by J-Blunt
“I know. But I’ll be here for you and those kids. I promise,” Queenie said, caressing Shanice’s back and neck. When her hand moved to the side of Shanice’s face, the caress became tender like that of a lover. To Shanice, Queenie’s hands were warm and comforting and slightly erotic. When she felt Queenie’s lips on her forehead, surprise flooded her body. Another kiss on her temple made her body stiffen. Another kiss on her cheek. Her ear. Her neck. And then her lips. Queenie’s lips were soft as cotton, and the tender kiss sent a shock through Shanice’s body.
“What the fuck you doing?” Shanice yelled, shooting to her feet as a new kind of excitement danced inside her.
Queenie lifted her arms, palms out. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what. Somethin’ just came over me. I got caught up in the moment, I guess.”
“I don’t do girls, Queenie. I ain’t gay.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. I’m good,” Shanice said, refusing to look Queenie in the eyes as she tried to get her breathing under control.
Queenie noticed Shanice’s skin flush and breathing increase. “You sure you okay?”
“Yeah. My hormones are crazy from this baby. Uh, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have something to do. Can you tell Paul to call me? I just want to know what he knows. I need closure.”
“I will tell him, but don’t get your hopes up. Whatever he seen changed him. He not the same. Since he loves you so much, he might be avoiding you ‘cause he don’t want to ‘cause you no pain. But I will try to get him to talk to you. Promise.”
“Thanks.”
“And make sure you let me know if you need anything. I don’t care what it is, how big or how small. Let me know, okay?”
Shanice finally looked Queenie in the face again. The dark-skinned woman’s eyes showed temptation, as well as trust and loyalty.
“Okay. I will.”
Queenie couldn’t wipe the smile from her face as she walked off Shanice’s porch. She had accomplished more than she expected. A few more run-ins and Shanice would be hers. Then she could take her to Pop Somethin’. In return, Pop Somethin’ would finally give Queenie the love she deserved.
***
“How was the funeral?” Pop asked, kissing Princess as she lay in bed next to him.
“Boring. My momma died.”
“At least she didn’t feel it. I think heart attacks happen fast.”
“We didn’t even know she had a heart problem. She was waiting to get open heart surgery. She never even told us she was sick,” Queenie said, lying on the other side of Pop.
“She prolly thought she was doin’ y’all a favor by not sayin’ nothin’. She prolly didn’t want y’all to worry.”
“We ain’t kids no more,” Princess said angrily. “She shoulda told us.”
“I don’t even wanna think about momma no more. How you been, baby? Did you figure out what our next move is?”
“Yeah. Surgery is next week. I want to drive by the hospital tomorrow so y’all can see the layout. I went already. Twice. But y’all need to see for yo’self.”
“What about security? They got guns?” Princess asked.
“Yeah. But we got somethin’ they don’t.”
The twins looked at him expectantly, waiting to know the secret weapon they possessed.
“The element of surprise. Nobody never tried this before, so they won’t be expectin’ it. Plus it’s two of them and three of us.”
“And you think we can get away with it? For sure?”
“One hundred percent. And as soon as we make the move, we on to Atlanta,” Pop said confidently.
“Okay, Pop,” Princess breathed, “’cause I’m ready to leave Texas. We past them 72 hours, and I don’t wanna be worried about no li’l Mexicans trynna blow me up again.”
“Amen to that,” Queenie agreed.
It didn’t take the lovers long to fall asleep. In the middle of the night, Princess was awakened by the need to pee. After relieving her bladder and washing her hands, she went to the kitchen for something to drink. She was about to open the fridge when a shadow at the window got her attention, and then it moved on, followed by two more.
Panic surged through her body as she raced back to the room. She was about to shake Pop awake when another shadow popped up in the bedroom window. She realized they were trying to see in the house, but the closed shades didn’t allow it.
When she nudged Pop, he awoke instantly. “What?”
“Somebody outside. It’s a lot of ‘em. I think it’s Gonzo.”
Pop slipped into his boxers and grabbed the Mac-11 from under the bed at the same time. “Wake up, Queenie. Strap up and stay out the way. I’ma go check on my aunty,” Pop said, keeping the Mac ready as he moved down the hall toward his aunty’s room. He opened the door slowly and spotted Dorothy sleeping peacefully. He moved to her bedside to wake her and noticed her window was open. He went over to close the shade and found himself staring into the eyes of a masked stranger.
Instincts took over and the Mac began spitting. Three shots to the face felled the window peeper.
“Paul! What the fuck?” Dorothy screamed, shooting up in bed with wide eyes.
“Getcho shit! Niggas got the house surrounded!” Pop said, closing the blinds and ducking. As soon as he hit the floor, automatic gunfire sprayed the window, shattering the glass and tearing up the blinds. Pop low-crawled around the bed and dragged his aunty into the hallway, and that’s when the front door came crashing in. Pop jumped up and raced to the living room, the Mac-11 spitting fire as fast as his finger could squeeze the trigger. Three people in dark clothes carrying automatic rifles rushed in. A volley of 9mm bullets met them at the threshold, dropping two of them. The last one was able to get off some shots, forcing Pop to fall back in the hallway and duck for cover. The gunman continued to lay down heavy fire as he was followed into the house by two more men. They stopped at the entrance to the hallway, uncertain what to do next. The hallway was empty and there were four closed doors before them.
“C’mon,” one of them spoke, taking point. The others followed, keeping their guns ready. They stopped at the first door and leveled their guns. The man on point kicked it open, and instead of waiting to see if anyone was in the room, they began shooting. They sprayed the walls, dresser, and bed with high-powered rifle bullets.
When they were sure the room was empty, they moved on to the next room. After kicking open the door, they filled the room with bullets like they had done the previous one. And while they made noise and wasted bullets, the bathroom door opened. Pop had the Mac-11 and his aunty had her .380. They squeezed the triggers as fast as their fingers could. The ambushers screamed as they were gunned down.
“Who the fuck is they, Paul?” Dorothy whispered.
“I’m ‘bout to find out,” Pop said, keeping the Mac ready as he crept toward the fallen bodies. Two of them were dead. One was alive, but in bad shape. Pop snatched the mask off, surprised at the sight of the light-skinned black man.
“Who the fuck is you, nigga?” Pop asked, pointing the Mac in his face.
“F-fuck you, n-nigga,” he mugged.
Pop knew he didn’t have much time to get what he wanted, so he grabbed the man by the leg and dragged him into the kitchen. Queenie and Princess were right behind him. Pop gave them orders as he dug in the drawers for silverware. “Turn on all they eyes and put spoons and forks on the fire.”
The twins moved fast. It didn’t take the metal utensils long to heat up. Queenie put on an oven glove and grabbed a hot spoon. She stuck it on one of the man’s eyes and held it in place. The man let out a death scream as his flesh burned.
“Who the fuck sent chu, nigga?” Pop demanded.
The man was in so much pain from the bullets and eye burning he couldn’t talk, so Queenie grabbed a red-hot fork and stabbed him in the other eye. The man screamed and his body shook as he grabbed the hot fork from his socket.
“Tell m
e who sent chu, nigga, and this can be over.”
“Okay, mane! Okay! Block said you killed his cousin.”
Pop Somethin’ connected the dots quickly and then blew the man’s mouth apart with ten bullets to the face. Then he went to find his aunty. She was still in the hallway, standing a few feet from the dead bodies.
“What the fuck you done brought to my house, nephew?” she asked, a spaced-out look in her eyes
“I’m sorry ‘bout this, aunty. Niggas got a price on my head. I’ma take care of er’thang. Take the Mac. When the police come, tell ‘em you did this. They not gon’ believe you, but you gotta stick to the story. This yo’ house. You got the right to defend yo’self. Princess! Queenie! Let’s go!”
Chapter 7
The white Cadillac truck coasted through Houston’s Third Ward, bass-pounding music vibrating the pavement as the sun glistened off thirty-inch chrome wheels. Behind the steering wheel, Block rapped along with Pusha T as he puffed a blunt. The dark-skinned goon didn’t look the part of a hustler. He looked more like a shooter: nappy dreadlocks, designer clothes that were wrinkled like he slept in them, and shoes that were expensive, but dirty.
“What it do, fool?” he asked when the passenger door opened.
Raw climbed into the truck looking like he had stepped off a print add in pink and purple Ferragamo from head to toe. “Shit. Still trippin’ off the whole team goin’ down like that. I heard that nigga was savage, but I didn’t know he got down like that. He put all six in a pine box. Fuck this nigga is, Black Panther?”
Blocked mugged his day-one. “This nigga ain’t no muthafuckin’ superhero, and we gotta get ‘im out the way. Them niggas just didn’t know what they was doin’.”
“You know the sayin’, my nigga. If you want somethin’ done right, you gotta do it choself,” Raw said, pulling out his phone. After dialing a number, he waited.
“What’s good?”
“This Raw. What’s good?”
“You. I see yo’ niggas came and made the block hot as fuck.”
“Yeah. You know how we do. But look, I need you to come through for me again. I know Pop Somethin’ ain’t gon’ lay his head back at his aunty house. I got five racks for his new spot.”
“C’mon, Raw. You still owe me from tellin’ you he was over these ways. You said the price on his head was twenty-five. You gave me ten. When I’ma see that otha fifteen?”
“As soon as we put the nigga in a box, I’ma give you anotha five. That twenty-five was the price on his bead. You gotta pull the trigger to get the prize. Ten was more than enough for that info. Find out where the nigga layin’ his head at again and I got anotha five. I drop it off right now.”
“I got a betta deal,” he countered. “I know where the nigga at right now, but that price went up to fifteen. He layin’ low, and if y’all make a move and miss, he gon’ know I said somethin’ ‘cause only a few people know where he at. Gimme fifteen and I’ma bless you.”
“C’mon, brah. You my nigga from way back. Don’t do me like that. Fuck wit’ me.”
“Listen, Raw. This bidness, brah. That nigga gon’ kill me if he find out I gave you the drop. You see what he did to yo’ niggas. Y’all sent a team and they couldn’t touch him. I need that fifteen, and time is runnin’ out. Next week he pullin’ a move and goin’ to Atlanta. I’m s’posed to go wit’ ‘im, but if you hit my hand, fuck Pop and the ATL.”
Raw looked over at Block. “He say fifteen. We only got a coupla days before they make a move and hit Atlanta, but he know where he at right now. Fo’ sho.”
“Tell him we goin’ to get the money now.”
“You heard him?” Raw asked into the phone.
“Yeah. But I ain’t sayin’ shit ‘til I got fifteen in my hand. My life on the line, nigga. It’s C.O.D. Cash on delivery.”
Raw laughed. “A’ight, scary-ass nigga. We got you. Tell me where you at?”
After stopping at a trap house to pick up the money, Block drove toward the meeting spot. He pulled up to a stop light, looking over at the tan Chrysler 300C that pulled alongside the Escalade. A pretty, dark-skinned woman with long dreadlocks winked and smiled up at him from the passenger seat. Then she turned toward the driver, who looked exactly like her, and said a few words. After a laugh, the women smiled and waved at the Cadillac truck.
“Look, brah!” Block said, getting Raw’s attention.
Raw looked over just in time to see the identical twins share an aggressive tongue kiss. Block blew the horn and signaled for them to let down the window. Instead of doing so, the sisters waved again. And when the light turned green, the 300C raced off.
“Follow dem hos!” Raw yelled.
Block pressed the gas pedal to the floor. “You think I ain’t, nigga?”
After a short chase, they ended up side-by-side at another stoplight. Not wanting to let them get away again, Block parked the truck and got out. He knocked on the window and waited for the smiling dark-skinned beauty to roll it down.
“Hey, baby,” Queenie smiled. “You got a fast truck.”
“Fuck that. What kinda sistas kiss each other?”
“The freaky kind!” Queenie winked, leaning over and kissing Princess again.
“Get that info, brah!” Raw called from the truck.
Block lifted a hand to Raw, signaling him to relax. “Chill, brah. I got it.” Then he turned back to the twins. Queenie was pointing toward the intersection. Block turned and seen the light change to green. The Chrysler’s engine revved and tires squealed as the car sped away.
“Ooh, them hos bad!” Block yelled excitedly, climbing back into the truck. A high-speed cat-and-mouse chase played out in the busy streets of Houston. Five minutes later the 300C pulled to a stop in front of an apartment complex. The truck parked close to the bumper. Block and Raw jumped out at the same time as Queenie and Princess.
“Aye, stop playin’ wit’ me, shawty! Me and my nigga want y’all time. I’m Block. Who is you?” he asked, walking toward Princess.
“How you know we want y’all to have our time?” Princess sassed.
“’Cause we the hottest shit in H-Town! I’m Raw. What up? Who is y’all?”
“I’m Queenie. That’s my sister, Princess.”
“What kinda twin sistas kiss each other like that?” Block asked.
Princess walked up to him and grabbed his dick through his jeans, teasing him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Block grabbed her arm. “Hold on, shawty. Fuck wit’ cho boy one time. What up?”
Princess eyed him from head to toe like she was judging his worth. “A’ight, Block. Tell me why me and my sister shouldn’t go in the house and fuck each other and leave you niggas out here wonderin’ who pussy taste the best?”
“’Cause y’all some boss-ass bitches and we some boss-ass niggas. Show us a good time and we gon’ show y’all a good time. One hand washes the other, and both of ‘em wash the face.”
Princess looked over at her sister. “What you wanna do, Queenie? You wanna get in they truck and fuck these niggas’ worlds up?”
Queenie looked Raw over from head to toe, then back at her sister. “Let’s fuck ‘em up, bitch!”
Inside the Escalade, Queenie got in the back seat with Raw while Princess stayed up front with Block. “So, now that we wit’ ch’all, what’s the plan?” Princess asked.
“We gotta drop off this paper, and then we goin’ to chill in a Presidential Suite. Y’all ever been in one of dem?” Block asked.
“Nah. But that shit sound like we should be there all night! We Presidential bitches!” Princess laughed.
“We gon’ grab some Aces and loud and then do it,” Raw added, reaching over and gripping Queenie’s thigh. She was wearing a tight little black dress with no panties underneath. When his hand gripped her thigh, she opened them wide, giving him full access.
“Don’t go halfway, nigga. Pet the pussy cat so she can purr for you.”
Raw moved a hand further up her thigh and
flipped his fingers across her clitoris. Queenie let out a small moan, inviting him to do more. “Damn, Raw. Yo’ sexy ass got my pussy wet as fuck. Since y’all truck tinted, stick yo’ head down there and let me wash yo’ face.”
Raw gave his boy a look, asking his approval. When Block nodded, Queenie lay back in the seat and opened her legs wider. Turned on by thoughts of how Queenie would return the favor, Raw dove in headfirst. He wasn’t that good at eating pussy, but Queenie moaned like his tongue game was the best she ever had. A couple minutes later Block got their attention.
“Aye, we finna pull up on this nigga right now. Y’all hold on.”
When the truck slowed down, Queenie pushed Raw’s head aside and grabbed her purse. After stopping at the curb, a light-skinned nigga with brushed waves walked up. Queenie moved to the last row to make room when he climbed in the truck. 2-Tone acknowledged the women with a nod before getting down to business.
“What up? You got my shit?”
Block went in the console and threw him a stack of money. “Yeah, nigga. It’s all there. Tell us what we need so we can get on our bidness.”
2-Tone fanned through the money. Three stacks, five thousand in each. “Yeah. This what I’m talkin’ ‘bout! He stayin’ wit’ this nigga, Born Ready. Y’all gotta be careful ‘cause Born Ready ain’t to be fucked wit’. Nigga one of them niggas that got a backup plan for a backup plan. A-to-Z-type nigga.”
“What the address is? How many people in the house?” Raw asked.
“Born Ready got a bald-headed, black-ass, cornbread-thick bitch, and Pop got two badass twin sis–”
2-Tone stopped talking. His eyes shifted to Princess. She smiled, giving the ‘Yeah, it’s me’ look. Instead of speaking his mind, he turned to look in the rear seat. Queenie pointed a baby 9mm in his face.
“I swear to God, niggas is so stupid!” she laughed.
“What the fuck you doin’ wit’ that?” Raw asked.
Princess pulled a black 357 revolver from her purse. “Stop playin’. Y’all know what this is. Pussy got you niggas slippin’.”
