Page 158 of The Ninth
Cassie need her head knocked too for introducing the girl to the nigga!
“This him right here, folks.”
K3 drove past the house, parking down the block. The energy in the truck was a mix of excitement and darkness. I was excited to beat the brakes off this nigga. K3’s mind was stuck on finding and killing Juan. Both of us watched the house through the mirrors.
“Who all be in there?” he asked. I knew it didn’t matter.
“Just a few niggas and some hoes usually.”
“Come on.”
With no plan or even a count down, gang hopped out of the truck, walking down the street. He didn’t walk in the shadows. He didn’t run. Instead, he casually strolled straight down the middle while I walked right beside him.
Once we got to the house, K3 walked to the side, waiting. I went straight to the front door, knocking on it with my pistol. Niggas was in there with hoes having the time of they fucking lives. I beat harder, probably sounding like twelve. The music cut before someone made their way to me.
“WHO THE FUCK IS I—”
As soon as the door opened, I shoved the barrel of my gun down that niggas throat. Some niggas was in the back while two bitches sat half naked on the couch. They looked at me, shocked. I had this nigga by his neck, daring him to pull that pistol out the back of his pants.
“Leave all y’all shit and get the fuck out of here,” I told them.
They got up as is, running out of the house.
I drug shorty ass to the side of the house. Bitch had the nerve to be stumbling and mumbling as his shoes almost caught fire. Nah, pussy. Suck on this Glock how you was sucking on my fucking wife!
Once we were in the dark, I threw him down onto the concrete. He hopped up quickly, thinking he was gon up on me. K3 appeared out of the shadows though, snatching the gun from his waist. Twist spun around, staring at this nigga long and hard. Next thing we knew, he just took off running. Niggas stay doing that shit when they see K3.
“You could’ve grabbed him, bitch.”
“Nah. I like the chase. I like letting them feel like they gon get away.”
After about five more seconds, we broke out running.
This bitch heart was probably beating through his chest. He had a head start and still had two big ass niggas on his ass. It didn’t help that I was cackling loudly, not even trying to be discreet about catching him. This bitch K3 looked so happy running and letting his dreads blow in the wind. This bitch a foo.
Very shortly, we were on his heels. I cocked my fist back, punching the nigga in the back of his neck. I slowed up, watching his body fall to the ground and slide against the concrete. K3 and I stood over him as I snatched him up by his shirt.
“Where that nigga Juan at?!”
“HUH?! WHO?”
“BITCH—” My first crashed into his mouth. The next time he opened that mothafucka, red coated all of his teeth. “WHERE THE FUCK IS JUAN!”
“He-he-he-he—”
“This nigga Michael Jackson now,” K3 mumbled.
“HE WITH HIS BITCH! SHE LIVE IN NEW ORLEANS! HE TURNED HIS PHONE OFF. SOMETHING ABOUT PROMISING THE HOE TO SPEND TIME WITH HER OR SOME SHIT. EVEN WHEN HE COME BACK TO THE CITY, HE DON’T BE IN THE MIX LIKE THAT. HE JUST COMING AND GOING. GOT HIS HEAD UP HER ASS.”
“YOU BEEN FUCKING ON DEVYN?!” I asked selfishly.
“WHAT? HELL NAH! SHE AIN’T GOING! AND-AND-AND...CASSIE DID JUAN CRAZY.”
K3 backed up, “Let him up.”
I’m the big brother, so I started beating this nigga head in anyways. The bitch laid there, balled up as I whammed on his ass. I didn’t stop until blood covered his face like paint. Breathing heavily, I stepped back beside K3.
K3 nodded at him, “Call that nigga right now, shorty.”
