Wifey, Part 1

by Erica Hilton

  “Of course I’m not,” I stated. “Don’t think like that.”

  “A’ight, I ain’t stressin’ that shit. But, yo, keep your phone on. I’ll hit you back. I gotta bounce,” Nico said.

  When the call with Nico ended, my anxiety level was up. I was wondering what he was thinking. I didn’t want him to think that I would one day open my mouth and snitch about Shabazz’s murder.

  I needed some weed in the worst way to calm my nerves, but I was down to my last few dollars and didn’t want to be totally broke. I’d already blown the two g’s Nico had given me on a pair of Christian Louboutins and a Fendi bag. I got up and paced around the house, and then I turned on the TV and started watching The View. It was still early, but it didn’t matter. I went downstairs to my father’s bar and poured myself some vodka and orange juice and took it back upstairs with me to my bedroom and drank it while I finished watching The View.

  The vodka wasn’t doing it for me, so after The View went off, I called in a weed order, and when my weed supplier came by my crib, I gave him the last fifty dollars I had. But it was the best way for me to calm down from all the thoughts running through my mind.

  While I was getting high, I decided to post another online ad so that I could get some more money in my pocket. Only thing was, I had just spent my cab money and my four-hours’ worth of motel money on the weed, so it didn’t make sense to place the sex ad and not have money for the motel or even for the cab ride to get me there.

  I sat butt naked on my bed and thought about what I should do. No ideas were coming to me, and I was reluctant to hit up Nico for any more dough. And although I knew Nico was good for some money, I didn’t want him thinking that I was extorting him now that I had murdered Shabazz. That type of shit could get me killed.

  While I continued to smoke, something hit me and told me to check the prepaid cell phone I used as my contact number specifically for turning tricks.

  I had four messages when I checked the voice mail. Two were from guys I didn’t even remember being with, and one was from a new prospective client who had seen one of my old ads online and was calling to see if I was available. But those three messages were more than a week old. The last message was from the white guy, Mike, who had left a message the night before.

  “Hey Chyna, I don’t know if you remember me, but this is Mike. No disrespect hun, so please don’t take this as me being vulgar or anything. But I really want some more of that black nigger pussy of yours. I don’t know if you’re working or not tonight, but if you are, call me on my cell phone at 718-786-XXXX.”

  I called Mike back, and he picked up on the second ring.

  “Mike?” I asked, just making sure it was him.

  “Yes, this is Mike.”

  “Hey, Mike,” I said, a smile on my face. “You still in the mood for some of this black nigger pussy?”

  “Chyna?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  Mike told me that he was just thinking about me and that he definitely wanted to see me. I hated feeling so desperate and putting myself in tough situations, but I had to do what I had to do. I told Mike that we couldn’t meet at our regular spot and that my pimp had access to a house in South Jamaica that I was going to be working out of for the day but only up until three that afternoon, and that if he wanted to get some he would have to come through ASAP.

  Within a half-hour Mike had showed up at the front door of my parents’ house. I had removed all the pictures of myself and my family so that he wouldn’t have any idea that I lived there, and I took him into the basement, where I had let out the couch bed.

  I told Mike that it was going to be two-fifty for the hour instead of the price that he had paid before but that price was inclusive of the tip.

  Mike paid me the money, and we got busy.

  I had hit a new stress relieving low, but it was all good because I set my mind to something, and I had achieved my goal. But I knew if I wanted to leave the prostitution world alone forever, I would have to set my mind to an ever bigger goal, that being to lock down Nico. And I was prepared to do whatever I had to do. After all, I had literally killed for him, so the least he could do to repay me was to wife me.

  CHAPTER 23

  Nico

  I had been secretly paying drug money to one of the local mega-church preachers turned politician. I was paying fifteen thousand dollars in cash every month just so I could be included as a silent investor in a group of well-known business people who were pooling their resources together in order to develop the first casino in Queens County. The State of New York was accepting bids from different developers for the right to develop and operate the casino. Seeing that my political preacher connect was the right-hand man of New York’s black governor, it was all but guaranteed that our group was a lock to get the contract.

  When we were finally awarded the contract, I’d have to shell out two million in order to get a two percent ownership share in the casino. It was an investment risk that I definitely felt was worth taking, simply because the potential rewards were huge.

  The only thing I hated about being involved with the deal was the fact that I had to hobnob with all kinds of politicians at various fundraisers and different events taking place throughout the city. But I did what I had to do to get where I was trying to go.

  I no longer had the worry of finding a new drug connect, since it looked like Bebo’s plan for us to eat with the other crews was working out. We now did have the best product on the street, so from that standpoint, I was in a good space. I still didn’t trust Bebo, but I knew I had to get back to making the moves I needed to make for me to permanently leave the streets alone. And the way I saw it, this casino move was the move that was going to legitimize me and get me to exactly where I wanted to be.

  “What’s up, baby?” I said to Jasmine, who had called me.

  “Nothing. I’m chillin’. Just seeing what you up to,” Jasmine stated.

  I explained to her that I was going to get fitted for a new tailored suit I was planning to wear to the political fundraiser coming up in a few days.

  Jasmine sounded as if she had just woken up. Her voice was groggy, and she didn’t sound enthused or even the least bit impressed or intrigued by what I had just told her, in terms of me planning to attend the political event.

  “So what you doing on Thursday night?” I asked.

  “You tell me.”

  “Roll with me to this political event,” I told her.

  Jasmine agreed to go with me to the event, but then she asked me if I wanted to hang out with her later that night at a spot in the Bronx called Sofa Lounge. I had never been to the spot before, since I rarely hung out in the Bronx, so I figured why not. But I definitely wasn’t going to go there without some of my boys.

  “Yeah, we can do that,” I said to Jasmine.

  “OK, cool. So let’s bounce around ten.”

  “No doubt.”

  “And, just for the record, you be on that bullshit,” Jasmine jokingly said, her voice still sounding groggy and somewhat hoarse.

  I had just finished teasing her and saying that I hoped she knew how to hold a real conversation with politicians and professional people. I laughed and told her that I would see her later.

  ***

  Later on that night, I had BJ drive me to pick up Jasmine. We drove in BJ’s black Escalade along with our other man LaQuan. BJ drove, LaQuan sat in the front passenger seat, and I sat in the back. When we reached Jasmine’s house, I called her and told her we were outside. Catching me off guard a little bit, Jasmine asked me if I could come inside and meet her parents. I didn’t really want to, but I did it anyway.

  “Yo, I’ll be right back,” I said to the fellas as I exited the truck and made my way to Jasmine’s front door.

  “Hey, babe.” She kissed me on my cheek before letting me i
n and ushering me into her kitchen.

  “Mom and Dad, this is Nico. Nico, this is my mother and father.”

  “Nice to meet you both.” I shook her mother and father’s hand.

  Her dad looked a lot like the father from the old Will Smith Fresh Prince television show, and her mother looked a lot like the dancer Debbie Allen. Only, Jasmine’s mom had much lighter skin.

  “Nico, my dad is Councilman White’s Chief of Staff, and I was telling him that on Thursday we’re going to a political fundraiser event.”

  “Oh, so you’re into the political game?” I said. “Now I see where Jasmine gets all of her political and economic wisdom from.”

  Both of her parents laughed. Her father then asked me if the event I was going to was being held at the Sheraton Hotel in Manhattan.

  “That’s the one,” I replied.

  Her father then nodded his head and slowly looked me up and down.

  Jasmine’s mom said, “Well, we’re not going to keep you two. We know you’re on your way out.”

  “We’ll have to invite you over for dinner.” Her father stood back up from the kitchen table and shook my hand.

  “Definitely,” I replied. “I would like that. Just let me know when.”

  Jasmine took me by the hand and led me toward the front door.

  “OK, Mom, so we’re leaving now.”

  Her parents both told us to be safe and to have fun, and we exited the front door.

  “Sorry about that. I gotta get outta that house. They stay in my business,” Jasmine said to me.

  “Nah, that’s cool. It’s good your parents are still together, and they look happy, and they seem cool. You lucky. A lot of people wish they had that. I wish I had had that.”

  We both got into the truck, and I introduced Jasmine to LaQuan, since she already knew BJ.

  “Nice to meet you,” Jasmine said to LaQuan.

  LaQuan made a joke about his name, and Jasmine laughed. Then she told him not to worry, that she was good with names.

  “You look good,” I whispered in Jasmine’s ear. “Keep that pussy wet for me.”

  She smiled and looked at me and nodded her head. I was definitely impressed that she was coming across very reserved and ladylike, similar to Mia’s disposition, and not once did she seem like she was only twenty years old.

  I whispered in Jasmine’s ear, “We gotta go shop for that X6 next week.”

  Jasmine had been playing her position perfectly, so I wanted to at least reward her for going through with the hit on Shabazz.

  “Stop playing,” Jasmine said to me.

  “I’m dead-ass.”

  Jasmine hugged me real tight and kissed me on the cheek. She couldn’t stop smiling and telling me thank you.

  After about twenty-five minutes of driving, we reached Sofa Lounge.

  “Yo, I know this spot.” BJ turned down the music. “This is the old Jimmy’s Bronx Café.”

  I had been to Jimmy’s Bronx Café back in the days, but it had been so long ago, I wasn’t sure if BJ was right or not. He was probably wrong because he was the type that always emphatically knew shit but was always wrong and would never admit it. He was still my nigga for life, though.

  After we parked the truck, the four of us walked toward the spot, and as we walked, I started to remember having been there back in the days.

  “This is Sofa Lounge? Yo, BJ, this is where we was at that night when Stephon Marbury rolled up flossing in the drop-top Bentley and cats ran up on him at the light and made him run his shit.” I laughed, remembering the incident.

  “That’s what I’m saying. We was at Jimmy’s that night. This is the same spot. They just changed the name.”

  The line to get into the spot wasn’t crazy, but I was never one to stand on lines. And, plus, LaQuan was a Newark, New Jersey cop, so he had his badge and always could get us in spots if there were ever any issues. I didn’t like putting him in a position where his job would be in jeopardy if something ever jumped off. So I never rolled with the expectation of using the power his badge granted him, unless it was for minor shit like this.

  After LaQuan flashed his badge and the bouncer let him inside, he held the rope open for us.

  I handed the bouncer a hundred-dollar bill.

  “Good looking out,” he said.

  I nodded my head to him as I cupped Jasmine by the waist, and we all walked into the spot together. The spot was cool, and was full of Spanish dudes and Spanish chicks.

  A Spanish hostess asked Jasmine, “Do you want to put your coat in coat check mami?”

  Jasmine took off her coat and revealed the form-fitting dress she had on. She was also rocking a hot pair of stilettos. After we had taken care of the coats and jackets, we headed to the bar and ordered drinks.

  By the time we had our third round of drinks, the spot had gotten really packed. A different DJ took over, and he was much better than the first DJ, so it wasn’t long before the spot was really rocking.

  Jasmine grabbed me by the hand and pulled me toward the dance floor, which wasn’t far from the bar at all. “You and that too-cool-to-dance shit.”

  “Nah, you know I just two-step,” I said directly into her ear.

  “You know how to fuck, so I know you can dance,” she shouted into my ear over the music.

  “Oh, so that’s the prerequisite?”

  “Something like that,” she replied as I two-stepped and she danced in front of me.

  I turned my head to see if I could locate BJ and LaQuan. I wanted them to try and get a table for us in the VIP section. Before I could locate my boys, I was met by what felt like a hurricane—Hurricane Mia, to be exact.

  Mia pushed me. “So you out partying with this bitch, huh?”

  Mia was dressed to kill, looking like a million dollars, in a form-fitting dress and stilettos of her own. I had to quickly get things under control.

  “Mia, calm the fuck down,” I said.

  Jasmine stepped up to Mia. “Watch who you calling a bitch!”

  Mia was much taller than Jasmine, but Jasmine wasn’t about to back down.

  Whaaaack!

  Mia smacked the shit out of Jasmine, and it looked as if Jasmine didn’t expect to get hit.

  “Bitch, I’ll beat your mu-tha-fuck-in’-ass!” Mia said, stressing every syllable, and uncharacteristically coming across like a chick from the hood. She then began unleashing a series of right hooks that all connected with Jasmine’s head. “I told you not to fuck with me!”

  Jasmine screamed in anger and also to summon strength from her body. She rushed Mia and pushed her a few feet backwards, until Mia fell on the ground. Jasmine quickly took off both of her shoes and, towering over Mia, who was still on the ground trying to get up, began pummeling her with one of her stilettos.

  “Get the fuck up, bitch!” Jasmine said, stomping Mia.

  Then, to shoot a fair one, and feeling really amped and confident in her hand skills Jasmine relented, so Mia could get to her feet. That was a bad move on Jasmine’s part. In the midst of the mayhem, Mia’s home girl, Sharmel, discreetly handed Mia a knife that she had in her Gucci bag. Sharmel then caught Jasmine off guard and grabbed hold of her. Sharmel did her best to hold on to Jasmine in the full nelson position so Mia could cut and stab her.

  “Stab that bitch!” Sharmel commanded her best friend.

  Jasmine wiggled and wormed and kicked desperately, trying to free herself of Sharmel’s grip, as Mia approached her with the knife. Mia jigged the knife two times inside the dark club but she missed her target both times. She had to be careful because she didn’t want to stab Sharmel by accident. By this time the incident had started to get the attention of everyone in the club.

  I grabbed Mia’s wrist and twisted as hard as I could.

 
“Ahhhhhh!” Mia screamed, and the knife fell to the ground.

  I kicked the knife across the floor.

  “Get off of me, Nico!” Mia screamed.

  Whack! Whack! Whack!

  I smacked Mia three times as hard as I could, and she fell down, covering up, expecting to get hit again. I yanked her up from the ground and screamed, “Quit your bullshit, Mia! And get your silly ass outta here. Now!”

  “Nico don’t be fucking hitting on her like that!” Sharmel said to me and she pushed me away from Mia.

  “You gonna beat my ass over this trick?” Mia asked as Sharmel came to her aid.

  Jasmine knew I had her back, so she began looking for her shoes. BJ came by my side, and LaQuan took Jasmine by the hand and was trying to lead her out the club just as club security was making their way over.

  “Mia, shut the fuck up!” I barked. “I’m not gonna tell you again!”

  Mia shook her head. Disheveled and trying to gather herself, she said some things under her breath. Then she smiled an embarrassed smile and directed her words at Jasmine.

  “It’s all good, sweetie, ’cause he gonna beat your ass and fuck other bitches the same way he did me. Watch!” she said, checking her nose for blood.

  Jasmine hurled spit in Mia’s direction as LaQuan continued to yank her out of the club.

  BJ tapped me on the arm. “Let’s get outta Dodge.”

  I had the illest screw face plastered on at the moment. There wasn’t any way Mia just happened to coincidentally be at the same club as us. She must have followed me to the spot, which infuriated me. Nevertheless, I heeded BJ’s words, and we bounced.

  When we made it to the truck and pulled off, Jasmine kept apologizing to me.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry, but I just had to defend myself,” she explained.

  “It’s all good. You a’ight?”

  Jasmine was breathing heavily and she looked disheveled and amped while telling me that she was OK.

  “That’s all that matters then. That bitch and Sharmel were outta line jumping you like that,” I explained, trying to calm Jasmine down.