Percy and Donte's Conversation

Percy was feeling himself until his mobile roller phone rang. Hello. Perchy said. Wassam Big dog Donte said from the other end of phone. Tell me something good? Percy replied. Some dudes out the St. Bernard projects got a new dope spot popping and two females out the Lafitte projects got a new set too. Donte told Percy. Is that right? Yep, that right! I told you, your beef is my beef ya hear me. Get it on then you have my blessing Percy told Donte. Yeah, them niggas out the Bernard talking about how easy it was to jack a Cuban for 10 bricks. Wait, wait, wait a minute. Percy said in a calm, cool but collective voice because he knew never told no one how much dope was missing and now dude saying too much. Don't worry, don't worry my man. Percy told Donte before he hung up the phone.

Percy leaned over and grabbed his rolled-up 100 dollar bill and sniffed three lines of that dope then took a long swallow from his Hennessey bottle before laying back going into a finer nodded. Perchy didn't give a fuck but long as motherfucker was dying blood being spilled behind something he created, that is all that matter. All the pieces was coming together to do with his sister but he just couldn't put his hands on it.

Percy was caught off guard as the F.B.I. surrounded him in the police boat. The two naked Cuban females ran down to the bottom of the boat. Percy leaned up and took another snip of the dope because he knew the feds had to have some on him. The murder of a two-year-old Cuban girl named Myia, sends blood spills in the streets of New Orleans, leaving every dope dealer with a price to pay. The only plan Donte has is to cover the blood on his own hands.

Tonight was one of those nights where the homeless people wish they had air conditioning in their cardboard boxes under the bridge in the Big Easy. Then the humidity is very high with dry heat, no wind blowing, and mosquitoes flying around your head. It’s so much dry heat that if you walk one block, your clothes will start sticking to your body from the temperature that the humidity admits down here in New Orleans, ya heard me. But that was the last thing on Donte and Omar's mind.

They were driving down North Causeway Blvd., headed towards Metairie, LA. Man, don’t let that white Lexus out of your sight. Donte told Omar. They were following Mary home, Percy’s sister. Donte had her route down pack; it couldn’t get no sweeter than this, ya heard me.