Her Sweetest Revenge (Delphine Publications Presents)

by Author Saundra

  “Rude too, huh? Well, whatever. Anyway, I was just asking.” Without another word she finished up the paperwork and handed me the keys. I gave her a snide grin as I snatched the keys from her hands.

  I hate putting up with people like her, but finally I had the car. That bitch and her jacked up weave hates her life so she wants to take it out on the customer. Scratch her. I headed out to the parking lot to find the car. Talk about a piece of junk, Taurus is one of the ugliest cars ever made. But whatever. As long as it gets the job done. I hopped inside, turned the volume up, and hit the interstate to clear my mind before getting on the job because this shit goes down tonight.

  Chapter 13

  After grabbing something to eat I went back to the one of main exits out of the Brewster to get ready to follow Luscious. Brewster is his first pickup from the young dope boys in the projects. He should pick up sixty thousand easy out of Brewster alone. The hard part is sitting here waiting for him to come out. I was already in place when he arrived about an hour ago. He jumped up out of his ride giving strict instructions for the future wannabe kids to guard his wheels. I just wish he would hurry his ass up. He should be about to come out. I just gotta chill until he does.

  While I sat and waited, I went over the plan in my head and all the information that I’ve collected to get to this point. Shit has been hard and easy. The first bit of information I got that I planned on using in this whole setup is a piece that I got from Squeeze himself a long time ago. Well, he didn’t give it to me personally; I was kind of eavesdropping.

  One day I had come home from school early, and I was in my room when my mom brought him home for another one of their sex romps. Squeeze was high, and, of course, my mom was too, except she was high on crack. He was in the living room on the phone talking to someone about going to Luscious’s house to pick up a last-minute package. Squeeze thought this conversation would be OK to have because my mom was asleep; he had no idea that I was home. Whoever was on the other end of the phone was worried about running into someone at the pickup house besides Luscious. But Squeeze assured them that no one is allowed at that pickup house but Luscious. According to Squeeze, no one was ever allowed at that house but Luscious, so he would definitely be alone.

  So I got all that information as a freebie. I never knew I would need it because I would have never thought I would be robbing Luscious or anyone else from the Boone Squad. I need to thank Squeeze. Because of his big-ass mouth, that bit of information will be useful. Another bit of information that Squeeze gave during that phone call that I can use is the name of the pickup house. The pickup house was on the north side of Detroit, Seville Point Apartments. Earlier today I was able to ride by the spot and familiarize myself with the area so when I make my getaway it will be clean. I just wish he would hurry up so we can get this on the road.

  “Shit, there he is,” I said out loud to myself. I ducked my head to be sure he doesn’t get a glance at me. I let two cars go by before falling in two places behind Luscious. I quickly gathered my thoughts and put the car into slow motion to get behind him. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might bust right through my chest. My hands were sweating so much they were sliding off the steering wheel. It’s dark out so it will be hard for him to notice he is being followed unless he has a reason to be suspicious, which, at this point, he shouldn’t. Today he is riding in a different car. He has quite a few cars he shows up in when he’s on the block, but normally, he drives his Escalade. Tonight he’s riding in a rusty orange 2009 or ’10 Ford Mustang with dark tinted windows, and, of course, he’s sittin’ on twenty-four-inch rims.

  We rode for another three hours, making frequent stops where Luscious would get out of the car, go in and come out, seemingly empty-handed, but the money was strapped to him. Once he gets inside the car he unloads it into this black bag. I got this bit of information from Phil’s drunk ass on the dance floor. Damn, what a nigga won’t say when he’s loaded and thinking he’s scoring some points with a bitch. Finally, we pulled into the Seville Apartments. I parked in a dark spot where there was no streetlight.

  Luscious got out of the car and looked around for a minute. Then he walked to his trunk and opened it. Not getting anything out of the trunk, he closed it and again took a look around to make sure everything was clear. Feeling secure, he reached back into the front seat, grabbed the bag, and headed for his building. I noticed he keeps his left hand close to his left side near his hip. That must be where he’s holding his heat.

  I got out of the car slowly with both my Rugers locked and loaded. Then I quickly speeded up my pace to get up to the door behind him. Luscious took a quick glance around, took his hand off his left hip, put it in his pocket, and grabbed his key. Taking one final look around, he put the key in the lock. That’s when I made my move.

  My right hand went up with the Ruger to the back of his head. My left hand with the other Ruger centered on his spine. He froze, shocked. There was silence for a brief moment.

  “What the fuck is goin’ on?” Luscious finally muttered.

  “Don’t say shit,” I said in the best man’s voice I could muster. If nothing else I had to hide the fact I was a girl. I had on all-black with a black ski mask and black gloves. I had practiced a low, deep drawl with my voice, and so far I was doing good. I thought I sounded just like a real dude.

  “Take your left hand, open up the door, and keep your right hand on the bag. Any sudden move and you a dead motherfucker,” I said, meaning every word, knowing that if he saw me I wouldn’t have any choice but kill him or be killed. Being killed wasn’t an option for me.

  Once inside, I ordered him on the floor, facedown. “Lay on your face right here.”

  “Look, man, you making a big fucking mistake. You’re dead tomorrow,” Luscious attempted to threaten me.

  “No, man, you’re dead if you don’t shut the fuck up right now,” I warned him as I lifted the safety on both Rugers. Luscious flinched when he heard that click from the safety.

  I stood over him and put both Rugers to the back of his head showing him I meant business.

  “Now, reach on your left hip and throw your gun to the side. Then spread both of your hands out in front of you.” He quickly but carefully followed my rules.

  “Please don’t kill me, man. Not over money. Just take the fucking bag. It got about three hundred thousand in it.”

  “Stop beggin’ for your life like a bitch, dude. Have some heart.”

  I reached over with my right hand and opened the bag. Like I thought, the bag was full of stacked bills, fives and tens, bound by rubber bands. With my heart racing I finished the job. With the Ruger in my right hand, I struck Luscious on the back of the head. To make sure he was out cold, I repeated the blow. This blow turned red. I grabbed the bag and made a dash for the front door, hoping for Luscious’s sake he wakes up or somebody finds him before he bleeds to death.

  I was so nervous that I felt sick to my stomach. I found the closest hotel possible to gather my thoughts. Inside the hotel room, I headed straight to bathroom where I washed my face in cold water. I then threw my exhausted body across the bed with a million thoughts racing through my mind. My exhaustion turned to panic. What if Luscious wasn’t unconscious and followed me? He could be outside with his crew waiting to blast me. So I got up and started looking out the window.

  Finally I realized my paranoia for what it was. I was having a panic attack, and I just needed to calm down. First, I needed to get out of the clothes I had on. I had already taken off the mask and gloves. I had on regular clothes under the baggy ones, so I just stripped down.

  Sitting across the room from me was the black bag full of money that I had taken from Luscious. Once I calmed down, I grabbed the bag and took the money out and started counting. Four unbelievable hours later, I had counted three hundred thousand, eight hundred sixty dollars of cold hard cash. I couldn’t believe I had pulled this off all by myself. Me, Mya—a seventeen-year-old 115-pound girl. It must be true what th
ey say, niggas without they heat is soft.

  But it wasn’t over. I had to make this money not noticeable. Of course, I told Rochelle that I would be coming into some money from my dad. That was easy; she is my best friend. I could tell her just about anything, and she would believe it. Telling others would be a whole other story. No one else would believe some guy owed my dad some money and paid it to me while Dad was locked up because shit doesn’t normally happen in the hood like that. I would just let the money surface slowly by telling Li’l Bo and Monica bits of what I told Rochelle. They are my family, and like Rochelle, they are bound to believe me. As for my mother, I will tell her what I felt like telling her, which was nothing. You can never tell a dope fiend the truth about sudden riches or money—period.

  First thing tomorrow I’ll open up a safe deposit box at the bank where I’ll put in all this money except for a few hundred. Then I’ll return that rental car. From there, I’ll lay low and keep my ear to the streets and keep doing heads. That is what I do, right?

  Chapter 14

  The last two weeks were like murder on me. Keeping my ear to the streets, lying low, and trying to keep my same routine is how I had been maintaining. I didn’t want to do anything out of the ordinary to bring any unwanted attention. Today was a little different, though. I decided to spend a little change to buy weave to braid Monica’s hair. Monica had been bugging me for the past couple of days to braid her hair. So I decided to get up this morning and surprise her.

  So for the last eight hours I’ve been going hard on braiding Monica up and it was coming out pretty. The only downside is my damn fingers are in pain like usual when I braid.

  “Mya, are you almost finished? My butt’s starting to hurt, and these shabby pillows with no cushion aren’t helping,” she complained and twisted in a circular motion like she’s trying to get comfortable.

  “Girl, I know you ain’t complaining the way you been bitchin’ every day to get these braids. Besides, I’m the one with the cramps in my fingers.”

  “Oh, poor Mya’s fingers all cramped up like a cripple.” Monica made fun of me.

  “Shut up,” I laughed at her. “I just want to see you half decent is all.”

  “Yeah, half decent. You remember when we was little, you would practice braiding my hair and you always ended up giving me pigtails instead? Dad would say, ‘Mya, take them snakes out of that girl’s head. She look just like beetle juice.’” Monica tried to mimic my dad’s voice.

  “I remember that,” I thought back while laughing.

  “I miss those days. I miss Dad. I miss our old family, period. But even still, I feel lucky to have you and Li’l Bo. Now we just got to work on getting our momma back.” Monica started to get emotional.

  I stopped braiding her hair for a minute. “Look at me,” I said. “Even though times have been rough, we gon’ make it. As for Momma, we just got to give her time, but everything is going to work out. I just need you to trust me.”

  “Mya, how did you get to be so strong?” Monica started wiping her running tears with the back of her hand.

  “I kinda of had a little training from my dad, Lester. You do know him, right?” I joked. I reached out and hugged Monica. “Now, turn around. I’m almost finished with yo’ big watermelon-shaped head.” We both started laughing.

  KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

  “Get the door, Monica.” I stopped braiding her hair again.

  Monica rushed to open the door. “Oh, it ain’t nobody but Rochelle.” Monica tried to be sarcastic. “Girl, why you knocking like you the police? We busy; we ain’t got time to be answering doors.” Monica gave Rochelle her latest unfriendly attitude, but we know it’s all love.

  “Hi to you too, li’l mama. I see you woke up on the floor this morning instead of the bed.” Rochelle stepped in the apartment past Monica as Monica closed the door.

  “What’s up, girl?” I greeted Rochelle.

  “Nothin’. Just thought I would get outta the house for a minute today. I think I’m starting to miss Mike. I need to find me a man,” Rochelle informed me as she bounced down on our already brutally battered couch.

  “Girl, I know you trippin’. Have a seat!” I laughed. “I’m almost finished braiding Monica’s hair.”

  “That’s right, so don’t be talkin’ to her too much. I don’t need her messing up my head. And where is Tiny? How you goin’ come over and don’t bring her?” Monica asked.

  “She’s with Wynita. They out shopping,” Rochelle confirmed.

  “Umm,” was Monica’s reply. Everyone knows how much Monica loves Tiny. Every time Rochelle brings her over she takes her over without Rochelle even asking.

  One hour later I was finished braiding Monica’s hair. Monica had started to nod off as we both sat there listening to Rochelle babble on and on about how she misses Mike. I chalked that whole conversation up to the fact that she’s just lonely. The Rochelle I know can’t stand Mike, and if he wasn’t locked up, they still wouldn’t be together. They would be broke up from a previous fight. So all that this Rochelle on my couch needs is some fun. One thing I know for sure, she doesn’t miss Mike.

  Yawning, Monica rose up off the pillow she had been sitting on. “I think I’m going to take a nap. I’m getting sleepy.” She stretched all the way to her room.

  “Mya, I thought Monica would never leave,” Rochelle sighed with relief. “The streets have been crazy since Luscious got robbed a couple of weeks ago. People have been gettin’ shot. The streets just ain’t been safe. That’s why I been telling you just go where you have to. Last night someone in my building got blasted in the face. Supposedly about that Luscious incident. I’m telling you, it’s a war zone out there.”

  “Word? I had heard about some of that on the late-night news, but they don’t even mention the robbery. Maybe they don’t think the two are connected,” I tried to sound casual.

  “I don’t know, but you already know they ain’t gon’ talk about that until they have some proof. And you know ain’t nobody from the hood gon’ give them that. Luscious didn’t even report that shit, I’m sure. But the streets is talkin’, and the word is somebody gon’ pay for that. So you know what that means.”

  “Have you heard anything about any suspects on who did the robbery?” I asked casually.

  “Nope. At this point, everybody’s a suspect. That’s why niggas been getting blasted.” Rochelle pulled out some Certs and popped some in her mouth.

  “That’s crazy.” I shook my head in fake disbelief.

  “Mya!” Momma came out of her room yelling.

  “What?” I said irritated without turning around to face her.

  “Hey, Mrs. Marisa,” Rochelle said.

  “Hey, Rochelle. Mya, you got any money? I need to get me some Newports.”

  “Nope.”

  “Ain’t you been doing hair? Don’t lie to me, girl. All I need is some Newports.”

  “Look, I told you I don’t have any money. And if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you.” I caught an attitude.

  “You wouldn’t give it to me? What the hell does that mean? I been taking care of you since you was shittin’ up diapers. And you wouldn’t give me four stankin’ dollars? Well, ain’t that a bitch.” She really got upset.

  “All right,” I said impatient. “I will get you some Newports. But I ain’t giving you no money. I’ll go out and get some. Come on, Rochelle, let’s walk over to the store.” I bent down and laced up my shoes.

  “And make sure you pick up that mess before you leave,” Mama said, pointing to the leftover hair I used to do Monica’s hair.

  I rolled my eyes and started gathering up the hair with Rochelle’s help.

  Walking to the store everything looked peaceful, which kind of relaxed my nerves. Everybody was hanging on the block, even my brother Li’l Bo. I started to scream at him, but I decided to chill since I had shit on my mind.

  “So what’s up with the money, Mya? A week has passed since you were supposed to pick it up. And you ain
’t said nothing, plus you been acting funny.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks. I knew she would ask at some point. I just didn’t know when. But I guess now was as good a time as any to continue with my lie.

  “I got it.”

  “You got it? Well, when did you get it, and how much?” Rochelle fired questions at me. “And why you ain’t happy?”

  “Calm down, Rochelle. It seems to me you’re happy enough for both of us,” I grinned. “I am happy and nervous. I don’t know what to do with all that money. I haven’t even told Li’l Bo and Monica about it,” I confessed.

  “You haven’t? When are you going to tell them? And you still haven’t told me how much money you got. I thought you were my best friend, but you’re holding out on me. What’s up with that, Mya?” Rochelle played at being mad.

  “I’m not holding out. I just haven’t told you. I was afraid you might lose it. You know how excited you get about anything that glitters.” I stopped for a few seconds. “But the amount was about a hundred thousand,” I lied calmly. Rochelle stopped, almost in slow motion. She looked at me in disbelief and screamed.