Baddest Apple

by Nisa Santiago

  Her eyes widened. Apple wasn’t expecting this response. She wasn’t sure what his advice would be, but she was convinced that it wasn’t going to be that.

  “If I did that, murdered Miguel, Eduardo would just keep sending more men at me. Besides, this isn’t my beef. I really don’t got shit to do with this. I didn’t kill those kids, so why go to war with a Colombian drug lord who has nothing to lose but countless bodies of men on his payroll? He’s in jail for life, and his children are dead. I don’t want to start something I can’t finish.”

  “You’re thinking small,” Corey scolded. “If you don’t put your murder game down with the Colombian cartel and the Crips, it won’t be long before your whole organization crumbles. For you to even show fear about going up against Eduardo proves you’re no Queen of New York. You’re in bed with the Mingo and Helguero cartels—Eduardo could end that for you with one phone call! You need to kill him, kill them. Find someone inside his Colombian prison and pay a guard to take him out. You have money, lots of it. Put it to work for you. I wouldn’t tell you all of this if I thought you’d fail. You’re like a daughter to me, could have been my daughter-in-law, so I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

  Apple listened to Corey’s monologue, and her eyes were now open. How could she have ever thought they could have had something real?

  She left the visit promising retribution and murder, and those were commitments she vowed to keep.

  Queenie sat with Rehab and Lord, going over her books. Her organization’s finances had taken a considerable dip due to this war, and things were getting strained. Her product wasn’t flipping, as sales began to dwindle thanks to Queen of New York and the most recent dope, Kiss the Ring. Queenie had enormous payroll expenses—shooters, block huggers, funeral expenses, lawyers, bail, housing, transportation, insurance—a host of bills that were getting harder to pay.

  “Y’all niggas realize that Apple has crippled our organization and she’s still breathing, right?”

  Lord couldn’t let this go unchecked. “But do you realize that I was the one who advised that we let this shit go?”

  Queenie glared. “Stone, Mike, and Nerd are all dead. We owe it to them to get retribution. We can point fingers once we lullaby the female formerly known as the baddest chick!”

  34

  Apple felt guilty for not rushing to see Kola right after her ordeal when she knew her sister needed her most. But she was there now, and to her, that was all that mattered. St. Vincent’s wasn’t as bad as she had envisioned. Kola was in a small, private room monitored every hour by a nurse to make sure she wouldn’t attempt suicide. Her sister was on mild sedatives, and her treating psychiatrist had been notified. Detectives Rothman and Brown had come by to question Kola on who she thought had a motive to chop her husband up into pieces, but she refused to talk and they were promptly escorted out via the hospital staff.

  “Hey, sis,” Apple said as she slowly inched toward Kola’s hospital bed. Kola smiled weakly and reached her hand out toward Apple. The two held hands and Apple kissed her sister’s forehead. “I can’t keep coming to visit you in hospitals.”

  A tear slid down the side of Kola’s face and Apple wiped it away. “I know it’s a lot, Kola, but we’re going to get through it together. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. It’s all my fault—everything. Junior, and Sophia . . . they should have been with me.”

  The honesty of her words said out loud for the first time pierced Apple’s heart, and the preponderance of guilt now weighed heavily on her shoulders. Apple cried, and Kola moved over. Apple squeezed into the small twin bed, and the twins just cuddled in silence. Kola still hadn’t said one word. An hour later, and Apple was still there.

  Apple finally said, “We have to deal with Eduardo, Kola. He’s making threats, says he wants you to move back to Colombia. Tell me what to do to help you.”

  “How was the funeral?” she asked, not ready to deal with Eduardo’s demands. “What did you pick out for Sophia to wear? I hope not a dress; you know she hated girlie things.”

  Apple sat up straight in bed and faced Kola. She knew she would need to lend her sister her strength because this news was sanity shattering, but it couldn’t be avoided.

  “I didn’t find out about them until last week. They’re buried in Potter’s Field, and I’m afraid to tell Eduardo, afraid of what he’ll do,” she paused and stared Kola in her eyes, “to you.”

  Kola closed her eyes, and the tears flowed like running water. Why was she even alive and all of her babies were dead? She didn’t care if Eduardo sent his hit squad after her. What did she have to live for? Finally, she whispered, “Call him.”

  Her voice was so fragile and strained; it sounded like a light wind could shatter her into a million pieces. She repeated, “Call Eduardo and pass me the phone.”

  Apple nodded and got Eduardo on Kola’s phone. When Kola told him the cruel fate of his children, Apple stepped out of the room to give them their privacy. Touch had called earlier, but she had her phone on Do Not Disturb. She called him back.

  “Where you at?” he wanted to know.

  “I’m in Westchester visiting my sister.”

  “Come through when you’re finished,” he suggested. “I miss you, Apple. A nigga gotta beg for your time.”

  Apple thought about his uncomfortable apartment with his bare white walls, hard mattress, and depressing vibe and suggested this: “Come to my place instead, around ten.”

  “Oh, word? A booty call?” Touch chuckled. “That’s what’s up.”

  “It’ll be our last rendezvous there.”

  “What you mean by that?”

  “I’ll explain later. I gotta go.”

  When Apple came back into the room, Kola kept a couple things about her conversation from her sister. Eduardo said that Miguel and Felix would see to getting Junior and Sophia’s bodies exhumed and brought back to Colombia, but he also threatened that if Kola didn’t voluntarily join him by next month, then he would kill Peaches—a child’s life for his children’s lives. That was the Colombian way. Kola knew it was an idle threat, but still, she didn’t like it.

  “I don’t want you worrying about me, Apple. Give Peaches a big hug from me and tell her that I love and miss her. Does she know about what’s happened?”

  Apple shook her head. “I haven’t told her because there’s no finality without gravesites. When you get better, we should buy some plots next to Denise and Nichols, and I’ll tell her then.”

  Kola thought about that and then quickly agreed. “Apple, if you haven’t thought about this, and I’m sure you haven’t, but I think it’s time you got out the game. For good. My spirit told me to say this to you and I’ll leave it there.”

  Apple wasn’t anywhere near her exodus. She had only to kill her enemies, and then things would settle down. She nodded, though, so her sister could acknowledge that she had heard her request. She changed the subject. “I met someone.”

  “A man?”

  “What else, bitch?”

  “Who? And don’t say Caesar Mingo.”

  “That fat fuck?” She chuckled. “Nah, he’s a professional poker player. His name is Touch, but his real name is Malcolm Xavier Nuñez.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “And Peaches likes him.”

  This gave Kola pause. Sometimes she questioned her sister’s parenting skills. “He’s already met my niece?”

  “Yeah, we had an incident, so it was an emergency, but he’s cool. He adores Peaches.”

  “You don’t even know this nigga!”

  “Kola, don’t start. I’m trying to cheer you up. You should be happy that I’m finally moving on and it’s with a legit guy.”

  “He’s a gambler, Apple. That’s hardly a long-term occupation. And they have addiction issues; he could be smoking crack or addicted to porn or will blow all of your money down
a slot machine.”

  There she was again. The lecturer had resurfaced, and that was Apple’s cue to get ghost. She kissed Kola on her forehead again and gave her a quick squeeze. “Love you, sis. Take your meds, and I’ll bring Peaches with me to see you on Thursday.”

  Kola sighed. Apple always had to learn things the hard way. Kola turned over and kept one last secret. Tomorrow she would voluntarily admit herself into the psychiatric hospital under the care of her physician. This was her only way out from under Eduardo’s controlling thumb.

  From Westchester, Apple drove to Lincoln Houses and held an emergency meeting with her men. There she explained that she was now giving the green light to hit Queenie, Lord, and Rehab and whatever other L.E.S. Crips were around when they struck.

  “I’ve allowed her to live long enough to know that it was me who took everything from her. As her money and empire have dwindled, she’s had to face the fact that her short run is now over. That bitch tried to take my crown—erase my name from the streets I’ve bled on? Let me make myself clear. I want Queenie dead.”

  Apple was speaking to a small cluster of her best shooters inside the project apartment she had taken over. And as an afterthought, she addressed Hood. “When Drac calls, tell him to move forward against Corey Davis. I want these hits wrapped up before the weekend.”

  Apple’s men were amped to go up against the Lower Eastside Crips, and Hood and IG were understandably shocked that after all this time, after all their bitching, she was finally ready to stop fucking around. They didn’t know what forced Apple’s hand, but they both suspected that it had a lot to do with her brother-in-law getting his body dismembered like pork on a hibachi grill. People in the drug game weren’t fucking around, and the longer she allowed this beef with Queenie to fester, the more significant an advantage Queenie could obtain over them.

  Apple left her men with specific orders and rushed home so she could get ready for her date. On her drive back to her old residence, she called Tokyo to tell her she wouldn’t be home again tonight. Tokyo sounded disappointed but cheered up when Apple promised to take them fall shopping for clothing. It was like she had two children.

  Apple circled her block three times before pulling into a parking space at her old apartment in SoHo. She had less than two weeks before she had to vacate the apartment and she hadn’t even packed. She was always a procrastinator. The police cruiser did its nightly routine and slowly passed by her, slowing down to peer in her car. When he saw a woman, he sped up and continued on his local routes. Apple strutted toward her building when she saw him, the slender man in the black sweatsuit and hoodie. He was at the corner of her block and had stepped out of the shadows. Apple grabbed her 9mm and took off running. She gave chase to the unknown assailant, and when she bent the corner, he was gone. Her eyes darted left and right, but she didn’t see him. As a precaution, she called Tokyo back and told her to be on alert and then called Hood to warn him and her crew that Queenie was possibly planning something and for everyone to be on alert.

  “Fuck Queenie!” Hood yelled. “As soon as we finish up here, me and IG gonna go down to the Lower Eastside and hunt that bitch. We heard that they like to hang out at this pool joint.”

  “Bring a few shooters. Y’all see that bitch, one-eight-seven her!”

  Apple lit candles and soaked in a long bath, readying her body for Touch. He had the magic stick, and his lovemaking had her open. She thought about him daily and had to force herself to focus on business and her safety or else, if she had her way, she would spend every waking moment in his strong arms.

  Touch arrived looking very handsome and smelling exceptionally good with his muscular body, chiseled jawbone, and Spanish Harlem swag. He wore a Gucci knit sweater, knit hat, jeans, socks, and sneakers. Gucci down to his socks.

  Touch smiled from ear to ear as his eyes scanned Apple up and down. She wore a one-piece sheer bodysuit with a jeweled thong and pasties. Her body was tight and toned, and she knew how to seductively sway her hips when she walked. “You look so sexy, Apple,” he said to her.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Apple stepped aside, allowing him to walk into her cozy home. It smelled like vanilla throughout, and he spotted fresh flowers on her dining room table. Her apartment looked professionally decorated and lived in.

  Touch leaned in and planted a kiss on her juicy lips, and they both smiled.

  “You want something to drink?” she asked.

  “What you got?”

  She grinned. “Ginger beer and whiskey shots.”

  “Of course . . . five stars everything.”

  Apple fixed their drinks, and they sat down and sipped. Touch looked around and asked, “You moving?”

  “I’ve moved. I got a place in Tribeca for my daughter and me.”

  He smirked. “What’s wrong with this apartment? This makes my place look like a homeless shelter.”

  “Too many people know where I live.”

  Touch took another swig of his drink and got comfortable. Her perfume, the dim lights, and her silhouette had him aroused. He wanted her to sit on his face, grind her hips, and come in his mouth, but it seemed she wanted to talk. “Like who?”

  “I know you got a thing wit’ that Crips bitch Queenie, but if you didn’t know, that bitch got issues.”

  “What thing I got with Queenie and why y’all got beef?”

  Apple sipped more and wanted to know why she always sounded like an insecure, jealous thot when she was with him. “I really can’t give you a definitive answer on why she doesn’t like me ’cause I’m not in that bitch’s head. It probably has something to do with you.” Apple was fishing for answers. Did he fuck Queenie before? Had her archenemy sampled Touch’s good dick?

  “Nah, this ain’t about me, but whatever it’s about you should just let it go. I know Queenie; I know how she moves.” Touch clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth. “If she ever hurt you—if they hurt you . . .”

  He didn’t finish his sentence. Apple cocked her head to one side and filtered his words through her street lens. There was something ominous and dark in his eyes and his voice. His words were reserved—weighty but straightforward. What was unspoken spoke loud and clear. Touch had just inferred a threat toward Queenie, and Apple believed him. How had her corny poker player given her pause? Who was he? What was he really about? Was Touch a body snatcher like Nicholas Davis?

  Apple pressed on. “She ain’t gonna do shit but keep watching me from afar. Queenie got stalker tendencies, and my heart skips no beats for her shenanigans. Lately, she got someone following me, spying, but that’s about it.”

  “Following you? What you mean?” Touch’s eyes went from murderous to concern. The look of fear in his eyes was trippy. Apple didn’t know what was going on.

  “Yeah, some guy. I know it’s not any of her henchmen, but she likes to play these types of games. I came in tonight, and the same guy in a hoodie was hiding in the shadows.”

  “What he look like?”

  Apple shook her head. “I dunno.”

  “Think!” he snapped. “Was he young, old, fat? Tell me, Apple.”

  “Fuck is your problem?” she snapped back. “Who you yelling at?”

  Touch exhaled. He inched closer and caressed the side of her face. His thumb brushed slowly up against her bottom lip, and he could feel her body relax. “I’m sorry, Apple. You got a nigga worried for your safety. You think we should go to the police?”

  Apple burst out into hysterical laughter, tossing her head back and showing her straight teeth. She realized he didn’t know who she was or what she was capable of. His concern made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Her laughter caused him to giggle too.

  “Fuck is so funny?” he said with a chuckle.

  “You.” Apple laughed even louder. “One second you had me thinkin’ you might have bodied a nigga or two in your past,
and then you say shit like let’s go to five-oh, and I realize that you’re really a poker player.”

  “I told you I was.”

  “Yeah, well now I believe you.” Apple swallowed the rest of her drink and said, “I want you.”

  Touch followed Apple into her bedroom, watching her plump ass hypnotize him with each step. He pulled off his sweater and t-shirt and tossed them to the floor. As Apple stood in the room, Touch approached her from behind and gently wrapped his strong arms around her slim waist and pulled her into his half-naked frame. Touch kissed the side of Apple’s neck affectionately, hungrily touching her breasts. The muscles in his chest flexed against Apple’s back, and she twirled her hips, helping his erection grow.

  “Damn, I missed you,” he whispered into her ear.

  Touch continued kissing the side of her long, slender neck and softly touching her erogenous zones. He inhaled her skin; her scent was feminine and flowery. “Damn, you’re so sexy,” he murmured.

  He continued loving on her, removing her clothing. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Apple. Everything about her was perfect. Touch was a lucky man to have her in his life, in any capacity, but he wanted more.

  They kissed passionately, their tongues twirling around, exploring one another. Apple got lost in his kisses, his touch. He was making her forget the last man.

  Touch scooped Apple into his strong arms and she straddled him in the air. He cupped her butt and carried her to her bed, laid her on her back, and continued tonguing her down while removing his jeans and boxers. His dick swung freely, brushing up against Apple’s stomach.

  Touch grabbed a condom, and Apple took it from him. She wasn’t done with foreplay. They switched positions, and Apple placed Touch on his back. She buried her sweet box in his face and leaned over to sixty-nine. Apple sucked his pre-cum off his mushroom tip while her hands ran up and down his shaft. She lathered up his magic stick with her saliva as she deep-throated his massive penis. He was impressed. Apple didn’t gag as her head moved, skillfully handling his manhood, her hips grinding on his face as Touch’s tongue licked and sucked her juices.