Bloody Betrayal

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Bloody Betrayal Page 12

by J-Blunt

“You ain’t shit, you know that?” Shanice cursed, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill. “You ain’t no better than none of the niggas I fucked wit’. Fuck you!”

  “Don’t fuck me. Fuck wit’ me. I treated you better than all the niggas you ever fucked. I never lied to you. I’m tellin’ you what it is. The rest is up to you.”

  “I said what I had to say. Fuck you, bitch.”

  “Then why you still standin’ in my room? In my house?” Queenie asked.

  Shanice could no longer hold back the tears. “Because I love you, bitch. And you hurt me. And I wanna leave, but I can’t.”

  Queenie moved for the door. “Well, I’ma make it easy. I’ma leave.”

  “Wait!” Shanice shrieked, sounding like a drowning woman about to miss her rescue.

  Queenie paused. “What?”

  Shanice broke down. “Don’t do this to me, Queenie. Please. I love you, baby, and I need you. I’ma be a better girl. I promise. I just wanna be with you.”

  It took all Queenie’s will to hold back the smile that threatened to spread across her face. She couldn’t believe Shanice had caved. And if she could have her cake and eat it, too…. “This my team, Shanice. We take care of each other on every level. Even fucking. If you can’t handle this, leave.”

  Shanice put on her bravest face, the knot above her eye steadily growing. “I’m not leaving. I can handle it. I swear to God, I can.”

  Queenie eyed her for a moment, looking for a sign of her being unsure. “If you say so. Okay. So, tell me how the fuck you found me.”

  “I followed you here a couple weeks ago. I knew about this house for awhile. I just didn’t know what was goin’ on in here.”

  Queenie shook her head, giving Shanice a look. “You a real bitch for following me. But okay. I need you to go back home and let me settle everything with the team. They didn’t know you was my girl.”

  Shanice got defiant. “I told you I wasn’t leavin’. I’m stayin’ with you. I wanna be part of the team.”

  Queenie laughed. “You trippin’. You got a daughter. You ain’t finna bring her into this.”

  “I took her to Houston yesterday. She wit’ my momma.”

  The news surprised Queenie. “So, you just gon’ leave her?”

  “Like you said, she can’t be here. She safer wit’ my momma.”

  “And you sure this what you wanna do? You gon’ leave Shawntale and just drop her off?”

  “I need to do this for me. I don’t know how I’ma feel about it tomorrow or the next day, but this is where I wanna be. I wanna be part of the team.”

  Queenie looked at Shanice, a challenge in her eyes. “Okay. Prove it.”

  Shanice met and held her stare. “What you want me to do?”

  Queenie looked toward the door. “Drama and Snot! C’mere!”

  Chapter 12

  X-Scape wasn’t much to look at in the daylight hours. Right on the outskirts of downtown Dallas, the 2400-square-foot building was almost invisible. Plain gray bricks and a thick, dark-tinted picture window made up the structure. On the wall was the club’s named spelled horizontally in block letters.

  At night the bland building was transformed into a hustler’s gathering spot where they showed off their hard-earned dough, and tonight was no different. Foreign whips on chrome and donks with wet paint jobs filled the parking lot. The party-goers who couldn’t get in the club turned the lot into their own hot spot while the big boys showed out indoors. Expensive bottles flooded all the tables in the VIP as the ballers partied.

  Amongst the VIPs were four of the most dangerous women in Texas. Queenie flexed her curves in a black mini-dress and gold heels. The skin-tight ‘freak ‘em dress’ showed her slimmed-down figure, her ass and titties on full display. When she walked by, niggas and bitches loved and hated to see the bald-headed bad bitch.

  Next to her, Shanice stood sipping a glass of Moscato, looking flawless. She had dropped the good girl image, rocking a sheer pink dress that left nothing to the imagination. The fringe at the bottom barely covered her voluptuous ass cheeks, and her Double-D breasts and nipples were on full display in the almost see-through fabric.

  Not to be outdone, La’Qua stunted on every female who hadn’t come to the club on fleek. Luscious black hair flowed past her shoulders. The green print dress with a plunging neckline showed off a body that made people’s mouths water if they looked at her too long.

  And finally, Skittlez wore a tight purple dress, showing everybody she was the best thing smoking since purple haze hit the hood. She danced freely, shaking all of her jiggley parts to the bass-pounding music.

  TK was the unofficial leader of Fly Boys Love Haters, “Fly Boys” for short. Short and slim with a wiry build, the light-skinned pretty-boy was easy for the women to latch onto. Loud with a reckless mouth and look-at-me attitude, he didn’t question that the four bad bitches were only interested in him.

  “When the Fly Boys come out, you see how we set the city off!” TK bragged, dancing with Skittlez, hands all over her body parts. “Ain’t no party like a Fly Boy party, ‘cause a Fly Boy party go hard!”

  “I can’t wait to see the after-party!” Skittlez smiled, grabbing TK’s dick.

  “You keep grabbin’ that muthafucka and he gon’ bite cho ass!”

  Skittlez licked her lips. “Don’t threaten me wit’ a good time, nigga. I bite back.”

  Queenie slipped up behind TK, grabbing him around the waist as the women sandwiched him. “I heard y’all talkin’ ‘bout a good time. If it ain’t no party like a Fly Boy party, then it ain’t no good time if the queen ain’t involved.”

  “Y’all betta quit touchin’ me like that ‘fore I shut it down early. I can handle more than one of y’all.”

  “But can you handle three?” La’Qua said, walking over and grabbing Queenie and Skittlez’s asses.

  “Damn, my nigga. Caring is sharing,” Rock Star laughed, wanting in on the party. “Send some of that honey love my way. You can’t handle all that, li’l nigga.”

  TK smiled at his longtime friend. “I’m a boss, nigga! Fly Boy Ten Karat do ten in a row. My California king built for more than one or two.”

  “Fly nigga shit!” Rock Star saluted, dipping off to find himself somethin’ to smash for the night.

  “So y’all fuckin’ wit’ a nigga or what? No game playin’. I wanna see if y’all for real ‘bout this orgy. I ain’t playin’ no games.”

  Queenie slipped a hand in TK’s pocket, grabbing his piece. “This only for one night, nigga. Me and my girls just wanna play around for the night, and you seem like the only nigga in here that can back up his word. This night gon’ change yo’ life.”

  Lust and the promise of a good time shown on TK’s face.” “Fuck we still doin’ standin’ here? Let me grab a couple of my niggas and we bailin’.”

  “Nah, baby,” La’Qua said. “This night is for you only.”

  TK looked amused. “Y’all bullshittin’, right? My niggas come wit’ me er’where I go. Fly Boys move in a flock like birds. That’s how we stay safe. Hold on. I’ma be right back.”

  When TK walked away, Shanice panicked. “We not doin’ this still, is we? It’s too many of ‘em. What if we can’t get him by his self?”

  “Quit, buggin’, baby girl. We got this.” Queenie said, trying to calm her.

  “I’ma text Deso an’ ‘em and tell ‘em to fall back.” La’Qua said, pulling out her phone.

  TK headed back toward the women wearing the smile of a man who just hit the jackpot. “I hope y’all ready to spend the night wit’ the flyest nigga God created.”

  ***

  Drama coasted the Jeep Cherokee along the highway, making sure to obey all speed limits and traffic laws. In the passenger seat was Deso. Snot was in the back. All of them were armed with semi-automatic weapons and extra clips.

  “Queenie trippin’, tellin’ us to hold up,” Snot vented. “We can’t let $200,000 get away like that. I’ll kill the nigga whole team for
two hunnit Gs.”

  “We just seein’ the lay of the land,” Deso spoke, trying to keep his gunners cool. “Ain’t no need to hit ‘em right now if we find out where they kick it at.”

  “But if the opportunity present itself, we gotta make the grab. I’m wit’ Snot. For two hunnit bandz, all them niggas’ll get it,” Drama said. “It’s seven of them and seven of us, countin’ the bitches. Wit’ the element of surprise, we can knock all them niggas down.

  “Queenie called it off. We just takin’ a look,” Deso said. “And don’t get too much closer. We followed these niggas for twenty minutes and they ain’t seen us yet. Don’t get sloppy.”

  The irritation reflected in Drama’s voice. “I know how to follow a nigga. And how you lettin’ Queenie call the shots now? Just ‘cause that bitch bagged some niggas and got shot up, that’s s’posed to make her a Made Man or somethin’? That bitch betrayed us wit’ Pop bitch-ass. Ain’t no way she can come back and get top dawg status.”

  “What he sayin’, up top,” Snot added, eyeing Deso. “She shouldn’t be callin’ shit, my nigga. Only reason I agreed is ‘cause you agreed, and I fuck witchu the long way.”

  Deso raised his voice a notch. “You niggas gotta get over that old shit. She moved on wit’ my nigga and got it up. Now she back trynna help us get it up. She got connects. Fuck who callin’ the shots, long as niggas ain’t broke. That’s what matter. Y’all gotta get over that bullshit and accept her back. She Pop Squad, and she official.”

  The SUV grew silent as they digested Deso’s words.

  “Yeah. I hear you,” Drama spoke up. “But I still feel how I feel. And if we get the opportunity, I think we should make the move on these niggas.”

  “Me too,” Snot agreed.

  Pop Squad continuing following the Fly Boy entourage from the highway, down some back roads, and into the rear parking lot of a music studio. A blanket of darkness covered the area, making the jack boys’ faces light up.

  “It don’t get no betta than this!” Snot said excitedly.

  Drama looked around in all directions. “I don’t see no cameras or witnesses. Let’s dump these niggas and take TK bitch-ass. Let’s get it!”

  Deso was undecided. He wanted to fall back like Queenie said, but this opportunity seemed too good to pass up. If they stormed the Fly Boys, they could easily kill half of them before they could get off a shot. Queenie and La’Qua were strapped and already in the Benz with TK. Everything seemed perfect. Almost too perfect.

  “What we gon’ do?” Snot asked, excitement in his voice.

  Deso made up his mind. “Let’s go get this money!”

  ***

  A light wind blew across the dark parking lot, sending a hamburger wrapper tumbling across the pavement. Queenie’s eyes darted around the darkness as she clutched her purse tightly. Something wasn’t right. She could feel violence in the air, making her skin tingle and nipples get hard. Pop Squad was close by. She could feel them. The dark parking lot was the perfect place to set up an ambush.

  “This the same studio that made Li’l Flip and Beyoncé famous,” TK bragged as he shuffled the women from the car. “My nigga, Li’l Boog, got next. Make sure y’all check him out on YouTube and SoundCloud. Matter fact, I might need y’all in the next video. Put ch’all on the map.”

  “Hey, I definitely need to put this ass on TV!” La’Qua sang, stopping to twerk for the Fly Boy crew.

  While the money-getters stopped to admire the Latino woman’s fatty, Pop Squad made their move. Deso led the charge, firing a Drako as he emerged from behind the building.

  D-Nice was the first Fly Boy to fall, taking bullets to the face, neck, and chest. Before the Fly Boy hit the ground, Drama followed his mentor into battle, the AK-47 lighting up the night as chopper bullets tore into a Suburban parked in front of TK’s Benz. Snot followed in the rear with an MP5, wanting to get a clear shot so he could put the fully automatic to work.

  He got his wish when the Fly Boys pulled pistols and began shooting back. Fly Boy’s M.A. hadn’t fully cleared the side of the suburban before he upped his pistol. He had a clear shot at Drama as the Pop Squad member sprayed chopper bullets wildly. M.A. locked onto the jack boy, about to squeeze the trigger. That’s when Snot’s MP5 erupted, making M.A.’s body shake as hot lead lit him up.

  TK ducked behind his Benz, pulling the 9mm Taurus from his waist. He looked around to see where his niggas were and who had heat. Darez, Wako, and Tru already had their heats out, trying to find who was shooting at them. When he looked at the women, TK was surprised they weren’t screaming and crying. Instead, they crouched down a few feet away, watching him intently. Being the perfect showman, Fly Boy Ten Karat rose up and joined the firefight.

  For the first time since waking up from being shot, Queenie was unsure what to do. Pop Squad hadn’t listened. She was pissed. The hot boys had put all their lives in danger. The way she figured, she had three options: join her niggas in the shootout to kill everybody and try to take TK alive, wait it out to see what happened, or make a run for it.

  After making her decision, she could feel eyes on her as she pulled the 380 Glock from her purse.

  When Fly Boy Ten Karat seen Queenie pull the pistol from her purse, he had an epiphany. It was a set-up. That’s why all the women chose him. That’s why they wanted to get him alone. That’s why they weren’t hysterical during the shooting. And that’s why she had a pistol.

  Before she could aim it, TK turned his pistol on her. Queenie watched the realization dawn in his eyes and knew she wouldn’t be able to shoot him before he shot her. The only thing she could hope was to hit him on the way down.

  Clap, clap, clap! TK’s pistol barked.

  Skittlez seen it all unfold and dove in front of Queenie, taking the bullets meant for the black beauty. She fell on top of Queenie, shielding her from TK’s blazing death. Queenie fired back, unable to get a clean shot because Skittlez was on top of her. The only thing she succeeded in doing was sending him running.

  After crawling from under her girl, Queenie checked the damage. Two holes in her chest leaked life fluid as the woman struggled to breathe. “Damn, bitch! Why the fuck you jump in front of me?” Queenie asked, grateful to be alive, but sad her girl got shot.

  “I-I c-couldn’t–” Skittlez tried to speak, but ended up coughing up blood.

  “Don’t talk. Save yo’ strength,” Queenie said, applying pressure to the holes in her chest to try to stop the bleeding. “La’Qua, get one of them cars! We gotta get outta here!”

  La’Qua kept low, bullets whistling over her head and clanking into vehicles as she looked inside for a set of keys. “I got one!”

  Queenie turned and seen La’Qua climbing into a Benz truck. Refusing to leave Skittlez, she turned to Shanice for help. The newbie was frozen stiff, eyes wide, scared for her life. “Snap out of that shit, bitch, and help me get her to the truck!”

  Shanice’s eyes cleared like she had awoken from a bad dream, then she jumped into action, grabbing Skittlez’s feet as Queenie grabbed her arms.

  They kept low, carrying her to the truck. “We gotta get her to the hospital!” Queenie screamed, covered in blood as she tried to stop Skittlez’s bleeding.

  “She ain’t gon’ make it,” La’Qua said somberly.

  “You ain’t no doctor, bitch. Just get to the hospital. We gotta try to save her.” Shanice sat in the front seat with wide eyes, listening to Skittlez’s death moans and watching the life drain from her body. The sight, sounds, and smell of blood chilled her to the bone, making her shiver.

  “C’mon, Skittlez! Don’t die on me. You bet not die on me, bitch!” Queenie said, slapping her across the face.

  Skittlez mumbled something unintelligible and spat out more blood. Death was moments away, and no one could stop it.

  And then it came, the life slowly draining from her eyes as her face went slack.

  “Skittlez! Skittlez!” Queenie screamed, slapping her again.

  “She gone,” La
’Qua spoke up, watching Queenie through the rearview mirror.

  Queenie closed her eyes, shoulders slumping as she let out a long breath.

  “Where we goin’? What we gon’ do wit’ her?” La’Qua asked.

  When Queenie opened her eyes, they burned with anger. “Call Drama an’ ‘em bitch-asses. This they fault. They got my bitch killed.”

  ***

  When the Jeep pulled up behind the Benz truck, Queenie bounced out of the back seat covered in Skittlez’s blood, 380 in her fist. Deso shrank back, a little unnerved by the sight of the blood.

  “You a’ight?”

  “Hell nah! You stupid-ass niggas got Skittlez killed. I told y’all dumbasses to fall back. Why the fuck didn’t y’all listen?”

  Shock spread across Deso’s face. Then fear. “Skittlez dead? Where La’Qua?” he asked, moving to look in the truck. Skittlez lay across the back seat, La’Qua and Shanice up front. “You good, baby?”

  “We told y’all to fall back!” La’Qua yelled, her eyes brimming with tears. “Y’all coulda got us all killed.”

  Devastation and guilt spread through Deso. “Damn, baby. We fucked up. My bad.”

  “That shit ain’t gon’ bring Skittlez back!” Queenie snapped. “I told y’all bitch-asses to fall back. This my team. These my–”

  “Betta watch yo’ mouf, Queenie!” Deso mugged. “I don’t give a fuck ‘bout you bein’ mad. You ain’t gon’ talk to me like that.”

  The alpha male and alpha female had a stare down. Queenie knew what Deso was capable of. He wasn’t a flunky like Drama and Snot. He was groomed by Pop Somethin’. And although he wasn’t imposing and could be reasonable at times, he still wasn’t to be fucked with. As bad as she wanted to teach him a lesson, she knew she couldn’t. Deso controlled Drama, Snot, and La’Qua, and she needed them all right now.

  So she piped down, her voice losing some of the edge. “Y’all fucked up, Deso. For real. Skittlez had all the info. She knew all the big boys in Dallas. Our plans is fucked. That’s why I’m so pissed. Y’all bogus.”

 

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