by K'wan
“Bitch,” Ruby gasped. “You shot me.” She was dead before she hit the ground.
With the immediate threat being taken care of, High Side refocused his attention on his attempted murderer. The shooter’s arm hung limp at his side as he tried to get up using one arm. High Side drew his pocketknife and grabbed the shooter by the back of his shirt.
“Fuck you think you going?” He yanked the shooter to his feet. “You was gonna kill me huh, muthafucka?” High Side cut his face with the blade. “Yeah, I told you niggaz about fucking around in Harlem.” He plunged the knife into the shooter’s gut. High Side stabbed him over and over again. Even when the shooter went down, High Side continued to plunge the knife into his chest, arms, legs, or whatever else was exposed. Only when he heard the familiar police sirens in the distance did he stop stabbing the man.
Wiggling the blade deeper into the wound, High Side broke it off in the man’s chest then addressed C-style. “Baby girl, we gotta roll!” High Side called, while wiping his bloody hands on the dead shooter’s pants.
“Oh, Rob,” she sighed over his ruined body.
“C, we gotta go, now!” High Side said more forcefully. When C-style didn’t respond, he grabbed her by the arms and yanked her to her feet. “C”-he turned her to face him-“Cory, that nigga gone and you can’t honor his memory behind no damn bars. Now bring yo ass on, girl!”
C-style said her final goodbyes to Rob and allowed High Side to lead her away at a jog. In the course of a few seconds her life had been irreversibly changed. Rob was dead and she had officially caught her first body. Until then she had been little more than a supporter, but now found herself in it up to her ass.
chapter 26
SHARELL HAD never been happier to see her little Brooklyn block. What started out as a quick outing ended up with her shopping on 125th for her and Satin, and hitting the bootlegger for some movies. She knew that the girl was going through a lot and she wanted to plan a girls’ night out to help her on the road to recovery. After being near catatonic for so long she needed to refamiliarize herself with the world.
She locked her door and pulled her jacket closed to protect her from the whipping winds. It seemed like out of nowhere the weather had dropped since earlier. Just as she reached the front of the building a fashion magazine that she’d been holding blew away. She thought about chasing it, but it was chilly and she wanted to get inside with the bags.
Outside her apartment door she could hear the sounds of rap videos coming from the television. Good, Satin was still awake so she could see her new outfits. The moment Sharell turned the key in the lock she heard a door behind her swing open. When she turned around she found herself nose to barrel with a wild-eyed man holding a gun.
“Bitch, if you even think about screaming I’m gonna peel yo shit,” B-High warned. The coke had him charged so his hand trembled a bit.
“Please, just take it. Don’t hurt me!” Sharell pleaded, trying to hand him her shopping bags and purse.
“I don’t want ya fucking goodie bag.” He slapped the bags away viciously. “Back into the crib, bitch, now!” he ordered.
“Sharell, is that you?” Satin called from the couch, where she had been perched most of the day. She knew she heard Sharell unlock the door, but wondered who she could be talking to? When she got off the couch to investigate, Sharell spilled into the living room, almost knocking her over. Hot on her heels was a man with a gun. Satin thought about going to the kitchen for a knife, but the man must’ve been reading her mind because he took the gun off Sharell and trained it on Satin.
“Don’t get cute, bitch,” he warned. “Both of y’all get on the couch.” He waved the pistol. Sharell complied, but Satin stood where she was. It wasn’t that she was trying to be defiant, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate with her.
“You hear me talking to you.” B-High stepped forward and placed the gun against Satin’s forehead. Tears ran freely from the girl’s terror-filled eyes, thinking that she was going to die that night and her escape from the institution would’ve been in vain.
“Don’t! She’s fresh out of a mental hospital and probably isn’t processing what you’re telling her!” Sharell screamed. She was trying to buy them some time so she could figure a way out of the mess. Her gun was inside her purse, lying on the hallway floor outside the apartment. She also had a pager that would alert Mohammad to trouble, but it was useless, hanging from her keychain, which was still dangling from the lock in the front door. Unless she figured something out they’d both be dead.
“Let’s see if she processes this.” B-High slapped Satin viciously in the face.
She spun and had it not been for the couch she’d have hit the floor. Satin touched her hand to her lip and it came away bloody. Satin had fought her brothers all throughout her childhood for trying to put their hands on her, but a stranger doing it was even more of an insult. Though she knew she was holding the short end of the stick, she couldn’t help but wish that she’d still had the gun she’d used to murder her brother.
“That’s better.” B-High smiled. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a roll of duct tape. “Here you go.” He tossed the roll next to Satin. “Tape your friend up, and make sure you do it good, because if she causes any shit before I’m done I’m gonna have to shoot her sooner than I intended.”
“What do you want?” Sharell asked with tears running from her eyes.
“I want your faggot-ass man’s head on a stick for what his family did to my peoples, but I’ll settle for a piece of that fine Spanish tail.” He nodded at Satin.
“Don’t you touch her.” Sharell moved to cover Satin. Satin was sitting on the couch with her knees curled to her chest, rocking. Sharell didn’t know what was going through Satin’s mind at the time, but if looks could kill the man would’ve dropped dead on the spot.
“Bitch, get yo ass out the way.” B-High grabbed a handful of Sharell’s hair and yanked her viciously from the couch. When she was on her feet, he slapped her twice across the face and tossed her across the living room. Satin moved to help Sharell but B-High grabbed a handful of the oversized T-shirt she was wearing and threw her back onto the couch. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He stepped closer to her.
“Don’t touch her!” Sharell screamed. Her side hurt like hell, but luckily for her, and B-High, she didn’t fall on her stomach.
“Shut you fat ass up.” B-High pointed the gun at Sharell. “When I’m done with her, I’ll get to you. I hear pregnant pussy is pretty good.” He snickered and turned back to Satin. “If you don’t fight, I’ll make sure I shoot you in the head so at least you’ll die quick.”
Satin tried to crawl under the sofa cushion as B-High undid his belt. The hungry look in his eyes reminded her of the way the orderlies looked at her at the institution. On more than one occasion the men working the graveyard shift had come into her room and fondled her. A time or two they had even penetrated her, but thankfully they used protection. Though she was nonresponsive most of the time, Satin was aware of just about everything around her. Just the thought of her body being violated again made Satin snap.
When B-High placed his gun on the floor to balance himself, Satin was on him like a wild cat. B-High tried to grab her wrists, but her arms were flailing too wildly. She raked her nails across his face and sank her teeth into his collarbone, drawing a scream from him that sounded like a wounded animal as she tore a chunk of flesh from him.
“Crazy bitch.” He punched her in the face. Satin bounced off the couch and landed on the floor. “Now I’m gonna shove it in your ass instead of your pussy. Then I’m gonna blow your stinking hole out,” he promised, retrieving his pistol from the floor.
B-High lowered himself to the ground over Satin, keeping the gun pointed at her head as he worked her T-shirt up. She was wearing a pair of cheap cotton panties that he ripped away with little effort. B-High admired her unkept bush and thought how warm her hole must be. Not caring if she was wet or not he
began forcing himself inside her. Satin whimpered like a wounded puppy as she felt B-High’s thick penis splitting her open. She had been through a great many things in her young life, but this was by far the worst. As the head of B-High’s penis slipped past her dry lips she wondered if death would’ve been so bad after all. Closing her eyes, she prepared for the worst.
THERE WAS a popping sound, followed by something warm splashing on Satin’s face. She opened her eyes in time to see B-High clutch at his shoulder just before rolling off her. Behind him, Sharell stood, holding her smoking.22.
“Damn it, are both of you bitches crazy!” B-High barked, staggering to his feet.
“As God is my witness, if you don’t get out of my house I will kill you!” Sharell warned in a shaky voice.
“Okay, take it easy, shorty.” B-High raised his hands over his head and began easing along the wall toward the door. “I’m leaving, just don’t shoot again.”
Seeing that he was complying, Sharell relaxed a bit, which was a mistake. B-High lunged at her almost faster than she could pull the trigger. She tried to shoot him in the face, but the shot went wild and struck the wall. Before she could get off another round, B-High’s fist slammed into her jaw with a sickening crunch, sending her crashing to the floor and the gun across the living room. She tried to get back to her feet, but B-High was on her with his hands wrapped around her throat.
“You stinking bitch, I’m gonna break your fucking neck!” he snarled, raining spit into her face. Sharell started seeing spots as it became harder and harder for her to breathe. Just before the darkness took her B-High suddenly stopped choking her. When her vision cleared she saw Mohammad towering over both of them, strangling B-High from behind. The man’s eyes were slits of pure hate as his powerful hands worked B-High’s neck. Satin noticed B-High trying to bring his gun up to take a shot at Mohammad and kicked his arm. The shot missed Mohammad’s face, but grazed his cheek.
“Fucking worm!” Mohammad snarled, tossing the smaller man across the living room. B-High crashed into the entertainment system, breaking the screen on the plasma television. He looked like he was going to try and get up again, but ended up collapsing back to the ground.
“Are you okay?” Mohammad helped Sharell to her feet.
“Sore as hell, but I’ll live. Thank you.” She gave him a weak smile.
“No thanks needed, I gave my oath that no harm would come to you. Now, I’ve got to get you ladies out of here. Can you walk?” he asked Satin, who nodded. “Good, we’ve gotta go.” He ushered them toward the door.
MOHAMMAD STEPPED from the building, sweeping the street with his pistol. His face stung and his shirt was covered in blood from his wound, but he would have to attend it later. What was important was getting his charges to safety.
Sharell followed him, dragging Satin by the hand. She tried to keep up, but the harsh concrete was tearing her bare feet up. The best she could do was hobble behind Sharell. After months of living in a dream, reality was coming at her at a faster pace than she was ready for.
“Start the car,” Mohammad ordered, looking up and down the block in case the would-be assassin had an accomplice. From the way people were running and screaming at the sight of the bloodied and armed man, it would only be a matter of time before the police showed up, and they didn’t have time to explain what happened. The city was no longer safe for them.
Sharell’s hand shook so violently that it took her four attempts to disarm the alarm and unlock the door. She hopped behind the wheel while Satin climbed in on the passenger side. The girl had a wild-eyed look to her and her body trembled uncontrollably.
“You okay?” Sharell asked as she started the car.
“What was that all about?” Satin asked, wrapping her arms around herself. She felt like her heart was going to leap from her chest due to all the excitement. If God was playing a joke by continuously throwing obstacles in her way, she sure as hell didn’t find it funny.
“I don’t know, but we sure ain’t gonna stick around to find out.” Sharell threw the car in gear. She hit the car behind her and the one in front of her trying to get out of the parking spot. With a dented fender and a busted headlight she was finally able to get out into the street. “Mohammad!” she called her shadow.
“I’m coming.” He trotted around to the passenger’s side. Before Mohammad could get all the way into the car, pain exploded in his back. He tried to right himself, but a second bullet hit him in the thigh, dropping him to one knee. He turned around and saw B-High standing in the doorway of the building, aiming his gun at the car. Never leave a kill unfinished, Sharif’s words rang in his head as B-High shot out a window on the car.
“You fucking bitches!” he rasped. Mohammad had cracked his ribs, and he was sure to be suffering from a concussion, but the cocaine had him feeling like Superman.
“Mohammad!” Sharell screamed frantically.
“I’m good,” he lied. “If you have to, go without me.” He slammed the door. Mohammad rolled onto the hood of the car, upper body stretched across. Ignoring the pain that now racked his body, Mohammad drew a bead on B-High.
“Thought you could kill me?” B-High ranted, firing off a shot. “It over for you niggaz, Major Blood is gonna shut this shit down!” He fired another shot. “You muthafuckas…” that was as far as B-High got before a bullet went into his right eye and exited just behind his ear.
Mohammad collapsed across the hood of the car, finally overcome by his injuries. It took the combined efforts of Satin and Sharell to get him into the backseat. Satin sat with him, trying to stop the bleeding, while Sharell hopped behind the wheel and peeled off.
“We’ve gotta get you to a hospital,” Sharell said, struggling to see the road in front of her through the tears.
“No… no hospitals,” Mohammad said weakly. “Here.” He handed her a bloody piece of paper that been in his pocket. “Put that address in the navigation system, that’s our destination.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, jumping on the B.Q.E. at Camden Plaza, heading for the Long Island Expressway.
“The only place where Gutter and Anwar felt you’d be truly safe,” he said, before laying his head back and closing his eyes. His body had long ago gone numb from blood loss, but the first chills were starting to set into his muscles. He knew they were the first icy pulls of death, but he wouldn’t accept it. He would live to see Sharell to the safe house, but when his task was done Anwar and Sharif would honor their promises.
chapter 27
THE HUNTS Point area of the Bronx was popular for two things: its factories and its sex trade. During the day it was lousy with trucks dropping and picking up deliveries, but when the sun set it got interesting. Whorehouses, strip clubs, and of course your street corner prostitutes, all opened for business when night fell. With all the nightly traffic Hunts Point generated it seemed like a no-brainer what to do with the property they’d purchased up there, they turned it into a strip club. The Blue Light was shaping up to be one of the premier spots in the area and Hollywood wore the fact that he owned a piece of it with more pride than a proud parent.
“Umm-hmm, this is my kind of place!” Dirty Bill exclaimed, eyeballing a chocolate doll strutting past in a black thong and high heels. He had gotten his name because no matter how many baths he took he still looked dirty.
“You know Wood got an eye for these bitches,” Goldie replied. Much like Hollywood he was a young, fly nigga. You could always find Goldie dipped in jewels while the latest in designer wear draped his lanky frame. He was a handsome cat with smooth chocolate skin and could’ve easily been a model, but the streets took hold of him early in life.
It had initially been Goldie’s idea to open a gentlemen’s club, but he didn’t have the capital. Hollywood, already being a part of the circuit, saw the potential in the idea and was quick to offer up what he had in the stash. It took some doing, but the two entrepreneurs managed to get the Blue Light off the ground and the buzz was getting crazy.
“Wood, we sho nuff gonna make some cake off this joint.” Goldie rubbed his hands together.
“That’s the general idea, cuz. Shit, there was times I had to keep these bitches humping around the clock to get that change up, but I can’t even front, this shit was worth it,” Hollywood said, watching the crowd. “I can’t wait till High Side’s and Bruticus’s thirsty asses get here so they can peep this shit!”
“Say, speaking of High Side, y’all heard about that shoot-out on 142nd?” Dirty Bill asked.
“I heard a lil something-something. You know the hood talks.” Goldie shrugged it off.
“Yeah, I heard that nigga, High Side, was out there tearing off slob asses!” Bill said excitedly. “Wood, you know how that nigga be on it, right?”
“Yeah, High Side is a true soldier, but I ain’t heard nothing about him shooting nobody,” Hollywood lied. He knew what had happened as soon as it went down because High Side and C-style had come through his brownstone after the shooting, but it wasn’t his place to tell Bill that.
“Man, do you ever think about anything other than hood politics?” Goldie asked, clearly getting irritated with Dirty Bill.
“Hell nah.” Bill looked at him as if he was crazy. “G, I eat, sleep, and breathe the hood. You gotta keep your ear to the streets if you plan on winning this game, and I’ve always been a sore loser.”
“What’s good, cat daddy?” a Puerto Rican girl with blond hair approached them. She was wearing a white bikini top and a see-through wrap skirt. Even if the material hadn’t been transparent there was no way she could’ve hidden the horse-sized ass beneath it.
“Lexi, right?” Goldie smiled, exposing two rows of gold teeth.
“Ah, so you remember?” She smiled back.
“But of course. You look way different out of your clothes.” Goldie openly eyed her.
