Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick (31 page)

She heard the doorbell and cautiously went to see who it was. She was surprised to see Kola standing outside her door, and a few thugs lingering by her car. She wondered how Kola knew her address.

Apple cocked back the Glock 17 and shouted out, “Bitch, get the fuck away from my door!”

“I wanna talk to you,” Kola exclaimed.

“There ain’t nothin’ to talk about,” Apple shouted. “I’ll see you on the streets, Kola.”

“Bitch, open the fuckin’ door so we can talk,” Kola shouted back.

Denise heard her daughter outside and rushed to the door, telling Apple, “Just open it.”

“Ma, step the fuck back!”

“No. I wanna see her.”

“Ma, get the fuck away from the door,” Apple warned again.

But Denise was too stubborn to listen to anything her daughter had to say. She swiftly pushed Apple aside and unlocked the front door.

Kola burst into the home and marched up to Apple. Before she could throw the first swing, Apple smashed the gun over her head, and Kola stumbled back a little dazed.

“Apple, is you fuckin’ crazy?” Denise shouted.

While Apple was distracted, Kola charged and knocked the gun out of her hand. She pushed Apple into a wall, and followed that up with a series of blows to her face and midsection.

Apple and Kola tore into each other like two ferocious lions, knocking over furniture and breaking precious items in the home.

Apple soon got the upper hand, grabbing Kola by her long hair and knocking the wind out of her with a hard right uppercut. Kola, her mouth full of blood, lost her footing and fell over a chair. She hit the ground like she had received a blow from Mike Tyson.

Apple pounced on her like she was a stranger in her home. “I told you, bitch, don’t fuck wit’ me! Look at you! I’m that fuckin’ bitch now!” she screamed out, landing a series of vicious blows on Kola.

Denise ran to aid Kola. She grabbed Apple from behind and flung her across the room, screaming out, “Apple, stop it! Stop it!”

Apple fell over the couch, surprised by her mother’s strength. But she was more hurt to see Denise helping Kola off the floor. Apple’s eyes stretched with shock. She couldn’t believe how, out of the blue, her mother actually became a mother to Kola, asking if she was OK.

Kola pushed away from her mother, shouting, “Get off me!” She wiped the blood from her mouth and looked at Apple with so much contempt, if looks could kill, Apple would have been torn apart. The sisters’ intense gaze at one another was deadly. But Kola dared not continue the fight because Apple had the Glock 17 gripped in her hand and looked wild.

“You gonna get yours, bitch. I ain’t playin’ games anymore,” Kola warned. “The only sister I ever loved is six feet fuckin’ deep.”

Kola’s crew of thugs was at the front door, making sure she had a protected exit. She exchanged hard looks with her sister and mother once more then left the house.

Apple’s living room was in disorder, but she didn’t breathe lightly after Kola left. She focused her hard stare at her mother. “Get the fuck out my house!”

Denise was shocked. “What?”

“Bitch, you ain’t deaf! Get your shit—Nah, fuck that! Just get the fuck out!”

“Apple, you ain’t serious.”

“I am. After all the fuckin’ love I showed you, Ma, you take her side and diss me. I fuckin’ hate you. I thought I had your loyalty, but I guess I was wrong,” Apple said with tear-filled eyes. “I put you up and gave you nice things, and this is how you repay me?”

Denise looked at her sternly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“What? Bitch, you think I’m playin’ wit’ you!” Apple shouted. She raised the gun and fired suddenly, and the bullet whizzed by her mother’s ear, startling her.

“Apple, are you fuckin’ crazy?!”

“Yeah, I am.”

Denise saw the seriousness in her daughter’s eyes. She knew there was no changing Apple’s mind.

“Don’t take shit wit’ you, bitch, ’cause I bought all that. Just leave my crib wit’ the fuckin’ clothes on your back and take your ghetto-fabulous ass back to the hood and stay the fuck out of my life!”

“You’re gonna regret this, Apple.”

“I don’t think so. My only regret was taking you in, but now I’m done wit’ you.”

Denise slowly backed her way toward the door and walked out the brownstone with a heartrending look. She had nothing to go back to; she quickly went from something to nothing.

With her mother gone from her home, Apple slammed the door and gazed at herself in the mirror that hung by the doorway. She looked a mess. Her hair was a mess, her face was bruised, and her outfit torn and ruined. Still holding onto the gun, she felt she didn’t need anyone. She was on top of everybody, and nobody could tell her a damn thing. It felt so good to finally whup Kola’s ass. She was definitely the baddest chick, and Kola had better recognize.

EPILOGUE

W
ith Thanksgiving right around the corner and so much money still in her grasp with business being good, Apple decided to treat herself. So, with the help of Chico and his business manager, she went to an upscale Mercedes dealership in Long Island, and Chico purchased her the sleek, pricey, silver McLaren. A one-of-a-kind. When Apple got behind the wheel of the stylish car, with its lustrous aero design and 5.5L V8 engine, she knew she would be the most envied person in the city.

As Apple drove the car off the lot that afternoon, she couldn’t wait to flaunt her new ride in Harlem and elsewhere. She wanted to turn heads, show the whole hood how much she came up. She went from having a bus pass to driving one of the best-looking cars that Mercedes ever made.

It had been weeks since her fight with Kola, and she had been laying low for a while. Chico had moved them out of the city, about an hour and a half away from Harlem, and into an upstate four-bedroom mini-mansion with a sprawling green lawn, a hilltop driveway leading to a three-car garage, and a picturesque view of the river. Apple loved every inch of her new home.

For a while, her life seemed easygoing and separated from the war going on in Harlem, where she still ran her loan-sharking and bookkeeping business. Guy Tony had disappeared for a moment, and she hadn’t seen or heard from Kola or her mother in weeks. It seemed that her beef had died down a little.

Wanting to show off her car, she decided to take the long drive back into the city and cruise around Harlem on this sunny fall day. She looked good, styling in the gleaming McLaren and smiling at all the heads that turned to get a peek at her new ride.

Apple didn’t give a second thought to all the drama she had stirred up and the lives she’d turned upside down. The only thing she cared about was how fly she looked driving the expensive car that only celebrities and athletes could afford. She wanted all eyes on her. She loved the hate thrown at her, because it was proof that she was doing her thang and doing it right. Like Dave Chappelle, she wanted to shout out, “I’m rich, bitch!”

For an hour, Apple drove around Harlem, block to block, showing off her new car. She parked in front of her old building, stepped out in her designer jacket and heels, and profiled in front of her McLaren like she was in a video shoot. She lingered in her old hood for a moment, enjoying being seen, mostly gawked at by bitches that wanted to be her, and niggas that wanted to fuck her. A few residents stopped to chat with her, admiring her car, but she warned them to only look, not touch.

Apple soon got tired and decided to leave. She had made her statement loud and clear. For her, it felt so good to show off. She was about to get back into her ride, feeling invincible and accomplished, ready to make the two-hour drive back upstate, but the sudden calling of her name made her turn to see who was asking for her.

As she turned, a crackhead, who had been paid to do the deed, threw a cup full of acid in her face before running away.

“Aaaaaahhhh!” she screamed, clutching her burning face in agony and falling to her knees, the acid eating away at her beautiful face.

A small crowd gathered around her as she squirmed around on the concrete in pain, her cries echoing throughout the streets. Some were happy about the incident, watching her suffer with a pleased smile, thinking that the bitch got what she deserved, others felt sorry for her and tried to help.

As her face burned, Apple vowed to get revenge on whoever disfigured her beautiful face. She knew it could have been anyone, from her sister to Guy-Tony. Or it could’ve been just a random act of jealousy.

Apple was quickly rushed to intensive care, where she soon found out that her face would be disfigured for life.

To be continued
. . .

KEEP READING FOR AN EXCERPT OF
COCA KOLA
COMING IN MARCH 2012 FROM MELODRAMA PUBLISHING

PROLOGUE

T
he midnight staff at Harlem Hospital was busy with an influx of incoming patients. The trauma unit was understaffed, and the hallway was lined with the sick and injured that needed to be treated. The echoes of the men and women in agony seemed never ending to the doctors and nurses that were bustling back and forth from one patient to the next. The EMS was daunted with nine-one-one calls. It seemed like everybody had either fallen ill, gotten shot or stabbed, or were complaining about some unknown sickness, and had come to Harlem Hospital for treatment.

The third shift working the trauma center was exhausted, hungry, and swamped from wall-to-wall with the ill, some who needed to be restrained and some fighting to be kept alive from their injuries. But, the following patient that the Ambulance brought in screamed the loudest and was definitely out of control. She was barely strapped down to the gurney and had suffered serious burns to most of her face.

As the staff hurried her into the center, she constantly screamed out, “I’ma kill that bitch! I’ma kill that fuckin’ bitch! Aaaah, shit, it hurts! It hurts! It fuckin’ hurts!”

Apple was in sheer pain. The medical team wanted to treat her as quickly as possible, but Apple wasn’t allowing them to do their jobs sufficiently as she kicked, screamed, and squirmed on the rushing gurney.

“Get the fuck off me! Get off me!” Apple yelled, sounding crazy.

“Ma’am, just calm down. We’re trying to help you. Just stay calm,” the night RN said, while trying to hold Apple down on the gurney with the help of the others.

“What happened to you?” another nurse asked.

Apple refused to be cooperative, though. She continued kicking and screaming, feeling her face melting away painfully like the wicked witch from The Wizard of Oz.

She screamed out, “My fuckin’ face! My fuckin’ face! I’ma kill that bitch! Aaaah!”

“She needs to be sedated,” the doctor said.

After wheeling Apple into a private room they started prepping her for an emergency surgery. The sedative was being prepared, and the doctors wanted to tend to the burns right away. By the looks of her injuries, they were confident that Apple would need some severe skin grafting.

The screaming continued, echoing through the trauma center. It took security and four staff members to hold Apple down while the RN tried to stick the syringe filled with a sedative into her arm. But, Apple put up a tough fight; she kicked one of the nurses into a shelf filled with medical supplies that spilled over.

“Hold her down!” the doctor screamed out.

“Get off meeee!” she yelled.

She tried to bite the second nurse, but her arms were forced to her side with physical force by security. The RN quickly thrust the syringe into Apple’s right arm, hoping it worked promptly.

Apple’s chest heaved and dropped like a winded athlete, with her facial expression looking more soothing and the wildness in her slowly fading. There was finally some calm in the room.

“Shit!” the RN exclaimed, shocked that the teenage girl was so strong.

Immediately, they began working on her burns. The doctor tried to operate the best he could on her face, but the acid had done severe damage. It would take a miracle for Apple to look the way she used to.

*****

Hours later
, Apple lay in the room and slowly opened her eyes to find her face heavily bandaged. She touched the dressing slowly and gently. She was still loopy from the sedative, but realizing how ugly she must be, she started to cry. It had to be a nightmare for her.