Ghetto Girls 3. Anthony Whyte

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      Nesto pulled his jumpsuit shut and tried to regain his balance.

      “Getting my dick blessed makes Nesto fuckin’ weak in da knees. You feel me, daddy?”

      “Skeetin’ all over a bitch’s face makes me weak.” Lil’ Long and Nesto both laughed.

      “You heard bout da chess tournament tonight, right?”

      “Yeah, you mentioned that bullshit a couple weeks ago.”

      “That’s big ‘roun here, daddy. They be havin’ that shit once a year. Come through. We’ll drink and watch ‘em Russians rack up. They ain’t lose yet, daddy.”

      “Oh word? Good I’m definitely gonna have to check on that.”

      “Ahight, that’s good. Nesto will for sure put your name in da books for tonight. You play chess, daddy?”

      “A lil’ sump’n, sump’n, man. I ain’t played that shit in awhile. Matter fact since my man Vulcha been murk, I ain’t been fucking with da games. I put all that shit down.”

      “I hear you, daddy. They got this chess tournament goin’ down. Maybe it will be good for you daddy. Them Russians sponsor da shit. They got them CO’s playin’ too. Daddy, I’m telling you, they bring in expensive ass Russian vodkas by the buckets.”

      “Damn! Urrh-one be getting’ wet then, huh? Ain’t nobody escaped?” Lil’ Long asked.

      “C’mon daddy, don’t be a stupid. How you gonna escape and go where?”

      “Go da fuck home…” Lil’ Long said.

      Nesto held up his hand. He put his index finger to his lips.

      “Daddy, daddy, round here the walls have ears. You gotta chill with that kinda talk…”

      “Whatever man. What about these Russians?”

      “Yeah, this Russian dude, Igor and his peeps goes bananas playing any and everyone in this big ass prison tournament of chess. The winners get to drink all this fucking vodka.”

      “Oh yeah, Igor, your man, he’s always winning, huh. Don’t sound fair unless someone else wins sometimes. You ever win?”

      “Win? Never, Nesto still what you would call a beginner, daddy. I know my place. I’m dead-ass when I say daddy, them Russians got the shit on lock.”

      “They win all da fucking time?”

      “Hell yeah, they nice I’m telling you, daddy. After that, we go get blow-ass on all the fuckin’ vodka. They always celebrating, cuz they camp ain’t never suffered defeat yet, daddy.”

      “Don’t mean a damn thing ‘cept they be ripe for a loss,” Lil’ Long said rubbing his hands.

      “Talk that shit, daddy you gonna have to back it up.”

      “Ahight, ahight, I’ll come check da shit out.”

      “Daddy, it’ll cost you some commissary. Nesto knows you good, so no need to worry ‘bout nada,” Ernesto smiled.

      “Yeah, I’m ahight, but this your world, man,” Lil’ Long said and lit a cigarette. “I got some shit to settle back in the real world.” Nesto nodded at him as if he understood.

      “Hey yo Lil’ Long man, I got a kite from one o’ my boy, Mannie. You know from eastside.”

      “Muthafuck a kite!” He barked. “I wanna be out there again. Back out in da worl’, like a kite. I belong out there, fly like a muthafuckin’ pimp. Nesto, man I gotta be back out there holdin’ shit down for my Ghetto soldier.”

      “Daddy, if you talkin’ bout your man, Vulcha I’m sayin’ the Russians can…”

      “I don’t need no help from no muthafuckin’ foreigners. I’m a get at ‘em triflin’ rappin’ ass bitches, that fuckin’ music producer all by myself. I got it. Lemme say this, I’m bringing so much fuckin’ grief to ‘em bitch-asses, them muthafuckas they gon wish they had died the first time aroun’. I’m a hunt they asses down, an’ I’m killin’ ea-eac-ach o-n-o-one ah-o’ ththem!” Lil’ Long struggled to get the words out.

      Nesto lit a cigarette, puffed and watched Lil’ Long furiously pound the wall with his fist. “Hey daddy, be easy…”

      “I been easy for too long in this overcrowded muthafuckin’ joint. It’s time to do my thing. Bust my guns dying. I gotta see ‘em muthafuckin’ clown ass bitches’ smiles turned upside down,” Lil’ Long yelled.

      “Fuck! They whole world up,” Ernesto joined in. “Hey Lil’ Long you ain’t gotta let all that shit bother you, them Russians they have this shit locked. Daddy, daddy I tell you they got some shit they call it bratva.”

      “And what you tryin’ a say, man?” Lil’ Long asked.

      “I swear on my son’s grave, daddy, they like the Italian mob, ‘cept twice as deadly. They control every single fuckin’ thing on the inside and lots and lots on da fuckin’ outside. I’m dead-ass, daddy.”

      “Oh yeah, you singin’ they praises. They real bosses like that?”

      “All you gotta do is say the word, daddy an’ these niggas will handle shit for you. You my man, daddy and these cats will handle shit. I’m dead-ass, daddy…”

      “Nah, I ain’t trying to keep no foreign muthafuckas on my dick. I don’t need none roun’ me. I gotta be back in da hood to do what I do. I’ll handle da street shit in da fuckin’ streets.”

      “But daddy, listen to your man Nesto. I’m a put in da word…”

      “Nah sun, it ain’t happening. I don’t need no mo’ baggage, muthafucka. I’m a do things my way. Them bosses gonna want tribute on urrh-thing that I do. They just like ‘em wop niggas, they all ‘bout owning shit. I ain’t about to be slingin’ for no one like I’m their bitch, a ho or sump’n…”

      “All Nesto sayin’ is you need to listen to these muthafuckas, they got crazy juice. I’m telling you daddy. Crazy, crazy juice. And they like you.”

      “Yeah, yeah I hear you, whateva man. I already know what I gotta do to get da fuck up out this joint. And then it’s muthafuckin saddle and boots. Ain’t no-no-body gonna be sasa-afe. I’m a ri-r-ridin’ on e-m-m bi-bi-bitches.”

      “But daddy you could be getting’ your hustle on, cuz it’s bout da ends. Nesto sayin’ it’s not gonna hurt to holla at these bratva cats. They got mad plans for the future.”

      “Fuck all that, man. I’m gonna be out and about, doing what I do, muthafucka. I ain’t hatin but I ain’t participatin’ in da next man plan,” Lil’ Long said inhaling smoke from his cigarette. His strategy was sewn up. He knew what he had to do.

       FOUR

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