us was dead. We both knew that Kyron had 90’s dreams about taking the streets over once again. That is what is wrong with the majority of these niggas, they come home and think that shit still supposed to be like it was. No matter how many ways we tried to explain to this nigga that snitching is accepted with these new generation wanna-be hustlers, he wasn’t hearing it. I saw the greed and excitement in his eyes. Now it was time to put his lights our permanently. I took the five inch blade out of my pocket and went to work, wishing that I could have chopped his head off with an axe. I pulled the knife out of his throat and stood by the bed watching this grimy muthafucka take his last breath. All the while thinking to myself that out of all the lives I took and all the shit I did, not until this very moment had any of it felt justified.
Satisfied with the work I just put in, I went into his bathroom to wash the blood off my hands and my blade. I pulled the ski mask off and stuffed it inside my pocket. I then took off the hoodie, turned it inside out, and put it back on. I smiled at myself in the mirror.
After slipping out of this nigga’s hospital room and bypassing the elevators, I entered the stairwell. I rushed down six flights to the second floor and then decided to get on the elevator. Just as I anticipated, when the doors opened, it was full. I stepped on, blending in with the crowd, and as soon as the doors reopened, I made my way out of the main lobby, passing security.
Outside, I started walking down 168th Street, thinking how that last move was done purely on emotion. Never a good thing, but it sure had me on a high. I hopped on the first bus I saw, the M4, and rode for a few blocks, got off, and flagged down a taxi. I gave the driver an address down the street from my apartment building.
Mission accomplished.
• • •
After enjoying a long hot shower, I lit a blunt and sat on the couch. I wanted to soak in and enjoy the peace and quiet around me, especially since I knew it was only the lull before the storm. The storm that I brewed up.
I also wanted to bask in my glory for a just a few moments. Old Kyron made Treacherous Trae come back out. That was my own nickname for myself back in the day. Being in the game wasn’t easy. I had to take a lot from niggas and I had to give just as much by sending a lot of niggas to where I just sent Kyron. Straight to hell where I was sure that I would see all of them muthafuckas. But no nigga ever got what he didn’t deserve. I almost went back down memory lane before Kyron went to jail and we was all out here lil’ niggas trying to get it. But fuck that. I looked straight up at the ceiling and tried to think about nothing. But this apartment wouldn’t let me. It was too dear to me for many reasons. I looked around my living room. I was attached to this apartment because it held so much history of where I came from and who I am now. That’s why I would never sell it. I got this apartment as soon as I started seeing real money. Owning real estate on New York’s Park Avenue back in the day let us know that we had arrived. Kay and I used to call this spot ‘“The Honeycomb.”’ I remember how good it felt to get into my bed after weeks of nonstop hustling. We would rest for a day or two, and then we were right back at it. Those were the days.
I laid my head back and stared up at the ceiling. My thoughts drifted back to when I first brought Tasha here. She was the icing on the cake. Kay and I had a rule: No hos allowed. But as soon as I laid eyes on Tasha, I knew she was the one. I knew that she was going to be my wife. I will never forget the euphoria I felt to have snatched her up right when we were on our way out of the game. I was ready to