“You guys be talkin’ crazy, man!” Turk stepped back and reached for his ‘kit’, “Don’t make me pump her full, man”
“What are you afraid of,” Charlie asked.
My adrenaline began to push the drugs away.
“I ain’t afraid of shit!” Turk pointed an accusing finger at Charlie, “You da’ ones dat should be quakin’. 10 mo’ minutes, and Marcus’ be beatin her bitch-ass one side’o da room to duh uttah!” he gave us a curt nod to drive home the point.
“Come on, then,” I said, “Bring me the needle,”
“What?!” Charlie shook his head, “Are you nuts, no!”
Turk smiled, “Ya. See, boy, they always thirstin’ fo’ mo’!”
Charlie slipped the knife into my hands as the pimp approached. As he took my left arm, Charlie wrapped his, now, untied arms around the dark-man’s neck, and I jabbed the knife deep into his shoulder.
Turk’s scream was more a gargle as I punched him in the throat.
“Shut up, bitch,” I laughed in his face.
I took the needle from his hand and plunged it into his neck and gave it a squeeze.
Turk drooled as he fell limp.