then let it fade. It was exactly what he'd known that Bolo would do, it was exactly what he'd hoped–lewd, indescribable violence pinned directly on SMG crew.
“I’ll get on the down low,” Bolo said. "Keep real quiet.”
Vesper chuckled, but clearly it wasn’t funny. “Sure will,” he said. “And you’re gonna stand Saul’s corner with him, do just what he says.”
It was a real blow to Bolo, as if someone had kicked him in the nuts. “Fuck too,” he said. Faintly. He was the Crew's dog; he was the hitter. He was seventeen, and taking orders from a fourteen year old nothing would be torture.
“You didn’t just say shit, I’m gonna choose to believe that. You’re gonna stand Saul’s corner as he deals, and you’re gonna keep his back. We straight? If you ain’t down with that, I got some other work for ya. You down?”
“Yeah, I’m down,” he said. He was looking away.
“You do exactly what Saul here says, and nothin’ else. Just shut the fuck up and watch his back, somethin’ happens to him, it’s your ass.”
The house reappeared on the screen from above in telephoto. It was bathed in rotating police lights. FOX followed with pictures of the family in happier times. Saul looked away.
“How many did you do?” Vesper asked.
“Two,” Bolo said too quickly. “Saul fucked up my piece, we had to dip without cappin’ the dude.”
“Wasn’t talkin’ to you.”
Saul wet
For the first time that day Bolo didn’t seem to have any words. He recovered with, “The little fuck picked the house.”
“That true?” Vesper looked over at Saul.
“Kinda, yeah,” Saul said. “I picked it.”
“Why?”
“No reason, just picked.”
“You pick the neighborhood too?” Vesper asked. He set the remote down, and didn’t look at either of them.
“Just the house,” Saul said, it wasn't time for the whole truth, he could sense it.
“Fuckin’ shit, bullshit,” Bolo said.
“You tellin’ me that my shorty here drove all the way out to Arlington Heights and picked a little girl and her momma to off?”
Bolo was quiet, thinking.
So was Saul.
“You gotta taste for killin’ B, I know it, and I use it. But from what I’m seein’ here, you got other tastes too. You hung your ass out, which means that you hung my ass out. Time to calm down a little.”
“It’ll blow out man,” Bolo said. “Won’t be a day.”
“Yeah, it’ll go away, but not for a long time. The bitch ain’t dead, the daddy ain’t dead and his daddy is some kinda face.” He pointed again at the TV where the aerial scene of the house was replaced by a muted anchor woman. WTTG was the only television station in D.C. with its own helicopter, and it was now orbiting Arlington Heights. FOX was willing to foot the gas bill.
“Gonna be awhile.”
“I tagged it up,” Bolo said suddenly.
Vesper looked up, “Yeah?”
“Fuckin’ SMG Crew. Not us. I tagged it all good."
“Well you did somethin’ right then, but the cops’ll get through that sooner, not later. They’ll start shakin’ peeps down hardcore if we keep seein’ this shit on TV.” Vesper smiled, then let it fade. It was exactly what he'd known that Bolo would do, it was exactly what he'd hoped–lewd, indescribable violence pinned directly on SMG crew.
“I’ll get on the down low,” Bolo said. "Keep real quiet.”
Vesper chuckled, but clearly it wasn’t funny. “Sure will,” he said. “And you’re gonna stand Saul’s corner with him, do just what he says.”
It was a real blow to Bolo, as if someone had kicked him in the nuts. “Fuck too,” he said. Faintly. He was the Crew's dog; he was the hitter. He was seventeen, and taking orders from a fourteen year old nothing would be torture.
“You didn’t just say shit, I’m gonna choose to believe that. You’re gonna stand Saul’s corner as he deals, and you’re gonna keep his back. We straight? If you ain’t down with that, I got some other work for ya. You down?”
“Yeah, I’m down,” he said. He was looking away.
“You do exactly what Saul here says, and nothin’ else. Just shut the fuck up and watch his back, somethin’ happens to him, it’s your ass.”
The house reappeared on the screen from above in telephoto. It was bathed in rotating police lights. FOX followed with pictures of the family in happier times. Saul looked away.
“How many did you do?” Vesper asked.
“Two,” Bolo said too quickly. “Saul fucked up my piece, we had to dip without cappin’ the dude.”
“Wasn’t talkin’ to you.”
Saul wet
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