Who Shot Ya Box Set

by Renta

  Kris was just as hoochie as I was in a white see-through military jumpsuit, with nothing under it but stickers in the shape of stars over her nipples and a blood red thong. The Brian Atwood heels she had on was fierce as she strutted beside me.

  “Girl, Art, is gonna put his foot in your ass if he sees you out here showing off his goods,” I said as we walked down the block just sight-seeing.

  “Bihh, please, that nigga know, I ain’t trying to hear none of that,” she sassed. “Besides, he knows this pussy all his. He better not try to get active out here. Say, ain’t that Mar and Tessa nem over there?” She pointed in the direction of Bonnie’s house.

  I rolled my eyes and got heated all over again. I hadn’t fucked with them since they pulled that act at the after-hours. Armani even had Tessa fooled. When we stepped outside, out of sight of Twisted and his crew.

  The conniving bitch wiped her face. “Shit, fucking water ruined my make up!”

  Bewildered, me and Tessa looked at her like she had two heads. She went on to explain that the nigga Pain wanted to see Tessa, and in order to get her from up under Twisted’s phycho ass, she had to do something. The look Tessa gave me screamed. ‘See I told you!’ I thought she was about to spaz on the sneaky bitch for playing foul, but when Pain pulled up beside us in a black-on-black Lexus RC 350 sitting on black six’s. The bitch fixed her face and looked at the nigga like she wanted to suck his dick, smiling all hard and shit.

  I was fucked up that they prevented me from introducing myself to that black ass nigga, Assata.

  “Assata, what’s up Bitch?” Kris screamed beside me causing my heart to beat outside of my chest. How does she know him? My confusion was shadowed by my lust, as I spotted him standing with Tomorrow and Pain next to a beautiful burgundy Navigator on some of the biggest rims I’d ever seen. The thing that stole my attention away from the beauty around him was the monstrous gun in his hand.

  ***

  ~Assata~

  My bro Pain had us in tears as he told us how he passed out on some pussy that he’d waited on for as long as I could remember.

  “NyQuil! I’m telling you, bruh, that girl got that tucked in pussy.”

  Me and Tomorrow glanced at each, then turned our quizzical eyes back to him, but it was Tomorrow that asked the thousand-dollar question.

  “Fuck is tucked in pussy, fam?”

  Pain looked at us as if we had been living on Mars. “Bruh, it’s self-explanatory, ‘tucked in’—after you come outta that wet-wet, somebody gonna have to tuck you in, on blood!”

  I opened the door to the truck and laid the tool on the ostrich interior.

  “Assata, what’s up biiitch?” A loud female’s voice made me smile.

  I turned to see my homegirl who’s like a sister to me coming straight for me. This bitch was thick in all the right places. She had long, jet-black hair, with a ridas ambition. She’s a boss niggaz prayer. We had never crossed that invisible line where there was no turning back and we never would. She was my peoples and I respected her too much to shoot at what was between her legs, but it was a plus cause all her homegirls were game for a live nigga.

  “What the b-i, bihh,” I said, as I pulled her into my embrace.

  “Nigga, why you ain’t call to check on me? You know, I’ve been worried about you ever since I heard what happened. I came up there, but I doubt you knew that. They told me only family was allowed. Yo’ gal, Jazzy, said she would tell you, but I bet her stuck up ass ain’t tell you shit!”

  My face instantly balled up. “That ain’t my gal, fam—and naw, I didn’t know you came. But, I love you for the love, my nigga.” I tapped my chest with my fist as an indication of feeling that shit in my heart.

  “Oh, excuse moi,” she said sarcastically. “I heard she was your gal, at least that’s what the hood says.”

  “Damn, Kristasia, you don’t see nobody else, but Satta or something?” Pain barged his jughead ass in my mix. She turned her gaze to him and rolled her eyes. “Sup, Pain—you okay?”

  “Shid, I would be if you let me see what’s up with that tuck in,” he retorted.

  Me and Tomorrow burst out laughing. The confused expression painted on her face only made it more comical. She stared daggers at bro, even though, she didn’t have the slightest idea what he was talkin’ ‘bout—she knew him! She gave him the finger, then acknowledged Tomorrow before turning her attention back to me.

  “So, what’s up for the night? I know your black ass got something live to get into.”

  Showing her what expensive teeth looked like, I shoot my regular curveball. “Shid, hopefully, one of yo’ potnas! Quit playing, what’s up with lil’ baby you used to kick it with?”

  She thought for a second. “Who—oh—Tonya? Boy please—that bitch was not good enough for you, but—” I saw an amused look ease into her features. “I think, I got somebody you will like to meet. She’s my sister, but she’s different she’s just your type,” she said, as she grabbed my hand and led me away.

  “My type, what’s my type, Kris, a one-night stand?” Without saying another word, she dragged me through a crowd of folks. I felt naked for some reason. Then it hit me—I forgot to grab that burna. Fuck, pussy always made a nigga forget what he was ‘pose to be doing. Where he was supposed to be and, in my case, that I got enemies.

  Chapter Ten

  Pieces of The Puzzle

  “Mama, you have a package at the door. They want you to sign for it, they won’t let me,” Mena yelled to her mom.

  Ma Duke came quickly to the door as if she had been awaiting the package. She stood curious to know what it could be as the took the package to be signed. She gazed at the mail man in question and handed him back the signed document. With no name on the package, you saw her mind wondering as her face wrinkled. Ma Duke grabbed the package then closed the door.

  Mena rushed back to her room as frustration surged through her veins. Her mind carried her back to the argument that her and Lil’ Joe had before he dropped her off at home. She’d been having a bad feeling all day. It wasn’t anything specific, it was just one of those women things that couldn’t be explained. She felt it in her limbs and to top it off, her brother Qua had been missing for days. To some, that may not be anything to set off alarms, but for her brother that was unusual.

  His phone kept going to voicemail and his baby’s mom as well. Today she planned on driving out to Lewisville to check on them, yet she felt something bad was gonna happen. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she just knew. Her nerves got the best of her, she took her iPhone off the dresser and plopped down on her bed, knocking some of the many stuffed animals she’d collected over the years onto the floor. She held the number one down as the word ‘Baby’ popped onto the screen.

  Turning onto her back and staring up at the ceiling, the ringback tone played the song ‘Juice’ by ‘Yo Gotti’—on the second ring he picked up with the music blasting.

  “Sup, fam—don’t be in my ear with all that crybaby shit. I told you I’ll be there to get you after I get back from the Cliff.” He got straight to it before she could even tell him the reason she was calling. Now that she was sure he was peace, a big smile formed on her lips as her free hand twirled a lock of her hair around her finger.

  “Boy, miss me with that big boy spiel. You know, you’re missing this wet-wet—don’t be Cubic Zirconia.”

  “Fuck that mean, Mena?”

  “Fake, nigga—Cubic Zirconia is a fake gem—don’t be fake,” she said with humor in her voice.

  “Yea, whatever, bitch you know I’m missing that. But let me focus so them boys don’t sneak up on me. I’ll get at you when shit nice, boo.”

  “Alright, baby, make sure you be safe, Lil Joe, I don’t feel right. I told you not to go, but whatever. Just make it back to me, okay?”

  “Lady stop all that stressin’—I’m at you in traffic,” he said and disconnected the call.

  “Arrgh, I hate when he does that shit! Always hanging up the ph
one without saying, ‘I love you’,” she fumed.

  As she scrolled through her call log, she tried her brother again, as soon as the voicemail clicked on, shrilled screams of her mother, forced her off the bed into a full sprint to the living room. What she found discombobulated her at first. Her Ma Duke laid balled up in the fetal position as she retreated in one herself. The only words that Mena could decipher were the ones that closed her heart and opened up a furnace of hate.

  “My poor—poor baby—not my baby—nooo, Lord—not my Qua!”

  She cried a heartbroken melody that only those who loved her could dance to.

  Mena was confused as she rushed over and dropped to the floor beside her mama, she shook her and cried. “Mama—ma—what’s wrong—talk to me!”

  Her only response was the same repeated words. “Nooo, Lord Jesus—not my babbby—not, Qua, God—Nooo!”

  Mena’s eyes watered without consent. Something terrible had happened to her brother, but what? She released her moms, attempting to stand, but her world turned upside down and it appeared as if she was walking on the ceiling—or maybe the house had shrunk—nothing made sense, except one thing. Her Ma Dukes hands were bloodied with a stomach-turning stench emitting from them. There in her hands, clutched closely to her bosom was half of Qua’s face.

  ***

  ~Assata~

  She pulled me pass the porch where the O.G. Hub was workin’ the grill, then we stopped in front of a group of thots on my Aunt Pearl’s porch.

  “Heeyyy, Assata,” They all said in unison.

  Well, all except one, a chocolate skinned female, with a body that would make a preacher fornicate, lil’ baby acted as if the God wasn’t standing before her.

  “Mani, I want you to meet somebody—this is my boy, Assata. Satta, this is my little sister, Armani,” Kris introduced.

  Ms. Lady scanned her eyes over me in a quick assessment. Shid—I ain’t knockin’ it, my shit scanned over her curves. I knew she saw through the lenses of my shades and could recognize the hunger of the beast residing behind the playrisms of my nature. I reached over and took her hand into mine, without an invite or consent. She wanted to fight it but the soft, yet firm grip I had demanded her undivided attention. I wouldn’t accept nothing less.

  Ever the bold nigga, I stepped into mama’s space. “Dig, queen, you can front all you want, but God sees it all. Your nonchalance is cute, but don’t let it cause us to miss out on what maybe something that can last forever. Within the first five minutes of a nigga, a woman knows if she will fuck him. So, that means if you shave two and a half minutes off that five, that leaves two and a half minutes to know if she is attracted. So, what’s up ma?”

  Her slightly slanted eyes bored into mine as an amused expression eased onto her face. “How long you been practicing that line?”

  I laughed. “Shid, maybe my whole life or maybe they were just manifested from me being willing to say or do anything to spark your interest. Either or, do you fault me for being willing to do it all to win you ova. At least the God should get an ‘A’ for effort!”

  The fight was lost. The smile on her chocolate face told me that much, but what was more evident was the clouds that rolled in Marcella’s eyes—fuck.

  ***

  ~Detective Winslet~

  Maneuvering through the thick crowd, she spotted her target. Three of them actually. Bennie Weatly a.k.a Goose, Dunte Jackson a.k.a Pain, and Tomorrow Lawson. All three stood next to a white Benz truck. Goose was in the driver’s seat with the door open. His long dreads were held back from his face by a navy-blue bandanna. His eyes were observant and it was a guarantee that he had something inside that truck ten times more dangerous than his stare. I placed myself in plain view of the crew as I tried not to look too out of place, yet conspicuous. Taking out my phone, I texted the other piece to my puzzle, but as I waited the impatience in my stance spoke volumes. Yet, that was just to the naked eye.

  Truthfully, I was disgusted with my attire. I had on a one-piece short suit. The hem of it was cut so high, I expected my ass cheeks to spill out at any minute. I stood five- foot ten, six-one in the Valentino heels. I looked like a tall prostitute. My usual ponytail was gone, and my hot-combed hair hung loosely around my face, it was bleached white with streaks of black giving it life. I had the front of the one-piece zipped down to the center of my chest, to allow the firmness of my breasts to wink at whoever cared to look. To complete my ensemble, I made sure to spray an extra spray of Prada La Femme onto my breasts. The gold glitter lotion that moisturized my body had me looking like a paper sack brown goddess.

  “Sup, babe, what’s yo’ name?” A chubby, afro wearing ape crowded my space. I attempted to ignore him and pasted a look of irritation on my face. “Come on, sweet cheeks, don’t be like that. I’m just tryin’ to get those digits,” his corny behind tried to spit game.

  I almost laughed in his face, but instead, I elaborately twisted my neck in a snaking motion trying my best impression of one of those ghetto chics. To the naked eye I was giving him a piece of my mind, but to him, I said, “Tony, you have to at least try to be smooth. You got to have better lines than that! Digits—they stopped saying that back in the early nineties.” Tony was one of the best undercovers in the unit. To take down these boys I needed all the help I could get.

  “Winslet, I’m already sticking my neck out for you, don’t add insult to the humiliation of an upstanding cop!” He smirked in a way that seemed as if he found my theatrics amusing. I frowned and rolled my eyes in faux irritation.

  “I owe you one, but put your game face on, my knight in shining armor is headed our way,” I said, smiling internally that our plan worked.

  “Sup, Ms. Lady, this sucka bothering you?” Goose asked, with his hand close to the bulge of his waist.

  Lord, please don’t let blood spill.

  ***

  ~Over on Hic Street~

  Hours Later

  The trap was jumpin’ as ‘Jeezy’ played from the system in the living room, ‘If Them Birds Could Talk’, had the atmosphere set for the hustle. As he stood over the counter and held the top of the blender in place, he watched the lactose and heroine mix blend. Twisted nodded his head as ‘Jeezy’ spoke the Gospel. Lil’ Joe sat at the table with a blunt in his mouth, as he watched the money machine flip through a stack of bills, separating eighty-grand that was already stacked on the table before him, neatly piled into banded stacks. The vibration of his phone jarred him from his task, yet without taking losing focus, he pulled it off of him and took a quick glance, then tossed it on top of the eighty bands. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and shook his head at Mena’s constant calling. She knew he hated to be disturbed while tending to his B-I, but the bitch had called ten times in the last thirty minutes.

  “Fam, this bitch, Mena, getting on my nerves. She on this superstitious vibe—dumb bitch trying to ruin my vibe, Cuz. On Hoova I’ma smack her when I get done.” He turned off the blender, then Twisted walked over and took the blunt out of his mouth.

  “Cuz, shawty means well. You can’t be fucked up about her giving a fuck about you. You coulda got one of these blood suckas that don’t give a fuck ‘bout you, nah mean?”

  “Yea, fam, but she knows how I am about bidness, feel me?

  “Yea, I feel you, bruh but what if she hittin’ you ‘bout something important? Ain’t nobody gonna be blowin’ up yo’ horn like that just cause they care,” Lil’ Joe laughed.

  “Yea, you ain’t putting that dick in yours right, that’s why they ain’t on your jack like that!”

  “Nigga, you got the Twist wrong if you don’t think I handle mines. I got that stalka meat!” Lil’ Joe looked at him curiously. “You know—that meat that will have ‘em on stakeouts in front of ya spot,” Twisted clarified, as he did a lil’ jig to demonstrate his meaning. They shared a laugh.

  “Naw, for real though—what’s good with bro-in-law, Qua? The nigga been MIA on that thirty he owes us.”

  “Shid—I—”
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  The sound of the front window breaking ceased all conversation as both savages went for their heatas.

  “Fuck, cuz,” Twisted said, as he gripped the Mac 10 with the fifty-round drum on it.

  The bitch was pretty with a twelve in cooling system on it. He rushed into the living room, war-ready wit’ Lil’ Joe at his back with an AR. Twisted surveyed the shattered window. Lil’ Joe came around him and when his eyes landed on what captured Twisted intrigue. His lunch came hurling up from his stomach. Twisted turned his eyes to his potna in crime.

  “Nigga, all the work we put in and you still get queasy at the first sight of a little blood?” Twisted shook his head, then turned back to the ruined floor. Half of Qua’s face and what seemed to be his heart perfumed the room with a foul odor.

  “I wonder where the other side of homie’s face is, Cuz. I’m fucked up ‘bout that thirty bands. I’d like to pick his brain to find out where it’s at,” he said, as he laughed at Lil Joe still spitting up the contents of his stomach.

  ***

  ~Goose~

  “Thank you—thank you—um, your name is again?” She smiled a bashful smile.

  “It’s no need to thank me, lady, the name is Goose by the way. I noticed the distress in your body language. I had to see ‘bout you. I usually don’t get into other people’s mix like that, but yo’ sexy ass needs to be protected by superman every day!” I got on my bullshit and she blushed.

  She stuck out her hand, “Pleasure to meet you, Goose. My name is Kamika.”