Chapter 16
Kola stood like a ghost in Mt. Zion Cemetery, right off the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, clad in a simple black dress and a pair of Fendi sunglasses to hide her teary eyes. Standing tall in her four-inch heels, she stared at Candace’s casket. She couldn’t believe her friend was dead.
She really couldn’t believe that Edge had the audacity to show up to Candace’s funeral. Kola plotted her revenge, glaring at that asshole from behind her large shades. The cemetery had too many witnesses for her to do anything to him—over two-dozen mourners had shown up to the burial—so she held her rage and continued to stare at the roses on the stainless steel casket.
Kola stood opposite Cross and Edge, who were both clad in dark suits and shades. Kola didn’t know if Cross was involved with the massacre, but she didn’t trust him.
She didn’t trust anyone. She felt alone. She felt angry. Candace was dead, her crew was dead, and somebody had to pay.
Everything pointed back to Edge, and probably Cross. Kola knew there was no way one man could get the drop on Candace. She was too good. It had to be a team of men that invaded her stash house.
When Cross tried to console Kola, she refused to accept his help or tell him her worries. She’d heard rumors that he was living in Brooklyn with Cynthia. She started to hate everything about Cross. Her love for him had changed into contempt and anger, and she felt caught in a web of betrayal and death.
Kola looked around the cemetery. Pastor Jones was saying a few words about the deceased, but she wasn’t listening. Her mind was too focused on revenge. She continued to glare at Edge from behind her shades. He had to go. She’d already devised a plan to kill him once and for all, and maybe find out if Cross was involved with Candace’s death. Pastor Jones was a stout, black man. Kola remembered him from his church in Harlem. When she was eight, the mother of one of the twins’ friends from her building took her and Apple to a few church services. They went for a month and had gotten to know him to some extent. He would always say to them, “Such beautiful twin girls. Keep the Lord close to your heart, and everything will always be OK.”
Then years went by, and Pastor Jones, his words, the twins’ mutual friend Tina, and everything else became a memory. The streets became more important.
Pastor Jones stood over the casket in his gray suit. He said solemnly, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust . . . dust thou art, and unto dust thou shall return. I will bring thee to ashes upon the earth in the sight of all them that behold thee.” He then sprinkled a little bit of dirt onto Candace’s casket, concluding the service.
The crowd began to leave the burial site, but Kola lingered around near the casket. She let out a heavy sigh. She knew death was part of playing the game, but it was still painful to endure when it was a close friend.
Pastor Jones walked up to her. “It’s been a long time, Kola.”
Kola was surprised he still remembered her. “Thank you, Pastor, for everything you’ve done.”
Pastor Jones stared at her, making her a bit uncomfortable. He told her, “Don’t let it be you in that casket without you finding your way soon.”
“I have found my way, Pastor, and once I make things right, you’ll have plenty of business coming your way.”
“Revenge is not the way to salvation.”
“You need to preach that somewhere else, Pastor Jones, but not here, not now. No disrespect to you, but stay the hell out of my business!” She walked away, leaving him dumbfounded by her comment.
Kola noticed that Edge had been eyeing her hard throughout the burial service. He got balls, she thought. As she walked toward the parking lot, she heard someone behind her. She turned and saw Edge approaching. She glanced around to look for Cross and saw that he was already gone. It figures, she thought.
“Hold on a minute, Kola!” Edge called out.
Kola continued walking.
“We need to talk.”
Kola stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, her murderous look hidden behind Fendi. “What the fuck do you want, Edge?”
“Listen, I know we had our differences over the past months, and my condolences to your girl. She was cool peoples. But I’m here to help. You family, Kola, and whoever did this, they gonna fuckin’ pay.”
Kola thought he had some nerve, but she kept her feelings to herself and went along with the program. “Thanks. And you’re right, they will pay. Painfully too.”
“You look really nice, though.”
“Whatever!” She turned away from him and headed back to her car.
Edge quickly took a hold of her arm. “Wait a minute, Kola. We need to talk.”
“About what? We have nothing in common, and we never will.”
“You know how I always felt about you, Kola. He ain’t never deserved you.”
“And you think you could do better, Edge?”
“I’m not him.”
“You definitely aren’t.”
Edge frowned.
Kola softened up her attitude. “What do you need to talk about?”
“Not here, Kola. Someplace more comfortable.”
“Like where?”
“Let me take you out to dinner, and I’ll explain everything that’s going on. I promise, you gonna want to know what I have to say to you,” he said calmly.
She thought about it for a moment. “OK, I’ll go out wit’ you, and we’ll talk.”
“Cool.”
Edge gave Kola his new number. She saved it into her phone and watched him walk away. He moved like everything was cool between them, but they were far from cool.
Kola knew that pussy always made niggas weak and stupid, and Edge had been craving for a piece of her pie for the longest. She was ready to use her sexuality to get with him and carry out what needed to be done. Desperate for payback, and with her crew murdered, she had to take matters in her own hands.
****
Kola parked her black Audi a few blocks from the projects and took a taxi to her mom’s crib. She had no choice but to return home and try to rekindle some semblance of a relationship with her mother. She swallowed her pride and decided to make things work, since she had few options left. She had a little over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash and a few ki’s stashed somewhere safe; her bailout money that no one knew about.
Eduardo was still MIA. The uncertainty of his whereabouts put a hollow feeling in her stomach. Each day she wished he would call and tell her what the fuck was going on. Instead, all she had was the ominous threat. Kola didn’t know if he had been detained by the feds or if he had escaped to Colombia. She was worried that she was on the feds’ radar, so she tried to keep a low profile, or planned to, after dealing with Edge.
She strutted into her mother’s apartment and heard New Edition blaring from the stereo. It was hard to return home after the harsh words she’d said to her mother. Denise constantly gave her a look like, I knew you would be back home sooner or later. So Kola put five thousand dollars in her mother’s hand to ease the tension.
For Kola, staying in the projects was a risk. She had enemies and haters, so she didn’t go out much, mostly at night, if ever, and she always carried a gun. She hoped that she was strategically hiding in plain sight, moving like pieces on a chessboard. Everyone knew how she felt about Denise, so it would be the last place anyone would think to look.
She passed her mother’s bedroom and heard loud moaning. Her mother was fucking some young nigga. She paid it no mind and went into the bedroom and locked the door.
Once she was situated, the tears started to flow. The pain and hurt of losing Candace became fresh for her once again. She couldn’t show weakness, so she masked her grief behind the four walls in her mother’s apartment.
The young girl in her began to show. She had grown up way too quickly, and didn’t know what it was like to have a c
hildhood. At thirteen, she was fucking. At fourteen, she was hustling. By the time she was sixteen, she was seasoned in the street life, and became a “queenpin” before her twenty-first birthday.
Kola didn’t cry for too long. She quickly dried her tears and walked over to the window. She peered down at her Audi. Everything appeared normal. She needed to make moves. Kola knew she wasn’t going to last too long in the projects, and in her mother’s apartment. The two clashed like plaid and polka dots. She didn’t like that her mother had wild parties and niggas coming and going from her bedroom. Strangers were dangerous in Kola’s line of work.
Kola picked up her cell phone. She thought about Edge and Cross, but she focused on Edge more. She needed to flirt with him and get as much information from him as possible. She dialed his number, and it rang a few times before he picked up.
“Who this calling?”
“It’s Kola.”
“Oh, what up, love? You good?”
“I just needed to talk.”
“Shit, you know that’s what I’m here for. I know ya goin’ through it after losing ya girls. That shit is hard. You know I understand.”
Edge tried to be sincere, but Kola knew it was all bullshit. “What you doing?” she asked.
“I’m chillin’ right now. Why you ask?”
“I just asked.”
“Why you ain’t call Cross though?”
“’Cuz he hurt me, and I don’t trust him right now.”
“I know, that’s my dude and all, but he can be a foul nigga sometimes. I don’t trust that nigga most times myself. He’s starting to act funny on a nigga too.”
“What you mean?”
“He doin’ you dirty, Kola. I’m just keepin’ it real. Nigga got all that work and cash now, and he keepin’ shit on lockdown from a nigga, probably in Brooklyn wit’ shorty.”
“What the hell you talkin’ about, Edge? What work and cash? And what bitch?”
“It ain’t my place to tell you, but he be spending most his time in Brooklyn now. He shacked up wit’ his baby mama. They, like, tryin’ to get married.”
“Are you serious?”
Edge sucked his teeth. “I was there when he bought that bitch the ring.”
The news was a serious blow to Kola. She was distraught.
“I just thought you should know about it, since the nigga is into keepin’ secrets from muthafuckas. But I can keep secrets too.”
“I can’t fuckin’ believe him!”
“He ain’t worth tears, ma. It’s how that nigga can be sometimes. I mean, that’s my dude and all, but he doin’ you and me dirty.”
“Muthafucka!”
“I’m sayin’, Kola, I know you and me had our serious differences back then, but let’s just let bygones be bygones and start over. You feel me?”
Kola felt black and colder inside. Edge had only added more fuel to her burning hatred. She was done crying over Cross, and she was done feeling betrayed. It was time to implement her next move.
“I’m saying, Kola, let me take you out. I got you, ma.”
Kola was silent for a moment. She was thinking. “OK. But when?”
“Fuck that! Tonight, ma. Let me get things off ya mind, and we can talk.”
“A’ight, I’m down. But keep this between you and me, Edge. If Cross finds—”
“Kola, he ain’t gonna find out shit, and he don’t need to know what goes on between you and me. It ain’t his business anymore. This is our fuckin’ business. You just make sure you show up. Let me worry about Cross, and believe me when I say, he ain’t gonna be a problem to us anymore. ”
After the two established a time and place, Kola hung up the phone and shouted, “Shady muthafuckas!”
She was going to be ready tonight.
****
It was a quarter to ten at night when Kola stepped out of her mother’s apartment looking stunning in an ultra-short, halter-style mini dress with scrunched sides and low neckline—no panties. She wore six-inch heels that highlighted her well-defined legs, and carried a small Gucci purse. A loaded .22 Magnum was concealed inside.
Kola turned heads walking to her parked Audi. The neighborhood knew her name, and about her scandalous reputation, and the locals stayed away from her, fearing that she was trouble. Kola was the talk of the hood, but she didn’t care at all. Everything was about business and a come-up for her. If you got in her way, then she was ready to cut you down.
Kola got into her car and was ready to meet Edge at Junior’s Restaurant in downtown Brooklyn. Anywhere in Harlem or the city would’ve been too dangerous for them to link up, and she didn’t want anyone in her business.
She arrived at Junior’s shortly after ten-thirty and parked down the block. She strutted toward the restaurant and looked around for Edge. She soon spotted his truck parked on the corner and walked over cautiously. She kept her gun close, not knowing what to expect.
Edge stepped out of his truck with a broad smile. He muttered, “Damn!” his eyes absorbing Kola’s sexy attire, from her tight dress to her sexy walk.
“I’m here,” Kola said. “So let’s talk.”
“You lookin’ good, Kola,” Edge said, lust showing across his face. “Damn! Really fuckin’ good. I love that dress you got on.”
Kola knew Edge was a horny hound dog who thought more with his dick than his head. The way he looked at her gave her the creeps, but she knew how to use his eagerness to her advantage.
Edge was wearing a wife-beater, dark jeans, Timberlands, and a thick, long chain. He was constantly showing off, flexing his muscles, but Kola was far from impressed.
“Let’s talk in private, Kola,” he suggested.
“How private?”
“Damn! Very private.”
“You got a cigarette?”
“I got one left in my truck.”
“Then let’s go for a ride.”
Edge smiled, and they began to walk in the direction of his dark green Yukon.
He got behind the wheel and passed Kola his last Newport.
She quickly lit it, took a few drags, then looked at him.
“Just drive. I need to clear my head.”
“A’ight. But you cool wit’ leaving ya shit parked here in Brooklyn?”
“I’m good.”
Edge started the ignition and slowly pulled out of his spot. He was excited. Cross had fucked up his chance with her, so he was going to take advantage of the situation.
“Where you wanna go to?”
“Back to Harlem?” Kola said.
“For what?”
“I know a place where we can go.”
“So why you have me drive out here to meet you at Junior’s? I coulda met you somewhere out there.”
“Think, Edge—My car is known, me and Cross are known. They see me get out of my car and get into your truck, and you think muthafuckas ain’t gonna speculate some shit going on? Us three, we’re too fuckin’ known in Harlem not to have eyes watching.”
“True!”
“A’ight, just drive,” she spat, “before I change my fuckin’ mind.”
Kola rolled her eyes. She figured Edge wasn’t as stupid as he looked, but she was smarter and fiercer. She continued to lead him on, lifting her dress slightly and exposing her smooth, thick legs.
He smiled. “I like that.”
“I bet you do.”
Edge clutched the steering wheel with his left hand, leaned closer to Kola, and moved his right hand between her slightly opened legs. His touch alone made Kola cringe, but she let him massage her thigh as he crossed over the Brooklyn Bridge.
“Um, you feel so soft.”
“I do, huh? You like that?”
“Hells yeah.”
“I love th
e way you touch me,” Kola lied. She then took his hand and slowly slid it between the depths of her legs.
“You ain’t got no fuckin’ panties on,” he uttered excitedly.
“I knew you would like that.”
Edge began to finger Kola’s love box gently, pushing two of his fingers into her shaved pussy and playing with her clit.
Kola began to moan from his touch, clamping her thighs around his hand when she felt his touch digging into her.
“Ooh, I can’t wait to fuck you, Kola.”
“I bet you can’t.”
Edge continued to finger-fuck Kola as he drove his truck into the city. He grew hard as he stroked her pussy, and was ready to pull over for a quickie with his friend’s chick.
He navigated through the nightly traffic and raced north on the FDR, while still fingering Kola’s wet pussy. He was about to go crazy if he didn’t have it soon. They made some small talk, but Edge’s main concern was sex. He even went down on Kola briefly while stopped at a red light, pulling up her dress and snaking his tongue inside of her, causing her to squirm and moan.
The two soon made it into Harlem, where the street traffic and nightly activity wasn’t too thick in certain areas of the hood. Edge was determined to find a desolate block so he could fuck Kola in the backseat of his truck.
“You got condoms?” she asked.
“Nah.”
“We gonna need some . . . and some cigarettes too.”
“A’ight, I’ll stop by the store.”
Edge soon found a twenty-four-hour bodega on Seventh Avenue and double-parked on the street.
“I’ll go get ’em,” Kola volunteered, pulling down her dress, collecting herself from their brief sexual encounter.
“A’ight, get me somethin’ to drink too ’cuz I’m gonna be thirsty after I finish waxing that ass.” Edge smiled.
Kola returned a counterfeit smile and walked into the bodega. Once inside, she took out her phone and started to dial a cab service.
“Uptown Cab,” a lady answered.
“Yes, I need a cab,” Kola said.
“Where are you?”
“I’m on the corner of West One Hundred and Forty-Seventh Street and Malcolm X Boulevard. How long?”
Checkmate Page 14
