She made her way toward the freight elevator and quietly slipped out of the venue. She casually walked out of the building and in the direction where Tamar and Mona were waiting in a parked Dodge. Cristal climbed into the backseat smiling like the Cheshire cat.
“We good?” Tamar asked.
“Mission accomplished,” she revealed. “Now let’s get the fuck outta here.”
Mona started the ignition and drove out the parking spot. Cristal felt relieved. This was only the beginning of their new life to come. If she could keep pulling off subtle kills like this, the organization had to respect her and pay her what she was worth—a fortune.
Twenty-Six
Cristal was falling in love with Hugo after several weeks of dating. Whenever he came around it was like a breath of fresh air. He was fun to be around, he educated her about different things, and the sex was amazing. He took her mind away from the recent killings she and her crew executed for the Commission. The Cristal Clique had carried out two other murdergrams for the organization. Their third hit was on Antonio Hernandez, a self-made and compassionless millionaire who fled to rural upstate of New York with ten million dollars from his Ponzi scheme. He’d swindled dozens of people out of their money, draining several savings accounts and bankrupting numerous others into depression.
Cristal, Tamar, and Mona drove the hour-long trip into Troy, New York in a rent-a-car. They bypassed his top-notch security system and sneaked into his luxurious home nestled in the backwoods on a large hill. They hid in the shadows of the four-bedroom home and waited nearly three hours for their mark to arrive. The problem was he didn’t show up alone. He was accompanied by two beautiful prostitutes, and he was ready to have a threesome with them in his master bedroom. The two bitches weren’t on their contract to kill, so they had to wait until he was alone, and Cristal cut Antonio’s throat from ear to ear with her chromed razorblade, and left her calling card on his bloody frame in the master bedroom.
It was a clean hit and a profitable one, too. The girls received five hundred thousand apiece for it. Antonio Hernandez was a despised man, and because so many people wanted him dead, it benefited the girls financially.
The fourth hit was Junior Dante, a mafia member and captain in the dwindling Lucchese family, which used to be one of New York’s dominating five families. The organization wanted him done immediately. He was a snitch, a big-mouth rat, but hard to kill, and some powerful people needed to see his demise. The crew hit him while he was being chauffeured in his limousine coming from Kennedy Airport. Cristal disguised as a limo driver and picked him up outside the arriving terminal. Once they were away from the bustling area, Cristal lowered the partition between them and shot Junior Dante multiple times in the head and chest. She tossed her card at him and exited the limo, leaving no prints or anything that could connect her to the murder.
The fifth kill, A.J. Reckon, was a degenerate gambler who owed some dangerous people too much money and wasn’t able to pay off his debts for going on six months. This time, Tamar did the honors, and he was gunned down exiting a hole-in-the-wall casino in Brooklyn. The Queen of Spades was shoved into his mouth.
The sixth hit was their hardest, a Washington, D.C. drug kingpin named Sammy Locks. He stayed with bodyguards, was flamboyant and at all times, was heavily armed. The Commission wanted him dead ASAP. The girls didn’t have ample time to clock their target and get a good read on him, so it was going to be risky. Cristal noticed Sammy Locks loved the club life. He was always out all night drinking, smoking, and having sex with multiple women. They decided the club he attended frequently was the only way to get at him.
Cristal keenly observed the man partying like it was New Year’s Eve 1999 in the VIP area. He stood six-one; a stout, intimidating man. He downed Moët like it was water. Sammy Locks was guarded by several armed goons who took their job seriously. Tamar was the bait. She was able to slide into VIP with Sammy in her black, sexy dress that revealed all her curves and cleavage. And while he was sidetracked, she slipped liquid laxative into his drink without incident and waited for the outcome.
Half an hour later, Sammy Locks felt the unsettling and churning feeling in his stomach. He started to get gassy and farted.
“Oh shit!” he had uttered, knowing what was about to break out from his asshole next.
He jumped up holding his stomach and retreated toward the bathroom, hurriedly leaving behind his goons. Sammy couldn’t afford to have any embarrassing incidents in the club. His reputation meant everything to him. And therefore, it was embarrassing for anyone in his crew to see him take such an intense shit from the diarrhea bubbling in his stomach.
When Sammy Locks was in the bathroom, Cristal was already there, waiting to confront him alone. Once the door shut, before Sammy Locks could take comfort in one of the stalls to squat and take his shit, he noticed Cristal glaring at him from behind. He smirked at the pretty young thing and uttered, “Bitch, ain’t you in the wrong bathroom?”
“No, I’m in the right bathroom,” she replied coolly.
“You are, huh? What you want, a piece of me?”
Cristal looked fiercely at him. He was her payday and there was no way she was leaving out the bathroom with him alive. Their eyes locked, and Sammy knew she wasn’t there to jerk him off. His stomach still churned like a royal rumble happening inside of him, his belly cramping up.
“Tell me who fuckin’ sent you?” he demanded.
She remained silent.
Sammy Locks wanted to charge at her and snap her neck like a twig. She was a petite, harmless-looking girl, but her eyes revealed a cold-blooded and deadly killer. When he tried to attack her, he doubled over from the pain in his stomach. The laxative was taking a strong effect on him. He let loose an echoing fart like an engine motor revving in a high speed race, and it gave Cristal the advantage to strike.
She confronted him and a violent hand-to-hand battle ensued. She struck him multiple times in areas that mattered—the knee, his chest, his rib cage, and his throat, kicking and punching him fiercely. He fought back, assaulting Cristal with hair pulling and then grabbing her petite frame and hurling her across the bathroom like she was a Frisbee. Cristal went sliding into the wall, but she didn’t stay down. Sammy Locks stood to his full height, towering over Cristal with a menacing scowl. He wasn’t going to die easy tonight.
“I’m gonna fuck you up, bitch!” he exclaimed, blood dripping from his lips.
Cristal dared him to try. She used the combat training she learned on the Farm to fight him. He outweighed her by 150 pounds. Sammy farted loudly again, which was followed up by a foul smell, indicating he’d shat on himself. He no longer cared about the discomforting feeling inside his pants; his life was on the line. He had underestimated the pretty young thing. She was a fighter. He swiftly lunged at her to grab her, yearning to break the bitch in half, but Cristal was ready for him, and Sammy Locks was met powerfully by a roundhouse kick to his face that dazed him. Her high heels went crashing into his cheekbone like a 787 smashing into land.
Sammy Locks stumbled. The blow came unexpectedly—Cristal finished off the attack with a crushing low kick outside the back of his knee, and Sammy fell to his knees in defeat. He was hurt badly. She didn’t have much time. She removed the razor blade from under her tongue, positioned herself behind him, took his head into her hands, and while Sammy Locks was stunned and on his knees, placed the razor to his throat and cut it open with no hesitation, spraying his blood all over the floor.
Sammy Locks frantically slammed his hands against his slashed throat, his eyes bulging with panic and his mouth gurgling from choking on his own blood. Cristal stepped back and watched him die a painful death. He turned around with his bloody hands still clasping around his neck, fighting to live and breathe. He gazed at Cristal in horror as she stood stoically, watching him expire. He collapsed face-down on the tiled floor, sprawled out in a pool of his own blood.
/>
It was sloppy. But mission accomplished.
Cristal flushed the bloody razor down the toilet, and washed her hands. Without touching the contents inside the small Ziploc plastic bag, she unzipped it, dropped her Queen of Spades signature card on the floor next to the body, and bounced. It was time to retreat. She checked her condition in the mirror, took a deep breath, and exited the bathroom coolly, but surprisingly, she was met by one of Sammy’s goons approaching to check on his boss. They exchanged a hard stare; seeing a woman come out of the men’s bathroom was odd.
She took off running, fleeing down the hallway toward the back exit of the club. He gave chase with a gun in his hand. She slipped out of her high heels, carrying them in her hands, and made her escape from the goon. She pushed her way through the crowd like a maniac, screaming out, “He got a gun!” creating disorder in the nightclub as she rushed through the place and hurried into a back alley. It was dark. It was cold, but she wasn’t going down without a fight. Fortunately for Cristal, Sammy Locks’ goon was confronted by security, and a shootout ensued inside the place. Hordes of partygoers came running out of everywhere, shielding her with cover and the perfect escape.
She met with her crew, exasperated. The girls rushed back to New York, having completed the job. It was their most challenging kill, but they knew there would be more challenging kills to come their way.
Twenty-Seven
Cristal needed the massage Hugo was giving her. The tranquil setting with scented candles burning, rose petals displayed everywhere, R&B playing, and baby oil being applied to her skin was so soothing. She laid face-down on his king-size bed, butt-naked, with his magic touch relaxing her in so many ways. He massaged her shoulders, sides, and back like he was a licensed masseur and gently worked his way down to her soft buttocks. Cristal closed her eyes and enjoyed his pleasurable touch.
When Hugo asked about the few bruises on her skin, she lied and said she’d gotten into an altercation on the streets with some bitches that tried to jump her. Hugo asked who. He was ready to have her back and protect her, but she declined to give any names, and said it was nothing. Hugo wasn’t a fool, though. They’d been dating for several months and he knew she was hiding something from him. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he was determined to find out.
The D.C. hit almost turned into a disaster for Cristal. It wasn’t subtle and too bloody. She was lucky to have made it back home in one piece and unnoticed, except for the goon who saw her exit the restroom. But the Commission didn’t have any complaints—another bad man dead. Sammy Locks’ murder made the front-page news. He was a heavy hitter in the area, plaguing the neighborhoods with drugs, murder, and guns, and he had a strong influence in his community. They wanted him dead.
Despite the risk, Cristal wanted more jobs—maybe international hits, like the nameless killer from the Farm was doing. She wanted to become a heavy player—a well-known killer for the Commission. The money she and her girls were making was intoxicating, but she wanted to become a lone wolf, like Lisa maybe. It bothered her that Lisa was out there on her own doing her own thing, probably internationally. It was boggling though, Lisa was never about that life like that. So how was it possible?
However, when Cristal brought numerous questions to E.P., wanting information about Lisa, he warned her to let it go and ignore it. It was for her own good.
Cristal began feeling that she was better working alone than with others. She really wanted to be the best. The best was fearless and motivated; there was no job too risky and complicated for her. If they told her to assassinate the president of the United States, Cristal would die trying to fulfill her contract.
Also, Cristal’s overseas bank account was growing rapidly. The last time she’d been able to check, it had close to a million dollars in it—seven hundred seventy-five thousand, with interest, exactly. Although they weren’t allowed to make any withdrawals, and lived modestly on the stipends the Commission gave them, to know that much money was stacking made her feel gainfully employed. She was proud of this life. She felt important. She felt significant in something for once. And finding love with Hugo was a bonus. Finally, she was no longer some hoochie mama hugging the block trying to attach herself to a baller looking for a come-up. She was making her own money and leaving her mark on this planet, though it may have been a bloody mark.
With Hugo, she lived a different life—a somewhat normal life. Outside of fulfilling the murdergrams, she rarely saw her friends. Cristal didn’t have time for them like back in the days. Their lives were moving on, and besides business, friendships were drifting apart. When there was no contract to execute, Mona busied herself with growing marijuana discreetly and reading. She became somewhat reclusive in her Bronx apartment, adjusting to life after Pike’s murder and Sharon’s absence. She missed Sharon, but understood her friend stayed away because, rightfully so, she was in mourning.
Tamar, during her free time from killing muthafuckas, hit the nightclubs in the city, partied like a rock star, and had sex like a porn star. She had freedom and nothing else to do with her spare time. She didn’t have a steady man in her life, and she wasn’t the shot caller like Cristal. When it came to killing, Cristal primarily did the hits and got the recognition. Tamar felt like the backup singer in a pop group. Everything always went through Cristal—the murdergrams, the money, E.P.’s time and attention. Her best friend had it all.
Tamar had nothing but her grimy reputation and a drive to take Cristal’s place. Cristal was the queen bee of it all, and Tamar was envious and wanted to see a change. She wanted more. She was annoyed that Cristal was fucking E.P., and she saw little amenities that Cristal got that the rest of them didn’t. Tamar felt all the girls were equal, yet Cristal was getting all the shine. The signature, The Queen of Spades—it wasn’t theirs, but Cristal’s own personal signature. Tamar thought it was childish and thought their name, the Cristal Clique, was ridiculous. Tamar wanted to become a lone wolf, like Lisa. She didn’t want to play well with others anymore. There had to be some way to rock the boat.
...
Hugo massaged every square inch of Cristal’s exquisite body while he was shirtless. His masculine hands were massaging her stress away. He was the man she wanted to be with, and she couldn’t see her life without him. But that guilty feeling of being with E.P. the other day was spinning in her head—playing out like a bad 3-D movie. He came to her apartment dressed sharply, looking for her company and needing her intimacy. They talked momentarily and then fucked their brains out for over two hours. Afterwards, he left like a thief in the night, leaving Cristal drained with some regret. The affair had been going on for too long now, and Cristal didn’t see it coming to an end anytime soon. E.P. said he was in love with Cristal, but she wasn’t in love with him. Her heart was with Hugo while carrying on her affair with E.P. for business reasons. E.P. thought they had a thing, but she was only using him to get more jobs, and she wanted to be respected and admired as he admired the nameless killer doll.
Cristal was playing both sides of the fence.
After the massage, she and Hugo made love. It was at times like these that she wanted to stay in his arms forever.
Together, they were becoming a powerful couple and their wealth was expanding like Jay Z and Beyoncé. Hugo was a shrewd businessman, trying to transition from the streets to the boardroom. He owned a strip club in Brooklyn, a barbershop, a restaurant, a couple Laundromats, real estate, and a recording studio. It all came from drug money, and all of his profitable businesses made it easier for him to launder his drug money. Hugo wanted to become legit with Cristal by his side. But the rift between them came when Cristal had to execute a murdergram and would disappear suddenly, sometimes for days, and sometimes not having a reasonable explanation for her sudden absence. She refused to reveal her business to Hugo, though they supposedly had love and trust between them. It was for his safety. Cristal feared the Commission and she didn’t want any
thing to happen to her boyfriend.
Hugo’s organization was expanding, and he had everything he could ask for, but what he wanted truly was a baby, a son or daughter to call his own. He’d never had a family of his own. And in Hugo’s mind, it was a way to tie her down to something. But Cristal was against having a family at the moment. She knew the restrictions given to her by the Commission. She wanted to tell her man the truth, but it too was dangerous. They owned her life until she was twenty-five years old, and at twenty, she didn’t want to rock the boat. Her life was good, and she planned on keeping it that way.
How long could she keep the truth from Hugo? He already had his suspicions that something was going on, that she was cheating when she went MIA. He loved her, but he hated secrets. And Cristal was running out of reasons to explain her unexpected trips to different areas of the country.
...
The next murdergram Cristal received was for two brothers named Rawls and Fred “Baby” Dinkins. They were heavy drug runners for a cartel, and were also two ruthless killers out on the west coast—Los Angeles to be specific. The hit had to be executed within the week. The brothers were living on borrowed time, and the Commission wanted them executed together. It was going to be another risky job, but the pay was going to be worth it. Each girl would receive a quarter of a million dollars, to be placed in her overseas account. With the interest already growing from money earned from their previous kills, the girls were on their way to becoming multi-millionaires within the next two years. And when it came time for Cristal to retire at the age of twenty-five, she was going to be set for life.
The hard part for Cristal was telling Hugo she had to leave for California within twenty-four hours. It was pressure put on her and Hugo wasn’t going to like her leaving him once again. He was going to raise hell, like he did when she flew out to Miami a month ago to kill Rufus Gibbs, a major gorilla pimp in the city who had a stranglehold over two dozen exotic-looking women. Gibbs was known for drugging and raping his women and treating them harshly. Tamar and Cristal got at him through poison, stabbing him with a syringe lethal dosage of ricin as the two created a façade of beautiful, high-class working girls looking for a pimp’s protection. Gibbs took the bait and lost his life. The Queen of Spades was taped to his forehead as the ricin devastated his insides.
Murdergram, Part 1 Page 22