He started not to answer the call, but something told him that he ought to. “What’s bracking?” He said into his burn -out cell phone before taking a pull from his blunt, unleashing smoke. Afterwards he tapped the L, dumping ashes on the step. “Is this Booby Loc o?” A voice asked from the other end of the phone. It sounded like it had been chopped & screwed. “Yeah, who is this?” His face balled up. Ignoring Pavielle’s question, the voice went on to give him the location and time he was to meet his charge. Shortly thereafter, the phone was being hung up. “Who was that?” Vayda asked, making a part down his head with a skinny comb. “My destiny,” Pavielle replied before taking another pull from the blunt. That night Eleven thirty rolled around and Pavielle and Gouch found themselves pulling up at the address the weird voice had given him. The address belonged to an old warehouse that used to manufacture Mattel toys. Entering the mouth of the enormous warehouse, the headlights of Pavielle’s Chevy Impala shined on the faces of Tango, Bullet and Black Jesus.
