CHAPTER 1
Quincy slowed his 2002 Toyota Camry to a crawl, marijuana smoke coasting through the interior. The ambience of crickets in a full-throated roar filled his ears while he stalked the deserted streets of Los Santos. With one hand on the steering wheel he made a right turn into a driveway, listening to the rocks belch underneath his tires. Quincy threw the Camry in park and checked the clock, twenty minutes until two-am. In the passenger seat lie the essentials: A well-worn balaclava and a pistol, neither of them his. He spent the day preparing for this moment, what he'd do when he pulled into the driveway. Up to this point he had done everything right. The lights had been off, he crept down the road to eliminate noise and got so high he felt numb.
But something was off.
Wiping his nose mid inhale Quincy emerged from the vehicle, leaving the door open on his way to the home. He never handled beef like this before, it was personal. He licked his lips and thought twice about knocking on the door, black power salute in air. Inside he heard laughter along with a dim thud of base, the trap house was alive and well. He knocked. "It's Q nigga, let me in." The door swung open, revealing a shirtless Lamont. "YO!" Lamont exclaimed, extending a right hand to greet Quincy. "Damn nigga it's 'bout time. I been waiting f-yo ah." Quincy raised a smile to respond but was immediately interrupted by Lamont. "Ni-.. what the fuck is that? Is those grills!?" Lamont joked, pointing and examining. Quincy felt a wave of shame wash over him as he fumbled to explain himself. "N-.. man" Quincy kissed his teeth, anticipating a roast. "Yeah man, they is grills. I fucks wit 'em too." Lamont boasted in a cackling laugh. "Nigga them grills sorrier than a BITCH! Them shits look like you ate Corn Pops wit no milk." Laughing alongside Lamont, Quincy stepped inside.
"Mellow Yellow tooth-ass-nigga. Let me throw some shit on my chest and we gone ride out. You still down for this shit, right? You still gangsta, right?" Quincy nodded. "Y'all ready know." Lamont disappeared into the back of the one-story trap house, his voice echoing down the hall. "Ight say less then, we gone handle this shit like some grown ass men. That's what we is tonight, some grown ass men." Lamont always had a way to rile Quincy up. "I grew up watching Menace To Society so FUCK IT! Let's get violent!" Lamont emerged from the back of the home a short time later, draped in all black. "What'chu end up getting anyway?" He must've been talking about the gun. "Ant let me hold some shit for now, I ain't 'een ask what it was. I just took it. It got a clip in it and that bitch fit thirty, long as shit." Lamont bopped his head and gathered his weapon and bandanna, dreads flopping like limp Slim Jims. "Yeuh, that's gone work." The duo hit the door. "We ridin'."
Lamont took the driver's seat, Quincy sat next to him. "I know you probably scared as a motha-fucka right now but don't 'een trip. It's gone be smooth as fuck. I done this shit before." Quincy was struggling to put his balaclava on. "Don't think 'bout it too hard. Remember why you in this car right now." Quincy watched the street lights hurdle over the hood of the vehicle, his mind cascading into thought. Teiana was Quincy's younger sister, TT for short. They'd been born two years apart and were nearly inseparable. Quincy did his best to shield Teiana from the street environment, but she was bred for the ghetto. At an early age Teiana developed a habit for violence and control, struggling to make it out of a dismantled household. Quincy took it upon himself to act as a parent and mentor for his sister, often times bailing her out of gang-related beatings and small time extortion. However, Quincy couldn't always be there for Teiana, her insatiable thirst to be the baddest bitch in the city often times had her disappearing for days. Quincy had an idea where she was and who she was with, and he was on his way to get her.
"None of these nigga ain't what they say they is, they jus' be talkin'." Lamont rapped, snapping Quincy back into focus. "I brought something, jus' in case." Lamont muttered, reaching deep into his right pocket. "Boot up, you don' know what's gone go down." Quincy watched a pill container splash onto his pants, half filled with MDMA. He cracked it open and tossed one down the hatch as Lamont continued to drive, placing the container in a cup holder. Quincy took a moment to look at the gun that rest on his right thigh. He wasn't a murderer, nor much of a thug, the most violent he'd ever gotten was fist fights, but there was something about tonight that struck him wrong. As the drugs began to take over Quincy felt like he was having an out of body experience, barely feeling anything, no emotions at all. If it came down to it, he was ready to kill. Quincy got word Teiana ran off with an ex-boyfriend on the other side of town, helping him weigh and bag the drugs he distributed and whatever else he wanted. That's the part that stung the worst, whatever else he wanted. Quincy was familiar with drugs, peddling small time marijuana and cocaine for Lamont, trying to earn his keep. He didn't feel any type of way about dealing drugs, at the end of the day no matter what you did you had to get the money. His train of thought was cut off along with the engine.
"We here."
"Fuck" Quincy replayed under his breath, trying to summon the courage to exit the vehicle. Lamont noticed his uneasiness and ran over the play one more time, right hand gripping Quincy's shoulder. "Relax my nigga, you know what to do. No second guessing shit, you know that. You know what them niggas doing to TT in there." Quincy continued to listen, staring ahead. Lamont parked in an alley-way to cloak Quincy as he stalked the house. "You gone walk down this alley, hop the fence for the green house an' peep through the window. Look f-her ah." Quincy bopped his head, he was ready for Lamont to shut the fuck up. He wrapped his right hand around the pistol and shoved his door open, hurriedly exiting the vehicle. "I'm here!" Lamont called out. The moon afforded Quincy enough light to navigate the alley, b-lining for the green home Lamont described. The fences were five feet high for the sole purpose of keeping a baby or a dog inside, anyone could get over it if they tried. Quincy noticed a light flickering through a small window on the back side of the house, he locked his eyes on it while he tip-toed over the back fence. He hoped he was wasting his time and Teiana wasn't here. A small group of laughter avalanched out of the small crack in the window, it sounded like men. Quincy inched closer, trying to avoid the holes in the ground only a dog would leave. He felt his heart pounding out of his ears, and his body numb with adrenaline. He let himself blink once before peeking inside of the window.
His eyes panned from right to left behind a thin white curtain which concealed nothing at night. He noticed a small lamp on the floor which was turned on, the cord leaving a slug trail to the wall. "Hit that shit nigga, yeuh. Fuck 'er up." Quincy's eyes snapped to the noise, moving to the other side of the window to get a better view. He froze in place. Inside he was a single mattress on the floor, puddles of stains giving it a cheetah pattern. There were two men standing on both sides, naked. A girl was pinned down on the mattress, face down ass up. Behind her was a small, rounder figure, fucking her from behind, his right hand awkwardly pressed on her lower back. He prayed it wasn't Teiana. The woman tried to inch away from the man behind her with no luck, he drilled her down into the mattress. "This what'chu wanted hoe! Why you tryna' run!? This why you here!" The man boasted, ramping up his speed to inflict more pain. He moved his right hand off of her back and slapped down on her right cheek with force, pressing down afterwards to shove her face deeper into the mattress. The more she struggled the rougher the man was, torture turned him on. He reached down with his free hand and wrapped it in a bundle of hair, yanking the girl's head back. He let her know he was about to nut and he wasn't stopping. The glimpse of her face was all Quincy needed to spring into action. It was Teiana.
The plan was the first thing Quincy forgot about once he noticed it was her. His goal was to get into the house and shoot everyone man he saw. Quincy quickly ducked under the window and made his way to the back door. If he guessed the layout properly, all he had to do was hit the first room on the right. He took a step back and looked down at the door, he had never kicked one in before. Recklessly, he slammed his right foot down into the middle of the insipid door. It cracked and didn't move, his foot went right through, a surge of pain rushed up his right leg. "What the fuck!?" He heard two men simultaneously call out. Quincy hurried his leg back out, scraping against broken wood along the way. This time he aimed his to the left of the door handle and punted it, watching it swing open. Adrenaline took over. Quincy rushed to the first room on his right, getting there before anyone could escape. "GET ON THE FUCKING FLOOR" Quincy screamed, pistol waving between the men. He knew he didn't have much time, he made a lot of noise, he had to act quick. "What the fuck you want, nigga?" The smaller of the three men called out, all of them bending the knee. Quincy looked at his battered sister. "Get the fuck up, TT." Teiana recognized his voice and replied, not moving an inch. "Q? What the fuck!? Why you here? Get the fuck on somewhere!" Quincy was dumbfounded. She wanted to stay? "Nigga I don' know who the fuck you is but you fucked up nigga. You know who house you breaking into!?" The smaller man responded, the obvious leader of the group. Quincy felt flustered, embarrassed. He didn't have time to think this situation through, and that short mother-fucker wouldn't quit talking.
"I'm gonna fucking kill you nigga. I put that on erry-thing, pussy. You gone break into a nigga house while he fuckin' a thot?" The small man resembled a Chihuahua, a midget with a loud bark. Quincy flicked the barrel of the pistol towards him. "Ni-.. I wish the fuck you would nigga." The smaller man reacted, roaring in laughter. "Quincy, FUCKING STOP!" Teiana called out. The voices drowned Quincy's thoughts. He felt like he lost his control. He had to do something, he had to quit thinking, he needed to get Teiana and go. Squeezing a trigger was an easy way out. He took a second to adjust his aim and fired at the defenseless, naked men. He backed up while doing so to avoid being rushed. All thirty shots rained out of the pistol at the command of a trigger, few bullets striking their targets. Luckily it only takes one well placed shot. "QUINCY!" His sister shrieked after the mayhem. "They was fucking me into they clique!" Quincy felt his eye twitch, he snapped. "That's what you think yo self worth is!? You riding dicks trying to hang out with some niggas!? They RAPED you!" He was furious. "Fuck that shit, didn't I teach you better?! You ain't made f-this shit!" Teiana matched his anger. "You ain't my fuckin' daddy, bitch. Quit actin' like it!" Quincy was speechless. "I don't need you anyway ole sorry-ass-nigga. You ain't doing shit wit'cha life! You out here selling nicks like a lil-hoe!" Lamont interrupted from the back door:
"Twelve rollin' nigga! Let's dash!" Quincy heard the warning and spoke to Teiana. "Come on, fuck your clothes, we leaving." Teiana shook her head. "I ain't fuckin' goin' no-where." Her eyes watered as she stare down to her assailants. In some sick, fucked up way, she cared about them. "TT, twelve almost here." He tried to reason with her. Teiana shot Quincy a look of hatred. "I'mma tell 'em what happened, too." He took notice of the red and blue lights that invaded the room, the cops were almost there. Quincy left Teiana and traced his footsteps back out, hopping the small fence with ease. Sucking in air he sprinted down the alleyway, thoughts of what's to come plaguing him. When Quincy got to the car, Lamont had it running, he slid into the door he previously left open and yelled to Lamont to drive. "Takeoff nigga!" Lamont hesitated. "Where TT?" Quincy snapped back. "Fuck TT, she ain't coming nigga, GO!" Lamont sped off in the opposite direction, luckily managing to avoid any police on his way out. Quincy ducked to take his balaclava off while Lamont spoke. "Fuck happened back there nigga? You drained the whole clip or what nigga? I counted them shits!" Quincy threw his balaclava onto the floor and responded after perking up in his seat. "It was three of 'em. They was running train, I saw it. I kicked da-back doe and rushed them niggas." Quincy recalled the moment with vivid detail. "TT said they was running train on her for she could get into they set or some shit. She was down for it. Then this M and M lookin'-ass-nigga wouldn't shut the fuck up homie. He wouldn't shut the fuck up, and his niggas was there too, they was finna-.." Quincy cut himself off, Lamont knew how the story ended.
"Do me a favor, dog. Take me to the Bay, where my auntie stay. It ain't nothing here for me." Quincy asked, avoiding eye contact. Lamont side-eyed Quincy for a moment while he drove, he didn't respond. Quincy pressed his forehead on the rolled up window, his eyes staring out at nothing. He couldn't think, his chest felt like it weighed 100 more pounds. "We young nigga, life ain't over. This just the struggle, you gone get through it." The words went into one ear and out of another, Quincy didn't care about anything in the moment, he tuned into the radio and let everything else go.
CHAPTER 2
"Ay b'woy, get-cho ass up." Quincy's eyes flickered open from a slumber, completely out of focus. "Why is you sleep on my porch? Where your sense went?" Quincy leaned up on an elbow and blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the daylight. "You deaf Q?!" She raised her voice and prod him with a broom to get his attention. Quincy took his right hand and let it slide down his face in an attempt to wake himself up, groaning in the process. "My bad auntie, I had came by this morning and I ain't wanna wake you up wit' the knockin'." He gathered himself and rose to his feet. "I can stay here for a little bit? Shit ain't right back home. I had to leave." His aunt sighed and responded with a disapproving groan, shuffling inside, her slippers screaming while they scraped across the wooden porch. Quincy knew his aunt had a heart of gold if you got past the rough exterior, she had a hard time saying no to family. He stood alone, dipping a hand into his pocket for a moment to retrieve his phone. He checked the time briskly. "Nine thirty? Man, fuck." Quincy kissed his teeth. Lamont had driven Quincy to his aunt's. Both of them rarely spoke on the drive, whether it was lack of interest or sleep deprivation Quincy didn't care, he enjoyed the silence. He managed to gather the pistol and balaclava when he got to his aunt's, stashing them under her porch for the time being. He was ate up with worry, wondering what Teiana would say to the police, if she'd drop his name and an accurate description. He hoped she wouldn't betray him.
"You finna come get some breakfast or stand out there 'n starve?" Quincy didn't need another second, he had a foot in the door before she could finish her sentence. Inside he was wrapped in the aroma of eggs and bacon, smoke from the pan still adrift in the living room. "I appreciate it auntie, I ain't gone be here long." She chose not to respond, fixing his plate for him. Her house always felt like home to Quincy, he'd remember begging his mother to drop him off for weekend play dates with his cousins. How his aunt would always nurture him and help him with homework when he was a child. Deep down inside she knew he got the short end of the stick when it came to parents. His mother was more like an acquaintance rather than a mentor and caring parent. Quincy pulled his chair out from the table and plopped down, his aunt followed with a plate shortly after. "You ain't in no trouble, is you?" He picked his fork up and dismissed the question with a head shake. "Nah, not ee-n close. You jus' know how mom get, it's hard with TT running 'round being bad an' shit too." She engaged in gossip with him while trudging into the living room. "That girl gon' get herself kilt one-a these days. She be doin' too much." Quincy didn't respond, mouth half full of bacon. He continued to scarf down food while his aunt tuned into the morning news, the insipid jingle of the local channel's breaking news segment regurgitating throughout the home.
"We begin with breaking news right now at ten." A woman spoke. "Authorities are on the hunt this morning for a killer they say, is ruthless." Quincy gently dropped his fork and honed in. This must be someone else. The woman was cut off by a male anchor. "Authorities want you to take a good look at this sketch. The man drawn here allegedly broke into a home on West Adams street late last night and murdered three men, reported to have shot all of them point-blank with a handgun." He listened to his aunt moan an "Oh my goodness, that's horrible." Quincy felt heat rush up into his cheeks, becoming flustered and nervous. "We head to Christina with more on the tragedy, Christina." Quincy closed his eyes, listening to the loquacious young female speak. "Greg and Kim after several hours of investigation authorities have released a sketch with the help of a lone witness. Police say around three-am this morning a man climbed over a fence surrounding the Los Santos home and kicked in the back door. After the suspect gained entry into the home he is believed to have shot three men inside at point blank range, killing all three." Her voice trailed off.
Quincy paused for a moment, he forgot that when he kicked in the door his foot went right through the first time. He pushed back his chair and glanced down at his leg, his black pants dry and crusty, as if blood had been lingering. His ears began to fill with a high pitched ringing, he felt exposed. "These kids are ridiculous now-a days." He heard his aunt cry out. "How you gone break into someone house an' shoot 'em right in they face?" Quincy stood, he had to make sure she didn't see his clothes again. "It's wild." Quincy responded, following it up with a hurried statement: "Ay auntie I'mma go shower and knock out, thanks for breakfas'." He glanced at her while he scurried up the stairs in the home, she didn't move. "Of course he had them damn grills!" She yelled, furious. The report continuing on. Quincy listened to her rant become muffled due to the distance between the two. "Gold-mouthed trash!" Skipping a step at a time Quincy ascended into the second story of the old colonial-style home. His mind became flooded with panic, he was a wanted criminal.
Quickly he stripped down and turned the water to the shower on, taking a moment to inspect his leg before hopping in. His leg looked as if he was a scratching post for cats, cuts riddled from the knee down. Quincy stood in the shower for forty-five minutes, the hot water trickling down his back while he became lost in thought. Once his head got right, he pondered what was to come. They only had a sketch, which means they had no name, no real face. His sister must not have given them any reliable information other than the gold teeth he was wearing. It struck Quincy then. If they had a sketch, that means she had to give them an accurate description of someone else, because he had a mask on the entire time. He knew his aunt would have recognized him if the picture was anything close to what he looked like, so it had to have been someone else, right? He had to find out for sure. Quincy cut the water off and stepped out, planting his wet feet on the tile floor before drying himself off. If he got away with this he'd do it right, he'd live life how he wanted to and look after himself, no one else. A one man operation, how it should be. No one was going to berate him for wearing his gold grills, getting a tattoo or doing anything he felt entitled to.
With a towel wrapped around his waist and a head full of optimism, he set off for his cousin's room. The doors in the home groaned as Quincy passed through them but he paid no mind to the aging interior, it had a roof and that was all that mattered. Quickly he suited up in a plain brown t-shirt that hung off of him like a bed sheet, and a pair of black basketball shorts that almost dropped down every time he stepped. It would do for now.
"Auntie!" Quincy called out, trotting down the stairs. "You still got the news on?!" .. "Yep!" she responded in an insipid tone. He hit the kitchen floor and passed a short wall before making a right into the living room, hanging over the couch to watch along his aunt. "They show anything else 'bout that shootin'?" She shook her head before responding. "Naw, it was sum cracker. He had a beard an' all. Bastard had gold teeth too." She turned to Quincy, preparing to make a statement, eyebrows cocked high. "I done tol' you 'bout them grills too. I 'member you said you wanted 'em. Quincy, that shit is for thugs and you ain't no thug, don't even kid ya-self, you better than ya daddy." Quincy waved a dismissive hand to his aunt. "I know auntie, I know." He sported a smile for the rest of the evening. Quincy felt as if he was on top of the world. He considered the favor by Teiana her last towards him, maybe for all that he had done for her as a child. He had hoped she would take the scenario to heart and work towards becoming a better person, her own person. She was head strong and could argue with anyone, the perfect fit for a lawyer.
"I came down to let you know I'm 'bout to sleep in JuJu bed. I'm tied." She nodded after turning around, leaving Quincy to himself. As he spun towards the kitchen to head back upstairs he distinctly remembered the words his fathered tormented him with as a child. "You either is, or you ain't boy. Don't let nan-nigga tell you shit or take shit from you. You's y-own man." For the first time, he felt like he understood what that meant. He went out and handled himself just as his father would have. He was becoming a man.
CHAPTER 3
Quincy woke up the next morning from his fourteen-hour coma, full of energy and optimism. He knew he had to begin devising a plan to get out of his aunt's home and find somewhere else to live in San Fierro; he wasn't risking moving back to Los Santos. He knew the people he murdered had friends who would know what really happened, or did they? He rolled onto his right side and stretched an arm out to grab his cell phone that lay on a nightstand. He had two missed calls and a text, all from Lamont. Crust still resting in his eyes Quincy navigated to the text message in his phone, reading it under his breath. "Call me back nigga, I might got something for you." Quincy cleared his throat and sat up, placing his phone between his legs. He never considered himself a bad person, but he knew dealing with Lamont he'd get into something illegal and be labeled. Quincy never thought about life ten years from now, five, or even one year from now. Everything was day to day with Quincy. Did he like living that way? No, but what else did he have? He grew up with nothing and the promise of money never made his stomach full, hustling did that and more. He was calling Lamont back.
It took three rings before Lamont picked up, it was almost six in the morning. "Got-am nigga, issa 'bout time you hit my line." Quincy spoke while chipping away at the crust in his eyes. "That's my fault nigga, I hit sheets." Lamont kissed his teeth. "Yeah well while you was sleep, nigga's was out here getting that money." Quincy didn't respond, he didn't know what to say. "Anyway." Lamont retorted. "Is you finna come back to Los Santos or is you tryna' stay wit-cho auntie?" He let out an audible exhale. "I ain't coming back, them niggas had homies and shit I'm sure. I ain't tryna get caught up in no more shit." Lamont knew what Quincy was going to say, he started talking immediately after. "Yeah that's what I thought. Look. In that case. I got some shit for you to move out there if you tryna get some racks." Quincy gave a drawn out moan in contemplation. "It's just some mid, I'll front it to you too 'cause I know you broke, but listen. If this nigga finds out I ain't make you pay for that shit up front? That's my ass." Lamont repeated himself to make a point. "I ain't playing no games Q', I'm trying to look out for you 'cause I know you going through some shit and it ain't nothing out there for you." Quincy remained silent.
"You in or what, nigga?"
"I'm in." Quincy replied without thinking, he wasn't wasting and opportunities. "That's what I thought. This what-chu finna do, get your auntie's whip and head down here, come pick this shit up. I got too much going on to be making deliveries." He paused, listening to the chatter in Lamont's background, it sounded crowded. With the click of a button Lamont hung up on Quincy, giving him no further instructions. Quincy sat in silence, wondering how he was going to get his aunt's van. He couldn't just ask her for the keys to go pick up who knows how much dope. He didn't have a driver's license and he barely knew how to drive. He knew he was going to have to steal it. Quincy threw himself back down onto the bed and stared up at the blank ceiling, smothered in darkness. He had no desire to betray his aunt, she'd been the only person who cared about Quincy his entire life it seemed. The woman who took in a murderer, feeding him and making sure he wasn't abandoned and alone on the streets of San Andreas. How could he do that to her? He knew how, he had to. His aunt wasn't going to be there for Quincy forever, soon enough she'd pass on and be a distant memory, as harsh as it sounded to him. He had no other choice. If he disappointed Lamont, what would he end up doing? Flipping burgers at a Burger Shot? That wasn't a life anyone looked up to. He forced himself out of bed, shoving his cell phone into a pocket. Quincy knew his aunt hung her keys up, if he left now he could be back in time before she even woke up and everything would be okay. He had a window of opportunity, he was taking it.
Jogging down the stairs he tightly clutched on the rail, making sure his injured leg didn't give out on him and cause him to crash and burn. He replayed what he thought his aunt's reaction would be if she caught him, contemplated being homeless and ostracized, none of that mattered. Quincy swiped her keys and hit the door with haste, trying to make this as quick as possible. He unlocked the van and shoved the keys into the ignition, listening to it roar up to a start. Her van wasn't quiet, but Quincy didn't think it was loud enough to wake her up, until her saw her window curtain pull back. His heart sunk lower than a pressed down gas pedal. He got caught. "HEY!" Quincy's aunt shrieked out. Her facial expression painted a perfect picture of anger and disappointment. The first night she let her nephew spend the night and he steals her car the next morning. He started to panic. Quickly he set the van in reverse and slammed down on the pedal, almost spinning out of the dirt driveway. He stopped, put it in drive, and floored it.
