After he hung up, she sighed heavily. She was adamant in telling Scott.
***
“Shit, you gonna make me come, ma,” Meyer said to Lollipop, right after he hung up with Penelope.
The promiscuous stripper was curved over in the front seat of his Beamer, her face thrust in his lap, his dick jammed in her mouth. She licked and sucked his dick like it was a lollipop, hence the name, while he was reclined in the driver’s seat, enjoying his treat.
“Who was that?” she asked him, momentarily stopping her freaky blowjob on him.
“Just something I gotta take care of soon. And who told you to fuckin’ stop? You ’bout to make me come,” he said.
Lollipop went back to work on his dick, sliding her lips up and down, up and down. She made him huff and puff, as her moving lips against his erection were about to make him explode.
“Oh shit! Oh shit! Aaaaahhh shit! Damn it, ma,” he grunted and groaned as he exploded a heavy load of semen into her mouth, and she swallowed it effortlessly.
His body deflated like a balloon. He had never felt so relaxed.
Lollipop raised up into the upright position in the passenger seat and wiped her mouth. “You had fun?”
“Yeah,” he said, fixing his pants.
Meyer knew he needed to get to Penelope soon and have that talk with her.
***
It was late Sunday night when Meyer finally arrived at Penelope’s luxury apartment near Central Park. He rode the elevator to the sixth floor and headed to the place, feeling apprehensive. She was the one girl he cared about, and he didn’t want to see anything happen to her. And the things she used to tell him about Cuba blew his mind.
He rang her bell and waited. A nervous moment went by, when she didn’t answer her door, so Meyer took it upon himself to enter the apartment with the spare key she’d given him. He stepped inside, and the place was dark. He immediately called out to her, “Penelope, it’s me. I’m here. Where you at?”
He received no answer. He turned on the living room lights and saw nothing out of place. “Penelope,” he called out again, but there was no answer.
Maybe she went into labor, he said to himself. But the problem with that was, she would have called him right away if she had.
He pulled out his pistol and combed through the apartment cautiously. He reached the bedroom and pushed open the door, and was greeted with stillness.
“Penelope,” he continued to call out, now feeling uneasy. He walked in the bedroom slowly and noticed the bed was neatly made and her overnight bag for when she went into labor was packed and placed near the walk-in closet. There was a light creeping from the closet with the door ajar.
Meyer approached with added caution, gun in hand. He was ready to react if it wasn’t Penelope. He opened the closet door slowly, aiming his pistol into the closet. But what he saw crippled him with angst and made the gun fall from his hand. He was gripped with shock.
“Penelope!” he shouted madly, seeing her naked body hanging from a white bed sheet that served as a noose. Her body was already in a state of rigor mortis.
Meyer quickly rushed to her aid, fearing for his unborn baby. He cried out in pain. This wasn’t happening to him. He knew she wouldn’t kill herself, but it was made to look like a suicide. He knew only one man could be responsible for this sudden tragedy—his father.
***
Like a bat flying out of hell with its wings on fire, Meyer raced toward the warehouse in New Jersey, a new location where Scott had been hiding out in and conducting business from at the height of the war with Deuce. His black Beamer flew through the Holland Tunnel, and he entered the Garden State.
Soon his tires came to a screeching stop against the asphalt at the warehouse, and he leaped from his car, his gun tucked into his waistband. He rushed toward the entrance, daring any guard to stop him. They would feel his wrath if they tried to. Tears blinded his eyes as he stormed into the large room where his father, Bugsy, and several other lieutenants were seated around a round table and having a meeting.
All eyes were on Meyer charging into the room abruptly, with Scott outraged to see him there.
Scott stood up with his eyes trained on Meyer coming his way in a heated rage. “What is this, nigga? You coming in here disrupting my meeting with—”
Meyer punched Scott in the face so hard, it almost made his head spin. “You muthafucka!” he screamed.
Meyer struck him quickly again. He wanted to pummel his father into the ground. The two men tussled, with Meyer getting the better of his father.
The underlings came gunning for Meyer, ready to take care of him, but Bugsy sprang into action and pulled out two burners, aiming them at everyone and shouting, “Back the fuck down!”
No one was touching his twin brother.
Soon, father and son were separated. Their clothes were ruffled and they were both breathing hard.
Scott glared at his son and plopped into his chair. He was bleeding, and he was hurt.
Bugsy held Meyer back, while he screamed at Scott incoherently.
“She’s dead. Why, muthafucka? Why?”
“Just chill, Meyer,” Bugsy said. ”Who’s dead?”
“He fuckin’ killed her!”
Bugsy got his brother to calm down and to explain himself.
Meyer glared at his father and exclaimed, “Penelope’s dead! He murdered her because she was having my baby. He killed my girl and my child.”
It was new information to everyone in the room, including Scott.
“You ignorant fool! I had nothing to do with her murder. I’m shocked myself,” Scott said.
Meyer shouted, “You fuckin’ liar!”
“I had nothing to do with it. You need to go talk to your mother. She always wanted her dead,” Scott said.
“Bullshit!”
“I made it clear to everyone and your mother that if a hair were even touched on her head, there would be hell to pay.”
“I’m ’bout to give you hell now, muthafucka!” Meyer shouted.
Scott told him, “I know she came to you to do the murder, but you rejected it.”
Tears continued to stream from Meyer’s eyes. He wanted to rip his father apart. He knew Scott killed Penelope. Meyer figured that Penelope had called Scott and confessed everything about their relationship and the baby, and Scott couldn’t take the newfound information and had her killed.
Scott composed himself, but he was furious with his son for striking him so boldly and doing it in front of people. His eyes fixed deeply on Meyer, squeezing his words through clenched teeth, he said, “Nigga, if you ever come at me like that again, I’ll kill you.”
Meyer didn’t care for his threats.
Bugsy stood between his father and brother, keeping the peace in the room, knowing these two could easily kill each other.
“Get out of here, Meyer,” Bugsy said. “Go for a walk.”
Meyer hesitated for a moment, and then he did what his brother advised. He left the room and the warehouse, but his dispute with his father was far from over.
Back in his car and racing away from the warehouse, Meyer called his mother and screamed into the phone he was done with his father, informing her what had happened to Penelope.
Layla would lose no sleep over the girl’s death. “Come home,” she told him. “We need to have a serious talk.”
She was ready to tell Meyer about her and Lucky’s plan to start their own organization, and with Meyer on their team, it would be perfect. She was ready to reclaim half of what she’d helped to build. She would not allow Scott to leave her penniless and powerless. She would kill Maxine, and if Scott got in the way, she would kill him too.
“Are you ready to go to war against him and take his crown?” she asked Meyer. “It might mean going to war with your twin brother too.”
&nbs
p; Meyer thought long and hard about it. “Fuck them! I’m ready. And I got some hired guns to add to our team, Ma. The Greene brothers. They will fuck Pop’s whole shit up!”
“That’s what I wanted to hear from you, Meyer,” Layla said. “That’s my boy!”
Epilogue
Rehabilitation did miracles for Wacka, and soon he was walking again, though it was with a cane for the time being.
During his recuperation, he’d found out that Maxine had been released from prison, but not before Shiniquia was killed. Word from inside the Louisiana prison was that someone had paid a group of inmates to jump Shiniquia in the shower on behalf of Maxine. To make matters worse, Maxine was now sleeping with the enemy—the same man whose family she’d put out a contract on. Wasn’t she supposed to be plotting against him? It made little sense to Wacka. What was her motive? Why put out a contract to kill off Scott West’s kids only to come home and become his main bitch? But Wacka told himself it didn’t matter why—the bitch was crazy. His only concern was finding Maxine and viciously killing her and the remaining members of the West family.
This time it wasn’t business, it was personal.
***
Deuce opened the champagne bottle and put it to his lips, happily celebrating. Although it wasn’t a crucial one, it would hit home with the West organization. Jimmy and his crew followed suit and joined in on the celebration. Payback was a bitch, and it came in the sweet justice of killing Penelope.
“What I tell you niggas? You follow big money and you never know where it might take you. It ain’t Scott or his kids, but that bitch was payback for my sister,” Deuce said.
After two failed attempts on Scott’s life, Deuce thought they needed to touch something Scott loved. The streets were talking, and hearing about Penelope and her pregnancy, they knew how to hit Scott and his people. It was a calculated murder of a pregnant woman, but Jimmy showed no remorse when he made the noose and strung her up to hang. He’d stood there coldly, hearing her plead and beg for her life and her baby’s life, but her cries had fallen on deaf ears, and he watched her asphyxiate.
But what they were actually celebrating was waiting for them down in the basement. Deuce and Jimmy left the room and descended into the concrete room where there was a man tied to a chair. So far, he was unharmed. He glared at them, remaining defiant. He knew he was about to die.
Deuce grinned in the man’s face and taunted him with a hard stare and uttered with contempt, “The infamous fuckin’ Whistler. I bet in a million years you never saw yourself in this predicament—outsmarted by some low-level thugs.”
“If you gonna kill me, just do it already,” Whistler growled at him.
“Kill you? It would be my pleasure, but I’m ready to talk to you man to man, nigga, because I feel you can be an asset to me. I’m finding Scott harder to kill than expected.”
“The feeling is fuckin’ mutual,” Whistler replied.
Deuce chuckled. “Yeah? Well, I hear you two aren’t on the best of terms anymore. He wants you dead. Were you really fuckin’ his daughter? I’ve seen the bitch—nice piece of ass. I woulda fucked her too.”
Whistler remained quiet.
Deuce wanted Whistler to join DMC and help take down his former friend and boss, the man who put a contract on his head.
“You have a choice. So what’s it gonna be?” Deuce asked.
For Whistler, it wasn’t a hard choice to make. He replied, “I’m in.”
“My nigga,” Deuce said.
Excerpt from Mafioso Part 3
My prodigal son, you telling me where I can and can’t be? I’m here to see an old friend,” Layla griped back.
“Pops is here, and he’s not going to like it at all.”
“You think I give a fuck about his feelings? And you have the audacity to side with him after he embarrassed me and went off wit’ that bitch? I fuckin’ gave birth to you, and you bend your knees for him and—”
“Just leave, please, Ma. I’m beggin’ you,” Bugsy said.
She slapped him. Immediately, there was a minor scuffle in the lobby between her men and his. It was quickly broken up by the hospital security guards. Layla frowned at Bugsy. What a waste. He had so much potential, but he would rather help out his father than the woman who gave birth to him.
Suddenly, Scott loomed into view of everyone, and he was in no mood for Layla’s bullshit. This was the first time they’d seen each other since he tossed her out on the street and she stole his money.
“Why the fuck are you here?” he roared at her.
Layla stood her ground and glared at Scott. She looked intently at his face, and she could see he was visibly upset and saddened by Maxine’s condition. It almost looked like he had been crying. Scott, crying? She felt it was impossible, but his face looked flushed, and his eyes were puffy. Seeing this made her even more upset. The audacity of him. Did he ever cry over her, or for her?
“I know you ain’t crying over this bitch.” She inched closer toward him. If looks could kill, then he would have been massacred.
“Fuck you, bitch!” he snapped back.
“No, fuck you!”
“Don’t fuck with me, Layla,” he said.
“You love that stupid bitch!”
Scott clenched his fist. “Leave, before I make you leave,” Scott said sternly.
“I got the right to see my best friend. She’s my friend, and she’s hurt,” Layla said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief and putting on a show for everyone.
“Friend? You’re no friend of hers.”
“And you think you’re better? You fucked me while you were with her, and you were lovin’ this good pussy. You let that bitch rot in jail for over twenty years for me, Scott. Don’t you forget that shit,” she said, airing all their dirty laundry.
Scott wanted to murder Layla. The bitch had some nerve sashaying into the hospital after she’d stolen from him. Had Maxine not pleaded with him to spare her life, he would have killed her in his rage. He was tired of her, but the hospital wasn’t the place, and this wasn’t the time. Fifty million dollars she took from him. It made his blood boil.
He stood there with a hard scowl. “I want my money back.”
Layla didn’t take him seriously. It was her money too. She smirked.
“Two weeks, bitch. And every penny better be there, or you’ll be sharing a grave with Bonnie.”
Mafioso [Part 2] Page 22