Having to Go OnI stopped and rented a room at a hotel, and stayed there for the night. I have so many things going on in my head, Monte is dead, I can't go to college now, all of my belongings except my money is probably getting sold by those Mexicans. I kept my cool though, it was a good hotel, I had the money, I just turned on the flat screen TV and watched MTV before I dosed off.
I woke up the next morning and went downstairs for their free breakfast. I got back up in my suburban and sat in there as I called Bronte. I dialed the number on my phone and waited for someone to pick up. "Yo who is this", someone on the other side of the line said, "this is B, the dude you met earlier at the police line". "Oh alright, you got something to write on?" There was a whole note pad on the dash and some pens in the glove box in the passenger seat, they must've done this a lot, this is the gang car after all. "Alright I got it, go ahead". He told me his home address and hung up, I was on my way.
I got there, the house wasn't even a house, it was a trap house! If none of you are familiar with a trap house, it's basically a place where people make drugs, trap animals to sell, even have cars in the back if it's not a house. It's basically illegal selling, I took time to look at it, wooden house, broken and cracked windows, big 2 story house, wood on the walls basically torn apart. The address still matched, so I went up to knock, The door jerked open and a pistol was in my face I put my hands up, then I heard the guy speak, "who the f**k are you fool". "It's B, Monte's vandalism specialist, I'm here to see Bronte". I felt the gun come away from me and I saw the man's face, completely covered, black bandanna, shades, a backwards hat. I was guessing he was a hit man of some sort since he had no way of showing his identity. He ushered me in, "follow me", he said.
We walked up to the second floor, I could smell chodene or something like that, I definitely smelled weed. There were men and women with bandanna's, the girls wearing a little less clothing then you would think, despite of how cold it was. I think all of the drugs were being made in the basement, because the people in the main floor were either playing cards or having light conversation, but upstairs was a different story as well. I look in each room and there are people trading money, some rolling dice, and even a room where they look like they have meetings sometimes. I had to admire, it was one organized trap house, then he ushers me into a room on the left where Bronte is talking to a shirtless Mexican, they were talking Spanish so I didn't understand, then he saw me, told me to sit down.
Then we talked...