He pulled out the polaroid from the nightstand and examined it, his jaw clenched as he analyze the photo 'Amahle & Michael-Brisbane, 1987', the polaroid read, "Brisbane where the fuck is that at" he said aloud to himself. Just as he was about to put the polaroid back Maurice came in the room excitedly, "Yo my nigga, Amahle sister got that new shit, this shit hasn't hit American market yet" He said holding up an Michael Jackson 'Bad' t-shirt.
Darren rolled his eye "come on man, this is not what we supposed to be looking for" he said agitated, as the two stood in Amahle bedroom they heard a ringing of police sirens heading in that direction. The trio froze, the distant wail of sirens growing louder as they exchanged uneasy glances. Darren quickly pocketed the polaroid, "We need to wrap this up fast," he urged, the urgency evident in his voice.
Maurice nodded, his excitement dampened by the sudden turn of events. As they swiftly moved through the house, Russel, emerged from Sanaa's room, looking tense.
"We gotta go. Now," Russel insisted, the urgency mirrored in his expression. The trio retreated from the house with the same stealth they had entered, the creaking floorboards now a potential liability. They slipped back into the shadows of the night, the rhythmic hum of the engine echoing their hastened pace.
As they approached the Impala, the distant sirens had grown closer. Darren's gripped the steering wheel as he started the car, and they sped away from Amahle's residence, leaving behind the mysteries that lingered within its walls.
The trio drove through the city with a newfound tension, the initial anticipation and uncertainty now heightened by the unforeseen arrival of law enforcement. Maurice continued to sift through the items they had gathered, searching for any immediate answers.
"Damn, Darren, what's the plan now?" Maurice asked, his eyes darting between the road and his companions. The city lights flickered outside, mirroring the uncertainty that enveloped the trio.
Darren, gripping the steering wheel tightly, responded with determination, "We regroup somewhere safe. We go through what we found, figure out who's behind this, and then decide our next move. We can't let the cops catch us with all this." emphasizing the drug and gun paraphrenia they had in the vehicle.
"Man fuck that shit, take me home man" Russel said angrily, furious that this had gotten this far. "No nigga chill the fuck out" Maurice said trying to avoid a situation starting. Darren smacked his teeth as he stared at the road "Man fuck you nigga you a pussy for real"
The tension inside the Impala escalated, matching the heightened emotions of the trio. The city lights blurred as the car sped through the night, the weight of their findings and the impending threat of law enforcement hanging heavily in the air.
"Look, we can't turn on each other now," Maurice asserted, trying to maintain control of the situation. "Man fuck it" Darren said as he made a sharp turn heading east towards Russel home. The Impala roared through the city streets, the tension inside the car thick enough to cut with a knife. The trio's relationship, already strained by the complexities of their mission, now faced the added pressure of law enforcement possibly following them.
As the car screeched to a halt outside Russel's home, he quickly got out, slamming the door shut behind him. The anger in the air was palpable, and the trio's solidarity was hanging by a thread. Maurice shot a worried glance at Darren, who remained stone-faced.
Maurice got out the car to follow him "Russ, we gotta stick together on this," Maurice called after him, but Russel paid no attention, disappearing into the night. The distant sirens grew fainter, leaving behind an uneasy silence.
Darren, frustrated by the turn of events, peeled away from Russel's home, leaving both of them behind. Silence filled the car as Darren continued to drive, who was this Michael cat and where was there fuck was Brisbane in America, Darren thought to himself. After awhile when Darren felt sure that the cops wasn't following him, he mad his way down to the 'trap den' that he took over the lower south side of New Orleans.