Killer Dolls, Part 3

by Nisa Santiago

  “I think about her,” AZ suddenly blurted out.

  “Think about who?”

  “Aoki.”

  “I told you, AZ, you need to get her out your head. She’s gone. She’s dead.”

  “I know, but we were cool peoples, and if I needed something, she was there.”

  Heavy Pop told him, “I’m here for you, nigga. You need to stop thinking about her. That was a long time ago.”

  Then, out of the blue, AZ looked across the room and he could see her. Aoki. She was standing in the distance, and they locked eyes. It had to be her. She winked and smiled at him, and AZ erupted from his chair and went after her. Then she suddenly disappeared from his sight. It had to be her. There was no way his mind was playing tricks on him again.

  Heavy Pop was caught off guard by AZ’s sudden movement. He chased behind him and asked, “Yo, where you going? What happened?”

  The only thing AZ could say was, “She’s here!”

  “Who?”

  “Aoki!”

  Now he really thought AZ was losing his mind. He followed AZ out into the street. AZ stood on the sidewalk swiveling his head around the area, crazily looking for her. But he saw no one.

  “It’s cold out here, AZ. You’re losing it. She’s dead!”

  AZ shook his head. Maybe he was losing it.

  “We need to stay focused on tomorrow,” Heavy Pop reminded him. “I don’t need you tripping out on me, AZ. Don’t do this! We came too far for you to start having hallucinations. That bitch is dead. Let her stay dead.”

  “You’re right. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “You’re going through a lot. I understand. But let’s get these kilos and take it from there. And we need to figure out what to tell Oscar if Mateo is working for the feds.”

  Now that was going to be harsh. What would they tell him, and how? AZ didn’t want to think about it right now. It was getting late. He was tired. He needed some sleep.

  They started to walk back to Heavy Pop’s black Escalade, the cold wind pinching at their faces under a full moon. New York City was a wintry metropolis, but that didn’t stop folks from coming out to enjoy the bars, the clubs, and the city.

  AZ squeezed into the passenger seat of Heavy Pop’s truck. The moment he settled in his seat, he lit a cigar and leaned back.

  Heavy Pop started the ignition, and before he put the vehicle into drive, he turned and looked at AZ and said, “We’re gonna get through this. You hear me? We done been through worse, nigga. It doesn’t stop now. We’re a duo, and we gonna continue being a duo. I love you, man.”

  Suddenly, gunfire from machine guns exploded into the Escalade, shattering glass and piercing the doors, and both men were hit with a barrage of bullets from both directions. Their bodies shook violently in the front seat as hot, sharp slugs tore into their flesh and bones. It was a brazen public assassination. The gunfire echoed for blocks, and people in the area quickly ran for safety. The three dark shooters hurried away in a white H3.

  AZ lay slumped in his seat, leaning against the door, and Heavy Pop lay slumped near his partner in crime. They were a duo no more, but died together as friends.

  Thirty

  The murders of AZ and Heavy Pop not only shocked Mateo, but the entire community. Brooklyn was saddened. The media was all over it. The shooting had made the evening news and was plastered across the front page of every New York newspaper. One newspaper article wrote in part: “AZ and Heavy Pop, alleged to be two of the biggest drug dealers in the city, were viciously gunned down last night as they left the JBL bar in downtown Brooklyn.”

  There were many witnesses to the shooting, and each individual told their own horrifying account of what they saw that night.

  *

  The news of AZ’s murder was only the beginning of the end for Mateo. The feds had to shut down their operation, and the deal between him and the government fell through. He would now have to do his full sentence, since his agreement with the government was on the contingency that they arrest AZ, Heavy Pop, and the connect, and that he testify against them. Since AZ and Heavy Pop had never revealed the name of their connect, the feds had nothing to go on. Just like that, Mateo was thrust into a nightmare situation.

  When they informed him that the deal was off, he flipped out. He cursed and acted a fool. He felt the feds had fucked him. It was assumed that AZ and Heavy Pop were killed because of his asking around about their connect.

  Mateo became frantic. He was a marked man also. If or when Oscar found out he was a snitch, Oscar would want him dead too. He was looking at life in prison, and if incarcerated, he could easily be murdered inside by anyone on the drug lord’s payroll.

  Mateo sat in the federal office looking aloof. The handcuffs were too tight, and he hadn’t showered, shit, or shaved in days. His pretty boy image was fading fast. He lowered his head and tried very hard to keep his tears from falling. His freedom was gone, and so was his life. The only question was, Which one would come first? Would Oscar have him killed before he saw the inside of a prison?

  “Mateo, it’s time!” one of the federal agents shouted from the hallway.

  Mateo sulked. He didn’t want to go anywhere. He stood up slowly and marched toward the agent dejectedly. Soon, he would trade in his thousand-dollar suit for prison overalls. There was no one left to snitch on, and he had no one to talk about. The streets didn’t trust him, and the feds no longer needed him. So he was to be tossed away like trash and left to rot inside a federal jail cell for life. If he could have cut his own throat, he would have.

  Thirty--One

  Aoki had to lay low for a while and tend to the stab wound in her leg. Cristal had put that knife deep into her thigh and twisted it. Luckily it didn’t hit a major artery. She cursed Cristal, and then she cursed herself even more. She should have just pulled the trigger when she had the chance and ended it. But, no, she had to look Cristal in the eyes and stare into her troubled soul. That split-second hesitation cost her the hit. Now things had been prolonged. Cristal had gone deep underground and hadn’t been seen or heard from in weeks. There was no telling where she was or what she was planning. With Daniel dead, Aoki’s only lead to finding that bitch was gone. But she wasn’t about to give up. Time was running out, but she had other tricks up her sleeve.

  She peeled off her clothing and submerged herself into the hot, hot tub. The scalding temperature of the water alone would have sent the average body leaping from it and hitting the ceiling, but Aoki sat in the heat like it was a day on the beach. She put her body through rigorous pain to make it stronger. The heat felt like it could melt her skin off. She merely closed her eyes and meditated. Her leg was healing. Her mind and skills were growing sharper. She only had one thing on her mind—finding Cristal and killing her. Next time, she wouldn’t hesitate.

  After spending an hour in the tub with her eyes closed and her body healing, she lifted herself from the water and toweled off. In the bedroom she glimpsed the Daily News on the bed, and the headline grabbed her attention. It was about AZ and Heavy Pop getting murdered in downtown Brooklyn. The news was shocking to her; she couldn’t believe it. Mixed emotions swept through her. Who had done it? And why? She wanted to take AZ out. He was hers, but somebody had beaten her to it. Once again, she’d procrastinated. She had spent years stalking him, watching him and his family, observing how his life had changed. She could have pulled the trigger any time, yet she allowed him to live.

  Aoki stood in her bedroom in a daze. The enemy of my enemy, is he my friend, or is he a larger enemy to me? Was AZ truly her enemy? She felt the urge to kill whoever killed AZ.

  *

  Aoki stepped out of her building into the cool air and looked around. Where she lived was a bustling area with traffic, people, noise, and towering buildings crowded together from block to block.

  The sidewalks were flooded with people coming an
d going from every direction. They were programmed to do the same thing day after day like zombies—off to work, then to their homes and families, and battling rush-hour daily to live paycheck to paycheck. They were like sheep on their way to the slaughter. How could anyone live so structured? Life wasn’t fun unless there was blood, murder, money, mayhem, and power involved. These everyday people were trapped inside a small box and had no idea what the world really was about, and who was in control. The government? That’s a laugh. It was the 1% organizations like The Commission who had godlike power to decide who would live or die, and had billions of dollars to finance wars and shake up countries. They altered nations and assassinated kings and presidents. Countries and people were like chess pieces on the board, whereas The Commission was like the queen, able to move anywhere on the chessboard while the other pieces were limited. Even the king was restricted.

  These everyday people were content with their small lives and the way things were. They were the pawns.

  Aoki stared at these passers-by, the same faces every day, and she wanted to pick them off one by one and take them out of their own misery. Death was better than living inside the law like these cowards, playing it safe. It was fun to kill, to hunt and to have control. Aoki lived a lifestyle that so many dreamed of. She got to travel the world, she wore the finest clothing, drove in nice cars, and she felt that she had power. Her skills in killing gave her the advantage over everyone. She had to go through hell to become the devil.

  The night Oscar’s men shot her down like she was some dog in the marsh and left her for dead was the night she was reborn. She had transformed into this vicious creature that felt unstoppable.

  But there were consequences as well to this life she lived. The hunter could easily become the hunted. She had failed the hit, and now it allowed for her to be targeted by Cristal, a skilled assassin herself. Cristal could be anywhere and ready to strike at any time. Aoki’s ten-week deadline to fulfill the assignment was creeping up, and she had no idea where the bitch was. If she didn’t kill Cristal soon, then her life would be in jeopardy.

  The Commission paid her for results.

  Packaged snugly in her winter coat, and wearing UGG boots and a ski hat, Aoki lingered in front of her building for a moment and looked around. It was another cold day. She watched everything and everyone, her back to the wall. She was well armed and observant. She suddenly found herself paranoid. It felt like she was being watched, but by whom? Who would be stupid enough to stalk her?

  She remembered how she’d made AZ feel. She’d made him paranoid too, playing tricks with his mind. Now, it seemed like someone was playing tricks on her. She had woken up this morning and swore someone was inside her apartment standing over her and watching her sleep. If she had woken up to some strange company, then they would have been met with a rude awakening. Aoki slept with two pistols. It would be them before they got her. But she checked the surveillance footage of her place and saw no one coming or going from her apartment.

  She climbed into an Uber cab and told the driver her destination. It was a costly trip to Jersey City, New Jersey, but she didn’t care. She wanted to sit in the backseat and relax. She exhaled and watched the city pass her by. Everyone was getting ready for Valentine’s Day. There would be flowers, cards, and candy accompanied by long hugs and tender kisses. It was a day for love and romance, and the restaurants would be swamped with couples. Aoki cringed at such things. She hadn’t loved anyone in years.

  She briefly thought about AZ, then B Scientific. Then she thought about Emilio. Now all three men were dead. She felt like poison ivy.

  The Uber cab glided through the Holland Tunnel into New Jersey. The ride was quiet. Aoki wasn’t a talkative person. Soon it pulled up to her favorite place, Patti Joy, the Jamaican restaurant. She paid the driver and stepped out of the car. She strolled inside, took a seat at the window, and picked up the menu. Being early afternoon, the place was still somewhat empty. The lunch-hour crowd had just passed, and the next wave of folks would come after five p.m. Aoki liked it when the place was quiet. It was easier to keep track of everything.

  She ordered her favorite meal, a large plate of oxtail with some rice and beans, and a sorrel drink. Her meal came quickly. Aoki dove into the oxtail. They always did them right. The meat was steaming and practically falling off the bone. One bite into the oxtail and Aoki almost had an orgasm. This was what she loved—some good Jamaican food. In Patti Joy, she was able to relax and eat her meal in peace.

  She’d befriended the owner, a middle-aged lady named Ms. Louise from Kingston, Jamaica, who’d migrated to America thirty-five years ago when she was a little girl. She had opened Patti Joy twenty years ago, and it’d become a favorite since then. The place was named after her daughter who’d died in Jamaica from brain cancer. The restaurant was opened in her memory. Aoki respected the place, and she respected Ms. Louise. Though she was a silent and skilled killer, whenever Ms. Louise was in the restaurant, Aoki made it her business to converse with the woman, who was a kind and spiritual Christian woman. She believed in God and forgiveness, that there was good in everybody. Ms. Louise was one among the very few Aoki could talk to. Everybody loved Ms. Louise. Aoki did too. She wished Ms. Louise was her mother. Maybe her life would have turned out completely different.

  “Me see yuh enjoying me oxtail again,” Ms. Louise said, coming into the dining area.

  Aoki smiled briefly and replied, “De best in town.”

  Ms. Louise was a thin, brown-skinned woman with high cheekbones, wrinkle-free skin, loving eyes, and long salt-and-pepper hair. She was beautiful at her age and epitomized the expression “black doesn’t crack.” She slid into the window booth opposite of Aoki, who didn’t mind at all.

  “Pickney, why yuh always come here with them sad eyes? Me know you have somethin’ to smile about.”

  “Me wish me did, Ms. Louise.”

  “Valentine’s Day is approaching soon. Yuh mean to tell me ah beautiful woman like yuh don’t have nuh one in yuh life?”

  “Me a workin’ girl.”

  “Workin’ girls still need love too.”

  “Yuh oxtail is all de love me need.” Aoki took in another mouthful of food.

  Ms. Louise smiled. “Me haven’t seen yuh around in a while. Is tings okay?”

  Aoki nodded. “Me fine.” But she wasn’t. There was a lot going on.

  Ms. Louise was the kind of woman who read people easily, and Aoki’s eyes paraded her pain. “Whatever issues yuh dealin’ wit’, put it in God’s hands, pickney. Let Him handle yuh issues. Yuh can trust God.”

  There was never a conversation where Ms. Louise didn’t bring up God and having forgiveness. Sometimes Aoki would be flooded with guilt around her, knowing she was the hell Ms. Louise talked about.

  Aoki nodded, never having too much to say about God and religion. Did she believe in God? She believed in hell because, since she was born, she had been walking through hell, from her parents to the streets. Now she was the one giving people hell. It almost felt like an abomination sitting in front of Ms. Louise, a God-fearing Christian. Aoki felt like Satan, with the people she had killed and the lives she had destroyed. Too many to count.

  “Yuh know me always pray fi yuh,” Ms. Louise said.

  “Yuh don’t need to do dat, Ms. Louise. Me know how to handle meself.”

  “Yes, but dere’s nothin’ wrong fi prayin’ fah yuh. Yuh need love, pickney. Yuh need to smile more, yuh understan’? Wit’out love in yuh life, then yuh have nothin’. Makin’ money isn’t everyting.”

  “Me tink ’bout it.”

  They both smiled.

  “Me done talk yuh head off enough, pickney. Enjoy yuh meal. It was good seein’ yuh again.” Ms. Louise removed herself from the booth.

  As Ms. Louise attempted to get up, she accidentally dropped her cell phone on the floor, and Aoki bent over to pick it up for her. While doing so,
all hell broke loose.

  The shots came through the window rapidly and abruptly—Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Ms. Louise was hit in the chest and collapsed on her back, dying instantly.

  Aoki ducked to the floor and took cover behind the booth, but the heavy-duty rounds were ripping the area apart. They were coming from a sniper’s rifle; somebody wasn’t playing around.

  More shots were fired into the restaurant—Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Aoki found herself scurrying for safety. She removed her pistol, but what good was it when she was outgunned and had no idea where the shots were coming from. The shooting sent employees and the few customers inside panicking as they ran for cover.

  Aoki couldn’t believe Ms. Louise was dead. She ached with sorrow, but now wasn’t the time to mourn. She was sure they were aiming for her. If she hadn’t suddenly bent over to pick up Ms. Louise’s phone, then she would have been dead.

  Aoki stayed low and glued to the floor. The shooting had stopped, but that didn’t mean the sniper wasn’t still perched somewhere nearby, waiting for her to peek out from her hiding spot and kill her.

  People were screaming. They had no idea why Patti Joy was being shot up suddenly.

  Aoki took one last look at Ms. Louise and puffed out. Her body lay twisted against the floor, and her blood started to pool around her, spilling across her floors painted green, yellow, and black. The hole in the woman’s chest was astronomical. It had come from a very big gun.

  Aoki needed a way out. Her eyes moved everywhere anxiously. The kitchen was her only haven for now. Quickly, she stood up and bolted toward the kitchen and dove into the narrow hallway and rolled back onto her feet. No gunfire. She still remained vigilant, crouched on the floor, gun in hand, and moved toward the rear exit. The stoves and ovens were burning unattended in the kitchen, since the cooks had run off scared. Just like that, Patti Joy had become a kill zone.