by King, Deja
Liking the way his words flowed freely, Semaj nodded her head in approval. “Okay I’m digging that. But lastly, do you have a woman? Because I’m definitely not with the drama.”
“If I had a woman I wouldn’t be kicking it with you right now. I have friends, and I make it nothing more. If you are around long enough you’ll learn this the real me.”
“If I am around long enough?” Semaj asked flirtatiously.
“Yeah, if you are around long enough,” Quasim repeated seriously as he stared into her eyes. “Being that the interrogation is over,” he laughed lightly while turning around and looking towards their table, “And the waitress is placing our food on the table, we can head over and finish this up in a relaxed manner.”
Semaj and Quasim sat and conversed for three hours after eating. For some reason Semaj felt comfortable with him and told him everything about herself, except for how she made her money. That was the one secret she kept because she knew it would change his perception of her.
He shared a lot about his past with her too, and for that reason this made them bond instantly. He even shared his feelings about his late father and their close-knit relationship up until he died. His father’s death had never been talked about…to no one. He told her how it made him want to change and start moving towards positive things in life.
Semaj was impressed by Quasim. He was a cool dude and she found herself actually enjoying his company.
They practically played every game in the arcade more than twice, chatted like old friends, but both of them hiding secrets that they couldn’t tell even if they wanted to. Before they realized it, it was going on midnight. The crowd had already dispersed and the arcade was closing for the night.
“Thanks for the awesome date. I really had a good time with you,” Semaj admitted as he walked her to her car.
“You ain’t gotta thank me. It was my pleasure and I enjoyed myself too. Maybe we can do this again soon.”
“I’d like that,” she replied in a seductive tone. He opened her door and Semaj appreciated that he was such a gentleman. She tried to read him, but couldn’t. She had never met a man like Quasim before. One thing that was obvious, though, was that he was the closest thing to her mark. Many niggas she simply tolerated to get close to their stash, but with Quasim, she felt a difference already. Plotting had not once popped up in her head, which was rare. He seemed way out of her league, but what she found most interesting about him was how he made her feel comfortable in his presence. The way he handled her was gentle, caring, and genuine. He treated her with respect, and his kindness almost had her open. She admired him, and the serious look in his eyes made her feel as if he was one of the few men in the world who could change her.
The way the two of them carried on a conversation nobody would have known that it was their very first date. They clicked in a major way as if they had been friends for years, but Semaj had to keep it real with herself. Love wasn’t in the cards for her at this moment in her life, and although he had her attention, her life was way too complicated. Her main objection was to make sure she got her money up and having a man-distraction was out of the question.
“You are going to make some woman very happy,” Semaj admitted as she slid in her car.
Quasim shut her door and stuck his head halfway in the window. “That woman might just be you,” he said as he touched her chin and the two of them made eye contact. “Only time will tell.” He kissed her on the forehead and walked to his car.
Semaj was reluctant to pull off because she was having such a good time with him. She watched as he hopped in his SUV and blew the horn, flashing him a cute smile as they both waved before pulling out of the parking lot going their separate way.
Murder Mitch crept through the side door and surprisingly it was easier than he had anticipated to pick the lock. For a brief moment, he watched as Paris took tokes from the cigarette as she sat on the living room sofa with a pistol on the end table. Depression and eagerness was washed upon her face but that wasn’t going to stop Murder Mitch from moving forward on what he came to get done. He walked into the room with his gun drawn. “Don’t move and put your hands up.”
Shocked, Paris looked at Murder Mitch as if he was speaking a foreign language. “Damn, Mitch, you done lost your hand in the game? Fuck is this about, nigga?” she raised her hands in the air.
“Didn’t come for socializing. Where the money at?” he asked and immediately removed the gun from the end table.
“You gotta be a bold ass nigga coming up in Dean’s shit,” Paris looked at him fearlessly. “Nigga, you must really got a death wish.” She rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth as she shook her head from side to side.
“I don’t give a fuck about none of that shit you talkin’. Where the money at?” he asked, waving the .357 in her face.
“Let me tell you something. If you were waiting on Dean so he could tell you where the money at then it’s a waste of time, my dude. He’d never give you the combination to that safe. Know you feel stupid, playboy,” she chuckled. “Isn’t a good feeling to be fucked is it?” “If I put the gun to your head that nigga wouldn’t have a choice
but to concede,” he said confidently.
“Think that if you want to. Nigga don’t care about a human life. For his cake that nigga gon’ lay down and die for his. Believe that,” Paris expressed. “I see it like this: You help me and I help you.”
Murder Mitch stared at her contemplating her request, but then got heated and shoved the pistol in her face. “You Dean’s bitch. Fuck I look like trusting you? You might be trying to set me up,” he said suspiciously. Murder Mitch was sure that he had put fear in the girl’s heart. What he didn’t know was that her heart didn’t pump fear and to his surprise she didn’t flinch.
“Nigga, you ain’t gotta be pointing guns in my fuckin’ face.” Paris forced the weapon out of her face. “Now I see it only working out one or two ways. You kill me and leave with absolutely nothing. Or I tell you the combo to the safe and we split that shit,” Paris said truthfully. Fortunately for her, she had watched him put in his code when she faked to be sleeping. “But first we murk Dean.”
“What?” Murder Mitch asked in confusion.
“Think I was waiting here just to be accessible to my man?” Paris placed her forefinger on her chin. “Umm… no!” she answered for him. “I was waiting on this nigga to get home so I could murk his bitch ass,” Paris said with sincerity in her voice. She was sick and tired of Dean Bean, but the little cash and gifts he threw her way kept her stable. No longer able to take the penny pinching and disrespect though, on this very night, she was planning to kill him and run off with his stash.
“If you gon’ murk your man what the fuck I look like trusting you? You probably plotting against me too,” Murder Mitch said, letting his suspicions be known.
“It’s simple. Nigga petty as fuck and been running around here with all these ratchet hoes, and he ain’t generous with his paper. I’m tired of gettin’ small duckets and fucking his brains out damn near every night for peanuts. I’m in love with money and I’ll do anything to get it. Now you can roll with my plan or just kill us both. But I’m telling you Dean ain’t giving up that combination.”
At that moment the decision had to be made by a nod of the head, because the sound of keys interrupted the debate. Dean-Bean walked through the door. He had a woman with him. He turned on the light switch to find a gun pointed in his direction. “Damn!” was all he could say.
“Yeah, nigga you been caught slippin’. Both y’all lift them hands in the air.”
“So you set me up Paris? Out of all people…you!” Dean-Bean kept shaking his head. Knowing death was imminent regardless, he went for Murder Mitch’s gun. But he wasn’t quick enough and Murder Mitch pulled his hammer back and placed two slugs into his dome.
When his body dropped, Mercedes screamed out fearfully. Two pair of eyes zeroed in on her and she couldn’t do anything but beg for her life. “P, I pr
omise it’s not what it looks like! I was just finna help him cook some shit up!” she said, pleading her innocence. She was indeed there to put in work, but there was no way she was declining his offer of a thousand dollars to fuck him. “I got kid‘s you can’t do this!”
“And I was ‘pose to be their godmother, but you crossed me
Cedes. Bitch, do you think I’m stupid?”
“I swear it’s not what you think. It’s two coke bricks inside the stovetop and that’s all I was here for. Word to my mutha.”
“Well, bitch, you ‘bout to meet her. Muthafuck you!” In a swift motion, Paris snatched her gun from Murder Mitch’s waistband and emptied the clip on her, and left her white shirt crimson. I was telling this bitch everything about us and she pulls some sneaky shit like this, Paris thought.
Murder Mitch’s intention was to murk Paris too, but after a stunt like that, there was no way he could murder the gangster bitch. She was a thoroughbred and killed as if her heart was black. For that reason alone, he felt she deserved to live. The two of them got the bread from the safe, and found the bricks inside the stove and disappeared into the night.
Semaj was on cloud nine as she walked into her apartment. She couldn’t take her mind off Quasim. He seemed to be perfect and she had it bad for him, but she already knew their timing was off. Maybe in the near future I’ll make room for him in my life, Semaj thought as she stripped out of her clothes and replaced them with pajamas.
She crawled into bed and drifted off to a pleasant dream. Just as the dream had gotten good she heard her BlackBerry ringing. Her last thoughts were Quasim, so instinctively she had assumed that it was him calling. She jumped up to answer but it wasn’t. It was a text message from her father. Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about, she thought as she read the message:
Maj, it’s done. Shit was easier than expected. I’ll be over there in the morning with a surprise.
Semaj sat at her dinette table going through her stack of bills, sipping on a glass of Tropicana orange juice as she tried ignoring her buzzing phone.
Tala was reading a section of the New York Post about a major drug bust that had her complete attention, so she tried blocking the phone out too, but couldn’t. “Damn, can you answer that shit! I’m trying to read ‘bout this trap house that got raided. That phone is irking my muthafuckin’ nerves.”
“Girl, it ain’t nobody but Gabe talking useless shit. Nigga ain’t got the picture by now. Shit, he gon’ make me get my number changed.” The phone started to ring again. “Let me answer it,” Tala insisted,
retrieving the phone. “What’s the problem, Gabe?” “Put Semaj on the phone.”
“Damn, nigga, don’t you get the muthafuckin’ picture? She don’t wanna mess with you no more. What part of it you don’t understand, my nigga?”
“Bitch, put that hoe on the phone before you get on my shit list too.”
“Empty threats, huh? Why you talkin’ shit? You need to be concerned about getting out of jail. Broke ass nigga!” Tala spit in disgust.
“Bitch, that’s cute, ha ha. Bet you won’t be laughing for too long, sheisty hoes!” The line went dead.
“Well damn, that nigga mad as hell.” Tala handed her the phone back.
“So fuck him. Better ask one of his homeboys for the money,”
Semaj quickly changed the subject wanting to move on to more important things. “Girl, I think it’s about time for me to switch it up. I done had the XF for ‘bout six months.”
“You a fool. Stay changing up your whip game.”
“You know how shit grow old to me quick. I want something new. If I’m paying a car note I just oughta be comfortable with how I’m riding. I have to give thanks to Ms. Long for co-signing with her A-1 credit and making it possible,” Semaj said as her father walked in with Paris following behind him.
“What the fuck!” Tala whispered as she turned to look at them, then back at Semaj.
“What’s up ladies?” Paris chirped being extra bubbly. “Y’all cool?”
“Daddy, what’s going on here?” Semaj demanded an explanation. “Relax, baby girl. Paris down fo’sho and surprisingly I ain’t the only one trigger-happy. We gotta murder mama right here in the flesh. Deaded her man.”
“Oh…my…Goodness!” Tala covered her mouth. “I thought I
told you not to kill him!”
“Dude got out of hand,” he said dismissively. He left the part out about Mercedes too.
The room fell in silence. Both girls were confused like a motherfucker. Murder Mitch gave a brief summary of what transpired the night before but Tala and Semaj were still perplexed.
“I always wondered how you were eating so good, Maj. Honestly, I thought your daddy was the brickman and you were a spoiled li’l brat. But after last night,” Paris looked at her seriously. “Shit, I learned that you were on your hustle just like the next bitch. I’m tryin’ to get put on.”
Semaj took a gulp from her glass before responding. “I’ma tell you like this, Paris. You my nigga, but this is a whole nother ball game than you play. That sleeping with hustlers for money ain’t gon’ get it. Gold diggin’ games is on life support. You gotta do too much to get what the nigga want you to have these days. I see it like this: Why waste time when you can hit a nigga real hard?”
“I can dig it.”
“This shit real and deadly, Paris. Even if a nigga suspect you to be on some sheisty shit it could be the end. We don’t go for just any nigga. Nigga pockets gotta be deep as an ocean, man. That’s why you gotta carefully separate the real from the fake. We don’t hit no ol’ hustling backwards ass niggas,” Semaj stated.
“Bitch, I said I want in. Feel me? I’m not green to the game. I just never had a team. I just need y’all behind me and the rest is history,” Paris said. She knew Semaj knew damn near every baller in each borough, but she knew niggas outside of New York and it would prove useful.
“A’ight. You gotta make these niggas let you know where the stash at where the cash at. Gotta approach them on some classy, sophisticated shit, like you wifey material. Dope boys don’t won’t no bird bitch. It’s all about the presentation when you approach a hustler,” Semaj coached. It was obvious that she was a vet and had hustled plenty niggas out of their money. “You really ready for this shit?”
“Hell yeah,” she replied.
“Well, I’ma let you work this nigga from the Bronx I been plotting on. His name is Dank and he something serious in that area.
Gettin’ plenty paper but like most of these dudes in the streets his weakness is pussy. So he gon’ be at you hard. I’ma see if you can prove yourself by going alone. If you pass this test, you’re officially the fourth member,” Semaj made clear.
Semaj and Tala sat in the back of the sports bar eating spicy chicken wings, as the duo anxiously waited on Paris to approach their table. She was wearing a white jogging suit and designer sneakers. She was toting a medium size knapsack at her side.
“Dang, my dad says you ain’t called him or nothing. What happened? You start feeling the nigga somethin’?” Semaj asked.
“Fuck outta here, Semaj!” Paris waved her off and sat down in a seat inside the booth. “What you think I’m just carrying this bag for nothing?”
“Shit, I hope not. And I hope you ain’t got no chump change in there neither. That split is four ways.”
“Fuck I look like? It’s almost ninety Gs. Look!” Paris said pointing to the flat screen television by the bar.
“This is Mildred Baldwin reporting live for News
12. I’m here on the scene where police were called due to neighbors complaining about hearing multiple gunshots. Douglas “Dank” Rodgers was gunned down in his residence a little after midnight last night, along with two men whose names haven’t yet been released. Once officials arrived on the scene witnesses say that they saw an unidentified woman departing in an all black SUV. At this time there are no suspects in police custody. If you have any information regarding this m
atter, you can call the local crime stoppers.”
Tala and Semaj watched the newscast in utter disbelief. It was mind boggling how Paris was able to get away and Murder Mitch didn’t have to put in any work. “How in the fuck you pull off that shit?”
“It was simple. I was in the bathroom when some niggas bust through. They didn’t even know I was there. They sho’ in the hell wasn’t finna get off with what we were after. The Dank nigga keep guns all over his crib and lucky I found the gun that was underneath the sink. Once they nearly beat him to death Dank gave in and popped the safe open. When they thought they was leaving I came out blasting. Two to the head for both niggas.” Paris shrugged casually.
“You murdered them?” Tala meant for the words to come out in a whisper, but her voice raised a few octaves.
“Hell yeah! After I let off on them niggas, I popped Dank just to be cautious. Snatched up my shit after a quick wipe down on what I touched and dipped out that bitch. Did I do good?” Paris asked. “Am I in?”
“Most def. You’re in,” Semaj replied with a confident smile. The average chick probably wouldn’t have made it through the situation to speak on it. Paris not only lived to tell about it, but most importantly she had the paper. She was grimier than they were. Now she was a part of their squad.
“Cool, ‘cause I got some niggas in B-more we can hit right now!”
Chapter 6
Three Months Later
For the last few months Semaj had been on her grind so she decided to treat herself to a day of shoe shopping. Ever since she put Paris down, Semaj had come into more money than she could have ever imagined. She discovered that having Paris put in work with them was the best decision she’d made thus far. She was the perfect asset for the team. They were living a secret society lifestyle and drug dealers were no longer their only targets. Anybody that had deep pockets could get it.
