Baddest Apple

by Nisa Santiago

  She didn’t answer. Kamel’s voice echoed throughout her home and came bouncing back to him. Slowly he pulled the covers back, and Melinda was in bed, naked with a steak knife shoved in her vagina. Red lipstick had #2, written on her forehead. Kamel jumped back like he was electrocuted. #2? Who did this? Anger swept over his whole being as he knew it could only be either Kola or Apple or Kola and Apple. Maybe Kola wasn’t missing after all.

  Apple needed her sister. She needed to know that she was all right or that she wasn’t. The ambiguity of it all was knocking her off her A-game. Her mind was fractured in two places: Kola and Queenie. She woke up the next morning wanting to call Eduardo to see if she could glean if he knew what was up. Had he hurt Kola? Yesterday morning she had murdered Kamel’s mistress, yet she had no qualms about calling him.

  “Kamel, what’s up?”

  “What’s good, Apple?”

  “Nothing good, my sister is still missing. Listen, give me Eduardo’s cell.”

  Apple could hear that he was driving this early in the morning. “His cell? Why?”

  “I want to kick it about some business. You know I’m a working girl—something that’s foreign to you—work.”

  Kamel chuckled and then read off Eduardo’s digits. He then asked, “Where you at? You home?”

  “Why? You keeping tabs on me and not your wife?”

  “I got a feeling she around,” he said ominously.

  Apple knew that meant that he had found Melinda. “Kola’s not around unless that’s some code word for spirit. I can’t help but think you know more about her whereabouts than you saying.”

  “Then you and I are on the same page, ’cause you and ya sister be playing mind games. That bitch ain’t missing—she hiding!”

  “Who you calling a bitch?”

  “Say something slick and I’ma put my foot up yo ass when I see you,” he threatened.

  “On the strength of my sister, you’re not a dead man talking. Please don’t force me to let my dogs off their leashes,” she warned.

  Kamel’s voice was hoarse from all the built-up angst and trauma he felt over the past few weeks. Finding Melinda’s desecrated body just weeks after he walked in to see Junior and Sophia dead had pushed him over to the dark side, a place he hadn’t gone since he had killed his brother in cold blood. He was about to spazz out.

  Kamel knew that he could never hurt Kola; he was most likely going to go to jail for her. But, Apple? He was ready to blow a cannon-size hole in her muthafuckin’ head. He had warned her too often to stop instigating shit and undermining his authority.

  “Apple, those little street victories really got you thinking you invincible. I don’t fear you, bitch! I never will.”

  Apple was lying in bed after her argument with Kamel watching NY1 news, and The Huntsman had struck again. She didn’t want to hear his latest kill, so she hit the mute button. The day ahead for her was long, mixed with mommy duties and her drug business. She had to take Peaches for an annual checkup way across town by nine, and then hustle back to drop her off to Tokyo so that she, Hood, and IG could oversee two shipments that were coming in today. Apple had fifteen ki’s to pick up from the Mingo cartel and two ki’s of heroin from Kiqué Helguero. She had also promised to go out with Touch tonight, so she needed to get back early enough to get her hair and nails done.

  Apple was exhausted. She didn’t know how single moms made it. Peaches demanded a lot of time; always talking, always wanting to do some activity. She wasn’t complaining—well, maybe just a little bit. Apple still hadn’t told Peaches about Junior and Sophia. It was such a heavy subject, and with no gravesite so her daughter could say goodbye, it seemed pointless. She also wondered if it was time to involve the police and file a missing person’s report on Kola. The streets hadn’t turned up any leads, and Apple had doubled the reward.

  An hour later, Peaches was fed, showered, and dressed for the day. She sported a Gucci dress and jacket, Vans sneakers, and Ray-Ban gold-rimmed shades. She begged Apple to put purple ribbons in her hair even though she was wearing red and green.

  “We gonna work on color coordination soon, baby,” said Apple.

  “What’s color coordination?”

  Apple took her daughter’s hand and brought her to the mirror. “It’s not that.”

  They both burst out laughing. Almost everything Apple said or did Peaches found funny. She loved her mother deeply, and although she loved Auntie Kola, Uncle Kamel, Junior, and Sophia, Peaches didn’t want her mother to send her back. She wanted to live with her permanently.

  “You still tight about that needle?” Apple asked.

  Peaches had her lips poked out, and her tear stains were drying up. She nodded her anger. The only thing to make her feel better was ice cream. That’s what she told her mother.

  “Okay, you extortionist. I forgot something at home so let’s run there first and then we can swing by Cold Stone Creamery before I drop you to Tokyo’s.” Apple stopped her conversation short when Hood called.

  “We just left the doctor’s office, but I forgot something at home. I’ll meet y’all up top in a couple hours. Be ready,” said Apple.

  “Chill, Apple. That two hundred large just bought you the intel you needed. You know this shorty named Pilar in building five on my side of the projects?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Well, she’s a paralegal and has access to different databases. She found your sister in New Jersey. She said Kola is in the county jail locked up on a petty weed charge.”

  “Jersey?” Apple was relieved to hear the news. “Yo, come through. Meet me on my block.”

  “A’ight. You want me to pay shorty?”

  “Hell fucking no.”

  Peaches was left in the car while Apple made a quick run upstairs. Her sister was alive, and that was all that mattered. She had no idea what weed and New Jersey had to do with anything, but those factors were minor. Apple came back downstairs and did the peripheral scan of the block looking for Hood’s truck. She pulled out her cell phone to see how long he was gonna keep her waiting. The threat came from her left; she saw movement and was about to react until she saw his face. She exhaled. It was only Kamel. She waved him over so she could tell him about Kola, or maybe he was there to tell her the same news when a bullet whizzed past her head.

  “What the fuck!” she yelled and took off running in the opposite direction of her car to protect her daughter. This nigga crazy, Apple thought. She grabbed her 9mm and wanted to bus’ back, but she knew she couldn’t. Her daughter could get hit. Apple had hunched behind a parked car and yelled out, “Kamel! Peaches is in the fucking car!”

  Kamel heard the name Peaches and slowed his trigger finger. His arm was outstretched when he looked to his left, and she was standing just inches from him, crying hysterically. Kamel’s heart broke. What the fuck had he done?

  Hood and IG had pulled up on the block and did a slow trot with their burners gripped in their hands. They both saw Apple’s brother-in-law and knew it was a gun battle, but they didn’t see Apple. They had only seen Peaches and Kamel. They assumed that Kamel was protecting Apple and her daughter.

  Kamel scooped Peaches up in his free arm and began backpedaling toward his vehicle. “Shhhh,” he cooed. “We were only playing a game, baby girl. I would never hurt your mommy.”

  Peaches had her arms tightly wrapped around his neck, and Kamel’s eyes darted from Hood to IG.

  “Whatchu doin’, yo? Where’s Apple?” Hood asked.

  Apple came running back down the block now in hysterics. “Kamel, don’t take my daughter! Whatever beef we got it has nothing to do with her! She loves you, Kamel. Don’t do this!”

  Now Hood and IG trained their guns on him, ready to take the shot. Apple saw this and commanded, “Put that shit down! That’s my daughter!”

  She kept walking closer to Kamel as he made h
is way to his vehicle. Her arms were up in surrender so he could see she wasn’t a threat.

  “I told her we were playing a game, Apple. Peaches knows I would never hurt you.” Kamel was at his driver’s side door. “Tell your men to put those things away, and all y’all walk down the block. I’m going to leave my niece right here.”

  “C’mon, Kamel. Just give her to me now. She’s been through enough.”

  “Apple, I ain’t asking twice.”

  The trio begrudgingly walked down the block with Apple’s eyes trained on her daughter. Kamel had violated her in the worst way. When they got to the corner, Kamel leaned over and gave Peaches a big hug and told her to stop crying. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill, and she somewhat cheered up.

  “I love you, Peaches. You know that, right?”

  She nodded.

  Kamel slid into his driver’s seat and slowly drove away. He had fucked up by not killing Apple today. She would come for him, and he vowed to be ready.

  Apple’s plans had changed. She couldn’t send Peaches to Tokyo’s, not after that traumatic experience. And she could no longer deny that she could keep staying at her residence. Her block was hot, and she was foolish to think otherwise. Hood and IG would handle the pickups today, and Apple called Touch and asked if she and Peaches could spend the night.

  “What you gonna do about Kola? You want us to go and bail her out?”

  “Nah, not right now. Let Kola sit in there until we kill this nigga. With her home, shit will get complicated. There isn’t any way Kamel lives after what he pulled here today. As long as I know where she is and that she’s safe, I’m good.”

  32

  The two Colombians knocking at his front door was a shock to Kamel. He had spent the night drinking cognac and looking out for Apple and her henchmen. His arsenal of guns was spread out in each room of his house, and he had three on his person—one in his shoulder holster, one tucked in his waist, and one on his ankle. He was ready. Kamel felt he stayed ready.

  Cautiously he approached his front door and peered out. Miguel Sánchez and Felix Gómez were patiently waiting to be let in. Their presence gave Kamel pause because they were the big dogs. These men were Eduardo’s top enforcers, men who rarely left Colombia. Both stood stiffly and knocked again.

  Kamel flung his front door open and exhaled. He would have to deal with this eventually. The shoulder-holstered gun and pistol in his waist didn’t go unnoticed by Miguel and Felix.

  “May we come in?” said Miguel.

  Kamel nodded and moved to the side. They were led into the spacious living room that Eduardo had financed and calmly took a seat. Both men crossed their legs and waited for Kamel to say something . . . anything. He just stood towering over these men with his breath reeking of alcohol and waited for the interrogation.

  Miguel looked at his manicured fingertips before he asked, “Where is Eduardo Jr. and Sophia?” His accent was so thick that Kamel almost needed a translator.

  “Y’all want something to drink?” Kamel was stalling, and he didn’t know why. He had gone over this scenario a thousand times. But he knew now wasn’t the right time for full disclosure. Junior and Sophia were still in Potter’s Field, and Kola was missing. Kamel wanted all his ducks in a row before he broke the bad news. His mind wrestled with alternate explanations for their whereabouts. If he said that they were with Apple, they would know the truth within twenty-four hours. And he didn’t want to say they were with Kola for Eduardo to ultimately learn the truth. It could put her life in danger.

  Miguel was polite when he responded, “We want nothing to drink, but thank you. We would like to know where is El Jefe’s niños? Please, tell us so we can go.”

  Finally, Kamel took a seat and explained the events that took the lives of Junior and Sophia. Miguel and Felix listened intently, not interrupting him once. Kamel was emotional as he described finding them that fateful morning. When he was finished, with a calm voice, Miguel said, “Please, I call Eduardo, and you tell him this, sí?”

  Kamel nodded agreeably. He wanted this situation to move along, to put it behind him. And at that moment he wanted to call a truce with Apple. She was his sister-in-law, and he had reacted emotionally over Melinda. What he did, trying to assassinate her over his sidepiece, was the second most idiotic thing he had done. Killing his brother was the first. And what about his wife? Where was she? He was so busy feeling resentment toward being left in jail, he never looked at the situation from her end.

  While Miguel was trying to get Eduardo on the line, Kamel sent Apple a text.

  I fucked up. I want 2 fix this. We’re family apple & I love you. Call me so we can hash this out.

  Next, he sent Kola a text.

  I neglected you when you needed me most. I was a selfish nigga & I need 2 tell you something that i’m ashamed of. I hope you can forgive me. I love you baby girl. Come home.

  Kamel put his phone away when Miguel handed him his cell phone. Eduardo’s voice boomed through the line.

  “Miguel says there’s something you need to explain to me about my children. Is that true?”

  “Yes, Eduardo. I don’t know how to say this but let me start by saying that I loved them like they were my own children.”

  “But, they are not yours, Kamel. They are my children, no?”

  “Yes, you right. I was just trying to say that I loved them.”

  “You speak in the past tense and riddles. Why?”

  “We had an accident at the house, and carbon monoxide leaked in the house, and Junior and Sophia didn’t make it. They passed away, and I’m sorry.”

  Kamel tried to break it to Eduardo gently. He looked at Miguel and Felix and still felt no threat.

  “Where’s Kola?”

  “I honestly don’t know. She’s been gone for over a month. Kola wasn’t here when it happened; that’s on me.”

  “Over a month, you say? Is that when this happened? This accident, as you say?”

  “Yeah, it happened last month, but—”

  “I need to go now and mourn my children. I have to call their mothers. Kamel, you tell my men where my children are buried. I will have them brought back to Colombia. This is their home with me.”

  All Kola wanted to do was go home, take a shower, and get in her bed. She hadn’t seen or spoken to anyone since she was arrested last month. She was worried sick over Junior and Sophia and hoped that Kamel and Apple had handled their burials. She couldn’t even think about what this tragedy would do to Eduardo.

  Kamel’s truck was outside, but he wasn’t home when she got there. Kola hadn’t been on her meds since she was locked up, so she instantly felt every ounce of panic. Was Kamel still in jail? Her cell phone was dead when she had gotten it from intake, and she didn’t have a car charger, so she made the journey home without contact.

  Kola showered from head to toe, scrubbing the filthy residue of the jail off of her. The honey scented shampoo felt like a luxury to the jailbird. Naked, she opened the refrigerator, and Kamel’s decapitated head was staring directly at her. His eyes were pulled out with a dull spoon, and someone had performed a Colombian necktie. Kola had seen this once before; it’s where you slice the throat, and the tongue is pulled through the open wound. Kola ran to the sink and heaved up water and the banana she had just eaten. Her stomach contracted repeatedly, causing her pain. And then she saw a finger lying on a plate. Kola backed away and noticed what she had just recently overlooked. Kamel’s body was intricately cut into thirty-seven pieces and placed randomly around her home.

  Everything went dark.

  The police cruiser sounded his siren a couple times as he rode slowly behind the woman moving down the street like a zombie. Neighbors had reported a naked female who must have had a mental breakdown, and he was there to take her in. His eyes lingered on her backside just a few seconds too long before he pa
rked his cruiser and got out. He removed his police jacket and approached.

  “Ma’am? Are you all right?” he asked. “I’m going to need you to come with me.” Officer Lake placed his large jacket over Kola’s petite frame and led her to his car and sat her down. He called for an ambulance and then asked what her name was.

  Kola just stared blankly ahead. He waved his hands in front of her face, and she didn’t blink. She looked spaced out, and he figured she was tripping off some bad opioid. By the time Kola was admitted into the hospital and placed on a seventy-two-hour psychiatric hold, several neighbors had called in and gave her address. Five hours later, the news broke.

  “A local man’s body was found dismembered into nearly forty pieces and strewn around the home he shared with his wife in what police are calling a drug execution. His fingers, toes, genitals, limbs, and all internal organs were removed. His head was found in the couple’s refrigerator with what’s described as a Colombian necktie, a calling card from drug cartels. What makes this equally strange is that the couple’s adopted children were found dead in the home last month due to carbon monoxide poisoning and the father, Kamel Carmichael, had been charged with negligent homicide and was out on bail awaiting trial. His wife, Kola Carmichael, was picked up today roaming the streets naked from what’s reported as a mental breakdown. She’s being held at St. Vincent’s hospital on a psychiatric hold. As soon as we learn more about this bizarre story, we will update the public.”

  33

  The next morning, Apple woke up to her ringing cell phone. It was Cartier calling. Baffled by the sudden phone call, she answered, “What’s this about, Cartier? You all right?”

  “You haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  “Kola’s man was just found dead. It’s all over the news. They said it’s cartel-style murder.”

  The news hit Apple with a brief silence. She was bewildered and showed indifference to the report, but asked, “What happened to him?”