Trust No Bitch

by Nene Capri

  Reflexively Kiam’s hand went to his waist; it was just a habit. A little chuckle then he would put a nigga on his ass. But this wasn’t that, at least not yet. So he brought his hand up and placed it on top of the desk. “You’re a funny nigga,” he said.

  “What you mean?” DeMarcus asked.

  “We grew up in the same house so you know better than most that I’m the wrong person to piss off, yet you sit there and insult me.”

  “How am I insulting you, Bruh?” DeMarcus gestured with his hands.

  “Cancel that bruh shit,” spat Kiam. “A brother don’t leave you dead in the water for eight years. So don’t even come at me like we’re family, nigga. I shouldn’t have had to ask you for a damn thing, you should’ve laid the red carpet out for me as soon as I touched down. But fuck all that, I just wanna know if you’ve heard anything about who killed Miss Charlene.”

  “Nah, I haven’t heard nothing.” He looked over at her picture as sweat began to form on his forehead.

  “I went by the old house and my stash was still there, but I’m willing to bet whoever killed her was looking for it. Now, who the fuck else besides yourself would’ve known that I had money there?”

  “Ain’t no telling, but if I were you I’d start with that snake muthafucka that’s out in the lobby,” said DeMarcus.

  It was funny because Czar had said the same thing about him.

  “If you felt that way, why haven’t you handled the situation by now? You mean to tell me that you’re letting—” A knock on the door stopped him in mid-sentence.

  “Come in,” said DeMarcus.

  Daphne stuck her head in. “Everyone else is gone. Do you want me to hang around?” she asked.

  “No, you can go on home I’ll be there later on,” he said. “Lock everything up before you go.”

  “Okay, see you later on.”

  Czar came into the office as Daphne was leaving. Lust danced in his eyes as he watched her switch off.

  He grabbed a chair and straddled it backwards. Kiam noticed that Czar and DeMarcus looked at each other with unbridled contempt.

  Kiam wasn’t the type to say anything behind a man’s back that he couldn’t say to his face thus he continued the conversation. “Like I was saying, if you suspect that this nigga right here had something to do with Miss Charlene getting killed, why is he still breathing?” he questioned DeMarcus, point

  Czar’s eyes went from Kiam to DeMarcus then back to Kiam. He shot up off of the chair and grabbed DeMarcus by the collar. “What type of bullshit are you trying to put in the game?” he snarled, pushing DeMarcus against the desk knocking shit over in the process.

  DeMarcus slapped Czar’s hands off of him. “Nigga, you know what I’m talking about,” he spat. He regulated his breathing and straightened up his tie.

  “Nah, I don’t know shit besides you seemed to come up good in the hood after your grandmother got killed. The way I see it, you’re pointing the finger at me to keep the light off of your punk ass. What I’ma rob and kill Miss Charlene for? My money been grown up for years.”

  “So you say,” DeMarcus disputed. “But don’t nobody know what you got but yourself. I hear all of that boss hustla shit coming out ya mouth but I know for a fact your pockets were leaking back then.”

  “What?” Czar laughed dismissively, backing up a little. “Boy, you’ll catch a rabbit fucking a grizzly bear before you’ll catch me broke.”

  “That’s what ya mouth say,” DeMarcus shot back.

  Kiam sat back, crossed his legs, and watched them hurl accusations back and forth.

  “You a bitch nigga trying to disguise your jealousy with anger. But don’t worry, I fuck her real good,” DeMarcus chided him, causing Czar’s his smile to retreat.

  Finally part of the truth came out. DeMarcus turned to Kiam. “Bruh, this clown is still mad because I snatched Daphne off his arm. See, he tricked a lot of money on her but the bitch wanted me. That nigga’s beef is about a ho.”

  Czar’s face balled up and the thick vein by his temple almost bulged out the side of his head. DeMarcus had struck a nerve.

  “Fool, I don’t beef with no nigga over pussy. I’m just putting it out there; I think you killed your grandmother because she wouldn’t tell you where Kiam’s stash was.”

  “You sound stupid!” He turned to Kiam. “Bruh, I know you don’t believe that shit. Me, kill Mama over some money? Hell, over anything! Nigga, I would take dick in my ass before I would do some foul shit like that. For real, Bruh. Fuck what this jealoushearted nigga trying to put in your head, it’s all love, and that’s how I felt about Mama.”

  Kiam didn’t need to hear anymore to know that the DeMarcus’s vow was insincere. Ever since they were small DeMarcus had been a cruddy muthafucka, and Czar wasn’t much better. Either one of them could have been lying. One thing for sure, he wasn’t about to sit there all night trying to figure it out.

  The two men shouted back and forth like cackling hens. When Kiam couldn’t take anymore he put an abrupt end to it. “Shut the fuck up!” he barked, sending an eerie vibration throughout the room.

  Both men abruptly stopped talking and sat down glaring at each other. Kiam reached in his pocket and pulled out a coin.

  Looking at DeMarcus, he said, “Heads or tails?” “Huh?” DeMarcus was slow to catch on.

  Kiam cut his eyes at Czar and held his stare.

  Czar swallowed hard.

  “Heads or tails?” said Kiam.

  Czar understood what was at stake; this was a cold-hearted form of Russian Roulette. He threw his hand in the air. “Hold up, my nigga. I don’t understand why you’re putting me in this.” His voice quivered.

  Kiam pulled his tool from his waist and sat it down in front of him on the desk. “One of you niggas better choose or I’m deading

  both of you. Best to decide your own fate.” Czar swallowed again.

  DeMarcus finally got a clue, but fear held ahold of his throat and wouldn’t allow him to call the coin toss. The only sound that came out of his mouth resembled a whine.

  Kiam reached for the forty-cal that he had sat on the desk.

  “Heads,” called Czar.

  Kiam flipped the coin. It turned over in the air several times, almost in slow motion, before gravity brought it back down from the ceiling. Kiam caught it in the palm of his right hand. Whop! He slammed it down on the desk with his hand covering it.

  Czar and DeMarcus rocked nervously in their seats. Kiam lifted his hand just a bit and peeked up under it to see how the coin had landed. When he saw it he chuckled, and one of their fates was sealed.

  The banger came up off the desk in Kiam’s hand in one smooth motion. In that fraction of a second before he aimed at the loser and squeezed off a perfect shot, Czar’s ass hole tightened and DeMarcus pissed his pants.

  Boom!

  Czar’s head snapped back and his brains sprayed against the wall behind him as he toppled over in the chair, crashing to the floor onto his back with one leg grotesquely twisted under his body.

  DeMarcus’s mouth was agape.

  Kiam’s expression had not changed, it was just another kill. He flipped the quarter to DeMarcus. “That’s your lucky coin. Put that shit on a chain and wear it around your neck for good luck. Trust, you’re gonna need it if I find out it should’ve landed on tails.”

  He stood up, walked around the desk, and put another slug in Czar’s cranium as casually as if he was looking at his watch.

  He looked back up at DeMarcus and now his eyes were squinted. He said in a real low tone, “You been out here eating good the whole time I was on the inside and you didn’t do shit for a nigga.”

  “All you had to do was call or write and let me know what you needed, Bruh,” stuttered DeMarcus.

  Kiam raised the gun and pointed at his head. “Call me that shit again and I’ma change the color of the walls up in this bitch.”

  “Okay, man, what do you want? Just tell me how I can square things up.”

  “I
want half of everything you own. Your drug spots, your businesses, your stash. Everything! Even your bitch.” He fired a shot mere inches over DeMarcus’s head.

  DeMarcus damn near jumped out of his skin.

  “Test me if you want to,” gritted Kiam, and then he strolled out the door as nonchalantly as he had walked in.

  Chapter 19

  The Chase and the Catch

  The week flew by as Donella and Bay looked forward to Saturday night with excitement and morbid anticipation. Bayonna moved around her apartment rushing from one room to another trying to get ready before Donella arrived to pick her up.

  It was Ladies Night at the Tequila Ranch and the place would be overflowing with d-boys, athletes and other made men. After dealing with all of Kiam’s demands lately the girls were in need of some loud music, drinks and male attention.

  Bayonna stood looking in her wall length bathroom mirror. She was definitely feeling the reflection that stared back at her. She looked too cute in her black skinny leg jeans and silver sparkling bra. She was styling her hair when she heard her door bell ring. Placing the flat irons on the sink she hurried to the door to let Donella in.

  As soon as she opened the door Donella looked at her over her Chanel shades and shook her head with slight disappointment. “Why your ass ain’t never ready?” she asked.

  “Just come in.” Bayonna grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into the living room.

  “Damn, Bay. What the fuck happened in here?” Donella asked, looking at the piles of clothes, shopping bags, shoe boxes and cleaner’s plastic all over the floor and couches.

  “You know I have a hard time finding shit to put on,” replied Bayonna, rushing back into the bathroom to finish her hair.

  “This shit is ridiculous. Bitch, you gotta do better than this,” said Donella, stepping over the debris. She shook her head again and reached in her bag and pulled out two small bottles of Ciroc.

  “Whatever, open that shit so I can get the night started.”

  “Here, and hurry up its 10:30. I wanted to get there before eleven.” She passed her the open bottle.

  “Bitch don’t start. You can’t rush perfection,” Bayonna chirped, taking the bottle to the head. “Wow,” she crowed as the coconut flavored liquid ran down her throat.

  Donella laughed then began downing hers. Just before she finished it she held her bottle up so they could toast. “To the chase.”

  “And the catch,” Bayonna added as they clinked bottles.

  They downed the rest of their drinks and threw the bottles in the trash. Bayonna completed her look by putting on a little eye liner and glossing her lips. After she put on her black see-through shirt and silver Red Bottom stilettoes she was ready to go.

  The ladies left out the house looking delectable and hot. Donella sashayed down the street in her dark blue Seven jeans, leopard Red Bottom open toe six inch heels and brown halter top that rested at the top of her jeans exposing her toned shoulders and arms. They jumped in Donella’s silver metallic 2012 BMW 335i sports car and threw on a club CD to set the mood, with their mission in full focus.

  They popped their fingers to the music and zoomed toward their destination. The Beemer rode so smooth Bayonna thought about buying her one just like it even though she already owned a Jag’ and a Infiniti truck.

  When they reached the club, Donella pulled onto the street and drove at a crawl, scanning the area for a parking space. As luck would have it some chicks were pulling out. She drummed her fingers on her thigh, impatiently waited while they fumbled around their little Honda Accord.

  “These silly bitches,” Bayonna said as she watched the drunken females laugh and play instead of getting the hell out of the parking space. She reached over and beeped the horn.

  Donella looked over at her, surprised. “Bay, chill. Why you all hyped?”

  “Fuck them; they need to hurry the fuck up,”

  One of the females flipped her wrist and yelled out. “Wait your turn!”

  Without hesitation Bayonna grabbed the door handle and was out the car. “Wait my what?” she said, walking over to the car, hips swaying, heels clicking.

  “Oh shit, my bad, Bay,” the driver said as she realized who her friend had gotten slick out the mouth with.

  Bayonna squinted her eyes trying to remember the girl’s face.

  “Gail?” she said. It was one of Gator’s groupie ho’s.

  “Yeah, girl how you been?”

  “I’m good now, but for a second it was about to get ugly out here,” she said, looking over at the bitch with the mouth.

  “Oh, she cool Bay.” She looked to her girl. “Kaleese, this is Gator’s people.” She tried to calm the situation.

  “Yeah, well if she cool tell her to watch her fucking mouth,” Bayonna said.

  She peered at Kaleese, holding eye contact until the woman wilted. Kaleese didn’t dare open her mouth again. As soon as Gail mentioned Gator she already knew she had better keep her mouth closed.

  “It ain’t nothing Bay, I got it. Let me pull out so you can get in. I just left your brother inside; it’s turned up in there. Y’all have fun,” Gail said, getting in the car. She didn’t want any problems, she had heard about Bayonna and her crew and she was not built for a war with them.

  When Kaleese got in the car Bayonna headed back to Donella’s vehicle and hopped in.

  “What was all that about?”

  “Nothing, that was that bitch that Gator fucks with.”

  “Bitch, you off the chain lately.” Donella shook her head, Bay was bursting out of her shell.

  Once they were parked they walked past the long line of people waiting to get in. Being that they were VIP, they went to a side entrance and knocked three times. The door came open and they were hit with weed smoke and loud music.

  “What’s up Bay?” The 6’5”, 300 pound muscular bouncer took her hand, pulling her toward him.

  “Hey Bones,” Bay said giggling.

  “Hey Nella,” he said as she followed Bay into the basement of the club.

  “Don’t call me that,” muttered Donella, crunching up her face.

  “Why you so damn mean?” Bones remarked.

  “Whatever.” She brushed him off, moving past him and Bay.

  Bones stood there scratching his head for a second. He looked at Bay, showing all thirty-two teeth. He had the biggest crush on her but she just played with his mind and pockets. Donella couldn’t stand his black ass; it was something about him she didn’t trust.

  “Come on, Bay,” she yelled over the music.

  Bayonna threw up her hand for her to wait a minute. She was trying to get in this nigga’s pocket and Donella’s bad attitude was about to fuck that up.

  Donella twisted her lips up and turned to scan the room for Gator and the crew. There was money all over the place. The owner of the club had the basement set up for all the ballers and celebrities that wanted to party without having to deal with a gang of groupies.

  The VIP room was jumping, strobe lights bounced off of the walls and the music thumped. The stools at both bars were occupied and there weren’t many empty tables or booths. Both small dance floors were crowded and the ratio of women to men was at least seven to one, which meant it was cutthroat as usual.

  Donella’s eyes roamed the room, watching the chickens that had made it to the basement. They were damn near naked, working hard trying to come up on some paid dick.

  She shook her head. “Thirsty bitches,” she mumbled.

  When her eyes settled on Gator sitting at one of the bars, she started in his direction. “Come on,” she hurried Bayonna.

  Spotting Gator, too, Bayonna walked around Donella mumbling, “You’ll fuck up a wet dream.”

  “If ugly ass Bones is in it, it’s a nightmare,” Donella shot back following her over to Gator.

  Their boy was in his element. He was rocking a button down shirt with gray Armani pants that lay smoothly on top of his suede Ferragamo ‘Giostra’ loafers. His dreads
were twisted down tight in the front and pulled back into a pony-tail, allowing the diamond earrings in his ears to sparkle as brightly as the strobe lights. Two thickly built females clung to his sides, getting high off his swag.

  Bay and Donella walked right up to where he was seated; ignoring the hungry ho’s he was entertaining.

  “What’s up, nigga, you buying?” Bay asked as she rested her hand on his back.

  “What’s up sis?” Gator leaned in and kissed her cheek. The icy piece on his platinum chain brushed against her chest.

  “Hey Dee,” he said to Donella as she reached in and hugged his neck.

  “Hey you,” Donella responded.

  The two women that he had been entertaining looked at Bay and Donella with hard faces.

  “Don’t worry honey; we’re not the competition,” said Donella.

  Gator smiled, he loved the attention. He stroked his newly grown goatee, showing of the shine on his wrist. The boy was a stunna at heart. He pulled out a bankroll and peeled three bills off for each of the women. “Order some drinks at the other bar while I holla at my fam,” he said.

  They took the money and sauntered off to do exactly that. Donella shot him the evil eye. Bay caught it but didn’t think anything of it. Gator shrugged his shoulders and smiled arrogantly.

  This is the muthafuckin’ life.

  “Where’s the rest of the crew?” he asked, looking around for Lissha and Treebie.

  “Lissha about to go see Big Zo, and Treebie probably somewhere terrorizing, you know how she do,” Donella brought his drink to her nose. “What’s this?”

  “Gimme my shit,” he said, snatching it from her hand.

  “You ain’t gotta snatch it, nigga,” Donella said, hitting his arm.

  “I hate that shit, Treebie ass love to stick her nose in people’s shit. That bitch rubbing of on you. Yo, give them whatever they want,” he yelled over to the bartender then got up. “Get y’all drinks and meet me in the back room.” He placed a hundred dollar bill on the counter and walked off.

  Bayonna and Donella got their drinks then headed to a private room in the back of the basement.

  When they stepped inside Gator was seated comfortably in a tall leather chair sipping his drink.