Bitch Reloaded

by Deja King

  "I'm not surprised. Congratulations."

  "Thank you, Precious. I know you're overwhelmed right now, but in the near future I wanted to sit down and discuss some business regarding Supreme with you. Here's my card. Call me when you feel up to it."

  "I will. It was so nice to see you again, Jamal, and thank you for showing your respect for Supreme."

  "Of course, it was nice to see you too," Jamal said before he walked away.

  "Seems you have some history with the new president of Atomic Records," Mike said, obviously fishing for information.

  "You still haven't excused yourself?" I questioned, wondering what it would take to get Mike out of my space.

  "Precious, don't be like that. I care a great deal about you and I want to make sure you're okay."

  "You don't even know me and I don't want you to. You're a snake, Mike. Stay away from me."

  The whole ride home all I thought about was Jamal. I kept reading his business card over and over again. I knew Jamal would be successful in life and have a great career making a lot of money, but the music business was the last place I thought it would be. He seemed too uptight to be around a bunch of grimy rappers.

  He had changed so much. The bifocals were history and his once scrawny body was now well defined with lean muscles. I was looking forward to calling him because I needed to talk to someone from my past. Jamal would understand who Precious Cummings from the projects, not the widow of superstar Supreme, really was.

  (YTMfi'.~ 4 r

  The sound of my cell phone ringing woke me up at eightthirty a.m. "Hello," I answered with my eyes still closed.

  "Yo, Precious I got some info for you." I recognized Smokey's voice and tried to shake myself to wake up.

  "What's up?"

  "Can you meet me in an hour?"

  "Say what you gotta say?"

  "I don't wanna talk on the phone. This some shit we need to discuss face to face."

  "Nico business?"

  "No doubt, so can you meet me?"

  "Where at?"

  "Harlem, at the soul food spot M&G."

  "Night, give me two hours." It had been a few weeks since I put the hit out on Nico, and I was glad Smokey finally had some information for me.

  While taking a shower I debated whether I wanted to bring Nathan and one of my other bodyguards. I knew I needed the protection, but at the same time I didn't want them asking questions about my dealings with Smokey. No matter what, I was definitely carrying my heat because there was no telling what was waiting for me in New York.

  "Good morning, fellas. I have to run an errand this mornmg.

  "I'll pull the car around," Nathan said.

  "Actually, I'll be going alone."

  "I don't think that's wise, Precious," he barked.

  "Calm down, I got this. If there seems to be a problem you'll be the first person I'll call. But I'm good. I got my girl wit me." I jumped in the Range because all the other cars were a little too flashy.

  When I crossed the George Washington Bridge and hit the Hudson Parkway, I was becoming more anxious, wondering what information Smokey had regarding Nico.

  I drove around the block a couple of times before I pulled up in front of the legendary restaurant that was no bigger than my Range but served food good as hell. I saw Smokey's BMW 525 parked at the curb but he wasn't inside. I figured he was already in the spot, but I called his cell to double check. I took out my 9mm from the hidden compartment and placed the silencer on the tip of the barrel before placing it in my purse. I hoped that I wouldn't have to use it, but you can never be too careful. I slowly walked up in the spot checking in all directions who was in the place. A few couples were seated; getting they grub on and Smokey sat directly facing the door. "What's good, Smokey?"

  "Hopefully everything. I think this info I got should put a smile on yo' face."

  "Speak," I said, sitting down.

  "One of my street informants introduced me to this cat that says he know where Nico is hiding out at."

  "Word?"

  "Word is bond. The nigga wouldn't give me too many details `cause he want his bread first."

  "What details did he give?"

  "He said the nigga is staying at some co-op downtown on the West side."

  "What? That sounds crazy. You tellin' me that nigga still right here in New York?"

  "That's what my man say. Besides, it's not like Nico could have gotten on a plane. Even the feds are looking for him. It makes sense, since he just killed Supreme a few weeks ago."

  "How is your informant sure it's Nico?"

  "The nigga still hustling. From what I understand he tryna get his paper right before he break out. My informant's cousin sold three diesels to him."

  "Nico back selling heroin? Who hitting that nigga off wit' paper?"

  "How the story goes, the boy's cousin is a big time hustling nigga. The kingpin nigga sent him to drop off the goods because he got backed up on some other shit. He had no idea Nico was the nigga he was delivering to. Some bitch answered the door and it took Nico a second to come out from the back. He gave him the package and he still wasn't positive it was Nico until he heard the bitch call out his name when he was walking out the door. As far as where he got the paper to buy that shit, I don't know. But I don't think that nigga's cousin be frontin' wit' his diesel so Nico got the cash from somewhere."

  "So Nico hauled up wit' some bitch selling diesel? He's right under our fuckin' noses."

  "Damn right."

  "So what's next?"

  "The nigga wanna speak to you and make sure that he'll get the bread if he delivers on the body."

  "Where he at now?"

  "He lives right around the corner. I didn't tell him you were coming to meet me, but I wanted us to be nearby just in case you was up to seeing him."

  "So you believe he on the up-an-up?"

  "No doubt. This nigga official. All he want is his paper and Nico is good as dead."

  "Night, get him on the phone and hookup the meeting." I sat back and listened to Smokey make the arrangements. Something about the situation was a little suspect, but Smokey sounded so confident with his information. Plus, it was plausible for Nico to be shacking up with some bitch getting his hustle on so he could get the fuck out of New York. Your options are limited when your pockets are empty, so it did make sense. I stored my paranoia to the back of my mind and held on tightly to my purse for backup.

  "He ready. I told him we'd be there in fifteen minutes so he wouldn't know we was just a step away."

  "Let's do this. But for your sake this nigga betta be on the up.

  Smokey and I small-talked for a few since we had extra time. After I finished my glass of sweet tea, I followed him out the front door. We walked about three blocks until we came to a renovated apartment building in the middle of the projects. It blew my mind how these real estate motherfuckers kept putting all this money into upgrading these apartments, raising the rent so upper-middle class white people could move in the neighborhood. It didn't matter because niggas still wasn't going anywhere; so it would always be the hood. I guess they hoped the local blacks would be wiped out from either drugs or the violence of the streets. They'd be waiting a long time. Niggas had a way to keep multiplying.

  "Hold up, this his spot, but let me hit his cell so he'll know we outside," Smokey said as he dialed the number. I stood looking around feeling the area out. It was the early afternoon and the hood was slowly coming alive.

  "Come on, Precious, he lives on the second floor." The guy buzzed us in and instead of us taking the elevator I told Smokey to take the stairs. In a situation like this where I wasn't feeling totally comfortable, I felt I had more room to move taking the stairs if shit was shaky. I was relieved when no niggas had they gats drawn when we reached the floor.

  When we got to the door, Smokey knocked and I stood to the side clutching my purse in preparation for anything faulty. Smokey was cool, but I could tell that even though he was in the game and had his ears
to the streets, he won't no official killer-type nigga. I say that because he was just too relaxed. He knew I was carrying heat and he was strapped, too, but most murder-type niggas always give a quick pat to they piece just to make sure it's right there ready for them to explode on a cat if necessary. Smokey was cheesing as if he was bringing me home for dinner to meet his parents.

  After standing for a few seconds, someone finally came and opened the door.

  "Wass up?" he said, giving Smokey a pound.

  "It's all good; this here is the young lady I was telling you about."

  "How you doing, I'm B-Boy?" I just politely grinned and nodded my head. Then I zoomed in on his eyes, trying to get a read on him. He looked young, but maybe that was because he had a baby face. He was tall and skinny with a Hershey bar complexion. He had an inviting smile but my gut told me he had another agenda. "Come on in," he said, completely opening the door. Smokey and I stepped inside and to my surprise the apartment was extremely neat and decorated nicely. I figured he must live with his girl because the place definitely had a woman's touch.

  "Can I get ya something to drink?"

  "Nah, I'm good." I never liked to eat or drink at somebody's crib unless they were my people like that.

  "I'll take some soda or something," Smokey said, never being one to turn down nothing that could fill up his belly.

  When the guy walked off to the kitchen, I moved closer to Smokey, "So that the nigga that knows Nico's whereabouts?" I whispered.

  "That's him, he seems like good people, right?" he said nodding his head and grinning. I didn't even respond to Smokey. Instead I studied the room trying to get an indication if anyone else was here. I noticed the window was halfway open and wondered if someone sneaked out not wanting us to see them on our way up.

  "Here's your drink, man," B-Boy said, handing a can of Coca Cola to Smokey. "Ya wanna have a seat?"

  "I'm good." I always think better on my feet. Smokey sat down on the couch next to B-Boy.

  "Night, well let's get down to it. As I told my man Smokey, I know exactly where Nico is holding court. I have no problem taking that nigga out for the right price, and from what I understand that price is a million dollars."

  "Yeah, you got that price right. You get half up front, half on delivery." I paused for a minute to make B-Boy comfortable like everything was sweet. "So, Nico hauled up selling coke that he bought from your cousin, that's how you found out his whereabouts?"

  "Yeah, my cousin had me drop off some of that coke and I peeped your man Nico. I remembered my man Smokey telling me there was a hit out on him and I was like this is just my luck."

  "You got that right," I said pulling out my nine and walking towards B-Boy as I put the gun to the side of his head.

  "What the fuck is you doing, Precious?" Smokey blurted and stood up from the couch. I stayed focused with my finger on the trigger as B-Boy sat quietly.

  "Smokey, this nigga told you he delivered three packages of heroin to Nico and now he saying coke. That ain't no small oversight, that's a major fuck up." B-Boy slightly bit down on his bottom lip realizing he had messed up. It was good to know Smokey wasn't a part of this farce because by the look on his face he truly didn't see it coming.

  "Damn, B-Boy, this was all a set up? Word is bond. I thought you was good people."

  "Do you even know where Nico is, or was that all part of the scam," I asked the snake. B-Boy sat there mum. "Night, nigga, either you start telling me who you working for or I'm `bout to put this bullet in you like it ain't nothin'." He was still silent, but I caught his eyes glance over by the shut bedroom door.

  I put my finger over my mouth indicating to Smokey to be quiet and then signaled for him to come closer to me. Then I whispered, "Pull out your piece. There's somebody in that bedroom; you might have to blast whoever in there," I said, pointing to the closed door."

  Smokey got a real shook look on his face before revealing, "Precious, I ain't neva shot nobody before. I ain't no killa."

  "Smokey, either kill or be killed. That's your options. I can't be in two places at one time."As I was talking to Smokey, B-Boy was fidgeting. I knew he was trying to scheme a way to get out this mess. He was also probably wondering why whoever his backup in the bedroom was hadn't come out to save his skinny ass. They were probably sleeping on the job, not knowing B-Boy's cover had been blown.

  "Listen here, don't even think about making a move," I said softly but sternly in his ear. "Smokey, you keep this gun to his head and I'll go check the bedroom. If the nigga flinch, lullaby his ass. Now give me your gun." Smokey had a nine like mine, so I would have no problem using it.

  Smokey held the gun to B-Boy's head but his nervousness was clear. I just prayed that B-Boy didn't sense it and take advantage of the situation. "If you make a sound, Smokey, gonna smoke yo' ass," I said to B-Boy trying to instill fear. I cautiously walked towards the door, without being in direct range. I stood on the side of the wall and put my right hand on the knob, slowly raising my left arm to firing position. As I was about to open the door, I heard B-Boy scream out.

  "Yo, she got a gun."

  Immediately, I fell to the floor and as I crawled back behind a chair. I looked at Smokey and yelled, "Smoke that nigga!" From the quick glance I got of Smokey, the nigga was frozen. Then the bedroom door flung open and a dude stepped out with his gun raised.

  "She over there," B-Boy screamed out. Before the nigga could turn around in my direction, I stood up behind the chair and blasted off three shots. Two hit him in the chest and one in the neck. Both Smokey and B-Boy looked with their mouths wide open as his body fell to the floor. "Bitch, you killed my brother."

  With Smokey still not making no moves, B-Boy used the opportunity to wrestle the gun out of his hand, but I ended all that. I was a few feet away but my aim was crazy, and my shot put a bullet in the back of B-Boy's head. His head exploded and blood splattered in Smokey's face. He bent over for a minute and I thought the nigga was going to vomit. I ran in the kitchen, grabbed a towel and ran some water on it. "Smokey, wipe your face off," I said, handing him the towel.

  "Precious, you just killed two niggas. I-I-I ain't neva seen no shit like that before. Where the fuck you learned th-that shit?" The nervousness in his voice had Smokey stuttering.

  "The streets, but baby boy we ain't got time to talk about all that. We need to get the fuck outta here. I know somebody called the police by now. Let's go." I slowly opened the door to see if it was safe in the hallway and to my despair, I saw two dudes coming around the corner running towards the apartment. Hurriedly, I shut and locked the door.

  "What's wrong?" Smokey asked, sounding like a scared bitch.

  "Yo, some niggas coming, and my bet is they coming for us." Instantly, I remembered the open window. Since we were on the second floor, the jump down wouldn't be bad. I ran towards the window and kicked out the screen. When I looked down, there was a big garbage dumpster underneath.

  "I know you ain't bout to jump out that window?"

  "No, we are about to jump out this window. Unless you wanna wait here for them niggas to kick down the door." If Smokey knew how to handle his heat I would've waited and shut them niggas down. But I knew there were at least two dudes behind that door, maybe more. I didn't know what type of artillery they were working with, so the risk was just too great. "So what you doing you coming wit' me or staying here?" When Smokey heard the shots now being fired through the door he ran towards the window.

  "Let's do this before I change my mind."

  "You go first, just in case they bust through the door before I jump. I can at least fire shots to protect myself."

  "You sure?" he asked knowing his scared ass wanted to be first anyway.

  "Yeah, nigga, now hurry the fuck up," I barked about to push Smokey out the window. The minute he landed in the trash, the door flew open. I didn't even have time to wait until Smokey got out the dumpster. I just jumped and landed right on top of his head. We both struggled to get out as one of the dud
es started busting off sparks at us.

  "What have I got myself into?" Smokey questioned as we fell out the garbage.

  "We ain't got time for questions, hand me my gun." I needed both weapons because if those niggas came at us I needed to blast simultaneously. Smokey handed me my nine and we sprinted towards the only way out. When we got to the corner some dude was jumping off the stairs to the front entrance of the building. By the quickness ofhis moves, I knew he was coming for us. I grabbed Smokey's arm. "This way!" We began hauling ass and I couldn't believe I was running down the street in broad daylight with a gun in each hand. Luckily we were on a side street and no one was really out. When I looked back to see if the enemy was still on our tail, I saw Smokey bent over in the middle of the block trying to catch his breath. I knew the nigga was out of shape but damn, this was the wrong time for this shit. "Come on, Smokey," I screamed out.

  "Precious, give me a minute. Word is bond, I'm tired than a motherfucker. I think we lost the cat anyway." The minute those words left Smokey's mouth, I saw the enemy coming up on him like the quiet storm.

  "Come on, Smokey, move it, that nigga behind you," I yelled, as I ran towards him with guns aimed, ready to fire. But I was too late. The enemy discharged about five shots in Smokey's back. His body fell over on the cement. By the time he put the last bullet in Smokey, I was close enough to start blasting off and just lit the nigga up. I checked Smokey's pulse, hoping there was still a chance he was alive. But it was over for him. "I'm sorry, Smokey," I said before dashing back down the street for my escape.

  Lying back in the marble Jacuzzi, I tried to relax after the chaotic events from earlier in the day. The French vanilla scented candles surrounding the tub and the second glass of wine I was drinking helped to unwind my body but did little to erase the memory of the bloodshed. To make matters worse, I was no closer to finding out where Nico was, and I had no answers as to who those niggas were working for. Something told me they were playing this game for somebody else and I needed to know who.