Bloody Betrayal

by J-Blunt

  Hawke jumped up from the bed and stripped like he was in a contest to see who could get undressed the fastest.

  When he was naked, Queenie pushed him onto the bed again. “Gimme somethin’ to tie you up with?”

  The shy kid frowned, suspicion lighting in his eyes. “Hell nah. You ain’t finna tie me up.”

  Queenie was a little caught off guard by his response. Figuring she had the youngster figured out, getting a ‘no’ from him was concerning. But she played it off cool, kneeling between his legs and grabbing his hard tool. She held his stare while slipping the head into her mouth, going halfway down. After a few more head bobs, she swallowed him, her nose touching his pubic hair.

  “Mm! Shit!” Hawke groaned, closing his eyes and reaching for her head.

  Queenie dodged his hand, releasing his tool from her mouth. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

  “Hell, yeah!” he said, wanting more.

  “Gimme a rope or a string and I’ma make yo’ ass scream,” she promised, slurping on him again.

  Hawke lost all concern for his safety when she took away the warmth of her mouth. “I got some belts in the top drawer.”

  Queenie grabbed two Gucci belts, tying one around his ankles and another around his wrists. After checking to make sure they were secure, she stuffed a pair of boxers in his mouth and picked up the .45 from the floor.

  “Damn, li’l nigga. I thought yo’ ass had me figured out for a minute. But that head get ‘em every time. Deep throat vicious, ain’t it?” she smiled.

  Hawke mugged her, the shy guy gone, replaced by an angry man who wanted vengeance. He mumbled something and tried to get up. A kick to the chest put him back on the bed.

  “Keep yo’ ass still ‘fore I put a hole in yo’ face,” Queenie threatened, pointing the gun at him. “I need that alarm code.”

  He shook his head no.

  Queenie moved the pistol to his nuts and began stabbing his balls with the barrel of the gun. The younger man squirmed and wiggled in pain.

  “What’s the code, nigga?” she whispered, threatening to poke him again.

  He began mumbling.

  “You gon’ tell me the code?”

  He nodded.

  “Show me wit’ yo’ hands,” she said, refusing to take the gag out of his mouth.

  After he signed four numbers, Queenie grabbed her phone and called Deso. “What’s good?” he answered eagerly.

  “Where y’all at?”

  “We outside. Y’all good in there?”

  “Yeah. I got one nigga tied up. Shanice in the room wit’ Aloe. I’m about to open the door. Come right in, and cover y’all face. He got cameras. I’ma flip the porch light off when I get the door open.”

  After hanging up, she gave Hawke one last look. He lay on the bed, seething with anger. When she was satisfied he wouldn’t be trouble, she went to check on Shanice and Aloe. The living room was empty, a good sign they were in the room getting freaky. She didn’t bother to get nosey, but went to deactivate the alarm.

  After she put in the four numbers, there was a short beep, and then a message flashed across the screen saying the alarm had been turned off. She found the light switch and flipped it off before unlocking the door.

  “Fuck you doin’, bitch?”

  Hearing Aloe’s voice made her jump. Instead of turning around, she looked over her shoulder and seen the eloquent thug standing shirtless and holding a chopper. Because she had her back to him, he couldn’t see the pistol in her hand, but she knew if she made the wrong move, he would cut her in half.

  “I’m just trynna go outside real quick.”

  “You think I’m stupid? I got camera monitors in my room. Lock that door back and turn around slow. Where my li’l brother?”

  Queenie knew she was fucked. If she locked the door and Pop Squad couldn’t get in, she would die. If Aloe seen the gun, she would die. Her only hope was to get her niggas in the house, so she stalled. “C’mon, Aloe. Hawke in the room. I just wanna go–”

  A loud noise near Hawke’s room made Queenie look. So did Aloe. Hawke’s naked ass hopped into the hallway, his feet and hands still tied. In his hands an M-16.

  Queenie processed the situation quickly, knowing she only had two options: try to run and probably get shot in the back, or use the distraction Hawke created and shoot it out. In the end, she knew she would lose the shooting match since she was up against two machine guns.

  Her fate decided, she spun around, upping the pistol, planning to take one of the brothers with her. At the same moment the front door burst open, hitting Queenie, knocking her off balance. As she was falling to the floor, Hawke and Aloe were pointing their assault rifles at the door.

  The high-powered rifles sounded like thunder as they erupted. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Deso charging into the house. The bullets made smacking sounds as they ripped open the goon’s chest and stomach.

  Moving on instinct and adrenaline, Queenie pointed the .45 at the closest brother and let him have it. Hawke flinched a couple of times before falling to the floor.

  Drama and Snot stood outside the front door, taking shots at Aloe. When he ducked out of the young gunners’ sights, Queenie pointed the .45 at him, taking him down with two shots to the chest.

  “Aw, shit!” Drama cried when he seen Deso lying on the ground in a pool of blood.

  “Deso! Get up, nigga!” Snot yelled, his voice shaky, tears welling in his eyes.

  Even though Queenie felt remorse for her fallen friend, she had to stay focused on the mission. “He dead. Come help me find the security videos.”

  Drama and Snot couldn’t move. They stood over their fallen leader, mourning and confused.

  Queenie ignored the broken thugs and went for Aloe’s room. The wounded man was still alive, crawling to his chopper. A .45 slug to the back of the head ended any chance of his survival.

  Inside the room, Shanice was sitting on the bed, fear swirling inside her wide eyes. “What happened?”

  Queenie moved to the security monitors. “We gotta get the fuck outta here. Do you know how to find the footage?”

  “Um. I don’t know.”

  “Hold this.” Queenie said, tossing her the .45 as she continued to look over the monitors. A few moments later she found the flash drive. “I got it. Let’s go!”

  Shanice gasped at the carnage when they left the room. Bullet holes in the wall and dead bodies on the floor made the living room look like a war zone.

  “I got the footage. Let’s go,” Queenie told the Pop Squad members.

  “Nah,” Drama cried. “We can’t leave him.”

  “He dead. We gotta go.”

  “Fuck that!” Snot snapped. “We ain’t leavin’ my nigga!”

  While they went back and forth about Deso’s body, no one noticed Hawke crawling slowly to his gun. Blood pooled from his stomach and chest wounds as he grabbed the gun and aimed it at Queenie’s back. Shanice finally noticed the wounded youngster as he was applying pressure to the trigger.

  Clap, clap, clap, clap!

  Click.

  Queenie flinched, spinning around to see what happened. Shanice’s eyes were wide in shock. In her hand was the .45 with a de-cocked chamber.

  “What the fuck?” Queenie asked.

  Shanice looked from the dead body of Hawke to her girl. “He was about to shoot you.”

  Queenie looked back to Hawke. His dead body still held the gun. “Good shit. Let’s go. Where’s La’Qua?”

  “She still in the car,” Drama said sadly. “C’mon, Snot. Help me get Deso to the car.”

  “He dead, y’all. We gotta go, and a dead body gon’ slow us down. C’mon.”

  Snot turned to Drama, agreeing with Queenie. “She right, dawg. We gotta get the fuck outta here and leave him.”

  Chapter 14

  The frankincense incense let off a thick trail of perfumed smoke as it burned, filling the room with a rich, sweet smell. Pop Somethin’ inhaled deep as he lay on the massage t
able, his naked body mostly exposed except for the towel covering his ass. A female masseuse worked on his shoulders, digging into his flesh, kneading his muscles.

  “Mm, shit. Damn,” Pop grunted, loving the woman’s touch.

  “Damn, baby. You sound like you do when I be puttin’ this pussy on you,” Princess laughed, squeezing his hand. She was on the table next to him, getting a massage from an assistant.

  “If I had to choose between you and her hands, you might be mad at me,” he joked, making everyone laugh.

  Princess sat up on her elbows, eyeing the woman bringing Pop so much pleasure. “Getcho hands off my man, Marjorie!”

  The middle-aged Haitian woman put her hands in the air like she was being arrested and smiled. “I no want him, no. Too much man. Too big,” she said in a heavy accent.

  “You don’t know what you missin’. Tell her, Ava. Bigger is better,” Princess said to the assistant.

  “When it big, it hit all the deep spots,” she smiled.

  After another round of laughter, Princess let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Damn, Pop. I feel better than I have in a long time. Jacksonville ain’t bad. Why we didn’t come here before we went to Atlanta?”

  “We had to go through all the bullshit in Texas and the ATL so we would really be able to appreciate all the good shit in Florida. Super Trap exactly what we needed.”

  “He kinda remind me of C-Note. Except a li’l more gutta.”

  Pop thought for a moment. “Yeah, he do. And he smarter, too. That nigga turned The Zone into The Carter times ten.”

  Princess frowned. “What is The Carter?”

  The big man gave Princess the side-eye. “You neva seen New Jack City?”

  “Nah. What is it? Who in it?”

  “Wesley Snipes played Nino Brown. Nigga was–. You know what? I’ma order it tonight. We watchin’ it when we get to the crib. You gon’ like the bitch they got on the team. She be blazin’ shit. Her catchphrase is ‘Rocka-bye, baby!’”

  “So, we Netflixin’ and chillin’ tonight?”

  “I don’t know. I’ma hit The Zone and make sure they good. See if Super Trap need anything.”

  “A’ight. I was thinkin’ ‘bout what we gon’ do after Florida. Still wanna go to Jamaica?”

  “Hell yeah. Get away from all this drama shit. See the fam. It’s been over twenty years since I been there. I don’t know what up wit’ moms. I ain’t talked to her since I was little.”

  “Damn. I bet that’ll be crazy, seein’ her after so long. I wanna be there when you meet her.”

  “You will.”

  The couple became silent as they got massages and collected their thoughts. Marjorie broke the silence. “Would you like to listen to music?”

  “What you got for a playlist?” Princess asked.

  “I got love songs.”

  “I don’t do love songs,” Pop spoke up.

  “Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ love songs,” Princess laughed, slapping him on the arm. “Go ‘head. He will be okay.”

  When Ava turned on the radio, Fall for You by Leela James filled the room. Princess got lost in the lyrics, and when the song was over, she asked for it to be put on repeat.

  “Damn, Pop. I love this song! This bitch is the truth!”

  “It’s a’ight,” he mumbled.

  “This song explains exactly how I feel, baby. I was trynna figure out a way to tell you this, and now I know. I’m in love with you, Pop. Being with you feels good. Like flying. Just like she singin’.”

  “You really wanna talk about this now?” Pop asked, looking at Ava uncomfortably.

  “Why not? It’s on my heart, and I need to get it off. I told you I didn’t wanna be yo’ bitch no more. When I said I wanted to be all yours and you all mine, this what I was talkin’ ‘bout. For the first time in my life, I’m in love. Now I know what they been singin’ ‘bout in all those love songs. I feel it.”

  “Want us to give you a moment?” Marjorie asked.

  “Yes. Please.”

  When the women left the room, Princess got off her table and sat next to Pop. She stared into his eyes, searching the depths of him. “Do you love me? I mean, in love with me?”

  For the first time in a long time, Pop didn’t know how to answer a question. He cared for Princess. They were connected on a deep level. And just like she had felt the song lyrics, he did, too. But he’d never told anyone he loved them, and the thought of saying it made him unsure. “Listen, Princess. This love shit is new to me. I never been in love before, and I’m not sure how this shit s’posed to go. I don’t know if I feel how you feel. All I know is this shit gettin’ serious. Gettin’ real.”

  Princess’s eyes became misty. “I think this is what love is. We in love.”

  Pop didn’t look convinced. “A’ight.”

  She reached out and touched his face, caressing his beard. “I love you, baby.”

  “A’ight.”

  Princess frowned. “That ain’t what you s’posed to say to somebody you love. Say it back to me.”

  Pop visibly struggled to get the words out of his mouth. “I. I love you, too.”

  The mist in Princess’ eyes turned to water as tears spilled down her face. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

  “Actually, it was.”

  “Shut up!” she laughed, pushing him. “Now come kiss me, my love.”

  Pop kept his eyes open as he leaned in to lock lips. “Did I tell you how much I love the blue hair?” he asked, running a hand through her dreads.

  “It ain’t hard for you to say you love my hair, but it’s hard to say you love me, huh?”

  “Blue my favorite color,” he smiled.

  “I know. Now tell me you love me again,” Princess said, melting her body into his.

  Pop wrapped her blue dread locks around his fist and tugged. “I love yo’ blue hair. And I love you, too.”

  The lovebirds began making out again, the petting getting hot and heavy as Pop pulled her onto his lap. Princess reached for his tool at the same time his phone rang. It was Super Trap’s ringtone.

  “Damn. What he want?” Princess asked, irritated by the interruption.

  “I don’t know, but let me get it real quick,” he said before answering. “What up, my dude?”

  “I need you to come through The Zone, brah. We got a situation that need yo’ attention.”

  ***

  Ever since The Zone had come under new management, the residents noticed a decline in shootings and crime overall in the projects. There were no more shootouts and turf wars over who could move product where. It was understood that Out The Mud clique ran the projects, and Super Trap was the head nigga in charge. And although all the people living in the low income housing understood the power hierarchy, it appeared somebody didn’t respect it.

  Super Trap stood in the apartment they named Ground Zero looking at three bodies on the floor. The jackers were long gone with five kilos. “How the fuck they make it all the way to Ground Zero without nobody noticin’?” Trap asked, glaring angrily at Red Dot with his good eye.

  “I don’t know, brah. Didn’t nobody see or hear shit. Only reason I came was ‘cause Quan wasn’t answerin’ his phone.”

  Super Trap looked down at his dead friend’s body again. Quan was face down on the ground, a bloody hole in the back of his head. Gold Cartier glasses rested in a pool of blood. “Did you talk to anybody? Where Dank and Paco?”

  “Dank out there trynna see if anybody know anything. I ain’t heard from Paco.”

  “Get somebody to clean this shit up. If you see Dank, tell him to get at me or Pop Somethin’,” Trap said before heading for the door.

  On his way out, he ran into Pop Somethin’. “What happened?” the big man asked.

  “We got hit. Five birds. Quan, Triple T, and Rhino got hit. They in the living room.”

  Pop walked into the apartment and checked out the bodies. “Where Dank? Do anybody know anything?”

  “Ain’t nobody h
ear or see shit,” Red Dot spoke, sniffing the air. “Why you smell like you been in one of them African stores?”

  “I was gettin’ a massage, and they had some incense burnin’. And what you mean, ‘ain’t nobody seen shit’? This Ground Zero. We in the middle of the projects. Ain’t no way somebody made it in and outta here without bein’ seen.”

  “I said the same shit,” Super Trap spoke up. Then him and Pop looked to each other at the same time. “Inside job!”

  “Ain’t nobody stupid enough to fuck you niggas over,” Red Dot said, convinced they were mistaken.

  Super Trap gave his cousin a look. “You be surprised how stupid niggas is.”

  Pop’s phone rang. It was Dank. “Where you at?”

  “Down here by Veronica spot. Where you at?”

  “I’m leavin’ Ground Zero. Who is Veronica?”

  “Li’l chick a few buildings away. I’m steppin’ outside right now. You ain’t gon’ believe what she just told me.”

  When Super Trap and Pop Somethin’ met up with Dank, the shorter man wore a smile like he knew something they didn’t.

  “What you smilin’ for, nigga?” Trap asked.

  “It was a set up,” Dank grinned.

  “We know,” Pop said. “What else you know? Who did it?”

  Dank frowned. “How y’all know that already? I had to talk to ten people to find that out.”

  “Deductive reasoning,” Trap said. “Tell us what you know.”

  “The bitch said she seen Twan come through here wit’ two niggas she never seen before. Said he looked nervous. She tried to holla at the nigga, but he kept movin’. Twan set us up.”

  “What we know ‘bout this nigga, Twan?” Pop asked.

  “Not that much. He was one of the niggas we made get down or lay down. This his backyard. I think he a local nigga,” Dank answered.

  “Find us somebody that know him. We gon’ get down on his ass as soon as we can.”