Queen Bitch: Part 4 (Bitch Series) (10 page)

"No, I rather talk to Mr. Mills personally. I'll stop by later
on either this afternoon or evening."

"Which one is it, afternoon or evening?"

"I don't know," he said, in a self-satisfied tone. I was now
a hundred percent sure that this pompous sonofabitch
was fucking with me. "I guess you'll know the answer to
that when I pop back up."

"Suit yourself," I said, shutting the door in his face. I
stood in the entry and then leaned my back against the
wall. I had to bring an end to whatever the pesky detective
was conjuring up once and for all.

"You're late!" were the first words that left Devon's lips
when I sat down at the table in the quaint restaurant on
Robertson Boulevard.

"I know this, but it took forever for Supreme to wake up
and I wasn't about to bring Aaliyah with me."

"Wake up...what had him in such a deep sleep. . .did
you and him?"

"No. Your boss was too drunk to do anything or
anybody. He passed out on the couch and didn't wake
up until after eleven. It was torture trying to take a
shower and get dressed with a baby up under me. Now
I understand why every rich bitch has a fuckin' nanny.
Boy, chicks in the `hood would appreciate that shit. I
think it's time for Supreme to start taking applications to
fill Anna's position."

"Do you think that's wise with all the shit we have
jumping off right now? I mean I would hate for another
nanny to end up at the bottom of the stairs because they
started asking one too many questions."

"You have a valid point, but damn, I don't know how
much longer I can play this mother role."

"If you plan on being Mrs. Supreme Mills you better get
used to it fast. That baby comes with the package."

"You don't have to remind me. I'm well aware of that
fact. But enough about babies and shit. We need to
address what this meeting is really about. Man, I've had
enough of our little friend. Do you know he showed up
at the crib this morning?"

"For what?"

"My take, he's fuckin' wit' me. But he claims he has
some new information to share with Supreme and that
still spells fuckin' wit' me."

"Did he say what the new information was?"

"I asked, but of course his answer was that he wanted to
personally speak with Supreme. Thank goodness Supreme
was sleep because in a perfect world the detective will
never get the opportunity to say another word to him."

"I take it you want to move on this immediately?"

"Is `like yesterday' soon enough?"

"I came up with a scenario that should work." Devon
moved in closer and put his elbows on the center of the
square wooden table. "I did some research with a few of
my sources."

"Oh fuck! I told your stupid ass not to tell anybody
what we were up to."

"Yo, calm down," Devon whispered, pulling my upper
body towards him. "I didn't tell nobody shit. I have ways of
getting information without arousing suspicion."

"You better," I warned.

"Listen, I'm putting my livelihood on the line. Do you really
think I'ma do or say something to put me in jeopardy?"

"I feel you...go head, finish what you were saying."

"Well, I got our little friend's address, and I'm thinking
a home invasion gone wrong would be the best look.
Anything else will make it appear as if he was a target. But
attempted robbery ... shit, with the economy being so fucked
up they running up in cribs first and taking names later."

I sat back taking in what Devon said. An attempted home
invasion might be the strategy to run with. That would lead
the investigation towards robbery instead of who might
have a grudge against the relentless detective. Anything else
probably would have officers prying into his open cases and
leading them in my face for a million and one questions. "I
think it could work. So are you going to actually go in his
crib or what?"

Devon pulled me back in and I wanted to puke because
dude's breath smelled real tart. I wanted to give him a Tic
Tac, Big Red or something but figured we had to take
one thing at a time, and wiping out the detective was top
priority.

"I'm looking to get him right outside his front door. On
the low, I scoped out his house. He lives off a main street
so that's a good thing because mad cars be coming through.
He also has a lot of high bushes surrounding the entrance. I
figure I can sneak up behind him and put a bullet through
the back of his head and be out."

"I like the sound of that, Devon. So when is all this
going down?"

"I'm leaning towards tonight. Detectives normally work late
shifts so I was gonna head over there after I got off of work,
but if I'm too late then tomorrow night. I'm off tomorrow so I'll
have time to chill in the cut and wait him out."

`Damn, that means he'll have time to speak with Supreme today "

"Maya, you can't expect for me to do him in broad
daylight. It's gotta be at night. Keep Supreme busy. Get
him out the house so the detective can't talk to him. You're
resourceful. I'm sure you can come up with something to
keep Supreme occupied."

'Yeah, I'll suggest we take Aaliyah out for some ice cream
or some child friendly bullshit. Try your hardest to make it
happen tonight though. I don't think I can keep him away from
Supreme for two days in a row. He's pretty fuckin' persistent,
which is why he has to go."

"Then tonight it is. When you wake up tomorrow the
detective will no longer be our problem, and then of
course we'll have some celebrating to do."

"No doubt. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too. A conniving bitch like you got to have some
good pussy and I can't wait to be all up in it."

I simply grinned at Devon's remark. If his desire to take
a dip in my juices would speed this murder up then I was
willing to give him a taste right now. At this stage in the
game anything was doable as long as Devon understood
that this is my show and I run this.

Being locked the fuck up will definitely humble a bitch.
That's all I could think about when I woke up the next
morning with my stomach growling. It was hitting me
harder and harder each day that I went from chilling in a
luxurious estate to being someone's prisoner, unable to
have control over my next move.

After my slick antics with Mike yesterday he didn't
show his face for the rest of the night. I yelled out a few
times because not only was I starving, but had to piss.
After wearing out my pipes for over an hour off and on, I
finally accepted the fact the nigga wasn't fucking with me.
I eventually fell asleep, pissy, hungry and now waking
up to the same shit. As my eyes darted around the room
trying to entertain myself I glanced down at my feet and got fixated on my chipped French pedicure, "Damn, I fell
off!" was all I kept repeating until I heard the bedroom
door being unlocked.

"I see your up," Mike said as if he didn't have a care in
the fucking world. But why shouldn't he? It was obvious this
nigga hadn't missed a meal or a grooming.

"I know you heard me last night screaming my ass off
in here. Even prisoners get a bathroom break," I said,
sucking my teeth.

"In this prison, using the bathroom is a privilege which
you lost after trying to make your great escape."

"Oh, so what, you gon' have me pissing on myself for
the duration of my stay?"

"Hopefully you've learned your lesson and it won't
come to that, but we shall see." Mike came towards me
and began unlocking my handcuffs.

"What are you about to do to me?"

"You wanna take yo' ass to the bathroom don't you?"
That was one question that didn't even need a response.
"Now come on, but I'm telling you now, I ain't in the
mood for no bullshit this morning."

"I won't give you any."

"Right, let's go."

It wasn't until I was in an upright position that Mike took a
gun from his back pocket and held it to my spine.

"Is the gun really necessary?" I smacked.

"I learned my lesson dealing wit' yo' crazy ass, and for
your sake I hope you did too."

When we entered the hallway the smell of breakfast
food smacked me in the face. My stomach immediately
started grumbling and I was tempted to start begging Mike for some food, but thought I needed to take one objective
at a time. When we got to the bathroom I stepped in the
entrance and started closing the door so I could handle
my business on the toilet.

"Nah, you leaving the door open, shorty," Mike said,
pushing the door back open.

"What the fuck, you got a gun patrolling my every
move. Can't I at least do what I got to do in private?"

"No, you lost all rights to privacy. Now hurry up."

"I shouldn't have to share this wit' you but I need to shit."
"Go head, just make sure you spray that Oust afterwards
and turn on the fan."

"That's how this is going down? I have to shit with the
door open and you posted at the door?"

"Exactly. Now hurry the fuck up before I start making
yo' ass wear diapers for now on."

"Fine, but could you at least turn around so I can maintain
a little bit of my dignity?" Mike obliged my request but I
still felt like less that zero grunting and shitting in front
of this motherfucker. I knew I had done some foul shit
in my life but this punishment right here was almost too
much to endure. By the time I finished and wiped my
ass all my pride had damn near diminished. I went to the
sink and washed my hands, feeling defeated.

"Come on, it don't take that long to wash your hands, and
don't forget to spray `cause you stunk up the joint for real."

Once again as we began what I call the prison walk
back to the bedroom, the smell of the food lingering in the
air had my stomach sounding like a disgruntled tiger.

"What the fuck you stopping for?" Mike pushed the gun
firmly in my back as I suddenly stopped a few feet away from our destination.

"Mike, I'm so damn hungry! Can I please have something
to eat?"

This nigga didn't say shit. He stayed quiet and I imagined
his trifling ass laughing behind my back.

"Don't make me beg, but I will," I said, not giving a
fuck. What in the hell did I have left to lose? This nigga
already had me shitting in front of him. We had come to
the point where anything goes.

"I don't know. Last time I demonstrated some kindness
and fed you, the favor was returned by you getting all
this strength up to clobber me with a fuckin' trashcan and
tryna break out. Food seems to be to you what spinach
was to Popeye."

"Mike, I'm being serious right now."

"Shit, I'm serious too. Ain't nobody playing. The reason
I didn't fuck wit' you none last night was because I was
zoned out on medicine tryna get rid of the migraine you
left me with. I ain't up with playing those types of games
with you today."

"If you feed me I promise I'll be on my A game. I won't
try no bullshit. I give you my word on that."

Mike came from behind and stood in front of me
staring into my eyes intensely. I wanted to spit in his
face and rip my claws through his skin, but instead I
conjured up some big crocodile tears, enough to water
up my eyes real good but not let a single one trickle
down my cheeks. This would give a more convincing
performance. Because everybody knows I don't shed a
tear over shit, so this would give the appearance of me
being on the verge of breaking down but trying to remain strong. Honestly, that wasn't far from the truth, but I'm a
soldier. I don't lay down, I gets down, and slowly I was
implementing my plan.

"Yo, are you about to cry?" Mike had a perplexed look
on his face, stunned by my crushed expression.

I tilted my head down as if trying to hide my
embarrassment of admitting defeat. "No, I'm good.
Everything's cool," I said, clearing my throat.

Mike lifted my chin gazing in my eyes like this was
some fucking love story. Negroplease! was all I could think
to myself. "No, you're not cool. I see this situation is
finally taking its toll on you. I wondered how long you
could remain tough, but even you have your breaking
point, Precious."