Coca Kola - The Baddest Chick (18 page)

He walked around to Kola and poured her a glass. “It’s the best,” he said.

“At seventeen stacks, the shit better taste like platinum in my mouth.”

Eduardo laughed as he walked back over to his chair and took a seat. He raised his glass, gazed at Kola with a slight grin, and said, “This is to our success. Money will always be us. And you are—How do your people say it?—a down-ass bitch.”

Kola smiled then downed the champagne, feeling seventeen thousand dollars slide down her throat soothingly.

The two then dined on
bandeja paisa
, a typical Colombian fusion dish that Eduardo loved. He wanted Kola to taste it, and she loved it.

Three hours later, Kola found herself standing by the window once again. She had enjoyed the wine and meal. She peered at the city, her mind on her man. She knew she should have left hours ago, but she felt compelled to stay. Eduardo joined her at the window, and they took in the view of the city lights together.

Eduardo took a few sips again. Although he had been drinking all evening, his speech was still coherent, and he didn’t look fazed by the wine at all.

He lowered the short-stemmed glass from his lips and suddenly said to Kola, “You know, I grew up poor in Bogotá, my country’s capital. My mother was a whore, and my father was a thief. I had many brothers and sister, but I’m one of the few alive. My country is a dangerous country, Kola, but I take pride in where I’m from. I’ve seen many people killed. Death was an everyday thing for me. At thirteen, I witnessed men cut my father’s throat in front of me because he stole from them. When I was fourteen, I killed them both.”

Kola glanced at him. She wondered why he was telling her this. He stood extremely close to her, his touch only a fingernail away. Still, she didn’t move from him. She just stood there quiet like a mouse in the dark, her heart beating like concert drums. He smelled like fresh roses, and it turned her on, but she wanted to keep it “only business” with him.

Eduardo continued, “I never told anyone this. You’re the first. I trust you, Kola. You have this thing about you, and I see why the men love you.”

He raised the glass and took another sip. He then said, “I can have anything I want. Everything and everyone is within my reach. With a snap of my fingers, I can give life or death, wealth or destruction. Yet, the one thing I desire the most shies away from me, and she’s the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

Kola didn’t know if he was being sincere or running game on her. She turned to look at him, her eyes showing no hint of emotion.

“I can give you whatever you want, Kola. Just ask for it, and it’s yours within the day.”

Eduardo suddenly reached out to her and took hold of her wrist, startling her a little. He pulled her closer into his arms like he was Cross himself.

Kola suddenly found herself pressed into the glass of the window, with Eduardo’s hand between her thighs. He neared his lips toward hers and invaded her fidelity to Cross. She wanted to resist, but his touch made her melt like butter over a hot stove. She respected his authority and was attracted to his power. She knew that being under his wing, she would be untouchable—a queen to a drug kingpin.

Eduardo cupped her soft breasts and pressed up against her, and they kissed passionately. She felt his bulge pushing into her pelvis. He felt rock-hard and hung.

Eduardo squeezed her ass and continued to keep her glued to the glass. “Damn, you’re so soft,” he moaned, his hands roaming up and down her body.

Eduardo began unbuttoning her silk shirt, exposing the tight lace bra she had on. He picked Kola up into his arms, and she wrapped her legs around him, and they continued to kiss.

Kola closed her eyes and felt his hands squeezing her ass. She moaned from his touch. Her breathing was heavy with Eduardo pressed against her and his hand now caressing her breast, while his lips kissed her neck.

While Eduardo began fidgeting with his belt buckle, Kola tried to make sense of it all.
How did I get here?
she asked herself.

Eduardo dropped his pants around his ankles and tugged at the buttons around Kola’s pants. She was tempted to let him continue, but she suddenly had a change of heart.

“Eduardo, stop,” she murmured in his ear, but he continued. She felt his hand sliding down into her jeans, his fingers touching her clit.

Kola knew if she fucked him, she wouldn’t be able to look her man in his eyes anymore. “Eduardo, get the fuck off me!”

Eduardo removed his hand from her pants and took a step back. “Is there a problem?”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

“Both.”

“I see. It’s about him, huh?”

Kola remained silent. She knew he had many women and didn’t want to be just another one on his roster. She began fixing her clothing. She quickly buttoned her shirt and then fastened her pants. Eduardo had a blank stare while watching her collect herself.

“I can’t do this wit’ you,” she said.

Eduardo pulled up his pants, walked over to the table, picked up his glass, and took a few sips. He then said, “No woman has ever turned me down.”

“Well, I’m gonna have to be the first.”

“You’re a bold woman, Kola, very bold.”

“I love him too much.”

“Loyalty, I respect that.” He nodded.

Kola looked at Eduardo, her heart racing, knowing what he was capable of, but she continued to stare at him bravely. If he wanted to take it from her, she was ready to put up a fight.

“Can I get what I paid for?”

Eduardo chuckled. “Indeed.” He motioned for her to exit first. Then he walked behind her, licking his lips, his eyes glued to her ass.

When they were back in the great room with Kola’s duffel bag of cash still resting in the center of the room, Eduardo called out for one of his men. One of his goons rushed to his call.

“Bring me what she paid for,” he told his suited thug, and the man nodded and hurried off.

Kola reached for her coat, wanting to hurry her exit. Eduardo’s deadpan stare was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable.

“I apologize if I offended you in any way, but you are a beautiful woman, Kola, and Cross is a very lucky man.”

“I just want it to only be business between us,” she replied.

“Business is always good.”

The suited thug entered the room again clutching a dark brown duffel bag. He dropped it near Kola’s feet and took a step back. She crouched near the bag, quickly unzipped it, inspected the ki’s, and closed it back up. Satisfied, she slung the strap over her shoulder and made her exit.

Kola rushed out of the lobby and hurried toward her car. When she had entered the building, it was daylight. Now it was four hours later. Even though nothing had happened, she almost felt like she had cheated on Cross. She tossed the duffel bag into the trunk, and sped out of her parking spot, headed toward the George Washington Bridge.

***

Across the street, a dark set of eyes observed Kola leaving the towering building. “This bitch is just now leaving,” the observer said to himself. He started his car and began to follow Kola toward the bridge and into Harlem.

Chapter 17

C
hico yawned. It was 6:45 on a Thursday morning, and he had been driving south all night, headed for Greenville, South Carolina. He had fifteen kilos in the trunk of his car, two semi-automatic pistols hidden in the backseat, and five thousand in cash on him. He did the speed limit, since a search of his BMW could get him a sentence of twenty-five years to life.

He saw the bright green sign: Greenville 165 miles. Reclined in his seat, he took a few pulls from a blunt as he listened to the sounds of Rick Ross. He stared at the long stretch of highway ahead of him and yawned again.

Chico hated to leave New York in a hurry, but he felt he didn’t have a choice. The noose was slowly tightening around his neck, and it was getting harder for him to breathe. Harlem and Washington Heights felt like hell on earth for him, and with Dante dead, he was beginning to look weak in the streets.

***

The night Dante was killed, Chico had rushed home and burst into the door in a panic and a cold sweat. He couldn’t believe his cousin was dead. He had tears in his eyes and was seething with rage. It wasn’t until he was home that he realized that Moe had set him up. He cursed himself for being so stupid.

The house was dark when Chico had rushed in and called out for Apple. He turned on the lights in the living room and saw Apple standing at the top of the stairway, clad in a long burgundy robe and wearing her mask.

“Chico, you OK?”

Chico stood at the foot of the stairway and looked up at her. “Dante’s dead.”

“What happened?” she asked nonchalantly.

“We got set up.”

Though Apple didn’t really care for Dante, she still understood that he was a viable and important asset to their business. Apple could tell Chico had been crying. His eyes were red and puffy, and his face was stained with anguish. He looked distraught. She had never seen him like this.

“You’re bleeding.”

“It ain’t my fuckin’ blood,” he snapped.

Apple wanted to console her man, but she remained distant, struggling with her own pain.

“Listen, I’m gonna have to take a trip.”

“To where?”

Chico moved past her and went into the bedroom. He opened his closet door and began removing his clothes, tossing them onto the bed.

Apple walked into the bedroom behind him. She watched Chico as he began packing his suitcase. “To where, Chico?” she repeated.

“I gotta move these fuckin’ ki’s, baby. I gotta head down South.”

Apple was confused. She hadn’t left her home since she’d arrived from the hospital. She had taken comfort in her bedroom and was embarrassed to go anywhere. But with Chico out of town, she would have to continue with her business affairs face to face. “Why, Chico?”

Chico spun around to face her. “’Cause we’re broke! The money ain’t there, baby. Now, I got fifteen ki’s to move, and thanks to ya sister, she fuckin’ up our business. So I gotta take this trip down South and get my money right.”

Chico didn’t mean to be so harsh with her, but he was out of options. He had the product, but no one wanted to deal with him. They were either too scared or just fed up with his weak product.

Apple could only stand there and watch.

Chico stopped moving around for a moment. He noticed the look his woman had on her face. Approaching her with a calmer demeanor, he took a hold of her wrist, held her concerned stare, and said, “Baby, I promise you, I’ll be back up here in no time. And when I come back, I’m gonna make it right. I swear to you, baby, it’s gonna be like it was before. I’m going to kill your sister and that faggot nigga, Cross.”

Apple still didn’t want to see him go. She tried not to get emotional. She had done enough crying. She stared at Chico and had nothing else to say to him. She watched him throw his clothes into a suitcase and then scamper around their home collecting guns and the little cash they had left. He rushed outside to throw everything into his second BMW.

Apple stood in the foyer, her heart aching.

Chico walked up to her and removed the mask. Standing close to her, he said, “I promise I’ll be back, Apple, and we gonna get you the best plastic surgeon that money can buy. You’ll soon be back to new.”

Chico tried to smile, but it wasn’t a joyous moment for either of them. The tears started to fall from Apple’s eyes. Chico looked into his woman’s face. It was hard to leave her alone, but Apple needed to take care of herself for a moment. She was a big girl. Smart.

He neared his face toward hers, and they kissed for a lengthy moment. The scars didn’t bother him. She was always going to be his ride-or-die bitch, no matter what she looked like.

He pulled himself away from his woman and moved backwards out of the foyer, his eyes still on Apple. It angered him that he was put in a position to leave his home and his woman, but he had fucked up.

“I’ma be back, baby. I promise.”

Chico got into his BMW, started the ignition, and sped down the hilltop driveway.

***

Before Chico jumped onto I-95 South, he made a quick detour. It was really important to him. He drove down Amsterdam Avenue toward Moe’s tire shop. He couldn’t leave Harlem without avenging his cousin’s death first.

He parked across the street from Moe’s shop and watched everything going on from a short distance. There was no sign of Moe, but Chico was willing to wait. The workers were lingering around in the cold, laughing and joking with each other. It was nine in the evening, and Moe would be closing soon.

Chico lit up a cigarette, reclined in his seat, and listened to Drake. He was watching everything. “C’mon, muthafucka, show ya dumb, fat ass,” he said to himself. He took a pull from the cigarette and turned down the volume to the radio to concentrate more on the shop. He didn’t want to miss out on Moe leaving.

He perked up when he noticed Moe emerging from the shop twenty minutes later.