Wifey, Part 1

by Erica Hilton

  Finally after playing detective for what seemed like hours, I saw part of a tattoo on the back of the girl’s right hand, only partially exposed. I went back and looked at all of the ads again, and in each ad, the tattoo was not visible. I realized that it was purposely covered up.

  “That’s muthafuckin’ Jasmine!” I said out loud to myself after looking at the picture with the partial tattoo again. I was one hundred and fifty percent certain that Jasmine had a tattoo on her right hand. So then I sat there and connected all of the dots in my own mind. There was no way this could all be coincidence.

  Like, what were the chances that both Jasmine and some other random chick would both have tattoos on their right hand and they both called Nico?

  “You fucking bitch! I’m about to blow up your whole shit!” I said out loud to myself. I was ready to go to war like I was a chick from the hood.

  I started to print out each ad that I saw, just in case they somehow got deleted or I couldn’t find them again at a later date.

  At that point my heart wasn’t beating as fast, and I was feeling confident because I now knew exactly how to pull Jasmine’s card. I grabbed my cell phone and was going to call her, but instead I decided to send her a text message.

  You couldn’t just stay in your own fucking lane! You had to test me. It’s all good because I’m about to pull your card!!! J

  No more than two minutes after I sent that text, Jasmine texted me right back and said:

  I could tell you some Real hurtful shit but I won’t. Keep fucking annoying me though and I just might.

  I laughed when I read her message because I couldn’t wait to see what Jasmine’s response would be to my next text message to her which was:

  Whateva bitch! Don’t make me tell the world your nickname…

  After I sent that text message, I waited and I waited, and after about an hour I realized that Jasmine wasn’t going to respond to me. I thought that she was probably panicking and freaking out, wondering if I knew that her prostitution nickname was Chyna.

  I decided to send her another text just to get under her skin.

  Don’t say I didn’t warn you not to fuck with my MAN!!!

  Once again, after I sent that text, I got no response from her. I knew I had touched the right nerve. I wasn’t satisfied though with just knowing that Chyna was out there prostituting herself. I wanted to see if I could find out anything more about her best friend Simone and also this dude name Carlos, who was supposedly her manager for her music video career.

  CHAPTER 13

  Jasmine

  By the time I was done smoking, I was feeling nice. Weed always put me in a talkative I-don’t-give-a-fuck mode. And at that point I didn’t give a fuck that it was almost two in the morning. I took out my phone and searched for Nico’s number. When I found it, I decided to block my number before calling him, just in case he was with Mia and her crazy ass. I didn’t want to blow up his spot and make myself look bad in his eyes.

  The phone rang twice, and then Nico picked up.

  “Hey, Nico. This is Jasmine. Can you talk?”

  “Yeah, I can. What’s up? You OK?”

  “I’m good. But I just wanna be straight up with you about something.”

  “What’s up?” Nico asked.

  “I don’t know how to say it, but you just really made this impression on me, and I don’t know how to shake it.”

  Nico laughed.“Is that right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I know it’s late, but I just wanted to call you and tell you that. I wanted to text you something, but I didn’t wanna just send you a text without calling you first. So can I hang up and then text you something?”

  “Yeah, it’s all good.”

  “OK.” I was preparing to end the call, but Nico said happy birthday to me before I could hang up. I paused for a moment.

  “Your birthday is Saturday, right?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Well, it’s after midnight, so technically it’s Saturday.”

  “No, I get it. I’m just surprised that you remembered that.”

  “I pay attention to details,” Nico reminded me.

  I laughed and then I told him that I would text him in a few minutes, and we both hung up the phone.

  I took a quick five-minute shower. I lathered up my ass, and before rinsing it off, I opened the shower door and grabbed my phone and snapped a picture of my soapy ass. I put the phone back down and finished taking my shower.

  After drying off, I put baby oil all over my body. With my phone I took a close-up picture of my clean, glistening pussy. Then I spread open my pussy lips and took another picture. I saved all three pictures to my phone, and then I opened up all three of the pictures to examine them, to make sure they all looked good, before sending them to Nico with a message that read:

  I hope you like what you see. It’s all yours. You can have it whenever you want. -xoxoxo.

  In a way I was kind of hoping that Mia did see those pictures of my ass and my pussy that I sent to Nico. Although I didn’t know exactly what Mia was referring to when she had sent me that text message about her telling the world my nickname, I hadn’t heard from her since that day and I didn’t want her to think that she had backed me down or somehow scared me off with punk-ass threats.

  After sending the text to Nico, I looked at my phone and saw that I had multiple missed calls from my crew that I was supposed to link up with at B.B. King’s. I also had two missed calls from Shabazz and a text message from him asking me to call. I really didn’t want to call him back because I was so open off Nico. But if I did, perhaps I could get some information that I could relay to Nico and score some brownie points.

  Just as I was about to call Shabazz, I looked at my phone and saw it was Nico texting me back.

  I want some more of that.

  I immediately hit him back. Then let’s make it happen for my birthday.

  Nico texted me right back. Done deal.

  Next, I called Shabazz and he asked me to meet him near the Belt Parkway at the Mobil gas station off of Springfield Boulevard. When I got there, I parked. And waited. After waiting about thirty minutes and calling him relentlessly, I was just about to leave when he walked up and tapped my window.

  “Damn, Shabazz, you scared the shit out of me!”

  “Leave the car here and follow me.” His voice was gruff and his eyes were shifty, darting around the area.

  “I’m not leaving my father’s car here. It’ll get towed.”

  “Leave the shit here!” he commanded. “My man inside will watch it. I know the owner.”

  I grabbed my pocketbook and followed Shabazz. We walked through the Mobil station toward the restricted employee area. In the back there were several surveillance cameras and an Indian guy keeping close watch. I scanned the room and saw a massive safe and two coffee cups. Shabazz grabbed his NY fitted baseball cap. Immediately, I copped an attitude.

  “You been sitting in here watching me all this time?”

  Ignoring my question, he addressed his friend. “Yo, Hassuan, I’m out. I’ll hit you on your jack in the morning.”

  “And make sure you watch my father’s car!” I ordered.

  Hassuan smiled slightly but didn’t reply. Shabazz led me out a back entrance and we jumped into his truck. As soon as he started the ignition he leaned over and gave me a quick peck on my lips.

  “I missed you,” he said softly.

  I rolled my eyes. “Then why haven’t you been checkin’ for me? You don’t answer my calls and just leave a bitch out here alone.” I then added, “And broke.”

  “I got a lot of complicated shit to figure out, and I don’t want you in harm’s way. Shit could get thick. Believe me, the less you know the better. Your big-ass mouth could g
et you in a lot of trouble.”

  I turned the radio to 98.7 Kiss radio before beefing. “Since when do I got a big mouth?”

  Shabazz chuckled. “Since you learned how to speak, I’m guessing.” He pointed toward the back seat. “Yo, grab that bottle in the back and pour me a drink.”

  That was right up my alley. I leaned over and grabbed a brown paper bag. Shabazz had stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle of Hennessy for himself and a bottle of Nuvo for me. Two plastic cups and four blunts were already rolled. I knew Shabazz had a drinking problem. But his problems were his problems. I just wanted to have a good time and possibly leave with a couple dollars in my pocket. Once the liquor was flowing I sparked up a blunt.

  Finally, I asked. “Where we going?”

  “New Jersey. I got a hotel room out there.”

  “We going to Atlantic City?”

  “Nah, just chill,” Shabazz replied. “And stop asking so many questions.”

  “Why you on some new shit? You used to be able to tell me everything, and now you’re acting all weird and paranoid. I’m not in the mood for no crazy, 007 bullshit, Shabazz. So if you’re gonna start actin’ all loony tunes, you can turn this muthafuckin’ truck right back around!”

  Shabazz cut his eyes toward me and began to chuckle. “A’ight, I feel you. It’s just that so much is at stake that I knew I had to bounce.”

  “OK, well tell me everything and maybe I can help you.”

  Shabazz held out his cup and waited for me to refill it. And then he continued, “It’s about Skeen’s murder. I keep replaying what happened over and over in my mind, and it’s just not adding up. It’s obvious that it was a setup—”

  “Yeah, but shit like that happens all the time, right? Stickup kids runnin’ up on drug dealers.”

  Shabazz cut to the chase. “It was Nico, Jasmine. I’m telling you that muthafuckin’ bitch-ass nigga set us up to get killed, and I promise you I’m gonna splatter his fuckin’ brains out on the hot pavement!”

  Now I was hyped. “Nico? Why the fuck would he want you and Skeen murdered? Why would he put the wolves on his own people?”

  “I don’t know why!” Shabazz began to get really animated and the car began to accelerate. “All I know is that shit ain’t adding up, and when shit don’t add up you gotta go back to the basics.”

  “Slow down,” I warned. “I’m not trying to spend the night locked up.”

  Shabazz eased his foot off the accelerator. “I’m telling you, the night Bebo came home he was acting real extra. He kept talking about the wolves and goons and shit like that.”

  “So?”

  “So? It was all an act to me. Like he wanted to go overboard in showing Bebo that I’d fucked up to take the focus off of how I almost lost my life and that we’d been set up!”

  “I think you reaching. Nico’s concerned about you.”

  Shabazz was quiet for a long, uncomfortable moment. And then he spoke up, “Word, so what’s up with that dude? You really think he’s good peoples, like I could trust him?”

  “I do, Shabazz. He seems genuinely concerned about you.”

  “You tell him you were meeting me tonight?”

  “Why would I tell him that?” I laughed nervously. “I don’t even know him like that.”

  “Right…right. And what about his girl, what’s her name again?” Shabazz began to snap his fingers in a continual gesture.

  “Mia.”

  “Yeah, Mia. I remember you said y’all were getting cool.”

  “I ain’t cool with that crazy bitch!” I spat.

  Suddenly, Shabazz gave me a backhanded slap that made me see stars. “You fuckin’ that nigga ain’t you?”

  “Ain’t noboby—”

  The second hit was more of a punch, and the pain was magnified. I hunched over in my seat and cradled my head with my arms to block any further blows, but none came. We continued to drive for a few more minutes until I could feel the car slow down until we eventually came to a complete stop. My heart was palpitating from fear. Any high I’d previously felt from the liquid had dissipated, quickly. My senses were heightened and I’d do almost anything to be back home in the security of my own room.

  Shabazz flung open my door and dragged me out by my hair.

  “What are you doing!” I screamed. “I ain’t fuckin’ him!”

  I looked around and we were in a deserted area. I could see the New Jersey Turnpike not too far in the distance.

  “You’re a dumb-ass trick! He only fucked you to get at me, but you’re too stupid to see that!”

  Shabazz tossed me on the ground and began stomping me in my stomach and gut. The pain was excruciating, but I knew that he could do much worse. I continued to deny that I’d slept with Nico, but Shabazz knew the truth. Finally he demanded, “Take off your clothes.”

  “Shabazz, come on now. You’ve done enough. Just take me home!” I tried to sound authoritative, but he wasn’t listening. He had a wild look in his eyes—a mixture of hurt, pain and anger.

  From his waist he pulled out his burner. “That nigga tried to rock me to sleep and my girl goes and fucks him!” Shabazz hit the side of his head with his pistol like a mad man. “Do you know how that makes me feel? Huh, bitch?”

  He was now towering over me in a menacing stance. “On my life I didn’t fuck him! I wouldn’t do something like that to you. I swear to God!”

  “I said, strip!”

  “Shabazz—”

  Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop!

  Shabazz let off a succession of shots around my immediate perimeter. “Strip! Whore! Don’t make me ask you again!”

  Reluctantly, I began to take off my clothes as my hands trembled. My tears and pleas didn’t affect Shabazz at all. He kept his gun steadied on me until I was literally butt naked. He then scooped up my clothes, hopped in his truck, and peeled out.

  For the first twenty minutes I foolishly thought he’d come back for me. After an hour, realization sank in.

  CHAPTER 14

  Nico

  On the Saturday morning of Jasmine’s birthday, I had gotten numerous calls from an unknown New Jersey number, and when I called it back it was a police precinct. I immediately hung up. I didn’t have a clue who was calling me from a precinct, but it didn’t sit too well with me.

  The Haitian cartel I had connected BJ and Lo with came through. They had good product, and our organization was back up and running. That was a good look, but until I knocked off Bebo and Shabazz, I couldn’t break out the celebratory champagne just yet. Their product cost two stacks more per key than my former Columbian connect, but I knew once we began moving enough volume that they’d be more competitive with their pricing. And they only guaranteed the shipment as far as North Carolina. Our mules had to take the risk from North Carolina to New York, which was another problem that I could negotiate at a later date. Bebo’s alleged snitching was costing our organization money.

  Ever since the impromptu meeting at the underground, Bebo had been on my ass. There was no way I was going to go with Bebo’s bullshit-ass plan to partner with other crews so we could all eat off the same package. I kept brushing him off, giving him excuse after excuse as to why I couldn’t link up and he was less than livid. His behavior was bordering on passive. Which if anyone truly knew Bebo, they would know he was a hothead. And doing a seven year bid didn’t mellow him out. The reason he hadn’t orchestrated a hit on not only me but Mia as well, was most likely because he was working for those peoples. The feds ain’t down with giving any green light to an assassination. They wanted me, and our crew, doing football numbers. As each day went by, I was starting to really believe that Bebo was a snitch and the rumor was no longer that. It was a muthafuckin’ hard fact.

  When the late afternoon approached I got a call from a 718 area code with a Queens ex
change. I ignored that too. I usually didn’t get calls from unknown numbers because very few people had my cell phone number. But today, it was nonstop. I allowed it to go to voicemail and this time a message was left. When I listened to the message it was Jasmine telling me she was calling from her home number and not to call her cell phone because Shabazz had it. Immediately, my interest was piqued. I dialed her right away.

  “Happy birthday!”

  “Nico?” Jasmine replied.

  “Who you just call?”

  “Ahhh, thank you,” she sang into the phone. “You’re too sweet.”

  “Listen, what’s up with Shabazz having your phone? You seen him?”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it . . .”

  “Then why the fuck you mentioned him?” I snapped.

  “Whoa, be easy,” she began. “I only mentioned him when I left you the message because there’s no telling what he’d do to me if he saw you calling my phone.”

  “Didn’t I tell you to call me if he came around? How fuckin’ hard was that to follow!”

  She began to whine. “Baby—”

  “Don’t call me baby, Jasmine. I’m a grown-ass man! When the fuck did that nigga come through to take your phone?”

  She exhaled and then there was silence.

  “Answer me!” I barked. I was beyond playing with this broad. “That nigga Shabazz sent the hit squad up in my crib, and you’re spewing baby talk!”

  She cleared her throat and began to speak like a grown woman. “He came through last night on the humble after I had sent you a text. He scared the shit outta me. Then I remembered what you said and I tried to sneakily text you to let you know what was up. That’s when he snatched my phone, saw the naked pictures, and bounced with my shit. He took my purse too…”

  “So no doubt he done saw the naked pictures and all the texts that you already sent to me unless you deleted them all.”

  “I guess you’re right.”