Gangsta Bitch (18 page)

“Damn, Duce, that’s some heavy shit.”

“Heavy is an understatement love, but I thank them old heads everyday for always telling me about keeping a low profile. My brother loved the spotlight and I was glad for him to have it, but all I cared about was the paper. If my paper wasn’t straight then I was coming for your head. You remember those days, ma.”

Frankie rubbed her arms as if a wind had appeared from nowhere. “Yeah,” she said, just above a whisper. Her mind drew up old images of Duce creeping in with blood splattered on his boots.

Duce chuckled. It wasn’t the normal charismatic laugh that Frankie had known, but something darker. She couldn’t imagine what Duce must have been feeling all those years as she had never been in that position, but she could feel it seeping from him like sweat on a summer day. She wanted to reach out and touch his face, but there was something about the set of his jaw that made her hesitate.

“Cowboy is the loose end,” he continued after a long pause. “That snake took five years of my life, my brother and apparently my girl,” he half-joked. Tears welled in his eyes but never fell. “So you see Cowboy has to die.”

“I had no idea,” Frankie sobbed.

“I know,” he stroked her cheek. “When I came back here to take my revenge I never imagined that fate would further mock me by having you share Cowboy’s bed.” Frankie tried to turn away but Duce wouldn’t let her. “There’s no shame in that Frankie. I was gone and I guess you needed someone to turn to. I ain’t mad at you boo. The question is, now what? Do you run and tell your lover what I plan to do, or do you turn the other cheek while I lullaby his ass?”

“Duce, you know I’d never betray you, no matter how I feel about the situation.”

“Then fall back and let me boogie.”

“Damn, you and your vengeful ass nature,” she placed her head in her hands. The thought of losing Duce again made her feel ill. “Why can’t you just let it go? We can go away together and start fresh,” she pleaded.

“Baby girl if it were only that simple. Cowboy took everything I ever loved and now he’s going to pay. I’m gonna take his life and his money, the same way he did my brother.”

Frankie laughed. It was all she could do to keep from falling down and crying. “Cos and Thor aren’t gonna stand by and let you get at Cowboy. Even if you do manage to kill him, they’ll hunt you down.”

“I wouldn’t too much worry about that. I’ve put something together to get them out of the way while I handle their boss.”

“There’ll be others, Duce. Cowboy knows a lot of people.”

“Like I give a shit. By the time it all hits the fan I’ll be on my way to the Dominican Republic. I got a little piece of land down there that I can sit on for a few,” he informed her.

This took Frankie by surprise. She couldn’t help but to wonder if he acquired the land while he was away, or while he was with her but neglected to say anything. “You’ve got it all mapped out, huh?”

“Just about, all I need to know now is where you stand?”

“Duce, I told you I’d never betray you.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, but Cowboy is your man. I’d be a fool to think you could just watch him die and not feel any way about it. I’d love to have you at my side when this is all over, but if not I’ll understand. I’m not trying to …”

Frankie placed a finger over Duce’s lips, quieting him. “Duce, I’ve been in love with you since we were ten years old, no matter what you did or how long you were gone, that hasn’t changed.”

“So, you’re my gangsta bitch again?” he asked, with glassy eyes.

“Silly boy, I never stopped being your gangsta bitch. Your enemies are my enemies, ride or die baby.”

Looking into Frankie’s eyes, he wondered how he could’ve been foolish enough to let her go in the first place. Chicks like her were only supposed to come along once in a lifetime and he had been twice blessed. It was a blessing that he had no intentions on squandering again. He took Frankie in his arms and kissed her as if it would be the last time.

“What was that for?” she asked, slightly out of breath.

“For not holding my foolish pride against me,” he said.

“Oh, don’t get it fucked up. I have every intention on letting you make it up to me, but we can talk about that later. Now, Cowboy won’t be easy to kill, so I know you’ve got a plan?”

He smirked. “Don’t I always? Let me run it down to you, boo.”

Duce found the burdens of his
vow suddenly weighing very heavy on him. When he had pieced his plan together, he’d gone through every possible outcome, or so he’d thought. Running into Frankie hadn’t been part of the equation. He had intended to look her up after his business with Cowboy was concluded but discovering she was a member of his crew as well as his lover added an unexpected twist.

Just thinking about them together made Duce mad as hell. He couldn’t shake the images flashing through his mind of them being together.
Did she do the things to Cowboy that she used to do to him?
, Duce wondered. Another thing that Duce had been trying not to think of was how far could he trust Frankie? They had been lovers once, but five years is a long time to be away and time tends to change people. What if she had taken his plan to Cowboy and they were laying a trap for him. Without the element of surprise, his chances of killing Cowboy were slim to nil. He could see them now laughing together over his ruined corpse.

Duce took a deep breath and tried to clear his head of the images. Back in the days, he and Frankie had banged out side by side, but now she was standing on the other side of the fence which could complicate things considerably. He might be too focused on Frankie to handle his business with Cowboy. Duce was a seasoned killer, but men like Cowboy were not to be taken lightly. Still, his brother’s killers had to be dealt with, and if he had to go through Frankie to get it done then so be it.

The constant, falling snow had made navigating through the large cemetery quite the task. He had to trek across the grass to keep from busting his ass on the icy cobble stones. A few yards ahead of him he could see the top of the tombstone. Even if he hadn’t gotten directions from the ground’s keeper, he would’ve been able to find the grave. The headstone was made from black marble and stood easily four feet off the ground. Perched atop the stone was a sculpted angel with its arms stretched to the heavens. Duce had commissioned the design from a talented young prison artist, and Reggie did the leg work on the streets to get it done. It was a parting gift to Knowledge.

Duce knelt on the snow-covered grass, soaking his jeans and sending a chill through his knees. He ignored the biting cold as he wiped the clumps of snow from the headstone. The words ‘God’s Favorite’ were engraved into the marble, just above his brother’s name, birth and death dates. It had been five years since his brother had been murdered, but it seemed like just yesterday they were getting high and cracking jokes. Those were the good times and in the blink of an eye, Cowboy had ensured that there would be no more.

“What da deal, son?” Duce said to the grave. “I know you’re probably pissed that it took me five years to visit you but, incase you haven’t heard, I’ve been indisposed,” Duce chuckled. “Man, this shit feels weird, me talking to you like this. I always thought that it would be the other way around with someone laying me down. I guess the good really do die young. I ain’t gonna get all emotional on you cause that’s not how we do, but a nigga miss you, big bro.” Only when Duce felt something warm splash onto his hand did he realize that he was crying.

“Look at me, out here bawling like a damn baby. I guess being overly emotional is just one more of my shortcomings. Don’t even trip though, cause them niggaz that brought all this shit down on us are history. That snake bitch Marsha is outta here and that bitch ass nigga Scott. I’m knocking Butch out the box this morning. I’ll bet his ass ain’t expecting what I got for him when he wakes up all happy and shit this morning,” Duce laughed. “The last piece of the puzzle is Cowboy. I’ve got a nice Christmas present for him.” Duce got up from the grave and brushed his knees off. “Big brother, it’s gonna be a while, if ever, before I can come back and visit you. You know I gotta fly the coop after I push these niggas’ shit back. I ain’t trying to stick around for the fall out. But you know what, I don’t need to come all the way out here to talk with you…because I’ll always have you in my heart,” he pounded his chest. “Take care of yourself my nigga, and hold a place for me up there,” he looked to the sky. Duce lowered his head and walked away.

With each step he took in the soft snow, his hate for Cowboy intensified. He had failed his brother once, but it wouldn’t happen again. He would either kill Cowboy or die trying.

“What it is brother? I know you gotta task for me today. I’m trying to get a bottle and I’m two dollars short?” old man Jim capped as Butch stepped into the barbershop. Jim was an old wine head who did odd jobs for everybody in the neighborhood. He was a pain in the ass, but he was always willing to work for his pennies.

Butch gave him a toothy grin. “Jim, since today is such a special day, I’m gonna lay a $20 on you for five minutes of your time.”

“Talk about it, boss,” Jim rubbed his hands together.

Butch dug in his pocket and handed Jim a crisp $50 dollar bill. “I want you to run up the street and grab me a dozen roses.”

“Aw shit, let me find out you got a new tender you about to break in. Is she sweet, boss?”

“I wouldn’t know, mutha fucka. The flowers are for my daughter. She’s auditioning at LaGuardia today.”

“My bad Butch, you know I didn’t mean no disrespect to ya, brother,” Jim shrank a bit. “Wow, little Penny was always good on them keys, I hope she makes it!” Jim said over his shoulder as he shuffled down the street.

Butch’s baby brother, Harvey, stood a few feet away, eyes nervously scanning the street. He’d have been more comfortable cooking and cutting drugs than playing Butch’s bodyguard for the morning, but it was a last minute decision. Butch’s wife, Liz, was adamant about him not bringing his usual goon squad to their daughter’s audition, as not to give off the wrong idea. After what had gone down with young Scotty, there was no way Butch was rolling to the event alone. Harvey was a chicken shit, but even he should be able to handle the security detail at a little girl’s recital for a few hours.

He’d gotten the wire about Scotty getting smoked, couldn’t say he was surprised. Scotty had been abusing and burning people left and right since Butch put him in pocket. He’d warned him time and again to slow down, but Scotty did what he pleased. They said that he got laid near Willie’s which disappointed Butch further. He’d stressed to Scotty the importance of not developing a routine, and the fact that he was now dead was just the reason why.

“What’s popping, Jessie,” Butch lowered himself into the first chair. “I ain’t got time for the whole cut, just give me a shave and a line up so I can make a move. I got a special appointment, so I need you to make my line extra sharp, feel me?”

“You know how I do it,” Jessie assured him, draping the smock around his neck. “So, your little girl’s got something going on?” he asked, using a brush to whip the shaving cream in a small bowl. Most barbers did their shaves with clippers, but Jessie was old school.

“Yeah man, they’re giving her a second chance to audition. She won’t be able to attend until next year, when she’s a sophomore, but I could give a damn so long as she gets in. That’s one hell of a school,” Butch settled back in the chair.

“I know what you mean, man. LaGuardia is supposed to be one of the best for music and art,” Jessie began applying the shaving cream to Butch’s face and neck.

Butch closed his eyes and spoke through slightly parted lips. “And that’s why I’m pushing so hard to get her in there. My baby is smart and talented as hell, but you can never have too many edges when those colleges call.”

“So, you think the colleges pick solely based on what high school them kids came out?” Jessie began dragging the razor smoothly across Butch’s face.

“I know it to be true, Jessie. You take a regular kid from let’s say, high school A and compare it against a kid from LaGuardia. The kid from high school A might have better grades, but the kid from LaGuardia comes from better credentials, so he stands a better chance. Most times it ain’t what you know…it’s who you’re with.”

“You sure as shit ain’t lying about that,” Jessie chuckled. Butch’s eyes were still closed so he couldn’t see the slack look that had come over Jessie’s face. He’d never heard the door open, or the foot steps when the man crossed the short distance between the bar and the first chair and pressed a pistol against Jessie’s neck. Jessie, careful not to move a muscle, looked to the right and found himself staring into a pair of dead eyes. Slumped in one of the folding chairs was Harvey. He had one hand halfway to his gun and his neck was bent at a funny angle. Upon closer inspection, Jessie noticed the Timberland string tied around his neck. The poor bastard never stood a chance. The young man raised his hands to his lips and motioned for silence as he plucked the razor from Jessie’s trembling hand and nodded for him to back away. Seeing what he was capable of, Jessie did the wise thing and complied.