“You right,” Rihanna said dryly. Neither sister wanted to argue with the crazy, bipolar bitch. “We just need to get our hands dirty one or two more times, save that money, and then quit.”

  Hearing the sisters beg had Aoki thinking, What if AZ’s life is never in danger again? But that was almost impossible. Rising in the game, a hustler always would have enemies. But enemies could be sparse. That meant their quick cash could dry up. Everyone knew that, to net four thousand dollars working full-time at minimum wage, it would take at least three months, and they made that kind of money in a day.

  “Lemme think of someting,” Aoki said.

  Aoki had an idea. Maybe she could approach AZ to get his friends to hire them, but first, they would have to prove themselves. After all, Polo was still alive.

  When Aoki left Rihanna asked, “Is it me or does that bitch think she’s cute now?”

  “She always thought she was cute. I don’t know where the fuck you been.”

  EIGHTEEN

  AZ walked into Club Luv in Flatbush Brooklyn with Aoki under his arm and a huge smile on his face. He was looking great and feeling great. He and Aoki were the Beyoncé and Jay Z of Brooklyn. They both strutted into the club looking like superstars. Aoki was dressed sexily in a neon pink and white Brooklyn T-shirt and coochie cutter shorts, her long legs gleaming in a pair of pricey stilettos. Her hair was wild and curly.

  AZ was dressed sharply in a dark gray YSL suit and sporting a pair of handmade David Chu bespoke Italian wing tips. He wanted to stand out from everyone else in the club wearing urban attire and gaudy jewelry.

  Club Luv was one of the most popular clubs in Brooklyn, a place where all the hustlers and shot-callers came to show off their lifestyle, network, and have a good time without any hassle. It was a place where some of the finest ladies in the city frequented, coming dressed in their best and sexiest outfits and looking for a come-up nigga to splurge on them.

  The club owner, Mink, was an ex-kingpin and ruthless heavyweight who had put in time on the streets and fifteen years in the prisons back in the day. He now just wanted to live comfortably and run his club in peace.

  Inside, the music was blaring, and it was crowded from wall to wall. People were crammed on the dance floor. The place was ultra modern and boasted state-of-the art technology with TVs positioned around the club, and a full bar. The VIP suites were perched over the dance floor, giving its occupants a full sweeping view of the club and the revelers below. You had to be somebody or know somebody to get the VIP treatment. If you were a nobody in the game, then Luv wasn’t the place for you.

  Once inside the club, AZ and Aoki were escorted to one of the VIP sections, where they were treated like royalty. AZ was making money hand over fist with his connect, Oscar, and rising to the next level. His street credibility was fiercer now, because of the shooting incident a few weeks earlier.

  After the two of them got comfortable in VIP, two bottles of Cristal were placed in front of them. AZ sat with his arm around Aoki, looking like the don of all dons in his suit. He nodded his head to the R&B playing.

  “This is what’s up!”

  AZ was moving roughly fifteen kilos a month for Oscar, and he had the baddest bitch on his arm. Nobody could fuck with him.

  “You okay, baby?” he asked her.

  “I’m fine.”

  Aoki was enjoying the life too. Aoki had been a diamond in the rough, and too many niggas done slept on her back then. With her new position as AZ’s girl, along with her new wardrobe, niggas started to take notice of her.

  When the DJ started to play some Shabba Ranks, Aoki couldn’t help herself. She stood up and started dancing to the throwback Jamaican music. First, she started to sway from side to side, bobbing her head up and down. Then she leaned from side to side, turning her shoulders and gradually showing her audience what she was made of. Then she started wining, feeling the groove in the music. The way she moved her hips and dropped down to the floor, her legs spread-eagle, her pink panties showing a little, was almost hypnotic and left everyone wide-eyed. People couldn’t help staring at her.

  The rest of the night, it was just AZ and Aoki drinking champagne and enjoying each other’s company. He was showing her off, trying to make a statement.

  Aoki also caught the attention of another major hustler inside the club. The man watched her movements from a short distance and was fixated by her beauty, her style, and her dance moves. He had seen her around, but tonight, she was looking extra special.

  B Scientific made his way toward AZ and Aoki. He was alone, leaving his crew in the neighboring VIP section. He eyed AZ and smiled at the man. They knew about each other because they both got money in the streets. B Scientific was recognizing that AZ was coming up, but he wasn’t touching B Scientific’s net worth or his street credibility.

  “AZ, that’s you?” B Scientific asked respectfully.

  AZ grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Yeah.”

  “Nice.”

  B Scientific was also dressed sharply in Tom Ford jeans, a white V-neck Ralph Lauren shirt, and a Hermes leather belt. He wore gold sunglasses and a diamond pinky ring, oozing power.

  A small voice in AZ’s head wanted to tell B Scientific the truth about their relationship, thinking B Scientific and Aoki would be a nice fit together, but common sense made him snap back to reality. There was too much at stake, so he had to stake his claim over Aoki, though it was obvious that B Scientific was interested in getting to know her better.

  B Scientific extended his hand out to Aoki. “My name is B Scientific.”

  “Me know who ya are,” she said to him.

  “Of course you do. But I don’t know who you are other than my man’s better half.”

  “Aoki.”

  “A-o-kee? That’s a nice name.”

  “Thanks,” she replied.

  B Scientific wanted to respect AZ, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Aoki. She was extraordinary, and her accent was a turn-on. He had a beautiful woman at home, but Aoki was exotic and just too stunning. Her dark skin, slanted eyes, long, silky hair, and her high cheekbones—shit, she was perfect.

  “Well, I’ll see y’all around,” he said, looking at Aoki. B Scientific had it in mind to go after Aoki when she was alone.

  “Okay,” she replied, smiling. She clearly noticed how he looked at her. Inwardly, Aoki was amused by it.

  B Scientific made his exit, and AZ felt like the man of the year.

  ***

  “You think they’re ready?” AZ asked Aoki.

  “Dem ah ready, AZ; we need the cash.”

  “Shit is quiet right now in the streets, though. I mean, ain’t nobody fuckin’ wit’ me right now, Aoki, and that’s a good thing.”

  AZ navigated his Yukon across the Verrazano Bridge, on his way to meet Peanut and collect what was owed to him. As he approached the toll booths, he turned to Aoki. “Since Greasy Dee, my respect is on a whole new level.”

  It was news Aoki didn’t want to hear. She was eager to get her homegirls some work. Rihanna and Tisa were acting desperate. They no longer wanted to be drug mules. Each time Aoki brought it up expressing that’s how they could make money, they both refused to listen. Aoki had sparked something in them that she couldn’t undue.

  “What ’bout Polo?”

  “What about him? From my understanding, the nigga is still laid up in the hospital, almost crippled and shit. He ain’t in any position to come after me.”

  “And his peoples? Ya not concerned?”

  “Not really. You chop off the head, and the body will drop.”

  Aoki pouted. It’d been several weeks, and AZ had the girls doing nothing, not even deliveries. The beef in the streets was as slow as a virgin’s pussy. There wasn’t anything happening. Aoki just played her part, pretending to be his woman.

  In public, they put on a nice show, but in private, it was all the same. Aoki had been talking and texting Emilio. It wasn’t anything serious. Emilio was becoming a good friend to talk to. Aoki also didn’t broach the subject with AZ about being gay. She locked it away in the depths of her closet and wasn’t trying to touch it. He liked dick, she liked dick; it was just something they had in common.

  Lately, she had been accompanying him everywhere. She smoked her Newport and gazed out the passenger window, her eyes on the traffic at the toll booth. She didn’t mind the ride. It was cool to escape from Brooklyn once in a while and enjoy seeing a different borough.

  AZ was determined to collect the money that Peanut owed him. He told Aoki that Peanut had been avoiding his calls.

  “Ya tink him tryin’ to stick ya?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so. I hope not. Nah, he seems cool.”

  “Tink the worst . . . hope for de best,” Aoki said.

  Her words had AZ thinking. He didn’t know the nigga like that. He felt that Peanut was a good dude, talkative and a go-getter, but so far he’d never had any problems with him.

  AZ steered his truck toward Peanut’s hood. Like usual, the block was flooded with niggas doing their customary rituals of drinking forties, smoking weed, and rolling dice. And Peanut was in the mix of it all.

  He slowed his truck toward the corner and gazed at Peanut, whose back was turned to the street as he focused on the dice game.

  Peanut’s friend, Nippy, tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Yo, Peanut, you got company.”

  Peanut turned and stared at AZ and Aoki seated in the Yukon. His face twisted into a scowl, and he locked his attention on AZ. “Yo, what up, nigga?” Peanut hollered sharply at AZ.

  “What up?” AZ hollered back.

  “You came lookin’ fo’ somethin’, nigga?”

  “Yo, what’s up wit’ this dude?” he said to Aoki. He then glared at Peanut and shouted, “Yeah, I came lookin’ for that paper you owe me.”

  “What money, nigga?” Peanut hollered back. “You know me, muthafucka!”

  “Peanut, don’t play stupid. I want my fuckin’ money.”

  “Yo, fuck ya money, nigga! You know where you at?”

  The tension suddenly grew thick between them. Peanut’s goons were watching and lurking. AZ didn’t know what had gone wrong so suddenly. It looked like Peanut transformed and became this bipolar asshole. This wasn’t the same man from before.

  Aoki glared at Peanut also. She was ready to react.

  But they were up against Goliath without their trusted slingshot. Peanut was daring them to do something stupid.

  “So, it’s like that, Peanut?” AZ said. “You know who you fuckin’ wit’?”

  “You know what, nigga?” Peanut suddenly turned his back to the truck, giving AZ his ass to kiss. Then he spun back around with his arm outstretched and gripping a 9mm, and didn’t hesitate to shoot. Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak!

  Aoki and AZ ducked so fast, they almost caught whiplash.

  “Pull off! Drive!” Aoki screamed. “Drive!”

  AZ was able to put his vehicle in drive, dodging bullets and shattering glass, and speed away from the chaos.

  Peanut wasn’t done yet. “Yo, get the car, nigga!” he shouted to one of his cronies. “Get the fuckin’ car!”

  Peanut and his goons quickly jumped into several rides and gave chase, bullets flying and tires screeching.

  AZ floored the pedal and hit the street corner doing sixty. He barely avoided slamming into a parked car. He couldn’t believe he was in almost the same predicament with Greasy Dee and Polo.

  He became a racecar and stuntman all at once, careening from corner to corner and fishtailing, avoiding obstacles and other cars, then zigzagging through traffic, blowing his horn repeatedly.

  AZ sped down Targee Street and blew through a red light. He continued speeding away from the threat, and after several blocks, he realized that he’d lost them or they’d just stopped chasing.

  AZ was furious. He cursed and cursed and threatened to kill Peanut.

  Aoki smiled inwardly. It was payday. It was another job.

  On the drive back to Brooklyn, AZ put the contract out on Peanut’s life. He gave it to Aoki, like she expected.

  “We gon’ need some guns,” Aoki said.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll handle that. I can get you a couple of thirty-eights and some three eighties. But I want that muthafucka dead!” he said heatedly and repeatedly. “Dead!”

  Aoki was so ready to execute the hit. This wasn’t just business, but it was personal. She could have been killed. She was super-pissed that they wanted to murder AZ over his product and take her out as a casualty.

  “Oh, and Aoki, if you kill some of his goons too, that’s just fine with me. I’ll pay extra,” AZ added with a tight frown. “A grand per body count.”

  “Me on it, AZ. Me on it.”

  ***

  Immediately Aoki contacted her crew and told them the good news. Rihanna and Tisa felt they were ready to step up to the plate.

  The girls were desperate to get their own place, an apartment together away from Gena, and maybe purchase themselves a car this time around. Rihanna’s cell phone was on the verge of being disconnected. She’d splurged on clothes and things, but forgot to pay her bill. Tisa wanted to keep upgrading herself. However, she felt somewhat ambivalent about the job.

  “Who and where?” Rihanna asked Aoki.

  “Dis damn fool named Peanut.”

  Aoki gave them the rundown and told her crew what had happened. They were shocked. Aoki looked both her friends in the eyes and said, “Dis time, we do it right and no fuckups.”

  “I agree,” Rihanna said.

  It was on!

  NINETEEN

  Lavell wheeled a frail, crackhead-thin Polo away from his hospital room and toward the elevator ready to take his friend home. Domino walked behind them, his pistol concealed in his waistband. Polo was finally being discharged after spending weeks in the hospital. He sat in the wheelchair almost looking like the Crypt Keeper. He’d lost so much weight, he was almost unrecognizable to his friends. His doctors reiterated to him how lucky he was to survive.

  The cops had finally stopped hounding him on who shot him and murdered Greasy Dee. There was no way he was talking to any pigs. He didn’t need their help. He was utterly repulsed that they had to be in the same room with him and breathe the same air as he did. But the NYPD finally got the hint—he wasn’t saying shit and didn’t plan to.

  Polo grimaced while being pushed into the elevator. He had a lot on his mind. He still couldn’t forget it. He thought about that night over and over again; his mind was on repeat with the pain and loss of his good friend.

  The elevator doors closed, and they were alone inside. As they started to descend, Polo asked, “Any word on them bitches yet?”

  “We still on it, Polo. I got my peoples lookin’ for them everywhere,” Lavell said.

  “I can’t believe these bitches are still breathing.”

  “We ain’t gonna rest until we find them,” Domino said. “For you and our nigga Greasy Dee. We gonna shoot their pussies out.”

  The elevator came to a stop on the first floor, and the doors opened. Lavell pushed his friend out.

  It was the first taste of outside for Polo in weeks. He soaked in the summer weather as Lavell continued pushing him toward the minivan parked across the street.

  “My nigga, you home now, and we got bitches and weed waiting for you back at the spot,” Lavell said, trying to cheer his friend up.

  Polo couldn’t think about bitches and weed. He felt guilty about Greasy Dee’s murder that he wasn’t quick enough or didn’t see the setup coming. Sweet revenge was the only thing that mattered to him. He was on a mission to get well and find all three of them. No matter what it took or what the cost was, Greasy Dee’s death was going to be avenged.

  TWENTY

  Aoki got her friend Matt to hot-wire an old car for them, and they were all ready to take care of business. Aoki drove the Nissan Maxima, Rihanna rode shotgun, and Tisa sat in the backseat, where there were a couple of different colored wigs and the guns Aoki had asked for.

  As they crossed the bridge, there was silence, their adrenaline pumping. They were approaching ground zero. This was an important job for AZ. It had to be executed just right. No fucking up. Peanut had disrespected her employer, and that came with a punishment of death.

  The night was still young and balmy. Aoki and the girls were dressed down in jeans and sneakers, but Aoki wore her heels, as usual. They also carried knapsacks and looked like normal teenage girls. No one would suspect they were armed and dangerous.

  The run-in with Peanut was forty-eight hours earlier, so Aoki easily remembered the location. They were only a few blocks away from Peanut’s stomping grounds.

  As they drove the wigs came on. Aoki donned the blonde one and dark shades. Rihanna and Tisa both wore brown. Aoki stuffed the .380 into her small handbag and was ready to pull off the murder contract.

  Like Aoki expected, Peanut was a creature of habit, in the same place, at around the same time, doing the same shit. They circled the block and observed the target and his cronies. The car they were in was nondescript and didn’t draw any attention, making it the perfect vehicle to commit their crime with.

  “Ya ready?” Aoki asked her crew.

  Rihanna nodded. Tisa did too, but she still looked unsure.

  Aoki parked the Maxima a block away from the activity on Prospect Avenue, where there were goons playing dice, drinking forties, and smoking weed. Peanut, being the alpha male, was in the mix, wearing his red Yankees fitted and a red bandana dangling from his back pocket, indicating his affiliation with the Bloods gang. Peanut was loud, and his mouth was legendary.

  Over a thousand dollars was up for grabs on the ground. The dice were shaking and moving. The men were loud, with a lot of shit-talking and cursing. The drug activity was hot on the block. It was an open-air drug market with fiends buying crack left and right. Either the police didn’t patrol the area regularly, or they were paid to stay away. Aoki was observing it all with a keen eye, thinking all that money belonged to AZ. She wanted to take it all.

 

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