Murdergram, Part 1

by Nisa Santiago

“I just felt it was the right thing to do.”

  “The right thing to do? Sharon, you think a nigga like him gonna appreciate that?” Mona asked rhetorically.

  “Nigga, how you gonna play housewife to a dog like that, especially after he came clear that the only thing he wanted from you was some pussy! And you cleaned this nigga crib, cooked him breakfast? Damn, where they make bitches like you at?” Tamar exclaimed bluntly. “Stupidville?”

  “I rather get some dick from a nigga than become his housemaid, real talk!” Mona said.

  “What, you on that ‘kill ’em nicely wit’ kindness’?” Tamar blurted. “You think being nice to a nigga like that gonna cause him to have a change of heart?”

  “I definitely need to smoke after hearing this shit,” Mona said, lighting up the blunt in the park without any regard for anyone else around—kids, parents, the cops.

  Lisa was quiet. She didn’t actually agree with Sharon’s actions. She wasn’t too open with her thinking, but the way she looked at her friend, it was clear that she also disagreed with treating Pike with that kind of hospitality.

  “Damn girl, you make us look bad,” Tamar said.

  “Do I?” Sharon retorted. “Because instead of fuckin’ a nigga, having a one night stand, giving my pussy out, and chancing in either getting pregnant or an STD from the nigga, I decided to cook and clean up for him. And by doing that, I make y’all look bad? Bitch, please!”

  “We just sayin’ Sharon,” Mona returned in a more amiable tone.

  “What are you sayin’, Mona?” Sharon asked gruffly.

  Mona didn’t want to finish her sentence. She decided to leave it alone. She took a strong pull from the weed in her hand and then shared it with Tamar. They felt the tension growing between them and Sharon, so weed was going to be the peace treaty between them.

  “Bitch, you know we love you,” Tamar spoke out. “We just don’t want to see our girl get hurt and played by a nigga like that. Yeah, he’s fine and all, got a big dick, but c’mon, you deserve better than that, Sharon. And besides, we don’t want you to have wishful thinking wit’ him.”

  Sharon understood.

  “I didn’t mean to get loud wit’ y’all,” she apologized.

  “Bitch, we still cool,” Mona said.

  The girls daringly got high in the park in broad daylight while gathered around the bench. They relived E.P.’s party and joked around with each other. While they did so, Sharon’s cell phone rang. She looked; it was an unknown number. She decided to take it. When she heard his voice on the other end, Sharon was surprised. It was Pike.

  “Hey,” she greeted with a smile.

  “Hey, you busy?” he asked.

  “No, not really,” she responded.

  “Can you come over today? I wanna see you,” Pike said cordially.

  “After everything that happened the other night?” she reminded him. “I don’t know.”

  “I know. I’m sorry for the way I acted. We’ve been cool for too long to let this get in the way. But I need to see you.”

  “Okay.”

  Tamar, Mona and Lisa stopped what they were doing and became focused on their friend’s phone conversation.

  “Sharon, who’s that?” Tamar asked, assertively.

  They already had a speculation who she was talking to.

  “I’ll see you soon,” Sharon said, and ended her call, triumphantly.

  “Sharon, who was that? Pike?” Tamar asked again.

  Sharon couldn’t help but to grin from ear to ear. She nodded.

  “He asked you to come over again?” Mona asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Yo, I know you ain’t goin’ back over there,” Tamar said.

  “Sharon, if you go back over there, you only gonna be playin’ yourself,” Mona warned her.

  “How you gonna hop back on the train to Harlem to see this nigga after he kicked you out and disrespected you?” Tamar added.

  “Because I want to,” Sharon returned.

  Both girls sighed with frustration for their friend. But Sharon was adamant to see Pike again. They went on to tell her she was a dumb ass if she was to travel back uptown.

  ...

  Sharon knocked on Pike’s door with some nervousness. Why had she come back? What if her friends were right? Could this be a mistake? She thought about the note she left him. Had it changed his heart? Was it desperation instead of an invitation? Maybe she had faith in him—faith that he could change. She could change him. Sharon stood in the hallway of his building and took a deep breath. Clad in her white shorts and T-shirt, she fidgeted with her natural afro and waited for him to answer his door.

  The apartment door opened and Pike stood in front of her, clad in a wifebeater and jeans this time. He smiled and invited her inside.

  Sharon looked at him; he seemed to be in a more delightful mood. The apartment was still clean, which was a good thing. Pike stood next to her. He scratched his head, looked around his apartment, and sighed.

  “I need your help with something,” he said.

  “With what?” she asked.

  Soon, Sharon noticed a couple of ounces of weed and an ounce of cocaine on the kitchen table. It would have been Mona’s nirvana. Her friend wouldn’t hesitate to try and smoke it all in one day. The cocaine was new to her. She knew Pike sold weed, but it seemed that he’d upgraded to pushing the white powder.

  Pike walked into the kitchen. He seemed to have been busy bagging up his product alone when Sharon came knocking.

  “What do you need my help with?”

  “I need you to make some runs for me,” he had the audacity to ask her.

  “What?” Sharon was shocked. “Are you crazy? Is this the only fuckin’ reason why you called me over?!”

  “Listen, you’re the only one I can trust right now. I’m in trouble here, and if I don’t get this money up by tonight, then some serious people are going to come looking for me,” Pike said. “I gotta stay behind and bag this shit up, and I can’t do two things at one time.”

  “Where’s Rich?”

  “He got business of his own to handle.”

  Sharon sighed. She knew she was being used, but for some strange reason, she couldn’t bring herself not to help him. Despite his flaws, Pike was still her friend, and she didn’t want to see anything bad happen to him.

  Halfheartedly, she agreed to do him this service, one time.

  “I love you for this,” Pike said.

  “I want you to love me regardless of what I do or don’t do,” she returned.

  Pike smiled and gave her a strong hug which was followed by a heated kiss which she didn’t resist. Sharon wanted to melt in his arms, the way he held her and slipped his tongue into her mouth. He felt so good. And he smelled good, too. She looked up at him, not wanting him to let her go. But it was a daydream at the moment. Pike went into the kitchen and placed three ounces of weed and an ounce of cocaine into a black bag and handed it to Sharon. She took it with little skepticism.

  “This is my life you’re holding in your hands,” he told her. “Protect this with yours.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Pike,” she assured him.

  He smiled.

  Sharon placed the drugs into her purse, slung the bag over her shoulder and took a deep breath. Before she was to leave, Pike handed her a .380. She took the gun reluctantly. She wasn’t familiar with guns. It wasn’t her world, in spite of her being from the projects. Sharon stared at the gun and thought, what was she getting herself into?

  She walked out of his apartment with a strong feeling of apprehension. With three ounces of marijuana and cocaine in her bag and a loaded pistol, there was no telling what might happen. Cristal and Tamar were built for shit like this, not her. She was about to make various stops to dangerous drug dealers and supposedly pick up cash.
Pike had to be truly desperate or stupid to trust Sharon with this great responsibility.

  Sharon’s first stop was Washington Heights. She went up a four-story tenement and delivered the cocaine first. Some fledging Hispanics mixed up with Pike needed the product. When they saw Sharon in the hallway, they couldn’t believe he sent a woman to do some grown-man business.

  One of the Hispanics in the apartment, clad in a tank top, jewelry and dark beard with a cigarette in his hand, smiled at Sharon, uttering, “Mira este…he sent you?”

  “He sent me,” Sharon replied with a hardhearted tone.

  He took a pull, exhaled. “Anyway, what you got for us?”

  Sharon took a deep breath and felt uncertain about walking into the apartment. From where she stood in the hallway, she could see about four guys inside. She stepped inside the place regardless, praying niggas didn’t kill or rob her. She noticed how they were staring at her, and some anger toward Pike started to set in. If anything happened to her, then how could she forgive him?

  The deal with the Hispanics went through without any incident, thank God. She collected the payment and hurried to her next drop-off, in Harlem.

  Surprisingly, all the drop-offs went smoothly, and she collected four grand for Pike. When she returned, he was pleased. To celebrate, he ordered Chinese food and gave Sharon one hundred dollars for her services. One hundred dollars, it was a joke—cheap bastard.

  But she wanted to enjoy his company and not think about how she allowed him to put her life at risk, sending her out to distribute drugs to dangerous men in dangerous neighborhoods. Instead, the two sat nestled on his couch eating Chinese food together and playing PlayStation games for a while, drinking beer and smoking weed. Sharon wanted to spend another night with Pike—an intimate and romantic night, but it appeared that once more, Pike had different plans in mind.

  Once again, he was horny and infatuated by Sharon, and gave her the choice; if she wasn’t fucking then she wasn’t staying. He had some nerve, after what she did for him. He sent Sharon on her way before it got too late for her to make any excuses this time. She thought they were having a good time and she was getting to him, but she was wrong. Again, the muthafucka became a jerk!

  Nine

  Cristal stepped out of the shower feeling fresher than mountain spring water. E.P.’s showerhead gave her an exhilarating feeling. It left her feeling invigorated and stripped clean of any stress. She toweled off in front of the large mirror and looked intently at her reflection. What gazed back was a new her.

  She thought about E.P.’s proposal of becoming some assassin for hire. Was he for real? And if so, why her? With his wealth and power, he had to be for real, though. When he spoke about murder, he seemed cool—stoic. Killing was just business for him, it seemed. Big business.

  Cristal took a deep breath and continued to gaze at herself in the mirror. Could she really kill someone? She remembered talking all that shit in Pike’s apartment after she witnessed Tank gun down several people in the park. Niggas like him made it look so easy. Could she ever make it look so easy, too?

  She stood, pensive.

  The difference between Tank and E.P.’s organization was that Tank was reckless and stupid; E.P. was highly orchestrated and funded by some very influential people. How could she go wrong dealing with him?

  It was late in the evening, and three days had passed since Cristal had spoken to any of her friends or gone home. Her cell phone vibrated on the marble counter top in the bathroom. It was Tamar calling once again. Cristal decided to ignore her call and let it go to voicemail for the umpteenth time since she’d been with E.P. She knew her friends would be worried and upset about her absence, but this was important to her and she didn’t want to deal with any interruptions from anyone. She needed to think and she needed to get to know E.P. better, in ways other than him between her legs. His conversation was very intriguing, and his occupation was even more intriguing. And staying at his place was paradise. Why would she rush to go back to Brooklyn?

  But nothing came for free; there was a price for everything. E.P. looked like a man you didn’t want to cross or betray. And there had to be a reason why he’d picked Cristal out of the crowd.

  Murder? Could she really become some killer, or was E.P. setting her up to become a pawn for some elaborate conspiracy—maybe to kill the president or some important figure? How cool it would be to become some government assassin?

  She chuckled at the thought. Maybe she was watching too many spy and conspiracy movies.

  Cristal wrapped the towel around her glistening body and walked into the next room only to see they had company in E.P.’s suite. She was startled by the tall, lanky, well-dressed Caucasian man with a comb-over, pencil-thin goatee and eyes as blue as the ocean. He sported a diamond pinky ring and diamond earrings in both ears. He was clean and stylish.

  Cristal noticed the buffet of dresses, shoes, and pocketbooks spread out everywhere in the room. She was shocked to see such high-end and pricey clothing all in the same room—Chanel, Gucci, Fendi, Donna Karan, Versace, and more all under the same roof and for her to choose from. Christmas came early this year.

  “Hello, Cristal. I’m Vinny, E.P.’s stylist, and it’s a pleasure meeting you,” the man greeted in a effeminate tone.

  He greeted Cristal with a handshake and seemed animated.

  It was obvious that he was gay. But he was extremely handsome.

  “As you can see, Cristal, compliments of E.P., we have nothing but the best outfits for you to choose from for tonight. And might I say, you are beautiful, girl,” Vinny declared.

  She smiled.

  “My client is a lucky man. I wish I had your figure, honey, I bet you drive all the boys crazy,” Vinny said with his girlish hand gestures.

  Cristal chuckled.

  E.P. was in the background talking business on his cell phone. His stylist from Saks Fifth Avenue was the best. He worked with notable and elite clients like Kelly Rowland, Mary J. Blige, Kim Kardashian, Alani “La La” Anthony, Beyoncé, and more.

  Cristal was taken aback by everything E.P. was doing for her. The stylish clothing presented in front of her was costly. The price tags were still on the dresses and bags, and one of the price tags on a dress was twelve thousand dollars.

  Whoa!

  Cristal really wouldn’t have minded washing her panties out in the sink and putting on her same dress. It’s what she knew and where she came from, but she was being seduced by the royal treatment. And who could say no to such eye-catching goodies?

  “Girl, I know the perfect dress for you. I figure you to be a size four or six, and you’re going to look marvelous when I’m done with you,” Vinny said elatedly.

  “I hope so.” Cristal looked over at E.P., but he wasn’t paying her any attention. He was doing his usual business call.

  “Girl, he can’t do anything for you. You’re mine to dress up for the night. And believe me, girl, when I’m done with you, I’m going to have you looking more marvelous than Beyoncé,” he proclaimed with conviction. “Like, fabulous!” Vinny snapped his fingers excitedly.

  Cristal smiled and chuckled.

  She couldn’t wait.

  Cristal went up to the chic clothing and lavish items that she would see in the extravagant stores display windows on Park and Fifth Avenue, and it was definitely difficult for her to choose. Everything was on point.

  “Girl, with your lovely complexion and hair, might I suggest you try on this.” Vinny picked up an electric-pink, sexy silk dress with spaghetti straps, low open back, and gold chain details. The designer was Versace, and the cost of the dress was eight thousand dollars.

  Cristal couldn’t wait to try it on. It was beautiful and sleek. She never wore anything so expensive in her life. Vinny picked out two more dresses for her to try on. Tonight, E.P. was taking her out to eat at a five-star restaurant in the city. She wen
t into the bedroom and came back out ten minutes later with the dress hugging her curvy body perfectly.

  Vinny smiled and said, “Girl, like I said, you look ‘fabulous’ in that dress.” He emphasized the word fabulous and snapped his fingers wholeheartedly to stress his statement. “Cristal, you cannot go wrong tonight.”

  “You think?” She beamed with joy.

  “I know. And the shoes, they go perfectly.”

  Cristal had on three-thousand-dollar black, YSL heels. Her feet had never felt better. E.P. walked over with his attention fixed on her from head to toe. The look in his eyes showed he loved the attire. He nodded, giving his approval.

  “See girl, even he likes it, and it’s hard for me to get him to like anything because he’s so picky, but you are so gorgeous,” Vinny stated with enthusiasm. “You are an A-plus-plus on a calculus exam.”

  Cristal chuckled. She really liked Vinny. He was so lively and funny. She had never hung around anyone like him before—so gay and animated like a Looney Tunes cartoon. And the clothes she wore were far from her normal reach. She definitely could get used to this.

  “Okay, Cristal, you ready for some more?” Vinny asked with his huge and bubbly smile.

  “You’re going to spoil me, Vinny.”

  “Girl, as fine and fresh as you are, spoiled shouldn’t even be in your vocabulary. You’re honey, Cristal and you know honey never spoils, and I love me some honey,” he said amusingly.

  Cristal laughed. Vinny was just too much.

  She couldn’t wait to go out to eat tonight. She was starving and ready to eat a horse, hooves and all.

  ...

  The five-star restaurant on Barrow Street in the West Village was lovely, charming and romantic. E.P. and Cristal were met with a remarkably warm ambience. To their left was a grand piano being put to great use. The two were escorted up the stairs to a cached-away corner of the restaurant. The tables were all candlelit and the lighting dimmed. The colors, the classic detailing; it all lent itself to a wonderful sense of romance.

  It was all new to Cristal. She felt like a princess. The ambience alone was overwhelming. Her beautiful figure in the dress turned heads. They were seated and instantly received service; the waiter suggested a few tasty appetizers to start off with. Cristal was unfamiliar with the selections on the menu. It might as well have been written in Spanish. Duck terrine, Branzino fish, brie cheese, brioche, and chutney—what kind of food was that?