Memphis Streets 4: Skeletons

Chapter 4- Shariffa

"Lucifer."

A shiver races down my spine and then I get the feeling that if I say the bitch's name out loud three times, hell will spit her up to slaughter the rest of us standing here in Crunk's Ink tattoo shop. I take another look around at the carnage inside.

It's hard to process it all, especially with Crunk's head still spinning from the ceiling fan with his dick shoved into his mouth. Even more troubling are the names written in blood on the walls. Brika. Shacardi. Jaqorya. Trigger. Shariffa. Next to them a five-pointed star and single letter L. The bitch is coming after us next.

"I told you that we fucked up," Trigger hisses in my right ear. I turn towards her green half-moon eyes ready to spit fire, but at the last second I bite my tongue and push past her. I don't have time for her Black Asian ass.

Trigger grabs my wrist to snatch me back. "Don't walk away from me," she growls. Red heat splotches her delicate brown skin. "What the fuck are we going to do?" I glance down at her hand on my wrist.

When she refuses to remove it, I wrench it back and then do a quick scan of the mob of Grape Street Crips and Crippettes hovering near the shop's door before planting my face in front of hers. "You need to calm your twitchy ass down."

Trigger stands her ground. "How in the fuck am I going to calm down with that sick bitch out there somewhere ready to do this same shit to us? It was your idea to make that hit on Da Club. We should have kept our asses on our own fuckin' color line."

"Oh. Your ass tryna rewrite history now? You bitches were all down for jacking the Cartel Lords. Shit wouldn't have gone south on the hit if you hadn't smashed that nigga Bishop. After he got his dick wet, his pride was on the line when he realized you set his ass up—and by the way, you're welcome for me saving your life. If I hadn't blasted a hole in that nigga's dome, he would've pumped you full of lead."

Trigger laughs. "Yeah. Thanks. Now all I have to do is sit back and wait for his murdering ass sister to come play chop-a-bitch with me." Her green gaze rakes me with disgust before she marches off. Bitch.

I glare at her back even though I know she's right. Lucifer is the last bitch that anyone wants to fuck with—no matter what colors you're flagging. Her name puts fear in the heart of many niggas everywhere and her wet work is legendary. Given the number of body parts lying around this shop, Crunk learned that shit the hard way.

Turning, I work my way back to the front door. Brika, Shacardi, Jaqorya, and Trigger are huddled together, whispering and casting angry glares my way. I swear, I can't stand gossiping bitches. I wasn't always a Crippette. Years ago I was the head bitch in charge of the Queen Gs. Snake's old lady—before I got my panties twisted fucking around with a Crip thug by the name of King Loc.

The shit seemed fair since Snake was always too busy spreading his seed with every bitch that could stand still. But all these trifling niggas out here got double standards. Bitches aren't allowed to creep. For a long time, I kept my shit on the down low, but then I got too cocky and too slick and Snake busted my ass. He rolled up on King Loc and unloaded a shitload of bullets.

After that, he torched the car. The muthafucka made me watch and then turned his wrath on me. I blacked out on the first punch. When I woke, I was laid up in the hospital and sucking on a tube, wishing that he'd killed me. I'd been stripped of my power and of the only family that I'd ever known. The biggest insult was seeing Snake waste no time replacing my ass with Le'Shelle. A bitch he pulled off the pole from his club, the Fat Monkey.

A fucking hoe he married, if the rumors in the streets are true. Despite it being five years and him nearly killing my ass, him marrying that bitch is fucking with me. I held that muthafucka down for years. I put up with all his baby-momma bullshit and the nigga never once said shit about marriage.