Filthy Rich-Part 2 (10 page)

"Of course," she answered.

"So, it's well worth the asking price."

"Didn't say it wasn't."

"I just said my
daughter's
not paying it."

"Mom?" Nessa said.

Piper dismissed her with a wave of her hand while keeping an eye on Chavez. Then as if she hadn't disrespected him enough, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit up without his permission, took a pull and then exhaled smoke across the desk towards him the exact same way he'd done her. Seeing that, Nessa's heart began to race.

Piper was getting ready to get them killed.

Moments passed.

Glares exchanged.

Finally, letting a smirk develop, Chavez said, "Twenty grand. Take it or leave it."

Quickly, Nessa said, "We'll take it."

Piper smirked also.

"Then we have a deal," Chavez said.

The three discussed more specifics. Moments later, the meeting was concluded and both Nessa and Piper were headed for the door. As they reached it, Chavez said from his desk, "Oh, and Piper?"

Piper turned to him.

"Make no mistake," he told her. "Although I'm a gentleman and I believe in treating women with the utmost respect, if you ever come into my home and light up another cigarette without my permission...I'll kill you."

The expression on his face was cold as ice.

Piper didn't respond.

Neither did Nessa.

Both knew it was best to keep their mouths shut at the moment. As they left, Chavez hopped on his cell. Nessa assumed it was to inform his boys of the location they were to drop the work off at. Whatever it was, she didn't care. She just wanted to get out of the mansion as soon as possible. Finally, in the car, she yelled, "Mom, what the fuck is wrong with you? Are you fuckin' crazy?!"

Shrugging it off, Piper said, "Don't worry about it. I know his type. You've got to play hardball with him."

"I know his type, too. He's the type to blow your damn head off if you cross him."

"So, you think he would've actually killed you, Nessa? Do you think he would've compromised a five hundred thousand dollar deal?"

"He could've just killed us and took the money."

"He's a businessman, Nessa. Trust me; he wants the long term money. I swear you've got a lot to learn about this shit. No wonder this Brandon character is taking advantage of you."

“He’s not taking advantage of me,” she fired back. “I play dumb for all those idiots who underestimate me. When the time comes, I’ll shock everybody.”

“Ummm hmmm,” Piper mocked. “Tell that shit to somebody who’s listening.”

Shaking her head and not wanting to hear anymore, Nessa pulled away from the mansion's steps and headed towards the Southeast part of D.C. Reaching it about thirty minutes later, the neighborhood seemed even shadier than the last drop off spot. Pulling to a curb, Nessa placed her gun on her lap and waited. Ten minutes later an SUV different from the last one appeared across the street. Just like last time, two young boys got out with book bags, jogged across the street and gave the bags to Nessa. Moments later, they were back in the SUV and gone. Satisfied, Nessa began to pull away from the curb.

Suddenly, three Dodge Challengers pulled up out of nowhere and boxed her in. Their doors opened immediately. Several Mexicans with Choppers jumped out. Each had their guns pointed directly at Nessa and Piper.

"Put your fuckin' hands up, bitches!" a goon demanded.

Both Nessa and Piper did as they were told. As they did, Nessa recognized one of the men. It was Londo, the Mexican Brandon had made the deal with. She now watched him approach her car with his gun aimed. She was terrified and pissed all at the same time.
That fuckin’ snake ass Brandon
, she said to herself.

“This some bullshit!” Piper shouted.

Snatching the door open, Londo asked, "Where's the dope, holmes?”

"What shit?"

“Mira, stop fucking playing, holmes."

Placing the gun to her forehead, he yelled, "You know what I'm talking about, punta. Play cute again and I'll paint the inside of this car with your blood. One to your cabesa, bitch. Now where's the shit!"

Piper eyed Nessa. She wanted her to say nothing at all.

"In the back seat," Nessa fired.

“Damn it! Nessa,” Piper screamed.

As soon as she said that, the back door was snatched open and the bags were removed.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Nessa yelled. "Why are you doing this? I paid you what you asked."

Nessa figured that Brandon had fucked her over…she just needed confirmation.

Chuckling, the Mexican said, "You paid me, huh?"

"Yes."

"Seems you and your boy Brandon have your wires crossed, holmes. He didn't pay me shit. That's why I'm hittin' your ass up, punta."

Nessa shook her head rapidly then landed it harshly against the steering wheel.

Heading back to his Challenger, the Mexican yelled to Nessa, "When you see Brandon again, tell him I want that connect. If I don't get it, your dope won't be the only thing I take!"

With that said, the Challengers all sped off leaving Nessa robbed and disgusted. Piper said nothing. Nessa could not believe her mother was acting so passive after she just told her how soft she was.

                          * * *

Exiting FBI Headquarters, Brandon headed across the parking lot towards his car. As he made his way across the lot, his phone was pinned to his ear.

"You back stabbing punk!" Nessa's voice screamed angrily from the other end of the phone. "Why didn't you pay them?"

"Because your ass needed to learn a lesson," Brandon told her. "You got shit twisted the other night."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"We're a team. But you've been trying to treat me like you're running shit," he said, pressing the phone closer to his ear. He kept turning around to watch his back.

"Brandon, you're fuckin' trippin'!"

"You won't tell me where the money is stashed. You won't tell me how much money is being made. You're disappointing me, Nessa."

"You unappreciative muthafucka!"

"Oh, it's
me
who's unappreciative? Wasn't it me who helped you make this happen? Wasn't it me?"

Nessa, didn't answer.

"And don't get it twisted," he continued. "If it wasn't for me, you'd be dead right now. Every fucking goon and cut throat would be taking a chunk out of your ass. Who do you think is responsible for allowing you to move worry free? Me, that's who."

"Brandon! Listen to me!"

"No, Nessa. You listen and you listen good. From here on out, I want in on everything. I want to
know
everything, including where the money gets stashed. If I don't start getting some satisfaction, them crazy ass Cholos will be the
least
of your fuckin' worries."

"Brandon!” she shouted again.

No response.

The call ended.

Reaching his car and shoving the phone in his pocket, Brandon pulled out his keys. Placing one in the door, he didn't notice the Chrysler 300 approaching him. Just as he turned the lock on his door, the car stopped behind him. The door opened. Mac appeared and quickly made his way towards Brandon. Throwing Brandon in a headlock and dragging him backwards like a ragdoll, he pulled him towards the trunk of the 300.

"What the hell is going on?" Brandon demanded, barely able to breathe while reaching in his jacket for his gun.

Mac punched Brandon in the belly with a blow so hard it knocked the air out of him. He then grabbed Brandon's gun, opened the trunk and tossed him inside. Mac carefully watched his back for any unsuspecting eyes. Seconds later, Mac hopped back into the driver's seat and pulled off.

Brandon was terrified as he pounded on the inside of the trunk screaming for help. He had no idea what was going on or why he'd been kidnapped. He was totally surprised also that whatever the reasons, the henchman had the nerve to do it to a Fed in the parking lot of the damn headquarters.

What seemed like forever passed.

Brandon lay in total darkness. He felt claustrophobic. He felt like he was going to run out of air at any moment and suffocate. And even if he didn't, he had a strange feeling once the trunk opened, he'd be killed. His life began to pass in front of his eyes.

More moments passed.

Finally, the car came to a stop.

Brandon listened closely as the car shut off. His eyes roamed the darkness as he listened to the car's driver door open and shut. He then heard footsteps make their way from the driver's door to the trunk. His heart began pounding at what was about to happen. Over the pounding of his heart, he then heard the keys enter the trunk's lock and turn.

Then, the trunk opened.

Bombarded by sunlight, he squinted his eyes. But only for a brief second. The face of the person standing beside his kidnapper made him widen them in surprise and fear.

"You've got explaining to do, Brandon," Chetti said, standing beside Mac.

"Chetti, how did you get out?" Brandon asked.

"All that's not important. What
is
important is that you didn't tell me about the raid beforehand."

Talking fast, he said, "Chetti, I swear to God I didn't know they were going to hit."

"That's not what I heard."

"I swear, I didn't."

Mac pulled out a gun.

"Chetti, please," Brandon begged. "You've got to believe me."

"I don't
got
to do a damn thing but stay pretty and die."

"Chetti, hear me out.”

"You knew about the investigation and you knew about the raid. That's the word I got. And my sources have never been wrong."

Mac cocked the gun.

"Okay, I knew about the investigation," Brandon admitted quickly. "But I swear I didn't know about the raid. I didn't know until the last second. They didn't want to take a chance on there being a rat so they didn't let most of us know exactly where we were heading until we were pretty much there. By then, it was too late to warn you. I swear, Chetti. I swear to God!"

Chetti shook her head. "You disappointed me, Brandon."

"I was going to get you out of jail. I really was. In fact, I've been hustling hard with Nessa to get your bail money."

"Nessa?"

"Yes."

"Luke's Nessa?"

"Yes." He reached into his suit jacket's inner pocket.

Mac quickly placed the gun to his forehead. "What the fuck you reaching for?"

Holding his hands up defensively and in fear, Brandon said, "Not a gun. Just want to show Chetti I'm not lying."

"What you got to show me?" Chetti asked.

"Slow, nigga," Mac said. "Do it slow."

"No problem," Brandon said. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out the fifty thousand he'd taken from Nessa.

"What's this?" Chetti asked.

"Just a little something but there's more where it came from."

Chetti took the money.

"After I found out that Luke was turning on you, I talked Nessa into turning on him. He had money stashed. I talked her into stealing it. She's flipping it right now as we speak. As soon as she got it flipped, I was going to kill her ass and get you out of jail."

Chetti was listening carefully.

"I swear, Chetti," he continued. "I would never cross you. You're like a mother to me."

Still looking at the money in her hand, Chetti asked, "How's your relationship with Nessa?"

"I'm playing that bitch like a puppet."

Coming up with an idea, Chetti told him, "Well, keep it that way. I need that bitch to get as much money out here as possible."

Chetti realized she could rise back to the top of the game with no hard work at all. All she had to do was sit back and collect. With Nessa not knowing that Brandon was on Chetti's side, she would be playing on Chetti's team without even knowing it. She'd be taking all the chances. And then when Chetti no longer needed her, she could turn the lights out on that bitch. And Nessa would never see it coming.

Chetti smiled.

"Chetti, I never betrayed you. I swear I didn't," Brandon continued.

"Fuck all that," she interrupted. "You just make sure from here on out, Nessa makes every move possible to rise to the top of the game. When I come to regain my throne, I want it nice and shiny."

With that said, Chetti turned and walked off. Future riches filled her thoughts. The only other thing she thought about was her meeting with Chavez. From what he'd told her earlier when he called, he had something very important to tell her, something he assured her she would want to hear.

He now had her overly curious.