IBO, Brian R. Lundin [the ebook reader .txt] 📗

turned his attention towards Bo, “Ok, Bo, what went down tonight?”
“Please Pops, we grew up together man, please… …
Before he could finish begging, Pops placed Mr. Do Right on his penis and he screamed again.
“Talk, you traitor motherfucka, one of the Simbas said smacking Bo in the mouth, which started to bleed.
“Ok, Pops, no more please,” Bo, pleaded.
“One of my regular customers told me about a week ago, that some friends of Esau were upset about what happened to “Pitbull,” and they wanted to get even.
“They paid me a grand to let them know when he came to my spot for the pickup.”
“So you sold out your family for a measly grand and got my Pops killed, you dirty rotten motherfucka.
“I’m sorry, Pops, I’m sorry…………….
Before Bo could finish, Pops held “Mr. Do Right,” to his penis. Bo screamed for a while and then he was silent, he did the same to the ambusher.
After Walter’s death, Pops became the Head Governor, his word was law and the Simbas enforced his orders.
Pops was three years older than Malik and was maybe five feet five, but he was stocky and muscular with a strong but not handsome face. Pops dropped out of school but he was street smart and clever. He was born and raised in Robert Taylor and lived with his mother and his eight siblings
Robert Taylor Homes and the State Street Boys was his kingdom and he had big plans. Malik and Cinque went to the Dowap Restaurant, one of the gangs businesses where they held their meetings. When they entered a rear room, seated behind a table was Pops, Paco was standing in front of him smiling and five Simbas was standing behind Pops. After flashing the gang sign returned by Malik.
Pops asked, “You know why you are here.”
“Yes, I do,” Malik, said respectfully.
“That motherfucka violated, he hit me,” Paco said smirking.
“Shut the fuck up,” Cinque said forcibly.
Paco looked surprised, but he did not say anything else. Pops motioned to one of the Simbas, a short, stocky young man with cold black eyes who left the room. In a few minutes, he returned with two other young gang members, nicknamed Black Willie and Little Joe.
“Black, what did you see,” Pops asked.
Black Willie was a crack baby. His mother snorted crack when she was pregnant and like many crack babies he had a physical deformity. His left leg was shorter than his right and he was cross-eyed as hell. Black was seventeen years old, tall and bowlegged with a hint of a mustache just above his lips. Black stubble covered his head, which barely concealed the six-pointed star, the gang’s symbol cut into his scalp.
“Me and Joe was standing in the playground rappin’ and we saw Paco and two other little dudes fuckin’ with this little kid, about five or six years old. We saw Paco go into his pocket and come out with some small change. Paco begin to smack the kid around, we don’t know why. About this time Malik walked over and we heard him ask Paco to let the little kid go and what was going on, Paco said something, and Malik busted his ass, Paco started throwing up and shit like a little bitch,” Black Willie said smiling. Continuing he said, “The little guy left and soon Paco and his buddies left.”
”Little Joe,” Pops said looking at the other shorter but powerfully built young man.
“It was just as Black said, Pops,” the other man said.
“Thanks, guys, you can go,” Pops said and the two men left the room.
Pops gave Paco a long disgusted look before speaking.
“You have a mean streak in you, boy. I’ve heard about how you are going around intimidating, harassing and even robbin’ the old and young people in the hood. I also know you are fuckin’with the crack pipe, both of that shit has to stop. We want the people in the hood to fear us, but respect us; you don’t get no respect fuckin’ over old folks and kids. Malik did the right thing, you will be sanctioned not him.”
“Sanction, sanction,” the Simbas yelled.
Paco’s eyes fogged with tears and he started to cry.
“He hit me,” he said weakly, with drool starting to run from his mouth and nose as he avoided eye contact with Pops.
“I told you to shut the fuck up,” Cinque said as he went to a cabinet and got out five broad black belts and gave one to each Simbas.
Cinque ordered Paco to take off his shirt and get on his knees and to crawl down the line of Simbas lined up five feet apart. As he passed each Simba, they struck him with the belts as many times as they could until he reached the next Simba. They could strike anywhere except the head and face.
By the time Paco reached the end of the line, blood oozed out of the wounds on his back and his ass was sore. He swore to himself that he would get even with Malik.

Chapter 6

It was a relatively warm day in January. The northeast breeze, blowing west from Lake Michigan four miles away had usually dissipated by the time it made its way to the Robert Taylor Homes. The buildings were alive with children playing and people sitting on the galleries with their boom boxes loudly playing the latest rap songs. The violent lyrics on the boom boxes competed with the loud laughter of small children playing on the galleries. Young mothers sat on the gallery enjoying the nice weather and trying to escape the depression of their lives and their apartments.
Six months after the sanction Paco, Lobo, and Jimmyboy had been in the lobby of 5001 South State Street, all morning drinking forty-ounce malt liquor and smoking crack cocaine and marijuana. Lobo and Jimmyboy were twelve years old wannabes who wanted to join the gang and they idolized and hung-out with their role model, Paco.
Lobo was short and fat; dark skinned and had a face full of acne. He lived with his mother, and two younger brothers in the next building. Lobo’s mom had just started using crack and Paco had had sex with her in exchange for a hit. Jimmyboy was tall for his age and very slender, he lived with his grandmother and three sisters in Paco’s building. Both of the young boys had dropped out of school and would snatch purses or roll drunks whenever they got a chance. Paco had noticed Joyce, his sister Brenda, and some other young kids playing in the playground located at on the northeast corner of 51st South State Street
“I want some pussy,” Paco said rubbing his crotch.
”Me too, let's go get that crack head Queenie,” Lobo replied.
”All we've got to do is give her a hit and she’ll fuck and suck all of us.”
”I don't want to be bothered with that crack head bitch, she stinks,” Paco said.
Maybe I should go fuck that crack head mother of yours, right in front of you Paco thought while looking at Lobo.
”I want some young and tight pussy, give me another swig,” he said to Lobo snatching the beer bottle from him.
“I’ve got to fuck soon or one of you little mother fuckers is going to have to suck my dick, I’ve got to get this nut out,” Paco said threateningly.
Lobo and Jimmyboy remained quiet.
Paco twisted the top off the beer bottle, drained at least half of the brown liquid with his first gulp, smacked his lips and handed it back to Lobo as some of it dribbled down, the side of his mouth. The beer intensified his high and Paco’s mind wandered to Queenie the resident whore; she was sixteen years old and a crack head. At one time Queenie had been attractive, she had a nice figure and long black curly hair, but time had not been good to her, the drugs and her lifestyle made her look a lot older. Her teeth had started to rot and she was very thin and had dark spots all over her face and neck. Her clothes, which consisted mainly of very short shorts and a halter-top, was always dirty and she emitted the sickening bittersweet odor of crack cocaine. Paco had had sex with her numerous times but the last time they had sex she smelled so bad he couldn’t get an erection and nearly threw-up. Now he would only let her give him blowjobs, sometimes he would give her enough money for a hit and sometimes he did not, it depended on how he felt.
He thought about what Lobo had suggested but she was starting to look too bad. With all of those rotten teeth she had, he was getting afraid to let her give him a blowjob, he didn’t want any diseases, besides he wanted something new and he wanted to get back at Malik. Paco remembered how Joyce looked in her little white panties.
One night when Joyce was spending the night with his sister Brenda, Paco accidentally walked into the bathroom where Joyce was about to take a bath. She was taking off her panties when she noticed Paco standing at the bathroom door staring at her; she slammed the door in his face. Paco noticed how Joyce’s taunt breasts were starting to develop and he saw the shadows of pubic hairs around her vagina. She had a tiny waist and her little behind was beginning to round out and looked firm, thinking about her he got an erection.
Paco walked outside of the building in the cold air to try to clear his head, the drugs, and the liquor were starting to take effect. He saw the kids playing across the street and he noticed Joyce and Brenda, laughing and talking with the other little girls and jumping rope. It was Saturday afternoon the week before Christmas, 1999 and the kids were wearing coats, but Joyce removed her coat as she jumped rope. Paco noticed that Joyce was developing more than the other little girls. She had a shapely little body and Paco imagined Joyce little breasts bouncing up and down while she jumped rope, he got that same feeling he got when he saw her in the bathroom and he wondered what it would be like to fuck her, Lobo interrupted Paco thoughts.
“Got anymore blow, Paco?” Lobo asked.
“Yeah, I got plenty,” Paco said getting out the bag of marijuana and expertly rolling another “joint.”
Paco handed Lobo the joint and they walked back into the building. Lobo lit the joint, inhaled deeply and said to Paco as he passed him the joint, “I want to fuck, let’s go get Queenie.”
“I told you, you dumb muthafucka, I don't want to fuck that nasty bitch, besides I want some young tight warm pussy, don’t you dumb muthafuckas understand that?” Paco said angrily, before smacking Lobo in the face.
“That would be nice, but who?” Jimmyboy asked.
“Don't worry about it, I’ll take care of it,” Paco said. “I’ve got somebody in mind.