by Styles, T.
“Where you going?” she asked, pulling his hand.
“Bitch, get the fuck off of me!” He walked away from her and his neck swiveled to the opposite side of his room. From where he stood, he saw something out of the ordinary. Squinting, he grabbed his gun from under the pillow, and moved toward the left side of the bed. Farah wanted to run but her legs wouldn’t even allow her to stand. This was her fear and she knew it was impossible that they all would make it out of the situation alive.
Naked, with his gun aimed, Tank moved closer to the object on the floor. Then he opened the blinds and the entire room lit up as sunshine burst through the grimy windows. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw Natasha, balled up, with her hands over her face. She was so scared that she actually thought by hiding her eyes, he wouldn’t be able to see her because she couldn’t see him. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he made her rise to her feet. “Open your mouth,” he said. She did. He pushed the barrel between her teeth, like it was supposed to be there, and cocked his gun. “Now . . . who are you, and what the fuck are you doing in my house?”
“Uh ... I was ... remember ... we all ... uh ...” She was scared and lost the plan within the walls of her mind because of the gun in her mouth. How could she forget? Farah had gone over it with her twenty times just to make sure it was ironclad.
Farah had told her, “If this nigga wakes up and catches us in his house, tell him the three of us fucked the night before. He drinks so much, girl, he won’t remember. And now that it was time to show and prove, Natasha was coming up short.
“Bitch, I asked you a mothafuckin’ question! Fuck is you doing in my house?”
Her pretty face produced a fake smile, even though a gun rested between her teeth. “You don’t remember, Tank? We ... we all had a little fun last night.” She looked at Farah but Farah looked away. She was on her own. Focusing back on the man who was gripping her hair so hard she could hear her hair tearing from the roots, she said, “Don’t you remember?”
“Naw.” He frowned. “I don’t remember none of that shit.”
She simpered. “Come on, Tank. I sucked your dick for an hour, then Farah was riding you. We had a ball last night. That’s why I’m naked. Look at me, baby.” He eyed her naked flesh. She was working it now and Farah was hopeful that everyone would make it out alive.
“The three of us did all that last night?” He laughed, looking into her eyes.
“Yeah. We had a real good time, too.”
“Well if that’s the case, and we all were together, then why the fuck you hiding?”
“Uh ... because I thought you would forget and be mad. And I ain’t want that. I heard how hard you are in these streets,” she lied, and he blushed. “But can you please let my hair go, Tank?” she could hear the soft cracking of her hair follicles being torn away. “You’re hurting me really bad.”
Before letting her go, he looked at her face, droopy titties, and long, pretty legs. If he didn’t remember he sure was in the mood for a refresher. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew she could be right because he drank a lot and could never hold his liquor. With the gun still pointed at Natasha he looked back at Farah and smiled. “We had fun, huh?” he asked, his youth taking over his mind.
“You were the best we ever had, baby,” Farah lied. “All we trying to do is have a little more fun before we part ways.”
“So you liked sucking my dick?” he asked Natasha, ready to have her do it again.
“Yeah, and Farah was dropping it real good on that dick. You kept talking about how wet her pussy was and everything.”
She went too far and he no longer believed shit she said. “Is that right?” He frowned.
“Yep.” He looked down and saw the Doritos bag, which held his stash, hanging open. A wave of anger washed over him and instead of releasing her hair, he gripped it tighter. With all his might, he took the butt of the gun and slammed it into her face. Natasha was part delirious as she unwillingly accepted the severe facial blow. Farah couldn’t believe what was happening and knew she needed to get the fuck out of dodge, or else she was next.
“Please stop!” Natasha cried as he unmercifully hit her in the face with his weapon, crushing blow after blow.
Natasha wept with all her heart, but Tank couldn’t be stopped. There was one thing he hated more than a snitch, and that was a thief. He already had to worry about his mother sneaking into his room when she visited. She was addicted to meth for ten years and he couldn’t trust her, even if his eyes remained on her the entire time. His mother’ s betrayal he would deal with, but he certainly wouldn’t accept shit from a bitch he didn’ t know.
After all this drama, Tank felt fucked up for cheating on his baby mother, Boo. She was a little wild at times and quick with the tongue but at least she never tried to steal from him. He made a mental note that after he took care of Natasha and Farah he would leave all hood bitches alone.
Instead of helping her friend, Farah stood in amazement as the white sheets turned red before her eyes. First he broke her jaw, then her nose, followed by the large, gaping wound on her forehead. Tank beat her repeatedly until her body was limp and her muscles could no longer support her weight. For a moment, Farah saw her fingers twitch back and forth, because they were the only things she could move. But after a few more seconds, there was no movement whatsoever. When that happened, Farah couldn’t be sure, but she swore she saw the life leave her body.
While Tank was preoccupied with Natasha’s corpse, Farah grabbed the pillow on the floor with the knife, and hit it in the direction of the bedroom door. She tried to take something to cover her body, but didn’t see anything along her path toward the exit. She decided it was better to be caught naked and alive, than clothed and dead. When Tank saw her run in his peripheral vision he yelled, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” She heard Natasha’s body thump to the floor, followed by quick, heavy footsteps in her direction.
Relying on her track skills from high school, she ran full speed ahead toward the door. Making her first goal, she flung it open and flew down the stairs. She could hear his heavy breaths but she didn’t look back. Besides, there was no need to see the lunatic she knew was coming her way. At the end of the day, if she wanted to survive, she had to catch wheels and that’s exactly what she did. Her feet slapped against each step in the hallway as she maintained hold of the pillow in her hand. When she didn’t hear heavy breathing anymore, she looked behind her and saw he was no longer there. Oh, my God, please don’t let him get me.
When she pushed the door to the building open, the cold air smacked against her naked body as she screamed at the top of her lungs. Her feet dug into the snow-covered ground, and the air pushed her hair out of her face as she ran into the wind. She was feeling hopeful that he would be too afraid to kill her in broad daylight and in front of so many people. But when she turned around briefly, she saw he was now coming speedily in her direction.
The brief pause he took was only to grab his black North Face coat and a pair of sweatpants. Unlike Farah, he wasn’t willing to be caught completely naked on the cold DC streets. His bare, hairy chest was exposed and he had a look on his face that would murder his own mother.
With each sprint she made, she pled with the angels on high to spare her life. She was able to get enough distance between them until her legs gave out. When she fell on the icy ground, she hit her elbow. Pain rushed up her left arm as she struggled to help herself up. That’s when she noticed three hustlers a few feet away from her. Not believing their eyes, they walked over and helped her to her feet. When she was standing, she collapsed into their arms.
“Fuck is up with you, shawty? You on that shit?” hustler number one asked as he allowed her to fall into his arms. It wasn’t every day that he ran into a naked, sexy girl, so he was intrigued.
“No ... Somebody’s trying to kill me.” She pled, looking for Tank, “Please don’t let him.”
The moment she said that Tank rushed up to the scene
, out of breath but on a mission. “This bitch just stole from me, man,” Tank said, leaning on his knees. “I gotta have her back.” He wanted her more than ever for causing so much trouble.
“Damn, Tank, you got this bitch out here naked?” hustler number two asked. “You wilding out now, young’un. You gotta keep your bitches in check.” They knew Tank well enough to know he had a temper, but his hustle game was surefire so they respected him.
“I’m telling you this bitch stole my money,” Tank persisted. “It ain’t even like that. I just want her to give me my shit back, and then she can get the fuck out.”
They all looked at the naked girl. “Unless she tucked it in her pussy,” hustler number one said, “then I’m sure she ain’t got it on her now.” They all laughed and Tank realized his mistake. He now felt he should’ve kept shit one hundred.
“You stealing, pretty lady?” hustler number one asked. “If it’s one thing I can’t stand, a thief is it.”
“I didn’t take shit from him!” she yelled. “He just killed my friend and he’s trying to kill me too.” She sobbed heavily. She held on to the pillow but was unable to get it in the right position to grab the knife. The snow was stabbing the bottoms of her feet and it felt like knives cutting into her skin. “She in his house if you don’t believe me! We gotta call the police.”
The word “police” made them frown and the hustlers looked at Tank and waited for his response. Although they respected him, they weren’t about to get caught up in no murder shit, either. “Is this true?” hustler number one asked.
Tank decided not to play games anymore. Time was of the essence and he needed her dead. She was a phone call away from snitching. “Let me have her.” Tank looked at all of them directly in the eyes. “I gotta finish what I started and too much time is being wasted right now.”
“Please don’t,” she wept, looking at the men. “I don’t wanna die.”
“Respect the code,” Tank said. “Let me have her.”
In silence they made an agreement and hustler number one pushed her into Tank’s arms. “No!” she screamed, doing her best to fight back. The pillow holding the knife dropped to the ground, and she was unable to grab it. Tank maintained his hold on her and had no intention of letting go. Onlookers hung from the doorways in the surrounding buildings but none of them bothered to call the police. Everyone assumed someone else would and because of it her life was in danger. With wild legs and hands, Farah kicked and screamed as he carried her under one arm like a football. The low temperature caused her skin to redden, and the soles of her feet were frostbitten. She could hear her heart thump loudly in her ears, and she knew death was eminent.
Tank was almost to his building when rookie Police Officer Phillips, who was patrolling the neighborhood, saw the horror scene from his car. At first he thought they were on some kind of drug like boat, which terrorized the city for many years. But after watching the systematic tread of Tank, he knew something else was going on. He parked poorly at the sidewalk and moved toward the building. Taking his gun out of its holster, he grabbed the door handle to the building Tank had entered.
Farah’s screams bounced off the walls and closed apartment doors but Tank wasn’t concerned. So many people were murdered in that building that to some, screams were as normal as birds chirping in the early morning hours.
The officer crept up the first floor until he saw Tank and Farah on the second. He already called for backup and hoped they arrived soon, because in his inexperienced opinion, Tank looked like a handful. When he was a few feet away from Tank, he was frozen with fear. Do something, Phillips! he said to himself. This girl is about to be murdered. “Freeze!” he yelled, as he shakily aimed the gun in Tank’s direction. Tank turned around and looked at him. “Put your hands in the air!” Tank didn’t move. “Now! Do it now!”
“Please help me,” Farah sobbed. “I don’t wanna die.”
“Sir, I don’t want to hurt you.” The gun shook harder in his grasp. “But if you don t ... put your hands up ... I’ll be forced to fire.” Tank dropped Farah on the floor and she cowered in a nearby corner.
“Officer, this is not as bad as it looks,” Tank said, taking a step in his direction. A crazy grin rested on his face, like the Joker from Batman. “I can only imagine what you’re thinking right now.”
“I’m not gonna tell you again!” Officer Phillips yelled as he took a few steps back. “Don’t move or else I’ll shoot you.”
Tank laughed. “You got this all wrong. This my girl. She fucking with that shit and I was trying to bring her in the house.” He looked at Farah and smiled. “Now see what you did, baby? You got this nice officer thinking we beefing. Tell him how we got into a fight and everything is good.” He turned around and gave her a devilish look, out of the officer’s view.“You know this all your fault anyway, don’t you?”
“Please save me,” Farah wept, looking at the officer. “If you let him go he’s gonna kill me.”
“Baby, this cop gonna think I’m crazy.” He walked closer to the officer. “You gotta tell him how you got high and started tripping. Or else he’s gonna lock me up.” Tank’s gaze remained on the officer. “You wouldn’t want that to happen now, would you?”
“I’m not your fucking girl!” she screamed, her knees pressed against the cold, hard floor. “You tried to kill me and my friend ... my friend ...” She pointed upstairs. “She’s . . . she’s ...” She couldn’t finish her thought and Tank was grateful.
Officer Phillips said, “Move any closer and I’ll fire. I’m not gonna warn you again, son.”
The moment he said that Tank rushed the rookie officer and knocked him to the floor. Dashing out the building’s door he was gone in under a minute flat. The officer tried to follow him but Farah screamed for his attention. “Don’t leave me!” she sobbed, reaching out for him with both hands. “Please don’t go! He might come back!”
Against his better judgment, the officer put his arms around her naked body. The gun in his hand grazed her back. She felt safe. “Everything’s gonna be okay now.” He rocked her in his arms and she gripped him tightly. Police sirens could be heard in the distance and he released her for a minute to tuck his weapon back in his holster. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her. “Don’t worry about a thing.”
Chapter 16
“You point out twenty niggas and I guarantee fifteen of them prefer the red bone. It’s just their way.”
—Farah
Grey weed smoke choked the air inside of Farah’s Benz as she, Coconut, and Mia watched Rhonda smack Knight in the face outside of their house. “I can’t believe this shit!” Farah said, pulling on the blunt. When she passed it to Coconut in her passenger seat, she opened a bag of chips and ate a few. “She just smacked the dog shit out of his ass in public.”
“I swear I hope this nigga don’t kill that girl. I’d hate to jump out of here and beat his fine ass,” Mia said. “Give me them chips, Farah.”
“Damn ... what happened to please?” She tossed her the bag.
Mia’s overweight body filled a little more than her portion of seat in the back of Farah’s car, and the red lipstick she wore rested on the top of her shirt instead of her mouth. “Because I’m tired of seeing them mothafuckas fighting all the time. They should just break the fuck up.”
“Shh.” Farah paused, seeing Rhonda stomping toward her car. “Here she come right now.” Rhonda got inside and slammed the car door so hard the window rattled. Then she threw her folded arms across her chest. “Bitch, don’t bring your black ass in my ride with all that shit.”
“I’m sorry, RedBone,” Rhonda said, breathing heavily. She rubbed her pregnant belly over her baby blue North Face coat. “But you wouldn’t believe what that nigga just said to me. He makes me so fucking sick. One day I’m gonna straight leave his ass.”
“Black and Ike’s, you gonna tell us what he said or not?” Farah asked. “Because we can’t read your mind.”
“I’m so sick of y
ou calling me that shit.” Rhonda was serious. “I told you before I don’t like it.”
“It is dumb,” Mia said. “Sometimes you just say shit without thinking.”
“Girl, leave all that sensitive shit outside my car,” Farah said, looking at Knight, who was outside with his friends looking at the car. She wished she had a man who loved her so much that people around her could feel it too. She never gave up hope that one day she would meet her Superman, because it damn sure wasn’t Randy.“You already know how we roll, we tough in here.” She sounded like Mia’s protégé. “Now what the fuck did he do?”
“Bitch, why this nigga gonna tell me he staying out tonight ’cause they going to Atlantic City to gamble? Fuck that! How he gonna go anywhere when I’m pregnant with his fucking baby? What if I have this bitch early?”
“The man should be able to go out sometimes,” Coconut said. “It ain’t like y’all not up under each other’s asses every five minutes anyway. Don’t make shit so deep.”
“Bitch, unless he can take my fat ass with him, he ain’t going nowhere. I ain’t fuck myself and get pregnant. I had some help, if you know what I’m saying.” She looked at Knight again and he started walking over in the direction of Farah’s Benz. “Look at him about to try to kiss my ass and shit.” He knocked on her window and at first she didn’t roll it down, until he knocked again. “Yes, Knight.” The cold air rushed inside and Farah turned the heat up.
“Give me a kiss,” he said, easing his head into the car. “Before I fuck you up.”
“Nigga, please,” Rhonda said, waving him off. “Why don’t you get one of them bitches in Atlantic City to kiss you? Since you so fucking pressed.”
He took his head out of the car and looked down at her. “I’m not gonna go to Atlantic City, Rhonda. I let these niggas get in my head, and for a minute I forgot I got a kid on the way ... my first one at that. But you reminded me and put me in my place. Now stop acting like a bitch before I fuck you up out here in front of your friends.” He said it so sexy that everybody got turned on. He eased his head into the car again. “Now give me a kiss.” She leaned in and they kissed sloppily. When the show was over Knight said, “What you making for dinner tonight?”