Philadelphia (5 page)

Reading that the guy had died stunned Billie. Her heart actually skipped a beat when she read that he was dead. Her first reaction was terror. She thought for sure she was going to get arrested. But after she thought about it for a few more minutes her reaction turned to delight.
The scumbag got what he deserved.
Knowing that she had killed this guy empowered her. She had never felt this much a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction when she punished criminals legally. To Billie, this seemed a far more appropriate punishment.

The sound of Walter's voice brought Billie back to the present. “We would love to arrest this Phareed guy, but he is bulletproof. He runs everything and has set it up so he is so protected and removed from it all. We can't get anything on this guy.”

Billie's jaw tightened. Thinking about Phareed and hearing how protected he was enraged her. He was protected from the law but not from street justice. The solution to the problem of Phareed was so obvious to Billie.
Just kill him and then you are done with him.
Billie thought it was even easier for the police because they had a license to kill. They could easily go after him, shoot him, and then say they thought he had a gun.
Most likely he probably would be carrying a gun,
thought Billie.

“Just fucking arrest him!” she burst out. What she was really thinking was,
just fucking kill him.

Walter looked at Billie and chuckled at her intensity. “I wish we could, baby, but we have nothing.” He kissed her cheek then walked to the bathroom.

 

 

As Walter snored lightly, Billie stared into the shadows playing against the bedroom walls. She spent the night, until well near dawn, thinking about Phareed and how she was going to make him pay.

The air in the back room of the strip club, Honey Trap, was thick with weed smoke. It was late on a Friday night and the room was packed. Corner boys, pimps, businessmen, and, of course, strippers all partied and danced to the thumping hip-hop bass being blasted by the DJ.

Phareed swirled the dice in his right hand. “Money on the floor!” he yelled.

There was an instant swirl of action around him. Men were throwing money on the floor, yelling out bets. Others were making side bets with each other. When all the bets had been made, Phareed threw the dice to start another game of Ci-Lo. The game was fast and furious as money was being thrown down and picked up. The dice, thrown against the wall, seemed like an endless loop that constantly elicited some huge reaction from the crowd.

“Nigga, nobody can beat me at Ci-Lo.” Phareed took a hit from the blunt he was holding, and his chest, already swollen with muscles and pride, puffed out even more. He threw the dice again—another winning roll. He scooped up the money lying in front of him.

“I'm out.” He stuffed the cash in his pocket. His declaration elicited a moan from the crowd. Some guys were winning and wanted him to keep throwing, and others were just trying to kiss his ass and wanted to make him feel good. This was the life of Phareed—partying, making money, and traveling with an entourage who would do anything for him. He owned the Philadelphia streets, and if anyone challenged that, they were never heard from again.

Phareed had inherited his empire from the notorious Philly gangster Kareem Fahmy, who had built his empire from nothing. Phareed had started as a lowly corner boy for Kareem but quickly worked his way up to his most trusted lieutenant. Kareem treated Phareed like his son, and when he was ready he handed Phareed the keys to his empire. Kareem took off for the good life on a Caribbean island. He was still counseling Phareed, and Phareed had to pass all decisions by Kareem, but Kareem's plan was to lay low and have Phareed be the figurehead of the network. Kareem knew that everyone was always gunning for the top guy, so if he made it look like Phareed was the top dog he would be safe.

With Phareed as the head, the network expanded its distribution and diversified their operation. They now controlled the drug trade in Philly, they had the pimp game on lock, he supplied most illegal guns, and now, with the opening of the Honey Trap, they were opening legit businesses for money laundering. Phareed had big plans for his empire.

Phareed puffed on his blunt as he walked through the crowd, searching for a nice little ho to grind up on. All the girls were doing everything they could to catch his eye. Phareed looked, but not of them was doing it for him. He had already fucked most of these broads, and the ones he hadn't were busted. They were the ones he had on payroll for the freaks who came to his club and liked their hoes a little deformed—super fat, anorexic, or possibly pregnant. Phareed liked his women tight and thick.

Not really seeing anything that made his dick twitch, Phareed went out to the main room of the club in search of a thick-ass ho who he'd had fun with in the past. That room was just as packed as the back room. Phareed liked what he saw. All these heads up in the club meant one thing: more money.

“Isis.” Phareed stood at the edge of the stage.

The dancer was bent over in a dude's face, taking his money and making his mouth water. She was locked in on this sucker and didn't hear Phareed over the loud music.

“Isis!” Phareed yelled louder.

This time she heard him.

“Hey, daddy.” She smiled as she slinked her way to him. She bent down from the stage and gave Phareed a kiss on his cheek, then licked his earlobe.

“You done dancing for tonight.” He pulled out $1,000 from his pocket and handed it to Isis. “You with me for the rest of the night.”

He helped her off the stage and took her to the party going on in the back room. Isis grabbed herself a glass of Moët and sat on one of the couches. On the glass banquet table in front of her was a pile of cocaine. She placed her champagne down, rolled up one of the bills that Phareed had given her, and snorted a big fat line of coke. She rose from her leaned position, and her eyes were big as saucers.

Phareed laughed when he saw the look in her eyes.
This bitch just got high as shit,
he thought.
She ready to party.

“Come here,” he said, standing on the opposite side of the banquet table.

She leaned forward, did another quick hit of coke, and purred, “Let's party, motherfucker,” as she came up from the coke, wiping her nose.

Phareed had this bitch grinding up on him in the middle of the dance floor. The coke and weed had them both feeling nice, and the bass bumping from the speakers had them in a smooth grinding rhythm. His hands roamed her curvaceous body. She had him so ready to fuck that his dick was bulging through his jeans. Isis was ready to get down too when she felt the monster hiding in his pants rubbing against her pussy. She remembered how much fun she had with Phareed the last time.
I'm gonna fuck this nigga good and become his main bitch,
she thought.

“Let's go somewhere more private,” she said.

“You read my mind.” Phareed grabbed her and pulled her to his office. His boy Jumbo was standing at the door.

“No one comes in here,” Phareed said to Jumbo.

“A'ight.” The 300-pound monster took his position as gatekeeper.

Phareed and Isis walked into the office ready to get their freak, but were surprised when they saw Stone sitting behind Phareed's desk.

Stone was Phareed's right-hand man. Phareed had the street smarts and the tactical shit on lock, but Stone was straight-up business. He was the numbers nigga. The man was a genius at laundering money.

“Yo.” Phareed stopped in his tracks.

“Yo. Just got off the phone wit' my man.”

“A'ight. Now bounce. I need this joint for a minute.” Phareed motioned to the door with his head.

“Nah. I think we need to speak for a minute first.”

“That shit can wait.” Phareed brushed him off.

“Nah, real talk. You should hear this.”

Phareed sighed. “Shit. A'ight.” He turned to Isis. “Wait outside.”

She turned and walked out without saying a word. Isis was disappointed, but she wasn't going to let it show. She was angling to be his bitch and didn't want to seem whiny. If she had to, she would wait all night.

“Hit me. What's up?” Phareed said after Isis closed the door.

“My man just told me that Ramon was murked last night.”

“Who?” Phareed asked.

“That Spanish nigga from around the way. He did a bid for you up in Frackville.”

“Yeah, so what? That nigga is nothin' to me. Some low-level earner.”

“I know, but this nigga just got out the pen and someone did him. That shit is happening with frequency. One of our workers gets out of lockup and next thing you know . . .
Pow,
that nigga dead.”

Phareed thought about this for a second. “You think someone tryin'a send a message?”

“For sure. I think someone is coming after your ass. This shit is too coincidental.”

“Word.” Phareed shook his head as he thought about who might be making a move on him.

“And get this shit: they chopped his dick off. That's some message-sending shit if I ever heard it.”

“Damn. You ain't lie.” Phareed subconsciously grabbed at his own dick. The second he touched himself, he remembered why he was in the office in the first place. “I don't need to be thinkin' about this right now. I got some pussy to pound. Fuck. Put word out on the street and find out what sick fuck is doing all this killin'.”

“One more thing,” Stone said. “My man said that the cops are thinking it might be you ordering the hits. They might start puttin' more heat on us.”
⁹⁹

“Fuck them. Dumb muthafuckin' five-oh. Just find out who's doin' this shit and bring them to me.”

“A'ight.” Stone walked out.

As Stone opened the door, Phareed yelled, “Isis, get your ass in here and suck my dick.”

She appeared instantly, prepared to please her man.

Billie arrived at her office the next morning a little sore between her legs. It was a nice little reminder of her night with Walter.

She sat at her desk and began the process of sifting through files. After several hours of research her eyes were watered and blurry from looking at her computer. She hadn't found anything that could even remotely start a case. She was frustrated to say the least. Using the law to punish criminals was tedious and useless. Billie was having trouble even faking that she enjoyed the work, that she took any satisfaction in it. There was only one way that Billie was sure that criminals were being punished correctly.

Billie pushed away from her desk and leaned back in her chair. She changed her focus to more important things, like Phareed. Getting close to him seemed damn near impossible. She could help Walter investigate him and hopefully find some way to go after him, but that could take a long time. It was how the old Billie would handle the situation. The new Billie wanted to take immediate action. No wasting time with arguments in a courtroom convincing a jury to find him guilty, then giving him some bullshit little sentence. Billie's wanted to bring the hammer of justice down on him in her own way.

She sat up in her seat with an interesting thought. What if she could find a way to get close to this guy and take him down from the inside? Instead of going after him in a roundabout way she could go after him directly. She did it with the other three men she killed, so why not Phareed? The old Billie was intent on getting him in a courtroom and putting him behind bars. She wanted him to look her in the eyes as she slew him in court and brought him to justice. Now she wanted him to look her in the eye while she was literally slaying him.

Billie smiled as she thought about a new plan of attack. “Time to go hunting,” she whispered.

Billie printed out all the files regarding Phareed and his associates. She stuffed them all into a folder and placed it in her briefcase. Even though it was hardly the afternoon, she was done working for the day.

“Hey, Billie, where you going?” Kevin asked as she passed him in the hall.

“Lunch.” She kept walking.

“Great. I'll tag along. I'm starved.” He reversed his direction and began walking beside her.

“This is a personal lunch. You're not invited,” she coldly stated.

“Well, fuck you too.” He frowned.

She stopped instantly and shot daggers at him with her eyes. She was about to go off on him but stopped herself and thought better of it. Instead she remained silent and continued walking out of the building. She had more important things to deal with than dealing with a white boy whose feelings were hurt.

She didn't really have much of a plan when she pulled out into the heavy downtown traffic. All she knew was that she was seeking justice and it would be served. Billie began cruising around some of the worst neighborhoods in Philadelphia, hoping that she would see Phareed. After an hour of endless driving she realized this was a complete waste of her time. She wasn't going to miraculously run into him by coincidence. She needed to make it happen for certain. She needed to know where he laid his head, where he liked to party, where he conducted his business.

Billie turned back to one of the streets where she had seen some corner boys working the block. She was going to get some answers.

As Billie turned on to the block, she saw the same boys still hustling. She slowly pulled up to the corner and stopped in front of the group of boys. Each boy in the group was wearing the same oversized white T-shirt and jeans halfway down their asses. It was their uniform. The only thing that set them apart from one another was their shoes. Some wore Timberlands, others wore Nikes.

She lowered her window and motioned for one of the boys. The youngest of the bunch started toward her car, but before he could make any progress the oldest pulled him back by his shirt.

“I got this,” the oldest said. He approached Billie's car and leaned into the passenger side window.

“What you need, beautiful? I'm always ready to help a lovely lady.”

Billie smiled at the young boy's attempt to charm her. Looking at his smooth face, Billie figured he was no more than sixteen.
Still a baby,
she thought.

“How cute that you are so charming. You can help me by telling me where I can find Phareed.”

“What? I ain't good enough for you?” the boy asked.

“You are fine, young one. I just need Phareed.”

“A'ight. I hear you. Give me fifty and I'll tell you where you can find that nigga.”

“You want fifty dollars?” Billie sounded incredulous.

The boy just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine.” She reached in her purse and produced fifty dollars.

The boy snatched it from her and counted it before putting it in his pocket.

“Fuck you, bitch. Get the fuck out my block.” He pushed away from the car and walked back to his boys. They greeted each other with ritualistic hand slaps and laughed as the young boy told them what he did to Billie.

She sat steaming in the car as she watched them laughing at her expense. It took all of her control not to jump out and go after the boy. Figuring at least one of the boys had a gun, she thought better and just mean mugged them from her car.

Seeing Billie still on the block, the boy yelled out, “What I say? Leave, bitch.” He pulled up his shirt to expose the gun in his waistband.

Seeing that she was correct about the gun, Billie put the car in drive and got the fuck out of there.

“Fuck!” She slammed her hands on the steering wheel. She needed a different approach if she was going to get any information about Phareed from any of his workers.

She drove until she found another group of corner boys, and just like the previous time she pulled right up to them. One of them came over immediately and leaned in her window. “What you need?”

“I need some information.”

“I don't sell no information, pig.” He walked back to his position on the corner.

Shit. He thought I was a cop
. Another wasted effort. How was she going to get these young bucks to tell her what she needed? She drove off in search of another corner boy. As she drove the dirty streets, she brainstormed how she was going to get any of these kids to talk. All afternoon, she rolled through the poverty-stricken neighborhoods and watched the action on the sidewalks—groups of men gathering in front of buildings telling grand stories that were only partly true, women walking to the bodegas carrying a child in one arm and dragging their older sibling with the other. This was the life that Billie had grown up with. She was familiar with these scenes. She loved her city, but she hated most of its residents. She turned up the music in her car to drown out the neighborhood noises until she could find what she was looking for.

She pulled down a rather deserted street except for some women loitering near the middle of the block. As she drove past, she saw that they were prostitutes waiting for a john. An idea popped into her head.

The next dope boys she found, she again pulled right up to them. Like clockwork, the minute the car stopped a boy approached. Billie thought that they seemed like trained dogs responding to a whistle.

“What you need?” This boy seemed a little older than the others she had run into. Billie guessed him to be around nineteen years old.

“I need your help. I need you to act like my pimp.”

“What the fuck? You serious?” The boy chuckled.

“Some guy I fucked a few days ago is harassing me. I want nothing to do with this buster, so I told him my pimp won't let me see anyone. I need you to stand in as my pimp.”

“You ain't dressed like no ho.” He said with some caution in his voice.

“I'm high end. I'm not some streetwalking bitch.”

The boy smiled. “Yeah, I like that. Whatever you need, ma.”

“Good. Get in.”

“Hold on, ma. What's in it for me?” He ogled Billie.

“I'll give you fifty dollars.”

“Make it a hundred.”

She eyed him for a moment, wary after having just been ripped off. Then, realizing she had little choice, she snapped open her purse and dug out the bills. “Fine. Whatever.” She handed him the money.

“That's a start. Now how about a little somethin' else?” He gave her his best seductive look.

Billie couldn't believe all these boys on the streets trying to act like men. She could just tell that this kid had no idea how to seduce a woman and everything he was trying he learned from television. She almost felt bad for him. Then she remembered he was a drug dealer ruining her city.

She needed him, though, so she played along. With a seductive look of her own she said, “We'll see what we can work out, young'un.”

That was enough of a yes for the boy. He jumped into the passenger seat, leaving the rest of his posse on the corner.

Billie quickly pulled away from the curb, making sure she kept the boy in the confined space. The anticipation she started to feel about getting her information had adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“You in a hurry,” the boy commented.

Billie didn't realize, but the adrenaline was causing her to really step on the gas and speed down the street. As soon as the boy pointed it out, she eased off on the gas pedal.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I guess I'm just excited about getting this guy off my back,” she said.

“Who is this nigga?”

“Just some guy I met at a bar. I wouldn't be having this problem if I was in Phareed's stable of women.”

“Why you ain't with Phareed? That's where you make the money.”

“That's what everybody keeps tellin' me, but no one will introduce me. I'm new to the city. Just moved here from Pittsburgh.”

“Shit. That's what you want I'll take you to Phareed. Me and that nigga is tight.”

“Really?” Billie couldn't believe her luck.

“Yeah. I'll take you to him now.”

“Just tell me where to go.”

The young man directed Billie on to South Columbus Boulevard. They headed south, passing the
USS United States
and then taking a left onto South Columbus Avenue. They drove parallel to the river for a little while.

“Pull in here.” He pointed to a parking lot on the left.

Billie followed his directions. They passed an empty trailer as they drove through the open chain-link gates. Billie looked at the young man with uncertainty on her face.

The young man smiled at her. “Keep going.” He pointed straight ahead.

Determined to finally meet Phareed, Billie obeyed and drove slowly across the expansive parking lot, heading toward the Delaware River. Close to the end of the parking lot there was a dirt road to the left that Billie was instructed to turn down.

The sun had finally set, and Billie turned on her headlights. As soon as her lights illuminated the darkness and she pulled onto the dirt road, she saw a rusty old water tower rising in front of her. Getting a bad feeling, she stopped the car.

“Where are you taking me?” She looked at the young man.

Before she knew what was happening, the young man punched her in the face, snapping her head in the opposite direction. Blood immediately started flowing from her split lip.

“Bitch. I ain't gonna act like your pimp. I am your pimp. You my bitch now.” He threw a series of heavy blows to the back of Billie's head, causing her to see stars. She fought to stop herself from passing out as she covered up to protect herself from his vicious punches. The moment there was a pause in the onslaught from the young man, Billie opened the car door and ran.

“Bitch!” The young man jumped out and chased after Billie.

Billie ran for her life toward the water tower. She looked back and saw the man was in pursuit and gaining quickly. Billie tripped as she turned back around, and fell into the bushes in front of the water tower. In a matter of seconds the man was on top of her, sitting on her back, pinning her face into the dirt.

“You feisty, huh, bitch? You like to play?” He punched the back of her head.

Billie could feel the tears streaming down her face and mixing with the blood from her lip. She struggled to get free from the grasp of the young man, but he was too strong. She could feel the full weight of him on her back as he used his knees to pin her arms down. Dirt was flying into her mouth, causing her to choke as she screamed, “Fuck you! Get off me! Help!” She was in panic mode.

“I'm gonna teach my bitch to obey. You behave and I'll take care of you.” He grabbed a hold of the waistband of her slacks and yanked them down, exposing her bare ass. She struggled even more now, violently trying to get out from under him. The pain in her arms from the pressure of his knees was becoming unbearable. She struggled desperately to free her arms. During her struggle, she felt her left hand hit something hard. She looked and saw a rock about an inch from her fingertips.

“Yeah. I'm gonna tear this ass up.” He started unbuckling his pants.

Billie strained to stretch her fingers and grab the rock. Her fingertips were barely making contact with it. The young man moved into position to ram his penis into her. The moment he released her arms from under his knees, Billie grabbed the rock and was able to swing around and smash the rock in his face. The force of the blow knocked him off of Billie, and she was able to scramble to her feet. The young man was momentarily stunned, allowing Billie enough time to wind up and bash the rock into his head.

“You motherfucker!” she screamed as she repeatedly slammed the rock into his head. The young man's face split open like a coconut with blood pouring out of the gashes she was creating. She kept on smashing until she was too tired to swing anymore. Then she collapsed to her knees and sobbed.