Free 24th and Dixie by Author Ron C Page B

twenty-five and appeared to be the main followers of the group. CJ was fresh out of the County after a ninety-day bid. He had been out for two days. He was now back on the avenue dressed like a thug in his too big shorts sagging and his wife beater showing off all of his jailhouse tats. His hair cut was fresh, and his waves were pressed. His footwear was Jordan’s of course. Breze was tall, slender, and light skinned with freckles. He sported a low cut and a short goatee. Ron was his half-brother. They had the same mother but different fathers. CJ appeared to be calm and collective but his split second decisions always proved him to be the opposite. He was tall like Breze but brown skinned and wore his hair bushy but freshly edged. Tonight was just another night of bullshit for them.
    “Y’all niggas heard ‘dem shots just then?” Breze asked. “What ‘da fuck going on?” He added.
    “Ay? Y’all heard that? I know y’all heard that! I was way in the house, and I heard it,” a guy named Fam said walking up. He was a good friend of C-Brook’s. He was another dread head that looked like the worst of them.
    “We heard that shit,” C-Brook answered.
    “C-Brook, where ‘da twinz at?” J-Smith asked.
    “I don’t know. Call ‘em CJ,” he said.
    CJ called but didn’t get an answer. “They not answering.”
    “Can’t smoke with no blunt,” J-Smith said.
    “Wild-Man, go to the store and grab some blunts for us. Make yourself useful,” CJ playfully ordered.
    “I got warrants. Didn’t you just hear all those fuckin’ cops up there? That means they are on 27 th nigga! You go get the shit!” He spat.
    “You better leave Wild-Man alone,” Fam said with a smile. Wild-Man was known to get stupid, and his patience was thin.
    “Nigga you act like it’s one store on 27 th . It’s a few, so nigga choose one and go cop the blunts. You wanna smoke don’t you?” CJ said.
    “Nigga I got my own blunts! You choose one fuck nigga! What the fuck I look like? I got three felony warrants, and they don’t carry probation. If I look like a fool then slap the hell out of me,” he spat. Ron imitated as if he was slapping someone and made a silent ‘Pow’ sound. CJ laughed and shook his head.
    “You got three felony warrants and you out here standing on the corner where the cops roam every day? Shit, you might as well gone head and walk into the county jail and turn yourself in. That’s what I would do,” CJ said. He first questioned Wild-Man’s loyalty and then tried to make him look stupid. “That’s ‘cause you a dumb ass lil fuck nigga!” Wild-Man growled. The atmosphere on 24 th and Dixie never did really give off a good vibe. It was more like death was descending and seeking for its designated man to be the chosen assassin. The guys often joked, and lip wrestled, but it was clear when things were serious by the tone of their voices. “Y’all niggaz kill me with all that tuff guy shit,” he added.
    “Bruh, who is y’all?” Ron asked wanting Wild-Man to be a little more specific.
    “What?” He barked at Ron.
    “Nigga, who you talking ‘bout? Who ‘da fuck is y’all?” Ron spat back.
    “Who was I talking to nigga?” He spat.
    “This nigga talking ‘bout you CJ,” Ron Said.
    “You got me fucked up homey,” CJ said.
    “All I know is he ain’t talking to me homey,” Ron said.
    “I’m talking to both you bitches then how about that?” Wild-Man said with boldness.
    “Damn,” J-Smith said instigating. He was known for trying to escalate a situation to its worst, and Ron and CJ knew it. Ron didn’t reply, but CJ’s ego was too big for him not to. “I ain’t got nuthin’ to prove nigga. Ain’t no sense of arguing. Y’all know me,” he said.
    “And you know me! Wild-Man Nigga! It’s a reason they call me that. They don’t call me that ‘cause I like to play with animals. Nigga, I am an animal!” He spat.
    He was pumped and acted as if he was ready to explode. Ron and CJ gave