Baltimore Chronicles Read Online Free PDF Page A

did as he was told and shut his mouth, but he didn’t like it. He twisted his lips to the side and bopped his head to the music in an effort to keep himself quiet. Shit was definitely different than when Scar was home. Trail noticed that since Scar had left, Sticks was more ruthless than ever. He was letting the young’uns run wild in the streets of Baltimore, killing any person—man, woman, or child—that got in their way. They were collecting money almost every hour. All of the street contracts and territorial agreements Scar had made with rival hustlers was out the window once he left. Sticks had single-handedly dismantled a commission of hustlers that Scar had put together years ago to divide up the drug territories and put an end to a war that was going on at the time. Although Scar had assigned himself the most lucrative spots and the biggest piece of the pie, the other hustlers got down with the commission because they were afraid of the consequences if they refused. Shit on the streets was all good after that. There were a little jealous spats here and there, but whenever niggas heard Scar wasn’t happy, those little sidebar fights quickly turned into truces.
    Now, Trail was worried that Sticks, if he wasn’t careful, could start one of the biggest drug wars in Baltimore’s history, even bigger than the one Scar put an end to where seventy street dudes had been killed in a five-month span.
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    Finally, Sticks pulled the vehicle up on the other side of town. Trail bit down into his jaw. He knew that this entire south side belonged to Tango, another big hustler in Baltimore. Tango and Scar had finally settled their beef over streets years ago with the formulation of the commission, drawing imaginary lines in the Baltimore streets.
    â€œYo, Timber, you ready to earn your wings, nigga?” Sticks asked.
    â€œI was born ready. Where they at?” Timber said with his thick country accent.
    â€œThat’s their main hub right there. I heard they collect like six hundred thousand stacks every eight hours. We about to take their day’s work.” Sticks laughed like he was a damn maniac.
    â€œA’ight, let’s get it,” Timber said, pulling on the truck’s door handle with one hand, while he gripped a stolen AK-47 in the other.
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    Danielle rolled her eyes as her mother rambled on with another lecture. She was thinking, her mother just didn’t get it. The more Dana told her to stay away from boys, sex, and drugs, the more Danielle was drawn to them. Today though, it was a different lecture. Her mother was trying to convince her to go and spend more time with her older sister. Ever since she had turned sixteen, Danielle had begun to smell herself, thinking she was grown.
    â€œWhy should I go spend the weekends at her house, Ma? She’s a cop, and I hate the police!” Danielle said. “Plus, she’s boring. Ain’t nobody trying to sit up in her face all day talking about nothing at all.” She folded her arms across her ample breasts and shifted her weight from one foot to another.
    Dana was determined to get her to focus on something other than the streets and she wasn’t trying to hear it. “First of all, your sister has a very good job. She helps pay most of the bills in here and keeps you in all of that expensive stuff you like to wear. You can show her you appreciate her. She loves you, and besides, you used to like to spend time with her.”
    Danielle rolled her eyes as she applied a full face of make-up. At sixteen, she resembled a grown-ass woman. Thirty-six D cup breasts, a small waist, plump round hips, and an ass you could set a glass on made her a hot commodity in the hood. She got a million attempts at getting with her a day, and knew just how to play the game. Danielle wasn’t interested in traditional school. She was from the “use-what-you-got-to-get-what-you-want” school, having learned from the