A Woman’s Work: Street Chronicles (29 page)

Locking in on our prey, Moet went in for the kill. “Zoot, I’ve been admiring you for quite some time now. It’s just that with work and all, I never really get a chance to kick it and let my hair down. But tonight is my day off and I’m looking to have a good time.”

Zoot acted like he’d just hit the lottery. Drunk or not, he definitely wasn’t turning down the chance to be with the likes of Moet. She was his dream, and now he had his golden opportunity. T-Pain said it best. Zoot was in
love
with a stripper. “Excuse my manners, baby. Have a seat,” he said as he scooted over to make room in the booth. Moet took a seat so close to Zoot you’d have thought they were Siamese twins. Moet, being the party girl that she is, was ready to bring on the festivities. “Whatcha sippin’ on, girl?” Zoot asked. He had his big-boy demeanor on now. I couldn’t believe it. Earlier when we were doing shots, he’d seemed hesitant. Now, in front of Moet, this dude went from Clark Kent to
Superman. The funny part about it was, this nigga never went into a phone booth. He changed right in front of our eyes. “I want you to feel like you’re dating TI. You can have whatever you like,” he boasted. I had to admit, he brought out his swag.

“Bring me some Patron and, hell, let’s chase it with Rosé.” Moet said it like it was the everyday norm, which in her case it was. She was used to that type of lifestyle. Eager to please, Zoot put his order in. There seemed to be no limit to how far he’d go to please her. That included buying out the bar.

I wanted to stay and watch how everything would unfold, but for things to run their course, I knew I had to flee. Moet and I had already discussed how things would go down. I was more than confident in her skills. I made up an excuse about having to be at the boutique for a staff meeting and left the restaurant. On the way out, I spotted Tate. I think my presence startled the hell out of him. Neither of us said a word. I dared that loser to even blink. I had my Nina strapped to my thigh, and as much as I loved Spondivitz, I wouldn’t have minded taking his ass out on the spot.

Sensing that I wasn’t someone to fuck with, he turned and got lost in the crowd. I looked at Jetta, who was standing right next to me like the CIA. He was armed and ready to blast a nigga. “That dude is nothing but trouble waiting to happen,” he mumbled. Jetta disliked him almost as much as I did, but for his own reasons. I turned and looked back in Spondivitz and noticed Tate at the table talking to Zoot. I texted Moet a brief message and started walking toward my ride. I read her return text and took a breath of air.

“You want me to go back in there and handle both of them marks?” asked Jetta, who was ready like Freddie.

“No,” I said. I was smiling inside. I knew that with Moet listening in on their conversation, it was just as good as me being there with front-row seats. “I got this, Jetta, trust me. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

I
hid in the walk-in closet of Moet’s condo. Originally, we’d only planned on having to deal with Zoot. However, when Tate had showed up unexpectedly, I had to get two for the price of one. I could hear Moet giggling as she came down the hall. She’d initially agreed to bring Zoot back but when I texted her about luring Tate to come too, I knew she was game. She was my closest girlfriend, and I’d confided in her about how he’d tried to rape me. We’d said that if we ever caught that nigga slippin’, we’d toast his ass. Well, tonight was his night.

They thought she was going to have a ménage à trois with them. Zoot was so fucked up he didn’t care if he got the pussy or not. Just being in the same room with Moet was good enough for him. Tate, on the other hand, was a true hard leg. He was all about trying to beat some pussy to sleep. I’d already warned Moet to be extra-careful when handling him. Both of us were packing our Ninas with hollow points and silencers. I’d nicknamed my Nina “Justice” because when I pull her out, it’s just like being a judge; niggas was getting the life sentence.

Tate tried to be aggressive and set the tone for what he thought was about to be a magnificent evening. “Moet, baby, go to the back and put on one of those sexy-ass outfits that you wear onstage. You so damn fine, you have me in the corner screaming like a bitch,” he teased. Moet giggled and excused herself to go get dressed. While she was changing, I could hear Tate and Zoot whispering. “Yo, I thought you said your boy Stacks was out of commission and you’d be handling things. What happened? Before this shit went down, I was getting my keys for the low-low. Now your boy Carlos acts like he don’t know our situation. He
ain’t even trying to front no yayo,” he said. I couldn’t believe my ears. Zoot had been supplying the enemy with our own product. Here I was thinking Carlos would be the weak link, and it was Zoot who was not only snitching but double-crossing. Hell, naw, this lame ass had to be dealt with.

“Listen, man, I’ve been trying to earn my position back. Unfortunately for me, Taylor’s been made chairman of the street team. She’s changed my post, making me hang with both her and Jetta. I couldn’t stand his brother, Steelo, which is why I marked his ass. Being around him is like being with Steelo’s ghost. He’s a walking replica of that fool.”

Did I just hear what I thought I did? Had he truly set up Steelo’s murder? He’d just signed his death certificate. I hoped his mother had insurance, ’cause she was about to need it.

Moet returned to the room barely wearing a sexy two-piece ensemble. She had her portable stripper pole in her hands. She twisted it into its place and gave the guys a million-dollar smile. “Hey, boys, let’s role-play. I’ll play the stripper and y’all be my big ballers,” she said.

“Fo’sho,” Tate said as he began taking out his roll and throwing money at her. Not to be outdone, Zoot took out two rolls of money and started throwing bills her way too. Moet was enjoying the attention. She stepped over to the stereo system, turned on some seductive music, and dimmed the lights.

“Hey, Mo, you’re turning me the fuck on. I gotta get a piece of that good-good. I want to tap it first,” said Tate.

“I got first dibs, nigga. It wasn’t my idea to invite you anyway,” Zoot said, crying like a baby.

“Oh, suga, two is company and three’s a blast. I’m a bottle of bubbly, remember? Now bring that dick over to Momma,” she crooned in a sultry voice.

Zoot trotted over to Moet, while Tate started taking off his clothes. I swear he was butt-naked before Zoot could even make it
over to Moet. Zoot started fondling her, kissing one breast, and going down to her secret garden. Moet sighed with glee. She was either enjoying the attention or she was putting on a hell of an act. She looked toward the closet and winked at me, letting me know it was all a game. My girl was damn good. Tate joined the party and started kissing every place that Zoot wasn’t.

“Damn, baby, you got the sweetest-tasting pussy,” Zoot said. He was smacking like it was a pastry.

“Let me taste some of dat.” Without waiting his turn, Tate just dug in. He literally pushed Zoot out of the way and staked his claim.

“Boys, I got a surprise for you,” Moet said, giving me my signal.

“What’s the surprise?” they said in unison.

“Remember I said we were going to role-play? Well, I have a new character for you guys. I want you both to try out for the part. The winner gets a special treat,” she teased.

“What’s the part? I’ve been told I could’ve been the next Denzel or Jamie Foxx if I’d stuck with it in high school.” Zoot was really laying it on thick. He was not going down without a fight.

Quietly I appeared out of the closet. I took Justice out and pointed at my target.

That’s when I said, “The character she wants you to play is pussy, and you’re both about to get fucked.” My voice scared the shit out of them.

“What the fuck is going on?” Tate said.

“Uh, T, why you playin’ and shit? Put that gun down before you hurt somebody,” Zoot pleaded.

“I know you don’t think I’m playing with your ass ’cause I’m not.”

“T, why you holding that gun like that? We’re family and supposed to be as one,” Zoot was stuttering.

“One? Are you kidding me? Family? Nigga, please, you are bad
blood.” I was fighting both anger and tears. I thought of everything Zoot had done. He’d not only set Stacks up, he’d had Steelo killed. Oh, this nigga was about to get it. “Fuck, nigga, you got a lot of nerve. I heard every fuckin’ thing you said. You a fuckin’ snitch and a murderer. There’s no need to explain, motherfucka. You about to die.”

I heard a strange noise from across the hall and briefly took my eyes off Zoot. Taking full advantage of the distraction, he jumped up and tried to take the gun from me, catching me completely off guard. We were suddenly in a tug-of-war with the gun. I wasn’t a weak bitch by any means, but this dude was really overpowering me. Somehow, while we were fighting for the gun I tripped, knocked over the coffee table, and fell to the floor.

Trying to gain control, Zoot maneuvered his weight and rolled on top of me. He was prying my legs open like he was going to rape me. I was still hanging on to the gun. I wasn’t about to let up. It was him against me. We were both fighting for our lives. There was no way I was going to die. I began to fight with everything I had.

I could see Moet out of the corner of one eye, and noticed her going for her gun. I knew my bitch had my back. I wasn’t worried.

Tate seemed shocked by the events taking place. He was about to go for the gun he had hidden in one boot, but Moet beat him by a millisecond.

“Not, so fast, nigga. You a little too slow on the draw. Raise your hands in the air where I can see them,” she said. He followed her order to the letter. He wasn’t about to test her. He knew she wouldn’t hestitate to shoot him. Without taking her gun off her target, Moet took his gun.

Meanwhile, Zoot and I were still scuffling over my gun. I suddenly saw a way out. I kicked him in the groin with all my might and he doubled over in the fetal position. I’d gained full control of my weapon.

I gathered myself off the floor and stood over him. I was out of breath, but my eyes told him what was what.

Without another word, I popped him two in the head.

Tate started crying and trying to plead his case. “Look, Taylor, I know I ain’t perfect or nothin’. That little shit that happened back then was a misunderstanding.” He looked at Moet, hoping to get some help.

Moet wasn’t willing to be his cheerleader. “Bitch, I know you ain’t looking at me to save yo ass,” she said. She was staring him down, not budging or considering his whining.

“Look, I know I was wrong, but two negatives don’t make a positive. You ain’t got to kill me. I ain’t gonna tell nobody that y’all murked that man. I didn’t like him no way.” He was crying now. What a sellout.

“You’re right, you ain’t gonna tell nobody ’cause you ain’t gonna live to tell it, nigga. You stand to be corrected. Two negatives do make a positive, at least in the world of math.” I had talked enough. I pulled that nigga’s skull back and gave him three to the head. I shot him once for me, once for Stacks, and once for good measure. BAM! BAM! BAM!

Moet and I stood there a second and looked at the two corpses lying on the ground. Then she quickly got dressed. True to her nature, she checked both their pockets, took all their money, and swiped every piece of jewelry. “They won’t be needing this where they’re going. I hope they burn in hell,” she said.

While she was doing her sweep, I called Jetta and let him know that the deed was done. “Come through and take care of this. You’re going to need the cleanup crew.”

I didn’t say another word. I looked at Moet and gave her a nod, letting her know everything was complete. Just like two boss bitches, we popped our collars and walked out the door.

T
hat night when my head finally hit the pillow, I was out like a light. Stacks’s parole officer called me the next morning to let me know that she’d be in court that day. I was ecstatic. Stacks had no idea that she was going to push to reinstate his parole. I had hired a great lawyer, David Wolf, the Perry Mason of Atlanta, to make sure Stacks would have the best counsel possible. I quickly dressed to the nines and headed to the Fulton County Courthouse. I looked like a black Erica Kane. When Stacks’s legal team noticed me, they beckoned me over. Once they let me know the motions they had before the judge, I took my seat. In twenty minutes, the courtroom was filled to capacity. I looked around and saw Detective Morgan strut into the room. He had a confidence that bordered on arrogance. He just knew his shit didn’t stink.

“Order in the court,” the bailiff announced. “This is the Honorable Jacob Means’s courtroom, District Four, Circuit Thirteen. This is a criminal court docket. There will be no cell phones, pagers, or electronic devices used. If you have them, please turn them off now. There will be no conversations or interruptions while court is in session.”

The jailer brought in the inmates from the jail. They were handcuffed and shackled at the ankles as if they were on a chain gang. Stacks glanced around the courtroom and noticed me. He gave me a nod and a slight smile. I waved at him and smiled, showing all thirty-two teeth. He knew I was his number-one cheerleader.

Shortly after all the inmates were escorted in and seated, the
judge entered. “All rise,” the bailiff said in his deep baritone voice. Everyone stood and the judge explained how he ran his courtroom. We all listened attentively. He turned to his court clerk and asked for the court docket, which listed the order he would call the defendants. Fortunately, Stacks was up first. All paid attorneys have the first at bat in Judge Means’s courtroom.

“Is there any special order that needs to come forth before I begin with the court proceedings?” the judge asked. None of the lawyers made a move, letting the judge know that business could continue.

“Okay, let’s get going with today’s docket. Mr. Felix Martin, please stand with your attorney of record and approach the podium.”