Authors: De'nesha Diamond
Gangsta Divas (4 page)
“Where do you want me to put this?”
My head swings back to my man at the stupid question. “On the floor. Where else?”
“All right.” He tilts the carpet off his shoulders and then eases it onto the floor. “There you go.”
I walk up to it and kick it until it rolls open and reveals the body within. “Maybelline, Maybelline, Maybelline.” A smile stretches across my lips. “Welcome to your new home.”
5
Lucifer
“T
his shit is fucked up,” Bishop swears, pounding his fist on the back door of this banged-up Escalade. Unlike me, my brother has never had a problem showing his emotions. He's a tough soldier, but Fat Ace has been like a brother to him since we were kids. They rose up the ranks together. There was mad love and respect between them. I feel all that he's feeling and more.
his shit is fucked up,” Bishop swears, pounding his fist on the back door of this banged-up Escalade. Unlike me, my brother has never had a problem showing his emotions. He's a tough soldier, but Fat Ace has been like a brother to him since we were kids. They rose up the ranks together. There was mad love and respect between them. I feel all that he's feeling and more.
“I hear you, cuz,” Cutty says, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Memphis's city light passes by in a long blur.
Normally, I'm the one that's behind the wheel, handling business and getting it done, but there ain't shit normal about tonight.
“I hate to even think about what those sick GD fucks will do with our man's body,” Novell adds, shaking his head. “Fat Ace deserves better, cuz.”
More tears sting my eyes, but with no rain inside the vehicle to cover them up, I fight those muthafuckas back with everything I got.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
A large sob grows in my throat, but I choke on that muthafucka instead of letting it out. Now that my body has been untwisted and I'm not pinned inside that wrecked SUV, I can breathe a little betterâand think clearer.
“We gotta get over there,” Bishop announces. “No way we let them keep Mason's body.”
Hope springs up in my chest. I reach for a gun that I no longer have at my side. “Let's do it.”
Cutty lifts his head and stares at us through the rearview mirror. “Say what?”
“Nigga, I didn't stutter. Let's do this.”
Cutty glances at Novell in the front passenger seat only to see cuz hang his head.
“Strap me,” I tell Bishop, ignoring the incredible amount of pain ricocheting throughout my body.
He twists his face. “Hell naw.We're dropping you off at Dr. Cleveland's so he can patch you up. We'll handle this shit.”
“Don't you dare treat me like a bitch.”
Bishop tosses up his hands. “But, heiferâ”
“Ain't no buts to this shit. I'm a muthafuckin' gangsta, nigga. All life long, baby. Now what?”
Bishop clams his jaw tight though I can see he wants to come hard at me. I can't let that shit happenâespecially in front of our people. If he clowns me, my authority goes out the window. I mush the side of his head. “Fall back and play your muthafuckin' position.”
Bishop glares.
“Now strap me,” I order him again.
Swearing under his breath, Bishop reaches down to his pants leg and retrieves his backup.
I eyeball it and then his TEC-9. He knows what's up before my ass even has to ask. We exchange guns. “The only reason I ain't goin' upside your head right now is because we're blood.”
“Are you two fuckin' crazy? We're not going to get any closer than we did last time.”
“The fuck we won't,” I tell him. “They would never expect our ass to hit them twice in one night.”
“That whole area should be swarming with cops by now,” Cutty shouts.
“Fuck them. I ain't worried about the fuckin' police,” I yell back, heated.
“You need to be,” Cutty shoots back. “We may have the captain in our back pocket, but that nigga don't do miracles. We need to scrap these rides and lie low.”
“Butâ”
“But nothing,” Cutty barks.
I blink. Who this muthafucka thinks he's talking to?
He adjusts his tone. “All I'm sayin' is that we need to think this shit through. Unless that nigga Python is dumb as shit, he ain't gonna be rollin' over to Shotgun Row neither. It's too hot over there right now.
If
he's got our boyâ”
If
he's got our boyâ”
“There's no
if
to this shit,” I snap.“I watched the nigga take Fat Ace with my own eyes.”
if
to this shit,” I snap.“I watched the nigga take Fat Ace with my own eyes.”
“A'ight. A'ight,” Cutty gives in. “I ain't doubting your word, ma.”
“Ma?” I snatch up the TEC-9 and plant that shit to the back of his head. “Who the fuck are you callin'
ma?
Do I look like one of those fuckin' chicken heads you get slobbin' on your shit? Huh?”
ma?
Do I look like one of those fuckin' chicken heads you get slobbin' on your shit? Huh?”
Cutty throws his hands up. “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.”
“Show the proper respect, nigga.”
“My bad.” He flinches. “I didn't mean to step out of line, Lucifer.”
Novell dives over from the passenger seat to grab the steering wheel while Cutty and I play out our drama.
After a long, tense silence, Bishop leans over.
“C'mon, Willow. He didn't mean nothin' by that shit.”
“Fuck that,” I growl. “Muthafucka talkin' like his ass been promoted.You think because our leader is down that you can talk to me any kind of way?” I jam the barrel harder at the back of his head. “Huh?”
“Nah. Nah.” Cutty shook his head. “That's not what's up.”
“You sure?”
“Hell yeah.You got your stripes. I wouldn't dare come out of pocket, cuz.”
“I
used
to think that shitâbut you were bumping those gums mighty hard a few seconds ago.”
used
to think that shitâbut you were bumping those gums mighty hard a few seconds ago.”
“I apologize, Lucifer. It's all good.”
The car heats with tension while we eyeball each other through the rearview mirror. While I waver whether to pull the trigger, Bishop leans over again.
“He's a good soldier, Willow.”
I grind my teeth and then lower the gun.
Cutty's shoulders slack as his hands return to the steering wheel. His ass dodged a bullet.
For the next mile, nobody says shit, but all eyes keep darting back toward me. Only Bishop has the balls to speak.
“So what do you want to do?”
It burns my ass to admit Cutty is right. Hell, I hear sirens all over the place now. “Nah. That nigga wouldn't go back to Shotgun Row. He'd be hiding out somewhere.” I cut my gaze toward Bishop. “Where are some of the other places you tagged his ass?”
“Just to this one place out in West Memphisâan old warehouse that looks as if it's been converted into a crib. He was only there for a hot minute. He could be laying his head there or maybe one of his jump-offs.”
“Shit. He got plenty of those stashed everywhere.” I roll my eyes at that long shot.
Bishop bobs his head.
“Fuck it. Let's roll,” I say.
“You got it, cuz.” Cutty says, cheesing and flooring the accelerator.
I shake my head, knowing that he's tryna get back on my good side. From the corner of my eyes, I see worry lines stretch across Bishop's forehead. “What?”
He hesitates for a second.
“C'mon. Spit the shit out,” I tell him, agitated.
“I ain't too sure about the lay of the land, nahwhatImean? I don't know how many niggas he got stashed over there. Could be none, could be a whole lot. Like I said, he only dipped over there for a few minutes when I tagged him.”
“Fuck it. Call in backup.” I pat my pockets and realize I lost my burner inside the crash. “Give me your phone.”
Bishop reaches into his pocket and hands me his burner. I hit Tombstone and he picks up on the second ring.
“Holla at your boy,” he answers.
“Hey, man. This is death calling. What's the damage over your way?”
“Far as I can tell we're down eight. Minimum damage. What's the head count in your neck of the woods?”
A boulder rolls into the center of my throat. I can't get into this shit about Mason with him right now. I clear my throat. “Status report due later. Right now, we gonna need some backup.”
“You know I got you.Where you rollin'?”
“Hold up. Here's Bishop. He'll fill you in.” I hand the phone back to Bishop. While he gives directions, I tune out and pull my shit together. Every fucking muscle, tendon, and nerve feels like they're rubbing over broken glass while my lungs threaten to collapse with each breath I take. I should go to the hospitalâbut I'm determined to see this shit through.
Twenty minutes later we creep down on a few row houses off Jackson Avenue in West Memphis. At first glance they ain't much to look at, but that's probably the fuckin' point. I spot a few flagless hustlers and chubby hoes squeezed into clothes three sizes too small and hugging empty corners in the rain. So far nobody makes a move or sends out a warning. No surprise, really. It's long been rumored that West Memphis gangs were disorganized with a every-nigga-for-themselves mentality.
It's a fucking disgrace.
“Which one?” Cutty asks.
“Ease up, man. It's the last crib at the end of this drive,” Bishop says.
Cutty hits the lights and pulls his foot up off the accelerator until we roll to a stop against a curb.
We scope the perimeter to see if any roaches run out, but the rain has chased them all inside.
Figures
.
Figures
.
Novell removes his shades. “You think he's in there?”
“It looks like the perfect place for a snake to slither and hide,” I say, eyeballing the peeling paint and overgrown hedges.
The boys chuckle among themselves as Tombstone rolls up behind us. Everyone checks their weapons and slaps in new magazines.
“Y'all niggas ready?” Bishops asks.
I look down at my fucked-up legs, concerned that I can't feel them. How in the hell am I going to pull off this miracle?
“Why don't we hit the back and you and Dougie stay out here in case the nigga tries to blast his way out of the front?”
Bishop is playing big brother, looking out to save me from making a fool out of myself. “Sounds like a plan,” I say, grabbing hold of the lifeline.
Cutty, Novell, and Bishop climb out of the car and then huddle up with Tombstone, Dougie, and Red.
Bishop explains the situation and I can hear them cursing about the loss of the big man. My eyes feel like they're sitting in battery acid.
“Fuck yeah. Let's do this shit,” Red says, pounding his chest. “It's waaaay past time we murk this nigga Python.”
Tombstone throws down what is left of a cigarette. “I'm in.”
Dougie strolls up to the SUV that I'm sitting in and hops behind the wheel. The other soldiers follow Bishop to the house at the end of the drive.
I hit the power button to the back window and prop the TEC-9 up on the frame. I feel like a punk-bitch sitting up in this muthafucka. I reach up to soothe a sudden irritating tic against my temple only to be surprised about the amount of sweat beading my brow. I need a doctor.
My gaze shoots up to the rearview mirror to see Dougie watching me.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“I'm fine,” I lie.
Is that my breathing sounding so choppy?
I shift my attention back to the house, hoping that it's enough to discourage him from asking any more questions. However, the longer I sit there, the more intense the pain.
Is that my breathing sounding so choppy?
I shift my attention back to the house, hoping that it's enough to discourage him from asking any more questions. However, the longer I sit there, the more intense the pain.
C'mon, you ugly muthafucka. Bring your ass on out here.
Unfortunately, the seconds feel like hours and the minutes feel like eternity. So far, the only thing that's happening is that the rain is picking up speed. Sweat drips into my eyes and it burns as much as the tears I'm fighting back.
Two minutes.
Three minutes.
“What the fuck is taking them so long?” I snap.
Tombstone's mountainous shoulders shrug.
Four minutes.
Five minutes.
A light clicks on in the house and I perk up, halfway expecting gunfire to clash with the rumbling sky.
Nothing happens. There's just the steady pounding of the rain on the roof.
Six minutes.
Seven minutes.
I'm pissed now and can barely sit still. The house lights click off and at long last our people creep back out the way they came. Instead of five people racing back, there's six. The addition is a small boy who looked no more than seven or eight.
“Now who do we have here?” Dougie says.
“I don't know.”
“Nah. I'm talkin' about at six o'clock.” I frown and jerk my head toward the back of the car. I know that '77 black Monte Carlo anywhere. “Python.” I open the back door but spill out onto the concrete. Despite the pain exploding inside me, I'm able to roll over and aim the TEC-9.
RAT-A- TAT- TAT- TAT!
Windows explode on the Monte Carlo as Python swings his big-ass car around while simultaneously sending a burst of fire our way.
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