by Wahida Clark
Just in case.
They drove to a quiet tree-lined section of Detroit called Parkland. To him it was like a whole different city. So quiet and peaceful. When Lisha pulled up in front of the house his son was in the driveway playing basketball. Dark looked at him. It was like being dead and the ghost of his soul going back in time, looking at himself.
Being dead.
That’s what he might as well have been to his little man.
“What can you possibly offer a child, Dark?” Lisha had asked.
Sitting there, looking at this little man made him come to the realization. “Nothin’,” he mumbled. “Nothin’.” He drove off.
• • •
Sometimes being beautiful can be your worst enemy. That’s what Janay had become. The victim of her own beauty as the police put the cuffs on her.
She had been following Mo’Betta and Keeta through the mall. They were hugged up and buying things for the baby. Janay was intent on making the child a bastard before it was even born. She kept a good distance but stayed close enough to hear his voice. Mo’Betta never saw her, but a police officer did.
He remembered seeing the picture of the escaped woman from the psychiatric ward of the hospital. The officer remembered thinking at the time, how can someone so beautiful be crazy? He was awestruck by her flawless black skin and regal posture. So when he saw her in the mall he instantly recognized her. He watched her for a few moments before calling for backup. She may have been beautiful, but he heard what she did to the doctor with that bedpan.
“Excuse me, miss? Miss, could you stop for a minute?” the officer requested.
Janay knew he was talking to her, but she pretended not to hear. Instead, she picked up her pace. He too picked up his and radioed in. “Suspect taking evasive action, now heading north.”
Janay knew she was in a bind. She could afford to be arrested but not carrying the gun on her that she had used on several bodies on the West Side. When she turned the corner heading north, there was a garbage can. She pulled out the gun discreetly, using her left hand to underhand it. Shielding the action from the officer behind her, she dumped it in the trash. A second officer approached from the opposite direction.
“Excuse me, Miss,” he said politely but firmly, walking directly up to Janay and taking her by the forearm, “you’re going to have to come with me.”
“For what?” Janay asked as if she didn’t know.
“Assault.”
Mo’ and Keeta heard the commotion and looked back. They saw the two officers escorting Janay but didn’t see her face.
“I wonder what that was all about,” Keeta questioned.
Mo’ shrugged. “Probably a shoplifter,” he replied, not knowing his life was the only thing that was almost stolen.
• • •
They took Janay back to the psychiatric ward of the hospital, to the same room and the same straps. She stared up at the same ceiling and the memories came flooding back, as if they had been deep-rooted in the energy of the room. Her spirit was so tired she could no longer fight the tears. She felt them running sideways across her temple, ears, and hair, soaking the pillow beneath her head. All she could see was Marquis at various stages in his life. When she first held him. When he first looked into her eyes . . . when he first called her mama.
She totally lost it and began sobbing and screaming out, “Whyyyy?” Over and over and over again.
The door opened and a nurse entered with a doctor close on her heels. “Are you okay, Miss Carter?” the doctor asked, his voice a soothing baritone. She didn’t respond because she couldn’t. She hated for anyone to see her weak, but there was nothing she could do. At that moment, she had no energy to mask it.
“Nurse, I think Miss Carter is going to need a mild sedative,” the soothing voice instructed.
“Yes, Dr. Muhammad.”
“Or a sheriff. But I’ll take it from here.”
Hearing the second male voice made Janay tense up. She knew it well. It was cold, metallic, and nasal. She didn’t have to look up because she knew exactly who it was.
“Dr. Bennett, how are you? Is this your patient?”
“Yes,” Dr. Bennett replied. “Miss Carter is a very disturbed young woman. She suffered a very traumatic experience, but I’m afraid it triggered something much deeper.”
“Well, I just heard her crying out and . . . well, anyway, I’ll let you take over from here,” Dr. Muhammad replied, and then left.
Once Dr. Muhammad and the nurse left, Dr. Bennett said, “Well . . . Miss Carter, I see you haven’t improved.”
Janay’s sobs began to subside. She turned her head and looked into the face of the doctor she beat to sleep with the bedpan. He was smiling and filling a needle with what she assumed to be a very powerful looking clear liquid, meant to numb her or kill her.
“Yes . . . a very disturbed young woman. But I’m going to . . . take care of you,” he sneered, plunging the needle painfully into her vein and releasing the drug. Seconds later, she blacked out.
• • •
Nyla was amped. It was finally going to happen. Nick had called and told her that Shan had agreed to a threesome. They were at the Renaissance Hotel in downtown Detroit. She was so excited that her pussy got wet. Nyla was finally going to get at Shan. She grabbed her little .32 automatic, tucked it in her clutch, and headed out the door.
As she drove she imagined the look Shan would have on her face when she stuck the .32 to her head. She would make the bitch beg for her life. No. She would make her get down on her knees and beg. But she wouldn’t listen to her pleas. Nyla was intent on making her pay for what she had taken from her. She would make her suffer. She even thought about making her lick her pussy, but in the end, she would still die. In her mind, she was thinking like Pac:
I ain’t a killa but don’t push me
Revenge is the best thing next to getting pussy.
Nyla pulled into the underground parking lot of the hotel and parked. She checked her makeup in her mirror. This was her moment, and she wanted everything to be flawless. She checked the .32 once again, and it was loaded. She stuck it back into her purse and got out. As she rounded her trunk and headed for the door, a dark colored van skidded up in front of her. It almost hit her. Nyla jumped back, ready to spaz out but realized a second too late what was happening. The sliding door flew open and a masked figure stuck a double-barreled shotgun in her face.
“Get yo’ ass in here!” the figure demanded, snatching her by the hair and pulling her inside the van before it skidded off.
The van rode not too far away and lurched to a stop. She couldn’t see where they were because they had a bag over her head and the cold steel of the double barrel to her face. Nyla was scared shitless. She could see the inside light of the van come on through the fabric of the bag as the passenger door opened, and then closed. Someone had gotten in. She felt them brush past her as they climbed into the back. A moment later the bag was snatched off her head and she found herself face to face with a smiling . . . Shan.
“Surprise! Surprise!” Shan sang out sarcastically and the girl beside her chuckled. “Not the kind of three-way you had in mind, is it? Then again, you had other plans. I’m sure.” Shan remarked holding the .32, then tossing it down on the van floor between them.
Nyla didn’t hesitate. She lunged for the .32. If she was going to die she was determined to take Shan with her. But when she felt some steel at the back of her head and she hadn’t even reached for her gun, common sense kicked in and she froze.
“Damn, Red, this bitch trained to go!” Courtney remarked.
“I told you,” Shan replied, looking at Nyla and adding, “I told my girls you were a star. Just on the wrong team!”
Nyla glared at her. “You don’t know shit about me, bitch.”
“I could’ve just killed you, Nyla, so the least you can do is hear what I have to say,” Shan reasoned.
“Ho, we ain’t got shit to talk about!” Nyla spat.
Michelle looked at her. “You sure?”
Shan nodded. Michelle and Courtney got out. Shan never took her eyes off Nyla. The gun still lay between them. “So you want to kill me? You hate me that much? I don’t hate you.”
Nyla sat there seething.
“But why? I bet you never even asked yourself that, have you?” Shan questioned.
“Why? Bitch, you fucked my man, you wrecked my home, you ruined my marriage, and Forever is dead because of you!” Nyla ranted, and then snatched up the gun and aimed it at Shan.
Shan remained calm. “Forever chose to come after me, remember? Just like he chose to seduce me and not tell me about his lovely wife and beautiful daughter! Now you want to kill me for his choices? You kill me, my girls are going to kill you and who will be left to raise her?”
“Fuck the bullshit, Shan!” Nyla spat. “Leave my daughter out of this.” But deep down, Nyla knew that Shan was right.
“Then pull the trigger, Nyla, and prove that you are the dumb bitch Forever played you to be! He played you just like niggas been playin’ us since we started believing all of their bullshit! And what do we do? Hate and want to kill each other over a nigga worth neither of our time!” Shan spoke from the heart.
Nyla held the gun with both hands.
“Look at you, Nyla . . . you’re a beautiful, certified bad bitch. But you can be the baddest bitch in the world and a nigga still gonna give us their ass to kiss. You know why? Because we’ll kiss it! Kiss it, lick it, tongue it down just to be loved. But at the end of the day, no matter what we do, they ain’t gonna love us back. Not like we deserve to be loved. And not like we love them. And you know this. So you need to do you.”
Nyla wavered. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Shan looked her in the eyes. “Bad bitches don’t beef with bad bitches. Only insecure bitches do that because they know that if we want a nigga we can take a nigga. But us bad bitches? Why do we gotta beef and war? There’s too many tricks for us to ever bump heads,” Shan concluded.
Nyla couldn’t deny Shan’s logic. And it was pissing her off. Men had been lying to her ever since she could remember. Even her mother warned her of the slickness of a man’s tongue. But she had figured if she was pretty enough or sexy enough that would change everything. But the prettier she got, the more men lied, so what was the point?
“So I guess you wouldn’t be mad if I told you I’d been fucking Briggen since he got out of jail? That I can still feel him in my pussy right now?” Nyla smirked.
Shan’s first reaction was a red-hot rage. But then she heard her own words in her head and it only validated her point. Although it still hurt, it proved that Briggen wasn’t shit.
“Truthfully, that shit is triflin’, but it only makes my point. Yeah, I loved Briggen just like you loved Forever, but it’s obvious neither one of them loved us or we wouldn’t be here talking. I’d still be at that prison and Forever would still be your man,” Shan reasoned.
Slowly Nyla lowered the gun. “Why didn’t you just kill me? Why go through all of this?” Nyla questioned.
“I mean it when I say, ‘because us bad bitches gotta stick together.’ ” Shan replied, hitting her with their motto.
Nyla chuckled. “I like that.”
They shook hands. Nyla glanced at the gun. Now that her rage had disappeared she smiled, then looked at Shan.
“This gun ain’t loaded, is it?”
“Hell no!” Shan snickered, adding, “I’m crazy, but I ain’t that crazy!”
“Us bad bitches gotta stick together,” they said in unison and then they both laughed.
“So where do we go from here?” Nyla questioned.
Shan winked. “Nick. He wants a threesome, right? Well, we gonna give him one he won’t forget,” Shan replied, and then called him. And soon as he answered, she said, “Nick . . . Baby, I’m sorry but I’m not gonna make it. Something came up . . . I can’t speak on the phone. I’ll see you back in New York . . . I love you too.” She hung up with a giggle.
A few minutes later, Nyla’s phone rang. “Nick,” she said.
“Send him to voice mail,” Shan told her.
On the other end Nick muttered, “Shit.” He had the room to himself with nothing to do but to think and watch the champagne fizzle out. His first thoughts went to Shan and how he underestimated her. She was a thinker. Just like her brother, Peanut. She calculated his moves carefully and she carried out his instructions to the letter. Impressive. She was playing Briggen big time. Because of an ass whipping, she was bringing him to his knees. Hell, Nick was planning on bringing him to his knees for putting his hands on her. But she assured him that she had a plan and made him promise that he would back off and leave Briggen to her. The last time he checked, Briggen was playing Mr. Mom, his weight in the streets was way down, as well as his respect. Nick shuddered at the thought of being punked by a woman.
• • •
Now that Mook was gone it was time for plan B. Back in Oak Ridge, Mac started to put together the plan he and Mook had decided on. He reached out to Ray Ray, an old time hustler who served time in the Feds, because he was the only one he knew that could help lock down Oak Ridge. Mac already had the clientele, all he needed was workers.
“I been waitin’ on you to holla at me, maine.”
“Shit, you can come through now if you can be here by two.” Ray Ray told him.
“Say no mo’,” Mac replied, hanging up. Then he and Heather were on their way.
Mac drove his car while Heather drove the rental. She would mule the work back. He checked her in the rearview, smiling to himself. Heather was definitely a ride-or-die chick, down for whatever. He had hit the jackpot when he fell on her balcony. He didn’t love her, but he loved her dedication.
He pulled up to Ray Ray’s dog farm a little after 2 p.m.. He raised purebred pit bulls. Official bloodline. They were sold to the highest bidder for dogfights or for protection. When they arrived they were greeted by Ray Ray’s cousin, Lenny.
He was a tall, slim, baby faced dude, clean shaven, and rocked a Mohawk. He gave Mac a pound when he got out of the car.
“Mac, right?” Lenny questioned.
“Yeah, yo.”
“I’m Lenny, Ray Ray’s cousin. Ride with me. He told me to bring you on down.”
“Fo’ sho’.”
Mac and Heather jumped in Lenny’s Cherokee with Lenny and drove down into the woods past several kennels. Pit bulls in cages watched attentively as they drove by. When they drove deeper into the woods, even with the air conditioner on and windows rolled up, the strong stench filled the air.
“What the fuck is that?” Mac asked, face twisted up.
Lenny chuckled. “Hogs. Ray Ray raise them too. That swine bring good money, they just smell like shit,” Lenny explained.
Ray Ray was down in the pigpen wearing rubber boots and throwing buckets of slop into one trough for a group of hogs. He saw Mac and smiled.
“What up, folk? What’s good?” Ray Ray greeted. “I would give you dap, but my hands fucked up.”
“No problem,” Mac replied with relief, looking at the slop all over Ray Ray’s hands.
“One mo’ group to feed, then we can handle business,” Ray Ray told him.
He came out of the hog pen, and then the four of them walked toward one another. Ray Ray eyed Heather in her cut off shorts appraisingly. “Who li’l mama?”
“This my people, Heather.”
“How you doin’?” she greeted with her Tennessee twang.
“Oh, you homegrown.” Ray Ray chuckled.
Heather giggled. “Born and raised.”
They reached the second pen. The hogs looked up eagerly. “Look at ’em. Greedy motherfuckas. Eat any goddamn thing . . . even you,” Ray Ray cracked, looking at Mac and snickering.
“Muhfuckas won’t eat me. That’s why I don’t eat swine n
ow.”
Ray Ray rested his arms on the pen. “So how much we talkin’?” he asked, getting down to business.
“Ten bricks for starters. I need to get my Tennessee team right. Oak Ridge wide open right now.”
Ray Ray nodded. “I heard. A couple of my mans from the joint been tryin’ to come through. You might know ’em. You know Shokkah?”
Mac shook his head. “No, maine, I never did a bid.”
“Well, maybe you heard of my other man . . . dude held my cousin Lenny here down with a banger . . . cat name Dark.”
As soon as Mac heard the name, he knew it was a setup. He tried to go for the gun on his waist, but Lenny put a gun to the back of his head.
“Whoa, maine, be easy,” Lenny warned, taking Mac’s pistol.
Slowly Mac raised his hands. “Yo, you got it. You got it.”
Ray Ray pulled out a gun then stepped to Heather, patting her down and feeling her up at the same time. “You ain’t packin’ is you, li’l mama?”
“Only what my mama gave me,” Heather shot back. Her survival mode kicked in, and she was determined not to go down with the ship.
Ray Ray smirked. “Then you good . . . for now.”
He turned to Mac.
“Yo, Ray, man. Whateva the nigga payin’ you, man, I’ll pay you double!” Mac bargained, trying to sound like he wasn’t scared, but he was shook on the inside.
“He ain’t payin’ me. I told you, he saved my cousin’s life. I owe him, and this what he call payback. So it ain’t business . . . it’s personal,” Ray Ray shrugged.
As soon as he finished speaking, Baby Boy stepped out from behind the pigpen with a grin on his face, holding a gun and a phone. He handed the phone to Mac. Mac took it, knowing exactly who it was.
“Yo, Dark. Maine, listen—”
“I’m gonna listen, nigga, listen to yo’ bitch ass die!” Dark taunted. “You thought I was a joke? You thought you could play me? If it wasn’t for Mook, you woulda been dead, and if Mook was alive, I’d kill his bitch ass too for vouchin’ for you! Fuck nigga!”