by Erica Hilton
“Bebo put the murder weapon in Narjara’s hand to make it look like she had committed murder-suicide.”
“That’s a grimy muthafucka to do some shit like that to chicks,” Nico said with gritted teeth.
The sun was just about ready to set as Nico reached his hand out for Jasmine’s. And Jasmine took hold of his, and he pulled her close to him again.
“I hate seeing you like this, all bandaged up.”
“I’ll be okay. I’m a trooper.”
“Yeah, you a trooper, but I should’ve been there for you.”
Jasmine kept quiet.
“Look at me,” Nico commanded, and Jasmine looked up at him.
“You trust me, right?”
Jasmine nodded, and then Nico kissed her.
“You not scared anymore, right?”
Jasmine only slightly shook her head, even though she was still scared and knew she would have yet another nightmare later that night.
“I promise you on everything, I’m gonna handle this shit.”
Jasmine looked into Nico’s eyes and softly said, “Okay.”
Thirteen
Bebo was a creature of habit. He hung out pretty much every night of the week and usually didn’t start his day until one in the afternoon. Unless he had a chick spend the night, by two in the afternoon, after he had showered and gotten dressed, he could always be found at USA Diner in Rosedale, Queens, where he’d order his favorite—fish and grits with a large orange juice.
Bebo owned a barbershop on Merrick Boulevard in the Springfield Gardens section of Queens, not too far from USA Diner. He would leave the diner and head straight to his barbershop and get his head shaved, watch music videos, and just hang out and bullshit with all of the barbers and everybody who came through. Bebo would get his head shaved every day, old-school style, with shaving cream and a straight razor and made sure that his goatee was always trimmed, and he always dressed in brand-new high-end clothes so that his cleanness would match his fly appearance.
“How you doing, baby?” the attractive Jamaican waitress asked him. “I’m surprised you in here alone. Where’s your entourage?”
Bebo looked up and smiled and then reached his hand out and grabbed hold of the waitress. Pauline was a bisexual with a short man-style haircut dyed blonde.
He pulled her close to him. “Pauline, where you been hiding at, sexy?”
Bebo always said as little as he needed to. That’s why he didn’t answer Pauline’s question about the whereabouts of his entourage.
“I been around. I was just working the night shift for a few weeks. You want the usual?”
Bebo nodded. Pauline walked to the kitchen to give the order to the cook. Then she came back to talk to Bebo, since her section of the diner wasn’t very busy.
“Your boy was in here the other day,” Pauline said.
“Who’s that?”
“Nico.”
“Oh, word?”
Bebo had been looking for Nico, but no one had been able to track him. Nico hadn’t been hanging at any of the strip clubs, and he hadn’t been seen at any of the spots he frequented. Bebo’s interest was piqued, because Nico rarely came to the USA Diner. He knew something was up.
“Yeah, matter of fact, it was two days ago, my last night on the night shift. He was here with BJ and two other dudes I didn’t know.”
Bebo nodded. “So when you gonna let me get at that again?”
“That’s how you talk to me? You think I’m one of these five-dollar, dirty-pussy strippers from the strip club or something?”
Bebo ran his hand down Pauline’s thigh and then back up and stopped at her crotch.
“That’s not yours anymore.” She slapped his hand away. “You don’t know how to call nobody, so I gave those privileges away.”
Bebo smiled. “Who you gave it away to?”
Bebo’s fish and grits were ready, so Pauline went and retrieved his order. She came back, placed his food in front of him along with his glass of orange juice, and then she reached in her apron and put a straw in front of him. Then she took out her cell phone and scrolled through until she found a picture of her girlfriend butt naked on a bed with her face down and her ass up in the air.
“That’s who I gave your privileges away to.” Pauline smiled as she handed him her phone.
“Waaaowww! That’s what the fuck I’m talking about,” Bebo replied as he stared at the picture.
“Call me, be nice to me, and stay in touch with me, and I might be able to convince her to let y’all share this.” Pauline winked at Bebo before she took her phone back and walked away.
***
While Bebo flirted with Pauline inside the diner and his driver sat parked and waiting for him in the parking lot, Nico and BJ sat a block away in a black Nissan Altima with dark tinted windows, the engine running. From where they were sitting, they could see Bebo’s truck. They had been sitting in the Altima for about a half an hour waiting for him to come out of the diner. Both Nico and BJ had on ski masks, but they weren’t planning a stickup.
Finally, after a few more minutes, Nico saw Bebo emerge from the diner. He was standing on the steps of the diner with Pauline.
“Who the fuck is that bitch?” BJ asked.
“I don’t give a fuck! Ride on that nigga right now!”
BJ started to drive west on Merrick Boulevard at about five miles an hour.
“BJ, drive this shit. I don’t want him to get to his truck.”
“But that chick is with him.”
“Fuck that bitch! Roll up on that nigga right now!”
BJ hit the gas pedal, and within seconds he was making a right turn onto 243rd Street. Before he could bring the car to a stop, Nico jumped out, ran toward Bebo, and started blasting.
BLAOW! BLAOW! BLAOW! BLAOW!
The first shot hit Bebo in the stomach.
“Ahhh shit! Muthafucka!” Bebo hollered after being hit. He’d left his gun in his truck, so he had no option but to turn and run back inside the diner for cover.
“AHHHHHHHHH!” Pauline screamed. She was so scared and in shock, she froze and didn’t run.
Bebo clutched his stomach as he pushed open the double glass doors.
BLAOW! BLAOW! BLAOW!
Nico fired three more shots. The first shot missed Bebo and shattered the glass door. The sound of gunshots and breaking glass instantly sent the patrons inside the diner screaming and scrambling for cover under their tables.
The second bullet hit Bebo in his ass, and the third hit him in his spine and dropped him to floor, writhing in pain.
Nico had ten more rounds in his 9mm handgun. With Bebo on the ground, he ran up on him and stood over him.
“Yo, chill, man! Don’t do that shit! Don’t! What the fuck?”
Nico let off five shots, all of which struck Bebo in the chest. He wanted to empty his entire clip into Bebo, but his gun jammed.
Right on cue, BJ ran up the steps of the diner and almost slipped on the shattered glass. As soon as he caught his balance, he pumped four shots into Bebo’s chest and two to his head.
BJ tapped Nico, and the two of them ran down the steps of the diner and hopped into the Altima. BJ sped down 243rd Street, made a left turn on 133rd Avenue, and headed north on the Cross Island Parkway.
BJ and Nico were both breathing heavily. Nico told BJ to get off at the Linden Boulevard exit and to pull the car over as soon as he could and just park on any random street. At that point they were less than two miles away from the crime scene and could hear police and ambulance sirens coming from what sounded like every direction.
“You good?” Nico asked BJ as the car came to a stop.
“Yeah, yeah.”
BJ then popped the trunk, took out a container of gasoline from in it, and
doused the entire car. After Nico and BJ placed their handguns and masks inside the stolen vehicle, BJ lit a match and set the car on fire. In a matter of seconds, the car was engulfed in flames.
Nico and BJ both fled the scene, jogging about five blocks to Linden Boulevard, where they split up. Nico hopped on the first westbound New York City bus he saw, and BJ hopped on the first eastbound Nassau County bus. Prior to parting ways, they agreed to link up later that night via two brand-new prepaid cell phones they had purchased before the hit on Bebo.
The only thing the two of them were concerned with was whether any neighbors or any cameras in the neighborhood had caught a glimpse of them after they’d taken off their masks and torched the car. More importantly, they wondered if Bebo was in fact dead or had somehow managed to miraculously survive so many gunshot wounds.
Fourteen
Jasmine was sitting at home on the computer bored as hell and going absolutely stir crazy at her mother’s house, where she had been for a full seventy-two hours since leaving the hospital. Other than leaving the house to discreetly meet with Agent Gosling and Agent Battle at a local restaurant to finalize her plans to cooperate, she had been confined to her parents’ house. Although she had agreed to help the feds get incriminating information on Nico, she was having second thoughts about her decision. She never told them that she had met with him briefly on the day she was released from the hospital.
Jasmine was supposed to be gathering information on Nico, but she was just genuinely afraid to venture out of her parents’ house, worried that Bebo would learn of her whereabouts and come and finish her off. And she definitely didn’t want to go back and stay at Nico’s house until she heard from him again and knew that he would be staying at the house with her. So, she decided to just stay her ass put.
As soon as Jasmine logged on to Facebook, her cell phone started ringing, and she got a bunch of text messages. Everybody wanted to know if she had heard what happened to Bebo. Initially Jasmine thought that everyone was referring to her and Narjara being shot by Bebo, but that just didn’t make sense to her, since that was now old news. She called back her friend Simone, who asked her if she had seen the news.
Jasmine immediately turned on the four o’clock newscast and started watching the story about Bebo being shot multiple times at the USA Diner in Rosedale, Queens.
“It was crazy!” one eyewitness said to a news reporter. “I was just about to get out of my car with my girl and walk into the diner, and the next thing I know, I see a dude running toward the diner firing his gun, so I just took cover. It was multiple shots, like pop, pop, pop, pop, one after the other. I immediately grabbed my girl and pushed her to the ground and laid on top of her. I just couldn’t believe it. And then as soon as the shots stopped, they started again. It was almost like the shots wouldn’t stop.”
“Did you get a look at the gunman?” the reporter asked.
“Nah, things just happened too fast, and we hit the ground. From what I hear, people are saying it was two gunmen. I believe it, because there were just so many shots. I mean, it definitely reminded me of something from the Mafia. Whoever they were after, they were definitely trying to take him out. There’s no doubt about that. John Gotti, rest his soul, would have been proud. You feel me?”
The reporter seemed a little surprised by the eyewitness’ rhetorical question and his reference to John Gotti, but before she ended her report, she couldn’t help but allude to the irony in the eyewitness’ comment.
“References to mobsters might not be too far off, as we are learning that the victim of the shooting is allegedly the kingpin of a drug organization known as Ghetto Mafia. In Rosedale, Queens, I’m Sandra Livingston. Now back to you.”
Jasmine couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She changed the channel and saw another station reporting on the same story. All she could wonder was if Bebo was dead. After watching the story on a different news channel, she was able to confirm that he had in fact died at the scene of the crime.
Jasmine continued to watch and she saw how the police had roped off USA Diner with yellow crime scene tape. She also was able to see Bebo’s body lying on the lobby floor of the diner covered with a white sheet and.
Upon seeing that, Jasmine felt instant euphoria. She felt like she could have her life back and walk around in peace without having to look over her shoulder in fear of Bebo. She knew her man had made good on his promise. Jasmine loved a strong man, and she especially loved a man who could protect her. Nothing was a bigger turn-on to her than a man who would kill for her. She couldn’t wait to fuck his brains out for doing only what a king would do for his queen. After all, she was wifey.
***
The FBI had given Jasmine a special BlackBerry phone that was almost impossible to be hacked into, and it had an FBI-approved app installed on it to track all of her movements via GPS technology. The phone was also going to be the FBI’s primary way of contacting her, and she could use it to record incriminating conversations so she wouldn’t have to wear a wire.
Jasmine saw that Agent Gosling was calling her phone, but she ignored him as she browsed for a new outfit in the mall, since she and Simone were planning on hanging out later that night.
Finally, at ten minutes past one in the afternoon Jasmine, dressed in a pair of black leggings, open-toe sandals, and a pair of Gucci shades, arrived at Dallas BBQ for her twelve-noon meeting. She tilted her shades slightly so she could see inside the dimly lit restaurant.
“Table for one?” the hostess asked her.
Jasmine gave the hostess a stank look. She scanned the restaurant until she spotted Gosling sitting at the bar. She sauntered up to him carrying two bags from Macy’s.
“What did you have?” Jasmine asked after seeing the plate of eaten food in front of him. She could see the fury in Agent Gosling’s eyes. His look reminded her of the way her father used to scold her without words by simply giving her a stern look of death.
Agent Gosling got up from the bar and made his way over to a booth table he had been sitting at, about five feet away from the bar area.
Jasmine followed behind him, and the two of them sat down. Agent Gosling still had that stern look in his eyes and hadn’t said anything to her at that point, not even hello.
After picking up the menu to look at what she was going to order, Jasmine finally heard words come out of Agent Gosling’s mouth.
“Put the menu down.”
Jasmine immediately complied.
“Did I not tell you noon?”
Jasmine knew what time the meeting was scheduled for, but she said, “Twelve? I thought we were supposed to meet at one.”
Agent Gosling stared at her. “Jasmine, our meeting was for twelve, and you have the audacity to walk in here almost an hour and a half late? Let me be clear on something—I’m not one of your friends in the street that you can just blow off with your disrespectful attitude. You pull some shit like this again, and I’ll lock you up on the spot. Are we clear?”
“But—”
“Jasmine, are we clear? There is going to be no do-overs.”
“Yes, we’re clear.”
“And when I call you, I expect for you to call me back within a reasonable amount of time.”
Jasmine was about to lie and play it off like she hadn’t realized he had called her, but she could sense that Agent Gosling meant business and wasn’t going to tolerate any of her bullshit.
“Okay, I will,” she replied.
Agent Gosling nodded as he looked at her.
“I apologize,” she said humbly.
Jasmine hated to be punked, but she knew she had to toe the line if she wanted to get all of the benefits of being a confidential informant. Even though Bebo was now dead and she could return to Nico’s estate and feel reasonably safe, she still wanted to get her free living situation, courtesy of the FBI, squ
ared away.
At that point a waitress came to the booth and asked if they were ready to order. Jasmine looked at Agent Gosling, and he slightly nodded, giving his approval. Jasmine just ordered French fries and a coco-loco. Agent Gosling didn’t order anything because he had eaten while he waited for Jasmine to arrive.
“You could have ordered more to eat,” he said.
Jasmine shook her head and explained that she didn’t like eating food that was messy, like barbecue ribs and things like that.
“What’s a coco-loco?”
“I’ll let you drink some when it gets here,” she replied. “Is Agent Battle coming?”
“No, she isn’t coming. Remember, Agent Battle is the case agent, and I’m your handler.”
Jasmine nodded as she reached into the basket of warm complimentary cornbread. She took out a piece and began munching on it.
“So how have things gone the past couple of days with Nico since you’ve been home from the hospital?”
At that point Jasmine’s French fries and drink arrived. She immediately sipped on her drink, no longer caring that she had told Gosling that she would let him try some.
“Things went well. Don’t worry, I’ll get you the info you need. There’s a way I have to operate and talk around Nico so he won’t get suspicious.”
Agent Gosling nodded and, without asking for permission, took hold of Jasmine’s drink and sipped some of it. Jasmine felt like a bull that’d seen red. She wanted to reach across that table and slap him for putting his lips on her drink. She had already told him that she would let him have some of her drink, but she was planning on pouring him some in a separate glass. Jasmine was definitely going to order another drink and give him the one he had just put his backwash in.
“But you have hung out with him since you’ve been home?”
Jasmine knew about the GPS feature on the BlackBerry, so she knew she couldn’t lie but so much.
“We didn’t hang out, like go out anywhere, but I did see him. He came by my mother’s house to check on me.”
Gosling nodded his head. “When did you last see Nico?”