Ruthless and Rotten (16 page)

Chocolate Bunny started moving her fingers, acting as if she knew sign language. “Yes . . . dumb . . . bitch! I . . . am . . . going . . . to . . . have . . . a . . . baby!” She dragged out each syllable of each word while laughing. “Now . . . fuck . . . you!”

“Naw, fuck you!!!” Paris raised the gun up and started to cry hysterically. “I can't take this bullshit no more! I'm sick and tired of y'all playing me for a fool. Now you about to have his seed and throwing it up in my face!”

Chocolate Bunny saw her chance and took it, bum-rushing Paris, causing them both to tumble to the floor. Kenya watched helplessly while the two rivals fought and wrestled for the gun. She couldn't tell who was getting down the best and had no intentions on trying to get a closer look and maybe risk getting shot by mistake. All Kenya could do was clench her own gun tight and wait for the outcome.

“Now what, you crazy psycho bitch? Where is all them empty threats at now? Huh? Where they at?” Chocolate Bunny had come out on the top and now had possession of the gun. “Talk all that la-la shit now so I can bust a cap in your silly-ass! I'm tired of all your over-the-top antics!” She was trying to catch her breath with each passing word she justifiably screamed.

Paris was also out of breath from the struggle and her sorrowful crying had gotten louder. Kenya, out of desperation of what could possibly take place next, had no choice but to put one up top and point her gun at a now frantic, roughed-up and bruised pregnant Chocolate Bunny.

“I'm confused! Why is y'all hoes so worried about my son and me being knocked up, period? Am I making that much money for this club that y'all bugging out like that cause y'all gonna lose dough?” She panted repeatedly as a sharp, piercing pain unexpectedly shot throughout her lower belly. Chocolate Bunny then grabbed her side with her free hand and moaned out in agony. “His daddy is gonna—” Before she could get the words out another pain set in this time worse than the first.

“Son?” Paris whined, not believing what she'd just heard her sworn enemy say. “You having a boy—a son?”

“Oh no! Oh, my God!” Kenya pointed to the floor. “Look!”

Chocolate Bunny had streams of dark blood running down her leg. It had started to form a huge puddle right beneath the spot where she was standing. Her once-white skirt was not only dirty from the filth that was on the club floor, it was now soaked and stained with her own blood. Reaching her free hand up in between her legs, she felt her pussy. When Chocolate Bunny pulled her trembling hand back, it was covered in thick red and dark-burgundy mucus. Still having pain in her stomach area, the distraught mother-to-be smeared the foul-smelling clots on her skirt and instantly went the fuck off.

“You killed my baby! You killed my baby!” Her eyes grew wide with panic and death raged in her heart. “You jealous dirty rotten crazy bitch!”

Chocolate Bunny pointed the gun directly at Paris's head and was seconds away from pulling the trigger as Kenya quickly let off two rounds, knocking Chocolate Bunny off her feet, slamming her already battered body to the ground. The first bullet struck the pregnant female dead in the stomach, more than likely taking the baby out of the game for sure, while the other bullet found its mark in her collarbone.

Chocolate Bunny squirmed for a few good seconds, then moaned out softly. As she took her last breath and slowly released all her bodily fluids onto the strip club's floor, Kenya and Paris stood in disbelief, not fully grasping what they had just both taken part in.

“Oh shit! I can't believe this!” Kenya lowered her gun, taking a long, deep breath. “That stupid girl made me do that dumb shit! She made me shoot her!”

Paris just stood in the same spot, not moving, mouth wide open. Kenya, still shaken, tossed her pistol onto the bar and went to get the other one that was still clutched in Chocolate Bunny's hand. Kenya then very carefully slid her finger off the trigger, placing it with the other gun.

“What are we gonna do now?” A dazed Paris finally spoke.

“We gonna get rid of this black bitch, that's what we gonna do now!”

“Okay, but how?” Paris was usually hardcore and a ridah, but lately she'd been punkin' out and scared of her own shadow.

“Listen, pay attention. Just go in the back storeroom and get me that big roll of plastic that the painters left and the jug of industrial bleach,” Kenya ordered with authority. “And hurry up before this girl bleeds even more on my floor.”

“Okay Kenya, I'm going!” Paris wasted no time as she ran toward the back of the club.

They rolled Chocolate Bunny onto the plastic and dragged her lifeless body over near the back door. Kenya had a scalding hot bucket of water and plenty of rags. Paris poured the strong bleach across the area and held her nose. It was supposed to be mixed with three parts water, but Kenya wanted it straight. Both girls' eyes burned as they scrubbed the spot Chocolate Bunny had taken her last breath in.

The club's floor was now spotless and there were no visible signs that a murder had just taken place. Kenya's car was already parked in the rear of the building in her reserved spot, so all they had to do was get Chocolate Bunny the hell out of there. It took ten long, hard minutes of tugging, yanking, and pulling to get her body stuffed and wedged behind the Dumpster that had just been emptied the night before. Paris took some of the plastic and balled it up, placing it in a bag. On the way home she intended on disposing of it in someone else's garbage can on the other far side of town.

Kenya went back inside the club, grabbing both guns off the bar along with Chocolate Bunny's purse and Paris's set of club keys. Snatching the security camera tapes, she then put them all in a small bag and doubled it. After double-checking the entire interior once again for any other evidence they might've overlooked, she set the alarm system and jumped into the car with Paris. As they drove off in the other direction, they could see the flashing lights of a flatbed tow truck that was pulling into the club's parking lot.

“Damn, that was too close!” Kenya kept glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure they weren't being followed.

The ride to Paris's house was silent after that. Neither of the girls said a word to the other. They were about one mile short of getting to their destination when a police car got behind the two cold-blooded murderers. Kenya knew not to tell Paris that the cops were behind them because she knew that she would undoubtedly spaz out and get them flicked for sure. Luckily at the next traffic light the cops turned off, going on their way. When the pair finally got in Paris's driveway, Kenya turned to her and stuck her hand out.

“What?” Paris squinted her eyes at Kenya.

“Give me any more sets of them motherfucking keys you got stashed somewhere to Alley Cats, before your ass decides to come back in that bitch another night and lay another dancer to rest for messing around with that no-good cheating O.T.!” Kenya shook her head.

“Thanks, Kenya. You saved my life!”

“Can you just go in there and chill for the night? The shit ain't over yet—believe that! We gonna have to answer for this shit sooner or later.”

The rest of the way home Kenya's conscience started to kick in and go to work overtime. In a short amount of time she'd been involved in dancing, transporting drugs, covering up Swift's murder, disposing of Deacon's dead body, and now actually committing the act of murder herself. “I don't know how all this shit jumped off in the first place. All I was trying to do was make a little extra dough and get out the hood!”

Pushing the remote, she parked in the garage. Kenya, nursing the worst headache of her life, found her way to the couch and plopped down. The condo was quiet except the on-and-off sounds of Storm, strangely asleep in the basement, snoring. Kenya assumed that London was asleep also because it was so late. When her sister came walking down the stairs wide awake, it shocked Kenya.

“Oh, my God! I'm glad you're up. I need someone to talk to! This shit is important. Come in the kitchen with me.”

London was thrown off that Kenya wanted her to come in the kitchen to talk. For some reason, she thought that the shit was about to hit the fan about her and Storm having sex on the floor by the refrigerator, so she sat at the table and braced herself for what was going to happen next.

Kenya set a plastic bag on the table and took her time pulling out the contents. The first two objects were both handguns. Especially alarming, one of them had obvious signs of blood on the handle. After what appeared to be a tape of some sort and a set of keys, the last thing Kenya quickly snatched out the bag was a designer purse.

“What is all of this?” London scanned the table, puzzled, as she watched her sister break down in tears.

Kenya went on to explain exactly what events took place earlier, from the moment she and Paris left the dinner they'd all shared together to now. By the time Kenya was finished with her confessional story, London was caught up in her feelings. She was pissed, infuriated, enraged, disappointed, and downright mad as a motherfucker at her twin for what she'd done in the name of friendship.

“Sis, why in the world would you do something so stupid?”

“Chocolate Bunny was gonna shoot Paris. What else was I supposed to do London, huh? You tell me.”

“Listen, Paris had no business coming in Alley Cats acting all tough! That would have been on her! She brought whatever was gonna happen on herself!”

The twins' arguing went on and on until London, frustrated, got up from the table to make some coffee and slightly lost her balance, falling toward the stove.

“What's wrong with you?” Kenya suspiciously asked with her eyebrow raised. “You've been real clumsy lately. What's that all about?”

“What took you so long to come home?” Paris screamed at the top of her lungs. “Was you out shopping for baby clothes and shit?”

“What in the fuck is your crazy-ass talking about now?” O.T. stood in the doorway, not in the mood for a shouting match.

“I already know about you and that trick having a baby, so don't try to deny it!”

“What female you talking about now, Paris—which one?” he asked, dismissing another one of her wild accusations.

“That lowlife tramp Chocolate Bunny, that's who!”

“You know what? I wasn't gonna tell you this bullshit cause it wasn't none of your damn nosy-ass insecure business, but you won't leave the shit alone!”

O.T., after months of being secretive about his late-night activities, filled Paris in. He explained the connection that he and Chocolate Bunny shared. Hearing the full and complete story left Paris in shock over what she and Kenya had done. Paris had no choice but to tell O.T. what had taken place and that Chocolate Bunny was dead, stuffed behind a Dumpster in the rear of Alley Cats.

His reaction was sheer anger as he sucker punched Paris dead in her mouth and left out of the apartment, telling her that he was never coming home or back to her troublemaking-ass again! A busted-mouthed Paris stumbled to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. She twisted the top off a bottle of sleeping pills, swallowing a handful. After all the trouble she'd caused not trusting her man, O.T., she cowardly welcomed death, feeling that it was the only way out.

DAMN
!

While Kenya poured the coffee in the mugs, London looked in Chocolate Bunny's purse to turn off her cell phone that kept ringing. There she found a thick, folded set of papers that were on the top and a few pictures. London read the first page of the legal documents, which were a purchase agreement for a house and couldn't believe her eyes. “I think you need to see this paper.” She motioned to Kenya. “Now!”

“Oh, hell naw! It couldn't be! What the fuck did we do?” Kenya shouted out with remorse after reading the paperwork.

The papers were a deed to Chocolate Bunny's new house. They had her government name on them as well as another, Mr. Royce K. Curtis. The picture in her purse was an ultrasound that also had Royce's name on it. “All this time Royce's old ass has been the one she's been fucking around with? Why didn't she just say that bullshit? What was the big deal?”

Storm had waked up after getting a call from O.T and had been at the kitchen door eavesdropping and cut her off. “Because after the big fight you and Royce had down at Alley Cats about me, we thought it'd be better for you not to know that the old man was our new connect with some uncut product Javier had given him. Plus, it ain't really none of your business who Chocolate Bunny fucked with outside the club, O.T. or not.”

“Storm, I—” Kenya tried to explain, knowing she had messed up once again.

“You know what, Kenya? From day one right off rip, I should've known that you was gonna be trouble. My little brother warned me about dealing with you, but I wouldn't listen. Now it's about to be a damn all-out street war because you and your sidekick Paris fucked the fuck up and killed that girl for nothing! The streets of Dallas gonna run red for this shit! I'm done with your ass for real this time! You costing me way too much!”

Kenya went into hysterics as she started throwing dishes against the wall and begging for Storm's forgiveness once again. Having no self-respect, the once Detroit diva was crawling on her knees, pleading with him not to leave her. London, stunned, was now pissed as she watched her own flesh and blood lower herself by this pathetic display.

“Kenya! Get up off that damn floor! His cheating-ass ain't worth humiliating yourself like this! Get up!”

“And as for you, bitch! I 'bout done had enough of your instigating-ass too! Why don't you pack your bags and get to stepping with her bad-luck-ass!” Storm ran up in London's face like he wanted to swing. “Get your funky-ass the fuck out my house!”

“Slow down, Storm! This is my sister's house too!” London fired back, standing her ground.

“Well, Kenya, you gonna tell this tramp to be ghost or what?” Storm waited with a smirk on his face. “It's me or her, and I'm not playing around this time!” It grew quiet in the room as all eyes were on Kenya, who was breathing hard, wiping the tears from her eyes. After a long pause she finally mumbled.

“What did you say?” Storm demanded to hear. “Speak up, we can't hear you!”

“I said, London, would you mind getting a hotel room somewhere until me and Storm figure all of this mess out?” Kenya, ashamed of what she'd just asked, failed to look at her twin sister. “Please, sis, it'll only be for a few days, I promise—until we work stuff out!”

“Naw—make that forever!” Storm shouted in response to Kenya's question to her sister.

“Oh, it's like that?” London was heated over what Kenya said. “I've put my life on hold for you for months and now you're taking his side over mine! How could you?”

“Please, London!” Kenya whimpered, not wanting to face or hear the truth. “Please!”

Storm started to laugh and couldn't help himself as he taunted his woman's sister. “You heard her now, didn't you? So go pack your shit and leave so I can get back to my life.”

“Yeah, okay! Not at all a problem!” London headed up the stairs and to her room to gather her belongings. “You two deserve each other! I don't know how I stayed here in this madhouse this long anyhow!” she yelled as she tossed her clothes and a few personal items in a bag.

When she came back down Storm and Kenya were sitting on the couch talking. He was still dogging Kenya out, but stopped to sneer at London's seeming fall from grace. “Don't worry, I already called your silly, jealous-ass a cab so you can just go wait on the damn curb!”

Kenya was silent as London passed by and went into the kitchen to get something else before struggling to drag her bags to the front door. Just as she opened the front door the cab was pulling up and blew once. London looked back at her twin, giving her one last chance to change her mind. “You sure about this, Kenya? You're picking this slimeball dope dealer over me?”

Kenya lowered her head in embarrassment over what was apparently her decision. After all she and London had been through and stuck together, the sisterly love and bond they shared was now being torn apart.

“Okay, so you know what it is, bitch! Now kick rocks!” Storm held the door open. “And don't bother us again! Kenya will call you, so don't call her, you lonely ho!”

London was really overjoyed to leave. She'd suffered through just about enough of Storm's disrespectful mouth, not to mention Kenya's spineless demeanor. With all her bags on the porch she spitefully turned around to face her sister and the man she'd so easily chosen over their bond. Vindictively, London pulled up her T-shirt, exposing a secret of her own that would shut a boisterous Storm up once and for all. Rubbing her slightly pudgy stomach in a circular motion, looking down, London grinned, delivering the showstopping revelation of the evening thus far.

“It's all good this way. Don't worry about me. And trust, I ain't gonna be lonely for long, believe that!” London smirked as all eyes were on her, rubbing her belly. “Tell your
Aunt_Kenya and Daddy Storm
bye!”

“I don't understand! What the fuck are you talking about, London?” Kenya broke her silence, running over to the door, following her sister out to the cab. “What you mean,
Daddy Storm
? What is you talking about?”

Getting inside the cab, London shut the door and rolled down the window. “Ask his ass what happened in the kitchen that night!” She pointed at the condo where Storm was standing, face buried in his hands, having a flashback. “He knows.” London then instructed the cab to pull off, leaving Kenya and Storm on the doorstep arguing. Smiling, she opened one of her bags, which contained both guns and Chocolate Bunny's purse.

“Where to, Miss Lady?” the driver inquired.

“Yes, can you please take me to police headquarters—the Homicide Division? I need to drop something off!”