Baddest Apple

by Nisa Santiago

  “A’ight, we hear you. So now what?” Lord played along.

  “We wait.”

  “For what?”

  “A challenge!”

  She was a weird one. Lord knew it and her team knew it, but they never questioned her about her unusualness. Lord also knew that Apple had piqued Queenie’s interest, and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing for their business. From Lord’s understanding, Apple would be hard to kill if the two factions ever went to war.

  Spanish Harlem called Apple La Cucaracha because she was hard to extinguish, and Harlem titled her The Baddest Chick ever. Her twin was nicknamed Cocá Kola because she moved so many kilos throughout the streets and she was connected to the cartel. Lord knew that if they went after Apple and were fortunate enough to take her out, then most likely her twin, Kola, would come seeking revenge. And it was still rumored that Kola had the full backing of the Colombian cartel.

  Lord exhaled. They were into August and summer was almost ending. But with Queenie questioning him about Apple, his gut instincts told him that his boss was about to bring the heat. The trouble they didn’t need.

  7

  The quiet of the morning was interrupted when Apple clicked on NY1 news coverage. She had woken up feeling a little depressed. She missed Nicholas. Last night she went to sleep in one of his t-shirts that still had his scent on it. After he was murdered, she gathered the items she wanted to keep and placed some of his shirts in Ziploc storage bags for clothing, which preserved his scent. If she could turn back time she would, because in the end, what did she accomplish? She had no proof other than Kola’s claim that Citi was most likely dead. Translation? Nicholas had died in vain. And that reality had her adding Baileys into her morning coffee.

  As she sat there puffing on her cigarette and deep in thought, the news reported another murder allegedly committed by The Huntsman. He had been active throughout New York City for nearly three decades. Apple had been hearing about this vigilante since she was a child, and he still hadn’t been caught.

  “Damn, this nigga had a long run,” Apple said to herself.

  This time it was a local clergyman murdered for allegedly using his church in the Bronx to traffic immigrants. It was a shock to the community as two Asian women with a translator told news reporters at a press conference a horrific tale about the Yakuza, kidnapping, and how close they came to being sold into a life of indentured servitude. The news coverage stirred up negative feelings for her because she could relate. Apple clicked off her T.V. because she needed to get her mind right. This afternoon, Kola was coming to meet with her and bringing the children so they could discuss this transition. Apple wanted to make the argument she needed more time—which she did. She would need to search for a three-bedroom apartment, furnish their rooms, enroll them in daycare, and ultimately change her lifestyle. Kola kept hinting that she felt Apple should move to a suburb, but Apple felt differently. She loved walkable neighborhoods. Apple felt there independence is instilled early on when you have to walk to school, learn how to travel on various trains and buses, and shop the local supermarket with a shopping list and shopping cart unassisted by parents. A hot real estate market had emerged in Brooklyn, where she could be close to Cartier, but Apple knew she would be a fish out of the water in that borough.

  Apple got dressed in a pair of leggings, stilettos, and Cheapiana t-shirt. She wore hood chic for the long day she had in front of her. Her mood had improved thanks to the Irish cream in her coffee, and as expected, her sister texted her promptly at one o clock. Come Down Now.

  “You sure this is the address?” Queenie asked Killer Mike as he steered her Navigator into a parking space that had just opened up.

  “It is,” he said as he placed the SUV in park. “Nerd said it’s her last known address. She’s had a lot of them, so we’ll see if she still lives here.”

  Queenie’s eyes scanned the tree-lined SoHo block and thought it felt inauthentic to the woman she had heard about a good portion of her life. It was too quiet and family-oriented for her taste. It was a side block that got little foot traffic and had a few Noise Ordinance Curfew signs on poles. Queenie unclasped her seatbelt and opened up the Spanish takeout she had just bought.

  Mike asked, “So how long we gonna sit here?” What he really wanted to know was why they were there. He knew that Queenie asked him to drive her because Lord wouldn’t be down and would have talked her out of this, whatever this was. He didn’t like it, but she was his boss. Nor would she just take her driver, Pie, when stalking a lethal nemesis such as Apple. She needed a street goon like Killer Mike who would know what to look out for should things jump off.

  “Mi don’t know. Just chill.”

  In silence, Queenie tore into her arroz con pollo dish, stuffing her mouth with large spoonfuls of rice. Mike watched as she wolfed down her meal like she was an inmate in prison with a couple minutes for chow time. His stomach churned as he listened to her smack her tongue against the roof of her mouth while she ate and repeatedly lick her fingers. Her eating etiquette was often talked about behind her back because it was just nasty.

  “I’m not sweating this bitch if that’s what you’re thinking,” she finally spoke to break the silence. Her cheeks were puffed out, stuffed with an unreasonable amount of food. She looked like a hamster storing its cheek pouches for the week. “Mi don’t trust her. She’s a sneaky one and it ain’t a coincidence that I’ve seen her twice in twenty-four hours.”

  “You think she tryin’ to make a move against you?”

  “Maybe,” she surmised and addressed her paranoia. “What I know for sure is that now that I’m blowing up, I peep this puta stalking me at Lincoln projects and then the next day at Harlem Week. Once, it’s a coincidence, but twice it’s a problem. You know how the stick-up kids do.”

  “Stick-up, kid?” Mike smirked. “That’s not on her résumé.”

  “Why it ain’t?” Queenie pulled the Pepsi from a straw and let out an “aaaahhhh” before continuing. “What you think that shit was in South Beach? She don’t push weight. Apple and her goons be lying in the cut like all those other lowlife, thieving muthafuckas. Bitch ain’t gonna get me, though.”

  “Nah, I think she do fuck wit’ them scales.” Mike’s voice reflected his uncertainty. Throughout the years he had heard so many tales of the twins he couldn’t remember everything. He wasn’t Apple’s biographer to affirm what was and wasn’t true. But it was interesting that Queenie was, after swearing otherwise.

  “You gettin’ her and her sister mixed up. It’s Kola who moves them ki’s.” Queenie had polished off her soda but kept pulling from the straw to get every last drop until the air bubbles were making an awful sound. If she kept this up, Mike felt he was about to snap. “That bitch ain’t gonna catch me slippin’.”

  “Could you stop, please, Queenie?”

  “Stop what?”

  “The soda. It’s gone.”

  Apple came out of her building and quickly scanned her block for Kola sitting inside Kamel’s Range Rover with all the kids. But that’s not all she saw. Midway down her block, Apple spotted the black Lincoln Navigator trying to blend in. She stared at the vehicle like a hawk and saw the wild afro. Apple looked at Kola. Her sister instantly recognized the fear in her eyes and reached under her seat for her .45 and tucked it in her waist. Before Kola could get out of her truck and ask Apple what was up, through her rearview, she saw Apple marching down her block.

  “Junior, I want you, Sophia, and Peaches to stay in the car and do not get out for any reason. Do you understand?”

  He nodded.

  “Say you understand!”

  “I understand.”

  “You’re in charge, okay? I want you to look after my girls and keep them safe.” Kola handed him her cell phone. “If I don’t come back in ten minutes, you call Kamel and tell him to come and pick y’all up from Auntie Apple’s.”

/>   “Where are you going?”

  “Just down the block, but if I don’t come right back, that means that I’m doing something good and Kamel needs to pick y’all up.”

  “But I thought we were going to—”

  “Just do as I say,” she snapped. At this time, Apple wasn’t out of view. Kola bolted out of the car and yelled, “Lock the doors!”

  As soon as Queenie realized that she had been spotted by Apple, she felt she had no other choice than to get out of the car, especially when Apple came barreling down the block toward them. Mike suggested that they leave.

  “And let this bitch think I fear her?”

  Queenie knew there was a small possibility they could get spotted, but she felt the chances were so slim because they had parked some distance away, they weren’t driving in any of her two luxury vehicles, and also because why was this bitch home this time of day?

  Queenie exited her car with Killer Mike steps behind her and leaned against her hood for support. Apple’s deathly stare was shooting holes through her body. Outnumbered, Queenie thought her adversary would be squirrelly in her presence.

  Boldly, Apple asked, “What the fuck you doin’ here?”

  “This my block.”

  “Your block?” Apple wasn’t sure if she was speaking literally or figuratively.

  “Yeah, I own this block, this area, and the sky above it. Anything from the Lower East Side through Midtown is L.E.S. Crips territory. You too far south for my comfort, so I’ma insist that you take your Harlem ass back to Harlem.”

  Apple looked at Queenie’s triggerman and thought of her daughter a half a block away. She didn’t want to bring the heat and endanger the children. She did something she thought she would never do.

  “Look, I don’t know what this is, but I don’t got any beef wit’ you—”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Queenie demanded. “I’m puttin’ you on the clock. You got three days to get the fuck out of my barrio before you no longer have a life, cabrón.”

  “Don’t do it!” Kola said as she placed the barrel of her .45 to Killer Mike’s temple. He saw the threat through his peripheral too late, as Kola had stealthily snuck up behind them. “Two fingers please. You know what it is.”

  Slowly, Mike pulled his 9mm out of his waist and handed it to Kola, who placed it in her Gucci clutch. She was hardly dressed for a gun battle in a dress and heels, but she was ready. Kola stayed ready.

  The moment Apple knew her sister had Mike under control, her fist smashed into Queenie’s face repeatedly. Her head snapped back so quickly it felt like it was about to pop off. Queenie swung wildly into the air, never connecting with the intended target. Apple took one hand and grabbed a firm grip on Queenie’s hair while pulling her into a headlock. Apple’s fist slammed into Queenie’s face until her eyes swelled up. Queenie scratched and clawed at Apple’s arms and tried to bite into Apple’s side, but Apple had full control over her in the headlock. Apple wasn’t done as she dragged Queenie out of her heels, scraping up her knees, elbows, and back. The hot concrete ate off layers of Queenie’s skin. The drug queenpin yelled out in pain until Apple’s foot came smashing down on her face, silencing her.

  Mike wanted to do something, maybe swing on Kola to save his boss, but he knew it would be suicide. In broad daylight, he watched in horror as Queenie’s body became limp, she was unresponsive, and her face looked like ground beef.

  “Yo, that’s enough, yo!” he called out aggressively.

  But Apple didn’t stop wailing on Queenie until she was ready. Eventually, there was no fight left in her opponent.

  “App,” Kola called out for short and then nodded toward Killer Mike.

  Apple glared for a few seconds and then shook her head. Kola was ready to body Mike and Queenie, but Apple didn’t want the heat on her block, especially with her daughter not too far off.

  “This shit ain’t over,” Apple warned.

  She grabbed Mike’s gun from her sister’s clutch, and they both backpedaled to Kola’s idling SUV.

  A pissed-off Mike scooped Queenie into the backseat and sped off to the nearest emergency room before getting on his jack and calling Lord.

  “Yo, we got a fuckin’ problem.”

  8

  Aaaah, Poppo, come and get us!” screamed Eduardo Jr. through the Bluetooth connection to a now worried Kamel.

  “Junior, what’s happened? Where’s Kola?”

  “She’s gone,” added Peaches. “She left us all by ourselves.”

  “We been here forever, Papi,” Sophia announced and cried. Sophia’s tantrum triggered the emotions of everyone, and within seconds Eduardo and Peaches joined in on the hysteria.

  “Sssssssh,” Kamel consoled. “Don’t worry; I got y’all. Junior, be a big man and tell me where y’all at.” Kamel was already running out of the house shirtless with only ball shorts and his .357.

  “I don’t know where.”

  “Look around. What do you see? Where y’all at?” Kamel asked again, his voice slightly elevating.

  “We in Nar-r-r-nia,” offered Sophia, through sobs.

  “Narnia?”

  “We are not, stupid!” Peaches corrected.

  “You stupid!” said Sophia.

  “No, you stupid!”

  “Peaches, let Unc know where Kola left y’all.”

  “We at my mommy’s house.”

  Both Apple’s and Kola’s adrenaline had escalated to high levels as they speed walked back to Kamel’s Range. When they entered the car, it was full-blown hysteria. Sophia and Peaches were arguing, Junior was crying, and Kamel’s voice was sheer panic.

  “Oh my god, what’s going on?” asked Kola.

  “Kola?” said Kamel relieved. “Where the fuck you been?”

  “We’re at Apple’s. I went upstairs real quick to use the bathroom,” she lied. Kola swiveled her head toward each child and glared.

  “What I tell you ’bout leaving them alone? Why the fuck you ain’t take them wit’ you?”

  “Watch your mouth, Kamel.”

  “Think!” he continued. “You can get locked the fuck up for leaving kids alone in the car!”

  Kola rolled her eyes. Her husband was overprotective of the children, which was alien to her. Denise didn’t smother her, Apple, or Nichols, so his constant bitching just added to the weight that was already pushing her down.

  “These big-ass kids?” Apple challenged. “You can’t be serious. Shit, when Kola and I were their ages we food shopped and playground hopped.”

  “Apple, I’m speaking with my wife!”

  “A’ight,” said Apple. She just had exerted all her energy, so she had zero left to argue with her brother-in-law.

  “You’re right. It won’t happen again.” Kola folded. “Love you. I’ll be home later.”

  “Love you too.”

  As soon as Kamel hung up, Apple’s head turned toward the backseat, where Eduardo and Sophia were still whimpering while Peaches had her lips poked out. Apple smiled. Peaches had her fiery temper.

  Apple asked, “What’s with all the drama?”

  Wiping his tears, Junior said, “Kola left us alone. She’s always leaving us alone.”

  “I do not!” Kola snapped. “That’s a lie!”

  Apple gave Kola the side-eye. Her response was a little too aggressive, but she deduced that the recent event had set her off.

  “Peaches, why were you cryin’? You know Auntie Kola was comin’ back, right?”

  She shrugged, looking sheepish.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  Peaches thought for a moment. “Because Sophia started crying first.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Sophia wailed.

  Both Apple and Kola took deep breaths. Sophia was a crybaby, always whining for attention.

  “What did I tell you about b
eing a follower?” Apple didn’t have time to coddle Sophia. Right now was a teachable moment for her child, and she needed to seize it.

  Peaches sternly said, “I’m not a follower!”

  “That’s my baby girl.”

  Apple turned back around and faced front, staring out the window. She was ready to focus her attention again on her nemesis, but Peaches wasn’t done arguing her case. “I’m not a follower ’cause when Sophia told Uncle Kamel we were in Narnia, I was going to say that we were in Wakanda, but I didn’t wanna follow her!”

  Apple and Kola burst out laughing, which caused the children to do the same. From the outside looking in, you would never know how much drama had just unfolded.

  “Yo, those twin bitches are about that life,” said Killer Mike. “I watched as Apple handled Queenie with ease. She put those paws on her like she could go pound-for-pound wit’ a nigga! And that bitch was in heels.”

  “Nigga you dick-riding a bitch?” said Lord, who stood with his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his sweatpants. His eyes were darting back and forth as they waited impatiently in the emergency room of New York Presbyterian Hospital. His fitted hat was pulled low, slightly camouflaging his menacing eyes. “And expound on how you let a female get the drop on you again? Because you know when Queenie wakes up, shit gonna get really real.”

  Mike knew that he had some explaining to do once he had to face Queenie. Real talk, he hoped she wasn’t ill-equipped to deal with the reality that she got her ass beat. It was a fair fight, Apple laid two hands on her, and it wasn’t unprovoked. Queenie went looking for trouble, they were on her turf, and they both got caught slippin’. If he were man enough to accept that a bitch took his burner, then Queenie needed to embrace her truth too.

  Queenie’s henchmen were huddled outside the triage area politicking about what was ultimately coming—a war.

  “This is fucked up,” Rehab deduced. “Queenie gonna go ape shit as soon as she’s discharged.”

  “Look, if Queenie wanna go to war, then that’s what we do.” Killer Mike was always down for whatever, and he also knew that he had a lot to prove. He was ready to get his hands dirty because if he hedged again, then Queenie could easily give the order to have him hit.