SMACKED (PART 1)

"Thanks, man, for joining me on this one, Carter," A'Marionn said, passing him a beer.

"Man, you know I got you, bro. Where that nigga, Von, at?"

A'Marionn looked over at Carter with a displeasing look as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. He didn't want it to seem like he had and Von weren't cool. It was just that he was making moves that he needed to alone, first, before he included Von.

He had corporate clients that weren't always handling disgruntled business dealings and partnerships in court.

"Naw, he ain't comin'. I gotta do this one alone before I pull his loud ass in. I need this to be done eloquently. We are dealing with my boy Frankie and his uncle Tommy."

Carter perked up when he heard the two names A'Marionn referenced. "I gotchu," he said.

"So, what's the job?" Carter asked and leaned in as if overly interested.

"Just a drop-off and pickup!"

"And you trust this dude Frankie?"

"No, I don't trust anyone. He's a client, a longstanding client who offered me a more lucrative job that will set me up to lie low for a while."

"OK, cool, I gotcha, but we talking drugs and money, bro. I ain't wit' explosives and shit." Carter laughed but flexed his jawline quick and fast to indicate he was serious.

Carter hadn't changed much. He was still ready to fight or shoot with little explanation but funny as hell.

That was the two definitions of crazy. A nigga standing around laughin' and jokin', then all of a sudden, mad as hell. Von used to fuck wit' 'im about his two personalities. He was definitely two-faced. Von used to say he was mad at some bitch cuz she didn't give 'im no pussy when he started trippin' out of the blue like that.

All in all, Carter was cool people. He was a quiet hothead, which made for a good partner in crime. His kills were done with style. Fucking with Von, he would wake up the neighborhood. He liked to talk while he pistol-whipped niggas, like how Granny used to when they were gettin' a whoopin'.

"So we good, bro?" A'Marionn said looking up from his beer after a moment of silence.

"We good!" Carter confirmed as the two men toasted to money and freedom.

A'Marionn pulled up to Junior's home, blowing his horn impatiently. Junior bounced out of the house in a fucking hoodie, jeans, and Tims with his armory exposed.

"You ready, nigga?" A'Marionn yelled out to Junior.

"Nice piece," Carter said through clenched teeth as he noticed Junior was freelancing with his weapon in plain sight.

A'Marionn looked at it and frowned his lips, then shook his head. "Yeah, it's cute, but do that muthafucka shoot?"

Junior's no-job-havin' ass had the nerve to have a gold- and-black-plated nine milly with his name engraved on it. Right then and there, A'Marionn should've seen the red flags. The man was carrying a weapon that should've been in a damn display case, not on the streets collecting bodies.

A'Marionn hit his hands on the steering wheel as Carter lay in the backseat in his button down and Stacy Adams. He was hot as hell trying to put together his weapon of choice. Carter grunted with a loud cuss after nearly getting the black gun polish on the lap of his pants.

"What the fuck you doin'?" A'Marionn interrupted, nervous that Carter had gotten his white interior dirty.

"Preparing. Just pissed that we doing this shit without Von. How long have you known this nigga Junior?"

"Jail," A'Marionn replied slightly under his breath. He was embarrassed that he had chosen Junior to participate. Only he didn't have anyone else, and Junior had his back in prison more than once. So he couldn't just leave Junior out of the loop. He just hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

"Jail. Why was he in there, Amari? Man, you slippin'! You sure that pussy didn't poison yo' ass? We can't get caught slippin', nigga! This shit real. Real money and real muthafuckin' men. These men, Amari, they play with guns for fun. I'm a shooter all day, but this Junior guy? We don't know what the deal is with him. You truly don't know this fool at all. Cuz, see, in jail, we solicit those we feel may aid us in making it out alive. It's the survival of the fittest. You were selected. Consider yourself lucky. However, let me tell you, this man right here probably listened to everything you said over the course of your stay in Wasco County Prison. He dreamed of your success, your power, and his intentions of getting close to you to delve into your business worked. Now we just some sitting ducks. Cuz, this nigga right here, walkin' up to yo' shit," Carter said shaking his head, "is either gon' try to kill you, or he gon' wait till you love 'im like a brother, and then he gon' set yo' ass up."

A'Marionn looked around the car pondering Carter's synop- sis of the entire situation. Part of him was thinking the same thing. Junior could have been fronting, helping him to later help himself. He couldn't think about all that right now, though. There was money to be made.

"We will definitely have to talk about this," Carter said to A'Marionn as he caught sight of Junior jogging back to the car.

As Junior struts out like he a king, Carter sits back and thinks hard.

I don't like this one bit. My gut says shits about to go south. One wrong move and we could get clapped. We need a plan...