Bitch (6 page)

"You got that right, and we be right there reading that bullshit like its gospel," Inga said as we nodded our heads in agreement. "So what's up wit' you tonight, you going to the club?"

"Actually, I'm supposed to be going on a date."

"A date? Who you fucking wit', Precious?"

"I ain't fucking wit' nobody. I just met this dude on my way over here, and we supposed to be hanging out tonight."

"He got money?" Inga asked, while rubbing her fingers together.

"I hope so, but if not, the date will end before it even starts. If he don't pull up to the crib in some official shit, I won't have no problem telling him to forget my name and number."

"You got that right. It's too many niggas out here doing it to be wasting your time with a thirsty cat. But if he is rolling in the dough, hook me up with one of his friends. Truth be told, you know niggas making paper usually roll in crews."

"I got you. If he's official I'll turn you on. I haven't forgotten about that Jamaican cat you hooked me up with. I didn't even have to fuck that nigga; all he wanted to do was eat my pussy and take me shopping. A bitch was hurt when he got locked up, he was lacing me lovely."

"Yeah, he was real big on you. I speak to his cousin, and he told me that nigga still be checking for you. He even asked me if I could talk to you about going to visit him in prison. I didn't have the heart to tell him it would never happen. So I just said you went to visit your peoples down south for a minute."

"OK. What the fuck can he do for me behind bars, except tell me where he hid his stash?" I said, viewing my watch, seeing how much time I had left under this hot-ass dryer. I then looked back up at Inga, inspecting the shaky hairstyle she was rocking. "You came to let Maria do your hair?"

"Nah, I still have this weave. I'm tryn' to rock this until I get all my money's worth. I was on my way to the beauty supply store and peeped you in here and wanted to holla."

I couldn't help but think that Inga had got all her money's worth and then some off the tired looking tracks that were barely hanging on to her scalp. But I knew Inga's dollars were tight and she couldn't afford the necessary four to six week redo that was required to keep your weave fresh.

"Oh, that's cool. I was planning on hitting you later anyway. If my date is a bust, let's go shake our asses at the club tonight. If it's all good, I'll hit you tomorrow so we can set up a double date.

"That'll work," Inga said as she strutted out of the beauty shop.

That night I got dressed for my date to the sounds of "The Emancipation of Mimi." Although I loathed that dizzy acting bimbo, Mariah Carey, I had to admit her CD was kinda hot. Nico already called and said he was on his way so I was just giving myself the finishing touches.

I put on my hot pink Juicy Couture terry cloth dress with matching shoes. I still didn't know if this date was going to even happen, so I wasn't stressing it too much. Since my apartment wasn't facing the street I couldn't even look out my window to see what type of whip he was pushing before wasting my time and going downstairs. When my cell phone rang again, I figured it was Nico telling me he was downstairs. No way was I giving him my home number `cause he still was on my suspect list.

When I got to the front door entrance I tried to peep around to catch a glimpse of Nico's ride. All I saw was an old Chevy parked out front with the hazardous lights flashing. If that was that nigga's car, I was going to cuss him the fuck out for wasting my time. He had to know by just looking at me that it wasn't that kind of party. Then I heard my cell phone ring and it was Nico telling me he was parked right out front. I was so pissed I bit my bottom lip.

When I walked further out, someone beeped their horn and I noticed the hottest 2005 red SL65 AMG with banging rims. My face lit up like a Christmas tree. When I sat down in the car, the first thing Nico said was, "I bet you thought that banged up Chevy was mine," we both burst out laughing.

"You know I did, ma'fuckah."

"Seriously, Precious, you are way too beautiful to talk like that. Plus my name isn't ma'fuckah."

"I apologize. You know what I meant to say, Nico." I didn't mind giving him a little life cause his wheels were crazy and the nigga was even finer out his street clothes. He had on some top line Sean John shit. Not the sweat suit gear, but the slacks and button up shirt. His wrist was heavy with the Jay-Z limited edition platinum version Audemars Piguet watch. I was feeling his style.

"So where do you want to go tonight?" he asked, doing a U-turn in the middle of my street.

"Maybe dinner."

"You got a place in mind?"

"You pick the spot," I wanted to see what his restaurant game was looking like anyway. He jumped on the Westside Highway. We eventually ended up on Lafayette Street at a spot called Butter. The place was sexy. I was surprised because it was a white joint with a bunch of model type looking motherfuckers. It was cool though and the food was a'ight to be a white establishment. After dinner it was still early and Nico suggested we go to the movies. But I declined. I wanted to find out everything I could about him. So we drove to the park across from St. Nicholas Ave. and just talked.

"So, Nico, tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything." So Nico started from when he was a kid.

"My father got murdered when I was thirteen. Of course he was a street nigga. He used to hustle with my best friend Ritchie's dad.

"I've known Ritchie since I was three years old. He's like my brother. We grew up in the same projects and our mother's were best friends. After my dad got killed, shortly after, Ritchie's dad got locked up on some Federal charges and got life. With both of them gone I had to step up as the man of the house.

"I was determined to pick up where my dad left off, which meant getting my drug hustle on. One of my dad's captains took me under his wings and molded me into the perfect solider. But hustling was embedded in my blood, so I conquered the game with rapid speed. I have that deadly combination of intellect and street smarts. I can run circles around anyone that crosses my path.

"As I got higher up in the ranks, I tried to bring Ritchie in the mix, but he became withdrawn when his father got locked up. To make matters worse his mother got strung out on crack. Eventually it got so bad that he moved in with me and my mother, because his moms couldn't take care of him anymore. It took a few years, but Ritchie came out of his shell and we made a pact to never leave one another's side until death do us part." Nico paused and looked at me for a moment." "I can't believe I just told you all that. I don't even usually open myself up like this. But that's OK, because you are going to be my girl, I know it."

"Why you stressin' for me to be your girl?" I was cu rious to know. It was obvious that Nico was large and in charge. He probably had bitches throwing pussy at him from every direction. So I had to know what his fascination with me was.

"Besides the fact that you are unbelievably gorgeous, something about you is dark."

"Dark? What the fuck?"

Nico gave me that look. "I meant to say, `What you mean."' This cussing situation was definitely gonna be a problem, I thought to myself.

"That same look I got in my eyes, you got it in yours. I've never met a woman or man besides my father with that look."

"What look is that?"

"It's a combination of many things. The average nigga wouldn't be able to handle you, but I know I can and will. We are going to do big things together."

With the majority of niggas I fucked with, I wouldn't give them no ass until they had tricked a few G's on me first, but not with Nico. I willingly gave up the pussy that first night. It was crazy because no matter how hard I tried, he wouldn't let me get on top. That let me know he was determined to maintain control over me and our relationship. The way he put it on me, though I didn't have a problem with it. From that day on it was like that Biggie record, "Just Me And My Bitch".

Holifihood

eing Nico's girl was like being the First Lady. The streets bowed down to me as if I was their queen. I had to take it back to Brooklyn on a regular basis and represent my hood. See, Harlem wasn't my hood, I rep'd for BK. The first time I drove up to Boogie's spot in Nico's SL65, the place paused. They knew it was Nico's shit, and I had to be his girl to be pushing it. For everyone else who didn't know, there was no doubt in their mind I was some powerful ma'fucka's wifey.

I loved the stares and glares I received from dealing with a kingpin. Even for the people who hated on me, they didn't have the balls to say anything to my face. Nico's reputation preceded him, and no one crossed him, and since I seemed to be the closest thing to him, they didn't dare cross me.

Everything between me and Nico happened so fast. The next morning after we twisted each other out, he said I was moving in with him. He didn't ask, he demanded. He was so damn cocky, confident, and controlling with his shit, but it turned me on like crazy. I was open for it anyway. I agreed to move in with him, but I also kept my spot. As much as I digged Nico, I knew that any bitch that was about her business maintained her own crib. Nico had a couple of cribs, but I moved into his brownstone on the promenade in Brooklyn Heights.

Anybody that is familiar with Brooklyn knows that is prime property. I'm talking million-dollars-and up cribs. I didn't understand how Nico maneuvered that, but that just showed how official his shit was. At first I didn't even feel comfortable being in the same neighborhood with all those rich pricks, and Nico could see how frustrated I was becoming.

One day he sat me down and schooled me. "Precious, understand something. The only way you become rich is surrounding yourself with rich people. I know this might seem like a bit much to you, but pretty soon instead of you worrying about who all these rich people are around you, they'll be trying to figure out who you are."

Nico was right. After a while a couple of ladies in the neighborhood would see me pulling up in my 6-Series convertible and would try to make conversation with me. They was curious about who I was. They swore down I was in the Entertainment Industry. When they got to asking me a million questions, I would slightly tilt down my Jackie 0 shades and say, "Sorry can't chat. I must be going," real Hollywood like.

I said to myself, let it stay a mystery. If I have anything to do with it, they will die trying to figure that shit out. It was bananas because in Brooklyn Heights, Nico and I were looked upon as a respectable couple who was just doing it, but the ghetto ran through our bloods. We both lived for the streets.

I didn't normally go with Nico when he was handling business, but this particular day on our way to do some shopping in the city we made a stop at one of the many blocks Nico had on lock for a spontaneous spot check. It was his way of making sure his workers were doing their part and holding it down. Nico was the man, and when he pulled up in the hood with rims spinning all shenanigans came to a halt, and everyone stood in attention.

Although his best friend Ritchie was his right hand man, he didn't garner the same level of respect as Nico. The whole borough knew that Nico basically handed large portions of the business over to his best friend out of loyalty, not because Ritchie earned it, although Nico didn't see it that way. As far as he was concerned he and Ritchie were brothers. "How's it looking, my man?" Nico asked his field lieutenant, Tommy.

"It's all good. It's Friday, so you know the clientele is steady and the money is right," the stocky worker bragged.

"That's what I like to hear. I was checking up on you. You seem to have everything under control, so I'm out," Nico said giving Tommy a pound. "Hit me later with those numbers."

"I got you boss." Right when we were pulling off, Ritchie pulled up.

"What's up, my nigga?" Ritchie said as he knelt down on Nico's side of the car door. He then noticed I was in the car, "What's up, Precious?"

"The same thing, Ritchie."

"When you gon' hook me up wit' one of your girls?"

"I told you I don't fuck wit' bitches like that. The only chick I fucks wit' is Inga."

"Well hook it up."

"Ritchie, every time you tell me to do that shit you always cancel at the last minute."

"I tell you what. You and Nico come, we can do it fo' sho' tonight."

"Why we gotta come?" I smacked. I knew Inga would want it that way, but I wanted to make Ritchie feel like I was doing his ass a favor.

"Com' on. Stop trippin'. It'll be fun, right?" He playfully punched Nico's shoulder, trying to get him to cosign on the outing.

"Yeah, it'll be cool."

"R'ight', I'll call her. We can go to the Harlem Grill. I heard they have some good food."

If I had to be bothered with Ritchie's silly ass at least I could get a good meal out the deal. "Put her number in your phone so you can make the arrangements to pick her up." After Ritchie plugged Inga's number in his phone, he noticed Tommy and told him to come here.

"Tommy, make sure you don't leave until all business is dried up. We don't need nobody slacking off," Ritchie said, trying to execute some authority. Tommy nodded his head as if agreeing with what Ritchie said, but I knew he gave it no merit.

From the few occasions I observed Ritchie, he had a way of making unnecessary comments in an attempt to make his presence known. I wondered if Nico ever picked up on that, but since he never mentioned it maybe he didn't. He had a blind eye when it came to Ritchie, anyway. Because I knew for a fact that Ritchie was straight jealous of Nico; it was written in his eyes.

"Man, you too lax with these niggas. They be coming at you like ya friends instead of your workers," Ritchie said with agitation.

"Nah, it's not like that. They know who's boss, but I prefer for them to feel comfortable around me."

"Comfortable. Fuck that, you better make them goofy niggas fear you. They need to know if they step out of line it can happen."

"Man my temper is legendary so they all know it can happen. But fear brings about lies. Our crew is the eyes and ears of the streets. They gottta believe they can tell me anything, whether good or bad. Without the information from the streets I'm powerless. If that means making my crew feel at ease then so be it."