Bitch (17 page)

I bolted through the crowd, furious with myself. I knew I shouldn't have let myself get open off Supreme. That nigga had me playing myself in front of other bitches like I was a two-cent chick. Finally, getting through the jungle of people, I caught my breath when I reached the hallway. Numerous guys were grabbing at me as I made my way through the party, but when I laid eyes on a Mekhi Pfifer look-alike leaning against the wall, I responded to the lust in his eyes. Without as much as a hello, we locked lips and our tongues explored each other.

For that moment I wanted to forget that Supreme made me feel like a sucker and this was my way of saying fuck you.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Supreme barked as he yanked my arms from the stranger's embrace and pushed me against the wall.

"Supreme, yo' this your girl?" The Mekhi Pfifer lookalike questioned sounding like a fan.

"No, I'm just his close friend?"

"Yeah, this my girl."

"That's not what you called me when you were getting all cozy wit' miss Jenny from the block."

"Yo, shut the fuck up."

"Man, I'm sorry. I didn't know that was your girl." Somebody must've told Supreme's bodyguards there was some sort of altercation going on, because all of a sudden two big dudes came out ready to take down the Mehki Pfifer look-alike.

"Everything's cool." The boy was relieved that Supreme didn't sic his hired goons on him. "But, you can go now," Supreme said, brushing the guy off. Supreme grabbed my arm until we got to a door at the end of the hall. He took out a key, opened the door and pulled me into another suite. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Precious?" he said after he slammed the door.

"What the fuck is wrong wit' me? What about you. Carrying on wit' that bitch."

"We were talking, that's it. If you had got to the show on time and met me backstage like you were supposed to, then I wouldn't have to talk to nobody else."

"Oh, so now it's my fault you kicking it wit' the next bitch. I guess it's my fault, too that you don't want to have sex wit' me."

"Is that with this is about? You want me to fuck you, is that what you want, Precious? Hum, answer me." Supreme was now grabbing at me roughly, pulling on my dress. He put his hands around my waist and forcefully pushed my hips against him. "Oh, now you don't have nothing to say. Either you want me to fuck you or you don't, Precious. Which one is it?"

I remained silent because the nigga was turning me on. He then put his hands up my dress and ripped off my thong.

"How do you want me to fuck you, Precious, from the front or the back?" The next thing I knew, Supreme had me bent over a chair pounding my pussy out. My ass jiggled against his dick with each thrust.

"Oh, Supreme, baby you feel so good," I moaned.

"You was going to give all this ass to some nigga you didn't even know."

"No, baby, I was just tryna make you jealous."

"Don't lie to me."

"I swear, I only want you."

"You better `cause this pussy is mine now. If you ever try some trifling shit like that again, I will fuck you up. You understand me?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Yes, it won't neva happen again." That night I got the best dick down of my life. Now I understood why Supreme wanted to wait, because he knew once he put it on me, I would be officially sprung.

WE 1111

ome good dick can do wonders for a bitch. Now that Supreme was slaying me on a regular basis, I didn't have a care in the world. I was acting all giddy for the nigga and it was bugging me out.

Rhonda instantly knew when I got some because she said my face kept a glow. Butterflies in your stomach, every time the phone ring hoping it's him, restless nights when you go to sleep without him by your side, scared that a bitch with a prettier face, bigger tits and ass will catch his eye and steal him away were the telltale signs that I heard so many girls speak of but never thought it would happen to me. I guess I was in love or deeply infatuated, one of the other. Whatever it was, I let myself enjoy the feeling and temporarily buried my insecurities of being hurt.

"Six dollars, please," the lady in the toll both screamed, interrupting my thoughts of love.

I searched for the twenty dollars I put to the side and the lady belted, "Hurry up."

"Hold on a minute," I looked out my rear view mirror and no other cars were behind me, so I didn't know why she was rushing me.

"Here you go," I said, handing her the twenty that fell on the floor by side of the door. The rude bitch snatched the money from me like she owned the George Washington Bridge. After she damn near tossed my change at me, I said, "Bitch, don't get mad at me `cause you working at a toll booth. If you don't like it, get another job."

"Watch yo' mouth, you stank hoe."

I couldn't let that Jheri-curl having bitch get away with that. I stuck my head out the window and spit dead in her face. She reached her hand out and tried to grab my neck. I pressed down so hard on the gas and sped off before she tried to flag down the cop. But that's what she got for popping all that shit.

After crossing the bridge, I turned onto the Henry Hudson Parkway downtown on my way to meet Supreme at the studio. I looked at the clock and saw that I was running mad early, so I decided to stop by my old apartment on 142nd and Riverside. The tollbooth lady still had me riled up and I needed to cool down, plus, I hadn't been there in months and wanted to check on the spot. I thought about sub-leasing it, since Inga wasn't staying there,, but I didn't need the money, and I liked knowing that I always had a place to crash, if need be.

When I finally found a parking spot, I walked up to the building and noticed that it had been painted recently. The super was maintaining the building well, and I knew that must of meant he would be raising the rent again soon. I took the elevator to the seventh floor, and although this place didn't have all the amenities of the spot I lived in Jersey, I somewhat missed living here. It was my very first apartment, so it held a lot of sentimental value.

I heard loud music as soon as I stepped off the elevator. When I lived here, I remembered it being so quiet, so I was surprised. Everyone on my floor was either old or married with young children. When I got closer to my door, I realized the music was coming from my apartment. I put the key in and when I tried to open it, the chain blocked any further entrance. I heard a female voice scream over the music, "Is that you, Inga?"

"Hun, humm," I grumbled loudly. I know Inga's trifling ass is not staying here. That bitch told me she was keeping her ass in Brooklyn at her mom's crib. But who the fuck is in there, Inga ain'tgot no sister, I thought to myself.

I was heated at the idea of somebody chilling in my crib. I reached in my purse and pulled out the knife I always kept on me. I stepped away from the door so whoever opened it couldn't see me if they looked through the peep hole. The moment I heard the girl take off the chain, I grabbed the knob and pushed the door open. The door knocked the girl in the head, and she let out a yelp and covered her face. Without missing a beat, I slammed the door shut and jumped on top of the girl, pinned her arms down with my knees and put the knife to her throat. When I saw who it was, my first instinct was to slit her throat, but I needed to get some answers first.

"Porscha, what the fuck are you doing in my apartment?" She was still in pain from the door smashing her face that there was a long, pregnant pause before she focused on answering my question.

"I knew I should've had those locks changed," were the first words out the bitch's mouth.

"Bitch, you got bigger problems than that right now. How long has Inga been letting you stay in my crib?" Porscha dumb-ass rolled her eyes as if she had no intentions on answering my question. I put the tip of my knife to her throat and nipped it just deep enough to draw blood. She let out an involuntary scream, and I covered her mouth with my hand. "Listen to me, you two-dollar whore. I have no problem ending your life right now. So you can either answer my fucking questions or say your last prayer."

"What do you want to know," Porscha managed to say under sniffles.

"Start by telling me how long Inga been letting you stay here."

"About three months ago she gave me the key. She said you gave her the apartment."

"Now why the fuck would yo' dumbass want to lie up in my spot when you know I can't stand your motherfucking ass."

"At first, Nico told me to stop through because he wanted to see if you stashed his million dollars here. Inga and I came to look, but we didn't find it. Then she called asking you about the money, and you told her you didn't know what she was talking about. I told Nico, but he said you were lying. He told me to ask Inga if I could chill here for awhile, just in case you came through."

"Well, bitch, I'm here now, what you supposed to do?"

"For the first few weeks Nico had a couple of his boys stationed out front, watching everyday and night for you to show up, ready to do whatever to get his money back. After awhile we decided you was ghost and wasn't coming back, so Nico told his boys to forget about it. But I like having my own place, so I decided to stay."

"When you say Nico told his boys to do whatever in order to get his money, you mean kill me?"

"No, that was one thing he instructed them not to do. He said killing you was the one pleasure he would save for himself."

"Nico locked up for damn near the rest of his life. How the fuck is he ever gonna get that pleasure?"

"How the fuck I know? That nigga so crazy he's determined that somehow he will get out of jail."

"Why does Nico believe I have his money?"

"One of Nico's street informants told him that word had it that Tommy tried to cross him and went to his crib to steal the million. It wasn't there but Tommy got some information from Boogie's nephews that they were supposed to meet up wit' this chick, which was you, to make the paper clean. Something went wrong because Boogie, Tommy and the nephews all ended up dead but the money was neva found. So Nico said you still had it. When he got locked up, the streets turned on him and stole all his money. That million was the only paper he had left, and he wanted it back."

"Answer me this, Porscha. Did Nico have my mother killed?"

I always thought Tommy and Boogie's nephews killed my mother, but I could never explain how they got in her apartment. The door wasn't broken, so whoever did it, my mother let them in. That didn't make sense to me because of the lifestyle my mother lived. She wouldn't open the door for nobody unless she knew you and was expecting you. So if Tommy and his boys showed up unexpectedly, they would've had to kick in the door to get to her.

"I don't know if you ready for this, Precious."

"Porscha, don't talk to me in riddles. If I'm asking the questions, then I want the answers."

"You can't say I didn't try to warn you. Nico's street informant was Inga. Her and Tommy was cool, and he told her that the nephews told him that Boogie told them that you had the million dollars.

"Inga tried to find out where you were so she could tell Tommy, but you wouldn't give her no information. So then Inga told Tommy that you might've stashed the money at your mom's crib. Inga also knew how your mom's didn't answer the door for nobody, and Tommy didn't want to cause no loud raucous kicking in the door `cause he figured somebody might call the police. He told Inga that if she would knock on the door, acting like she was looking for you, then he would hit her off with seventy-five thousand."

"Did Inga know that Tommy and them were going to kill my mom's?"

"She figured they would, but she said yo' mom's was a crackhead anyway, and them killing her would put her out of her misery." I couldn't believe what Porscha was telling me, although it all made sense. I knew Inga felt betrayed about that sorry-ass nigga Ritchie, but to let Tommy and them kill my mother was the lowest you could go. Inga knew that as much hell as my mother put me through, she was all I had my entire life. To take her away from me was stealing my last breath.

"How could Inga do that to my mother?" I asked myself out loud.

"Precious, you know Inga blames you for her fuckedup life. She believes you fucked up her relationship with Ritchie and is responsible for Nico killing him, leaving her without a father for her son. She's barely making ends meet and her mother the one that have to watch the baby while she at work."

"What happened to the fifty thousand I gave her?"

"Didn't she tell you she bought a car, clothes, jewelry and shit."

"Why don't she sell her fucking car, so she can have some damn money for the baby?"

"She totaled it in a car accident and her dumb ass let the car insurance lapse."

"Where is Inga at right now?"

"She was supposed to be on her way over here, but I'm not sure."

"Call her now and find out exactly where she at. Also find out if the baby wit' her."

"I need my cell phone."

"Where is it?"

"Right over there on that nightstand."

"Porscha, I'ma let you up so you can get your phone, but I'm keeping this knife right under your throat. If I even think you gonna try some slick shit, I'm slitting side to side. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head. I hoped the fear was instilled in her to the point that she would do as I said. It's not like I cared whether the bitch lived or died, but I did need her to get to Inga. Porscha dialed Inga's number and did exactly as I asked. When she hung up she informed me that Inga was still in Brooklyn at her mom's crib. "Let's go."

"Where we going?"

"To Brooklyn to pay a visit to my dear old friend Inga."

"Precious, I don't want no part of that. You crazy and there ain't no telling what you gonna do."

"You right. So you want to take me to Inga or should I kill you right now?"

Porscha grabbed her shoes and phone, and we went to the car. We stopped at my trunk so I could get my 9mm, then I made Porscha get on the driver's side. I kept my gun pointed at her the whole time. On our drive to Brooklyn, I kept imagining how my mother must've felt when she realized Inga had set her up. Your daughter's so-called best friend being an accessory in your death.