Remy's Revenge

by Paige Green

  “Well one of his crazy workers, Psycho, decided to do the job for Knowledge, which was only take out Shemar, not you or your son. Tyson continued. “Well since this dumb nigga Psycho couldn’t find Shemar the night he came after you, he decided to get you and your son, instead.”

  Remy remained quiet for a couple minutes, silently digesting all the information she just learned. Anger quickly arose from within her, but she kept her composure.

  “How do you know all this?” she finally asked.

  “I told you I was on the job for it. I have an informant, too.”

  “Why didn’t Knowledge want me and my son dead?”

  “He’s from the old school, Remy. Back in those days, they didn’t believe in involving innocent women and children, but with these young, dumb niggas like Psycho, they don’t give a fuck.”

  Shaking her head in disbelief, Remy tried her best to fight back the tears. Taking a deep breath, she finally said,

  “I want all those motherfuckers dead, man. I’ll do whatever it fucking takes to see them suffer for what they did to my son.”

  “I want them dead too, Remy.” Tyson said, stunning Remy.

  “What? Why would you want the dead, too?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I mean, when I saw you on that gurney, fighting for life with two bullets lodged into you and beaten to a bloody pulp, that shit hurt me to my soul. Even though we lost contact for this many years, I never stopped loving you. Why do you think I know as much info as much as I do? Ever since that shit happened, I been up on the case and shit. I want to see those motherfuckers suffer just as much as you do,” Tyson said, firmly.

  “I appreciate that, Tyson. But, I need to do this shit myself. I don’t want you to get caught up in this.”

  “How are you going to do this yourself? Would you just relax and trust me, Remy? These are rough street niggas you’re trying to battle, not no whack ass nickel and dime hustlers. I got you, Remy.”

  “How can you help me?”

  “I know everything about these niggas, Remy. Where they live, eat, and shit. Plus, you don’t even know how to shoot or hold a gun. I can teach you all types of shit,” he assured her.

  Digesting every word Tyson said, Remy slowly nodded her head in agreement and said,

  “Yeah you’re right. I just want their fucking heads on a platter.”

  “In due time. Just relax and stay calm. Everything will be okay. Making moves off your emotions will get you killed,” he warmed.

  Noticing her hunched shoulders and scowled eyebrows, he asked,

  “You stressed, huh?”

  “Just a little,” she admitted.

  Walking over to her and scooping her into his masculine arms, he lifted her out of the chair before walking towards the basement steps.

  At first, she tried to jump out of his arms but after experiencing the feeling of his arms gently wrapped around her body, she finally gave in.

  Walking into his master bedroom and gently laying her body down onto the bed, he slowly undressed her.

  She lay motionless as he took a bottle of baby oil and poured a small portion into his hands. Rubbing the oil into his skin, he sat next to her before lightly rubbing the oil onto her outer and inner thighs before working it around the rest of her body.

  Soft moans escaped her full lips with every soft rub. Removing her Victoria Secret bra and thong from her, he gently placed soft kisses on her chocolate nipples and love box. Stepping out of his clothes and reaching into his closet for a condom, he placed it onto his stiff penis before crawling in between her legs.

  “Everything will be okay, you hear me?” he assured her as he continued to plant wet kisses onto her.

  She nodded her head as she tried her best to fight back tears. Overwhelmed with emotion, she released a low, pleasurable moan when she felt his hot tongue press against her clitoris.

  Arching her back, her legs shook uncontrollably as his tongue made love to her vagina and inner thighs.

  Standing to his feet, he wrapped his arms around her back, holding her tightly into his arms. Entering her slowly, he groaned as the tightness of her walls gripped his penis.

  “It’ll be okay, baby,” he whispered into her ear as he held her closer and placed her against the wall.

  He worked all of him into her, causing her to scream in pain and moan in ecstasy.

  “Go head, let it all out, baby.”

  She threw her head back as he reach deeper into her, stroking her right, taking her body to places it never been taken before; strictly seducing her.

  Placing her back onto the bed, he held her long legs behind her neck before reentering her.

  “Oh shit, deeper!” she moaned, licking her lips seductively before throwing her head back.

  Submitting to her command, he dived deeper into her, rotating his hips into circular motions, almost reaching her gut.

  Gently placing his hand behind her head, he passionately kissed her. Their tongues danced as their bodies were in sync.

  Flipping her over, her chest heaved in and out as he entered her from behind. Holding her by her stomach, he expertly lifted her small frame into the air as he sexed her like old times. He had her singing tunes she never sung before, her body shivering, her soul shaking, and her back breaking. When he felt a huge gush of her wetness trickle down her inner thighs and onto him, he couldn’t take it anymore, finally ejaculating into the condom.

  “Oh my, God!” she cried out, experiencing her first orgasm in months.

  Collapsing into his arms, he held her close, silently letting her know that everything would finally be okay.

  Chapter Four

  Shemar walked into Club Envy with his brother, Trigger-Happy, by his side. It was a Monday afternoon and other then a stripper that went by the name of Bronze and a bartender, Trinity, Shemar and Trigger-Happy were the only ones in attendance. Every Tuesday afternoon, Shemar and Trigger-Happy privately rented the club for a couple of hours to discuss business and clear their heads.

  Taking a seat at the bar, Trinity handed both of them a glass of their usual of Pinnacle on the rocks.

  “So, what’s going on my nigga? What you been up to? You know we usually busy and don’t have to discuss anything anymore. You good?” Trigger-Happy asked, finally breaking the silence.

  Shemar nodded his head as he tossed the liquor back and slightly squinted as it seeped down his throat.

  “You know nigga, same shit. Running these streets, making that money, man,”

  “What’s up with the connect? They still on that shit, increasing prices and shit?”

  “Yeah, man. Those motherfuckers just increased the shit by two stacks! Can you believe that, man? Two stacks? Their shit isn’t even that official, it’s all stepped on and shit!” Shemar said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Trigger-Happy, Shemar’s older brother, shook his head as he pulled out a rolled up blunt and lighter. Sparking the blunt, he inhaled the smoke for a few seconds before exhaling. Gathering his thoughts together, he stared at his younger brother and said,

  “I been told you to stop fucking with those Mexicans, bro. I’m telling you, those Columbians I be fucking with are official. My shit is pure cocaine, nigga. I been told you to get down with my connect, but you too damn hard-headed.”

  “Man, fuck all that! I told you I’ll think about it.”

  Trigger-Happy, who’d been in the game for over a decade now, shrugged his shoulders as he took another long pull from his blunt. Since arriving in the drug game at the tender age of fifteen, he came with caution with every move he made. At that early age, he witnessed the struggle. His mother worked two jobs to try her best to provide for him and Shemar, but it just wasn’t enough. After finally growing tired of the constant tormenting from the other kids about Shemar and his his ankle-length jeans, torn shoes, and everyday T-shirts, Trigger-Happy finally decided to take matters into his own hands. His mentor in the game, Slink, taught Trigger-Happy everything he knew. After noticing how quick he’d
pull the trigger on anyone that disrespected him, Slick nicknamed him Trigger-Happy. By the time he turned twenty and Shemar turned eighteen, Trigger-Happy introduced Shemar to the game.

  He taught Shemar everything he knew from cooking drugs to selling it, from how to aim and shoot, and finally how to keep a low profile and come with caution. No matter how much Trigger-Happy taught Shemar though, Shemar always did his own thing and thought he knew everything. After a while, Trigger-Happy gave up on him and allowed him to do his own thing.

  “Whatever, man. But what’s up with Remy? You find out who did that shit to you her and Jeremiah?”

  “Man, fuck that bitch. She gave me a fucking concussion! But I mean word is Knowledge put that hit out on me and shit,” Shemar retorted, venomously.

  “Knowledge? Oh, word? So, why that nigga still breathing, then?”

  “I don’t have time and shit. But, I’ll get to that nigga, don’t worry,” Shemar said, nonchalantly.

  “What? Nigga if that was my son and my baby’s mom, I’d made sure Knowledge and his whole fucking team didn’t have air in their lungs! Fuck is wrong with you?” Trigger-Happy said, ice-grilling his younger brother.

  “Man, I’m a grown ass man and I told you I got this shit, dawg. Would you fucking hop off my dick about it? Damn!”

  Clenching his jaw in anger, Trigger-Happy shook his head in pure disgust as he stood to his feet before he glanced at Shemar and said,

  “Nigga, that’s your baby’s mom and son that was taken away from you and you acting like they didn’t mean shit to you? I just hope you get them before they get you.”

  With that, Trigger-Happy handed Trinity a hundred dollar bill before turning to walk out the club.

  Ignoring him, Shemar shrugged before diverting his attention to Bronze.

  “Shake that ass, girl!”

  ***************

  “You ready to get down to business?” Tyson asked Remy, snapping her out of her thoughts.

  She was seated in his basement, silently observing the different guns and swords that were decorated on his wall. She nodded her head as she then noticed a gun that caught her attention.

  Standing to her feet, she slowly walked over to a silver plated .45 caliber that hung next to a handful of riffle guns.

  “You like that, huh?” Tyson asked, smiling mischievously.

  “What kind of gun is this? This is the perfect size,” she said before carefully removing it off the wall.

  “That’s a .45 caliber. Be careful, that was the very first gun I owned,” he said before walking behind her.

  Gently grabbing her hand, he helped her level the gun, aiming it straight at a poster target that was located on the other side of the room.

  “When you handling a gun, always aim straight, never cock your gun to the side and shoot like them wannabe gangsters in movies and shit. Keep it leveled up as straight as you can,” Tyson started to school her.

  Remy remained silent as she took mental notes at everything he started to teach her.

  “Look how you’re standing,” he said, pointing at her legs.

  “What the hell is wrong with my stance?”

  “You got your legs damn near glued to each other and shit. Spread your legs out a little more,” he continued to instruct her.

  “Okay, now that’s better,” he said as Remy spread her legs. “Remy, make sure you always keep a steady posture. Never lean, keep your body straight and the gun steadied.”

  For the next couple of weeks, Tyson taught Remy everything from the anatomy of the human body to learn how to kill her targets with one clean shot, to different shooting techniques. He took his time with her, making sure she took heed to every small piece of information he shared with her. After a month of training her, he finally knew she was ready.

  “I think it’s about time to put your new skills to work,” Tyson smiled as he handed her a .9mm.

  Gripping the gun in her hand tightly, she spread her legs before holding her arms up high and tight, aiming her gun at the poster mark.

  She clenched her jaw before pulling the trigger three times, making three perfect shots to her intended target.

  “Looks like your finally ready,” he said before rubbing her back.

  She nodded her head in agreement before placing the gun onto a nearby table. Exhaling deeply, the taste of blood watered in her mouth as she thought of the perfect payback she was soon about to get.

  “I want that motherfucker, Psycho, first,” Remy said in a low, icy voice.

  “Okay, I work a double tomorrow so give me two days and we’ll get this shit over and done with. Until then, go home, clear your head and relax. We’ll be busy for the next week or two.”

  An hour later, Remy arrived back up Egypt’s apartment. Walking into the living room, she fixed her nose up in disgust as the aroma of hot sex assaulted her nose.

  “Ugh, fuck me daddy!” Egypt moaned as the stranger aggressively pulled on her long weave and pounded her from the back.

  “Damn bitch can you take that into your room?” Remy yelled, startling Egypt and her company.

  “What the fuck, Remy?” Egypt yelled, hopping up and gathering her clothes to cover her naked body.

  “Unt-Uhh bitch, bend that ass back over, I didn’t even get a chance to get my nut yet!” the black-blue man said, grabbing his stiff penis before aggressively grabbing Egypt by her arm

  “Who the fuck you calling a bitch, Mookie? Don’t you see my fucking best friend here? Get your shit and get the fuck out!” Egypt yelled before grabbing his jeans and throwing it into his face.

  “Fuck you and that bitch!” Mookie growled angrily as he stepped back into his clothes.

  Remaining silent, Remy slowly walked up behind Mookie before swiftly pulling out her .45 caliber that Tyson gave her, and pressing it to the back of his head.

  “Oh, so we some bitches, huh motherfucker?” she asked in a low, angry tone.

  Throwing his hands up in surrender, Mookie’s legs buckled as his body started to shake uncontrollably.

  “Aye, aye chill girl, you know I was just playing,” he said as his voice trembled with every word he spoke.

  Fixing her nose up in disgust, she kept the gun pressed to his head as she started to push him towards the door. Opening the front door, she whispered into his ear,

  “If I ever see you in here again, I guaranteed your momma will be buying that black dress, try me.”

  “Girl, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Egypt yelled as she watched Mookie run out of her house in a blur.

  Ignoring her best friend, Remy tucked her gun into the back of her pants before making her way up the stairs.

  “Are you going to answer me, Remy? What the fuck gotten into you? Where have you been for the past couple of weeks?”

  “I was with Tyson, Egypt,” Remy retorted, nonchalantly.

  “Tyson’s? For a whole month? Damn girl, you could’ve at least called! And where the fuck did you get that gun from?”

  Walking into her bedroom, she slowly stepped out of her clothes before reaching into her closet and grabbing a towel. Wrapping the towel around her naked body, she finally glanced at Egypt and said,

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, sis. For that whole month, I’ve been working on getting the motherfuckers who did that to my son.”

  “What? Look Remy, how long are you going to dwell on this shit? I know you been through a lot since this shit happened but you have to move on, sis! I was all for this getting revenge shit at first, but now it’s getting old. Why don’t you just move on, girl?”

  “Move on? Fuck you mean move on?” Remy yelled, startling Egypt. “The only way I’ll ever fucking move on is until the motherfuckers did this to me is no longer breathing.”

  With that, she stormed out of her bedroom before marching into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her. Backing up against the wall, she slowly slid down it before collapsing her head into her lap.

  “I’m only doing this for you, Jeremiah,” s
he whispered to herself before inhaling and standing back on her two feet.

  Massaging her left shoulder, she watched as the hot water started to fill up in the tub. Stepping into the tub, she gently sat down, trying her best to relax.

  “Mmm,” she moaned as she parted her legs and rubbed her acrylic nails against her clitoris.

  She gently massaged her lips as she closed her eyes and continued to relax herself.

  “Mommy! I thought you loved me mommy? Why didn’t you save me? I thought you loved me….”

  Jumping up and opening her eyes frantically, she gasped as she clutched her chest and bit down on her jaw.

  “I did love you baby,” she mumbled to herself.

  Stepping out of the tub, she glanced at herself in the mirror noticing the fire and emptiness that lay within her eyes. Running her fingers through her long bang, she shrugged her shoulders before walking back into her bedroom. Grabbing her gun from her dresser, she gripped it in her hands before jumping into her bed and falling quickly to sleep, dreaming and craving for the next two days to come quickly.

  Chapter Five

  “What’s up, boss man?” Psycho yelled obnoxiously, walking into Knowledge’s office.

  Knowledge, who sat at his desk in deep thought, shook his head in disgust as he glanced up at Psycho.

  Knowledge was a thirty-eight-year-old hustler who seen and done things since his arrival in the game. Standing at six feet, Knowledge was a light skinned, attractive man with jet black wavy hair, striking brown eyes, and a masculine physique. Knowledge was thrust into the game at an early age, too. Coming from a wealthy background because of his family who had generations and generations of hustlers, Knowledge never wanted for anything as a child. By the time he turned eighteen, though, his father, Jay-R, passed him the crown and allowed him to be the next man to take over the thrown. Learning at the young age how to run and built an effective drug empire, Knowledge always kept his hands cleaned and made sure he was ahead of his game.