Confessions of a Boss Bitch by Percy Levy & Mia Rucker

Author:Percy Levy & Mia Rucker [Levy, Percy & Rucker, Mia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literature & Fiction, United States, African American, Romance, Urban, Genre Fiction
Amazon: B00YF2AF4A
Publisher: Sullivan Production / Leo Sullivan Presents
Published: 2015-05-27T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

“I never knew you got stressed out so easy,” Turk laughed as he stared at Q. “We gonna be alright, Triple OG. Even if shit gets down and dirty with the law, I’m the kinda nigga that knows how to ride my own beef. You ain’t got shit to worry about. Relax, man!”

Q wondered if the youngster was just stupid or maybe just naïve to the game. The justice system didn’t quite work that way. The driver during a crime was up for the same amount of time as the person who had actually committed the crime, some corny ass legal doctrine called “in for a penny, in for a pound.” Q knew all about this type of shit. Not only had he been in and out of courtrooms for most of his life, but he had represented his own self many times, which necessarily included researching through law books and seeing firsthand the way that the legal system sometimes had funny ways of casting a wide net in the hood, especially when it came to people like Q who were always at the top of the catch list.

“Why we here anyway?” Turk continued on. “You been walkin’ in circles lookin’ at the car for twenty minutes now. So what if it got a couple bullet holes in it. Ain’t nothin’ we can do about that now. What’s done is done. It ain’t nothin’ but a rental car anyway. We can take that shit down to the body shop on Rainer and have them smokers that work there patch it up like new. Then we can go drop that shit off at the rental place and call it a rap!”

Q continued to look at the car closely. Once again, Turk was talking stupid shit he didn’t know nothing about. If the detectives got ahold of the license number to this car, they would pick it up from the rental place as soon as it got drooped off. No amount of repair work would hide the bullet holes form the police technicians that would go over it with a fine tooth comb. And the one thing Q had learned from his experience with the justice system was that physical evidence was the king of all evidence. Forget witness testimony that can be shaky at times. There’s nothing like good, old-fashioned, physical evidence to lock a nigga up for life.

“And anyway,” Turk continued, “if you’re really all that worried about this shit, let’s just roll this bitch off into the woods, set it on fire, and be done wit’ it.” He paused and looked around. “I assumed that’s why you brought us up here in the woods in the first place.” He laughed, “either that, or you was gonna try to smoke me or sumptin’.”

Q avoided eye contact with the youngster and ran his finger along the edge of one of the bullet holes. Even though Turk was laughing and joking about the situation, it wouldn’t have been funny if he

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