The #HighLife Chronicles : Ep.1: " Wavin the 4'4' "

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
It's either kill or be killed in this game...welcome to the #HighLife bitches.

Submitted: March 04, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 04, 2013



 The #Highlife Chronicles: Ep.1: Wavin the 4’4’
By: Shelly Hill

Raider Klan: RVIDXR KLVN


___I sat back in the passenger’s side of a Black 1970 Thunderbird. “Pass it” I took the last hit of the roach and passed it to Amber. We were in the vacant parking lot of Popeyes. The Texas summer heat was coming down and coming down hard. Blasting Ab- Soul through the speakers I let the music take over my high, as I reclined back in the seats, I thought of last night. Damn last night was something remarkable.


“This party is jumpin!” I said, takin ah swig from my bottle of vodka. Good Lord was the club packed. I was watching  from backstage along with the rest of KLVN, as Chris and our target practice jumped from one side of the stage to the other, maneuvering the crowd from left to right.

“WHEN I SAY RVIDXR…YOU SAY KLVN…" yelled Chris in the mic.


"KLVN!” the crowd roared back.


“KLVN!” the crowd roared back once again.

Chris and target practice dapped up, the DJ cut the track, and the show began. I was for once was sick and tired of being in the back. Every show it was the same thing—the boys perform, while the some of us stay in the back. Amber was checking her phone, and Kiera was editing pic’s from earlier today’s photo shoot on her Mac while sitting at a stool at the V.I.P. Bar— which of course was only for our use.

“I’m out” I said, Amber just nodded without even looking up from her phone. This meant I was free for at least another 30 minutes, which meant I had time to get this little “errand” done. I went through the side of the stage making sure no one could see me & that my new Jordan raptor 7’s were safe from any chance of a scuff. Dancing my way in, soon I was in the middle of the crowd. Someone passed me a blunt and a Bacardi Razz bottle, I hit it & passed it back, I passed the bottle to someone…they didn’t recognize me. I had on DARK ray bans & my darkest shade of red Mac makeup lipstick coating my well shaped lips, my leather motorcycle jacket with all the patches & metal spikes on it, and under it my supreme hoodie which OFCOURSE I had my hood pulled over me, complete with black leggings and all black Dr. marten combat boots. I swiftly made my way to the back of the crowd. This was risky being out … without security & a bouncer. I had been told a million times not to do this-- they were always afraid of the crowd, of the possibility of what was just about to happen. The strength of the mentality of raging fans was something not to fuck with. Maneuvering my hips from left to right I began, becoming one with the music. When I felt I was ready I pulled out my semi automatic from my jacket and aimed.

“POW …POW” , I let the song of my semi sing, takin out the lights first, the only lights on now was the ones from the stage & my lucky guy was RIGHT under it, I placed a smile on my face . The crowd dispersed into screams & headed for the doors. “POW….POW…” He hit the ground while I hid my semi in my leather Jacket. I cursed at myself for it not being ah head shot, but the second bullet had him signs of moving, or last words, you always had to be careful with last words...ah dying mans lasts words can put you in the slammer, but all I could think of was:

 Yes Lord, we were getting paid.

I made my way back up the stairs of the side of the stage; people lying next to the inanimate lifeless body of the deceased. One look at him could make any person barf. His neck was in bits & pieces & blood was everywhere. For the 2nd time I cursed at myself for missing the head shot, Purrp was gonna get in my ass for this one.

I needed the word.

Once the word was out then the rest was all up to me & the clock. "HE CANT BE DEAD...HE JUST CANT"-- poor Diamond Fox was mourning the loss of her love one while her twiggy arms enveloped the mess of a murder I just made. P.L. -- who was the dead man’s manager was walking back & fourth, pacing, he was on the phone, tears rolling down the side of his face. He caught my eye & shook his head. I put my head down. This was the worst fucking part about this Job....knowing that what you did was wrong & it hurts other people…“NOOOO…IDK WHAT HAPPENED" He looked at me in that moment...."HE"S JUST . . . GONE ! ” said P.L, emphasizing the word "GONE", I knew he was doing this on purpose, I took time to kneel down beside Diamond Fox as she sobbed uncontrollably on the fact that the love of her life that was no more, she didn’t look up, she just sat there...crying, now forever holding a grudge towards me…well it wasn’t like I didn’t just kill her boyfriend.

"I’m Sorry Jenny, you know why this had to be done--", before I could say anything else she cut in…

"Just go" she said, I patted her on the back & that was it, now it was make it or break it from here. I made my way to the backstage where chaos was in its most active hour. Right before I hit contact with the paparazzi, I hit a left into the girl’s restroom, where I made sure I was alone & locked the door. From there I went in to the very last stall locked it, put the toilet seat down & threw up, the sobs came slowly, they always did—But besides an array of many potent drugs, this was how I chose to cope with the fact of what we do & how we do it. We were monsters, the Frankenstein’s of the man above. I flushed the toilet & wiped my mouth with the last bits of the toilet paper there was....Now we wait.

1 minute.

2 minute.

 3 minutes passed.


 I start to grow unbearably impatient.

“BEEP” & a vibrate. I jump, nearly dropping my phone & almost pissing on myself in the process. The text reads:


I unlock the door to the stall and walk over to the sink and turn on the faucet. Letting the cold water run. I let the sink fill till the water is pouring out of the rims of its fine marble & water falling to the ground, then I stuck my head in it.1..2…3…4…5…6—

“Come on!” a southern accent calls, I feel someone yank me my arm. I wince in pain. Amber’s pretty face fills the vision of my pupils. How she unlocked a double locked door….I don’t even fucking know…

“Are you okay?” she asks,

“He was easy-- I mean I still don’t under--"

“Shut- up, Not here, not now, let’s go”, She grabs my hand & together we descend out the door into the hallway of the backstage where people are crying, cameras are flashing, & people are on the phone spreading the news, while Chris is talking to reporters as he’s giving fake condolences to family and friends of the deceased.

He shoots us a quick wink before we hit the door.

 This shit’s gonna be all over the news, I thought to myself.

Outside, a 1970 black thunder bird pulls up. The Windows are tented 5% so u can’t see shit. “Get in” I hear as the windows roll down slowly, the only thing I can make out is a set of black eyes.

I climb in the car, of course taking the back row left window as always.

“Where to Now?” Bank$ says with a sly grin on his face.

“Houston, Texas” Amber replies.

“Have yall heard the news?” Bank$ asks as he turns up the radio with a slight chuckle….

“This is Lady J with 93.3 the beat & we are here with breaking news that that the infamous rapper Soulja Slim has been shot dead outside of the red lounge in LA, sources claim that….”

"Say it ain’t so?" I replied.

(To Be Continued)

© Copyright 2017 Shelly RayRay Bonita. All rights reserved.

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