Coca Kola - The Baddest Chick

by Nisa Santiago

  Tatiana walked up to him and asked, “Are my brothers in there already?”

  He nodded.

  Tatiana went through, and Chico walked behind her. He locked eyes with the man for a moment, and the glare in his eyes showed the mistrust he had for Chico. Chico didn’t care for the man’s feelings against him. He paraded a smirk as he passed him and was four steps behind Tatiana.

  When they walked into a room, her brothers were seated around a large round table playing cards. They were amongst friends and associates, smoking, drinking with a few beautiful, scantily clad, exotic-looking women moving about in the room. This room was off-limits to everyone in the club, even those who had the money to splurge in the VIP area. It was the brothers’ private domain, where gambling and business transactions went on, and where the girls performed sexual favors for the brothers and their guests, since it was forbidden throughout the club.

  Two mounted plasma flat-screens hung on the walls, and they had a private bar with their personal female bartender clad in a skimpy bikini. A safe was hidden underneath the bar, and security cameras were plastered all over.

  Once Tatiana walked into the room with her friend, all eyes were on him. Chico was a fish out of water. They had seen him around with Tatiana in passing, but there was never a formal introduction. The brothers knew he was there for business, though.

  Tatiana locked eyes with her brother Jonathan, who was the oldest.

  Jonathan nodded then suddenly stood and shouted, “Everybody, get the fuck out this room now!” He didn’t have to say it twice or give an explanation why.

  Everyone swiftly started to pile out the room, knowing what was about to go on wasn’t any of their concern.

  When the last person that didn’t matter stepped outside, Tito shut the door, locked it, and looked over at Chico harshly. His dark black eyes ripped into Chico with some doubt. He then turned to look at his sister and exclaimed, “Yo, Tatiana, who is this fuckin’ fool anyway?”

  Tito already showed that he was the hothead, the one with the temper. He turned to glare at Chico, his face twisted into a scowl. Tito stood five eight and had a lean build, along with brown eyes. He had long braids and smooth, dark skin. He could be mistaken for a pretty boy, but he was deadly like a venomous snake.

  Jonathan leaned back in his chair and looked up at Chico, his eyes heavy with some concern.

  “So you the muthafuckin’ nigga fuckin’ my little sister,” he said.

  Chico casually replied, “I’m the nigga that’s gonna get ya outta this drought.”

  “Says who?” Tito shot back.

  Chico turned to look at him, but didn’t say a word.

  “He’s cool, y’all,” Tatiana intervened.

  “Why? ’Cause you fuckin’ the nigga, Tatiana?”

  Tatiana cut her eyes at her brother. “Whateva, Ryan.”

  Ryan took a drag from the imported cigar he was smoking, his eyes darting back and forth from his sister to Chico. Ryan was the heaviest of the brothers. He weighed over two hundred and forty pounds, had a protruding stomach, chunky arms, and thick legs.

  He blew out smoke from his mouth and looked over at Jonathan. If Jonathan said Chico dies, then he dies. If he said let him sit and talk, then he would sit and he would talk. Jonathan was the shot-caller. The figure that many men in the city didn’t want to cross. He was smart and he was vicious.

  Jonathan had smooth, dark skin like his little brother Tito. He had a neatly trimmed moustache that matched his perfectly manicured hair—peppered with small tufts of gray. The patches at both temples gave him a distinguished look. He was in his mid-forties. He had soft eyes at times and was the one you could reason with, if he liked you. But he was just as deadly as Tito. He had been acquitted of three murder charges over the years and ran his empire with an iron fist.

  The room was quiet for a moment. Everyone waited for Jonathan to give the word. He cut his eyes into Chico, locking into his stare. He knew how to read a man. He studied body language and looked for signs of weakness or mistrust in everyone, even his own family. The way Chico held his stare said a lot about him.

  “Sit down,” Jonathan ordered.

  Clutching his bag, Chico walked up to the table and took a seat opposite from Jonathan. Tatiana sat next to Chico. She glanced at her brother. Her nerves were jumping. She knew anything could go wrong in a heartbeat. She had witnessed her brothers do the unthinkable at times, even against her ex-boyfriends.

  Jonathan lit up a cigarette and then turned his attention back to Chico. “My sister tells me that you’re official. Where are you from, Chico?” he asked coolly.

  “Up top, New York,” he said.

  “Fuck y’all New York niggas,” Tito barked. “Muthafuckas think they can come down here and take over shit!”

  Jonathan cut his eyes at his little brother and said, “Relax, Tito.” Jonathan said to Chico, “You wanted to meet us, and because of my sister, you got your chance. So talk, nigga.”

  Chico had to humble himself. He was just a nigga trying to move some ki’s and trying not to get killed. He wasn’t much for speaking. He knew showing was better. He reached into his bag and dropped a brick of dirty white in front of Jonathan, who stared at the ki.

  “That’s what I’m about and what I can do for you,” Chico said.

  Tatiana smiled.

  “What the fuck I’m gonna do with one brick?” Jonathan asked.

  “I can get you much more where that came from.”

  “You know what? Why don’t we just pop ya fuckin’ ass and take it from you?” Tito spat.

  Chico turned and looked at Tito. He was getting tired of his mouth, but he had to keep his cool. He calmly replied, “That’s a fool’s way of thinking. Profit off the short term, never the long. And when that ki is done, then what?”

  “I’ll tell you then what, muthafucka!” Tito barked, stepping closer to Chico and raising his shirt to reveal the butt of a gun.

  Chico didn’t budge.

  “Tito, I told you to chill the fuck out!” Jonathan shouted.

  Tito looked at his older brother, and the seriousness that Jonathan showed in his eyes warned him to take a step back and be quiet. Tito didn’t like it, but he knew his brother didn’t give out too many warnings. He was lucky to get the first one. His face remained in a frown as he stood against the door.

  Jonathan focused his interest back on Chico, admiring what Chico had said to Tito about fools and their shortcomings. He believed the same thing. Chico’s body language showed Jonathan that danger was nothing new to him and he was from the streets. Jonathan had been paying attention to the little things about Chico.

  “Before we were rudely interrupted,” he said, continuing. “We don’t know you. My sister may vouch for you, say you’re legit, but that only gets you this meeting with us. How can we trust you?”

  “Yeah, ya right. You don’t know me and I don’t know you. But I’m from Harlem. You got peoples out there?”

  “I got peoples everywhere,” Jonathan replied.

  “Well, make a phone call to your peoples out that way and ask about Chico. My reputation is fierce out there.”

  “It ain’t fierce down here,” Jonathan countered. “You police?”

  “I should be asking you that. Ya the one with all the questions.”

  Jonathan chuckled then looked at his sister. “Your friend here is funny.”

  “That’s why I love him,” she replied.

  “Look, I came here thinking maybe I could do business with some serious people that are about their money. I got product to move—lots of it. I ain’t for games.”

  “I’m not for games either.”

  “So let’s talk.”

  Jonathan was quiet for a moment. He looked into each of his brothers’ eyes. They were quiet with hard stares. He then turned to face Chico. He had something on his mind.

  He leaned forward, clasped his hands together, looked intensely at Chico. “So what you working with?”

  �
�I got a straight Haitian connect in New York, right off the boat. I’ve been dealing with them for a few years now. They’re legit. Sixteen a ki. A minimum purchase of ten to get the pipeline open.”

  “Sixteen with a minimum of ten? Nigga, you trying to extort us?” Ryan chimed. “You think ’cause our connect got caught up in that Miami sting that we supposed to be some fools in desperation?”

  “I’m just about my business,” Chico replied.

  Jonathan was quiet for a moment. He was thinking.

  Chico remained cool while patiently waiting for his reply.

  Jonathan took a pull from his cigarette, blew out smoke, and kept his eyes on Chico. He then glanced at Tatiana but remained quiet. The room was itching to hear his response.

  Chico knew he was their only connect for the moment. It was a sweet deal for them. The drought was critical. Rival hustlers would be looking to re-up soon, and the streets would be thirsty for some action. His cocaine wasn’t as pure, and it was stepped on too many times, but when the streets are hungry, anything was better than nothing.

  Chico pushed the ki of coke over to Jonathan and said, “Go ahead. Test it out if you want.”

  “I don’t use,” he returned dryly.

  Chico shrugged.

  Tito was itching to take a hit, but he wasn’t about to do it around his brothers. Jonathan was against his family using, saying it made them look weak and bad. He believed a man became sloppy and careless with business and his life when he went to getting high.

  But Chico already knew that, because Tatiana had already told him so much of her brother’s business.

  Jonathan turned to look at Ryan, who glanced at Chico. Then he whispered something in his brother’s ear.

  Jonathan nodded, looked at Chico once more, and said, “We can try you out, for the moment.”

  Chico nodded. He was expressionless, but Tatiana was the one smiling.

  “I can have up to ten or more for you in a few days.”

  “No. First, I make that phone call to New York to ask about you, because I do have peoples out there,” Jonathan said. “Then if you’re not who you say you are, guess what?” Jonathan looked over at Tito.

  Tito smirked and lifted his shirt, revealing the butt of a 9 mm he carried.

  Chico remained nonchalant and simply replied, “You do that.” He removed himself from the chair.

  The room was still tense even though a transaction had taken place. Jonathan, who continued to smoke, dismissed Chico, but asked his sister to remain behind for a moment.

  Chico walked out the room.

  When the door shut behind him, Jonathan looked at his sister. “If this nigga ain’t legit, baby sis, you gonna kill this nigga for us.”

  Tatiana was silent for a moment before saying, “You don’t have to worry about him, Jonathan. He’s official.”

  “Yeah, we’ll find out,” Ryan added.

  Tatiana walked out of the room and saw Chico waiting in the hallway. She just looked at him for a minute.

  “Everything cool?” he asked.

  She nodded, but before they exited out the hallway, Tatiana said to him, “You just better deliver like you said you would and have someone to vouch for you up north.”

  “Everything is already taken care of.”

  Tatiana had a little nervousness spreading throughout her when she started to realize that she really didn’t know him too well, but for only two weeks. She had gotten so sprung by the wild sex they were having, it actually clouded her judgment. She began to wonder if she had made the right choice by introducing Chico to her brothers. Some doubt started to settle in. Tatiana knew if he turned out to be false, then she would pull the trigger on him her damn self.

  Several days went by, and Chico was finally able to make the delivery. They agreed on twelve kilos at sixteen apiece. Chico would walk away from the deal with a hundred and ninety-two thousand in cash in a black duffel bag. Even though he had the ki’s on him, he made them wait a few days because he didn’t want it to look like the deal was done in desperation. He had to make it look like he had taken a trip up North and met with the Haitians.

  Jonathan had made the call up North to a few well-known associates of his in New York. He asked about Chico, gave his peoples a description, and the word came back that he was for real. His status was legit. Not a snitch, but a high-end mover. Jonathan trusted his peoples’ word and felt a little more at ease doing business with Chico.

  Tatiana was relieved that everything worked out smoothly. Her brothers didn’t show their satisfaction. It was business, not a friendship.

  Tatiana wanted to celebrate with Chico in the confines of their bedroom, but Chico wanted to rush back to New York and check on Apple. He had accomplished what he came to the South to do—get rid of his product, get his money, and head back to New York. He had opened up a pipeline in Charlotte, and figured it would only be one of many places to come. He had his eye on the South now. And he would be back. Regardless of how he felt about it, it was a newfound hustle for him.

  Chapter 23

  Kola had fucked plenty of niggas and had done things that would go down in history books. But once Cross came into her life, her wild ways stopped, and she became more business-minded and faithful to her man.

  At first, she only got with Cross to piss off Apple. She was well aware of the strong crush that Apple had for Cross, and when the sisters were at war with each other, she used Cross to her advantage. But Kola didn’t expect to fall in love with him. It came unexpectedly, and when it came, she didn’t know what to do with it. Cross was her king. He was a man that had all the qualities she looked for—street-oriented, a hustler with respect, and a good lover. It would soon be a year that they’d been together, and she was looking forward to their anniversary. Cross had made her into something she thought she would never become—a faithful bitch.

  Kola got the phone call from Edge late one night.

  “You know where ya man is right now? Laid up wit’ the next bitch in Brooklyn,” he told her. “And you wanna be down wit’ that nigga.”

  “You is a fuckin’ snake, Edge!” Kola barked. “I thought he was your boy.”

  “I’m the snake? Shit, I thought you were his number one bitch. He playin’ you, Kola, and this nigga just had a baby by his Brooklyn bitch.”

  “You fuckin’ lyin’, Edge! Get the fuck off my phone!”

  “Go check it out yourself. I got the bitch address.”

  Kola didn’t want to believe him. She figured Edge would say anything to get into her panties. But hearing about Cross’ infidelity was hard to swallow. She still took the address from Edge.

  “I’m sayin’, ma, I thought you should know. He’s my boy and all, but he shouldn’t be doin’ you dirty like that.”

  “Fuck you, Edge! You think you scored some points wit’ me by tellin’ me this shit? Nigga, I don’t give a fuck what you say to me about Cross. I ain’t never fuckin’ you, and that’s a fact, muthafucka!”

  “It’s whateva, Kola. I just thought you should know.”

  The phone went silent, and Kola was left sitting there with many worries and doubts in her head. The tears began to fall, as uncertainty and concern about her relationship with Cross settled in.

  Men came at her all the time, but she turned them away, believing she had developed something special with Cross. Then she thought about Eduardo and how guilty she felt just kissing him that night. It could have gone further, but thinking about her man made her stop and come to her senses. What hurt her the most was hearing about the baby. It felt like she had acid in her stomach, hearing that Cross got some next bitch pregnant.

  Kola wanted to find out for herself. She wasn’t going to lie around and get herself worked up over speculation. She needed the facts. Remembering the address that Edge had given to her, she decided to take a trip out to Brooklyn really soon. And if Edge was telling her the truth, there would be hell to pay.

  ***

  Kola and Candace were parked across th
e street from the Fort Greene projects in Brooklyn, New York in a black Chevy Trailblazer with tinted windows. The sun was casting down, and the weather was warm in the notorious Brooklyn hood. Candace was itching for some action. She was down with Kola a hundred percent. She was ready to call her team of bitches and regulate on a few Brooklyn hoes, but Kola just wanted to be low-key and take everything in for the moment. She wanted the truth.

  Kola stared at the address in her hand. It was on the fourth floor, apartment 4B, and the girl’s name was Cynthia. Edge had given her a clear description of Cynthia—five five with caramel skin, soft, chinky eyes, and long, sinuous black hair—telling her, she couldn’t miss her because “shortie is beautiful.”

  Kola didn’t like coming out to Brooklyn unless it was for business with her parties. Brooklyn was a savage place in her mind. The bitches were prehistoric, and the men didn’t know how to get money like Harlem niggas. In Kola’s eyes, Harlem was where everything started and ended, and she was offended that Cross would even fuck with a Brooklyn bitch, let alone have a baby by one.

  “You ready to do this?” Candace asked.

  Kola wasn’t sure if she was ready to see the truth or if she could handle it. She looked at the time. A quarter past seven. She then looked at Candace and said, “Fuck it! Let’s see this bitch!”

  Both girls stepped out of the truck and hastily walked toward the building on St. Edwards Street. The area was quiet. They walked into the projects like they owned the place. Candace had her .380 tucked in her jeans like a nigga. She was as hood as they came.

  They entered the lobby and proceeded toward the elevators. Both girls were silent. Kola didn’t have a plan; she was going off a whim. She knew Edge had a motive and figured it was probably much more than to just get into her panties. He was still upset that she had grabbed a hold of the connect and had made his feelings known about Kola associating with Eduardo.