Mafia Princess part 2 (Married To The Mob)

by King, Deja

  It was as if the Jamaicans had fallen from the earth and her people couldn’t find Ox anywhere. He hadn’t been spotted in months, but the Milano Family was determined to track him down and they had men in Jamaica. The sooner we get Ox the sooner I can fix this Qua and Gio issue.

  Scanning the front entrance of the hotel, Semaj noticed the Dominican henchman posed as policemen patrolling the area. She was on the third-level of the penthouse suite, which overlooked the second-level. On the opposite side was the main floor. A gargantuan round fish tank was erected in the center. It was filled with miniature sharks swimming through the deep blue sea-like water, accentuating the midnight marble floors and highlighting the palettes of blues gracing the walls. Single standing, two-sided mirrors decorated the large foyer. The silver fixtures and stainless steel wrought-columns were nothing short of splendor. Diverting her gaze, Semaj turned her back toward the window, and scrutinized armed goons walking in couples on both lower level floors.

  Sauntering over to the iron railing, Semaj looked below and noticed Sosa on the sofa by the door with a sad look on her face. She knew it was because it was that time of year for her. But Sosa’s solemn mood didn’t stop her from being on top of her job. She noticed the light from the sign on the door flashed “open me” and Semaj watched as Sosa grabbed her pistol and tipped her toes to see who was behind the frame.

  Semaj heart started to gallop in uncertainty as the concierge carried in about four white boxes and set them beside the door. Five other hotel workers followed behind her and stacked the rest of the boxes on top. Semaj was curious to know what was in the boxes and was already strolling toward a reseated Sosa in the foyer.

  “’Sup ma?” What’s all this?” she asked as she snatched the taped down envelope on the top box and placed it on the end table. She didn’t bother to read it and tore the box open with urgency only to find a white vase with red roses spilling over. Something wasn’t right, and she could feel it. She ripped through the next eight boxes, discovering the same thing and finally decided to read over the card that had been attached.

  To a very beautiful woman, Happy Birthday and may you have many many more to come. I have another surprise for you at midnight—

  Her hardened expression softened and a blushful smile crossed her face as she sighed in relief. Aww, my Qua is so sweet, she smiled. “Man, I’m too paranoid. We got way too much security detail for anything to go down. I be buggin’,” Semaj chuckled. “I need to chill and enjoy my birthday before it’s time to get back to the money.”

  “Straight up. Your ass thinks everybody is out to get you,” Sosa exclaimed, laughing for the first time in over a week. “You be tripping mad hard, Maj. That’s something Gio would’ve done.”

  “Girl, tell me about it. This shit got my nerves stupid bad.” Semaj said and looked at her vintage Rolex watch, “We got thirty minutes until the new year fool. Let’s head downstairs and get this shit poppin’. This laid back ass music got me low in my spirits.”

  “You? Thought I was the only one. ‘Bout to have them turn this mu’fucka up with some Jeezy or Yo Gotti. Fuck this Hosea Martino bullshit. That cocaine music and thug motivation series shit go dumb hard. The dumb way.”

  Semaj burst out in a fit of laughter, near tears. “Sosa, you are a damn fool. I promise you are dumb. You be cracking me up and if I didn’t know you I would swear you was from somebody damn ‘hood throwing up clique and gang signs.” They were rolling.

  Once the joking subsided, Semaj and Sosa made their way down the courtyard-styled stairs where everyone was. The party was live and with crystal flute glasses in their hands, their bodies winding and the beat thumping, they were enjoying themselves. Semaj looked around, relishing in all of the power that she and her family had.

  “I’m glad you could get Sosa out of her ‘lil funk,” Emilia yelled over the music. “Seems like every year around this time she be wanting to be by herself. I’m starting to think that she ain’t into the whole New Year, party thing.”

  “She just misses y’all Poppa. That’s all it is, Emilia,” Semaj said covering for her. “I get down like this at times also, missing the people I lost too. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Some of us just deal with shit differently, ya know?”

  Semaj felt a hand on her back. It was Bonjo.

  “Can I have this dance, beautiful,” he asked as the music switched back to Bachata and a laid back number played.

  “Sure Uncle Bonjo,” she smiled, accepting his hand graciously. They began to dance. Semaj was thankful to have him home. “I’m sorry for letting that rat into our family. I’m just glad we were able to find out before it was too late. Before he dismantled this entire family.”

  “With the way you move, Maj, you got everything under control, baby. And if you don’t, you know who got yo’ back,” Bonjo replied. “Gio will forever make sure you straight and protected. You ain’t caught on to his new tactic for you, huh? Look.” He pointed across the room where a girl chatted with Jah-Jah by the window. She was dressed in a cream one-shoulder chiffon dress with brown rosette corsage detail and brown ankle boots. “He had Jah-Jah on this for a minute and finally she found the perfect match. He said you need this every time you are in a public setting. I agree.”

  Semaj looked at the woman oddly, noticing something strange. More than half of her face was draped with soft curls and the rest of her hair pulled around into a sophisticated bun. From her head to her toes she was almost identical to Semaj and her role became obvious. Semaj grinned when she noticed her lookalike was missing the one-of-a-kind necklace she wore. It was the one Quasim had got her. “She’s a decoy for the enemy. At first glance you’d think she’s you.”

  “Poppa is so over the top sometimes. I thought I could be extra. This nigga just takes the fucking cake though.” Semaj chuckled and looked at the clock on the wall. It was 11:55. “Oh, shit, it’s almost time for the countdown, Uncle Bon.”

  As Paris stood on the rooftop of Semaj’s hotel, her finger itched to press the red button on the detonator she held. She was the one that had sent flower arrangements to the front desk an hour earlier. But little did anyone know C4 dynamites had been placed in the bottom box. Paris knew what she was up against and it took them months to plan the perfect hit. This time, this bitch gotta go. I’m tired of playing with her now.

  Quiet, but urgent footsteps resounded in her ear as she watched armored Jamaican snipers run across the pavement and line the edge of the rooftop with assault rifles in their hands. She had an army of shottas on the floor below Semaj’s suite waiting on her to give the “green light”. From past experiences Paris had learned that coming at the Dominicans with anything less than her A-game was pointless, but tonight she came more on point than ever before. This bitch gon die tonight.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The explosives from the fireworks show sounded off and laser lights illuminated, flashing the night skies. Balloons floated upward that the people on ground held while confetti danced and swirled around in the air in complete bliss unprepared for the pandemonium that was about to ensue.

  “Somebody turn off them lights,” Semaj shouted loudly with a bottle of Rose in her hand. “Everybody grab your people and a glass of champagne and let’s count it down.” The room fell dim but, the sparklers gave the large space a glow. “To a new day, a new year, a new era.”

  “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one— Happy New Year!” the crowd erupted but the sound of bombs exploding rang concurrently and caused everyone to run in a frenzy. The red beams dancing on the walls and then the sounds of glass shattering confirmed that this was a hit on them. Endless bullets came flying through the glass. The girls dropped to the floor and reached for their weapons as the military bullets rained. In that instant the first floor door crashed to the ground as trained shooters knocked it off the hinges and came in, guns blazing. The sound of explosives and machine guns filled the air, and the suite became an instant battleground.

&nbs
p; “These muthafuckas shooting from on top of the building across the street too!” Emilia yelled as she racked the automatic AK in unison with her sisters. “Don’t let none of these muthafuckas get through these doors. Kill ‘em all!” she commanded. “Sosa, Jah-Jah grab some goons. Y’all get Semaj outta here through the second story door. We right behind y’all.” They obliged and ran full speed toward the foyer while Emilia and the rest of them traded shots with the Jamaicans. The Milano crew made a dash for it, all the while never letting up on their targets.

  Semaj and Sosa rushed to the second floor and hadn’t noticed that was where the explosion had come from. That was until they neared the exit and the overwhelming heat caused them to stumble backwards. Right before their eyes amber-colored flames were in full bloom and there was no way they could get out from this way. “We sure can’t walk through fire and there is only one other way outta here. That’s on the main floor. Fuck it,” Semaj said as she went inside Sosa’s shoulder harness and pulled out a machine pistol. Click! Clack! She cocked the gun back as Jah-Jah said, “If we gotta die it’s going to be in a blaze of glory! Let’s get these muthafuckin’ faggots.”

  “These putas must thought we don’t stay prepared for shit like this. My pussy cums off shit like this you fucking bastards!” screamed LuLu as she continued to fire her weapon endlessly as Ox’s men attempted to come upstairs. But before they could reach the bottom step, the Dominicans loaded them up with bullets, dropping them one by one. “Cover me!” LuLu crouched low and hurried to retrieve something that she had hidden behind the couch for occasions like these. It was a shoulder-launched Lau 65-D grenade launcher. She crept over to the glassless window, and then held it over her right shoulder. She fired the missile-like fireball twice and watched as it wiped out every man lining the edge. Got part of the problem taken care of real fast. Now we gotta kill the rest of these beaded neck fucks, she thought as she dropped the launcher and ran back to assist her sisters.

  “Arghhhh,” Marcela shouted as she let her weapon loose.

  She was so skilled the second it emptied, she grabbed another gun. She spun back around even quicker, this time with a Mac 10 strategically firing a barrage of bullets as the Jamaicans were still attempting to make their way up the steps. “These sons-of- bitches are fucking endless. They must’ve sent their whole fucking team to get at us. Fuck?” she was infuriated at their bravery and allowed the sub machine gun to lay them down instantly. I swear this my last shootout with these unskilled muthafuckas. I’ma make sure I blow Ox’s fucking head off personally. Marcela hadn’t noticed the gunman hiding behind the large faux tree below, but wondered where the flying bullets came from as large chunks of the stairway walls collapsed.

  Everyone that was coming up was dropping down, but before Marcela could process another thought an unbearable pain shot through her body as she jerked forward. Her mouth fell open in anguish, but no sound came out, only air. Everything around her seemed to be moving in slow motion as she looked over at Bonjo, desperately begging him for help without speaking a word. The gun dropped to her side as her hand fell over her right ear, realizing that she had been shot. She backed out of sight to shield herself from the raining bullets that were whizzing around her head. Enraged Bonjo blazed off, and as he noticed the still tree move, he aimed down at it and immediately filled the hidden gunman up with lead. Not before a bullet had struck Emilia though.

  “Aghh!” she screamed dropping the heavy gun as she grabbed her leg in pain. The burning flash of heat terrorized her as the metal ripped through her thigh. That didn’t stop her though and she grabbed her piece off her thigh holster and fired, sending bullets sailing. “Now he wanna send some mu’fuckas that really know how to shoot. Fucking maricons!” she grimaced as blood soaked through her trench coat.

  Once Bonjo saw that there wasn’t a dread head left standing, he rushed over to his two cousins and then looked back at their two remaining henchmen. “Grab them,” he ordered. “Get them outta here. Jah-Jah, Sosa, LuLu, follow them so y’all can keep shooters at bay.” The blaze had died out in the foyer due to the sprinkler system, and Sosa noticed it and said, “Y’all let’s go out this way,” as they ran full speed out of the suite.

  “Semaj, come on!” Bonjo grabbed her as he hauled ass, nearly dragging Semaj by her arm. Abruptly, Bonjo’s grip slipped and he fell unavoidably through the hole. The explosion had caused the floor to weaken. When the first set crossed over it had depleted the strength even more, and once Bonjo placed the weight of his right leg on the flimsy surface he fell through.

  Right before Semaj’s eyes he had fell more than twenty feet below. “Oh, my, God! Oh my God, Uncle Bonjo!” she screamed as her hand shot to her mouth in disbelief. She was too afraid to look down and quickly backpedaled out of the space. She damn near jumped out of her skin as she almost tripped over dead bodies. Tears flowed down her cheeks and her limbs trembled as she frantically searched the area. There was no one left alive and she was alone in a room full of lifeless goons. There is only one way out of here. What if someone is still alive downstairs though, she thought as her heart was thumping rapidly. It was as if she was having a heart attack. I have to get out of here. Think! Think! Semaj spotted a gun in one of the dead men’s hand. She grabbed it with one thing on her mind— shoot before getting shot.

  The sprinkler system wet Semaj up as she crept down the stairs. Her body shook in chilliness as the fabric of the dress clung to her and her hair stuck to her face. She stepped over dead bodies that sprawled across the stairs and couldn’t believe her eyes once she reached the bottom step. It was dark and smoky. The fish tank had been hit and water covered the main floor where dead bodies floated around with the sharks. The putrid smell of death was heavy in the air. Semaj began to cough as the horrible smell robbed her of clean oxygen. Her lungs stung as she shut her eyes and did the only thing she could do; she began to pray.

  Flashes of white light snuck through her closed lids causing her to reopen them in alarm. The front door was gaping now and Semaj noticed a shadow approaching her. She could tell that it was a woman from the hair cascading down her shoulders. “Jah-Jah is that you?” she called out. Her heart jumped with each step the person took. When the face came into clear view, this time Semaj literally felt her heart jump out of her chest. She couldn’t believe her eyes. This shit couldn’t be real, she thought as her eyes grew wide in shock and unintentionally she dropped the gun. It was as if she had seen a ghost. It was Paris in the flesh and from the way she glared at her, Semaj realized that the Milano Hitters had failed for the first time on a hit— they had killed the wrong twin and the living sibling was here to settle the score.

  The Year of the End

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the golden child all alone,” Paris said as she clapped her hands slowly but extremely loud. “Surprise, surprise, surprise, huh?” she asked as she stepped down the three steps, disregarding the things in the water. “Don’t look so fucking appalled Semaj.”

  “What is it that you want, Paris?” Semaj asked.

  “Ha!” she scoffed. “I remember all that big girl talk on the phone and I’ve waited years to see what you were about. Now you all about seeing what I want huh?” She laughed hysterically. “I always knew your bark was much louder than your bite.” Paris pulled a .357 Magnum from the small of her back. “You see, I’ve been here making your life is a living Hell, but I’m coming to grips that I’m bored with it now. I’m sure my brother would say I avenged his death good enough.”

  Semaj frowned, her brow arched in confusion. “Bitch, you are fucking sick. You went through all that bullshit to make my life a living hell and now you talking ‘bout some brother shit. Fuck is you talking about you jealous ass, delusional bitch!”

  “Gabe always told me that you were a simple bitch. It was easy to infiltrate your circle and tear that muthafucka up from the inside out.” Her words hit Semaj like a ton of bricks. “When I said that you would regret ever trying to shit on me, I meant that
shit. Gabe sending me at you was a prelude for a future business move and having Tala shot down had been the perfect setup. But now things are personal and I just had to take everything else you loved—”

  This is the sister Gabe was talking about the whole time. He put her on me from the very beginning. This bitch was setting me up that entire time. She befriended me, but was my enemy from the gate.

  “Gabe killed my baby he deserved to die!” she argued as the circle-breaker tried to kick in causing eerie squeaking noises and the light to slowly blink on and off. “This was between me and him. Our beef was our beef. That was a baby and he had nothing to do with it.”

  Paris smiled deviously. “Semaj, you’re so fucking pathetic. Does it look like I care about if that raggedy ass baby had anything to do with it? I killed my father and made my mother watch because she allowed him to rape me and my sister and then killed that bitch. Fuck I care about your baby being innocent? You played the tune and I just started to tango to the song. You had my sister killed so I blew your baby up really not giving a fuck. I wished you were in the car, but I found it much more amusing when I watched you grieve.”

  “You, bitch!” All of the rage that Semaj had bubbled to the surface all at once, “It was you at the funeral that day!” she screamed as she completely spazzed out and charged at Paris, her feet flapping through the calf-deep water, but was stopped as Paris pointed the barrel of her gun at Semaj’s head.

  “Checkmate, bitch! There’s no winning with me! Burn in hell with that bastard baby of yours!”

  Boom!

  Paris sent a bullet sailing at Semaj’s head, finally winning the game of life and death that she had been playing all along. Blood spilled from the side of Semaj’s face and into the already rose- colored water. An evil smirk of satisfaction flashed across Paris’s face. “Good the bitch is dead!”