Jury of Peers by Troy L Brodsky Page B

“This ain’t ‘bout him having balls, it’s about him havin’ a big brain that gets ya up in his grill.  See, I think Saul here knows that he can do it, it’s just about knowin’ when to do it.”
                  “Man, Vesper, you told me to go out ‘n jump the kid in so we’d know he’s straight.”
                  “Don’t tell me what I said.”
                  “Really man, I just…it was like fate, chance….”
                  “Yeah, thing is you got your kicks, don’t tell me different.  She was pregnant, and that little girl was what, fuckin’ ten years old or somethin’?”
                  “I didn’t know….”
                  “Didn’t know what?  That she didn’t have no hair yet?  Or did you find out?  Fuckin’ truth serum.  You ready Saul?”
                  Saul nodded, but he couldn’t hear much more than the drumming of his pulse in his ears.  The buzz behind his eyes returned, narrowed.  He felt the checks on the gun’s grip in his palm.
                  “Vesper, please man….”  Bolo wobbled.
                  “Cap ‘em Saul.  Drain that fucker right here.”
                  “Saul, man waitwaitwait, seriou….”
                  The gun leaped in Saul’s hand, a gout of flame a foot and a half wide flashed and obliterated his view of the target.  He heard Bolo hit the wall, roll off and crump down on the ground before he could see him.  The room rang.  The report had been way louder than Saul had remembered from out on the street.  It wasn't like a firecracker this time:  it was pure cannon and all pain.  The gun locked open, and he angled it just a bit to keep Bolo in view.  Saul blinked hard as if this would clear his ears.
                  “Get up,” Vesper finally said.  He had to repeat it twice before the body stirred, groaned, and rolled over.  “Get your ass up off my floor fuckstick,” he said finally.
                  Bolo sat up, his face pitted and flash–burned.  His eyes were glazed, and a line of blood was dripping from his ear.  He staggered up, and then fell back to one knee.
                  “Ain’t nothing wrong with Saul here, it’s you that’s the little bitch,” Vesper said.  “There’s no next time for you B.  You belong to Saul now.  You do what the fuck he says and you do it when the fuck he says.  You’re his boy.  We straight?”
              A rasp, "Yeah.”
                  “No next time means no crimps, just  big ol’ forty shocks turnin' your head inside out,” he turned his attention to Saul.  “That there’s your piece, take care of it.  Any questions, you come ask me, got it?”  He slid a new magazine across the desk.
                  The boy nodded, "Okay.”  Finally, he lowered the gun, replaced the empty magazine with the real deal, and put it into his pocket.
                  “Gimme yours,” Vesper waved Bolo over.  Bolo took a step, balanced himself on the wall, and then made it the rest of the way to the desk.  The blood was really coming down out of his ear now, seeping out from between his clenched fingers.
                  “Put it right here,” Vesper pointed at the desk.
                  Tears of frustration streamed down his face, but he set the gun down without a single word. 
                  Vesper picked it up, dropped the magazine, and worked the action.  “Never even cleaned it have ya?  Dumb fuck.  Well this thing’s gone.  Can’t believe you still have it you dumb shit.”  He shook his head and reexamined the pistol. 
                  Saul rubbed his own ears, but the ringing remained.
                  “Aight, Saul you keep him off the street.  He goes with you.  He’s your boy,