XXX Underground Playgrounds: La La's Story (8 page)

La La set the laptop down and continued to walk up some stairs where light cascade all around an all-black bedroom suite that filled the whole layout of the top floor with all black marble bathroom.

Ghost was not going to show it, but she was impressed. She had to give La La her boss fedora; no one else had one except for P. That was a salute she gave women who made it on their own without a nigga. This gave her the confidence that she could have everything she wanted and get it on her own, without a man given it to her.

La La turned on Freedom from the Django soundtrack as she lit the blunt and took a sip of her drink. The coldness and sweetness of the drink ran down her unquenched throat, a throat that was holding a scream that was looking for freedom. 

Her mind relaxed, the alcohol and cannabis helped her conjure up an incident that happened before she met her husband. What made her vulnerable to this type of nigga? It wasn’t shit particular about Que? He seemed verbal, not intelligent. What happened to make her slip up enough to let this type of nigga even around her?

La La set straight up in bed and passed Ghost the blunt. She gulped down her drink and unsuppressed the memory she had been burying for years.

Suppressed memory

La was closing up one of Jah’s establishments in ATL, while he dealt with the death of Jazzy. She was closing up all of the offices because it was about to be the weekend. She had a steel briefcase full of this week’s benefits, as she did for the last month.

La phone rung, “Yes! I know you are down the block hit the elevator.” Just as she hung up a sound startled her and made her look behind her; she was eye to eye with some suicidal masked man. Quickly, La La realized she was too close to him to pull her gun. She hurriedly swung the briefcase connecting with her assailant’s nose.

La La made the biggest of mistake of her life, she didn’t kill him like she was supposed to, still lying on the floor the masked man grabbed La by her feet, lunging her body onto the floor. She flipped her body over on her back and kicked him in the face as he pounced toward her, knocking him sideways. Taking advantage of him being dazed, she got up to run to the back stairs, only to be hit from behind. She passed out after several hits but she knew she heard more than one voice laughing at the nigga she put on the floor.

She awoke in the hospital unable to move without wincing. Gab and her brother were by her side, after she told him what she knew. Jah went to work trying to find out who did that to his sister. But all she could remember was the long dreads under that mask and those eyes. Two weeks later is when she met Que. He came in her room by accident looking for his friend. They struck up a conversation and he lead La La to believe that he used to be in the streets, but now he was in partner with a friend doing legal things.

She remembered now when she first met Que he had contacts in, claiming to have poor eyesight without them. High and tipsy she had an epiphany, she shot straight up off the bed.  Ghost was telling her story, La heard her through her thoughts but did not respond yet. She could not, not with this new found information.

La La walked back downstairs, this time, she did not care if Ghost followed or not. She was feeling some type of way, a way that if she came across Que right now, she would be too happy to chop his dick off, blend it in the blender and feed it to the fucking dogs at his crackhead ass mother’s house.

Ghost followed her downstairs to finish what she started; she had printed out all of Lalita’s bank information how one account with her husband’s name on it had activity from Michigan, and it was damn near depleted. That account just happens to be the account she opened up, and the both of them had been putting money into it. Trust is a dangerous fucker when given to the wrong person. 

Que had stolen his own child’s money and so now she knew that motherfucker in the Underground was that nigga. La La went through all his accounts; he had been lying to females talking about how he had a concert in their hometown coming up soon.  And what was more horrific is that some of those females had dicks and that fuck boy knew they had dicks. The things she had read about him and Naomi, their relationship was deeper than rest. That shit also made her feel some level of disgust. This nigga was running the same shit to me as he was doing to He/She. She also found out he lied and said that La La and their son had died in a house fire recently.

There was even a messages on FB between him and her and a lot of other females. He even joined unique sex groups for men who like trannies. She made her a fake Facebook page, and screen shot all of Que’s dirt that was during their relationship and sent it to her. Some of it were as recent as this morning.  Now, all she needed to do was wait to see what Naomi would do. 

Jah & La

What the hell is going on in this fucking world, Jah thought as he read all the information La sent him through email. What kind of men was the devil sending to destroy his world? He knew it; he knew it, he fucking knew that nigga Que was a bitch. This coincides with Gabe’s footage of the dread head dude. La and Jah sat in his office going through all of Que’s emails, profiles to social and dating websites.

Going through his pictures she came upon his pictures and looked as far back as two years, and there it was, she clutched her hands together. An image of Que in a mask with his dreads hanging out, that was the nigga who had a part in robbing her. Her eyes had tears, tears of anger not so much towards Que but at herself.

Jah saw the angry tears, “La, I know you are not crying over this bitch ass nigga’s shenanigans?”

La looked at him through slits, “No, nigga, she said and just pointed to the screen. Before he could get over there, La pushed her chair back and walked to the bar. “Dread Head is about to be no more,” She said as she poured herself and Jah a glass of spirits. He looked at the picture confused but took the glass from her and took a sip of the brown liquor.

“That’s the motherfucker who robbed me!” La pointed to the picture of Que.

Jah started shaking his head and downed his drink. “Yeah! Yeah! That nigga has to die.” He said as he walked over to his desk to his cell phone. La got a notification that she had an email from her fake account. 

“No. Let me handle it and let me handle it my way. Book me a flight to Detroit, now.” La said smiling as she read her Facebook inbox, she grabbed her keys and left.

La and Naomi

La met Naomi at the Jazz Café in Detroit, Michigan. Naomi was taller than La and slimmer; you could not tell she was a man. The scarf around her neck made sure of that. La walked in with a curvaceous sway, dominating the attention of everyone including her potential enemy depending on how this meeting went.

Naomi stood up unconsciously, shook La’s hand and sat after she sat. Well, damn even the confused recognize I’m a fucking lady. Naomi did not have anything against transgender per say, just this one. Not because she had her faggot ass husband, it was because this bitch probably was wearing her son’s money.

Pulling off her sunglasses La smiled, “Let’s get down to the point. I don’t give a fuck about that nigga. I climbed in bed with a nigga I shouldn’t have, end of fucking story. But, what I do give a fuck about, what I would kill a nigga for is this little boy right here, she showed Naomi her screen saver of her son on her phone, she continued, “And anything and everything that belongs to him is included. Which leads me to why I contacted you, your boyfriend Que stole money from my son, and I want you to get it back for me.” La told her as she summoned for the waiter.

Naomi thought in her head; this bitch is fierce, she had to smile to himself. Yeah, that nigga Que had to make sure he was a totally different man to be with this bitch. Not the want be fucking thug, want be intelligent, I’m pro-black, but I hit women cause I’m weak, trifling ass. Naomi thought all this to herself as she flung off her classes.

“Just as long as a bitch get paid, Sweetie, Hook or Crook I’m with you to get revenge on that motherfucker. You see this, Naomi said, pointing to the bruises on her face. “This is my money boo. I’m going, to be honest with you; I fuck with ballers that like their ass and dick served in a feminine package. I thought Que was, but that nigga came into my life under false fucking pretenses. Waving money but not spending shit, I was doing all the spending, like a dumb ho. I told myself I would never fall in love with a nigga who wasn’t honest about his sex life.” Naomi confessed

La La couldn’t ridicule Naomi for that shit; after all, she married the bum ass nigga. She actually felt apologetic, as if she created Que and sent him for him/her. There was no way in hell Que would have put his hands on her and life to tell about it, so she was going to feed her more hate, to keep her loyalty until she was done with Que.  She knew she was motivated by money, so she was going to present her with a healthy sum.

La was quiet, not showing her hand. “Well, let’s get this nigga. Evidently you know the real Que, so I need to know how can you get me close to him?” La inquired.

“This nigga always wanted to have a threesome bringing in a woman, who would be down to fuck both of us. Are you going to pay somebody else to go in with me?“ Naomi questioned.

“Hell no, I want to do this myself. “ La La smiled deviously

“Well, you must have one hell of a disguise. Because that nigga has pictures of you plastered on the walls in the basement. That is why I look like this. Yeah, I went in the forbidden place. For the last year, I have never been allowed in that fucking basement. After you had sent me all that information, I had to get into that basement. I might have gotten my ass beat for being in there, but you better believe a bitch came out with something. “ Naomi beamed as she pulled out information on an account that Que had over 75g’s stashed.

La looked over the information and found her name on the account also; this must have been one of the papers he had her sign that day when she thought she was signing for the account for her son. This nigga had to open an account with her name his bad credit having ass. So that means she can just waltz her lovely ass in there and get her son’s money back.

If this bitch thinks I’m not about to get revenge on this nigga she silly as hell, La La thought. She waited to see what she was about to say before; she voiced what she was thinking.

Naomi ordered another drink to calm her nerves.  Que was certifiable nut job; she read his prison psychology report. If she would have gotten a hold to those documents before she would have been gone. If this did not go right, she knew he would be after her. 

“So, when do you want me to set it up? At least, give me a week to get back into his good graces, get everything back to normal. You can trust me; money always is the motivation.” Naomi reassured her.

“Keep me posted. But the sooner, the better, that way you can spend your money and live a happy, comfortable life. And my soul will be at peace knowing I did not let that nigga fuck over my son.” La La said as she paid the bill. She discreetly reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope with 10g’s in it and slides it on the table towards Naomi. Naomi beamed; La La knew that sealed Que’s fate. That nigga Que was as good as gone.

La la

As her son lay peacefully in his crib, La La sat on the bed with tears of hate in her eyes, tears that could easily affect you like a snake's venom. She loaded her gun with the platinum and diamond bullets that were made from the melted down jewelry her so called husband had given her over the years.

Now that she knew the truth, the love that she once had for her husband was replaced by a deep dark hatred. She reflected back to her actions over the past year in the Underground Playground trying to find out who kidnapped him or possibly who killed him, the blood that was on her hands all in the name of "Que"!

How quickly a lying, deceitful, selfish motherfucker can make a thin line between love and hate completely disappears, as if love was never there.

After her task was complete, La La walked across the darkly lit room and kissed her son on the forehead. She admired how much he looked like Que, stroking the curls upon his little head, she whispers, "Sorry, Baby Boy your daddy must have forgotten, I'm not the type of woman you fuck over!" La La grabs her hoody, places the guns in the small of her back and walks out into the foyer where everyone is standing.

Jah walked up to her, "You sure you want to give that nicca his jewelry back?"

     "Every last piece!" she commented

He nodded, understanding where she was coming from, "Alright, you know I'm with you!" La La, Jah, and Vega walked out the house and got into the truck to drive her to her destination. This was a mission La La wanted to do on her own; this was personal. Her heart was fucked up, and she didn't like that feeling.