Free Murderville 2: The Epidemic by Ashley, JaQuavis Page B

nigga? We’re just friends. I need shorty to know how to move though,” Po said.
    Rocko heard what Po was saying, but his actions were telling a completely different story. “I thought she was supposed to leave town yesterday,” Rocko said.
    “Nah, I’ma keep her around for awhile. She didn’t have nowhere to go. Now we gon’ keep talking about Liberty, or you want to focus on getting this money, nigga?” Po cracked. “You acting like you interested. You want me to hook you up or something, mu’fucka?”
    “Hell, yeah,” Rocko joked. “Shorty nice . . .”
    Po shook his head as they got his car from the valet and pulled off into the night. There were only two things on his mind: power and money. Everything else was irrelevant.
    Po pulled up to the address where he was supposed to meet the buyer and frowned in confusion when he noticed it was a crowded restaurant.
    “What the fuck is this? This can’t be the right spot,” Rocko said as he looked at the fancy patrons entering the West Hollywood establishment.
    Po pulled out the throw-away cell phone he purchased for the occasion and checked the text message to confirm the address.
    “This is it,” Po said. Knowing that he couldn’t carry thirty bricks into a busy restaurant Po shook his head in frustration. “We’ve got to leave it in the car.”
    “What?” Rocko exclaimed. “Nigga, you can go inside to meet this nigga. I’ll stay and watch the work. That’s a lot of shit to leave in the trunk.”
    “Nigga, I value my life more than I value that weight. I need you watching what’s moving around me. You got the burner, right?” Po asked.
    “I don’t leave home without it,” Rocko stated arrogantly.
    Po and Rocko exited the car, handing the keys to the valet. Po pulled out five $100 bills and placed them into the kid’s hand.
    “You watch my car. No one comes near it. Don’t take your eyes off of it, understand?”
    “Yes, sir,” the kid said excitedly as he stuffed the money into his pocket.
    Po and Rocko entered the restaurant. They were immediately greeted by the matre d’.
    “Gentlemen, this way.”
    Po and Rocko both wore the screw face as they maneuvered through the crowd. They stuck out like sore thumbs. The other patrons were donned in upscale apparel, while Po and Rocko were hooded out.
    They were escorted to a private section of the restaurant where an older black gentleman sat conversing with a vixen by his side.
    “Gentlemen, this is Mr. Blue,” the matre d’ introduced. He pulled out chairs for Po and Rocko. “Can I take your drink orders?”
    Po waved his hand in dismissal and sat down across from Mr. Blue, eyeing him and briefly admiring his beautiful companion before addressing the issue at hand.
    “This isn’t quite what I was expecting,” Po stated, clearly uncomfortable in the public setting.
    “What did you think? That we would meet in a dark alley at midnight?” Mr. Blue countered as he sat back in his chair. “This is a different league, Po. You’re a long way from Seven Mile.”
    “What, nigga?” Rocko said, getting defensive as he reached in his waistline.
    “Before you even draw on me, Whitney here will have your gut full of lead,” Mr. Blue stated.
    Po placed his hand over Rocko’s to stop the gunfightbefore it began. “We’re good on this side. Let’s just get down to business. How do you know my name and where I’m from?”
    Mr. Blue chuckled and reached into his jacket to retrieve three cigars. He passed one to Rocko and Po, then lit his own. He inhaled deeply, taking his time to savor the taste before exhaling.
    “As I said before, this is a different league, Po. I know you got my information from Samad’s records, and I also know that you are responsible for his untimely demise. A man that can kill Samad with such ease is a man worth looking up. That’s a man that I need to know,” Mr. Blue said. “What you didn’t know is that Samad’s home security cameras run twenty-four hours a