“No, you need to be smart and stop putting your so-called friends before your own child!” Coral spat before she stood up to leave.
“You bitch!” Tori yelled, starting at Coral as the foster care worker held her arms.
The baby was even more frightened now, and the security guards rushed to the area where the family sat.
Tori bent down and kissed her screaming daughter on the forehead. “Mommy loves you anyway,” she said through racking sobs. She could not control her grief. Tori knew that she would give up everything she had if she could just have her daughter back.
As soon she made it out of the foster care agency’s doors, she leaned up against the aluminum siding on the building. Her tears flowed and she felt like dying. Fumbling with her pocketbook, she dug out a clear pill bottle. Her hands were shaking as she pulled the green stopper out and tapped three small pills into the palm of her hand. Looking around to make sure no one saw her, she threw the pills into her mouth and swallowed. She had just violated the first commandment of hustlers—never get high on your own supply. Tori waited a few minutes for the pills to take effect. Finally, she began to feel at ease. Wiping her eyes and nose with the backs of her hands, she managed to temporarily squash her pain.
VOLUME 8: THE PARTY
R.J. took a long pull off his blunt. Inhaling deeply, he swore he could feel the drugs, like small hands massaging his lungs. His lungs agreed with him as he started coughing so hard that tears ran out of his eyes. “Yeah, that’s how you tell that good shit!” he said to himself. He took a couple more tokes off the blunt, getting his mood right.
Looking down at the gift box at his feet again, he felt differently. The weed had calmed him down enough to accept it. Inside the white Saks Fifth Avenue box was a beautiful Ed Hardy velvet blazer, a pair of Evisu jeans, and a Gucci fedora, all gifts from his little sister. The card on the box read, “To my Big Brother: Your outfit for tonight. Luv, your baby sis, Chazz.” R.J. read the card over and over, and then let out a short grunt. “Ain’t this a bitch? My baby sister, the kingpin, sending me something to wear!” He snorted, giving the box a short kick. R.J.’s pride made it hard for him to accept the way his sister doled out money to him.
He fully understood that as a condition of his parole, he shouldn’t be engaging in any criminal activity, but Chastity took that to the hilt. He didn’t take the way she treated him out of her love and concern that he never return to prison. Instead, he looked at it like she wanted to be the boss of him. He loved his sister dearly, but the situation was killing him inside.
R.J. looked around his apartment. Everything in it had been purchased for him by his sister. He had to admit that he’d taught her well, but it still made him feel like less of a man.
His buzz was beginning to wear off as he gazed at a picture of his mother and father. “Fucking punk ass!” he mumbled, referring to his father, a man he once revered. “You left like a bitch, and she took the fucking easy way out, leaving us here like stray dogs!” he growled, talking to the picture like his parents were right in front of him. R.J. felt like crying. He’d failed his mother and his sister. He was supposed to be the man. His father left him in charge. I’m not a man ...I ain’t shit! he thought to himself. “Arrgh!” he belted out, punching himself in the chest several times with all his might. He had to pull it together. “I’m the fucking man! I am the fucking man!” he screamed, hitting himself again as hard as he could. He tossed the picture across the room. “I am the fucking man!” he assured himself once more.
Leticia rolled her eyes into the back of her head. “Aw . . . shit! That’s what I’m talking about!” she whispered as the beautiful girl between her legs went to work on her clitoris. Leticia grabbed the girl’s hair and pushed her head forcefully toward her slimy wet vagina. “Slurp! Slurp! Slurp!” She hadn’t had good head in two years, even though she got her fill of pussy while she was locked up. In her opinion, it was better when you didn’t have to sneak around. “Arrgghh!” she growled as she climaxed, sounding like a real man in ecstasy. “Shit! You got a magic tongue!” she gasped, sitting up. “Get up!” Leticia commanded, and the girl did as she was told. Leticia pushed the girl on the bed, grabbed her strap-on dildo, and proceeded to mount the girl doggie style, just as a man would.
Loud banging on the door interrupted the hot sex session. “Fuck!” Leticia yelled, unable to ignore the persistent knocks. Pulling on her baggy jeans and a wife beater, she rushed to the door. “Who?” she screamed.
“It’s me, Chazz!” Chastity yelled back.
“I’m busy!” Leticia screamed, still not opening the door. She was too horny to care.
“Yo, open the door!” Chastity demanded, banging, for added emphasis.
Relenting, Leticia unlocked the door and opened it. “Your ass is supposed to be getting ready for our night out,” Chastity complained, noticing Leticia’s appearance.
“Can’t we do it another time?” Leticia asked.
“Listen, ho! Whoever you got up in here can fucking spread. We got plans,” Chastity said, referring to the fake dinner plans Leticia thought they had. Leticia didn’t know anything about the Candy Shop or the party they had planned for her.
“Baby, come back to bed,” the girl cooed, coming into the living room doorway.
“I gotta cut it short. I got business to take care of,” Leticia said regretfully, thinking about how freaky she was about to get.
“I’m going downstairs to the car. Hurry the fuck up! We got reservations!” Chastity announced.
“Ahhh, shut the fuck up and go wait!” Leticia responded mockingly. They were like true sisters; argue, fight, and then make up.
Tori lay in a fetal position in her bed, a picture of Akayla against her chest. She looked over at the cable box and knew it was time to get up for the party. She was in no mood. Dealing with Chastity had become a chore.
Rolling over, she reached onto her nightstand and grabbed a small plastic baggy of colorful pills. She had taken the pills from the bags she was supposed to deliver to Heldy, a Nigerian soothsayer uptown. The last time Tori went to deliver to Heldy, the toothless old lady had warned her, “You friend’s will betray ya! They will toss you away like garbage! There is an enemy amongst them!” Tori cursed Heldy out and told her that if she didn’t have anything to tell her about getting Akayla back, to stop fucking playing that voodoo shit with her. Just for that, Tori withheld part of Heldy’s package. She told herself that it served the old African bitch right.
Tori grabbed the pills and seriously considered taking all of them. But the thought of her daughter being raised by her fanatically religious, hypocritical sister quickly helped her change her mind. She decided instead to take two, which would definitely get her through the party with ease. “Mm-m-m!” she moaned as the drugs took effect.
Springing to life like a cartoon character, “Pa-a-a-rtay!” she sang while clapping. “Now, what am I gonna wear?” she spoke to herself aloud. Her mood went from night to day just like that.
Deidre sat at one of the tables toward the front of the Candy Shop so she could have a good view of the entire place. She was trained never to sit with her back towards the door. She was amazed at how many people were there waiting for the guest of honor. In Deidre’s opinion, the auditions earlier that day had definitely paid off. Beautiful girls were everywhere. Some danced on the stage, some danced alone in cages suspended from the ceiling, and some even did the Coyote Ugly on the bar. Deidre knew now for sure why they called the club the Candy Shop. She’d observed more than one beautiful piece of eye-candy make drug transactions. Just like Reemo said, the Candy Shop served their customers well, and drug candy was being sold like it was real candy.
Deidre fit right in with the seemingly well-dressed crowd. Just looking at her, no one would ever guess she was a federal agent in her beautiful black Nicole Miller dress that opened all the way down to her ass crack, with a spider web-shaped sequin design covering her back. The knee-high, slim fitting leather high he
eled boots gave the dress that extra oomph she was looking for.
Damn, this Loca chick must be special to them, Deidre thought to herself as she sipped slowly on her first drink, a Cosmopolitan, patiently awaiting a glimpse of the F.A.B. She was anxious to meet the rest of them after all she’d read about them. She felt like a star-struck teen waiting for her idol backstage at a concert.
Deidre had long since stopped listening to Reemo, who accompanied her there as he rambled on with street tales for days. According to him, he was more dangerous than Al Capone, Pablo Escobar and Scarface put together. Ri-i-iight! She looked down at her watch just as the club erupted into a frenzy.
“Surprise!” the crowd yelled.
Let the party begin! Deidre thought to herself. Everyone had surrounded the F.A.B., so she couldn’t get a good look at them until they made their way past her table in route to the VIP table, where more half-naked girls awaited the guest of honor. Yep! Those were definitely the same females from the pictures in the criminal file folders.
“It’s your night, Loca! The world is yours! Welcome home!” the DJ screamed into the microphone.
Deidre was so caught up in the festivities she didn’t even notice R.J. strolling in her direction.
“Wasup, bro!” R.J. yelled, standing between Deidre and Reemo.
“Wasup, my nig!” Reemo stood up, giving R.J. the customary one hand slap and shoulder bump. “You remember DeeDee, right?” Reemo asked.
“How could I forget her?” R.J. commented, damn near undressing Deidre with his eyes. “Whatchu drinking?” R.J. asked her.
“I’m good,” Deidre said. Undercover, she was not eating or drinking shit from anyone.
“Nah, only the best for any friends of my bro,” R.J. said while simultaneously motioning for one of the topless girls to take care of the table. After whispering something to the girl, within minutes, there was a huge bottle of Vive Clicquot on the table.
“See, that’s my man right there!” Reemo smiled, but was steaming inside.
“Come on and join us at the VIP table,” R.J. said, grabbing the midnight blue bottle of expensive champagne from the table.
Deidre and Reemo followed R.J. to a huge table at the rear of the club. The VIP table was beautifully decorated with gold and white place settings, beautiful gold silverware, gold bottles of Cristal champagne at every seat, and several gorgeous gold vases with white roses as centerpieces. A huge cake sat at one end of the table with the words “Welcome Home, Loca! The World is yours!” written on top. Deidre had never seen anything so beautiful. The table looked like it had been set for a wedding.
Everyone turned to look at them as they approached the table. Deidre’s eyes immediately went to Chastity. Chastity wore a low-cut shirt that exposed her entire chest bone, her breasts covered only by thin drapes of material. Her entire chiseled back was exposed, leading down to her close-fitting rhinestone jeans, which showed off her perfect shape. Her hair was beautiful and thick, arranged with loose curls accenting her face. Chastity’s jewelry was sick; the solitaire canary diamond on her left middle finger could be seen even in the dark club. I didn’t realize how pretty she was, Deidre thought as R.J. and Reemo left her standing there.
“Baby sis, you remember DeeDee from earlier, right?”
R.J. asked, pulling Chastity over to Deidre. “Yeah, wasup,” Chastity said. Her mood seemed more relaxed than earlier that day. Deidre just nodded her head. “Let me introduce you to the guest of honor,” R.J. commented, moving Deidre around the table.
Reemo looked on, incensed. He wanted everyone to know Deidre was with him, but he could tell R.J. was really feeling her.
“Loca, wasup, mami!” R.J. yelled, approaching Leticia, who had two half-naked women on her lap.
“Ooooh, shit, big bro! What the deal is, pa!” Leticia sang, jumping up to greet R.J. This was her first time seeing him since she’d been home. Everyone purposely stayed away so that her homecoming party would be more special.
Tori approached as they embraced. “R.J., what’s good?” Tori yelled over the music, grabbing R.J. for a hug also.
Deidre just looked on, but she caught a few disapproving glances from both Leticia and Tori.
“Oh, yo, let me introduce ya’ll both to DeeDee. She’s a friend of Reemo’s and a new business partner,” R.J. said, turning to face Deidre. Deidre observed the pretty girl in front of her from head to toe.
Leticia had finally settled on a pair of Sean John slacks from the new Sean John store on 5th Avenue, and a shirt to match. Her braids were freshly done and spinning. Alan Iverson ain’t have nothing on her!
“Fuck Reemo!” Leticia spat. “I hate that hater-ass nigga! Any friend of his ain’t a friend of mine!” she continued, looking down the end of the table at an unsuspecting Reemo, who was chatting it up with other party guests.
Deidre was shocked. That comment had completely caught her off guard, and she immediately became a little nervous. Reemo had failed to tell her that the girls hated his guts, and that the only thing that kept him around was R.J.’s loyalty to him.
“Don’t mind her. What’s your name again?” Tori said into Deidre’s ear.
“DeeDee,” she replied.
“I’m Tori. Nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand.
Whew! Deidre thought to herself. At least one of them is approachable. She thought Tori was cute, with her stilettos on to add height to her stocky frame. Tori’s Mohawk hairstyle gave her plain chubby face a little pizzazz, and the sparkly gold fitted dress she wore accented her hips and helped hide her square backside. Deidre had to hand it to the F.A.B.; they all knew how to rock the right outfit.
She finally took a seat at the VIP table, with Reemo to her left and R.J. to her right. Expensive bottles, half-naked women, fine-ass men, and diamonds seemed to be a regular part of their lifestyle. Until tonight, Deidre had thought it unrealistic to believe that a couple of young girls from the ghettos of New York could be living this fabulously. If she didn’t see it with her own eyes, she would have never believed it. But street riches came at a price—a very high price. There was no way these females were making that kind of money without any glitches.
“. . . A Ferrari, a Jaguar switching four lanes with the top down, Screaming out, money ain’t a thang! Bubble hard in the double R, flashing the rings with the windows down, Screaming out, money ain’t a thang . . .”
Jay-Z and Jermaine Dupri had the club thumping, and it was the right song for the moment. Everyone was flossing, and Deidre could definitely tell for the F.A.B. that money wasn’t a thang!
Deidre lifted her third glass of champagne, watching all of the bodies move in sync with the music. As she scanned the partygoers, she thought she was hallucinating when she noticed three men in ski masks exiting the restroom area and rapidly heading in her direction. The world seemed to stop for a minute. Three shots rang out, and then screams. Two more shots put things back into perspective for her.
“Fuck F.A.B.!” Deidre heard one of the guys yell as the barrel of an Uzi was pointed at the table.
“Everybody, get on the floor! Put all the money and jewels on the floor, now!” another gunman yelled.
All Deidre could hear were screams. The club was clearing out, and half-naked women ran in every direction. She felt sick. She was under and alone, with no inside contact or backup, and no wire to alert her team about what was going on. In order to preserve her cover, she had to come to the party alone. She had been instructed by Ferguson to attend the party unarmed out of fear that the club’s bouncers would notice she had a weapon. Luckily, she disobeyed that order.
As she lay on the floor, Deidre noticed R.J. slowly reaching under his shirt for his weapon. Reemo followed suit, but wasn’t so lucky. He decided to play cowboy, standing up and aiming his gun at the assailants. Before he could get a shot off, one of the masked gunmen’s shots caught Reemo in his chest, sending him flying into the wall. As his wounded body slid down, he left a trail of blood on the wall, which was
also spattered all over Deidre’s face and clothes.
“Now, nobody else try nothing fucking funny!” the shooter demanded.
Deidre closed her eyes. She couldn’t tell where the girls were. Reemo gasped for breath. She needed to make a split-second decision as the triggerman who had shot Reemo walked around the table collecting money and jewelry. She reached over slowly and picked up Reemo’s black and chrome Kimber .45. Just as she got hold of the gun, she came eye to foot with one of the gunmen, who stood above
The gunman held his gun to R.J.’s head, stating, “A man that runs with all women is a bitch!”
lay stock still, looking death in the eyes as the gunman cocked his weapon. Deidre unloaded Reemo’s clip into the gunman’s center mass (chest and abdomen area) in a matter of seconds. R.J. rolled to the left and just missed having his head blown off. Deidre’s shots had caused the gunman’s body to shake, and his finger involuntarily pulled the trigger. R.J. had moved just in time.
Picked up his gun and caught one of the other gunmen in the knees, but not before he saw his sister being hit in the face with the butt of a gun by the third triggerman. Deidre noticed Leticia struggling with the guy who had hit Chastity. Tori was under the table, crying and covering her ears as she stared at Reemo’s bloody body.
Deidre hoisted herself up, and with one knee down and one knee up, she retrieved her weapon from the side of her boot. “Bang! Bang!” She let off two rounds at the man who had Leticia in a headlock, but none of the shots hit the intended target.
The gunman swiftly turned his weapon towards R.J. “Tat-tat-tat-tat!” the semi-automatic shots rattled off, one after another. R.J. dove for cover, and just as he did, “Bang!” The gunman holding Leticia slid to the floor. Deidre had shot him once, right between the eyes.
R.J. threw his weapon down and rushed to his sister’s side. Deidre was right on his heels. With Reemo’s weapon clutched in her right hand, she bent down and picked up R.J.’s weapon from the floor. They all exchanged a telling glance as Deidre put both weapons in her bag.
Hush Page 9
