First off, I like to apologize. When I posted Part I, I said that I would post every Wednesday and Friday. That pesky thing called life happened and got in the way of editing Part II. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep. That’s not being a professional and I pride myself on making statements and standing by them.
So, I will say this, every Wednesday I will post the continuation of the story. If I’m able to post again during the week I will do that and let you know in advance. I apologize again for my unprofessionalism. Here is Part II of Water For Blood.
Water For Blood – Part II
By Robert C Price
“Come on, D, quit playin’ mind games with me,” as I rushed towards him to throw his ass out of the chair. As huge as Beans is in his 6’4” frame, he’s always been quick. I felt his tree trunk of an arm wrap around my throat and squeezed.
“Do you want your son or not?” asked Derek.
I tapped out on Beans’ arm and fell to the floor exhausted. The day’s challenges finally catching up with me.
“Now, the brothers was sending down one of our best shooters to ice this fucker skimming from us. When we found you, what better way to kill two birds with one giant ass boulder.”
I looked around the room at these familiar and unwanted faces colliding with my present. They were specters of the past come to haunt me like Scrooge. I did everything I needed to do to hide and it still wasn’t enough.
When I got up, I had to ask him how he found me.
He chuckled, “Facebook.”
“Yeah, Facebook. And Harry Silverman.”
Should have known Harry was in there somewhere. He was nothing but a low-life private eye that the Mason Brothers use for other illegal activities. Lots of extortion. Lots of dead witnesses.
“That fat piece of shit is a human bloodhound,” said Derek.
“Raheem was visiting his daughter. She showed him pictures of her at Disney World on there. And there you were in the background smilin’ with that bitch I killed and your punk ass son.”
I felt my hands clench but relaxed when Beans grabbed my collar and dragged me to the door.
“Enough talkin’ Stevie. Time to work. To be honest witchu’ I really hope you fuck up. I got plans for my little nephew.”
“Stop that damn whimpering. Soundin’ like a puppy,” snapped Angeline as she turned up the volume on the TV. On the nightstand, she retrieved the syringe and pricked Terrence’s skin deep like an angry bee. The venom held in the plastic cylinder flowed through his vessels, calming his tears into silence.
“Can’t take that cryin’ or this bullshit.”
She plopped on the bed and took several drags from her cigarette as the young man’s head drooped to the side. When Angeline heard the lock turning, she sprang from the bed like a jack-in-the-box and snatched the door open.
“What the fuck, Derek? Where you been? I’m not a fuckin’ babysitter,” as she blocked the doorway of the motel room.
His hand grabbed her neck and pushed her towards the bed. The force made her eyes roll into her head.
“You’re whatever I wantchu’ to be,” as he brought her face close to his.
“Just cuz I brought your stripper ass with me, don’t think you got skin in this game. Do as you’re told and don’t say shit.”
Derek slammed her down on the bed and walked over to the drugged up boy. He lifted Terrence’s head and did a once-over.
“Silly ass bitch. Next time, Imma break your fuckin’ nose. Let’s see how you do in the Champagne Room then”
He sat on the chair opposite the young man, lit a Newport and stared into the abyss of his thoughts.
“You broke my heart, Stevie. You chose them over me.”
I was in the back of a black Chrysler 300 with Beans poking my kidney with a gun and the chick from the warehouse behind the wheel on I95. I was surprised at how light traffic was on a Friday at 1am. But even at that time of the morning, the Florida heat still made you sweat like a sex addict at a porn convention.
We got off at the Atlantic Boulevard exit and headed east to Pompano Beach
I decided to ask my former associate, “Do you know where you’re going?”
“I ain’t gotta know. My girl up front knows the way,” as he pushes the automatic deeper.
I looked at her in the rear-view. She spotted me.
“What the hell you lookin’ at?” with her eyes bugged out like a demented frog.
“You got the shit job”
“Fuck you, man”
“I’m just sayin’. You the chauffeur. Drivin’ us around, while me and him do all the dirty work, right?” as I glanced Beans way.
That’s when I saw my opportunity. Big man raised his gun to hit me across my head. I grabbed his hand and head-butted him on the forehead. I followed through with a punch to his forearm, disarming him as the gun dropped to the floor.
While I fought for my life, chick up front swerved in and out of traffic, slinging us everywhere in the backseat.
I saw Beans in pain, but he still managed to wrestle me for the gun like a bull fighting for a blade of grass in a drought. I ended it when I elbowed him in the nose which was less painful than the hole in his chest from the automatic.