by J-Blunt
Radar mugged her, but didn’t move.
“Come get him, Pop!” Princess called.
***
“Damn, nigga. You bleedin’ all over my fuckin’ seats,” Pop taunted as he sat next to Radar in the backseat. Queenie watched over the passenger seat. Princess drove.
“Fuck you and yo’ seats, nigga!” Radar mugged, barely able to move.
Pop laughed as he reloaded the 357s. “I respect yo’ gangsta. Now respect mine and tell me where Franco at.”
“Fuck you, nigga! I ain’t tellin’ you shit. You gon’ kill me, or what? This shit hurt.”
“Nah, I ain’t gon’ kill you. Yet. But I’ma make yo’ pain worse,” Pop said before shooting Radar in the foot.
“Ah! Shit!”
“Tell me what I wanna know, nigga. I know this shit burn. I’ma torture yo’ ass ‘til you tell me.”
“Fuck you, bitch-ass nigga!” Radar yelled, lunging at Pop Somethin’. The movement was slow. Radar was weak from the pain and blood loss, so Pop easily shoved him in the seat and held him down.
“Next one in yo’ dick, nigga. Tell me where he at.”
Radar hesitated for a moment. He knew a shot to the nuts would hurt like fuck.
And that hesitation was all it took for Pop to squeeze the trigger.
“Ah, shit!” Radar screamed, grabbing his nuts. “Okay! Okay! I’ma tell you where he at. I can’t take this shit no more!”
***
“How long we gotta stay here, baby? I wanna go back home. I’m tired of Marcus and his bullshit. And he always lookin’ at my ass. That shit creepy.”
Franco laughed, slapping and rubbing his wife’s ass, “You got a nice ass. Take it as a compliment. All that hard work at the gym is payin’ off. Niggas notice.”
“But that don’t make it okay for yo’ brotha to be lookin’ at me like that. I wanna go home.”
“Chill, baby. Once Radar take care of them niggas, we gon’ be outta here. They know where we lay our heads at. I wanna make sure it’s safe for us. You know Radar an’ ‘em don’t play. They gon’ handle it. We just gotta give it a couple more days.”
Michelle sulked as she sat heavily upon the bed. “Y’all shoulda shot his ass while we was in the club. Y’all coulda ended it right there.”
“You seen he had security. And cameras and witnesses. The whole team woulda been in jail. We gon’ do it the right way. We already lost some good niggas trynna make that last move. They say that big-ass nigga with the beard and dreads is a beast. We gon’ find out where all them niggas lay they heads at and bag they ass. These niggas ain’t no lames. Shit take a li’l time if you wanna do it right.”
“I just wanna go home. Ain’t that what you say them niggas for? They supposed to put in work and take the case for you. I want my own bed and bathroom.”
The vibrating of his phone took Franco’s attention away from his wife. It was a text.
“Who is it?” Michelle asked.
“Radar. He outside. Want me to come out and look at somethin’. He said it’s important. I’ma be right back.”
Franco walked outside and seen the black Charger with tinted windows parked out front. He walked up and tapped on the passenger window. The window let down slowly. Queenie smiled up at him like she was happy to see him. Franco knew he had seen her before, but he couldn’t remember where. When he looked over to the driver’s seat and seen the passenger’s twin, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. “Where Radar?”
“In the backseat,” Queenie said. “Look.”
Franco bent down to look in the backseat. What he seen scared the shit out of him and took his breath away. Radar was slumped in the seat, covered in blood. Pop Somethin’ sat next to him. He was also covered in blood, dreadlocks and beard hiding most of his face. All Franco could see was his eyes. They were those of a grim reaper. Franco knew he was dead and hadn’t even seen a gun yet. Bits of his life flashed in his mind as everything moved in slow motion. Queenie lifted the revolver to his face. He pushed away from the car, attempting to run. Fire sparked from the barrel of the gun, and he could see the bullet fly at his face. His instincts’ were no match for the speed of the hot lead. He heard his own scream as the heated metal entered his left eye.
By the time his body hit the ground, he was dead.
Chapter 16
The sparkling water ebbed and flowed along the sandy beach, the tide frothy-white like foam atop freshly-tapped beer. Pop Somethin’ stood on the shore allowing the waves to flow over his toes. Two weeks had passed since the murder spree when he and his team put down all of their enemies, and now he was standing on a beach in Acapulco, Mexico. Before him, the ocean was vast, and beautiful, and clear blue. There were people all around enjoying the cool water and warm weather, but he didn’t notice anyone. In his mind he had been transported back to Jamaica. To Eden. He was a bouncing five-year-old boy again, following in his father’s footsteps. He felt the peace, safety, and contentment that came with the innocence of childhood. The smile on his face reflected his inner bliss.
“I never seen you like this. All smiles, too,” Princess said, interrupting his thoughts. She stood next to him wearing a pink bathing suit and giant pink sunglasses that covered most of her face, her dreads piled atop her head in a wrap.
“That’s ‘cause I never felt this close to home.”
“Is this what Jamaica’s like?”
“Parts of it, yeah. My pops used to take me to this spot called Eden. Bein’ here remind me of it. The most beautiful place I ever been. That’s where I wanna build the hotel.”
The emotion and longing in his voice touched her. “Damn, Pop. You gettin’ all sensitive an’ shit. Why don’t you show this side of you more? You always so serious.”
“’Cause niggas will take advantage of you if you show a weakness. Hard shells protect us from the bullshit. You should feel me more than anybody. I see how you move. You can be cold and calculated when you want to be.”
“’Cause I have to be. I had to protect me and Queenie our whole life. It’s always been me and her. I had to think for both of us, had to be two steps ahead of these crazy niggas, and three steps ahead of these scheming-ass bitches. Especially in these clubs. Bitches can be worse than niggas.”
“Do you still think the worst of me?”
Princess was silent, staring out over the water, watching the people swim. Her eyes landed on Queenie. She was on a surfboard, trying her best to ride the waves. Seeing her sister having fun and being a little girl touched a soft spot inside of Princess. “At first I didn’t see what she seen in you. I thought you was a crazy, quick-tempered killa. Which I’m right about, but it’s more to you than that. You ambitious wit’ dreams and big plans. You real and you smart. And you care about us. We never had nobody like you in our life, so I didn’t know how to react when she told me about you or when you asked me to be yo’ bitch. But standin’ next to you on this beautiful-ass beach, I’m glad I got on the team. I woulda neva did no shit like this if I’da stayed wit’ Pop Squad.”
“Sometimes we don’t know what we missin’ ‘til we get exposed to it.”
Princess smiled. “Preach, baby.” They became silent as they watched Queenie splash around in the water. “You know she in love wit’ chu, right?”
Pop turned to face Princess. “What about you?”
Princess laughed. “Fuck love. It’s about loyalty, right?”
Pop smiled. “Loyalty over everything.”
***
“Is this the life or what, mi amigos?” Gonzo smiled, throwing his hands in the air as the wind blew through his clothing. They were on the top deck of his hundred-foot yacht. Pop, C-Note, and a couple bodyguards were lounged around on big-ass couch-like chairs.
“You a boss, Gonzo! A real boss!” C-Note smiled, holding his drink in the air.
“Boss of all bosses!” Pop Somethin’ added, holding his drink in the air as well.
“How do you like my homeland? Trump says we’re all killers a
nd rapists, no? Then the gringos come to my country to vacation and rape our señoritas and our land. Hypocrites! This is the land of the gods! Ancient civilizations. Land of kings!”
The bodyguards clapped and cheered their boss. C-Note and Pop Somethin’ egged him on.
“How much it’s gon’ cost me to get me one of these yachts?” C-Note asked.
“Millions, mi amigo. Many millions. Stay with me and one day you and Shooter will have big boats.”
“I’m wit’ chu to the end!” Pop saluted.
“I wanna see a lab, Gonzo. Show me how y’all make that dope before it get to America. I need to see how to run an operation ‘cause I want my own one day. Gimme the game, boss.”
Gonzo studied C-Note for a moment. “I normally don’t do this, but for you and Shooter, since you save my life, I will show you my farm in Tijuana before we leave. Now, how about we go get some girls from downstairs and swim with the sharks? This is what real men do.”
Pop and C-Note looked at him like he was crazy. He noticed their faces.
“What? You no swim with sharks?”
C-Note spoke first. “Hell nah!”
“We black,” Pop added. “Niggas don’t do that shit. I seen Jaws. You know why you don’t never see black people in the news gettin’ killed by sharks? ‘Cause we don’t swim wit’ no damn sharks.”
Gonzo laughed until his stomach was hurting. “You guys have no cojones. Wussies. You kill ten people and don’t blink, but won’t swim in the ocean. I don’t understand.”
“And you won’t. ‘Cause we ain’t goin’,” C-Note said.
“Okay, okay. We just get the women and party. You softies. But before we get too drunk and I forget, Shooter, I need you to take care of somethin’ for me in New Orleans. Someone needs to swim wit’ the sharks. I can’t have it connected to me, which means I can’t send my men. Your black skin is an asset.”
“Just say when, boss. I got chu.”
***
Pop Somethin’ stumbled down the hallway toward his room, staggering and bouncing off the walls. He was beyond fucked up, beer, tequila, and cacao in hand, his head spinning and balance thrown off. Partying with the cartel boss was a blast, but stumblin’ down the hallway reminded him why he stayed sober.
When he got to his room, sounds from behind the door made him pause. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Then he listened again. Queenie’s moans floated up to his ears. Who was she fucking? One of the Mexicans? C-Note? He tried the door, but it was locked.
Queenie’s moans stopped after he knocked. “Who is it?” Princess called.
“Me. Open the door.”
When the door opened, Pop Somethin’ stepped into the room and looked around. Princess stood next to him, naked, her body covered in sweat, breathing heavily, eyes low and red. Queenie was in bed covered in a sheet. She was also sweating and breathing hard. The table next to the bed had a plate on it. It was filled with white powder.
“Who else in here?” Pop asked.
Princess got defensive. “Nobody. Why? What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?”
Pop smiled at Queenie. “Twins wit’ a special bond, huh? I guess the time is right, ain’t it?”
Queenie threw the sheet aside, exposing her nakedness as she lay back on the bed. “I guess it is. Now you know our secret.
Pop started taking off his clothes. “I ain’t trippin’. I just wish y’all woulda told me sooner.”
***
The black Toyota C-HR parked in the lot of the law firm. At 6:34 p.m. the door of Hernandez and Jacobs opened and a short Mexican man walked outside. He walked across the lot to a blue BMW. Ten minutes later the driver of the BMW stopped at a Dunkin Doughnuts. Pop Somethin’ pulled the C-HR into the lot and watched as the lawyer bought snacks. From the doughnut shop, Pop trailed the defense attorney to the house he shared with his wife and two small children. Hector Martinez was an up-and-comer in the world of law. He was also on Gonzo’s shit list. The boss man wanted him dead, so he gave Pop fifty thousand dollars and told him to make it look like a robbery gone wrong. According to the big time dealer, Martinez had purposely lost the trials of some of his workers. He said the lawyer might be working with the feds.
Before Pop made the hit, he wanted to tail the shark for a couple of days to see if he was really working with the feds. The one thing he didn’t want to do was be seen or recorded by the feds killing one of their informants. This was day two of the stake out, and so far the Mexican lived a normal life. He went to work, came home, and spent time with his family.
After watching the house for a couple hours, Pop went back to his hotel.
The next morning Pop got up at five a.m. and drove to Hector Martinez’s house. As usual, the Mexican left at six and drove to work. At ten, him and a few coworkers took a lunch break, then another break at two. At six he left the firm, heading for home. During the drive, Pop decided tonight would be the night for the kill. After three days of tailing, there was no sign of the feds.
When the BMW pulled into the gas station, Pop drove the C-HR into the parking lot of the super store next door. He tucked the 38 Special in his waist and pulled on the hoody. The plan was to make it look like a car jacking gone wrong. As he walked toward the parking lot, he was happy there weren’t many cars or people around.
Hector walked out of the gas station with his face in his phone, oblivious to the danger a few feet away. Pop was reaching for the revolver when a white Camry pulled into the gas station behind Hector’s BMW. Pop locked eyes with the Camry’s driver. It only took a split second for recognition to set in. He took his hand off the gun as the female climbed from the car. She wore a smile as big as the Saint Louis Arch.
“Crabtree, is that you?” she asked excitedly.
“Nurse Baccara!” Pop grinned, opening his arms for a hug.
Hector looked up from his phone as the sexy Latina hugged the big black man dressed in dark clothes. When he locked eyes with Pop Somethin’, he quickly looked away, frightened by the big man’s intense stare.
“This is such a small world, Crabtree. What are you doin’ in New Orleans?” she asked, stepping back and lookin’ him from head to toe.
“The first thing I need you to do is stop calling me my government. It’s Pop Somethin’. Pop for short.”
She smirked. “I forgot about the infamous Pop Somethin’ label. Okay, Pop. How are you. What have you been up to?”
“Trynna stay free. What chu doin’ in the N.O.?”
“Oh, just visiting.”
Pop waited on her to say more. She didn’t. He quickly connected the dots. “You here wit’ yo’ man, huh?”
She looked surprised. “Yeah. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess. But it don’t matter to me if it don’t matter to you. I meant everything I said when I used to come see you. This gotta be a sign we was meant to keep each other company, huh?”
She blushed. “I forgot how good you were with your words.”
Pop lost his train of though when the lawyer got in the BMW and pulled away. His eyes followed the car. She noticed.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Uh, I like that car.”
She gave him a look that let him know she knew he wan lying. “So, what are you doing here? You still live in Texas, right?”
“Yeah. I’m here on business.”
She waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she got the hint. “How long are you in town?”
“Another day. Maybe two. What about you?”
“Hopefully not too much longer. I miss my cat.”
Pop laughed. “I forgot you were a cat person. How is Mittens doing?”
The nurse’s face lit up. “I can’t believe you remembered her name. I’m impressed. She’s good.”
“I remember everything we talked about. How ‘bout we exchange numbers? Do some catching up later on? And who knows, if the situation allows, we might be able to fully act out our moments in those exam rooms.”
“Hey, cousin.”
“Why you sound all depressed an’ shit?”
She sighed. “Nitty.”
Hearing the name made Pop’s body temperature rise. “What happened?”
“It don’t matter. He gone now.”
“Did he put his hands on you?”
“Nah. We just argued.”
Pop knew she was lying. “Let’s Facetime. I wanna see yo’ face.”
Shanice got defensive. “Why? I’m good. I told you he didn’t hit me.”
“Stop playin’ wit’ me ‘fore I come over there.”
Shanice didn’t respond.
“Shanice!”
“Okay. Okay. Pop, please don’t hurt my baby daddy. Don’t do my daughter like that.”
“What did I tell you? Why the fuck you still lettin’ that nigga put his hands on you? I told that nigga I was gon’ fuck him up.”
She started crying. “Please, cousin. My daughter need her father.”
Hearing the emotion in her voice had an effect on Pop Somethin’. He didn’t want to add to his cousin’s pain. “A’ight.”
“A’ight what? Please, Pop. Don’t hurt him.”
“I ain’t gon’ touch him. I’m in New Orleans right now, and I couldn’t touch him if I wanted to. But you betta quit fuckin’ wit’ that niggas, ‘cause I ain’t givin’ no more passes.”
“I know. It’s just complicated. When you love somebody, it makes everything harder.”
“Well, you betta un-love his bitch-ass. I’ma check on you when I get back to Texas. If he there, I’m on his ass.”
After hanging up the phone, Pop called Queenie.
“Hey, baby. You on yo’ way hack home yet?”