The Predator PT. 2
She rounded the corner and slowed to a leisurely stroll to type on her phone. The lane was congested with the usual horde of idlers, weed smokers, domino players and general vendors. Shops conjoined with houses and it was almost impossible to tell where one began and the other ended, there were rumours of persons who even used their shops as their houses but that was not spoken about. It was an inner city community, who cared where anybody else lived? Some persons had to use a bridge or gullies. Using a shop or stall as a house was an upgrade, at least you had somewhere to live and a means to make money; for others the situation was much worse. He drove slowly to avoid attention but it was hard. A vehicle like his was bound to draw attention, marking him as either a politician or the Don of the area, having his windows up didn’t help. Communities like these were generally distrustful of tinted vehicles as drive-bys were often and expected at any time, having your windows down was more for your own safety as much as the residents. It helped in not getting your vehicle sprayed with bullets.
She had stopped at a shop and was inside for some amount of time so he stopped down the road and waited. He had been here before at a street dance and knew the ins and outs of the community, seen his victim dance and gyrate to the some of the raunchiest music ever to be put to track. He usually found Dancehall distasteful and vulgar but with her, it was an art form a seduction and he felt aroused and delighted from the memory. A knock on his window jolted him from his day dreaming, he turned and saw a shirtless young man casually peering into his window. He hissed his teeth and cracked the glass
‘Yo mi boss, yaa look fi somebody?’ he asked with the casual grace of a man knowing he had to receive an answer.
‘No enuh yute, just a pass through.” He replied and then tried to close the windows again
‘Ehhh? A nuh so it works stills enuh, A nuh parking lot or movie theatre this. So yuh need fi decide wha you a do real fast. Di dawg dem itchy.” he stated as he pointed over to a nearby shop where four young men were smoking furiously.
Each watched the car like a live grenade and nervously twitched at their waist, the oldest didn’t look more than 17 years old. He was in a delicate situation and he knew it. His target had left the shop and was moving further up the street. She must not escape!
‘Ahhh mi boss, maybe yuh can help me then. Yuh know where mi can find Cappo? Mi deal with a thing fi him and him need fi get it”
Cappo was the area leader, don or whatever they called themselves these days. He was nothing more than a glorified murderer but to these people, he was their god. Handing out food, money and whatever he thought necessary. In return he sold drugs, guns, fake visas, you name it Cappo and his thugs probably stole and sold it.
‘Is who a ask fi him?’ The tone had changed to one of obvious mistrust now. Asking for Cappo meant you either did business with him, wanted to kill him or you wanted to be shot. The third option usually went hand in hand with the first two.
“A nuh your concern that, im deh yah or not?”
“Him deh somewhere bout the place, if yuh do business with him then yuh know how fi reach him” he replied irritably and skanked off. He damn well know how to get to Cappo, his number was saved in his phone but his question was merely to get rid of the self appointed body guards.
He sped off and found her at the entrance to her house. Her mother stood outside conversing with another woman, he wondered if she would recognise him from their last meeting….