Bitch Reloaded (7 page)

"Did you know Rhonda? She worked at Atomic," I asked.

"I didn't know her well. Was she a friend of yours?"

"Yes. We were very close. She was actually my roommate before I married Supreme."

"Really? We worked in different departments, but we talked occasionally. Everyone was in shock when she was murdered."

"Yeah, so was I. Another death I'm responsible for," I mumbled under my breath.

"Mrs. Mills, your dinner is ready."

"Thank you, Anna. Let's eat."

Jamal followed me to the dining room, and we devoured the delicious steak Anna prepared. Being around Jamal was so easy. I didn't feel as if I had to put my guard up as I would with everyone else. His behavior seemed genuine, without any ulterior motive.

"Dinner was delicious. We've spent so much time playing catch up, that I almost forgot the reason I scheduled this dinner in the first place."

"That's right, there was a reason. You have Supreme's business to discuss."

Jamal gave me a charming smile right before he cut to the chase. "Unlike many artists, Supreme fulfilled his record contract. He put out a CD every year, sometimes twice. Right before his death, he was in negotiations with Atomic Records to sign a new multi-million dollar deal."

"I guess that's impossible now that he is dead?" I inquired.

"Actually, it's not."

"I don't understand."

"You know how much Supreme loved being in the studio. He completed enough new tracks to come out with three full CD's. Technically, he owns them. They were done on his own time and money after he fulfilled his obligations with Atomic. He let us listen to most of the tracks during negotiations, and it's his best work. That work is part of his estate, so you now own his music. Atomic Records wants to buy that from you."

"Really? For how much?"

"I'm not going to bullshit you, Precious, his music is worth a lot, especially now that he's dead. Supreme had the same type of fan following as someone like Tupac. I believe you should sit down with your attorney and discuss what type of numbers you should be asking for."

"I appreciate you being so honest with me. You could've thrown a price out and if it sounded right I probably would've taken it, no questions asked. I mean, what the hell do I know about the music business? Plus, Supreme made so many lucrative investments, I have more money than I could possibly spend in this lifetime or the next."

"Well maybe it's time you get familiar with it. Supreme has left you a very rich woman. You need to make your decisions wisely."

"Thanks for the advice. I'll definitely keep that in mind. Maybe you can come back over again soon, and we can discuss it further."

Jamal paused before saying with grin, "I don't think my fiancee would like that too much. She would take one look at you and shut it down."

"Fiancee? You're getting married?"

"Yes, I am, in a few months."

"Congratulations. She's a lucky woman. Look at you. You're this handsome, successful businessman."

"Thank you, but I feel like the lucky one. Nina is a terrific woman. I think you would like her, Precious."

"I'm sure I would. Maybe one day you two can come over for dinner."

"That's an excellent idea. But let's do one better. This time you can come over to my place for dinner. I'll set that up with Nina and give you a call."

"Definitely. I'll also speak to my attorney and get back to you with a price."

"Great. I look forward to seeing you again. Have a good night."

"You too." I felt some kinda way when Jamal revealed he was engaged, almost jealous. Maybe it was because I felt he was about to embark on the life that I was supposed to share with Supreme. Whatever it was, I had to admit it made me curious. I was interested in meeting the woman who had stolen my first's heart. Besides, letting Jamal and his fiancee play host and getting Supreme's business in order would keep my mind occupied, and hopefully dissuade my potential deadly infatuation with Pretty Boy Mike.

6 Ve t~ (4ayz d Ve t~

For the next few weeks, I kept going back and forth with my attorney regarding what type ofmoneyAtomic Records should be bringing to the table, and if I should shop to other places in order to start a bidding war for Supreme's music. Between that, I avoided Mike's calls because I hadn't quite figured out how to deal with our undeniable attraction. I did need him as a source of information to see if he heard about any moves Nico was making, but I wasn't sure I could trust the feedback. Mike wasn't the type of man that could be handled with kid gloves, and until I determined how to make him work for me and not against me, I decided to keep him at arms length.

Later on that day, I had a doctor's appointment in Midtown. I scheduled a meeting with a top-notch plastic surgeon to have reconstructive surgery done on the scar left on my chest from the bullet, courteous of Nico. The physician who made the original incision did an excellent job, but why not make it less noticeable if possible? After my consultation and setting up the actual date for the surgery, I decided to stop off at my favorite Dominican chicken and rice spot in Washington Heights. I double-parked and flicked on my hazardous lights before running in the joint. After about five minutes they handed me my order, and when I walked out the door this dude smacked right into me. "Excuse me, ma, I'm so sorry," he said, picking up the bag of food he caused me to drop.

"Damn, is my food straight?"

"Yeah, luckily it's tightly sealed. Ain't nothin' come out of place." The stranger handed me back my bag and apologized again before going in the Dominican spot. I was just relieved I didn't have to go back inside and stand in that line again.

"Shit, some stupid motherfucker blocking me in. Now I gotta wait for the person to come back, so I can pull out this bitch," I vented out loud. I sat in my car, rolled down the window and listened to my Nas mixtape CD. Five minutes later the same dude that bumped me came out of the restaurant and approached the car blocking me in-he was the driver.

"Damn, ma, you must be sick of me. First the food, now I'm holding you up. My fault." Whatever nigga, I thought to myself, just move yo'shit.

"No problem," I lied. After the stranger moved his car, I pulled off, and before long I was on the George Washington Bridge heading back to Jersey. By the time I got on Route 17 North heading towards Saddle River, the normally smooth ride in my Benz was feeling rather shaky. Part of me wanted to keep going, but another part of me didn't want to take any chances. It was getting dark, and I had to go up those long winding roads to get to the estate. I reasoned it was better to get off and stop at a gas station to have my tires checked. I got off at the first exit that had a gas station. The sign indicated it was two miles away but because I was being cautious and driving slowly it seemed like twenty miles.

"What the fuck!" I screamed when out the blue, a car smashed me from behind. I was so busy looking at the signs that I hadn't noticed a car was even behind me. For the first time I was regretting that I had even allowed myself to drive today. Nathan begged me to use the driver, but being the independent bitch that I am, I wanted to drive myself. Now here I was in the middle of a dark-ass road with a fucked up tire and some silly fuck who just hit the back of my car.

I saw a man step out his car but because it was now dark and there were no street lights, I couldn't get a clear view of his face. I started to reach for the glove compartment to get my gun, because the situation was feeling all wrong to me. But it was too late. When our eyes locked, I realized it was the same dude that bumped into me at the Dominican restaurant. He gave me the most sinister grin as he used a hammer to bust open my window. I turned my body toward the passenger seat as the glass shattered.

"Bitch, where you think yo' ass goin'?" he said, grabbing my hair. He held my hair in a firm grip as he pushed my entire body to the passenger side and he sat in the driver's seat. He slammed the door and tossed down the hammer and pulled out a huge sharp knife.

"What the fuck, you tryna rob me. You followed me all the way from the Heights for some money? If that's what you after, I'll get you money, but you need to put that fuckin' knife away.

"Bitch, you about to die, and still poppin' all that shit."

"Die, what the fuck you wanna kill me for? I don't even know you." My mind was spinning wondering if this was some beef haunting me from the past.

"Yeah, but you knew my cousins."

"Yo' cousins, who the fuck is yo' cousins?"

"You don't remember when you shot B-Boy and his brother? Them my cousins. You a trife bitch. First you try to take down Nico, and then you kill my people."

"I don't know what the fuck you talkin' `bout, you got the wrong bitch." At this moment all I was trying to do was buy time. The nigga had a knife to my neck, but I had my girl in the glove compartment. I had been in enough jams to know that it's the one who moves the fastest that lives the longest. Right now he had the upper hand.

"Don't try that slick shit wit' me. I know who the fuck you is. But yo' death ain't gonna be quick like theirs. Nah, no guns, baby girl, I got this knife so I can slice you up real nice. Pretty soon you'll be able to join your dead husband in hell. But before that, I'm gonna enjoy torturing you. You see that road off to the side? We're going to park the car over there so people can't see us from this here street."

"Then what?" I questioned, keeping him running off at the mouth as I plotted my next move.

"I'm going to tie you up and toss yo' ass in the trunk of my car. Take you to a special place where I can fuck you up and no one can hear your screams." I knew I had to act fast. Once my hands were tied up it was a wrap. On the floor under me, I eyed my alligator purse with the steel clasp sitting on top of my bag of food. It was a long shot, but if I was going to die, I would go out fighting. The only advantage I had was that he believed I was unarmed and he was the only one with access to a weapon. Because of that he would be a little bit more lax.

"That's fucked up. So your plan is to torture and then kill me. I never intended on killing your cousins. The whole situation just got out of hand. I'm sure we can work this out." I was keeping the conversation flowing as my mind was preparing for the great escape.

"You being awfully calm for a bitch that's about to get it, but we wasting time here sitting and talking `bout this shit." The dude was becoming animated with his hands as I got him talking more.

"Well, I guess we betta break out, so you can get this shit over wit," I said moving my head back, so the knife wouldn't be directly under my neck.

"I guess so." The nigga still had a firm grip on my hair, but for a brief moment he relaxed the hand that was holding the knife. I knew it was now or never. With quickness I bent down my head and bit as hard as I could into the flesh of his hand. The pain was so excruciating that he let go of the knife. I couldn't see where the knife fell, so with one hand I grabbed my purse with the steel side upward and bashed it over the dude's mouth. The skin above his lip opened and blood started squirting out from the gash. With the pain from his hand and now his face growing stronger, he let go of my hair to stop the blood. By this time, I reached inside the glove compartment to retrieve my gun.

"You bitch, I'ma kill you." The dude reached down to get his hammer.

"Not tonight, motherfucker," I said as I cocked my nine and sparked off two shots. One hit the side of his face the other went through his neck. Blood was everywhere. I looked around as I got out the car and walked to the driver's side. I opened the door and pushed the niggas body to the passenger side. Luckily he was an average-sized dude, so I was able to maneuver him. I then drove up to that same side street where he planned to tie me up. I had to focus. No way was I going to get the cops involved with this, but I had to get rid of this niggas body. From him scratching my face and pulling my hair, my DNA was all over his body. There was no way I could leave the dude on side of the road. Shit, I watched "CSI" they were no joke. He had to be disposed of permanently. But I would need the help of a man for a job of this magnitude.

At first I considered calling Nathan, but that was a no go. He seemed loyal but he was also legal. He wasn't no street nigga that knew how to dump bodies and shit like that. He would no doubt want me to notify the police, which wasn't even negotiable. I only knew of one person I could call who would know how to make this problem go away. I'd owe him, but my back was against the wall. I located my purse and got my cell phone. I slowly dialed his number, hoping that another person that could help would pop in my mind, but I knew there was no one else. "I need you."

Forty-five minutes later a silver Aston Martin pulled up behind me. I jumped out, actually relieved help had arrived.

"It must be killing you that you had to call me, huh?"

"Mike, ask me questions later. Right now we have to get rid of this body and my car."

"The car I saw on the side of the road, is it the dead man's?"

"Yes."

"All your paperwork and whatever else you need, take it out your car. After we leave, two of my men are coming to take the vehicles and dispose of the body."

"So what, we're leaving?"

"Of course, I have trained professionals that know how to handle this. Just go get your belongings. I'll meet you in my car." I hated turning to Mike for help, but he was the man I needed. I went through the car and trunk three times, making sure I didn't leave a thing. Before I left, I went through the dude's pockets and took his wallet. When I was alone I would go through it and find out his name and if anything led to Nico's location.