“What?” Now Cristal felt it was all a scam. Does this bitch think I’m stupid?
But what Lady Ida said next had her in awe.
“There’s a lot of blood around you. Death. And I see an older woman named Hattie.”
Grandma Hattie. How did she know about her? Cristal now was taken aback completely. How could she know about her grandmother and her tragic death? What the fuck! Cristal thought. She reached into her small purse and pulled out three hundred-dollar bills and placed them on the table, and Lady Ida collected her fee.
“Tell me,” Cristal said gruffly.
“I see a curse placed on your family. It was a curse placed a century ago by a voodoo priest. Your whole lineage, including yourself, will be wiped out by the hundredth year. I see cousins, uncles, aunts, parents, and grandparents that all die unnatural deaths.”
Cristal shivered from the premonition. There was no denying, she did always feel that her family was cursed. Almost everyone was gone from her life, snatched away by violence, and not only those who were brutally killed that fateful Thanksgiving night. She remembered cousins shot down or stabbed by jealous girlfriends, and uncles struck by speeding cars. She lost two aunts in plane crashes in a two-year period. Year after year, there had always been some tragic death in her family. Everyone except for her.
Cristal wanted to know more. “Who put the curse on my family, and why? Is that person’s lineage still around? Tell me more.”
Lady Ida tried to read the cards again, but she saw nothing else. There was no more to foretell. Strangely, her nose started to bleed, trickling onto the table, with blood droplets landing on the tarot cards. Lady Ida then suddenly became extremely weak. She’d never felt anything like it. It felt like her body had been completely drained of energy. She placed both her hands onto the table and could barely hold herself up.
“You must go!” Lady Ida said.
“No! I need to know more,” Cristal demanded. She stood over the suddenly weakened fortune-teller. She wanted answers. Now she did believe in black magic and voodoo. Lady Ida knew things about her that she’d never told anyone else.
Cristal wanted to kill Lady Ida. It could have been done so easily. But she also saw that the woman was in no shape to be roughed up. She did what she was paid to do. Violence wasn’t going to help her out.
“I’ll pay you five thousand dollars if you can tell me more about this curse and the person who placed it on my family.”
Lady Ida refused. “Go!” she instructed loudly.
Cristal glared down at the weakened woman. It looked like she had aged ten years in minutes. There was nothing left there for Cristal. She heaved a sigh and pivoted away from the woman.
As Cristal was about to step away, she felt Lady Ida’s icy hands suddenly grab her forearm. Lady Ida, her hazel eyes looking like they were on fire, stared up at Cristal. “If you reach out to him again, he will die! Your actions have already bound him into your fate.”
The woman gave Cristal the heebie-jeebies. She left the storefront and stepped out onto Royal Street for some fresh air. Cristal told herself that it was all a scam—nothing but an elaborate con. That woman knew nothing about her and was just some fake wannabe fortune-teller trying to run game on her.
Cristal arrived back to her hotel room and opened the bottle of wine she had purchased from a winery shop on Bourbon Street. She poured herself a glass and sat at the table. Everything Lady Ida told her, she erased it from her mind. Today, she wanted to relax.
She took a few sips of wine and dialed Daniel’s number. He had to pick up this time. Daniel was safe. She knew it. She had been extra cautious. The Commission or GHOST Protocol didn’t have a reason to kill him. She hadn’t come around and had stayed away from him.
Once again, Daniel’s cell phone went straight to voice mail.
There was no need to worry. He could have just lost his phone. There was no need to panic. Daniel was safe. Her enemies had no reason to go after him. She would get in contact with him again soon.
Twenty-One
Mateo dropped two duffel bags of money at AZ’s feet, payment totaling in the millions for another two hundred kilos. Mateo was flipping birds faster than they could breathe.
AZ was expecting Mateo to come around once a month, not every two weeks. “Didn’t expect you so soon, Mateo.”
“I told you, I’m a true hustler, and your product, it’s gold,” Mateo said.
“I know it is.”
Their location was a protected one in New Jersey, and while they had off-the-cuff conversation, Mateo’s men were loading another two hundred kilos of cocaine into a cargo van.
Heavy Pop stood in the background overseeing the transition of drugs and payment. AZ and Heavy Pop didn’t need goons. Their pedigree was protection enough, and with Oscar backing them, no one would ever dare to cross them.
“I’m curious, where does it all go so fast?” AZ asked.
“I got clientele spread all over. Did you forget? My name is Mateo, baby, and I was hustling before I was even born. Anyway, why do you care? You’re making lots of money from my clientele.”
AZ smiled. “Yeah, I am.”
“Anyway, I’m gonna need five hundred kilos in two weeks.”
“Five hundred kilos?” AZ was shocked to hear such a high number.
“Yes, five hundred. Can you handle that order for me?”
Five hundred kilos was a great number. AZ couldn’t just shit that amount of kilos out of his ass. He thought about it for a minute. He then looked at Mateo and said convincingly, “I got you.”
“My nigga.”
Mateo and AZ dapped each other up.
AZ picked up the two duffel bags and turned around and walked toward his truck, while Mateo climbed into the backseat of his new Bentley Mulsanne. AZ was impressed by the vehicle. He thought about getting one himself.
They watched Mateo drive off in his Bentley, the van loaded with two hundred ki’s following right behind.
When everyone was out of sight, Heavy Pop said, “Five hundred kilos, AZ? What the fuck! He thinks we’re Pablo Escobar?”
“We can handle this, Heavy Pop.”
“I don’t know. That’s a lot of extra kilos to move around in concealment. And what is Oscar going to have to say about it?”
“Like he always has been doing—supplying us what we need because we keep paying him his money. We haven’t fucked up anything. We’re good at this. This is us. Look, it’s about to be a new year, and things are definitely up for us, Heavy. If Mateo needs five hundred kilos in two more weeks, we’re gonna supply him. Has he ever let us down?”
Heavy Pop looked doubtful. “Nah.”
“Look, the nigga is legit. Believe me, if I felt something was wrong or had any clue that he was dirty, then he would have been a dead man from the start. I would have put a bullet in his head myself. But he’s good, Heavy Pop. We’re both about our money.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Nigga, we just made two million plus. Let’s go out and celebrate. Let’s have us some fun.”
“Let’s go have some fun then.”
*
AZ sat in VIP at Lucky Charms, a club on Manhattan’s West Side. Heavy Pop sat across from him, and in between them were six sexily dressed females dancing provocatively, drinking high-priced champagne, laughing and smiling, and bumping and grinding against each other. The hip-hop music blared through the lavish 40,000-sq.-ft. club with two of the hottest DJs mixing everything from R&B to reggae. The full bar was swamped with patrons, and the dance floor was crowded.
Looking preoccupied in thought, AZ sat aloof from the party scene. A curvy, bootylicious, big-breasted video vixen sat on his lap and tried to plant a kiss against his neck, but he shied away from her.
“You don’t want me?” she asked him. “We can fuck tonight, if you wa
nt.”
“I’m good,” he said.
She took his hand and placed it onto her breasts. Her flesh was soft, her eyes inviting. She could become his Burger King, but he wasn’t interested in that type of meat.
Heavy Pop, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. The girls had him aroused, and he had his eyes on a thick beauty wearing the hell out of a sexy black dress. Her legs were as long as they come, and her long black hair swiveled around gracefully as she danced. Heavy Pop couldn’t resist the temptation any longer. He got behind her and started to grind against her.
AZ was thinking about Oscar. He had called hours earlier and got in touch with his general, Pena. He told Pena that he needed to speak to Oscar, that it was important. Pena told him Oscar was busy at the moment, but he would definitely relay the message. Now AZ was waiting for the phone call. Oscar didn’t do any business over the phone, only face to face. Five hundred kilos would be his biggest order, but AZ was confident that Mateo would have the full 11.75 million.
Leaving the club at three in the morning, Heavy Pop walked toward his ride with the sexy dressed woman under his arm. They both were giggling and smiling, ready to head back to his place.
AZ wasn’t so festive. He still had a lot on his mind, including his wife and kids. He wasn’t into pussy or partying.
“AZ, you okay?” Heavy Pop asked.
“I’m fine.”
“I know tonight is not the night you choose to be faithful to your wife,” he joked.
AZ didn’t laugh, and Heavy Pop started to worry about his friend.
A few women lingered near AZ, hoping he would choose them for the night. But AZ was on his cell phone, sending out text messages to someone.
Heavy Pop was curious. “Who you texting?” he asked.
“Business.”
“At three in the morning?”
“Money doesn’t sleep.”
“Take a break. Get your dick sucked.”
The girls were open and ready, and they weren’t offended by Heavy Pop’s vulgar statement. AZ didn’t give them a second look. Instead, he replied to Baron’s text. The two had been texting back and forth since he was inside the club. Baron was the one who got his dick extra hard.
Heavy Pop said, “You got all this good pussy in your face and you acting like it doesn’t exist? Have some fun, my nigga.”
Two big-butt beauties tried to flirt harder with AZ. They spotted his Benz and peeped his jewels. The two gold-digging hoes were desperate to put a smile on his face with some freaky shit.
“C’mon, handsome. Let’s go have some fun tonight,” the girl wearing the short miniskirt with thick thighs said to him, grasping at his clothing and looking into his eyes.
The second club whore tugged at AZ’s arm, slightly pulling him toward her direction. Her eyes displayed complete open-mindedness. Her full lips and mesmerizing black eyes could cripple any man and have him succumb to anything sexual.
AZ managed to smile.
“See, I like your smile.”
Heavy Pop was watching his friend. Not once did he touch the ladies. He was worried about AZ’s state with his family and his tenacity to move five hundred kilos. Oscar had already been leery about the fake “John G.” moving two hundred ki’s every two weeks. This wasn’t 1988 and Oscar felt that was too much white gold for one man and one organization to move. But AZ continued to vouch for Mateo. Heavy Pop felt they were pushing their luck.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m getting myself a suite at the Waldorf Astoria, and I’m going to enjoy my night with some sexy company,” Heavy Pop said.
His female companion smiled widely. The Waldorf Astoria made a statement as to how rich these two men were. She couldn’t wait to drop her clothes in such a classy and prestigious hotel and have sex in a fifteen-hundred-dollar-a-night suite. No man had ever taken her to the Waldorf.
Her two acquaintances were excited too. They wanted to go and continue the party in style. If AZ didn’t want them, then they were ready to make it an orgy with Heavy Pop, who seemed man enough to take all three of them down in the bedroom. He was liquored up and horny, the two main ingredients for having a wild night.
“We wanna fuck you,” the girls said loud and clear to AZ.
Heavy Pop was already climbing into his Escalade with his cutie pie with the dazzling eyes. He wanted to fuck so badly. He had an erection that felt like concrete in his pants. He squeezed her butt and touched her breasts repeatedly. He knew what he wanted.
Her friends didn’t want to be left behind. They continued to pressure AZ until he gave in. Now, it was about to be a party at the Waldorf Astoria.
*
The suite at the Waldorf Astoria was classy, but tonight, it had transformed into a heated orgy with two men and three butt-naked whores for whom, for the right price, nothing was off limits. Heavy Pop had his hands full with two ladies, as they twisted, bent, and grinded on the king-size bed, wrinkling bed sheets, and making it rock back and forth as Heavy Pop stuck his dick into every hole and crevice the girls had on their bodies. There was lots of moaning and groaning, and they weren’t shy. It was freaky like they wanted it to be.
AZ sat naked in an antique oak accent chair, his dick being swallowed whole by the third whore who had a body to die for. She deep-throated him while he sat there pretending he was having a good time. She did everything possible to make him bust a nut, her head rapidly bobbing up and down in his lap, her long black hair flowing around his thighs like a mane. She wanted him to come inside her mouth, but he was thinking about Baron, and five hundred kilos.
She sucked AZ’s dick like a porn star while Heavy Pop rammed his dick into the other girl, her face down in the pillow, while her friend toyed with Heavy’s backside.
Suddenly, AZ’s ringing cell phone made him push the girl away. It was an unknown caller. “Speak,” he hollered into the phone.
“It’s me, and Oscar wants to meet with you,” Pena informed him in his thick Mexican accent.
“A’ight. When?”
“I’ll text you the information.” Pena hung up.
AZ held the phone in his hand, waiting for the text to come through, while the whore was primed on her knees, ready to finish what she started.
Heavy Pop didn’t miss a beat. He continued to pound his fat black dick into the girl while he tickled her clit, causing her to holler repeatedly.
The text came through. AZ opened the text and read the information. The meet was for tomorrow night in Brooklyn. They wanted him to come alone this time.
Why Brooklyn? And why alone? AZ thought.
Damn, he didn’t want to look nervous, but he was.
Twenty-Two
The dilapidated red-brick warehouse near the Brooklyn Army Terminal had been closed down for years. It was once a shipping and receiving place that employed over two dozen men for over twenty years. It was a job that helped put the workers’ kids through college and provided middle-class living for families. Though the place had been closed down for nearly a decade, the building was still in use for something much more sinister. The industrial area was silent due to the late-night hour, and there was no passing traffic or pedestrians.
AZ climbed out of his Benz truck alone. It was the first time he would meet with the drug kingpin without Heavy Pop or Aoki by his side. He was nervous and could feel his heart beating like an African drum. He came armed with a pistol but decided to leave it in the vehicle. Most likely, they would search him from head to toe. Besides, what could he do with a pistol against men with machine guns and assault rifles? The warehouse wasn’t a common place for AZ to meet with Oscar. Usually, they had their meetings at luxurious penthouse suites, five-star restaurants, or rooftop pavilions, where Oscar could flaunt his wealth.
AZ took a deep breath and walked toward the rusted steel door that looked like it hadn’t been opened in years.
He knocked twice on the steel door and waited. While doing so, he took in his surroundings, and trepidation crept inside his soul.
The door opened, and a burly armed guard with a deadpan expression and carrying a SIG SG 552 appeared before him. He stepped aside for AZ to walk into the building. Trepidation continued to swell inside of AZ as he traveled farther into the warehouse. Its décor was rotten and abandoned completely. He stepped on cracked concrete floors, and there was the distinctive odor of rats and rusty nails. There were long forgotten pallets and crates scattered loosely about. There were other men in the area, each one of them armed like they were in a Rambo movie. They all looked at AZ like he was prey.
AZ suddenly found himself feeling like a sheep that had wandered too close to the wolves. But he kept his cool. He wasn’t going to show them any weakness. “Where’s Oscar?” he said commandingly.
“He’ll be out soon,” said one of the guards. “You wait.”
AZ sighed lightly and stood in the center of the room, surrounded by killers. The only thing he could do was wait and stay calm. He wasn’t in control. Standing there, his mind racing like it was in the Indy 500, he suddenly heard a blood-curdling scream coming from a room. It was loud and echoed tremendously. The man’s screaming went on for ten minutes, while AZ just stood there not knowing what was going on.
Then things went quiet. Was he dead, whoever it was?
The door to an office opened, and AZ was transfixed in that direction. Oscar stepped out of the room dressed in a bloody smock and rubber gloves. It was the first time AZ had seen Oscar dressed in anything but expensive linen or some showy attire. Behind him, AZ caught a glimpse of a naked man tied to a chair, and there was blood all over the room. The door shut suddenly. Something horrific happened in there, but it wasn’t AZ’s business. It was part of the game. He just hoped he didn’t find himself in the same predicament.
Oscar approached. “Excuse my appearance, for it’s uncommon for me to do business this way, but there was a matter I needed to handle personally,” Oscar said coolly. He pulled off the bloody rubber gloves and tossed them to the floor. “Pena relayed your message, AZ. You want five hundred kilos suddenly. I’m curious. For who?”
Killer Dolls, Part 3 Page 12
