I wasn’t looking for either one of them to say or do anything. I had this, and old, funky, dog-headed ho Roxy was mine. Dropping my shoe, I hawked up a big glob of spit, landing it directly on her face. I wanted to keep beating her ass, but time would not permit it. Instead, I had other plans for her.
“Okay, baby, that’s enough. Get your stuff, and let’s go.” Jazz finally leaned over and reached for my arm. I snatched back and stared at her with discontent.
“Don’t put your fucking hands on me. How you gonna know some shit like that and keep it from me?” I got grim with her, planning to take her out once I finished with this dirty ball I’d once called my homegirl.
“It wasn’t even like that, but whatever. I’m about to be out. So beef or not, bitch, let’s go. We can talk about that later. I can’t be detained by no damn police.”
Ignoring her, I picked up Roxy’s arms and started to drag her. This bitch was getting ready to come up out of this room and into the ocean. Fuck her and any so-called friends out here on some grimy shit. “Open that door,” I screamed as they side-eyed me like I was crazy. “This backstabbing whore about to go swimming—period.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Sable
Momentarily, there was an eerie silence inside the cabin. No one could believe what I was attempting to do to this shifty female. Nonetheless, at this point in the game, I could care less about what these people thought about me and my actions. Not only had my money seemingly vanished, but also now I find out that this low-down, conniving, so-called friend of mine had been fucking Mike Mike on the regular for months. Naw, I didn’t give two hot shits that Roxy was already fucked up and half dead. She still was going to suffer even more when the murky water of the ocean filled her lungs. Grabbing both of Roxy’s legs by the ankles, I sneered, “Yeah, whore, since you like having these bitches up in the air, wide open for someone else’s man, keep that same energy now.” Once more, I demanded someone open the fucking door before they’d be next on my bitter revenge agenda.
Not knowing what else to do but comply, Jazz did as I had ordered. My back was turned, yanking on Roxy when I heard my girl yell out. “Oh shit, what you doing here?”
Carla looked around, dumbfounded, not knowing what was up. In turn, I did the same thing—and was left with a dry throat and speechless. My broken heart raced. I felt dizzy, weak all of a sudden. I dropped Roxy’s ankles, taking a few steps backward. My nightmare was now a reality.
“My sweet, sweet, unpredictable Sable. I’ve been missing you the last few days.”
“What?” I barely mustered up the courage to speak.
“Yeah, now, bitch, where’s my motherfucking money? Run my fucking shit right damn now.” Mike Mike was standing less than ten feet from me with all intent on stretching me out across the floor next to a visibly injured Roxy. He wasn’t the least bit concerned about his side piece fuck buddy’s condition. She was expendable when it came to his funds. Hell, we all were, and shit was about to get real.
“But—” I tried to say something and was once more cut off.
“Naw, no buts, ya sneaky trick slut. Y’all foul-mouthed carpet munchers got all of ten seconds to run me my bread or each of y’all cunts gonna feel something hot. Now, fuck around and think I’m bullshitting. Sable, you already know how I get down. So a nigga ain’t taking no damn shorts either.”
“Whoa, hold up. Who in the hell are you? This my damn boat,” Carla bossed up, acting as if she were a man and could go toe-to-toe with one. “And I suggest you watch your mouth with all of them derogatory statements.”
“Watch my mouth?” Mike Mike hawked on the carpeted floor, giving her a “fuck-you-bitch” expression. “Look, you wanna be a man, freak? Your best bet is to fall all the way back and stay out of my business before you have problems that once-a-month bleeding pussy ain’t equipped to handle—ya feel me? So stay in your lane before I kick ya period on.”
Carla was pissed he was being so disrespectful with the name-calling and threats on the boat she owned. Her first reaction was to run up, but she knew better than to try Mike Mike. She might have dressed like a man, strapped on, and fucked like a man—but toe-to-toe, balls-to-balls, the female I’d just spent the night with was no damn man. Carla knew she had no-win. Mike Mike looked and talked like he hadn’t come for any games or foolishness, and since he was at least fifty racks lighter in the pocket, I couldn’t say that I blamed him.
Searching the room for an escape route other than straight past my living nightmare, Jazz held on to my arm, trembling in fear. Praying the sirens would get closer, hopefully, I could get spared from the pain Mike Mike was hell-bent on putting down on me if I didn’t produce the missing cash. My heart was working overtime. Mustering up the courage to speak while stalling for time, I stared him dead in his eyes. “So, you been fucking Roxy, huh? My own best friend! Is that how we doing it now?”
Mike Mike’s expression changed. It was like the devil himself entered the cabin and had taken over his body and soul. He hated being caught up in his own shit. Like any other man, he tried flipping the script. “Look, Sable, I don’t give two fucks about what you talking about right about now—just run my bread—and quick.” He took three steps closer as I took four steps backward, almost tripping over Roxy’s body. “If I have to beat my money outta you, then so be it. Now, this the last time I’m asking your stanking ass. Run me my goddamn money—all of it.”
“Wait! Wait!” Jazz selfishly intervened, hoping to just make it safely off the boat and to her cousin. “Mike Mike, the money is gone. Someone stole it. It’s gone. We came back in here, and it was missing, and Roxy was like this—fucked up.”
“Say what?” Mike Mike shouted as he rushed across the room, knocking me to the ground. He was furious. That was the last thing he wanted to hear.
I know for a fact he’d hustled hard to stack that money after we’d taken a few serious hits with his pill addiction. Like I was pissed for various reasons, now, he was too. Our buried emotional baggage throughout the years was now out on the surface. The things we were saying as we fought were raw, and they were real. As we struggled on top of Roxy’s mangled body, at one point, Carla tried to yank him off me, prying his hands from around my throat.
On the verge of passing out, I caught a glimpse of Jazz running out the door. I gasped for air as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. The last thing I heard before being out cold was Jazz’s voice telling someone that there was a fight in Room 217 and to hurry and get there.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Gianna
Hailing a cab outside the gates of the dock, one pulled up, and I wasted no time climbing in. “Miami International Airport,” I instructed him as he pulled away from the curb. Going into the Nike duffel bag, I pulled two hundred-dollar bills from the rubber band, “as fast as you can go, please.”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. Now, this is a tip.” The Indian man pushed his foot on the gas pedal, accelerating to almost ninety miles per hour.
Gianna looked out the window, smiling. She was on the highway cruising, about to go experience her next journey and write the next chapter of her life. With about forty-five thousand to her name, clear free, she had plans of living her life right. Once at the airport, she’d buy a one-way ticket to the fastest flight out of this hellish city. Maybe she’d visit Detroit where the fine-ass nigga that had just boarded looking for some chick said he was from. Gazing out the window, she saw a few police cars and the ambulance floating and cutting through traffic up the other side of the highway. Knowing they were going toward the Sunrise, she smiled even wider, locking the dude’s number in her cell.
Even though she hadn’t gotten to harm Sable physically, taking revenge out on her girl had been just as good. She had pistol-whipped her ass two good times before slapping her a few more times across the face after she went down. She’s nothing to me and deserved what she had coming for pouring that purple slush all over me.
Finding the money had been a bonus,
and the reason I couldn’t fight back the urge to jump out of the bedroom closet and confront her ass in the first place. After knocking her out cold, I searched the bag and came up on the jackpot. Stuffing in the other four stacks she’d taken out for herself, I zipped the bag up, grabbed my belongings, and rushed to get the fuck out of Dodge. Ditching the Sunrise keycard and pistol in the ocean after walking out the door, I never looked back and never fucking planned to. Fuck Carla and all Sunrise had to offer. I was about to live my best life . . . courtesy of the next bitch.
Chapter Twenty-nine
A Few Months Later . . .
Carla
“I can’t believe after all of this time, everything is done—finished. I put so much time into building my name, brand, and this business. Now, just like that, some random bitches from Detroit have ruined it. Damn!” Carla and her partner removed the last of their personal items. Sadly for them, all things considered, the sheriff’s department acted. Under court order, they padlocked the federally seized Sunrise, bringing an end to Carla’s reign as the Boat Ride Czar of Miami. Just as she stated, they’d have to rebuild their business and brand. That was, if they could.
Jazz
I wonder what’s going to become of Sable. It seems as if we were just hanging out, drinking, and having the time of our lives. Then bam! Roxy’s dead, and my homegirl is locked up. And here I am, a stranger in a strange place, missing home. Jazz was terrified to go back home for fear of Mike Mike’s certain wrath for her involvement in the entire situation. She knew the last time she saw him, he wanted them all dead. Wisely, she decided to use the documents her cousin Tyrell had gotten for her girl and relocated to parts unknown.
Mike Mike
Once the Princess of Detroit DLA, an injured Sable was transferred to prison awaiting sentencing. The charge was for the first-degree murder of Roxanna, a.k.a. Roxy. After several autopsy reports, it was determined that the fatal blow that killed her once-best friend came from the blunt force trauma of a nine-inch heel of a shoe. Sable’s ultimate fate was sealed. She was now broke, alone, locked up, and destined to spend years behind bars for killing a backstabbing bitch that “had it coming.” Sure, I could have gotten her a lawyer but chose not to do so. My funds were not totally on craps. Of course, I could have chosen to keep money on her books, but I opted not to do that as well. Instead, just as she ducked out on my black ass intending never to see me again, I gladly returned the favor.
With constant contentment, I lived in the moment of Sable’s once-celebratory words she’d vowed when leaving me facedown in my vomit. “I’d rather be dead than to deal with you again.” Now, she was getting her wish. I was leaving her for dead. Yeah, I’d faced the fact that I was out of 50K. Not stupid on the way the game went, I knew that stash was gone forever. But I did find some peace knowing my once-pampered princess was out of her freedom. That brutal truth gave me some small sort of contentment that I enjoyed. In my eyes, as long as Sable was locked up behind bars for life, the jealous part of me that was always lurking in our damaged relationship was good with it. She’d never belong to another man again. I was never shy about my feelings. I’d always made clear . . . If I couldn’t have her, no other man could. And I was good with that—period.
Gianna and Mike Mike . . . sitting in a tree . . .
After traveling here and there, courtesy of the come-up lick she’d hit, Gianna never thought about Carla or her old life once. Bored of recklessly spending money, she finally decided to visit Detroit. The slick thief decided to hook up with the guy she’d met on the Miami dock after creating havoc on the Sunrise. Corresponding with him from time to time, she was ultimately won over by his sweet-sounding voice, boss demeanor, and the memory of his thugged-out swag. With nothing else on her agenda, she flew into Detroit Metro, where he was eagerly waiting to pick her up. The next couple of days were seemingly magical. The two hugged up in a VIP booth of a crowded strip club, popping bottles. It was easy for all to see, Mike Mike and Gianna were feeling each other. Since Sable’s untimely incarceration, Mike Mike was in the market for a new princess to spoil, and he felt Gianna fit the build. The more the couple drank, the drunker they both gleefully became.
In the zone playfully talking shit, Mike Mike started to tease his new friend about her being too soft to handle these Detroit females that were in the club throwing shade her way. As the loud music bounced off the walls, they popped another bottle, which a white-girl-wasted Gianna then generously volunteered to pay for. Two glasses into that bottle, tired of Mike Mike talking shit about how bad the bitches were in his hometown, she started slurring, telling him a straight-up gangsta move story about a few stupid-ass Detroit hoes she’d gotten over on a few months back on some boat. The more an overly intoxicated Gianna talked—the more Mike Mike sobered up to make sure he was hearing her cocky tale correctly.
The bottom line . . . Karma is a bitch.
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