The night ensued with Apple getting a little tipsy from the Cîroc. Terri watched everything like a hawk as he sat stone-faced in VIP the entire night, intimidating the crowd.
Apple’s plan on running into Blythe to develop a confrontation was a disappointment. She spent three hours among the partygoers, but Blythe was a no-show. She picked herself up and left Dynex, with Terri following right behind her.
***
The next evening, Apple was at Q-spot in downtown, and the evening after that, Cheetahs in midtown, and then Club Brand in uptown. Day and night, she was at every hot spot in the city searching for Blythe.
Two weeks went by, and she started to become a well-known figure in some of these clubs, where she spent money like it was water and caught attention like she was an A-list celebrity.
After weeks of searching, Apple finally got what she was looking for at Club Brand. Club Brand was a lively spot with a popular DJ and mixed crowd. It was after the midnight hour when Blythe strutted into the 96th Street nightclub with her female entourage. Blythe walked into the place like she was the first lady. Clad in a black ultra low-cut halter dress with a plunging neckline, and long, flowing black hair, she became the center of attention and turned heads with her daring attire. She was with three other girls, each of them following her lead while in the club.
Blythe was escorted to the VIP area by one of the club workers, and soon a waitress in skimpy attire hurriedly navigated her way through the thick crowd and toward Blythe’s area holding two sparkling champagne bottles in the air.
Apple, leaning against the railing on the next level that suspended above the revelers downstairs, watched Blythe from above with Terri standing close by, ready to commit anything. Terri was a heartless thug, and if Apple had told him to shoot into the crowd and murder whomever, he wouldn’t give it a second thought. His stoic persona made him hard to read, which was scary.
Apple watched Blythe flaunt her wealth—or Chico’s wealth. Expensive champagne bottles flooded the table. Her entourage surrounded and praised the long-legged beauty like she was priceless. It was obvious that Blythe was a regular in the club. And she ate up the attention.
“This fuckin’ Brooklyn bitch,” Apple said through clenched teeth. “She come uptown to Harlem and think she the bitch runnin’ shit. I got somethin’ for her Brooklyn ass.”
“Ya need me to do somethin’?” Terri asked quietly.
“Not now, Terri. We’re just here to watch the show.”
Terri nodded.
Apple focused her attention back on Blythe. There was a private party in her VIP area, where the girls downed the bubbly, laughed, danced, and took pleasure in the attention they were getting from the men and some females. The ladies all looked delicious in their club attire, each dress or skirt shorter than the next, revealing more flesh and booty.
Apple hated a Brooklyn bitch, especially one who took away her man and thought she was the queen bee bitch on her turf. Blythe wasn’t running shit; she was only leaching off Chico. Apple was ready to cut the bitch’s throat, throw her in the trunk, and drop the body off somewhere for the rats to feed on.
Apple scowled. She had seen enough. She needed to make her presence known. She spun on her long heels and moved through the party crowd and walked down the stairs like a bitch on a mission, Terri right behind her like her shadow. She rushed toward the VIP area where Blythe and her bitches partied, dancing in their stilettos and flirting with the cute men. They had their own personal security, but that didn’t stop Apple from approaching the lively group of fake, whack bitches.
When she came near, a beefy guard in black tried to stop her from approaching any farther, extending his hand to push her back.
“Sorry, this is a private party,” he said.
“I don’t give a fuck what it is. I need to have a few words wit’ that bitch right there.”
“Well, if you ain’t invited in, then you ain’t getting past me.”
“Excuse me?”
“Shorty, just turn around and go that way. I’m trying to be nice here.”
“Fuck you! You know who the fuck I am?”
“I don’t give a fuck if you’re the damn pope; I’m just doing my job, and right now, step off!”
“Watch ya fuckin’ mouth when you talk to her.” Terri’s fists were clenched, and he was ready to connect some hard blows against the man’s cheekbone and face. Fortunately his pistols were in the car, because he was the type of goon to shoot first, and fuck any questions later.
Blythe fixed her attention on the drama ensuing by the entrance to her little party. She noticed a nicely dressed woman that looked familiar.
“What the hell is going on over there?” one of Blythe’s friends asked.
“It looks like some stupid and jealous bitch trying to act up and throw some salt on my private party,” Blythe said. “Let me go handle this bitch.” She walked over to where the argument was happening.
Apple, scowling, locked eyes with Blythe.
“Bitch, you know me?” Blythe asked sharply.
Apple returned with attitude, “You know who I am, right?”
“No! Why should I?”
“Bitch, you need to tell Chico he a foul muthafucka, and I’m gonna come for him and you, bitch!” Apple said. “I’m his fuckin’ ex that the nigga left abandoned in Mexico for a dumb, whack bitch like you! But it’s all good, ’cuz I’m back home now, and things gonna definitely fuckin’ change around here.”
Suddenly, Blythe’s hardcore demeanor changed. She had heard about Apple through the grapevine and knew she was not a bitch to fuck with. Her reputation was fierce, and even gangsters knew to tread lightly around her. The bitch had been through it all. She’d lost her little sister to a violent death, was at war with her twin sister, had acid thrown in her face, and was kidnapped and forced to turn tricks in a Mexican brothel. The bitch had endured all that, and was still standing and healed almost immaculately.
Apple shouted, “Yeah, bitch! Look at me! You know the fuckin’ name.”
By now, Blythe could hardly look into Apple’s black eyes. Her mere presence sent chills down her spine. Blythe could feel her heart palpitate more and more, knowing Apple was one unpredictable bitch. And with stone-faced Terri standing right behind Apple, Blythe’s festive night could easily end up being on the evening news the next day.
“I don’t want any problems with you,” Blythe said softly.
“Bitch, you got a problem with me when you started fuckin’ my man, and thinkin’ you can replace me!”
Blythe’s girlfriends stood up behind their friend, like they had her back if anything jumped off. But, honestly, they weren’t ready to go against Apple and become targets on her radar. They were mostly around because Blythe showed them a good time.
“Bitch, what? You ready to step?” Apple shouted.
“I don’t want any problems wit’ you,” Blythe repeated.
“Bitch, you are a fuckin’ problem.”
Blythe was ready to get on the horn and call Chico. The lump in her throat was heavy. She didn’t want to look scared in front of her peoples, but she was put into a predicament she clearly wasn’t ready for. Blythe might have been a Brooklyn bitch, who’ had seen her share of fights, but Apple was a whole different ball game—murders, kidnappings, extortion, and the list went on and on.
Security was on the scene, ready to defuse the tense situation. Apple had busted up Blythe’s little VIP party. The look in Blythe’s wide eyes told Apple that she had put some fear in her heart. She gave Blythe a warning and walked away with her one-man shadow, leaving Blythe petrified.
The minute Apple was gone, Blythe was on her phone calling Chico to come get her. She was too scared to leave the club. Even though she was with friends, they were no good to her when it came to the danger she was facing.
Blythe screamed into her phone, “Chico, this bitch had the audacity to show up and threaten me. Come get me, Chico. I need you to come get me now!”
&n
bsp; “I’ll be there in a few,” Chico replied.
By the time Chico arrived, Apple and her goon were long gone.
Apple was ready to play cat-and-mouse with the couple, and once they were in her claws, she was going to shred them apart like the poor little creatures they were. It was going to be painful and bloody.
Five
Kola sat in her small cell and gazed at the traffic zooming by on the Dolphin Expressway. It seemed cruel to put her cell window right next to the highway, where she was able to watch the traffic flow freely while she was detained on drug charges at the Women’s Detention Center on 7th Avenue. She had been there for several days now, and everything seemed hopeless for her. She couldn’t get in contact with her cousin Nikki to let her know she had gotten jammed up, she didn’t have a lawyer on retainer, and the connects in Miami—her get-out-of-jail-free card—were nowhere to be found. She tried contacting OMG to no avail. All his numbers were disconnected.
Kola sat hopelessly in the cramped 8 x 10 jail cell, her mind spinning and the worries overwhelming her. She couldn’t help but think about how she had gotten caught up. She had always been careful, or so she thought. She didn’t do too much talking of personal and illicit business over any phones. But in Miami anything was possible. It was the feds that came for her, not any locals like Miami-Dade or the state.
When Kola saw the insignia across their jackets the day she was arrested, feelings of panic shot through her. There was no escaping the feds or a federal indictment. They played ball hard and fast, and when they came for you, they already had concrete evidence for an arrest and conviction.
The agents interrogated Kola for hours in a small, white, windowless room, trying to get her to talk about her network. They wanted OMG and his underlings. But Kola wasn’t a snitch. She cursed the feds out, and kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t about to become anyone’s pawn. The feds came at her with the threat of a long prison sentence if she refused to cooperate, but Kola stood strong and silent, angering the federal agents. They knew Kola had strong ties with OMG, and if they could flip her, then they had a solid chance at an arrest and conviction for OMG.
***
The one good thing Kola had about being locked up in the Women’s Detention Center was meeting Sassy. The two had met while being arraigned and processed. Sassy, who had caught a gun charge on the humble, was a gangsta bitch from the Pork & Beans Projects in Liberty City.
At first, Kola was on some bitch shit. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone. She had no desire to make any friends on the inside, and with her notoriety on the streets, none of the bitches in lockup wanted to fuck with her.
But Sassy was different. She was a beautiful Cuban and black woman who didn’t take shit from anyone. When Kola locked eyes with her as they both waited for their arraignment, she thought Sassy was going to be a problem. Her mouth was rude and foul like Kola’s, and they both were fierce in Miami, so it seemed like it was just a matter of time before the two bumped heads.
The first day inside, Sassy was already the alpha and omega, and proving how hard her character was to any bitch who doubted her. Two girls from West Little Havana had approached her in the cell with the intention of slicing her face open with a concealed razor blade that was somehow smuggled into the holding cell. She’d had a previous beef with the girls on the streets and had shot one of their cousins. The bitch lived but ended up with a permanent limp. Now the girl’s older cousins saw the perfect opportunity to exact revenge.
Sassy saw the plot against her unfolding and was ready for anything. Kola sat in the short gap between them and also noticed the drama unfolding, but it wasn’t her business to get involved. As long as they weren’t fuckin’ with her, she was cool.
Sassy stood up with her fists clenched and her face in a scowl. The small crowd of females in the cell had parted like the Red Sea, giving the girls an opening to fight and cut each other open. Though it was two against one, Sassy wasn’t going to back down from any fight.
“What, bitch?” Sassy shouted.
“You a foul bitch, Sassy,” one of the girls shouted back, ready to strike with the small razor in her hand. “Why you do my cousin like that?”
“Fuck you, bitch! Ya cousin was a fuckin’ bitch. But if ya gonna leap, then leap, bitch. I ain’t about dat talk. Y’all bitches know what I’m about!”
But the screaming echoing from the ladies’ cell caught the attention of a few correction officers, who charged into the jail cell and roughly subdued the girl carrying the razor blade. She was dragged out the cell, placed in isolation, and had extra charges added to her file.
“I don’t give a fuck!” Sassy said.
Sassy was that bitch ready to go out and die for hers. Don’t let the pretty face fool you; she was a piranha. She may have been small, but she carried one hell of a bite.
She took her seat back on the hard wooden bench that was joined to the wall and kept silent. There was something about her that Kola liked and respected. She reminded Kola of herself.
Hours passed as the girls continued to wait for their arraignment in their own private worlds. It felt like doomsday for all the young girls waiting, though the majority of them had been through the judicial system numerous times.
Kola sat calm and quiet as the cell was gradually clearing, as case after case was being called, some of the girls having their own legal representation, others a court-appointed lawyer.
On the inside, the charges the feds had pending against her were making Kola’s stomach do flips. It was hard to be cool with a federal case looming. It was chess time, and Kola didn’t know a thing about the game. She was still a young girl, no matter how harsh her deeds were on the streets, and now she was thrown into the lion’s den—where the big boys in suits and ties played brutally in the courtrooms, making deals for your life, and where the prosecutor came gunning for you with charge after charge.
Maybe you could take a plea, take a lesser charge, if they were willing to play ball, or perhaps you chance it, fight the charges in a trial, pray for a sympathetic judge and jury, and receive a not guilty verdict. But, at the end of the day, all the risks in doing so fell on the defendant.
Kola and Sassy had sat near each other, both quiet, awaiting their fate. And with the noises of the detention center all around, there was no peace of mind, only inmates coming and going, correction officers screaming, bitches yelling, and the lingering stench of other bitches hitting their nostrils.
Kola felt the place was disgusting. She yearned to be in her lavish condo and stretch out across her soft bed.
“I know you,” Sassy said, disturbing the silence between them.
Kola was somewhat distrustful. “Where you know me from?”
“You fucks wit’ my people, right? Rash, Nikki, and Dante?”
“Yeah, them my peoples too. Nikki’s my cousin.”
“Nikki’s my bitch. We go way back,” Sassy said.
“I don’t ever see you around.”
“’Cuz I’m always up in this bitch.” Sassy gestured at the cell bars that contained them. “I stay catchin’ charges ’cuz I’m a bitch about my paper, an’ I stay bussin’ my gun.”
Kola nodded. “I see you be holdin’ ya own.”
“Fuck them two hatin’-ass bitches. You think I’m supposed to back down ’cuz the bitch pulled out a razor? She muthafuckin’ lucky da C.O.s came in when they did, ’cuz I was about to be that bitch to snatch that shit away from her an’ catch extra charges when I cut her fuckin’ face open.” Sassy flared her nostrils. “They some dumb bitches.”
Kola chuckled.
“But, yeah, Nikki and I used to be up in Miami an’ tossin’ shit up in this fuckin’ bitch. When ya see her, ask about me. Sassy dat muthafuckin’ bitch that run wild wit’ the pistols an’ everythang! These bitches ain’t fuckin’ wit’ me, feel me? Shit! An’ when I gets out, I’ma see what’s up wit’ a couple of other bitches an’ hoes!” Sassy was still heated.
Kola liked her. She was a rea
l bitch. “You gotta handle yours.”
“That’s muthafuckin’ right. And I heard about you, you a bitch that can definitely handle yours.” Sassy had said. “Where ya from?”
“New York.”
“Never been up dat way, but I heard ya get it poppin’ up there.”
“And you?”
“Pork & Beans, where we stay real all day, every fuckin’ day. But they got me on some humble . . . a gun charge. Ain’t no thang, tho’.”
“I caught a fed case.”
“Fuck the feds! Asshole, tight-suit-wearin’ muthafuckas!” Sassy screamed. “They got my cousin hemmed up on some stupid charges. Ya know what the feds stands fo’?”
“What?”
“Faggots ’n’ easy dick-suckers!”
Kola laughed. Sassy was a trip, and she loved it.
“Yeah, they stay suckin’ our dicks and shit. Fuck ’em! Let me take my dick out and piss on a federal fuckin’ agent. They don’t fuckin’ scare me. Niggas out thur snitchin’ cuz they scared of the feds. Faggot-ass muthafuckas!”
“I like you.” Kola smiled.
The two began to bond. As they waited to see the judge, they talked and talked. Sassy informed Kola of the way things worked down in Miami. She had been through the system so many times, it was like second nature to her.
When Kola told Sassy that she had gotten hemmed up by the feds, she tried to advise her on what to do. But Kola already knew the number one golden rule—Always keep your mouth shut—You don’t say shit. And she needed a very good attorney.
“Shit, you gotta see a judge for ya fuckin’ arraignment in like twenty-four to forty-eight hours after ya arrest. See, these muthafuckas be tryin’ to have ya wait all week and shit, like we ignorant. Dey fucked up down hurr and shit.”
“I see that,” Kola replied.
Face Off--The Baddest Chick 4 Page 4
