Angel’s house, Encino, Ca: April
“Nigga, you know I’m a thug!” Angel said without a smile on her face. “You need to quit trippin’ and get the fuck outta my face! I’m about through with yo’ ass anyway!” Angel snapped. “Bitch, who you think you talkin’ to?” Donta snapped. Angel kept her eyes glued to the TV screen, watching the college basketball national championship game between the USC Trojans and the Duke Blue Devils. “Angel! Bitch, you hear me! Who the fuck you talkin’ to?” Donta asked, on the verge of extreme agitation. He was now standing between Angel and the TV, blocking her view intentionally and pissing Angel off in the process.
“Move, Donta, I can’t see my fuckin’ TV!”
“Girl, my brother just got smoked a few days ago and you hollerin’ about some TV? Fuck that TV!”
Donta screamed at the top of his lungs. Angel could see Donta was wound up now. There were rumors Donta snorted heroin. Looking at the subtle brown flakes in the corner of his nose, Angel knew the rumors were true. Donta was the kind of dude grown ass men were afraid of and every other bitch would have been shaking in his presence, especially with him being upset, high and unpredictable—that is, everyone except Angel, who was a self-proclaimed thug and stood behind her claim with both feet. When it comes down to it, Angel was really not someone to mess with. Angel was sick and tired of Donta’s shit—from the verbal abuse, to the rumors of infidelity and drug abuse—so whether or not he had just lost his brother, she was done with him; and now seemed just as good a time as any to let him know she was through with him and ready for a change. She honestly didn’t care what he thought about it and surely didn’t give a damn about his feelings on the matter.
“I’m gonna tell yo’ bitch ass one more time to move away from in front of the TV. I can’t see my baby daddy!”
The fuck she say that for? Donta lost it then! He threw the nineteen inch TV across the room and in one motion he turned and faced Angel. He reared back and savagely backhanded her across the face with such force it caused her nose to bleed instantly. Donta had reacted instinctively, but through his heroin-induced high, he somehow had a moment of clarity: he realized his actions and became immediately apologetic.
“Baby, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Donta had gone off on Angel in the past, but even through all of his rants and verbal abuse, this was the first time he had ever put his hands on her and he knew he had fucked up big time. When he saw Angel’s reaction, he knew this was a critical mistake. “Mothafucka!!! Nigga, have you lost your motherfuckin’ mind??!! No, Hallman, Koffi you didn’t just hit me! Nigga, you have until I count to ten. I’m getting my gun and if yo’ bitch ass is still here by then, I’m gonna put some holes in your mothafuckin’ ass!” Donta knew without a shadow of doubt, Angel was serious.
Angel stormed past Donta and headed upstairs, counting out loud. By the time Angel got to five, Donta was pulling down the street of their Encino home. Angel let off two shots from the second floor bedroom window. The first shot hit the sunroof, while the second shot hit the rear windshield of his Mercedes S500 as he floored the powerful German automobile down the street, around the corner and out of sight. Angel proceeded to take a towel and ice from the freezer to stop the bleeding of her nose. Afterwards, she went into the living room and turned on the seventy-inch plasma HDTV on the wall to continue watching the game. Placing the chrome .380 on the marble table, she picked up her cell phone and called her older brother, Adam Charles Evans, or ACE as everyone called him. He was a thug for real, who loved Angel with all his heart and since the death of their parents in a fatal car accident a year ago, the other was all each one had—and she was his heart! Ace picked up on the second ring and after seeing the caller ID, was very cheerful when he said, “Hello? What’s good, baby sis?”
“Hello… ACE?” Angel said, sounding nasal.
“What’s wrong, baby sis? You sound all funny ‘n shit—you got a cold or somethin’?” Ace said.
“Naw… ya fuckin’ boy… that crazy-ass nigga actually hit me!”
“You okay, girl? You hurt?” Ace said, now sounding genuinely concerned and inquisitive.
“I’m cool! I don’t even know why I told you…. I’m just mad I guess.”
“Where that nigga at now?” Ace demanded, now sounding serious and calculating, like the coldblooded killer he was.
“Oooh, calm down, brother, I put two slugs in his precious Benz, so he probably gonna come see you and try and get that shit fixed.” Pausing, Angel managed a little smile and a slight chuckle when she continued with, “Shit, I’ll bet he would have rather I put a slug in his ass instead of his other girlfriend; his precious little car!” She laughed again, a little harder this time and said, “Ace, promise me you won’t do anythin’! Don’t get me wrong: I’m through with his punk ass, but you know how you get when it comes to me and I don’t need you doin’ extras and gettin’ into trouble”
“Angel, you trippin’, girl… why y’all get into it?”
“Cuz I told him I’m leavin’ his punk ass for my baby daddy! Oooh, he is lightin’ Duke ass up!!”
“Yeah, I’m watchin’ the game now…. Oooh, so he your baby daddy now? Girl, you a trip!”
“Ace, I’m dead serious! We getting’ married! He already my man.
Don’t even trip on that, big brother, I got this! Nigga, you know I’m a thug!”
“Girl, you a trip! I’m headed over there after a while.”
“Ace, I’m so serious—don’t touch him! Promise me you won’t touch him!”
“All right, girl”
“I’m serious, Ace! Promise me!”
“Dang, girl, all right! I won’t lay a finger on that nigga, you got my word. I won’t touch him! Shit… you cookin’?” Ace asked, trying to change the subject.
“Nigga, you better make Terri’s ass get in the kitchen! I’m your sister, she’s ya bitch!”
“I bet if I was your baby daddy you would…,” Ace started to say, but never finished.
“Yeah, but you ain’t!” Angel said, cutting him off. “That’s nasty, boy…. Bye, brother!”
Angel quickly hung up the phone before Ace could respond. She was giggling to herself, thinking how pissed Ace must be as he hated to be hung up on. When he called back, she broke out into full laughter of the possible messages he would leave on her machine after she refused to answer the phone. Watching the second half of the game, Angel saw one of the greatest comebacks in NCAA history as the USC Trojans came from seventeen down at the half to winning by eleven, led by their All-American shooting guard, her “baby daddy” number twenty-one. He scored twenty-five second-half points for a game-high of thirty-five to go with fifteen assists, eleven rebounds and seven steals. He was given game and tournament MVP honors after leading the USC Trojans to back-to-back national titles, making himself all but a shoo-in to become the number one pick in the upcoming NBA draft lottery occurring in two months.
By Amazon Customer on February 11, 2017
Format: Kindle Edition
This urban fiction surprises you from the first page to the last, you feel like you can not stop reading. The story well written take you to an amazing ride with ups and downs, never letting you get bored. The characters are very strong and well elaborated, as well as quite varied, going from drug dealers, lawyers to murderers and gangsters. The strongest are the women characters, who were all minorities. You can also relate to them or know someone who can.
Although the vocabulary, slang and spelling may be new to you, you will get used to it, since it’s very normal in those characters’ surroundings. It’s a powerful story that presents to you a world you know exists but didn’t have any knowledge about it.
Death of a Thug talks about gangstas and stuff, but the message about friends and the meaning of family it’s the most important. This is a must read and if you do you’ll know why the author Koffi Hallman won the 2017 Walter Mosley Award African American Fiction. I highly recommend it if you want a good book.
Watching the second half of the game, Angel saw one of the greatest comebacks in NCAA history as the USC Trojans came from seventeen down at the half to winning by eleven, led by their All-American shooting guard, her “baby daddy” number twenty-one. He scored twenty-five second-half points for a