Big Juicy Lips by Allison Hobbs Read Free Book Online Page B

saw the swift images as the imaginary tape swiftly raced to the night that changed his life. Brick flinched when he heard the clunk inside his head that indicated the mental tape had stopped moving, forcing him to flash on a memory that was so cruel, so jarring, it wiped the reminiscent smile from his face.
    Sparks of anger glinted in the eyes that stared back from the mirror. He touched the ugly, raised formation of skin. The sparks in his eyes flickered to raging flames. Brick pounded the ceramictiled sink and suppressed the urge to scream.
    His face had been crudely carved when he was only thirteen years old. Bitter tears wet his eyelashes. Brick used to envision numerous ways to torture the man who’d disfigured him. Unfortunately, he would never get the chance to exact revenge; the mufucka who cut him was already dead. Rivaling drug dealers put two bullets in his head. And that was a goddamn, fucked-up shame.
    Misty brought the news when he was locked up in the boys’ detention center for selling drugs. He’d taken that fall for Misty. He’d always covered her ass.
    “Frankie got shot down like a dog in the street. You shoulda seen it, Brick. He took a bullet in the arm—probably only grazed, but he was crying and crawling around, trying to squeeze between parked cars, but those killas wasn’t finished with his ass.
    “They came up on Frankie like characters in a gangsta flick. One dude pressed his pistol against Frankie’s forehead. Snot was running out Frankie’s nose while he was praying, out loud. Then the other dude placed a barrel on the back of Frankie’s head. Ya boy, Frankie, started boo hooing, real loud, like a fuckin’ bitch. He was pleading for his life. Talked some shit about his mother was on SSI and how she depended on him.
    “Yo, the killas was like…pow! pow! Put a bullet in the front and the back of his head at the same time. Frankie hit the ground; boom! He ended up with four holes in his head.”
    Misty had excitedly relayed the news with the expectation that Brick would experience an immense measure of joy—a feeling of euphoria, now that justice had been served. But, Brick slumped into a depression and hardly spoke for the duration of Misty’s hour-long visit. No one would have ever imagined the jolt of disappointment followed by a feeling of utter despair that Brick felt upon learning that Frankie, his torturer, the man who’d disfigured his face, would not die the slow, torturous death he’d planned for the sadistic child molester.
    “Frankie the Freak,” Brick mumbled as he tried to stop himself from free-falling all the way down memory lane. He braced the sink, trying to stop himself, but he couldn’t break the fall. His mind travel exported him back to when the molestation had started.
    Frankie counted the money that Brick had given him. With a cigarette clenched between his teeth, smoke swirling upward, Frankie cocked his head to the side. “You came up short, again, Lil’ Playa.” His voice held a solemn warning.
    “I know—” Brick gave Frankie an uneasy smile and then looked down at his sneakers. “I’ma make up that money with my next package.”
    “Who said you gon’ get another package? Why should I keep on letting you fuck up my money?”
    Brick didn’t have an answer for that question, so he shrugged, which turned out to be the wrong answer.
    Frankie snorted. “Oh, it’s like that? You all nonchalant and don’t give a fuck about my money?”
    “Nah, I meant to say, I’m sorry and it won’t happen…”
    “Too late!” Frankie said, cutting off the last word of Brick’s apology. Anger flashed in his eyes. “You took something from me, so it’s only fair that I should take something from you. Ain’t that right, Lil’ Playa?”
    Brick nodded uncertainly.
    “Aiight, then, come on downstairs.” Frankie nudged his chin toward the door that led to the basement. “We need some privacy to settle this debt.”
    Brick’s eyes darted in alarm and