Dope Girl 4: R. I. P.

by Sa'id Salaam

  “Ok, first…” Cameisha began then decided to forego the grammar lesson. “Anyway, this is my beef and I gotta handle it. My people gotta do this; Self gotta get his hands dirty. He got violated and he gotta straighten it.”

  The mood was already tense since they both just cooked the last of their dope. They both whipped an extra quarter key out of it to stretch it. With that, they lost their edge. Now they had the same dope as the competition. They needed a new connect quick, fast, and in a hurry. If not Trigga planned on trying his luck with Belize.

  “Besides, my uncle said to get at this dude for guns,” she added, restarting the conversation.

  “So when I’m ‘posed to meet this so-called uncle of yours?” Trigga asked and got ignored. Cameisha turned her attention to the cars on the highway as if she hadn’t heard the question or its implications. Sometimes the best way to end an argument is not to participate. Hard to argue with yourself.

  “Exit here,” she said repeating the GPS directions. A few turns later, they reached Big Shawn’s apartment complex.

  “Dude ‘posed to have all this heat but stay in some ‘partments?” Trigga chided and got ignored some more. She dug in her purse and pulled out her satellite phone and a maxi pad. She tossed the pad on his lap and dialed her uncle.

  “Oh, oh, so I’m on my period huh? Sho nuff,” Trigga said following her to the apartment.

  “Hey Unc, I’m here,” she said when Killa took the call. They walked up a flight and she knocked on the door. Waited, and then knocked again, then once more. It took several minutes before Big Shawn accepted that whoever the unannounced visitor was they weren’t leaving.

  “Yes?” Shawn asked behind a deceptive smile. Behind him was a .50 caliber Desert Eagle that wasn’t so friendly.

  “Um...hey!” Cameisha smiled and waved. “I’m Cameisha, my uncle, Killa. He um…here?”

  Big Shawn frowned at the satellite phone for several seconds before taking it. He shot daggers back and forth between the two and put it to his ear.

  “Yeah…uh huh…I bet…boy I swear!” he said as Killa made nice on the other end. In the end, he handed the phone back and turned around. “Come on.”

  “Yes!” Cameisha quietly cheered realizing they were in.

  “Bet this nigga ain’t got shit we couldn’t get at the pawn shop,” Trigga grumbled. Their host heard him and chuckled as he led the way to the showroom.

  “In here,” Big Shawn said opening the door and stepping aside.

  “Told you this was some bulls…oh my!” Trigga swooned. He grabbed a table when his knees buckled upon entering. The walls as well as tables were loaded with all kind of guns and killing apparatus.

  “You ok baby?” Cameisha asked catching him from behind. He couldn’t see the ‘I told you so’ grin pasted on her fact. It didn’t last long though.

  “Damn! I…I…Damn!” she repeated when she got a gander at all the hardware in the room.

  “Bae, my dick got hard. Look,” Trigga said sheepishly and pointed at the lump in his jeans.

  “If I had a dick it would be hard too,” she assured him.

  “Sounds like someone I know,” Shawn laughed. He then slipped on his salesman hat and got down to business. “War or beef?”

  “A lil’ of both,” Meisha replied. With all the other stuff going on, she almost forgot about Juan. He killed her friend and tried to kill her. She planned to evict him off the planet the first chance she got. A crate of grenades caught her eye so she went to investigate. “How much for these?”

  “Five hundred each, but I’ll throw one in for every ten grand you spend.”

  “I gots to have this!” Trigga proclaimed holding up a Calico submachine gun.

  “What about this?” Meisha threw in holding an MP-5. They tag teamed poor Bigs asking about item after item. The mood was jovial, festive even until they saw it.

  “What in thee fuck is that?” Trigga asked pointing at a mannequin in the corner. The other two mannequins in the room showed off bulletproof vests. The one he pointed at had on a suicide vest loaded with explosives.

  “That is Sampson. Like from the bible. That’s that shit you use when you gotta kill somebody so bad that you don’t mind going with them,” Bigs explained.

  Cameisha got in her feelings knowing it was what her beloved grandfather had used. He’d stepped in for his son and killed his adversaries along with himself. She snarled at Bigs now realizing where he got it from. She quietly walked over and fondled it. She picked up the detonator and stopped just short of pressing the red button. Bigs knew it wasn’t armed, but still frowned.

  “How much for something like this?” she wondered without turning around.

  “It’s not for sale! Besides, this works a lot better,” he said showing off a long-range sniper rifle with large silencer.

  “I’ll take it,” she agreed. At the end of the shopping trip, they had two .22s, four .44s, nine .9mms, two Mac-10s, and a .40 caliber. Several bulletproof vests, the sniper rifle, and a grenade, finished their order. The total was over ten grand so he threw in an extra grenade. They loaded up the guns, a shitload of ammo, and went on their way.

  “Bae, can we stop by the mall so I can pick up something to wear on my date?” Meisha asked referring to her upcoming rendezvous with Boobie and them.

  “Now? With grenades in the trunk? Girl stop!”

  ****

  “Who the fuck is that bitch?” Boobie exclaimed loud enough to offend the object of his desire.

  “I ain’t never seen that hoe,” Suspect said proving why he had earned all those Ds in school.

  Cameisha turned, turned her nose up at them, and then turned back to the counter. She had been in and out of that corner store all day waiting on her targets. The skintight jeans were so tight Trigga had to help her get in them. He and Troy were parked down the street right behind Self and Bad Ass.

  “Let me get a blueberry blunt wrap,” Meisha told the clerk. She had to be careful when she went in her purse so no one could see the danger within.

  “Sup shawty, match one?” Boobie offered. He tossed a twenty on the counter along with a couple of 60-ounce bottles of Real Nigga 9000. “I got hers too.”

  “Thank ya,” Cameisha forced out. The thought of him paying for her stuff with her own money further inflamed her. “All I smoke is loud though. So if you ain’t got none then I’ll pass.”

  “That’s all we blaze shawty!” Suspect spoke up.

  “Let’s ride then!” she cheered and turned toward the door. She tossed her ass generously as a going away present. A vision to take into the afterlife with them.

  “Let’s take her to the Motor Lodge and hit her up,” Boobie suggested as they walked to the car. He and Suspect jumped in the front seat without even bothering to open the back door for their guest.

  “That’s what’s up,” Suspect agreed wholeheartedly.

  “Chivalry is dead,” Meisha mumbled to herself as she opened the door herself and got in. Sitting down took a little doing in those tight ass britches.

  “What yo’ name is?” Boobie asked as he pulled onto Glenwood. Trigga and Bad Ass pulled away from the curb as well.

  “Cameisha Forrest,” she replied truthfully. Why not since she was talking to dead people.

  “That’s my nigga Boobie and I’m Suspect.”

  “I bet you are,” she agreed. Meisha turned around and made eye contact with Trigga. He flashed his lights in reply. When they got caught by a red light, she made her move.

  “You know you guys really gotta be careful who you rob,” she advised pulling the grenade then pulling the pin. She dropped it on the floorboard and jumped out. Trigga pulled up and she hopped in.

  “The fuck just happened?” Suspect asked.

  The grenade went off before Boobie got the chance to say he didn’t know. Both men were mortally wounded from shrapnel but wouldn’t live long enough to die from it. Bad Ass pulled alongside and Self jumped out.

  “Remember me?” Self asked a
nd emptied a full clip into the two men. He jumped back in the car and Bad Ass pulled away.

  Mission accomplished.

  Chapter 26

  Desperate times call for desperate measures. Cameisha and Trigga were both desperate as they frantically searched for some dope. They wracked their brains and worked their phones looking for a connect. If not a direct connect, at least a middle man or man next to a man. Even if they had to pay thirty thousand for a kilo, they could still make a profit. Just like a shark has to keep swimming, a dealer must keep dealing.

  “I may not have no choice,” Trigga lamented meaning trying his luck with Belize. “Me and Troy can just take a few hoes down there and let them mule it back.”

  “Ok, first…you are not taking no hoes…to the Caribbean. Second, that shit is too hot. I doubt Rude Boy would even sell us anything now. I’m sure Dre told him what I told her.”

  “Fuck you tell her that fo’? You ain’t even sure! We gotta do something!” Trigga snapped and stormed off into the bedroom. Cameisha poked her lip out from being yelled at and went back to working the phone.

  Trigga searched every strip of paper in his possession until he came across Anna’s card. The nerdy medical examiner’s face popped into his memory. She was kinda cute but very Mexican as he recalled. A Mexican from Columbia should have a brother, or uncle, or cousin, or someone who knew someone who had some coke.

  He dialed nine of ten digits before changing his mind. He remembered the shy girl and knew his charm worked better in person. Cameisha was still pouting when Trigga rushed through the living room. He knew if he came back with some work, she would get over it, quick.

  ****

  “Look! Is that, that guy? That is that guy!” Brice asked and answered when Trigga pulled up and parked next to them.

  “Quick!” Toshiba shouted when Trigga began to turn in their direction. She didn’t want to blow their cover so she grabbed her young partner by his neck and pulled him in.

  “Mmph?” Brice said when she shoved her tongue in his mouth. He caught on and played along. When she reached down and grabbed his dick, he went along and got hard in her hand. He was already in the building by the time the kiss ended.

  “The guy from the airport! The boyfriend?” Toshiba said when she placed the face herself.

  “Coincidence?” he asked showing that boyish naiveté that turned her on daily.

  “No such thing in general and definitely not in this case. Every thing that ever happened or will happen has already been written. The boyfriend of a known Salazar associate meeting with a family member means something. But what?”

  Trigga still hadn’t figured out quite what to say when he got inside of the medical examiner’s office. He was going to take a seat and make a plan until Anna came out of an office. She turned and walked straight at him.

  Anna was slightly rattled by yet another overdose from the tainted drugs. She had tried to reach Juan for weeks since correcting the formula but he refused to return her calls. The four kilos of cocaine sat in the bottom of her closet. When she looked up and saw Trigga a smile flashed on her face then quickly disappeared. She gave him her number and he didn’t call. He was possibly there about another dead person anyway, so she lifted her chin proudly, prepared to march right by him. What she didn’t plan on was him flashing that smile at her.

  “Hey lady, remember me?” Trigga said turning on that Trigga charm. It worked on women of all ages and hadn’t failed him yet. It didn’t fail on him that day either.

  “No, Mr. Jackson, I do not,” she shot back contradicting herself. They both heard it but he pretended not to.

  “I was here a while back, my mom died. Tavarious,” he explained and held out his hand.

  “Anna Flores,” she said failing to prevent a smile as she shook his hand.

  “Can we go somewhere and talk?” Trigga asked before unhanding her hand and peering into her eyes. It’s mixed signals like that, that cause problems. Especially with love-struck, nerdy, Columbian girls.

  “You most certainly may take me to lunch!” Anna agreed loud enough to be heard by her co-workers. She had a date and wanted it to be known.

  Trigga wasn’t quite sure what to do when she extended her elbow. Luckily, she helped him out by looping her arm in his and off they went. The sexual tension in the car with Brice and Toshiba hovered like blunt smoke. Luckily, Trigga and Anna came out to break the awkward silence.

  “Sho-nuff?” Toshiba announced with a confused frown when the two came out arm in arm.

  “Knew he was no good for her,” Brice mumbled to himself. He realized he said it out loud when his partner snapped her head in his direction. He quickly tried to clean it up. “I mean a lot of these young girls get caught up with these thugs.”

  “Un huh,” she said in a tone making sure he knew she wasn’t buying it. “I’ll call Walton and see if he wants us to follow.”

  The cops embraced for another kiss when Trigga and Anna came near. Anna treated him to a quick glance at her crotch as he held the door open for her. He did a double take at the fat, floral print.

  “Thank you,” she giggled at his almost timid reaction to her fluffy rabbit.

  “Um…” was all that came to Trigga’s mind as the imprint imprinted on his brain. He came around and got in and pulled away.

  Trigga followed Anna’s turn-by-turn directions and Brice followed them. She talked non-stop like a person who didn’t speak to many people. Being overprotected by so many cousins and uncles left her starved for male attention. The cops kept on driving once they pulled into a restaurant parking lot.

  “I love Mexican food!” Trigga announced as they entered the Cuban establishment.

  “Actually it’s…me too,” Anna agreed. There was no reason to correct him. He wasn’t the brightest but he was rugged and handsome. She planned to fuck him, not marry him. She had been in a long sexual drought and planned to break it soon. Real soon.

  The couple looked like an actual couple as they chatted and laughed over chips and salsa. They sipped sangria with their meal and chatted some more. Trigga bided his time as patiently as a girl playing double-dutch did. When the moment was right, he jumped in.

  “You told me about your job, now let me tell you about mine,” Trigga began then paused to be sure he had her total attention. “I’m a dope boy. I sell cocaine for a living. I know you got a brother, cousin, or somebody who sells coke. I need a connect!”

  “Oh, so you’re using me?” she asked rhetorically. Of course, he was and she was cool with it. Like they say, fair exchange ain’t no robbery.

  “Um, no, I…no,” Trigga replied. The question caught him off guard.

  “So you like me and friends give each other what they need?” she asked.

  “Sure! Of course! Girl if you need anything from me just ask! I got cha!” he assured her.

  “Remember you said that. I can get what you’re looking for. How much do you pay per kilogram now?”

  “Fifteen,” he shot back quickly. The lowball number gave him plenty of room to negotiate but it wasn’t needed.

  “Ok!” Anna blurted out. The family gave her whatever she asked for but she hated having to always ask. Fifteen thousand bucks was a nice bit of play dough.

  “I need ten!” Trigga shot back so loud the couple next to them turned to investigate. “Scuse me, I need ten.”

  “Let’s start with four,” Anna agreed. A new sports car popped in her head when she multiplied the fifteen grand by four. “We’ll see how our friendship blossoms and take it from there.”

  “That’s what’s up. When can we do this?”

  “Tonight. Come to my apartment,” Anna replied.

  ****

  “What…got…into…you?” Cameisha huffed as she struggled to catch her breath. She had to turn around to ask the question since Trigga had her bent over the arm of the sofa.

  “Just missed you shawty,” he replied. It was half-true but the other half had to be kept to himself. She wouldn’t un
derstand how many times Anna made his dick hard over lunch. The licking of the red lips, batting of eyes, and the way she rolled her R’s.

  What he didn’t know was that she felt the same. Anna’s panties were squishy wet in the restaurant booth. She had to lock herself in her office and masturbate as soon as she got back to work.

  “I may have caught a lil’ toehold. A couple of bricks, but a nigga got to jump through hoops to get them,” Trigga said sadly.

  “Shit, nigga do whatever you gotta do!” Cameisha cheered.

  “I’on know. Four for sixty bands but she…”

  “Fifteen each! Nigga you better get them shits! I got thirty on it!”

  “Twenty each for you,” Trigga nodded.

  “Dope boy fo’ real!” Meisha laughed since she always charged him full price.

  Later that night Trigga followed his GPS to Anna’s downtown apartment. He checked the cash in the bag and bullets in the clip before getting out of the car. The former stick up scanned all the places he would have hid had he been on a lick instead of a buy. Seeing the coast was clear, he proceeded inside.

  “Right on time!” Anna cheered. His being on time meant she intended to be seen in the tiny Japanese style robe. Trigga didn’t notice at first since he looked past her to survey the room for danger. By the time he got to her, he noticed she had expensive taste and nice thighs.

  “I am?” he asked seeing she was fresh out of the shower. Her brown hair was wet and curly, perfectly framing her pretty face. Trigga watched her ass move under the robe as he followed her in.

  “Have a seat,” Anna offered as her robe came open offering a little more. She waited until his eyes ran up and down before pulling it closed and taking a seat. Even though she closed the robe, her firm thighs were still visible.

  “Um, ok,” he said seeing his plan to make the buy and fly, fly out the window. He planned to stay up cooking coke all night since they passed out the last of the dope that evening.