“Bitch? Your mamma’s a bitch,” Sonya shot back. She already knew where the confrontation was headed. This was not the first time she had been in this type of predicament. Her only regret now was that she had stashed her gun. Luckily, she still had something to defend herself with in her possession.
“King, you hear this li’l broad?” the light-skinned kid laughed to his dark-skinned friend who stood there expressionless. But before the dark-skinned kid could respond, what happened next was all unexpected.
“Swoosh!”
“Agh!”
“Bitch, clack-clack.”
“Boom! Boom! Boom!”
“Pop! Pop! Pa-Pop!”
“Shit! Boc! Boc! Boc!
Without so much as a blink, Sonya spit the razor blade Earth showed her how to carry in her mouth and sliced the light-skinned kid across the face with it, opening up the right side of his cheek like a can of tuna. The blow caused the light-skinned kid’s blood to gush out onto her own face. Not seeing the attack but hearing his man scream out in agony caused the dark-skinned kid to reach for his gun. Shell had already managed to run for her own, but the dark-skinned kid had drawn and cocked his hammer back with the intention of gunning Sonya down. Shots rang out. Sonya closed her eyes, ready to meet her Maker. As the shots ended, Sonya realized that she was still standing. When she opened her eyes, she saw the Tahoe peeling off and Earth, Heaven, and Shell all standing around with their guns still in hands. Tears of joy began to trickle down her face. It was times like this when she really appreciated and was grateful for friends like her girls. That day, she made a promise to herself that she would try her hardest to give up gambling—or at least try to stop getting into altercations while doing so.
Meanwhile, Sonya was not the only one who was making a promise that day. As the dark-skinned kid known as King rushed his man Original to Saint Francis Hospital, he vowed to even the score with the chicks who had just minutes ago outnumbered and outgunned them.
Chapter Eight
It had been nearly a month since the altercation over the dice game had transpired with the two unknown men. Heaven and Earth had thought it best that everyone play the block close and the situation by ear for a week or so until they found out who the two dudes in the Tahoe were and the heat had died down around the way. They also thought it best for them all to stay strapped at all times. It was better to get caught with it than without it was their motto. Shell, Sonya, and Le Le were given specific instructions not to go out to any clubs, parties, or any other functions or gatherings for a while. It had really been Heaven’s idea for everyone to fall back from going out, out of safety for the team. Earth backed her partner’s decision totally. Very seldom did she go against or challenge something Heaven said or did. As hard as it was for her, Earth herself had stopped going to the strip clubs or any place she could get her freak on. She knew of many cases where jokers had been caught slipping with their pants down, literally, and was not trying to add her name to that long list. Instead, she stayed home watching her personal collection of triple X adult videos. It was times like this that she wished she and Keya were still in contact. After all, she did miss her despite what she had said and how she had treated Keya. As she lay there watching the latest Lacy adult video thinking about Keya, Earth’s house phone rang.
Rather than answer it, she let the answering machine pick it up.
“Earth, pick up the phone. It’s Heaven.”
Hearing her partner’s voice, Earth reached over and snatched up the receiver. “What’s good, sis?”
“Everything’s decent on my end, how ’bout you?”
“Bored as hell, that’s about it.”
“I can’t tell. What’chu watchin’?” Heaven could hear the sexual noises in the background.
Earth laughed. “That new Lacy video. This bitch is serious with her shit. I’ll bust her ass, though.”
“You’re a freak. You shot out,” Heaven laughed.
“Whatever, I’m serious. What’s really, though?”
“I was calling to tell you that those two dudes wasn’t Bloods or Crips that Sonya had beef with.”
“I figured that,” Earth retorted. “’Cause if they was, we would’ve already been at war with either gang by now.”
“Yeah, I thought the same thing too, but I still didn’t find out who they were, though.”
“Then that means they wasn’t nobody, then,” Earth replied.
“Not necessarily, but they ain’t somebody that gotta keep us from doing us,” Heaven said. “That’s why I called up the girls and told them we going to Dolce’s tonight.”
“That’s what’s up,” Earth responded. Although Earth was not into dressing up regularly, she always enjoyed herself whenever she did in order to get inside the prestigious establishment. Dolce’s, in Elizabeth on Broad Street, was a cool out spot for the mature crowd on Sundays, the “grown and sexy” Earth referred to it as, but on Tuesday nights, you would think you were in one of the top nightclubs in New York City the way the crowd came out. The dress code alone kept the young knuckleheads out of the club, who thought a button-up, jeans, and Tims was dressing up. This was where you would find the heavyweights in the game, from ballers to pimps, flossing from head to toe, popping Rosé and Moët bottles like they were spring water. Even the wannabes went up in there and stepped their “Ball ’til You Fall” game up whenever they went to the popular hangout. There was no other place in North Jersey you could find off the chain on a Tuesday night like Dolce’s.
“A’ight. We all riding together, so I’ll pick you up in about an hour,” Heaven said.
“I’ll be ready,” replied Earth.
Chapter Nine
“Peace, god, what’s the deal?” King greeted Original with a pound handshake and hug as he entered his man’s apartment with a gym bag hanging from his shoulder.
“Everything’s copacetic, lord,” Original replied in a mild tone. His words were somewhat slurred.
The 135 stitches he had received on the side of his face nearly a month ago had made it a little difficult to talk, causing his speech to be altered. The doctor had told him to take it easy and minimize the movement of his mouth as much as he possibly could, out of concern that he may rip the stitches, reopening the facial wound. This made Original extremely self-conscious, causing him to restrain from lengthy conversation, or any conversation, for that matter, and forcing him to go on a liquid diet. Since that day on East State Street, Original had laid up in his crib watching movies on his DVD digital theater system and playing Xbox on the fifty-inch plasma television. This was the first time he had seen his man King since then.
Upon entering the apartment, King couldn’t help but notice the filth of Original’s crib. This was unlike his man. Original was normally a neat type of dude who kept his home and appearance intact. King could only assume that the permanent scar on Original’s once-favorable look to the ladies was the cause of the drastic change. King felt bad for his man and not a day had gone by without him playing the tapes back in his head about that day, wondering whether there was something he could have done differently to prevent what had happened to Original. King knew that his man had a reputation for being arrogant and overbearing toward women, which is why he knew he should not have stopped when Original told him to pull over, especially since they were from out of town and weren’t totally familiar with the New Brunswick area. Initially, they had come from their hometown of Newark to New Brunswick to conduct a drug transaction with a dude Original had served prison time with. After the completion of the drug deal at that time, King knew it was a bad idea to agree to Original’s request, traveling with the thirty-two Gs they had in the book bag and the total combined amount of seven grand they had in their pockets. The last thing they needed, thought King, was to be robbed, or worse, to get approached by the police and take a loss for nearly forty thousand in cash, all because Original wanted to get in a dice game with a bunch of chicks, but it was not for King to question his man’s decis
ions. After all, Original was the brains behind the organization. King was simply the muscle.
“Yo, how ya shit healing up, beloved?” King asked. He didn’t want to stare at the still fresh-looking scar, but the wound was inescapable as it stood out to King in 3-D.
“It’s healing,” Original replied, keeping his words short. It was apparent that he had already acquired a complex about the scar. King noticed how Original had sat on the futon as if to shield the right side of his face.
“What did the doctor say?” King continued to pry.
“A couple more weeks,” Original stated, trying to hide his annoyance. He was not in the mood to be answering questions. Especially ones about something he tried to forget about each day.
“What’s good in the hood, though?” Original asked, changing the subject.
“Since you been MIA, I been moving a couple of ounces here and there,” King replied in reference to the quantity of cocaine he had sold. “But shit ain’t the same without you though, god. Ma’fuckas be asking for you. You know a lot of cats don’t fuck with me. They only dealt with me on the strength of you, so they be actin’ type shook when I come through.”
Original just shook his head in agreement. He understood exactly what King was going through. King was not at all a drug dealer; he was a gunman, but Original respected the fact that he had stepped up to the plate in his absence.
“What’chu tell ’em about me?” Original asked inquisitively.
“I ain’t tell ’em shit. It ain’t any of their business, feel me?”
“No doubt,” Original replied admirably.
“Yo, it ain’t much, but it’s like twenty-four grand up in this bag,” King then said, handing Original the gym bag. “Altogether, it was thirty-five, but I took eleven for my cut. I still got four birds and a little over a half of one left. I know if I would’ve shot out to New Brunswick, I would’ve moved more, but I ain’t been out there since shit popped off ’cause I didn’t know if them bitches knew ya mans and ’em or what and some funny shit jumped off. I wasn’t trustin’ it, feel me.”
“I feel you.” Original nodded. Hearing King mentioning the word “New Brunswick” triggered off something inside of him. The veins in his neck began to pulsate at the thought of the last time he was in the town. Furthermore, Original couldn’t believe how he had let a situation concerning a bunch of females throw him off his square. In the past, he had been stabbed and even shot by someone in the streets, and without hesitation, he had sought revenge. That was simply one of the rules of the game, and Original viewed himself as being one of the ones that played by the rules. That being the case, Original knew that like any other altercation or drama that resulted in any harm or disrespect against his street credibility and reputation, regardless of gender, the situation had to be rectified.
King could see that Original was disturbed by the mentioning of New Brunswick and appeared to be in deep thought. “Yo, god, what’s on your mind?”
“New Brunswick,” was Original’s response.
“There it is, then,” a now-hyped King retorted. “Just say the word and it’s a wrap for them broads.” Original managed to crack half a smile behind his man’s eagerness.
“In due time,” Original told him. “In due time,” he repeated.
Chapter Ten
Just as they figured, Dolce’s was rocking when they stepped inside. The way they were all dressed, you would have never known that these five enticing-looking women who entered the club were some of the most dangerous among their kind. Sexy and deadly would be the words best to describe Heaven, Earth, and their crew. Each one of them sported a different style of cut chinchilla. Heaven rocked a matching ear cover piece over her Doobie. Underneath her fur, she wore a bone-colored sweater dress that dipped just enough in the front to show off the right amount of cleavage and wrapped itself around her every curve. She also wore a pair of four-inch mocha knee-high boots that accented the shades of brown in her long-haired floor-length fur. Earth rocked a black-on-black top and a pair of Seven jeans with black-and-white Manolo Blahnik shoes. The attire managed to take the edge off of her normal thuggish persona. Shell sported a winter-white catsuit with a diamond belt that fell just right around her tiny waist, and a pair of multicolored pointed toe shoes made by Jimmy Choo. Both her right and left arms were draped in an assortment of bangles and bracelets that accented each color in the $300 Jimmy Choos. Sonya wore a pair of black-and-white leggings and a black flirty cropped lace top that moved every time she did, revealing the star tattoos that ran across her midsection. Her size seven feet were covered with a pair of three-inch black bootie boots by Zigi Soho. Le Le wore a nearly see-through gold-colored minidress made by Donna Karan. It was lace and had gold and crystal jewels hanging from everywhere but not enough to hide anything. She rocked a pair of peep toe four-inch heels by Jessica Simpson’s shoe line.
As they headed toward the bar, the onlooking women envied while the men lusted. The five of them were indeed a sight to see, but to show that they were more than what the flesh revealed, as soon as they reached the bar, Heaven ordered five bottles of Rosé, along with five double shots of Rémy, five Amaretto sours and a bottle of Patrón. After moments had gone by and drinks had been downed, all five of them officially had their buzz on. The champagne and liquor mixed with weed they had smoked on the way to the club had taken effect.
“Let’s flick it up,” suggested Shell.
“Yeah, we haven’t been out in a while. Let’s take some pictures,” Sonya agreed. Both Heaven and Earth looked at each other. They were very cautious when it came to taking photos. But given that it had been awhile since they had all taken a group picture, and they both knew how much it meant to their crew to capture moments such as tonight, as if on cue, Earth spotted one of the cameramen who was working the dance floor and motioned for him to come over to the VIP section. He noticed her and walked over to where they sat.
“What’s up, ladies?” the well-dressed light-skinned brother with the camera asked over the music.
“Yo, we wanna take some pictures,” Earth told him.
“Where y’all wanna take ’em at?”
“Right here.”
“Got you.”
Within seconds, the cameraman began to do his thing. Onlookers stared as he snapped what seemed like a hundred different shots of Heaven and Earth and their crew. Each pose was different as they raised up drinks and bottles. He had even managed to catch a few with Earth tossing a stack of singles in the air. Once he was done shooting, he turned the camera around to them. They all leaned in to get a look as his high-tech digital camera replayed the photos back for them.
“Them shits is hot,” Sonya yelled out.
“You like ’em?” the cameraman asked.
“Definitely,” Heaven answered for them all.
“Which ones you like?” he then asked.
“I like all of ’em,” Le Le joined.
“Yeah, we like ’em all,” Earth followed. “How many you take?”
The cameraman looked at his screen. “Thirty-four,” he answered.
“How much you’ll give me all of ’em for?”
The cameraman could not believe his ears. He was used to people who he took photos of liking them all, but he had never had anyone wanting to outright buy so many at one time, especially not women. He knew they were not your average chicks. He did a quick calculation in his head. “I normally charge ten dollars a picture, but since you’re getting them all, give me two eighty and I’ll print ’em out and frame ’em for you.”
Without hesitation, Earth pulled out her stack of money and peeled off three crisp one hundred-dollar bills. “Don’t worry about it, playa, we respect hustlers,” she said, tipping the cameraman.
“I appreciate that,” he said pocketing the money. He pulled out a business card. “If y’all every need a photographer, my name’s Gavin.” He handed Earth the business card. “I take pictures at Club Abyss, 78 Lounge, and at The Cavalier’s Ballroom somet
imes too.”
“That’s what’s up,” Earth retorted.
“Thanks. I’ll be back with your flicks.”
Everyone resumed his or her drinking session.
“Oh, this my shit right here,” Le Le shouted as the club’s DJ filled the air with the sounds of Cassidy’s cut, “I’m a Hustla.” “Come on, let’s go dance,” she said to Shell and Sonya.
“Fuck it, come on,” Sonya replied.
“Yeah, fuck it,” Shell followed. “Y’all comin’?” she then directed to Heaven and Earth.
“Do you, ma,” Heaven answered for the both of them, seeing that Earth was preoccupied with her bottle of nectar.
“E, I’m shooting to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” Heaven then stated as her three-crew members made their way toward the dance floor.
“I’ll be here,” Earth said through sips.
As the songs in the air changed, so did Earth’s alcohol level. She thought the liquor and champagne were playing tricks on her, thinking she had heard her name being called over the blaring music. Earth turned toward the direction in which she had thought her name was being called. Her vision was semiblurred due to the intoxicants. Realizing she had actually heard correctly, she had to squint her eyes to make out the identity of the individual. As her perception began to clear, the only thoughts on her mind was, she hoped it wasn’t an enemy of hers and wished that she had somehow smuggled her gun into the club, but once she’d zeroed in on who the person was sitting next to her, Earth began to be at ease. After all, the redbone beauty was harmless. “Melissa,” Earth said in confirmation.
“Hey, E, long time no see,” Melissa spoke.
“What’s good, sexy?” Earth said, instantly sobering up. Melissa was an old flame from Earth’s hometown. She was actually one of Earth’s first lovers, not to mention the prettiest one Earth had ever been with, after her first introduction to bisexuality. Melissa was five foot seven and built like Jessica Rabbit. She had green eyes and naturally cherry-red luscious lips that looked like she could suck a blow pop down to the gum in just one try. It was those same lips that drove Earth up the wall and had her fighting both men and women over Melissa. One of the reasons Earth had stopped dealing with Melissa was because she enjoyed, or rather favored, dick over pussy, not to mention she’d gotten pregnant by a nigga.
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