Hysterical, Kenya fell to her knees screaming for God to help and forgive her. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she shouted having an all-out hyperventilating fit. “Please, please bring her back! Please! Oh, God! Oh, God! I’m sorry! Please!”
Brother Rasul, although still in disbelief, regained his thought process. Going over to Kenya, he leaned down on the floor trying to get her back up on her feet. “Listen, Kenya, listen, please. You gotta tell me what all went down so I can try to make some sense outta this. First, where is Storm? What did he say?” Before Kenya could answer Brother Rasul turned away, shaking his head. “Kenya, she was pregnant. Damn!”
“I know that!” She frowned pointing toward the door. “He’s in the car.”
Slowly turning back to face Kenya, Brother Rasul thought he might’ve heard her wrong. “He who? Who’s in the car?”
“The baby. He’s out there.”
“What! You have a baby in the car, out there?” Brother Rasul wasted no time racing to Kenya’s vehicle. Flinging the door open, amid the piles of clothes packed in, he saw the car seat holding the still-sleeping innocent newborn. Carefully removing the baby, car seat and all, he took him inside. After setting the car seat on his dining room table and pulling back the blanket, Brother Rasul was overjoyed to find the wavy-haired infant alive. “All praises due to Allah.” He chanted that at least the child was spared Kenya’s still-unexplained rage that left her twin dead. “Does Storm even know what has happened or what?”
“I don’t really know for sure. The last time his lying ass called, he was down at the hospital seeing about his fake brother and leaving me shady messages!” Arrogant in mindset, Kenya started to behave like she was the victim. “He can kiss where the sun don’t shine! His brother can too; he didn’t like me from jump!”
Brother Rasul stared at the tiny baby, wondering what he was going to do, as well as what he was willing to do, to help Kenya out this time around. Besides being her confidant since day one at Heads Up, he’d killed Swift protecting her, helped arranged her man’s release from Javier’s island of horrors, and just vouched for Storm getting credit on the strongest package in his city. He did all of that in the spirit of friendship, but Kenya leaving her twin sister, her own flesh and blood, for dead and then kidnapping her baby was over the top, even in the crazed street life they both led.
* * *
POLICE
Having gone home to an empty house, Sergeant Kendricks decided to return to Paris’s room under the pretense of getting some information. Even though he’d lied to his partner Malloy, he couldn’t lie to himself. There was something about Paris’s beauty, even through her obvious illness, that sparked his interest as a man. Her bone structure and slender lines put his ex-wife in his mind when they first met in high school, back before she’d cheated on him getting pregnant by another dude. As the sworn officer of the law sat there, once again in the daze of a teenage crush, his awkward staring soon turned into him fantasizing about “being” with Paris.
The “do you see this bullshit?” nurses on duty for the shift, who were more in Kendricks’s age range of dating, whispered among themselves that his over-attentiveness to the youthful patient, was tasteless if nothing else.
Chapter Seven
JORDAN
After a series of taps on the hotel door, Jordan opened it dressed in a hot pink satin and lace negligee. With seven-inch leather heels on, she pranced back across the room making sure her thick, wide ass was shaking. Turning around, Jordan grabbed both breasts pushing them together. “Do you like what you see, daddy?” she licked her lips.
Usually her trick, who came once a week for over a year, would be knocking her to the king-sized bed by now practically begging her for the pussy, but this time was different. Seemingly uninterested, Big Doc B took his time entering their love shack hideaway room he had paid for six months in advance. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Doc looked Jordan up and down trying to get an erection. When she placed his hands on her hips and started to move in a circular motion, Doc didn’t paw at her like always or start reaching his hands in places they shouldn’t be without an invitation. Instead, he sat there, motionless.
“Hold up! Wait a minute, Jordan. I got something on my mind right now.”
“Well, it should be this moist motherfucker here.” Sliding one of his hands underneath her lace panties, she made his index finger invade her pussy. “You know you want this.”
Still nervous about allowing Kenya to suck his dick and the explosive video she’d somehow managed to record was all Doc could focus on for the last twenty-four hours. Getting some head from Jordan was the last thing on his clouded mind. “I’m gonna just lie back for a few, then I’ll be good, all right, baby doll?”
With Big Doc B stretched out on his stomach, Jordan, a relentless freak to her heart, climbed on his back giving him an impromptu massage. As she ground her tiny hands into and across his skin, Doc started to relax. “You like that?”
“Yeah.” He felt his troubles temporary lifting as her hot box warmed his lower spine.
“Guess what? I’ma be working back at your favorite spot when they open back up.”
“What spot? What you talking about?” Doc moaned to her every touch.
“Alley Cats, nigga!”
“What!” Doc, hearing the name of Storm’s club, bucked upward almost tossing Jordan off his back and onto the carpeted floor. “Alley Cats?”
Catching her balance before tipping over Jordan laughed at his reaction she mistook for happiness. “Yeah, guy. Alley Cats, silly! Not only am I gonna be back dancing at that motherfucker, but Storm made me a manager today.”
“A manager? What about Kenya?” He eased over on his back so he could see her facial expression.
“Fuck that uppity, fake-ass East Coast bitch! She ain’t running shit! That’s Storm’s club anyway not hers!”
Doc was a nervous wreck discussing anything to do with Kenya or Storm period. He closed his eyes, and his stomach ached in the pit knowing his life was now in clear danger. “Just the same, didn’t Kenya fire you?”
Jordan was feeling herself. Storm needed her to stand in for his so-called cherished Detroit skank twice, and she knew already that was just the beginning. Crawling off the bed, standing to her feet, Jordan smugly smiled. “For real, for real, if Storm gave a damn what that girl had to say, he wouldn’t have been all on me earlier! Plus her ass wasn’t even down at the hospital.”
Big Doc B was stunned hoping Jordan wasn’t referring to anything to do with the allegedly abandoned newborn infant he’d treated yesterday. “What hospital? What are you talking about?”
“O.T.”
“What about O.T.?” Doc knew Storm’s brother was the hotheaded enforcer of the two, so nine outta ten times if Storm found out what jumped off between him and Kenya, O.T. would be the one to snap his neck. “I’m lost.” His nerves were working overtime.
“He got shot. Didn’t you hear about it?”
“Naw! When did this happen?” Doc leaped to his feet. Part of him was sympathetic because O.T. always looked out for him down at Alley Cats: free drinks, dances, and low-key sex in the Champagne Room. The other part of him was relieved O.T. was temporarily out of commission, especially considering what he’d done with his future sister-in-law, Kenya.
Jordan went over to the minibar pouring herself a shot of Hennessy knowing their sexual escapades were put on hold. “Remember that chick Vanessa who used to dance at Alley Cats, Bare Backs, and Wild Cherry? Her dance name is Cash N Go?”
“Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. The tall girl with the double Ds.” Doc remembered getting one, maybe two “special attention” dances from her.
“Yeah, that’s her.” Jordan downed the shot as if it were only water. Going to get the entire bottle, she took another shot setting the liquor next to the bed. “Well, it was a thugged-out stud bitch named Tangy who fucks with Vanessa on the regular. I guess ol’ girl was mad O.T. was giving her girlie the dick. Bam, she shot him
.”
“You lying?”
“Naw. Storm said five bullets!”
“Damn. Was she pregnant by chance, the dancer?” Amazed, his eyebrows raised over the chaotic soap opera story she was telling and tried to find out if the dancer she was talking about was the one who had entrusted Kenya with the little baby boy.
Jordan swayed over toward Big Doc B dropping down on her knees. As she tilted her head back, her widened eyes remained focused on his. “Well, I don’t know if it went down exactly like that, but word on the street is it did. And pregnant? That gold-digging ho, Cash N Go? I don’t think so!”
“And Kenya?” He helped Jordan unzip his pants.
“Yo, I told you fuck Kenya, dude!” She slurped while talking shit. “Apparently she’s out the picture, ghost or something! That’s why Storm’s on me! Shit, when I asked him about her, he was acting all stank even hearing her damn name.”
“Kenya, out the picture? You sure? I just saw her earlier.” Letting that information slip, Doc moaned having a flashback of the forbidden head he’d been blessed with or cursed with, depending on who found out. Now her bizarre actions made a little more sense. She was beefing with Storm and was just grudge sexing. Damn, if that was the case I would’ve hit that all the way. Doc’s freaky one-track mind fantasized, enjoying Jordan suck him off wishing it was Kenya.
“So what if you saw her dumb ass at the mall or whatever? Now you seeing me!” Jordan deep-throated Doc shutting him up from riding Kenya’s coattails.
Enjoying an hour or so of over-the-top, raunchy, headboard-banging sex, busting nut after nut up in her pussy raw dog, Doc paid Jordan $400 just as usual, leaving her laid out buck-naked sprawled across the hotel room bed. Seconds after Doc left, Jordan’s cell rang. Storm. She grinned as his name flashed on her screen and started blinking repeatedly.
* * *
STORM
Storm met Ponytail at the front entrance of the hospital. After taking him up to briefly visit his brother, Storm and he went three floors down to the hospital chapel for some privacy. As they knelt at a small altar, Ponytail listened to his old friend’s dilemma and what he wanted or more like needed him to do.
“My girl is gonna bug out. I promised her I was done with all this bullshit after she had the second baby.”
“I know, man, but this thang with O.T. got me all the way fucked up. I need somebody I can trust. Somebody who ain’t gonna rob me blind, ya feel me?”
Ponytail rubbed his perfectly lined beard trying to find a way to help Storm that didn’t involve him getting back into the game. “I know where you coming from, fam, but what about all your street soldiers you had riding with you? Ain’t none of them ready for a bump?”
“Dude, since some trouble we had with that old ancient motherfucker Royce and his damn lieutenant Marco, shit been real shady around the way trying to keep some stand-up niggas on the team. Most of ’em is straight faggots and shit.” Storm was getting loud and had to tone the volume of his voice down. “But now both them problems is out the way, I’m ’bout to rebuild. That’s why I need you, man! With my brother on his back, it ain’t no other guy alive I trust with my life, my wife, and my package but you!”
Desperately behind on his bills and fighting a foreclosure on his house, Ponytail weighed the options. “All right, Storm, but just until O.T. ass is back on his feet!”
“All right, that’s a bet!” Storm gave him a pound. “Welcome back, my nigga! Welcome motherfucking back!”
When Ponytail left heading home to break the news to his girl of his plans to start slinging again, Storm stopped back in to check on his brother one last time before leaving for the night. Seeing O.T. was stabilized and all was as good as could be expected, he left him in Nurse Jamison’s compassionate care. Before starting his engine, Storm tried calling Kenya then London. Still no response. He headed over to Paris and O.T.’s apartment.
Driving into the parking lot, his eyes searched the area for any signs of Kenya’s car. Knowing her, she probably parked the bitch around the corner or some old, sneaky shit like that. With each step he took, Storm grew angrier he had to go through all of this to just get his girl and baby momma to be back under his roof. Whoever said pimping ain’t easy told the damn truth! Pressing his ear against the door to see if he heard the sisters talking or maybe the sounds of the television, Storm was met with dead silence. Using his set of keys, he slowly opened the door to the dark, seemingly deserted unit. Ain’t this a bitch! Where is them hoes? Storm hit the light switch in each room throughout the apartment seeing no indication that Kenya or London had even been there. The back of each television felt cold, and every dish in the kitchen was untouched.
“Where in the fuck is they at?” Storm yelled taking his phone off his hip calling London and getting her voicemail, then Kenya. “Yeah, you crazy bitch, I’m over your girl house! Since you and your sister think this shit is a joke, let’s see who gonna be laughing when I catch up with y’all asses! You got London out there pregnant like this is funny.” He was boiling with fury, and in the midst of his rage he stepped right over a small scalpel on the bedroom floor belonging to his buddy, Big Doc B. “What you trying to do, make her lose the baby ’cause you can’t have none?” Hanging up his cell, Storm once again knew he’d gone too far saying what he’d just said, but Kenya was trying his patience all the way around.
Going into the bathroom to take a leak, something strange caught his eye. “Oh, hell naw, they asses was here. Slick bitches!” Touching a balled-up washcloth on the sink that was still damp in the middle was a dead giveaway someone had been there not too long ago. Figuring they probably ducked out and gone to a hotel when he had called earlier telling Kenya he knew where she was, Storm calmed down and left.
Stopping by Wendy’s to grab a combo meal, Storm was exhausted when he got back home. Darting straight up the stairs without bothering to turn on any lights or check the mail, Storm wolfed down his food, jumped into a hot shower, then fell back across the bed with the towel wrapped around his lower body. Damn, I almost forgot! Reaching for his phone, he dialed Jordan’s number to get an update on what went down at Alley Cats.
* * *
POLICE
“Well, damn, it’s about time you came into the station to make your reports. I was starting to think you took a vacation and forgot to tell me,” Malloy joked as his partner came in to start the 6:00 a.m. shift.
Kendricks was still somewhat distracted from his multiple visits to Paris, which he cloaked with waiting for her to speak, and they had the best of him. “I know, but since the shooting of one of the Christian brothers, we need every lead we can get to build a strong case on the other one.”
“I know. That’s why I’m having that fool Marco Meriwether brought up here from lockup. We know he killed that mother at the ATM and the young guy he was staying with, but I’m gonna see what he has to say about his old buddy, the late, great, wanted-to-be Shaft Royce, and the drug war between him and his cross-town rival, Storm. Hell, the ballistics match on the slugs taken out of Storm’s bodyguard, Boz, and the Robinson kid!”
Kendricks continued to scroll through his cell looking at pictures he’d taken of an IV-induced sleeping Paris. “Yeah, he’s already looking at life, if not the death penalty. Right about now he might be looking to turn over on the next man.” He hardly looked away from the screen as he spoke.
“Yeah, Kendricks, that’s what I’m hoping.” Malloy poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Shaking his head, he peered out the window into the busy parking lot. “In between dealing with that crazy fuck Marco, a fact-finding visit from one of the damn goody-goody city council members, and the invasions of students on a field trip, shit around here gonna be real hectic.”
Thirty-five minutes later, a uniformed officer was coming through the door arguing with prisoner Marco Meriwether. “Didn’t I say shut up?”
“Man, fuck you!” Marco hissed struggling to break free of the tight handcuffs. “If I didn’t have these sons
of bitches on, I’d fuck your cornball ass up!”
“Whatever.” The rookie shoved Marco down to the wood bench in the corner of the homicide squad room. “Is this where y’all want this animal?”
“Yeah, that’s good.” Malloy put on his game face as he approached Marco. He and Kendricks had already determined he was gonna play the role of the bad cop and his partner, who was slightly younger, the good. “Mr. Meriwether!”
Marco frowned as they locked eyes. Even though he was young in age, he was far from being a newcomer to the law. Having been in and out of juvenile facilities since he was eleven, Marco was prepared for the cat-and-mouse game that was about to jump off. “Yeah, nigga, that’s right. So what’s the deal? You playing the black hat or the white?”
“Look here, you piece of dog shit, your boy O.T. Christian is in the hospital clinging to life and the way his brother was talking maybe I should give him a minute alone with you!”
“Oh, you black hat in this motherfucker!” Marco cracked a smile letting Malloy know he peeped him out. “Fuck that fag O.T. being shot! I didn’t do the shit! And real rap, fuck that buster Storm, too! I ain’t fearing no nigga!”
“Is that right, big man?” With a vein jumping in his neck, Malloy grew more agitated by the moment. “You ain’t scared of that death penalty you looking at? You that hard?”
“Look, here’s an idea. Why don’t you send ya boy in the white hat to get me a Pepsi or a Mountain Dew while you act tough? By the time he get back, I’ll talk shit to him. Then both y’all fucks can argue over who gonna escort me back to my cell! Is that a plan or what?”
Snatching him up by the collar, Malloy gave Marco what he wanted: the roughhouse treatment. “Listen, boy,” he hissed with his hot coffee breath in his face, “okay, you think you know the game, but did you anticipate this part?” Slamming his fist into Marco’s stomach, Malloy let him drop down to the bench.
Tick, Tick, Boom! Page 8
