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Sex, Money, Murder: The Life of a Westside King

Chapter 2: Inside Da Tank

Sex, Money, Murder: The Life of a Westside King
This story is a mix of fantasy and reality. What's real and what's fake is up to you to decide...

I knew the house. The whole neighborhood knew the house. Mama wouldn't even let us go near Parmelee Ave. Big Tank's spot was a hub for all the Bounty Hunters in Watts, not just Nickerson Gardens. Everything went on there from Blood business such as meetings and jump-ins (gang initiations) to the financial endeavors street life had to offer. I was already in trouble. As much hell as I knew I would catch for not making it home when I was supposed to, I'd take the ass whooping if it stopped a gang of Damus from showing up at my grandma's house. So I was on my way to the house where many firsts in my life would occur. I went down 3 blocks and turned the corner to see the police shaking down Shredder. He was bent over the hood in handcuffs while one cop was patting him down. The other had his hand on his neck, leaned in real close to his ear like he was going to whisper to him but instead shouted loud enough for the whole block to hear. "Where you hide it huh? Up your ass I bet. Tell us where ya ditched the dope or my partner's going in nightstick first to do a cavity search." I walked right past them without looking. It wasn't that I was nervous. I just didn't care to see what I felt was eventually coming to me from LA's finest. Before we were even in kindergarten we were taught that the police weren't there to serve and protect. They were there to terrorize Black folks in the name of "justice." Not one of them did a thing to prove us wrong. I felt Shredder's eyes on me the whole time until I turned the corner. I eventually ended up in the front yard where a skinny homie was struggling for his life to bench press what looked like 500lbs to me. The muscle bound gargantuan spotting him let him struggle for about ten seconds before he grabbed the bar with one arm and racked it. The homies around him were laughing and clowning him. The twig hopped up from the bench and hollered "Aye blood I had dat handled before you grabbed dat weight from up off me. You tryin to stop me from gettin swole like you huh? I see da bullshit you throwin in da game fareeltho (for real though)." One of the homies cracked "Nigga we call ya Skarekrow for a reason ole stick figga hunnit (one hundred) pound ass muthafucka. And who this lil nigga rollin up on da set bookbag on n shit? This one school you ain't ready for so bounce." I told him "I'm here to see Big Tank. Shredder gave me something to give to him. He just got hemmed up by one-time." All eyes were on me now as the jokes stopped. The hood hercules motioned for me to follow him as he opened the front door and went inside. The house was draped in red, from the couch to the walls. There was a big screen that took up the whole wall on one side. There was a bunch of homies playing Nba Live on Nintendo 64. The dank smell of the weed they were smoking hit me as soon as I walked in the house. I was led down a narrow hallway to a room that was an office and mini armory combined. There was a solid oak desk. Behind it was a small tv with a 4-way split screen of what looked like the backyard and other places outside the house. On one side there was a shotgun and a military style assault rifle. On the other side was a safe taller than me and probably weighed a hundred times more. An opened square shaped box sat on the desk with the shotgun shells in it as part of the decor. A pistol sat beside the box. A bald headed man in a Bulls sweatshirt and khakis was reclined back but sat up with a frigid look in his eyes, first at muscle man then at me. After the gargantuan relayed to Big Tank what I told him I put the bookbag on the desk. He got up from around the desk and stood right in front of me. He looked every bit of 300lbs even though he wasn't that much taller than me. He had a look in his face that would scare satan himself. "You took anything you wasn't supposed to lil nigga? Don't lie to me." I was scared but I knew I couldn't show it. I also was pissed off too that I was caught in the mix of all of this when I was only walking home from school minding my business so I preferred to show that. "I don't want nothing in that bookbag. I don't even want the books in there but my mama prolly (probably) whoop my ass if I came home with an empty bookbag." Muscle man laughed. Big Tank didn't. He went in the bookbag and pulled out the pistol then a ziploc bag full of vials with what looked like tiny white pebbles in them. I knew it was crack. This was my first time ever seeing it. There was a bankroll in the plastic bag too. I almost couldn't believe I walked past the police with all that money, dope, a gun on me and got even angrier as I thought "this fool done smoked muthafuckas left and right but when one-time roll up on him he ran off like a lil bitch." Its as if I thought him up since the same lil bitch came through the door. Big Tank shot that grim reaper's gaze his way making me think Shredder might not make it out of here alive. "Yo one-time was on me blood. I had to shake scene real quick like. Lil homie here solid. I know him n his lil brother from around da way they good." Big Tank bellowed "If one-time on you why you aint in cuffs?" "They aint find shit on me so they had to let me go. Aint no law said I can't run from em." I could look at Big Tank and tell he was even more pissed off than me. "So you gave your work and strap AND my money to a lil nigga that aint even blood then sent him here? Da fuck on yo mind blood? Aye Lil Tank fuck on dis nigga mind?" Muscle man just shrugged his shoulders then eased toward the door blocking it off low-key. Now I knew it was over for Shredder but I was wondering my fate as well. Shredder said nervously, "I had to give it to someone they aint gon suspect. Lil nigga always walkin home from school never wearin no colors. One time damn sho aint gon suspect him blood. Think about it." Big Tank's grim mask eased a little. He asked me my name and where I stay. He then told me I got a job and to meet him back here tomorrow when I got home from school...

fiction
Heart Of Da Streetz
Heart Of Da Streetz
Read next: Chad Alan Lee
Heart Of Da Streetz

My life is either a success story in the making or another tragedy of what could've been. Stay tuned to find out...

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