Checkmate: The Baddest Chick (12 page)

The girls turned to stare at police. Two white male uniformed officers stepped out and approached the crowd.

“Is there something wrong here?” one officer asked.

“Nah, we good, officer,” a girl from the Harlem crew said.

The officers quickly scanned the crowd and studied faces. A few people rushed back into the restaurant, while some just strolled away casually.

“We got a disturbance call,” his partner stated.

“It’s no disturbance here. We were just about to be on our way home,” Blythe said.

“I think that’s a good idea . . . for both groups to part ways right now before everyone sees Central Booking tonight.”

The girls didn’t argue back. TT hid the blade, and Blythe began walking to her car. Vanessa and TT were right behind her. Blythe was relieved though, knowing that if the cops didn’t show up, things would’ve gotten really ugly.

The mob outside of Mamma’s was quickly dispersed, and things went back to normal.

Blythe got behind the wheel of her Lexus and sped away. She cursed at TT for putting them in danger, but TT let it be known that she wasn’t about to be disrespected, no matter where they were at. Blythe knew that they were targeted because of jealousy. She had what every girl or hood rat in Harlem wanted, Chico. She was flooded with jewelry, clothes, cars, and money, and a few Harlem girls couldn’t tolerate that a Brooklyn girl had Chico’s heart.

Blythe jumped on the West Side Highway and headed to one of her favorite clubs in midtown, Club Foreplay. She needed a drink, to dance and wanted to chill. Blythe just wanted to escape the quick madness that she almost gotten into.

The girls did it big with bottle service while sitting in VIP and enjoying the fruits of Chico’s hard labor. For Blythe, it was the only way to live.

****

Chico sat in his new custom black Range Rover with the 22-inch black rims, blacked-out windows, with black and chrome side vents and custom paint on all the trim panels, door handles, and the front grill. The Range Rover was fitted with bulletproof windows and doors, run-flat tires, and secret compartments, and was capable of protecting the president. It was a necessary measure for Chico. He needed to ride around protected in a lavish ride that was built like a tank. He had enemies everywhere and couldn’t take the risk of being hit while he was mobile. And with Cross and Kola still out there, an attack was able to come at him from any direction.

Chico sat parked on the corner of Riverside Drive and 145th Street. He was in the passenger seat, with Two-Face seated behind the wheel. The sun had set hours ago, and darkness covered the Harlem streets. Both men were heavily armed, with guns concealed in secret compartments hidden inside of the truck.

Chico took a few pulls from his Newport and peered out at the park across the street. He then looked at Two-Face. “So, give me the status.”

“I’m on it, homes. I’ve been all over this hood tryin’ to get at them clowns, but they secure wit’ their business, Chico. Cross hasn’t been around like that, and Edge be in the cut, and that bitch, Kola, she ain’t been out. But I’m gettin’ they attention. I cut down a few close associates of theirs. They saw the end of my gun, homes, and you should have seen how I had these clowns beggin’ for their lives. They came across a true
vato
, and lost, homes.”

“I need results, Two-Face,” Chico explained loudly. “I need shit done out there. I can’t have that nigga and that bitch stepping on my business.”

“I feel you, homes, and you know, soon as they come out they fuckin’ holes, homes, I’ma be there to push ’em back in, permanently.”

“Just do what you do best. Make their end happen quickly.”

Two-Face nodded.

As the two talked, Chico’s cell phone began to ring. He didn’t recognize the number but decided to answer it anyway. But before he picked up the call, he instructed Two-Face to drive him to the Bronx for a meeting.

Two-Face started the ignition and headed north toward the highway.

“Who this?” Chico answered.

A female shouted out, “You fuckin’ bastard!”

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Where’s my daughter, muthafucka?”

“What?”

“Where is she? I know you did something to her!”

Chico was confused. But he soon recognized the voice on the other end. “What the fuck you talkin’ about, Denise? I have no idea where Apple is.”

“Yes, you do. You’re a fuckin’ liar, Chico! You did something to her. You think I’m stupid? Don’t fuckin’ play wit’ me, you fuckin’ bastard!”

“Bitch, you better chill out and remember who ya talkin’ to.”

“I don’t give a fuck who you are. I’m not scared of ya bitch ass, Chico!” Denise shouted hysterically.

Chico’s face twisted into a scowl. He tried to keep his cool, but Denise’s constant ranting was making his blood boil. He wanted to know how she had gotten his new number.

“I know you did something to her, you bastard. You coming around asking about my daughter like you cared was nothing but a front. Apple didn’t just suddenly leave. You did something to her so you could flaunt your new bitch around Harlem. You think I don’t fuckin’ know—You stunting wit’ that new bitch, while you did something to my daughter. Nigga, you better tell me where she at or what you did to her.”

“Bitch, you tripping!”

“I’m trippin’? I’ll show you how I’m trippin’ when I go to the police and tell ’em all ya fuckin’ business, muthafucka! I ain’t that bitch to fuckin’ play with! I want my fuckin’ daughter back, and you better find her. You think you can play my daughter for that new bitch you got stunting around Harlem? Nigga, it ain’t happening.”

Chico looked at Two-Face and was ready to tell him to make a U-turn and head over to the East Side to pay Denise a visit. He was ready to give her a severe beatdown. She was talking reckless, and Chico couldn’t tolerate that. He knew that he had nothing to do with Apple’s disappearance, but he figured Denise was drunk and talking shit. So Chico thought against it and played it off as the alcohol talking.

“What you need me to do, homes?” Two-Face asked, ready for some action.

Chico looked at his lethal soldier for a moment, with Denise still on the phone. He only had to give the order and Denise could easily become a memory to him and the hood, but he said to Two-Face, “Just drive me to the BX.”

Two-Face nodded.

“You better find her, muthafucka!” Denise shouted. “You better find my daughter.” She then hung up.

Chico rolled down his window and tossed his cell phone out the window, saying, “Fuck that bitch! I’ll get a new one.” He then rolled up his window and reclined in his seat. He then said to Two-Face, “If that bitch continues to act up, then next time I won’t be so fuckin’ nice.”

Chico gave Denise a pass for her insult, only because she was Apple’s mother. But it would only be one time. And if she decided to force his hand, then he was ready to show her how a bitch can truly disappear.

CHAPTER 10

K
ola was doing seventy miles per hour headed north on the Major Deegan Expressway, on her way to Yonkers to meet with Candace and her girls at one of the stash houses. It had been a moment since her meeting with Eduardo, and she was still puzzled by the phone call she’d received from him. It didn’t make sense to her and disturbed her more than she wanted to admit.

Kola needed to re-up soon with Eduardo and figured he was probably upset because she didn’t give him any pussy. She knew how bad he craved her, and their sexual cat-and-mouse game was becoming somewhat tedious. So she decided that the next time they met, she would give him some, knowing that sex with him would be truly worth it and would strengthen their relationship.

It was almost midnight when she got the phone call from her mother. She was hesitant to answer the call, but took it anyway. “What the fuck you want?”

“I want that muthafucka dead, Kola!” Denise shouted.

“What the fuck you talkin’ about!”

“Chico. You need to take care of him, Kola! He did something to Apple.”

Kola wasn’t in the mood to hear from her mother or about Apple. She hadn’t heard from her sister in months, and she didn’t care. Apple had been nothing but a headache for her and the sole reason Nichols was dead. The less she heard from her, the better. And she felt that the hood was better off without her around. For her it was out of sight, out of mind.

Denise continued to rant about the false run-in. “You need to fuck him up, Kola. Get some niggas to do that muthafucka! That muthafucka threatened me. He put his fuckin’ hands on me, Kola. He disrespected this family. You hear me, Kola? He needs to fuckin’ go! I’m your fuckin’ mother!”

Kola couldn’t care less about what her mother had to say, but she was right about one thing—Chico had to go. He had been a thorn in Kola’s side for too long. Chico was in her way with business, and he was starting to spread like a virus. And she had been hearing the name Two-Face on the streets plenty of times. The young killer’s name was starting to give her a headache, and he was becoming more of a nuisance. She knew he was helping Chico try and take over what Kola considered to be her town. Harlem. They were laying down niggas like Dominos, and from what Kola could see, Cross and Edge weren’t doing shit.

Kola got tired of hearing her mother’s ranting about Chico and Apple on the phone and just hung up the call. “Fuck that stupid bitch!”

Kola needed to relax, but her mind was spinning with so many problems as she approached Yonkers. One being Edge. The contempt that Kola had for him showed clearly. She couldn’t even be around him without biting down on her lip and wanting to kill him. There were a few disputes between them, but Cross had broken it up and was always defending Edge. And she was getting sick and tired of it. Edge was putting a strain on their business. She didn’t trust him, and felt that Edge and Cross were plotting against her.

The only place that Kola found trust was with Candace and her ruthless crew of bitches. They were ready to ride or die for Kola, and Kola had much respect for them. She felt that they needed to make the first move on Edge, and if Cross was stupid enough to follow him, then she was ready to put down her ex-lover too. Things were changing, and Kola knew that she had the upper hand. She had Eduardo—she had the drug connect— she had reputation, and power. And she had muscle, with Candace.

Kola arrived at the stash house in Yonkers. She had her operation set up in many places, but the place in Yonkers was her main location. It was secure and discreet and away from the city, and not too many people knew about the four-bedroom home. Kola wanted to expand and move her business into Yonkers, and she planned on doing it slowly. She already had her hands full in Harlem.

She parked in front of the three-story, Victorian-style, four-bedroom home with the wraparound porch, small chain fence, and dying, brown grass out front. Two security cameras watched the front. She stepped out of her Benz and strutted toward the front entrance. She was already caught on the security cameras and was buzzed into the place by Candace before she walked to the door.

The home was sparsely furnished with hardwood floors stretching out from room to room and the windows blacked out with dark curtains and rusted, old folding furniture. In the back room was where the action took place.

Kola strutted through the house and walked into the den area, where there was a few ki’s of cocaine displayed alongside a few guns and assault rifles. The girls were heavily armed and ready for anything that came their way. They had a counting machine and security monitor mounted on the wall that showed all four corners of the house. Kola and Candace didn’t want any surprises. Yonkers was a high-risk area with crime, but the girls came and went discreetly, not wanting to attract attention of their neighbors.

Kola greeted her crew and looked around. “What we got?”

“We about to run low and gonna need a re-up soon,” Candace said. “You spoke to your connect?”

“I haven’t been able to get him on the phone yet,” Kola said. “But he always comes through.”

Kola didn’t want to worry about why she wasn’t able to reach Eduardo. She understood that he was a busy man, but she had been trying to call him for a week and was unsuccessful in reaching him. His primary number had been disconnected, but she tried other numbers that she was able to reach him by, but they were all going straight to voice mail.

“We gonna need to re-up soon, Kola. I mean, this shit pretty much sells itself, and out here, they loving it,” Candace said.

“I’ll get at him soon.”

“We got a problem though,” Candace stated.

“I told you, don’t worry about my connect. He always comes through.”

“It’s not that, Kola.”

“What is it then?”

“We got hit last night,” Candace said.

“What the fuck you mean?”

“Our spot in Harlem, the apartment . . . it got shot up, and we got taken for fifty stacks. And we lost two of ours.”

“And I’m just now hearing about this shit?” Kola barked.

“I tried to reach you, but I kept getting your voice mail.”

“By who?”

Candace looked reluctant to say the name responsible because he had been a new problem for Kola for too long. “That kid, Two-Face.”