Page 72 of Stay Dangerous

Only…

“Set’s phone is still off,” Peanut gritted.

I wasn’t doing no better. Fredo’s shit was ringing and ringing. Peanut wouldn’t tell us what each others’ tasks were. All I could figure out was we were each in groups, sent to different parts of the city, to either rob or kill someone high up or at the top of another gang.

Day one, Peanut was with Shad and Fade. I was with Sean and Fredo. He switched it up for day two, but since Fade dropped out because his girlfriend went into labor, Peanut was with me.

My day two task: murk Martin Aquino, head of the Manila Boys. For proof, I had to steal his notorious gun collection, painted in the colors of the Filipino flag.

I couldn’t believe we pulled it off. But as hard as that was, getting into his crib and snuffing him out, and making it back to our side, I was scared for what else Peanut had up his sleeve for the others.

“What about anyone else?”

“Everyone’s phone is off. Straight to voicemail. Fredo not answering?”

“Nah–”

“Hello?! Rico?!”

Peanut moved closer. I called Fredo’s burner, but it fasho wasn’t Fredo who answered.

“Who dis?!” Peanut barked into the phone.

“Turk, nigga! Big muthafuckin’ Turk, the way I just got on these Six-Owe-Treeses! The fuck y’all at?!”

“Maaaaan,” Peanut grinned, “we deep in the Dirus, Dub. At that arcade off Proctor. And we just ran from Little Philippines. We was hoping–”

“Fuck all that. Why you got my brother’s phone?”

“We must have grabbed the wrong one. It’s been a long fuckin’ night, Dub. I ain’t seen Fredo and them since we left the Galleria.”

“Aight, well, we need you–”

“FUCK! Ay, let me out here and go get them niggas. Ay, they coming, but it’s hot as fuck right now, so I wouldn’t wait around. I’d try to get off Proctor. Them Dirus acting a fool. Take that first street and walk south.”

Turk clicked in our faces, and we knew if we tried to call back, his phone would be off too.

“I bet you ain’t think everyone else would get in where they fit in, huh?” I mugged him.

“We the hardest niggas in this fucking city, Dub. We warriors for a fuckin’ reason, so I don’t give a fuck about no one else. Check them fuckin’ MAC-11s and let’s go.”

Nigga shot up, having a mini tantrum, because he knew I was right. This shit was borderline ridiculous.

I ain’t know Shad was a beast like that with coding.

We made it to the next street over with no issue, and began the trek south, with our backpacks on our chests. It was the dead of night over here, on the other side of Proctor Boulevard, but we were still in the Tree Street Piru territory, and we were a long ass way from home.

The only reason I thought to call Fredo was because he knew how to hotwire a car, so I knew he’d have one. Technically, we could only use ourselves. No outside help at all. But Turk picking up was still cool, since he was paired up with Ty-Ty, who also knew how to hotwire a car.

I could drive, but I always got the wires switched up. And Peanut swore he couldn’t interfere.

I did everything for my task. The nigga was basically moral support.

“How far you think they is?” Peanut asked as we crossed Nettletree Street.

“Shit, hopefully close. It’s been like thirty minutes.”

“Man. They should be. They was only in South East.”