Free Girls from da Hood 11 by Nikki Turner Page A

chaos and bloodshed that was happening. Since the death of Twan, he and Jeff had been on a rampage in the city. Since the streets weren’t talking, they decided to force them to. Any block they had beef or a problem with, they ran down on. After being called every name in the book by his younger cousin’s mother, right before she fainted, Mike B was out for blood. It was surprising that the police hadn’t linked the random shooting to them, with all of the snitching going on in the city.
    Mike B bent the corner as the light turned green.
    A thick Spanish chick came strolling by in skin tight jeans, switching the fat ass that God had blessed her with. As she crossed the street, she and Mike B’s eyes met and locked onto each other. Jeff blew her a kiss. She put her open palm up, then closed it into a fist as if she caught his kiss, then seductively flipped him the bird.
    Jeff was just about to tell her where she could put her finger, when a bullet tore through the windshield, slamming into Mike B’s stereo system in his Range Rover. Not even a second later another bullet struck his driver’s side head rest just as he managed to duck. Both he and Jeff spilled out of the SUV at the same time, with guns blazing. They had heard that the Papis were on point when it came to strange vehicles patrolling their area and heard stories how they popped off at the drop of a dime, but they didn’t expect that.
    Within minutes, Madison Avenue turned into the Wild Wild West. Seeing the Spanish shooters running for cover built Mike B and Jeff’s confidence up. Jeff took it to them like he was returning a football punt while Mike B scurried over to the Range and followed.
    * * *
    From afar, Juan sat in his six-four, sipping on lean, while looking on as his plan began to unfold. In a matter of minutes, his block erupted into gun battle. He had spotted the black Range Rover the first time it came through the area. This is why he sent the pretty Spanish girl to squat on its return and walk past it when she saw it. Juan hadn’t met a man yet that could resist the side of Camillah’s natural, perfect, heart-shaped ass. He had a feeling Mike B and Jeff would be coming his way, once the word got out about Twan’s death. It was no secret that there was bad blood between him and Twan, so it was only right the finger be pointed at him and his team, since whoever was responsible for Twan’s death was a mystery. Although he was from El Salvador, his roots were in Plainfield. So he knew enough about dudes in the streets to know that they suited up for war when one of theirs fell, and if they didn’t know who did it, they would go off halfcocked, accusing any and everybody.
    Juan reached for his .45 automatic from up under the seat and made an attempt to cock his gun and exit his candy coated six-four. Unsuccessful at cocking his weapon back the first go around, Juan realized the Sprite and cough syrup had begun to take an effect on him. The shattering of the glass of his driver’s window made him realize just how zoomed he was. He ducked for cover and mashed down onto the gas pedal. The tires spun out for a full three seconds before they gripped the pavement and the six-four shot forward.
    Juan ducked down low as Jeff continued to unload on the fleeing car. Within seconds, he was through the red light and nearly four blocks up the street on Madison.
    â€œYo, let’s get the fuck outta here,” Mike B yelled as he pulled up on Jeff.
    Jeff hopped in the SUV with his smoking gun, and moments later, they too had vanished into thin air. Sirens could be heard wailing in the air as they escaped. As they neared the light, two more Papis appeared out of nowhere and began unloading in their direction. Mike B slammed on the brakes, grabbed his other piece and began returning fire out of the half cracked window, making them dive for cover. The 59 bus had stopped in the middle of the intersection, blocking