Loving a Colombian Cartel Thug 3

by K'Aliyah Knight

  “So I am not confident? Just some idiot trick that is only motivated over the dick?” Rockwell removes the linen napkin from her lap. The heavy chair begins to push back as she starts to get up.

  I sigh and drop a few Benjamin's on the table and follow her. “Rocky, over here, ma.”

  “Why?” she glares at me, as I stand near the lobby entrance. Rockwell stalks over, whispering a threat, “Chuey, don’t fuck with me. I want to go home now!”

  “Look, I’ma be honest. Santi wanted his jet back. We're stuck here for the night.”

  “Nigga—”

  I hold up my hands, palms out. “Let’s just keep it real, Rockwell. You’re in Colombia illegally, ma, like I told you when you called me after busting on Janyca. If I could get you a plane ticket back, I would. The process to get on a commercial flight will take a while. Tomorrow morning, the jet will be gassed up and ready.”

  “Chuey,” she shakes her head.

  “Ma, you know I fucking love you, girl,” I say, grabbing her closer to me. The place is starting to get crowded since it’s evening. But I just want to touch Rocky. “Just getting you here, to see your husband. Why would I wanna do that shit for me, huh, ma? I did this because I love you.”

  “Fuck you, Chuey,” she whispers in my ear.

  “I got two queen sized beds,” I quickly add, tryna keep my momentum up and break down her resolve. “I know you wanted to come see Lorenzo, so I didn’t tell you that Santi needed to get around later on today.”

  She puts up her hand then shakes her head again, letting her long curly waves fly over one shoulder. “I hope to God. When I shook your hand like a man, you had nothing but good intentions.”

  “I do.” I take her hand and keep down the smile that wants to take over me.

  From the corner of my eye I see someone Fuck Yvonda!

  “What is it?” Rocky starts to turn around.

  “Nothing ma. I got the key when you went to the restroom. Let’s go,” I order, grabbing her hand.

  “Yeah sneak ass, I’m sure you did,” Rocky snaps as we stop in front of an elevator.

  My eyes continue to watch the elevator numbers descend. I can’t fucking look back, to see my girl. Shit. The doors swoosh open. We getting inside as I see Yvonda coming closer. Has my bitch lost her muthafucking mind? She knows I'm undercover and that this is the Phantom’s wife. How the fuck could she eye me like that?

  Some old lady and man start to get in with their luggage. I push the close button as quick as I can. As the doors zip closed, my pocket starts buzzing. I was so stupid in love with this woman years ago. Yvonda’s always in my phone list, even when I am undercover. Yeah it's dumb, but I could always chalk it up as some thirst bitch if needed. But I don’t think Rockwell is concerned about that. But either way, I know it can't be nobody but Yvonda calling.

  NINO 1995

  “Whatchu mean I need a reservation?” I ask, standing at the best restaurant on the shores of Colombia.

  “I'm sorry son but—”

  “Son?” I buck up, and Zendaya softly begins to tug on my button as we stand in this uppity ass restaurant. “Nah, you got me straight confused.” I’m still feeling some type of way about seeing those muthafucking rats chowing down on my moms like she was an all-out buffet.

  “Sir, first, you aren’t dressed appropriately for–”

  I look down at my digs. Wearing my best jeans, loafers, button up, I knew I fit in with these cheesy dudes. “Muthafucka, I am dressed–”

  “Dinner jacket, suit jacket, that’s the requirement here. Sir, you're going to have to—“

  “A’ight then.” I start out the door, bumping into a rich Korean couple on vacation.

  Zendaya calls after me, looking like a fucking kid in her dress. “Let's just go back to our hood, Nino. I didn't want that expensive nasty ass food, baby.”

  When we get back in the car, she asks why we’re pulling back around instead of hoping onto the byway.

  “Zendaya don't.” I pop her mouth real quick then pull up to the delivery area. The guard on watch asks for an ID. I show my gat and he nods me through.

  Zendaya sighs, wriggling around in the passenger seat. Then she begs, “Nino, may I speak?”

  “Nah.”

  “Ni—“

  POP!

  Rubbing her lips together after being popped again, Zendaya folds her arms. I’m glaring at the delivery entrance, with nothing on my mind but waiting for it to open. My finger trigger is ready, gat in my lap. It’s getting darker and darker out here. Every once in a while, the sound of Zendaya’s stomach growling makes my stomach growl too. But other than that, there’s not a peep. Not one muthafucking sound. Not one of these damn uppity ass workers has stepped outside of the restaurants service entrance.

  An hour later she mumbles, “You don’t have to be so angry.”

  “Lemme...” I lift my hand to pop her again, but Zendaya laughs. The bubbliness of my bitch’s laughter takes away half the anger that I’m feeling. I leave my finger on the trigger. Zendaya takes that as a sign that she’s free to continue by saying, “Baby, I'm just making small talk.”

  “Nah, nobody feels like listening to you pop off at the mouth!”

  “Can I tell you a story?” she begs. Now I know this bitch is thirteen but damn. She got grown woman dome, why the fuck she trying me tonight?

  “Nah.”

  “C’mon, I know we waiting for that maître d’.”

  “The who?”

  “The host, Nino.”

  “Then say the muthafucking host, girl.” See, this shit makes me want to beat the shit out of her ass. Always wanna act like she knows something.

  “They have a better name in rich establishments. Now lemme tell you a st—“

  “Not now.”

  I'm pissed to the max. It's almost 11 pm when Zendaya mentions being hungry again.

  “With me, we always eat, right?”

  “Most of the time,” she grumbled.

  I reach over to pop that mouth of hers but ol’ boy starts out the back with a shifty gaze and a quick pace. Yeah, he has seen me. He heads to a jeep as I get out.

  I get out the busted piece of shit I call my whip. Upon giving me a quick glance, his pace speeds up.

  “Hi!” Zendaya stops him as she stands on the other side of his car. Damn, lil Mommi moves so quickly.

  “Excuse—“

  “Did you just hear my bitch?” I growl.

  “Uh” he turns toward me then back to her, figuring it's safer. “Uh… Hi.”

  “Ain't she so pretty?”

  “Yes sir. Quite young… but very beautiful.”

  “But she's hungry. I'm hungry,” I tell him, placing my hands in my pockets as if we’re having a simple conversation. “Where we from, muthafuckas’ stomach always growling, gotta either turn tricks,” I begin as Zendaya does a cute little pose for him. I buck up on him. “If you ain’t turning tricks, then what else you finna do huh? In order to survive, you could give a fuck about somebody, anybody, everybody, right ma?”

  “No love in these streets. No emotion involved,” Zendaya reaches over and rubs his cheek.

  He opens his mouth slowly, “Well...”

  I punch the back of his head and he falls to his knees. “Stop, I'm sorry...”

  Zendaya kicks him straight in the mouth. A few teeth come flying my way, and blood sprinkles onto my fresh jeans. She leans down and touches his chin, making him look her into the eye. “My Papi doesn't do apologies.” Zendaya punches him in the gut right after that.

  “Damn right.” I start kicking him repeatedly. My girl does too. We snatch his wallet.

  Zendaya grabs his ring from his finger. “For Papi,” she says. Handing it to me than going for his necklace, “And for Mommi,” she says, giggling and putting it on.

  When we get in the car, she hands half the cash to me.

  And I ask, “Papi feed you, huh ma?”

  “Damn right.”

  “Is that enough for your text
books?”

  “Yes, Nino,” she pats my thigh. “You always provide, Nino. I love you with every piece of my heart. So I really don’t have to go home?”

  I shake my head. Earlier when her mom tried to buck up on her after taking that shower, I promised that Zendaya would never have to go home. But I know that deal comes with her education. Got me a smart bitch that loves me. She tongues me down real well, and starts to unzip my pants.

  “Not here, ma.” I begin. Now I don’t refuse head. But these tourist cops ain’t no joke. We need to get the hell away from that bloody ass body right across the way.

  “Okay, Papi, take me home.”

  “Home?” My frown is quick.

  “With you, Nino,” Zendaya smiles, knowing that in the past she used to say take me home when I whooped on her a little too rough. “Like you said earlier, Nino, you are my home. With you forever…”

  ~~~ Present day~~~

  A few days after Santiago began to look for me, I took to the Inlands. Nobody goes there. Not the tourist or the Don; the po’ peeples can’t even afford it. This is where the middle class thrives. The hood is like what you would see on a TV show in the States, not this fucking death slums that me and Zendaya grew up in.

  As I start to hide money all over the city, Zendaya’s words are on my mind. My bitch was supposed to be with me forever. Santiago made sure that didn’t happen.

  BLU

  My lungs still feel heavy. Walking pneumonia ain't no joke. I’m giving it 100 when I need to keep it at a cool 30 miles per hour. I need to roll slowly. But I need to help keep this house in order while the dudes are gone.

  “Girl, you came home acting like this was the Wild Wild West. Guns blazing. Go sit down somewhere.” Lakitha shakes her head. “And where is the darn tea that I made for you, Blu?”

  “Uhn uhn the boys are hungry. Our baby sister Lorenza is too.” I peek into the den seeing the kids watching TV. “I'm cooking and nothing fried.”

  I smile as Lakitha gives me a look. Ain't my fault she's wider than she is tall. “With the way shit keeps popping off I'm gonna teach these kids how to use a gun and work out and run.”

  “Whatchu making then?” Lakitha puts her book down and comes to the state of the art stove. She’s been reading the same page for an hour, still not able to think straight.

  “I’m cooking. Cabbage. No bacon.”

  “Oh Lawd,” she touches her chest as if this is a mortal sin and laughs. That makes me laugh too. Lala has the whole soul food thing down to a T.

  “Blu, I was thinking...”

  “Girl, that's all you do. If you took your nose out of the textbooks and picked up a gun you would be some hot shit, okay boo boo?” I reply putting the finishing touches of the meatloaf into the oven.

  “Funny. If you put the gun down and picked up a book, my dearest older sister, you would be more enlightened.” She starts to tell the Friday movie joke but instead of putting down a gun for the fists to fight like a man, Lakitha uses reading instead.

  I yawn. “That shit ain't funny and that movie is old as hell.”

  Lakitha yawns. “Blu, I got into New York University.”

  “Bitch, what?” I jump up and down and give her a hug. “Why yo’ nerdy ass ain't running around bragging?”

  “In this war zone?” She makes a humph, defeated noise.

  “Bump that!” I start for the cutting board. Damn, I could smoke a lil pakalolo right now for Lakitha, but I won't. I grab the bottle of patron and shot glasses Rocky is still depressed. I wonder if Chuey is still here too.

  “Oh Blu, we aren't going to celebrate.”

  “Why the fuck not? I'm finna brag for you, ma.” I chuckle, sitting the shot glasses on the table and pouring enough drink in each for two, maybe even three shots. I take mine straight to the head. Damn, burns all that infection out; damn near eats up my lungs. I refresh with another triple.

  “Phillip,” I call to my son.

  “Blu—”

  “Bitch, turn up for a sec.”

  “Stop using that foul language.” Lakitha shakes her head.

  “Whateva.” I turn to my son as he appears in the archway, panting from running. “Go get gramma and see if Rocky is up.”

  My sister folds her arms.

  “And I heard skinny bitches were evil.” I laugh, actually feeling good. Then my lungs start to hurt again. “Okay Lala, I'm just kidding. All I wanna know is why you aren't the least bit hyped. You my sistah-girl, no matter how much yo sadity ass get on my nerves. I love you so much.”

  “Blu, how the hell am I going to NYU? Huh? Think logically. ” She sinks into the seat and starts crying. “Rocky had just gotten Lorenzo to let me go. Now all of this crap has just occurred.”

  “Girl, how old are you.” I'm 24 so she has to be...

  “22.”

  “Then you're a grown ass woman.”

  “Blu, our brother is in jail, presumably for life. I must have been crazy for wanting to go back to USA. Rocky tried in the past to get Lorenzo to agree. Soon as Lorenzo hits the news we’re all going to be the enemy.”

  I roll my eyes. Even if she has a point, I still reply, “Look, you have one life to live. Lakitha, you have more aspirations than all of us. Live ya life, girl.”

  ~~~

  My chest feels heavy. I’ve been taking the prescribed medication for two weeks. It seems to have worked, but today, not so much. As we all prepare for the crew to come home after having been locked down for almost two weeks, I’m looking out for Chuey. He obviously fixed this situation. I know for sure that it ain’t his got damn daddy. Santiago called once to see how we were doing when the Feds had taken the men. Moms not even on a murder-tip like she always is with her brother. She had this “fuck Santi” façade that I’m sure we all were wishing she embodied when we first came back to Colombia.

  “Look at you, mija,” I come to sit in the den with Lakitha while she holds her NYU acceptance letter. “Best accomplishment the Medinas have ever had and I’m the only one to know. Lala, you told the Medina with the biggest mouth.”

  She smiles through her tears at that. “But my pretty Blu loves me enough not to say anything.”

  “What’s your dysfunction, Lakitha. I already think you should take this acceptance. I’m sure with the financial aid you have and taking a few bricks of cash off Lorenzo would have you living good wh.” I shake my head. “Look at me talking about education like it’s a good thing.”

  Lakitha sighs. “I’m going to do it. I leave for the city in two months. You won’t–”

  “Tell? How the fuck would I look, Mommi?”

  Lakitha hugs me.

  “Oh Mommi, my beautiful sophisticated one,” I tell her. “Now we need to get ready to celebrate them boys on the way home!”

  “Home?”

  We both turn around to see Chuey walking by with a yellow prescription bottle in his hand.

  “Sup, primo?”

  “Lorenzo and them are coming back?” he asks as if in shock.

  “Yeah, today.” I’m stomped. Last I recall, I was cussing Chuey out if he didn’t get my familia back here. “My hubby, your cuzzo, and Kesha, if that jogs your memory.”

  “Where’s Rockwell, does she know?”

  “Yeah, she’s happy.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to wonder why Chuey is so concerned about Rocky these days. But she just married my brother, so this is actually how it should be with us Colombians. Uno familia. We all join together as one. NO extended family necessary. But I’ve been in Hoover too damn long for all that.

  “What you got there,” I ask.

  “Nothing.” He walks off.

  I turn back to Lakitha, “Trick, dry those eyes. Let’s go cook something and then when all the boys are back, we can tell them about NYU, but right before you go. I suggest getting the plane ticket first.”

  We’re in the kitchen when a bunch of shouting goes on. My chubby sister and me rush to the front door.

  “Aye brah! My nigga home!” I rush
straight into Popeye’s arms.

  RITA

  I’m in my rom, staring at the white gold engagement band that Miguel had given me, I consider his words about allowing me to have all the time I need. Shit, I don’t want to cross the line. Saying those two words “I do” seems more like a curse than a vow. Let’s just see how Miguel takes it with me wanting to have the longest engagement. No doubt there is love in the air for the first time in so long when it comes to me. It’s almost so foreign that it’s a new and unfamiliar experience. But me being me, and the luck that I’ve had throughout life, I know that it will be short lived.

  “Why are you bringing me this?” I hear Rocky ask with a dose of irritation in her tone as I walk past the master suite to the head of the stairs.

  “Folic Acid will promote brain development,” replies a voice that can be none other than Chuey. This shit right here, it has me on pause. Any other bitch, same nigga, but any other muthafucking bitch, and I’d blast on both of them just on suspect.

  “Like I said before, I don’t need you to take on this stance as if–” Rockwell stops on key, her eyes brighten as she sees me.

  “Rocky, no Mommi.” I stand in the doorframe. “You can’t be pregnant with Chuey’s child.”

  “I’m not,” she blurts, looking guilty as sin.

  Chuey has this look of guilt in his eyes that speaks volumes.

  “Oh God,” I take to sinking down on the bright yellow silk chair by the door. My nephew comes to shut it.

  Chuey’s line is borderline taboo, “Rita, it isn’t how it looks.”

  “The fuck it ain’t,” I say after having held my face in my hands. “You fucking bastard. Damn Rocky, I know Lorenzo has his faults but c’mon Mommi no!”

  “No, No,” Rockwell pushes Chuey, “You fucking liar. I’ve never slept with this muthafucka. Chuey’s tryna…”

  I want to believe her. But Rockwell busts up crying. Then she mentions some irrelevant ass bitch named Janyca and how she’s wearing the dead girl’s ring.

  I cut her off, “That is a fucking lie! I don’t know any bitch named Janyca. My son wouldn’t propose to her. Lorenzo would never fucking propose to any hoe! Not just any piece of pussy that his own mom has never met.” I shake my head, tryna breath. I need us to get back to the subject of her and Chuey, since she’s denying it. Chuey is looking guilty, but this dude’s blood knows how to manipulate situations. I open my mouth to speak but Rockwell continues.