Prologue
“My
Initials aint S.I.C. for nothing Nigga.” –Spencer Chance
Spencer stood on the
Woodrow Wilson Bridge as he amusingly watched his henchmen dangle “Budda,” a
once loyal street lieutenant from the bridge.
“I’m sorry Spencer, I’m
sorry” Budda cried in hopes that Spencer would have mercy and allow him to
live.
“Where’s my money
Budda,” Spencer said as he removed his .45 from his waist and loaded a bullet
into the chamber. “Pull that mutha fucka up,” he shouted as he laughed aloud. Spencer
looked Budda dead in the eye as he used his gun to wipe away his tears. “Now I
know you didn’t mean to cross me and because you’ve been such a loyal little
nigga and made me so much money I’m going to let you live, but if you ever
cross me again…” Spencer paused and looked at the other four men who stood spectating
with smirks on their faces. “I might not be so fucking forgiving, you feel me,”
Spencer completed.
Budda nodded his head
in agreement because he was too choked up to speak.
“Now about the money
you owe me, you’re going to pay me back, with interest… Right, Spencer aggressively
insisted.
Budda’s eyes widened as
he didn’t respond, but seeing the fearful look in Spencer’s eyes caused Budda to
quickly gathered himself and take advantage of the opportunity at hand.
“Yes, yes Thank you Spencer, I love you man,”
Budda replied shaking and emotional.
On bended knees Budda
pleaded with Spencer as if he was God and he had just granted him access into
Heaven. Spencer snatched his feet from Budda’s grasp, hoping to save his Gucci
loafers from the flow of his continuous tears. Spencer turned his back and
walked away but before he got into his candy apple red Cadillac convertible he
shouted “The Penthouse we got to celebrate… Budda's alive.” Displaying an
abundance of theatrics with his hands and facial gestures, his face exhibited forgiveness
and joy but the true contents of his heart and thoughts were filled with deadly
revenge, and just like God whatever Spencer thought was soon to become a
reality.
Later that night
Spencer and his entourage enjoyed the pleasures of expensive liquor and half
naked women as they sat in the VIP section of the Penthouse, a strip club in
D.C.
Every man including
Budda was given stacks of one dollar bills to splurge on the women. As the
night became the wee house of the morning, Spencer suggested that they continue
the party at a nearby hotel.
He signaled for Juan
the club’s owner, when he arrived Spencer informed him that he wanted to hire
ten of his finest girls for an overnight assignment. Juan laughed and quickly
rushed off to retrieve the women. On the outside Juan appeared to be an honest
man, with a smile of gold and the gift of gab. One would have never suspected
that he was involved in human trafficking in his native homeland of Mexico
City. He returned to Spencer with the requested women, all varied in height,
color, shape, and size as they stood before Spencer as if they were on a show
room floor. Spencer quickly glanced at the women admiring their individual
beauty. He then called for Budda to come over, when he arrived Spencer said
“Pick one, anyone; it’s on me my man.” Budda’s eyes lit up as if he were a kid
in a candy store. Carefully eyeing each woman he picked the second to the last
in line. “Her, I want her,” he said anxiously and eager as he felt a slight
hard on forming in his cargo shorts. “Well her it is,” Spencer said as the
woman stepped out of line and walked over to him, recognizing that he was in
charge.
Budda stepped up and
said “What’s your name baby.”
“Juicy” she replied
seductively.
She was moderately
attractive with large breast, a double wide ass, a tad bit on the heavy side,
and just how
Budda liked his women,
raunchy. Spencer allowed his entourage to claim the remaining women before he
paid the $4,600 tab, and left the club.
Spencer pulled up to
the $700 a night W Hotel, reached inside the glove box, and retrieved a large
envelope containing the finest of Kush. He proceeded into the hotel lobby and
checked into the Penthouse suite.
Once he reached his
destination, accompanied by his entourage he made sure things were ok, then
left his men to their pleasures.
Spencer exited the
Hotel and got into his car. Sitting there starring into the distance, he picked
up his iPhone and called Whispers.
Whispers was one of the
Council’s oldest and most elite hit men. He was known for his straight razor
abilities and his raspy voice. He had been abused physically and sexually by
his father as a child. When he was seven years old he shot his father after he
found his mother beaten and unconscious on the kitchen floor. Before his father
took his last breath, he grabbed Whispers and slit his throat damaging he vocal
cords forever. After this Whispers became a professional with the very weapon
that almost claimed his life.
“Yo Whispers handle
that,” Spencer stated calmly.
“Okay” Whispers replied
in a low raspy tone.
Whispers had clandestinely
entered the suite and after ending the call he started down the semi lit
hallway of the penthouse. As he approached the last door on the left the sounds
of a woman moaning filled the atmosphere. Whispers silently opened the door,
removed his pearl handle blade and stood over the couple as they obliviously
continue their sexual escapade. With a smile on his face and a blade in his
hand Whispers leaned over the couple and softly stated “It’s time to die.”
Whispers took hold of Budda’s long locks as he began to plead for his life. “No
Whispers, No, don-…” Before he could complete his statement Whispers sliced him
from ear to ear. Blood splattered across the wall, the exquisite headboard, and
the young woman’s screaming face. Whispers then moved towards the woman as she
also pleaded for her life.
“ No, please she cried.”
He reached out and
embrace her, “Shhh,” he whispered as he slid his blade into her chest and
through her heart. He loosened his grip and laid her on the bed as the small
blood stain quickly spread across her chest. Her eyes were wide open as she
slowly slipped into eternal rest.
Whispers exited the
hotel suite, removed his cell phone, and dialed the last number that called his
phone. “It’s done” he stated then hung up the phone.
Spencer sat pondering
Budda’s betrayal and the outcome of his actions, then stated aloud “My initials
ain’t S.I.C for nothing nigga,” after which he sped off into the night.
Welcome to Relentless Ties,
the first of a Trilogy…
