by Chynna
The next document was the deed for a property located in Dix Hills, Long Island. Jesse had never taken her to any home he owned in Dix Hills, nor had he mentioned purchasing a home there. It was a beautiful property, with a expansive lawn and huge wrought iron gates in front. Even the brownstone Jesse had purchased for her wasn’t as extensive and luxurious as this property.
Summer frantically flipped through the remaining documents inside. Her heart felt like it stopped beating when she saw a white envelope that read “DNA DIAGNOSTICS.” Summer turned the envelope over, but it was empty. She paged through the rest of the documents, but she did not find the DNA test results. Instead, the file was filled with documents pertaining to the mortgage payments on the Dix Hills property, childcare expenses, food and grocery bills and wire transactions to a bank account under the name of Tanya Rodgers.
“You fuckin’ liar!” Summer growled under her breath, sending the file flying across the desk, its contents sailing in ten different directions. There it was solidly in black and white. Now she knew where Jesse had stashed his love child and drug addict mother.
“C’mon Billy, I need you to go somewhere with me,” Summer huffed, her cheeks flushed. Billy was sprawled out on the long, burgundy leather couch waiting for Summer to finish conducting her business. He’d been at her side since Scrap’s death since the other crew members still weren’t feeling the way Summer had handled things. Also, Pedro Millenia’s son had been eliminated and Summer was anticipating the backlash for that as well.
“A’ight boss lady, what’s up?” Billy jumped to his feet, picking up his burner off the couch and shoving it into the back of his pants. A straight street dude move, no holsters needed. Summer headed out of the office and Billy didn’t miss a beat, still hot on her heels. He knew from his time as Jesse’s muscle how to follow leads without asking a lot of questions.
“Don’t let anyone inside this office without me being here!” Summer barked at Dina, Jesse’s young, attractive secretary. It was the least the secretary could do since Summer hadn’t fired her pretty ass yet. Summer always hated how many attractive women Jesse had in his employ. She planned on changing that very soon.
“Yes, ma’am,” the secretary replied, keeping her gaze downcast. Summer stormed down the long hallway so fast Billy had to almost jog to keep up with her.
“Everything a’ight, boss lady?” Billy finally asked catching up to her at the bank of elevators. Summer mashed on the elevator button, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. In her hand she clutched the deed to the Dix Hills property.
“C’mon…c’mon,” Summer mumbled as she watched the numbers above the elevator go up. Billy stood by her side, silent and ready for action. He couldn’t front though, her antsy behavior was making him uneasy. He just wished she would tell him what the hell was so urgent.
When the elevator doors finally dinged open, Summer exhaled and went to rush inside.
“You fucking bitch! You killed him! You fucking killed him! I know it was you!” The high-pitched howls rushed at Summer just as Caralina came barreling out of the elevator like a wrecking ball straight into Summer’s chest.
“You low down dirty bitch! You fucking killed him!” Caralina screeched. Summer stumbled backwards, twisting her ankle in the process.
Summer tried to catch her balance wincing at the pain. Caralina quickly rained punches down on Summer’s body, catching her good on the chin. Before Summer could react, Billy grabbed a handful of Caralina’s hair, yanking her so hard her head snapped back on the stalk of her neck. That didn’t deter Summer’s seemingly demonically possessed and grieving former best friend.
“Get the fuck off me! Let me get to that bitch! You fucking killed him! I hate you! I hate you, Summer! I can’t believe you took him from me!” Caralina wailed, pain behind every word.
Summer composed herself and straightened her clothes. She stepped out of her heels while Billy held onto a wild, flailing feral Caralina.
“Yo, chill and get out of here. You not gonna get many warnings,” Billy said to Caralina calmly as he tightened his grasp.
“I can’t believe he’s gone! I can’t believe he’s dead!”
“Keep the fuck still. You don’t know who you fucking with right now. I suggest you chill and go home and do your crying there. She ain’t have nothing to do with what happened to Scrap,” Billy warned as he pushed the elevator button to send this screaming banshee on her way home.
“No! I’m not leaving! She’s gonna face me! Why you kill him, Summer? Because you were embarrassed that JB cheated on you and he knew your secret? You didn’t want anyone to know that your fucking husband had a baby on the side and didn’t respect you enough to tell you? You killed the man I love for that bullshit! Just because he knew about JB’s dirty secret?” Caralina cried, her face red from the blood and adrenaline pooling under her skin.
Summer laughed unstably, a signal of how fragile her mental state was becoming by the minute. She could actually see herself pulling out her Glock and blowing Caralina’s loud mouth right off of her face. Summer blinked a few times. She had to get her craving for blood under control before more bodies required toe tags.
“Get the fuck out of here, Caralina. Go have a nice life. Your pussy ass man was a traitor and you are too. You think I wouldn’t find out that JB was actually paying you to be my fuckin’ friend, you lying ass bitch,” Summer hissed as calmly as she could given the circumstances. She limped over with her swollen ankle. With fire flashing in her eyes, Summer hawked a wad of spit into Caralina’s face. In Cuba, spitting in someone’s face was the highest form of disrespect. “That’s what I think of you and your bitch ass man and your fake ass friendship,” Summer followed up.
Caralina came alive again in Billy’s arms, her arms and legs moving like an Octopus. “Let go of me! You so fucking tough when you got your bodyguard right? Billy, let me at this bitch!”
Before Billy could toss her back into the elevator, a phalanx of building security officers rushed to the scene and surrounded them.
“What’s going on here?” an overweight guard wheezed breathlessly.
“Finally,” Summer grumbled, nursing her ankle. “I thought your useless asses would never show up. See this crazy person out of here and never let her back in this building again. I don’t care if you have to put a picture of her up in the lobby, just make sure she never disrupts my business again,” Summer said flatly. The security guards surrounded Caralina as Billy tossed her into the elevator like a ragdoll. Caralina’s streaked makeup and wild bird nest hair made her look deranged.
“You haven’t heard the last of me! You fucked up now, Summer. I’m not scared of you and I know who you really are! I will ruin you! Just like you killed my man…I’m gonna kill your—” Caralina screamed before the elevator doors closed the curtain on her performance.
***************************
Birds chirping from the trees in the yard, the bright September sun and the fresh green grass of the manicured lawn made the house look like an idyllic picture from Home and Garden magazine. It looked like a place you’d see a father mowing the lawn, while the mother was inside baking fresh biscuits from scratch as the daughter sat on a kitchen stool learning and the son washed the family dog at the side of the house. That’s what Summer thought of when she looked at the house that Jesse had purchased for another bitch!
“You know where we are, right?” Summer asked Billy, eyeing him seriously to gauge his reaction. He let out a long sigh. He knew all too well where they were. He’d been at this residence dozens of times delivering cash, clothes, toys, you name it. Whenever Jesse had to sneak off, Billy was right by his side. Billy felt like shit about it too. He had witnessed firsthand what Summer was capable of when she was betrayed.
“Look, of course I know where we at. Yes, I been here before…lots of times…but that don’t change my dedication to you. I’m sure you can put ya’self in my Timbs for a minute. I didn’t know you well enough at the time, bo
ss lady, but I knew JB. He was a stand-up dude. He would’ve told you about this situation. He was just waiting for the right time. As a man who was right by JB’s side most of the time, this was one mistake he was truly ashamed of. He wasn’t ashamed of the kid, but of the way it went down…feel me? A kid is a kid and JB was proud to be a father. He just wanted it to be right. I know in my heart he would’ve made shit right on this.” Billy stared out of the windshield at the expansive front lawn.
“Well, I guess we’ll never know that, will we?” Summer said bitterly, fighting the tears that were threatening to fall. She didn’t know why she felt so emotionally debilitated by the fact that Jesse had a son. Maybe it was knowing that she had competition for his love. Or maybe it was just pure jealousy.
“I made a lot of sacrifices to be with JB,” Summer said as she stared ahead. “He was already established. He was obviously the king of New York. Me, I was a poor illegal immigrant from Cuba trying to make it. I was working and holding my own when I met him. He wined and dined me. Took me places I’d never been. Bought me things a girl like me could only dream of and in return, I gave it all up. My heart. My trust. My drive. I took the easy way out in the arms of a man I thought would be around forever. But, then I find out, he was a deceitful liar. No better than any other man I’d ever encountered in my life,” she confessed to Billy. He was silent. What could he say to his boss after she’d just bared her soul. He felt for her.
Silence fell between them. Suddenly, Summer sat up in her seat. Her interest piqued.
Summer eyed the dark cherry wooden door with its beveled glass inserts. Suddenly the door opened and a beautiful woman stepped out with a large tote bag in hand. She was dressed in a pale green Juicy Couture sweat suit with her hair pulled back in a sleek, loose ponytail. She didn’t wear shades this time, so Summer was able to see the full effects of her classical features. Those slanted eyes and that crystal clear, blemish-free skin made her a rare beauty. Summer bit her bottom lip. The woman looked like she’d never used a drug a day in her life. She hated to imagine that Tanya, the former stripper, had caught Jesse’s eye and that there was more to their relationship than a one-night stand. Summer watched the svelte woman move like a model with her perfect small waist and perky breasts. Summer felt the same gnawing jealously she’d felt the first time she’d seen Tanya at Jesse’s funeral. A little boy bounded out of the door, his tiny New York Yankees fitted and crisp white Nike uptowns giving him a grown man’s swag. He was absolutely adorable, looking like a miniature Jesse. Summer and Billy watched in silence.
“She’s a problem that I want taken care of,” Summer said stiffly. Billy looked at her questioningly.
“Her? She’s a reformed hood rat. She’s harmless, far as I know,” Billy said evenly.
“Are you questioning me?” Summer asked sharply. Billy put up his hands up in front of him. He wasn’t trying to cross Summer.
“Nah…I’m just…” he mumbled.
“Good. I didn’t think so,” Summer cut him off. “I said she’s a problem, so we need to take care of it. She’s trying to sue JB’s estate and she’s using the kid. We’ll all be fucked if she gets her way,” Summer fabricated on the spot.
“Oh, word?” Billy said, his eyebrows dipping on his forehead. He turned and took another look at the woman and her son as they piled into a BMW 325i.
Summer rubbed her chin and laid out her plan. Billy nodded. He was loyal enough to carry out his boss’s wishes, no matter how sick the plan seemed.
Chapter 10 High Price to Pay
Mitch sat waiting for Trevor “Blacka” Blake, head of the Tivoli Gardens “Blackout” crew, the most deadly Jamaican drug posse to enter the drug game since the Shower Posse reigned terror in Brooklyn years ago. Mitch grew more envious by the minute as he looked around Blacka’s palatial estate. The six thousand square foot dream home sat on three acres of land in the same exclusive Saddle River, New Jersey neighborhood where stars like Reverend Run and Jah Rule maintained homes. In Mitch’s assessment, the home, which boasted Italian marble floors, two spiral staircases with gold railings, an expansive crystal chandelier, a private elevator, and enough artwork to fill a museum, was how he should be living.
Blacka glided into the room bopping to the side hard enough to break a hip. Mitch blinked and hmph’ed silently. He couldn’t understand why a grown ass man like Blacka insisted on wearing a gold bejeweled crown on his head, huge gold and diamond rings on every finger, including his thumb, and at least six huge diamond encrusted chains probably worth a million dollars around his neck. Blacka was the epitome of a gaudy, new money, came-from-shit type of dude who felt the need to showcase his newfound hood wealth. Mitch stood up and extended his hand for the fake, clown ass King Midas wanna-be in front of him.
“What do I owe the honor of a visit from the late, great JB’s right hand man?” Blacka laughed, his charcoal black skin, large lips, prominent flat nose and glowing white teeth making him look like a cross between Flava Flav and Shabba Ranks.
Mitch blanched at Blacka’s question. He was afraid Blacka would have a lot of questions. Mitch knew how suspect his request for a meeting with the Jamaicans seemed since JB and Blacka never got along. JB had negotiated a truce with Blacka a few years ago wherein both men agreed to stay on opposite ends of Brooklyn. Blacka felt JB relegating him to Flatbush and Canarsie was a slap in the face, but knew he didn’t have the gun or manpower to handle the Mexicans who backed JB. It was a precarious relationship at best.
Blacka sat down in a chair fashioned like a king’s throne, complete with a royal staff at the side. Laughable to say the least. Mitch took a seat across from Blacka in a regularly upholstered chair.
“Yo Blacka man, I’m just gon’ be real with you. I ain’t come here to waste your time or mine. JB ain’t around no more and I’m looking to branch out―new networks, new deals, new leadership. Completely disconnected from those Mexican motherfuckers that think they run New York. Finally tryna be boss of my own part of this pie out here,” Mitch replied, looking Blacka in the eyes as show of strength.
Poker-faced, Blacka seemed to consider Mitch’s explanation.
“I thought you had a new leader already,” Blacka chuckled tauntingly, showing all of his square white teeth.
Blacka could only imagine how Mitch must’ve felt when he wasn’t chosen as next in line after JB. He shook his huge, block shaped head in pity for Mitch.
“Mi cyan’t himagine ow yuh mus feel enna ya heart to ave a ooman tek ova wha mi seh rightfully belongs to yuh?” Blacka said, letting his Jamaican patois come out for the first time. Mitch’s jaw rocked now. The heat of embarrassment lit in his chest and rose to his face. Summer becoming boss was definitely still a sore spot for him. He knew for sure now that all of the crews in Brooklyn were definitely laughing at him.
“She took over because Cardinale assigned her. No other reason. I don’t take orders from nobody. In fact, she wouldn’t know shit about the game without me,” Mitch said bitterly, speaking half-truths. He had Summer and Cardinale believing he was fine with his position as Summer’s supposed partner, but his presence in front of a known rival signaled otherwise.
“What is in this for me? You come here today alone―no muscle, no weapons―boldly asking a favor like we are long lost buds. I could kill you right now and tell your new boss of this backstabbing,” Blacka said, his voice firm with a hint of annoyance.
Mitch’s stomach muscles tightened. He realized how risky his move was, but he was desperate. He flexed his neck, unable to respond. He knew what he was doing was a cardinal sin in their line of work.
“All you can do is respect me for trying to get on my feet. Everybody, even you, know I am the rightful boss. I put in years of work for JB―he was my brother so I never questioned it. But when he closed his eyes, shit got twisted. I am as loyal as they come, but I’ve been wronged and you know sometimes in business you’ve gotta make your own way. I’m just here tryna to right that wrong…feel me?” Mitch explained
as honestly as possible.
Blacka rocked his head up and down like he fully understood what Mitch was saying. He picked up a long brown splif and lit the end of it. The sweet, pungent aroma of the homegrown ganja swirled around the two men relaxing their senses a bit. Blacka exhaled a thick cloud of the poignant smoke in Mitch’s direction.
“If I go into business with you, I would be taking on many enemies. Cardinale for one, but also Millenia. I heard Pedro Millenia is not too happy about finding his son’s balls hanging from his estate’s gates,” Blacka said seriously, his voice gauzy with smoke.
Mitch moved to the edge of his seat, ready to further his cause.
“If you go into business with me, you’d be eliminating your biggest competition. You won’t have to go to war. I’ll make sure Millenia knows that Cardinale and Summer were responsible for his son’s death―that is if he doesn’t eliminate them before I do from the inside. She trusts me and Cardinale is depending on me to teach her what she needs to know. That puts the ball in my court. I’m telling you, just give me a shot and I can put you back on the map in Brooklyn,” Mitch explained, his devious plan coming together with each word.
Blacka took another long drag of his mind-easing drug. He rocked his head in deep thought as he exhaled. Mitch was starting to feel a contact from all of the smoke blown in his face. Both men’s minds moved like cogs in a machine.
“So how you plan on doing all this?” Blacka wanted to know.
“Right now she thinks she’s tough, but I know better. There’s a scared little girl living inside of her and I plan on exploiting that to the fullest. It won’t be long before she realizes just how much she needs me. I’m going to make sure of that,” Mitch said with conviction.
“And what if you try to kill me like you killed your last boss?” Blacka asked, not mincing his words.