The House that Hustle Built, Part 3

by Nisa Santiago

  “Ewww!” the other girl hollered. “You’s a stink bitch!”

  Cash jogged up. “Yo, yo, yo, y’all need to chill wit’ all that.”

  Momma Jones spun around and didn’t recognize her own son. She licked her crusty lips and tried to adjust her clothing. “Twenty for a blowjob, baby. Fifty, you can put it in all holes.”

  Cash snatched her up by her collar and yelled, “Ma! It’s me, Cash.”

  Momma Jones tried to recognize her son.

  Meanwhile, the young girls couldn’t be silenced.

  “Oh my God! That’s ya mother! Ew! She’s a nasty ho!”

  Cash needed to get off that hot block and escape. He was too busy dragging Momma Jones into the car to be distracted by the tweens, but Ray-Ray wasn’t having it. He slapped the shit out of both girls before retreating into his son’s vehicle.

  Within seconds Momma Jones had passed out in the back seat. Between his parents’ funk and the stress from his looming murder, he almost lost his mind. But he had to stay focused.

  Ray-Ray noticed where Cash was driving, nearing the Belt Parkway. They saw the sign, Belt Parkway West, Verrazano Bridge. Cash went west, toward the bridge. Ray-Ray wished he hadn’t gotten into the car. Now, there was no way Cash was letting him out. It felt like his own son was kidnapping him.

  Ray-Ray thought about the life he was leaving behind. Or pretty much forced to leave behind. It wasn’t much, but it was something to him. Like he’d told Cash before, he didn’t know anyplace else. New York City had always been home.

  “I’m gonna take good care of you, Pops. Believe me,” Cash said to him, seeing the look on his face.

  Ray-Ray didn’t want to be taken care of. He was a man that always made his own way and his own dollar, even if he had to beg, plead, and entertain people for it.

  “It’s for your own good,” Cash added. “And hers.”

  “This is kidnapping, son.”

  “This is saving your life and mines.”

  Ray-Ray stared out the window despondently. He slouched in the seat and sighed with regret. Where would they go from here? His life was never going to be the same again.

  They headed toward South Carolina. It was time for Cash to start an entirely new chapter in his life. One with his past completely buried. And he wanted his parents to come along for the ride.

  “She’ll never stay,” Ray-Ray remarked.

  “Then we’ll make her.”

  Thirty-Two

  Pearla woke up early in the morning to find Hassan gone. She wondered where he could have gone. She hadn’t even heard him leave. Hassan was a private man who never had to explain himself to anyone.

  She sighed and stretched out across her bed butt-naked and smiled, thinking about the night before when she and Hassan made hot, steamy passionate love for hours. Every minute of last night was an earth-shattering one. Her pussy was still throbbing.

  Hassan had put that hard black dick down on her. He had spread her legs and entered her in the missionary position. Pearla released a loud grunt at the motion of his rotating hips, feeling his erection buried deep inside of her. He was inside of her so deep, they felt like one. She had left scratches across his back. Her hands started to tense into fists as her whole body went stiff as a board beneath a passionate lover.

  From position to position, Hassan stayed deep inside her. They went from missionary to doggy-style then sideways. No matter what position they were in, Pearla would go as limp as a wet noodle when her man pistoned his hard dick in and out of her. It didn’t take long for them to shake with orgasms that seemed to race through their entire bodies.

  Round two was even more passionate, and rounds three and four were the knockout rounds. Every inch of Pearla had shuddered with delight. She had multiple orgasms and squirted like a fountain.

  While nestled against her man, feeling the aftereffects of some great dick, she made up her mind to never cheat on Hassan again. There wasn’t a better man out there for her, and she couldn’t ask for anything more. He took care of her, financially and sexually.

  With Hassan gone for the morning, Pearla removed herself from the bed and covered her nakedness with a terry cloth robe. She went into the bathroom to do her business and then went downstairs into the kitchen to make some breakfast for herself.

  She needed a new cell phone, having tossed the old one down the sewer drain. There was too much damaging information on there. With the pressure off her and on Bimmy, she had slept like a baby last night. Now it felt like her life was back to normal.

  No Cash, no Bimmy, and no drama!

  ***

  Hassan sat shotgun in the black Range Rover with Big Dee and two of his soldiers. They were parked across the street from the 73rd Precinct on East New York Avenue. They waited patiently in the early morning and observed uniforms and detectives come and go from the building. But there was yet no sight of the man Hassan was looking for.

  Bimmy was being released on a misdemeanor charge. He’d caught a break, but his biggest threat was outside of the precinct.

  Hassan saw Gwap, a soldier in Bimmy’s murderous crew, leaning against his silver BMW near the precinct and obviously waiting for Bimmy to walk out the building. He was Bimmy’s ride somewhere. Hassan wanted to know where.

  Everyone was excited and happy that the boss was home. Hassan had wanted his release to be simple and dull. He wasn’t one for too much attention like parties and extravagant homecomings. However, the word was out on the streets that the boss was home now, though everyone had thought he was down for the count and looking at a lengthy sentence, if not life.

  There were issues he had to deal with, and business to take care of. Rikers Island had taken up too much of his time, and there was no way he was going back to that jail. Those who hadn’t been loyal to him while he was incarcerated would pay the ultimate price. But one thing at a time. He was strictly focused on Bimmy.

  Savage, one of Hassan’s most lethal goons, sat in the backseat rolling up a blunt. Nothing good ever came when he was around. He was pure hatred and destruction. It was rumored that he had full-blown AIDS and didn’t care about his life or anyone else’s. He was Hassan’s coldhearted killer on a leash, and once Hassan unhooked him, all hell would break loose.

  Hassan was quiet inside the Range Rover. He had a lot on his mind, especially Bimmy’s betrayal and disrespect to his woman. He wondered what Bimmy was up to. Why didn’t he call to ask Hassan to bail him out? All of Bimmy’s actions were suspicious. Hassan was convinced that Bimmy didn’t call because Pearla wasn’t dead and was able to tell him what Bimmy didn’t want him to know. It was all breaking Hassan’s heart.

  What kept playing over and over again in Hassan’s mind was when Big Dee had called Bimmy to tell him about April’s murder, and Bimmy responded, “You mean Pearla.” Why would he mean Pearla unless Bimmy had it all set up that way? Thinking about that diabolical plot continued to infuriate Hassan to the point where he was ready to tear Bimmy apart with his bare hands.

  For now, Hassan kept everyone in the dark, including Big Dee, who sat behind the wheel of the vehicle and had no idea what was going on. He wondered why they were spying on Gwap and Bimmy and why Savage was in the truck with them. Big Dee knew the only reason to have Savage come along was when you were trying to stir up hell on earth.

  After half an hour of waiting outside the 73rd Precinct on the low, Hassan watched as Bimmy finally walked out the building behind his lawyer and greeted Gwap with dap and brotherly hug. Bimmy had a few words with his lawyer before they parted ways. Then he got inside the Beamer, and Gwap drove off.

  Hassan instructed Big Dee to follow them.

  ***

  Bimmy sat still and silent in the seat, scowling. Drowning in guilt and sorrow, he couldn’t stop thinking about April. Her murder was on his hands. There was no way he could ever forgive himself for hiring two fools to d
o a man’s job.

  When he retrieved his cell phone from holdings, he saw that Avery had been blowing up his phone. These ignorant niggas wanted the rest of the payment when the mother of his kids was dead. He was ready to rip both men to shreds, shit down their throats, and piss on their fuckin’ corpses. The fury and anger he felt was overwhelming.

  He told Gwap to go to the motel in Canarsie. Gwap drove in that direction without any uncertainty or conversation. The look in Bimmy’s eyes said it all. He knew who had killed April, and he was out for revenge.

  Bimmy called Avery’s cell phone, and after several rings, he picked up.

  “Cuz, what’s up?” Avery answered excitedly. “Where you at?”

  “Where you at?” Bimmy asked casually.

  “We at the motel. Ya comin’ through, right? Ya know we did dat thing fo’ you.”

  “I know. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Y’all niggas just stay there and chill. I got y’all money.”

  “A’ight, dat’s what up, cuz.”

  Bimmy hung up. The sound of Avery’s voice sickened him. It made his stomach churn. There was no force on earth that was going to stop their murders. He said nothing while Gwap drove. He just wanted to hurry up and get there. End this shit!

  Bimmy was so consumed with rage and extracting revenge, he was unaware that they were being followed.

  Gwap parked his Beamer in the parking lot of the Motel 6 in Canarsie. He killed the ignition and pulled out two pistols from underneath his seat. He kept one and handed Bimmy the second gun, both guns fully loaded.

  They climbed out of the car simultaneously. Their faces were expressionless. They were at the motel for one thing only.

  Gwap followed Bimmy. Bimmy stood in front of the door with Gwap standing right behind him. He took a deep breath and knocked twice.

  It didn’t take long for Avery to open the door and allow them inside.

  ***

  Meanwhile, Hassan was watching it all go down from his parked position in the truck. He wondered who Bimmy was meeting inside the motel room.

  ***

  Bimmy looked around the messy room and saw two buck-naked whores lying on the bed looking like they’d just been turned out. The entire room smelled like ass and weed. He looked at his cousin and said to him, “Yo, tell them bitches to leave.”

  Avery didn’t hesitate. He grabbed a bitch by her ankle and pulled her off the bed. “Ya heard what my cousin said—ya bitches get the fuck out!”

  Dalou laughed. He sat by the table in the room and was rolling up a blunt.

  “I thought we were goin’ to smoke?” one of the girls said.

  Avery shouted, “Nah, y’all got paid, so leave, bitch. Get the fuck out!”

  They hurried to get dressed and were pushed outside the room.

  Avery slammed the door behind them and laughed. He then looked at Bimmy and asked, “You got da rest of our money?”

  Bimmy stared at them chillingly, while Gwap stood by the door, poised for any and everything.

  For a brief moment, the room felt still and tense. Something was wrong. Avery could feel it, and definitely see it in Bimmy’s eyes.

  Then suddenly, Bimmy pulled out his gun and aimed it at Avery’s head, and Gwap did the same, training his weapon on Dalou, catching both men completely caught off guard.

  “Yo, cuz, Bimmy, what’s up? What da fuck is dis?” Avery asked, looking speechless.

  “You’re a fuckin’ idiot—that’s what this is.” Bimmy then fired and shot Avery in the head, and the body dropped right by his feet.

  Gwap did the same, killing Dalou where he sat.

  Bimmy and Gwap left the room, climbed into the Beamer, and left.

  ***

  Still parked nearby were Hassan and his soldiers. Big Dee was about to follow them, but Hassan had different plans. He wanted to see who or what was inside the motel room they’d just walked out of. Everyone climbed out of the Range and carefully made their way to the motel room. They knocked on the same door, their guns out and held low by their sides, just in case they had to start shooting. They had no idea what was behind the door. They continued to knock, still, no answer.

  Hassan had Big Dee pay the Spanish clerk for the master key. Big Dee was very persuasive over the young girl.

  They finally entered the room, and just as Hassan had suspected—murder. He had no idea who the two dead men were. But he was certain that it was Bimmy trying to cover his tracks. He rifled through their pockets. Just car keys and drug paraphernalia.

  Before leaving, they wiped down everything they’d touched inside the room then walked to the parking lot with the car keys. There were several cars in the parking lot. One in particular caught Hassan’s attention, the Ford Focus with Georgia plates. He walked toward the car and pushed the alarm button to the car, and the car lit up quickly.

  “Bingo!”

  The men went into the car and looked around. Hassan opened the glove compartment and found the proof he needed. He pulled out a picture of Pearla, an expired Georgia license belonging to Avery Williams, and a few more pieces of drug paraphernalia. No doubt he was family to Benjamin, AKA Bimmy Williams. It was done. Bimmy was a dead man walking.

  Before leaving the motel, Hassan paid the clerk one thousand dollars to erase the surveillance footage.

  Thirty-Three

  Surrounded by his crew of murderous thugs, Kwan stood outside his sister’s building in the drizzling rain and watched the city morgue carry out Sophie’s body in a black body bag on a long stretcher.

  Someone had the nerve to violate him and his family. Not his baby sister! The only sister he had. She wasn’t in the game. Everyone knew if anything happened to her, Kwan would be coming at them with full force, like a runaway locomotive. But someone didn’t get the memo.

  He was breathing hard and tight, his chest heaving up and down like a panic attack was about to come about. His fists were clenched, and his eyes looked like they were in flames. The depths of hell could be seen in his eyes.

  He tried to hold back his tears. He couldn’t cry for her out in the open. He couldn’t show any weakness. He was around the wolves, but his snarl was the scariest.

  He watched the morgue handle his sister’s body with care. They lifted the stretcher and placed her into the back of a van and closed the doors.

  The cops were everywhere asking questions and combing the apartment and the area for any trace of her killer, but no hard evidence was left behind, and there were no witnesses to the murder. Kwan didn’t need the help of police. He had his own investigating crew on standby, and they were going to be a lot more effective than the police.

  “They ain’t had to do her like that,” he spoke out randomly.

  “We gonna get whoever did this, Kwan. Best believe that, my nigga,” Leaky said with conviction.

  Kwan fixed his eyes on the vehicle her body was in. He looked nowhere else. He was consumed with anger, rage, sadness, and revenge all at once.

  The police and detectives knew about him and were wary of him being there. When two detectives walked over to talk to him, Kwan warned them that he wasn’t in the mood to talk. In fact, his goons had set up a wall between the detectives and him. The cops would have to go through them before they started fucking with him. Kwan and his crew didn’t give a fuck about their badges. He just wanted to grieve without being harassed. Then, when his grieving stopped, there was going to be hell to pay.

  Kwan didn’t know who murdered his sister. He had several enemies gunning for him, but he had a few suspects. Bimmy and Hassan were at the top of his shit list, and perhaps Cash. He felt that Cash didn’t have the heart or the reach to get at Sophie, but he didn’t rule out that possibility.

  Kwan vowed that he was going to make each and every last one of them feel the same pain and hurt that he felt. He wanted their loved ones to suffer and be tortu
red. He wanted payback, and he wanted this all to happen before Sophie’s body was in the ground.

  He pivoted and walked back to the truck he came in, and his men followed. They drove off in despair.

  What made it even worse was that she was pregnant. They took life from him and her. She was having a boy, and Kwan was having a nephew. Now, there was no one. Everyone was silent.

  They drove back to Brooklyn. Kwan held a meeting in one of his places, and with over thirty people present, he put it out there—contracts on numerous heads. For their family members, it was five thousand a head, and for the top dogs like Hassan and Bimmy, fifty thousand a head. For that bitch nigga Cash—fifteen thousand dollars, dead or alive. In fact, if they could bring Cash in alive, then that was twenty thousand dollars in a nigga’s pockets.

  Kwan had every goon, thug, or soldier that held an allegiance spread out, search, and destroy. They went looking for Cash’s pops, but to no avail. They hadn’t seen the dancing buffoon in days. They searched for Momma Jones, but there hadn’t been any sign of her in weeks.

  Hassan was a harder nut to crack. His parents were supposedly living in some lavish beach house in Jamaica, compliments of their son. Hassan didn’t have any siblings or kids. So once again, Pearla was on the menu. Bimmy was an only child too, and both his parents were dead, and so was his baby mama April. So they went looking for his three children.

  But Bimmy was three steps ahead of Kwan. He’d sent his kids off to Jamaica to stay with Hassan’s parents until things cooled down and he could get his head right about April. He couldn’t afford to lose the only family he had left. His children were Hassan’s godchildren. So Bimmy knew that he or his parents would never harm them. He didn’t want his kids at their mother’s funeral because he felt it could traumatize them.

  Day after day, Kwan’s bloodthirsty goons kept coming up short about everyone’s whereabouts. There was no one around. Brooklyn had become a ghost town. His enemies had hit the mattresses. Kwan was going berserk and wasn’t thinking rationally. He just wanted justice for Sophie. He wanted to find a victim and fast.