What? “No, not me,” I whisper.
“So I had to do Toi like Santiago did you, Zennie. I had to. But that shit didn't even mean anything to him! So now I’ma kill that bitch.”
“What bitch?” I ask, while my brain is trying to put all this shit together. Lemme keep him talking... I try not to glance down at my cell phone on the floor. Had Lorenzo heard any of the gunfire?
“The Phantom’s bitch. All y'all hoes want to be mixed up with the fucking cartel. I sent you to that casino so we could eat. So we could fucking fend for ourselves. You picked Santiago because you wanted the richest, most powerful, cartel—drugs! Zennie, we don't fucking deal with drugs. That's not how my madre raised me. Your bitch ass mom stayed away from them too.”
He thinks I'm her. Nino thinks I’m Zendaya! I look him in the eye, all the while praying to God that Lorenzo heard shit poop off. “Sorry, Nino.”
“We have to kill her.”
“Yes, we do.” I say, caressing Nino’s baby face and trying to remember what he's said about Zendaya. I need to channel this dead bitch for a moment. Then I need to grab one of these fucking guns on the floor.
“You still ride for me, Zendaya?” Nino asks, his hot breath burning my cheek.
“Okay, anything for you, Nino,” I tell him, figuring that his hoe had to just take whatever this muthafucka was fishing way back when. She had to be stupid to fuck with him... Or I just don't know.
Nino reaches in to kiss me. My reflex is to vomit in this dudes mouth. I wrap one arm around him, then the other as his thick, mucous-filled tongue invades my mouth. The further his tongue roams into the back of my throat, the more I gulp back acid. My hands roam under his shirt to his buff chest. And despite my stomach doing the bi-bop, I tongue this crazy nigga down!
Bullets begin to go off outside. More Mendoza cartel thugs? But who are they shooting at?
Lorenzo's people! My eyes brighten.
The connection I had with Nino falters.
“Not so muthafucking fast, Rocky,” he taunts my name.
At the very same time, the pocket knife that I pulled from his waistband while tonguing this creepy bitch down slides like butter into his shoulder blade. Nino pimp slaps me so hard that I hit my head against the wall before sliding deliriously to the floor. He fumbles for his gun, while grunting to the pain in the same shoulder.
I pry the AK 47 from one of Lorenzo's dude’s hands and let that shit spray! Eyes wide in shock, I watch the sequel to Set It Off replay before me. Queen Latifah has been replaced with Nino as he goes flailing in the air.
Power.
This shit ain't nothing but power. The gun is so strong and heavy in my hands that I have to keep the base--or whateva this thing is called at the back--aimed at my shoulder. With each bullet, this shit and the powerful kick back bruise my arm even more, but I'm too afraid to let go of the trigger. Finally, the machine gun clicks. It’s empty. The Ak-47 drops from my hands. I scramble from the ground. What to do?
Bullets are still going off. Lorenzo is standing at the door and something tells me that this shit is all just one loud ass sound effect that continues to play. He can’t look so muthafucking fine, so muthafucking calm if it still sounds like World War III. Nope, I’m just suffering from instant PTSD.
Legs full of Jell-O I run and leap over a body to get to him. I’m guessing only one second that has lapsed since I’ve had my eyes on him because Lorenzo says nothing as he holds me tightly.
“Nino killed Toi!” I blurt.
“Rocky, baby.” He isn't listening as he rubs my face and kisses on me.
“Antoinetta! Nino and Santiago, they killed her!” I tell Lorenzo as all the rambling that Nino had done begins to make sense.
“Rocky baby, look at me. You’re delirious.”
“No,” I push away his love and affection. Shit, I just saved... me. I’ve just tasted power, and all the head I’ve ever talked about not needing a nigga to keep me safe. Shit, now it’s true!
So as Lorenzo’s thugs start to step around us and into the house with their guns out, looking for only God knows what, Nino’s words begin to come together. “Nino was asking me if I was going to tighter than—”
Lorenzo's pupils darken like the devil as he cuts me off. “Did he—”
“No! He murdered Toi!”
“Rockwell, I understand what you saying, but damn.” Lorenzo huffs and pulls me tightly again. “See this is the reason why I'm so muthafucking in love with you. Nino just tried to body you. You up here in a warzone, but the first thing out ya mouth is about my sister.”
I can see that there's pain and hurt there for Toi. Poor baby girl, she was too beautiful and young to go out like that. Nobody deserves it. But the raw emotion that Lorenzo has for me makes me return his affection. I kiss him passionately.
After I catch my breath, I snuggle against his chest and murmur, “Renzo, I love you.”
Lorenzo pulls me to arm’s length. He looks down and says, “So you coming home?”
“That's not what I said.” I punch him in the arm then commence to deepen the kiss. He bites my bottom lip, and grips me back up into big arms that have always and will forever be my savior
The goons that are finishing their check of the home fade away. All the blood and dead bodies are gone. Nothing even matters at this moment but Lorenzo and me. I moan against his lips then admit, “Nigga, you already know I'm coming home....”
EPILOGUE
Popeye and Blu
Popeye
The thing about falling in love with a Colombian cartel thug is that the wife is always sporting an attitude.
When Blu’s little funky attitude having ass—damn how many times have I said Blu’s little funky attitude having ass? Anyway, when Blu cops an attitude, she will do whatever and say whatever to get what she wants. That gives a nigga options. A, defend himself, while trying to get her to see shit rationally. Or B, defend himself and walk away. Too muthafucking easy. Marriage ain't supposed to be a way, so I’ma stick with A, defend me, and get this hardheaded, soft ass girl to see shit rationally.
When Blu steps outta line, I have to fuck her into submission. Now, maybe that's the plus side.
Blu
I can't say that Popeye is the best husband ever because that will give the nigga a big head. I will whisper it when he's away. And I sho’ as hell will pray, thanking God and the Holy Trinity that I’ve been blessed with a husband as good as Popeye, Phillip Tatum Senior. I don't think any other dude could handle me. Before and after the drug addiction and the damn STD scare with the Jamaicans, we made it. After all of that, we made it.
We're moving from Colombia now, so I'll just pray that goes well. Oh and, that there's one or two pretty bitches where we move. Not that my nigga looks. Popeye always shows me the respect I deserve. But so I can accuse him, next time he gets on my damn nerves. Hehehe….
P.S. –
Rocky and me are good again. Tho, that heifa is not going to get me to go to no damn spa.
Okay, P.P.S. – Her little sadity ass did get me to go to the resort spa in Costa Rica when Lakitha was on break from NYU. And guess what Lala wants to be? That little fat heifa wants to be a therapist… y’all already know.
Anyway, Life. Is. Good.
Mayté
How did I even get a part in the Epilogue? I guess to tell you why you should never, ever, ever fall in love with a Colombian Cartel thug, lord or any other variation. I fell for the Lord of them all.
Santiago snatched up my heart when I was young, tender, and too stupid to perceive that he wasn’t any good. Allow me to keep it 100. I have wasted me entire life for him. From the moment I saw him, I lost myself only to become an extension of the least worst part of him… I don’t know how he wouldn’t allow me to leave. I became “sickly” the day he told me it was “die, or leave without my children.”
That was right around the time I found out that Lorenzo was his son. Our baby’s were so fucking identical. Chuey and Lorenzo. They were so
close in age, that’s what I had told myself as my best friend, Margarita, stayed away from me. At least she was lucky enough to leave Colombia. I chose to stay for my children, even though I didn’t give them the time of day anyway. Nope, I just locked myself in the largest room of one of the many fortresses that my husband owned.
I haven’t enjoyed any of the glamor or glitz, or whatever captivated Rockwell upon allowing Lorenzo to move their family here.
A few days ago, my heart clinched. And I knew at that very second that my son, Chuey, Santiago Junior was dead.
Lorenzo had to put him down.
Now I have Sean, our youngest. Guess the babysitters gave my sons more love than I could’ve ever provided.
They thought I was dying before, well I just sit in my corner. Not even moving to piss or shit. The nurses change me when the smell gets too bad. And I haven’t spoken since someone verbalized the fact that Chuey had actually been murdered.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
I say nothing as Bernice enters my bedroom. I don’t turn around, but she’s so large, that I can hear her footsteps nearing.
“Margarita, sent you a gift.” Bernice stands before me. She’s my longest ever maid. The one who actually understood me, ironically probably even the one who played mommy most to my sons. She smiles for me, even though it hurts.
Then she opens the gift.
My legs feel warm. I’m peeing again. I. Don’t. Care.
Bernice turns away before I can see the gift. I grip her arm.
“Oh, I don’t think… Well, I believe this was a mistake,” Bernice tells me. But at the hard glare of my eyes, she holds out the box. I look inside to see a knife….
Rita and Miguel
Before I get into Miguel and me, I’m guessing that right about now Mayté has gotten my gift? I’m not going to say that I wasn’t appreciative of her funds, helping me get over to America after I had had enough of living in Colombia. I’ll also appreciate her getting Rockwell away from Lorenzo, if not for just a little while. Lord only knows my son and daughter needed a moment to regroup before one of their asses ended up dead over jealousy—while pretending to hate each other.
So on to Mayté, and why I sent her that knife? It’s a Colombian, custom-made designed of the finest steel with an elephant tusk handle. It is time for that bitch to pay penance for her sins. She doesn’t want to live, so as far as I’m concerned, I’ve presented Mayté her way out! Damn, this reminds me of my squabble with Lorenzo back in Hoover. He had brought the drugs to our neck of the woods. Am I too old school? Too set in my ways?
Even if I am a tad too bullheaded, Mayté has never had the courage to end her own misery. She’s never been a good mother to her sons. That’s why Sean has been ghost and Chuey broke the golden Colombiano rule. You don’t fucking covet another man’s wife! I’ve said it before, the bitch ain’t sick, she’ll outlive us all. But why outlive us with a heart that’s already stopped beating?
Die already…
Now for Miguel and me. This is supposed to be our epilogue not hers anyway. I just had to get that off my chest, and ensure everybody understood.
Miguel and I have loved each other since we were barely three feet tall. You’d think that Santiago had the same love for Mayté. We all had to be about five or so when we pretended to all get married at the same time, while playing in my mother’s prized rose garden as kids.
We have finally gotten married. Lorenzo is tolerating Miguel. I think it’s one part because he’s getting back into Rocky’s good graces. And the other part? Miguel was there when my worst nightmare came true, telling Lorenzo about Santiago raping me.
Anyway, regardless of how much Blu bumps heads with everyone, the whole family has moved from Colombia. But you already know how we Medina’s do. Not one of my family members is less than a few miles away from the other (being that all of our houses are damn near half a mile long). Well, Lakitha is getting ready to complete her PhD, at New York University, then she will open up her private practice somewhere nearby.
For now, I have the love of my life back. I am disassociated from all things cartel, and Lorenzo gave me the honors. I put the bullet in Santiago’s heart that stopped the muthafucka from breathing…
Renzo and Rocky
So this is the end? You’ve read the story of two kids falling in love and how people and circumstance all that put a wedge between us. You know that Chuey had to go, Santiago paid his dues, and Nino? He had a small, but very psychotic role to play in this story.
Lorenzo is still the Don. But we don’t reside in Colombia. We own a private island in the Caribbean. My designer company is booming, so this lady stays laced in my haute couture. And Renzo keeps his cool and lets me call all the shots when it comes to my clothing line. Next month we will be in Milan for Fashion Week. Oh and Lorenzo doesn’t work as hard as he had before. I even have a hand in the grind, as I am his queen.
So, that’s enough for now.
P.S.
There are a lot of mixed emotions about should you or should you not fall for a Colombian Cartel Thug. Mayté has to be rather convincing. Poor Popeye, he loves his situation when it comes to Blu. My only bit of advice is, if you can make it through the storm, that’s your ace for life…
Thank you so much for your support.
LOVE,
KALI
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