Thin Love (Thin Love, #1)(105)
“You wanna say that again?”
Ricky shrugged, waving off Kona’s anger and he pushed his hand into his front pocket. “You sitting on a goldmine. You can make a lot of bank on that campus. All those rich bitches do what you tell them, follow your lead.” It was the same line of bullshit Ricky always preached to Kona. He didn’t need to hear it. He turned back around, facing the Mustang again, but Ricky kept his gaze on Kona, his bid of convincing not quite done. “That’s why I picked you, man. Dudes wanna be you, chicks wanna do you because you got that thing. You’re a shepherd, not a sheep. I need shepherds, Kona, especially ones that scare the shit out of folk who think they can take what’s mine.” Kona glared at Ricky when the dealer touched his shoulder, but the * didn’t jerk away from him; he only shrugged as though Kona’s reaction was expected. “You don’t have to do it for long, man. You got, what, two more years? That’s plenty of time to set up some nice change for you and your girl.” When Kona’s eyes snapped back at him, Ricky laughed. “Fuck man, you need to ease up. I’m just sayin.” He whistled, a long, squeak of a sound that rang in Kona’s ears. “I ain’t never seen a dude so sprung over his chick.”
“I’m not interested in this shit anymore, Ricky. I told you that. So why don’t you leave me out of your big picture, you feel me?” Kona was done with Ricky’s bullshit. He was done with the mumbles Keith and Eddie made to one another. He’d count the shipment and leave all this mess behind, but before he moved away from Ricky, he pointed a massive finger in the guy’s chest. “Don’t you worry about how sprung I am over my girl. Don’t even put her in your head.”
Kona recognized the flash of disappointment, the flare of anger in Ricky’s eyes. He’d given that same look to Micah Burns when the idiot lifted two vials from him last spring. Stupid jackass spent four weeks in the hospital. But Ricky didn’t lash out, barely reacted with more than a frown at Kona’s outburst. “Fine. Just trying to hook you up. You know, thug life… thug wife. Quit mean mugging me and go count the damn shipment.”
And Kona did, sifted through each black bag with Keith and Eddie on one side of the car and Marco and Ricky on the other. He counted each pack, four vials in each satchel, twenty satchels in each bag. Until he came to the last duffle bag. It was five light. He closed his eyes, knowing this would cause a shit; knowing that Ricky would make sure he was in the thick of it.
“It’s under,” he told Ricky, still kneeling on the ground. When the guy walked next to him, Kona narrowed his eyes, squinting up at Eddie and Keith and caught the way Eddie slipped his hand under his coat. Ricky’s anger was quick and he pulled out his gun, sticking his hand in the duffle back right at Kona’s side. “Watch Keith and Eddie. They’ve been sketchy as f*ck all night,” Kona told him and Ricky nodded, sucking on his teeth. Then, before Kona could blink, Ricky darted up, pointed his gun right at Keith.
“You got my shit, man?” He took a step, Marco moving out of his way.
Kona backed up, grabbed Marco by the collar to pull him to his side when Eddie pointed his gun at Ricky.
“Motherf*cker…”
“I didn’t take shit, Ricky. You know that.” The gun trembled in Eddie’s hand and his voice was high pitched and shaking. “I’m your boy. You just need to chill, man. Be cool. You know me, man.”
“All I know is you got your gun pointed at my chest. Where’s my shit, Ed? What you do with it?”
At Eddie’s side, Keith held up his hands, but Kona watched his face, saw how his cheek twitched, how he tried to hold back a smile. Then, his eyes moved, stared right at Kona. “Ricky, man, you know Eddie wouldn’t do that. You know I wouldn’t. Hale here is the only one trying to punk out. Look how jumpy he’s been all night.”
Kona stepped up, shoulders squared and Ricky inched back, gaze moving between Kona and the gun pointed right at him. “Fuck you, Keith,” Kona told the punk. “I want out but I’m not trying to gank anything. Don’t be a dumbass. You been sniffing around campus for months, selling to other teams, you think I don’t see you? You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”
Ricky would believe him, at least that’s what Kona told himself. Keith was a slimy shit, he’d heard Ricky complaining about the guy more than once, but when Keith smiled, nodded toward Kona, Ricky backed up further and moved the gun so it pointed at Kona’s head.
“You trying to play me, man? You been jumpy for months, ever since you got with that bitch.”
Kona had to clench his fists together, had to pull back his anger, his fear so that no one got itchy fingers. “No, man. I don’t have anything of yours. I don’t give a shit what you sell or how much you make doing it.” He took a step, cautiously, narrowing his eyes at Ricky’s finger curled around the trigger. “I just want out. I promise, I just want to get out of this shit.”
“And sell your own product, that right, Hale?” Keith’s voice, his pinched eyes, only added rage and ire onto the inferno building in Kona’s mind.
“Shut the f*ck up, *. You don’t know me. You don’t know shit.”
“Yeah, but I do.” Ricky lowered his gun, only a fraction and behind him Keith and Eddie relaxed. Kona saw it, the quick whip of Ricky’s eyes, how he moved the corner of his mouth to the side, a small grin that told Kona that shit was about to go bad very quickly. “I know exactly who you are, Kona.” And then Ricky twisted around, squeezed off two shots right at Keith and Eddie. Both men fell to the ground, lifeless.