Checkmate

by Nisa Santiago

  Kola sighed. The frustration was starting to show on her face. She walked over to the table that was cluttered with handguns and picked up a chrome 9 mm Beretta. She removed the clip, checked the ammo, and nodded. She took the gun and stuffed it into her purse. “I’ll handle it,” was the only thing she said to Candace before leaving the Yonkers stash house.

  Candace shrugged at Kola’s unorthodox reply and continued with her business in the home. Money never stopped.

  Kola got into her convertible Benz and sped back into the city.

  ****

  New York City was buzzing with nightly activity as Kola cruised through the city with the top to her Benz down and feeling the warm breeze blow through. From block to block, the streets were flooded with ladies in tight skirts, jeans, and tight-fitting dresses, strutting in their high heels and revealing club outfits, and the men dressed in their best attire to impress the ladies about.

  The balmy night was the perfect night for driving, and Kola needed to clear her head and think about her next chess move. She tried endlessly to reach Eduardo, but to no avail. She didn’t want to panic, but without Eduardo, then her grind on the streets would soon come to a stop. Kola was ready to drive to New Jersey and make a personal trip to his penthouse suite unannounced.

  It was well into the early hours of the morning when Kola found herself driving uptown, past the Apollo Theater on 125th Street and making a right onto Eighth Avenue/Frederick Douglass Boulevard.

  Kola was ready to drive back to her Yonkers stash house and talk to Candace. She hated that she left the place abruptly, but she was upset, and for once, she didn’t know what to do. Now, she was ready to put as many guns out on the streets and have them be on a constant hunt for Chico, Two-Face, or anyone associated with that crew. Kola needed to turn the tides, and one problem had to go away, starting with Chico. Then she would go after Edge and handle her business with Eduardo.

  Kola continued to sail down Eighth Avenue, and like midtown Manhattan, uptown Harlem was buzzing with people and the nightlife. She slowly approached 145th Street and was ready to make a left, heading toward the Henry Hudson Parkway, when something immediately caught her eye.

  “Muthafuckas!” she exclaimed.

  She stopped her Benz and looked closely. It was definitely them. She wasn’t mistaken at all. Kola sat parked on the corner and watched Chico, Two-Face, Blythe, and one of Chico’s low-level enforcers walk toward a parked pearl-white Bentley. For Kola, it was a beautiful moment, the perfect opportunity. Instantly, death entered her mind. Kola wished she had Candace with her, but at that moment, she didn’t give a fuck.

  Kola spun her car around, put up the rag-top for cover, and slowly drove in their direction. She removed the 9 mm she took from the Yonkers crib from her purse, cocked it back, and kept a keen eye on all of her foes.

  Chico and Blythe were hugged up on each other as they walked, but Two-Face and the other supposed gunmen were looking around, watching everything that moved. The block was thick with activity. The only thing open was a shabby bodega and a low-key lounge.

  Kola turned the block slowly and was ready to take action. She didn’t want to miss. She wanted to shoot Chico in his head and push his wig back, and then take out Two-Face, who had become her primary problem in the streets. Chico and Blythe were about to step into the Bentley, his two enforcers only steps behind them.

  Kola didn’t give a fuck who was around.

  Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak!

  Glass in nearby cars shattered abruptly and Kola was seen poised only a few feet away near her Benz with the gun gripped in her hand and shooting wildly at her enemies.

  Chico and Blythe instantly took cover, but Two-Face and the thug went into reaction. Two-Face pulled two .45s from his waistband and crouched behind the Bentley. The second thug followed suit, pulling out a .380.

  The firing continued, and Kola stepped closer with a fiery gaze of agitation. She didn’t speak a word, but aimed to kill. The shots echoed into the night.

  Blythe was screaming and taking cover, Chico yelling at her, “Stay the fuck down! Stay the fuck down!”

  Two-Face stood up rapidly and returned fire strongly. Bullets went whizzing by Kola’s ear, and she stumbled back toward her car, suddenly becoming overwhelmed with chaos. Two-Face rushed from behind the Bentley where he was crouched and started gunning for Kola. She was quickly outgunned and outnumbered.

  She rushed into her idling Benz while the shots at her continued. Two-Face was aiming to kill. Shots penetrated Kola’s Benz as she sped away, with her ducking in the driver’s seat from shattering glass.

  Two-Face chased behind the car for half a block, firing intensely and making Kola’s car look like Swiss cheese, but she was able to get away. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck, that bitch!” he yelled.

  Two-Face looked back at his boss and his woman and saw they were OK. But he was furious that Kola had gotten away. He gripped the twin .45s in his hands tightly and knew it was time to make an exit. He’d already heard the police sirens in the distance.

  Kola sped away in her bullet-riddled Benz for blocks, making sharp turns, blowing through red lights, and trying to collect herself. She didn’t know what she was thinking when she attacked Chico and his peoples. It was a bold move, but she also knew it was stupid.

  Kola finally slowed down her ride when she got near the highway. She came to a stop and stepped out of her car on a quiet street. She needed to relax and calm herself. She knew her Benz was hot, with the bullet holes and having a 9 mm on her. She took a deep breath, peered around her surroundings, and then got on her cell phone to call Candace for a ride back to Yonkers. She decided to take what she needed and scrap the Benz.

  When Candace heard about what happened, she knew her boss had heart and wasn’t just about talk. It was one of the reasons why Candace had so much respect for Kola. She was gangster.

  The two rode back to Yonkers in Candace’s Escalade. Kola needed to regroup, get her mind right, and think about her next move. She knew that, after tonight’s action, Chico and Two-Face would come gunning for her and her crew even harder. So she put everyone on alert, telling her girls and her soldiers to be extra careful on the streets and to always stay armed.

  ****

  Kola finally arrived home after handling business in Yonkers with the sun peeking in the sky. Candace had dropped her off, and she wanted to stay around and protect her, but Kola assured her that she was safe. No one knew about her residence, and she had enough guns in her home to supply a small army. Candace lingered around for a moment and then headed back to Yonkers.

  Kola was home for no less than an hour when she heard a car racing into her driveway and coming to a screeching stop at her front door. Kola didn’t know what to expect, so she grabbed a sawed-off, double-barrel shotgun and ran to the window. She narrowed her eyes to see who it was and was shocked to see Cross and Edge. She sighed heavily, but didn’t lower her gun or her guard.

  Cross ran to the door and started knocking on it hard, shouting, “Kola, open the fuckin’ door!”

  Kola stood poised by the front door with the shotgun gripped firmly in her hands. She peered out the window once again and shouted, “Go away, Cross. I don’t want you here.”

  “Well, I’m fuckin’ here now. What happened last night? Those muthafuckas came at you? You OK, baby?” Cross shouted.

  “I’m fine. Just fuckin’ leave!”

  “I’m not goin’ nowhere, baby. I still fuckin’ love you! And, believe me, Chico and that new young nigga of his is goin’ to get got! I promise you that, Kola. We gonna kill ’em all!”

  “You should have done that a long time ago. Now I’m the one left handling business.”

  “What the fuck you talkin’ about? Just open the fuckin’ door so we can talk. I ain’t gonna hurt you, baby.”

  “I know you won’t ’cuz,
one, I’m not opening this door, and two, I got the sawed-off in my hands just for insurance.”

  Cross twisted his face in anger and looked at Edge.

  “Fuck her, Cross!” Edge said to him. “She always gotta be extra with her Queenpin attitude!”

  Kola heard his words clearly and was ready to shoot him through the door. But she held her anger and shouted once again to Cross, “Get the fuck away from my door! I don’t need you here!”

  Cross kicked the door violently and shouted back, “Bitch, you always gonna need me! Sooner than you think.”

  Kola readied the shotgun, indicating that she was ready to shoot first if either one of them tried to rush inside her home. Cross quickly got the hint and slowly backed away from the door, but Edge lingered at the front door for a moment. It made Kola extremely nervous.

  “You stupid fuckin’ bitch! I don’t know why the fuck Cross got wit’ ya triflin’ ass!”

  Kola swung open the front door and aimed the sawed-off shot gun at his face.

  Edge was quickly taken aback. But then he calmly spoke the words, “You got balls, bitch.”

  “Call me a bitch again, and Cross will be picking your brains up wit’ a shovel.” Kola threatened.

  Edge glared at her and then chuckled. “You still don’t get it. You’re all alone, baby, all fuckin’ alone.”

  Kola stared at Cross, who stood by his car and only looked on, while Edge disrespected her in front of their home. She’d had enough of them both.

  “Y’all niggas want a war wit’ me, then fuckin’ bring it!”

  “Nah, no war,” Edge said to her. “You know what I want.”

  “And you, Cross, you disappoint me. You gonna stand there and let him talk to your woman like that?”

  “My woman? Then you need to start fuckin’ acting like it. You won’t fuck me! You won’t let me come home even after I told you I don’t fuck wit’ no Cynthia. You do all that grimy shit to me, and you’re my woman? Edge, c’mon, let’s get the fuck outta here. We fuckin’ done.”

  Edge grinned and secretly blew Kola a kiss. “I’ll be back, and next time, we ain’t asking to come in—well, me, anyway.”

  Edge took a few steps backwards, his eyes still focused on Kola. He gave her the creeps.

  Kola looked over at Cross, and their eyes locked for a moment. She didn’t see that street hustler or gangster anymore; the man she fell in love with. She only saw a punk. Cross had changed. He had slipped greatly and allowed Edge to get into his head.

  Kola watched both men get back into the car and peel out. She sighed with relief and went back inside.

  Something was troubling her about what Edge had said to her, about her being alone. She didn’t know what he meant by it, and she wasn’t ready to find out. She placed the shotgun back in its location and sprawled out on her sofa. They kept saying it was a man’s world, but Kola was ready to show and prove that a woman could play it better.

  Chapter 11

  Chico and his crew were ready to tool up and go head-hunting, starting with Kola. Chico was furious—especially because Blythe was in the line of attack, and they almost killed his girl. He wanted blood to spill at any cost. He gathered many of his soldiers and held a restricted meeting in a basement. There were guns everywhere and willing young men ready to use them to kill anyone.

  Two-Face stood behind his boss and looked troubled about something as Chico held court in the room.

  Chico stood tall amongst his men clad in a velour sweatsuit and holding a Desert Eagle in his hand. He had everyone’s attention in the room. Chico looked into every man’s face and studied their expressions as he spoke. He didn’t want any weakness or doubt in his crew. He gave out orders and told everyone that their main goal was to hunt and kill Cross, Edge, Kola, and everyone close to them. The goons nodded and were ready to go into action.

  “It’s a new fuckin’ day, ya muthafuckas hear me? A new fuckin’ day!” Chico exclaimed.

  His thugs nodded.

  The meeting went on for a half-hour, and then Chico made everyone leave the basement, leaving him alone to talk to Two-Face. Chico noticed the troubled look on his top enforcer’s face. He turned to face his soldier and asked, “What the fuck is bothering you?”

  “That bitch,” he uttered.

  “She’s gonna get got,” Chico said.

  “Nah, there was something else about her.”

  “Like what?”

  “I can’t pinpoint it, homes, but I know that bitch from somewhere,” Two-Face said.

  “From where?”

  “I’m thinkin’, homes, but I know that face.”

  It had been gnawing at Two-Face about knowing Kola’s face from someplace different. He thought about it night and day. Chico didn’t think anything about it, until Two-Face finally remembered where he had seen Kola’s face before.

  “Homes, she ain’t look like that when I saw her. She different,” Two-Face explained.

  “Different? What the fuck you mean, different? Just say what the fuck you gotta say Two-Face, and don’t fuckin’ sugarcoat it.”

  “I mean, me and my vatos, we seen that face at a Mexican whorehouse. We ran the train on her something nice, but her face, her face was badly burned in some way, but her body was something nice to play with. I swear to you, homes, that bitch Kola could be her twin because they looked so much alike. You know they say we all got a twin,” Two-Face stated.

  Chico was quiet for a moment, taking in everything Two-Face was saying to him. He knew it had to be Apple that Two-Face was talking about. There was no mistaking it. But Chico wondered how she ended up in Mexico selling pussy. He looked at Two-Face and asked, “This girl, how long ago was it when you saw her?”

  “Don’t know, homes. I go back home like three or four times a year. It was less than six months ago.”

  “And you sure this bitch you saw was whoring?”

  “I’m positive, homes.”

  “And what side of the face was her burn on?”

  Two-Face laughed. “I was too busy into that pussy to care about any scars.” He gyrated and thrust his hips jokingly, mimicking his sexual act with the whore. “But why you ask, homes?”

  “I’m just curious, that’s all,” Chico stated, impatiently. “But what city was this girl in?”

  Two-Face shrugged. He wasn’t sure of the exact location where he saw the girl. He stared at Chico and asked, “Homes, why you asking so many questions about this bitch? Is she important to us?”

  Chico didn’t respond. He had a stone-cold look about him. He locked eyes with Two-Face and the look instantly said to Two-Face that he had revealed too much information.

  “Why you ask so many details about this one whore, homes? She special to you or something? You know this whore?”

  “Nah, I was just asking.”

  “But you asking way too many questions.”

  “It’s nothing, Two-Face. Just asking you some questions, a’ight! Just fuckin’ dead it!” Chico barked.

  “A’ight, homes, I feel you.”

  But the tension in the room and the uncomfortable stares put both men on edge with each other. Two-Face wanted to know why a Mexican whore was bringing up questions with Chico.

  And Chico figured out that he finally had a line on Apple’s whereabouts, but he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that it was her. He was determined to find out the truth, though.

  ****

  Several days had passed since Chico and Two-Face talked. It was bothering Chico that there was a strong possibility that Apple was kidnapped and forced to sell pussy in Mexico. It was the only explanation he could come up with.

  Chico remembered waiting around at the motel for several days, but she never showed up to collect her things. He remembered the motel room in New Jersey. Apple’s things were st
ill there, but she was gone. He remembered her being upset with him and the trouble she was enduring. She had plenty of enemies, and anyone could have been responsible for her disappearance.

  Chico figured Kola and Cross had the means and reason to have Apple kidnapped and suffer a humiliating fate in a different country. It would have been a slow death for Apple—to be stripped away of her dignity and respect. Chico was now determined more than ever to hunt and kill everyone in Kola’s crew, from the bottom up. The war with them became even much more personal.

  It was after midnight when Chico parked his truck near an open area not too far from the shimmering lights coming from the long, soaring G.W. Bridge. He sat alone in the driver’s seat, a .50-cal. concealed underneath, and waited while smoking a Newport. He listened to nothing but silence around him. There was no radio playing or loud traffic anywhere around him. The area was isolated, shaded with many trees and shrubbery all around.

  An hour later, a car began pulling up slowly. Chico glanced at the approaching headlights and knew it was the person he was waiting for. He wanted the meeting in private, so he came alone. He didn’t feel threatened by the car’s approach. The single occupant in the burgundy Cadillac CTS was well known to Chico and vice versa. They had done business with each other before.

  The CTS came to a stop near Chico’s truck. The headlights shut off, and the door to the Cadillac opened slowly. Chico took one last pull from his cancer stick and tossed it out the window, and then he proceeded to step out of his vehicle.

  The man approaching Chico was tall, six three, with a trimmed goatee. He was dressed nicely in a charcoal three-piece suit and sported a pair of wingtip shoes. He wore an expensive Cartier watch and wore shades even though it was night. He looked cool, but also menacing with his mysterious demeanor.

  Chico walked closer to him. Both men were expressionless. Chico was familiar with his style of work. He was expensive, but always worth the pay. Chico somewhat trusted him, and only used the man’s services when there was no one else to do the job correctly.