“Come on,” I said and grabbed Dee by the collar. “Show me.”
I kept my gun in his back and we walked down the street toward the train station. “That’s him,” Dee said and pointed.
“Where?”
“Over there in the jean jacket.”
“Now if this nigga don’t know shit about my brother, I’ma come find you and put one in your head,” I said and handed Dee a fifty.
“Thank you, Rain; thank you. Anything I can do for you, it’s done.”
“You hear anything you think I need to know about, you come find me and it’ll always be like that. I take care of people that look out for me,” I said and kept my eyes on Whitlow as Dee hurried away.
I stood there and watched him for a while and then he started walking across the street, so I followed him. He went inside the liquor store. I stood at the window and watched as Whitlow stepped up to the counter and pulled out a thirty-eight. Damn shame; mutha fucka just got out the joint and already robbin’ a liquor store. I needed to talk to him, so waited for him to come out. When he ran out of the store, I shot him once in the leg and he went down. When he rolled over and tried to raise his gun, I shot him in the arm and he dropped the gun. I walked up on him. “Your name Whitlow?” I asked with my gun to his head.
“You a cop?”
“Do I look like a fuckin’ cop to you?”
“What you want?”
“You just got outta Rikers?”
“Yeah.”
“You know Miles Robinson?” I could tell by the way his eyes bucked open that he did. “Who stabbed him?”
“He’ll kill me.”
“I already shot you twice, one more to the head ain’t gonna make me no difference,” I said and pressed my gun against his temple. I could hear the sirens coming in the background. “Make up your mind. You can tell me who stabbed my brother so I can go kill him, or the cops will find you here dead.”
“I don’t know what his name is, but they call him Baby John.”
“Thank you,” I said and helped Whitlow get up. “Get outta here before I change my mind,” I said and Whitlow limped away.