Checkmate: The Baddest Chick (10 page)

Chico wasn’t too sure about the asking price, but business was business and he knew that everything could be negotiated.

The two men talked everything out, and a few hours later, Chico and Two-Face were on a plane back to New York with a new connect.

As they sat in their first-class seats, Chico couldn’t help but ask a few questions that were nagging him.

He leaned in and asked, “Yo, so you never wanted more for yourself?”

“What the fuck you talkin’ ’bout, homes?”

“More, nigga. Paper. Bread.”

Two-Face looked puzzled. “If you got a way I could come up on some paper, holla at ya boy.”

Chico shook his head. “You got the pot of gold in your family tree, muthafucka.”

Two-Face finally understood where Chico was trying to go with the conversation.

“I ain’t never been wit’ huggin’ the block, selling hand-to-hand. Roman wanted me to start at the bottom and work my way up.” Two-Face shook his head. “And I ain’t never been no chef in the kitchen cookin’ up rock. I’m a triggerman. I kill people. That’s all I’m good at. My uncle gave me plenty of product on consignment throughout the years and I’d fuck it up every time. It came down to either I step off and find my own way to make money or force my uncle’s hand to put me six feet deep.”

Chico understood, but still shook his head at the kid’s naiveté. For the rest of the flight the two men remained silent, both deep in their own thoughts.

CHAPTER 8

A
pple woke up in the early hours of the morning and felt a sudden gush of fluid between her legs. The thin mattress she slept on was wet.

“Oh my God!” she uttered with panic.

The fluid was clear and odorless. Apple knew she was about to go into labor very soon. She picked herself up out of the bed and clutched her stomach. She needed to call for help. She moved to the door, swung it open and shouted, “Somebody help me!”

A moment later, Mary came running into the room. She grabbed Apple into her arms and led her back toward the bed to lie her down. She told Apple to try to relax and breathe easy. Mary knew there weren’t going to be any doctors coming to aid with her birth. The only one Apple could count on for help was Mary and hopefully a few of the girls who’d warmed up to her.

Mary rushed out into the hallway to wake some of the whores up that were still asleep. She needed quick assistance. Moments later, a few of the women came rushing into the room to assist her. She instructed some of the girls to get a wet rag and warm bucket of water. Everybody went into action.

Apple quickly went into labor. She was into her first stage—with the shortening and dilation of her cervix. The contractions were intense and prolonged; her loud screams pierced the halls, and had Shaun rushing into the room.

“What the fuck is goin’ on?” he yelled.

“She gonna have the baby!” Mary shouted.

“Now?”

“Sí.”

A few whores held Apple down onto the mattress as she squirmed and screamed. Apple was scared. It was her first time giving birth, so she didn’t know what to expect without the assistance of proper medical care. Mary had to become the midwife. She was the only experienced woman in the room. She looked at Apple’s condition and knew that she was only dilated by 3 cm. Mary remained at Apple’s side and tried to comfort her, and also watching her cervix progressively dilate.

Shaun couldn’t stay in the room to watch the birth. The whole thing disgusted him. The situation made him cringe. He left the room to make a phone call.

Mary glanced at him leaving while Apple was having her contractions, and she was relieved.

Hours passed, and each contraction grew stronger and stronger. Apple had nothing to take for the pain. Her first birth would come naturally in a whorehouse on Mexican soil. Her legs were spread far apart, her head was propped up against a few pillows, and she clutched two whores’ hands, squeezing tight with every strong contraction.

Apple finally reached her second stage of the birth, and the pain grew worse. Her cervix had fully dilated.

Mary shouted, “You gotta push, Apple! Push!”

“Aaaahhh, it hurts! Oh my God! Fuck! Fuck!” Apple screamed out. She was exhausted, sweaty, and disoriented.

“Push, Apple! Push!”

The pressure on Apple’s cervix increased. Apple twisted her face in a scowl of agony, squeezing the girls’ hands.

“It hurts! Aaaahhh! It fuckin’ hurts!”

After hours of intense labor and continuing pushing, the baby’s head was finally visible. Apple started to feel a burning and tingling sensation below. She was almost done.

“I see it! I see it! Keep pushing, Apple, keep pushing!” Mary shouted.

Apple continued to do so.

Shaun suddenly re-entered the room after his absence for hours. He stared at Apple with no words. He hated that she had gone into labor already. He still had many willing customers to pay for sex with her. He had never imagined that a pregnant American woman could bring in the type of profit that she had.

Apple was his goldmine. But with her pregnancy about to be done with, he thought of other ways to profit. Then it hit him.
Just get her pregnant again.
He thought of the idea with a cunning smile.

Soon, there was the sound of a crying infant filling the room. The miracle of birth had everyone smiling and in awe.

“It’s a girl!” Mary announced.

Mary had the tiny infant wrapped snugly in a sheet in her arms. She knew the procedure with the umbilical cord. She had one of the girls get a pair of sharp scissors. Nothing was sterilized; only washed with soap and water. Mary clamped and cut the cord, and then she handed the infant over to Apple.

Apple was spent. She didn’t know what to do. She looked hesitant and reluctant in taking her own child into her arms. “I can’t.”

“Just hold her gently. A baby needs to feel her mother’s touch,” Mary said.

Apple slowly reached up to pull the infant into her arms. Anxiety washed over her.

Mary gently placed the infant girl into Apple’s arms, and Apple took a tender hold of her baby. She gazed at her daughter and couldn’t help but smile, weep, and then feel remorseful.

Giving birth was rough for Apple, but looking into the infant’s innocent eyes and feeling her fragile frame against her own made her feel like she was something from heaven. “Oh my God!” Apple uttered. “She’s beautiful.”

In some way for Apple, the child was a blessing and a curse. She didn’t know who the father was. It had to be some Mexican trick she’d fucked. But it was hers. It was the only thing Apple had felt proud of in a long while. The other whores who stood around her watching smiled also. They spoke in Spanish, which Apple vaguely understood. But she knew the word
primorosa
meant
beautiful
or
exquisite
. She still had a lot to learn with her Spanish.

“You need to name her,” Mary said.

Apple looked at her child and decided to name her daughter Peaches. She felt it was the perfect fit.

Shaun was in the room with an emotionless gaze glued on Apple. He was just happy that everything was over with. He wanted his house back in order and his whores back to making money. He stared at the infant for a moment and walked out the room.

****

It was late in the evening. The day had sped by for everyone. Mary and the stable of women felt like they had something to celebrate. They’d felt a brief aura of happiness and joy.

“You need your rest, Apple,” Mary said.

Apple nodded. She felt that her baby was in good hands with Mary. She rested against the pillows and slowly dozed off.

****

Hours passed. It was after midnight, and the whorehouse was booming with activity. But in Apple’s room, there was silence and a momentary peace that Apple felt while having her daughter in her arms. She gave life, and it was an overwhelming feeling that she would never forget.

“Peaches,” she said softly.

Her room door unexpectedly split open, and Shaun stormed into the room shouting, “Wake the fuck up!” A stranger in a dark three-piece suit accompanied him.

Apple clutched her baby tightly. She fixed her stare at Shaun and shouted, “What you want, Shaun?”

“That baby! You need to give her up to this gentleman here,” Shaun said.

Apple was confused. “What?! No!”

“Listen, you dumb bitch, what the fuck you think was goin’ to happen? That you was goin’ to be a mother to that little brat in this house? Bitch, please. I run a whorehouse here, not some fuckin’ daycare. And, besides, this is business. You see, my friend here paid fifteen thousand pesos for your daughter. That’s five thousand dollars.” Shaun stepped forward.

Apple clutched her child securely in the sheet.

Shaun reached for the baby girl.

Apple flinched with the infant in her arms. “Nooooo!” she screamed hysterically.

“Give that child here!” Shaun screamed.

Apple continued to draw back and shouted out, “Nooo! She’s mine! She belongs to me.”

The stranger in the suit stood in the shadows and only watched. Shaun punched Apple in the face and quickly grabbed the baby from her arms.

“I told you, don’t fight wit’ me,” he exclaimed. “This baby is already sold.”

Shaun passed the crying infant over to the stranger in the suit. He took the newborn infant in his arms, and then gave a nod of approval to Shaun.

“Nice doing business with you,” Shaun said.

The stranger made his exit.

Apple started to cry, hysterically. The tears flooded her face. The anguish she felt had her paralyzed. She was too weak to fight back and didn’t know if she could endure the pain she felt.
How is this happening to me? How is this even possible?
She felt trapped in a bad dream and just wanted it to end. She made up her mind that if someone didn’t come to rescue her soon, she’d end her life on her own accord.

Shaun stood over her and proclaimed, “Don’t worry about that one, ’cuz we gonna get you pregnant again very soon.”

Apple looked up, with swollen, puffy eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m going to see you dead...I put that on my child’s life.”

The ominous threat spooked Shaun, but only momentarily. He left the room, slamming the door behind him. Apple’s piercing crying could be heard from the hallway.

Mary stood not too far from the room. She sighed heavily, understanding Apple’s grief. She had been through the same grief plenty of times. Mary agreed with Shaun. A whorehouse was no place to raise a child, and Apple had to understand that.

CHAPTER 9

T
he sprawling five-bedroom mansion in Great Neck, Long Island was perfect for Chico and Blythe. The place was Chico’s speed and taste.

Blythe fell in love with her new home. It was far removed from the ghetto trenches of Harlem and the drug-ridden Pink Houses in Brooklyn. Blythe felt like she was in a different world—this was the good life for her.

She explored her new home with a huge smile and took in everything slowly—the dual fireplaces, French-chalked wood paneling, Brazilian wood floors, and magnificent floor-to-ceiling windows.

The backyard had an in-ground pool and Jacuzzi with a patio. The bedrooms were tricked out with plasma TV’s mounted on the walls, thick, rich carpeting, and the master bedroom had a massive custom bed that could fit five adults comfortably. The bathroom featured marble-tiled floors, a deep-sunken jetted tub, glass shower, and granite countertops, with mirrors everywhere.

Blythe felt like a queen in her new home. She hugged and kissed Chico passionately and exclaimed, “Baby, I freakin’ love it!”

Chico smiled.

It was only one of many fruits of his hard labor. The Mexican connect was working out better than ever for him.

It had been a month since his meeting with Roman, and afterward he’d flooded the hood with his new product—pure cocaine cooked up and cut into crack for his customers uptown, cocaine for his midtown and downtown clientele, and then the black-tar heroin he was distributing.

He was making a boatload of money, and business was good, but his problems with Cross and Kola were escalating.

The streets were on fire with bloodshed. The war was costing Chico soldiers and workers. And the NYPD were trying to crack down on his turf.

Two-Face was doing his job on the streets a little too well. He had a few of Cross’ men shook and running with his ruthless killing tactics. Chico’s name was heavy from corner to corner.

Chico stood in the center of the living room and looked around.
Blythe deserves it,
he thought to himself. His girl already had plans for their new home. She moved from room to room and already had decorators on the phone.

He walked out to the patio area and peered at the grassy yard, the trees, and his in-ground pool. He could remember growing up poor in the ghetto, enduring harsh conditions, and dreaming about a place like this. He was a child birthed into a world of destruction. His life was the same old cliché like many young men from the hood—no father figure around, abandonment issues, detention centers, violence, and yearning to get rich quick.