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Authors: Sonny F. Black

Gangsta Bitch (20 page)

BOOK: Gangsta Bitch
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When the woman reached the double doors, she found that she couldn’t pull them open because of all the stuff she was carrying. Never one to miss an opportunity for a free peek, Bobby tossed his cigarette and stepped into the foyer. Smiling like a shyer cat, Bobby opened the doors for her. “Let me get that for you,” he said, executing a half bow.

“Aren’t you the sweet one,” the woman smiled from behind the dark glasses she was wearing. She stepped passed Bobby, giving him a full view of her delicious ass. “Sweetie, I hate to be a bother, but could you get the other doors for me too?” she asked in her most innocent voice.

“But of course,” he said, scrambling to pull the last set of doors open for her. He was so caught up in trying to impress the beautiful woman that he didn’t even notice when she let the bags drop to the floor and produced a small Uzi.

“You just hold that pose,” she hissed, jamming the Uzi into his gut. She made sure to keep her back to the other two Armored Service guards so they wouldn’t know what was going on until it was too late. When Bobby tried to make eye contact with his partners, she dug the nose of the gun into his belly with so much force that he gave a small yelp. “If you even think about it, this shit is gonna go from a robbery to a homicide.” Though Bobby couldn’t see her eyes behind the glasses, something told him that she was serious.

“Now, just keep smiling and back out like you’re holding the door for me,” she said with ice in her voice. Not wanting to lose his life on Christmas Eve, Bobby did as he was told.

Mike and Aaron’s laughter was halted abruptly when they noticed that Bobby wasn’t at his post behind the wheel. “What the fuck is this kid doing?” Mike asked Aaron.

“Trying to lose his fucking job,” he shifted the bags he was carrying all into one hand so he would be free to draw his weapon if there was trouble. “We’re carrying a fucking mint and he’s trying to mack, that stupid son of a bitch.”

“I’m ratting his ass out when we get back to base,” Mike said seriously. As they got closer to Bobby, they noticed that his face was wearing a strange expression. Most 22-year olds would’ve been smiling from ear to ear in the presence of a stallion like the one he was talking to, but Bobby wasn’t. He looked afraid. The two men must’ve sensed the same thing because they reached for their weapons at the same time. Before either of them could clear their weapons, a voice stopped them.

“Don’t be no hero,” Cos said, appearing out of thin air. He was wearing a black suit. Like Frankie, glasses covered his angular face, but his hand was jammed under a box used to pack long stemmed roses. “Now, you finish the motion if you want to and we’ll see if these are flowers inside this box or iron.”

“Why don’t you let us help you with those,” Duce said, coming from the opposite side. His suit was midnight blue with black pinstripes. At his side, he held a .45. With little to no effort, he took the bags Aaron was carrying while his partner took Mike’s. “You boys just keep walking like we ain’t even here. And if you think about trying something, we ain’t got no problem letting these things go.” Cos jiggled the box, “Feel me?” Mike and Aaron nodded dumbly. “Good.”

The four men walked through the doors of Macy’s like old buddies shopping together. The robbers flanked Mike and Aaron as they stepped through the double doors and onto the snow-covered sidewalk. Both of the guards shot Bobby a murderous look, but no one said anything. If they lived through the robbery they would settle up with him later.

Cos gave Frankie a wink as he passed. She spared a minute to smile at him and when she did Bobby made a move. Out of fear more than bravery, he grabbed Frankie’s gun. While he was trying to wrest it from her, the Uzi went off perforating the ground with small holes. One of the bullets bounced off the sidewalk barely missing Duce, but striking Aaron in the leg. Bobby tried to use his weight against Frankie but it backfired when she caught him with a hip toss. The stunned guard hit the snow-packed ground and lied there in a daze.

At the sound of gunfire, Stringer popped the rear doors of the truck with his shotgun at the ready. He moved to train it on the robbers but something crashed into the side of his face. He screamed like a girl as his jaw collapsed like rotten fruit. Through the haze of pain, he could see a hulk of a man in a green suit standing over him holding a very large sledge hammer.

“What’re you a fucking idiot?” Thor asked, before he brought the hammer down again. This time the arm closest to the fallen shot gun was crushed by the hammer. “You move again and I’m gonna bust your fucking head open!” He didn’t have to worry about that, Stringer was in too much pain to do anything but cry.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here!” Cos barked, as he pushed Mike roughly to the ground. Mike thought about going for his gun, but seeing what happened to his partners he decided it would be smarter just to stay very still.

A brown Plymouth came to a screeching halt beside the armored truck. Cowboy, behind the wheel dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and dark glasses, stuck his head out the window. “I said don’t shoot unless you had too. The pigs are gonna be all over this place in a hot minute. Let’s move people!” he shouted.

“Hold on, man, we gotta get the money out of the truck,” Thor said, reaching for the doors.

“Don’t be fucking greedy, Thor. The police are gonna be on our asses any second and I don’t look forward to spending my Christmas in the fucking bull pens. Move!” Cowboy ordered.

Thor mumbled something and lumbered to the car with his three accomplices in tow. No sooner than the last of the robbers had climbed into the car several blue and white police cars came racing up the street. Cowboy threw the car into gear and slammed his foot on the gas. Tires squealed showering bystanders with snow before they shot down Livingston Street.

“Didn’t I tell you mutha fuckas no gun play?” Cowboy asked, yanking the wheel from left to right to avoid cars and people.

“It was Frankie’s fault, she let that nigga get the drop on her,” Thor accused, wiping the blood of his hammer with his jacket.

“Fuck you, you fat son of a bitch. You weren’t there, so how the fuck would you know what happened?” Frankie asked, pulling off the black wig, exposing her own hair which was braided beneath it

“We can point fingers later, we’ve got company,” Cowboy said, craning his neck to look out the rear window. Two police cars were hot on their asses and closing the distance at an alarming rate.

“We gotta shake these niggaz,” Duce said, clutching his .45 tighter than he needed too. He didn’t know if it was the impending assassination of their leader, or the fact of knowing that if they got caught there would be no beating this charge, but he was nervous as hell.

“I got this,” Frankie said, taking the shotgun from the rose box and hanging out the rear window. Of everyone in the car, Frankie was the best shot. Her late father was a police officer and had taught her how to shoot a gun at an early age. Bracing the shotgun against her shoulder, she pulled the trigger. The windshield of the first police car shattered causing them to spin out. Another blast shredded their radiator taking them out of the chase, but the second car was still following.

“Come on, boo. They’re still on us!” Cowboy said, nearly missing a woman who was crossing the street with her children.

“Hold this mutha fucka steady so I can do my thing,” she said, trying to draw a bead on the police car which was swerving in and out of traffic just as expertly as they were. “That nigga is good, but I’m better.” Frankie fired off another blast, but this time she wasn’t aiming at the police car. The round hit the windshield of a bus that was pulling out in traffic, wounding the driver. The bus swerved and crashed at an awkward angle blocking the entire street. “Told you,” she said triumphantly.

Everyone in the car let out a breath of relieve. Duce looked back through the shattered windshield and watched the smoking bus and police lights shrink in the distance. He was glad that they had escaped, but even more so because the police hadn’t killed Cowboy before he had gotten a chance to. Cowboy gotten away with money, but Duce would get away with the prize.

TWENTY

Cos was up with the chickens that morning,
busting his ass to go meet Cowboy. Their leader had given them all instructions to meet at his place so they could split the take from the Macy’s robbery. Because of the brave/stupid security guard, they didn’t get what they planned but they’d still snagged $175 grand, giving them $35,000 a piece. He wouldn’t be retiring anytime soon, but it was still a respectable haul.

It was already 7:30 a.m. and Thor still hadn’t arrived at Cos’ place. When his Honda had mysteriously broken down on him the night before, Cos called Thor and asked if he would swing by the crib and snatch him, but as usual Thor was late. “Fucking idiot,” Cos mumbled, checking the clip of his .45. He figured he’d give the big man ten more minutes before he jumped in a cab.

Cos settled in his recliner and clicked on his big screen television. It was the latest in Hi-Def technology. Just one more perk to leading a life of crime. The morning news was on and, as usual, it was depressing as hell. After seeing something about a little girl who had been killed by her mother’s jealous boyfriend, he shut the television off. It was Christmas morning and he didn’t need something like that ruining his mood for the day.

Cos was about to go into the kitchen and grab a cup of coffee before calling a cab when there was a loud knock at his door. He never had visitors, especially unexpected so he un-holstered his gun before creeping to the door. Cos had made it within a few feet of the door when it came crashing in. A swarm of blue uniforms flooded his apartment, shouting and brandishing weapons.

“Drop the gun and eat the fucking floor!” one cop shouted, pointing his gun directly at Cos. The cop’s hand shook nervously making Cos wonder if he would shoot him by accident. Knowing when he was facing insurmountable odds, Cos dropped to his knees and raised his hands over his head. The cops wasted no time tackling him roughly to the ground.

“Take it easy, I’m not resisting,” Cos said as the cop shoved his knee into his back harder than he needed to.

“The other one isn’t here,” one of the officers said after a quick examination of the bedroom.

“What the hell is going on here?” Cos asked.

“Costello Brown, we have a warrant for your arrest,” the lead officer informed him.

“What the fuck for?”

“For armed robbery and accessory to murder.”

Cos’ eyes got as wide as saucers as he instinctively calculated the time he’d be facing. He was a notorious thief, so he could understand the robbery, but the murder baffled him. “Hold on, man, you’ve got the wrong guy!” Cos pleaded.

“Well, we have a witness that says differently,” the officer said in a smug tone. The police lifted Cos roughly from the ground and dragged him from his apartment.

Cos’ mind raced trying to think of anything that he might have done wrong to have him in such a fucked up predicament but, when you had done as much dirt as he had, there was no way to tell. The only thing he could do is keep his mouth closed and wait to see what happened.

Thor sped through the streets of Harlem cursing himself and the bitch that had made him late on such an important day. He just hoped that Cos wouldn’t be too mad at him when he got there. As soon as he bent the corner of Cos’ block, his jaw dropped. There were at least five vehicles and fifteen officers milling about in front of his building. He slouched in his seat and coasted by to see what was going on.

In the center of the sea of blue was Cos. His hands were cuffed and there were two cops wearing shit-eating grins escorting him to one of the cruisers. Cos made eye contact with the big man, but didn’t stare. Thor knew without having to be told that he needed to reach Cowboy with all possible haste.

“That was some stupid shit, Frankie!” Cowboy yelled, holding his drenched cell phone between his fingers.

“Baby, you don’t have to curse at me. It’s not like I did it on purpose.” She had been in the kitchen doing the dishes and talking to her brother on the phone when she
accidentally
dropped Cowboy’s phone in the sink.

BOOK: Gangsta Bitch
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