The truck sat parked a few cars away on the city block and was tucked away between cars. Terri and Chicano sat in the front seat. Chicano was from a small Mexican town that bordered the United States. He used to run with a ruthless cartel called Los Zetas, and had been a killer since the age of fourteen. His eyes had seen wars and horrors from the time he was a youth. In fact, the only thing Chicano knew and understood since he was a child was death. His father was a killer too, but he was shot dead and decapitated in front of Chicano’s eyes when he was ten, and his prostitute mother was butchered by a serial killer when he was eight.
His transition into adulthood was rough. He had been shot several times, kidnapped, and tortured. He had gotten into shootouts with local authorities and had been imprisoned at the age of twelve. By the time Chicano was nineteen, he was a ruthless, stone-cold killer with no morals and no value for human life. Five nine with short hair and brown skin, he was a lean, mean, killing machine for Apple and Guy Tony.
The trio sat parked and waited for several moments. The men who went into the building were Chico’s handlers, and they went into an apartment to retrieve product. Apple knew they were armed and dangerous, but so were her two goons. Terri was handling a Glock 17, and Chicano wielded a Ruger pistol and a machete.
The projects were swarming with locals on this warm spring night. The playground was teeming with young children and parents at the early evening hour. But the serenity and enjoyment in the courtyards, playground, and other areas didn’t make a difference to Apple. She didn’t care about anything but taking care of business.
Apple took one last pull from the Newport and flung it out the window. She said to her thugs, “Y’all know what to do. When they exit, make a scene for these muthafuckas to remember.”
Terri and Chicano nodded. Chicano grinned a menacing grin. He didn’t speak a word back, but his mind was already set on unspeakable carnage for his enemies. The boss lady wanted to make a gruesome statement, and it would be done.
A few minutes later, Chico’s two handlers exited the building lobby and said a few words to the Blood members lingering out front. Then there was short laughter coming from everyone.
Terri was the first to exit the Tahoe, followed by Chicano. The two men seemed to float across the street without detection in their dark T-shirts and jeans. Chicano had on a red ball cap, the Ruger gripped in one hand, and the machete in the next.
Terri marched forward, raising the pistol at the two men, and Chicano did the same. Chico’s men suddenly widened their eyes when they saw the danger.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
The gunshots echoed throughout the projects, sending fright and panic to those in close proximity.
The first shot hit one thug in the chest, and the second shot hit him in his neck. Blood squirted. Then he lurched forward and collapsed on the concrete.
The second victim tried to run, but Chicano fired rapidly, hitting the man multiple times in the back. He dropped to his knees and stumbled against the iron railing in the pathway, screaming in pain.
Chicano ran up and stood over him, his gun trained on the back of his head. Then he decided a quick death was too easy. So he raised the machete over his head, gripping the handle tight, and came down forcefully with the sharp tool and plunged the blade into the man’s skull. Blood spewed out around the machete, which was rooted in his skull. Chicano pulled out the blade and went to hacking again, shredding the victim’s face apart like it was clay, leaving behind a bloody and contorted mess.
There were loud screams as many people stared at the horrific act.
Chicano grinned, his machete coated with blood, the body beneath his feet almost hacked to pieces.
Chicano and Terri hurried back to the truck. Chicano tossed the blood-drenched machete into the back, and they sped away, leaving behind a gruesome crime scene that would forever haunt those who had witnessed it.
Ten
Chico sat slouched in the striped slipper chair, like the kingpin he was, and watched the big-booty stripper with her tattooed back bend over and spread her ample butt cheeks wide open on the stage. Her goodies exposed, she aimed her smile at Chico. She took the stripper pole like a professional, twirling around it with her legs spread and her heavy tits flopping about. Chico, clutching a wad of Ben Franklins in his hand, took a sip of Grey Goose. The clear, smooth liquid glided down his throat, while his eyes stayed glued to the stripper dancing seductively to Drake and The Weeknd’s “Crew Love”blaring in the dimly lit club.
Chico, flanked by his street goons, Rome, Bad, and Torrez, tossed a few hundreds at her and made it sprinkle on the dark-skinned beauty. Then his goons followed him and tossed a wad of money at the girls.
It was all fun and smiles for the moment, but every man knew, in the back of his mind, that a serious threat was looming. Harlem was drowning in violence and bloodshed. Apple was on the warpath and gunning for all of her enemies, trying to wipe them out like a Category 5 hurricane.
Chico’s shoulder still ached slightly from the gunshot wound he’d suffered during the shootout with Apple a few weeks earlier. He’d barely escaped with his life. He didn’t understand where he went wrong with her, and why Apple suddenly hated him so much. The bitch couldn’t get it through her thick, ignorant skull that he had nothing to do with her kidnapping and suffering.
But since Apple wanted a war, Chico was determined to bring it to her at full throttle. She was fucking with the wrong man, and the girl he used to love would die by his hands, in agony too, if it came to it.
However, tonight was his night to enjoy, and he didn’t want to think about his troubles. It was his twenty-seventh birthday, and he wanted to spend it with his peoples, along with beautiful big-butt, freaky strippers ready to fuck and suck him and his crew, and buying out the bar and getting tipsy from six-hundred-dollar bottles of champagne and liquor.
The strip club popped off with lively revelers from wall to wall, and the heavy bass from the half dozen speakers rattled the walls and the stage.
The DJ continuously gave Chico love and respect, shouting out over the mic, “I want to wish a happy birthday to my dude, Chico. We love you, my dude! This is your day. Let’s do it right tonight!”
Chico nodded and smiled at DJ Havoc. He raised the Grey Goose bottle he was drinking from in the air as a sign of respect and love for those around him. He took a swig from the bottle and pulled one of the naked strippers lingering around the crew into his lap. She chuckled and smiled.
Chico started to fondle between her meaty thighs, feeling her pleasures and taking in the warmth of her scent. “What’s ya name, ma?” he asked.
“Coco.” She chuckled.
“Coco. I like that. You know it’s my birthday today, right?”
“I know,” she said with a flirtatious smile. “You made your birthday wish yet?”
“Nah, not yet. Why? You gonna help make it come true for me, ma?”
“I don’t know. Depends on what you wishin’ for.”
Chico smiled. He continued to rub the inside of her thick, brown thighs. The way her naked ass sat on his lap was just ideal, with the friction and sexual gyration against him adding to the delight. Her tits were perky, her chocolate-covered nipples hard like small pebbles, and her brown bubble-ass was causing an erection in his jeans.
“Damn, you fine, love,” Chico complimented, sliding his hand farther between her legs. He fondled her clit and massaged her walls, setting off Coco to squirm in his lap and moan a little.
“You like that?”
She cooed, “Yeah, daddy.”
The soft penetration between her pink walls made her juices drip.
“I would love to unwrap you, but you already naked and shit.”
“So let me unwrap you.”
“Ummm, I like that.”
Coco was ready to please the tall, fine birthday boy by any means, her hazel eyes peering intensely at him.
Chico moved his hands gingerly around her curves, admiring her shape�
��an hourglass figure with a luscious teardrop booty that was so soft to the touch.
“Shit, love, let’s do this. Let me get my birthday gift from you.”
“Definitely.” Coco rose up from his lap and stood erect in her six-inch red stilettos.
Chico did the same, the Grey Goose bottle clutched in his grip, holding it down by his side and spilling some of the clear fluid onto the floor. He didn’t care. He was mesmerized at the moment and couldn’t keep his eyes off Coco.
He said bluntly, “I wanna fuck you in all three holes.”
Coco chuckled. “Damn! I see you’s a freak.”
“You don’t even know the half of it, Coco.” Chico slid his arm around Coco’s slim waist.
Coco reached down and grabbed his crotch, feeling the family jewels he was working with. She was ready to do as told. Her pussy was throbbing for some dick action, and she was ready to wrap her full, sensual lips around that hard piece of dick when she removed it from his jeans.
The two began to take steps to one of the VIP rooms located in the back of the club.
“You good, Chico?” Torrez asked.
Chico nodded, but before he could have his fun with the leggy, brown-skinned beauty, Rome got the call on his cell phone. The look on his face said it was urgent. He couldn’t believe it. Not today, not on Chico’s birthday. He hung up the call and approached Chico with the news.
“Yo, Chico,” he called out.
Chico turned, his arms still around Coco. “What up?”
“We gotta talk,” Rome said bleakly.
Rome’s look already expressed to Chico that the news wasn’t good. He pushed Coco off to the side with no words toward her, and went to Rome, leaving her standing there looking dumbfounded, anxious to fuck the birthday boy.
“It’s that bitch again, right?” Chico asked.
He and Rome went into a private corner, and Rome said into his ear, “One Hundred and Fifteenth Street . . . I heard it’s really ugly over there. They got Sheeba.”
Chico’s heart sank into his stomach. Sheeba was his first cousin on his mother’s side. He had put Sheeba on the money a year ago with something light and not too much of a risk for him, but now the decision seemed to have backfired.
Rome continued with, “They butchered the kid with a machete . . . tore into his face.” Then he added, “We on it.”
“Fuck that shit, Rome!” Chico screamed. “I want that bitch’s head on my lap by week’s end. I’ma fuck that bitch up!”
Chico drew attention to himself in the club, startling a few strippers. He tossed the bottle in his hand, smashing it against the wall, and he and his goons stormed out of the club ready to take revenge on behalf of the fallen.
As Chico and his thugs spilled into the Escalade, Bad said in Chico’s ear, “I’m telling you, Chico, that bitch came back wit’ some muscle. She tryin’ to take shit over, and if you tryin’ to keep what’s yours, then let’s hunt that fuckin’ bitch and her family down and fuck that bitch’s world up.”
And the Escalade sped away into the darkness.
Eleven
The days dragged by for Kola as she sat in the detention center, where she’d made few friends and some enemies. She started going over certain events in her head. She thought about Nikki, and her story just didn’t add up. Something wasn’t right with that girl.
And then OMG came to mind. Was everything a setup for her to take the fall? Was OMG fucking her cousin too? And where was she? She didn’t come to visit, and whenever Kola called her phone, there was never any answer. Her cousin had completely vanished.
Kola knew she was set up, though. She thought about her sudden arrest every day, her mistakes, how she got knocked. How was she the only one in this predicament? Were Nikki and OMG both plotting on her?
While sitting in the dayroom, she suddenly heard she had a visitor. The guard approached her with the news and was there to escort her into the visitation room. Kola felt relieved to finally have somebody come see her. She thought it was Nikki finally pulling through for her.
She stood up and followed the guard to get processed for her visit. She remained expressionless, even though she was curious about the visitor. If it was her cousin, Kola had a few choice words to say to her. It had to be Nikki; no one else would come and show their face.
Half an hour later, Kola entered the no-contact visiting room, a long, stale-smelling room with mostly family and loved ones of the female inmates, who were seated on the long, hard benches that stretched down on both ends of the room. Visitors sat at a granite counter that was split in half by a large Plexiglas partition. On either side were short stalls with a telephone attached on both ends of the partition.
The guard directed Kola to where her visitor was seated on the other side of the Plexiglas. “Booth six,” he said.
Curious, Kola moved slowly down the narrow corridor to booth six and peered at the face behind the Plexiglas. She didn’t recognize the handsome young black man at all.
He had no facial hair, and he had chiseled features. His cornrows were neatly done, falling past his shoulders like thin ropes hanging from him. His arms were muscular, he looked fit and healthy, and he carried an aggressive street image, with tattoos covering from his hands to his neck. He wore a Dwyane Wade Miami Heat jersey.
Kola took a seat on the bench, never taking her eyes away from him. She figured he was a representative of OMG who had come to the detention center to speak on his behalf; maybe give her a direct warning to keep her mouth shut while in custody.
The man gestured for her to pick up the phone hanging on the stall, and she did so.
“Do I know you?” she asked with scowl.
“Nah, you don’t. But I know you, or heard about you.”
“From where?” Kola asked roughly.
He cracked a little smile, showing the gold and diamond grill in his mouth. “Sassy sent me.”
Hearing her name brought some kind of relief to Kola. But why would Sassy send someone to visit her? Kola was even more confused. “Sassy?”
“Yeah, that’s my cousin. She had some good things ta say about you.”
“And what brings you here . . . this visit?”
“She’s worried about you and would have come herself, but she ain’t too fond of coming back to this place. I don’t blame her. I don’t do jail myself. But she wanted ta reach out to you, let you know you have a friend down here.”
Kola remained quiet.
“We asked around ’bout you, and Sassy says you good peoples. You ’bout ya business.”
“I am,” Kola replied coolly.
He nodded. “Good to hear.”
Kola was still confused about his visit. “How is she?”
“She’s good.”
Kola nodded.
“But listen . . . we know ’bout ya bail, and we gon’ make it work out for you.”
“How?”
“We got peoples dat matter. Dat’s all you need ta know.”
Kola felt strange about the outside help. Even though she and Sassy hit it off, nothing came free. There was always a cost. And Kola was always skeptical about bringing new faces into her world.
Kola said, “I never got your name.”
“They call me Copper.”
“Copper, huh? You got bank like that? Two hundred and fifty stacks is a lot of money to put up.”
“Don’t worry ’bout it.”
“And what do I owe this favor?”
“No favor. Sassy vouches for you, and we get it done.”
Kola was still skeptical. She locked eyes with Copper, and he didn’t flinch. He talked with confidence. He sat erect and kept constant eye contact with her. He had the posture of a boss figure and the words of a sharp individual. Kola needed the help, no matter where it came from. If Sassy had the connections to get her bail paid and get her a good lawyer to represent her, then so be it. She wasn’t going to be a fool and turn it down. She continued to look at Copper.
“Then get it done.
”
Copper nodded.
Kola stood up and turned to make her exit. Sassy was cool, but Copper had shifty eyes and a sly smile. It was hard to trust a man with his demeanor, but Kola didn’t have any choice. If they decided to help her, it was a win for her. If not, then she would find other means to find her freedom once more. She walked back into lockup and never looked back.
***
Several days passed after Kola’s talk with Copper. She needed to know a little more about him and Sassy, and the only person she felt she could go to was Danielle, who’d been around long enough to know the players in Miami. She had been in the game for ten years, and South Beach, where she turned tricks and fucked many high-end players, was her playground.
Kola asked Danielle, “You know Sassy?”
“Sassy, yeah, I heard of the name, but vaguely though.”
“What she about?”
“She’s serious out there in the streets. Heard young girl don’t play any games. Deadly, her and her cousin.”
“Then why would she want to bail me out? I mean, we talked when I first got here, but ain’t nothin’ more than that.”
Danielle shrugged.
“You think she got serious paper like that, Danielle? I mean, two hundred and fifty K ain’t nothin’ to sneeze at.”
“I know.”
“And I ain’t a stupid bitch. You puttin’ up money like that for my bail, then someone gonna want somethin’ else in return.”
“I know that too.”
Kola wracked her brain, trying to find the angle, but it just didn’t add up. “I ain’t turning tricks.”
Danielle chuckled. “You don’t look like the type to take it lying down.”
“Fuck that! I’m a boss bitch, Danielle, and if they try and make me someone’s bitch, then it’s gonna be on and poppin’ down here. Real talk.”
Face Off--The Baddest Chick 4 Page 8
