Gangsta Bitch (9 page)

“Ask ya bitch what happened to me!” Frankie snapped.

“Come on, Frankie, I told you that shit wasn’t bout nothing so stop acting like that.”

“Wasn’t about nothing,” she snaked her neck as if he could see her. “Cowboy, how long do you think I’m gonna put up with this shit? You can’t keep sticking your dick in these young girls you love so much and running up in me. I respect my body too much to let you keep playing craps with our lives. If you can’t be true to me, don’t be shit to me.”

Cowboy sighed. “Frankie, you know I love you, mommy. Mutha fuckas talk out of jealousy and your overactive imagination always tries to convince you that it’s true. On my kids, my heart only beats for Frankie Five-Fingers.”

“Cowboy, you can’t keep hurting me,” she said, half burying her face in the pillow so he couldn’t hear the sobs. “One day I’m gonna get fed up and bounce, I swear I am,” she tried to force the power of truth into the words, but it wouldn’t come. “I’m better than this.”

“Hush with that foolishness, baby,” he cooed. “I’d rather die a thousand deaths than force one day of misery on you. You’re my better half, Frankie Five Fingers and I couldn’t go on without your strength,” the lies rolled off his tongue so easily that he actually believed them. “I went through with that thing last night.”

Frankie’s mind immediately switched to
money
mode. “You tried to pull a two man job alone? You fool son of a bitch, you’re lucky you didn’t get killed!”

“I’m a’ight, but I can’t say the same about young Pablo.” Pablo was the coded nickname he and Frankie used when talking about Rico.

“How bad was it?” Frankie asked, thinking about the bumbling young boy. She’s always liked Rico, but couldn’t tolerate his presence.

Cowboy sighed. “No tears in the end, baby,” he said, letting her know that there had been bloodshed. “Some niggaz just ain’t ready to play at this level. Now, what the hell are you doing?”

“I was sleeping until somebody’s ass woke me up.” she said, sarcastically. “Fuck are you doing up so early anyway?”

“Got my ear to the ground to see what I hear.”

“You think homeboy is gonna figure the riddle out?” she asked, sounding concerned. Frankie knew the cat that Cowboy had ripped off was far from a slouch and the greatest of care needed to be taken.

“Like I give a shit,” he said, arrogantly. “But check it, I need you to get your pretty ass up and get over here.”

“Cowboy, I know you don’t think I’m gonna get up outta my bed to come over there and give you some pussy, especially before you get your nasty ass tested?”

He ignored her comment and gave a light chuckle. “I got some things I need to drop off with the fat man and I need a reliable set of eyes in the back of my head.”

Frankie knew who the fat man was and didn’t look forward to being in his presence. “Damn, can’t you take Thor or one of them?”

“They are coming, but they’re just muscle. I need my ill na-na on my arm,” he thought on it for a minute. “Hold on, why am I even explaining this shit to you? I know this ain’t my ride or die bitch talking like some square ass broad? Frankie what the fuck has gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” she lied. In all truthfulness Frankie had been rattled by what she saw, or what she thought she saw. For as much as she hated to admit it, Cowboy had a point. She wasn’t some square as broad, she was a rider on a down ass team. If she didn’t work, she didn’t eat, and she was allergic to poverty. “What time we rolling?”

“As soon as you get here, so get the lead out, ma.”

“A’ight, I’ll be there in an hour or so.” She was about to end the call, but Cowboy’s voice halted her.

“And wear something sexy.”

Duce felt the presence before he even heard the key jiggle in the lock. Though his brain still felt hazy with sleep, survival instinct willed his body to move. As silent as a cat, he rolled off the couch, grabbing his pistol off the floor where it rested. As the door creaked inward, Duce fought back the urge to act off impulse, and held his position, directly behind it. Only when he could see the intruder’s silhouette cast framed in the dim morning light did he take action.

As soon as enough of the intruder’s arm was visible, Duce took hold of it about the wrist and pulled inward with all his might. Normally, this move would’ve thrown an opponent off balance, leaving them at Duce’s mercy, but it didn’t go down like that. The intruder pushed off the door, throwing himself backward and slamming Duce into the back of the door. Before Duce could compose himself the stranger kicked the door inward, whacking Duce in the forehead. This woke Duce up completely.

Duce heard he familiar sound of steel sliding against leather and managed to move out of the way just before the intruder stuck his arm inside the apartment and popped two shots. Before the intruder could remove his arm Duce kicked the door with all his might, drawing a yell from the intruder, but he still held his gun. Duce locked the intruder’s shooting arm between his hip and elbow, twisting the intruder’s injured wrist up and out. Instead of the intruder releasing his grip on the gun, as Duce had hoped, he pushed his weight forward sending himself and Duce spilling to the floor. When they landed, Duce was on the bottom with the intruder’s pistol pointed at his head.

“Smitty?” Duce looked up in surprise.

“Who the fuck did you think it was?” the older man asked, still pointing his pistol at Duce’s head. “I could’ve killed your stupid ass!”

“I wouldn’t have been going alone,” Duce looked down. Smitty followed his eyes and saw that Duce had his own gun trained on Smitty’s crotch.

“Still as arrogant as ever,” Smitty eased off Duce and helped him to his feet.

“Nigga, stop fronting,” Duce said, accepting the hand up. “Fuck are you doing creeping in my spot in the first place?”

“You forget you told me to watch it while you were away?” Smitty dangled the keys Duce had given him before he blew trial.

“My fault, dawg, you know old habits die hard,” Duce raised his pistol.

“For as long as your ass is black, don’t you ever draw steel on me!” Smitty tossed him the keys, which Duce caught with his free hand. “Now give me a hug, you black mutha fucka!”

Duce smiled and embraced his homey. Smitty was one of the few cats left in the world that Duce could call friend. Back when Duce was still trying to get out from under his brother’s shadow, Smitty was laying his gangsta down on the streets of New York. He was only a few years older than Duce, but had a reputation for being one of the hardest cats on the streets. Knowledge had taught Duce everything he knew about the game, but it was Smitty who had turned him on to killing.

When Smitty was on his game, he and Duce loomed over Knowledge like two avenging angels. With Butch as his advisor and the two killers shadowing him, Knowledge’s rule over the block was undisputed, but tragedy had broken up the quartet even before Duce had gone away. One summer night a crew of young bucks who had been sent by a rival came to kill Smitty. They caught him coming out of the supermarket with his wife and aired his car out. Smitty took six, which landed him in a coma for weeks, but he was luckier than his wife had been. One shot had sent her to her final reward. Duce had personally tracked the killers and executed them in a horrible fashion, but Smitty never recovered from the loss. When he was well enough, he moved his daughter to a small house in Long Island and turned his back on the game for good.

“Man, I almost killed the last friend I got in the world,” Duce tucked the burner into the waistband of his jeans. “Why didn’t you call before you popped up over here?”

“I did, but you didn’t answer your phone,” Smitty nodded to the Nextel, which was sitting on the coffee table, dead as Jimmy Hoffa.

“Shit, I forgot to charge it,” Duce remembered. “Come on in and have a seat,” Duce motioned toward the couch. “Want me to fix you a drink?” Duce asked, heading towards the mini bar in the corner.

“You know my poison,” Smitty said, rubbing his sore wrist. “I should kill your simple-minded ass for what you did to my wrist.”

“Old man, you ain’t killing nothing and you ain’t letting nothing die,” Duce teased him, while pouring two shots of Jack Daniels.

“I got your old man,” Smitty said, brandishing his .44. It was one of the few kinds of guns that he would use. “Man, I didn’t even expect you to be here. Ain’t you on work release or something?”

“Work release is for niggaz on parole, Smitty. I’m a free man.” Duce said, handing him his drink. “Thanks to you. I owe you, big time.”

“You don’t owe me shit, D. That little bit of work I put in to help spring you could never balance the scales for what you did for me. Not a day goes by when I don’t think of her, or see her in Rachel’s face. Nah, I owe you.” The cold fire in Smitty’s eyes seemed to burn away the tears that surely wanted to fall.

Duce placed a hand over Smitty’s and looked him square in the eyes. “One of the first things you taught me was that there are no debts between
true
friends.” Smitty didn’t speak, he just nodded his head. “Speaking of Rachel how is she?”

This got Smitty to smile. “Smelling her ass. Ever since she hit thirteen she thinks that qualifies her as a woman.”

“Damn, Rachel is thirteen?” Duce said, still thinking of her as the sassy eight year old he’d left.

“Yeah, man. Even got little tits and shit,” he laughed. “I had to chase a lil nigga from round my house the other day.”

Now, it was Duce’s turn to laugh. “I hear you, but at least living out in Long Island, she ain’t gotta deal with the same shit we was going through coming up.”

“Duce, we live in a great neighborhood and Rachel goes to a mostly white school, but in every city there’s a ghetto. I mean, I try to keep her from around that bullshit, but I know she slips away from time to time. I guess she got it honest, because me and Monica used to tear the streets up something awful.”

“Fuck yeah. I remember when that girl slapped me on 115
^th
street. I was gonna stomp the bitch out, but Monica talked me out of it. She said a real man doesn’t hit a lady, right before she stomped that bitch damn near into a coma!”

“Yeah, my girl could throw them thangs,” Smitty agreed, with a far off look in his eyes.

Duce felt his pain like there was a wire connecting them. “Smitty, I didn’t mean to bring her up. Man I…”

“It’s cool, man. It’s been a long time since I was close enough to anyone to reminisce on her. A lot of times it’s the same thing that’s hurting you that helps build immunity to it. I’ll never forget Monica, but I know I can’t live for the dead. Rachel needs me, so I gotta keep it together,” Smitty paused for a minute to gather himself. “Enough about this square shit, D-Murder you ready to come out and play?”

“Ready? Shit he made a grand appearance last night. I went to holla at…”

Smitty raised his hand for silence. “Don’t say another word, Duce. You keep that shit between you, God and the devil,” Smitty reminded him. Smitty used to always preach the importance of keeping your dirt to yourself. Anybody who could possibly jam you had to go. Duce took Smitty’s words as gospel and it was what kept him in the game for so long.

“Yeah, I’m definitely on my job,” Duce nodded. “I got some leads to follow up on, but in a hot minute, D-Murder gonna drop the curtain on these faggots.”

“Well, I’m ready to boogie when you are. It’s been a while since this old dog has tasted blood,” Smitty told him.

Duce gave him an affectionate look. “Dawg, as much as I appreciate the offer I can’t take you to hell with me. You got a kid and a square life, and I couldn’t disrupt that. I’m gonna put all my brother’s affairs in order and that’s that.”

Smitty wanted to protest, but he knew Duce was right. He loved Knowledge and would lie anything down for him, but he had Rachel to think about. He couldn’t risk fucking her life up on a five year old vendetta.

“Okay,” Smitty nodded. “So you gonna take over Knowledge’s old operation after you lay these suckers?”

Duce thought on it for a minute. “Nah, I ain’t fucking wit it. After I pull this last joint, I’m out.”

“One more lick, huh?” Smitty smiled.

“Yep, one more lick and I’m out of here.”

“I can dig it, D. Oh, your ride is downstairs.”