Leticia and Tori embraced tightly. “Damn bitch, you feel as hard as a dude! You been working out like a muthafucka!” Tori joked, referring to Leticia’s muscular arms and almost flat chest.
Leticia’s five foot seven inch muscular frame towered over Tori, who, with heels, barely reached five feet. Although Leticia wanted so badly to be a dude, her face was too damn pretty. Melted butter skin, combined with a pair of striking green cat eyes made her strikingly beautiful. With her dyed blond hair always in cornrows, she strongly resembled the old school female rapper, Yo-Yo.
“You look like a dude with those corn braids all going back and shit,” Chastity commented as she extended her thick shapely legs from the SUV, placing her monogrammed Gucci boots onto the concrete and joining her crew.
“Yo, wasup, ma?” Leticia said with her gruff, wanna-bea-dude voice.
“You, Loca! Finally back in the world,” Chastity said, embracing her friend since childhood. At about five feet five inches tall, the two sized up well.
“Ya’ll bitches lookin’ right. Designer threads and expensive-ass jewels,” Leticia commented, giving Tori and Chastity the once over. Leticia felt somewhat inadequate in comparison with her friends. With the exception of a fresh new pair of white Nike Uptowns, her clothes were very much outdated. Although all of her girls were naturally attractive, money had them looking fabulous.
Chastity’s naturally long thick auburn hair was perfectly coifed without a strand out of place. Her bronze complexion, slanted chestnut brown eyes and long eyelashes made her look like a movie star.
Tori had a more homely look and remained on the chubby side with a couple of muffins hanging over her jeans. But Proactive Solution seemed to have worked wonders on the acne that once ravaged her skin. Tori was a shade lighter than Chastity, her skin the color of honey. Sometimes she wore too much makeup to conceal her old acne scars. But, the freshly done, long Yaki weave, along with the short mink jacket and close fitting True Religion jeans made her look like money.
“Don’t worry, in a few minutes you gonna have your weight up too,” Chastity said, finally opening the vehicle door for Leticia.
Leticia climbed into the soft leather seats of the SUV, and immediately noticed that the TV in the headrest in front of her was playing the movie, Belly. She smiled. “My girls know my favorite movie. Now get me some pussy and I’ll be straight! Turn that shit up!” she yelled over the music.
“However do you want it, however do you need it. However do you want it” blared from the Bose speakers as Chastity peeled away from the curb.
“I know exactly what you need,” Chastity yelled over the music as she drove.
“Yeah, you got plenty of time to munch carpet. We’ve got some unfinished business with a certain someone who might not be so happy to see your ass out on early release. I got this one all mapped out too,” Tori stated, peaking between the driver and passengers seats to talk to Leticia, who slouched in the backseat.
Riding with her girls again was relaxing, and Leticia took in the scenery as if for the first time. The streets looked different to her. Although she’d been gone only two years, shit had changed.
The girls quickly caught up on old times.
“So, tell me what the deal is? How ya’ll cakin’ off so lovely?” Leticia screamed over the music.
Chastity lowered the music and spoke. “Yo, you’ll see. We ain’t stuffing squirrel packs in our pussies no more, that’s for sure. We got the jump on the new hot shit in the streets.”
“The clientele got money. We ain’t messing with no base heads no more. We got what the rich white people want—the fucking housewife drug, that crystal, baby, and straight chasers,” Tori continued, laughing out loud.
“Ya’ll ain’t talking about that meth, right?” Leticia asked. In jail she’d heard about the homemade drug— methamphetamine—and she knew it was blowing up. She had also seen the devastating effects of meth while she did her time. An addiction to meth was harder to kick than any other drug on the street—even crack.
“Listen, we gonna put you on. Be easy!” Chastity assured, her words settling over them like a comforting blanket, as usual.
“Yo, ’member that time we all got caught putting shit up the back in Macys on 34th Street?” Chastity recalled loudly, changing the subject. Tori and Leticia busted out laughing. They often played “’member that time” when they were all together.
“I got a better one. ’Member that time T-baby conned that white man outta his whole wallet, and we had to run like seven hundred blocks to keep his fat ass from killing us?” Leticia added. More laughter filled the air.
“No, no! ’Member that time you tried to steal a whole rack of jackets out of the North Face store in Woodbury, and Chazz punched the shit outta the security guard when he grabbed you?” Tori recalled. The girls laughed hysterically.
As the Range Rover eased off of the Jackie Robinson Parkway onto Bushwick Avenue, Leticia stopped speaking as she recognized her old neighborhood. The streets seemed a little more run down and a little more littered with trash. She’d noticed a few more fiends speeding down the sidewalks, and she immediately settled in her mind that things had changed. Her heart pumped with a dizzying combination of fear, excitement, and more importantly, nostalgia. She was home. “Yo, what happened to the Burger King that was right here?” she asked, pointing out the window.
“That shit been gone. It’s a car wash now,” Chastity answered.
As they rode down Bushwick Avenue, Leticia looked to her right and read the all too familiar granite sign, “Evergreen Cemetery”. She lifted her hand and touched her forehead, stomach, and each side of her chest, making the sign of the Catholic cross. “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,” she mumbled, releasing her fingers with a kiss, sadness dampening her jovial mood. It was a sign of respect for the dead. Her grandmother’s death was one Leticia would never forget.
“Abuela! Abuela!” Leticia called out, rushing into the third floor railroad-style tenement flat. Eleven year old Leticia was excited to show her grandmother her Police Athletic League World Series Baseball trophy. She was the only girl on her team, and they’d won the World Series. “Abuela! Come look!” Leticia continued, but received no response from her grandmother. The silence unnerved her. The house was always bustling with some kind of noise, usually clanging pots and pans from her grandmother’s kitchen. Arroz con gandules and arroz con pollo were all of the traditional Puerto Rican dishes her grandmother loved cooking. Her grandmother had been her legal guardian and caregiver since her mother’s abandonment and her father’s untimely death.
Leticia thought it strange that the small statue of the Virgin Mary and Jesus surrounded by candles that usually sat by the door was missing as well. A feeling of dread washed over her as she made her way down the long, narrow hallway. Just before she reached the end of the hallway, which led into the kitchen, she noticed a man; her uncle, Papo.
Fear gripped Leticia tight around her throat, and she dropped her prized trophy. She had been afraid of Papo since she’d learned about the details of her father’s death. When Leticia was three years old, Papo pushed her father, David—or Drago as he was called—off of the roof of their building. Papo had been in one of his infamous PCP-crazed states. He disappeared shortly after Drago’s death, but occasionally popped in and out to wreak havoc on her grandmother’s life.
Leticia blinked a few times to be sure that her eyes weren’t deceiving her. Papo stood before her, laughing hysterically, butt naked and soaked in dark red blood. Her mind told her to run, but her concern for her grandmother kept her moving closer to the danger. An unknown force seemed to be pushing her forward. She tried to run past her crazy uncle, but instead slipped and fell on shattered pieces of porcelain. All of her grandmother’s religious statues, which supposedly protected the house against evil, were broken into hundreds of tiny pieces. Leticia quickly scrambled in the debris and pulled herself up off of the floor.
“Abuela! Ahhhhhh!” Leticia let o
ut an ear-shattering scream. The scene was horrific. Blood was everywhere, more blood than she had ever seen in her entire life. Her grandmother’s eyes were still open, but fear and pain contorted the old woman’s face. Leticia stared in shock at her grandmother tied to a chair with her throat slashed from ear to ear. Her head was barely hanging on by thin strips of membrane and muscle. The face of Jesus was gripped in her grandmother’s rigor mortised hand. All Leticia could focus on was the pool of blood; blood was everywhere. It dripped a dark burgundy and smelled like raw meat gone bad. She began to hyperventilate as vomit crept up her esophagus. She could hear her uncle laughing out loud behind her.
Before she could move, Papo grabbed a handful of her hair and swung her around, hoisting her into the air in one motion. He sailed Leticia across the room. His strength was like that of a super hero. Slamming into a wall in the kitchen, pots and pans came crashing down on top of her body, producing loud clanging noises. Leticia couldn’t get her bearings fast enough. Papo was right over her. He held a large blood covered knife, and without saying a word, carved a “C” into her cheek.
“Agggghh! Help!” she screamed in terror as his blood-covered genitals swung in her face.
Papo let out a hideous cackling laugh, and placed the knife’s sharp tip to Leticia’s neck. The rapid pulse of her jugular vein caused the knife to pierce her skin ever so slightly. Holding the knife in its menacing position, he eased himself down on top of her. Tears streamed her face, but she remained silent. Papo breathed hard as he struggled to keep his weapon in place while fighting to pull down her fitted baseball tights. He struggled in vain with the material that was like a second skin on the husky little Puerto Rican girl. “Fuck!” he yelled out of frustration. Desperate, he sliced through the pants with his knife. The material gave way, exposing her muscular thighs.
Terrified, Leticia remained very still, her heart threatening to bust through the bone in her chest. Papo’s eyes lit up like he’d struck gold. Leticia’s bare little vagina seemed to look innocently back into his drug-crazed eyes.
“No!” Leticia pleaded, her body coming alive, ready to fight.
Papo placed one hand over her mouth and laughed loudly as he proceeded to enter her virginal opening. Leticia didn’t scream. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek so hard she could taste the metallic flavor of her own blood. Papo pushed further and further, so entranced in his wickedness that he let the knife fall to the side of their entangled bodies.
Peeking out of the corner of her eye, Leticia fought against the pain stabbing her body and moved her hand toward the weapon. Papo slammed into her torso so hard, her body thrust forward a few inches from the knife. Suddenly, the pain began to move up from her waist to her chest. She felt like her heart was going to explode as her body prepared to go into shock. She tried harder this time to reach the knife, but again was unsuccessful. Just as she was ready to surrender, the fallen pots and pans caught her eye. She felt herself losing consciousness. She began to tremble, and her entire body started to feel numb. Shock was setting in fast.
Papo grunted and made animal-like noises, not paying the little girl any attention.
Leticia reached out and grabbed hold of the handle to the large black cast iron skillet her abuela always fried platanos in. Using her last bit of strength, she hoisted the makeshift weapon above her assailant’s head.
“Bong!” The sound of the cast iron connecting with Papo’s skull ricocheted off the walls. “Arggh!” he screamed, jumping up.
To Leticia’s surprise, he wasn’t hurt. The drugs had made him invincible to pain. Unable to move her bloodied legs, she gathered her strength and scrambled for the knife. Papo dived for it at the same time, but Leticia was the victor.
“You killed Abuela!” she screamed. As he lunged for her, she jammed the huge butcher knife into Papo’s neck. Blood spewed from his neck with each pump of his heart, like a knocked over fire hydrant.
“Ccuhhhh! Cuhhhhh!” Papo gurgled his last breath.
Covered in blood, Leticia tried to hoist herself up, but instead, slipped down the wall and passed out.
“Loca! Loca!” Tori called out from the front seat.
“Huh?” Leticia answered, breaking her daze.
“I know you ain’t ’sleep. You back in the world now. Your ass better break day for the next two nights,” Tori continued, chuckling.
“Nah, I was just thinking,” Leticia replied, looking out the window. Although she wanted to cry, the tears wouldn’t come.
“Well, we’re here,” Tori said, biting on her nails.
“Yeah, let’s get this shit over with. I got things to do,” Chastity said dryly.
Tori looked at the side of Chastity’s face and rolled her eyes. She was so tired of her “I’m the boss” attitude. She felt that Chastity had forgotten how they got put on to the game in the first place. It was Tori that had taken a risk and pinched her baby’s father, Monty for two ounces of hydro after he got arrested for beating her almost half to death. With two black eyes, Tori had grabbed her newborn baby and the stash, and jetted. Unaware of what to do with it after she took it, she showed the hydroponic homegrown weed to Leticia and Chastity, who at the time, were still involved in petty crimes like taking work out of town on Greyhound, and boosting to get by. When the girls got hold of the weed, they immediately hit the streets and made a name for themselves. At first they were unable to find anyone to buy more weed to re-up, but Chastity kept her ear to the ground, and it wasn’t long before she got put on to her supplier. Chastity told her crew that the mystery supplier didn’t want to meet or deal with anyone but her, and the girls trusted her.
Tori fell silent after Chastity’s comment. She couldn’t wait to be alone with Leticia to inform her all about Chastity.
“A’ight, it’s on!” Leticia said, cracking her knuckles and opening the SUV door. She knew what was up. They had pulled up on Bushwick Avenue and Furman Street, right in front of a funeral home.
Chastity exited first and the girls followed. She used a lone key to open the door to a small, silver older model Honda Accord. Leticia knew it was old because it had flip-up headlights.
Tori looked around and gave a nod before they all piled into the car. Nobody said a word. It was like old times; no words until shit is said and done.
Leticia had sweat on her forehead and shook her legs back and forth; one part anticipation, one part nerves. She couldn’t afford to go back to the joint. But she also knew what had to be done. The rules of the street had to be honored.
Pulling directly in front of their destination, Chastity and Leticia excited the car in a fury, but not before Chastity reached into the small glove compartment and retrieved her .22 nickel plated Smith & Wesson with its mother of pearl handle.
Tori remained in the car with the engine running, getting out only to slide into the driver’s seat. “You got your chirp-chirp on?” she asked Chastity.
“Yeah, but only if the block gets hot,” Chastity warned.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!” Leticia used her fist to rap on the familiar metal door. She could hear Shakira’s lyrics blaring loudly from inside, but no one answered. She knocked again, harder this time.
“Who?” a female voice yelled from the other side of the door.
“It’s me, baby!” Leticia cooed deceitfully.
“Who?” the voice inquired again, sounding confused.
“Diana, open the fucking door!” Leticia yelled, careful not to reveal her name.
“Who is it?” Diana inquired as she looked through the peephole. Seeing that it was Leticia, her eyes grew wide and she looked like a deer caught in headlights.
Pushing forcefully into the apartment, Leticia didn’t waste any time. She grabbed Diana, roughly applying pressure to the shocked girl’s cheeks. Chastity stepped inside and locked the apartment door. “Why you ain’t visit me? I thought I was your girl?” Leticia said, still gripping Diana’s face tightly with her fingers.
“Wa-wa-wait, Loca, mami!” Diana s
tuttered, feeling like she was going to faint.
“Wait what, bitch? You a snitch, and in my ’hood, snitches get dealt with!” Chastity spat, moving in on the girl. The only reason Chastity hadn’t already taken care of Diana was because Leticia had asked her to wait until she came home. She wanted to exact revenge herself.
“Looks like you were busy,” Leticia growled, referring to the candle-lit apartment. “Who the hell you here with?” she grumbled, slapping Diana across the face. It pained Leticia to hit Diana. She was once in love with her. She thought that Diana was going to be “the one” until they got knocked for selling weed to an undercover. Leticia had warned Diana not to tell the narcs anything, but once they were put into separate interrogation rooms, Diana snitched. She told everything, and caused the F.A.B.’s entire petty weed and small-scale cocaine operation to get shut down. Not only was Leticia furious about the two year bid she had to do, but Chastity was still angry over her hustle being blown. It took hard work dodging five-O while she worked to rebuild her operation. Besides, Chastity and Tori had just narrowly missed getting knocked themselves.
“Come on, Loca! I love you, baby!” Diana pleaded.
“Yo, let’s murk this bitch! I ain’t got time for the dumb shit!” Chastity said, pulling the gun out of her bag. She peeked out of the front window and shut the blinds. She was a little worried that Tori was outside by herself. Tori was always nervous when stuff went down. She wasn’t the violent type.
“Nah, shooting her would be too easy,” Leticia said through clenched teeth. There was nothing worse than love turned to hate. She grabbed Diana by her hair and twisted her hands around in her long, sandy brown locks.
“Ayi!” Diana shrieked, her nut-brown face turning cranberry red. Her robe had fallen open, exposing the cosmetically perfect breasts that Leticia had paid for.
“Shut the fuck up!” Leticia screamed as she dragged Diana, kicking and screaming towards the bathroom.
Hush Page 4
