Free Working Girls by Katt

hope this bitch ain’t one of them hungry sack chasers. I don’t want to put a bullet in her head too.

Chapter Seven
    Los paced back and forth in the one-bedroom apartment, while Buster rolled up a blunt of Kush.
    â€œWhy the fuck ain’t nobody talkin’?” Los said in a booming voice. He was still heated behind the news of his brother’s murder a few days ago. But he was more heated behind the fact that neither he nor his deceased brother’s right-hand man could find out who was behind it and why.
    â€œLi’l bro, don’t worry,” Buster said as he dried the blunt with his torch cigarette lighter. “We gonna find out who did that shit. And when we do”—he paused to lick the Swisher Sweets filled with weed—“we gonna handle that.” He put the blunt in his mouth and lit it. “You know the streets talk. Just ’cause they silent now don’t mean they gonna be forever.” He took three pulls of the L, then passed it to Los.
    â€œYou right,” Los agreed. He plopped down on the sofa and took a long drag of the bud.
    â€œOn everything I love, I’ma make whoever did this regret that shit,” he declared in between pulls.
    Buster nodded. He knew Los meant every word he was saying. He was only eighteen, but he was a young cannon. The only person in the world who could ever keep a tight leash on him was Mike-G, and he was no longer here. There was no doubt in Buster’s mind that it was just a matter of time before Los went on a rampage. He felt he owed it to his ex-partner to watch and have Los’s back, right, wrong or indifferent.
    After all, had it not been for Mike-G, Buster wouldn’t even be alive. The scar Buster that bore on the right side of his neck and that ended just shy of his Adam’s apple was a constant reminder of how Mike-G had helped him cheat death after a robbery went wrong and he was left in a pool of his own blood in an alley on the East Side. It was Mike-G who had found him and had taken him to a hood doctor to patch him up. It was also Mike-G who had ridden on the dudes with him who were responsible for slicing his throat and robbing him for an ounce of coke. Since then, Buster had been a loyal soldier to Mike-G.
    â€œWe on the same page, li’l bro.” Buster accepted the blunt from Los and inhaled a mouthful of smoke. He leaned his head back, puckered his lips, and let out a cloud of rings, then added, “If it’s the last thing we do.”
    â€œFacts,” Los agreed. “Whoever violated gonna be put in the motherfuckin’ dirt, believe that,” Los added. He slammed his fist into his palm.
    â€œDon’t worry about it,” Buster replied. “Like I said, when the streets start talkin’, we gonna be listening.”
    â€œYou right,” Los told Buster.
    â€œYeah, we’ll be listening,” Buster repeated as he let out a gust of smoke. “But for now we make sure he goes out the right way.”
    â€œYeah. I’ma set everything up.” Los took back the blunt from Buster.
    â€œMan, I can’t help but wonder how in the world he didn’t see that shit coming. He always was on point. Fuck! I’ma make sure whoever did it will suffer worse than a trapped mouse.”

Chapter Eight
    Plaza Frontenac, a mall, was where you could find Jewels and Sassy whenever they weren’t with a client. Sometimes you could find them at this premiere luxury-shopping location with a client as well, if they got lucky, which they often did. But today they were spending their own money.
    The heads of men of all colors turned and their necks spun as Jewels’s and Sassy’s hips swayed from side to side through the high-end mall and their outfits clung to their bodies. Jewels’s ass cheeks looked like two soccer balls bouncing up and down as her Gucci flip-flops echoed throughout the mall while she strutted. Sassy’s, on the other hand,