The long nosed chrome thirty-eight was pointed at his head. It was nothing standing between him and the barrel of the gun. He stood tall without flinching. If today was the day for him to meet his maker he would take it like a man. She smiled at him with a confidence that racked his nerves. He knew in his heart she knew how to use the weapon she was brandishing.
“How much do you owe nigga?” She barked.
“I owe seventy-five hundred.” He quickly replied
“And when did you tell that nigga you were gon’ pay him his money?”
“Three days ago…but I had a little problem with getting off what I was supposed to get off.”
“All you giving me are excuses. Excuses only benefit the muthafucka that’s giving them, nobody else.”

The barrel of her gun still was pointing at his forehead right between his eyes. She was a pretty ass redbone with thick luscious lips. If she wasn’t who she was he would have tried to run up in her a long time ago. She was beautiful and deadly at the same time though.
“Look Reddy, I can’t think with a pistol in my face. I know we can work something out.”
“Who said you were supposed to think? Fila been worried about his money and that’s some shit he shouldn’t have to worry about. We might be passed working something out. How much do you got on you right now?”
“I got forty-five hundred. I’m only three thousand short. Give me a few days and I can come up with the rest.” His voice strained.
She thought about his request and considered how she should handle it. She glanced around the room to notice the off white walls covered with WAK paintings. There was a pile of dirty clothes in a trash bag near the hallway to the bedroom. He didn’t even have a sofa. A television sat alone in the middle of the floor with a DVD player under it. She could tell he was scraping by to live. He wasn’t a sound hustler, she considered. That bothered her about him. If he was lazy about his own money then he wouldn’t have a problem being lazy with someone else’s money.
“Look here Bobby; I don’t know if you are really good on yo word. I mean, you’ve been hustling for him for three weeks and you still ain’t got off that yay.” Reddy shrugged.
“I had to get everything up and running first but once I got into the swing of things it will be easier to move this shit.”
A glimmer of hope flashed across his face. He quickly attempted to hide it because he knew what she was capable of. He also had to show some strength because she didn’t care for weak ass men. Her reputation had preceded her.
“Okay, give me the forty-five hundred and we can go from there.”
He walked a couple of feet away from her to reach for a pair of pants. She kept the pistol on him while her eyes remained focused.
“Easy, my nigga, easy.” She warned.
He carefully made his way inside of his pocket to pull out a wad of money. Reddy smiled slightly when she seen the cash. She was hoping for his sake that it was the amount he had claimed it to be. Glancing downward at the nappy tan carpet her black high heel boots were planted on. Her pistol slid down slightly enough where he felt a little more comfortable.
“Count the money in front of me.” She calmly demanded.
It was mostly large bills from what she could see but she still couldn’t calculate the amount. He took his time counting the money until he had gotten to the end.
“That’s only thirty-nine hundred, my nigga. You are six hundred dollars short.” She shook her head.
“Well this is what I have, can’t we work this out.”
“See Bobby, you are a bitch ass nigga, as far as I’m concerned. You told me forty-five hundred with you knew you were supposed to have seventy-five. But you couldn’t even produce the amount you told me you had. How the fuck am I supposed to trust you?”
“Na Reddy it ain’t like…”
She fired one into his knee cap. He screamed as he fell to the floor. He slid backwards towards his wall wincing in pain.
“Fuck you Reddy.” He grimaced.
“See nigga, you ain’t real about this here game. There are consequences when a nigga can’t stay true to what he’s supposed to be. I was giving you a pass for the forty-five hundred but you couldn’t even make that.”
She walked up closer to him with her pistol lowered to her side. The white in his eyes were turning yellow as water fell down his face.
“Give a nigga an inch and he tries to take a mile.”
Reddy lifted her piece, looked him in the eyes then let off four shots. Each bullet pierced his skull. Reddy cleaned off the pistol then sat it down next to him. After pulling out a back-up pistol she pulled the Victoria Secret’s Pink Hoodie over her head and walked out the front door.