CHAPTER 16
It was late evening when a few squad cars went racing down Fifth Avenue, sirens blaring.
“Shots fired! Shots fired!” crackled over the police radio.
Two cop cars made a sharp right onto 132nd Street and came across the body of a male sprawled out across the hard concrete near the overpass on Park Avenue. The victim was suffering from three gunshot wounds that hit him center mass.
Three officers first arrived on the scene, and by the look of things, they knew the victim was critical. The homeless man, his eyes lifeless, was lying face up, and blood was spilling out from his back. It wasn’t long before the man shot dead on the streets was identified by onlookers as Lil’ Meek.
A small crowd gathered around, most showing little interest for the victim, but curious to see the police action in progress. They watched from a short distance as officers taped off the scene and detectives began investigating the murder. Lil’ Meek wasn’t known to have any enemies, and he didn’t have much family around, except an elderly grandmother, who rarely left her apartment but kept in contact with her grandson.
The hood soon started buzzing about Lil’ Meek’s murder. A majority didn’t care, and thought he was just another crackhead shot dead in the streets. The body was covered and transported to the morgue, while everyone else continued on with their evening activities, with little gossip about the murder after the police left the scene.
*****
The sun had just set, and the balmy night was slowly developing over the projects. Kola sat in the passenger seat of the dark Tahoe listening to Danny inform her about news she needed to hear.
“Yo, Kola, from what I’m hearing on the streets, it was that nigga J-Dogg that bodied ya little sister,” Danny said.
Kola was seething with anger and wanted to snap J-Dogg’s neck. She knew he had just come home right before spring from doing an eighteen-month bid upstate. An independent thug with a violent attitude and a rap sheet longer than her arm, J-Dogg was always trouble. He was also known to be a gun-for-hire and would do anything for a few dollars. Kola wanted him dead, but not before she got to torture him for more information. She wanted every breathing soul behind her sister’s murder to suffer greatly. She wanted justice and knew she was the only one in the family capable of exacting it, since she thought Apple was just too weak and na?ve at times, and her mother was just a stupid bitch.
*****
Kola wasn’t able to rest. She had met up with Mike-Mike at his crib a few hours earlier, needing his support. She wanted him to put as many guns as he could on the streets and do what they did best—Get information by brutal force and then murder everything that moved—but Mike-Mike was against it.
He had looked at Kola seriously and stated, “Nah, we can’t do that right now, Kola. Shit is too hot out there.”
“What the f-uck you talkin’ ’bout, Mike-Mike?”
“You heard me. We at war right now wit’ this upcoming drug crew that’s tryin’ to step on our toes, make a name for themselves. Cross and me, we hot right now. Feds is on us, you hear me? We get involved wit’ this shit wit’ you, and we fuckin’ ourselves.”
With teary eyes, Kola returned with, “So, it’s like that now, Mike-Mike? They body my little sister, and I’m supposed to let that shit ride like that?”
“Kola, you know it ain’t nothin’ personal. It’s just too many bodies right now attracting fucked-up attention on our operation. It’s just niggas is hot and need to chill from the body count. You know it ain’t no disrespect wit’ you. I got love for you, Kola, but you don’t even know who did the shit yet. Niggas just talkin’, that’s all.”
“Fuck you, Mike-Mike!” Kola barked.
Kola quickly stood from her chair, not believing what she’d heard. She never thought she would see the day when Mike-Mike and his peoples would turn away from her or act like some scared bitches. She’d been around them for years and witnessed the many murders and other violent acts they’d committed, and had proven time and time again that she was a ride-or-die bitch. She was the baddest chick around who always had their backs, and this was how they repaid her?
Mike-Mike remained seated in his cushioned La-Z-Boy recliner and looked up at Kola with cold eyes. He knew she was upset, but the streets were hot at the moment, and Cross had warned everyone to lay low and chill. He knew Kola was hurting over her sister’s death deeply, and he wanted nothing more than to kill those behind it, but it was going to entail too great a risk, especially since the feds were investigating and watching them. Kola was emotional and not thinking rationally, seeing only revenge and not the aftermath.
Mike-Mike watched Kola storm out of his apartment ranting and cursing. After she slammed the door shut, he could still hear her mouth in the hallway. He lit up a Black & Mild and leaned back in his chair. Mike-Mike wanted to relax that morning and think about his chances on the streets. Donny B’s murder a few days earlier had him a little spooked. Word on the streets was, he was an informant and working with the police.
Mike-Mike was the one who had snatched Donny B’s life away violently. It was both personal and business, but now he had to lay low and allow things to smooth over.
But the abrupt kicking in of his front door an hour after Kola had left, and a dozen armed and suited tactical officers rushing in and screaming out, “Police! NYPD! NYPD!” made it clearly known that he had fucked up somewhere.
Mike-Mike rushed from his chair and tried to make his escape out the bedroom window, ready to leap from two floors up, but he was quickly subdued by a half-dozen officers, thrown forcefully to the floor, and pinned face down, where he was crushed against the floor by the boots and strong arms of several cops, and his arms forced behind his back.
He was read his rights and led out of the building shirtless, barefoot, and in his sagging jeans by the army of officers. It was a spectacle for everyone to see—the notorious drug dealer finally captured for Donny B’s murder.
*****
Kola was heartbroken when she received the news about Mike-Mike. It felt like her world was falling apart—her sister was dead, Apple was MIA, and now Mike-Mike, her longtime friend and lover, was incarcerated. Still, she was determined to get her revenge.
She plotted with Danny about going after J-Dogg and shooting him down like a dog. But then again, she wanted to kidnap him and put such a hurting on him, he would want to die. She tried to block out Mike-Mike’s arrest from her mind. She knew he would do some time. Word was out on the streets that he was the one that killed Donny B, shooting him down in cold blood in front of his friends. Kola knew Mike-Mike was heartless like that, and his arrest was a great loss to her because, before the bullshit, he did anything she asked.
*****
Kola gripped the .380 that Danny had given to her as the two rode around Harlem looking for J-Dogg with an obsession. They asked around for him relentlessly, but no one had seen their target. Danny pushed his truck up and down Fifth, Seventh, and Eighth Avenues from 110th Street to 145th Street, but there wasn’t any sign of him. Kola was becoming frustrated but didn’t want to give up the search. She ached in every part of her body to find him before the police or anyone else did.
However, as the evening progressed, and the search proved fruitless, the two grew tired. The frustration clearly showed on Kola’s face. She didn’t want to go home without someone paying for their sins against her family, but it seemed like J-Dogg had probably gotten wind that he was being hunted and skipped town. It was one in the morning when they finally called it quits and went their separate ways until the following day.
Kola walked into the apartment and went straight to her bedroom, closing her door. She removed the .380 from her Prada bag and placed it on the dresser. She looked at the gun for a moment, fantasizing about putting it to good use, spilling out the blood of her sister’s killer and watching his life drain from him with pleasure. Every day since Nichols’ murder, Kola found herself becoming angrier. She was becoming mad at herself and at the world, seething with disgust at the betrayal. She was ready to react, but it seemed like everyone was vanishing from her sights.
She hadn’t seen Apple in a day or two, but she didn’t care about her twin sister. In her eyes, Apple was the one responsible for Nichols’ death also, and Kola wanted to make her sister pay for her stupidity too.
Kola slowly undressed and took a seat on her bed butt naked. She looked around her room and suddenly felt an uncontrollable rage. She started to destroy a few things in her bedroom, turning over her bed, shredding the bed sheets, and snatching the clothes out of her closet and tossing them wildly. She then smashed her mirror with the butt of the gun and kicked holes in the wall with the heel of her foot. Her frantic screams caused her mother to enter the bedroom to see what the commotion was about.
With a sharp glare, Kola turned toward her mother, gun still in her hand, and shouted, “Get the f-uck outta my room!” She raised the .380 and pointed it at her mother’s head.
Visibly startled, Denise stood there wide-eyed. She dared not challenge her daughter, because the look in Kola’s eyes said that she was crazy. It was Denise’s home, but at that moment, her daughter had the authority.
“Bitch, you done lost your fuckin’ mind.” Denise slowly turned toward the direction of her bedroom to get away from her daughter.
Kola stood there for a moment before finally lowering the gun. She then plopped down on the bed and felt the urge to just shoot off the .380. She wanted to empty the clip and release her aggravation on something close. She gripped the weapon tightly and looked down at it, and for that fraction of a second, thought about suicide. But she quickly rid her mind of such idiotic feelings and vowed to make things right.
Kola put the gun in the bottom of the drawer and then went to her bedroom window. She peered outside at the dark. Though it was quiet outside, her heart was raging and disturbed, and she couldn’t sleep.
*****
J-Dogg sat behind the wheel of a dark blue Durango waiting for Supreme to return his phone call. Parked on the Bronx side of the 207th Street bridge near Fordham Road, close to the overpass on the Major Deegan Expressway that connected Washington Heights to the Bronx, he watched the light traffic pass by on the three-lane highway at two o’clock in the morning, his .45 within reach and a keen eye on his surroundings.
He had gotten word that Kola and a male stranger were looking for him and knew that someone probably had snitched on him about Nichols’ murder. Now, the word was out on the streets that he was one of the men responsible for the murder. He was nervous and ready to leave town as soon as possible, knowing it wouldn’t be long before the police started sniffing around for him. J-Dogg refused to go back to prison and would die before they put him back in a cell. This time, he knew he would be sentenced to life or put on death row for Nichols’ murder.
J-Dogg sat impatiently in his ride, jumping at everything that moved in the dark. Earlier, he had hollered at Supreme, who’d promised him a ride out of town, a place to stay, and the much-needed cash that was owed to him. Things were too hot to stick around Harlem, and he knew someone could come gunning for him at anytime. J-Dogg felt if Supreme crossed him by not helping or paying the money he had asked for, he wasn’t going to rest until Supreme got a bullet in his head, but Supreme had given J-Dogg his word.
J-Dogg trusted Supreme because he had worked for him before. Supreme had sounded really assuring over the phone that he would come through with the support. J-Dogg knew Supreme couldn’t risk his capture, because he knew too much about everything on this high-profile rape and murder case, Nichols’ death having been aired on every news station in the city.
J-Dogg’s cell phone rang, and he quickly picked up. “Yeah.”
“You at the location?” Supreme asked.
J-Dogg was relieved to hear Supreme’s voice. “Yeah, I been here for at least fifteen minutes. Where you at?”
“I’ll be there in ten. Just hang tight. I got you.”
“Just hurry the f-uck up, Supreme. I ain’t got all night.”
The call ended, and J-Dogg continued to wait. Ten minutes later, he noticed headlights heading in his direction. He rose up and grabbed his gun, cocking it back and readying himself for anything. He kept an intense eye on the car approaching him in the short distance and took a deep breath.
The white Cadillac STS came to a stop in front of the Durango, and Guy Tony stepped out from the driver’s side carrying a small bag, which J-Dogg assumed was the money and items he needed to leave town.
J-Dogg was upset that Supreme sent one of his henchmen instead of coming himself. “Yo, where the f-uck is Supreme?” he shouted.
“He got caught up in somethin’ and sent me,” Guy Tony said.
“Nah, f-uck that! He told me he would be here.” J-Dogg had the gun near his side with the safety off. If Guy Tony was to flinch wrong, he was ready to put a few hot bullets in him. “But that’s my money?”
Guy Tony kept his cool and acted casual while taking a few careful steps closer to J-Dogg. “I’m just the messenger,” he exclaimed calmly.
His trigger finger itching, J-Dogg quickly looked around and stepped out of his car. He was hungry to snatch the bag from Guy Tony’s hand and drive off, but hesitated to take any steps closer.
“Why the f-uck he send you, Guy? Huh? Somethin’s up?” J-Dogg continued to look around the area nervously.
“I told you before, he got caught up wit’ somethin’. Now, I ain’t got all day, J-Dogg. You want the bag or what?” Guy Tony shouted.
“Yeah. Just toss me my shit.”
Guy Tony tossed the small brown duffel bag over to J-Dogg, and it landed at his feet. He then took a few steps back and said, “Open it and see if we good.”
Uneasily, J-Dogg crouched down near the bag, slowly unzipped it, and saw thirty thousand dollars in small bills stuffed inside, along with what appeared to be his fake driver’s license and a few other items. He nodded.
Before J-Dogg could look back up at Guy Tony, a shadowy figure crept up behind him with the swift motion of a cheetah. J-Dogg didn’t get to turn and see what was happening. He just felt the cold steel of a Desert Eagle pressed to the back of his head, and it fired without any delay.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
J-Dogg’s brain matter was scattered across the shaded street, and his body laid sprawled out face down on the concrete, three huge holes in his head.
Guy Tony ran up to the body and quickly snatched up the bag of cash and everything else, while the mystery killer disappeared back into the shadows from where he came.
A few minutes later, Supreme’s truck slowly rolled by the deadly scene with Apple seated in the passenger’s side. He pointed out J-Dogg’s body and said, “See, love? There’s your justice. I promised you that.”
Apple looked down at the body with an expressionless gaze. She took the entire scene in slowly and knew that Nichols’ killer would rot in hell.
Feeling like her king and hero, Supreme smiled. He had orchestrated everything perfectly. He placed his hand on Apple’s uncovered thigh, with her skirt riding up her legs, and massaged her lightly, eager to move it farther up her legs.
“You ain’t gotta worry about the bullshit anymore. I’ma take care of you, Apple. I told you I would make it right, and as you see, I made the shit right.”
Apple looked at Supreme with a slight smile and rested back in her seat, remaining quiet. Supreme drove off the block, heading toward I-95/New Jersey Turnpike with plans on taking her on a trip out of town. Maybe wine and dine her, take her shopping, and introduce her to the finer things in life. He was rooted in her head and planned on staying there for a long while.