Streets of New York. Mark Anthony

A patrol car is on its way.” The operator said.

      Lindsay sat the phone down and stared at the door. She knew the others would either be calling or coming back soon. She wondered if she should leave her finger prints on the bodies. For a minute she felt as if she would vomit but Lindsay sucked it up then searched their pockets and removed wallets, money and gun. She got busy cleaning her fingerprints off and attempting to wipe blood off herself.

      She continued cleaning, and Lindsay saw the picture of Pooh on the cover of the notebook. Blood dripped from the photo. It was like her brother was there bleeding for her. The notebook had blood splattered over it. She picked up the money along with the notebook and stared at the book like it possessed magic.

      “What would you do? What should I say to the police when they come?” Lindsay was staring at the photo as she asked. She walked to the kitchen sat down and read another page from her brother’s journal.

       I wake n cold sweat drips cuz I done snitched or sump’n. I wanted this thing to happen but my mother couldn’t understand she told me that there was only murder in the first degree anyway you ’re gonna cross it that was what she knew running in the streets would cost me. Fast money, fast girls, fast rides all going down in the streets. I was with it. Thats me sittin in that new expensive whip. True things can flip you become the victim. That would be slippin and a nigga got to be sleepin if that happen. I never want to find myself laid up in the pen all fucked up from this bullshit. Madukes and lil’ sis cryin, wishin I never chose this life. Or just live ballin until the day I die there’ll be a picture of me on the front page ‘He’s still Peeps’ buildin memorial for me candles and all. Everybody cryin pourin liquor out for the fallen. It’s not happenin. Not in this lifetime. Yeah I done heard all the shit being popped by haters if you’re the son of a gangster then you were gonna true indeed be gangster.

      Squeeze waited at the light, he checked his Rolex on his wrist, just a little past ten. He was on his way to see Lindsay to scold her for playing him so close. Then he checked his messages and the one from Lindsay stopped him in his tracks. He listened again carefully taking in what she said. He checked his weapons. The two fully loaded nines were by his side. Squeeze drove on. He felt an uneasiness creeping up to his throat while dialing Lindsay’s number. Squeeze squinted in hope as he waited.