by N'Tyse
“I don’t see it,” Ty whispered. “Maybe she got rid of it or something ’cause it ain’t in here, and we need to go before somebody shows up.”
“Look, I can’t go to jail for some shit I didn’t do. I have to find that tape.”
Ty sighed as she placed her hand over her forehead. “All right, all right. I’ll keep looking.”
They frantically searched the room but found no tape.
Sand collected herself. She placed the hot mask back over her face. “Come on.”
Ty got back into character. She walked obediently back out in front of Sand, her hands closely at her sides.
Sand moved in front of Fantasy. “Peaches, which room does she sleep in?”
Fantasy shot Sand the evil eye. “Y’all can quit with y’all’s so-called routine already, and while you’re at it, why don’t you take that thing off your face? Humph, I mean, we both know you aren’t fooling anybody, Sand.” Fantasy stared Sand down straight through her mask as a sinister grimace washed over her face.
Sand gave it some consideration, then yanked the mask from over her head. She got so close up in Fantasy’s face that she could almost taste her every breath and feel her thumping pulse. “Is this a good look for you?” she asked. “Now, I’m going to ask you one more time—”
“Upstairs. Last door on the left,” Fantasy shot. Her eyes never left Sand’s. “You don’t intimidate me. I’ve chewed and spit out bitches like you.”
Slap!
Sand didn’t even brace herself for the backhand she sent flying to Fantasy’s jaw. “Watch her,” Sand ordered Ty, not taking her eyes off Fantasy. She handed Ty the pistol. “If she even blinks the wrong way, you send her pretty little ass on her way.” Sand took off for the stairs, climbing them two at a time.
“So, I see we have Dumber and Dumbest,” Fantasy mused.
“Shut the hell up!”
“Ty, come on. What do you think you’re doing, huh? Do you really believe that Chyna’s just going to let y’all waltz up in here and get away with this? You must be outta your mind.”
Ty stood quietly with the gun aimed at Fantasy’s torso.
“I never had the chance to tell you, but you know you were my favorite. I treated you like a sister, Ty,” Fantasy lied. “I don’t know what the hell Sand calls herself doing, but if you wanna play a part of it, Chyna will know that you participated every step of the way, and I won’t be able to save you then.”
Ty listened, pretending to think it over. “Oh, really? So you’ll just tell Chyna I sat and watched you get yo’ ass whooped too then, huh?” she smirked.
Fantasy shook her head. Ty was making this more difficult than it had to be. “Chyna doesn’t let anyone run up in her spots and not get dealt with. I’m your only hope to save yourself. Fuck Sand! She’s dead after this shit. I can guarantee it,” Fantasy spoke with assurance. “Just untie me, Ty. You don’t even have to stay to watch what happens.”
Ty wasn’t falling for it. She grabbed Fantasy by the hair.
“Aggghh!” Fantasy winced.
Ty’s left fist gripped every strand of the weave that was sewn in her head. “Chyna fucked up my life! Do you see my face? Take a real good goddamn look!”
Fantasy could barely keep her eyes open with the amount of pressure Ty applied to her scalp. It felt like Ty was squeezing her brain. Fantasy pulled away, but still within Ty’s grasp.
“All y’all in this motherfucka can go to hell!” Ty roared. “She made a goddamn whore out of me!” She pushed Fantasy’s head back and watched her almost flip over in the chair. Ty was tired of talking, tired of explaining. She aimed the gun back in Fantasy’s direction, this time at her face.
Fantasy’s heart didn’t miss a beat. She flung her hair back. “I remember the day you first stepped foot in this house. Up all night from bad dreams of your stepfather raping you,” Fantasy teased, “and your mama not believing you ’cause she knew her daughter was a whore! You seduced him, didn’t you?” Fantasy smirked.
Tears flooded Ty’s face. That bit of information Ty confided in Fantasy had come back to haunt her.
“You wanted it, didn’t you? Just admit it, Ty. You wanted to fuck your mama’s husband.”
Ty shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Say it, Ty. You liked it when he ripped off your panties, stuffed his dick inside of you, and fucked you like you were his woman, his pussy, his ho! Didn’t you, Ty?”
“Stop it,” Ty panted.
Fantasy went on. “We helped you. We restored you, and we supplied you with a fucking roof over your head. You owe Chyna your life!” she proclaimed. “If you were still on those streets, out there all by yourself, you’d be in the grave by now pushing up weeds and daffodils.” Fantasy let the words sit before she went on. “Chyna took a chance on you because she felt sorry for your ass. You were already ho’ing, Ty,” Fantasy reminded her. “She just made you better at it!”
Ty realized that she was shaking, and the gun she held tightly became unsteady. Then as if her fingers had a mind of their own, they began sliding over the trigger.
“There’s no going back, Ty. We are what we are—so deal with it!” Fantasy fumed.
Ty wanted to shut Fantasy up. She wanted to disfigure her beautiful face the same way hers was now. She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch. It’d be too unbearable. Suddenly, she could hear the creeping echo from Fantasy’s heartbeat, but the longer she listened, the faster it pounded through her own chest. The images of her stepfather climbing on top of her, breaking through her innocence, began to bombard her final memories of those days back at home. She could feel the tip of her index finger pressing into the belly of that gun. She inhaled, ready to release the pressure of destruction.
“I’ll be taking this back now,” Sand said, clawing the gun from Ty’s grip.
Ty opened her eyes. The whole room was spinning.
Fantasy was quiet. She swallowed hard, visualizing her life flashing before her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Sand asked her.
Ty hesitated before answering. “Yeah. I guess so.” She was still trying to shake off what almost happened. “Find it?” she asked.
“Nah, but I found these.” Sand tossed a pair of jeans into Fantasy’s lap. “There.”
“What you expect me to do with these?” Fantasy snapped.
“Put ’em on. You taking a ride with us.”
“I’m not going nowhere!”
“Oh, you ain’t?”
Sand gave Ty a look. Ty was ahead of the game. She stormed for the kitchen, returning with a box of matches. She walked over to the windows and pushed back the curtains.
Sand looked at Fantasy, and then around the house.
Fantasy rolled her eyes. “You won’t get away with this!”
Sand bent down and began untying the curtain tiebacks around Fantasy’s ankles. When she was done, she eased the pants over Fantasy’s legs. Standing her to her feet, she guided Fantasy out of the house and into the passenger seat of Chyna’s Lexus.
Ty stayed behind for a few additional minutes before she came sprinting out of the door. “Wait a second,” she told Sand once she jumped in the back with Fantasy, nearly out of breath.
All eyes were on the mansion. They waited, and within a few seconds, several of the downstairs windows were clouded with smoke. Flames flickered and danced through the house to make their call for help. Sand sped away with Ty laughing hysterically in the backseat.
“I told them hoes!” Ty shouted. “Now, who the hell laughing?” she celebrated.
“Where are you taking me?” Fantasy asked, worried, as they drove away from Chyna’s multimillion-dollar home ablaze.
“Don’t worry ’bout it. Just enjoy the ride.”
* * *
“What do you mean there was a fire at my house? How? And why the fuck y’all just now notifying me?” Chyna drilled the representative on the other end of the line.
“Ma’am, again, we were a
lerted because the smoke alarm sensors went off, setting off your security system. It’s standard protocol for us to send someone out in response to any situation in which the alarm is triggered. Now, the only information that I have for you is what I’ve already given. You will need to contact your local fire station at the number I’ve provided if you would like further details on your property. All I can do, and have done, is alert authorities.”
Chyna didn’t want to hear any more. She felt like snatching the insensitive bitch through the phone line. She ended the call and quickly phoned her house. Once the voice mail came on, she hung up. For a second she thought about Fantasy and wondered if she got out okay. But Fantasy wasn’t as important as the millions of dollars stashed in her bathroom ceiling, nor the bricks of cocaine hidden in the hardwood planks of her bedroom closet.
The operator had mentioned that the response time was fairly quick, which Chyna hoped may have prevented any major damage. On top of that, the mansion was equipped with ceiling sprinklers throughout in the event of a fire. But even that wasn’t enough insurance to bank on.
Chyna finally pulled alongside the curb of Rene’s friend’s house and unlocked the passenger door. She had worked her enough for the night. She’d let her rest another day before she used her for what she really employed her for.
Rene reached for the door handle until she felt Chyna’s hand touch her shoulder. She turned back around to face her.
“I know you may not think much of me, but Sand really is a lucky woman,” Chyna said.
Rene felt uneasy. She hardly knew how to respond to that. She pushed open the door and slid out her feet. She let the door close behind her as she took baby steps toward Shun’s front porch. When she looked back over her shoulder, Chyna was still watching her. Rene headed back toward the car. “Where is she?” she asked. “Please.”
Chyna licked her lips, tilted her head, and looked over her right shoulder. “Where’s who?”
“Sand! I want to see her. Now. Tonight. I . . . I . . . I can’t do this shit anymore,” Rene said, stammering over her words.
Chyna shook her head. “You can’t quit just like—”
“If Sand wants me to trick for money and do all this nasty shit you got me doing, then maybe I’m not so damn lucky after all,” she said, raising her voice some. “Why is she using me like I’m some ho?” Rene stopped, breathed life into those words. “Is that what I am to her now?” she asked Chyna, hoping she would give her something to go on. Rene felt light on her feet. If the wind blew any harder, she’d be whisked away.
Chyna didn’t utter a peep. She just sat and watched Rene take herself in circles.
Clearly frustrated, Rene took the envelope of money from her purse and held it out in front of her. “Here’s the money back you gave me. Just take me to her. I’m begging you.”
Chyna looked condescendingly at the woman.
Rene shook the envelope. “Here. Take it. I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“Rene, you earned that,” Chyna finally said.
“I said I don’t want it!” Rene backhanded her tears away. Now was not the time to lose her composure.
Chyna shrugged. “Humph. All right. Suit yourself.”
Rene jumped back in the car, strapping herself in.
Chyna took off down the dark street, heading to her place. About a mile away, her phone rang again. This time, it wasn’t Fletch or one of her hoes clocking in. This number she didn’t recognize.
“All you need to know right now,” Sand said firmly into the receiver the second she could hear life breathing into the other end of the line, “is that I got your bitch.” She put the phone to Fantasy’s mouth.
Fantasy tried screaming through the duct tape over her mouth.
Sand pulled the phone back to her own ear. “Now, I’m gon’ make this real short and sweet. I got your money too. And if you want it all back, you better be hearing what the fuck I’m ’bout to say!”
Chyna couldn’t believe how Sand had the nerve, the audacity, and the balls to pull a stunt like the one she was pulling now. “I’m listening,” she said quietly, occasionally glancing over at Rene who was looking in the mirror, trying to fix her hair and face. Sand called out the location while Chyna made a mental note. “I’ll be there. Just be cool, and we’ll settle things like two grown women.”
“Nah, fuck that! We gon’ handle this shit your way. Like two niggas off the street,” Sand said. “So don’t come at me sideways if you wanna ever see this ho again.”
“Where did I go wrong with you?” Chyna asked. “You used to follow by example, and now, you’re just . . . lost.”
“Chyna, that sixteen-year-old hustler you knew retired. You talking to me now, baby. Sand. Now get to know me.”
Chyna licked her lips as she remembered that fight Sand put up. “Humph, have you forgotten? I’ve already gotten to know you.”
Sand’s heart pumped with anger. “Nah, all you know about me is that I ain’t got shit to lose. Because of you, I’m wanted for murder! So, whatever I do right now won’t even fuckin’ matter. They can add the shit to my rap sheet.”
“Maybe you should watch how you talk to me. I don’t take lightly to threats.”
“You’re confusing me again,” Sand pointed out. “I don’t make threats.”
Click.
Chyna flipped her phone closed. Sand was threatening her with the two most precious and important things in her life—her bitch and her money. She had to think strategically because right now, she was worried about her paper more than anything. She could have made a call easily, but there was no need for added involvement because things would only get messier than they already were. She was going to handle this one alone.
When Chyna started this, it was all business. She had employed Sand to work out of a Super 8 Motel, moving money back and forth between her accounts every time a wire would hit, which was daily, sometimes hourly. She did this for two-and-a-half months without giving her any problems for only one reason—she didn’t want Chyna to lay a finger on Rene like she worried that she would. But it was too late. Chyna had her own intentions the moment she discovered Rene was a former employee of Albery Johnson’s law firm. The man she had been hunting down since she was eighteen years old.
“If someone stole half a million dollars from you, what would you do?” Chyna asked Rene out of nowhere.
“Who? Me? It depends,” Rene said.
“And on what might that be?” Chyna wanted to know.
There was a brief pause as she eyed Chyna curiously. “On the reason they stole it,” Rene offered, clearing her throat.
“So there has to be a reason?” Chyna chuckled to herself. “Well, I guess I’m one ruthless bitch, because you know what I’d do?” She looked over at Rene, and her glossy eyes had every bit of Chyna’s attention. “I’d kill ’em. No questions asked.”
Rene quickly turned her head to face forward. “Where’d you say Sand was staying?”
Ignoring the question, Chyna reduced her speed and pulled into the parking garage. Immediately a pungent smell hit their noses at the entrance. Chyna circled around and around until she came to the twelfth level, all while thinking how clever Sand had been for suggesting such a place to meet.
Rene leaned forward, trying to read the parking garage posters on the expanse of the cement walls. As she took in her surroundings, she noted there were no other vehicles present. “Where are we?” she asked.
Chyna slammed her brakes and pushed the car in Park. “We’re in the middle of nowhere,” she spat with attitude. With swift movements, she reached underneath her seat, then opened her car door. She hopped out and circled around the front of the car, her silver heels echoing off the rooftop. Chyna took a look down over the edge, examining exactly how high they were up from ground level. Then she took a deep breath and walked around to Rene’s side of the car and swung her door open.
“I’d rather wait here while you go get her,” Rene said, not feeling the situat
ion one bit. She could sense that something was wrong, especially now with the way Chyna stared down at her. Her tight eyes were frightening and revealed sheer anger. Rene tried to keep cool and ignore the fear and anxiety building up. She folded her arms across her chest, her lips pulled tight. Suddenly, she heard voices and began to panic. Her chest rose and fell. “I think you should just take me back to my friend’s house. I’m not up for this tonight,” she told Chyna.
Chyna unwrapped her hands from behind her back, revealing a rose pink and chrome caliber pistol. She aimed the gun directly at Rene, watching her flinch from the sight of it. Silently, she cocked the gun. “Let’s go.”
22
Sand sat watching Fantasy squirm helplessly on the cold pavement with her hands tied behind her back and the duct tape trapping her screams for help. She didn’t want to have to do this to her, but she had to. It was the only way out of this mess. She glanced at her watch and estimated the time from when she made the phone call to Chyna. That was over half an hour ago, and she still hadn’t shown up. Sand considered whether she should make one last call. Maybe one pressuring Chyna to let her know her time was running down.
She started to make the call but stopped when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Someone was there with them. She hurried over to Fantasy and brought her to her feet, gun drawn. Sand tried counting the steps as they grew closer and closer with every passing second. She could tell by the echo of heels that whoever it was knew exactly where to find them. But that person hadn’t come alone.
Sand wrapped her arm around Fantasy’s neck in a choke hold. She only allowed enough room for her to breathe comfortably. With her other arm, she raised the gun and aimed it directly at Fantasy’s head. Both Sand and Fantasy watched four legs move in their direction. The muffled screams coming from Fantasy kept everyone on guard.
Chyna was right on Rene’s heels as she walked closely behind her, a gun rubbing persistently against her spine. As they moved in closer, Rene broke down in tears.
Sand strained her eyes and hoped that she was losing it. Because every angle and curve of the body moving in on them, she recognized. It couldn’t be, but it was. Rene was standing only a few feet away from her with tears plummeting down her face. Sand started to breathe heavily.