Gutta Mamis

by N’Tyse

  “Pull over, I have to piss.”

  Bobbi’s vulgar language showed that she was anything but a lady, and because of that, Lawson now understood why she thought she could get away with killing Tabitha. She thought she was one of the boys.

  Lawson smirked. “Sure.”

  This wasn’t how he’d planned to kill her, but why not; she was making her death extremely easy and inevitable. He drove off the road and deeper into the darkness. Lawson put the car in park and after his fingers grabbed a hold of his gun beneath his seat, bullets entered his skull and blew his head off. Brain fragments littered the car’s interior and plastered Bobbi’s face like a bad prosthetic makeup job.

  “Shit. I always forget that shit happens.” She grabbed a shirt from out of her carry-on bag and cleaned herself off. Quickly, she changed into a new outfit and waited for Levi to pull up beside her. Lawson’s work ethic was so sloppy he never noticed Levi and another one of her men following a distance behind them. The three switched cars and Bobbi drove off, leaving the men to take care of the mess.

  10

  Exiting off the dirt road, Bobbi thought of her sins. After everything she’d done to ruin Ruben’s life, she was sure she would have had more leeway to breathe. But the closer she got to destroying him for good, the more disconnected and uncomfortable she felt with life. The lack of air transporting through her lungs forced her foot to crash down harder on the gas. With her mouth agape, she inhaled deeply. Tears surged to the brim of her eyes. Without warning, she released a howling, glass-scratching scream. However, nothing she was doing was easing the pain, let alone filling the void. All she wanted was Harvey, and no matter how much Ruben suffered, it didn’t trump her need to be loved. It wasn’t until that moment did she realize the more she did to Ruben, the more unfulfilled she felt.

  Taking off at the speed of light, Bobbi never stood a chance of slamming down on the brakes before hitting the man staggering across the road. So with only a second to make a drastic decision, she made a sharp left turn, the wheels squeaking in the wind. Tire marks stained the ground and glistened under the midnight after the automobile flipped over and slid across the road, coming to a halt seconds later. Three men, including the staggering stranger, stepped out from the darkness and ran to the car in minutes before it blew up. They pulled Bobbi from the demolished vehicle and threw her into a Jeep pulling up to the scene.

  Bobbi’s eyes repeatedly opened and closed when her body touched the Jeep’s leather interior. The gash on her forehead and busted chin spewed blood. The Jeep drove off and when Bobbi was able to keep her eyes open for more than two seconds, her vision focused in on Ruben. Her head was in his lap.

  “I got to give it to you; I would have never thought you’d turn my own cousin against me. But I guess anything is possible. And who knew following my fuck-up of a worker, Lawson, would have led me to all of this. You’re slipping, Bobbi. Next time, pay attention to who’s following your backup. But I got to hand it to you; you got them all, Bobbi. You got them all good.”

  And that was the last thing Bobbi heard before temporarily blacking out.

  11

  After an hour of being beaten in the face with brass knuckles, Bobbi became numb to any other hit given to her. Seconds before blacking out, she caught a glimpse of the crystal clock she’d picked out for Ruben’s home, hanging on the living room wall.

  He brought me back to L.A.? He’s going to kill me on his territory.

  Her eyes closed just in time before Ruben could land another blow, but this time they didn’t reopen because they had swollen shut. Her vision was taken, leaving Bobbi with nothing but her hearing.

  “You think I fucked up your face before; wait until you see what I did now!”

  Ruben dropped down beside Bobbi sprawled out on the carpet and grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her to lift her head up. In his free hand, he held a mirror up to her face.

  “Look!” he demanded, but Bobbi’s eyelids never opened. The heaviness prevented her from showing her irises. “I said look!” He pulled back Bobbi’s head harder, her hair ripping from its roots. Frantic, Ruben pushed her right eyelid up until her entire eyeball was visible. “Look! Don’t you look great?”

  Bobbi could barely see. Everything was blurry and glimpses of shadows flashed before her eyes. But with enough willpower she looked back at the person staring at her from the mirror. She used to think she was unrecognizable before, but she was wrong. There was no trace of her old face left. Her nose was crooked and bottom lip busted open so deep, it was split in two, the bottom half dangling from a piece of flesh. With what little energy she had left she tried shaking her hair from out of Ruben’s grasp. Her sudden movements caught him off-guard and she rammed her head into his chin, his mouth crashing shut and a tooth escaping. Ruben let go of Bobbi and fell backward. Landing on his back, he screamed out in pain while rolling around and clutching his mouth, blood seeping between his fingers.

  Short of breath, Bobbi crawled to the other side of the room where the mirror was thrown. After feeling around for it and finally discovering its location, she slammed her fist down on the glass, shattering it. She grabbed the biggest piece she thought she felt. Terrified and seemingly blind, she felt around for something sturdy. She pulled herself up onto her feet, using a bookcase shelf.

  Finding her balance, Ruben raced toward her and slammed her body against a row of books. The impact knocked the wind out of her and sent her crashing to the floor. She fought to breathe and then it hit her: if she didn’t fight harder, she was going to die. With the glass in hand and Ruben hovering over her, she prayed when she tried to stab him that she’d succeed. She cocked her hand back and with all her might caught him in the leg. Automatically, Ruben’s body slithered down the books and collapsed on top of Bobbi, blood seeping through his clothes and making its way through hers.

  She wiggled out from underneath him and after still having difficulty seeing, she took her fingers and forced her eyes open. When she did she saw a group of Colombian men with silencers on their guns, pointing her way.

  12

  Four months later

  It took a number of surgeries to get Bobbi’s face to look one pinch decent. Smith tried talking her into letting him do more. He was sure that later on, he could fix her appearance and make her look normal again, but Bobbi declined. If it wasn’t for the severity of her new facial wounds, she wouldn’t have even agreed to him touching her face to begin with. She needed the surgery but the extra work Smith wanted to do was more along the lines of cosmetic and not a necessity. She wasn’t willing to let anyone who wasn’t Harvey touch her face for cosmetic reasons.

  Everything that remotely reminded her of Ruben was removed. His crew, home, women and the way he conducted business. Everything except for Jorge had been changed and revamped to what Bobbi wanted. After Jorge’s hit men took her to safety and got her medical attention, he informed her of his part in Ruben’s murder. Bobbi wanted to be angry for not killing Ruben herself, but she had to give props when they were due, and be happy Jorge intervened when he had, because if he hadn’t, she may not have lived.

  That afternoon Bobbi temporarily traded in her Yankees fitted for a huge, black floppy hat. Sitting upright in her lounge chair beside her pool, she sat comfortably while reading a novel. After finishing chapter fourteen, she picked her eyes up and saw Levi heading her way. She read the first three sentences of chapter fifteen and waited for Levi to disrupt her reading. But when he sat down and didn’t speak, she continued reading.

  Bobbi drank some of her juice, then grabbed the pitcher of lemonade and poured him a nice tall glass of his own. She pushed the drink toward him and went back to her reading.

  Levi had called her up that morning telling her that he would like to meet with her. It was ninety-five degrees, a perfect day for a drink by the pool so Bobbi invited him over. Levi inhaled the sweet drink, devouring it within a few seconds.

  “I needed that, can I have more?” Levi nodded toward
the pitcher. And without her looking his way, Bobbi moved her head up and down. After another glass and a half, the pitcher was more than halfway empty. Levi looked at the glass and finally spoke.

  “You wanna hear something funny. That night you took Lawson out and Ruben’s men rolled up on me, the first thing that flashed before my eyes were Buffalo wings and lemonade. I was like, damn, these motherfuckers are gonna kill me and I’ll never have Buffalo wings or lemonade again.” Levi laughed. “But I’m glad that gun dude had to my head, jammed. That one second gave me enough time to take them all out.” Levi rewound back to that dreadful night and when he came back to the present, noticed Bobbi was lost in her world of reading and paying him no mind. So he cut to the chase.

  “I wanted to thank you. I got a call from my brother a few weeks ago telling me you paid his debt off months ago. I don’t know why he didn’t tell me sooner, but then again, it doesn’t matter, as long as it’s paid off.”

  “About that…the debt isn’t paid off.” Bobbi turned the page, her reading glasses making the letters appear twice as clear.

  “What are you talking about? My brother left me a…”

  Cutting him off, Bobbi finished his sentence. “Message saying that I paid the debt off and he is now away on vacation. He’s sorry for leaving without you knowing, but after being in hiding for so long, he needed to get away.”

  “How did you know that?”

  Bobbi removed her glasses, grabbed her bookmark from off the small table, and placed it between chapter fifteen’s second and third pages.

  “Because I told him to say it, and when he refused, I told him I’d kill you if he didn’t.” Bobbi’s lifeless stare told him everything he needed to know.

  “You set me up.”

  “You see, Levi, Ruben was the one who put the hit out on Harvey, but you carried it out. Did you really think everyone would get what they deserved, but you?”

  “What did you do to my brother?” Sweat dropped from Levi’s face and he found himself battling to breathe. “What did you do to my brother!” he yelled. His change of behavior didn’t startle her, so she drank the last of her juice before answering.

  “I killed him. You really should have hid him better.”

  Frozen and fighting off a dizzy spell, Levi forced himself to speak. “You planned this all along. You found out everything about me after I killed your boyfriend, didn’t you? You would have killed me right then and there if you didn’t need information on Ruben first.”

  “Of course, anything else wouldn’t make sense.”

  Levi’s body became still, alerting him that his demise was only moments away. A short moment later, he toppled over, his face hitting the ground.

  “I assume you don’t like GHB in your drink. You should have had fruit punch like me.” Bobbi took her book from off her lap and placed it on the table. Standing up, she grabbed his head and repeatedly bashed it against the ground until she was sure he was dead. When she felt for his pulse and no movements were discovered, she got back up, and with her foot, pushed him into the pool, his body splashing water from out its habitat and onto land.

  Bobbi snatched the towel from off the arm of her chair and cleaned the blood coloring her skin. When that was complete, she sat back down, grabbed her book, and set out to finish chapter fifteen.

  Born and raised in New York City, Brandie Davis graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in English from York College and is the founder of My Urban Books blog and Facebook book club. In 2012 Brandie grabbed readers’ attention with her debut novel, Renee: All Hail the Queen, and the next year released its sequel, Renee 2: The Protégé. From home she continues to pen drama-filled novels. Contact the author: Twitter: @AuthorBrandieD; www.brandiedavisauthor.com; www.facebook.com/brandie.davis.948

  BY N’TYSE

  1

  “That’s right. Suck this, big, python bitch! Ooooh shiiiit,” Keyz groaned. “Do it like that…yeah, spit on it,” he instructed. His head fell back against the butter-soft leather of the maroon-painted, old school Chevy Impala. His bloodshot eyes began to drift involuntarily to the back of his head, denying him of that pornographic presentation. It was like she was sucking the life out of him the way she swallowed his dick whole. He lifted his left hand and wrapped his fingers in all fourteen inches of the prostitute’s platinum blonde weave, never breaking her rhythm. He pushed her head farther into his lap until his dick was throwing jabs at the back of her throat and his sweaty nuts were waxing her chin.

  “You like that, daddy?” the woman managed in between her oral beatdown.

  “Hoe, I said don’t talk. Suck!” Keyz commanded while he pumped the hooker’s mouth like an oil well. She bottled every inch of him and with the constant swerve of her warm tongue, Keyz could feel his orgasm rising to the occasion. “Oh shit!” he muttered repeatedly, making her work double overtime for her hundred-dollar fee. Keyz outstretched his right hand and grabbed a handful of her round, juicy derriere. He hiked up her dress, stole a peek of her black lace thong, and slid his middle finger down the crack of her ass. He determined instantly that he would fuck her before the night was over.

  Keyz was high as a kite and the potent aroma of fresh weed still lingered in his clothing and on his breath. He was the type to stay blazed from sunup to sundown. Weed was his medicine. He was so addicted to that Kush that he would choose a high over a female any day of the week. But like any other medicine, there were side effects, and at that moment, Keyz was so horny and delusional that he thought his anorexic five-inch dick was going to somehow rip out the woman’s tonsils and pop out of the back of her head.

  As she made sweet love to him orally, Keyz imagined all the freaky things he would do to her later that night—after his drop. He had made plans in his mind to head back over to her post, scoop her up, and take her to his place so that she could get another taste of the python. Judging how desperate she seemed for money, he knew she would hop on the opportunity. Keyz never had a problem paying for sex. He had bank. What he got out of it the most was convenience. He preferred his women the way he preferred his meals—on the go and made-to-order. He was too busy stacking paper to be stuck on a broad. That’s why his motto was “Fuck the bitch, pay the bitch, and toss her ass before sunrise.” Never in his life had he ever been caught up.

  His tongue began to tingle and trickles of sweat skated down both sides of his chubby face. His erection pulsated in excitement and his heart raced like a turbo engine from the work she was putting in. He still couldn’t believe he was getting lip service from a woman this fine. The longer she showered and sucked on his head, the more his curiosity peaked. He couldn’t wait to test out that pussy later tonight.

  “Oooooh, this a real big nut coming for you, baby,” he warned. He forced his eyes completely open, as weak and tight as they were from lack of sleep. He wanted to watch her finish him off. She flicked her long tongue across his swollen head. That alone should have been enough to make him bust his load, but he was holding on for as long as he possibly could. He wanted to get every bit of his money’s worth. She looked up at him, unlocked her jaws, and shoved him right back down her throat.

  Right at the brink of dumping his load into her mouth, his car shook violently, rocking him like a baby, and knocking the hooker into the dashboard.

  “Owwww!” The woman rubbed the right side of her head.

  “Got damn!” Keyz hollered. He practically pushed the prostitute away from him. He twisted his body to look behind them. “This motherfucker done hit my shit!” The only thing he was able to see through the limo tint on his car’s windows were bright headlights. Vexed, he turned back around, huffing and puffing like he’d run a marathon. He was barely able to lift his large body off the seat to slide his boxers and jeans back up, let alone conceal his erection. A murderous rage ripped through him and he was ready to beat a cat’s head wide open to a bloody pulp for ramming into his whip.

  He hopped out of the car looking madder than a Bulldog. He yelled obscenities, bu
t before approaching the midnight-black Cadillac Escalade that had rear-ended him, he stopped to survey the damage on his car. He became even more heated the second he saw that his bumper was dented and his paint severely scratched. The mug plastered on his face didn’t come close to revealing how ham he was about to go on that no-driving son-of-a-bitch.

  Without the five carats sparkling in his ears, Keyz’s tar-black skin seemingly allowed him to camouflage in the darkness. In many instances, it worked to his advantage. To those that didn’t know him personally, he looked like an ordinary overweight black man. However, the six teardrops underneath both his eyes, which were almost invisible to the human eye because of his dark pigmentation, weren’t there for the hell of it. They were the stripes that he’d earned for getting his hands dirty. The rewards for putting in work. Those tattoo tears weren’t simply cosmetic. They were his street credentials for the bodies he had caught carrying out hood justice.

  “Ugghh!” he fumed. With his fists balled at his sides, Keyz stormed toward the SUV. “Muhfucka, you ain’t see my shit parked right there?” he barked at the hooded individual slumped over the stirring wheel. He paused. “Say my nigga, is you deaf or something? You fucked up my ride, cuz.” He was ready to knock this fool’s block off.

  At only five-six with a three-hundred-thirty-five-pound body frame of mostly fat and very little muscle, he intimidated the hardest of them all. He was notorious for beating heads to the white meat singlehandedly. He was a head-buster, bone crusher, and somebody that nobody wanted to have beef with.