“Perez?” She barely remembered the name, but then it dawned on her that he was the fool she and Cash had scammed some serious money from.
“And you came to my door to tell me this?”
“I thought you might want to hear the news in person.”
She sighed. “Really? I don’t care for him or you right now in my home.”
“I understand.”
“What else are you here for, Bimmy?” Pearla asked impolitely.
“I’m just checking up on you, making sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. So unless you have something to tell me about Hassan, or have some money for me, I would appreciate if you leave my house.”
The way he looked at her, she could feel the nigga’s eyes judging.
“How’s April?” Pearla asked out of the blue, since he wasn’t rushing to exit her home.
“She’s fine.”
“Give her my love.”
Bimmy didn’t say anything back. He simply stood there looking at her coldly. Pearla wondered if he was dumb enough to try anything with her. Hassan would kill him.
“Have you seen Cash lately?” he asked out of the blue.
Pearla was caught off-guard hearing Cash’s name come out of his mouth. “Cash? Why you askin’ about him? I haven’t seen that fool in a while,” she lied.
Once again, Bimmy’s hard and cold stare fell on her, making it feel like an Antarctic night inside her living room. Now she was worried. Did Bimmy know about them? Had he seen her with Cash recently? Was he there to kill her? So many horrible things flooded her head.
“I’m just asking, that’s all,” he said. “I know the two of y’all were very close not too long ago.”
“Well, you’re askin’ the wrong fuckin’ person. I don’t give a fuck about Cash, and I don’t know where that nigga is at! He can burn in hell for all I care.”
Bimmy nodded. “Well, just watch your back. You know there’s a war out there.”
“I know. I keep my ear to the streets.”
Pearla knew he was trying to feel her out. Maybe he thought that by bringing up Cash’s name, she would suddenly get nervous and fidgety around him. She didn’t. She stood tall and firm. She didn’t budge or break.
“You done, nigga?” she asked gruffly.
He smirked. Then he replied, “Yeah, I’m done. Just be careful.”
“I will. Bye!” Pearla had her hands on her hips and an attitude across her face.
Bimmy turned and left her home, and Pearla slammed the door behind him, securing every lock. She knew something was up, but she couldn’t figure out exactly what. Bimmy knew something, but he wasn’t revealing his cards yet.
Pearla exhaled and leaned against the door. Damn! Did he see me with Cash or not? She was experiencing an intense feeling of worry and guilt. What kind of game is this nigga playing?
She couldn’t dwell on Bimmy. She had a life to live and a plan to implement. She was still putting money away in her safe deposit box, still being careful everywhere she went, and she always carried her pistol with her.
Every time Bimmy came around her, she always felt the need to take a shower. And that’s what she did. She peeled off her robe and stepped into the warm shower to cleanse herself of any guilt and dirt.
While in the shower, she thought of the one person she needed to see—April. She needed to have a one-on-one girl talk with her. If anyone had a clue what was going on with Bimmy and everything else, Pearla was sure that April knew. Bimmy rarely hid anything from her.
Twenty-Six
A green Cherokee came to a stop in front of the local bodega on Mother Gaston Boulevard. A young man sat behind the wheel of the Jeep next to a beautiful Latino woman with long, jet-black hair and a curvy, luscious figure. Rap music blared from the sound system. It was late evening, and the streets were crawling with people and traffic. The young man, dressed in a Yankees ball cap, a white T-shirt, gold chain with a diamond cross hanging from around his neck, and sagging jeans was all laughter and smiles with his female companion. He was a player on the streets and a drug dealer with heavy status in Kwan’s crew. His name was Butter, and his skin complexion was just like that, butter.
Butter took a pull from the cigarette in his hand and nodded to the rap music, his .380 concealed underneath the driver’s seat.
“Yo, ma, you want anything from the store?” he asked the girl.
“Yeah, get me a pack of cigarettes since you smoked all of mines.”
He laughed. “Oh, my bad! I got you, though, wit’ ya sexy ass.” He placed his hand on her thigh and rubbed it.
She didn’t budge. The smile she gave back to him indicated that she was ready to play too. “You better not start somethin’ that you ain’t gonna finish,” she said with a playful smile.
“Oh, you know I always finish what I started. You ain’t even gotta worry ’bout that, ma. You ain’t fuckin’ wit no weak nigga right here.”
“We’ll see.” She continued to smile.
Butter took one last drag from the cigarette and flicked it out the window. Hard like a brick, he was anxious to take the thick Latina beauty back to his place on Blake Avenue. He had plans for that sweet, round ass. He removed himself from his jeep and walked into the bodega.
The female friend remained seated in the passenger seat and checked her hair and makeup in the sun visor. She was ready to give Butter the best time of his life. She had on a skirt with no panties. She was a gold-digger and knew Butter was a nigga with some money. She only fucked with drug dealers and hustlers, nothing less.
“He better not take forever,” she said to herself.
Five minutes later, Butter walked out of the bodega with a plastic bag full of stuff, including her cigarettes and Magnum condoms. He was all smiles. As he walked toward his truck, he didn’t see the two masked men coming, both armed and in all black.
They rushed toward him with Glock 17s in their hands, outstretched their arms, and aimed at him. They didn’t hesitate to fire. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
The gunmen drilled seven bullets into Butter’s body, and he died on the spot. His body slumped, and a pool of blood started to seep out from under the fallen thug.
His female friend in the passenger seat started to scream frantically. She couldn’t believe what she had just witnessed.
One of the gunmen hurried her way and shouted, “Shut the fuck up, bitch!” and the sound of more gunfire followed. Boom! Boom! He put two into her head, leaving her slumped in the seat.
The gunmen hurried off, leaving behind many stunned and horrified witnesses. It was revenge for Run-Run’s murder, and there was more to come.
***
Two days later, there were three more shootings in the Brownsville area, and another one of Kwan’s men was viciously gunned down as he waited inside the Chinese restaurant for his takeout. They put eight bullets into his head and tore his face apart. The NYPD, especially in the Brooklyn area, were becoming overwhelmed with so many homicides.
It was starting to look like The War of the Worlds in one New York City ghetto.
Twenty-Seven
Pearla parked her Benz on the Manhattan street on a beautiful, sunny fall day and stepped out looking fabulous, all the while showing off every one of her curves in the black jumpsuit featuring side cutouts, a V-neckline, and body-conscious fabric. She strutted toward the hair salon carrying her clutch bag, her Louboutins click-clacking on the city pavement.
Once again, Hassan had supplied her with some money: fifteen grand to take care of the bills and to take care of her needs. Pearla wanted to get her hair done and spend the day pampering herself. She wanted it to be a stress-free day.
She walked into the high-end salon expecting her beautician to be around, but to her shock, Melinda wasn’t there today. Pearla was disappointed. Melinda was the best in the city
and the only one she trusted with her hair.
Pearla sighed with displeasure, pivoted in her Louboutins, and walked right back out of the salon. She strutted toward her Benz, slid her sexy ass behind the wheel, and started the car. She shifted the car into drive and accelerated moderately.
Unbeknownst to Pearla, she was being watched and followed by Avery and Dalou. They had a tail on her and were ready to strike when the time was right. They believed that second five thousand dollars was almost in their hands, and they were ready to party and become legit gangsters in the eyes of Bimmy.
***
The next morning, Pearla got up at the crack of dawn, dressed nicely in a pair of tight jeans and a peach top, got into her Benz, and made her way to Brooklyn. She remembered where April used to take her kids to day care. She was planning to surprise her. She drove a good distance to the day care and arrived just in time to see numerous parents dropping off their children.
Pearla stayed parked across the street and watched every car come to a stop and every parent escort their little ones into the two-story building in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, a largely middle-class neighborhood with a strong family presence and a sizable population of Italian, Greek, and Irish heritage. The area didn’t surprise Pearla. She knew April always wanted the best for her kids, and the day care was one of the best in the city.
After waiting ten minutes, Pearla stared at the black GLK-Class Benz pulling up to the day care. She had an idea who was driving the truck. As predicted, April stepped out looking suave in a pair of Soho jeans and a classy burgundy button-down top underneath a pumpkin-colored fall leather jacket and walked into the day care with her three kids.
Pearla got out of her car and casually walked toward the entrance. She waited for April to come back out.
Five minutes later, the front door opened, and April strutted out of the building, kid-free. She walked toward her truck, not knowing that she was being watched. She hit the alarm button, and before she could take another step forward, Pearla called out to her.
“April!”
April spun around quickly and was taken aback by Pearla just showing up out of the blue. “What the fuck you doin’ here, Pearla?”
“I just came to see you to talk,” Pearla explained.
April raised an eyebrow. “Talk?”
She stood in front of Pearla looking skeptical. She didn’t have her gun on her. She cursed herself for being so sloppy. But April started to relax, trying not to become too paranoid. “What the fuck you wanna talk about, Pearla? Huh?”
“Why are you isolating me, April? What did I do to you? Can you at least give me an explanation? The only thing I ever did was try to be your friend.”
Pearla wasn’t allowing April out of her sight until she got some answers from her. She was determined to get back on her good side.
“Friend?” April laughed.
“Yes, friend! I thought we were cool, April. You and I, we had each other’s back.”
“We had each other’s back—key word, Pearla, had.” April shot back. “And I barely knew you.”
“Look, I just wanna talk to you and let bygones be bygones. Let me take you out to eat. My treat.”
April sighed. Her hard stare at Pearla began to subside. She didn’t mind a free food on Pearla. “Fuck it! But don’t play me, bitch.”
“April, I know how you get down, and believe me, it didn’t even cross my mind. I just want to talk, that’s all.”
Pearla got behind the wheel of her Benz, and April jumped into her Benz truck and followed her. So far, so good. Pearla knew the perfect place for them to sit down and enjoy a meal together.
The River Café on Water Street in downtown Brooklyn was an eclectic place with a stunning view of the Brooklyn Bridge and the Manhattan skyline. There, they cooked in a classical French cuisine tradition. The ladies sat across from each other and mingled in with the morning crowd coming from all areas of downtown Brooklyn.
Pearla and April ordered the French toast, omelets, turkey sausages, and Bloody Mary’s.
After downing her first cocktail, April decided to spill it. She and Pearla came there to talk woman to woman. Though Pearla had initiated the conversation, it didn’t make any sense for her to beat around the bush.
Pearla looked at April harmlessly.
April looked back with an awkward stare. “You came here to talk about you and Cash, right, bitch?”
Pearla was floored. Her mouth flew open. “What?”
“Oh, don’t bullshit me, Pearla! I know your reason for having this lunch wit’ me. My man suspects that you fuckin’ wit’ that nigga Cash. And what, bitch? You came to get information from me, huh?”
Pearla quickly denied it. “Why would he think I’m dealing with my ex? I’m not!”
“Because you are a grimy, backstabbing bitch!”
“You think I’m a backstabbing bitch?”
“I only call ’em like I see ’em,” April said. “Hassan has been really good to you, and you do him dirty by goin’ around and fuckin’ wit’ that nigga.”
“I love Hassan.”
“You sure ’bout that? Because you definitely have a funny way of showing it.”
“First off, you got the wrong information. I haven’t seen Cash in months, and Bimmy needs to get his facts right.”
“So you tryin’ to call my man a liar?”
“What proof does he have?”
April exclaimed. “Plenty!”
“Well, he can’t take his plenty and shove it somewhere dark and nasty, because I’ve been truly faithful to Hassan. You don’t know shit, and he sure doesn’t know shit about me!”
Though she was going back and forth with April to protect her lie, Pearla was really scared. Surely, if April knew, that meant Hassan knew, and her life could be in danger. But if Hassan knew, then why was she still alive? Why didn’t he react? Every visit to Rikers, everything between them was copacetic and loving.
“You talkin’ all that shit now, Pearla.”
“I don’t need to talk shit, because I’m talking the truth.”
“I thought you were a real bitch,” April said.
“I am a real bitch,” Pearla came back, holding down a staring contest with April. “Don’t fuckin’ get me twisted!”
April was protecting her man’s word and reputation tooth and nail. But she didn’t know about Bimmy’s plan to have Pearla murdered without Hassan’s consent.
“So if you’re not fuckin’ around on Hassan, then tell me this—Why he saw Cash go inside your crib one night and he didn’t come right back out?”
Pearla’s heart dropped into her stomach. She felt like she was caught red-handed, but she refused to go down like the Titanic. Her ship wasn’t sinking yet, but if it was, she had an escape plan. She had money saved, a passport and driver’s license in a different name in her safety deposit box, and a few faraway places to escape to.
“You sit here and fuckin’ judge me, April, like you a saint.”
“Bitch, I’m not judging you.”
“You could have fooled me. So what now?” Pearla asked boldly.
“What you mean?”
Pearla looked at her intently. “You gonna shoot me because you think I’m cheatin’ on Hassan?”
“Relax, bitch.”
“What? You wanna fuck my man? Huh?”
April warned, “Bitch, don’t you dare get outta fuckin’ line wit’ me.”
“I’m not gonna sit here and be disrespected, April.”
April chuckled. “You are a trip, Pearla. Like I said, you need to fuckin’ relax.”
“How you gonna tell me to relax?”
“Because I can. You need to get you another cocktail and watch how the fuck you talkin’ to me.”
Pearla frowned. She felt like she was being forced into a situation that was going to l
ead to her doom. There was no way she was going to directly confess to having sex with her ex-boyfriend. It was insane.
However, maybe there was still some hope. Pearla was a smart woman. She knew how to talk and influence people. She felt that if April was totally against her, then she wouldn’t have had lunch with her.
“I just want us to be cool, April,” she said civilly.
“Just don’t lie to me, ho.”
“I’m not.”
April finished off the rest of her cocktail and then ordered another one. She then said to Pearla, “Bitch, it’s your pussy, and you can do with it what you please. You want the truth—I myself have crept out on Bimmy and fucked a few niggas here and there. We ain’t fuckin’ perfect, right? I’m not gonna fuckin’ lie. You got yourself a good man in Hassan, and you better keep that nigga around for your benefit. I’m just sayin’ to you that shit is out there, bitch, and you’re fuckin’ sloppy wit’ it. Hassan is my friend. So you can deny it all you want, but I’m gonna protect his best interest.”
Pearla was confused as fuck. She had no idea what that bitch was talking about. She wanted to tell April how Bimmy was up in her place, chilling in her bedroom when she had just come out of the shower, that she had noticed how he had been looking at her lately, but she decided against it. There was too much shit going on at the moment. There was no need to add the extra drama.
After dining on a perfectly cooked breakfast and sipping on a few more cocktails, the tension between April and Pearla cooled down. Before they knew it, they were chatting it up like old, drunken friends.
After brunch and several cocktails, April wanted to get blunted before she picked up her kids. “Bitch, let’s go to my cousin’s place and get some weed. He got the best shit in the city.”
Pearla agreed. She needed to get high right now. She needed to run away from her troubles. She was happy that everything with April went well.
As they walked to their cars, Pearla pulled out her car keys. April immediately snatched them from out her hands and said, “Bitch, I’ll drive your shit. Ain’t no sense in us takin’ two fuckin’ cars to the projects, and my ride is low on gas.”
The House that Hustle Built, Part 3 Page 14
