Carl Weber's Kingpins Read Free

dripped from my nose as I threatened Stan, hoping to put some fear in him. “Put the knife down or else I’ma call the police. You gon’ go to jail, and those niggas in there gon’ beat you up!”
    Stan laughed, then raised the knife over his head. “Call the police and tell them what? That yo’ Mama is a ho, and I did this to her?”
    He dropped his hand and plunged the knife right into the center of Mama’s chest. She and I gasped at the same time. My breathing stopped. Face twisted and stomach tightened in a knot. Mama’s sad facial expression tore at my heart and soul. Salty tears streamed down my face as I saw her eyes pleading for me to do something. She even reached out her trembling hand for me to hold it. I rushed forward, and that was when Stan had his way. He yanked the knife out of her chest and jabbed it in—again and again. At least fifteen to twenty more times. Her blood sprayed my body and soaked every inch of the clothing she had on. Her head was tilted, and Stan dropped her to the floor as if she wasn’t shit.
    â€œNow,” he said, swiping his hands together, “you can call the police on me.”
    I tried to speak but couldn’t say one word. Thought I was dreaming, but unfortunately, this was my reality. I blinked away my tears and saw a blurred vision of Mama lying dead on the floor in a pool of thick blood. I lost it. Ran up to Stan, and he lifted his hand high again.
    â€œThink before you act, li’l nigga,” he said. “I ain’t got no beef with you, but if you want to die today, that’s fine with me.”
    I didn’t care about dying. So fucking be it. Stan would do me a favor by killing me. I charged him, and in an instant, I felt the knife slice me above the brow. On my chin. My hand and somewhere on my back. In the midst of me trying to overpower him, I heard gunfire. Several bullets whistled through the air and one of them tore into Stan’s forehead. His body wobbled, then dropped on top of mine, damn near crushing me as we both hit the floor. All I remembered after that was seeing a gang of police officers surrounding us. The next day, I woke up in the hospital with my grandmother praying by my side.
    My break was over too soon. After I cleared my thoughts of what had happened that day, I chalked up my feelings and strolled with confidence back to work.
    â€œHe got that Curtis Jackson, 50 Cent swag,” one chick proclaimed as I walked smoothly by her and a friend.
    I had heard the same comment before, but the way I saw it, I was an original. I tossed my head back and kept it moving. The second I walked through the door, my supervisor was at it again.
    â€œYou only have one minute left. By the time you go to the back and clock in, you’ll be considered late. This is totally ridiculous. I’m not going to keep babysitting you. Don’t bother to clock back in. I’ll be sure to have your check mailed to you by the end of the week.”
    I lifted my hand, causing his frail ass to jump back in fear. All I did was scratch my head, pretending as if I was the idiot he proclaimed me to be. “So, what you’re saying is I’m fired, right?”
    He confirmed. “Yes. F-I-R-E-D, fired!”
    I glanced at several people standing around, watching the whole scene. Mr. Drama Queen had put on quite a show. But there was a time and place for everything. Now wasn’t the time, so I responded with a shrug.
    â€œIt’s all good,” I said. “Just make sure I get my check.”
    Without responding, he walked off. I went to the back to swoop up my belongings, then left. Every eye was still on me. Was I embarrassed? Hell yeah, I was. One lady stopped me as I headed for the main exit doors.
    â€œThat was totally uncalled for back there,” she said. “I don’t appreciate the way he spoke to you. If I were you, I would call his boss.”
    â€œIt’s not worth it to