Gutta Mamis (12 page)

Jasmine grunted as she hit the floor. In the midst of her yelling at Kita, she never noticed that Terry had inched his way toward her. When he was sure that Jasmine was distracted enough, he lunged at her and tackled her to the floor. The gun flew out of Jasmine's hand and slid over by the bedroom door.

“You fuckin' bitch! I'ma break yo' muthafuckin' neck!”

Terry grabbed Jasmine around the neck and tried to squeeze the life out of her. He kept an eye to the side in case Kita tried to make a break for Jasmine's gun. Jasmine clawed and scratched at Terry's face but couldn't get him to release her.

Pow!

“Aw shit!” he screamed as heat and pain seared through his back.
Jasmine took both of her hands and with all her strength pushed Terry off of her. Kita fired from her .25 automatic twice more, hitting him in the stomach and groin. Jasmine scrambled over to the door and retrieved her gun. She walked up on the bleeding Terry and ended his pain with a bullet to the forehead.

It took the two of them an hour to wrap the two bodies in plastic, clean up the blood and haul them off to the dumpsite.

While on the way back to Kita's to get cleaned up, Jasmine's cell phone rang.

“Whatever the fuck you about to say, I don't wanna hear it right now!” she yelled into the phone. She knew it was Roni before she even looked at the screen. “Meet us at the bar!” Jasmine hung up without giving Roni a chance to say a word.

Roni leaned forward onto the bar with both elbows and rubbed her temples. She had developed a migraine headache as soon as she awoke and realized that she had slept through the job. She quickly tossed back the rum and Coke that she was drinking on and ordered another one. Roni was nervous as hell and the only thing that had ever been able to steady her nerves was liquor. She'd fucked up big-time and she knew it. Jasmine didn't play when it came to her cash so she knew, at the very least, she was going to get reamed out.

“Yo, let me get anotha one.”

“Uh, Miss, don't you think you've had enough?” asked the slender bartender.

“Did I ask you fo' yo muthafuckin opinion, nigga? Just fix me anotha fuckin' drink! Shit, everybody wanna play captain save a hoe nowadays!”

“Fuck you then, bitch,” he mumbled under his breath.

Just then Jasmine and Kita walked through the door. Jasmine had a murderous look in her eyes. She sat on one side of Roni while Kita sat on the other. After three awkward minutes passed, Jasmine turned, looked Roni dead in the eyes, and said, “Explain.”

Roni took a deep breath. She had rehearsed the lie so much in her head that she figured it would be a piece of cake by the time
Jasmine and Kita got there. But now that Jasmine was in front of her, it was a whole different story. Over the years, Roni had seen Jasmine do some unspeakable things. She still cringed when she thought of the time Jasmine slit a four-year-old's throat because her mother was stalling about opening her safe.

“Jasmine, I swear to God, I ain't do this shit on purpose. I was sittin' down in the chair smokin' a blunt and gettin' ready to follow your instructions.”

Knowing it was a complete lie, Kita snorted out a laugh. If looks could kill, she would have been on the evening news from the way Roni scowled at her.

“Anyway, I was sittin' there and I fell asleep. I didn't wake up 'til about an hour ago.”

“Just enough time to miss all the fun, huh?” Kita teased.

“Shut the fuck up. Nakita!”

The smile instantly left Kita's face. She hated being called by her full name and Roni knew it, which is why she did it in the first place. Jasmine kept staring straight ahead. She called the bartender down there and ordered a drink.

After gulping down half of her Rémy Martin, Jasmine spun around on her stool so that she would be facing Roni directly.

“So let me get this bullshit straight,” she said through clenched teeth. “I told yo' ass what to do regarding this job, but instead of being on Ps and Qs, yo' ass is slackin' on ya muthafuckin' pimpin'.”

“That's what the shit look like to me.”

Before Roni could even start to blow up, Jasmine waved her finger and shook her head, signaling for her to be quiet. “And you,” Jasmine said, pointing her finger at Kita. “Shut the fuck up and stop fuckin' instigating.”

Kita turned her stool around to face the bar and continued to sip
on her drink. Jasmine was so mad that she didn't even remember Kita ordering a drink.

“I called yo' ass several muthafuckin' times! How come you ain't answer the damn phone?”

“I…I didn't hear it, Jasmine. I swear.”

In one gulp, Jasmine downed the rest of her liquor and turned back to face Roni. “Well, hear this, carpet muncher! I'm finin' yo' ass a thousand dollars for almost fuckin' up the job! Get yo muthafuckin' shit together!”

Jasmine hopped up, slammed the glass down on the table and walked toward the door. Luckily for Roni, it was a very slow day and there were no customers in the bar as of yet, or she would have been one embarrassed woman.

“I'm going home. You two bitches meet me at my house tomorrow at seven o'clock sharp,” she said, staring at Roni as she spoke. “Roni, take Kita home tonight! I wanna be alone.”

Roni's and Kita's eyes connected and before Kita could say something fly, Roni was all over it. “Don't say shit! If yo' ass say one damn word, you walkin' the fuck home.”

Kita ordered another drink and smiled. She didn't have to say a word.

Randi sat back with her feet kicked up on her coffee table. Picking up the pack of cigarettes that lay in front of her, she shook one out, put it up to her lips, and fired it up. She smiled as she blew the toxic smoke into the air. Their plan was working to perfection. All she had to do now was take it home.

Her cell phone buzzed, interrupting her thoughts. She let it buzz
a couple more times before she decided to answer it. After pressing the talk button and saying hello, she listened for a few seconds and then said, “Yeah, I got it all under control. I'm going to put that plan in motion tomorrow. By the time Jasmine figures out what's going on, it'll be too little, too muthafuckin' late.”

Randi paused for a minute before asking, “So, what yo' sexy ass got on?”

Click.

Randi laughed as the caller hung up on her. Feeling the need to get buzzed, Randi got up, walked into her kitchen, and fixed herself a very stiff martini. She could still taste the sweet juices of Roni's pussy in her mouth. It didn't take long for her to realize that Roni was gay and, therefore, the weak link in the GMBs' chain. Randi had been sleeping with the same sex for more than a decade so she knew all the tricks. Once she set her sights on Roni, Roni didn't have a chance. It was because of her sexual preference that her parents had disowned her and kicked her out. If her father wouldn't have come home from work early one day and caught her and her best friend in a compromising position, they may have never found out.

She'd held that grudge against her parents until the days they died and even though they were ready to forgive her, she wasn't ready to forgive them. Hence, the therapy every Friday. She shook her head and thought about how cruel life could be sometimes. The day she was finally ready to let it all go, her father was taken from her.

Once again the buzzing sound of her cell phone jarred her back from her dreadful trip down Memory Lane. She looked at the screen and smiled.
Whatever trouble she got in with Jasmine must didn't amount to too much,
thought Randi,
or she wouldn't be sniffin' up my ass so soon.

Instead of answering it, she let it go to her voicemail. The best way to hook someone, in her opinion, was to get them so hot for you that they couldn't stand it, and then make them suffer by staying away from them. Randi finished her martini and drifted off to sleep.

Roni woke the next morning with money on her mind. She hated to admit it, but ever since she'd met Randi a couple of nights ago, it seemed that she was going soft and losing her focus. Today, she was going to prove to Jasmine, as well as herself, that she was still a dangerous, cold-blooded, Get Money Bitch and she knew just what she was going to do. By keeping her ear to the streets, she'd heard that the numbers man, Dennis, was going on vacation to the Bahamas that afternoon. It was common knowledge around the way that Dennis didn't trust banks and kept his money hid somewhere. Some people speculated that he had it tucked away in a different location, but Roni didn't believe that for a second. Dennis liked money entirely too much to be too far away from it. A twinge of guilt struck her as she contemplated what she was going to do to Dennis, but she was a GMB so she had to do something to gain back Jasmine's respect. After trying once again, unsuccessfully, to get in touch with Randi, Roni sighed and went into her closet and took out her get-busy tools.

“I might as well be tryin' ta get in touch wit fuckin' Barack Obama,” she complained, as she took out masking tape, a blowtorch, and about a yard of rope. She also grabbed her lock-picking tools. Looking at her watch told her that she had to hurry up. Dennis would be leaving in about forty-five minutes. Roni bagged up her tools and headed for the door.

She sped along the inner city streets of Cleveland, disregarding the speed limit, on her way to make a come-up. Once she got to his street, Roni backed into an abandoned duplex that sat directly across the street from where Dennis lived. Looking up and down the streets, she quickly ran into Dennis' backyard. She then pulled out her special tool that she used for breaking and entering.

Disabling the lock was child's play for Roni as she expertly picked it. Dropping down on all fours, Roni slowly crawled into Dennis' living room where he was checking his suitcase. Without warning, Roni sprang up and cracked Dennis in the back of the head with the butt of her .45-caliber pistol. Dennis dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Roni dragged his semiconscious body into his bedroom and tied him to the bed facedown and spread-eagle. Dennis shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs, but before he could see her face, she quickly covered his eyes with a blindfold. Then she took a knife out of her back pocket and cut off his pants.

When Dennis finally came back around, he couldn't see a thing through the black rag obstructing his sight. Roni was up on him so fast that he also didn't know who had hit him.

“Who the fuck is that?” he asked after he heard noises.

“Nigga, don't fuckin' worry 'bout it! All you need to worry 'bout is tellin' me where the fuck yo numbers stash is!”

“Numbers stash? What numbers stash?” he said like he didn't know what she was talking about.

“Muthafucka, don't play wit' me! Now I'ma ask yo' ass one more time and only one more time! Where the fuck is the money?”

“Sweetheart, youz 'bout to be a disappointed bitch 'cause I ain't got no muthafuckin' stash!”

Roni looked at Dennis' thin, five-foot-seven-inch frame and knew
if she tortured him hard enough, he would eventually give up the dough. “Okay, you old-ass son of a bitch! We can do this the hard way!”

Roni walked over to Dennis' stereo system, turned it on, and pumped up the volume so that no one could hear him scream. Then she reached into her bag and took out the blowtorch. After turning it on and setting fire to the tip, she looked down at Dennis, who was now straining his ears to hear what was going on. She leaned down and whispered in his ear.

“You sure you don't wanna tell me where the money is, muthafucka? This is yo' last muthafuckin' chance!”

“I told you before, bitch, I ain't got no fuckin' money!” he tried to yell over the music.

Roni knew that was a lie. Dennis had been running numbers for the better part of thirty years and was a notorious cheapskate. Roni slowly eased the torch up Dennis' inner thigh.

“Fuck!” Dennis screamed as he squirmed, trying to get away from the intense heat. “Ah shit! I'ma kill yo' ass when I get loose, bitch!”