by Renta
My mind had transported me back to a convo me and the boy Ice-Berg had before shit got funky. “We have a problem, homie, the Russian has sent his assassins to the states to do his dirty work,” he said in a panic.
I was unbothered with his revelation. “Naw, bruh, you have a problem. I don’t give a fuck ‘bout that Russian or his henchmen.” I looked into his eyes to give him a glimpse of the ‘G’ that resided there. “Besides—you’re the one that’s sticking dick to the man’s bitch.” I laughed and stood to leave.
Berg didn’t find no humor in my truths, whoever these people were that the Russian had sent had the man off balance. I knew Berg was a gangsta, so that was enough to get my attention. He looked at me with an amused expression. “See, that’s where you got shit fucked up. Yea the dick sucka know that I fucked his bitch, but he thinks I’m dead—” He let his words sink in before continuing. “—and even if he knows I’m amongst the living, this new face of mine will surely be my ace in the hole!” He patted the side of his face to punctuate his statement.
I lifted my arms in an ‘and what’ gesture. “So, what you sayin’, homie? I should be shakin’ in my boots or somthin’?”
Ice-Berg’s smile disappeared. “Naw, fam, you know I know how you get down, but it pays to know ya, enemy. These fools that the fuck boy sent is ‘bout their work, one of ‘em especially. They call him The Tiger—some looney ass Russian with tiger striped tattoos all over his skin. My folks tell me that the sucka’s specialty is to use the black mamba’s as his callin’ card!”
I frowned when he said that. “Mambas—as in the dance?” I asked.
Ice-Berg was dead serious when he placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. “Naw, fam, Black Mamba as in the snake!”
“Hello—Mr. Lamar, help is on the way. Talk to me, sir! Is everything alright?” The emergency operator brought me back to the present.
I was almost to the door when the serpent uncoiled itself from Armani’s arm and struck at me.
****
~Detective Johnson~
Kamika Winslet was working in alliance with the feds! There were numerous texts and e-mails between her and the agent’s conversations in the documents. There were also pictures of her, and the man that I recognized to be one of the agents that came to the station to investigate her that day I’d properly introduced myself, but that wasn’t even the bomb that rocked my world. Kamicka was cooperating to bring down an Assata Lamar—a Dunte ‘Pain’ Jackson—and a Bennie ‘Goose’ Weatly.
Each name had a picture attached to it, and all three men were assumed to be the heads of a murderous drug empire dubbed, ‘The Kreek Boys.’ My eyes bore into the image of the last man—he was a lean, handsome man with dreadlocks and a contagious smile. Shock—disappointment—but even deeper, betrayal filled me up internally as a river clouded my vision. I used the back of my hand to wipe the unfallen tears away before they had the privilege of staining my beautiful face.
I wouldn’t give him the pleasure of my tears. ‘Why didn’t he just keep it real? Why did I always have to miss out on love? Why—’ so many thoughts bounced in the walls of my head until one became so prominent, I placed my hand over my mouth to keep from crying out. ‘Winslet’s mystery man was the same man that not only was I possibly in love with but also the man the FBI claims was responsible for mass murder!’
Chapter Thirteen
Wedding Bells
~Snow~
~Three Weeks Later~
My plans were almost complete—after I’d exposed that crooked DEA agent, I personally delivered a surprise to the Federal Agent Harrison. I wanted him to know that he wasn’t inaccessible. My plans were simple—I truly ached to fuck Assata, my pussy dripped for the experience. I was gonna get Russia completely out of my hair and by the time the Bureau of Investigations could blink their lying eyes, I’d be somewhere on an erotic island getting my pussy sucked as I sipped Mai Tai’s. I loved my newfound liberation. For once in my life, I was free to live without the reproach of a man. I loved the freedom of doing what the hell I wanted—when I wanted.
Goose was the only one that knew where I lived, and that’s because we had unfinished business. I’d changed my entire appearance—I’d shaved my hair very low. I now sported an Amber Rose even all over and though my curvaceous body was still thick as ever, I’d recently gotten my ass reduced. I even went down a cup with my breasts to ensure that every precautionary measure was up to par with the description on my passport and new ID.
“Yep, still got it!” I whispered to myself before palming my tits as I admired my nakedness in the full-length mirror.
I turned sideways to get a good look at my ass. I made each ass cheek jiggle before deciding I’d better stop the bullshit and get dressed before I was late for my date. As I slipped into a thirty-one-hundred-dollar crystal embellished candy pantsuit, I fantasized of fucking Assata in every way imaginable. I laughed to myself as I decided to go panty-less and bra-less. After dabbing a tab bit of La Vie Belle perfume on my wrists, neck, and cleavage, I slid into the last accessories that would let whoever was taking notice know that there was more hood to me than simply my ass.
The cool grey Jordan’s complimented the grey pantsuit as if they came as a unit, but I was sure that the bitches at the affair I was attending wasn’t up on that candy shit. I smiled as I admired myself.
‘They may not be up on the three-thousand-dollar designer, but anyone would recognize the shoe game—even the snobbish bitches attending the classy affair.’ I thought as I snatched up the twenty-four-hundred-dollar Raffia handbag I’d recently purchased from the Salvatore Ferragamo Collection.
I inventoried the contents of my purse as I opened the door. I wanted to make sure I had everything I needed, but an icy voice froze my blood as my head snapped up in surprise.
“My dear, Pandora—it’s such a pleasure to see you again—” Doctor V stood in the doorway brandishing a strange device in my direction.
‘How did they find me!’ I thought frantically.
“Going somewhere?” he asked in a sickeningly, excited tone, and just as I got a grip on the .25, I kept in my purse, his hand flexed on the device and a set of prongs shot out and into my skin. I crashed to the floor from the high voltage of the taser.
****
~Jazzy~
I sat perfectly still as Mama Smith put the finishing touches on my makeup. It was my big day—the day that I’d waited on my entire life, and everything was perfect, everything but the man I was set to stand before God with. For those last few months, I think I’d convinced myself that I could settle down with Shotta. I’d convinced myself that loving him was enough, but the truth of the matter was—love isn’t enough to maintain a relationship, let alone a marriage. Love was a beautiful feeling, but beautiful wasn’t enough to blindfold a woman to the ugly, my heart longed for a gangsta that I could feel in my spirit.
The lack of peace—the incompletion of his nature left me cold inside to know that I was the cause of his internal chaos. I missed him, I willed that thought of him—needed him to understand that my heart cried for his gangsterisms just as much as the animal within him roared for what only I could give him.
“There—all done!” Mama Smith exclaimed. She stood and admired her handiwork. “You’re beautiful, Jazmina, my son doesn’t—” Her words trailed off as her eyes searched mine as if she could see right through them to the turmoil that wrapped around my heart like a serpent constricting around its prey. “What’s wrong, baby? You’re gonna be walking down the aisle in less than ten minutes, and instead of looking like you’re about to pledge your life to the man of your dreams, you’re sitting here looking like there is a million places you’d rather be, but here.” She took the seat in front of me and took my face in her hands. “Sweetie, I know my son isn’t the best man he could be, but he loves you. Now, I won’t try to convince you that you’re making the best decision by walking down that aisle to him because every woman must learn how to walk
in her own pair of heels, but baby—” she paused to wipe a lone tear from my right eye.
“Love is like a puzzle of a million pieces. You can work on the puzzle forever—only to finally get to the last piece and realize you’ve made a mistake, and you end up having to start all over in certain places—” She picked up the eyeliner and redid the portion I’d ruined. “—but, sometimes—sometimes, Jazmina, you find a partner to put the puzzle together with you, and no matter how many times you place the right pieces in the wrong places, the trial and error journey make the time invested worthwhile, and you know what?” Mama Smith asked as she stood and helped me out my seat—taking my hand.
She walked me over to a full-length mirror and stepped behind me to place my veil on my head, then she looked up at me through our reflections in the mirror. “After the two of you finally get it right, and the puzzle is complete—you realize that it was never about finishing the puzzle, but more of the love and experiences you made in creating it. In the end, you’ll break that puzzle down, and try it all over again—that’s what love is, Jazz. The trial and error that leads to forever.”
****
~Snow~
When my eyes cracked open, a splitting headache caused me to wince in agony. For vital moments I couldn’t figure out where I was or how I’d gotten there, but the sound of Doctor V’s voice triggered something inside me that made it all come rushing back.
‘What the hell has he done to me?’ I thought frantically.
“Welcome back, dear Pandora. I thought I added too much juice in my little toy.” He laughed as he fumbled with something that I couldn’t see.
I cracked my eyes open again, and this time the light was a little more bearable. Without having to look, I knew my wrists and ankles were bound, yet I allowed my eyes to roam to get a better feel for my predicament. My wrists were bound to the corners of my headboard and my ankles were tied to the end bedposts. My limbs were splayed as if I were crucified with my legs open.
My vision was still clouded when I asked, “What did you give me, you, sick son of a bitch!”
The malicious fucker made a tsking sound with his teeth before responding, “Now, now, my beautiful slut, Pandora. You know how much I disdain foul language.” He smiled brightly as he strolled over to me and plopped down on the edge of the bed right where he’d have a direct view of my pussy lips.
I lifted my head slightly, and that’s when I noticed the scalpel gleaming in his hand, my heartbeat accelerated. ‘Why did he need it, what was his plans?’ My thoughts clashed like waves running onto the shore.
“You know, Pandora, I truly enjoy your—how may I say tis—” He placed a single finger to his temple as if he was deep in thought before snapping his fingers and pointing at my pussy. “De way you entice with your—your lower lips.” He laughed as he traced the outer folds of my treasure with the flat side of the blade. “But de boss has tired of your promiscuity.” He shrugged as if the decision was out of his hands. “Pandora—you know, at times I wondered why your mother gave you such a name, but it’s fitting,” he said before crawling between my legs, and using his thumb and pointer finger to capture the right side of my cunt. “Pandora was the first woman bestowed upon mankind as punishment for Prometheus’s theft of fire. She was trusted with a box containing all the ills that had the potential to plague people and out of curiosity the dumb bitch opened it.”
Though whatever he’d drugged me with had me numb to the touch, the blade slicing into the soft flesh of my femininity caused me to scream out in despair. The blade sliced right through me as if my flesh was mere butter under the kiss of the blade.
“She released all the evils of human life when she opened that box, mi darling, and I was one of them,” he said before popping the soft flesh of what made me a woman into his mouth.
****
~Jazzy~
A big smile was plastered on my face as my dad walked me down the aisle. Even with his shortcomings, the man always seemed to be around when it counted. The flashes from the camera’s, the fawning over how beautiful I was—all the way down to the flower girl was like a fairytale. Up ahead, Shotta stood smiling at me as if he’d hit the lottery, and at that moment, I knew that he truly loved me. He was a very handsome man, the Armani inspired tux fitted him like someone had painted it on him. The sky blue, and white color scheme contrasted with his skin in a way that only a bright color would a black man. His dreads were freshly oiled and tied back. No one could deny that he was the most gorgeous brotha in the room.
The walk seemed to take forever to make it to him, but once there, my father kissed me before taking his seat. I stared up into the eyes of the man that I’d be spending the rest of my life with. He smiled at me as the preacher began.
“We are gathered here today to join these two in holy matrimony. What God has created let no other separate. This is a lifetime commitment, and it’s rare for people of this era to make the righteous decision to stand before God and pledge their lives to each other. In the good book of Proverbs, chapter eighteen—verse twenty, brothas and sistas, it says, he who finds a wife finds a good thing. I am here to tell ya that the good book has never lied!” he shouted to the praises and Amen’s of those in attendance.
I glanced back to where Charla sat next to her mom, she winked at me.
‘Was I overreacting? Wasn’t my anxiety normal?’ I wondered as my eyes found Shotta’s and I smiled as if I was the happiest woman in the world.
****
~Assata~
We pulled up to the house three SUVs deep, and before the truck could stop completely—I was out and headed for the front door with the Mac .90 in my palms. I didn’t give a fuck what was on the inside of that house, Jazzy was comin’ up out that mu’fucka or I planned to go up in there to see what the B-I was. I heard doors opening behind me and knew without looking back my hounds were backin’ me with the typa heat that would heat up an Alaskan Winter.
I pressed my finger down on the buzzer and didn’t let up until I heard someone say. “Hold the fuck up mu’fucka, I’m comin’. Stop ringing the fuckin’ bell before I—” she was saying as the door swung open to reveal fifteen red-clad madmen, strapped up like the Unabomber.
The cigarette that dangling from her lips tumbled to the ground as her hands shot up in protest. “Wait—wait, don’t kill me y’all! I got kids, a husband, and my granny on life support, please don’t”—
“Chill, lil’ mama—” I interrupted her as I lowered the monstrous gun. “We ain’t coming for no static unless that’s the only option. Where Jazzy at?” I inquired.
The shock on her face was ever present as her eyes left me and observed my niggaz who undoubtfully still had them burnas aimed in our direction. The silly girl was so shook she didn’t realize that if they were to air that bitch out, I was only in the line of fire.
“Jazzy?” she questioned—her expression merged into one of confusion.
My patience was thin as she tried to figure out why fifteen gang members would show up strapped for one woman. She’d obviously never heard about Helen of Troy—for that one solid bitch, niggas would go to war! I was ready to get my baby and mash out. I knew those West Coast niggas were very territorial, and really wasn’t feeling the third coast swag in terms of that gang shit. So, I was pressed for time—I didn’t wanna litter those people’s streets with blood stains and choppa bullets, but her next words told me that, that might have to be an option.
“Jazzy—Jazmina is down at the First Baptist. Today is her big day—she’s getting married!” The lil’ pretty woman spoke with a semi-smug look on her face.
Fire danced in my eyes as I reached out with the speed of a fired bullet and grabbed her by the throat. “Well, I guess you’ll be coming with me, mama, cause I need directions. And the only way Jazmina is gonna stand in front of a preacher with anotha nigga is if a casket is involved,” I spat before snatchin’ her lil’ ass up.
****
~Detective Harrison~
My
life had turned into a James Patterson novel. The day that Pandora had hand-delivered me the package. I opened it, and pictures of my entire family and home were inside. There were also a dozen or so plastic snowflakes. I know Pandora’s handle was ‘Snow’, so it was obvious she was thumbing her nose at me, and the FBI. She was letting me know that not only could she get up on me, but also was privy of my family. That day that she came to my office, I was called down to the first-floor restrooms where I was showed the artificial identification, and gel packs she’d used to make herself look pudgy. The woman was a true con woman. I knew that was only the manifestation of the late Bobby ‘Brains’ Ray.
“Sir, what did you say your name was?” the waiter brought me out of my reflections.
I blinked—it took me a second or two to remember I was at Delarenta’s, a handsome restaurant in Downtown Dallas. I was taking my wife out to celebrate our tenth-year anniversary, and I planned to use it as a means to make up for the long nights invested at the job.
“Sorry—my name is, Harrison. I made reservations for two—my companion should have already arrived.” I smiled as he looked down at his list.
His finger scrolled down the page until it paused. “Yes, Brian Harrison, table for two. Mrs. Harrison is here and has been seated already.” He bowed and waved his hand in a dramatic sweep. “Shall we?”
****