by Sa'id Salaam
“That dude, um…Chase, he tied me up. Punched me too!” she explained as she was untied.
“Girl they tied me up too!” Lisa lied. She did that a lot.
“So…how you get out? Why you ain’t check on me?” she whined.
“Girl they robbed us! Took all the coke and all the money!” she replied ignoring the question. “All we got left is this.”
“I need me a line,” Dasia pleaded as she rubbed the marks left by the cord. Then reached up to touch the knot on her head. She noticed Lisa was unscathed but now wasn’t the time to worry about it.
It was time to get high.
“Shoot we may have to shoot this lil’ bit. This ain’t gon’ do shit for us if we try to snort it!” Lisa said referring to the two hit portion she separated from the rest. There was a quiet power shift, she was now firmly in charge.
“Um…” Dasia replied. That was good enough for Lisa so she whipped out the works. She watched curious as she cooked up the batch and filled the syringes.
“Let me see,” Lisa instructed reaching for her arm. Dasia stuck it out like was about to get her blood pressure checked. She wasn’t. Lisa tapped the fat vein that popped up. Curiosity killed the pin stick as the needle entered. Dasia twisted her lip inquisitively as she drew blood into the needle. Then slowly pushed her demise into her vein.
“I can feel it!” Dasia marveled as the effects could be felt before the plunger reached the bottom of the barrel. She leaned into a nod before Lisa ran her own dope. Soon, they were both nodding.
Dasia came around before Lisa did. Even high as a kite she felt lower than low. This was not what her new life was supposed to be. She suddenly missed her son, her mother, the Bronx, and her friends. The friends she had betrayed and stolen from. Suicide came to mind but was quickly shaken away. Instead, she grabbed her phone and called the only friend she had. The one true friend who was and would always be there. Whoever doesn’t have one of those, it’s because they aren’t one themselves.
“Hey chica…eh em,” she greeted clearing her throat.
“Dasia, is this…Dasia?” Aqua asked hopefully.
Chapter 22
Duck had been given the assignment of keeping an eye on Cameisha since he lived in Atlanta. He was in the courtroom with Suave when Bilal was sentenced. He followed her to her condo so they knew where she laid her head and with who. His surveillance over the last months uncovered some interesting information. It was time to call the boss.
“Boss! Boss! Guess what? You ain’t gon’ believe it! Take a guess! Boss!” Duck rambled.
“Get on with it!” Suave barked. He couldn’t stand the man’s theatrics in general but especially not first thing in the morning. The call had awakened him and his matching bed warmers Amber and Darla.
“My bad,” Duck said apologetically like someone used to getting checked. “She’s a dope girl! Got a whole complex on the eastside selling her work. Her boyfriend is a dope boy and he’s spreading out on the westside. They fuck around and meet in the middle they gon’ have the whole city on smash. ‘Cept they ain’t got no good connect. These Dominicans or whatever the fuck they are, are squeezing the city dry. They selling work out of the city for some reason. These local niggas gotta go outta town to cop. It’s crazy! You get the pictures I sent?”
“Pictures?” Suave asked then paused to check his phone. Sure enough, there were several pictures messages waiting to be opened. He opened them and scowled at Cameisha. Twisted his lips at Cameisha and Trigga kissing and finally nodded at the shots of Cameisha’s booty in a pair of tight jeans.
“No connect huh?” Suave repeated out loud even though he was talking to himself.
“What you want me to do Boss?” Duck asked faithfully.
“Nothing! Don’t do shit…not until I get down there,” he barked and hung up.
“You need anything daddy?” Amber asked with wide blue eyes.
“Head? Pussy? Sandwich?” Darla added just as eager to please.
“I’ll take some head and a sandwich,” he said pulling the blanket away to reveal his morning hard on. The girls clinked heads like a toast as they both dipped low to get the dick. Amber was a little swifter and claimed her prize.
“Aw man!” Darla whined and got out of the bed. She stomped off childishly to go make the sandwich.
Suave grabbed the back of Amber’s blonde head and slammed it up and down on his dick. He literally jacked off using her face. He had far more dick than she had throat and gagged her with every stroke.
“Grr!” he growled as he erupted in her mouth. She was forced to swallow in big gulps or drown. Darla watched jealously from the door. Once the spasms ended, she came and presented the sandwich complete with turkey, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and a subservient bow.
“Get my phone!” he ordered and bit into the sandwich. “Get Mo on the line!”
****
“Sup Boss, who the girl?” Mo asked of the pictures that came just before the call. He asked about the girl even though he liked the guy. With his gay ass.
“Never mind her, what’s up with my punk ass, bitch ass, goody two shoes ass, captain save these hoes ass, um…good Samaritan ass, bitch ass brother?” Suave wanted to know. He let out a long yawn from the effects of the white girl head and sandwich.
“Same shit boss. That nigga won’t fuck with us. Won’t eat with us, smoke, nothing,” Mo reported.
“What about ol’ Lucy, she get anywhere with him?” Suave asked about the female officer they had on payroll. She snuck in the contraband and provided much needed sexual favors. Nothing breaks up the monotony of prison life like a shot of pussy. Real pussy, not the boy pussy Mo was fond of.
“Got cursed out! He wouldn’t even let her blow him! Said he’s just gonna do his time and move on with his life,” Mo relayed.
“Shit! He ain’t got much time. It may be time to turn up the heat.”
“How high?” Mo asked hopefully. He’d raped dudes on Suave’s orders before and would gladly do it again.
“That’s up to him. Take him the phone. If he don’t get with my program then put him on your program. Not too deep though, he is my brother after all!” Suave cracked up maniacally.
Mo stuck the phone in his pocked and rushed over to Bilal’s cell. He barged in without knocking as a show of disrespect.
“Come on in why don’t you?” Bilal hissed sarcastically like a teenage girl. It made Mo so hard, so quickly, he almost forgot what he was there for.
“Oh!” he snapped remembering the phone. He pulled it out and put it on speakerphone. “Here he is Boss.”
“What’s up you bitch ass, punk ass nigga? You ready to straighten your face and kill that bitch who put you in there?”
“Stop calling her a bitch!” Bilal yelled at the top of his lungs. It was so bitchy it turned Mo on even more. “I told you I have forgiven her. I love her. I’m going to marry her so you may as…”
“Show him the pictures,” Suave cut in, cutting off the sucker for love soliloquy.
“Like this?” Mo asked showing a picture of Meisha and Trigga.
“So! That could be her brother for all you know!” Bilal insisted.
“Oh?” Mo laughed and swiped to the next picture. The one with the couple French kissing and they aren’t French. “And this? And this…”
“I won’t do it! I won’t hurt her no matter what,” he said firmly.
“Final answer?” Suave dared.
“Final answer!” he insisted crossing his arms and turning his head. Just like a woman scorned.
“Rape him!” Suave ordered and hung up. He was a sociopathic piece of shit but even he didn’t want to hear a man get raped.
The first time Mo raped Bilal he was mad at Mo. He didn’t have to be so rough. The next rape, the next day he was mad at his brother. The next day he was mad at his mother for birthing him. The day after that he was mad at himself. It took a week before his anger shifted in the right direction…
Mo was deep in his anu
s when it dawned on him that it was indeed Cameisha’s fault. She used him to order the pills, and then turned her back on him. He lost his medical license, condo, respect, freedom, and anal virginity. He was finally mad enough to kill. He let Mo finish and told him, “Call my brother, I’ll kill her.”
Chapter 23
I bear witness that there is no God but I. I’m the reason why…
“You’re a fuckin’ dumb ass is what you are!” Jackie shouted at the radio. She literally slammed the buttons to stop the assault on her soul. The blasphemy affected her so badly she didn’t just turn the station; she turned it off completely. She turned on the TV to try to wipe the bad taste from her psyche but dumb ass was there too.
“Yeah dis your boy Verb; here promoting my fuck school campaign. I ain’t never learnt shit in no school and look how rich I is!” he explained in a TV interview.
She could only shake her head as she watched. The man was actually handsome before he started getting tattoos on his face. Random phrases and curse words adorned his face like graffiti. The popular rapper had a cult like following hanging on his every word. Doing whatever his dumb ass said do. Last week it was drink till you throw up, this week, fuck school.
Verb was born Vernon Russell in a small town in Alabama. He didn’t farm like the rest of the townsmen because he was too dumb. Technically, his low IQ put him in the mental retardation category. He qualified to get a check.
Except he was handsome, cool, and funny enough to earn a following. You see, somewhere along the line, black people got life fucked up. As long as they could be a part of something, they were happy. As long as they could shout their clique, posse, or gang they were cool. In the generations past, that was called dick riding, and dick riding is not cool at all.
Verb was so influential as a youth that his peers all started doing poorly in school to impress him. Dumb was suddenly cool and the special education class was the place to be. The school had to swap the short bus for a long one to accommodate them.
Rap music had dumbed down enough for his nursery rhymes to catch on. He became a local celebrity then went viral. The next thing you knew he moved to the ATL and blew the fuck up. Jackie felt her own IQ plummet as she watched the interview.
“I’m bigger than Martin Luther the King! What he ever do? He ain’t go double platinum! He ain’t have his own dance! And tell me who da fuck name dem self after a skreet?”
By the time, he said he was God, Jackie couldn’t take it anymore. She covered her mouth and retched from the stupidity. She pulled the plug from the wall and wrapped it up.
“Hey babe you wanna go…what are you doing?” Ralphie wondered when he walked in on her lifting the TV to the open window ready toss it out.
“I don’t want it anymore,” she vowed. “He made me dumb!”
****
“You go boy!” Cameisha looked down and cheered. Trigga smiled and kept on sliding his tongue in and out of her. He switched to circling her swollen love button and pushed her right to the edge. “I’m going to cu…” The satellite phone rang pausing time.
Cameisha sprang out of the bed and snatched the phone off its cradle. Her heart stopped thinking it could be her daddy. Poor Trigga looked so confused with his wet face. The letters U.K on the caller ID flipped her frown into a smile.
“Uncle Killa!” she cheered trying to catch her breath.
“Sup Meisha, you ok? Your voice is trembling,” he replied.
“Huh? Yeah I was just…Hey Uncle Killa!” she replied at a loss for words. She might have been a dope girl and a dangerous girl but she was still, a girl.
“Oh, ok, um sorry to interrupt,” Killa said catching on. “I need your help.”
“Shit, anytime, anyplace!” she shot back. She didn’t ask what or why because it didn’t matter. When it came to her family, anybody could get it. Anywhere, anytime.
“A’ight, meet at the zoo in an hour,” he replied.
“The Atlanta Zoo? You’re in the A?” she shouted happily.
“Nah, Paris Zoo. One hour,” Killa snapped sarcastically and hung up.
“I know you gonna explain something,” Trigga announced when she put the phone down. All he knew was it was the family line and not to touch it. He couldn’t even have the number.
“When I get back bae. We only got ten minutes!” she urged.
They had to make the most of those ten minutes so they ran into the living room. Cameisha fell over the arm of the sofa and Trigga plunged inside of her. He went to work with long, hard strokes that echoed in the room. He picked up his pace when she began to shiver and shake beneath him. She could be a selfish lover at times and conk out once she got off.
Cameisha squealed out when she came then contracted her muscles to get him off. It did the trick and he collapsed on her back. He wouldn’t get to catch his breath though.
“Get up! I gotta go,” she said pushing up. She bolted back into the room and got dressed to kill. Not cocktail dress and heels dressed to kill, but black jeans, black sneakers, and a black gat. Dressed to murder.
“What you got going on?” he asked seeing the gun.
“Family business, babe. Love you,” and a kiss was all he got out of her. She used her regular phone to call Jackie on the way out.
“Yo, get dressed. I’m on my way!”
****
“Ain’t the zoo closed?” Jackie asked as they pulled into the darkened parking lot. On cue, a flashlight flashed on and off.
“There he go,” Cameisha said and took off in that direction. As they neared a gate opened and a man in a zoo uniform waved them in. Meisha wasn’t afraid in the least because she knew God was with her. That and a gun.
“Thanks Mr…Wali,” she said reading his name off his tag. It was he who was grateful as he watched both girls’ asses shift in the moonlight.
“My pleasure,” he told both sets of cheeks with a tip of his hat. “Over by the lion’s den!”
That’s exactly where she found her uncle. He and the male lion sat staring at each other. Two killers bonding and along came two more.
“Hey Unc!” Cameisha screamed and ran into his embrace. The Lion King turned and walked away shaking his head.
“Sup niece,” he grunted from almost having the wind knocked out of him. During the hug, he looked Jackie up and down with one of those ‘Damn she fine!’ frowns on his handsome face. “Who’s your friend?”
“Oh, this my girl Jackie. Killa meet Jack, Jack meet Killa. My uncle!” she stressed when she started batting her eyes at him.
“Hello Jackie. You got a man?” he asked as they shook hands. Killa peered so deeply into her eyes she forgot about ol’ Ralphie at home.
“No,” Jackie giggled and ducked her head shyly.
“Un huh! Yes you do!” Cameisha snitched.
“Oh yeah! I almost forgot about him,” Jackie laughed and snapped out of her trance. She kept that hand though.
“Nice to meet you. If my niece trusts you I know you can be trusted,” Killa said getting a smile out of Cameisha. It was a safe bet though because snakes hang with snakes.
“So who gotta go bye-bye?” Meisha asked. She was ready to knock off whoever so she could get back in her bed with her man.
“Y’all ever heard of this rapper who calls himself Verb?” he asked. Jackie immediately retched at the mention of his name.
“I hate that dude! He got kids dropping out of school, using drugs, reckless sex…” Jackie went on and on.
“That clown with the writing on his face? Words misspelled, talking ‘bout he’s God! Please let me murk that nigga Unc!” Cameisha pleaded placing her palms together as if in prayer. The male lion seemed to pick up on the violence and let out a low growl in approval. She looked at the big cat, her uncle, and put it all together. A slow smile spread across her face and she said, “Or you handle it.”
“I need you to lure him to me. I’ll handle it from there.”
“No problem Unc. Oh! I have a…situation. I need guns, bombs, and
a tank if you can get it.
“Holla at my man Big Shawn. Tell him I sent you,” Killa replied retrieving the number from his phone.
“You want me to stay with him while you go get the Verb guy?” Jackie offered.
“Girl no! Besides, you can help me lure the nigga to his death.”
****
A few nights later Cameisha and Jackie went to see Verb live in concert. They were both pretty sexy in mid-thigh dresses showing plenty of leg and plenty of tittie. They just knew they were sexy enough to catch his attention. They weren’t even close.
“The fuck!” Jackie grimaced when they waded into the crowd. The teen and young women were damn near naked.
“Look at this bitch!” Meisha said when a topless teen walked by. They got nowhere close to their target looking like church ladies. Jackie had to rush into the bathroom to throw up halfway through the first song. They accepted defeat and retreated to try again. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
Verb had a show in a downtown club and Cameisha and Jackie were in the place. Both had to change into their THOT costumes after they left the house because both had men who would not let them out of the house like that.
Daisy Dukes left half of their ass cheeks hanging from the bottom. Half shirts made of sheer material completely showed their breasts. They felt like fools, but it did the trick.
“Hol’ up! Who y’all bitches?” Verb had to know when they traipsed past him in the VIP. Both girls acted like they hadn’t seen him. Cameisha actually flinched at being called a bitch to her face. Luckily, Jackie grabbed her arm to prevent her from punching him in his foul mouth.
“I’m Jackie and my gi…um bitch Cameisha,” Jackie said trying not to laugh.
“Jack! Why you using our real names?” Meisha asked through clenched teeth like a ventriloquist.
“This dude is a house plant! Besides, ain’t like he gon’ live to tell anyone,” Jackie reasoned. Dude was an inanimate object and didn’t understand his murder being discussed right in front of him. He had a one-track mind and spoke what was on it.