Chapter 28 | Gangster Boo
The sun crept up on Francesca as she laid in bed, breathing in the smell of cinnamon waffles and fried chicken. She slid out of the king size devil, and headed into the bathroom to freshen up.
Once refreshed with baby powder, Johnson Johnson baby lotion, and Caress body wash, she headed downstairs to the kitchen.
Montana and some of his workers, including Lawrence were at the table having a feast. "Come sit on daddy's lap." He patted his right thigh.
Playing the role, she sat on his lap and began to eat her food. "When is our date tonight?" She asked.
"It's going to start at seven p.m. Just meet me in the lab." He referred to his secret room.
She almost choked onto her food as she turned to look at him. "I thought we were going on a vacation. Like Mexico."
He chuckled. "You need to stop ear hustling cause that vacation only for them goofy ass captives we holding."
She sarcastically giggled, but deep down she knew she had to let Kingston know before he was another victim of a dead give away.
After she incessantly ate her food, she headed back upstairs to her room. Entering the bathroom, she sat on the floor and dialed his number.
Meanwhile, Kingston was cramped up in the little space that he had, trying to make use with the oxygen tank. He felt vibrations from his pocket, but the space was so tight, he couldn't answer his ringing phone.
Struggling to breathe, he squeezed his hand by his side and pulled out his phone. "What's good?" He answered once he was able to lift the cellar device towards his ear.
"Baby, I need you to get off the plane. Everything was a set up. Get off the plane and get back here, please. I need you here. I need -" Her voice trailed off and all he could hear was her loud screams.
"If you want this sorry ass excuse of bitch, then you better come get her cause I'm about to have the time of my life when she's unzipping that emerald gold dress off her body."
Kingston's jaw clenched when he heard Montana's voice. The line went dead and he needed more than two hours to get to his baby.
With his right hand, he reached into his pocket in hopes to find something useful inside. He ended up finding nothing.
As he closed his eyes wishing that things were different, he heard screws turning. Quickly, he opened his eyes and seen the two young boys from yesterday.
"Aye, we copped a couple semis, Uzis, machine guns, and a couple of more tools." The boy with Afro informed.
Kingston took a breather when he saw them. "Word up. What's y'all plan?" He asked.
"Aight, we gone start knocking niggas down. My nigga, Skip gone take over the plane and fly this motherfucker back to Montana's house." He started.
Kingston nodded as the two boys pulled him free from the cramped up space. He seen the Mexicans joking around as they flied in peace.
He snatched the semi-automatic out of Skip's hand and aimed at the man with a scar under his eye. "Nigga, what the fuck you doing? You gone miss that shot!" The boy with the Afro, who Kingston now knew was Ghost, said.
He looked at Ghost and pulled the trigger, and when the three of them looked the man was dead.
The three men loaded their techs and ran out. Ghost had shot down two men, while getting shot himself in the arm.
Skip had managed to get passed the five men that blocked the door to the pilot's area. He kicked one in the midsection and shot the other four down with the Uzi that was tucked in his waistband.
Kicking the door down, he bussed inside and shot the pilot and assistant. Tossing the two dead bodies out the window, Skip had gained control of the plane and turned it around.
Kingston was half way blind from his swollen eye as he tried to fight off ten dudes at once. He started to fight five of them off head up and won each fight; swinging at each one with the force of his right hand.
Ghost had tossed him a golf club, and he began to clock them in the head. He was finally about to fight the last one, when his father came out and wrapped a rope around his neck, pulling and tugging at it as Kingston's breathe became unbearable.
Ghost shot the man in the head and tried to come toe to toe with Kingston's dad. He was no match. King had grabbed him by the neck and slammed him down, causing the poor boy to break his spine.
He was ten times stronger than the normal man, and he never had time for words, he always fought with his fist when things got rowdy.
The rope was still around Kingston's neck, but it was now hanging up from a nub that rested on the ceiling of the plane. King had accessed a lighter and set the rope on fire. He sat across from Kingston watching him suffer from and almost excruciating death.
"You a bitch for this! What kind of man would pull some shit like this on his own son? A bitch ass nigga like you, huh?"
"This was brought upon yourself. I gave you a fucking chance to be on my side, but you chose a bitch over loyalty." His father smirked as the fire inched its way towards Kingston's head.
Skip peeped back at Kingston and noticed the painful circumstances. He remembered what Kingston had pulled off when he turned his head from the enemy and still managed to shoot him down.
Pulling the Uzi from his waistband, he aimed at the burning rope, closing his eyes, and pulling the trigger. When he turned around to look at his damage, King was holding onto his bleeding arm, and Kingston was free from the rope.
He noticed Kingston winking at him as he continued to fly the plane. He felt good about himself.
"Stupid lil nigga just shot me!" King stressed.
Beaten down and battered, Kingston picked up the automatic and aimed it at his father's head. He had jumped up and grabbed Kingston by the neck.
The both of them began to tackle one another from one side of the plane to the other. King managed to push the window open, so that Kingston could fall.
He was seconds away from losing his life because his father's grip was too tight. Remembering the gun in his hand he pulled the trigger and his father fell down, letting go of his neck.
He had shot him in the chest and the bullet simmer right to his heart and stopped it from beating.
He would pray for his mistakes later, but all he was worried about now was saving Francesca.
• • •
With a plastic bag over her head as she sat in an electric chair, Francesca tried her best to plead with Montana. She knew how dangerous he was, yet she still had faith in Kingston coming to the rescue.
"You think you slick! Trying to save your goofy ass boyfriend. Well, let me tell you something, trying to save a nigga like him will get you killed." He smacked her across the face, enjoying the time she took to wince.
"He gone fucking kill you, bitch. And when he does I'm going to laugh at every bit of pain he puts you in."
Montana smirked. "Since you want to be a smart-ass we can cut this date short and head to the part where we fuck."
Walking towards her, he grabbed a hold of her hand. When he managed to pull her up, her Red Bottom heel pressed into his groin, causing him to fall onto the ground.
She wasn't strapped, so she had to get up out of there before he killed her. She ran out of the door and through the mansion trying to keep quiet from all the crying she'd been doing: the plastic bag had been thrown to the floor.
This was the kind of moment that she wished she'd stay out of and instead laying her head onto her mother's thigh.
As she passed a room she noticed something fishy. Tiptoeing towards the door, she heard loud screams that were painfully familiar.
From afar she could hear Montana walking this way towards her, she quickly opened up the door and closed it shut.
As she slid down the door trying to catch her breathe, her hand and went up, flickering on the lights of the noisy room.
She looked up and wanted so badly to cry as Solange and Taylor looked into her eyes tied up with wires and bombs wrapped around their torso.
This is all my fault. She said to herself as she crawled towards her beloved sisters. "I'm going to get you out of here. Do you here me?" She whispered.
Her two older sisters nodded. She got behind Solange's chair, using a screw driver that she found to unscrew the bomb that was three minutes from setting off.
Once Solange was free from the trap, she helped Francesca release Taylor. The three sisters held one another tight. Even though their burdens had spilled over, this was the best family reunion she'd had since she returned home.
"I love you Francesca." Taylor choked out. She was quite weak, yet she felt the need to apologize to her younger sister for acting like a jackass.
"I love you too, but we can't stay here. I'm going to get y'all out of here."
"No the hell your not doing this shit alone. As much pain as that son of a bitch caused this family, we're going to hunt that motherfucker down until we get our revenge." Solange said as she stood from the floor.
She didn't look the same, and Francesca wondered how long they'd been here. Solange had gained a couple of pounds, her hair was disheveled which was unusual since she'd always kept it done, and she looked as if she'd been beaten: her right eyes was turning a blueish-purple, there was burn on her right breast, and her bottom lip looked as if a fish hook had got caught on it.
Taylor, on the other hand, seemed fine with the exception of the scar that went diagonally across her chest as if someone tried to stab her. The sight of her sisters' pain was distasteful and frightening.
"I don't want y'all getting hurt." She protested. "But, if y'all willing to fight then I can't make y'all back down."
The three of them slowly opened the door to the room and walked out. Solange had kept the screw driver tucked by her side just in a case a nigga wanted to act a fool.
Although, her sisters wanted to help, she had to fiend for herself, so Francesca split up with the girls and found the box with her dress inside.
Mama always told me that love was sacrifice. She thought as she undressed herself. She slipped into the dress, quite astonished by the weight loss she'd successfully given into.
It was a low-cut dress, very long, yet attractive. She pulled her hair free from its scrunch and watched as her curls flowed down her spine. Atop of the shelf, she found a brand new stick of Mac. She smacked some onto her lips and placed mascara upon her lashes, which she found beside the Mac.
The fluorescent lights had shone onto the emerald-gold dress. When she stepped out of the room she found, Solange and Taylor were stunned. "I ain't never seen you get this dressed up." Taylor gave her a warm smile.
She smiled back, half way. "I really think y'all should go home. I know that our relationship has been rocky, but I just really need for you to trust me."
The two nodded and held their baby sister tightly. "Be safe." Taylor kissed her on the forehead and then they made a run for it.
Francesca began to walk around the mansion, assuming that Montana would be in his room, she walked upstairs to the master suite.
Sure enough he was loading his gun when she walked in. He turned around, the gun fully loaded, and his finger on the trigger aiming the semi at her head.
She was very cautious of the moves that he could make, but she chose to stick with her gut. She raised her hands in the air to emphasize surrender.
His gaze was filled with hate and annihilation as she stepped closer. "I ain't got shit on me, but this dress." She started walking closer towards him, tears rushing down her face.
"And the only weapon I have is what's underneath this emerald-gold fabric. Montana you can have me, but please don't do this to Kingston."
His eyes never turned away from the sympathy in her expression. He knew that she had deep love for Kingston, but not this much. Dropping the gun, he ripped up her dress, watching the torrid fabric hit the floor.
He wasn't just trying to analyze her anatomy, but he was trying to make sure she meant what she said about not being strapped.
Satisfied with her honesty, he leaned into her ear, his hands groping her breast, and his lips brushing against her ear lobe. "If you love him then you'll take over and let me enjoy your destruction." He whispered.
Without any words, she pushed him onto the bed, climbing atop of his erect member. For a moment she froze, afraid of what might happen next, she began to unbuckle his jeans.
Now fully naked, Montana laid there waiting for ecstasy. She took off her under garments, and finally relaxed.
Lawrence had been searching for Francesca after Montana had taken her away. He ended up bumping into a brick wall: Kingston.
He was filled with rage as he threatened Lawrence about working for Montana. "I'm looking for her right now!" He shouted at Kingston.
Ghost, who was brutally injured had heard sniffles from a distance, he pointed towards the direction he heard the weary noises.
Kingston and Lawrence both made a run for it. When Kingston's eyes seeped into the room, he couldn't even stomach the thought of what he'd witnessed and neither could Lawrence.
Francesca stayed put in the bed with tears cascading down her cheeks. She had gotten a headache for so much crying and she knew that what she had done was right even if it looked wrong.
Lawrence couldn't study the site any longer and simply walked away, whereas Kingston rushed towards his beautiful queen, who was dressed in the torn up dress.
He wrapped his arms around her as she cried. That was all he could do as they watched Montana's flesh burn in kerosene.
As many people she'd killed, this one was the most brutal. This one was the one she'd remember forever. This one was for Kingston.
- Fin -