I could somewhat see my reflection in the door of the dryer machine as I listened to the commentary of the twelve o’clock news, waiting in the laundromat, just a few blocks away from my apartment building. Just as the news came to a close for the early afternoon, I was met by the all-too-familiar sounds of daytime talk-show host and their guest hollering about whatever bullshit situation that led them onto the show. You know how it goes, Who’s the daddy, that old bullshit.
I turned in the direction of the change machine to get a few more quarters, and just as I looked ahead with a few crumbled dollar bills in hand, I saw the face of a woman whom I never expected to see again… That bitch, Kendra, bending her big ass over to get something out of the soda machine.
I immediately pushed the dollar bills back into my denim jeans pocket and balled my fist, believing I would crack that bitch’s head open if I got within striking distance. I looked around to take in the emptiness of the laundry facility. Nobody wasn’t washing no damn clothes on a Wednesday afternoon but me, so I knew I could slide right over and beat the brakes off of that bitch without any witnesses.
Wait, before I proceed, let me fill you in on who she is and the events that led to the current situation…
It was this past Saturday night, beginning with me taking a piss in the restroom of a popular diner in downtown of Washington, DC. Me and the homies were just out enjoying the night. Not much we could do, being unemployed with empty pockets during the middle of the month. We weren’t fixin’ to get into shit, just some mini cheeseburgers and a big-ass basket of steak fries. I was going through several glasses of free tap water, which led me to the restroom.
I was washing my hands but disgusted that the soap dispensers were empty. As I struggled to get at least a drop out, one of the restroom stalls opened, introducing me to a stocky, well-dressed black-Asian-mixed guy, clearing his throat before looking into my eyes through the mirror’s reflection.
“The fuck you looking at?” He asked aggressively, as if he wanted to throw down or something. That’s what I thought, but I didn’t come out of the house for that, nor was I carrying my pistol with me, so I just shook my head and ignored him.
“You see something that interest you, boy?” Is what he repeatedly asked while taking a step closer each time.
“You up to something? Is that it” he was so paranoid that I may have seen whatever he was up to in that stall, but I really didn’t see shit. He wasn’t trying to hear that, so he began to reach for his gun, thinking he would intimidate me into answering him. He fucked with the wrong nigga that night.
Liek an animal, I was ready to attack at the first sign of trouble. I turned in his direction and threw a heavy right hand, cracking him in the jaw and sending him back into the bathroom stall from which he came. While doing so, he hit his head on the porcelain toilet frame and knocked himself unconscious.
“Who da fuck you calling boy!?” I shouted while standing over him.
“My name is Dwight, you bitch-ass nigga.” I ended the fight by stomping onto his face, just once, to leave a dirt print from the bottom of my boots. I said my name, and now that I think about it, maybe that wasn’t such a smart thing to do, but fuck it, he was knocked the fuck out, no way he could’ve heard me.
Whatever was hidden in that stall was so important that he was ready to kill me to keep it a secret. I searched everywhere until finally searching in the back of the toilet, and BAM, there it was, A kilogram of raw cocaine, along with a stack of hundred-dollar bills, both were heavily wrapped in plastic. My heart skipped a few beats while taking in that moment. I took both packages and ran out of the restroom.
With my boys unaware of what went down, I got their attention by shouting and dashing down the diner aisle. They followed behind me as the cook threatened to kill us if we didn’t come back and pay the bill.
The crew and I all hid in a nearby alley to take delight over my discovery, as we all passed the packages around and also splitting the money between the four of us. Nah, we weren’t drug dealers, so we wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with that.
We then came up with a plan for that night: We would hit the club, buy a few bottles of the best champagne, collect some women, take them to a motel and party with the kilo of coke I stole from the guy in the restroom. That was the move for the night, and it sounded good at first…
To Be Continued…