Killer Dolls, Part 3

by Nisa Santiago

  All three men took their seats at the table and lounged comfortably. They had their own waitress and all the privacy they needed to discuss business, being removed from the general patrons. Heavy Pop was eager to get things started. He had come a long way too, being shot and almost killed, and now he had a young son and a nagging baby mama.

  Each man was well-dressed in high-end fashion in their own way. Tall and lean, Mateo was wearing a sharp black suit with a beige silk tie that screamed Armani, and a gold diamond Rolex peeked from beneath his white cuffs. His hair was trimmed and coiffed, his skin glowed, and he could’ve easily passed for a Hollywood star.

  AZ ordered a cocktail. “I’m surprised to meet with you on this level, Mateo. Your name been ringing out for years now.”

  “I know, but things and situations change,” Mateo replied.

  AZ told him, “It’s good to see you trying to get back on your feet, Mateo, but I’m curious. You’ve always been a distributor in the game, not a buyer. You had direct contact with the cartels, and damn near every muthafucka from Boston to the D.C. went to your organization for coke and dope. Now to see you like this, coming to us for your supply, how the fuck did that happen?”

  Mateo sat back in his seat and took a sip from his drink. He locked eyes with AZ, knowing if this was ten years ago, he would have been the one doing the interrogation. He answered coolly, “Bad luck and bad investments over the years.”

  Heavy Pop chimed, “That’s the game, right? Up and down.”

  “In this game, you always got to stay on your toes,” AZ said, almost like a low blow to Mateo. “You can’t get caught slippin’ in these streets ’cuz the wolves will devour you.”

  AZ and Heavy Pop had the upper hand, with the strong connect and the resources to make Mateo a rich man again.

  “Look, I fucked up. I admit it. I caught a few bad breaks throughout the years, and with pussy, drugs, and a wild lifestyle, it was a disaster waiting to happen. I got four baby mamas all filled with drama, and seven kids. I got distracted. I got stupid. I made some bad investments too, lost a ton of money on that record label I started. Then the gun charge took a lot out of me, along with the IRS taking a huge chunk out of my ass, with owed taxes and shit, practically leaving me with nothing when I came home.”

  AZ added, “Yeah, and then there’s niggas saying you got jammed up in North Carolina on some federal raid.”

  “That’s bullshit!” Mateo vehemently denied. “One of my baby mamas started that fuckin’ rumor! That bitch cost me a lot of business and dried up my lifeline. I underestimated that fuckin’ ho. I was flying high on that pure white heroin from Honduras. When that rumor started about me getting raided in North Carolina with over a hundred kilos of cocaine, everyone started to jump ship.”

  “Could you blame ’em?” AZ asked.

  “I can’t. But it ruined me. I had a tight ship—connections with the Coast Guard, pilots, and political connections so fuckin’ high, I damn near had the president on speed dial.”

  Heavy Pop laughed.

  But Mateo’s downfall was nothing to laugh at. He had taken a major hit.

  “And what do you need from us?” AZ already knew the answer, but he needed to hear Mateo say it from his own mouth.

  “I’m back on my feet, but I just need that extra push. Know what I’m saying?”

  AZ nodded.

  “We got you,” Heavy Pop said.

  Instead of manufacturing and distributing, Mateo needed to hustle to build his empire again, and he had the funds. Mateo had heard through the grapevine about AZ and Heavy Pop being legit niggas—serious and moving more “white” than a Russian blizzard.

  Mateo had reached out to them via a third party, and once AZ heard the name of the man who wanted to meet, he didn’t hesitate. Mateo always came correct, from his understanding.

  AZ asked, “So what are we talking ’bout here, Mateo? What do you expect from us?”

  “I want two hundred—”

  “Kilos?” Heavy Pop asked, looking dumbfounded.

  “Two hundred ki’s on consignment? That’s just too much of a risk for us. I mean, no disrespect, your name rang out, it still do, but let’s be for real here—This ain’t back in the day, and you’ve dropped a few levels on the food chain.”

  Mateo frowned. “Obviously, you got me confused with some fledgling small-timer in this game. And I’m insulted that you would think that of me—that I need shit on credit or consignment. I’m talking cash, and for that amount, I want high quality coke with a bulk discount.”

  “Damn! Cash?”

  AZ gawked at Mateo stoically. It was a tall order. In fact, it was one of their biggest orders to date. “That’s a lot a weight, especially for a man that’s been somewhat on a decline the past three years.”

  “Look at me—you know my name, my pedigree, and you know I’m smart. I’m still a man with resources and cash on reserve. You think the government was able to take everything from me?”

  AZ didn’t answer him.

  Both men were in business mode, like sharks circling their prey in the ocean. It was game time. So far, AZ’s trip to New York was looking like it was worthwhile.

  “It’s gonna take us some time to put that order together,” AZ said.

  Mateo took a sip from his stemmed glass. “I’m cool with that. How long you think?” he asked coolly.

  “About a week.”

  Mateo nodded his head. “And price?”

  “Thirty a ki’,” AZ replied.

  “You can’t be serious. For two hundred, I’m gonna need a lower number.”

  AZ looked at his partner in crime, who said, “Hey, he’s getting two hundred. I ain’t got no problem with a lower number.”

  AZ sighed. “Twenty-eight.”

  “Twenty,” Mateo returned seriously.

  Mateo and AZ went back and forth with numbers.

  Mateo finally offered, “Twenty-three five a ki’, and I promise you I’ll be a loyal client to you from now on. These two hundred will be gone within no time. I already have something set up.”

  AZ sat silently for a moment, mulling over the offer, which was almost seven grand under their asking price. He then shook his head, locked eyes with Mateo, and agreed to the deal. Usually, AZ wouldn’t have accepted such a low offer, but for that quantity and with Mateo having the cash up front, it was a sweet deal on both ends. They shook on it, and their business was concluded.

  Heavy Pop said, “Mateo, I’m curious. What ever happened to the baby mama that started that rumor about you?”

  Mateo smirked. “You know, I heard her funeral was very nice . . . though it was a closed casket.”

  “Damn!” Heavy Pop uttered.

  The three men stood up from their chairs, and Mateo made his exit. AZ and Heavy Pop walked out of the place ecstatic.

  AZ was already running the numbers in his head. They would get the kilos from Oscar at twenty thousand a key, but at that quantity, and having a good business relationship with Oscar, he was sure they could get them at eighteen a key, leaving them a net profit of $550,000 each for a couple hours of their time. Mateo was promising to move that kind of weight every two to three weeks. That was over a million each per month just from one client. It was a good day’s work.

  Heavy Pop wanted to celebrate and go to one of the high-end strip clubs in the city, but AZ wasn’t in the mood. He decided to drive back to Maryland before rush-hour traffic came creeping. He wanted to spend some quality time with his wife, celebrate with her when she came home. Lately, things had been shaky in his home, and he needed to keep up appearances with her. He climbed in his Benz and made his way back to the Lincoln Tunnel and toward Maryland.

  Four

  AZ wanted to celebrate the deal he had made with Mateo, so when he got back to Maryland, he and his wife popped some champagne and watched a movie. They conti
nued their quality time together in the bedroom while the kids were sleeping.

  AZ thrust himself inside of Wendy while he had her pinned against the bed in the missionary position. He sucked on her nipples and grinded between her thighs. He could feel she was moist.

  Wendy knew that the deal in the city must have gone forward, since AZ was going caveman on her pussy that night. They hadn’t had sex in months, and they barely kissed. AZ was on cloud nine and he wanted to please her. However, she wasn’t pleased. He was her husband, and it was simply her duty to give him pleasure. Some nights she just lay there like a doll, simply giving him what he wanted. He grunted, and she didn’t.

  She lay there with her legs spread and felt his erection pushing in and out of her.

  Wendy loved the life that he gave her and the kids, but there wasn’t true love for her husband. He was smart, a great businessman, and a wonderful father, but when it came to passion and the intimacy, it just wasn’t there. After spending years together, she had grown bored of him and their marriage.

  “I love you, baby!” AZ proclaimed, working his erection inside of her.

  “I love you too,” she replied dryly.

  AZ wanted to switch positions, doggy-style. He wanted to explore her forbidden area. Sexing his wife anally would remind him of having sex with Baron.

  “Hell no!”

  “C’mon, baby, let’s just try something new tonight. I can get some lubrication and take my time inside . . . no rush.”

  “No! Are you crazy? Why not just fuck me regular and get your nut?”

  “I thought I would spice up our sex life.”

  “By fuckin’ me in the ass? You already know how I feel about it. It’s disgusting! You’re lucky I’m in the mood for this much.”

  AZ released a deep sigh. Quickly, his celebration was transforming into misery and rejection. He loved his wife, and he wanted to fuck her like a beast and, for one night, pretend he wasn’t a down-low homosexual who loved a hard dick too. He wanted to be normal with his wife. Anal sex with the wife was normal, right?

  Just like that, AZ’s penis became flaccid.

  Wendy saw this and removed herself from the bed and donned a long robe. It was official. Playtime had ended. “I need to use the bathroom,” she announced matter-of-factly. She walked out the bedroom, closing the bathroom door shut.

  AZ lay naked on the bed looking flabbergasted. The other night with Baron had been much more satisfying than this shit, and he craved to see him again. Maybe I should have celebrated with him instead, he thought.

  He puffed out disappointment as he stood up and threw on a pair of basketball shorts and a T-shirt. He left the bedroom and went into the boys’ bedroom to check up on them. Both his sons were sound asleep. They looked peaceful in their beds—like little angels in cartoon pajamas curled up under the sheets, probably having sweet dreams. What did they have to worry about? They were spoiled and protected. They were innocent. He could see himself in his sons.

  AZ closed their door and went back into his bedroom. Wendy hadn’t come out the bathroom yet. It sounded too quiet in there. He placed his ear to the door and heard nothing, not even water running. He then knocked and asked, “Wendy, you okay in there?”

  “I’m fine!” she snapped. “Just leave me alone for now!”

  He assumed she might have had a rough day at the office. Being an assistant state’s attorney for Baltimore could become a stressful job. She had to deal with it all—crime, politics, and bullshit. She also was a beautiful woman, and AZ considered, maybe, she had to put up with sexual harassment on the job. He’d once told her that if she had any issues with work that she could come to him. For anything. He would take care of it. Wendy just shrugged him off. She saw AZ as a meek businessman from Brooklyn with no clout in her city. He was a nice guy, and she felt that he could be just a little too amiable for her line of business.

  AZ pivoted and walked away from the door. He picked up the remote control to the 60-inch flat-screen mounted on their bedroom wall and powered it on. CNN came to life across the screen. The anchorman talked about a crisis overseas, somewhere in Lebanon. AZ paid little to no attention to the broadcast. He could care less about what was happening ten thousand miles away from him. He had his own problems at home.

  Sitting at the foot of the bed, he suddenly remembered noticing that Wendy had taken her cell phone into the bathroom with her. He wondered why. What was going on? What was she up to? There was something going on with his wife, and he wanted to know what it was.

  Five

  Cristal slowly submerged herself into the soothing bath. The hot water in the porcelain tub was doing its job, caressing her body, soothing her nooks and crannies. Her body was aching from head to toe. She closed her eyes, wanting to relax and take her mind off her troubles.

  Mary J. Blige’s “Be Without You” played through the wireless speakers in her bathroom. Mary’s music was another soothing technique to help her heal and get better. She listened to the lyrics and sang along. Mary was therapeutic in so many ways.

  She released a deep sigh and sank deeper into the comforting water. She felt safe for now, with a loaded 9mm within her reach by the tub and the door locked.

  Not long ago, they’d almost cornered her. They had come for her unexpectedly. She’d thought she had always been careful covering her tracks and staying off-grid. Obviously, she was wrong. They had always been watching and were close on her tail.

  The Commission never forgot, and they never gave up. With GHOST Protocol on her ass too, she had to be twice as cautious.

  Cristal continued to linger in the warm tub. The umpteenth song from her Mary J. Blige playlist was playing. Her mind transported her to her days in Brooklyn when she once was innocent.

  She was now alone in this world, her entire bloodline having been wiped out by someone she’d once considered a close friend. Tamar was dead now, but the lasting effects of her sadistic actions were carved into Cristal’s mind. The Farm and The Commission did her more harm than good. They taught her how to destroy lives, and in reverse, she had destroyed her own. Almost everyone in her crew was dead—Lisa, Mona, Tamar. Sharon was smart enough not to take up EP on his invitation to The Farm, and had become a cop in the NYPD.

  Thinking about it all brought tears to Cristal’s eyes. She wiped them away quickly and got out of the tub. She dried off and knotted the towel around her. She went to the mirror and looked at herself. She was a bad bitch, but her soul had been torn apart, and at times she doubted she would ever be whole again.

  But then Daniel came into her life and changed her views. The way he loved her was magical. He made her laugh, think, and smile. He gave her a reason to want to live—to separate herself from her past.

  Damn, she missed him so much. She yearned for his touch and his kisses against her lips and skin. The way he enlightened her to different things was gratifying. Daniel was the love of her life. It was torture knowing she would never see him again. But she had figured out a way to hear from him again.

  Cristal went into her bedroom, got dressed in yoga pants and a hoodie, and opened a dresser drawer, where she kept several SIM cards and cell phones. Each phone was untraceable. Along with the cell phones was a GPS jammer. She knew that phone calls could be easily traced the minute a caller picked up.

  After she placed a SIM card into a cell phone, she stepped outside into the fall weather and started her mobilization. She had to be mobile, so the call could bounce from tower to tower. It was worth the hassle. She had been calling Daniel lately, but not saying a word to him. She just wanted to hear him answer the phone and hear him breathe.

  “Hello? Who's calling?” he'd ask, but she would never say a word.

  All this effort was to keep him safe. She didn’t want anything to happen to him. She couldn’t see him and feared they were watching him closely, and when she called him, they couldn’t find her
location. As long as they couldn’t find her, Cristal thought Daniel would be okay.

  After a few calls to him without her saying anything, he started to wonder if the person on the other end who remained silent was actually his very complicated and very dead girlfriend.

  “Hey, if this is you, I hope and pray you’re okay.”

  During the following phone call a week later, Daniel talked about his summer without her, and how much he missed her. He started to talk into the phone normally about his day, his future, his hurts and pain. He thought he was going crazy, yet it was comforting to him. Daniel always felt that there was something more to Beatrice and her death, and he wanted to believe that it was her calling and remaining silent on the phone. He took a chance and began speaking freely like it was Beatrice AKA Cristal.

  Cristal listened to him silently. Though it was a one-way conversation, she felt engaged. She took that as a sign that their love was real, transcending logic, death, The Commission, and GHOST Protocol.

  Six

  The late Bishop once told Cristal, “Never stay in one place for too long, don’t make any friends, only pay cash, stay humble, and most important, keep a low profile. Avoid confrontations and law enforcement by any means necessary.”

  Cristal had followed his rules, and it had brought her this far. But life on the run, away from everything she once knew, was hard. She had a high contract on her head—a million dollars each from The Commission and GHOST Protocol, two of the most dangerous and influential organizations anyone could tangle with. There was no telling how many people they had killed over the years, and now Cristal was on their hit list. She had pissed them off by publishing her Killer Dolls novels under the pseudonym Melissa Chin. Cristal told all of The Commission’s dirty secrets—She didn’t care—and her books became international best-sellers, even making The New York Times list.