by Sa'id Salaam
Ever faithful and obedient, there's no tell how long Tank would have stayed at that door. If Steve's angry wife wouldn't have shown up, he may have stood there all night.
"Where the hell is my husband?" She demanded, staring up at Tank.
“Uh he ain’t in there." Tank said, frightened by the small woman with the huge fake breast.
Steve's wife, Ava was a textbook plain Jane until he overhauled her. She had been down before he blew up and even trooped a bid with him. Instead of leaving her for one of the gold diggers that comes with the gold, he just customized her. He pimped his wife like Xibit pimps cars. The tiny titties were super-sized along with Botox, lipo and butt shots. She even had a pony tail made from a real pony's tail. It was called the Lil Kim package and just like Lil Kim, she looked better before than after.
"Why the fuck you standing guard for then!" Ava screamed, proving they haven't invented anything for a nasty mouth or fucked up attitude. "Get the fuck outta my way!"
Tank frowned down at the little woman beating on his big chest with her little hands. When he stepped aside, she fished around in her large designer purse until she hooked a lone key. She had it copied one night for an occasion just like this. The look on her face when it turned the lock was priceless but the once when she opened the door cost a little more.
"Steve!" Tank lamented at the sight of the manager propped at his desk.
His eyes were still wide from shock and his shirt and desk were covered in blood. The ragged hole in his throat explained where it came from. Tank and Ava inched cautiously into the office, glancing around to make sure the killer was gone. A lone tear escaped Ava's eye at the sight of her dead husband. When she saw his exposed penis, she knocked it away with a swift back hand.
"Uh huh!" Ava berated and she gave his stiff leg a stiff kick. Poor fellow was still getting chewed out in death. No rest for the weary. "Leave us alone for a few minutes before I call the police."
"Un, ok." Tank replied, confused. Not sure what he should be doing, he stepped out into the hall and called his bosses. Neither Mendez brother answered their phones because the signal doesn't go that far.
As soon as Tank cleared the room, Ava cleared the safe and then his pockets, wrist, fingers and neck. What? The police or paramedics would have stolen it if she didn't. The cash from the safe took several trips to move. Some of it belonged to the Mendez Brothers but they certainly wouldn't miss it.
Chapter Twelve
"Boy, why you ain't tell me you had a baby up here. I know I raised you better than that!"
"Whoa, whoa grandma. Slow down, what are you talking about?" Killa asked throwing his hands in surrender as if she could see him.
"Um, your little friend Sincerity? When is the last time you spoke with her?" Deidre huffed. Killa could see her in his mind, tapping her foot awaiting a response.
"Not since I was last up there when I got your stuff back for you." He said stifling a smile at the memories of that night.
The only thing better than killing the little bastard who stole from his family was killing the men who claimed to be God. The only thing better than that was the sex with Sincerity. His grandmother's next words wiped the smile from his handsome face.
"Mm hmm, and your ass made a baby! Now you better get up here and see your son!" She spat.
"Son? Grandma what in the world are you talking about? Do I need to call a nurse for you?"
"Here!" Deidre barked.
"Hello?" Sincerity asked weakly into the phone. Not weak from fear but weak from just giving birth.
"A-yo is my grandmother ok? What the hell is she talking about?" Killa asked causing Kitty to frown out of concern from his tone of voice.
"Uh...well?...um....ok....remember when you was up here and we did it? Well....you got a son." She finally admitted.
"......I'm on my way." Killa said and hung up.
"Is everything ok?" Kitty purred sympathetically. It was just that sort of concern that prevented him from following up on Sincerity. "You want me to come with you?"
Sure he fucked a few chics here and there when out of town killing; just dick, nothing serious. But Sincerity would have required more than that. She took emotions, heart and soul. These were things that belonged to his Kitty.
"Nah, some family shit. I'd better go alone." He replied, climbing out of bed.
"Family shit huh?" Kitty complained. She didn't complain much but lately she had been wanting more as love for him spread from her heart to her soul.
"I promise you'll meet my people soon." Killa said, wondering how to keep that promise.
"Thank you daddy!" Kitty cheered, smiling and clapping. "Yay! Cuz my momma coming soon and I want you to meet her!"
"That's fine." He agreed, even though it wasn't in his heart. Still, whatever wifey wants wifey gets.
"Now come on over here so I can give you a proper going away." She offered wickedly. Of course he said yes because men don't say no to head. Yes to head! Yes to head! Yes.....
****
Killa's journey home was dominated by thoughts of his son Xavier. He had been sole heir to the throne until now. He wasn't sure what to make of this new revelation. Sincerity was not the type to try him on some bullshit, so why would she not tell him about being pregnant. He couldn't come up with an answer, so he waited to pose it to her directly.
Before he knew it, he was creeping into the Bronx's Lincoln Hospital. The swift elevator delivered him to the maternity room quickly than he would have liked but there he was.
"Sincerity Jones?" Killa asked a pretty forty something nurse at the nurses' station. She flirted slightly, leaning forward, offering a glimpse of her ample chest along with the directions. Killa took her up on both, offering his smile as thanks.
"Sup?" Killa asked sheepishly, as he entered the room.
"Sup with choo?" Sincerity replied, glancing up from the bundle on her chest.
"Shit you tell me." He shot back and drew near. "My grandmothers talk..." One look at the baby with its classic Forrest features stopped him short from finishing the question.
It was un-needed confirmation because Sincerity wasn't that chic. Her reputation in the projects, the borough and the city was flawless.
"So, why you ain't get at me? Why you ain't say anything?" Killa wondered, never averting his eyes from the infant.
"Nigga, I told you when you were here it was your move. I gave myself to you completely: The whole me, mind, body and soul. I guess you just wanted the pussy cuz that's all you took. You just left the rest; the best part." She said directly to his soul.
"Aight Ma, but why not tell me you was pregnant?"
"Killa, I'm pregnant!" Sincerity snapped like Sincerity does. "To keep it one hundred, I wasn't gonna say shit. I just happened to be checking on yo grandma when my water broke! I think ole girl knew all along cuz I kept catching her giving my belly the side eye! Anyway, meet Rico, your son."
"Rico?" Killa asked, pulling a mask of remorse over his face; just like a ski mask.
"Yeah, Rico. I hope you ain't mind. I ain't put it on the birth certificate yet. But don't worry, you won't have to kill him." She said soft and knowingly.
"When did you find out about that?" He asked, feeling a feeling closely related to embarrassment. Cousins’ maybe.
"Just now." You know the projects stay buzzing but your reaction to hearing my brother's name confirmed it." She replied.
"Do you wanna know why?"
"Nope. Don't care." Sincerity answered quickly. "I know my brother was some bullshit and when people speak of you they use words like crazy, sick, dangerous, but always loyal. Besides his death got my moms off drugs. She was fucked up on that shit until he died. His death saved her life, mine too. Can you imagine being the child of a crackhead?"
"Umm Yeah." Killa admitted, thinking about his own mother for the first time in a long time.
"Is everything ok?" A petite, pretty red-headed nurse asked as she breezed into the room.
“Yes, fine.
" Sincerity sang, smiling down proudly at her newborn. He was healthy as a little horse but the doctors wanted to keep them both overnight for observation due to the difficult birth. Little Rico came into the world feet first, just like his daddy.
Sincerity may have been smiling but Killa wasn't. He frowned that 'where do I know you from' frown at the familiar face. He had definitely seen this chic before. No question.
“That's great." The nurse gushed. "I'm Yolo....uh...landa. Yoldanda. Ask for me if you need anything."
"Here you are!" Deidra exclaimed as she entered the room. Killa and the nurse glared at each other as she made her exit.
"Hey grandma." He said, bracing himself for a hearty embrace. You know grandmothers give the best hugs. They can actually snap a child in half if not careful.
"Boy you know I got a bone to pick with you!" She warned, and then proceeded to pick it. Sincerity smiled brightly at the sight of the notorious killer getting chewed out.
After a thorough tongue lashing, Deidra took her grandson home to feed him. Have her tell it, he was skinny and malnourished. Good thing Kitty wasn't here to hear that because she would have wanted to fight. Two things she did do and did well was feed and fuck her man. He dined on world class Cajun fare for dinner and good ole Louisiana pussy for desert.
Killa returned to the hospital the next day to retrieve his family. He hoped to have enough time to search for the nurse who made him so uncomfortable. Not sure if she was a friend or foe. So, he was going to murder her anyway. You know, just in case. No such luck because Sincerity was waiting in the lobby with their son. She thrust the infant on him as soon as he walked in.
"So, what are we gonna do now?" Sincerity asked as they relaxed on her plush sofa. She wished she was able to fuck him first before asking, but at least she fed him. Men are much more pliable when full or fucked.
“We ain't gonna do nothing. Nothing changed. I'ma still take care of you like I always have." He said firmly.
"Not good enough." She demanded. "Look, I ain't telling you to leave her, whoever she is. I wouldn't. Besides, if that were an option, I know you would have done it already. All I'm saying is me too! You have two women now and I want what's mine! Don't worry, you can handle it."
"That's what's up." Killa agreed. It wasn't like he had much of a choice anyway.
A week after arriving in New York, it was time to leave. Killa was horny after a sexless week, since Sincerity's vagina was closed for repairs after childbirth. He had plans to come back for the grand re-opening in five weeks. Dick sucking is an acquired taste that Sincerity had yet to acquire, so he was desperate for his Kitty and her Kitty.
“The fuck?" Killa frowned as his business phone rang seconds after turning it back on in Atlanta. He had just stepped from the plane and it un-nerved him. He hated feeling like they knew his every step. They did.
"Yeah!" Killa barked into the phone.
"So, how was your trip?" The annoying voice asked.
"Shit you tell me!" He snapped, not even attempting to hide his disdain for the owner of the voice.
"Well considering that you didn't kill anyone this trip, I'd say it was a pretty good trip. At least daddy won't have to spank you." He laughed more to antagonize than mirth.
"Look here nigg....."
"Oh chillax! Don't get your panties in a bunch! I wouldn't want you to say something you may or may not live to regret. While you're in the airport, you may as well catch a flight out to California. I have a job for you, a domestic dispute. Same price."
"Aight yo. Send me flight info and target." Killa said as he literally bit his tongue to prevent what was on his mind from spilling out his mouth.
Chapter Thirteen
Killa called ahead to one of his long time friends to meet him at LAX. Him and Big Cyke of the Shotgun Crips had been down since they were shooting people with 22s. Anytime he came to Cali to kill, they linked up and hung out. This time was no exception and the big homie met him at the plane. There was Cyke holding up a sign like the limo drivers only his said, Killa.
"Killa? Really?" He laughed and exchanged a pound and a hug from his friend.
"You know what I'm saying." Cyke replied in his deep, gravely voice, as if that were an answer.
"The Notorious Big Cyke!" Killa exclaimed proudly, looking over at his dude as they navigated their way out of the crowded airport. The sound of the expired moniker stopped the man dead in his tracks.
"Whoa homie, I ain't even on that no more cuz. I'm Muslim now. My name is Jihad." He said seriously.
"Jihad?" Holy war?" Killa asked ignorantly. It was an ignorance honed to a dull edge by slanderous, biased and slanted media reports.
"It don't mean holy war. How can any war ever be holy?" He shot back. "Jihad means to strive, to struggle and the greatest struggle is against your own self. What you think I just dropped my flag and went legit just like that? I mean, I did but it's still a struggle."
"Aight, so no more Crip walk?" Killa asked, twisting his lips dubiously.
"Well......sometimes when I'm in the crib alone." Jihad admitted, cracking them both up. "So, where you staying?" You know you're always welcome to crash with me."
"Nah, I'ma grab a room to make moves from but I'm spending the night at a woman's place." Killa replied.
"Sho nuff, got a chic out here?"
"No, I'll bag one from the club tonight." He shot back. "I do need some heat though."
"I told you I ain't 'bout that life no more....but I know a guy." Jihad laughed. He may not have been bout that life but he still had a 64 pancake in the parking deck.
Killa tossed his bag in the back seat and climbed down into the passenger seat. Jihad crunk the pristine Chevy big block to life and hit the switches. The car bounced up to a drivable position and they were off. Another switch was hit and a small screen unfolded itself from the dash radio. Instead of Snoop and Dre's; G-Thang, the car filled with a melodic Qur'an recitation. Both men's hearts were at rest as they rode towards Gardenia.
After giving Killa the Islamic tour of Los Angeles, he took him by one of the homies to procure some L.A. sunshine, that heat, a burner. Jihad dropped his friend and his new gun off at a downtown hotel so he could rest from the trip.
"Shit" Killa panicked when the alarm snatched him from his sleep. He thought he had overslept but the three-hour time difference took up the slack.
He reluctantly rolled out of the plush bed and headed into the bathroom. After relieving himself, he stepped into the shower. Setting the custom shower head to pulsate he got a massage as he washed the traces of travel away. It was a half hour later when he finally pulled himself away. The ultra thick hotel towels literally sucked the water from his lean muscular body.
His gear for the night was slightly wrinkled so Killa set up the room ironing board. A few burst of steam knocked the wrinkles from his linen pants and Egyptian cotton shirt. A pair of gator loafers set the casual outfit off quite nicely. He looked down at his watch and nodded. It was a time to kill.
The car service provided by the hotel rode him in style through night time Los Angeles. It was no New York but it was cool. On the way to the club, he studied the file on his next victim. The pretty, blue-eyed woman had enjoyed her last sunset because she would not see sunrise.
The venue was a quaint mid-sized spot on Wilshire; upscale but casual, where jazz was played under dim lights. Killa squinted and blinked the place into focus as he strolled in with his killer swag. He quickly spotted his target minutes after entering. Not only was she just like she looked in the picture but she demanded attention.
The woman perched precariously a top a bar stool with one luscious leg crossed over the other. The tiny red dress made a sexy contrast against the tan thighs. It was the same color as the pumps on her manicured feet. The spaghetti straps kept falling off her shoulders threatening to expose one of the plump breasts it barely contained.
“Shit, I might fuck around and smash that before I kill her." Killa mused to himself as he app
roached.
He couldn't help but think how odd of a job this one was; not quite as odd as feeding a child molesting pastor to pigs but still odd none the less. Unlike the preacher, she actually had a choice to live or die. She could grab her purse, go home and live. She could pick any of the other hounds sniffing at her ass and live. There were several men offering dick donations to her feed the greedy foundation; the organization set-up for the benefit of her damn self. She could have but instead she leaned over and asked, "Do I know you?"
"You can." Killa replied, flashing his killer smile.
"I want you to come home with me." She demanded and prepared to leave. She uncrossed her legs deliberately wider and slower than necessary to give him a view of her shaved vagina.
Killa shrugged at her choice to die and followed her out. Once outside the valet rushed off to retrieve her chariot, and what a chariot it was. Moments later, he returned in a growling, headless V-12 Bentley.
“You drive!" She demanded, like a woman use to making demands and got into the passenger seat.
The woman set the navigation to the setting for home when Killa pulled from the parking lot. She then leaned over and pulled him from his pants. A ride up the scenic Pacific Coast Highway is a delight in itself but getting some head at the same damn time is the shit!
Get mad all you like but white girls give the best head. Killa had trouble driving with half his dick in her head. The huge diamond on her hand that stroked the portion of his dick not in her mouth explained why she was wanted dead. When her tonsils tickled his head, he exploded. The woman gulped loudly as she swallowed.
“There! That should take the edge off. I intend to be fucked. I don't want to make love or merely have sex. I want you to fuck the dog shit out of me." She demanded. "Lord knows my husband can't do it. He lacks both the equipment and stamina. Makes billion dollar movies but...."
Killa held his tongue at the ungrateful tirade. In fact, it kind of pissed him off. By the time they reached the huge gated mansion she called home, he had changed his mind about fucking her first. Now he couldn't wait to kill her.
