by N’Tyse
The fact that he wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place contributed to his own demise. During the GMBs’ week-long casing of the house, they had learned that the man and his wife consistently left the house together every Friday night around seven and didn’t return until after nine. But on this particular day, the GMBs arrived to their surveillance spot just in time to see the couple’s car pulling out of the driveway. They assumed that the couple was together, but they really couldn’t tell since the BMW 325 had tinted windows. So when the GMBs made their move and broke into the house, they were surprised to see the man asleep in his recliner. He was startled awake when Kita accidentally knocked over a lamp.
The man, too brave for his own good, made a lunge toward Jasmine and got rewarded with three slugs to the stomach from a weapon he never actually laid eyes on. His wife had forgotten her purse and pulled back into the driveway in time to see the GMBs flee through the backyard. She couldn’t see Roni’s and Kita’s faces but clearly made out Jasmine’s. Her husband died two days later and now Jasmine was on trial for first-degree murder. Her attorney recommended copping a plea to a lesser charge, but the GMBs had other ideas.
Blunt smoke filled the cavity of the truck as Roni and Kita passed the get-high-stick back and forth. Roni looked at a picture of the mark again and shook her head.
“Damn,” she said. “I can’t believe that we about to dirt a piece of ass this fine. I shuda asked Jasmine if I could rape this bitch first.”
“Roni, don’t start that gay-ass shit,” Kita said. “You lucky I’m even lettin’ yo pussy-eatin’ ass hit this blunt.”
Roni laughed as she checked the clip in her AR-15 assault rifle. She had been bisexual since her fifteenth birthday, when her drunken gay aunt snuck into her room that night and gave her a birthday present she would never forget. Roni was five feet seven inches tall and built like a brick shit house. She kept her hair in Chinese bangs and wore gray contact lenses. With the exception of a cut on her left shoulder, her cinnamon-colored complexion was scar-free.
“Bitch, please,” Roni said, snatching the blunt out of Kita’s hand. After taking one last hit, Roni focused her eyes on the door and waited for it to open.
“You need dick in yo life, bitch,” Kita teased, “to open up that tight-ass coochie.”
Roni gave Kita the finger. Whereas Roni was bisexual, Kita was all woman and was always down for the dick. On more than one occasion, she used her angelic face and perky breasts to woo a mark. With long, flowing, golden hair and butter-light skin, most men were pure putty in her hands when she decided to turn on the charm. Kita’s head snapped around when she noticed a slight grin fall across Roni’s face. Their mark had emerged from the building wearing a blue scarf wrapped around her head and large Gucci sunglasses covering her eyes.
Roni slowly lowered the passenger-side window and pointed the weapon at the woman. Her finger twitched as she observed the woman walking toward her BMW. The woman looked annoyed and they understood why. Earlier that morning, after the woman had left to meet with the prosecutor, Kita had fixed her garage door so it wouldn’t open, making it necessary for her to park on the street. Deciding to change the plan at the last minute, Roni took the gun off of the woman and pointed it at her tires.
“The fuck you waitin’ on, bitch?” Kita asked. “Dirt that hoe!”
Roni ignored her friend and waited for the woman to get inside her car. As soon as she did, Roni let off two quick shots that flattened the front and the back tires. Before the confused woman could even realize what was going on, Roni jumped out of the car and sprinted toward the car. The terrified woman stared down the barrel of Roni’s assault rifle. She never had a chance to scream for her life as Roni pumped round after round into the driver’s seat.
Glass shattered and decorated the street as pedestrians ducked for cover, diving behind trees and cars in an attempt to get away from the insanity unfolding on the city street. After dumping about thirty rounds into the state’s star witness, Roni ran and jumped back in the stolen vehicle. She was barely inside before Kita peeled off, burning rubber down the street.
“Bitch, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Kita screamed. “You tryin’ ta get us knocked or somethin’?”
After placing her weapon on the back seat, Roni calmly lit up a Newport, took a drag, and blew the smoke into the air. “Kita, them scary-ass muthafuckas ain’t gon’ tell on nobody. Let’s dump this fuckin’ truck and keep it movin’.”
Kita shook her head. Her friend was starting to get reckless. She made a mental note to talk to Jasmine later on. They needed to get a handle on that before it ended up costing them all their freedom.
2
Jasmine Turner picked her fingernails as she sat next to her lawyer in Cleveland’s Municipal Court. She smiled slightly as she cut her eyes to her right and noticed the beads of sweat that had formed on her lawyer’s forehead. Motioning for her lawyer to lean over to her, Jasmine softly whispered in her ear.
“Take it easy, Melissa; everything’s gon’ be straight.”
Melissa Crawford looked at her client like she was crazy, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that her client had indeed been accused of some crazy things over the past year. “Jasmine, they have a fuckin’ surprise witness to this charge. How the hell can you be so calm?”
Jasmine simply winked her eye, then turned around and smirked at all the nosey people who had come out to witness her receive her just due. No one would look her directly in the face except for one light-skinned redhead with large sunglasses, who was staring intently.
The fuck this bitch staring at, she thought.
Not giving it a second thought, Jasmine turned back around and continued to look good. Jasmine appeared nothing like the cold-blooded killer that Cleveland made her out to be. With an olive complexion free of blemishes combined with a model’s figure, she looked like she should be on a runway instead of in a courtroom. Her light-brown, marble-like eyes were captivating and her smile could melt the North Pole. Her shiny, black hair was tied in a ponytail that hung right above her shoulders. Jasmine and her lawyer jumped as the prosecuting attorney suddenly slammed a stack of papers down on the table. He had received a note from a uniformed officer standing guard in the hallway.
“Your Honor, may we approach?” he asked.
Judge Green beckoned the two attorneys toward the bench. Melissa looked back at Jasmine, who in turn, shrugged her shoulders in an innocent “I don’t know” gesture. No sooner had the judge and the two officers of the court disappeared into the back when a sly smile escaped Jasmine’s face. She knew exactly what the note said and the severity of the message conveyed.
“What?” screamed the prosecutor. “What the hell do you mean, the witness was killed?”
Judge Green looked at the prosecutor through beady little slits. “First of all, Mr. Morgan, I’d watch my tone if I were you. Either you think that I’m your wife or you have definitely taken leave of your senses, but either way…” The judge pointed his index finger squarely in the face of Jason Morgan. “Watch how you talk to me!”
The apologetic look on Mr. Morgan’s face said it all. The last thing that he wanted to do was piss Judge Green off.
“I’m sorry, Your Honor. It’s just that without that witness—”
“Without that witness, you have no case against my client.” Melissa was elated to finish his sentence for him.
The hateful glare the prosecutor gave Melissa had her practically giddy on the inside. Now she understood why Jasmine was so confident about the outcome of her trial; the witness would never make it to the courtroom.
“I hate to sound crass, Mr. Morgan, but it was your witness’ refusal to accept a police escort that led to this incident.” Judge Green seemed extremely upset about the entire thing. “If she would’ve pushed her pride aside and let the system work for her, we wouldn’t have this little dilemma.”
“Your Honor, I don’t think we have any choice but to move for a
dismissal,” Melissa said. “As the prosecutor so elegantly put it, without the witness, their charges cannot be proven.”
The judge was stuck; Melissa was right, but he didn’t like it. In his heart, he wished that there was something that he could do, but his hands were tied. There was no way that the state would win this case without their star witness. The case was built on circumstantial evidence as it was, so without Juanita Chandler to point the finger at the women she saw running from her house, the case essentially collapsed. Judge Green was no fool. Years of experience on the bench told him that Jasmine’s crew had something to do with Juanita’s sudden demise. Since there was no way to prove it at the moment, he had no choice but to grant Melissa’s wish.
“Look, I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan, but Mrs. Crawford is right. Without the witness, I have no choice but to dismiss the case.”
The prosecutor stormed out of the chambers in a huff. Normally, when someone showed him up like that, Judge Green would hold that person in contempt, but he felt the frustration on this one.
“And you, Mrs. Crawford,” he said, pointing his finger at Melissa. “If I find out that your client had anything to do with that poor woman’s death, I’ll make sure that her and anyone else involved gets a lethal injection! Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes sir, your honor,” Melissa said, walking out.
Judge Green, feeling like shit even though it wasn’t his fault, shook his head and followed her out.
Judge Green plopped down in his seat after he reentered the courtroom. Taking off his glasses, he ran his right hand across his face in a manner that said he was fed up with the shenanigans of the legal system. Before he spoke, his eyes scanned the courtroom, knowing full well the chaos that was about to ensue after the announcement he was about to make. As soon as his pupils got to Jasmine, his head stopped rotating. His cold stare would have intimidated the hardest of criminals, but Jasmine Turner was a different breed. She was a thoroughbred and not easily scared by such tactics. A sly smile escaped her lips as Judge Green shook his head at her with disdain.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he began. “I have received news of a terrible tragedy. It appears that there was a fatal shooting involving the witness. I have no choice at this time but to dismiss the case. Ms. Turner, you are free to go. Court adjourned,” he said, banging his gavel.
The courtroom erupted. Jasmine covered her mouth and feigned shock and remorse.
“Oh my God,” she said loud enough for the judge to hear her.
Judge Green knew it was an act, but there wasn’t anything that he could do about it. “Order!” he demanded. “Order! Order in my courtroom!”
Jasmine kept her hand up to her mouth, more so to conceal a smile than anything else. She turned around and looked at the shocked crowd mumbling amongst themselves. Her eyes came to a rest on the same redhead that she’d caught staring at her earlier. Once again she ignored her and turned back around.
“Congratulations,” said her lawyer. “You beat the rap.”
3
The humidity index made the eighty-degree heat feel like ninety-five and the GMBs were just as hot as they stepped out on the town to celebrate Jasmine’s release. Ever since the judge had denied bail, Jasmine had been cooped up behind bars for the better part of two months. She couldn’t wait to get out and let her hair down. Kicking it with her crew was one of the things that Jasmine had missed most. The last time she’d kicked it with her partners-in-crime, she and Kita had to pull Roni off a bitch’s ass for disrespecting them.
Roni beat the girl so bad that it took a well-placed ten-thousand-dollar bribe to keep her from pressing charges. Jasmine didn’t want any of that drama tonight. All she wanted to do was kick back, drink, smoke a couple of blunts, and chill with her homegirls. The GMBs walked past the crowd and up to the door as if they owned the joint.
Jasmine allowed her friend to get by. “Okay, Kita, do ya thing, homegirl.”
Kita wasted no time. “Hey, Terry, baby. How you been doin’?”
“I’m straight,” replied the stone-faced bouncer as he tried to throw shade.
“Baby, you ain’t still mad about last month, are you? I meant to call you, but my baby daddy been havin’ a bitch on lockdown and shit. Hell, I ain’t even been able to wipe my ass without that nigga being there.”
“Is that right?” the burly bouncer asked. “I see yo ass all up in this bitch tonight though,” he added with much skepticism.
“That’s because that nigga back locked up again. I’ll tell you what, boo. I owe you, but I swear on everything if you let me and my friends in—”
He didn’t wait for her to finish. “Sorry, y’all gotta go to the back of the line.”
“You sure about that, boo,” Kita said, letting her hand graze his dick.
The way he tensed up told her that all she had to do was take it home. She got on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear. Before she was even done telling him about all the nasty things that she would do to him, he was removing the velvet rope and allowing her entourage to enter. Haters looked on in jealousy and disgust but held their tongues. A few of the people standing in the line had already heard about the GMBs and didn’t desire any trouble. Jasmine and Roni mean-mugged the haters as they walked past the smiling doorman.
“Damn, bitch, how many blowjobs did you promise that nigga to get him to smile like that?” Roni asked.
“I merely told him that I was gon’ give him a little somethin’ later on.”
“Nasty bitch,” Jasmine remarked.
“Don’t hate, homegirl, don’t hate.”
The GMBs made their way through the club amidst the usual eye rolls by women and lustful stares by men. Jasmine and Kita garnered most of the looks as Roni was on the prowl for some fresh pussy. Club Ice was a rather small club but VIPs, big ballers, and shot-callers regularly fell through, in large part because of the star power and reputation for serving strong drinks and being a trouble-free spot.
“What can I get for you ladies?” the long-faced bartender inquired.
“Aye, yo, let us get a bottle of Cristal, dawg! We celebrating tonight.” Jasmine beamed.
“Oh yeah? What we celebrating?” he asked in a friendly tone.
Before Jasmine or Kita could say a word, Roni spoke up. “We,” she said, pointing at him and her girls, “ain’t celebrating shit. Me and my homegirls are celebrating. Stop being so fuckin’ nosey and get the damn bottle.”
Jasmine and Kita looked at each other and then at Roni.
“Roni, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Jasmine asked. “Homeboy was only makin’ conversation.”
“Conversation, my ass. That hoe-ass nigga was all up in our business.”
“Roni, you need to chill the fuck out,” Kita said. “Ain’t nobody tryin’ ta get into no silly shit with yo ass tonight.”
“Damn, bitch! You act like you scared or something. You skurred, bitch?”
“Look, you clit-lickin’ dyke! Ain’t no fuckin’ body scared! Yo ass be on some dumb shit sometimes!”
“Bitch, who the fuck you think you talkin’ to like that? You must think I’m one o’ them lame-ass niggas you be fuckin’ wit!”
“Ahight, that’s e-fuckin-nough!” Jasmine was tired of the verbal sparring between her partners. “Roni, Kita’s right. We don’t need to be getting into no bullshit tonight. We came in this bitch to have a good time, so let’s have a good time.”
“Yeah, ahight.” Roni sucked her teeth. Feeling double-teamed, Roni got up and stomped toward the bathroom like an upset child.
“Jas, you need to talk to that bitch. I’d hate to have to slap the shit outta her ass in here.”
Jasmine burst out laughing. “Bitch, please. It ain’t enough muthafuckas in here to get Roni off yo ass!”
“Whatever!” Kita dipped her hand into her purse. When she pulled it back out, she was clutching a pearl-handled switchblade. “I’ll carve her ass up in here!”
Jasmine stopped laughing immediately.
She didn’t care about them arguing, but she drew the line at them doing bodily harm to one another. “We don’t hurt each other; we hurt the enemy,” Jasmine sternly said.
“Damn, Jas, I was playing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Anyway, you really need to talk to her. She altered the plan today and could have gotten us knocked.”
This got Jasmine’s attention. If it was one thing that she hated was doing dumb shit when it came to business. “What happened?”
After the bartender returned and set the bottle of champagne on the counter in front of them, Kita proceeded to tell Jasmine about Roni’s stunt. Jasmine felt her temperature rising and when Roni came back, Jasmine’s mood had changed.
“Let me get this shit straight, Miss Al Capone. You jumped yo ass out of the cover of a stolen truck in broad daylight and let off rounds? Bitch, are you fuckin’ stupid?”
Roni shot an evil glare at Kita, who sat there with a smirk on her face.
“Couldn’t wait ta tell it, could you, Henry Hill? Ol’ snitchin’-ass heffa. You sure we can trust this hoe, Jas? She might crack under pressure, cut a deal, and dime our asses out!”
Kita quickly gave her the finger.
“Yeah, I do trust her. And I wanna trust you, Roni, but you gettin’ a little reckless.”
“What you mean, you wanna trust me? You don’t?” snapped Roni.
“I trust you not to snitch. But like I said, you startin’ ta lose focus and we can’t be doing no shit like that. Hell, you want all of us to get twenty years?”
Roni sat there, still staring at Kita. She was pissed that Kita had snitched on her.
“Look, Roni, I ain’t tryin’ ta turn you into a choirgirl. All I’m sayin’ is ease up on the crazy shit, ahight?”
“Ahight,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.
“Cool. Now gimme some fuckin’ love, homegirls.” Jasmine grabbed the two of them in a head lock. “Shit, I just got out; I wanna have some fuckin’ fun tonight!”
Jasmine turned up the bottle of champagne and drank it like she hadn’t had a drop of liquid in years.
