Maestro by Aja

Author:Aja [Aja]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Loves Words Publishing LLC
Published: 2022-12-15T23:00:00+00:00

MAESTRO

It had been three weeks since we took out Pooter and Keith. Rico and Meek were still in the wind, and it emboldened them because getting away with killing Mr. Jimmy for this long had the streets whispering Smoke and company had lost their edge. Word had it that Rico felt invincible. Pops didn’t agree. So, when I got a call from Cheese a week later telling me he had some dude that go by the name Peanut who should know where Rico and Meek both were, I told him to take the nigga to the warehouse and then I rushed over there in case Pops happened to be there already. I needed time to question dude. Not view a corpse.

When I got to the warehouse, Butch was asking some of the guys loading up TVs and some shelving units Pops was giving a retirement home in Homewood, to go on home.

“Y’all will get a full day’s pay,” he told them when they started grumbling.

When I looked at him confused, he started to tell me, “Your dad is—”

Bam.

The sound of a large thud followed by someone’s yelling let me know what was up.

“Have Big Mike get the rest of them out of here. Can you lock up?”

“Yeah, I got it Eli.”

We both looked towards the room where tortured screaming could be heard.

“Get with him before y’all be in the same spot with no answers.”

I chuckled at Butch’s expression. Poor guy. “Bet.”

I took my time, and let Pops get his in before I stopped his show even though it was he who just told me, he needed to sit his ass down for a little while. The warehouse had several rooms off the main floor. Only one of them we used to “interrogate” opposition. And by we I really meant me the past few years as Pops stepped away from this hands-on kind of shit and I handled problems.

I heard a chair collapse against the floor with a loud bang following and ran to the door and almost tore it down to make sure Pops was good. He had his large hands wrapped around the kid’s neck. This guy couldn’t have been older than maybe twenty, twenty-one, and weighed a buck fifty. Pops hands swallowed up so much of his puny neck, the poor guy wouldn’t last another minute if I couldn’t talk Pops down.

“Pops. We got to let him live.”

“Nah, Eli, this little muthafucka want to pretend he don’t know shit.”

One part of me—the wild side, the killer, the monster—was enjoying everything I saw. My father’s rage, the bloody floor and wall. The look of terror in dude’s eyes. The other part of me, admittedly the smaller part right now, knew that if we were going to get any real answers, we’d need people alive to talk. Whoever was behind every problem had yet to be revealed.

I glanced at Pops. Anger rolled off him in waves. He must have felt my eyes on him because he started shaking his head.

“Nah, Eli.

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