Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick (22 page)

Mesha cried out and pleaded for her to stop, but Apple wasn’t budging. She stood over Mesha with the .22 in hand and kicked her in the ribs. Mesha wailed, and with her body balled up, she fell over onto her side.

Apple kicked her again. “Bitch, where’s my fuckin’ money?” She picked up Mesha’s purse and dumped the remaining contents out, looking for anything valuable. She saw the money from Mesha’s cashed paycheck. She counted it, and it only totaled $350. Upset, Apple waved the money in her hand and shouted, “Bitch, this is it? Are you serious?” Apple gave her one swift kick again to her side.

Mesha cried out, “Oowwww!” Still curled up in the fetal position, her side felt like it was on fire. She began crying and begging Apple to stop the abuse, but Apple just looked down at her ex-best friend with cold, callous eyes and pointed the gun at her head.

“Mesha, you better do somethin’, ’cause I ain’t toleratin’ this shit. You come up wit’ our money. I don’t care if you gotta sell your pussy on the streets—You come up wit’ my twenty-five hundred that you now owe, or your grandmother gonna be the one burying you. Then who’s gonna take care of the sick bitch when you’re rottin’ in the fuckin’ ground?”

Mesha cried out, begging Apple for more time, but Apple wasn’t changing her mind about anything. She robbed Mesha of her paycheck, iPhone, iPod, and earrings, and then left her and her things on the floor of the elevator. Apple hurriedly took the stairs, adding up the stuff she snatched from Mesha. With everything she had taken, she figured it totaled $500, and with the paycheck, her take was $850.

*****

The next night, right after working long hours in the mall, Mesha came home and quickly changed into a snug skirt and tight top. After slipping on her high heels, she rushed back out the door.

An hour later, she stood on the grungy street corners in the shadows of the block, trying to sell her body to the passing cars. Afraid for her life, she was willing to do whatever to get Apple off her back. She shivered as she dried her tears. Mesha was a fresh young girl, and the horny men easily took the bait, snatching her up. With her light skin, hazel eyes, and long legs, it didn’t take long for a trick to stop his car and for her to jump in.

Mesha was such eye-candy, she didn’t get much of a break between her tricks, reluctantly giving head and spreading her legs in the backseat of over a half dozen cars that night.

Within five days of shamefully selling her ass on street corners, she had Apple’s money in full. It was the worst five days of her life. She got no rest and had no peace. Every night when she came home, she would linger in the shower for an hour or more, trying to wash away the filth and shame. Her tears would mix with the shower water, and sometimes Mesha would drop to her knees, trembling. She could still feel the painful penetration from the tricks that violated her.

After a visit to her local physician a week later, Mesha found out she had herpes. Her world came crashing down on her, and she didn’t know what to tell her boyfriend. She cried for days, hating Apple with a passion.

*****

Denise sauntered around Harlem in her new clothing and jewelry, compliments of her daughter, boasting about Apple’s success to everyone, leaving a bitter taste in everyone’s mouth. She felt like she and her daughter had finally come up. But everyone looked at the mother and daughter with disdain. The residents once felt sorry for Denise and Apple for their tragic loss, but when the mother and daughter started to act as if Nichols’ death never happened, their feelings changed toward them. In fact, there were rumors of foul play within the family.

When Kola found out that Apple was now Supreme’s wifey, she was livid. What upset her even more was that her mother was riding with Supreme and Apple because of the money and gifts they flaunted. It seemed like Apple was buying her mother’s love, or maybe silence.

Kola finally confronted her mother late one evening at their old apartment, where she was running a card game out the place, though her new home was with Apple in a magnificent brownstone on the West Side. Denise, grateful for her daughter’s generosity, stayed in the basement. She didn’t know why Apple put her up in a home and bought her the finer things in life with the ill-gotten wealth. She had put her daughters through hell, and wasn’t about to complain or bring up the past now that she was finally living the life she had always dreamed of, and had muthafuckas kissing her ass.

Hearing the blaring music from inside, Kola banged on the apartment door of her former home. She stood back, waiting impatiently, ready to kick it down.
The bitch changed the fuckin’ locks
, she thought. She banged on the door again.

A moment later, the apartment door opened up, and Denise stood in front of her daughter, holding a glass of wine in her hand. She was dressed in a pair of tight leather pants that accentuated her curves and a mohair-blend camisole sweater that had delicate pointelle stitching with a bit of sparkle. With her new weave reaching down to her back, she looked like newfound money.

Kola’s mouth dropped open.

“Kola, why you here?” Denise asked, surprised to see her.

Kola glared at her mother, wanting to ram her fist down her throat, but she kept her cool. “So this is you now, huh, Ma?”

“What?”

“Ma, how the fuck you let that shit ride like that? What is wrong wit’ you?”

Denise stepped farther into the hallway, closing the door lightly behind her, so her company wouldn’t hear the dispute. Resenting Kola’s words, she got up in her face. “Kola, Nichols is dead, OK? I’m trying to move on with my life, and this is me moving on.”

“You movin’ on how, Ma? By letting your fuckin’ daughter fuck that nigga? You pimpin’ her now, Ma!”

“My business is my fuckin’ business, and you need to stay the fuck out my business! Look at us, Kola. Look how I’m living now. Fuck it! We came up.”

“Came up? Look at you! You’re a fuckin’ joke! You and Apple, ya’ll some dumb bitches!” Kola screamed out.

“You watch your fuckin’ mouth, Kola. You always been the stupidest one out of all my kids!” Denise shouted.

“Whateva, Ma. Nichols ain’t been dead two months yet, and you’re actin’ like she never existed, but I swear on Nichols’ grave, I’ma see you and Apple.”

“Bitch, how dare you threaten me! I’m the queen bitch, Kola! I gave birth to your fuckin’ ass! You hear me, bitch? I gave birth to Nichols, and I’m allowed to mourn her in my own fuckin’ way. I wish you were the one rottin’ in the fuckin’ ground!” Denise shouted as she followed Kola toward the elevator.

Though hurt by her mother’s words somewhat, Kola kept it moving. She dried the few tears that fell from her eyes and exited her old building, a vengeful spirit dwelling inside of her.

Denise cursed the ground Kola walked on and went back into the apartment to continue her wild card game; smoking, drinking, and partying like it was New Year’s Eve. She decided not to give Kola and her foolishness a second thought. She loved her new life. The clothes and jewelry were the best.
Fuck that bitch
, she thought to herself.

*****

Kola got into her black BMW 5-Series and started the ignition, her heart ice-cold toward her family. She thought about Nichols every day and was ashamed to see her family acting like fools, disregarding what had happened to her little sister.

It’d been two months, and still Nichols’ murder was unsolved. Kola had heard about J-Dogg being gunned down in the Bronx, but it was bittersweet news. She knew he might have been the triggerman, but he wasn’t the only one behind the murder. She felt in her heart that the real culprit was tearing her family apart, and even though her family was dysfunctional before the tragedy, she felt like they were even more fucked up now.

Apple was the talk of the town, but Kola was the gangsta in the family. People knew not to fuck with her. Still, Apple had a growing reputation, and Kola was reminded of it daily. She’d heard about her sister pistol-whipping bitches or cutting up their face if they were late with payment. Kola was somewhat stunned at her sister’s sudden change of character.

Who knew the bitch had it in her?
Kola said to herself.

In her eyes, Apple still couldn’t fuck with her. Though Apple was getting money, she was making her ends too. Yet, it pained Kola’s heart to see her twin sister sleeping with the enemy. She knew Supreme was no good. He was a creep who’d manipulated her sister with money to cover up Nichols’ murder.

Kola couldn’t worry about her sister and mother at the moment. She was having a party that night. Her sex-selling business was taking off. For the past month and a half, things had been booming for her. She had the finest girls in the city under her influence and the best locations anyone could think of—rooftops, penthouse suits, and lavish clubs. In fact, she was becoming well known for her business and profiting greatly from selling sex throughout Harlem and the rest of New York. Once you went to one of Kola’s party—a sex ’n’ play gathering, she called it—you didn’t want to fuck with anything else.

Kola had a close-knit team of women that helped her organize things, and she ran her business like a corporation. She had her ladies on salary, with tips, had them all tested for any STDs, and the only way into her parties was through membership fees, which was paid in advance by either cash or credit card via her business account that she had set up. Once membership was paid up, the members would receive the time and location of her next hardcore event via e-mail or text. She made sure never to stay at one location too long, knowing if she kept changing venues, it would be harder for law enforcement to raid her business. She always kept her parties on the low and made up to five to ten thousand each event from selling sex, liquor, and ecstasy.

Kola pushed her 5-Series toward her home in Washington Heights. It was getting late, and she had to be ready in time for her party at a downtown Manhattan loft in SoHo. The venue was big enough to hold up to one hundred and fifty people, which was perfect. She needed the space, since her parties were growing because of increasing membership. She had fifteen girls arriving, and they were all ready to get things popping. None of her girls were ugly, because she’d handpicked them herself. Ranging from ages eighteen to twenty-two years old, they were all cute, thick, and curvy in the right places, and were the best at what they did—making men buy into a sexual fantasy that they’d never forget.

It was almost nine in the evening when Kola arrived at her cozy one-bedroom apartment off Broadway. She double-parked her car outside the building and rushed inside. Her place was quiet, with an unflustered and comfortable silence that took time for her to get used to. She’d decorated the place with lovely accent furnishing, including a large overstuffed Candice Olson designed couch, a Horchow modern glass dining table, a vintage canopy bed, and off white-colored walls that enriched her living room. The large plasma screen was mounted on her wall like a painting, and the unique Bistro Loft aerial rug, though it had cost her a small fortune, made her place a little more welcoming. In fact, the design on the rug was stunning enough to have been a piece of artwork on her walls.

Kola kicked off her shoes and went straight into her bathroom. She needed to wash up before attending her event. She turned on the water to her marble sunken tub and began stripping out of her clothes.

She made a few phone calls from her cell phone to make sure all the preparations for her party had been taken care of. Mostly, she talked to Gina, her trusted assistant, and Gina let her know that everyone was ready and everything was in place.

Kola’s parties started late—midnight or after. She liked it that way because it gave her more time to arrange everything. Besides, she knew the freaks mostly came out at night.

She smiled as she slowly submerged herself in the steaming, relaxing water. Then she turned on the small sound system embedded in her bathroom walls to listen to some R&B. Soaking in the tub, she tried not to think about her problems with her family, as she focused on her business and the streets.

Meanwhile, Mike-Mike was locked up in Rikers Island, and Danny was on the run. He had caught a murder charge a month earlier and decided to flee the city, but Kola didn’t stress it. She was only seventeen and living better than most adults.

CHAPTER 20

T
he porn-style party, taking place in SoHo, Manhattan, got into full swing after one in the morning. The cast iron building, tucked away on a quiet cobblestone city street, with sparse traffic outside, was the perfect location for a sex ’n’ play gathering. Inside the large room with the high ceiling and large-covered windows, with the brick, ductwork, and beams exposed, and a soaring view of the city, young scantily clad women in stilettos, some nude, moved around the loft, looking to please the many men available.

The men were just as loosely dressed as the ladies, some shirtless or in their underwear, and drooling at the slim, curvy, long-legged beauties. The loft came to life with sex. It was a free-for-all to do what you please with any of the ladies. There were two makeshift back rooms for privacy, or if a couple was bold enough, they could create their own show for everyone to see. Couples paired off in some corner or against the brick walls, in full view of one another.

The 15-inch club-size speakers situated throughout the loft played the smash hit by Ludacris and Trey Songz, “Sex Room.” All the grinding and touching going on got the ladies wet, and it didn’t take long for the downtown loft to literally become a sex room.