Page 10 of Dope Boys: Most Wanted
“Where you going?” Svyn questioned.
“Nia’s. The shop is close.” Markus got inside of his ride sure not to show anyone how bad the bullet actually hurt. Speeding off, he used the system in his car to call Nia.
“You don’t want me to make no money today do you?”
“Clear your back room.”
“Money, what’s wrong with you?”
“That shit hits, Nia,” Markus winced. That was code, signaling Nia that bullets had rained down on their crew. By the tone of his voice she knew it was him.
“You’re not coming here with that!”
“Where the fuck you want me to go? Huh? The fuckin’ ER? Nah. Clear that shit and up and don’t say shit else to me,” he snapped before hanging up.
No matter how Nia felt about her shop being used as a makeshift operation room, she rescheduled everyone’s appointment and shut the shop down, awaiting her brother’s arrival. Like clockwork, everyone arrived at the same time. Even Angel and Brantley. Considering they were supposed to be further away.
“Fuck!” Markus groaned into the towel between his teeth.
“Money, you got to stop jerking before I nick something and then we’re going to have more issues on our hands,” Cyn, Brantley’s fiancée, shot back.
“Give me something for this shit then!” he barked back.
“When I get the bullet out and stitch you up, I’ll give you some pills.”
“Why not now?”
“Because if you’re screaming, you’re alive. Hold still, shit!” Cyn fussed back.
“How the fuck this even happen in broad daylight?” Brantley fussed.
“That nigga just pulled up on us on some Rambo shit,” Svyn explained. “Everyone started firing, Money got hit, and Rock is probably at the bottom of the river now.”
“This is the fuckin’ shit!” Brantley bellowed. “Sending me out to run fuckin’ packs when niggas are actively declaring war.”
“What the fuck you mean, war?” Nia fired off. “What the fuck is happening, Money?”
“How about all y’all shut the fuck up! Shit!” Markus barked back. “Let Cyn stitch my shit back together before you keep on with this bullshit.”
“Who you talking to?” Nia shot back.
Markus cut her a look that silenced her rebellion. “Not another word, Nia. Damn.”
It took Cyn another thirty minutes to clean the wound and stitch the area. She handed Markus a bottle of Percocet she stole out the medication room before claiming a family emergency and running out of the hospital.
“Money, only take two of these every six to eight hours for pain. Nothing more.”
Markus took the bottle out of her hand and poured three in his mouth.
“You don’t fuckin’ listen,” she scolded.
“This shit hurts like a bitch,” he huffed, chasing them with the water Nia handed him earlier.
“Now can you fill me in on this war?” Nia huffed, her eyes on her phone screen. “Oh fuck!”
“What?” the group asked.
“Scar. They got him,” Nia replied.
