Page 63 of Adonis Gates
I pulled my gun from my side and placed it on the counter in front of me.
“Don ain’t the name I wanna hear, my nigga. Tell me who the fuck BJC is or I’m gon’ start shootin’.”
“L-look, w-we were just d-doing w-what we were told to do.” Brent said as he looked between his brother and me. “W-we were told t-that we needed to double the orders and s-send money to that account.”
“Told by who, Brent? Because yo’ ass works for me, and at the time, Vado. I know he didn’t tell you to do this shit.”
“A woman,” he answered. “She came in here and?—”
“Brent, stop.” Brad roared. “You can’t!”
“You want to die?” He barked at his brother.
“No, but I don’t want Ann and the girls to die either!” he countered. “Or your wife and kids.”
Over the back and forth, I grabbed the neck of the nearby beer bottle one of the customers had left, then bashed Brent across the head with it since he was the closest. After it shattered, I held his head down with the ragged end of the bottle on the side of his neck.
“I see I came in and went about shit all wrong. I didn’t come in here for negotiations or to give you a mothafuckin’ choice. I came in here to get a fuckin’ name and my bread.”
“Okay, look,” Brad held his hands up, looking scared shitless. “W-we don’t know who she was…”
“She?” my brows lifted. “It was a woman?”
“Yes. She came in here with directions from Vado for us to double liquor orders and deposit money to this account once a month.” His shaky hands opened the folder and he pointed to the account information. “She had all of Vado’s contact information to prove that she knew him and it wasn’t a scam.”
“You heard Vado himself say to do the shit?” I asked the question I already knew the answer to. No way he knew about this shit and had no documentation of the business.
“N-no,” he stammered. “We just figured that he’d told her to come to us?—”
“Brent, how long y’all been workin’ for us?” I frowned.
“I know, but?—”
“Naw, nigga, ain’t no mothafuckin’ buts!” I snapped. “You been workin’ for Vado a long ass fuckin’ time and he ain’t ever sent some bitch to handle business, and that all of a sudden changed?”
“She had all of his info, man,” he replied in a pleading tone. “You gotta understand.”
“I don’t have to understand shit,” I released Brent’s bitch ass. “And I ain’t ‘bout to either. Y’all niggas better find out who the bitch you been sendin’ my mothafuckin’ money to is and havethe shit back to me in a week or it’s gon’ be some mothafuckin’ issues.”
“A week? That’s not possible, Don.”
“Then you better hope a miracle happens because if I don’t get every red cent of my bread in seven days you gon’ die,” I pointed to Brad using the barrel of my gun then turned to Brent. “You gon’ die, and every fuckin’ body else in relation to you.”
“Don, come on man.” Brent cried. “Please don’t do this. She has our addresses, knows who our children are. She will kill us.”
“Naw, I’m gon’ kill yo’ ass if I don’t get what the fuck I just asked for.” I warned, tucking my gun back in place. “I don’t know who the bitch is, but you know I ain’t bullshittin’. Have my bread and a name in exactly five days, or it’s over.”
“F-five days.” Brent repeated. “You just said a week.”
“Business days only, mothafucka,” I smirked before turning to leave. I was done talking and I was dead serious. Brent and Brad had been working for Vado for a long time, but they were working for me now and would be the first example I’d set for the rest of these niggas if they didn’t have my money and a name in the next five days.
Chapter Eighteen
Jruelle.
“Are you done getting ready?” my sister asked for the millionth time.
“Almost, Geri.” I chuckled, combing my hair down. It was finally cooling down outside and officially blowout season, so I could wear my hair down without worrying about the weather ruining it.