"You damn right," Gunna responded, making his way in her direction.
Sprinting, Lamar caught up to Gunna and decided to make the first contact. "Aye, lady, can I help you with something?" Lamar asked, lifting his shirt, revealing a black .25-caliber Taurus pistol with a mother of pearl grip.
"No, no, young man, can I help you with something? I was sent here by an agency to check out this house for my black husband and me to move in, so if you'll excuse me," the lady retorted sarcastically.
"Well, this is how were gonna do this, with ya smart ass mouf. You got sixty-seconds to evacuate the premises before the agency and your husband finds your ass having disappeared."
"No white people allowed. Get where we coming from, lady? We don't want any residents in this particular house, ya dig?"
Angrily, the woman fumbled in her purse for her cell phone, screaming, "How dare you―"
Lamar impulsively puts two bullets into her mid-section. She fell to the pavement, grabbing her stomach. Another shot went through her thigh before he took off running with Gunna behind him.
Unbeknownst to them, a neighbor across the street and two houses down, was on the phone, calling nine-one-one before they had a chance to turn the corner.
Returning to the future, Gunna looked puzzled, and said, "White bull?" repeating Lamar's question.
"You're dumb now?"
"Naw, you talkin' 'bout my white homie, Stan."
"Quick memory," Lamar said, smirking.
In a quiet tone, Gunna said, "That's who I got the pistol, I gave you when you got out. He is running up in the gun stores in New Jersey, so he is having guns on deck. And J-Rock cool as shit, too, and turned me on to a coke connect. They good money. The chick that you shot was some white bitch he was fuckin' for her money. She was taking care of him." He took a breath and let all of those lies sink in. "But fuck all that, I just got the call on the way here. That pack touching down in Darby in a few days. Plus, I got some more bread to score for a hit if you wit' it." Gunna locked his eyes with Lamar's to indicate that it was a serious matter.
"I'm with whatever, as long as it's about this paper," Lamar replied nonchalantly. "But you better get ya shit together, my nigga."
"Aiight, well, look, you and Trap caught that body on the block when I was up the street with J-Rock and this dude named, Oz."
"Stop mentioning this body on the block, muthafucka," Lamar said, pounding the table. "Now, what's up?"
"Well, my man, Oz, from up the Badlands and shit. He got some work he needs taken care of."
"A hit?" Lamar asked.
"He got thirty-grand for us to put someone in the dirt. He tried to give me some of the money right then and there, but I told him to hold off until I ran it by you. It's easy money, Lambchop," Gunna said, nodding his head to the side.
Lamar sat in silence as he contemplated Gunna's words. "Let's do it."
"All right, say no more. We on it then." Gunna's excitement was evident. "I'm gonna give him a call in the morning. He got the bread for us for sure. He drives around in a Maybach and calls his Range Rover his hoopty. This nigga is a major playa."
"Listen, Gunna, don't none of that shit impress me. Just make sure he got that bread," stated Lamar.
Gunna laughed. "He's a good dude and ain't gonna try no funny shit. He already knows what type of time we're on, bro. I'm tryinna be a couple thousand dollars richer, you feel me?" Gunna leaned back, interlocking his fingers behind his head.
Lamar took a sip of his orange juice, wondering what the future held for him and his friend. It looked bleak.
CHAPTER 9
October third―a week later―Lamar pushed his seat to an upright position, excited at the prospect that he would be richer after they robbed the house in Upper Darby. He was glad that Gunna had been making plans for them both to get money. That was the least he could do considering all of the other areas in life that he was failing. Good thing he knew that Gunna knew how to keep his mouth shut because if the police caught them it would be no task to prove what they planned was classified as premeditated. This took the robbery-homicide to a more serious level.
"You ready, bro?" Gunna asked, breaking the silence as he looked over to the driver's seat where Lamar was driving.
"I have always been ready. I was born ready." He drove up Walnut Street, crossed Sixty-third Street, and into Upper Darby Borough.
"Good. Just checkin' 'cause we ain't got no room for error tonight," stated Gunna.
Lamar said nothing but kept his eyes on the road while Gunna scrolled through his recent calls and called their prey to let him know that he was coming to get his usual nine ounces. Little did the drug connect know, this time things were going to be a little bit different. Gunna was coming to kill, and take everything that he had. He ended the call and directed Lamar down a one-way street.
"Right there, that's the crib. Spin the block," demanded Gunna. They checked one last time for anything unusual or out of place and felt comfortable with what they saw. Gunna dug between the two front seats for his Taurus .357 Magnum firearm. Upon retrieving it, he called the house again. "Yo, I'm out front, Snake. On my way to the front door."
"Hold on a minute, Gunna. I'm about to slide out," Snake replied.
This instantly threw Gunna and Lamar's plan. "Aight, I'm parked across the street with my lights on. Aye, look, though, my man wants four whole joints. I told him 'bout you so make sure you hook him up," Gunna said straight piping the gullible drug dealer's head up, making him believe that he had the best cocaine in the area.
"I got whatever you need, Gunna. I know you a good dude. Let me put that together and I'll be right out," Snake said eagerly, before hanging up the phone.
Gunna knew that he was too greedy to peep the blitz.
Gunna shifted his attention to Lamar. "Damn, dog."
"What's up?"
"The nigga bringin' the work out here to the wheel. I told 'em to bring four kilos of raw, though, so if nothin' else, we can take that from the nigga."
