Bitch Reloaded (5 page)

"Precious, give me a minute. Word is bond, I'm tired than a motherfucker. I think we lost the cat anyway." The minute those words left Smokey's mouth, I saw the enemy coming up on him like the quiet storm.

"Come on, Smokey, move it, that nigga behind you," I yelled, as I ran towards him with guns aimed, ready to fire. But I was too late. The enemy discharged about five shots in Smokey's back. His body fell over on the cement. By the time he put the last bullet in Smokey, I was close enough to start blasting off and just lit the nigga up. I checked Smokey's pulse, hoping there was still a chance he was alive. But it was over for him. "I'm sorry, Smokey," I said before dashing back down the street for my escape.

Lying back in the marble Jacuzzi, I tried to relax after the chaotic events from earlier in the day. The French vanilla scented candles surrounding the tub and the second glass of wine I was drinking helped to unwind my body but did little to erase the memory of the bloodshed. To make matters worse, I was no closer to finding out where Nico was, and I had no answers as to who those niggas were working for. Something told me they were playing this game for somebody else and I needed to know who.

Now that Smokey was dead, I had to find another connect to get my street information from. "Damn, Smokey is dead," I mumbled out loud. I felt some kinda way about that. I was riddled with guilt for bringing Smokey in some shit that he couldn't handle. Yes, he was a willing participant but he had no idea the stakes were so high. The streets were deadlier than ever for me, because I didn't know who was who or what was what. Everybody had an agenda, including me.

When I stepped out the tub I heard knocking at my bedroom door. I grabbed my robe to see who it was. "Precious, it's me, Nathan, I have your car keys." After the shoot out in Harlem, instead of going back to get my Range, I took a taxi home. Hell I didn't know if them niggas knew what type of whip I was in. They could've been on a stake out. When I arrived home, I sent Nathan to go pick up my car.

"Thanks so much," I said, taking my keys from him.

"No problem. But, Precious what happened today? You came home looking distraught. Why was you over in Harlem anyway?"

"Damn, you asking a lot of questions."

"I'm just concerned. Supreme would want me to look out for you and my gut is telling me you involved in some heavy shit."

"I appreciate your concern, Nathan, but I'm good. If I need you I will let you know." I shut the door and sat on my bed. Supreme had a lot of love for Nathan, but I didn't trust him with my personal business. He had never done anything to me, but it was a known code of the street not to trust anyone, especially people who claimed to care about your well being.

The next day, I didn't wake up until two o'clock in the afternoon. My body needed the rest. It had been non-stop action since I was discharged from the hospital. I honestly wanted to get away from everything. Recouping on some faraway island was what I craved, but Nico is what I hungered. I wouldn't be able to enjoy anything until that nigga was dead. As crazy as it might sound, I wasn't even mad at Nico for trying to kill me. I knew after I got him locked up, it would never be safe for both of us to walk the same streets. But I underestimated Nico. I thought he would be spending the rest of his life behind bars. Now that he was free, taking me out was a given, and I wouldn't expect anything less from him. But killing Supreme was unforgivable. This was between me and Nico. He took away the only man who ever truly loved me. When Supreme died, so did all my dreams.

After getting dressed, I went downstairs, starving for something to eat. "Hi Anna. I know it's the middle of the afternoon, but can you make me some breakfast?"

"Of course, Mrs. Mills."

"Where are today's papers?"

"I'll get it for you. You also have a message from a Mr. Jamal Crawford." I had been meaning to call Jamal, but of course there has been nothing but drama the last few weeks. I'm going to call him the minute I finish eating breakfast, I thought to myself.

First thing I did when I got the New York Post in my hands was to turn to the crime section. Sure enough, the newspaper had a small article about my incident the day before. Titled, "A Bloody Massacre in Harlem." Of course the police had no witnesses; even if someone did see something, no one was talking. The streets always be watching, but rarely ever talk unless there are young children involved. No one in the hood wanted the blood of innocent little ones on their hands.

I wanted to make sure Smokey had a proper burial and that his immediate family was financially straight, but I didn't know any of his people. He mentioned he had a daughter, but that's all I knew. I didn't want to go around asking too many questions, because no one could know I was dead in the center of The "Bloody Massacre." Three of those bodies were mine. I would figure something out.

After devouring the French toast and home fries Anna cooked, I took my glass of mimosa and went outside to call Jamal.

"Jamal Crawford's office, how may I help you?" his receptionist said. A smile crept across my face when I heard that. Jamal had done real good for himself. I never doubted he wouldn't, but to actually see it come to fruition was amazing.

"Yes, this is, Precious Mills returning his call."

"Hi, Mrs. Mills. He was expecting your call. Let me put you through." There was a slight pause, and then Jamal picked up.

"Hi, Precious, thanks for getting back to me."

"I meant to call you a while ago, but with everything that's been going on, it has been hectic."

"I understand. I should've given you more time before I called, but there were some business matters that really couldn't wait. I spoke to Supreme's attorney and he said you're in charge of his estate, so I need your clearance for a few things."

"That's not a problem. Just let me know how I can help."

"It would be great if you could squeeze me in for lunch or dinner in the next couple of days, so we can go over some paperwork."

"No problem, how about tomorrow night?"

"Great, I'll make dinner reservations at Cipriani for seven, is that good for you?"

"Actually, if you don't mind, can we have dinner here at my house? I can have Anna prepare a lovely meal. I'm just not up for going out in public yet."

"I'm so sorry. How insensitive of me. I would love to come over for dinner. Is the same time alright?"

"Of course. Is there anything in particular you want Anna to cook?"

"A good steak is always nice."

"Then steak it is. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Jamal."

I was looking forward to dinner with Jamal. Even when we were in high school, I always felt as if I could trust him. Something about him seemed so honorable, which was rare coming for the grimy Brooklyn projects we grew up in. I needed a confidant, and I hoped Jamal could be it. As I continued to think about Jamal, my cell rang and the call was from a 917 number that I didn't recognize. At first I wasn't going to answer it, but then I said, "Fuck it." I heard loud music in the back when I answered the phone.

"Hello," someone mumbled, but the music was so loud I couldn't hear shit.

"I can't hear you!" I screamed over the phone so whoever was calling me could either hang up and try back later, or go to a less noisy area and speak the fuck up.

"My bad, is this better now?" a familiar-sounding male voice asked.

"Yeah, who is this?"

"It's me, Mike. And please don't hang up the phone, Precious."

"Mike, what do you want and how did you get my cell number?"

"To answer your first question, I want to see you. Precious, we need to talk."

"We ain't got nothin' to talk about."

"It's about Nico. I have some information that I believe will be helpful to you."

"Now why would you want to help me? I thought Nico was your friend, or does a snake like you have no friends."

"Precious, there is no need for the venom. Like I told you at the funeral, I had no idea what Nico was up to. The streets and I are very disappointed with his actions. Supreme was a legend in this industry. He will be sorely missed."

"Oh, it was fucked up for him to take out Supreme, but it was okay for him to try and have me wiped off the face of this earth?"

"I'm not saying that, Precious, but the Supreme ordeal came from nowhere. So, can we meet somewhere and talk? I promise what I have to say is of great importance."

"Then say it now."

"I don't disclose pertinent information over the phone."

"I'll tell you what, Mike. Since my first priority is to have my husband's killer brought to justice, then I'll allow you ten minutes of my time. But you'll have to come to my home alone, and of course my bodyguards will search you. So don't come armed, or you won't make it past the gate. You can come tomorrow evening at six. Don't be late." I hung up the phone dreading to see Mike. I would handle my business with him before my dinner with Jamal. Mike was a snake, but he might be the link I need to bring down Nico. Only time will tell.

I spent the rest of my day trying to decide what questions to ask Mike. I knew he had a lot of street connections, and more than likely had an idea of Nico's whereabouts. Still, I had to be careful with my approach. He might be some bigtime music mogul now, but just like me, the hood ran through his blood. If I played my cards right, Mike could be an endless pool of information. If I came at him wrong, I wouldn't get shit.

That evening when I went to bed, I tossed and turned the entire night. My mind was flooded with questions regarding Nico, and my body yearned to be held by Supreme. The two of them had been the most important men in my life, so it only seemed logical that at every moment of each day, one of them was on my mind.

Ring ...ring.. .

"Hello," I said, looking at my clock. It wasn't even eight o'clock in the morning. Who could be calling me this early?

"Good morning, Precious. I was calling to confirm our meeting for this evening at six."

"You can't be serious? You're interrupting my sleep to confirm some fuckin' meeting? You're taking this music industry shit way too serious."

"It's not about the music industry; it's about handling my business. I have business with you, and I want to make sure that it's still on. My schedule is always full, and if for some reason you've chosen to cancel, I need to know so I can make room for someone else."

"That won't be necessary. Our meeting is still on. I'll see you at six." I flipped my cell phone closed, slightly frustrated. Since the first time I met Mike, I couldn't quite figure him out. There was no doubt he was extremely smart, but there was something else. Since calling and confirming meetings seemed to be the thing to do, I put a call in to Jamal.

"Hi, can I speak to Jamal Crawford?"

"Who's calling?"

"This is Precious Mills."

"Hold on, Mrs. Mills." For the few seconds Jamal's assistant had me on hold, I glanced at my hands and feet and realized that a pedicure and manicure were calling my name. The next call I would be making was for an in-house appointment.

"I hope you're not calling to cancel?" Jamal said when he picked up his phone.

"No, actually I was calling to confirm."

"Wow, that's funny. I was going to make the same call to

you, but I thought you were still sleeping."

"I'll admit I'm no early bird. Someone woke me up, and you know once that happens there is no way you can go back to sleep," I said with a slight laugh.

"I understand. So we're still on for seven?"

"No doubt."

"Great, so I'll see you then." Jamal was like a different person now. His voice was so confident. No one would ever believe that he used to be a certified ghetto nerd.

The day flew by. After having a conference call with my attorney for over an hour and then sitting through my pedicure and manicure, it was time to get dressed for my first meeting of the evening. My appearance had to be on point, because a woman's looks meant everything. You had a much better chance of making a man jump through hoops for a pretty face than a busted one. But just a pretty face wasn't enough for me. I liked to get a nigga's dick hard off the first glance. That way they would be so busy trying to calm down their third leg that they wouldn't be able to focus and have their guard up when I was picking their brain for information.

I decided to slip on a banging-ass red number for the evening. The one-piece Chloe jersey jumpsuit hugged my body perfectly and made my now slimmed-down figure voluptuous in the right spots.

"Precious, your guest has arrived."

By the sound of Nathan's voice, I knew he detested seeing Mike come through the front door. Mike's friends were responsible for busting a champagne bottle over his head. It was a long time ago, but I guess you never get over something like that.

I looked myself over one last time before heading out. I stood at the top of the grand staircase. Mike gazed up at me from where he stood in the marble foyer. It was like that scene from Scarface, the first time Tony Montana laid eyes on Elvira with nothing but lust in his eyes.

"I see that you're right on time," I said, slowly walking down the stairs.

"Promptness is a must in my book."

"Follow me." I led Mike into the den. Nathan and one of my other bodyguards were behind us. When I closed the door they stood post right outside. They knew he was unarmed, but hands could be just as deadly. "I have another meeting very shortly, so let's get right to it. What information do you have for me?"