Bitch (18 page)

When Porscha pulled up to the projects Inga lived in, I scanned the area looking for the best spot to have our showdown. "Drive around to that back parking lot." That parking lot was always isolated, because the hustler's needed to be where the action was, and the dope fiends needed to be near the dealers, so nobody ever came back there.

"Now what?" an exasperated Porscha questioned.

"Call Inga. Tell her that I unexpectedly showed up at the crib with the money, we got into it, and you stabbed me to death. Say you left my body at the apartment and took my car and the money. Then tell her you need her help and to come outside because you're in the back parking lot."

"What's going to happen after that?"

"If you promise not to mention a word to anyone about everything you told me and what I'm about to do to Inga, then I'll let you walk away from this whole situation alive. But you have to promise me that first."

"I promise, Precious. I won't say a word. I'll pretend like today neva even happened."

"You can't even tell Nico."

"I won't. I don't even fuck wit' Nico like that. He so obsessed wit' you that he only uses me to keep tabs on what I hear on the streets. I don't even like taking his collect calls no more because the first question he ask me is if I heard what nigga you supposed to be fucking wit.

"That shit was getting on my nerves. I was the one going to court to support him and brought him clothes so he wouldn't sit through trial in that nasty ass orange jumpsuit, spending my money on car rentals so I could go visit his ass in jail. I was writing him letters and having to suck dick to get the money to pay for the high-ass phone bills, I had for accepting his collect calls. I did all that shit for that nigga and he want to sit on the phone and vent about the chick that caused him to get locked up in the first place. So, no, you definitely don't have to worry about me telling Nico. I don't need to give him another reason to go on and on about you."

"Good. Now call Inga."

Porscha kicked the speech that we rehearsed and Inga fell for it hook, line and sinker. I heard her devious ass screaming with glee when Porscha told her she had the money. Not at one point did she show any remorse or sympathy for me when Porsha said I was dead. She actually laughed and exclaimed, "Good. That bitch had it coming."

"Her mom was walking in when we were about to get off the phone. She said she had to throw on some clothes and she would be out in five minutes." Porscha explained after hanging up with Inga.

"OK, let's go."

"Where we going now?"

"I don't want her to see me in the car. Let's go stand over there underneath the stairwell opening."

"I thought you said after I called Inga, I was done and could leave."

"When we see her coming, all I want you to do is call her name and show your face, then you can bounce. Is that too much to ask?"

"Nah, I can handle that." We got out the car, and I kept the gun on Porscha as we walked towards our destination. "You can put the gun away now, Precious. I ain't gonna try to run off. I'll stay wit' you until Inga come outside. You gon kill her, not me."

"True, but you can never be too careful."

Porscha and I turned our heads simultaneously in the same direction at the sound of someone's footsteps. We both assumed it was Inga, and I nodded my head giving Porscha the sign to call out her name.

"Inga, is that you?"

"Yeah, where you at?"

"Right over here by the stairs," Porscha replied. I stepped out of sight, waiting for Inga to come closer.

"Girl, I'm so excited I can't believe you got all that paper. I can finally quit that damn job at the nursing home," Inga said as the sound of her voice became louder as she got closer to Porscha.

I stepped from behind the brick wall that was shielding me, and would've done anything to have forever captured the look on Inga's face when she saw me. "Aren't you happy to see your best friend, Inga?"

"Porscha, you set me up!"

"I ain't have no choice. She was gonna kill me if I didn't get you out here."

"Both of you stand over here," I said, pointing my gun in the direction I wanted them to move.

"Precious, I don't know what Porscha told you but its all lies."

"Save it, Inga. I heard wit' my own ears how excited you were at the news that I was dead. But I could even let that go. What I can't let go is that you set my mother up to die at the hands of Tommy and his boys."

Inga turned and glared at Porscha with hate.

"Don't look at me," Porscha said, crossing her arms and rolling her head.

"Precious, I didn't know Tommy was gonna kill your moms. I thought he was going in there to just try and find the money."

"You lying bitch. Porscha, repeat what you said Inga told you about my mother."

"She said yo' mom's was a crack head anyway and them killing her would put her out of her misery. That's what the fuck you said, Inga."

"You know what's so foul about that, Inga. When my mother opened that door you could look at her and tell she wasn't using drugs no more. I saw her earlier that day and she was more beautiful than ever.

"But you didn't care. All you wanted was yo' funky seventy-five thousand dollars. But I'll tell you what I'll do for you. I'll give that money to your mother to take care of your son. Think of it as her cashing in your life insurance policy."

"Precious, I'm so sorry. Please don't kill me. I was just hurt over the whole Ritchie situation. I fucked up, but we can get pass all this." The tears were swelling in Inga's eyes as she begged for her life.

"I think it's time for me to go head and leave now and let ya handle your business. But like we discussed, Precious, didn't none of this happen. All this stay between me and you."

"Sorry, Porscha. I had a change of heart. All of this stays with me, not you." I aimed the gun right and center where her mouth dropped when she heard the news. It all happened so fast, she couldn't even close it before I pulled the trigger. Her whole head damn near came off. "You know I neva liked that bitch."

By this time Inga was on her hands and knees as if I would show any mercy for her.

"Precious, please, it's not too late. We can start all over; get the fuck out of Brooklyn, you, me and little Ritchie."

"Tell me you didn't name your son after a nigga who didn't give a fuck about you or his seed. Bitch, I'ma kill you just for that."

With that, I put two bullets in Inga. One for the death of my mother, the other for being a stupid cunt for naming her son after his trifling father. I left the two dead snakes lying beside one another. Neither one of them bitches would be having an open casket at their funeral.

He'll Be kh

upreme had been furious with me since the day I killed Porscha and Inga. I was supposed to have met him at the studio, and he blew my phone up and left a ton of messages when I never came. Then he kept calling Rhonda because he started getting scared, thinking something terrible had happened to me.

When I finally called him, my brain was so fried I couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation for disappearing for all those hours. He kept saying be honest and just tell him the truth. But I couldn't seem to come up with a way to say I was out committing two murders. That's when he told me he didn't want to speak to me until I told him exactly where I had been. I was actually relieved. I had killed before, but I couldn't get murdering Inga out of my head.

A week after Inga' funeral, I kept my word and made sure her mother got hundred thousand dollars for the care of little Ritchie. I gave an extra twenty-five thousand for my guilt because, however justified I felt, I was responsible for him growing up not ever knowing his mother or father. The least I could do was give some money to hopefully help the boy have a chance at a future. Inga's mom was always a hard worker and good woman. She wouldn't go blow all the cash on material shit. She would make sure the baby was provided for.

With everything that happened and Supreme not speaking to me, I was becoming restless. My days were getting longer and my nights shorter. I wasn't doing nothing with myself. "Girl, get out the bed," Rhonda said as she disturbed what had now become the norm for me, sleeping my time away.

"What is it, Rhonda?"

"Wake up and do something. I'm starting to think you're a vampire. You sleep all day and watch television all night. Let's go out and have some drinks or something."

"I'm not up to it."

"You better start. Do you think Supreme laying around in his bed mourning over you?"

"I'm not mourning over Supreme. I'm just in a funk. I have a lot of shit on my mind."

"Well snap out of it. Get dressed. Let's go to the city." Rhonda was right. I'd been dragging my body around here in a daze. Being on the outs with Supreme was bothering me more than I wanted to admit.

The few times I tried to call him, he said unless I was going to come clean with him, then he had nothing to say to me. He was so not checking for me the last couple of times I called, he let it go to voicemail. I didn't understand why he was tripping so hard. I swore to him I wasn't with another dude or anything, but that day I had an unexpected emergency that needed to be handled. His problem was that I didn't have family and I didn't have a job so what type of emergency could keep me away from him where I couldn't at least call? As bad as I wanted to believe that Supreme would get over this, he was so fucking stubborn; the reality that he might not be back was setting in.

That night Rhonda took me to some lounge called Duvet. There were beds scattered throughout the place with a bar designed to look like a block of ice. It was the typical crowd, mixed with models, actors, industry heads and beautiful people. The hostess sat us at a bed in the corner next to Cam'ron and his crew. Rhonda was mingling at their bed because she was real cool with his manager.

I sat there sipping on my drink, wishing I could crawl back in my own real bed. I was in no mood to be out and about, but to my devastation, Supreme was. I couldn't help but notice when he walked in the spot with a girl on his arm. She looked like some chick I'd seen in a music video or something. They sat on a bed on the other side of the room but still within my viewing area. His two bodyguards parked themselves on the bed beside them.

Seeing Supreme with that girl felt like someone stabbed me in the heart, twisted it and then left the shit on automatic rotate. The pain was so continuous it seemed it would never stop. "Precious, are you OK? You have this expression on your face like you're stuck in a nightmare."

"That sounds about right. I guess you didn't see Supreme walk in."

"No, where is he?"

"Right over there." I pointed at the bed across from us. He was in such deep conversation with his date that he hadn't even looked in my direction yet.

"I told you not to be sitting around mourning over his ass. Maybe you'll finally snap out of that coma you've been in for the last few weeks."

I looked up at Rhonda and then looked back at myself. I had to make sure I was hearing what I thought I heard. Rhonda was actually giving me a pep talk. When that sunk in, the fire that used to burn inside of me suddenly reignited. My eyes zoomed in on the dude poppin' bottles who had been sizing me up since I sat down.

"Do you know who that is?" I asked pointing towards the dude on the low.

"Hell yeah, that's pretty boy Mike. He owns Pristine Records."

There was no need for Rhonda to explain why they called him "Pretty Boy"; the nigga was fine. But what set him off was that even though he was pretty, you could also tell that he was a straight-up thug. Trying to be discreet didn't work because after Rhonda said her piece, pretty boy Mike approached our bed.

"You mind if I sit on your bed?"

"Nah, have a seat."

"I know you seen me watching you since you stepped in the place. I didn't think you were interested until I noticed you point me out to your friend."

"Damn, you saw that? I was tryna be tactful. I guess it didn't work. But how you know I wasn't clowning you to my friend?"

"I didn't, but the fact you acknowledged my presence gave me the confidence to introduce myself to you. I'm Mike and your name is," he said, extending his hand out to me.

"Nice to meet you, Mike. My name is Precious."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Do you live here in the city?"

"No, I rep Brooklyn, but I live in Jersey now."

"Brooklyn girl. What part of Brooklyn is you from?"

"I used to live over there in Riverdale Towers."

"Damn, that's hard knock. You look more Brooklyn Heights than Riverdale Towers."

"Don't let the face, clothes and jewelry fool you. I'm BK to the fullest."

"You know what, Precious? I believe you."

"Why's that?"

"You so damn gorgeous, I didn't even pay attention to the darkness in your eyes. That's deadly. A man has to be on top of his game to deal with you. You know I live in Jersey, but I, too, come from the school of hard knocks. I've been around these Hollywood acting cats for so long that I'm slipping. I couldn't even recognize one of my own."

"Yeah, you are slipping because when my girlfriend told me they called you pretty boy Mike, I said to myself, Yeah he might be pretty, but he's a straight up thug. These simple-ass niggas around here don't see that in you but I do."

Mike put his hand on my cheek and gently rubbed the side of my face.

"You my type of girl, Precious, beautiful on the outside but tough as nails on the inside."

"Precious, I need to speak to you." It took me a minute to focus `cause pretty boy Mike's game was kinda tight. Eventually, I came too and Supreme was standing in front of me.

"What up, Supreme?" Mike said, extending his hand but quickly putting it back down when Supreme made it clear he was showing no love.

"What do you want?" I snapped.

"To speak to you."

"Whateva you have to say, you can say it right here."

"You wanna act cute, that's cool. What the fuck are you doing over here with this nigga."

"Yo, man, there is no need for you to get all excited. Chill out."