Innocent woke up covered in sweat. She couldn't remember the nightmare she just had but she knew trying to go back to sleep would be futile. She got out of her bed and slid on her house robe. She walked into the living room and saw her cat Matilda sitting on the window seal looking outside. It was raining.
She sat on the couch and grabbed a joint off of the coffee table. It was early. It was about six o clock in the morning. She still had heard anything from Vincent. She wondered what was the problem. It said he had seen her message on Facebook but he hadn't called. She had given up. Vincent obviously didn't have the time for her. But it was messing up all of her plans.
The other night a famous rapper had come into the club. He was a dope boy rapper. He rapped about cocaine all of the time. For some reason though he was in the VIP doing cocaine. He was very high and his manager had to stop him from snorting several times. The other strippers seemed not to care. They all wanted a shot at him. He was throwing a lot of money the entire night. Her friend Skipper was crestfallen.
" I swear Innocent he is in love with me. He said he would make it rain on me. He showed me a stack of hundreds. This could be your night but it's mine. Mine! You're afraid to approach him," Skipper said to Innocent as Innocent sat backstage in front of her vanity mirror.
It wasn't that Innocent was scared but out of all the nights to show up her favorite dope boy rapper shows up when she hasn't handled her situation with Vincent yet. She couldn't commit to anyone when Vincent knew the truth. The rapper had already sent a bottle of Cristal to her and she had to deny it. She had waited it felt like her whole life for that moment and her nightmares plagued her. Now it seemed that the rapper was into Skipper. Innocent was not jealous but she was angry. She was angry at herself for failing to get Vincent's attention.
Skipper ended up leaving with the rapper and his entourage. The rapper stayed true to his word. He made it "rain" on her. Innocent watched sitting at the bar with one of her regulars that at that exact moment was requesting her phone number. She playfully pushed him away and walked backstage. At this time of the night she was the only one backstage. The room was empty. Everyone was attracted to the coke addict rapper. Begging for his attention. She sat in front of her mirror and looked at her face. She didn't recognize the woman as the little girl she once was. She felt she looked different. She pouted. Maybe she should make her lips bigger. She grabbed her fake breast. To her they looked very real....she felt like something was wrong with her.
She heard footsteps. She turned to see the bouncer Malcom and the owner the "Joker" himself Mr. Lennon entering the room with her. Mr. Lennon had on a cheap business suit. Innocent didn't understand why he wore such cheesy clothes. He made plenty of money. The strip club was probably one of the most lucrative in Atlanta. She guessed he spent his money on other stuff.
" What are you doing back here Innocent? I don't pay you to be back here when we got Snow Cone in here. You bitches need to be out there doing what I pay you to do. What the hell is your problem," Mr. Lennon asked.
" I don't feel good," Innocent said and put a hand over her stomach as if she felt she was sick.
" I heard from his manager you turned down a bottle of Cristal. Are you mad? You bitches need to cater to him. He's got the number nine rap record in the country right now. This is my night!"
Innocent shook her head. The bouncer glared at her. Her and Malcom were good friends. She had him kick out several stalkers before. But the look in his eyes scared her.
" I'm feeling sick. I just throw up a few minutes ago. I think I ate some bad sushi or something earlier," She said and turned back to the mirror. Maybe she should buy a new wig...maybe she should...
She turned and a folded chair was flying towards her head. Malcom had thrown it. She quickly ducked and the chair hit the mirror and her make up, perfume, and other beauty products were scattered everywhere with glass. She tumbled backwards out of her chair and rolled to avoid any shards. She landed on her knees and was on her feet before the chair hit the ground. She stood up with her fist balled.
Mr. Lennon stared at Malcom as if to say continue to attack her. But Malcom stood frozen with his mouth open.
The tension in the room was thick. Innocent slowly rose to the tips of her toes and slowly began bouncing. Her balled fist were shaking angrily.
Malcom turned to leave and Mr. Lennon grabbed him by the arm. " What the hell do you think you're doing?"
" Not tonight boss....I think she's learned her lesson," Malcom responded.
" I will tell you when she's learned her lesson! Now-"
" He's right," Innocent said interupting. She exhaled and forced herself to relax. She smiled a painful grin and began heading back to the club floor. " I'm sorry boss. It won't happen again."
She strolled past the two men and as she did her and Malcom locked eyes. She winked at him.
Two Days Later
It was early morning about 4 AM. Walking down the streets of Atlanta was a crackhead named Pain. Pain was a fifty year old woman that had been smoking since she was thirty. She had been to prison twice. She just couldn't shake the habit. She was dressed in her musty sweats walking down Broad street to the corner store. He wig crooked on her head. She was already sweating. It had been two days since she had gotten high.
It was Sunday. She and her fellow crackhead friends were about to collect the Sunday newspapers and sell them on the corner for a higher fee. Then they would take the money and go get high. It was an all day task but it was worth it. Together they could gather almost five hundred. Scrambling for twenty dollars each a day by panhandling was time consuming. Boosting was risky especially when most of their team had been strung out for a few days. They slept at the salvation army but when it came to choices like washing your clothes or saving to buy some more crack, choices were easy sometimes.
As she approached the corner store she saw a young male sitting outside of the business. He had on a trench coat and slacks. He smiled as she approached.
" You here for the papers right," the young male said.
" No use of lying. Why do you care? You trying to sell papers or some shit. You look like you got better shit to do."
The young male looked at his Rolex and his smile grew " I respect your hustle. You've got to do what you've got to do right? But please leave these papers alone today. I want to city to see today's front page story."
Pain looked confused. " What's the big deal? I got a team snatching these shits up everywhere in the city. They'll get sold either way. Why you want to take money out of my mouth?"
The man sighed. " I got guys at several other newspaper stands as well. It's not just here."
He adjusted his tie and approached the woman. He held his hand out. In it was three hundred dollars. " I want the people to get that old feeling of getting it from the stand. Today is special."
Pain looked at the money for a half a second then snatched it out of his hand. " So that's it? I leave the papers alone now?"
" Yes that's it."
Pain walked away from Vincent McArthur The Third with a joyous laugh.
Vincent shook his head as he approached the Newsstand. He put some change in it and grabbed one of the papers. The headline read:
FAMOUS RAPPER AND STRIPPER FOUND DEAD IN HOTEL.
The Prince would be proud. They had overdosed on the cocaine The Prince had purchased. Now the whole city would want a taste. If it was too pure for Snow Cone then the average fiend was going to be sky high. Snow Cone was the biggest addict in the industry.
He walked to his Benz and opened the door. He sat in the driver seat, put on his glasses, and began reading. After reading the first few paragraphs a chill ran down his spine.
" No," He said loudly. " No!"
It wasn't Mildred. It was some girl named Vanessa. He shook his head in disdain. What had went wrong? He sighed.
Innocent got the news of Skipper's death via Facebook. All of her co-workers were talking about it. Jokes were being told. No one really was friends in her business. The tears were fake. Behind closed doors they all considered her stupid for getting too high. Her inbox was filled with laughter her timeline full of fake despair. Her opinion....she was frightened.
No reader she wasn't reconsidering her line of work. She didn't feel sorry for Skipper either. She was scared because she knew something the other dancers didn't. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Skipper didn't do any drugs at all.
Went to see Papi today. Got a few kilos. It's been awhile. He wanted to start slow.
~Journal of the Prince 2/19/2017
Innocent remembered certain things about her mother. Her mother was very racist. It all started one day when Innocent was in her room watching television. She couldn't have been more then twelve years old. She had thought her door was locked. She was watching a music video. It was Nas and the Bravehearts "Oochie Wally". She was touching herself and watching the Queensbridge rappers talk about sex.
Innocent lived in a mansion when she was young in the city of New York. Queens to be exact. She went to a prep school along with other rich white girls and boys. They were the outcast. I mean you may be out of fashion at a ghetto school if you didn't have one pair of Jordans. At a prep school if you didn't have that season's Tommy Hilfigure line or the latest issue of Vanity Fair you were a fool. Yet there were outcast. Kids that could stay preppy but know about the urban culture. Innocent was one of those kids. She lived in New York but stayed up on East Coast hip hop. She lived in Queens any girl that wouldn't fuck Nas was an idiot.
Her parents however. All they saw was skin. It made Innocent hate her skin. Because what woman wouldn't want to sacrifice her child for a higher cause. White was too pure for her. She wanted her child to have a soul. She hated how her race had ruined the Earth. The United States a place made off of the blood and sweat of the black man then pursued him and wanted to kill him. Scared of retaliation. Brainwashed them into killing each other instead of the ones that fooled him. He was the strongest now the weakest. Rappers like Nas risked their lives to tell the truth. That was bravery. He educated when the schools could not. He represented hope. They had killed other like Tupac and Biggie. Nas was around during that time. He and Jay-Z. The original gangsters of her generation.
Innocent heard footsteps. She slid her school uniform checkered skirt down and sat up. The footsteps was her maid letting her know her mother was coming up the stairs. She rarely came to this part of the compound but she had someone watching just in case. She turned the channel to the History Channel and became quickly obsessed with the current topic. The Korean War. She knew all about that. She would've turned it to the Discovery Channel but they were talking about reproduction. Her mom didn't even know Innocent masturbated.
In exactly five minutes her mother walked through the door.
" Mildred, we have to talk honey," Her mother said.
" What do you want mommie dearest," Innocent inquired rising out of her bed.
" Well honey. Your sister was doing the laundry and well, you explain this," Her mother pulled a note out of her house robe it was folded.
Innocent's heart stopped beating. It was a love letter. Only one person folded like that. Her boyfriend. A boy in her class named Jeffery. The girls called him Smiley because he was always smiling. He was quiet. Cute. And he was a hell of a poet. He wanted to be a rapper when he grew up. She wanted to have his baby. He played Basket Ball for Richard Heights Middle School. He was a black boy. The only black boy at her school.
" Jeffery Covington daughter? Jeffery Covington? Calling you Juliet??? What type of nonsense are you bringing into our house Mildred? You can't be serious!!! This is what happens to women like my sister," Her mother yelled.
Innocent's Aunt had married a black man and moved to Compton. He was a Crip. Innocent wasn't suppose to know that but her Aunt had told her. Her Aunt knew of Innocent's quiet rebellion. When white men like her Father had insecurities that were suppose to affect the whole family some women recognized game.
" Well what do you have to say for yourself Mildred?"
Innocent stared at her mother. About a minute passed when no one said anything just the television talking about a war that was over race to her. It was always over race. Every act in history was over race in the end. Since the bible. Innocent stared at her mother in her black terry cloth robe and smiled.
" I want to fuck him," She replied.
A high pitch scream that could probably be heard on the other end of the compound filled the air.
And that reader is how Innocent got sent to Compton to live with who she thought would be her best friend in the world.
Vincent McArthur The Third was sitting on the bench in the school cafeteria. He saw a skinny white girl walk into the lunch room. He only noticed her because of her clothing. It was nothing name brand at all. A white T shirt and some jeans that didn't fit and a pair of old rugged converse. Students were behind her laughing. All eyes were on her and everyone began to chuckle. Vincent stood slowly and raised his hand ever so slightly and the laughs died down. All eyes were now on him.
He walked towards the girl and his footsteps echoed as he pushed his gold rimmed glasses up his nose.
" And who might this be," Vincent asked the skinny blonde girl.
" My name is Mildred," She said to him shyly. She had never spoken to a white boy this handsome. He was dressed in slacks, a button up vest with a chain connected to a pocket watch in the pocket. He had a buttoned up long white shirt underneath it. His shoes were converse as well but they were Gucci as well. He had very white teeth and his hair was black with frosted blonde tips.
" Tell him the whole name," One of the students that had came in with Innocent said. She must've been in the same class with Mildred.
" Mildred Baxter Douglas McGee," She said and the whole lunch room burst out in hysterical laughter.
Vincent let the kids get a good chuckle in then he stopped them with another slight raise of the hand.
" That's quite the name. What are you doing wearing that going to my school?"
" Didn't see your name on the wall I guess," Mildred said coldly and turned to walk towards the lunch line.
" Well then you'd have to be stupid. My name is Vincent McArthur the third."
They went to Vincent McArthur School Of Fine Arts in Los Angeles California.
Innocent felt stupid. This was one of the worst days of her life. She just insulted a socialite. All day people had been saying her name over and over. She had a headache and her Aunt Melissa and her had got in an argument that day. She knew her face was probably red as a beet and she just wanted to disappear. But even invisible she knew she would have to walk by a mirror eventually.
" How did someone with such little regards for men like myself happen to end up at my school," Vincent asked Innocent as the two of them had the room captivated.
" I am from Compton but my grades and talent as a dancer got me accepted to a fine arts school. I heard this was the best school in L.A. ," Innocent said with a smile. She didn't know why she attempted to be cute it was just something she did. If she had her old wardrobe she would put all of these girls to shame. But her mother was punishing her. She was being taken care of by her Aunt. Her Aunt was no rich woman. That morning Innocent was shocked at the wardrobe she had to choose from for her first day of school at the Fine Arts School. She regretted it now. Who cares what she wore...she bet she was smarter then most of these snobs.
" Well, it was nice meeting you Mildred," Vincent held his hand out.
She took his hand.
" The pleasure is all mine," Innocent said with a sigh. She felt beautiful in that moment. The whole school watching.
As Vincent walked away the girl that made Innocent say her full name leaned close to her ear and whispered:
" You went from nothing to the most popular girl in school within a few hours. You're a lucky ass bitch."
Ice The Meance had been beaten for the last three hour. His eyes were swollen shut. He couldn't see. He was sure his jaw was broken. He was handcuffed. An hour ago a knife was taken to his clothes and he was left nude. He wasn't sure if she was still using her fist or if she was using weapons now. Everything was a blur. He remembered it starting with the Prince hitting him on the back of the head with the butt of a pistol then everything going black. He felt the cold water waken him....he was shocked when it hit his face. He wanted the ice water now to numb the pain because now everything throbbed. An aching aching throb.
" Take it easy Van. It's still early," The Prince said checking his gold plated watch with yellow diamonds in the face. " The Movado says it's two o' five. You know Eminem says the murders don't start until 3 AM."
The Asian woman named Miss Van had her hands wrapped with the remains of Ice's JNCO jeans. She was hitting him bare knuckles for two hours straight and would've continued but Prince made her wrap her hands up. He was protecting his investment. She argued for about twenty mintues...she didn't want to look weak. But the Prince was the boss. It was just Miss Van hated Ice so much. She had been waiting to beat him since the Prince had written to her about the young rapist.
" Ice, I am going to ask you this one more time and then I am going to break some ribs," Van said. " Who the fuck hired you to get the Prince whacked?"
Ice moaned. The words coming out he no longer recognized. Everything was one long ache. He wasn't sure why they were still beating him. Only one of two things could be true at this point. He was either lying or he wasn't going to snitch. That was it.
He wasn't sure what he had just said but he heard the Asian girl say something that sounded like "money" to the Prince then he blacked out again. He woke up to someone slapping him and a pain in his cheast. He was sure his ribs were now broken.
" Well cousin. This is what we've come to," The Prince said as he walked around puffing on a G-Pen. He was in his wifebeater now. His tattoos visible as paced back in forth smiling. His cousin still in disguise but now out of her fat suit sat on the counter of the record store with her legs crossed. Her body was in immaculate shape. Her own wifebeater a bit damp from being in the fat suit but even with the make up and ridiculous wig she still was very attractive without the weight by the industries standards. She looked at The Prince and smiled. She hadn't spoken once but seeing as how Ice couldn't see she came out of the fat suit. She wasn't such much hot as she was vain.
Van spit on Ice as he cried and moaned. She grabbed him by the arm and sat him up against the wall. She slapped him again. He had blacked out and she wanted to wake him up.
Vincent stood tapping his foot. Things were moving too fast for him. He was used to The Prince doing gangster shit. He had seen the Prince do way worst shit. Before the Prince went to Prison the first time he watched the Prince rob someone that had robbed him. What started out as revenge ended up being an all night robbing spree. He watched the Prince rob people for all he could get. Cell phones, money, he even robbed someone for almost empty bottle of Hypnotiq which was why the Prince always drank Hypnotiq, it was a joke. But the worst moment that night to Vincent was when the Prince robbed a woman for her phone number. He said he had seen Marlon Wayans do it in a movie and thought it was hilarious. But he wasn't sure if the Prince was going to kill Ice or not. You never knew when the Prince was joking or not. Vincent knew how the Prince had gotten his tattooed tears. He knew the Prince could kill. But it seemed petty to kill some rapping nigger. It was the Prince's temper though. He could snap at any moment.
" I just don't know cuz. It's like we got these niggers right? These hip hop, rapping tapping ass niggers. I mean guys like me. The educated, poetic, handsome free people of color have to deal with these silly niggers," the Prince walked over to the body of the barely concious Ice. He leaned down as he inhaled the G-Pen. " You always want to hit the weed Ice. Always trying to smoke with a G. That's why I never let you hit the real shit we get from the Bay. But I like you Ice. I hate you but I like you. I'm let you smell this shit I just got from the Bay fool."
The Prince blew smoke into Ice's face and laughed loudly. "Mother fucking rapist. Van you know this nigger asked for some groceries from me in prison. He never paid me back either. Even when his bum ass mama sent him a little change. I gave this nigga four packs of swiss cakes. Now there are two in each packet. So that's eight right? I am good at math. I went to college. I'm educated."
The Prince hit the weed again and shook his head. " That's eight cakes. Eight fucking cakes. I could have ate them shits while I wrote albums in my cell. Van I need my money back. Break a finger for every fucking cake this nigger owes me."
Van sneered then spit on Ice again. "You're not worth my fucking spit you fucking freakazoid. But it's the closest you'll ever come to exchanging fluids with a bad bitch."
The screams were echoed down the halls off the empty mall.
Innocent had got off from the night club at about three in the morning. It was a slow night. She made about three thousand. She spent shit like that on a bag though. She drove her Lexus that was paid for (she owned it) to her apartment in the high end area of Atlanta. She wasn't tired. She learned along time ago that there were two type of bitches in her business. The lazy and the hard workers. She didn't truly dance at the club. She moved lazily at work. There wasn't much work in seducing people. It was natural to her. She was used to staying up for several days even if she had to dance. She just wasn't her at work. She learned to seperate work from her actual life. A lot of the girls at her job couldn't do that. They worked all night slept all day. There life had become the club. Innocent figured if your life was the club you couldn't leave the club.
She entered her apartment and placed her keys on the counter. She stretched and turned on her television. She had her PlayStation two hooked up and she placed her Melanie Martinez CD in it. She ran her bath water placing scattered rose petals in the water before she began lighting her candles.
Moments later, she lay nude in the bathtub smoking a fat joint. She had her eyes closed as the music played loudly. She hadn't heard anything from Vincent that night. She was getting anxious. She lay in bed. She had sent him several messages since the night she had the dream. Each one more desperate. She even left her number. She had memorized her last message to him and it went:
" Vincent. Since I last saw you I couldn't stop thinking of you. I have had nightmares about you. I really haven't changed that much from school. Yes I got plastic surgery but it was because I was never really confident in myself. I felt ugly in school. I never had a boyfriend before. I just wanted some confidence. I was had a flat body my whole life. I hope you don't think these surgeries affected my brain because they didn't. I am still Mildred. I am just sad that people like you think I am some bimbo just because I have curves now. If you do think I am a fool I want to prove to you I am not. But thank you for reminding me how far I have come. Please call me."
She wasn't sure if what Vincent was thinking but she felt she had defended herself well. She thought if he wasn't judging her and being understanding of her situation then maybe he would get in contact with her. After all Vincent was not a woman. And with all the women empowerment videos she had seen throughout college she felt she had a point. She lived in a society where from a certain stand point a woman could do whatever she wanted to her own body. They had porn videos were women would get spanked brutally. This was legal abuse. The average person didn't see that the woman was getting brusied they just saw ass. They saw ass and thought sex. Forget the fact that women had been objectified for so long. She really saw no point to it all. She figured Vincent paid very little attention to detail anyway. The man had an MBA and a law degree. He probably had his fair share of women.
She soaked in the water....and as she lay there she felt a tear roll down her cheek. She hadn't cried since the surgery.
"It's three o' clock Prince," Vincent said as he yawned. " What's the point of this shit? Haven't you had enough? She's going to kill him. She's a martial artist man. She's going to kill him if you don't stop."
The Prince turned to Vincent. His eyes were red. He was stoned. His cousin had a hand over her mouth supressing a giggle. She had said nothing the whole time in fear Ice might recognize her voice. But she knew the Prince very well and almost laughed because she knew what was next.
" When I was a kid Vincent my first step father came into a room once while I was playing mortal kombat with my other cousin from my black family. He thought the game was too violent and said he thought I had had enough of the game," The Prince walked over to Vincent and put an arm around his childhood friend. " I laughed in his face Vincent. A little kid laughing at his genius step father. Now you wouldn't be telling me I have had enough would you?"
" No. Of course not," Vincent gasped. " All I am saying is I got shit to do. Look I wasn't expecting any of this shit. I haven't even heard much from you since you got out of the Asylum. You get me here with one of the richest black women of our era and a Princess of one of the Asian Gangs from Koreatown. I am wondering what's the point of this shit. I hate this piece of shit porch monkey and I don't even know this fucking nigger so I can imagine how much hate you harbor for this prick but what is the point? The kid isn't even in his right mind anymore. Look at his face it looks like he got hit by Mayweather fifty times or some shit. His arms are broken. His fingers are broken. What is the point of this shit? My parents wanted me to see this shit. I missed out on Benz for a fucking rapist, piece of shit porch monkey? What's the point of this meeting? I am here to talk entertainment!"
" Are you not entertained?"
" I am but I have seen you and Van kill better. This is no replacement for a birthday. I will tell you that."
The Prince nodded to his cousin. She hopped off the counter and went through the door behind the cash register. She came back seconds later with the .380 cobra pistol in her hand and two people. An old black woman and a young boy about the age of thirteen.
" Is he awake," The Prince asked Van.
Van knelt in front of the nude Ice and slapped him again. He wouldn't wake up.
" Get the ice water," The Prince ordered Van.
Ice twitched at the mention of ice water. He slowly came back to reality...then...splash. He was awake. He moaned.
" Ice. I would like you to hear some voices," The prince nodded to his cousin again.
She cocked the pistol and pointed it at the old woman.
" Juwan. It is me your grandmother. Give them what they want! They are going to kill me and your little brother. Tell them what you know," the old lady pleaded.
" NaNa I wob blue," Ice said with a broken jaw.
" So Ice," Van said as she put her hand in the remaining ice water that occupied a bucket. " Who hired you to get the Prince knocked off?"
The next thing Ice remembered was the gun shot. It echoed loudly and his ears ring. He heard his grandmother scream and his little brother sob. He felt the tears coming out of his swollen eyes. Then he heard the scariest words he had ever heard.
" The contract consist of this. Ice you no longer live. We own your life or we will kill your family. This old ass bitch and your brother that was going to end up just like you one day too...a fucking gang banging prisoner. Period. You will do what we tell you to do. From here on out you are our slave. You are the property of Mushroom Kingdom Entertainment. That is it fool. Sound good to you Vincent? That sound like a good contract? Whatever this nigger makes off of his record sales we fucking spilt between our two families. This kid is going to be the next big star you understand me," The Prince asked Vincent.
Vincent smilied. " Now that is what I am talking about. That's how you please a Neo Nazi. Make slavery legal again. Glad to see you have become a business man Prince."
The Prince's cousin escorted Ice's Grandmother and little brother back through the door and returned with bottles of Hypnotiq for everyone.
" Turn on Ice's new record 'Tragic' ," The Prince ordered Van.
" We left the club with your bitch that's tragic," Ice's voice came on over a hard trap instrumental filled with bass.
Toast were made. Jokes were cracked. Everything was going lovely. Vincent even decided to go on social media and look at all the people that went to school with him that he no longer spoke to because they seemed so lost and foolish to him. He couldn't relate to people that weren't raised with a golden spoon. People like him and Prince used to fuck their babysitters and give away clothes after they wore them once. He never had to worry about fitting in. His world was the 'in' they dreamed about. He operated outside of the imaginary cool. He attracted all eyes. He was the dream and that night the dream had come true. Finally. He was heading to the top with all the people he really loved. His father would have been proud.
As he logged into his Facebook he checked his friend request.....
It was her. The chess player. The woman that used to embarass him on the chess board with her fake disgusting body. They sliced her open. Injected her. She looked so fake to him now. He felt his blood boil. A white woman wanting not just a body but a black woman's body. It was Milder Baxter Douglas McGee.
He wondered if the Prince needed any more talent for his entertainment company. If so he had the perfect girl.
" Two fingers left....that's why I didn't kill him. Two fingers. Peace," The Prince said looking into Vincent's eyes. He was drunk and high. He nodded to Vincent and smiled.
Vincent looked at the Prince and thought to himself The Prince may take pity on Mildred. He may even be attracted to her. The Prince considered himself somewhat of a pimp. No. Vincent decided he would deal with Mildred on his own.
The situation with Mark Deez and Ill-Legit Records has made an unfortunate turn of events. After several disrespectful voice mails from Mark Deez (the guy who wanted me on the label) and him taking my pictures and posting them on his video on his alleged "diss" tracks (which were tracks we did together without my vocals) I did mention him in my Otaku Café videos along with rappers like Mickey Factz and Lupe Fiasco. Let me make one thing clear....I am not trying to beef with anyone. I said what I had to say and that was that. I had dealt with some disrespect and felt I needed to respond but honestly I would like to say I am not with that beef shit. I am not trying to go back and forth with other people about shit. I am trying to focus on positive things and make money. Besides people like Mickey Factz and Lupe Fiasco have a complex where they will ignore someone like me who has never signed a major label deal I am a nobody to them even though Mickey has talked very reckless to me in the past.
I am not trying to be some battle rapping ass nigga. I make good music. I enjoy making music. It's entertainment. That's all. I don't know any of these people personally so how can it be beef? Mark Deez and Ill-Legit Records is another thing though. The owner of the label Doc spoke to me several times after I left the label about Mark and in a nut shell said he has had problems with Mark before but can't control him and is not responsible for his actions. But if we are doing music business and you have someone trying to disrupt another artist's career and threatening people and causing unnecessary drama you have a choice to drop them from your label or speak against their actions. He did neither which makes me think he condones Mark Deez's actions. I spoke to the owner Doc yesterday and he said I and Mark better keep his name out of the beef. I am not going to though. He is in a rap group with Mark. A Grindhouse Gang. They are underground. Mark has made over 100 tweets about me in the last few days. He has taken my pictures again and put them on his twitter page. He has insulted my mental illness. He has said he is going to fight me. He has spoken to people I have met in my local city and one of them a girl I kind of was dating knows where I live. Mark is taking things too far. He has said he wants to battle for $10,000.00. He is scaring the shit out of me.
I am not a gangster. I used to be a "gang banger". I used to sell crack. I went to prison three times. I am trying to get myself together. I have been home for less then a year and now have a blog where people are slowly following my movement. Business is business. Violence and cyber bullying and trolling are another thing. I am not some ignorant thug that wants to go back and forth with someone over the web. I made my video about Mark and other's to tell the truth about situations. Like I said I know none of these people personally. I haven't seen Mark in years. Yes we had a bad business deal but to threaten me and take my photos and do all of this weird shit like leave voice mails (which I saved and still have) in which you threaten me is not cool. There is too much violence in hip hop. I am not trying to die over rap. I am trying to make money off of my gift with poetry and the things I have been through. I am trying to get to the light at the end of the tunnel. He had no problem making money off of me now he is trying to pimp my image by forcing me into a beef with him when I declined to work with him.
Terroristic threats is not cool. Telling me you are going to harm me over the web and stalking my every move is not necessary. Yes I called him out but I regret it now. I only did it because he had did those stupid videos about me and had left those voice mails. I almost went back to the old me. I am a street nigga. I have the record to prove it. I have lived that life. I wanted to bust his head open at one time. But I talked to my girl and she told me to think bigger then some local rapper that will never make a million dollars. He wants me to go back and forth with him. He wants the attention. I am so glad I did not sign with this label because I see their true colors now. Doc is worst then Mark for condoning this nonsense and to be honest he probably is telling Mark to continue with this foolishness. I mean he's on his label. I have made a complaint and all Doc says is "leave me out of it".
I am wondering why hip hop has to be so "ghetto". Mark is not a street nigga. He has never done anything gangster. I know this. I told him to meet me downtown one time and he said he wanted to bring a gun. I was like, "Why?" He said because downtown was "dangerous". I live in Augusta Georgia. It's a college city. He wouldn't know because he's never been to college but it's not fucking Chicago or some shit. It's not Disney Land but you don't need a gun to walk downtown. But knowing he has a gun and he's stupid. It puts me in an awkward situation when he's threatening me. I told him to leave me alone several times and he continues stealing pictures and tweeting about me. This is not what hip hop is about. Hip hop is about turning a negative into a positive. It is about using your talent with poetry to become wealthy. It's about creativity. So that is what I did.
I am focusing all my attention on my music and my book and my new show Otaku Café which has gotten over 100 views in less then two weeks. I also am going to read more and play more video games I am getting a Dreamcast next month! (Hell Yeah!) I just recorded the new single off of the new album that I am releasing next Sunday called Aaliyah. Duchess 365 who has done the artwork for the Prince Vegeta Album and Idoru: A Love Letter To Raven Symone is also doing the Aaliyah album artwork. I am 32 years old. I have been in the rap game for over 10 years. I am not about to kill anyone over entertainment and I don't want to die over music. I just want to have fun. I feel at peace in the studio. I use my music to express myself. I don't want to beef over something that doesn't even involve money. Rumors and gossip. I live in a small city and everyone knows everyone so it's just a bunch of crabs in the barrel which is why we haven't had a star since James Brown musically. I stay to myself but I am trying to be rich not doing shows at hole in the wall clubs and thinking I am some big time celebrity simply because I did which is why I have this blog that has over 2,100 hits thanks to you guys from places all over the world.
I am going to release Prince Vegeta and Aaliyah next Sunday and continue with dropping new music for the web but the back and forth with Mark Deez and Ill-Legit Records is over. I am not discussing this anymore. I have tracks about Mark and the label but that's entertainment and they asked for it. As for the super macho thug image they are trying to run with I have no idea where that comes from. I have real issues with my family, and my girl, and actual street shit ( like trying to stay free) that doesn't involve music that I deal with. They are trying to make this personal and it's not. The track "Doug Funny' is not a diss to Mark Deez. "Chit Chat" off of Prince Vegeta is not a diss to Mark Deez. "Cartman" another track yet to be released is not a diss to Mark Deez. These are responses. That is all. It seems Mark Deez is upset I didn't do the deal that is all. He's trying to bully me. But it ends now. I will no longer pay attention to his tweets. I will no longer respond to his tweets. Tonight it's the Grammy's....I want to go one day. I will not mention him on my show anymore. I am not going to "beef" with him anymore. I am going to do me. I am not a gangster. I don't want to harm anyone. I have been down that road. It leads to prison. So many people are trying to prove they are tough. So much anger and lack of talent. If this was music cool but how can I respect someone that makes a "diss record" but just recycles a track we already did together, edits it, and take my vocals off because he's afraid people will hear me rap and know how talented I am. What a loser. He doesn't want to do business, he wants to intimidate, and provoke negative energy.
So with all of that said enjoy the new music and I hope you guys will download the new albums dropping Sunday.
If there are any aspiring rappers out there don't let these label people gas you to thinking you have to be some typical uneducated thug that has to settle for the buffoonery P. Diddy made a video about a few weeks ago. That is how you get caught up in criminal acts and end up in prison like a lot of your favorite rappers end up visiting in their careers. I hope this makes Mark Deez think twice about his lifestyle because if anything happens from here it's been documented about his character.
Enjoy the new music and stay cool everyone. I ain't going nowhere God willing.
My obsession with Raven Symone dates back to me being about twenty one years old. I was upstairs in my sister's room in our parents mansion and she was laying in her bed watching " That's so Raven" a sitcom starring the young woman that had been famous since a child. We were silent. My sister who I always joked had "raised" me was quiet. She wasn't telling me to get out of her room which was rare. She was focusing on the show and I was scared to say anything. I knew at that moment I wanted to marry Raven Symone. I wanted her more then life itself. That's how much I respected my sister at that moment.
Time passed and although feelings for my sister changed I never lost my feelings for Raven. I told my cousin about her one day. She said she could set something up between us. I denied. I wanted her on my own terms. By my own work. Due to contractual agreements my cousin thought that would be impossible without her own influence. I told her it could happen....I watched Raven. She loved music. I saw her quote a Jay-Z bar one time:
" You're a candle in a sun, that shit don't even out."
She also was a fan of Kanye West as well. I had seen her in live webcam videos telling her young fans to act mature and realize she was nothing like her persona on the show and wasn't a child. I became sympathetic with her. I wondered if she ever would know what it was like to go hungry, or be under privileged. I who had been to prison and had been poor while in prison because my wealthy family was ashamed of me. I would have to get on a cell phone and promise to go to war with them just to get money. I spent it on tattoos and notebooks...I invested. I had been homeless when going against my family to live my artistic dreams. Even my beloved cousin thought I was heading toward death. She begged me to get my life together. But Raven had never lived a life where she had to lose. I chose to lose just to see how it felt. I figured if we were quoting Jay-Z:
" For I will not lose because even in defeat// there's a valuable lesson learned so that even's it up for me//"
I thought if Raven was truly to fall in love it would have to be with a normal person. I couldn't live the playboy lifestyle and expect her to notice me. She has had money since birth. She would need a bad boy. She quoted Jay. She listened to Twista. She wanted a dude that had been both rich and poor. That was all my rebellious state was about. I learned to enjoy the streets. I was green at first....but I learned the game. I sold crack. I gang banged. All for romance. You could say Raven has always been a bad influenced. She would subtly ruin her most hardcore fans. I mean I didn't know Jay-Z personally nor Kanye West. All I knew was I watched "Streets was watching" and "State Property 2" and saw both of these men committing criminal acts. It wasn't until college when I became a Mason and a Kappa where I realized it was all a lie.
I think it was 2009. I had a buzz in the underground. I was on blogs and there was discussion of me being the new Eminem. My family was threatening to murder me. I made songs about having sex with my mother and drug usage so people thought I was the next Marshall. This music was recorded in an insane not medicated state. I am not blaming my schizophrenia for my constant battle with my kin. I wasn't so much sick of the wealth...I was sick of the hiding.
It wasn't like I was broke. I had a Benz and a tricked out Honda Civic for racing at local car shows. But I wanted the respect. My cousin told me Raven was going to be at a night club. I was pissed at first but this was not a hook up. This was just a notification about a party no one knew about. She did this all the time for me. It was up to me to bag her. I was dating a girl at this time...but I had to see Raven. I went to the club and the rest is history.
A decade later we are at each other's throats. She refuses to acknowledge me publically. Her and my cousin are enemies. If I could go back I don't know what I would do. I mean I do love Raven. She just broke my heart. She is my girl....but only because of Shakur. That is all. But what's my life to her nowadays?
The urban dictionary defines sarafina as: A Sarafina is a girl who is extremely hot. They will only date guys that they say are sexy and nice, that meet up to their standards. They are great in bed, and have a nice, tight vagina. They are beautiful inside and out. They are very nice. They have a nice ass.
Raven came out with a song called "Sarafina" secretly this was my nickname for her. But it was also the name of a musical. So she tried to use a code. She made a song that was featured in the musical but on the B-Side was a song called Cruise Control in which she sang of sex and racing cars....which was all we used to fucking do. We did an album together in 2009. I made a new album about her when I came from a violent Asylum where several attempts were made on my life. This was a stint where I met Ice the Menace. I was going to promote the album about Raven by getting her tattooed on my skull and shooting a music video for her...
~ From the Journal Of The Prince
" I don't understand why you have to be so pigheaded...I told you we are comfortable. We don't need any money. You Mr. Keep It Real have fucking issues. You can't be satisfied behind the scenes. You have this temper. You and this infatuation with fame. They will never let a black star get to level you want. We already have so much shit happening with the stars we do have," Raven said as she sat in the bed wearing a button up that belonged to the Prince that smelled like Burberry cologne. She rolled a joint for him. She didn't smoke much but he did so she always rolled for him when she was around.
" First of all I am not black, I am half Japanese," The Prince said as he flipped through the pages of a Generation X comic book.
" You're also French because your black family is from Louisiana. I probably have white ancestors with this skin...but that shit don't fucking matter in anyone's eyes. You look like a fucking nigger. I went public like you asked with the I am not black shit and you see how that turned out. We may know this but who cares. All people see is skin. Not the mind state."
" That makes it easier for us. I want to go public with our relationship. I want to talk about Shakur. I want-"
" You want too much," Raven interrupted him. " I have agreements I have to stand by. I am letting you do your music but this other shit is too much. You don't need the money. You want the fame. Is that all you are a fucking entertainer? You're no better then the other niggers out right now then. Music and videos...."
" Oh please! You're the one that came out with five albums that you admit no one fucking buys!"
Raven finished rolling the joint and lit it up for the Prince. She stood and walked to him. She kissed his lips.
" Only five? What about ours," She asked.
The Prince sighed. " I want it all. I want it all!!!"
The Prince puffed on the joint she handed him and began pacing. " How long are we keeping up this gay charade? You know my cousin is still after you for that."
" Let her come."
The Prince paused, he turned towards Raven and shook his head in disgust. " You put me in an awkward situation love."
" I know...but at this point I don't care," She turned towards her vanity mirror and stared at herself as she sat in the seat facing her reflection. She began brushing her hair. " We made agreements killer. If you break them then you face the consequences. I'd hate to be blunt my dear but you took an oath. No video. No tattoo. That is all."
The Prince stared at Raven...yes no one knew she was his. That was the secret he swore to. No one would ever know. To the world he was some insane fan. Some fool. A joke. No one would ever know how much he loved his sweet Sarafina.
She has a new blog. I guess anything to take away from my blog. She said it was dedicated and inspired by me but I see through that shit. All she did was hire some people that stalked her on the view and had the same opinions as her and made them write what she believed or what they thought she believed by being a Raven stalker. Articles hating on the President, women empowerment, and her knew found "blackness". The shit is everything I don't want. She really pays no attention to me.
She has been in the studio with me though. Which is fine. She has an incredible voice. She is even letting me put my name on the album again. Yeah...she wants credit when credit is due. Tired of the bullshit. Why does love hurt like this? I want my recognition. I want it now. And I think I know how to get it.
She wouldn't write me while I was in prison so she knows nothing about Ice The Menace. It wasn't her choice. Imagine the confusion. Some mentally ill guy getting mail from Raven Symone. But Ice...he just came home and hit me up. I have a plan that will finally even the playing field. I have to call my cousin.
Vincent McArthur The Third was really worried about his meeting with the underground rapper. The rapper wanted to meet at a Rave. It would appear that the Rave was to be held in an abandoned shopping mall in the small city he took a short flight to. He didn't have to be at the mall until three thirty that night so he spent time in the book store first. The city had a legendary book store he had heard about on several underground message boards he frequented. Inside the book store he bought several comics and a game for his Playstation Portable. He then ate a quick meal at Zaxby's a wings and things. He then took a taxi because it was more expensive then an Uber and went to a bar downtown. Their was a Rugby Team in the singing about pussy loudly and he couldn't concentrate on his laptop. Dressed in a button up Peter Millar shirt and black slacks with Stacy Adams shoes he sipped his coffee.
He looked up and saw a man that looked oddly like someone he had seen several days earlier. As Vincent looked closer he recognized the man and he knew the man recognized him. But this was no happy recognition. Vincent felt as if he was being followed. He slowly began packing his things into his suitcase. He grabbed his fraternity jacket and began heading towards the exit. The cab was still waiting. The driver seemed surprised Vincent was back because he had made such an departure earlier about being inside for at least three hours and how he should keep the meter running.
" Where to boss," The driver asked.
" Just drive I want to see something," Vincent responded.
As they pulled away from the curb Vincent stared in the rearview on the passenger seat. No car pulled behind them but he did see the man he saw in the bar on his phone outside of the bar.
The cab driver's phone rang.
" Hello," the driver picked up his phone.
Vincent watched closely. His driver might be with the dude who was tailing him.
" Yeah he's right here," the driver said. " You want to talk to him?"
Vincent swallowed and looked at his watch. He wasn't scared. They obviously knew he wasn't one to be frightened or fooled.
The driver passed the phone to Vincent.
" Who is this," Vincent spoke in the receiver.
" You have a good time at the Rave tonight Vincent we'll be watching," a voice responded then the call was over.
Vincent passed the phone back to the driver.
" You kids these days," the driver said.
Vincent gave a soft nervous chuckle at the man's joke and shook his head as he stared out the window.
Innocent was at the Joker strip club. She was putting her outfit together. Today she was dressed up like a white rabbit. She had ordered the bunny ears from a Japanese web site that specialized in Cosplay products. Her regulars liked her style of fashion those that knew about clothes which was very few because they came to the club to see women with their clothes off. If any man truly cared about money he would go to a fashion show to find women not the strip club...but in her profession she met no Kanye West....just boring, boring, men.
Innocent sat in front of her vanity mirror next to her friend Skipper. No that is not a joke that was her actual name. When she met Innocent Innocent asked:
" Why the name, sweet potato?"
" Well everyone liked Barbie growing up so I chose Skipper."
They had been friends ever since.
" So I told him like honey if you get a picture with me all my homegirls have to be in it. God Forbid we look like a couple with my girls in it our combine story could ruin his. He comes in and spends all the time though. I figure he'll think he looks like a player and I can be saved a customer because I do not do pictures but he spends so fucking much," Skipper explained to Innocent.
" I never take pictures in or around the club you know that sugar," Innocent replied applying a bit of blush to her cheekbones.
" You're just in a poor mood all the time saving yourself for some rapper."
Innocent reached out in a blink of an eye snatched a grape off of her table and tossed it at Skipper. " Shut up! Someone might hear you."
Skipper knew a little of Innocent's plan but every girl seemed to have that dream in her business so it was no big deal. It just seemed Innocent was a bit more focused at reaching her goal then the other girls.
" I don't know why Fruitcake brings that baby oil on stage with the chocolate....I mean what if they mix together? Yuck," Skipper said as she ran her hand through her long black hair. Skipper was light skinned. very light. They called her a red bone. She was the closet thing to a white girl in the club besides Innocent so they were good "friends". Innocent really had no friends. But she talked to Skipper and they smoked trees together sometimes. Innocent thought of her as a naiive young fool sometimes. She was too thirsty for the money in Innocent's eyes.
Innocent pulled out her smart phone from her Chanel purse and checked her Facebook. No news from Vincent as of yet. She didn't know if he had checked his page or not and she was wondering if he had just ignored her. She couldn't see why he would think she wasn't worthy of a response. She maybe ugly to him but she was beautiful to everyone else. That could pay off depending the situation.
Vincent walked into the mall. He wasn't expecting it to be this easy. But he was comfortable which was good. It was dark. Very dark but his accomplice, a man named Ice, was holding a flashlight. From what Vincent could see the mall was fucking clean. How they cleaned in the dark he didn't know. They must have put the power generators up so he wouldn't remember anything other then the place they were meeting. The mall was called the Regency Mall in Augusta Georgia about a two hour drive from Atlanta but Vincent wouldn't know he flew private most of the time. He walked next to "Ice the Menace" (as he had introduced himself) hoping the rapper didn't send his lowest lackey. Only time would tell. Vincent would remember how powerful Ice is later. He would be insulted if it was a foot soldier. Although Ice may be a vicious foot soldier indeed.
As they walked Vincent avoided small talk. The young man Ice wore gloves with the fingers cut off and a huge grey sweatshirt with baggy JNCO pants.
" You like my skinny jeans," Ice asked.
Vincent spit on the mall floor. Complete disrespect. He motioned with his hand for the young teenager to continue walking. The boy walked ahead of Vincent shining the flashlight so Vincent could only see his silhouette. They finally stopped at a record store. Keys jingled.
So Ice wasn't a foot soldier.
There was a rustle and doors popped open. Lights followed once they were inside. It looked like a Rave alright. Typical round table. Bongs. Soft music. This was a Rave where only bosses were allowed. There were still records in the room. Rare records. From the 96 era of hip...1990s to 2000s. Vincent had an eye for good hip hop. He was walked to a seat at the table. Their were four chairs around the room. So he was expecting two more men.
The door opened behind the cash register and out walked three people. The first was an Asian woman with a hoodie on and a black bandana sewn on stretched leggings. She wore a pair of Pastry shoes which were designed by Reverand Run's daughters. Chic. The second was a dark skinned woman that was overweight and wore sweat pants and a Play Cloths sweater that had to be a triple extra large. The third was a light skinned black man covered in tattoos. He wore a Playstation T Shirt, bathing ape hoodie over it, and had several gold chains on.
" What are you doing here," Vincent asked the tattooed man.
Ice the Menace looked confused. " You know each other?"
" Vincent here is an old friend. We went to college with each other. Isn't that right Vincent," The tattooed man asked.
Vincent said nothing. The tattooed man motioned toward Ice The Menace.
" So you are here to talk about this man. Ice the Menace and him needing an Entertainment lawyer right," the light skinned male continued.
" I knew he'd have handlers. But this....this is odd. What are you doing here? Why couldn't you just tell me about this on a phone call or something? I mean this is uncalled for. I could have prepared. Why this location? We could have went to a five star or something Prince," Vincent said shaking his head in disgust.
( The man called Prince is exactly who you think he is. Yes he is the villain from Homerun Part Two and the tale Kamikaze about the skateboarder Kato Chang)
" This makes no sense, this dirty looking nigger works for you," Vincent pointed a finger towards Ice.
" Not exactly," The Prince said. " I met him in prison. He is a basic rapper. You know how many niggaz rap in prison. Less then you think. But I liked his hunger. He would sell his soul to be the next Drake. Which is why his music, the shit you heard on the web, sounds like some commercial Drake shit. The only difference is Drake fucks strippers on a mink rug Ice's experience in life has him thinking Apple Bottoms are high fashion. Miss Van would you mind getting Vincent something to drink please?"
The Asian woman pulled out something from under the register. It was two bottles of Hypnotiq. Miss Van handed one bottle to Vincent and opened the other for herself.
Vincent quickly took the cap off and took a long swallow of the liquor. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He raised an eyebrow. " Prince what is all of this? This makes no sense. Can we sit down and talk?"
" Not yet. As you see there are only four seats and their are five people here. Of course you can't expect Van to serve us or some shit. And this black woman is in disguise but you know my cousin the supermodel right," The Prince asked.
" Yes, but obviously Ice doesn't know who she is or why would she be in disguise?"
" Smart man as usual Vincent. So you know Ice is about to die right," The Prince pulled a .380 cobra pistol out of his hoodie pocket.
Ice eyes widened. " I thought I was the face of the label? What the fuck is this Prince? What is this?"
Vincent looked back and forth between the Prince and Ice The Menace. " What the hell is going on here Prince? I should have been told about this! My mother set this meeting up why wouldn't she just tell me about this shit?"
" Ice don't move a muscle. Ice needs to be frozen right? Stand still," The Prince said as he aimed the gun at Ice's face. " Well Vincent before we begin this conversation I want to ask you do you remember your sixteenth birthday?"
Vincent growled lowly. " Of course Prince...worst day of my fucking life. Why are you bringing that up?"
Vincent's sixteenth birthday was horrible. He had been asking for a Benz since he was ten. And he knew on his sixteenth birthday he would get it. What kid didn't get a car on their sixteenth birthday? The party was huge. They had rented out a skate park and he had invited everyone he trusted. Prince was there, two cheerleaders, his big brother Thadeus, and his girlfriend at the time a college student named Erica. He didn't get the Benz though. His Father later told him the reason he didn't get the Benz was because the stash boxes put in it were running late. He swore he would never speak to his Father and Mother again. The argument ruined the entire night. He punched his big brother in the face for making fun of him and his brother, the star football player at UCLA, broke his arm in a rage. The cheerleaders ended up leaving with Prince and Erica broke up with Vincent the next day. It was a horrible day.
" Well the truth is that the reason you didn't get the Benz was because of today. Your parents paid a million dollars to set this meeting up. That's why you didn't get the car. This has been planned for years," The Prince held his hand out and Van handed him the bottle. He took a swig but kept the gun on Ice who looked like he was about to faint. " Our friend Ice here...well I met him in prison. He was a Blood first. They kept beating his ass so he went to PC. Not before I told him to leave me alone. I went to another camp. They sent Ice their afterwards. I thought that was odd. He became a Gangster Disciple at the new camp."
Vincent still recovering from the news of why he didn't get the Benz couldn't help but laugh. " No loyalty."
" But he kept following me. I went to the hole so did he. Then the GD's tried to get me killed. Ice didn't know but I knew he was setting me up. Ice thinks he's smart. He knew I had resources to get him a deal but whoever hired him also promised him a record deal. He is a bum though. He raps about cocaine, bitches, balling, etc. But I found out he was locked up for trying to rob a woman of her car. She beat him and his brother's ass then called the cops on them," The Prince continued. " He also said he had an Asian girlfriend. He knew I was half Japanese and asked me to write a letter to his Asian girlfriend's sister. I found his "girlfriend' on facebook though and she wasn't Asian she was Mexican and white. He was dating her when she was underage. So all of his music is lies."
Vincent chuckled again. " Statutory rape....sick mother fucker. No offense Prince on the mother fucker."
The Prince sighed. " Fuck you Vincent."
" Continue with the story please."
" Well, " The Prince began pacing. " I spoke to his girlfriend. She's not too bright. But I let her know about him and his new prison fame. When Ice came home since he had failed to get me killed he didn't get his deal. I decided to hire him. Hoping to find out who hired him."
The room was silent for an awkward moment.
" Well, who hired him," Vincent asked.
" That's what we are about to find out," The Prince cocked the pistol. " Right fucking now."