Dope Girl 4: R. I. P. Read online

  “That’s how us dark girls get down,” Jackie co-signed. “The darker the berry the sweeter the juice!”

  “I’m saying though…let a nigga sip the juice then,” Bad Ass said seductively. Little nigga even licked his lips like LL Cool J hoping it might help his campaign.

  “Shit I’ll go to jail for fucking yo’ little ass! Holla back when you get some hair on yo’ face,” Jackie laughed.

  “Ask yo’ girl Dasia how I rock,” he shot back smugly.

  “Speaking of D…” Cameisha mumbled and called her phone again. This time she got a different result that made her frown at her phone. Sure enough, it was Dasia’s name and number on the screen but, “Her phone off?”

  “Can’t be, I just paid the bill on the phones,” Jackie insisted. It was one of her duties so she took it personally.

  “Anyway,” Cameisha said nonchalantly but everyone felt the car speed up. “What you find out about the trap?”

  “Yo, that shit booming ma! After I rocked my shorty to sleep, I went out to peep game. It’s mad money out here!” Lil’ Self exclaimed.

  His little black girlfriend Angel had an older brother nicknamed Black who supplied the weight. Just ounces of cooked coke that the trap stars trap. Angel’s mother demanded twenty out of him for spending the night. He sold enough dope in his short life to know full well what she was going to do with it and asked to inspect the product when she returned.

  “Yo, that shit some garbage! Straight whip, dimes, and nicks,” he explained.

  “Sho-nuff?” Cameisha pondered aloud. The wheels in her head could be heard as they turned. There was no structure or order. Just a bunch of freelance dealers peddling for shoe and coochie money. “I need to holla at Black. Meanwhile y’all set up shop with that glass. Let’s get these junkies to see things our way!”

  Chapter 3

  Trigga made it to the west side at the same time that Cameisha scooped up Self and Bad Ass. He frowned at the police activity in his apartment complex and kept right on driving. He caught a glimpse of Troy’s car as he passed by.

  “Let me see what’s the deal,” he muttered to himself as he pulled up to the corner store. He parked there and approached on foot. A sinking feeling hit him when he saw the official activity was at his mother’s building.

  Half of the building had been destroyed by fire. He slipped into the crowd of spectators who had gathered to gather information so they would have something to talk about later. Being on the scene allowed them to be the “they” in “they said.” Think about it…

  “What happened?” Trigga asked a large lady in a housecoat and rollers. The news reporter had already spotted her as their eyewitness.

  “Miss Betty n’dem ‘partment caught a fiyah!” she said proving she was the right pick to embarrass black folks. It was already out when she turned to see who she was speaking to. “I’m shole is sorry baby.”

  “Sorry for what…” Trigga began but was answered by the coroner. The body bag on the stretcher said all that needed saying.

  “Hold up! Wait!” an officer yelled as Trigga ducked under the crime scene tape.

  “Is that my momma?” he asked urgently.

  “The deceased is believed to be Betty Jackson, but son, you don’t want to see her like this,” the officer said sympathetically. Trigga took his word for it, but still struggled out of frustration. That was what Troy arrived to see.

  “What’s up shawty?” Troy demanded ducking under the yellow tape and separating the two men.

  “My momma…” Trigga croaked unable to get it all the way out. A single tear escaped his eye. It would be the only one.

  “I know shawty, I know,” he comforted and led him away.

  Trigga knew he felt his pain since he recently lost his own mother. The only difference was this time there was no one to get revenge on. Even though the complex was teeming with police and other officials, Troy fired up a blunt as soon as they sat in his car. A cop frowned at the petty crime, but let it go.

  “Pull ‘round the corner to Oak Tree,” Trigga announced after five minutes of mourning. Death is a part of life and the show must go on.

  “Yeah it’s time to put these niggas down with our lil’ campaign,” Troy agreed and put the car in gear.

  Oak Tree Apartments was a virtual ghost town since the Salazar gunmen went through and sprayed the place. Now the dope boys were hungry and the crack heads were thirsty. Trigga was right on time. The trap stars got excited when they saw their savior coming to save them.

  “What y’all got going on?” Trigga asked casually from shotgun. It was a rhetorical question since he knew they didn’t have shit going on. They hadn’t had any work since Squeal died.

  “Shit. That’s what we got going on. Jack shit!” DQ griped, twisting his lips.

  “What Squeal was giving y’all off a G-pack?” Troy asked.

  “A hunned!” Lil’ Shock blurted truthfully and getting daggers shot at him by his friends who wanted room to negotiate. Both Trigga and Troy recognized him as their go to guy.

  “Well, we pay two fiddy off one G-pack or…”

  “Or same thing them Mexicans brought,” Troy said picking up where Trigga left off. Sometimes a death threat can be a great negotiation tool. This was one of those times. All the dealers would much rather take $250 than get shot. And who could blame them?

  “That’s what’s up!” DQ cheered and came forward with an empty palm.

  Trigga tightened his finger on the trigger of the gun concealed under his shirt while Troy handed out the work. Five G-packs to the five trappers equaled a quick $3,750. That’s good money while you’re off making other money.

  ****

  The roomful of Columbian killers was quiet and meek as they watched their boss pace back and forth. At the same time Juan tried to walk a hole in the carpet his brother worked the phones. Manny called everyone and anyone, looking for information on the missing woman. Finally, a return call delivered the news and it was not good.

  “Si…si…adios mios!” Manny said crossing himself at the report. The action relayed the message to all except Juan.

  “What? What!” he demanded, snatching his older and larger brother by his collar. “Que!”

  “I’m sorry, she’s gone,” he said softly and took the abuse.

  All the hearts in the room broke when Juan howled like a lady and collapsed. It was a very uncomfortable sight; seeing the boss cry like a bitch.

  “Bring me the girl,” he whimpered softly. No one moved because no one knew what he meant. Was he asking for his dead girlfriend or some other girl?

  “What girl, hermano?” Manny finally asked.

  “Blanca. The white girl. The one who talks a lot,” he clarified. Manny snapped at Jose who rushed to carry out the command.

  “Que pasa?” one of the family lieutenants inquired. “What is going on here Juan? Why are we here?”

  “Cameisha…the black girl. She is the source of the tainted cocaine. She had the white girl alter it. She is the one who killed Angela. Mi madre said they argued on the phone and Angela went to see her,” he explained.

  “Cameisha killed Angela?” Manny exclaimed in disbelief. He wasn’t the only skeptic. Dubious frowns spread amongst the uncles, cousins, and associates at the mention of Mama Salazar. Those who knew her well knew she was a lying snake. They also knew she was a very dangerous woman so they thought it but did not speak it.

  “Por que?” Uncle Sosa asked. He witnessed how close they were. Heard him refer to her as his sister. “Why would she suddenly kill Angela? This makes no sense!”

  “We’re about to find out,” Juan shot back firmly even though he wondered the same thing. None of it made any sense. Even Cameisha’s hand in the poison drugs made no sense. Just then, Chaparo walked Samantha into the room. He wore the pained expression on his face of someone on the verge of being talked to death.

  “You! Why did you sock me mister?” Samantha demanded when she saw Juan. Of course, she didn’t wait for a
response before launching into another one of her tirades.

  “Chaparo grab the recorder. Manny, get Cameisha on the line,” Juan ordered over the verbal assault. He walked over and pressed her mute button with another savage punch.

  Chapter 4

  “What?” Cameisha asked seeing Jackie’s reaction when she hung up her phone. She already knew who she called.

  “Now it’s saying the number has been changed!” she growled. This was an ‘I told you so’ waiting to happen. Jackie didn’t trust Dasia any further than she could throw her. She deceived the crew once so she couldn’t understand why Cameisha trusted her again.

  Cameisha didn’t need to be reminded. She pressed on the gas and dipped in and out of traffic racing to the apartment.

  “She prolly broke out with her girlfriend,” Self snickered.

  “I just can’t see Dasia eating no pussy. I don’t even eat no pussy!” Bad Ass announced, with his bad ass.

  “And you tryna holla at me! Boy stop!” Jackie laughed.

  “How ‘bout you Self? You lick the candy jar?” Meisha asked via rearview mirror.

  “Uh…um, no,” Self lied. He subconsciously wiped his mouth cracking the occupants of the car up. The lighthearted banter paused the worry until they reached their destination.

  Once they parked, Self had to run to stay ahead of Cameisha who was marching like a Korean soldier. He got the door open and stepped aside so she could enter.

  “A-yo D! Where you at big face?” she called out playfully. She hoped the sleepy eyed girl would stagger out and explain away all their fears. However, it was not to be.

  “A-yo Meish, look it!” Self called from the hallway. Cameisha rushed down and saw him frozen in place. He pointed at his kicked in door as if afraid to go further.

  Cameisha didn’t want to go in either so she went into Dasia’s room instead. “Man…” she moaned at the empty room. Even though Dasia had a room at the house, she kept all clothes and shoes there and they were all gone. The suitcase they kept the weed in was the only thing left in the closet. Cameisha expected it to be bare, but to her surprise, it wasn’t. A neat square equal to one fourth had been removed.

  “Yo, we missing three bricks!” Self reported when Cameisha entered the boys’ ransacked room. “We had 12.”

  “Why she leave nine?” Meisha pondered aloud.

  “Well the bitch ain’t leave no money. It was a buck and a half in here!” Jackie growled at the hundred and fifty thousand-dollar loss.

  “A fourth! One fourth,” Cameisha chuckled dryly as she figured it out. “She took her share.”

  “Her share! The bitch ain’t got no share! If she wanted to bounce, she could bounce. She ain’t entitled to no fourth of nothin’! And she took all the cash! I’ma kill that bitch!” Jackie screamed.

  “No you’re not,” Meisha said calmly. “I’m going to kill her.”

  ****

  “This is it!” Lisa cheered and clapped as she pulled in front of a large Victorian home. It still showed a glimpse of its past glory with the ornate woodwork but it and the entire neighborhood had seen better days. “Come on!”

  “What the hell am I doing?” Dasia asked herself for the hundredth time since fleeing Atlanta. She felt the regret of betraying her friend for some ass. The sight of Lisa’s sweet ass rushing across the barren lawn provided some comfort.

  “Look who’s here!” Lisa announced through a raggedy screen door. She pulled it open and rushed inside, Dasia at her heels

  “Oh!” Dasia grunted from the assault on her nostrils. The dim, dank, damp home smelled like old fish grease, malt liquor, shitty diapers, and the large lady smoking menthols.

  “Is that my Li-Li?” the bearded lady screamed from her Lazy Boy chair. Hers should have been called a Lazy Lady chair because it’s where the lazy lady spent most of her time.

  The clutter around it provided everything she needed and the pickle jar full of pee served as her bathroom. She used her multitude of children and grandchildren as human remote controls to fetch what she needed. All day she barked orders like “Light Big Mama’s cigarette. Roll Big Mama a blunt. Go play Big Mama’s number and of course, change the TV.”

  “It’s me,” Lisa bounced and rushed over to hug her sweaty neck.

  “Who yo’ lil’ friend?” Big Mama asked giving Dasia a once over as they hugged. Dasia wondered if she didn’t like girls too.

  “Oh this Dasia. Dasia this is Big Mama,” she introduced backing away.

  “Hey Big Mama,” Dasia greeted with a handshake.

  “Hey yo’self lil’ mama,” the old woman purred stroking Dasia’s hand and proving her right. “Let Big Mama hold five dollars to play my numbers.”

  Everyone who has ever been used or taken advantage of can remember exactly when it started. They can vividly recall the first yes that caused the trickle that broke the dam and flooded the town. The yes that should have been a resounding no! A hell no, fuck outta here.

  “Um…sure,” Dasia agreed and went for her purse. Time stopped in the rundown house when cash came into view.

  Big Mama wished she had asked for more when she saw the roll. A snotty nose baby boy with a sagging diaper walked over and stuck out his dirty hand. The toddler toddled her for some cash too. The naked little girl saw the money and started dancing. Just like her ratchet mother did in the strip club every night.

  “Do I smell money?” a slimy little man asked as he slithered around a corner. The dope fiend could actually smell money. He may have never worked a day in his life, but he could suck coins out of a vending machine. Or hold his breath for five minutes collecting change from fountains and wishing wells.

  “Un uh Uncle Mark!” Lisa shouted but it was too late. He’d already seen the money.

  “Hey lil’ mama, I’m yo’ uncle Mark,” he said as he enveloped Dasia in a funky hug.

  “Oh!” Dasia gasped and held her breath as the smell from his underarms and funky balls wafted into her life.

  “So good to see you again,” he said rocking with her like they were old friends. It wasn’t until Dasia felt his dope fiend dick getting hard that she push away.

  “Here you go Big Mama,” she said peeling off a ten instead of the five. That’s called adding fuel to the fire.

  “Let me hold a hunned!” Mark asked trying his luck.

  “Ain’t nobody giving you no damn hundred dollars!” Lisa shouted in her own defense.

  “A’ight, a’ight five then. Jelly n’dem got fat balloons of that diesel for five,” he announced causing Lisa to flinch. Dasia saw the odd reaction but didn’t understand it. Not yet, anyway, but she would.

  “Sure,” Dasia agreed and gave him a five. The cool baby came over and she gave him a one. The future THOT got a bill too and started dancing.

  “Y’all ate yet? Y’all want some of Big Mama’s fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, candy yams, and collards,” she enticed.

  “Hell yeah!” Lisa shouted with Dasia nodding beside her.

  The girls had just come off a three-day coke binge of no food or sleep. They ate a lot of pussy and eating pussy may be rewarding and fulfilling but it’s not very filling. Man cannot live on vagina alone. Neither can women.

  “Ok, y’all go to the sto’ and grab some chicken, macaroni, cheese, collards, and sweet potatoes. Oh and a 40 of malt liquor and play 5-6-9 box, straight, and twist,” Big Mama said tucking the ten under one of her big ass titties. No telling what all was under those things.

  Uncle Mark caught a ride to the store with the girls. When they went inside to shop, he bent a corner to cop. Big Mama’s final list filled up an entire shopping cart. Lisa walked away from the register when the three hundred dollar total appeared.

  They got back to the car just as Mark finished cooking his dope. Just in time to see him push the plunger sending the heroin into his veins. He passed gas loudly and went into a nod. Lisa felt her panties get wet remembering what that felt like. Her addiction ran her to Atlanta, but now she was home.
/>   Dasia ignored the smell, the roaches, and the big ass stain in Big Mama’s nightshirt that she wore all day every day. Despite the nastiness, the food was delicious. She even pretended not to see the ashes that fell into the collards and ate them too.

  “That was great Big Mama,” she sang appreciatively.

  “Thank you child. Where y’all staying Li-Li?” Big Mama asked.

  “We gon’ get a hotel until we find an apartment…”

  “No such a thing! Y’all gon’ stay rat here until you find a place,” the woman insisted. She evicted Mark from his room to make space.

  The food, long drive, and lack of sleep left Dasia too tired to argue. She followed Lisa up to Mark’s heroin paraphernalia cluttered room. Burnt bottle tops, matches, and used syringes littered the cramped room. The bed had the dirty imprint of a man on the dirty sheet. Dasia was too tired to argue so she climbed on, fully dressed, and passed out. Luckily, for her, she put her cash filled purse under her body as she slept. The bulk of the money was stashed in her suitcase in the car.

  Dasia smelled Mark enter the room but pretended to sleep. She felt him standing over her and peeked out from under a clenched eyelid. There was Unc staring at her crotch and pulling on his dope fiend dick. She felt a glob of semen hit her leg when he came with a grunt. When they awoke the next morning, she insisted on a hotel.

  Chapter 5

  “Let’s see if you’re ready to talk now chica!” Juan said smugly once he got word that everyone was in place. His previous calls had all gone to voicemail. He stuck his chest out since he had an audience and put the call on speakerphone. “I have…”

  “Yo Juan, I can’t talk right now. I got a situation!” Cameisha blurted and hung up. Some of the stolen money belonged to him for what he fronted her as well as the next re-up. She would have to flip the remaining drugs just to break even. “Any word from Sam?”

  “Still voicemail,” Jackie said twisting her lips in thought.

  “I…huh?” Juan asked the dead phone. He snapped his finger at the thought that popped in his head. He took a picture of the girl asleep at his feet and texted it to Cameisha. Then he crossed his arms and waited for the call he knew was coming.