Coca Kola - The Baddest Chick

by Nisa Santiago

  Kola didn’t want to lose her man. She loved him too much. However, with the way things were going, there was a possibility he might do some jail time. She was willing to hold down the fort, though, if he had to go away for a few years. New York was serious with their gun laws, and one of the strictest states in the nation with regards to the purchase, possession, and carrying of handguns. And even though the gun was clean, with no bodies, and Cross had no criminal record prior to his arrest, they were still trying to prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law. It was going to be a tough battle to fight in court.

  Kola couldn’t help but to think about her options and her future. She was a smart woman—a sharp businesswoman—but if Cross did get some time, then where would she be? She had some muscle of her own, but Cross’ name on the streets was what held her down and got her the reputation she had. Without him around, the wolves would definitely come around hunting for her.

  And if she lost Eduardo as her connect, then she would be back where she started and probably fighting for her life. She had made some very dangerous enemies over the years.

  Her sex parties were profitable, but they weren’t bringing in the type of income she was getting from the drug business. She had grown accustomed to her way of living, and she planned on having it stay that way. She had to play her cards right. She was playing chess, not checkers.

  ***

  Kola woke up early the next morning. Cross was still out cold lying next to her. She gently removed herself out of the bed, trying not to wake up her boo from his sleep. She donned her long robe and went into the bathroom to pee. She then walked down the stairs and into the shadowy living room, heading toward the kitchen. The clock on the microwave said 8:25. She wanted to make breakfast for herself and her man.

  She opened the fridge and removed a carton of eggs and a gallon of milk. She wanted to make some pancakes, scrambled eggs, and sausage.

  Kola learned how to burn in the kitchen by watching her little sister cook. Nichols was the best in the kitchen—a certified chef in Kola’s eyes.

  When Kola wasn’t in the streets doing her dirt, she made time to spend with her little sister. Nichols cooked for the whole family and never complained about it. Breakfast, lunch, or dinner, she made it, and everybody loved it. Kola missed Nichols and her cooking a whole lot.

  Kola stood by the marble countertop with the milk in her hand, her mind drifting off to the time when her little sister was murdered. So much had changed for her. It had almost been a year since her death. It was painful to think about. She had moved on, but that tragic memory of the way her sister was murdered would always linger inside of her.

  She had heard word on the streets that one of her sister’s murderers was found shot to death in the Bronx, but she didn’t have any real confirmation about her sister’s killers. But she did know one thing for sure. She held Apple as the one responsible, and she would never forgive her twin for it.

  Kola went over to the stove and turned it on. She began messing around in the kitchen, looking like a natural housewife, but cooking was something she rarely did. She had been so busy with her parties and the business that fast food and dining out became an everyday thing for them.

  She went to put the milk back in the fridge, and when she closed the refrigerator door, she was suddenly startled by Edge’s presence in the kitchen.

  Kola jumped back and yelped, “Nigga, what the fuck! Why you sneakin’ up on a bitch?”

  “I heard someone in here and came to take a look,” he said.

  “What the fuck you want?”

  “Just came to take a look and make sure that everything was cool in here.”

  “I’m making breakfast for my man.”

  “Can I get some too?” he asked with a smile.

  Kola stared at him for a moment. She made sure her robe was tightened and that he was a reasonable distance away from her. “Ain’t your bitch waiting for you at your crib?”

  “Nah, I’m good. Ain’t no bitch in my life right now.”

  “I wonder why.”

  “You need help wit’ anything, Kola?” Edge started to think about how he caught her riding Cross’ dick last night. He smiled to himself. He wondered if her pussy was percolating through her robe.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  Kola cut her eyes over at him, and Edge held her wicked stare with a teasing smile of his own as he stood there shirtless, his jeans sagging off his ass.

  Edge wasn’t cut like Cross, but had the typical out-of-shape body—a growing stomach, too many tattoos, and no definition to him at all. He continued to look at Kola in an undignified type of way. His eyes followed her every move around the kitchen, and he wanted to push up on her.

  Kola already knew what was going through his head. It wasn’t anything new that she had to deal with over the years—niggas trying to flirt or fuck her behind her man’s back. She grew tired of it, but she didn’t expect the same bullshit to come from Edge, who she’d known for a long time. But, in her mind, niggas were going to always be thirsty for new pussy.

  Edge was the last person she wanted to see so early in the morning. Still, he was part of their crew and was always around—during the good times and bad.

  Kola wanted him to take the fall for the gun. She felt he was being ignorant and selfish about the incident. If he was a true friend, he would be willing to eat the charge for Cross and do the time for his friend. She always felt that Edge had other motives. Things were changing, and she felt he was changing too. She’d had a few words with him before, especially about the gun charge, and she could feel some tension bubbling between the two of them. Kola abruptly stopped what she was doing in the kitchen.

  She slammed the pot against the stove. “Nigga, do you have a fuckin’ problem wit’ me?” She turned to stare at Edge as he was posted up against the counter, his eyes glued to her.

  “Nah. No problem.”

  “Then stop fuckin’ staring like that. It’s fuckin’ disrespectful.”

  “It is, right? I ain’t mean no disrespect. I was just looking.”

  “Whatever, nigga.”

  “I’m sayin’, Kola, you know . . . real talk, I ain’t mean no harm by looking. You just got a really nice body. My dude Cross is a lucky nigga.”

  “He is, and I remind him how lucky he is every fuckin’ night when his dick is inside of me and he’s enjoying my shit.” Kola smirked.

  “Yeah, I feel that. And I definitely ain’t trying to disrespect you. Shit, you like family, ma.”

  Kola turned from him and began focusing her attention on the stove. She began making an omelet and some bacon.

  “I’m sayin’, though, was there any disrespect to my dude when you left Eduardo’s place three fuckin’ hours after you arrived? I mean, it takes that long to get business done?” Edge said matter-of-factly.

  “What the fuck you talkin’ about?” Kola spun around.

  “I think you know what I’m talkin’ about. You fuckin’ that nigga?”

  “You stupid, Edge. It’s only business wit’ Eduardo. And how fuckin’ dare you! You had me followed or somethin’?”

  “I just got eyes everywhere, Kola. You feel me? But, I’m sayin’, I ain’t gonna tell Cross that shit. It could be our little secret.”

  Edge moved a little closer toward Kola. “I’m sayin’, it seems like everybody is gettin’ a piece of that ass. Shit, can a nigga get a taste too?”

  “You need to fuckin’ leave my crib, nigga.”

  Edge chuckled. “Or what?”

  Kola reached for the kitchen knife that was lying on the granite countertop and raised it between her and Cross. When she took a step forward, Edge took a step back. The smile was gone from his face, and he just stared at Kola and the knife.

  “You crazy, Kola.”

  “Try me, nigga. I told you, I ain’t fuckin’ that nigga. And I damn sure ain’t fuckin’ you!”

  “So it’s like that, huh? I’m sayin’,
you think Cross is gonna believe you? Shit, you already took away his connect. How you think he’s gonna feel if words get in his ear that Eduardo might be creepin’ wit’ his woman too?”

  “Edge, I swear to you, I ain’t creepin’ on Cross. So, if you don’t believe it, then I don’t give a fuck! But I do know one thing—If you disrespect me in this house again, I’ll cut ya fuckin’ nuts off,” she said through clenched teeth.

  Edge’s smile returned. “You a crazy bitch, Kola. Cross definitely got his hands full, but we’ll talk later.”

  “How about never?”

  “Ain’t no disrespect. I’ll leave,” he said coolly.

  Kola kept her eyes on him closely while he began walking backwards into the next room. She followed him with the knife still in her hand, her eyes narrowed and sharp, her face in a scowl.

  Edge collected his things. He put on his shirt and shoes, and then grabbed his jacket from off the back of the couch. He looked over at Kola as he walked toward the door. He grabbed the doorknob then paused for a moment. He turned to look at her and said, “When Cross wakes up, tell my nigga I’ll holla at him. In the meantime, we’ll talk too.”

  Kola sighed and lowered the knife to her side. She couldn’t believe Edge had the audacity to have her followed, then watched and waited for her to leave. It was only speculation, but speculation in her line of work could get someone killed or incarcerated. It was a careless move on her part, though. Edge was becoming a problem. Kola knew Edge was right about one thing—it wasn’t a good look for her even though she was innocent.

  Kola walked back into the kitchen. Before she could finish making breakfast, she heard Cross ask, “Where’s Edge?”

  “He had to go, baby,” she replied.

  Cross was in a pair of jeans and a tank top. He still had tiredness written all over his face. He didn’t bother to hug or kiss Kola at all. He asked, “What you making?”

  “I’m making us an omelet. I know you must be hungry, baby.”

  “Nah, fuck that shit. I gotta run out. I wish you would have woken me up to tell me that nigga was leaving. I woulda left wit’ him. It’s a fucked-up morning already,” he said with a slight attitude.

  Kola sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes at him. She was almost done with his breakfast. It really bothered her that he didn’t want any of it.

  Cross walked out of the kitchen and headed back upstairs. In next to no time, he was dressed and out the door.

  Kola stood there looking like she had egg on her face. She took the breakfast she’d made for Cross and tossed everything into the garbage. “Fuck that shit!”

  She was a get-money bitch, not a housewife. She was just being nice to her man and wanted to treat him to something special.

  Kola quickly got dressed and made her exit right after Cross. She needed to make moves herself.

  Chapter 20

  Chico took a quick swig from the beer he had in his hand and looked over to his right at Tatiana. She smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back.

  Tatiana had an oval face with long braids. She was a bit overweight, dark-skinned, and had tits on her like a mountain. She wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t a beauty queen. She had connections in Charlotte that he needed to get with; she knew people that mattered. Tatiana had a trustworthy smile, but Chico didn’t trust anyone. Especially after the severe fallout he had with Chop, who was someone he once considered a friend.

  Originally from Richmond, Virginia, twenty-four-year-old Tatiana had come to Charlotte, North Carolina with her brothers a few years earlier to help them hustle. Her brothers were once notorious men in Richmond, but a murder charge, warrants, and longtime violence with drug rivalries sent her family packing and traveling three hundred miles south. They’d set up roots in the city and soon became known figures in Charlotte, despite not being from the town.

  ***

  Chico had met Tatiana a week ago at a lounge on Independence Boulevard. Chico was alone. He didn’t know anyone in the city, but he had street smarts and knew what to look out for. He had his pistol on him, but he knew he needed to be careful about who he talked to and how he moved. After all, he had fifteen kilos of cocaine in the trunk of his car. Even though he was a notorious figure in Harlem and Washington Heights, New York, nobody knew him in Charlotte. So he was a man without a country for the moment. He wasn’t Superman. The stickup kids were heavy in the South, and they wouldn’t hesitate to jack him for his supply and shoot him dead, if needed.

  He noticed Tatiana seated in a booth. She was surrounded by some men that appeared to be some heavy hitters in the city. She was quiet around them, sipping from her beer and smoking, while her brothers talked shit and laughed loudly. Chico took subtle glances at the crew seated opposite him while he lingered at the bar.

  They were perfect. He figured they had the money and the clout to buy the ki’s from him. Chico knew from experience that a new face wasn’t acceptable so easily or at all even. They would think he was an informer or a cop, or maybe he was trying to set them up. Or worse, they would see him as an easy mark.

  He didn’t have any muscle to back him. That meant they could effortlessly snatch away everything he had and not pay him a single dime. He had seen it done before—men come into the game to hustle, but they end up getting robbed, gutted like a pig, and left to bleed out and die in the streets because they didn’t have serious muscle around them.

  He refused to become a victim, so he had to map out a plan. A plan that would assure him his safety and his money all at once.

  He continued to look at Tatiana. He knew she would be the key to getting connected with the men. She had that lonely look about her. Her brothers protected her, so nobody dared fuck with her, but she also had that look as though she was desperate to find love.

  Chico had made his move on her when she left the booth and walked over to the bar where he sat. She had nudged in between the two tall bar stools where he and another patron were seated. She called over for the bartender and asked for another beer. Chico knew she just wanted to get away from the men she was sitting with, because they had a waitress serving them drinks the entire time. One snap from their fingers, and the petite, short, olive-skinned lady in the stained black apron and curly, bushy ponytail would quickly come over with her round serving platter in her hand, ready to take down any orders.

  Tatiana was dressed in a pair of blue jeans, a black T-shirt, and some white Nikes. Chico quickly noticed the diamond bracelet with the matching diamond earrings. She was fresh, nothing old, but everything looked new on her, no matter how plain it appeared. Chico had an eye for fashion, and even though her jeans looked like they came from Macy’s, he already saw that they were pricey by the way they highlighted her wide, thick hips.

  Chico had caught Tatiana’s eye, but she didn’t say anything at first. She already knew he was a new face in town. Mostly regulars came to The Jackpot Lounge on the strip.

  “Nice bracelet. Tiffany’s, right?” Chico asked.

  Tatiana turned to him. “How you know?”

  “I bought my ex-girlfriend almost the same one a few years ago. You got taste,” he said. He emphasized ex to Tatiana, not wanting to give off the impression that he was already taken.

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  “So what’s ya name?”

  “Tatiana.”

  “Nice name.”

  She continued to smile. “What’s your name?”

  “Chico.”

  The two greeted each other with a handshake, and Tatiana was thrilled to meet him. She figured he was from up North, with his accent and his style of dress.

  Chico knew not to rush things with the woman. He had to play it out smoothly and take his time with her, make it believable. They spoke briefly and exchanged numbers.

  Tatiana walked back over to sit with her brothers, but as she sat with them, her eyes would periodically look over at Chico. She really wanted to get to know him. He was new. He was different.

  Having accomplished the first p
art of his plan, Chico downed his drink and left. He just needed to execute the rest of it really carefully. He got into his car and drove to the motel he was staying in, a Super 8 Motel that wasn’t located too far from the lounge.

  ***

  Two hours later, Tatiana gave him a call. She made it known that she wanted to see him that same night, if it was possible. After Chico told her what hotel he was staying in and the room number, she said to him that she would be there in twenty minutes.

  Chico had been extra cautious while staying at the motel. He had rented two rooms for the week. In one room, he kept all of his private possessions and cash. It was also where he slept. The second room, which was on the same floor, was just a trap room he only used if he had company coming over or if he had business to take care of. He knew not to shit where he ate. The rooms were down the hall from each other.

  ***

  Before Tatiana arrived, Chico placed a phone call back home. He needed to talk to Apple. He had called from the first room he rented. Her phone rang several times before she picked up.

  “Apple.”

  There was silence over the phone. Chico knew Apple had picked up, but she wasn’t saying anything.

  “Apple, talk to me.”

  He thought he heard some crying over the phone and started to worry. The pit of his stomach was in knots. It felt like the Nikki situation all over again, with him not being there to protect Apple. His pride was hurt.

  Apple finally spoke. “Where are you, Chico?”

  “Charlotte, North Carolina, right now.”

  “They tryin’ to take our house away from us, Chico,” Apple cried out.

  “I’ma take care of everything, baby. You know that.”

  “When? I’m alone up here. You need to come home.”

  “I will, baby. I just need to move this work down here, and then I’m back on the highway as soon as possible.”

  “I’ma be homeless, Chico. They tryin’ to take everything away from me. Our house has gone into foreclosure, and muthafuckas is threatening to bring the marshals to evict me from my fuckin’ home, Chico. They fuckin’ with us. I’m about to have nothin’ up here. Even you.”