Wifey, Part 2

by Erica Hilton

  “So shit is fucked up with them?” Black Jus asked.

  Jasmine caught on really quick to what Black Jus was saying. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t exactly know what’s going on. I mean, they can get product, but the shit is just real weak, you know?”

  Black Jus smiled. He loved to hear about the failings of his enemies.

  “Muthafuckas don’t know what they doin’. See, a nigga like me, I gets that fish scale straight off the boat! You feel me now?” He reached behind a picture frame on the mantle of his granite-finished fireplace and held up a brick of cocaine.

  Jasmine smiled.

  “Ain’t nobody in New York fuckin’ with the quality of this shit.”

  “Jus, you are crazy! You keep them bricks in your crib like that?”

  Black Jus nodded once as he put the kilo back behind the picture frame. “It’s different up here. You want anything to drink?” He walked into his kitchen and handed her a Corona before she could even respond and took out a Heineken for himself.

  Black Jus opened both bottles, and he then got a lime and cut a piece of it and handed it to Jasmine for her Corona.

  “What you mean, it’s different up here?”

  “New York City, you got the biggest gang in the world that you going up against, the NYPD. Them NYPD cats is forty thousand cops strong. That shit is like a small muthafuckin’ army. But out here, New Rochelle, they got their own little police department. And that shit is like fuckin’ with Boss Hog and that Dukes of Hazzard shit. You understand what I’m saying?” He laughed.

  “Nah, you lost me.”

  Black Jus took a swig of his Heineken and then explained to Jasmine that, with a smaller police force like New Rochelle’s, it was real easy to get to the top people in the department and have them on the take.

  “Ohhh, okay, I gotchu. So they on the payroll?”

  “Exactly.” Black Jus smiled before he guzzled down the rest of the Heineken and cracked open another one.

  “I got a two-year-old daughter and a four-year-old son, but word is bond, I done already put about five kids through college already. And all they daddies are cops.”

  Jasmine smiled and sipped on her Corona. Having that admission on tape alone was enough to start an investigation into a corrupt police force.

  “You heard of diplomatic immunity? What I got up here in Westchester County, I call that shit ‘thugmatic’ immunity. You feel me?” Black Jus laughed.

  He walked back into the living room and examined his hair in the mirror. “Yo, I hate the way this muthafucka lined my shit up. Every time my barber ain’t around and I fuck with one of them young barbers, they fuck my shit up!”

  Jasmine had no idea why he was complaining because his hair looked perfect, like he could immediately go do a photo shoot for a Sean John ad campaign or something.

  “Aight, so let’s talk business. Your man is really moving weight down there in North Carolina or what? What would he need? He ain’t just sticking his toe in the water on some bullshit, is he?”

  “I mean, I don’t want to talk for him, but I would say definitely like nine ki’s or better.”

  “Nine ki’s?”

  Jasmine figured that using some random uneven number like nine was the best way to avoid suspicion. Nico had once told her that undercover cops and feds always made the mistake of trying to buy shit in perfectly even numbers, and to him that was a red flag that would make him proceed with caution.

  “Yeah, but if you don’t got nine, then I’m sure he would—”

  “Nah, nah, nah, I got it. That ain’t no problem.”

  “What part of North Carolina you said he was from again?”

  Jasmine began to panic because she couldn’t remember if she had said a particular area, and she didn’t want to make a mistake and get caught in a lie. She blew out air from her lungs.

  “Okay, look. Please, whatever you do, when you meet the nigga, don’t relay none of this shit, because he would kick my muthafuckin’ ass.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I don’t run my mouth like that. What’s up?”

  “See, you know them colleges like Duke and the University of North Carolina?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That whole college scene, and all them white boys with the rich parents, he got that whole shit on lock.”

  Black Jus smiled and nodded because that explained why her boyfriend was moving so much product in North Carolina.

  “So listen. He gave me twenty-five hundred to purchase an ounce from you, you know, just so he could sample it and shit.”

  “That ain’t nothing.”

  “No, but it is. The thing is, I already spent most of the money, and right now all I got is a grand on me.”

  “So I’ll get you half an ounce.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  “I gotchu.” Black Jus moved closer to Jasmine. “I wanted to get wit’chu ever since I used to see you out with that nigga Shabazz.”

  Jasmine moved back. “Oh, really?” She smiled.

  Black Jus nodded. He looked possessed—like he just wanted to bend Jasmine over right there in his living room and fuck her. He came closer, but she held out her hand and stretched out her arm and held Black Jus at bay.

  She told him, “Don’t even do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Push up on me like that. With the harem of bitches that I’m sure you got, I ain’t trying to be in your stable.”

  “What women?” Black Jus leaned in and tried to kiss Jasmine.

  “Jus, as good as you look, stop it.”

  “Don’t nobody got to know nothing. It’s just me and you right now. Your man ain’t here, and my girl ain’t here.”

  “I know that.” Jasmine managed to escape from his clutches and went into her bag. “Let’s just keep it about business, though. Here, let me give you this money.” She tried to discreetly stop the recording device, but since she couldn’t do it without making it obvious, she gave up on the idea. She pulled out the cash and counted off a thousand dollars.

  Black Jus took hold of the money and counted it. He then told Jasmine that he didn’t feel like getting out a scale and chopping up a brick just to weigh out a half ounce of coke. It was like he felt like he needed to impress her. He told her that when they left his crib, he would drive her to get the half-ounce of cocaine and then take her to some different spots in Yonkers.

  Jasmine told him that she was okay with that plan. She knew that Black Jus was now going to go real hard at her and try to fuck her, but she had made up her mind to be strong and not give in to him and to only promise him that she would let him fuck her later, just not then and there.

  Jasmine knew how to play the game. The best bait was the prospect of him fucking her. In fact, the prospect of pussy was even more powerful than the pussy itself. And it was the prospect of getting at Jasmine’s pussy that had allowed Black Jus to let his guard down, and with his loose lips and his huge ego, he walked right down the road she wanted him to walk down.

  Twenty-Four

  Nico had not left Jamaica Hospital since the night of the shooting at the funeral home when both BJ and Lo were rushed to the trauma unit. That would be the equivalent of betraying his two most trusted lieutenants. He was at the hospital when BJ came out of surgery. The doctors told him that the prognosis was good, and it looked like BJ would pull through.

  But then a different set of surgeons informed him that they had tried everything they could but weren’t able to save Lo. Nico was devastated. He felt all kinds of guilt because he was certain that Lo would be alive and that BJ wouldn’t be clinging to life if he’d followed his gut and skipped Bebo’s wake.

  It was nearly four in the morning when he decided to call Jasmine from the hospital. His cell phone battery had died, but one of the nurses was kind enough to
let him use the phone at the nurses’ station. When Jasmine didn’t pick up, he decided against leaving a message and ended the call. He desperately needed somebody to talk to, share his pain with, and he knew that regardless of any past drama, she would be there for him. It was late, so he figured Jasmine was sleeping. He decided he would just drive home to Long Island when he left the hospital and give her the news about Lo face to face.

  “You okay?” the nurse asked Nico after he hung up the phone.

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “Listen, I’m not supposed to do this, but the staffing is real light at this time of night, and the anesthesia should be wearing off right about now, so if you want, I can take you in to see your friend but only very briefly,” the head nurse explained to Nico.

  “That’s what’s up. I would appreciate that.”

  The head nurse stood up from her leather chair and looked around and saw that, aside from a janitor, the hallways were empty, and she told Nico to follow her. The two of them made it to BJ’s room in the intensive care unit, and she opened the door and let Nico inside.

  “No more than five minutes, okay?”

  “Okay,” Nico responded.

  Nico closed the door behind him and walked up to the side of BJ’s bed. BJ was almost unrecognizable because of all the bandages and surgical tape, and the wires, IVs, and monitors attached to him, and the breathing tube attached to his mouth. He noticed the Velcro handcuffs on BJ’s arms, hooking his wrists to the bed railing to prevent him from trying to remove any of the medical equipment.

  “BJ, it’s Nico. Can you hear me?”

  BJ was silent, his eyes closed.

  Nico was as tough as they come, but the sight of his homie in that condition almost made him shed tears. He undid the Velcro handcuff on BJ’s right wrist and clutched his hand.

  “BJ, it’s me, Nico.” He could feel BJ starting to squeeze his hand. That was the best feeling. It felt like a surge of electricity shot through his body when BJ squeezed his hand. “You gonna be all right, my nigga. I promise you that.”

  BJ squeezed Nico’s hand. Nico could see that BJ was starting to sweat. He looked around and he saw a box of napkins, took a few, and then blotted the sweat from BJ’s brow.

  After he did that, Nico could see BJ trying to motion something to him. BJ couldn’t talk if he wanted to, because of the breathing tube attached to his mouth.

  Nico tried to figure out what was going on, and was wondering if he should call the nurse. But then he realized BJ was motioning for a pen or a pencil so he could write something. Nico told BJ to relax, that he would be right back with a pen and paper. He quickly left the room and approached the nurse, who gave him a pen and a small notepad, and reminded him that he only had a few more minutes in the room. Nico assured her that he wouldn’t be long and quickly made it back to BJ’s room, where he put the pen in BJ’s hand and held the pad for him.

  BJ mustered up all the strength he could and struggled to write the letters L and O.

  Nico held on to BJ’s hand and squeezed. He didn’t want to tell him anything about Lo at that point because he knew BJ needed to focus all of his strength and energy on trying to recover from his own wounds.

  “Everything is good. Don’t worry about nothing. Just relax, so we can get you healed up and outta here.”

  BJ motioned for the pad, and Nico again positioned it so he could write.

  BJ then scribbled the words NO KIDS. BJ didn’t want his kids to come to the hospital and see him like that. Nico reassured him that he would get word back to his girl and make sure that she didn’t bring the kids with her to the hospital.

  The nurse walked into the room and told Nico that he had to go. Nico told BJ that they were making him leave and that he would be back to check on him the next day.

  Nico felt drained when he left the hospital and made it down to the parking lot, where his driver was waiting for him. He instructed the driver to take him to his crib out on Long Island. The roads were deserted because it was nearly the break of dawn and no one was out, which allowed Nico to make it to his house rather quickly.

  When he realized Jasmine wasn’t home, he decided to have his driver drop him by Mia’s house. Without calling before showing up, Nico arrived and let himself in with his own key.

  “Oh my God!” Mia screamed out when she awoke to feel Nico touching her.

  Mia wasn’t expecting Nico, or anyone else for that matter, and since she had withdrawn that cash from the safety deposit box earlier that day, she was terrified that someone had broken into her house to rob her.

  “Baby, it’s me,” Nico said.

  “Ugggghhh! My God! You scared the shit outta me! Why didn’t you call before you came?” Mia sat up in the bed and turned on the lamp on her nightstand. She saw that Nico looked kind of ragged, and she then asked if everything was ok.

  “Lo got killed.”

  “What? Baby, oh no.”

  “BJ is in ICU. Shit is so fuckin’ crazy right now, I don’t know.” Nico sat down on the bed and ran his hand down his face.

  Mia, in her short lace nightie, positioned herself behind Nico on the bed and began to massage his shoulders. “What happened?”

  “We was leaving Bebo’s funeral, over on Linden, and muthafuckas pulled up in a Hummer or some shit and just sprayed everybody. The shit was a zoo. Niggas was running, and bitches was screaming and shit. BJ and Lo got hit. Ambulances and five-o came, rushed them to the trauma unit and . . . ”

  Nico stopped talking in the middle of what he was saying, and Mia knew not to push for more information. She just wrapped her arms around him and hugged him real tight and told him that she was so glad he was okay.

  “It ain’t about me, though.”

  “I know, baby, but if something had happened to you, I couldn’t live.”

  Mia then thought about the money hidden inside her freezer. She knew she couldn’t let Nico know about it. “Do you know who was shooting?”

  Nico slowly shook his head, and then he stood up from the bed. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

  Mia was quiet, and so was Nico.

  Mia knew Nico really well and could always read his vibes. “What you thinking about, baby? You can talk to me.”

  Nico blew out air from his lungs and fell backwards on the bed, his face to the ceiling.

  “I need you to go down to Miami to take care of some business for me. I’ll be down there with you as soon as I can. I gotta handle this shit in New York first, though,” Nico explained.

  Mia had heard Nico talking about Miami before and knew he was starting to get a lot of money down there with the Haitians, but she didn’t know exactly what he needed her to do.

  “I’m here for you, baby.” Mia got on top of him and kissed him softly on his lips and neck. She then positioned herself next to Nico and lay with her left arm draped over him. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  Nico just nodded. He was worried about what his future held. For the first time in a while, he felt like his chances of being killed were much greater than his chances of being locked up, and he seriously wondered to himself if it was all worth it.

  Twenty-Five

  Black Justice took Jasmine along with him everywhere he went around town. It allowed her to get a ton of information to take back to Agent Gosling. Black Justice was a dream for Jasmine in terms of the way he constantly bragged and ran his mouth. He had even shown her one of his two stash houses located around the corner from New Rochelle High School.

  It was getting tougher and tougher for Jasmine to keep rejecting Black Justice’s sexual advances, and she definitely used that to her advantage when it came time for her to meet up with Gosling.

  Agent Gosling had actually been forced to go out of town for five days due to a death in his family. So he had to move back
his scheduled meeting with Jasmine until the day after he returned from the funeral.

  Gosling couldn’t wait to meet with Jasmine, and had actually arrived twenty minutes early for their three o’clock meeting at Chipotle in downtown Brooklyn. Unfortunately for him, Jasmine didn’t share his enthusiasm, and she showed up late.

  “It’s three forty,” Gosling said to Jasmine.

  “Parking is crazy around here. Why did you pick this congested-ass area? And how was your funeral? Who died anyway?”

  Gosling shook his head. He knew there was no use in trying to control or discipline Jasmine because she was who she was.

  “It was sad. I lost my sixteen-year-old nephew. He died in a car accident.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Jasmine said with genuine emotion.

  Gosling thanked her, and then the two of them went to the counter and ordered food. They took their food to the seating area upstairs, so they could talk with a little more privacy.

  “So I told you to give me some time, and I think you’ll be happy.”

  Gosling knew that Jasmine had been spending a lot of time with Black Justice, because he had two agents follow her everywhere she went when he went out of town for the funeral.

  “Talk to me.”

  Jasmine pulled out her BlackBerry and she had her recorder ready to play at the point that she knew would intrigue Gosling. “Listen to this,” she said.

  “New York City, you got the biggest gang in the world that you going up against, the NYPD. Them NYPD cats is forty thousand cops strong. That shit is like a small muthafuckin’ army. But out here, New Rochelle, they got their own little police department. And that shit is like fuckin’ with Boss Hog and that Dukes of Hazzard shit. You understand what I’m saying?”

  “Nah, you lost me.”

  “Ohhh, okay, I gotchu. So they on the payroll?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I got a two-year-old daughter and a four-year-old son, but word is bond, I done already put about five kids through college already. And all they daddies are cops.”

  Jasmine stopped the playback and took a sip of her margarita.