Loving a Colombian Cartel Thug 3

by K'Aliyah Knight

“Moms!” Blu snaps.

  “Cállate la boca, Blu!” I cut up on her then turn back to the man. “But we have money. You just want drugs, but money will do…”

  There’s no denying his drug habit. That’s the only reason this muthafucka was stupid enough to try us. Soon as I can get him away from Rockwell, the only thing this dude will be taking is this triple-round burst of bullets to the body.

  Rocky continues to flinch; yet there’s something in that glance that tells me, she has had enough. Oh… shit… I know for a fact that Lorenzo has tried to teacher her self-defense techniques before. Shooting guns, yeah… she can hit an immobile paper target. Hand-to-hand combat? Stop it. I try to gather Rockwell’s attention to get her to just stop moving, then her fist flies back to the man’s nose.

  The front door bursts open at the same time as a gun goes off.

  My fucking heart jumps into my throat, until I realize that the junkie’s gun hadn’t gone off dangerously close, or anywhere near Rockwell.

  Chuey is at the door in a gray tailored suit. He’s putting his gun back into the holster as if the perfect aim, straight between that piece of shit’s two eyes, meant nothing.

  “What the fuck happened here?” Chuey starts into the room. “Thought I made it for breakfast and y’all hooting and hollering and shit. Damn!”

  “No! We ain’t eating any muthafucking breakfast,” Blu goes off and it’s like my nephew hasn’t even stepped in the room.

  Rockwell says nothing. The split second of adrenaline that had helped her punch the man in the face is gone. Dang, I sort of wanted to be proud of my daughter-in-law for saving herself. Yet, Chuey… Lemme not read anything into his ability to continuously save another man’s wife. My son’s wife.

  My stomach contracts as my mind wonders about these two. Then Blu brings me into a convo with, “Rocky, you a’ight? Moms, why the fuck you tryna compromise with that whack ass muthafucka?”

  So, I have to shut her ass down for that one. “Little girl, I am not the one,” I begin, tense lips barely moving. I will fucking get out a belt and beat Blu’s 24 year old ass. Damn, Blu is too hotheaded to realize I needed to get a clean shot.

  “No, we need to get Lorenzo and Popeye back an… and…” Blu’s arms rise as if she finna bang on all of us, because this is just too much stress for her black ass anyway.

  “Bitch, you acting stupid today,” Blu continues with her tirade, while glaring at Rockwell. I’m tryna watch Chuey watching Rockwell! Nah, this is just my mistrust of the Mendozas, period.

  Rockwell tries to respond to the madness, “Why am I acting—“

  “The fuck you think you was finna do, socking that nigga, huh?” Blu tells her. There are undertones of worry, but deeper overtones of irritation. No matter how much I sit back, watch and wait, I feel that Rockwell has the same perception. We both understand that Blu doesn’t know how to display her emotions. I glare at the body on the floor; so much like my daughter, willing to run through a known drug lord’s home for a hit.

  Blu finally sighs, “Look Rocky, I love you so I’ma keep my gums clamped about the stupid shit you do sometimes.” Blu starts for the door.

  Rockwell nods, as if she understands and takes this as a form of apology. Then she beings to rub at the blood splattered along her perfect cheekbone. Rocky looks at the red liquid on her fingertips and passes out. Chuey, who had been disregarded this entire time, catches Rockwell by the underarms before she can even hit the floor.

  “Take it easy, she’s pregnant…” I began.

  This is my fucking mistake. Realizing Rockwell was pregnant again while she threw up after Lorenzo left two days ago. Not reacting to the muthafucka who just had a gun to her. I didn’t want his dirty ass hands on my fam. Rocky is my fam. I don’t consider my neph’ as shi. There was no way to get a good hit in. But for my daughter-in-law, I’ve grown too soft.

  SANTIAGO

  I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. You don’t understand. It doesn’t matter that, on the top of each hour, I make a million dollars as the leader of the Mendoza de Dios Cartel. I can’t deal with the fact that that little bitch ass Nino got over on me.

  Seventy-Eight million. Might as well have been a solid 80 mil—but Emerald and Hernandez like that number. Might as well have been 100 mil or even a billion.

  I would have murked this little pussy in the worst of ways for 78 Gs. Even 7 fucking coins if this lil fuck thinks he can get over on me. It’s been 72 hours since that little bastard made it rain green in the poorest parts of Colombia. Those poor slums ain’t speaking. You can hear butterfly wings flapping; the streets are that damn silent.

  “Chuey’s back,” one of my goons says from the wood-framed door of my office. I smile for the first time in so long. My son, my son, he’s a bitch.

  I’ve given him the world, no matter what Santiago Luis Medina Mendoza Junior harps about. I’ve given that little sorry muthafucka everything. So what if I didn’t waste my time on him as a child. When my sister Rita finally came back to us when Lorenzo was about 5, I could tell Chuey had become jealous. I’d focused all my energy on my nephew. I needed to strengthen the ties between my familia. And make sure that my father’s loyalist would get back on board since Rita had come back. They all wanted my big sister to take over after King, but my lies made sure King knew Rita couldn’t take over Mendoza De Dios. Then my big sister fled to Hoover, Illinois. It’s a good thing that I kept in touch with Lorenzo. Even after she thought they were away from me, I had a hand in my nephew’s upbringing. He expanded my business throughout the States. And now he has finally played the cards that I have dealt for him. Lorenzo’s sitting in jail as my fallback guy.

  Chuey should be happy. He has the best of both worlds when he takes the reign of Mendoza de Dios. He’s got the Feds and he’s got us.

  “Where is he?” I ask.

  The goon’s eyes waver, indicating that I won’t like what he’s about to say. He takes a gulp and then mumbles, “Just seen headed to the Medina’s.”

  I give a smug look. Disrespectful little muthafucka hasn’t even come by here. He knows what Nino has done. I could use some federal assistance in finding the bastard. Oh well, I decide to call Special Agent Hernandez, my son’s mentor. Hernandez, Emerald and I must still be on good speaking terms. Allow me to disregard the fact that they haven’t answered my call since hearing of Nino’s misdeeds. They will be placated one way or the other. We will find Nino and he will live long enough for me to kill this muthafucka in every way imaginable.

  Yet, the streets aren’t talking. Not tourist town or the good neighborhoods. They always talk. Money is king in those areas. But that dirty ass inner city of Colombia. Though everyone who’s had their hands on more than a few bucks has been murdered where they stand over the past few days, NOBODY habla—speaks. Idiotas. The fuck they think Nino is? The great black Colombian hope?

  Now, I’ve gotta get tactical. First, I have to figure out who this Zendaya is. This lil muthafucka is vindicating a bitch that I can’t even remember! I’ve ran through a thousand bitches in 15 years. I rub my goatee and try to figure this out…

  NINO

  1995

  My fingers cruise through my silk black hair. Finna go see about this bitch around the corner and have her braid my shit. I take one last look at mom’s, lifeless body. Shit doesn’t even look too peaceful really. I thought once Mom died, her ass would finally have a reason to smile. All the pain would be gone. Four days later, I come home and place my Glock on the counter. I'm used to the stench of death. That shit learns to cling on to you. It’s the worst cologne.

  When I hear the scurrying of rats, my eyes narrow. These muthafuckas know to step the fuck off when I get home; evidently, not today. I pick up my gat and start for the party.

  No respect.

  The floor is black today. It’s usually a thin brown carpet. A bunch of roaches goes running. But the rats, they stay. It's like 20 of them, big as cats, chewing on my mom’s body. My gun goes off. I shoot at those lit
tle bastards. A few of them go rushing in all directions…

  That shit makes me so angry that it stings my eyes, as I look again at my mom’s body with all the bit marks and scratches. The bitch was so skinny already, that I don’t even know what these muthafuckas was wasting their time for. I kick a dead rat and start out of our apartment down the stairs and across the street to the orange building.

  I run straight through this two-bedroom apartment, glad my chick’s momma ain’t home. All she knows is “You’re 19 and Zendaya is 13!” Guess this bitch forgot that she pimps Zendaya out to 50-year-old nasty ass dudes.

  “Zendaya, get the fuck up,” I yell, entering her tiny room. My boot goes straight to the old muthafucka’s side, who is sleeping on her chest. He wakes up and flips over like he’s finna take off on me. Then old’ boy notices who the fuck I am and he’s too scared to move.

  “Aye, I don't wanna hear any muthafucking lip.” The safety of my gat clicks off and the tip of my gun go straight to his wrinkly forehead. “Understand?”

  Ol’ boy gives a crooked tooth smile, nods and gets up.

  Zendaya starts to arise and grabs her blanket as if I haven't seen them titties. Size C and I know they finna get bigger when she grows up. Her mama is a prostitute. Both our mamas were top bitches back in the day. They didn’t even have to stroll. The resort area by the sea belonged to them. When Zendaya turned 9, them boobies were starting to perk. Shit, even I noticed. And her hips were sweeter, so the bitch is destined for great things.

  “See you tomorrow same time,” she tells the old man.

  “Nah, for real.” I look at Zendaya like she lost her mind. Then grab the dude’s arm as she starts for the door. I push him out the room, as I tell him, “We need to talk.”

  “Sssss…si?” He looks fearful.

  “Bring your ass ‘round here tomorrow,” I begin. Tapping the barrel of my stolen Glock on his cheek says it all.

  “No, I not come here tomorrow. My wife… My kids…” he begins to plead.

  “Get the fuck outta here. Fuck ya wife and kids.” I push him toward the door. These scary dudes is always tryna bring up their family, like that’s going to keep me from getting into that ass.

  “Nino, you fucking idiota! He's my highest paying, most loyal customer!”

  “Simmer down with the bullshit, Zendaya. I don't like you fucking with nobody but me.”

  “A'ight, tienes mi dinero? Huh, Nino?”

  I step toward her and grab the back of her neck, yanking her so close. Zendaya and I have been good since the beginning of time so she tries me on occasion. I’ve noticed that when her mom put her on the payroll, Zendaya wanted to start bucking up. Well I’ma nip that shit in the butt.

  “Nino, baby, stop it.”

  “I thought you was on ‘grown woman’ status for a second. Huh Zendaya?” My nails clamp down on her soft brown skin.

  “Nino–”

  “Nah, I said not that muthafucka. He's too old!”

  She grimaces but tries to smile it out. Damn, I'm pissed at her for being a hoe and at myself for not being able to get her out of this shit. But I came by so my bitch could hold me down for a minute. Haven’t seen her since before giving my mom mercy. And after seeing what those fucking rats did, violating my mom, I can’t deal.

  “You love me, Nino. Stop hurting me…”

  Damn, I can see a little bit of blood sprouting from Zendaya’s neck as my mind only thinks about my mom. I let up and give Zendaya’s tiny body a hug. “Go shower.”

  “Okay. You know my mama gets pissy if I take a shower every day. I’ma wash up today, okay?”

  “Take a shower.” I look Zendaya dead in the eye, ready for her to test me. “Let that bitch say something to me. Matter fact, you come move in with me.”

  “And how I’ma keep up on my Julio’s?” she says of her best clientele. “You don’t like it when you come over and Julio’s are here? So what Nino, what I’ma do?”

  I look at Zendaya. So young. You have to tell her everything! Really, I don’t have anything for us to get some funds, so I lie, “I got a new mission for us.”

  Zendaya shakes her head, as she starts stripping down and grabs an old hotel beach towel to wrap around herself. “Your mom ain't gon' like that. God, you are always trying it. Some scheme or another.”

  I follow her into the tiny bathroom and lean against the paint-peeling wall. “Moms ain't gonna be harping no time soon.”

  “Oh okay,” Zendaya shrugs, turning on the shower, “How's your mama doing? Is the medicine helping any?”

  “Zendaya!” I snap.

  “Okay Nino, damn. I love you, baby. I'm just... I’ma just get into this shower,” She smiles, tempting me to follow. “But if my mama says something, I'm coming for you.”

  “Cum for this dick, Zendaya,” I command, as I watch her through the dirty, spot glass display.

  “Get in.”

  “Nah.” I go into her bedroom and wait. I’ve fucked a few randoms in the past few days since my mom’s death. All because I didn’t feel like hearing Zendaya ask how my moms was and shit, because my girl cares. Now I missed my girl.

  Five minutes later Zendaya slips back into the room with a towel damn near to shreds, barely holding in all those curves. Damn, I look at the wetness leaking down her soft thighs, then that bitch ass moms of hers ruins the moment, coming down the hall, screaming about Zendaya took a shower yesterday. I hop up out the bed, and move past my girl.

  “Bitch, I said–” her mom starts, but I slam the door. It's so raggedy it almost falls off the hinges.

  “Zendaya, you and that dark ass bastard don’t pay the fucking water bill! Next Julio you mess with, si, that’s all my money!”

  “Nino,” Zendaya whimpers, “What about my schooling?”

  Got me a smart bitch, but I’m not finna talk about that right now. I lay back on her bed. “Come here.”

  “Nino please. You know I need to make money.”

  Dang, I get lost in her sullen hazel eyes. She frowns. It's been a while since she even bought herself a book. She used to love to read. Now she barely has time for all that, but still works hard to pay tuition for grade school.

  “Aye stupid bitch, open up!” her mom screams.

  “Shhh.” I grin, pulling down my zipper and pulling out my five and a half-inch dick.

  Zendaya smiles and falls to her knees on the mattress then climbs toward me. While she's licking the bass of my shaft, I finally tell that old hoe to shut the fuck up.

  Zendaya starts to straddle me, so I grab my gun and shoot straight through the door.

  “Ahhh!” her mom screams.

  Zendaya stops mid-grind. “Nino!”

  “Don’t stop. I warned the bitch.”

  “But my mommy might be hurt.”

  “Aye.” I grab Zendaya’s chin and pull her back around. “Who do you love more? Me or ya mama?”

  Her lips go to my mouth all nice and minty and she gets back to grinding on my dick.

  ROCKWELL

  I recall the way Chuey looked at me. His eyes pierced through mine as the gun went off. His gaze was thoughtful, reassuring that I’d be okay, as a bullet whizzed dangerously close to my face and into the man’s skull. The dude stunk so badly. At first I was too shocked to realize he had been holding his own gun to my head. Speaking with Lorenzo, not five minutes before had me on one. I can’t even believe I tried to hit him.

  The last thing I remember hearing was Rita telling everybody I was fucking pregnant! Seriously, why? I wake up in my bed again. I rub my eyes and grab Lorenzo’s pillow. His big, masculine scent enveloped me with comfort, familiarity, and love. The tears wanted to come even more, wondering his location and coldness when speaking to me. Yet, someone else speaks.

  “You wasn’t finna tell me you pregnant?” The words are hard with undertones of sadness and disappointment.

  I sigh and lay on my side. Chuey is sitting on the silk paisley chaise by the balcony. The sun is setting, sprinkling the ocean wit
h a golden ribbon right below us. The sun even highlights his dark features. So like his cousins. Dark, thick hair, but Chuey’s is not as coarse as Lorenzo’s; when Renzo doesn’t feel like getting a fresh line up, tho. He’s even leaner than Lorenzo, but with the same broad shoulders. Something in me that once thought Chuey was cool, funny, nice… now something in me is wondering…

  “Now why would I tell you, Chuey?” I’m irritated, too stupid to deny what Rita had said. Really, I can’t be pregnant. I told Lorenzo he would get more kids after he stopped working for his uncle Santiago. Now I’m looking at that evil muthafucka’s son. From jump, I knew Lorenzo and Chuey were good. The cousins were always good, but now I’m unsure about Chuey. Why does Chuey believe he is even important enough to know when I got pregnant?

  I want to cry but Chuey says, “How far along are you, Rocky?”

  I try to tear my eyes away from his, but the nigga is looking at me with such concern. It’s written all over Chuey’s face that I’ve fucked up. Made a mistake. Me telling Lorenzo that he would get more babies later, now that also means Chuey is right. Right in the fact that I shouldn’t be pregnant while Renzo is cutting up. And definitely while my bae is on a risky, illegal ass job!

  Yeah, Chuey is mentally telling me the shit I already know. Loving a Colombian cartel thug… I murmur, “I don’t even think I am pregnant, Chuey.” I’m practically pleading for this conversation to be over. My eyes shift toward the bedroom door, but we are totally alone.

  “My Tia Rita is sure, Rocky. Don’t lie to me.” He comes over, looking down at me from 6 feet tall. His fingertips touch my cheek. “Rocky, I love you so much. This shit is fucking surreal how much I love you.”

  “Stop…” My body reacts. It’s been days since I’ve seen Lorenzo. This muthafucka looks just like. Renzo… Ribbons of desire zip down to my pussy. There’s no doubt the attraction is there, but it’s not really there for Chuey, if that makes sense. This is all a fucking trick of the mind. He looks like my nigga. He tries to claim me, just as tough as my husband. Even while he talked to me those few hours after Janyca’s death, I wanted to imagine Chuey as Lorenzo. But make no mistake. He is NOT my Renzo.