To Catch A Bitch...

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Chapter 3: The Power of Association
​Doing 85 mph on cruise control down 95 south, Angel was sunken down in her seat with nothing but her index and middle fingers inside the bottom opening of her wood grain steering wheel, navigating her SUV, while she chiefed on a blunt with her left hand. When a Georgia state trooper swerved over into her lane without warning, cutting her off, Angel had to lightly tap on her brakes and swerve to her right, almost ramming the side of her truck into a guard rail just to avoid side swiping the police cruiser.
​"Stupid muahfucka!" Angel blurted out with a scowl on her face as she easily regained control of the truck. The careless driving State trooper almost caused her to have to cough up a couple thousand dollars for the damages had she wrecked her truck, and drop her blunt, probably burning a hole in her floorboards – all with one damn lane switch. She wasn't even sure if the truck had any insurance on it because legally it wasn't even hers. Angel never even saw him in any of her mirrors before he pulled up alongside her. Clearly, the weed had her slipping hard.
​"Fuck!" Angel exclaimed out loud though she was alone in the truck and her windows were rolled up when she realized that the flashing lights behind her were for her. As she rolled to a stop, pulling over on the shoulder of the Interstate, Angel clicked the button to her automatic windows twice to roll her windows down to air her truck out. Glancing in her rearview mirror, she could see the officer typing on his computer, probably running her plates.
​Shit! Angel cursed herself under her breath as the thought of going on a high speed chase briefly crossed her mind, but she quickly killed that idea. Where da hell Imma go in dis big colorful muahfucka? Angel wondered to herself pitifully. The truck wasn't exactly a Ferrari, and to top it all off, her Hello Kitty Escalade with purple tinted windows and pink rims was the only truck of its kind in all of Georgia.
​Seeing that the officer was still typing on his computer, Angel used this little window of opportunity to scoop the still burning blunt up from her floorboard and flung it out of the passenger's side window with the flick of her wrist. Reaching in her glove compartment, Angel hurriedly snatched up a small bottle of Febreeze along with her fake registration. Quickly, she gave the bottle's trigger three pulls, attempting to somewhat retrieve that new car smell, tossed the bottle back in the glove compartment and closed it. When the officer finally pulled up to the driver's side window, Angel had just sat back in her seat with her head down as if she was looking over her license and registration the entire time.
​"Ma'am, slowly turn your vehicle off and step out of the truck please!" The male officer requested firmly, stepping off to the driver's side door to allow Angel enough space to step out while his hand rested on his still holstered for the moment gun. Angel coolly did as she was told to, attempting to hand the officer her license and registration when she stepped out and shut her door. "Place your hands on top of your head." He ordered Angel after shoving her license and registration into his back pocket.
​"Sir, what is dis all 'bout?" Angel questioned, confused as she hesitantly put her hands on the top of her head. She thought that this was a routine traffic stop because of the whole State trooper incident, now she was being arrested. Too much had happened too fast and Angel was lost. "Ma'am, you are have the right to remain silent. Anything you say..." The officer began to advise Angel of her Miranda rights while putting her in the back of his squad car, ignoring her questions.
30 minutes later...
​"What do you know about Tayshaun Watson?" One of the Atlanta investigators, Investigator Hicks, questioned Angel hastily as she sat across the table from him with a look of serious concern written on her face. She didn't have the slightest clue as to why she was down here, no one had shown her any paperwork or read her any charges, and she damn sure didn't know anybody by the name of Tyshawn Watson.
​"You probably know him as Tyga...you know, the guy you met at the car wash just a lil while ago. Detective Shaw, the woman who was standing quietly behind Investigator Hicks with a folder in her hands, spoke up. Sensing Angel's hesitation, she tossed the pictures taken of the two of them at the car wash on the table and watched with anticipation as her expression changed from concern to anger immediately.
​"I'on know nuttin' 'bout him! I just met him rememba?" Angel shot back sharply as she pushed the picture back towards Detective Shaw after glancing at the pictures and Tyga's face sheet, which had all of his information on it. Angel was surprised to know that he was only 18. He looked his age but Tyga carried himself as if he were much older than that. She was pissed to know that her every move was being watched, but at the same token, she wanted to know why the police were so interested in Tyga.
​"Hmph...well, what we do know is that Mr. Watson is a very dangerous young man. We've been trying to build a case against him for a long time, but, we can't seem to catch seem to catch him red handed, we need you to..." Investigator Hicks broke down before Angel cut in. "What any of dat gotta do wit' me?" Angel interrupted him angrily. She knew where this conversation was going. Now, that she saw that none of this was about her at all, but about an individual who she'd just met no more than an hour ago, she was even more agitated than when she had initially gotten pulled over.
​"Everybody out, now!" The lead agent on the Tyga investigation, Agent Vernon Carter ordered when he stormed in. Without another word, Investigator Hicks and Detective Shaw reluctantly got up and exited the room, slamming the door on their way out. Angel almost blew a head gasket when she saw Agent Carter's face, she knew exactly who he was. Agent Carter was her father's brother. Her uncle.
​"Uncle Vern?! What da fuck?!" Angel snapped, her eyes big as quarters as she rose up from her chair, knocking it to the floor. How could she have not known that he had something to do with this? Anything involving her and the law enforcement in the state of Georgia usually meant her Uncle Vernon played some sort of significant role in the matter. "Watch yo' damn mouth and sit yo' lil narrow ass down!" Agent Carter scolded, picking her chair up, slamming it down like he expected for it to be glued to the floor for Angel, and took a seat on the table.
"Listen, I can't keep savin' you, da Feds want your ass! Now, eitha you gon' do what dey need you to do wit' dis Tyga character, or..." Agent Carter began to explain, stopping Angel before she could speak again. He had to break it down to her like this. Straight, raw, and uncut. It was the only way he could get her to understand the severity of the situation. "Or what Unk? You gon' lock me up, huh?! Angel shouted, banging her fist on the table with her every word.
​"You damn, right! I'm already in hot water fuckin' wit' you and yo' 'I'on give a fuck attitude! I've kept you outta jail fo' three homicides when anybody else would else would've been on death row by now! It's time fo' you to start payin' on yo' debts. You're on borrowed time as of now!" Agent Carter hissed, his eyes deadlocked on Angel, not onto blinking. His once so innocent, could do no harm niece, Angel, had grown to become too much for old Uncle Vernon to keep up with. No wonder he was bald. "So, you blackmailin' me now, huh?" Angel shot her only comeback that she could think of. Damn, if you can't trust yo' own family, who da fuck can you trust in dis world? Angel thought sadly. "I'm not goin' to jail fo' yo' shit! You got twenty four hours!" Agent Carter growled before stalking out of the room, letting the door slam close behind him, leaving Angel alone with her thoughts. Agent Carter had done all that he could do up to this point to avoid having to put his niece in this position, but now, his hands were tied behind his back because of her. Now, it was time for Uncle Vernon to save his own ass for a change. If he didn't, who would?
Chapter 4: Now you're talkin' my language!
​Angel's head had been spinning all day since she left the police precinct and her Uncle Vernon had given her that so unfair, one – sided ultimatum. True enough, he had put his neck and career on the line by going against his very own department just so she could remain free, and Angel was forever thankful for that. But, when you've done something like that for a person, is it not done out of the genuine love that have for that person? That sure sounded like a logical reason to Angel. Or did Uncle Vernon only do it because he knew he'd need a favor in return? If that was the case, which was what it truly looked like, Angel had lost all respect for her Uncle Vernon. Now, Angel was trying her damnest to be good company to Tyga as they rode in his car, on their way to one of Tyga's favorite outlets to shop at, DTLR. At first, Angel was a bit hesitant to come or to even answer her phone for Tyga, but she knew it would've been messed up had she carried him that, being as though she all but put a gun to his head to call her tonight.
​"What's on yo' mind, shawty, why you so quiet?" Tyga inquired, turning down the volume on his car's system. This wasn't the same Angel he'd met earlier. "Huh?" Oh, nuttin'... just life general... a lot goin' on, but, I'm good. What's up wit' you?" Angel finally managed to give him a straight answer. "Well, what I gotta do to take yo' mind off of da bullshit and help you enjoy yo' self 'cuz I ain't feelin' da long face." Tyga volunteered with a smile, affectionately pinching Angel's cheek like someone's Grandmother would do as they walked towards the store's double doored entrance before Angel playfully slapped his hand away.
​"I'on know, but when I find out you'll be da first to know." Angel reassured truthfully, walking through the door that Tyga held open for her. She desperately needed something to get her out of the funk that she was in. "I got somethin' in mind...you busy tonight?" Tyga revealed, secretly hoping that Angel was free for the rest of the night. "I make my own schedule, sir?" Angel answered in a bossy tone. "Say no mo', boss lady." Tyga told her, laughing and shaking his head as he picked up a pair of thousand dollar, Givenchy sneakers. He liked her sassy attitude. To be so small, Angel was feisty as hell.
​"Hello...aight, I got you. Gimme a minute, I'll be ova there." Angel informed the caller before hanging up. "You got somewhere you gotta be, lil momma?" Tyga questioned curiously, pulling his keys out of his pocket. "Nah, dey can wait...I'm da boss lady, 'memba?" Angel answered with a laugh, nudging Tyga with her elbow while he was bent over trying on the pair of sneakers. "Oh yea, I fa'got...my bad." Tyga joked with a laugh.
​"You ain't gon' buy nuttin'?" Tyga wanted to know, shooting Angel a perplexed look before paying for his sneakers. "Nah, I'm good." Angel shrugged, opting not to spend any money tonight, not because she didn't want to, but because her racing mind wouldn't allow her to do anything other than think. "Nah, we ain't even gon' do it like dat. Come on!" Tyga shook his head as he grabbed Angel's hand and led her out of the store. Tyga knew that he had to put his foot down to get Angel to loosen up, and he wasn't about to take no for an answer.
​"What you think 'bout these?" Angel wanted Tyga's opinion as she held up a pair of Valentino lace couture bow open toe pumps for him to get a better view of them. "Sorry, shawty, but I ain't into the whole cross dressing thang." Tyga responded somberly, throwing his hands in the air in defense before bursting out in laughter that he couldn't hold in no matter how hard he tried to. "Oh, so you got jokes, huh, nigga?" Angel laughed out of embarrassment, pump faking the shoe at him. Her phone interrupted their fun once again. This time it was her Uncle Vernon.
​"There go dat long face again. You need me to have a word wit' ole boy?" Tyga pointed out, a little upset. He had only known Angel for a few hours, ten at the most, but she was a cool chick to chill with and he couldn't stand seeing such a pretty face bear such a sad expression. "Nah, it's just my Uncle." Angel answered with a twinge of regret in her voice. She had never felt so pressured in her life. "Don't you think you need to see what's up?" Tyga's voice changed to a tone of concern.
​"He'll be aight, I'll just..." Angel started as her phone rang again. It was Uncle Vernon again. "Nah, fuck dat shawty! Family comes first! Ayo P, what these joints goin' fo'?" Tyga cut Angel off before she could finish, asking the clerk about the price of the pumps that Angel had picked up earlier. "Fifteen..." The clerk responded off the top of his head. "Here...get her size, tag and bag 'em. Hit me up lata." Tyga ordered, slapping the fifteen hundred down on the counter once he counted the money from the large wad of cash. The clerk immediately followed Tyga's orders and he and Angel were out of there in a flash. Angel never even had a chance to object to Tyga's purchase of her pumps. The last thing she needed was another man doing her any favors. Wasn't that how she got in this predicament that she was in in the first place?
​"You still fo' da night or what?" Tyga asked as he turned down Summer Street, a street Angel had asked him to stop by so she could pick something up. He needed a female on his side when he stepped out tonight, and he just knew that Angel would complement him to the fullest based off of her personality alone. "Fa sho! What you got in mind?" Angel reassured Tyga confidently after pointing out the house that she needed to stop at. She wanted to know exactly what it was that Tyga had planned.
​"Aye, how you know my lil mans, Black?" Tyga questioned curiously when he pulled away from the house. "Black be spendin' a lil change wit' me from time to time. How you know 'em?" Angel confessed, counting over the money that Black had given her. She had seen the two acknowledge each other, exchanging head nods on her way back to the car and now Tyga had mentioned Black by name. "Not only do I just live in da A, I'm from da A...shit, I am da A! From College Park to Decatur, and errthang in between, so it ain't too many people dat I'on know, ya feel me?" Tyga bragged, laughing. He knew Black from his days when he used to stand on the block hustling with him until Black had become as close to a junkie as one could get without actually becoming one all the way. That seem like eons ago as Tyga reminisced. Now, Black had been in comeback mode for the past five years now. His money was still good to Tyga, what he did with the product behind closed doors was none of Tyga's business. "Okay, I hear you, Mr. A town, talk dat shit!" Angel joked back as the two shared a laugh. "But, nah, on da serious tip, though...what's da ticket on dem joints?" Tyga wanted to know if Angel was getting a better deal on the pills than he was. If so, he needed to be on her team. His pride and ego wasn't too big to team up with a female if it meant increasing his profit margin. At the end of the day business was business.
​"Dude be taxin' me 'cuz dey triplets, but I mean it's worth it 'cuz as fast I get, dey gone even faster, and I see my money so...but, he gimme a stack fa' forty five. Why? You know where I can get a betta deal at?" Angel challenged as Tyga pulled into the very same car wash that they'd met at earlier that morning. "Yeah, you talkin' to him! Those same triplets fa' two bands a clip! We can sow dis bitch up if you really 'bout dat money, shawty!" Tyga explained seriously, putting the car in the park and turning to face Angel to show her just how serious he was. He had done the math in his head, quickly figuring out that Angel was getting beat. Whoever it was that she was copping from was charging her five dollars for a pill, and only knowing off five hundred dollars from the wholesale price as if he were doing her some type of favor. To make matters even worse, the so called triple stacks probably weren't even official, probably were synthetics that some peewee ass dude was trying make a profit off of by putting his own number on them. Tyga was willing to bet everything he owned on that, car and all. He couldn't knock his hustle though, Angel was the one dumb enough to settle for the price and continued to cop from him. Tyga was only paying two dollars and even though his connect wasn't knocking off anything from his wholesale price, it was still a better deal. Twenty five hundred dollars better.
​"Damn! We need to...shit!" Angel cursed as she read the caller ID, this was Uncle Vernon's third time calling her within the hour. "Uh...we gon' talk 'bout dat when we link back up lata. What time..." Angel continued, shaking her head, agitated, as she showed Tyga her phone to show him who was calling her. Again. "What time is it? Eight? Imma hit you at ten." Tyga confirmed after checking the time on his phone, calculating how long it would take him to shower and get dressed. "Ten it is, then." Angel agreed before getting out of Tyga's car and headed for her truck.
​Once she was back within the confines of her truck and Tyga had pulled off, Angel began dialing her Uncle Vernon's number to see what it was that could possibly be so damn important he had to call her every fifteen minutes, though she already had a pretty good idea of what he was calling about. Suddenly, she heard a series of knocks on her passenger's side window, causing her to jump out of surprise. "What da fuck?!" Angel snapped as she hit the button to unlock her passenger's side door, staring at her Uncle Vernon in bewilderment like someone had just pulled off the disappearing act right in front of her face. Speaking of disappearing, she wish her Uncle Vernon would disappear right now and never return.
​"Baby girl, I need you to..." Agent Vernon started off, out of breath and sweat running off of his bald head when he hopped up in the passenger's seat, but Angel stopped him short. She knew she had to restore some type of order and regain some type of control over this situation immediately before things spiraled too far out of control.
​"Don't fuckin' baby girl me!" Angel spazzed, putting a Newport short in her mouth to calm her nerves, but she couldn't even find a lighter to light it. "You can't be houndin' me like dis, poppin' up outta nowhere and shit, blowin' up my phone! Where da hell you come from anyway? I thought you said I had twenty hours...what happened to dat? If it's gon' be like dis, I ain't doin' shit!" Angel went on a rant, only stopping because she has finally found her lighter.
​"Aight, okay, I hear you, baby girl! Just calm down and listen fo' a minute." Agent Carter took full advantage of his only chance to get a word in. He felt like he was losing her before he even got her to where he needed her to be and he definitely could not afford that, not at this stage in the game. He had put in too much work to lose everything just by making careless mistakes. Agent Carter knew that all he had to do was calm his niece down enough so that she listened to his reason for being here in the first place.
​"Speak!" Angel demanded firmly as she exhaled the cigarette smoke and folded her arms across her chest. It was like their ages had suddenly reversed, Angel was the grown up and her Uncle Vernon was now the child being scolded. "Dey wanna know if you'd be willin' to wear a wire to help..." Agent Vernon began to explain slowly as he held the device up to show Angel, but his voice trailed off when he saw Angel shaking her head in disapproval. "Nope!" Angel stopped that seed from growing before her Uncle Vernon could even plant it. "Okay, no problem. You're just gonna have to set up a bust..." Agent Carter broke down carefully. He could feel himself reeling Angel in, all he had to do was pull just a tad bit harder.
​"Dat's nuttin'! He just explained to me where he gets his drugs from, prices and all. I'm plugged in, all I gotta do is say da word...but, what am I getting' outta all of dis?" Angel dismissed with a wave of her hand. She didn't want to waste time talking about the small stuff, she had details taken care of. Angel wanted to know what was in it for her. She knew she had caught her Uncle Vernon's attention when she told him that she and Tyga had discussed where he got his drugs and his prices just by the way his eyebrows damn near jumped clean off of his face. Angel had to spice it up just a little bit. This was a game of chess, not checkers. And Angel was the Queen.
​"What more do you want?" Agent Carter asked with a worried look on his face, hoping that Angel didn't go too stir crazy on him. He felt as if what he'd done for her up to this point was more than enough, but he knew he had to bring something more to the table if he and his department were going to get Angel to play ball for their team. "Throw in a million dollars, five passports to the Bahamas, make it so I'on have to show up in court, and we gotta deal." Angel requested easily with a stone expression, puffing the last few on her cigarette before flicking it out of the window. "Um...everythin' sounds reasonable, but, dat million dollars sounds like a stretch, if I can get you half would you..." Agent Carter winced, rubbing his forehead. He could get her a substantial amount of money though it would be in installments, unless she demanded it upfront. There were so many variables when it came to negotiations. Negotiating was one thing, but Angel Carter was beginning to feel like he was being extorted, even if the money wasn't coming from him personally. Angel had always been spoiled, back when she was a kid, he never could satisfy her with a single dollar bill like he could the rest of his nieces and nephews because Angel would always refuse it and cry for five. Agent Carter gave it to her each and every time. That was now coming back to bite him in the ass with titanium teeth.
​"Half a mil, damn right!" Angel exclaimed happily. Five hundred thousand dollars on top of the money that she was sure to make in the meantime in between time? Hell, if she moved fast enough, she could make the other half million on her own, start up her own strip club like she had always dreamed. Not to mention, the top to the Bahamas, not having to show up in court, and never ever having to worry about getting in trouble in the state of Georgia. Angel should've been a professional negotiator. "I'll bring you the paperwork tomorrow morning. "Agent Carter spoke dryly as he began to get out of the truck. "Love you, Unky Vern!" Angel called out after him, smiling and blowing him a kiss. She heard him mumble something back, but it didn't sound like he shared the same sentiments as he slammed the door behind him and disappeared.
Chapter 5: Blame it on alcohol
​"Go, go, go...aaahhh!" Angel banged her fists on Tyga's dashboard, squealing loudly as he swerved hard into the right line, barely avoiding rear ending the slow moving Camry. She was rooting Tyga on as he put the pedal to the floor in his Monte Carlo in an effort to catch up with his homeboy, Weezy, who was doing 110 mph in his Corvette Stingray. Tyga, Rome, and Weezy had all made a bet in who would make it to the club in first place. Second place had to pay for everyone drinks for the entire night and the third place finisher had to pay for everybody to get in the club and VIP, while the winner got to sit back and enjoy it all. Tonight, the stakes were higher than usual because the trio were in the company of females, and right now, Tyga was stuck in second place with less than a quarter mile to go.
​Angel and Tyga had taken it upon themselves to bring the rest of their friends along, letting them pick and choose whoever it was that they wanted to party with for the night after formerly introducing the two parties. Tyga's other two homeboys, Jamal and Shawn opted not to race. Shawn just wasn't into the whole racing thing, and Jamal wasn't about to dog his BMW 760i fucking with those three idiots. Tyga had to twist his arm just to come out tonight. Shawn was into making money, not carelessly spending, especially if it wasn't coming back doubled up.
​Tyga had finally caught up with Weezy, who in his book had pulled off early which was how he had gotten the head start that he had now, but given that there were no rules in this league, Tyga wasn't tripping too hard. Approaching the exit ramp, Tyga had just taken the lead, all he had to do was hold on just a little bit longer. If he could maintain the lead until he hit the exit, he was a master lock to pull up in the club's parking lot first.
​Just as Tyga switched lanes to take the exit, Weezy shifted into fifth gear and shot past Tyga, cutting him off and causing Cookie to gag on his dick as she continued to suck him off just as she had been doing for the entire ride. She never missed a stroke. The two of them had their own personal bet going on and Cookie was winning.
​"If you was racin' fo' Nascar, somebody would be ready to kick yo' ass afta every race, 'cuz you a dirty drivin' muahfucka!" Tyga teased, laughing when he put his driver's side door down, looking over the top of his hood at Weezy. "If I wasn't racin' fa' NASCAR, somebody would prolyl get shot every race 'cuz Rome trigga happy ass would have da FN in pit lane!" Weezy bragged, looking at Rome who was shaking his head in guilty denial, grinning from ear to ear.
​Club Crucial's parking lot was packed to capacity with every type of car one imagine. Benz, Maserati, BMW, Audi, Ferrari, Porsche – a little bit of everything was in the parking lot. "Aye, my man...next eight wit' me." Rome confirmed with the big, black, buff security guard at the door as he gave him the money and showed his ID before gesturing behind him smoothly, never breaking his stride. The security guard was used to seeing this group of guys at the club at least two weekends out of the month, he knew none of them were 21, but they always tipped good, and were never a problem, so he had no problem with letting them ride.
​Leading the way to VIP, Tyga had to move a few people out of the way just to get through the crowd. There were rumors that Gucci Mane was supposed to make a surprise appearance tonight, so everybody and their momma had come out tonight. Tyga could care less one way or the other if he showed up or not, Tyga was going to enjoy himself regardless.
​"What everybody drinkin'?" Rome questioned the mob as a whole as he stood in the middle of their VIP section when the waitress showed up. "Ladies first!" Rome added on when everyone began speaking all at one time. Gimme some Tequila, Diva already said she drinkin' Hennessy, I know Angel want dat orange flavored Grey Goose...and, I guess, get India a Jolly Rancher or somethin'." Karma recited everyone's orders to the waitress, pointing each girl out as she spoke, shooting a subliminal shot at India because she wasn't as outgoing as the rest of them. What she had just ordered for India was sure to bring her out of that shy girl shell of hers.
​"Aight, what y'all niggas want?" Rome asked his boys with an attitude. He didn't mind catering to the ladies, but his homies were another story. "You know we don't do shots, we need bottles! XO, 1800, Ace of Spades, Remy..." Weezy bragged like the arrogant yellow bastard that he was, naming everybody's favorite liquor by heart. "Y'all niggas tryna be funny, now!" Rome complained, shaking his head and reluctantly laughing only after his boys broke out in a chorus of laughter.
​"Tomorrow, Imma make a move on dat tip we talked 'bout earlier... you gon' slide wit' me?" Tyga whispered in Angel's ear when she passed him the blunt. "I'm there. What time we rollin'?" Angel assured him after taking a sip from her glass. "Bout eight. I'm gon' need a lil' time to sleep dis liquor off, can't be drivin' all the way to Florida all fucked up." Tyga informed her, holding up the bottle of Ace of Spades, laughing as they relaxed on the couch. Angel could tell by how glossy Tyga's brownish green eyes were that he was already drunk. She was starting to feel the effects of the Grey Goose herself as she leaned into Tyga's chest, laughing with him.
​"What y'all two ova there whisperin' and gigglin' 'bout?" Cookie questioned out loud while sitting in Weezy's lap as she allowed him to run his fingers through her pussy hairs while straddling him. Cookie hadn't even bothered to put on any panties under her Versace sundress. There was no shame in her game at all. She had one thing and one thing only on her mind, and that was fucking. When Angel announced what she had planned for tonight to her girls, Cookie had made it her business to look and smell as delicious as possible. If everything went the way she wanted it to, she would taste just as delicious. Weezy was going to tell her so. She was going to see to it.
​"Not you, thotiana!" Angel burst her bubble with no remove whatsoever. Learn how to mind yo' business! Angel thought, rolling her eyes, laughing at Cookie as she stuck her middle finger up at her. Angel simply responded by holding her glass of Grey Goose up and nodded her head at Cookie, who stuck her tongue out and returned her gesture as the two burst out in laughter. "I know you ain't talkin', look at you... y'all hoes crazy! Let's go dance!" Diva spoke up out of guilt as she played foosty with Rome's dick up under the table, slipping her foot back into her Christian Louboutin heel, downing the last of her Hennessy, and pulling Rome toward the dance floor. The liquor had everybody's mind in the same gutter, even shy girl, India, who was the last to leave out of VIP because she was too busy tonguing Jamal down. She didn't fuck often, but tonight, this brown skinned cutie could get the business.
​"Girl, you look good, won't you back dat ass up..." Juvenile's 'Back Dat Ass Up' blaring from the club's speakers had every female on the dance floor tooting, popping, and tweaking whatever their mothers gave them and the fellas weren't afraid to jump behind them and get their grind on. Angel could feel what felt like another woman's thigh and ass, invading her space, but she didn't feel as though the contact and invasion of space was intentional because of the limited space in the club, so she elected to keep her mouth shut and continued to back it up on Tyga. It wasn't until she felt a tap on her shoulder, one that she was sure that Tyga didn't do because his hands were on her waist, that Angel felt, forced to lift her head up to see who it was.
​"Cuse me...can I borrow him for a minute?" A big titty female in a leather mini skirt and red halter top leaned forward with one hand resting on Angel's shoulder asked politely. Angel recognized her before she even began speaking. It was Detective Shaw. "What da fuck?!" Y'all followed me? Where my Uncle..." Angel gritted as she stopped dancing, stood straight up, and smacked Detective Shaw's hand off of her shoulder with a little extra force. She had walked up so close on Detective Shaw, had the right word been spoken by either of them, the two would've shared a peck. Angel wanted to put the paws on this bitch. Though Tyga couldn't hear what was being said, he could read body language, whoever this other chick was, he could tell that she wasn't a long lost friend of Angel's. Tyga decided to intervene before this verbal encounter turned physical.
​"Ladies, ladies, can't we just all..." Tyga started off smoothly as he stepped in between the two, separating them by simply spreading his arms, and forcing Angel to lower her finger that she was pointing in Detective Shaw's face, poking her in the side of the head. Tyga never got a chance to finish his attempt to diffuse the situation before a loud pop and glass shattering captured his attention.
​Karma, who had since returned from indulging in a quickie with Shawn in the men's bathroom, saw the confrontation as she neared the trio. When she saw Angel poke Detective Shaw, who she only knew as Alicia Shaw, Karma told herself she'd seen enough. Drawing the bottle of 1800 back like it was a Louisville Slugger, Karma followed through, smacking Alicia in the side of the face with glass bottle as if her team were down by four runs in the ninth inning of the World Series. Alicia never even saw it coming.
​"Ooohhh..." The crowd could be heard over the music that was playing as shards of glass and liquor went flying in every direction. Alicia stumbled blindly, reaching out to grab hold of somebody, anybody who could prevent her from falling, because her weak and wobbly legs were no guarantee to keep her standing upright. It was too late for her wishful thinking. Angel, Karma, Diva, India, and Cookie were on her ass like flies on shit. Alicia couldn't see who was in front of her, but she could definitely feel the manly like punches that Diva was feeding to her, her long range keeping Alicia and her wild swings at bay. Alicia's world looked like a blur of lights and colors and the other punches to the side of her face and the back of the head weren't making matters any better.
​Losing her balance and falling to the floor had to be Alicia's second mistake of the night. Balling up like an Armadillo did her absolutely no justice at all, it felt like a stampede was trampling over her as the girls delivered massive kicks, one after another to Alicia's stomach, back, face, head – the girls weren't holding back anything and no part of her body was off limits.
​"We got 'em, we got 'em... I said we got 'em, nigga!" Rome roared at the two bouncers who had come to Alicia's rescue, attempting to pull the girls off her until Tyga forcefully pushed them back and glared at them, daring either of them to even act as if they wanted to do something. They knew full well who Tyga and his boys were and what they were capable of. They didn't want to deal with them in the streets. The two bouncers gave the other bouncers the signal to back off. They let Tyga and his crew handle their business and escorted the bunch out of the club.
​Chapter 6: Scheduled for five hours
​"Aaawwwlll, you mad at me, boo?" Diva asked Rome in her best kiddie voice, hanging on to him from behind with her arms wrapped around his neck, kissing his cheek as they stumbled through the door of Jamal's house, drunk. "Shit'd, he need to be mad at dat bitch, Alicia!" Karma suggested loudly, still turned up from the fight, while Shawn held her by her waist as the two of them retreated downstairs to the basement. Karma knew Alicia from her high school days, Karma was a freshman when Alicia was a senior, and the two never got along. "Ain't it doe?! Did y'all see Pocahontas puttin' dat work in wit' dem uppercuts, doe?" Cookie yelled out as Diva, Angel, and Karma all shouted in approval. Cookie and Weezy had already claimed their spot for the night on the couch in the living room. Cookie was referring to India by their inside nickname that they came up with. India had some Indian in her and had always been the quote unquote pretty girl of the group with her long, straight, jet black hair, Asian – like, hazel eyes and caramel skin. Standing at 5'7", India was beautiful. Angel only entertained the antics to continue to appear normal on the outside. Inside her stomach was in knots. Her and her girls hadn't just assaulted but severely beaten a federal agent. She didn't know what to think, she was just going through the motions right now.
​"Yeah, you did yo' thang, girl! But when Karma hit dat bitch and she fell..." Diva congratulated India, who did a brief reenactment of her invisible victim. "And, bitch you know my motto...twenty one jump street if anyone jumps rule, once you hit da ground dats when everyone stomps you..." Karma sang before the rest of the girls began singing along. "Aye, dey wild as a muahfucka, bruh!" Jamal laughed, yelling from the bedroom that he and India were in, recognizing the lyrics from a Lil Wayne song. "Oh, so y'all think y'all did somethin' 'cuz y'all jumped ole girl, huh? Why y'all ain't give her her ones? I wish dat was me!" Tyga challenged jokingly while slouched down in the recliner as Angel sat in his lap kissing and licking on his neck.
​"You wanna shoot da one for her? I'll do you da same way... lay yo' ass down!" Angel boasted, playfully punching Tyga in his chin. "Don't threaten me wit' a good time, da room right there." Tyga informed her, pointing toward the bedroom. Angel just got up to follow Angel's lead, he looked around the living room and saw that the lights were out and the living room was almost completely deserted. The only people that were left besides he and Angel were Weezy and Cookie. Even in the dim lighting, Tyga could see Cookie's head bobbing up and down under the cover, giving Weezy some head.
​"Now, what was all dat shit you was talkin'? Tyga questioned after shutting the door behind him, taking his T shirt and wife beater off, tossing them into a nearby chair. "Come here and Imma tell you errthang I just said." Angel threatened with a smirk as she lay back on the Queen sized waterbed, resting on her elbows, her pearly white teeth matching her fresh white linen dress, even in the dark. Staring at Angel as if she were live prey, Tyga bit down on his bottom lip and began to make his way over to her. Play fighting with their tongues, they both fought for position while they roughly kissed. Standing upright, Tyga reached for his diamond studded, Louis Vuitton belt buckle before Angel swatted his hands away and undid his buckle and zipper for him while looking up at him hungrily, smiling with her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth like Michael Jordan.
​Mm, mmm, mmm...damn, dis nigga strapped! Angel thought to herself after freeing Tyga's hardened manhood from the confines of his Polo boxer briefs, Angel slid off the edge of the bed and slowly squatted down in front of him, running her hands down Tyga's stomach, tracing the contours of his abs on her way down.
​Licking around the head of his dick, Angel slowly took all of Tyga in, twisting and turning her tongue wildly every time she made her way back up to the tip. "Shhh...damn!" Tyga moaned in pleasure as he looked down and locked eyes with Angel, who seemed to be smiling back with her eyes. Angel was sucking Tyga so good and hard that he couldn't figure out what to do with his hands, so he just balled his fists up, placed them behind his head, and began fucking Angel's mouth, pumping away furiously. Angel never so much as gagged while Tyga hit her tonsils repeatedly, she just continued to bob her head and perform her tricks with her tongue like Cookie had taught her while juggling Tyga's balls with her right hand.
​"God...damn...aaahhh!" Tyga managed through clenched teeth as he exploded in Angel's mouth, who just kept doing her thing like nothing had ever happened while keeping her eyes on Tyga. "You heard me dat time?" Angel bragged as she licked her tongue out to get the last little bit of cum from the corner of her mouth, giggling. "Damn sho' did. Now, c'mere so I can let you in on a lil secret." Tyga responded, lifting up Angel's legs when she reclaimed her spot on the edge of the bed, placing them on his shoulders, while stroking her freshly waxed legs, debating on what to do to her first.
​Reaching down placing his hands up under Angel's back, Tyga slowly lifted her up off of the bed, and headed towards an empty corner while kissing on her thighs. With her back against pressed up against the wall and Tyga face in between her legs, Angel pulled up her dress and braced herself for the ride. "Aaahhh, mmm hmmm..." Angel encouraged Tyga, running her fingers through his long dreads, massaging his scalp as he licked her slit like it was his favorite melting ice cream. "Faster...yaaaassss, ooohhh...aaahhh...fuck!" Angel whispered as Tyga followed her orders to the tee, arching her back and gyrating her hips, riding Tyga's tongue. "I'm mm cummmin! I'm mm, aaahhh..." Angel whined loudly, running her hands up and down Tyga's back, scratching and clawing like a wild animal. Throwing her head back and rolling her eyes in ecstasy while Tyga toyed with her clit, Angel squirted a thick stream all over Tyga's tongue. Her pink pussy looked like a giant piece of Double bubble chewing gum and Tyga just couldn't get enough of the sweet, tangy flavor from his personal thick, chocolate nympho.
​Still holding Angel up on his big board shoulders, Tyga carefully began to retreat back to the bed where he gently laid Angel back down. "You ready to tap out, yet?" Tyga teased, staring down Angel, who had popped up, unzipped the side of her dress, slipped out of it, and her heels. "Me, tap out? Imagine dat!" Angel shot back after dropping her bra to the floor, pushing Tyga onto the bed, and climbing on top of him. She enjoyed Tyga's challenge, she welcomed it. To Angel, there was nothing better than good, drunken sex. Good, drunken warranted sex at that.
​Reaching back, Angel gripped Tyga's stiff nine inches and slid it inside of her already gushing wetness, and proceeded to fuck his brains out. "Mm hmm, aaahhh, shhhittt!" Angel yelled loudly, laughing, while riding Tyga, her soft ass cheeks clapping as she bounced up and down like she was a disc jockey whipping her horse to a Triple Crown victory. If anyone was asleep before she and Tyga started their sex fight, Angel strongly doubted that they were still asleep with all the yelling, moaning, skin clapping, and headboard banging that was going on. Switching positions. Tyga unsuspectingly rolled over, putting Angel on her back and tossed her right leg across her body, putting his arm in the crook behind her knee to hold it where he wanted it to stay, and slowly eased back inside of Angel.
​"Goddamn...ooohhh, Tyga!" Angel whined as Tyga stroked her with long slow strokes, almost pulling his dick all the way out each time he reared back, coming back down with full force. "I'm mm 'bouta...cum again...aaahhh!" Angel cried out, cupping her titties together, licking her nipples as she creamed all over Tyga's pole, coming for the second time within a ten minute span. Once she started, it was like her pussy levy broke. Tyga had Angel exactly where he wanted her, and he wasn't about to show her any type of mercy. In fact, he was about to turn the heat up a few notches. Tyga was chasing his second nut and with the amount of liquor that he had in his system there was no telling when he'd be done. Angel was in for a long night.
​Stopping his pumps momentarily, Tyga grabbed Angel by her waist, silently instructing her to turn over and get on all fours. Breathing heavy, Angel tiredly complied. Though she was exhausted, Angel was enjoying herself as she tried to match Tyga's stamina. "Aaahhh, fuck dis pussy! Sshhhiiittt, boy! Ooohhh, my fuckin' God! Damn!" Angel antagonized Tyga while he drilled her from behind, wrapping his hands up with her micro braids, pulling her head back while he pumped away relentlessly. Angel could do nothing but grit her teeth and take it as she threw her ass back, trying to match each one of Tyga's thrusts with one of her own. After all, this was what she had asked for.
​As he came, Tyga felt Angel's body tense up, a telltale sign that she was nearing yet another orgasm. Quickly, he pulled out of Angel's pulsating pussy, leaving her yearning for more as he released his grips on her hair. "Nooo, baby...ooohhh, fuck! Yesss...aaahhh!" Angel begged for Tyga to finish his attempts at breaking her back until she felt his tongue circling around her asshole, his two fingers, her entire body locking up and her ass cheeks flinching as she tapped on the bed repeatedly with her face buried in her arm. She was trying her best to hold her body up, but she was quivering uncontrollably.
​"She got dat million dollar, mmm, mmm, mmm...Imma make her tap out!" Tyga sang his victory song, slightly out of breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he teased Angel, who lay beside him. "Shut up, nigga! You cheated anyway!" Angel spat back, trying to push Tyga out of the bed, but his weight was too much for her to move. They were supposed to go tit for tat on the positions, but Tyga had his choice of three different positions, back to back. "Ain't no rules in fightin', rememba?" Tyga joked, laughing at Angel while she playfully punched on him.
Chapter 7: All Angels ain't from Heaven
​5:15a.m. Tyga and Angel had just fell asleep less than two hours ago, and now, an annoying vibrating sound was breaking Tyga's already light sleep. Swinging his feet to the floor, Tyga sat on the edge of the bed, closed his eyes to try to get his thoughts together while running his fingers through his dreads. Damn last night was lit! Tyga thought to himself, momentarily reminiscing on his event filled club night as he looked over Angel's beautiful curves as the rays from the sunrise shined on her ever so lightly. Once again, the vibrating noise interrupted his thoughts. Jerking his head up out of annoyance, Tyga allowed his eyes to scan the room in search of what was causing the noise. On the dresser, there was his IPhone XR, vibrating and glowing in the dark part of the room. Oh shit! I'm supposed to be on the way to meet Big Giovanni, dats prolyl him callin' to see if I'm still comin' down now. Tyga thought to himself after glancing at the glowing red numbers on the clock beside him.
​It wasn't until he made it all the way over to the dresser did Tyga realize that the vibrating phone wasn't his at all, he didn't have any contacts saved in his phone under 'Uncle Vernon'. Curious to see what the text said now that he held the phone in his hand, Tyga typed in the numeric password that he just so happened to see Angel enter repeatedly throughout the night. He always watched everything around him, even his own partners, but he watched new people's movements even harder no matter who they were, male or female. He never took anything for granted and doubled up on the suspicion of leaving things up to chance. This was how Tyga stayed on point and ahead of the game. The text read: Good news... I got dem papers for u to sign, my department agreed to da 500k and da passports. I'll have half for u when u come to sign the papers. U will get da other half once Tyga is convicted, given dat u help us build a big enough case against him. How's dat for a deal, baby girl? Unky Vern got u! Tyga couldn't believe his eyes, he had to read over the text three times to give his half functioning brain ample amount of opportunities to fully register what it was that the text was actually saying.
​So dat's why she was so distant on the way to and from DTLR and her Uncle was blowin' her shit up last night! Tyga slowly began to recall last night's events. Dis bitch was plottin' on settin' me up! Tyga silently cursed under his breath for his flaw in judgement of character while staring at Angel through squinted eyes, who was still asleep, and snoring lightly. Gripping Angel's phone tightly, debating on what his next move should be. Tyga took a deep breath trough his nose and eased the built up air from his lungs and out of his mouth as his mind brought the inevitable to the light. He knew he had to let Angel go, he had to get rid of her, no questions. It was fun while it lasted, but just like everything else in life, it had come to an end.
​Tyga carefully went through Angel's phone, screenshot what he had just read and sent it to his own phone before deleted the condemning text message, and all of her Uncle Vernon's incoming calls from the time they walked through the front door of Jamal's house all the way up until the most recent ones that Angel had either answered or ignored last night. Once he was done, Tyga turned the volume off on Angel's phone, and placed it back on the dresser just as he had found it. He didn't want anything to awake Angel before he did. After slipping his clothes back on from last night, Tyga grabbed a pair of wheat Tims from the closet, softly closed the bedroom door behind him, and crossed the hallway to handle his personal hygiene and to buy him a little more time to think and plan.
​"Hm-what time is it?" Angel asked groggily, still half asleep, rubbing her eyes. "Almost five thirty, come on, we gotta roll! We already behind schedule, dis nigga already called wantin' to know if I left yet!" Tyga urged anxiously, in full fire drill mode, lying with a straight face as he puffed on a cigarette. The only phone calls that he had missed all night were from four fiends and they were all on his time. "Shit, um, gimme a few minutes. You got some extra washcloths?" Angel questioned as she forced herself to get out of the bed and get dressed. Her body felt like she had pulled a twelve hour shift in a coal mine.
​"Look in dat top drawer fo' a toothbrush, da washcloths on da third shelf from the bottom in dat closet behind da bathroom door, and da bathroom right cross da hall." Tyga informed briefly, watching Angel intently before she scurried out of the room. Tyga was having a hard time accepting and believing that Angel was even capable of committing such a disloyal, backstabbing act. But, two factors were contradicting his thoughts. One, he hadn't even known Angel for a full 24 hours, and two, he couldn't argue with black and white.
​After getting herself together and gathering the rest of her belongings, Angel rushed towards the front door to go meet up with Tyga, who was impatiently waiting in Jamal's white 760. "We gotta stop by my spot so I can grab dat chicken fo' we leave." Angel informed Tyga, strapping her seatbelt across her body, and rambling through her purse for a Backwood. "Nah, you ain't gon' need it. You straight, I got you. Pay me in loyalty, shawty." Tyga assured her as he placed his hands on the back of her headrest, locking eye contact with her before backing out of the parking spot. Angel was slightly hung over from the night before with a banging ass headache and it was about four hours too early for her, but she was far from blind. She could've sworn that she saw a sparkle in Tyga's eyes when he spoke the word loyalty. And that smirk he flashed seemed somewhat devilish, mischievous almost. Damn mane, I'm trippin' early dis morinin'. Angel told herself, turning the ringer volume up on her phone that she clearly didn't remember turning off, but once again, she was drunk so she just may have.
​"Where we at, Tyga?" Angel wanted to know as the muddy, ditch-riddled terrain underneath the car made her body jump and bounce every so often while Tyga drove. She remembered how anxious Tyga was to leave for their Florida trip, now they were in the middle of what looked like a rain forest with no sign of road anywhere instead of the Interstate. "Gotta holla at somebody before we go." Tyga told her dryly, never taking his eyes off of the narrow pathway he was driving on. Something about this morning and Tyga's disposition just didn't feel right to Angel. It was very different from his mood last night. Maybe he's just tired, it is almost six in da mornin', and we ain't go to sleep til' close to four. Angel rationalized with herself. Tyga couldn't even stand to look at Angel right now, he felt too betrayed amongst other things. He was more upset with himself that he was with Angel though. Tyga was mad with himself for simply even allowing someone to get so close to him so quickly. Hell, he hadn't even done a background check on Angel, so technically, he had put himself in this compromising position.
"Come on." Tyga ordered Angel as he got out of the car, his boots instantly sinking a quarter of an inch into the mud when he stepped out. Angel gave Tyga a weary, "nigga are you serious?" look when she heard him tell her to get out with him. She wasn't about to be walking through nobody's mud in her brand new $1,500 Valentino pumps, she didn't give a damn if he did buy them, they were hers now. He'd better be willing to buy her another pair if he wanted her to step foot outside of this car! "Some things in life are replaceable, except for life itself. You know it ain't nuttin' to get you another pair of dem thangs! Now, come on so we can get goin'!" Tyga assured Angel matter of factly with a hidden message in his words when he saw the look on her face as he stood in front of the car with his arms folded across his chest. "Hmph, yea I know we will!" Angel responded knowingly as she stepped out of the car, accepting Tyga's outstretched hand and putting her off hand on the car after closing her door to keep her balance. "Spoiled ass!" Tyga patronized Angel, smiling as they began their uphill trek.
​"Go head, I gotta tie my boots up." Tyga told Angel, releasing her hand, allowing her to walk ahead of him as he bent down to tie his boots up that he hadn't bothered to tie before they left Jamal's house though he had plenty of chances to. All a part of his plan. "I'on know where I'm goin', dammit!" Angel whined, struggling to get up the hill without Tyga's assistance. Walking through the mud in six inch pumps at six o'clock in the morning wasn't quite Angel's cup of tea. It was still mostly dark outside for crying out loud. Whatever Tyga's reason for having to walk up this hill better be damn well worth it.
​"See dat house right there? Dats where you goin'." Tyga directed Angel from behind her. At least that was where Angel was going to end up once all was said and done. Bent over fiddling with his boot's laces, Tyga watched Angel in anticipation, waiting for the right moment to make his move. Pulling his sub compact, Millennium .40 cal. From his waistband, Tyga slowly stood upright and sized up his target. "You talkin' bout da one wit' da lights on upstairs?" Angel wanted to make sure they were referring to the same house since there were two of them in the same vicinity. "Yeah, da upper room." Tyga answered coolly, locking his aim on the back of her head, pressing down firmly on the trigger, patiently waiting for the right shot.
​POW! POW! POW! Tyga let off three shots in rapid succession of one another, hitting Angel once in the back of the head and twice in the neck. She was dead before she free fell face down in the mud, causing the mud to splash up from her dead body weight, chunks splattering back on Tyga's black Alpha Dodger jeans and Tims. Once the echoes and ringing in his ears subsided, Tyga just stood there for a few seconds, besides the occasional birds chirping and dogs barking, it was dead silent. Calmly, Tyga walked back to the car with his gun still in hand, got in, exhaled slowly, turned the ignition on and pulled off. As she drove, a curious thought hit Tyga. How did someone like Angel end up becoming a confidential informant?
​"Where Angel at?" Cookie interrogated as soon as Tyga walked through the door and headed straight towards the bedroom that he and Angel had slept in earlier this morning. Cookie was awoke when he and Angel left. Now, Tyga was back and Angel was nowhere to be found. Something wasn't right about this picture, Cookie could feel it. "I'on know, she ain't in my back pocket..." Tyga told her smartly, never breaking his stride. "Y'all left together! How y'all not come back togetha?" Cookie pressed harder as she got up to follow him down the hallway. She wanted an answer. Tyga acted as if he didn't even hear her, opting to not answer her, as he disappeared inside the room and shut the door behind him.
​"Tyga, what's up, bruh?" Jamal asked when he walked passed Cookie who was headed back up the hallway mumbling and cursing under her breath. He walked through the door, closed it behind him and leaned up against it just in case Cookie or anyone else was to try to enter. Everyone was wide awoke when Tyga came back and now, all eyes were on him. They all wanted to know what was going on. "Tell dem bitches dey gotta go, we got business to handle." Tyga answered seriously while taking his clothes off, wrapping a towel around his midsection when he stripped down to his boxers, stuffing each article of clothing inside a brown paper bag. Jamal left without a word while Tyga continued to run back and forth through the room like a madman.
​"We bouta be out, so we gon' havta catch up wit' y'all lata. India, Ima hit you up lata on." Jamal announced when he reappeared in the living room. Weezy, Rome, and Shawn took that as their cue and headed to the back where Tyga was. "Where Angel at, y'all?" India questioned the group when the four of them got ready to leave. "I'on know, she left wit' Tyga, he actin' funny, talkin' 'bout he don't know! I'm 'bouta call her now." Cookie informed with an attitude as they headed for the door, rolling her eyes at Weezy, who never minded the fact that she was on her way out the door. He had no idea what was going on, he was just following orders. "Fuck dat! Dey on some otha shit dis mornin', we goin' to get her!" Diva spoke up before the front door closed.
​"So what's da count, fool?" Jamal asked Tyga for a second time when they were all in the bedroom together. Tyga was acting extra paranoid and suspicious, walking in circles, repeatedly peeping out of the window, and telling everybody to keep their voices down. "Listen, dat bitch, Angel was workin' wit' twelve, tryna set me up! Her Uncle work IS twelve! I saw da text in her phone while she was sleep..." Tyga revealed as he pulled up the picture of the text he had read and passed his phone around for them all to read themselves. Everyone jaws dropped, they were stuck on stupid and total disbelief. If Angel was trying to set Tyga up, then chances were very likely that the rest of the girls were trying to set them up as well. Now, everyone was scrambling their brains thinking, trying to remember how much they had actually told and showed them. How much could these girls had possibly been able to find out about them in just one night or had they been watching them for longer than that?
​"So I did what had to be done!" Tyga explained thoroughly while looking each one of boys in their eyes as he spoke. The four of them were dead silent after Tyga finished his story. They were stunned. "So you think dem other bitches was on dat same type of shit?" Jamal wanted Tyga's honest opinion, though he himself had already convinced his own mind that it was true. He just couldn't bring himself to believe it. They had gotten caught lacking just that easily by five fine ass females. He secretly hoped that they somehow weren't. He knew if they were or if Tyga even thought so, he would order him to do the same thing to India. Though Jamal really didn't want to have to kill India, he knew Jamal would do so with no questions asked if he hesitated and probably kill him as well. Eat food or be food. Those were the rules. There was absolutely no way that he could allow India to remain alive if she was in on Angel's scheme, no matter how much of a connection he felt like they had. "I'on know, I'on think so to be honest, but I ain't fa' sho' eitha! Y'all just play dem bitches close, listen to everything dey say, and pay attention to dey every move. Ima lay low fo' da time bein', y'all be safe, I'll be in touch." Tyga advised, getting up to leave. He still had some more business to handle. Shit was real now and he had no time to waste.
​"Shit crazy ain't it, bruh?" Jamal suggested sadly, shaking his head at Tyga before he got to the bedroom door to leave out. "Life is crazy, bruh. Just gotta know how to tame dat bitch when she get outta hand, ya know." Tyga responded in a low voice, almost like a mumble. This situation had caused his already cold heart to grow anemic, physically he had already grown numb. "You still goin' to holla at Big Giovanni, you need one of us to go, or how we gon' handle dat?" Rome spoke up, trying to give Tyga any type of lift in any way he could think of. "Yeah, Imma ride dolo dis time. Get rid of dis, and somebody need to go feed Grandpa's pig ASAP." Tyga turned down Rome's offer, dropping the brown paper bag full of clothes in his lap. "Oh, and Mahl, you might wanna get you a new Beamer like yesterday. Just a suggestion." Tyga added on before heading for the shower. Tyga had brought his Grandfather a pig farm in a rural area outside of Atlanta for two main purposes. One, to give his grandfather something to do with all the spare time he now had on his hands after his retirement from working for the past 35 years. Two, was to dispose of the dead bodies of anybody that he or any of his boys had to put down. He remembered growing up reading in one of those boring educational books that his Mother used to make him read for punishment that pigs devoured anything that resembled food including their own feces and human bones if you put it in front of them.
​ Chapter 8: Good ole American Omerta
​"So, Mr. Watson, what did you and Angel do after the club this morning?" Investigator Hicks continued to throw a barrage of questions at Tyga, who just sat there, staring back at him and Agent Carter with a wicked smirk on his face. On the inside, he was doubling over with laughter. He thought it was hilarious how they pulled him over at red light, surrounded him with guns drawn as if he had assassinated Donald Trump, sat him in this interrogation room, played the whole good cop bad cop game, told him what they knew, and expected him to fill in the blanks for them. The last time he checked, he didn't wear a badge. Yeah, these two were truly hilarious! Better than the Kings of Comedy themselves.
​"I told you! We fucked, she said she was goin' home, and dats da last I seen or heard from her." Tyga explained calmly, telling only half of the truth. He had sent Angel home, it just wasn't to a street address. They both knew that Tyga was lying about Angel going home. Both the tracking device and the around the clock surveillance security team that they had assigned to her house said differently. The only problem with that was that they had no way to prove that he was lying, and even worst nothing to hold him on. What they did have wasn't admissible in the court of law. They were back to square one.
​"You think this shit is a fuckin' game?! Huh, motherfucka?!" Where's my niece, you bastard?!" Agent Carter snapped, grabbing Tyga by the collar of his Polo button up, pulling him out of the chair and up to his face level. The thing that was really worrying Agent Carter about this whole ordeal was the fact that Angel's phone signal all of a sudden died a little past six this morning and no one in his department including himself had no way to get in contact with her. Agent Carter knew that Tyga had committed some type of foul play when it came to Angel, his face had 'catch me if you can' written all over it. Unbeknown to Angel Carter, Tyga had gotten rid of Angel's phone at the last minute. He didn't know Angel had left her phone in the car when she got out until it began to vibrate while resting in the center console as he drove. Now, it was being burned, melted, reduced to a heap of melted plastic along with his clothes. Sometimes it was better to be lucky than it was to be good.
​"Ooohhh, so you're Unky Vern? Nice to finally meet you! Yeah, me and Angel had a ball last night! Da girl gotta good head on her shoulders...hope you find her. I'm sure she's around here somewhere." Tyga laughed, mocking Agent Carter while maintaining eye contact with him until he let go of his collar, pushed him back in the chair, and began rubbing his hair as if he were searching for his hair. Tyga knew he was in Agent Carter's head now instead of the other way around. Rubbing his head was all that Agent Carter could do to keep from smacking that stupid smirk off of Tyga's face. Gotta keep it professional, Vern! Agent Carter scolded himself before walking out of the room.
​"Just calm down, Vern! We'll find her! Trust me, she'll show up." Investigator Hicks assured Agent Carter firmly while patting him on the back when the two of them stepped outside of the interrogation room. He felt the same way about Angel's cell phone signal going dead as Agent Carter did. For her signal to go out at the time it did and for her to all of a sudden to go MIA – something smelled fishy. Agent Carter knew Angel better than anybody else that he was working the case with, and his logic made the most sense, more than anything anyone else had said up until this point. What normal seventeen year old girl would leave a free five hundred thousand on the table? And why?
​"That low life ain't gonna tell us nothin'!" Agent Carter reasoned with Investigator Hicks with tears in his eyes. Little did he know, he couldn't be anymore right. He wasn't going to get a word out of Tyga, nothing he wanted to hear anyway. Out of his peripheral, Tyga caught a glimpse of a third person outside of the tinted windows as they walked up to join Hicks and Carter. A female. The girl from the club that Angel and her girls mauled out! She's the police too? Tyga thought with a frown as numerous thought crept their way into his head. If this broad was the police, and Angel was working as a C.I. for her department, then why did she and the girls beat her up? There was no was that fight was scripted, those were real blows and kicks being delivered to her face, and that bottle most definitely wasn't plastic.
​"Am I bein' charged wit' anything or am I free to go?" Tyga asked no one in particular as he stood up when Hicks and Carter reentered the room. He didn't care who answered, he just wanted an answer to his question. The two of them just exchanged blank looks, they knew they had nothing to hold him on. Agent Carter couldn't even bring himself to say the words, instead he just made a sweeping gesture toward the door as Tyga bopped past them.
​"Don't even think 'bout leavin' the state, you do that and there will be a warrant out for your arrest, you arrogant piece of shit! And when I find out what you did..." Agent Carter threatened from behind Tyga when he opened the door to leave. "Don't let dat run yo' blood pressure up, Unky Vern...you won't." Tyga cut him off with a smile as he looked over his shoulder at Agent Carter, who was trying his damnest to get his hands on Tyga before he slammed the door, but Investigator Hicks was holding on for dear life. "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaamn! At least you fought back! You should try bobbin' and weavin' next time." Tyga advised Detective Shaw when he saw her two black eyes, swollen lips, and cut up face, throwing punches at the air and dodging an imaginary one before walking off, leaving Detective Shaw standing there, fuming as he howled with laughter at his own joke.
Chapter 9: The next best thing (72 hours later...)
​"Agent Carter, what the hell is this?" Investigator Hicks desperately wanted to know why India was sitting in their interrogation room. Detective Shaw had noticed her first, but she was hesitant to even inquire about it after the way Agent Carter had smacked her around before they had brought Tyga in. Her face was still burning from it. In his mind, it was her fault that Angel had up and disappeared because she felt suffocated by his department. Nobody had told Detective Shaw to follow them to the club, she had made her own call to do that, and now, and Angel was gone. Agent Carter feel the least bit of remorse for Detective Shaw or the ass whooping that the the girls had put on her, to him, she got exactly what she deserved.
​"Listen, we all know the72 hour rule to a mission person's case, right now it's been about... 84 hours give or take. Angel is my niece, I love her to the end of the world and back, but I'm a realist...and, I'm able to come to grips with reality that she's gone, the sooner you two do the same, the sooner we can move on." Agent Carter broke down solemnly. He had made his mind up that he would grieve the loss of Angel later, after he got justice for her. Right now, he had to be strong for Angel.
​"Aight, I hear you on that, but, what does she have to do with any of this? She's the good girl out of the group, I'll be shocked if she knows anything other than what you tell her." Investigator Hicks reasoned with Agent Carter, giving him bits and pieces of what he knew about India. He saw absolutely no reason for her to be here. "There's exactly the point! We can tell her whatever we want, throw in the sympathy card with Angel, and she'll be more than willing to deliver Tyga and his crew to us on a silver platter." Agent Carter explained thoroughly, dropping the bomb on Investigator Hicks. He already had Detective Shaw on board with his plan, figuring that she would appeal more to India than he ever would be able to due to the simple fact that she was a female, though the fact of him being Angel's Uncle would be sure to move her as well.
​"Look at her, Vern! You don't think she'll be too scared?" Investigator Hicks wanted to be sure that Agent Carter was seeing this from every angle possible. They already had Angel's blood on their hands, even though her nor her body had turned up yet. They couldn't afford another casualty. "Trust me one! Watch this!" Agent Vernon took Investigator Hicks' toned down demeanor as his approval. He hadn't said no, had he? Investigator Hicks opened her mouth to make another statement, but Agent Carter was already in the room with India before she could get another word out.
​"When's the last time you and Angel were together?" Agent Carter began questioning India, deciding to start with easy questions that wouldn't require too much thinking on her end. He had to make her feel as comfortable as possible before offering up the proposition that he had in mind. "Afta da club, we went wit' these guys to a house..." India answered softly, looking from Agent Carter, to Investigator Hicks, to Detective Shaw. She hoped she wasn't in trouble, she knew she hadn't done anything illegal, but she had heard plenty of stories about how the police tricked innocent people and locked them up for things that they didn't do. India sure didn't want to add to those statistics.
​"Tyga, Jamal, Weezy, Shawn, and Rome...are these the guys y'all left with?" Investigator Hicks literally jumping at the chance to interject, carefully positioning each boy's picture in front of India, one by one. "Yeah, dats dem... I didn't do nothin', I'on know." India rambled on shakily. "We know you didn't anything wrong, and you're not in any trouble. We have reason to believe that something bad has happened to your friend, Angel, and we think Tyga played a significant role in her disappearance." Investigator Hicks tried to explain before India broke down in tears. She didn't want to believe what this man was trying to say. The trio had India right where they wanted her, they had broken her down. Now, it was time to build her back up.
​"Nooooo! Tyga wouldn't do anything to hurt Angel! Why would he? He was cool, all of dem were so..." India sobbed, defending Tyga and his friends. None of this was making any sense to her. "We think he may have found out that Angel was workin' with us to set him up which would give him the motive to harm her." Agent Carter explained to India, who just looked at him, with her mouth wide open. She was shocked. Why was Angel working with the police? And why were they so hell bent on locking Tyga and his friends up?
​"India..." Detective Shaw called out when she entered the room. India shot straight up glaring at Detective Shaw. "You're da police?" India retorted with a confused look on her face. "I see the two of you have already met. Relax, you'll wanna hear what she has to say, trust me." Investigator Hicks whispered to India, placing his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to sit down. "Do you wanna help us and Angel or not?" Detective Shaw asked with an attitude, shifting her weight from her left leg to the right one, and folding her arms across her chest. She wasn't the least bit moved by India's aggressiveness. Not to mention, she felt that India was one of the ones she could handle her own against one on one.
​"Then, you need to listen up and listen good. You are the only hope we have in findin' Angel and findin' out if Tyga and his friends had anythin' to do with her disappearance. Lemme see yo' phone." Detective Shaw continued on firmly after India nodded her head, extending her hand for India's phone. She had to drill the magnitude of the situation in India's head and get her to understand the severity before she could even expect her to cooperate with them.
​"This device I'm puttin' in your phone enables you to record a conversation with the push of a button. When you want to record something..." Detective Shaw informed her while doing the steps herself in front of India so she would know what to do when it came time for her to do so. "Just hold down the number one button until your phone either beeps or vibrates, depending on which setting you have activated, and the same goes for when you want to stop recording. The moment you start recording, we'll be able to hear everything just as if we were there with you. And, if u ever find yourself in a tight jam around them, hold down the zero button. We'll be there within ten seconds, but only use that in case of a life threating emergency." Detective Shaw added on, reassembling India's phone and tested out the device before giving it back to her.
​"And, what exactly am I supposed to be recordin'?" India asked confused, fiddling with her phone while she spoke. "Anything that you think we can use, anything pertaining to Angel that'll help us find her and put Tyga and his crew away for it." Detective Shaw told her in a matter of factly tone. "It'd be in your best interest not to speak a word of this to anybody, India." Agent Carter advised her seriously. "What 'bout my sisters? Maybe dey can help..." India wondered softly, confused as to why he was telling her to keep this to herself. She and the rest of the girls never kept anything from each other, she couldn't imagine keeping something like this from them. They had always been loyal to one another, she didn't want to be the one to break their circle of trust. "Especially not them." Agent Carter scolded with wild eyes. Now, India was scared. Why was all this one big secret?
​Remember, you're doing this for Angel." Detective Shaw topped it off, covering India's hands with hers, and staring into India's eyes. The thought of one of the boys doing something to Angel infuriated India, but it was all the motivation that she needed to go through with this. The only hurdle for her to get over would be seeing Jamal getting mixed up in all of this because she knew he wasn't a bad person. Not only that, but she had deep feelings for Jamal.
Chapter 10: Fuck the enemy
​What's wrong, India? You ain't even touched yo' food and you ain't said two words since you've been back. What's up?" Jamal pointed out, worried when he walked back into the bedroom from the shower where India was sprawled out across the bed, playing with her Chinese food takeout. She had went out to pick up some food for both herself and Jamal when the police swarmed her as soon as her feet met the pavement when she stepped out of the red Cadillac ATS that Jamal had rented from Enterprise for them to drive around the city in. He had sent his precious BMW to be crushed and discarded. It hurt his pride to do it, but he knew it had to be done in order for him to remain off the radar.
​"Oh, uh...just thinkin' 'bout Angel for real, ya know. Like, I always wonder what happened to her, where she's at, is she alright or is she..." India's voice trailed off sadly as she pressed the button to begin recording on her phone before placing it on the side table. Seeing that Jamal had his back turned, putting his dirty clothes in the hamper, India felt like now was the perfect opportunity. She had been debating with herself since she left from downtown about whether or not to follow through with this, but the more she thought about Angel, the more she felt like this was the right thing to do.
​"I know what you goin' through, I was da same way when my cousin, Shawn's brotha got killed." Jamal sympathized with India as he turned around, walking over to the bed. "Wait, so you and Shawn are cousins?" India's face lit up, surprised at Jamal's revelation. "Yeah, Shawn's brotha got killed at a hotel last year. We neva did find out who shot him." Jamal responded sadly as he sat down on the bed, his back facing her while he took scoops from his tray of Sesame Chicken. "Oh my God! Dats so sad! What was his name?" India questioned as she sat up to move her food from the bed to the side table and to end the recording session on her phone. There was no need to record any of this. The story was beginning to sound vaguely familiar to her. "His name was Twan. It happened at the Marriot on Faye street, he drove a black Escalade...you heard 'bout it?" Jamal gave her the facts from the case, he wanted to see if India could provide him with any type of leads. There was a chance that she heard something in the streets that he hadn't. A slim chance, but a chance nonetheless.
​"Um, yeah. I mean I heard 'bout it, but, I'on know too much 'bout what happened though." India lied easily, though she was more than nervous than words could describe while feeling on Jamal's smooth, bare chest from over the top of his shoulders. No wonder why Shawn had looked so familiar to her when she first met the gang, but she didn't want to cause any awkward moments by repeatedly staring at him especially after she had already picked Jamal. She didn't even dare herself to ask him what they had planned for the person responsible, she could hear the unhidden, raw emotion in his voice when he spoke. To put even more stress on her already timid mind, India knew just by her being present when the murders occurred made her just as guilty as Angel, and that much more subject to the vengeful retaliation that was sure to come behind it.
​"Damn! I can't wait to find out who did dat shit!" Jamal shook his head, tossing his tray of food across the room, spilling rice and chicken all over the khaki tan colored carpet. He always got upset like this when he thought about Twan's murder, a year was too long for him. Jamal felt like the culprit should've been caught the same day of the shooting and brought to them, dead or alive. "How 'bout we talk 'bout somethin' else." India suggested, massaging Jamal from his traps all the way down to his hands, grabbing his hand, slipping it under his long T-shirt that she had on, and letting it rest on her hairless pussy. She hated to see Jamal so upset, though he had vowed to her that he would never put his hands on her, his rage scared her. This was her way of calming him down. It worked every time.
​"Come on Daddy..." India purred while Jamal tickled her tight pussy with his index and middle fingers, gently guiding them in and out of her. Standing up to rid himself of his red Jordan retro basketball shorts and boxers, Jamal removed his fingers from India's dripping juice box and put them up to her inviting mouth so she could taste her herself while he stepped out of his shorts and boxers. Jamal learned from their very first sexual encounter that India was turned on by the taste of her own pussy juices when she stuck her own fingers, giving Jamal one of the best strip teases he'd seen so far in his young eighteen years.
​Roughly grabbing India by her ankles and pulling her towards him where he stood, Jamal slowly entered India, causing her to momentarily lose her breath. "Mmm-hmm...ah, yasss!" India closed her eyes and whispered in approval of Jamal's long, graceful strokes as he held her right leg up, tightly gripping her calf muscle, and softly sucked on her big toe. "Whose pussy is dis?" Jamal asked in between pumps as he began to pick up his tempo, slamming into India's pelvis. "Aaahhh...it'ssss, ooohhh...all yourssss, baby!" India wailed loudly as Jamal grabbed her other leg and forced both of them back so that her ankles were by her ears, giving him a clear shot at her pussy while continuously pulling out of her completely only to ram himself back inside of India so fast that she had no time to expand her walls for him. It hurt, but India loved it. It made her cum twice as hard and drove her crazy on her way to an orgasm.
​Pulling out of India for the last time, Jamal released India's ankles and stood upright to wipe the perspiring sweat from his forehead while India took the time to regain her composure. Standing on the bed on her knees, India gestured for Jamal to come to her, seductively eyeing him as he neared her. When Jamal climbed atop of the bed, India forced him to lie down, and straddled him, reverse cowgirl style. "Aaahhh, shhhh, mmm..." India moaned with her head down, making herself ride Jamal harder as she felt her pussy began to tingle. "Ssshhhiiittt! I'm...aaahhh..." India cried, holding herself up on her elbows, pulling and tugging at her own hair as Jamal matched each one of her pumps with one of his own, pumping upward as hard as he could.
​"Hold up, lemme take you there." Jamal suggested in between heavy breaths. He knew India was more than capable of fucking her way to a good nut, but he strongly doubted that she could deliver to herself better than he could. "How you want it, Daddy?" India questioned as she slowly lifted her left leg. Allowing Jamal's rock hard penis to slip out of her, and awaited his order. "Just like dat!" Jamal told her as he positioned himself behind her, prepared to handle his business.
​"Aaahhh, yeeesss! Ooohhh, here I cuuummm! Ssshhh, mmm!" India whined, tightly gripping the bedsheets while Jamal separated her ass cheeks and continued to punish her from behind. "Aaahhh, Jamal... don't... fuck!" India pleaded, putting a dip in her back, pushing back at Jamal while he pushed her head into the mattress with his left hand and sticking his right thumb in her asshole, and pounded her as they came together.
Chapter 11: Drunken thoughts speak a sober mind
​"Y'all really think Tyga killed Angel?" India spoke up, breaking the deaf – like silence that loomed over the group after taking a sip from her glass of frozen strawberry daiquiri. It had been three weeks since anyone had last seen Angel and two days since her funeral, and the girls had been drinking every day since. The four were sitting around the living room of the small, three bedroom apartment that they divided the down payment, deposit, and rent up amongst the five of them to get when Angel was alive. Without her, it felt awkward for them to even still be living here.
"I'on know...I mean, why would he? If he was some type of serial killa, he wouldn't have been all out and about so freely like he was at the club and shit. At least I'on think so anyway...I'on know." Karma responded, unsure of which angle to look at things from, shaking her head, downing the rest of her drink and immediately refilling her glass. Her drunken mind was all over the place, and on top of other things, she had brain freeze from dinking so fast. Karma had seen better days. Much better days.
​As bad as India wanted to tell her girls about the day she was pulled over and taken downtown, she knew she couldn't. Regardless of the fact that she didn't know the reason the she was strongly advised not to speak upon it, the serious and fearful look that India had nightmares about were in Agent Carter's eyes that day frightened her enough not to speak a word about that day. "I'm sayin' doe, if he didn't do it, why dey got him as a person of interest?" India reasoned as the two of them ping ponged ideas back and forth, each taking sips after they spoke to give the other ample amount of time to digest what they had just said. "Shit, you just answered yo' own question! Fa him to be a person of interest means he had to have somethin' to do wit' it! He was da last person to be seen wit' her, which we know fa a fact ourselves 'cuz we was wit' da rest of dem niggas, and I saw dem leave togetha..." Cookie ranted on, stating straight facts. She was getting more and more agitated the more they discussed the topic without coming to a clear cut conclusion.
​"Fuck all dat! We can do dis back and forth shit all damn day! If he did do it, what da fuck we gon' do bout it?" Karma blurted out, slamming her glass down on the glass table top, almost breaking it. To her, nothing would be right until she got revenge for Angel. Sitting around repeating what they already knew and speculating about the things that they didn't wasn't going to get anything done. Karma believed in taking action. "What do you propose we do, Ms. Karma Almighty? Kill 'em?" Cookie retorted sarcastically while refilling her glass to the rim. She was in the same boat as Karma was in as far as the feelings aspect went, but just like India and Karma, she couldn't come up with a solution to their problem. Little did she know, she had given Karma just the right idea.
​"Damn bitch! I knew dat head was good fo' somethin' otha than what you be usin' it fo'! You do gotta lil bitta sense up there!" Karma exclaimed, spilling a few drops of her drink when she stood up, stumbling to her right but agile enough to contain her balance. "Bitch! You must be drunk! Dem niggas will kill us!" India shouted in disbelief, looking at Karma standing in the middle of the floor as if half of her face was missing. Just like the rest of them, India was well aware of Karma's trigger happy syndrome, but now, it sounded as if Karma had gone completely mad with this one.
"Not if we do it right! Not if we kill 'em first! Rock 'em to sleep and dey won't even see it comin'." Diva objected from the recliner in which she was comfortably laid back in with her glass resting in her hand. This was her first time speaking since the conversation piece began. She didn't feel the need to speak before because she felt that the conversation was going in circles, and that was only going to agitated her that much more. Now, they were saying exactly what she had been silently thinking, she just wanted to see how long it would take to see who, if any were about that life. Now, all eyes were on her as she spoke.
"I gotta nigga dat been tryna trade me some hammers fo' some pills, I been puttin' him off 'cuz I ain't need 'em, but Ima holla at him 'bout dat, dat way we can be strapped up and ready fo' dem niggas!" Diva continued as a matter of factly before taking a big gulp from her glass. "Dats why you my bitch, Dee! Dats what da fuck I'm talkin' 'bout! Call dat nigga, we can get dem joints now, and go flat line all dem niggas!" Karma suggested excitedly, snatching her black and purple, Jordan 13s up, sliding her feet in them one at a time. She wasn't into wasting anytime, Karma was ready to go. Not now, but right now.
​"Slow down, lil John Wayne Jr., not now. We gon' let da heat die down on dem on dem a lil bit befo' we make our move 'cuz dey still on high alert right now. Let 'em get back to comfort zone first. In da meantime, we gon' keep everything da same, don't switch up nuttin'! Da way you act towards dem, how much time you spend wit' dem, how often y'all talk, even how many times y'all fuck!" If dey feel like we don't know or suspect nuttin', dey ain't gon try to hide nuttin'! Sooner or lata, dey gon' slip up and we gon' be right there to catch 'em! All we gotta do is be patient, watch dey moves, pay attention and what fo' my word." Diva laid down the ground rules thoroughly, explaining the ins and outs of her plan while eyeing India, Karma, and Cookie, waiting for their responses as she paced back and forth. She wanted to know which of them was willing to go all the way with her. This one moment would tell it all.
​"Aight, you know I'm wit' it! Cookie you ridin'?" Karma counted herself in with no hesitation, passing the spotlight off to Cookie. "Til da wheels fall off and da motor burn out!" Cookie assured proudly, holding her glass up for a toast. "What 'bout you, Pocahontas? What you gon' do?" Diva asked India with raised eyebrows. She knew India would be the last to make up her mind. She always was. This type of action wasn't her stilo. God made sidewalks for a reason. The streets weren't for everybody.
​"Y'all really wanna go through wit' dis?" India wondered with a shaky voice. She was questioning herself about whether or not she wanted to go along with this plan that Diva had come up with. India couldn't picture herself killing anybody, especially not Jamal. "Ain't no whole lot to it!" Diva snapped with a crazed look on her face. She was tired of waiting for India to make her precious, delicate little mind. It was war time. All she needed to say was a simple yay or nay. Diva wasn't about to hold her hand to walk her through this, and she damn sure wasn't into the whole kidnapping business. Holding hostages wasn't her thing. If India didn't want to be here with them for Angel, she didn't have to be. No one was forcing her to do anything that she didn't want to do on her own. Diva had made up her mind before she even popped the question of who was going to ride and who wasn't, that whoever opted not to, they would meet the same fate that she had planned for Tyga, Rome, Jamal, Weezy, and Shawn. India would be no exception. Either she was going to get in line or get lined up.
​"I'm in.' India reluctantly gave in as a smile broke out across her face, raising her glass to meet the other three, solidifying their agreement. There was nothing or no one on this Earth that could prevent India from being there for her sisters. Loyalty was everything, in this life time and the next. "We all in, til death and beyond!" Diva announced loudly as the remaining three repeated after her, clanked their glasses together, and sipped from their glasses in celebration.
Chapter 12: Flipping the script
​"We good to go?" Karma asked as she slipped the black Yukon Denali's transmission in reverse in anticipation, keeping her foot pressed down on the brake pedal while she awaited Shawn's response. "Yeah, I think I got everythin'. Hold on real quick doe." Shawn informed Karma, making a mental list in his head of everythin' he had loaded into the truck before his phone rang. The plan was for Karma to follow to where Tyga had been hiding out for the past three days and drop off some things to him.
​"What it look like, my G?" Shawn answered coolly when he answered, leaning back in the driver's seat of his old Sky blue, box Chevy Caprice. Even though the number had popped up as private, Shawn knew all along that it was Tyga. He was the only person who dared to call his phone private. "Aye look, you left yet?" Tyga questioned quickly. He didn't have time for the small talk. Shit was real. "Bouta slide now. Why? What's up?" Shawn explained calmly with a frowned expression. He could sense the anxiety and frustration in Tyga's voice. Something he rarely ever heard from Tyga. Something was wrong.
​"Mane dis nigga Big Giovanni trippin! You know he was throwin' us whateva we was buyin' and shit, but you rememba I told you 'bout twelve pullin' me ova, threatenin' me not to leave da state. No cap dat shit had a nigga on edge, so I sent lil shawty we met from Magic City down there to pick dat up fo' us. Dis crazy muahfucka talkin' 'bout I'm tryna play him 'cuz I was shawt ten bands! He holdin' shawty, talkin' 'bout killin' her and sendin' dem wild ass guwalas at us if he ain't got his chicken by twelve o' clock tonight!" Tyga was talkin' so fast, he sounded like he had Spanish in his blood. It was 11 a.m. now. Time wasn't really much of a factor in this situation, Tyga could have the money to him within a few minutes electronically. Tyga wasn't pussy by a long shot, but he definitely wasn't about to go through an all-out war with some damn Mexicans over some money he'd make back before the night ended. .  He and his crew were strapped and ready for war, but not for that type of war. Those Mexicans were just too damn deep. Tyga would just have to swallow his pride and pay the man and deal with the courier when she returned. It was obvious that she had skimmed off the top, Tyga had never had any discrepancies with money or product since he had been dealing with Big Giovanni, and now the first time he sent someone other than himself this happened. Greed will kill a person every time.
​"Where da fuck dat bread we gave you?! What da fuck?! We counted dat shit out togetha da same way we do every time!" Shawn snapped out, shouting into the phone's receiver. "I know, my nigga, I know! Shawty girl must've swerved off on her way down there. She had to. Just go put an extra ten on my card, Ima send you da info. Lemme take care of dis and Ima get dat back to you ASAP. On gang!" Tyga promised tiredly as he plopped down on the soft, leather couch. He had been up for almost two days straight, popping molly, Xanax, percosets, and blowing on cookies all the while ripping and running, trying to ensure that all his loose ends were tied up. Tyga was more exhausted than a slave working in the cotton field. Being a street general wasn't easy, but it sure was fun.
​"You ain't gotta explain all dat, homie! I got you, slime. I'm on my way." Shawn assured Tyga, dismissing his explanation without so much as a second thought. He wasn't concerned at all about Tyga replacing the money, he knew Tyga would make sure the money made it back to him. He had always been a man of his word. It was just one thing after another, they couldn't seem to catch a break. "How you plan on getting' dat bread to him? You know he ain't..." Shawn was curious to know as the thought suddenly crossed his mind. He didn't have time to be sitting in traffic, waiting for some crazy ass tatted up Mexican to pop his top over 10k. "He gon' have to take it like dat 'cuz we ain't got time to be hand deliverin' dat shit to him!" Tyga told him, exhaling a deep breath while massaging his temples with his middle finger and thumb before ending the call. That was something that he really needed to think about. Big Giovanni never dealt with any modern day technology when it involved his money. He said he didn't trust or believe in anything that he couldn't see.
​"Karma, aye look, run in the crib, go to the laundry room, look behind da washer, and grab ten outta da safe. Da combo is 17, 9, 15, 2, 15." Shawn instructed her while rolling up a blunt of Runts. He trusted Karma enough to give her the combination to his safe, she hadn't gave him any reason not to. Shawn felt that Karma didn't have any reason to steal anything from him. She sold X pills just like he did, she had her own clientele, and her own money. Of course, she didn't have more money than Shawn did, but she still had no reason to take anything from him. Anything she wanted or needed, all she had to do was mention it to Shawn and she had it, though those moments were few and far in between because Karma much rather go out and get her own before she asked Shawn for anything. Karma was a certified rider in Shawn's book.
​Without a word, karma got out of her Denali, grabbed the keys from Shawn, and went to retrieve the money. She knew where the laundry room was she just had never actually been inside the actual room until now. Jogging through the house, Karma made her way to the laundry room. Searching the wall for a light switch, but unable to find one, Karma felt her way through the darkness like a blind person. "Ouch! Mothafuck..." Karma exclaimed in pain after hitting her her knee on something, her forehead bumping into the hanging beaded string of a light switch in the process. Yanking down on the string, Karma finally managed to turn on the light. Looking down to see what it was that she had hit her knee on, Karma saw that it was the corner of the dryer's open door that now had her hobbling before trying to kick it shut, but the door just swung back in her direction.
​As Karma bent down to investigate what was keeping the dryer's door from closing, her body became frozen with shock and her jaws almost hit the ground. Not knowing what to expect, Karma definitely wasn't expecting to see what she saw. The dryer was filled with humongous unfolded, crumpled pile of money containing every denomination from ones to hundreds. Karma almost forgot what she had come in the laundry room for in the first place, the sight of all that money had derailed her train of thought. Shaking her head to snap herself back to reality, Karma found the safe, entered the combination, grabbed two five hundred dollar stacks, closed the safe's door back, and proceeded to leave. Before closing the door behind her, Karma couldn't help but to take one last peek at the enormous mound of money, she had to. "Just promise me dat y'all will make these niggas pay wit' errthang dey got, even afta I'm gone..." Angel's last wish echoed in Karma's ears while her eyes remained locked in on the money. It was if Angel had a premonition about herself leaving soon that day. "Yeah, I got you, girl." Karma promised an imaginary Angel and closed the door behind her.
​"You ready?" Shawn asked Karma while blowing out a thick cloud of weed smoke when Karma reappeared, locking the door behind her. Karma just held up the two stacks of money and continued her brisk walk back to her truck. I gotta figure out a way to get my hands on dat money. Karma told herself as she backed out of the driveway, estimating the amount of money that was in that one room alone. Karma knew she had to come up with a fool proof plan to get that money. She had to think of some type of misdirection play to cause so much confusion on Shawn's end that he nor the others realized that the money was gone until it was too late. If the smallest detail was off, Karma would find out the hard way that everything that was green wasn't money. It all depended on her every movement.
Chapter 13: Like a thief in the night
​"My mans came through fo' us in da best way. We lookin' to move tonight. Where da hell you at anyway?" Diva informed Karma in a satisfied tone while popping the shells into a 110 round drum that belonged to a GSG 522 pistol. Diva had traded close to every pill that she had left in her stash to acquire the artillery that she now had. She couldn't care less about those pills, they could be replaced, Angel couldn't be. Retaliation was a must, no matter the cost. "Dats what it is! I'm in da middle of makin' somethin' happen fo' us right now. Just pull up on me when y'all ready." Karma responded calmly while her eyes followed Shawn's Caprice as it fell in line with the rest of the traffic. She was in a crowded shopping center parking lot in the Yukon that Shawn had given her the keys to, puffing on a Backwood filled with blueberry Kush when she saw Shawn's Caprice headed in her direction as she ignored his incoming call beeping in on the other line. He had to go meet up with Tyga so the gang could discuss their next move as far as the girls went. Shawn had left Karma in charge of one of his trap houses to keep her occupied until he returned. Shawn's thinking was between his trap house and her own clientele, she should be tied up for a few hours.
​"Whateva, bitch! Just be ready when we do da real bitch roll call!" Diva advised firmly before pulling back the slide on the GSG 522 pistol to chamber a round, then letting it go so that it made as much worse as possible when it sprang back to its original position so that Karma could hear it before their call ended. Holding the phone away from her ear, staring at it wildly, Karma tried to strife her cough as she chocked on the potent weed smoke. She didn't know what it was that Diva had her hands on, but judging from the sound of it, she knew it trumped her little ole .38 by two miles! Dat damn Diva ain't doin' no fakin'! Karma humored herself as she sat her blunt in the ashtray, put the ashtray, put the truck in drive, and pulled off.
​Karma knew her exact destination even before she got out of her truck and entered the house. Now, that she was inside, she walked through the basement like a woman possessed, like a woman on mission. And that she was. On a mission. Nonchalantly unlocking the laundry room's door, Karma let herself in as if she had permission to be in there. Karma had made this stop – in a three times a week routine from the first day after she laid eyes on that humongous heap of money, taking no less than $3500 every time. Being as though there was so much money, Karma felt the need to up her takings. Besides, it seemed like the more she visited this personal A.T.M. of hers, the pile grew substantially bigger when she came back for seconds, but she had developed enough self-discipline in the process to not allow her greed to get the best of her. Thanks to her careful judgement, Karma's grand total had reached $50,000 and counting! Shawn hadn't questioned her about any missing money, which made two things very evident to Karma. One, she wasn't putting a dent in the money. Two, Shawn wasn't missing it.
​Carefully counting out her weekly fee, Karma stacked the bills up, folded them up, and stuffed the bankroll into the right pocket of her skin tight, DKNY denims. She yanked the light switch to turn off the light, and headed for the door. When she opened the laundry room's door, the sunlight from the basement's slider door illuminated the basement to the point where Karma could see the entire basement, even without any lights being on. As Karma crossed the door's threshold, she noticed that the basement's slider door was slightly ajar, but she could've sworn she had closed it behind her when she came in. Just as Karma began to second guess herself, her entire word suddenly went completely black.
​"Yeah, I got her lil thievin' ass! She wakin' up as we speak." Karma heard Shawn inform Tyga as her eyes fluttered open to see him pacing back and forth in front of her with a big, chrome gun in his hand while staring at her with an evil glare. Shawn knew his trick would work. He kept his uncounted money in the dryer until he had enough free time on his hands to sit back, count it up, and stash his profits in his safe. Shawn had been noticing that he was coming up short during his nightly counts and deposits to his safe, and he knew exactly why.
Every time he counted his profits up and his numbers didn't match the numbers in his log book, instead of putting the money back in the safe, Shawn balled the bills up and threw them back in the dryer to make them look as if they had never been touched and repeatedly added to the existing money, making the sight of the money look that much more appealing to Karma. He knew it was Karma without question. Obvious point number one, he and the gang never had any argument or discrepancies over money in their entire existence of knowing on another. Obvious point number two, no random robber would just keep stopping by taking a set amount. They would have taken the entire stash the first time around! Obvious point number three, besides himself, Karma was the only other person with access to the laundry room. His guys only went in there when he allowed them to, and even then they hardly ever went inside. Allowing Karma to go in the laundry room in the first place was Shawn's test for her, to see if he could actually trust her, and Karma had failed miserably.
"You make da call, homie." Tyga told Shawn calmly while separating his package from the rest of the group's product. Weezy had went to Florida to smooth things over with Big Giovanni. Now, things were back to normal between the two parties, though Tyga had planned on going to talk to Big Giovanni in person. He had to give him a piece of his mind because he didn't take kindly to threats from anyone. He had Big Giovanni had to come to some type of understanding and agree that that could never happen again.
​After his incident with Angel, Tyga wasn't the least bit shocked to hear this news about Karma. He wouldn't be surprised if all of them were on some sort of backdoor scheme. Dey say dat money turn a model bitch into a dawg! Well, I gotta couple evil bitches in my backyard! Tyga silently sang along with the song playing from the TV. He found that particular line to be so true as much as it was the appropriate timing for it. "Afta she tell me where da rest of my money at..." Shawn started off through clenched teeth, pressing the barrel of the Desert Eagle against Karma's forehead so hard that the triangular shape from the barrel was lightly engraved in her brown sugar complexed skin when he removed it.
​"P...please, Shawn...I..." Karma started to beg from the chair that she was bound to, the only movements she could make were with her head and mouth, and right now, that wasn't doing her any good at all. "BITCH! I ain't tryna hear all dat beggin' shit! You wanna steal from a real nigga? Ima treat you...like a real...nigga!" Shawn bassed angrily as specks of spit flew from his mouth and rained down on Karma while Shawn continuously bashed her in the face. "Now, where my shit at?" Shawn threatened, his beady black eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets while sweat ran from the top of his shiny, coal black, bald head and dripped from his chin as he smacked her in the face with gun again, causing blood to gush from her nose like water from a faucet.
​"Hold up! Shawn! Shawn, chill, bruh! Bring her to me!" Tyga demanded, yelling into his phone, as he heard the unmistakable sound of bone meeting iron. He wanted to see if Karma knew anything about Angel's involvement with the police, if her involvement was just her acting alone, or if it was a group thing. But, if he didn't intervene soon Shawn was going to kill her, and he would probably never get the answers to his questions because dead women didn't talk back. "Gimme twenty minutes..." Shawn responded over his shoulder, stopping his swung in midair while smiling devilishly at Karma's now bloody and bruised face. "You lucky, bitch!" Shawn hissed with squinted eyes, shaking his head before finally following through with the awaiting strike, knocking Karma unconscious for a second straight time.
Chapter 14: War ready
​"Aight y'all rememba y'all's positions, right? Cookie, you got da basement. India, take da stairs and come in through da back of da livin' room, and I got da front." Diva ran down everyone's positions to them as she pulled up in the driveway behind Karma's still running Yukon with the headlights off, and turned around to face India and Cookie. No one knew where Karma had suddenly disappeared to. The three of them had taken turns blowing her phone up, calling her every 30 minutes for the past three hours straight, but neither of them had received an answer. Not once. Her phone just kept going straight to the voicemail. It wasn't like Karma to duck any gunplay, but then again, none of them had ever been able to read Karma anyway, so there was no telling what was going on with her.
​Diva took matters into her own hands by picking their positions herself. She knew Cookie wouldn't hesitate to shoot even her own shadow, so she didn't mind sticking her with the task of sweeping the basement all by herself. India, on the other hand, was subject to freeze up at any given time, and Diva knew she would have to lend her a helping hand if push ever came to shove. "If it ain't one of us, shoot first! No questions!" Diva barked the only rules that there would be as the trio each opened their door, hopped out with their guns drawn, and raced to their posts.
​India softly shimmed the doorknob so as not to make too much noise to alert anyone inside while turning it, and felt the door swing open towards her. Everyone except Tyga was expected to be here, the girls had called them to notify them that they were coming over to chill for the night and the guys had okayed it. This was the girl's futile attempt to get them all together, and make the guys easy targets for them. They had their ducks in a row before Tyga and Shawn called Rome, Jamal, and Weezy with the news about Karma. Now, the house was mostly dark and bone chilling quiet. Initially, the slight recoil frightened her, but India coolly calmed her shaky wits, convincing herself that no one was on the other side of the door, and finally swung it open, letting her black 9mm Beretta lead the way. When Diva broke though the door's fragile frame with one of her women's mixed martial arts kicks on the opposite side of the living room, India scurried into the living room's dimness, and headed straight to her left in the direction of the three bedrooms just as they had rehearsed. Clearing the kitchen and the den, India turned to catch up with Diva, who was riding the left side of the wall while creeping towards the bedroom so that India could have a clear shot at anyone who might pop out of one of the three bedrooms or the bathroom.
​When Cookie approached the basement's slider door, she saw that it was already open enough that she could slide in between the door and the frame untouched and still have a little space to spare. Pressing the buttons to activate her Glock 16's red beam that was in her right hand and her chrome, special ops, Military issue, sub compact .45's green beam, Cookie slipped into the basement's darkness, aiming her guns in every direction. She wasn't going to miss a single shot. If anyone other than the two that she came with so much as breathed too hard, Cookie was going to light them up like a Christmas tree on Christmas day, and it was only May. She heard commotion that Diva and India were causing upstairs, but none of that concerned her. So long as no shots were fired, Cookie wasn't worried about their well-being. She knew Diva had things under control with that big ass Army like gun that she was toting.
​Tiptoeing through the basement, Cookie eyes adjusted to the darkness as she began to search the walls for any doors to other rooms. Using the gun's beam like mini flashlights, Cookie was able to catch glimpse of two gold doorknobs down a small hallway, and began to baby step her way in that direction. When she got to the first door, it was opened all the way and Cookie peeped inside to see that it was a half of bathroom without a bathtub. Hopping across the hallway to the doorway of the bathroom, Cookie could see one corner of the laundry room. Empty. Sliding back to the other side of the hallway, putting her back up against the open door, Cookie swiftly allowed her guns to scan the remainder of the laundry room's area. Something caught her eye, not a person, but something in the dryer. Was the money? To be sure, Cookie pulled down on the beaded light switch that was glistening from the bathroom's light to fully light up the laundry room. Hell yeah, that was money! And lots of it! Cookie didn't even think twice before she rushed around the laundry room, snatched up a duffel bag up, dumped the clothes out on the floor, and began stuffing the money inside of it.
​"Cookie!" India whispered as she and Diva crept down the stairwell after clearing all of the upstairs rooms. Except for the three of them, the house was deserted. "In here! Come grab a bag and help me wit' all dis money, girl!" Cookie yelled out happily, while squatting down in front of the dryer, with her guns at her feet, shoveling arms full of money in the duffel bag, which was almost full. One bag wasn't going to do the trick. "Oh shit, bitch!" You hit da Georgia lottery, didn't you?" Diva exclaimed with a big smile plastered on her face as her eyes lit up, and she jumped in to assist Cookie while India just stood in the doorway with her mouth wide open, shocked and speechless.
​"Um...Diva...Cookie?" India called out as she stopped cold in her tracks, staring blankly at the floor. She was looking the laundry room for something, anything to scoop the rest of the money in while Cookie and Diva busied themselves with the 3 foot safe, with stuck out like a potato sitting amongst a bowl of fruits as it sat behind the readjusted washing machine, when the trail of blood caught her eye. The very sight of the blood made India nauseous immediately. "Y'all don't think..." Cookie started before her voice trailed off while she followed the blood trail out of the laundry room. "I'on know, but I did see a lotta blood in da kitchen, and da chair had somethin' tied to it like somebody was tied up." India pointed out softly, hoping for the best, thinking the worst inside. An MIA Karma, blood trails inside the house, Karma's Denali still running in the driveway, and no signs of either Tyga, Rome, Weezy, Shawn, or Jamal. All signs were pointing to tragedy when it all got added up. "Damn, we gotta find Karma! Come on, India, get da door!" Diva stressed as she and Cookie teamed up to pick up the small safe and carry it outside.
​"What now?" Cookie managed to ask in between breaths, standing with her hands on her hips after she and Diva slid the safe into the Denali's trunk. As if on cue, Diva's phone vibrated in her pocket, catching her before she could come up with a response to Cookie's question. "Diva! I'm..." Karma started to explain in a low, but shaky voice before her sentence trailed off and her low tone turned into high pitched screams and wails. "Karma! Where you at, Karma!" Diva yelled back into her phone, frustrated that she couldn't make out whatever it was that Karma was trying to tell her, instead she was forced to listen to static and shuffling from the other end.
​"Say it ain't so..." Tyga scoffed in disgust, shaking his head with a smirk on her face. He thought the girl's scheme was both cute and funny, he admired the fact that they were more than willing to let blood shed to avenge the death of Angel, no matter whose it had to be. Too bad it didn't work, but they got an A for effort. "Lemme talk to Karma!" Diva demanded with an attitude as she put Tyga on speakerphone while exchanging worried looks with India and Cookie. She had their attention with the mention of Karma's name. The good news was that she was alive. "So, a lil birdie told me dat y'all think I killed Angel. Hmph, well, maybe I did and maybe I didn't...but, aside from all dat...did y'all really think y'all could outsmart us, get us togetha to ambush, and kill us? Really?" Tyga teased, cackling with laughter at the dead silence that followed his comments. He knew he had caught them off guard with everything he had just said. India was so stuck it didn't occur to her to press the button on her phone to record what Tyga was saying until it was too late.
​"Yeah, I thought not! If y'all really love Karma, y'all can have her, hell, by all means come and get her! If y'all show up within' da next hour, she might just still be alive. If y'all a minute late, well, I take it dat you know da rest! So, what its gon be? I'll wait." Tyga offered sarcastically, slowly circling the chain contraption that Karma was tied to. He didn't give a damn whether she lived or died, it wouldn't make her the slightest difference. Tyga really wanted Cookie, India, and Diva because according to Karma, it was all their idea from the beginning. The only reason she was stealing money was so that she could skip town before shit hit the fan. Karma had told them everything. Everything in her version anyway.
​"We gotta go get her, Dee!" India quipped as she turned to head towards the Cadillac before Cookie grabbed her by her forearm, pulling her back. "Bitch, is you stupid?! Spellman might not have thought you dis, but dat's called a set up, and yo' lil' dumb ass 'bouta walk right into it!" Cookie snapped in a hushed tone with pursed lips and squinted eyes while Diva covered the phone's speaker. Cookie wanted to beat some sense into India because it was obvious that in the close to three years that the group had known each other, India hadn't learned a damn thing when it came to the streets.
​"Yeah, about dat, Tyga...it'll probably be betta if you kill her, then us, anyway! Ain't no room for snitches in my family!" Diva retorted sharply before hanging up on Tyga, not even bothering to wait for a reply from him, as a single tear escaped from her right eye and rolled down her cheek. It hurt Diva that she had to make such a drastic decision when it came to Karma, but some things just had to be done. "Dee!" India griped in awe, sounding like a kid who had just been told 'no' by her parents.
​"If you wanna go get her and die wit' her, then go right ahead! But, befo' you go, ask yo' self, how da fuck did Tyga know 'bout everythin' he just told us? You willin' to die fo' somebody dat'll sell you out when dey get caught up? 'Cuz, I ain't! She did dat shit to herself! Fuck her!" Diva gave it to India straight as India threw up violently right in front of Cookie, barely avoiding her shoes, while she held on to the back of the truck. "Fuckin' drama queen!" Diva shook her head as she hopped in the driver's seat of the Denali. She would shed a couple of tears later on down the line whenever she thought about Karma, but right now wasn't the time. Diva wasn't sure what she was more upset about, knowing that she wouldn't be able to get revenge for Angel, or the fact that Karma had ratted them out. "Aye Cookie, follow me when we get out on da main road." Diva demanded as she thumbed through the Florida brochure she found in the truck's center console. With all the chaos going on, Diva needed a vacation and she was sure that India and Cookie could use one as well.
Chapter 15: Never say die
​"You hear how much dem bitches love you? And, you wanna betray us?" Tyga laughed, scrunching up his face, confused, while showing Karma her phone's screen to let her see for herself that her sister had hung up before spiking her phone like Rob Gronkowski so famously did NFL footballs, shattering the screen with ease before turning to walk off. Needless to say, there were only three things Tyga hated more than thieves – snitches, rapists, and pedophiles. And that was in no particular order, he hated them all with a passion. "If dats love, fuck da, hate me!" Shawn added on, cupping Karma's face by her lower jaws, roughly shaking it, and shoving her head away like an unwanted meal, and disappeared into the darkness. Karma had no clue as to where she was now being held at, but from the sounds of the steady, nerve racking, water dripping, the mice blindly scurrying around off in the distance, and the stomach churning, foul piss smell, Karma knew she was somewhere underground.
​After wrapping his knuckles up with a loose chain, Shawn started back towards Karma, he wanted to beat and torture her as much as possible before they killed her. Karma could hear the chains and footsteps nearing her, but she couldn't decipher what direction they were coming from because of the darkness that engulfed the immediate area around her. She barely had enough energy to lift her head and turn it in an attempt to investigate what direction the sounds were coming from. With all of the bruises and gashes on her face, Karma's head felt like it weighed a ton, and her body felt as if it would shatter into a trillion pieces if someone so much as tapped her head too hard.
​When Karma cut her eyes to her left, Shawn blindsiding her from behind with a hook to the right side of her face beneath her eye, cutting her face open on impact as he, Rome, Weezy, and Jamal took turns pummeling away at her. "Aight, dats enough! I said ENOUGH!" Tyga roared loudly, stepping into the light, pushing his partners out of the way one by one. "You ready to answer da fifty thousand dollar question, now?" Tyga asked, standing in front of Karma while she spat out thick globs of spit and blood with a few teeth mixed in. Up to this point, she still hadn't come clean about where she hid the money that she had stolen, and she hadn't planned to, she'd rather her girls find it and do something with it before she returned it. It wasn't like it was hard to find if the girls really looked for it. That was how she felt before she heard Diva blatantly abandon her. Now, it was every bitch for themselves.
​"How 'bout I give you somethin' betta than money? A way you can win all around da board?" Karma replied, looking up at Tyga through her puffy and swollen eyes. She wasn't even mad with any of them anymore. As far as she was concerned the beef was dead. True enough, they had beaten her to a bloody pulp, but she had long since become numb to the beatings. It was all a mental thing, pain was. "Oh yeah? What could you possibly offer dats betta than the universal language know as money, shawty?" Tyga chuckled, squatting down in front of Karma, looking her in her eyes as best he could. Tyga had to admit, Karma looked way past pitiful with her blood stained face with blood so freely oozing from her wounds, and she hadn't so much as shed a tear in his presence yet. Dis bitch a soldier! Tyga told himself, amazed at her resolve.
​"Revenge." Karma answered quickly, returning Tyga's cold stare with one of her own. This was her only chance to remain alive, and she knew it. She could feel it. "Sounds good. It'll look even betta. Talk." Tyga responded after standing up straight, scratching his goatee as he took his time to ponder over Karma's offer with a devilish smile, causing Karma to break out a bloody, wicked grin of her own. This sounded like it was going to be an epic, match made in Hell after all.
Chapter 16: Hello Sunshine! (2 years later) Miami, Florida
​"Good morning, Kalinda!" Bree greeted her boss, Cookie, calling her by her government name when she strolled through the glass double doors of her massage parlor, better known as Royal body massages. Cookie, Diva, and India decided to turn their little vacation to Florida into a staycation when they stumbled upon the $50,000 that Karma had stashed in several shoeboxes in her closet of their apartment while they were packing up to leave for Florida. With all of that money on top of the money that they themselves had taken from Shawn's house, along with their own personal stashes, the three of them had accumulated just over $400,000 in total. Together, they all agreed upon the idea of leaving the drug game alone and opening up their own legitimate businesses. The drug game had already cost them two dear friends, they didn't want to risk losing one another. Besides, owning a legitimate business was where the real money was made anyway.
​"A good mornin' would have been me comin' in to those annual expense papers on my desk first thing this mornin'! I told you I run a legitimate business, and I ain't 'bouta let you or nobody else be da downfall of dis here risin' empire! So, if you wanna continue to work here I suggest both you and those papers be in my office, front and center, and PRONTO! Thank you!" Cookie shot back smartly over her shoulder, heading straight to her office. She hadn't even planned on stopping in today, her business practically ran itself, but at the last minute she remembered that she had to have her paperwork filled out and turned in before Friday. Today was Wednesday and the paperwork would take her close to two days on regular hours just to fill out. Looked like she would have to pull a few overtime hours, and deliver these papers herself if she wanted to meet the deadline.
​Cookie had the whole 'boss lady' aura working with her olive green and white pinstripe Giorgio Armani, double breasted suit, 4" Steve Madden heels, a pair of non-prescription Chanel frames, and her black and brown streaked hair pulled back in the perfect ponytail. Two years had transformed her from Cookie, the mid-level drug dealer, into Kalinda, the so very sophisticated business woman who was still learning on the fly because of her reluctant attitude on not wanting to "waste her time with business management courses", electing to buy her way in instead, but who still had it all working for herself. Cut corners and all.
​"Thanks. Now, if you would be such a sweetheart and go over them, and turn them in for me. Da address is on my desk. Keith, I need to see you in room two, please." Cookie strutted past Bree, who stood in her office's doorway with the papers resting in her hand for Cookie. "You'll thank me later." Cookie called out over her shoulder as she entered the private massage room and shut the door behind her before Bree could object like she was sure she would. Without any further hesitation, Bree put a much noticeable pep in her step. Bree knew that meant that she would see a few extra dollars on her paycheck this week for this small favor. Money talked, but bullshit walked a thousand miles and back.
​"Hello, sir! How may I help you today?" Keith offered to help the walk in customer in a friendly but manly tone as he put his hand on the doorknob of the room that Cookie was awaiting for him in. Keith was Cookie's personal masseuse. It didn't matter whether she was at work, at home, or on a vacation, when Cookie called, Keith came running to bless her with his magical hands. "Yeah, I'm, uh, lookin' fo' Cookie." The man answered while approaching Keith, his eyes wandering around the lobby curiously. "She's, um, on her break right now. Would you like to leave her a message for her, or maybe come back and try to catch her at a later time?" Keith suggested, turning away from the customer, going to the front desk to retrieve a pen and post it sticky note to write down the unknown man's information until he felt the man's hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
​"Ain't no need fo' all dat. Look, I'm Kalinda's, uh, boyfriend from da military. I ain't seen my baby girl in a lil ova two years...work wit' me dawg!" The light skinned man pleaded with Keith, an exaggerated smile plastered on his face while patting Keith's chest lightly with two one hundred dollar bills folded and stuck in between his middle and index fingers and staring directly into his eyes. "Oh, why didn't you just say dat? I'm all for love, ya know." Keith chuckled lightly, accepting the money as he began back in the direction of Cookie's room. In his heart, he knew that this guy was lying, nothing about him said military, but that was no longer Keith's problem. He probably was a long lost lover or something. Besides, he looked innocent enough. "She's waitin' for you, give her a surprise she won't forget, my man!" Keith added on, gesturing towards the front doors himself. He wanted to give the desperate customer all the privacy he could with Cookie. The man had a look of lust in his eyes that Keith hadn't seen in quite some time. Abstinence had obviously made him hungry for Cookie, and Keith didn't want to be the one to stand in his way. "Sho will, dawg! Sho will!' The man responded, smiling, and giving Keith the thumbs up to thank him before he turned to exit the massage parlor.
​"Mm, what took you so long, Kay? My body is hurtin'. Ima need fa you to work those magic hands..." Cookie whined needingly, arching her back, scrunching her hands and feet up as she rested comfortably on her stomach under the thin, white cotton sheet that covered her naked, chocolate body from her neck to the back of her knees. With Beyoncé's 'Dance for you' serenading softly from the room's surround sound speakers and the scent of Jasmine filling the all-white candle lit room, Cookie had set the mood as she awaited Keith's presence and much anticipated R and R treatment. As bad as Cookie's surprise guest wanted to announce that Keith wouldn't be the one working his magic hands but him, instead, though he opted to remain silent. The element of surprise would likely kill her. That was if he didn't do it first.
​Carefully pulling the sheet back off of Cookie's seemingly perfect intact body like a young child would remove a band aid from a fresh scab, and carelessly allowing it to fall to the floor, Cookie's secret admirer just stood there beside her, as if he were somehow stuck in a trance, or perhaps frozen in time, with a weird smirk on his face. He relished at the fact that he had finally caught up with Cookie, and now he could take his time with her. Finding her had been easy. Almost too easy for his liking.
​"You're so tense, Cookie. Been stressin' much lately?" The man smoothly struck up a conversation in his best Keith impersonation while running his rough, calloused hands up from the small of Cookie's back, just above her ass cheeks, to the tops of her shoulder blades, kneading all the way up. He couldn't hide his disgust as he screwed his face up at his impersonation attempt, not because he felt he did a horrendous job at it, but because neither giving a female a massage nor attempting to sound like another man for whatever reason just wasn't him. Especially if the male he was impersonating sounded more like a female than an actual man. He could practically feel his masculinity being stripped away from him layer by layer. He just hoped his horrible acting skills didn't give him away too soon.
​"Mm hmm, more than you know, boo...mmm, right there, yesss..." Cookie agreed in bliss with both who she thought was Keith's comment as well as his hands as they squeezed her traps, working out the kinks, causing her entire body to submit under his touch, and melt upon hearing his soft but still somewhat husky voice. She couldn't help but notice the subtle change in Keith's voice, it sounded a little deeper than it had just a few moments ago when they were talking, but she remembered that he was just getting over a cold that kept him out of work all last week so she allowed her mind to go back to rest mode. Damn, being catered to and pampered was such an indescribable feeling! Cookie often wondered if Keith could massage her nooky the way he did her body. Surely, he knew how, when, and where to touch what on her without so much as being told so, so there was a possibility. Perhaps, Cookie would have to give him a shot at the title that no one outside of Cookie herself had been able to obtain. Even though Keith's voice and actions were quite feminine at times, at the end of the day he was still a man in her eyes.
​"Ya know, I think openin' up dis massage parlor was probably one of da worse decisions you eva could've made, right?" The man whispered in Cookie's ear just over the soft melody of Sade's 'Ordinary Love' as his hands began to ease their way up toward the base of her neck. The familiarity in the rough, rugged hands that had been roaming their way over Cookie's body had suddenly turned from caring, meditating like to those of an unexperienced masseuse. Maybe Keith has been liftin' weights again. Cookie told her inner conscience. No! She quickly argued against her theory. She knew Keith's touch, almost better than she knew her own, and this wasn't Keith. But, the lingering question now was: If this wasn't Keith that she was locked in a room with, naked, and as close to powerless got then who was it? More importantly, where was Keith?
​"Oh, um, what makes you say dat?" Cookie responded shakily, opening her eyes for the first time since she'd been in the room, though the man in question was standing off to her left, her blindside, as her body momentarily tensed up in shock. Keith never said anything like that to her before, in fact, he always suggested the opposite. And the hands? Cookie had an exact idea of who this man was, all she had to do was hear his voice just one more time to be one thousand percent sure, and to buy herself some much needed time to devise a getaway plan. "It made you dat much easier to find." Weezy answered straightforward, in his own voice this time, before his gigantic hands forcefully clasped around Cookie's neck, choking her, using his standing weight to hold her flailing body down while Cookie swung her arms and kicked her feet about wildly. Catching only small glimpses of the room while Weezy continued to strangle her and the side table off to her right as she wrestled against Weezy's unmatched brute strength, Cookie willed herself to grab hold of the only thing that she had managed to not knock off of the table thus far in the struggle – a lit, glass encased candle.
​Twisting, turning, and contorting her body in such ways that she wasn't even sure that she was capable of until now, Cookie was able to turn onto her right shoulder to create somewhat of a throwing lane for herself to toss the candle at Weezy. "Aaarrrggghhh...bitch!" Weezy wailed loudly as the hot candle wax spilled from its cradle under the wick onto the side of Weezy neck, cheek, and seeping into his right eye. He had saved his face from the damage that the glass was sure to do to his pretty boy face by weaving out of the way at the last minute, but he had completely dismissed the trailing hot wax's impact until it was too late. Cookie's throw was more of an underhand toss that she completely missed her mark on, but was still able to have a minimal affect with. Sometimes, it was better to be lucky than good, Cookie thought so anyway. Besides, it was true to some extent, wasn't it?
​Initially, Cookie thought the pain would get Weezy to release his grip on her neck so that she could get out of the room and find herself some help, but instead it only further infuriated him, caused him to tighten his lock on her throat, and body toss her across the room with ease.
​Cookie's world was spinning and teetering like that of a seesaw as she struggled to stand up, applying pressure to the gash on her forehead that the front end of the Jacuzzi left behind, thanks to Weezy's powerful toss. Seeing that Weezy was still attempting to get his eyesight back was all the motivation that Cookie needed to begin moving with some type of urgency. The only demoralizing thing was the fact that Weezy was the only thing standing in between her and the door, which was her only way out. Cookie had two choices. Lay down and die for Weezy, or die trying to get out of this one way in one way out room to escape Weezy. Looked like Weezy was going to have to earn this body, because Cookie wasn't going out on no tip.
​Damn, where are da weapons to get a naked bitch outta jam wit' a pissed off 6' 2" muahfucka when she needs 'em? Shit! Cookie cursed her mounting bad luck while her eyes darted back and forth throughout the room as she pushed her self forward off of the wall. Fuck it! These gon' havta get me up outta here! Cookie settled her sights upon five hot pebble stones that were heating up on the small grill – like machine that was made especially for them. Picking up the small grill by its handles and rushing towards Weezy, Cookie hurled the five hot stones at Weezy, who just angrily charged through the barrage of the stones, swatting them out of his way, absorbing the contact enroute to Cookie. His adrenaline was running too high to allow him to possibly feel anything. There was nothing in this whole massage parlor that Cookie could find that was going to so much as slow Weezy down from getting his hands on Cookie, much less stop him altogether.
​Not bothering to await the results of her stone toss, Cookie gritted her teeth and charged towards Weezy with the grill still clasped tightly in her grasp, and her eyes locked in on her target – Weezy's face. One more step! Cookie stressed to herself as she pushed her weary, unstable legs to their limit. If she could muster up just one more step from them, she could – but, just as Cookie had obtained that small glimmer of hope, it quickly doubled in time in reference to how fast she lost it when Weezy delivered a swift, uppercut like kick to the bottom of her stomach, lifting her up and off of her feet, then dropping her to her hands and knees all within an instant.
​"Stupid bitch! What?! You actually thought we won't gon' find you?" Weezy chuckled as he repeatedly booted Cookie in her ribs while looking down at her, struggling to get to her feet, and coughing up blood. With a little help from Big Giovanni, finding Cookie, India, and Diva had been the easy part for Weezy and the rest of the gang. They could've very easily took a trip to Florida and wiped them out like Thailand two years ago before the girls had even gotten settled and established in their new city, but it was Tyga's brilliant idea to give them a two year head start to see what they had planned for all of the money they had stolen. If they opened up businesses in an effort to clean, double, or perhaps even triple their profits, just as Tyga had foreseen, his crew would be a for sure lock to regain their $150,000 and then some. Tyga wasn't the least bit worried at all about them relocating to another city, state, or even another country, because once Tyga had his eyes on someone, he locked in on them, and very rarely, if ever lost sight of them. Not even if he stopped to blink. To be a Tyga was to be relentless and nothing short of a genius.
​Let's not make dis any mo' harder than it's gonna be, baby girl. Where da money, Cookie?" Weezy questioned sternly in Cookie's ear as he gripped a handful of her hair, forcing her to stand at attention, bringing her face within inches of his own. "My nigga, you can't be serious! Dis ain't Walmart, and I don't work behind for customer service! Unfair exchange is called robbery! Sorry not sorry, but no refunds, bitch!" Cookie spat, laughing in response, unshamefully showing all 32 of her blood stained teeth, her head pounding more and more with each laugh due to the death lock that Weezy still had on her hair. The more Cookie laughed, the harder Weezy yanked her head back to its full extension, causing her to bend over backwards. "Hmph, good concept. Da same applies to both life and death, too, ya know?" Weezy rhetorically retorted before violently slamming Cookie down backwards by her hair, causing an unsuspecting Cookie to commit to a half backflip. Her feet flailed up, knocking the 120 volt lamp into the Jacuzzi's warm water along with her as she hit the water, making a giant splash. Hope it was worth it! Weezy mumbled under his breath as the lights in the room began to flicker off and on while he stood outside of the Jacuzzi, looking at Cookie, whose body jerked and spazzed about like a fish out of water as the high voltage electric charges ran their courses throughout her body.
Chapter 17: Be careful for the life you wish for
​"One chicken and ranch cordon bleu, curly fries, and Bo jangles sweet tea for my fiancée!" Todd announced proudly with his arm extended toward India as he made his way over to her chair where she was busily working on sewing a client's tracks in. India had taken her share of the money and fulfilled her dream by opening up her very own hair salon with a barbershop attached to it. No one ever had to leave either one to reach the other. India's income revenue told her just how much customers relished the innovative idea of never having to leave the building to satisfy all of their cosmetic needs.
​A scowl had presently been India's facial expression throughout today, but it took nothing more than the very sound of Todd's voice to lighten her mood. Todd always seemed to be the only one to have the ability to brighten up India's day. He made her so happy that she said "yes" to him when he popped the question. Her answer was out of her mouth almost before Todd opened the box to the 10k, white gold, engagement ring.
​"Awl, thanks bae! Sit it ova here behind me and bring me my lil man so I can get some lovin' before y'all go." India thanked Todd sweetly as her once sullen mood suddenly disappeared when he neared her. India had gotten pregnant by Jamal before she and the girls got into the whole mess with Tyga, and the thugs he called friends, but when she met Todd, India saw an opportunity to erase all of the memories she had Jamal and replace them with Todd. It was now or never for India to take another positive step in her life to fully complete her mission of her life's revival. India had to teach herself and learn on the fly on how to not allow her feelings that she once had attached to and invested in her and Jamal's relationship to get to her while she twisted and distorted the truth to Todd about her past, their present, and future.
​For the first time in her entire lifetime, India was truly happy as opposed to the rest of her life, where she was just enjoying herself in that present moment. To maintain this level of happiness, India was hell bent on destroying any obstacle that just so happened to be in her way. No matter who or what it ended up being.
​"Listen to da-da and Mommy will see you when I get home, kay?" India promised her 2 year old son, Tajah. "Mwah, love you! Don't forget, Todd, 7 o' clock! India instilled in Todd's mind, giving him a stern stare down after sharing kisses with her two favorite men in her life. She would need another set of hands and feet if she were ever put up to the daunting task of adding up how many times Todd showed up late. "You said 7:15, right? Ight, I'll be here!" Todd joked over his shoulder, swiftly ducking his way out of the door with Tajah in his arms. "Show up at 7:15 if you want to! You gon' have seven hundred and fifteen knots upside yo' damn head!" India shouted out after him, poking her lips out, and crossing her arms across her chest as she fell back into an empty chair.
​"Awl, y'all so cute! Hmph, I wish I could get mine to treat me like dat! The women waiting under the hairdryer commented while India's co-workers laughed at her childish like tantrum. India was everything that Todd had always hoped for in a woman and then some. Needless to say, she was truly the woman of his dreams and she had unknowingly turned his dreams into a reality by simply meeting him, having Tajah, and saying "yes" to his marriage proposal. Little did he know, India's feelings were far from mutual. Though Todd had been growing on her since they first met, to her, Todd was merely another stepping stone in her life.
​"Todd, right?" The female inquired softly from her seat on the hood of Todd's fire red Challenger, even though she already knew exactly who Todd was. She had been following Todd around the city all week, patiently waiting for him to be alone, when that bitch India wasn't stuck up under him like some sort of sick little puppy. Patiently waiting to let her presence be known. Now, seemed like as perfect time as any. "Who are you?" Todd questioned back, eyeing the woman from head to toe and back up, making no attempt to hide the fact that he could see her whole breasts, nipples and all through her white wife beater. Todd's eyes couldn't help but wander down to her thick mocha brown thighs, which were fully exposed all the way up to the cuffs of her butt cheeks thanks to her white, cotton boy shorts. Todd could damn near make out the outline of her pussy lips through the shorts, causing his eyes to grow to twice their original size. All of this eye candy made Todd dismiss the fact that this sexy, model like diva was sitting on hos freshly waxed prized possession. Always know who you dealin' wit'! The woman internally congratulated herself for doing her research on Todd. She knew he was an "ass man" and couldn't resist a woman like herself with such voluptuous thighs.
​"Tell you what...How 'bout you get lil Tajah outta dis heat, you and I go for a lil ride, and I'll tell you all 'bout me. I promise you'll wanna know what I have to tell you." The stranger suggested seductively, easing her right open toe sandal up Todd's inner thigh, lightly grazing his dick and balls through his fitted denims. "I'm, um, ight, lemme just..." Todd stammered before rushing to the back driver's side door to put Tajah in his car seat. The woman just giggled to herself at Todd's unsettledness as she hopped down off of the hood of his car and went to claim her place on the passenger's side. Yeah, this was going to be fun, for sure!
2 weeks later...
​Where da hell dis mothafucka at wit' my son?!" India desperately wanted to know where Todd was. He was supposed to go by the daycare to pick up Tajah and pick her up from the salon afterwards. According to Tajah's daycare, Todd had picked Tajah up on time, but he hadn't answered any of India's calls or text messages which was completely out of the ordinary for Todd. "Girl, he probably tryna surprise yo' lil spoiled ass or somethin'!" Sunshine suggested, attempting to embed a different, more positive image of Todd in her mind than what obviously and currently held its place there now, while India just sat there, pouting and fuming like a child. Something just didn't feel right about Todd's sudden disappearance to India, no matter what Sunshine said to comfort her. "Just take me home!" India snapped. She didn't want to speculate about any possibilities of what might be going on right now. That was both pointless and a waste of time to her. What might be going on and what actually was going on were two totally different things.
​"And dis mothafucka here?! Girl, Ima call you later!" India spat when Sunshine turned the corner to pull into her driveway, parking behind Todd's Challenger. The impact of the passenger's side door slamming behind India drowned out Sunshine's response as India stormed up the driveway in the direction of the front door, not that she cared to hear anything that Sunshine had to say at this point anyway. Whateva dey got goin' on, it's above me now. Sunshine thought, shook her head and backed out of the driveway. She didn't want to be a witness to any of this domestic dispute.
​"Todd, where da hell you been? Why you ain't come get me?" India rattled off questions, flipping every light switch in her tirade before the front door even slammed behind her. "Afta all I've done for you, I gave you my heart, my soul...you triflin' bitch!" Todd countered harshly with tears in his bloodshot red eyes, open hand smacking India to the floor with his right hand, and tossing the stack of papers in her face as he stood over top of her, sweating and breathing heavily. "Baby, what are you talkin' 'bout? What's dis?" India cried in shock as she began to sit up right. Her face stung as if a swarm of bees had just attacked her, and her head was spinning like after a night of heavy drinking. In the two years that she had known Todd, he had never so much as raised his voice at India. Now, sitting in the middle of the floor with a fast swelling and bruised face and papers sprawled all around her, India was beyond befuddled.
Todd was clearly drunk, India could smell the potent liquor on him, even from the distance in which they were apart. Slowly, India searched through the scattered papers for the first page, though it proved to be a difficult task given her blurred vision and off kilter balance, but somehow, she managed to find what she was looking for. The first few words suddenly made her wish she hadn't found the page at all as she literally felt her heart drop to her feet, even from her seated position. It was like her worst nightmare had somehow come back to haunt her. But how? And why?
​The papers were from a local DNA center, addressed to Todd, informing him that Tajah wasn't his son at all. Internally, Todd had always been a little suspicious for a lot of different reasons, though everything inside of him forced him to believe that little Tajah was indeed his son. "Where did...when..." India fumbled over her every word, she didn't know what to say. Todd wanted so badly to reveal the name of the woman who was sitting atop his Challenger that day, and gave him head while he drove his American muscle at neck breaking speeds, the name of the woman who started it all, but he just couldn't. Not because he didn't want to, in fact, she had told Todd her name and promised him that India would know exactly who he was referring to when spoke her name. He just couldn't remember her name, he was too drunk.
​"You harlot ass bitch!" Todd spewed a rant of insults at India while winding up a Barry Bonds like type of swing, steroids and all, with his black, Louisville slugger that was aimed right at her head. Every passing second seemed to move in extra slow motion for India as she began to look up, only to see the oak wood slab on a collision course with her head. She just couldn't register such a quick and traumatic turn of events fast enough for her body to move her out of the way. CLONCK! The sound of the impact itself knocked India out before she even felt the pain of the bat smashing against her skull. Todd continued to land blow after blow even after he saw that India was no longer moving or breathing as streaks of blood splattered up onto his body, face, and the walls, most times reaching as high as the ceiling. India's treacherous lies drove Todd to this point of insanity, and now, she had to pay for her years of lies and deception.
​"Da-da! What's wrong wit' Mommy?" Tajah asked innocently from behind Todd, covering his gaping little mouth with his tiny hands as if he had made some type of mistake himself when he saw all of the blood. Todd just stared back blankly at Tajah, snapping out of his brief trance of insanity before simply dropping the bloody bat at his feet, leaving out of the house, and pulled off in his Challenger as if nothing had ever happened at all.
Chapter 18: Can't cheat life and death
​ It was only 9:30pm, and the crowd at club Alter Ego was already lit, clamoring to get their hands on the new wave of girls that according to the club promoter advertises, had just been flown in all the way from the Dominican Republic just to work at Alter Ego. The exclusive membership only entry business had just burst onto the strip club scene and quickly garnered the attention from every big time strip club attendee within their first full year of existence, including a slew of A list celebrities, mainly because of their multi diversified culture or employees. It seemed as of Diva had every majority ethnicity sprinkled throughout the two year old up and coming mecca. Everything except the Muslims who she couldn't turn out with materialistic things or countless, never ending orgasms. To the owner, business minded, Diva Davis club Alter Ego was more than just a business. It was a lifestyle.
​The building that Alter Ego occupied was more like two completely separated, totally different strips clubs inside of an expensive hotel building, rooms and all. The main floor of the building was littered with over 1,000 bar tenders, strippers, poker dealers, couriers, and security guards altogether. Other than most of the bouncers, everyone was females, all moving around all at once, synchronized by virtue of their own chaotic maze. It was like the whole city of Las Vegas was jam packed into one, extraordinary building. The large hallways on the second floor was aligned with 500 male and female strippers at all times, seductively dancing and gyrating on each other and anybody who walked past, whether it be a fellow employee or a paying club goer, trying to convince them to allow them to join in and spice up their fun for an affordable price as well as for their own personal enjoyment. More often than average, the paying customers ended their night having had wild orgies with their sexual preference for cheap instead of getting what they only actually paid for and expected. More bang for the buck at its finest.
​The second floor rooms were average hotel sized rooms with two beds that went well into the thousands in quantity, supplied with stripper poles, different sized and flavored condoms, aphrodisiacs, and sex toys that went for an extra $250 a night.
​The third floor and stages were covered with three inch, reinforced, clear glass with actual Hypnotic colored water from the island of St. Croix flowing right through it. The special effects glow from the water onto the walls gave off the illusion that the male strippers were walking on water. The fact that their bodies looked like sculptured Greek Gods helped turn the illusion into a reality. This was where the men got there whole Magic Mike XXL on with female and gay participants. The music industry had taught Diva that there's real money that some people may never see in their respective professions because they're too shy to cross over into an unfamiliar genre, which was what fit Diva personality to a tee, so of course she was ecstatic about this new and untraveled business venture. Can't be scared and make money! Chances have to be taken somewhere along the way! Diva decided when her financial advisor let it be known how wary he was about her groundbreaking, innovative idea. Now, two years later, practically every major investor and stocker holder was calling Ms. Diva Davis!
​The $250 rooms and services were nice and all, but they were for the people who were trying to build their credit up towards becoming a member and didn't have the chips to just shell out the full payment all at once. The membership came only after customers spent a total of $1,000 or more either at the club or on the club's merchandise through its website. The $3,000 a night V.I.P. rooms were for the real ballers and was the place to be when you went to Club Alter Ego. They were on another level. Literally.
​The fourth floor was where the handpicked, background checked twice, Diva's angels worked. Diva's angels were a special group of beautiful, exotic women that could talk, suck, and fuck a cat off the back of a fish truck. They absolutely loved to showcase all of their skills at once, so it wasn't so much as a second thought to them when they were called upon to perform. Just like the third floor, this dance floor was made up of crystal clear, see through glass. The room itself was nothing more than a 360 foot circle of Presidential suites with nothing more than a 20 foot window separating each room. A giant waterbed with red, silk sheets that seemed big enough to fit at least ten people in it occupied the center of each room. If you were shy, or weren't fucking, sucking, or getting fucked and sucked, this was the wrong floor for you to be on.
​The rooms came equipped with an array of sex toys, role playing wardrobes, $100 gumball machines that were always conveniently filled with variety packs of Valium, Percocet, Vicodin, Ecstasy, Molly, and grams of powder cocaine. A 10 foot wide Jacuzzi, two Infinity pools, one inside, the other just below the balcony. The rooms were more like permanent second homes for some people given how often they stayed here. Those were the people who were blessed and didn't mind dropping a cool twenty five racks a year to come and go freely. Dancers got a 5% tip if they could get a customer to sign for a residency under their name.
​Diva's office sat alone, secluded on the fifth floor. The only people who were ever lucky enough to grace the insides of Diva's sanctuary other than her Majesty herself were her four masseuses. Her doors automatically locked each and every time someone exited the room.
​Diva, epitomizing her given birth name in true fashion, only exited her lair by her own personal elevator in which she could control the speed to go as slow as a snail's crawl if she ever so pleased. She absolutely had to have that feature added. There was no telling when she wanted to get a Miguel quickie in on her way downstairs! Overall there were never any problems at Alter Ego for Diva to want to arrive quickly, but she wouldn't give a damn if there ever was. That's what her bouncers were for! She wasn't about to be jumping in the middle of any fights, trying to throw people out, breaking her nails, and tearing up her high end designer clothes in the process. Fuck all dat! Dem bouncers betta eliminate any and all problems before dey even think 'bout getting' started up in my place of business and dey betta not break up none of my shit in da process! Dey asses gon' be goin' out right along wit' who eva da problem is! Those were Diva's only rules.
​"What da hell you mean you THINK somethin' happened to India?! Bitch, didn't you take her home?! Police?! What da fuck...I'm on my way now!" Diva pressed Sunshine for any helpful information the best her patience would allow her to before she became fed up with the ignorant, stuttering story that Sunshine was only capable of coming up with.
​After shooing her personal masseuses out of her office with nothing more than a look and a raised brow, Diva slipped on a pair of leggings, a t shirt, and dashed to the elevator. Turning the speed up to its max, Diva was on the main floor and out of the club in record setting time.
​Once in the parking lot, Diva broke out in somewhat of a sprint in the direction of her reserved parking spot where her white, Benz G wagon truck sat, barefoot and all. Her sister was in trouble, nothing mattered to her more than getting to India at this present moment. She could slip on shoes in the truck.
​Burning rubber in her wake out of the parking lot, Diva damn had her truck on two wheels when she slept left. A black on black, Dodge Charger SRT with dark tinted windows crept out of the club's parking lot right behind her, staying about two car lengths back.
​Pushing the SUV to speeds in excess of over 125 mph in a concerted effort to get to India as fast as possible, the legal speed limit didn't pertain to a certain Diva right now, not that it ever did anyway. She felt like she was in a Ferrari and had the potential to outrun a police cruiser rather than in her Benz truck, racing at highly dangerous speeds with no regard for human life whatsoever. As long as the humans involved didn't happen to be named India or Diva right now.
​Being so hell bent on reaching her destination and having that tunneled vision attitude came with a price because it left the person open, vulnerable to the tunnel vision mentality. Diva would soon be shown the error of her ways. It was solely up to her if she was going to right her wrongs in the small window of time that she would soon be afforded. If not, she would fail miserably.
​Diva checked her rearview mirror squinting at the reflection of the bright lights that were temporarily blinding her. Did they just not know how to drive or were they trying to get her attention for some reason. If the answer was the latter, the next question would be why. And more importantly, who were they? Diva couldn't make out the make or model of the car, but it wasn't a good sign to her that they were going just as fast, if not faster than she was. Ight, scratch dis bitch if y'all wanna, drivin' all crazy and shit! Diva spoke aloud in a calm, but menacing tone as if the occupants in the other car could hear her threats.
​Turning her focus back to the road that lie ahead, Diva stomped down on the gas pedal even harder than before. As she began to guide the truck towards the right for the upcoming curve, the Charger reappeared on her right side, and deliberately rammed right into her.
​"What da...Oh hell nah, motherfucka!" Diva snapped, looking out of her passenger's seat window at the pestering Charger, though the tint on the car was so dark there wasn't a chance in hell that Diva could make out whether the driver was a male or female.
​"Oh I got somethin' fo' yo' ass!" Diva proclaimed aloud after the Charger continuously rammed into her and she fought with the steering wheel to remain in her place on the road, reaching for her center console and retrieving her sub compact .40 cal. As she began to reach for the button to let her window down to take aim at the Charger, Diva saw a female attempting to climb out of the car's window from her peripheral.
​Oh shit! Diva thought both shocked and surprised when she took a quick glance to her right and saw the chrome pistol in the woman's hands, aimed right in her direction. To complicate an already dire situation even more, Diva recognized the woman almost immediately. It was Karma! Dis bitch! Her insides screamed, but her face was that of the one who had just saw a ghost.
​Diva was between a rock and a hard place as she began to shuffle through her slim choices of options. Before she was able to make a final decision, three shots shattered her driver's side window, just barely missing her head by a matter of milliseconds as she dove into the passenger's seat, but still somehow able to keep her fingers on the bottom of the steering wheel. Her momentum forced the truck to careen into the Charger as they jockeyed for position on the soon to end curve.
Chapter 19: Real work is never really done
​"Shaw! Carter!" Investigator Hicks yelled, waving her hand about wildly, high in the air in a pressing attempt to be seen over top of the towering 6' 4" eclipse that was rudely denying her entry into the crime scene. He was cute, but her usual flirtatious play was rendered useless in this scenario because sadly her and Bradley played for the same team in more ways than one. "Bradley, get da hell out of da way, kid! She's wit' us! Agent Carter hissed from India Rawlings' driveway. He and Detective Shaw were about 20 feet away from the home's front door when they heard Hicks getting pestered by the young rookie. "Uugghhh, save it!" Hicks scoffed as she brushed past Officer Bradley, killing his apologetic, shameful mumble before he ever had the chance to speak her name.
​"What da hell?! Hicks questioned with a disgusted look smeared all over her face. It was very difficult for her to register the fact that this freshly opened, relatively up to this point, cake walk of a case, had suddenly turned into not only a closed case, but an ice cold, frigid case. Especially given the way that they once had a superlative, Superman like type of grip on things. Their fingerprints at one point had drastically changed the dynamics of the situation in its entirety. Now, Cookie, as well as their top and only inside source, India were both dead and they themselves were well on their way back to the drawing board.
​"Da coroners found her body on the floor in front of da kitchen wit' her face smashed in like a fuckin' piñata!" Agent Carter ran down the main headlines. Damn the details, the damage was done. He never sugar coated how he felt or what he meant. Carter had no damage control switch to flip on when he offended people. Even more, he didn't care that this excuse for phony feelings of a switch even existed in the first place.
​"Yeah, and we found these paternity papers scattered around her. Narrows our search down to two people. Jamal and Todd, her Husband. Motives for both are there, one just as much as da other, just gotta determine which one finally caught up wit' her double life act. It's both impossible and wat too early to eliminate either of 'em at dis juncture." Shaw added on, shamefully delivering the bad news to Hicks.
​"I knew we should've moved in when dat damn signal went out!" Shaw confessed out loud, more in an attempt to cause Carter to feel the ultimate guilt trip as he already should have felt because it was ultimately his decision to wait it out even after she had suggested multiple times to interfere and stop the infiltration angle altogether. In many ways, Shaw felt in a personal, intimate way that India's blood was on all of their hands because they chose to become laxed because of India's steady progression and participation. Even when her signal went out, Carter and Shaw were reluctant to move because of what they had heard and knew firsthand when it came to India making all of the right decisions while recording. She was dead on point that had obviously came back to haunt them.
​"Well, we're past all dat and dis is what we're left wit'! Carter snapped back directly at Shaw, not throwing subliminals and hoping the intended target caught the drift before it passed like Shaw had just done with him. She had the opportunity to put her foot down and impose her will based on her intuition, but instead, she chose to to fold and be passive when the time came for the decision came to be made. It was just as much her fault as it was his, Carter rationalized in his mind.
​"We could do dis all day, guys! How do we figure out who's behind all dis carnage?" Hicks spoke up, stopping the lover's quarrel instantly. "Attention all available units, we are receiving multiple reports of shots fired on I 95, mile marker 220. Be on the lookout for a 2008 black on black Charger SRT, and a white 2017 Mercedes G wagon, both with Georgia plates..." The dispatch transmitted, surprising the trio.
​"Sounds like we might be 'bouta find out! What you think?" Carter suggested with a shrug and a concerned look on his face as he led the way back to his car. They already knew that the G wagon belonged to Diva, they had followed the girls when they thought they were fleeing to Florida. They had followed the girls and kept tabs on them, but managed to keep their distance. One of the one things that they had managed to do right. Shaw and Hicks quickly decided which one of them would drive and got situated. The faster they were able to get out of there and to the next crime scene, the better their chances were in stopping the death of another potential witness as well as catching the suspects before they got away.
Back on I 95...
​Looking up just in time to see that the curve was about to turn into a straightaway, Diva forced the wheel right with all her might to ensure herself that she had more than enough room and to try and get the Charger off the road as well.
​"C'mon, bitch! Dis da game y'all wanna play?!" Diva screamed, gritting and grinding her teeth in between every word. The unmistakable rage and venom in her voice could be heard even over top of the vehicles engine's, tires screeching, and metal grinding. Envisioning Karma being crushed under the car's toppled weight only motivated Diva that much more as she continued to trade paint with the Charger, taking full fledge advantage of newly turned fortune.
​Feeling that the Charger was no match for the G wagon, Rome knew he had to even his odds before this whole plan backfired on both he and Karma. He knew that if he didn't go back to Tyga and the gang with the desired results that he was sent to get, everything would fall upon his shoulders. To him, being unable to be relied upon when the call came was worse than death itself.
​Rome maneuvered the Charger to get even with Diva's back right tire, slammed on brakes, and crashed hard into its back quarter panel, causing the truck to violently flip over several times as he came to a screeching halt.
​"Hurry up and finish her off so we can be up outta here!" Rome commanded snappily while he sat perfectly still and looked on with great delight as Diva's truck flipped a few more times before going airborne and landing on its roof, and skidding to a complete stop. He wanted to be sure, without a reasonable doubt, that Diva was in fact dead.
​Rome slowly picked up the black Tec 9 that had been sitting in his lap throughout this whole ordeal, cocked back the mechanical slide, and impatiently awaited. He could hear the police sirens in the distance. He didn't come into this planning on having a shootout with the police, nor did he come equipped to engage in such a gun battle, but if it came down to it, he wouldn't dare hesitate to bust his gun.
As Karma got closer to Diva's mangled disaster of a truck, her eyes began to well over tears and her body became rigid with dreadful sorrow. Her conscience had finally caught up with her. At the end of the day, Angel, Cookie, India, Diva, and Karma were all sisters, and Karma had been somewhat responsible for the two of their deaths, and now she was about to drive the rest of the family to the point of extinction.
​"What da fuck you waitin' on? Come on! We gotta get up outta here!" Rome urged anxiously, hearing the sirens getting closer and closer while he looked on with great anticipation. He wondered what seemed to be taking Karma so long, he surely hoped she wasn't getting cold feet on him. This had to get done one way or the other, whether she did it or not. If need be, he would get out of the car and handle it himself.
​As Karma approached Diva's truck, she could just make out her battered, bruised, and contorted body hanging upside down, still seated in the driver's seat, being held in place by only her seatbelt. The two locked eyes and it seemed as if the entire world had stopped at that moment. When Diva looked into Karma's eyes, surprisingly, she didn't see the soul of a cold blooded, vengeful killer. Instead, she saw the eyes of a person who silently begged and pleaded for forgiveness. Eyes that told her that she had gotten caught up and had been a prisoner of the moment. Eyes that told her that had it come down to the two of them, Karma was choosing herself.
​Slowly raising her gun, Karma took aim at the already smoking truck's gas tank. Just before she was able to muster up enough courage to pull the trigger, Karma heard the engines of the approaching police cruises. Fuck dis, bitch! I'm gone! Rome thought, pulling off without so much as a second thought before the police came around the bend to spot his car. There was no need for him to wait on Karma, he was going to kill her afterwards anyway.
​Diva knew that she had as good a chance as any to make it out of this alive now that the police had shown up, but that would mean she would have to allow Karma to live as well, but, given all that Karma had put her and the rest of the girls through with her lies, backstabbing, and disloyal actions, she just couldn't see herself letting Karma live. No amount of apologies could reverse all the damage that Karma had done. Diva much rather go to her grave with the satisfaction of killing Karma herself than living the rest of her life knowing that Karma was still alive somewhere, breathing the same air as her. Just the thought alone made her skin crawl.
​Seeing the opportunity present itself when karma turned her head, only to see Rome speeding away, Diva stretched and reached out to pick up her .40 cal., barely able to get her fingertips on it. Her long fingernails proved worthy in this situation as she brought the weapon closer and closer to her by scraping at it with her nails. Karma heard the sound of glass scraping behind her, turned around, and readjusted her weapon only to see Diva's gun pointed in her direction.
​"Yeah, bitch, I'm sorry too!" Diva spat sarcastically through clenched teeth and blurred vision as tears streamed from her eyes before pulling the trigger three times, hitting Karma twice in the stomach, and grazing her in the neck with the last shot, dropping her where she stood. Once again, the two locked eyes while Karma coughed and convulsed on the ground, attempting to say one last word before her last breath as Diva just looked on with a cold, blank stare before her truck exploded.
Chapter 20: All niggaz ain't yours
​"Damn, bruh! We thought dat lil bitch had offed you too!" Tyga joked when Rome finished his version of how it all went down after he all but fell through Shawn's front door. The explosion caused by the gunfire in such close proximity of Diva's truck served as a roadblock for Rome, helping him get away, but he was still on pins and needles, and his adrenaline was at an all-time high. Now, the five partners in crime were all laughing, joking, slapping high fives, smoking weed, and popping bottles in celebration of getting rid of the snakes and rats that had infiltrated their circle.
​"Hell naw! I let dem bitches kill each otha!" Rome bragged boastfully, imitating how he was driving the Charger, snatching the imaginary steering wheel from right to left. "Dat's what it is, homie! Aye look, we got somethin' fo' you, shawty! Come here." Shawn interjected quickly before jumping up from his seat and headed towards the kitchen. Tyga, Rome, and Weezy silently followed him. They knew very well what the surprise for Rome was. They had helped put it together.
​"Cover yo' eyes, nigga! Ain't no peekin'!" Weezy chimed in from behind Rome, using his own hands to cover Rome's eyes as Shawn continued to lead the way, and Tyga helped navigate him into the kitchen. "Y'all fools playin'! Where da surprise at?" Rome whined, confused when Weezy removed his hands, uncovering Rome's eyes. The only thing Rome saw that was worth noticing when he opened his eyes was a pamphlet about Florida neatly propped up in the seat of the chair that Karma was once bound to. Rome's body tensed up with fear when he heard the sounds of guns clicking and clacking behind him.
​"Yo, w-what da fuck y'all..." Rome chuckled nervously when he turned around to see that all of his boys were clutching their guns with dead serious expressions on their faces. Tyga was gripping the very same Tac 9 that he himself had just had. This gotta be some type of fucked up joke! Rome frantically told himself, eyeballing each of them, trying to see who would be the first to give it up and break into laughter, but their faces were stoic.
​"Why da surprised look, bruh? Oh, lemme guess...You thought we wouldn't find out dat you was helpin' dat hoe steal money from us so y'all could skip town, and put everythin' on da rest of dem bitches, huh?" Shawn revealed calmly with a smirk as he took a step back and aimed his Desert Eagle right at Rome's face. "M-my nigga, sh-sh-she said..." Rome rambled, stumbling over his words, making some of them incoherent. He couldn't even figure out what to say to defend the outrageous allegations against him. Rome had never even laid eyes on the Florida pamphlet before. He never had the chance to finish a full sentence before the bullets began flying his way, spinning him around two full times as Tyga, Weezy, Shawn, and Jamal all emptied their clips on his limp body.