Bug, NuNu, and Juanita were no exception to the mini-Sixth Street bash, the block they repped was displaying in the park. They themselves stood off to the side in a three-way cipher passing the blunt of Sour Diesel and throwing back shots of Patrón, compliments of their three homeboys who intended to take them to Howard Johnson’s on Rt. 22 in North Plainfield and do whatever they wanted to do after the basketball game came to an end. Each woman that partook in the smoking and drinking session anticipated the upcoming rendezvous nearly approaching. The more they drank and smoked, the hornier and more anxious they became.
“Bug, you fucked Sha before. What he workin’ with?” NuNu asked, contemplating on whom she would be sexing shortly. She had already slept with the one named B and had performed head on the other one named Reef when the two shared a blunt of wet in his car late one night, so she was eager to try the last of the two.
“Damn, bitch, you puttin’ ya bid in on a nigga already? How you know I didn’t want Sha?” Juanita jumped in before NuNu could answer the question. She had actually sexed Reef on numerous occasions and let him and B pull a ménage à trois on her at the Ivory Towers in Greenbrook after she tagged along with them for a night of bowling next to the motel. She too had visions of Sha blowing her back out for the evening, having already experienced his two street comrades.
“Both of y’all sound real stupid right now,” Bug interjected. It was true she had been the only one out of her crew to have sex with Sha, but at some point, she had some type of sexual relations with all three of the men they had to choose from, both separately and all at once. In her mind, having all three holes filled by all three of the Sixth Street dick-slingers at one time would do her just fine tonight. She knew she was by far the freakiest of her crew and was proud of it. NuNu saw that her comment had gotten a rise out of her partners judging by the dirty looks that they were now throwing her way.
“Does it really matter who fucks who,” she stated rather than asking the question.
“Before the night out, a bitch like me gonna suck and fuck every dick in the muthafuckin’ room,” she followed up with.
Both NuNu and Juanita looked at each other, then back at Bug with knowing expressions on their faces. They were three of a kind they thought as they all burst out into laughter, knowing Bug had spoken the truth. Between the weed, alcohol, and deep conversation they were involved in, Bug, NuNu, and Juanita’s only concern now was when the real party would officially begin. They were so focused on what lay ahead of them once they reached their final destination for the evening that not even the pickle-green Mazda MX6 that slowly drove past could break their concentration.
“That’s them bitches right there,” Melissa pointed in disgust, the conversation she overheard earlier replayed itself in her head. Mia was more concerned about the extra bodies scattered throughout the park as she scanned the entire playground. Melissa unconsciously began to slow up as if Mia was going to just hop out right then and there and set it off.
Sensing the sudden slowness, Mia said, “Go around the corner.”
“Right or left?” Melissa asked, reaching the corner of East Sixth Street and Richmond Street.
“Left and pull over,” Mia instructed before she hopped out of the car.
“Turn right on Fifth and meet me across the street from Ben’s old gambling spot, and keep the car running,” she added, then exited the Mazda.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Point game,” Juanita heard B call out, indicating the next basket they made would end the game.
“About time,” she bellowed.
“You can say that again,” NuNu backed her up.
“I’m high as hell, and my pussy throbbin’ right ’bout now.”
“Girl, who you tellin’?” Bug joined in.
“I might ride one of them niggas’ dick all the way to the ’tele.”
Mia heard those words as she approached the three chickenheads who called themselves the hood rats. Although she enjoyed indulging in an occasional sexcapade with a chick from the hood, none of the three women was her type. In her book, they were lowest of the low, the bottom of the barrel. The hood chicks she fooled around with had style and class about themselves. It was chicks like these who gave the ones she knew a bad name. She was all too eager to rid the world of this caliber of women. Mia was surprised at how easy it had been to walk up on the females, but the closer she got, the more the reason became obvious.
She smelled the familiar fragrance even before she observed them passing the blunt back and forth. She knew weed had a way of making someone be off point, especially in a cipher, and that was exactly the case. For her, though, the substance enhanced her ability to function, and in situations such as the one she was faced with, it made her feel invincible.
Mia had gone undetected by the trio, and everyone else, for that matter, until she was right upon the three females. NuNu was the first to notice the new presence and nudged Juanita. Bug’s back was turned as she became aware of company by NuNu’s and Juanita’s reaction, causing her to spin around.
“Can we fuckin’ help you?” Bug asked in a sarcastic tone.
Both NuNu and Juanita let out chuckles. The weed caused them to hold the laughter longer than they normally would have.
“Can I smoke?” Mia asked in her best masculine voice.
“Nigga, we don’t know you. Who you?” Bug spat, looking Mia up and down. Had she been thinking clearly and not under the influence, she would have noticed how out of place Mia looked despite the cool spring breeze. Everyone in the park area sported Polo-collared shirts, white tees, capris and baggy jeans with Air Forces, Jordans, Nike ACGs, and Tims, while the intruder wore a Black Label hoodie, black fatigue pants, and black Tims chukkas, and rocked her fitted low. Mia was pleased that her attire deceived the women into believing her to be a dude. Using the only name she really knew from the area, she replied, “Shamar my peoples.” The mention of the money getter’s name calmed Bug, but still she wasn’t in the mood to be sharing.
“Oh, that’s our dude,” Bug replied admirably. “But no disrespect, we only got enough for us. Sorry, boo boo,” Bug announced.
By now, NuNu and Juanita were both cracking up inside. Had they known the ending outcome of the encounter with the stranger, there would have been no room for laughter.
“Well, how ’bout I spark y’all up, then?” Mia offered.
Although they all were just about as high as the Mile High Club, they were not in the habit of turning down a free light up.
“What’chu got?” NuNu quickly asked, being the biggest weedhead out of the bunch.
“I got that shit that’ll kill you,” Mia answered, laughing on the inside at her own joke.
“This shit’ll put you in a body bag,” she couldn’t resist.
“Light that shit up, then,” Juanita churned.
That was Mia’s chance. Without a second thought, she reached into her hoodie and delivered as promised. The first shot slammed Juanita up against the metal fence. Her eyes widened in horror at the sight of the handgun before the bullet tore into her flesh and lodged in her chest, but she was so in shock she was speechless. NuNu was the next to notice only a tenth of a second before the spiraling bullet opened up her skull, erasing any thoughts or memories she once possessed. The following two shots that rang out before Mia took flight found two separate resting places as they pierced the soft and tender flesh of Bug. The one that ripped through her neck quickly ended any cries for help or pleas she may have intended to emit, while the one that penetrated her abdomen instantly ignited her insides.
By the time the Sixth Street hustlers were able to take cover, retrieve, and draw their own weapons, and once they were aware where the shots were coming from and attempted their retaliation, Mia had already made it out of the park, letting off a barrage of bullets in the opposing shooters’ direction as she fled. She could hear glass shattering and car alarms going off as the hailing bullets chased after her. Thanks to her athleticism, she m
ade it safely back to the parked MX6. As she jumped into the passenger seat, her breathing alone alerted Melissa that it was time to get out of Dodge, and that she did.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jersey Girl Strip Club in Elizabeth was flooded with ballers and generous tippers from all over, as usual, tonight, and although normally, she would be among the rankings of the dancers to capitalize off the night’s atmosphere, Lite, rather Keya, was not her usual self that evening. Some of the best exotic dancers from the tristate area were in attendance. Top-heavy, petite-waist, corn bread thick, beautiful women of all shades with colorful designer outfits that left little to the imagination and six-to-eight-inch stilettos to match paraded around the establishment licking their lips and shaking their breasts, offering lap dances. Others propped their oily legs up on the bar’s counter while touching themselves provocatively, inserting fingers into their mouths as they made their asses perform mesmerizing tricks.
The women on stage showed off their acrobatic skills, flipping themselves in upside-down positions and sliding down poles with no hands as some displayed choreographed exotic routine dances, consisting of full splits and placing their legs behind their necks. Meanwhile, Keya sat at the end of the bar in deep thought, nursing a Long Island Iced Tea in her work uniform, oblivious to her surrounding. The club was filled with the base from every strip club banger you could think of that added to the way the women gyrated their prized possession. The smell of her perspiration, Black & Mild cigars, and alcohol tickled her nostrils. A combination she had become accustomed to in her years of working those type of places. What she wasn’t accustomed to, though, was how she was feeling at that very moment and had been, ever since she had received the disturbing news.
When she found out through another dancer that Earth had been killed, she felt as if a part of her had died along with her. Although they had ended on bad terms and their last encounter was nothing nice, still, there was no denying that Keya had loved Earth and had been secretly in love with her.
Despite what her mouth said and what her mind had thought, the last thing her heart wanted was for something to really happen to her ex-lover. A sense of guilt swept through Keya’s body. Ever since she had told Mustafa everything she had known about Earth, she regretted opening up her mouth, betraying the woman she loved. When she first heard of Earth’s death, she nearly passed out thinking the worst. It had been almost a whole week since she had last seen or heard from Mustafa. She had immediately pulled out her BlackBerry and tried to reach him but to no avail. That had been two weeks ago today, and every day since then, she was unsuccessful. Believing he had been deliberately ducking her calls, Keya had taken that as confirmation that Mustafa was responsible for Earth’s demise. Her thoughts were interrupted by the papers that almost landed on her drink as they fell to the counter right next to her. She looked up just in time to see the remaining stacks of bills from the pile of singles someone had apparently thrown up in the air. On any given Sunday, Keya would have received her cut of the green paper rainstorm, but tonight, she was unfazed by the normal club theatrics. What did catch her attention was what the deejay had announced thereafter.
“Shout out to my manz Mustafa, doin’ it up real big tonight, makin’ it thunder and all of dat for the ladies. This one’s for you, playa,” the deejay shouted as Jim Jones’s track “Ballin’” burst through the club speakers.
Keya’s eyes searched the faces that lined the bar. She knew the deejay could have been referring to anyone by that name, but a large stack of bills being tossed like confetti fit the Mustafa profile she knew. The two had actually met at the gentleman’s club named Knockers in Plainfield before it got shut down after a female was struck by a stray bullet that paralyzed her from the waist down. It was there Mustafa had tossed $300 in singles at her during her solo performance on stage. Keya’s eyes grew cold as she locked in on his presence.
He was surrounded by five of the club’s dancers while an additional one made her butt cheeks clap in front of him cocked over on the bar’s counter. She couldn’t believe his nerve. She wondered how long he had been inside the club and whether he’d known she was actually there. He knew she worked at the establishment from time to time. Keya shot up, snatched her drink, and made a beeline over to where Mustafa seemed to be the life of the party tonight.
“Excuse me,” she slid in between two of her two female colleagues closest to Mustafa. She knew they took offense but could care less. She was steaming, and her demeanor displayed it. If they knew what was good for them, they’d move along, she thought. Mustafa was so mesmerizingly focused on the dancer on top of the bar that he hadn’t noticed the two females to his left had been replaced by Keya.
“What’s up, Mu?” she spat, breaking his concentration. He turned in Keya’s direction and instantly became irritated by the sight of her. His facial expression said it all. “Whaddup?” he replied before returning his attention back to the dancer on the bar. He grabbed a fistful of the second thousand singles pile and shoved them in the front part of the dancer’s thong. Keya sucked her teeth in disgust. She knew he was intentionally trying to disrespect her and wondered why she had ever dealt with him in the first place. As far as she was concerned, their dealing had long been over. She had gotten more than enough out of him between keeping her hair tight, gear fly, and bills paid so that she had no more use for him. Besides, in her book, he was a mere three on the scale of one to ten in the bedroom department, so his services were no longer needed since she had found a ten outside and an eight inside the bedroom. Still, she needed to know for herself if he was the culprit behind the slaying of her loved one.
“I need to talk to you,” she announced.
“About what?” he asked, never taking his eyes off the dancer.
Seeing that Keya had interrupted their cash flow, the other two dancers to Mustafa’s right threw visual daggers and moved on. Wanting to see how he’d react, Keya blurted out, “About Earth.”
“What the fuck about her?” Mustafa asked. His composure and demeanor remained the same as he answered.
“Don’t play dumb, you know what,” Keya shot back. She was looking for some type of reaction or something to indicate his guilt.
“You right,” he let out a short laugh. “I’m not dumb. Fuck that bitch. She got what her hands called for,” he ended with a smile.
“No, fuck you.” Keya lost it. What little she had remaining of her drink was tossed in Mustafa’s face.
By the time, he dried his eyes and regained his vision, Keya had already vanished into the dressing room, gathered her belongings, and exited the back door of the strip club.
Chapter Twenty-Six
As the hospital orderly wheeled Heaven toward the sliding doors, the closer she got to them, the faster her heart rate became. Heaven felt as if she was about to have an anxiety attack and knew the reason why. Almost three weeks had gone by since she had been cooped up in the hospital. Being confronted with the fear of leaving to return back to life, as she knew it, had her on edge. Although for the past few weeks she had longed to be discharged out of the hospital, Heaven was somewhat leery. She did not know what to expect once she was out, and this was unlike her. The incident that landed her in a hospital bed and her right hand in the grave still weighed heavy on her mind. Over and over, she had played the tapes and recapped the chain of events inside her head. When she was not thinking about it, she was having nightmares about it. Nightmares that involved her dead numerous times and caused her many sleepless nights. Nightmares that she knew would haunt her for the rest of her life, or at least until she laid them to rest herself, burying them deep—along with the perpetrators. Heaven knew that she couldn’t officially mourn her partner’s demise until she had gotten to the bottom of what all had happened to her and why. And that was exactly what she intended to do. She knew that in the game, death and imprisonment were two strong options, just as she knew that Earth had known the same, and they both respected any and all that came behind the
lifestyles they willingly and voluntarily chose for themselves.
“Are you okay, Ms. Jacobs?” the white preppy-looking orderly asked, breaking Heaven’s chain of thought.
“I’m good,” she replied.
As they reached, the sliding doors, the first thing Heaven noticed was Sonya and Shell leaning up against the black Tahoe with smiles plastered across their faces. The orderly continued to push Heaven through the glass sliding doors.
“It’s OK, I’ll walk from here,” she announced to the orderly.
“Sorry, Ms. Jacobs, I can’t allow you to do that. It’s against hospital policy. We have to escort.”
“Nigga, I don’t give a shit what ya policy is. She said she good,” Sonya interrupted meeting Heaven and the orderly at the sliding doors. Instantly, the orderly’s eyes widened with fear as he released the arms of the wheelchair. Although he was no coward, something in the woman’s eyes and the tone of her voice made the orderly uneasy. Whatever the case, he did not want any problems.
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