by Erica Hilton
Chanel didn’t want to argue with Mecca, but it was too late. Mecca stormed off, leaving Chanel behind looking dumbfounded.
What just happened?
Chanel walked away from the scene. She started to feel some guilt about the exchange between her and Mecca. She thought about Mateo, knowing she needed to be there for him. He was who truly mattered to her, right? So why the animosity over Pyro and Mecca being together? Was Mecca right? Had she developed feelings for Pyro?
Chapter Sixteen
Charlie’s bright red Mercedes Benz SL was eye candy and a status symbol cruising through the Brooklyn neighborhood. It was like a flashing marquee that screamed, “Y’all muthafuckas thought I was down, but look at me now, bitches!” As she made her rounds through Brooklyn with her music blaring and the top down despite it being a breezy fall day, Charlie felt like a goddess—and a boss. She wanted to be seen and heard. She may have been knocked down, but she wasn’t staying down.
Whoop! Whoop!
Charlie cursed and scowled at the sight of the police lights flashing behind her, but she kept her cool. She was legit, but she still didn’t trust police at all. She hoped it was a routine traffic stop, but she wondered why they were pulling her over. She hadn’t violated any traffic laws, and she knew everything on the Benz was functional.
A troubling thought raced through her mind. What if they had found her DNA at God’s murder scene? The situation had been lingering heavily on her mind, and until Kym was convicted and sentenced, Charlie would remain uneasy about the investigation.
That feeling of panic quickly subsided when Charlie saw Mona exiting the unmarked Crown Vic, along with her partner Ahbou. Her expression remained deadpan as her eyes stayed fixed on Mona and her partner through the rearview mirror. Still, Charlie didn’t trust anyone.
Ahbou and Mona approached the driver’s side, and Mona had a wide grin on her face. Charlie exhaled in relief.
“Bitch, where did you cop this sweet ride from?” Mona asked.
“None of ya business. Don’t hate on a bitch,” Charlie replied jokingly.
“I think I’m paying you too much money for your product,” quipped Mona.
“Shit, a bitch gotta eat, right?”
“No doubt.”
Charlie climbed out of her Benz and they started to chitchat on the Brooklyn street like Mona wasn’t a cop on duty. Ahbou was immediately smitten by Charlie. The pretty redbone had his undivided attention.
“That last load you sold me, it was on point. When I go out, everybody asks me where I got my shit from,” Mona said.
“I told you, I get nothing but the best. I’m glad you loved it.”
“I did. So, when will you have some more items like that coming in?”
“Give me a week or two, and I’ll have some new shit for you.”
“I like the sound of that,” said Mona. “Oh, this is my partner, Ahbou.”
Ahbou reached out and shook Charlie’s hand. “How you doing?”
“I’m doin’ fine.”
“Yeah, that you are,” he flirted.
Charlie smiled politely his way. He was average height, lean, and dark-skinned with a low cropped haircut. Nothing stood out about Ahbou but his badge.
“SL Benz, candy apple red—what that run you, like eighty K?” he guessed.
“Close. I see you know your cars,” Charlie replied, leaning back on her car.
“I know nice things,” he countered, smiling slyly at Charlie, “And I’m looking at something really nice right now—a lot more attractive than the car. You’re a beautiful woman, Charlie.”
Blunt. She had to respect that. “Thank you,” she returned with nonchalance.
“Keep it in your pants, Ahbou,” Mona warned. “She’s a friend.”
“I know. I’m just being cordial,” he said.
“Yeah, and I know your kind of cordial.”
Charlie laughed at their quick exchange. It was comedic, but something about Ahbou was intriguing to her. He wasn’t really a handsome man, but his boldness and demeanor were somewhat attractive.
“Hey, you need to come to the house more often,” Mona mentioned to her.
Charlie raised a brow. “Oh, you’re inviting me to your place? Business or personal?”
“We can entertain both,” said Mona. “But I would like to see you come by. You’re cool. And my partner likes you.”
Charlie grinned. “Thanks.”
“Listen, we need to run. But think on it,” Mona added.
Mona and Ahbou started to walk back to their unmarked car. Before climbing into the passenger seat, Ahbou shot one final glance at Charlie.
Charlie didn’t know what to think. The friendly traffic stop by Mona left her somewhat perplexed. She wondered if she should trust it.
Charlie didn’t really have any friends, and she decided right then that she would take Mona up on her offer. Mona was a valuable ally to have on her side. Charlie needed all the resources and connections she could muster. She was building something big, and the foundation had to be strong.
***
A week after the traffic stop, Charlie parked her red SL Benz on the suburban street in Westchester County and got out the vehicle looking like she was going to a nightclub instead of an intimate gathering at a friend’s place. She wore a short skirt that was more leg than skirt and a halter top that showed how perky her breasts were. Though Charlie was from the streets and she was tough, she couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling of knocking on a cop’s door to hang out. It didn’t make her a snitch, but it was an awkward feeling.
The door opened and Mona was all smiles. “Hey, bitch! I’m glad you decided to come through. Come on in.”
Charlie entered the home, believing there would be other people inside, but it was only her and Mona. Charlie took a seat on the couch, and Mona started to roll up a blunt. Shit, Mona was more hustler than cop.
In no time, the two women got high on the potent Kush and were gradually draining a bottle of Grey Goose.
Mona laughed and slapped the arm of the couch. “Hey, you know my partner really likes you,” she mentioned. “That fool couldn’t stop talking about you that day.”
“So you want me to fuck a cop?”
“He damn sure wants to fuck you, but I keep telling him that you’re off limits. Are you?”
“Oh, so what you asking? Do I wanna fuck him too?” asked Charlie.
Mona shrugged. “He just wanted me to put it out there. But Ahbou’s cool people. He’s definitely about his business—definitely nobody to fuck with.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all you can do.”
It didn’t take long for them to finish off the bottle of Goose, and Mona rolled up their third blunt for the evening. Charlie was having a good time with her. For her to be a cop, she got high like a ghetto bitch, and she was able to go drink-for-drink with Charlie in alcohol consumption. They were both tipsy, but not drunk—not yet.
“Charlie, I got a question for you. You got that nice car, nice clothes, nice jewelry—is stolen merchandise the only thing you’re selling?” asked Mona.
“And why ya asking?”
“Just curiosity, that’s all. Bitch like me believes you’re moving coke.”
“Coke? Wow. You tryin’ to set me up?”
Mona laughed. “Fuck outta here. You know me—”
“Yeah, you’re cool, but you’re still a cop,” Charlie replied.
“I’m not tryin’ to get in your business; I was just asking.”
“To answer your question, no, I’m not moving any coke or any drugs. The only thing I’m selling is merchandise.”
“I really like you, Charlie. You’re smart and you got heart. Real recognizes real,” Mona proclaimed.
“No doubt.”
Mona was more t
han a decade older than Charlie, but neither cared about age. It felt like they had known each other for a long time. Their backgrounds were similar and their mentalities were identical—get money by any means necessary and stay respected in the game.
Mona opened another bottle of Grey Goose and poured both of them a glass while she continued to pull on the blunt.
“So, you feeling my partner or what?” she brought up again.
“I told you, I’ll think about it.”
“Yeah, do that and let me know soon, cuz I’m gonna smack Ahbou if he don’t shut up ’bout you,” Mona stated.
Charlie laughed. “Damn, it’s like that with him?”
“Yeah. Pussy-craving muthafucka.”
***
Charlie and Mona started to hang out on a regular basis. It started at Mona’s place and then it shifted to Mona coming over to Charlie’s Brooklyn apartment. Mona was impressed with the place. Charlie had taste. It became common for the two of them to get high and tipsy—and sometimes asshole-drunk—together.
Claire hated them together. Not only was Mona was taking her sister’s attention away, but Mona was loud and always came to their apartment with a gun—or guns. Something about Mona rubbed Claire the wrong way. The look in Mona’s eyes was shifty, and Claire felt she was bad news. When she was alone with Charlie, she continuously pleaded with her to leave that woman alone. Claire felt the fact that Mona was a cop was even more of an incentive not to mess around with her.
“Don’t trust her, Charlie. You need to leave that bitch alone.”
“Stay out my business, Claire,” Charlie rebuked.
Soon, Ahbou started to come along, and the trio would get high and drink. Ahbou was an intriguing guy. His personality was magnetic and he was humorous just as much as he was dangerous, something that captured Charlie’s attention. The streets were saying that he was a killer with a badge, but his dirty jokes were hilarious.
“What comes after 69? Mouthwash,” Ahbou joked.
Everyone laughed. Ahbou was a natural comedian. Even Charlie couldn’t hold it in, bursting out laughing like she was at a Def Comedy Jam show.
“One more thing, ladies, if you ever get bored, do this—text the message, ‘I’m pregnant,’ to random mobile numbers and see what comes back,” he said.
“He is too much,” said Charlie.
“That’s why I love him. He keeps my day interesting,” said Mona.
Charlie and Ahbou locked eyes. He was attracted to her red hair and young beauty, and she was attracted to his charisma.
It didn’t take them long to fuck each other’s brains out in the bathroom. With the door locked, Ahbou curved Charlie over the bathroom sink, pulled down her jeans, ripped away her panties, spread her legs, and quickly thrust his hard dick inside of her. He was fucking her roughly in the doggystyle position while he watched their debauchery in the bathroom mirror. Charlie enjoyed having him inside of her. He was an average size, but he worked his dick like he was a giant, and he manhandled her body like it was a stop-and-frisk—cupping and squeezing her tits, massaging her clit, smacking her ass, and taking charge of her pussy.
“Ooooh, fuck me!” she cried out.
“Damn, you got some good fuckin’ pussy!”
He made her come, and she made him come. He loved every minute of it, and he wanted Charlie to be his main bitch.
She was down for it. There was something about Ahbou that Charlie enjoyed. It was easy to see that he was infatuated with her. Right away, he was willing to do anything for Charlie. Meanwhile, she saw an opportunity in fucking with a cop like Ahbou—give him some pussy, suck his dick, and he would become her protection with a badge on the streets.
It didn’t take long for Charlie to have Ahbou eating out of her hands. She freaked him like she was a porn star, sucking his dick in the front seat of the unmarked car and giving him pussy in the backseat or on the hood. It was their thing—fucking outdoors. Having sex in public turned him on, and Charlie used that to her advantage.
She used Ahbou to fuck with her enemies and her frenemies. She was giving him the names of her former friends and soon after, front doors were being kicked open by the police and raids were being carried out.
Wanda was one of them. Cops raided her place like she was a drug kingpin and found all kinds of stolen shit that she couldn’t explain. They placed the handcuffs on her and arrested her.
When Charlie found out that Landy was the first to spread the gossip about her and Chanel, she set her dog out on her for revenge. Ahbou was subtle with setting up the young girl with a few ounces of weed and a few ounces of cocaine. As she was walking home from the train station one night, detectives approached her and a female cop implemented a stop-and-frisk, resulting in the drug bust.
Landy became hysterical. She had no idea how weed and cocaine got in her bag. Tears ran down her face as she repeatedly exclaimed, “It’s not mine, officers. Please, I’m telling you, I don’t do drugs. It’s not mine!”
Landy didn’t want to go to jail, but the cops arrested her right there on the spot. She was put through the system and her life was immediately turned upside down.
Charlie was on cloud nine. She felt like a queen ruling over the peasants, and Ahbou was her knight in shining armor. She would give the nigga some pussy and some head, and he was at her beck and call.
Some days Charlie could be seen riding through the Brooklyn hood in the front seat of Ahbou’s unmarked cop car, pulling up on people in her old neighborhood. Everyone hated the ground she walked on, and they wanted her stopped. Meanwhile, she continued to point out dudes who she knew were riding dirty. The result was a spike in gun arrests, drug arrests, and grand larceny arrests—the whole gamut.
Charlie had become a snitch, but she didn’t see it that way. To her, it was only retribution. The projects had turned on her—disrespected her—and she was determined to get her revenge.
In the aftermath of Charlie’s rampage, there was an onslaught of complaints filed at Ahbou’s precinct, but the Civilian Complaint Review Board would never receive them. Ahbou was just one in a cluster of dirty cops in his precinct, and his sergeant was in on it too.
Chapter Seventeen
Mateo’s physical therapist, Kyle, was amazed by Mateo’s recovery. Mateo was determined to get better. He was on the fast track to becoming healthy and whole again. As the days ticked on, he started to notice that Chanel wasn’t coming to see him every day. Then it scaled back to maybe twice a week. Though he was getting better, he felt his support system fading. Mateo could see that something was wrong with Chanel, but she wouldn’t tell him what it was.
Chanel’s sudden distraction from him was just the motivation he needed. He began going above and beyond the expectations of his physical therapist. While Mateo was still somewhat bedridden, Kyle worked with him to strengthen his legs and upper body so he would eventually walk again.
The times when Chanel was there with him, she seemed distant all of a sudden. It was like her body was there physically, but mentally, she was someplace else. It never used to be like that. In the past, Chanel gave Mateo her undivided attention and support, talked to him, and prayed with him. Now, when he would ask her what was wrong, she would get an attitude and reply, “Nothing!”
Mateo could tell she was hiding something. He felt like he was losing the love of his life.
***
Chanel couldn’t put her finger on why she was so upset, but the more Mecca came to the apartment to see Pyro, the angrier she became. She told herself that she was trying to protect her best friend, but even she had a hard time believing it. The good thing was that she was able to hide her annoyance from Mecca after their argument. Mecca thought Chanel was glad that she and Pyro were getting close.
Mecca was happy she had found someone worth being with. She wanted a happy ending. She had fallen in love with Pyro, and she couldn’t go a da
y without seeing him. She wanted Pyro to put a ring on it someday.
The affection went both ways. Pyro was really digging Mecca, and not just in the bedroom. She was smart and beautiful, outgoing, and she was going places in life. She wanted to be a journalist, and she was becoming a socialite in the city.
Mecca had a charming personality and was frequently invited to big events in the city where politicians and celebrities gathered. Her well-connected Colombia University friends were opening their circle to allow Mecca inside, and she was including Pyro. Pyro loved it. His girl had connections in the city that could be very beneficial to him. The two of them could become the ultimate power couple. They both were smart, fearless, and ambitious, and it didn’t take long for them to say to each other, “I love you.”
Chanel heard a sudden banging on Pyro’s apartment door. She was surprised that Pyro didn’t hear it and go to the door, but he was a heavy sleeper. She walked out of her bedroom, tying her robe together to go see who it was. By the sound of the knocking, it didn’t look like it was going to be friendly company.
She glanced through the peephole and saw Pyro’s baby mama, Sheree. At first, Chanel wasn’t going to open the door, but something petty came over her and she changed her mind. She unlocked and opened the door, and Sheree immediately pushed by her and made her way into the apartment.
Sheree knew that Pyro was getting serious with someone. When she saw Chanel opening the door, she figured Chanel was the one.
“Bitch, where the fuck is my baby father at? You the bitch he fuckin’, right?” she shouted.
Chanel stood there speechless.
Sheree continued to curse and yell, “Where the fuck he at? I need to see him right now. Go get that nigga, bitch. You wanna fuck my baby father, then you got a fuckin’ problem wit’ me.”
Wow! Chanel thought. The bitch was loud and crazy. She wondered how Pyro got mixed up with her.
“I’m not sleeping with him,” Chanel finally said.
