room, making sure that everyone felt their presence. One young Apostle was so absorbed by the rap music blaring from the jukebox that he didn't notice the two detectives. His back was to them as he used the directional buttons on the jukebox to flip through the CD covers. An Oakland A's hat, the Apostles' trademark, sat on the boy's head at a rakish angle.
Grove walked up behind the youth and slapped his hat off of his head. Fired up, the youth wheeled, ready to attack, but when he saw the dangerous detective, the wind left his sails. Smoldering, he stared down at the toes of his Air Force Ones.
“Pick it up, Apostle, or should I say Asshole,” Grove taunted the teenage thug.
The youth didn't move.
Grove took a step closer and placed his hand on the left side of the boy's chest. The teenager's heart was rioting in his rib cage.
Grove snarled, “You scared, huh? Yo tough ass is scared like a bitch. Tough-ass Apostle, pick up yo hat!”
“Nope,” the youth mumbled.
Laughing, Grove turned to Bull. “This little fake thug must gotsome damn sense. He knew that I was gone kick him a new shit hole as soon as he tried to pick up that hat.”
Bull was silent, his bored look plastered on his face.
Grove turned back to the kid. “Get lost, asshole!” he told him.
The youth sauntered out of the game room, leaving his baseball cap behind on the floor. Casually the duo made their way through the game room, similarly bothering the rest of the clientele. Bezo had to almost chomp down on his tongue not to say anything to the pair of men. He busied himself wiping the already spotless candy counter. Bull kicked the bottom crate from under Jimmy's sleeping form, causing the man to fall onto his behind.
Damn, I don't need this shit
, Bezo thought.
Faggot-ass gang cops know that they can get on my fucking nerves with this bullshit.
After harassing the entire cast of teenagers and young adults in the room the two men stood in front of the candy counter. Bull reached over and picked up a Twix candy bar. He opened the golden wrapper and broke one of the chocolate-covered cookie bars. He tossed it into his mouth. His partner walked over to the refrigerator behind the candy counter and opened it. He stood in the cool cavern for a moment before selecting an ice-cold plastic bottle of Code Red Mountain Dew.
Bezo waited with his arms folded.
Grove cracked open his soda pop and took a long swig.
Bezo waited—he knew it was coming.
“You really should try these new Dews, Bull. This shit is tight.”
“Too much caffeine,” Bull grunted.
“I don't give a fuck, I need some caffeine. What about you, Bezo, do you like these new Mountain Dews?”
Bezo said, “No, I don't, sir. I don't drink pop. It rots the teeth and kills the kidney.”
Grove laughed. “You hear this nigga, Bull? I bet this nigga done drunk him a pint of vodka already today. And here he is talking about the dangers of drinking soda pop.”
Bezo protested, “It ain't illegal.”
“Bull, did anybody say anything about anything being illegal?”
Still crunching his candy bar, Bull shook his head.
Grove belched. “Sounds like you guilty ‘bout something. Whatever it is, we really don't have the time to beat a confession out of you. We just want you to pass on a message for us, Bernard. You tell Solemn Shawn that we want to talk to him.”
“Hold on now,” Bezo said. “I don't know where Shawn is or how to get him no message. So you really wasting yo time.”
Grove snapped, “You little ex-dope fiend, ex-convict, drunk bitch! You better stop playing with us! We ain't got no time for yo bullshit! Nigga, you know how to get in touch with that motherfucker! I bet if I put a pack on yo ass you would get in touch with him to bond yo funky ass out the county!” Grove pulled a business card from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He tossed it on the countertop. “You get that card to him and tell him that I said he better get in touch with me. You
Grove walked up behind the youth and slapped his hat off of his head. Fired up, the youth wheeled, ready to attack, but when he saw the dangerous detective, the wind left his sails. Smoldering, he stared down at the toes of his Air Force Ones.
“Pick it up, Apostle, or should I say Asshole,” Grove taunted the teenage thug.
The youth didn't move.
Grove took a step closer and placed his hand on the left side of the boy's chest. The teenager's heart was rioting in his rib cage.
Grove snarled, “You scared, huh? Yo tough ass is scared like a bitch. Tough-ass Apostle, pick up yo hat!”
“Nope,” the youth mumbled.
Laughing, Grove turned to Bull. “This little fake thug must gotsome damn sense. He knew that I was gone kick him a new shit hole as soon as he tried to pick up that hat.”
Bull was silent, his bored look plastered on his face.
Grove turned back to the kid. “Get lost, asshole!” he told him.
The youth sauntered out of the game room, leaving his baseball cap behind on the floor. Casually the duo made their way through the game room, similarly bothering the rest of the clientele. Bezo had to almost chomp down on his tongue not to say anything to the pair of men. He busied himself wiping the already spotless candy counter. Bull kicked the bottom crate from under Jimmy's sleeping form, causing the man to fall onto his behind.
Damn, I don't need this shit
, Bezo thought.
Faggot-ass gang cops know that they can get on my fucking nerves with this bullshit.
After harassing the entire cast of teenagers and young adults in the room the two men stood in front of the candy counter. Bull reached over and picked up a Twix candy bar. He opened the golden wrapper and broke one of the chocolate-covered cookie bars. He tossed it into his mouth. His partner walked over to the refrigerator behind the candy counter and opened it. He stood in the cool cavern for a moment before selecting an ice-cold plastic bottle of Code Red Mountain Dew.
Bezo waited with his arms folded.
Grove cracked open his soda pop and took a long swig.
Bezo waited—he knew it was coming.
“You really should try these new Dews, Bull. This shit is tight.”
“Too much caffeine,” Bull grunted.
“I don't give a fuck, I need some caffeine. What about you, Bezo, do you like these new Mountain Dews?”
Bezo said, “No, I don't, sir. I don't drink pop. It rots the teeth and kills the kidney.”
Grove laughed. “You hear this nigga, Bull? I bet this nigga done drunk him a pint of vodka already today. And here he is talking about the dangers of drinking soda pop.”
Bezo protested, “It ain't illegal.”
“Bull, did anybody say anything about anything being illegal?”
Still crunching his candy bar, Bull shook his head.
Grove belched. “Sounds like you guilty ‘bout something. Whatever it is, we really don't have the time to beat a confession out of you. We just want you to pass on a message for us, Bernard. You tell Solemn Shawn that we want to talk to him.”
“Hold on now,” Bezo said. “I don't know where Shawn is or how to get him no message. So you really wasting yo time.”
Grove snapped, “You little ex-dope fiend, ex-convict, drunk bitch! You better stop playing with us! We ain't got no time for yo bullshit! Nigga, you know how to get in touch with that motherfucker! I bet if I put a pack on yo ass you would get in touch with him to bond yo funky ass out the county!” Grove pulled a business card from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He tossed it on the countertop. “You get that card to him and tell him that I said he better get in touch with me. You
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