Trust No Bitch

by Nene Capri

  “What’s up?” Bayonna asked as she took a seat across from him

  Gator laughed, looking at her with a drink in each hand, “Damn, Bay, you trying to get fucked up.”

  “Hell yeah, I’m out trying to have a good time,” she said, taking a sip of her Hennessey and Coke.

  “So what’s good? Y’all happy with new management?” Gator asked, searching for any discord in the ranks.

  Donella looked over at Bay then back at Gator, she knew that she needed to keep her mouth closed and let her handle it.

  “You know me, as long as my money right I don’t give a fuck who in charge,” Bay replied, taking another sip.

  “So I guess you done jumped on the nigga’s dick too?” He turned his question to Donella.

  “I ain’t on nobody’s dick. Big Zo put this shit in motion. If you got a problem with Kiam then speak to Big Zo. You got his number,” Donella stated, holding a firm gaze.

  “Don’t get smart with me. I’m just taking a pulse beat.”

  “Well, don’t ask dumb ass questions if you don’t want smart ass answers,” Donella shot back.

  “Just as I thought, that nigga got all of y’all on his nut sac,” he spat, taking down more of his drink.

  “Look, Gator, we came out to have a good time. If you want to shake things up, do it. But what you ain’t gonna do is have us in on some conspiracy type shit, I don’t get down like that.” Bayonna said, rising to her feet.

  Donella stood also. “I guess we’ll catch you later,” she said, heading to the door.

  “We bigger than this,” Gator called out as he watched her leave.

  “I’m out too,” said Bay.

  “You ain’t taking your drinks?” he asked, looking at her two drinks on the table.

  “Nah, I’m good. This whole little meeting left a bad taste in my mouth.”

  “I’ma remember you said that when all this shit turns upside down.”

  “You do that,” she said as she went to catch up with Donella.

  “We gotta watch that nigga.”

  “Already on it,” Donella responded as they headed up to the main club.

  The catch…

  As Bayonna and Donella moved through the crowd their eyes scanned the room for Fat and Greg.

  “There they go,” Bayonna said, giving Donella a light elbow to the ribs.

  “Where?” she asked, looking in the direction of Bayonna’s finger.

  “Over there in VIP, come on,” she said excitedly.

  They marched over to the VIP section and tapped on the glass door. The bouncer cracked the door like he was the police. “You got an invite?” he grumbled.

  “Tell Fat and Greg, Bay is out here.”

  The man looked them up and down then shut the door.

  “This nigga,” Donella spat.

  “I know, every week he act like he secret service in this bitch,” Bay added, looking through the glass and seeing Money Bags Carter and his King Kennedy Projects’ crew balling a couple of booths down from Fat and Greg.

  A minute later the door opened, “Come on,” said the bouncer with an attitude.

  Bayonna just shot him a dirty look.

  Donella sucked her teeth as she walked through the small space he provided.

  When they were in the room Bay looked over at Greg and Fat, they had strippers popping pussy all over them. They were throwing hands full of money at them ho’s as if they were caked up.

  Bay’s stomach started to turn as she studied them from across the room. These are the little niggas causing all the problems? They didn’t look over twenty-one. They were skinny, their jeans were skinny and from the looks of it so was their money because it looked like they were throwing ones.

  “Come on girl, let’s get this shit over with,” Donella whispered in Bay’s ear.

  Bayonna shook her head and went into character. She threw her hips wide as they walked over to Fat and Greg’s booth. “Damn, nigga, can I get some?” she yelled out over the boom of Trey Songz hit Bottoms Up.

  As she continued walking toward them she wiggled her hips and snapped her fingers to the music.

  “Oh shit, look at you,” Greg hollered as Bayonna teased him with the rotation of her hips and ass.

  Donella walked over to Fat and sat right on his lap, fingering the piece that hung down on his platinum chain. The letters MBK shined across the fist-sized piece in diamonds.

  “I heard this was a baller’s party, can we join?” she asked, grabbing a bottle of Patron off the table and popping it open.

  “Hell yeah,” Fat cheesed, and his lil’ dude became alert as soon as Donella’s fat ass began grinding on his dick. He had been trying to get at her for months and hadn’t gotten pass hello, but tonight seemed to be his lucky night. He knew all along that he was gonna tap that ass sooner or later.

  Bayonna pushed through the thirsty tricks and took a seat on Greg’s lap, causing him to rock up immediately.

  “Oh, so you trying to give a nigga some play?” he asked, looking at her nipples through her shirt.

  “You know we don’t fuck with no bum ass niggas, we trying to chill with the best tonight.” She gassed him up further by stroking the sides of his face.

  Greg looked over at Fat who was all in Donella’s ear putting his mack down. He looked back at Bayonna and started to do the same.

  Bayonna leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Uh, don’t you think you should get rid of these trick bitches? I sure don’t want

  them popping their nasty pussies in my face.” Greg waved the bouncer over.

  “What’s up G?” he asked, standing there with his chest about to burst out of the tight shirt he had on.

  “You can get the rest of these bitches outta here, we good,” boomed Greg.

  The burly bouncer began grabbing strippers by the arm and escorting them to the door.

  For the next two hours the foursome popped several bottles, danced, and laughed. As the empty bottles stacked up, Donella and Bay got them real comfortable.

  “So what else y’all got planned?” Greg asked.

  “We trying to chill with y’all,” responded Bayonna. Looking into his eyes she mouthed, “I’m ready to fuck.”

  Greg shot up out of his seat with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. “You ready to roll out?”

  “I’m ready to do more than that,” she answered, straightening her clothes and placing a single kiss on his lips.

  He looked over at Fat and Donella, she had his platinum and diamond chain twisted around her finger pulling him close and whispering in his ear.

  “Let’s roll nigga.” Greg interrupted their moment with his urgency.

  “Chill, Bleed,” Fat responded, looking up barely able to see through the slits in his glassy eyes.

  “Let’s go,” Donella said as she ran her hand between Fat’s legs sealing the deal as she rose to her feet.

  Greg and Fat followed the ladies out of the club. They happened to be parked only a short distance from Donella’s car.

  “Ya’ll following us?” Donella asked as she popped the locks.

  “Nah, let me ride with you. Bay can ride in my car with Greg,” Fat responded.

  Bayonna walked to the parking lot and jumped in Greg’s Audi S5 Cabriolet. She leaned back in the cool leather seat and they followed Donella and Fat.

  When they reached their destination in Shaker Heights the streets were quiet. Donella drove slowly toward the house, turning down her radio as they pulled into the driveway of the ranch style dwelling.

  Greg pulled behind Donella and turned off his engine.

  They all filed out of the vehicles and headed to the door. Bayonna turned her key in the lock, opened the door, and hit the lights.

  Greg and Fat were filled with excitement from the mere thought that they had come up on some untouchable pussy. Every hustler who was getting money in the city wanted to bag those boss ho’s.

  “Have a seat. Let me roll up some loud and get us something to drink,” Bayon
na said as she walked to the kitchen.

  Fat and Greg took a seat on the couch and Donella walked over to the window, closed the blinds, then turned some music on.

  “We about to get fucked up,” she said, walking over to the fireplace and lighting the candles to enhance the mood.

  Greg and Fat looked at each other and smiled. Their crew wasn’t gonna believe that they had smashed those two top-notch broads.

  When Bayonna emerged from the kitchen she had a drink in one hand and a baby Luger in the other. Treebie was on her heels with a pump.

  “What the fuck!” cried Fat.

  “Relax,” Bayonna said, taking a swig of her drink. “You wanted to get fucked, didn’t you? Be patient and you will,”

  “Y’all bitches for real? Y’all about to try us like dat?” Greg erupted. “Y’all must be muthafuckin’ crazy!”

  “No, y’all the muthafuckas that’s crazy,” Treebie corrected, pulling one in the barrel.

  Sweat beads popped up on Fat’s forehead. “Look, you can have whatever we got,” he hurriedly offered, digging down in his pockets and tossing his bands on the table.

  “Bitch nigga, do we look like we take small change?” Treebie groveled then blasted him in the knee.

  Fat howled.

  “Oh shit,” Greg jumped, putting his hands in the air. Now he realized it was not a game. “You ain’t gotta do this.” He had lost all the bass in his voice.

  Fat rocked back and forth in pain, holding his right knee and watching the blood ooze between his fingers. Breathing heavily and beginning to panic he did the only thing that came natural. He begged. “Please, Treebie. Please, I got kids.”

  “Good, then I’m saving them the embarrassment of being raised by two bitches,” she growled then shot him in the other knee.

  “Owww! Come on, please don’t do this shit,” he cried out. Tears ran down his chubby face as her attempted to stand up on legs that could no longer support his right.

  Screaming out in pain he collapsed to the floor and began crawling in a desperate and painful attempt to reach the door. Treebie aimed the pump at him stopping him in his tracks.

  Behind them, Greg tried to negotiate their freedom. “Look, whoever put y’all on us, we’ll pay you double.”

  “You still think you going home? Awww,” Donella knuckled her hand under her eye in a half circular motion. “Poor baby,” she taunted.

  “Please, we’ll give y’all anything. just don’t kill us,” he begged.

  “You ain’t got shit we want but real estate, nigga,” said Donella. Her face showed no compromise as she pulled on a pair of driving gloves then grabbed a piece of rope from under the back of the couch.

  Greg shifted nervously on the couch. “Go ahead and make this bitch roar,” warned Treebie, raising the pump to his chest. Greg looked down both barrels and shuddered. Behind him Donella tightened each end of the rope around her hands. In a nanosecond it was around his neck.

  Greg fought to keep her from cutting off his breath. As he struggled to get his fingers underneath the rope his eyes bulged with plea. The restricted blood flow in his neck capsulized into his pulsating veins, threatening to explode. “Please, I’m begging you,” he cried.

  “Nigga, shut the fuck up,” Treebie barked.

  “Please!”

  “Alright,” said Donella, releasing her grip and stepping to the side. For just a second Greg thought he had gotten a reprieve. He looked over at his man who was lying on the floor going in and out of consciousness. The pump sounded off with a boom that echoed throughout the room. Greg felt an excruciating pain shoot through his shoulder. “Bitch you shot me.” He grabbed his arm and winced. “No shit,” Treebie responded then shot him in the other arm.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he grimaced in pain as blood poured from his wounds. “It’s enough for all of us to eat.”

  “Is that what you were thinking when you came at our young boys talking about fuck Kiam and them bitches?” Bayonna asked, sitting her drink down and walking over to her bag.

  She grabbed a needle and a small bottle and shook it up. Sticking the needle into the bottle she drew the acid into the syringe until it was full. Donella wrapped the rope back around his neck. His arms were useless now and he couldn’t fight, so he pled.

  “Fuck them bitches, huh?” Treebie repeated his words to him again.

  “It wasn’t like that. Look, you can have whatever you want. We will give you any one of our corners. Y’all want Avon? LA— Lenacrave and Angelous? I’ll give y’all all that.” Greg grunted as his arms began to burn.

  “Give? Muthafucka you ain’t no position to give, this is a straight up jack move.” Treebie said then chuckled as she moved a little closer.

  Donella kept pulling on the rope causing him to gag and his eyes to water.

  Next to him Bayonna bent down and smacked Fat in the face. “Wake up, nigga.” Her voice was dispassionate and hard, nothing like the purrs she had whispered just a while ago.

  Blinking back the pain, he opened his eyes slowly as tears ran from the corners. He could hear his boy being prepped for death a few feet away.

  “See, Greg, you probably made some good choices in life, but you made three very costly ones. Rule number one, never go anywhere without your strap. Rule number two…Trust No Bitch?” said Treebie.

  Greg looked at her like no one had ever taught him that.

  Treebie shook her head, those lames weren’t about that life. How the fuck did they blow up? she wondered.

  “Besides going somewhere without your whistles and trusting the wrong bitches, y’all made the biggest mistake of all, and that was fucking with Blood Money,” Treebie said through gritted teeth.

  Greg’s eyes got wide when he heard her utter the words that haunted the streets. His mind started running the countless stories he heard about the niggas who were jacking muthafuckas and killing wholesale, leaving behind their signature of blood money. Now, at the door of death, to find out that they were really women fucked his head up.

  “Surprised?” she asked, holding her barrel firm in his face. “See, now that you know our little secret, you gotta die. But don’t worry, playboy, you’re about to become part of our urban legend,” she snickered, then nodded at Bay and Donella.

  Donella pulled harder on the rope around Greg’s neck, tightening both ends. Greg clawed, trying to get his fingers up under the rope to release the pressure but the gunshot wounds to his shoulders made him weak. He kicked and struggled but it was all in vain—his life was almost over.

  Bayonna took the needle and stuck it in the side of Fat’s neck releasing the toxic fluid. His body began to jerk and convulse.

  Donella turned Greg’s head toward Fat so he would spend his last minutes watching his boy suffer.

  “Fuck those bitches?” she gritted. “That’s what y’all said? Maybe in the next life, but never in this one!” She pulled harder.

  Greg tightened his eyes when he saw Fat’s face swell up from the acid that coursed through his veins.

  Fat began to gurgle and spit up blood as gapping wounds formed around his eyes and mouth.

  Bayonna grabbed a five dollar bill from her pocket and rubbed it in Fat’s mouth then began to force it into Greg’s. He squirmed and tried to clamp his mouth tight in a last show of bravery.

  Bayonna grabbed her gun and smacked him in the mouth causing it to open wide enough for her to stuff the bloody bill.

  Greg choked and gagged as it settled to the back of his throat. Donella pulled harder and harder as the excitement of the kill turned her on.

  Greg’s legs began to lash out violently as he fought for his life. Bayonna came up behind Donella and pulled tightly on the rope with her. The force of both of their grips pulled at Greg’s neck causing it to snap.

  Treebie stood over the two men and smiled at their condition. “Punk ass niggas, hope it was good for you,” she spat.

  Bayonna and Donella released the rope and stepped back to look over their
work.

  “Damn that felt good,” Bay said, breathing quickly.

  “Hell, yeah. I think I came,” Donella said and they all bursted out in laugher.

  “Bitch, you need to see somebody about that shit,” said Treebie.

  “Let’s get these niggas wrapped up. Bay bring their car around back,” Donella directed.

  “Alright roll some shit up, I need some motivation,” Bay said, grabbing the car keys from the coffee table.

  Treebie rolled up, while Donella opened the bags and spread them out. When Bay came back inside they smoked two blunts, took a couple shots of Patron, then went to work.

  When the bodies were secure in the bags, Treebie reached down and removed Fat and Greg’s worshipped chains from around their necks. She dropped the icy pieces in a small black velvet pouch and pulled it closed.

  Together the girls drug the bodies outside and hoisted them up in the trunk of Greg’s car.

  “Dang, I didn’t know dead muthafuckas were so goddamn heavy,” said Bay, exhausted. It was her first time dragging a body, usually she just turned someone’s lights out and breezed in the wind.

  “You have to eat your Wheaties,” quipped Treebie, wiping sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her shirt. They all laughed, then went back inside to clean up.

  Pulling their hair back they got strapped up in their blood money uniforms. They drove the car down to 123rd and Lenacrave where they knew it would be found and left it parked at the curb.

  The next afternoon Treebie put a call into Kiam to meet her at the Red Lobster on Warrensville Road. When she pulled up he was sitting in his car leaned back listening to Meek Mill Dreams and Nightmares.

  Kiam watched as she walked over to his vehicle; he had to admit Lissha’s crew was sexy as hell, each with a different attribute of beauty.

  Treebie leaned in his window. She didn’t smile or say hello. She simply said, “Don’t ever question our get-down.”

  She tossed proof in his lap that they were official, then walked off.

  Kiam picked up the bag and looked inside. He pulled out the shine that Fat and Greg wore religiously and saw sparkles of blood on both chains. A large splotch of dried blood was caked up between the letters on one of the MBK pieces.