Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick (16 page)

“Yo, Cartier, I wanted to come through. This Apple. Nichols is dead. Gone. I fucked up…call me when you get this. One.”

*****

Apple walked through the front door of her apartment, and before she could step farther inside, Kola came lunging at her from the hallway, screaming out, “You stupid fuckin’ bitch!” and tackled her to the floor.

The sisters fought pound for pound, until Danny pulled them apart. “Yo, fuckin’ chill!” he exclaimed.

“No! Fuck that bitch!” Kola shouted. “She got Nichols killed!”

Danny held Kola back, allowing Apple to collect herself as she got off the floor. Apple didn’t charge or fight back. Kola’s words had cut into her deeper than the sharpest samurai sword. She looked at her sister and then just walked right back out of the apartment, not bothering to dry her tears as she rushed down the stairway and out the lobby. She darted into the street and turned the corner, headed to the nearest train station. She wanted the nightmarish day to fast-forward.

The anger that resided in Apple needed to be released, and the only one she wanted to confront was Supreme. She was determined to hunt him down and take out her revenge. She walked every block in her Harlem neighborhood, searching for either him or Guy Tony, but they were nowhere to be found. It seemed like Supreme and everyone associated with him had just up and disappeared. It was odd. Apple figured Supreme knew the heat was on and probably left town for a few.

She ended up wandering around Harlem most of the day and late into the evening, not knowing what to do with herself, because she didn’t feel comfortable going home and fighting with Kola.

The night continued without any success, and Apple was exhausted from walking block after block. So she decided to take her chances going home. If Kola was still around, then she would knuckle up and fight her, if needed.

Apple walked into the lobby and pressed the button for the elevator. She waited around in silence, until she saw Lil’ Meek walk into the lobby clad in a tattered black jacket and old jeans that were clearly too big for him. She ignored the crackhead, knowing he was probably begging on the streets to get his next high.

Apple wished the elevator would hurry up. She didn’t have the patience for Lil’ Meek’s begging. As she felt him come closer, she prepared herself to curse him out and push him away. Lil’ Meek staggered toward Apple with a week’s smell on him.

Lil’ Meek, aka Dominquez, was in his late twenties and known throughout the hood as the one who knew everybody’s business. He’d attended NYU for a few semesters, but after his fourth semester, he started a relationship with a bad girlfriend. He soon started partying all night then going to class late. Slowly but surely, he stopped showing up for his classes’ altogether. He was arrested a few times for public drunkenness, and then came the drugs—weed laced with cocaine in the beginning—compliments of his girlfriend.

A year later, Lil’ Meek, with his slim five-six frame and ashy, pale, bronze skin, was hooked on crack cocaine, his life withered away to nothing. He’d become a has-been who’d thrown away his future chasing pussy and a high.

Despite Lil’ Meek’s shabby appearance, he still was smart and sometimes easy to talk to. But with his foul odor, he was known to clear out rooms and make people retch. Apple, wanting to avoid his stench, was ready to rush for the stairway.

“Hey, Apple, can I borrow a dollar?”

Apple was almost into the stairway when she heard him shout out, “I heard you lookin’ for Supreme! I know where he’s at.”

She stopped and turned to face Meek. “What you talking about?” she asked with a quizzical look.

Meek approached her, and Apple cringed from his smell. Yet, she was ready to endure it for the information he was about to give her.

“I heard what happened to your sister, Apple. I’m sorry to hear that, but you got a dollar? I just need to hold somethin’ real fast. I need a trip, but I got you, Apple.” Lil’ Meek fidgeted with himself, glancing around the lobby nervously as he waited for Apple to loan him what he needed.

Apple sucked her teeth as she reached into her pocket and passed him a wrinkled dollar bill. She then stepped back from him, her stomach churning just by the sight and smell of him. She had known Lil’ Meek since she was a child in her early days of grade school, and actually used to think of him as being cute. It somewhat troubled her to see the drastic change in him.

“A’ight, tell me what you know,” Apple demanded.

Lil’ Meek smiled. “Yeah, like I was saying, Supreme still in Harlem, but I be everywhere in this town and watch everything. He chillin’ up on the West Side, Apple, keeping low and shit over by Riverside Drive.”

“How do I know this shit is accurate?”

“’Cause, Apple . . . I cop from his cousin out there all the time. I travel blocks to get some of the best shit his cousin be selling out the apartment. I copped yesterday and seen Supreme chillin’ in his cut. He don’t know me, but I know him.”

Meek passed on more information, and Apple took a mental note of it. Lil’ Meek then nodded and walked out the back exit.

Apple went into her apartment, which was quiet. Kola was gone, and her mother was in her room. She went straight into her bedroom and refused to turn on the lights. She undressed in the dark and slid under the covers. She peered at the bed her sister used to lie in and closed her eyes. It was hard to look at the empty bed without thoughts of Nichols rushing to her mind. She remembered her sister looking to her for advice many times, and the many late-night talks they’d had.

Apple sighed heavily, turned over, and tried to block out the memories, which were bringing tears to her eyes. She cried most of the night and couldn’t wait to confront Supreme the next day. She wanted to see him suffer greatly.

*****

The next morning, Apple took the bus to the location Lil’ Meek had given her. She looked stunning in her short denim skirt and high heels. She wore a tight camisole top, and her beautiful black hair was styled into one long ponytail. She walked down 149th Street and got a lot of unwanted attention from male passersby and drivers blowing their horns. They must’ve been admiring her gleaming, long, defined legs, and beauty that could take your breath away. But Apple, focused only on finding Supreme and confronting him, ignored the catcalls.

She approached a slate gray, seven-story brick building right off 149th Street and Riverside Drive. The quiet location offered the residents a fantastic view of New Jersey across the Hudson. She wondered how Lil’ Meek even entered the building without drawing attention to himself. It wasn’t the projects, where crackheads were always about. She thought he had to be lying. Though he’d said that Supreme’s cousin was running drugs out of his apartment, the surrounding streets were clean, the place had security cameras, and it looked like doctors and lawyers lived there.

Still, she was willing to take the chance to investigate. She’d concealed a small blade in the lining of her panties, wanting to walk up close to Supreme and cut his throat open when she got the chance.

She walked into the building’s atrium and glanced around. It was a magnificent structure, with its aging but elegant concrete construction, gray marble flooring, and glass wall that lined the lobby. Apple rarely came to the West Side, where classy stone buildings and tree-lined streets were the norm.

Since there wasn’t a doorman or security on hand at the moment, Apple just proceeded toward the elevators. Lil’ Meek had told her that Supreme could be found on the fourth floor, Apartment 4B. She entered the elevator, pressed 4, and waited in the silence, her heart beating like African drums.

The elevator soon reached the fourth floor, and she moved down the pristine hallway searching for the apartment, adjusting the blade in the lining of her panties when she found Apartment 4B. She hesitated to knock. Not having a plan, she just looked at the door.

Supreme was a strong and powerful man, outweighing Apple by a hundred-plus pounds and towering over her by almost a foot. She knew he could easily snap her neck and toss her body to the side, but she was so fueled with rage, she felt like she had the power of Superman.

Apple continued to look at the door of Apartment 4B right in front of her. She began to wonder why she was hesitating. Had it been Kola in her place, it would have been on and popping. With a few thugs backing her, Kola would have kicked down the door with her crew and shot up everyone in the place.

Wiping the few tears that trickled down her cheeks, she felt like her heart was trying to rip through her chest. She felt her adrenaline kicking in and wanted to take full advantage of the situation. She clenched her fist and bit down on her bottom lip, knowing that those responsible for killing Nichols were almost certainly behind the door. It would be easier to just call up Kola and have her handle things, but she wasn’t speaking to her sister at all, especially after Kola had attacked her and put the full blame on her. She thought it was best to keep her twin sister out the mix for now and keep her distance, since things were getting really ugly between the two of them.

Apple began psyching herself up by thinking about Nichols, knowing her body was rotting away in some morgue while Supreme was chilling and still breathing.

“Fuck this shit!” she said to herself. She banged on the door like she was police and then stood there firmly with a livid stare, ready for anything.

Becoming impatient, she banged on the door again. It took a while for someone to answer, but eventually, she heard the locks turning, and the door slowly opened. A tall, slender man answered with an unpleasant look, wearing a wife-beater, his upper body swathed with tattoos, and braids twisted down to his back.

He looked at Apple, his face warped from irritation. “Yo, who the fuck is you? And why you bangin’ on my fuckin’ door like you police?”

“Supreme here?” she asked sternly, ready to push him out her way and look for herself.

“What, bitch? Who the fuck is you?” he barked.

“I’m lookin’ for Supreme,” she repeated unwaveringly.

The man looked her up and down. “Yo, you one of his side chicks?”

Apple was tired of his questions and rushed forward, ready to fight him.

“Yo, you better step the fuck back!” he said, blocking the entrance into the apartment. “You don’t fuckin’ know me!”

But Apple didn’t scare easily, especially not now with fire and rage running through her blood. “I’m not leaving until I see that muthafucka!” she exclaimed.

The stranger sighed heavily. The last thing he needed was his nosy neighbors calling the cops because of a dispute in front of his doorway. He frowned at Apple then turned into the apartment and shouted, “Yo, ’Preme, you got some crazy broad out here lookin’ for ya ass! Come check her before I do!”

Apple heard Supreme shout back, “Who that, Don?”

“I don’t know, nigga, but she finer than a muthafucka.” Don looked at Apple with a corrupt smile. “Whoever she is, she looks like she wants to scratch your eyes out.”

Apple wasn’t intimidated. She held her ground and waited for Supreme to appear.

Don stepped back from the doorway, and Supreme walked up. When he saw Apple standing in the hallway, a smile crept up on his face.

“Oh shit! Look who we got here. How the fuck did you find me?” Supreme asked, with some weight in his tone.

“I got resources,” she spat.

Supreme chuckled. “What you want? You ready to pay back what you owe wit’ fuckin’ interest?”

“Muthafucka, are you fuckin’ serious?”

Supreme casually replied, “Yeah, I’m fuckin’ serious.”

“Fuck you, muthafucka!” Apple shouted. “I ain’t payin’ you shit! How dare you!”

“Yo, yo, y’all gotta take this shit from in front of my door. I got fuckin’ neighbors that be all in my business.”

“Yo, Apple, step inside. Let’s talk.”

Apple hesitated for a moment. She tried to hold back her tears, but with Supreme standing there with a smirk on his face and still asking about her debt, she was ready to reach for her concealed blade and cut him open.

Don said to her, “Yo, shawty, you in or out? You can’t be causing this drama in the hallway. This ain’t that kind of building.”

Apple went into the apartment, and Don closed the door. She was quickly overwhelmed by the décor of the place, with its marble flooring and modern furniture that had to be worth about fifty thousand. She was surprised to see the assortment of artwork that lined the eggshell-colored walls, which included a few framed photographs of Al Pacino lifted from various scenes in
Scarface
and two photos of the Gambino mob boss, John Gotti. There was a 60-inch plasma screen mounted on the wall and a high-end sound system with speakers scattered throughout the room, and a collection of movies and CDs all over.

Apple was taken aback by the place. For a moment, her mind was somewhere else. This was the way she’d always dreamed of living. It was like she’d stepped into a different world. The layout of the place was phenomenal—Italian décor in the living room, and marble floors and countertops in the foyer and kitchen area, which changed to parquet flooring in the living room. She didn’t know niggas could live like this in Harlem.

Supreme stepped in front of her, snapping her back to reality. Then she remembered what she’d come for.