Ruthless (5 page)

“Oh, I'm sure that must have been a nice little ride.”

She grunts. “Nice my ass. Not with a buncha bad-ass kids who can't sit they asses still ‘n' goddamn quiet for less than two seconds. Next time I'm flyin'.”

I chuckle.

“Miss Pasha, girl. That ride tore my drawz.”

She tells me she drove down to Howard University to visit her son Da'Quan. He's either her third or fourth child out of her ten kids, I think. She simply has too damn many to try to keep up with. But what I do know is, he's in his third year of college trying
to make something out of himself.

“Miss, Pasha, girl, that dark-chocolate nigga was stressin' me out so bad 'bout not comin' to see him that I had to finally roll me a blunt ‘n' get my mind right. That lil' nigga gets real crazy when he don't see me when he wants to. And I ain't want him comin' home for the weekend 'round none of these niggah-coons. So to shut his ass up, I packed up the kids and we all took that long-ass drive down there to see my baby with his big-dick self. He better be glad I had just come in ‘n' got my hair did on Saturday or he woulda been shit outta luck. But you did me right, goddammit. And you know I had to go up on campus ‘n' turn it up a taste.”

“Oh, Lord. I'm scared to ask. What'd you do?”

“Sugah-boo, we ain't gonna get into all that. All I'm say is, I thought I was gonna have'ta step outta my heels ‘n' take it to one of them lil' nigga-boos' heads 'cause her lil' boyfriend was tryna holla. I tol' that ho, ‘Booga coon,
boom!
Sit yo' young hot-ass down somewhere.' Shit, Miss Pasha, girl, you know this booty shake keeps all the niggas' stompin' on the yard. They better be glad I was keepin' it classy ‘n' I had the twins with me, otherwise, I woulda turnt up the flames real right. I woulda popped this booty heat up on one'a them young dingdongs ‘n' sucked him right on up in the fire.”

I laugh, shaking my head as my cell rings. I hold a finger up, answering the call. “What do you want, Jasper?”

The fact that I have a temporary restraining order on this nigga still doesn't faze him one bit. And the
only
reason I'm accepting any of his calls instead of ignoring them is because Lamar suggested I do. He reasoned it's always better to keep the lines of communication open, even if a restraining order is dangling in front of him.

“Where the fuck is my muthafuckin' whip, yo?! You really muthafuckin' testin' me, Pasha. And
don't
fuckin' lie, yo. What the fuck you do wit' my shit?”

Last night, while I was at the airport waiting to board my flight, I got a call from one of Lamar's
night watchers
who's been keeping tabs on Jasper's every move. Jasper made it very clear that he has eyes everywhere. And
now
…so do I.

So when I got the call that he was over in East Orange on South Arlington at some random bitch's house, I called Lamar and asked him to have his people tow his shiny SL550 Benz. I wanted it towed away before the sun came up. I didn't have to use Booty's connect she'd given me last week. Lamar handled it for me with no problem. So far, the way he's been handling everything else.

Even this pussy.

“Yo what the fuck is really good wit' you, Pasha, huh? You really tryna escalate this shit, right? Is that what you tryna do, huh? You still think I'm playin', right? You keep testin' me, Pasha, real shit. You really think a muhfucka won't get at you, don't you?”

“Is that another one of your threats, Jasper?”

“Yo, fuck outta here! Take that shit however you wanna. You should know by now I don't make threats. I make promises. You fuckin' really feelin' ya'self now, right? You think I give a fuck about bein' behind the wall, huh? I'll eat that shit. Now where's my fuckin' whip, yo?”

“I had it towed.
That's
where it is.”

“Yo, what the fuck you do that shit for?”

“Jasper. Do I need to remind you that I have a restraining order against you? And technically I shouldn't be talking to you?”

“Yo, fuck outta here, yo. I'm callin' you 'bout my shit, yo. Fuck a restrainin' order. Don't fuckin' play me, Pasha. I want my
muthafuckin' shit! You hear me, yo?”

“That's too bad. Because you're not getting it.”

“Whaaat?! What the fuck you mean, I ain't gettin' my shit? Don't have me bust yo' ass, Pasha. And where's my muthafuckin' son at, yo? I wanna see him. And why the fuck he ain't been at daycare, yo?”

Booty eyes me, folding her arms across her chest and twisting her lips. She flicks imaginary dirt from beneath her fingernail, clearly bored.

“Jasper, we have court on Friday morning at nine. You did get the memo, right?”

He sucks his teeth. “Yeah, I got that shit. What the fuck that got to do wit' anything, yo?”

“Anything you want to know, ask in front of the judge when we go for the final restraining order hearing.”

“Oh, so you really gonna keep this shit on me, right?”

I frown. “Jasper, you
can't
be serious. Of course I am. Nigga, I'm done with you. And thanks to you, Jasper, I am
not
putting up with any more of your shit. That Benz, the one
I
own—in
my
name. And the house, again, in
my
name—is mine, free and clear. I have the title and the deed, in my name. And the day you thought it was okay to walk up in here and toss me around, you lost all rights and privileges to either.”

The nigga starts screaming on me, like a lunatic. I pull my ear away from the phone.

Booty huffs, rolling her eyes up in her head. “Look, Miss Pasha, girl. Tell that nigga-coon to eat the inside of ya ass cheeks, then hang up on his black ass, goddammit! He's givin' me a goddamn headache ‘n' I ain't the one on the phone with his no-good coon-ass. Ole stank motherfucka.”

“Look, Jas—”

Booty reaches over and snatches the phone away from me, shocking the shit out of me. Boundaries, as always, are clearly nonexistent for her. “Nigga-bitch, stop motherfuckin' harrassin' Miss Pasha. She's done with your sneaky, lyin' ass. She said she gonna see ya no-good ass in court. So, boom, nigga-coon, boom! See her in court! Puttin' yo' goddamn hands on her. Is you crazy, nigga-bitch? You ain't no real nigga. Real niggas don't beat on no high-end classy bitch. They fight a hood bitch who ain't scared to sit in the county jail for knockin' ya goddamn eyeballs in.” She hits the
END
button, handing me back my cell. She sits back in her chair like nothing ever happened. “There. Motherfuck that coon!”

I blink. Open my mouth to say something. My phone starts ringing again. It's Jasper calling back.

Booty puts a hand up. “Don't do it, sugah-boo. Fuck that nigga-bitch. You got a restrainin' order on his ass, so it ain't shit else to talk about. Fuck chitchat. Fuck tryna argue with that coon-nigga. It's a wrap for his ass. You gonna see him in court. You said you done with his ass, so be done. It's time to get down ‘n' dirty, Miss Pasha, girl. Not tomorrow, not next week…
now
, goddammit!”

She pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through it.

“We still gotta get that nigga-coon,
L
, handled. And I spoke to Dickalina's old dizzy ass ‘n' she said that coon's real name is Legend. Then we gotta do that AJ nigga. Now if you stay focused, Miss Pasha, girl, ‘n' keep the fire lit under ya ass, we should be able to have them two nigga-coons down on they backs by the end of the week. Then the rest of these niggas should be shut down by next week. I'ma let my kids stay with they
fahvers
for the rest of the week, so I ain't gotta worry 'bout rushin' home. It's time, goddammit! So who's first? That nigga-coon AJ? Wait. Ain't you s'posed to be seein' that bitch, Miss FeFe, soon?”

I quickly dart my eyes from hers. Land them on the bookcase, the space where Felecia was thrown. The image of her being swung into the case flashes through my head. My fists, my feet, pounding her face and body; my anger toward her swelling in each punch, in each stomp.

“…You always somewhere tryna act like you so much fucking better
than me when you're the one who was out there sucking all kinds of different niggas' dicks in dark alleys and fucking abandoned buildings and wherever else you could go to drop down on your slutty-ass knees.…

“Bitch! You want the fucking truth? Then here it is raw and uncut: I love you. But I fucking hate you more! And, yes, I sucked Jasper's dick! There, you satisfied! I sucked his dick, okay! Why? Because I fucking wanted to! You didn't fucking deserve a nigga like him! Bitch, you had it good. Jasper gave you anything you wanted, and that shit still wasn't enough for you. You still went and shitted on him. It's always about you, bitch! Pasha this, Pasha, that! The fly bitch who always gets what she wants. Who always gets all the right niggas eating outta the palm of her goddamn hands!

“And bitches like me, who know how to treat a good man, gotta stand on the sidelines and watch bitches like you fuck over all the good men. You fucking slutted yourself out on Jasper and that nigga still wanted you…!”

I blink, bringing my focus back to Booty. “I was supposed to see her Sunday. But she never showed up.” The lie rolls off my tongue with ease. My heartbeat doesn't even skip a beat as the words float out of my mouth. “I left her two messages and I still haven't heard back from her. That bitch had me sitting around here waiting for her dumb ass.”

Booty grunts, shifting in her seat. “Mmmph. Stink bitch. Don't
worry. We gonna do her stank-ass real good ‘n' goddamn dirty. I'ma get Day'Asia and Dickalina's daughters, Clitina and Candy, to gang-bang her face in wit' they fists. They gonna give that ole messy booga-coon bitch a new face by the time they finish with her ole man-sharin' ass. Miss FeFe messy like them ole whorin' triplet cousins of yours, but she stayed talkin' shit about 'em ‘n' she doin' the same damn thing. Mmmph. I can't stand no messy bitch.”

I blink. “Cassandra, listen. Leave my cousins out of this. They have nothing to do with Felecia's shit. That bitch snaked me.”

I unlock my desk drawer, then open it and pull out the folded sheet of paper from earlier. I slide it over to her. “But let's focus on these two niggas here. The two names underlined are the niggas who snatched me up from the mall.”

“See. Now you talkin' my talk, goddammit! Let's serve 'em, sugah-boo. Let's take it to they goddamn skulls.”

She reaches for the folded paper, then opens it. She glances at the underlined names. She squints. Blinks. Then blinks, again. She grabs her neck. Her mouth drops open. Every ounce of color in her caramel-colored face leaches out. I've never known Booty to look shook about anything. She looks as if she's seen a ghost as shock and horror register on her face.

She lets go of the paper, causing it to flutter back onto the desk. “Nooo,
FahverGawd
,
noooo,
goddammit!” Her voice fades in and out. She holds her head in her hands, shaking her head. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
FahverGawd
, nooooo… this can't be right.
FahverGawd
, I know you ain't gonna do me like this, goddammit! Don't do me,
FahverGawd.”

“Cassandra, what is it?”

She peers up at me. “I-I… think I know who one of these niggas
is.”

My eyes widen. “Which one?”

“Jah,”
she whispers, leaning forward, grabbing her chest as she points to the name on the paper. Her gaze drops back to the sheet of paper. She shuts her eyes and starts rocking and hyperventilating. “Oh
FahverGawd
, nooooo! For the love of big black dingaling, this gotta be a mistake. This shit can't be true. Are you sure, Miss Pasha, girl? I
need
you to be absolutely positive, goddammit.”

I nod. “Yes. I'm very sure. It came from a reliable source.” I decide not to mention my visit with Stax last Saturday night, or that I've sucked him and had my pussy smeared all up on his lips—that piece of information isn't any of her concern. Besides, the less she knows, the better. She and I may be in an alliance, but that doesn't mean I trust her to keep her mouth shut about everything.

She starts heaving. “Please,
FahverGawd
, no! Why you tryna do me, goddammit?!”

“Cassandra, tell me. Who is he?”

Her lips quiver. “I t-t-think that n-n-nigga-coon's my son.
Jah'Mel.”

I fall back in my chair, feeling everything in the room start to spin.

The difference between friends and foes, you always know who your enemies are…

I
t takes me a few minutes to pull myself together, so that I can digest what's come out of Booty's mouth—that
her
twenty-one-year-old son,
Jah'Mel,
is possibly one of the niggas who kidnapped me.

I'm literally shocked beyond words.

Feeling sick to my stomach, I race into the bathroom, clutching the toilet bowl as I toss up this morning's yogurt and fruit salad. When I'm done, I flush the toilet, wash my face and hands, then rinse out my mouth.

I glance up at my reflection in the mirror.
Ohmygod! I can't believe this shit! What kind of niggas would be okay with getting involved in kidnapping and sexually assaulting someone?

Ruthless niggas who don't have any regard for anyone else, niggas without a conscience who simply don't give a fuck; that's who!

Then again… How does what I've done so far make me any different from any of them? No matter how I justify it, after all the dicks I've sucked, the lies I've told, I'm no less grimy than Jasper. And, now, after killing Felecia and having those stash houses robbed and set on fire, I'm clearly capable of being equally as ruthless.