Fuck ’em, she told herself. There was no way she was going to die by their hands and not be heard. And she was definitely heard through Melissa Chin’s voice. She wanted to out them, feeling they were evil and corrupt murderers. Now these organizations would stop at nothing to destroy her. Since she didn’t have any family left, it was harder to track her down and kill her. The only family she had left, the only one she loved, was Daniel, but he was three thousand miles away.
She felt her location in the state of Washington had been compromised, not by killers for hire, but by the residents. Though she kept to herself and minded her business, always dressing low-key and not making friends, she was still a pretty girl with a nice shape, and she would attract the men in the town. They would flirt with her while she passed. They found her to be so beautiful and intriguing. White, black, it didn’t matter, they all started to chase her, and it was making the native females jealous. The more she resisted their flirting, catcalls, and flowers, the harder they tried. Cristal tried her best to fit in, but she wasn’t one of them. She would never be. She was a newcomer in town, and her beauty became her kryptonite.
Cristal thought Everett, twenty-five miles north of Seattle, was a large enough town to not stand out in. With a population of 105,000, it felt perfect. But five months later, she was having issues. Candice Richardson was the name Cristal went by in Everett, where she worked at a local bookstore to pay her bills. Her story was that she was from New Mexico and had no family. A local girl named Megan Davis disliked her very much. Megan’s fiancé, Paul, took a liking to Cristal, and he found himself going into the bookstore regularly and trying to strike up a conversation with her. She would continually ignore him, but to no avail. Paul made it known that he liked Candice. Megan became jealous and confronted Cristal at her job.
“You want to have relations with my man?” Megan griped. “We’re Christian people in this city, and we don’t take kindly to your kind coming here and corrupting our men, you jezebel!”
Cristal coolly replied, “I don’t want your man.”
“He sure wants you!”
“That’s between you and your fiancé, ma’am. He or you aren’t my business.”
“You stay away from Paul. You understand me?”
“I don’t want him, and he needs to stay away from me.”
“Stay away from my fiancé or else. Believe me, you don’t know what I’m capable of.”
Cristal was far from worried about some Western small-town bitch. But it wouldn’t be fair, and it wouldn’t be worth it.
Megan turned and stormed out of the bookstore, leaving Cristal feeling needless in town. It was time for a change.
Some nights, Cristal returned to the reasonably priced one-bedroom basement apartment she’d rented from an elderly lady, lock her doors, and cry. She would wonder how she’d gotten herself, and her friends, into this life. Her mind almost always went to Hugo and their unborn child. It was all so very sad and tragic. She thought about her sexual relations with EP, the man she’d once trusted and loved. Now he was dead, too, no doubt taken out by The Commission for his sins against them. The night she had met him at that party in Manhattan and thrust herself into his world had sealed her fate. She was doomed but refused to give up.
She took long baths and tried to free her mind from all her worries. The solitude around her was the only comfort. Sometimes she thought about becoming an old lady one day. Perhaps she’d be sitting in an old folks’ home under an assumed name, telling her stories to the residents, capturing their attention about the life she once led, if they would believe her. Then she’d envision the horror of some young, paid punk creeping into her bedroom at night, slitting her throat, and making her choke on her own blood. It was a haunting vision. To her, it was a sign that it would never end until she was dead.
Cristal donned a long, blue robe and sat on her bed, no TV, no radio, the blinds drawn to create darkness in her apartment. She feared a sniper’s bullet from afar penetrating her window and striking her dead. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, she knew there would always be an assassin waiting to strike. Not long ago, she was that assassin who always got her target, no matter how or where.
It was time to leave Everett and relocate someplace more secluded from civilization. People started to notice her, when she simply wanted to be invisible. This place could never be her home. In fact, wherever she went would never be home or become a long-term residence.
That night, she packed her bags, and left the rent underneath her landlady’s door and made her escape from Everett. But first, she left Megan Davis a parting gift—four flat tires on her Ford Taurus—a “fuck you very much.”
Cristal boarded the Greyhound bus to the Midwest and didn’t look back. Once again, it would be a new place, a new start, and a new identity.
*
Cristal leaned her head against the bus window and stared out at miles of virgin land extending in every direction. It almost seemed endless. It was dark, the sky was filled with stars, and the I-84 freeway was open, with no traffic.
As the bus moved smoothly, Cristal thought about her late Grandma Hattie. She missed her cooking. She thought about her cousins, aunts, and uncles—three generations of her family were slaughtered that fateful night in her grandmother’s apartment. She felt responsible for their deaths. The guilt she felt was so overwhelming, it sometimes crippled her with regret and pain.
If EP hadn’t come into her life, there would have been no Farm, no Commission, her friends and family would be alive, and she would still be calling Brooklyn her home. By now, she might have been pregnant with a hustler’s baby, going through the regular baby daddy drama that a Brooklyn bitch goes through. She would’ve been in her grandmother’s kitchen tasting her sweet potato pies and cornbread, laughing it up with family, and running the streets with her crew.
EP had come into her life and promised her so much more, and she believed him. And, for a moment, things did get better. The skills she’d acquired and the places she’d seen were all because of business dealings for The Commission.
Then, just like that, it all changed.
Cristal could feel the cold from the outside as she continued to lean her head against the window. Mostly everyone on the bus was sleeping or busy with a book, tablet, or smartphone. Even the lady next to her was dozing off with music playing into her earphones. Conversation had been nonexistent. Cristal wasn’t sociable, and neither was the lady she was seated next to, which was the way she liked it.
As the bus continued to roll into the night, Cristal’s mind began to wander deeper into her past. She thought about her first contract hit with The Commission. It was a close friend of hers, a man named Pike. He once was a basketball star, and someone she had a crush on for a long time. Unfortunately, The Commission wanted him dead, and that was her breakthrough into the business. Killing someone close to you meant that you had the stomach for the business.
Cristal and her crew made the hit look like it’d come from a rival crew, so the cops and the hood didn’t suspect the girls. That day changed her and her crew forever.
A few tears trickled from her eyes and down her face as she continued to gaze out the window into the vast darkness of highway and sprawling land. Everything around her felt so still. Yes, this was going to be forever—being armed, watching over her shoulders, and knowing that death could be right around the corner for her. One slipup and she would become The Commission’s next victim.
Seven
The two men walked side by side on Oscar’s rooftop pavilion, forty-five stories high with an extraordinary view of Manhattan, mostly Midtown and the West Side. Oscar’s rooftop pavilion was luxury at its best. It came with a bar and a cascading pool.
Oscar, dressed in gray fleece lounge pants and gray sneakers for the November season, was nursing a cocktail while conversing with AZ about business. One couldn’t tell he was a notorious drug kingpin
for the Gulf cartel. His appearance was always simple, but with the snap of his fingers, he could move tons of drugs into the country and have dozens of people mercilessly killed.
“Two hundred kilos is a lot of product, AZ. Are you sure you’re able to handle that amount?” Oscar asked him face to face.
“I’m sure,” AZ replied confidently.
“Business has been good between us so far. You understand, you ask for more than you can handle, it can rock the boat,” Oscar said.
“Oscar, you should know me by now. I’m always on point and came this far by being smart, not stupid. I’m a businessman, and when I see opportunity, I’m going to take it.”
“Opportunity—it can be the thing that can get one killed in this world of ours, if they’re not careful.”
“I’m careful.”
“Only time will tell, my friend.”
It had taken some time, but AZ was able to repair the fractured business relationship with Oscar that Aoki had almost destroyed. They were businessmen, and anything that made money made sense to a major drug connect. Oscar had the product, and AZ could move it.
AZ refused a drink. He just wanted to stay focused and keep it moving.
Heavy Pop stood off to the side peering at the bird’s-eye view of the Hudson River. Being just the wingman, he always let AZ do the talking and the negotiations. If AZ could get the two hundred kilos from Oscar, the two of them would be making money hand over fist. They were already making millions, but with Mateo as a client, they were on their way to becoming gods.
Oscar stopped walking and took a sip of his cocktail. He was pondering AZ’s request. Two hundred kilos was nothing to him. His cartel moved tons of kilos daily, but he had to ask questions and remain attentive. Three of his henchmen, a strong statement of his power, were planted in the background, being seen and not heard.
“A new client is asking for this order, I assume,” Oscar said.
“Yes,” AZ replied.
“And how is this client able to afford two hundred kilos of my product?”
“He’s deep in the game. He’s been around.”
“Have you vetted him?”
“I did,” AZ lied.
“And his name?”
“He’s from California and looking for an expansion.”
“Sometimes an expansion can mean war.”
“I’m careful, Oscar, and he’s paying in cash.”
“And his name?” Oscar asked him once again.
“His name is John G., short for John Getty, and his organization out West is called Blaque,” AZ lied.
“Blaque, huh?”
“Yes.”
Oscar started to walk around his pavilion again with AZ alongside him. AZ didn’t know why he’d lied. He felt Mateo’s name rang out for good and bad reasons. Two hundred kilos was a difficult deal to simply walk away from. AZ just wanted to do some business and continue to get rich, but now Oscar was interrogating him.
Oscar asked, “So how did you meet this organization called Blaque?”
“I’ve known them for years; they’re an underground network out West, a faction from the Black Guerrilla Family in L.A. They have the money to move weight, and I have the means. I come to you so we can get money together, like we’ve been doing, Oscar. You can trust me, and you can trust them. This deal is real legit.”
“You can never put too much trust in one man, or one organization.”
AZ nodded. “I understand.”
Oscar stood silently for a moment. He then turned and locked eyes with AZ. “I’ll give you the two hundred kilos to implement this deal, AZ. But I warn you to be very careful. Trust no one, and remember, you and me, we’re simply in business together—supply and demand. We’re not friends. You only buy from me directly because you’ve established yourself in my eyes. But as quickly as a boat floats, it can sink too.”
AZ nodded. He understood completely that Oscar was a man you didn’t want to upset. He was an apex predator, one of the men on top of the food chain in the drug game. The man had teeth sharp enough to shred his enemies with one bite.
“I understand, Oscar, and believe me, I’m not trying to get on your bad side. I want to continue making this money the right way. I’ve been careful and smart about this deal.”
“Slow and steady wins the race. I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”
AZ nodded.
“I’ll have your two hundred kilos ready by week’s end,” Oscar said.
AZ smiled. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t. You’ve been loyal to me and smart, unlike your friend Aoki. Learn from her mistake and never bite off more than you can chew. She fucked me, so I fucked her.”
Hearing Aoki’s name put AZ into a place of resentment. It was clear to him that Aoki had been murdered with the order coming down from Oscar personally. But what was done was done. That was several years ago, and AZ had moved on with his life.
“We’re done here,” Oscar told him firmly.
“Thank you, Oscar. I appreciate this.”
Oscar didn’t reply. He took focus on the picturesque view of the city from above and kept quiet.
AZ walked away from Oscar and went toward Heavy Pop, who had been patiently waiting for the meeting to end. AZ looked at his friend, and the smile on his face indicated that Oscar had approved the deal. Heavy Pop smiled lightly.
One of Oscar’s henchmen escorted the duo out of the building.
“We on it,” AZ said to his friend.
“When can we expect the shipment?” Heavy Pop asked.
“By week’s end.”
“Same as before?”
AZ nodded.
They climbed into his Benz truck, and AZ started the ignition. He told Heavy Pop, “I had to lie to him somewhat.”
“Lie about what?”
“Who our client for this deal was.”
“You didn’t tell him it was Mateo? Why not?”
“He was coming at me, grilling me about this deal. And you know Mateo’s name ain’t been the best on the streets lately.”
“I know, but you shouldn’t have lied to him, AZ.”
“We making him lots of money, right? So why should he care who we deal with on these streets? This is our business.”
“Yeah, but we wanna stay on his good side.”
“And when he starts counting a lot more money coming from us, we’re definitely gonna stay on his good side.”
“Yeah, okay. I’m hungry, nigga. What you wanna eat?”
“How about some steaks?” AZ suggested. He wasn’t rushing to get back to Maryland, where he felt unwanted.
“Now you’re speaking my language.”
AZ drove away from the towering building in the city and headed toward a bar and grill on Ninth Avenue. There, the two men dined on large steaks and potatoes and continued discussing business.
*
The box truck pulled into the two-story warehouse on River Street in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Once inside, the rolling gates came down, giving the men inside privacy for the drug transaction. Two young black men exited the box truck and walked around to the back, where they were greeted by several of Mateo’s men and Mateo himself. He stood near the vehicle dressed in a dark suit, eager to see what he was paying for.
“Where are AZ and his partner?” Mateo asked.
“They’ll be here soon,” the driver answered.
“I guess you’re their scouts, huh?” Mateo said. “Making sure everything is copacetic before we do this?”
“Something like that,” the other man replied.
The driver of the truck jumped up on the back of the vehicle and lifted the door open and revealed over three dozen large barrels filled with machine oil. Dozens of tightly packaged kilos were concealed on the bottoms of the barrels. He t
hen put on some large rubber gloves, reached into the barrel and retrieved a kilo for Mateo to evaluate.
Mateo stared into the back at the product and nodded. “Nice!” he uttered.
As if on cue, AZ and Heavy Pop entered the building. They greeted Mateo with a handshake.
AZ said, “We held up our end, now it’s time for you to do the same.”
Mateo nodded to his men, and several large duffel bags were dropped at AZ’s feet.
AZ squatted toward the bag and unzipped it. Inside, there were bundles of crisp hundred-dollar bills wrapped into ten-thousand-dollar stacks and totaling 4.7 million dollars.
AZ was very pleased. “Now that’s how business is done,” he stated proudly.
“We’re good?” Mateo asked.
“Oh yeah, we’re good.”
With that said, both men went their separate ways, one rich with cash and the other rich with white gold. They planned on doing business together again in the future. AZ felt good about it; whatever doubts he had about Mateo ended with the millions in his possession. A large percentage went to Oscar, but he and Heavy Pop would still clear a mint. They couldn’t help smiling, knowing there was more to come with Mateo becoming a force on the streets again.
As AZ left the building with Heavy Pop, somebody from a nearby rooftop was taking pictures of them.
Eight
Aoki sat at the window seat of her favorite Jamaican restaurant, Patti Joy, in Jersey City, enjoying her solitude with a plate of oxtail, rice and beans, and a sorrel drink. It was mid-afternoon, and the place was sparse with customers.
It was a beautiful fall day. Thanksgiving was right around the corner, but Aoki didn’t care for the holidays. She had no family or friends to enjoy them with. She had been alone for years, indulging herself in her work. Usually, she spent the holidays taking someone’s life, cleaning her weapons, or stalking AZ. This year, she simply just wanted to relax.
Her work as a contract killer was becoming more dangerous and taking a lot out of her. Yes, the work was exhilarating and rewarding. Her body count was high, and the money afforded her a life of luxury. Yet her mind and soul were taking a beating, and there was no telling what lay ahead when The Commission wanted her to kill again.
Killer Dolls, Part 3 Page 4