Bloody Betrayal

by J-Blunt

  Deso calmed a little. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. We had an opportunity and tried it. I thought y’all could grab the nigga while we kept his boys busy.”

  While Queenie and Deso went back and forth, Snot and Drama got out the Jeep to see what was going on. “What happened?” Drama asked.

  “Skittlez dead,” Queenie said aggressively, “and it’s y’all fault. Y’all got the only person wit’ the info we need killed. Good job, niggas.”

  “We tried to make a move,” Snot explained. “We thought y’all was gon’ be ready.”

  “We wasn’t. And I told y’all asses to fall back. Next time I say don’t do nothin’, don’t do it!”

  Drama sucked his teeth. “Betta calm yo’ ass down. You ain’t talkin’ to no fuck-boys.”

  Queenie mugged him, the promise of retribution in her eyes. “Do some more stupid-ass shit and see what happen.”

  Chapter 13

  Queenie lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, mind on overdrive as thoughts raced by so fast she couldn’t focus. They were so close to the come-up. So close to getting a bag. And it disappeared like a rock in a crack pipe because of their stupid-ass, trigger-happy niggas. She was questioning her decision to get back with the gang. They had already burned up one city because of their stupidity, and now they appeared to be doing the same thing in Dallas. She wished she could be back with Pop Somethin’ and her sister instead of locked in a partnership with a bunch of fools who might get her killed.

  The vibrating of her phone pulled her from the rumbling thoughts. Uncle Larry’s name shown on the screen. A flash of excitement passed through Queenie. She hadn’t heard from him in a while, and she was hoping he was calling with news about Princess. “Hey, Uncle Larry!”

  “This ain’t cho uncle.”

  A chill raced through her body when she recognized the voice. “Fuck you doin’ wi’ my uncle phone? Where he at?”

  “The more important question is where Pop Somethin’ and yo’ sister at? Tell me somethin’, Queenie.”

  “C’mon, D.D., I told you last time I haven’t found them yet. I’m tryin’. They low. I need more time,” she pleaded, hoping to get her uncle out of trouble.

  “You outta time. And so is yo’ uncle. I told you I didn’t play, bitch. Mr. Bill Collector came to collect. Say bye.”

  “D.D., wait! D.D.?” Queenie screamed.

  “What’s goin’ on?” Shanice awoke.

  “Q-Queenie? This you, baby girl?” Uncle Larry asked, sounding weak.

  When Queenie heard the pain in his voice, something inside her broke, bringing the tears. “Yeah, uncle. You okay?”

  “Nah, li’l one. Yo’ boys in my house, and I think they ‘bout to kill me. I seen all they faces, and they askin’ ‘bout yo’ sister and some nigga named Pop Somethin’. I don’t know–”

  Pow!

  Queenie flinched at the gunshot, her eyes wide as fear gripped her body. “Uncle Larry! Uncle Larry!”

  “I told you his time was up,” D.D. said. “And so is yours. I I’m not leavin’ Texas ‘til I bury yo’ ass.”

  Click.

  Tears ran down Queenie’s face as she stared at the phone. Her uncle was dead. It was her fault. She made a deal, unknowingly trading his life to save her own. She wished she could go back and remake the deal. For the second time in two days, death had taken someone close to her.

  “What happened, baby?” Shanice asked, concern in her voice.

  “My uncle. He dead,” Queenie cried.

  “Oh, baby!” Shanice lamented, pulling Queenie close and wrapping her in an embrace. “What happened? Was he sick? Why was you screamin’?”

  Queenie didn’t respond right away. She drowned herself in the warmth and love of Shanice’s arms as she mourned her uncle and Skittlez. When she was ready, she opened up. “Some niggas that’s lookin’ for me, Pop, and my sister killed my uncle.”

  Horror shown on Shanice’s face. “What happened?”

  “While we was in Atlanta, we got to fuckin’ wit’ these SOD niggas and tried to take over the city. That got us in some shit with these other niggas that call theyself Grind Squad. Turns out Grind Squad plugged in other states, but we didn’t give a fuck. We hit them niggas and killed the leader, D.D.’s brother. Then we fell out with the SOD niggas we was plugged with and moved on. Pop killed this nigga Born Ready brother, and he found out right when we was about to leave. He the one that shot me. Then D.D. kidnapped me from the hospital and we made an agreement for my life, in exchange I bring him Pop Somethin’. But I can’t find Pop, and now D.D. killin’ my family members until he can get me or Pop.”

  As Shanice listened to the story, her face reflected the range of emotions she experienced. The lasting one was anger. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? What the fuck he get you into?”

  “I was trynna work it all out. I thought I would be able to catch back up wit’ Pop before D.D. came to collect. Plus, I didn’t want you to get involved. I got a lotta baggage.”

  “But I’ve accepted everything else. And I accept this, too. We gotta find him.”

  “Who?”

  “Pop Somethin’. Everywhere he go, he make it bad for everybody, but he always find a way to make it out unhurt. You should’ve told me this before. So, all we gotta do is give him Pop and he gon’ leave you alone?”

  “That’s what he said. But that wasn’t my plan. When I find Pop, I’m not tellin’ D.D. where he at.”

  Shanice looked confused. “Why not? If he wants Pop Somethin’ give him what he wants so you can live. You said he plugged, right? That means you gon’ be marked.”

  “It’s not that easy, baby girl. I’m not C-Note. I’m not turnin’ on my nigga. When I find Pop, we gon bring it to D.D. and Grind Squad.”

  Jealously, hurt, and anger shown on Shanice’s face, forcing her to look away. After getting her emotions under control, she turned back to Queenie, her voice tight, eyes blazing anger. “That’s what you want to do, for real? I don’t have no say in this? You do what you want?”

  “I gotta do what’s best for me, baby. I got killas on my ass, and you or Pop Squad ain’t enough. I need Pop. I got love for you, Shanice. You are an amazing woman, but I’m in way too deep. If you stay with me, you gon’ inherit my beef, and I don’t want that. Pop won’t want it, either.”

  “Fuck Pop!” Shanice exploded. “Don’t you see what he doin’ to you? What he already did? He almost got you killed. You can’t go back to him. It’s gon’ be the same thing all over again. Let him and D.D. kill each other. I don’t care. Just don’t go back.”

  “I’m sorry, baby, but I gotta do it. I tried to make it. I tried to put us on, but it didn’t work, and now we in more shit. This the way it gotta be. Go back to yo’ daughter and love on that li’l girl. I won’t be able to forgive myself if somethin’ happens to you. Get out while you can. I’m tellin’ you this it because I love you. You gotta leave me. I’m marked for death.”

  Shanice remained stubborn. “No. I’m not leaving you. I’ma see this out.”

  ***

  “So, what we gon’ do, Queenie? What’s the next move?” Deso asked as he and Pop Squad lounged around the living room smoking blunts.

  “I don’t know, Deso.” Queenie said, tapping blunt ashes into a green ceramic ashtray that sat on the table. “Skittlez had all the plugs. This was her neck of the woods. Without her, we movin’ blind. I didn’t make no plugs while I was here ‘cause I was all in with Pop.”

  “What about Aloe?” La’Qua asked. “Last time we was out wit’ them niggas, they was on our pussies. Him and his niggas got money. Me, you, and Shanice could probably set somethin up. One last move.”

  Deso, Drama, and Snot’s eyes flicked to Queenie. Their eagerness to get on the grind shown on their faces.

  “He was one of Skittlez’s niggas, too,” Queenie said. “Ain’t no tellin’ how fast news about us setting up Fly Boys got around. Them niggas might know about us already.”

  “That’s
why y’all gotta move fast,” Drama spoke up. “Hit them niggas tonight. I think that shit wit’ Fly Boys burnt us up and put us on the map. I think we should try to make this one last move before we blow this bitch.”

  “I’m wit’ Drama,” Snot said.

  “We gotta leave anyway,” La’Qua shrugged. “Might as well try to put some more money in the bag before we go.”

  Deso listened to the opinions of his team before turning to Queenie. “Since we fucked up the last move, I’ma let you call this. What you wanna do?”

  Even though she had the final say, Queenie knew if she said no, the team would be mad. They wanted more money. They were hungry for it. They had already spent twenty of the sixty grand they took from ATM.

  “I really don’t like moving without planning first, but this is a desperate time. Me and the girls gon’ find a way to get in contact wit’ these niggas. Y’all wait on my call. Don’t move ‘til I say so.”

  “You got it, boss lady,” Deso smiled, happy she agreed. “We move when you say so.”

  “And one more thing,” Queenie said, getting everyone’s attention. “I really don’t know how to say this, so I’ma just say it. I don’t know how much longer I’ma be wit’ y’all. Once I find Pop and my sister, I’m leavin’.”

  Everyone was silent as the words registered in their minds.

  “I knew you was on some ho-ass shit!” Drama mugged.

  “Betta watch yo’ mouf, nigga!”

  “Or what, punk-ass bitch?” Drama said, getting up and walking toward the female boss.

  The ashtray was in Queenie’s hand so fast no one noticed her pick it up. Without missing a beat, she swung it at Drama’s head like it was Thor’s hammer. The ceramic shattered, cutting the side of his face, dropping him to the floor. “I told you to watch yo’ mouf, nigga!”

  “Bitch!” Snot screamed, charging Queenie.

  Deso grabbed him around the waist, holding him back. “Nah, li’l brah. That nigga was talkin’ shit and got fucked up. This ain’t got nothin’ to do witchu.”

  “Fuck that shit, Deso! She fuckin’ wit’ Pop Squad, she fuckin’ wit’ me!” Snot screamed, trying to wrestle free.

  While Deso and Snot tussled, La’Qua went to check on Drama. He lay on the floor, blood leaking from the facial wound.

  “She Pop Squad ‘til she leave,” Deso defended Queenie. “Chill out. You ain’t finna touch her. Fall back.”

  After a little more wrestling, Snot calmed enough for Deso to let him go. Then the Pop Squad leader turned to Queenie. “What’s this shit about you leavin’? I thought you was wit’ us?”

  “Trust me, Deso. It’s best if I leave. Some shit followed me from Atlanta, and I don’t want to get y’all in it. These niggas lookin’ for me, Pop, and my sister. They already in Texas and killed my uncle. I gotta get back to Pop so we can take care of this.”

  Deso looked ready to kill. “What! Some niggas killed yo’ uncle? When?”

  “This mornin’. I made a deal wit’ this nigga after he took me from the hospital to get them Pop so I could live. I ain’t been able to find him, and these niggas think I’m playin’. Now they comin’ for me.”

  “Whatever problems you got wit’ them niggas is all our problems now. You Pop Squad, and we don’t run from shit!”

  ***

  Aloe had an unassuming look. Standing five-foot-seven with a light build, peanut butter-brown skin, and slanted eyes, the gold-rimmed glasses, polo shirt, white slacks, and loafers gave him a preppy look. However, the tattoos on his arms and neck gave away any misconceptions about him being a nerd. Despite the innocent look in his eyes, Aloe was certified in the streets. He embodied the TI lyrics ‘articulate, but still a grab-a-nigga-by-the-collar quick.’

  “I think Trump is a moron, racist, bitch-ass nigga, but he do got some gangsta-like qualities that you gotta respect. Yeah, I think he a ho-ass nigga that don’t give a fuck about nobody but rich white niggas, but he ain’t no bitch,” Aloe explained to everyone seated around the living room in the trap house they affectionately called Central America. “Think about if Obama was on some shit like that. Said ‘fuck all white people’ and only fucked with black people. That nigga woulda only lasted one term in the Whitehouse, but he’da left a mark on the world, and real gangstas woulda respected that.”

  “Man, they woulda killed that nigga,” Moose said, his name fitting him perfectly. Six-foot-four and 350 pounds with a head the size of a large pumpkin, the massive man commanded attention, even when he didn’t want it.

  “Hell, nah!” Aloe waved him off. “This America, nigga. Ain’t nobody killin’ no American President. The Secret Service ain’t go in for that shit. If that’s the case, Trump woulda got whacked day one wit’ all the muthafuckas he pissed off. That nigga talked shit to North Korea, China, and Russia. He know he the baddest muthafucka walkin’ and ain’t worried ‘bout shit.”

  “Is this what y’all do?” La’Qua interrupted. “Sit around and get fucked up and talk politics?”

  Aloe looked offended by the question. “See, this the problem wit’ black people. If niggas ain’t talkin’ ‘bout killin’ each other, bands to make her dance, or new cars, then they don’t wanna hear shit. Never mind we lead the nation in poverty, incarceration, joblessness, high school drop-outs and infant mortality. All we wanna do is get high, drunk, and laugh about shit that ain’t really funny.”

  La’Qua’s face dropped at the eloquent tongue-lashing and sharp stare of the street veteran.

  Shanice knew her girls were out of their leagues and spoke up to show they weren’t fine and brainless. “I think it’s refreshin’ to hear niggas talk about somethin’ other than killin’ niggas and gettin’ money. I haven’t heard street niggas talk like this before, and I think it’s sexy when a nigga can teach me somethin’. I hope whoever you got at home appreciate how rare of a nigga you is.”

  Aloe eyed the light-skinned beauty like he was seeing her for the first time. “Where you go to school at? College, I mean? I can tell you had a formal education by the way you put yo’ words together.”

  “I graduated from The University of Texas with a bachelor’s. I majored in economics.”

  Aloe gave a nod of approval. “I don’t mean no disrespect by this, but I gotta ask. If you educated, why you kickin’ it wit’ strippers? Shouldn’t you be usin’ that degree?”

  Shanice blushed from the attention. “I was. I mean, I am. I used to work at a bank, but I’m taking a leave to figure some things out. And these are my girls. I love them like family, and I’m down for them just like they down for me.”

  “I like you, shorty. You intriguing,” Aloe smiled, eyeing her with desire. “Come sit next to me and let’s kick it. I think I might’ve just found my wife.”

  While Aloe and Shanice got to know one another, Queenie set her eyes on a young, dark-skinned nigga named Hawke. Tall and lanky with a nappy afro and chinky eyes, he seemed like the perfect victim to set in a pussy trap. He hadn’t talked much and seemed to be self-conscious and unsure. When Queenie gave him eye contact, he smiled and looked away.

  “How old is you?” she asked.

  The youngster couldn’t hold his grin as he answered. “Eighteen.”

  “Yo’ young ass is fine. Betcha you used to have all those li’l bitches at yo’ high school goin’ crazy.”

  The youngster smiled again, fidgeting nervously.

  “You wastin’ yo’ time wi’ that li’l nigga,” Aloe laughed. “My li’l brotha can’t handle somethin’ like you.”

  Queenie went over and sat next to him, massaging his thigh as she spoke. “I don’t care what yo’ brother say. I like that you a li’l shy. You bein’ you. Don’t be like these other super-frontin’-ass niggas. My name is Queenie. You Hawke, right?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded, eyeing the cleavage that spilled from her halter-top.

  “I like that name,” Queenie laughed, watching his eyes. “You see somethin’ you like?”

  He gave a goofy grin. “You bad
.”

  The seducer slid a hand further up his thigh. “Do you got a car? I’m kinda hungry.”

  Hawke looked toward Aloe for approval. The older brother nodded. “I got a G-Wagon. Wanna ride?”

  “Yeah. Let’s get outta here so I can put somethin’ in my stomach.”

  During the ride to Popeye’s, Hawke didn’t do much talking, so Queenie exchanged text messages with Pop Squad, putting everything in order in case they got the opportunity to make a move. When they made it back to Central America, Shanice pulled Queenie aside and filled her in on everything that happened while she was gone.

  “Aloe want me to spend the night with him.”

  Queenie’s eyes popped. “At his house?”

  “Yeah. You and Hawke, too.”

  Queenie’s eyes lit up, a smile spreading across her face. “I didn’t think it would be this easy.”

  “We got a gold mine between our legs, bitch. These niggas trynna get rich,” Shanice laughed.

  “You takin’ to this jack shit too good,” Queenie grinned. “I hope you don’t get used to this.”

  ***

  During the ride to Aloe and Hawke’s pad, the couples toyed and teased one another like they were high school sweethearts in the back of a limo on their way to prom. Once inside the house, more drinks were poured and loud smoked. Queenie made sure not to get too drunk, plotting a way to get Pop Squad in the house. It turned out the hustler’s pad was protected by an alarm system, and security cameras watched every angle outside. There was no way for Pop Squad to get in without being seen.

  “Okay. I had enough of the social hour,” Queenie said, standing and reaching for Hawke’s hand. “Come show me what they taught you in sex ed.”

  The youngster gave another goofy grin as he stood and led Queenie to his bedroom.

  “Take it easy on my li’l nigga!” Aloe called behind them.

  As soon as the room door closed, Queenie shoved Hawke on the bed and climbed on top. With her tongue down his throat, she felt up his bony body, making it seem like she was freaking him as she checked him for weapons. When she found the .45 at his waist, she dropped it on the floor, getting it as far from him as she could without seeming suspicious. “You a sexy li’l nigga,” Queenie said, eyeing him like he was a snack. “Get up and take this shit off. I got somethin’ special for yo’ ass.”