TYCE (9 page)

 “You comin’?” He asked”

“Yep.” She answered grabbing the door handle.

They walked up the tiki torch lighted driveway to grand French glass doors. Angelique was impressed even though she didn’t know what to expect. Tyce rang the bell, when the door opened there stood a tall sun kissed tan colored woman. As they entered, Tyce introduced the woman to

Angelique as Simone. After the introductions Simone gave Tyce one of those too long and too tight for them to just be homie hugs. Surprisingly it made Angelique a little uncomfortable. She studied Simone and it made her feel uneasy, she couldn’t find one flaw. Simone was a bad chick and even Angelique couldn’t deny her that. She had the perfect tall chick shape. She was curvy like a belly dancer, no stomach at all and enough ass to give Trina a run for her money. The ends of her hair brushed across the top of her ass. Her grey eyes were very seductive and shaped like tiny footballs. Her whole look was something straight out of Puerto Rican pride fest. She even had that Spanish accent that drove men crazy. Even her outfit was in good taste, she had on maroon stilettos, matching leather booty shorts and a cream tank top. Very fly, even though it was obvious she was just lounging around the crib…a woman after Angelique’s own heart she noted. 

As Simone and Tyce talked, Angelique remained quiet and took notice of the way the house was laid out. From where she stood, she could see this woman took pride in her home and the things she bought to furnish it. After about five minutes, Simone handed Tyce a manila envelope. He thanked her and in return gave her a thick white envelope. They exchanged familiar looks before Tyce turned back towards the door. Angelique said nice to meet you; shook her hand and they were back in the car. Angelique gazed out the window trying to figure out who this Simone chic
really
was. She didn’t like her. It could have been a little jealousy on her part ‘cuz from their body language she could tell there was something more between the two of them. However, she was much more woman than that…it was just something that rubbed her the wrong way about this chic. What Angelique didn’t know was that Tyce was taking mental notes as well. He liked the way Angelique handled herself around other women. She wasn’t the least bit intimidated and exuded a confidence that turned him on. Also, the fact she didn’t speak unless spoken to while he handled his business with Simone was something he added to his mental rolodex. So he decided to test her.

“Hey what you over there thinkin’ ‘bout?”

“Nothin’ jus’ enjoying the scenery.”

“No questions?” He inquired.

“Naw, I’m sure if there’s somethin’ I need to know you’ll tell me.” She answered still gazing out the window.

Tyce left the conversation right there. He respected her to the fullest. She was beautiful, intelligent and she knew how to play her position.

Back to Bizness

      Biz sat in the back of his “
Bentley”
as Bruce drove through the city. His frustration and anger was growing by the second. His people were searching for Tyce and Angelique, but they were nowhere to be found. He was certain they were together, Biz always suspected her of having a little candle lit for him. That's the reason he kept her on such a short leash. All he wanted to do was talk to Angelique. He just wanted the chance to ask her why she stole from him, and then stab her two hundred thousand times! One for every dollar she stole. Tyce became the most wanted man on Biz's list after he disobeyed him. The two of them murdered the deal he'd been working on for months in one night! After Angelique sliced Marcus up and the parting gifts were delayed, the men's confidence in Biz went south. Orlando and Marcus thought he was soft and losing control of his squad. They backed out the deal and returned to Washington, taking his coke and their two million dollars with them. Marcus vowed to murder Angelique if he ever found her. Looking back on things, he should of gave the greedy niggas his coke in the first place, at least it woulda been on time. Instead, he relied on third party contributions. However, Biz was greedy himself and hated giving away his product for free, he'd rather steal some other niggas shit and pass it on. Biz gave strict orders to bring Angelique back alive and kicking. He loved the fiery blood that ran through her veins but he was looking forward to watching it drain out of her bleeding body. Tyce was being set up on a hot date that would blow his fucking mind; he just didn't know it yet. Bruce turned a final corner and pulled up in front of a battered apartment building. He blinked the headlights and two men appeared from the shadows. They walked over to the car and got in.

"Don't slam my fuckin’ door nigga!" Biz shouted.

"My fault man." One apologized.

After apologizing the man opened the passenger door wider and slammed it shut again, rocking the luxury car. The disrespectful man then turned his attention to Bruce, who started to say something.

"What nigga!" What you gonna do? I'll fuck yo big ass up! He challenged.

The second man sitting in the back pointed a chrome gun at Biz and spoke slowly.

"Now Mr. Biz, we don't enjoy being yelled at. Now we understand you're big shit in California but were from Detroit. Now in Detroit, no one's heard of you. Now in California, you still managed to hear about us. So, don't make the deadly mistake of thinkin’ we pussy's...’cuz you'll be the one bleedin' for a week."

Saving the fight for another day, Biz calmed down. He instructed his driver to do the same. He liked the style of the two men, and they came highly recommended.

"Look, let’s cut the bullshit. Two bitches: ones a man, the others a girl. I want the girl alive and the nigga dead. Now can you Detroit niggas handle that?" Biz questioned.

"Indeed." The man holding the gun responded. "We need pictures and any info you have on em. We also need half now."

Biz told the man in the front seat to open the glove box and get the key inside, two photographs of Tyce and Angelique were there.

"Since you got so much energy, run upstairs to apartment number 36 and open the door. The money's in a black duffle bag inside the freezer. Call my private line when you find em. Now, get out and don't slam my door." He said

smoothly.

The two murderers got out the car and disappeared

into the darkness.

"Detroit my ass!" Biz laughed to himself. "Let's get the hell outta here Bruce, I'm hungry."

The black “
Bentley”
silently pulled away from the curb and slid down the street. After entering the apartment and finding the money, Lincoln and TJ began to outline the plan.

“First we gotta hit the streets and find this cat, with the info we got it shouldn’t be hard. How many niggas gotta a chameleon painted Range in this town? You know he’ll be strapped of course but we jus’ gotta catch him slippin'. We’ll body his ass right quick…then find that bucket head bitch he want us to chase down. I don’t know what she did to tha nigga but personally…she could get tha business!” Lincoln confessed.

“I know what you mean my nigga, she is fine as fuck! I’ma make that bitch suck my dick before we hand her over.” TJ planned.

After contemplating the groundwork, they grabbed the bag of money and shook the spot. They drove towards Santa Monica, Lincoln picked a low-key hotel off the strip and checked in, they decided the best course of action was to hit the hotspots cause where there are half naked bitches there was always flossy niggas. TJ studied the photos of the Range and Tyce while Lincoln showered. He ran his finger over Angelique’s photos and thought to himself…

“Damn she a bad bitch, I mean from head to toe flawless…but pretty bitches get it too!”

Sure that they were dressed to fit in they grabbed the Intel on their marks and headed back towards LA. The first stop was a spot called Fury, a fine little fish at the gas station told them that was the hottest spot in town. They cased the parking lot looking for the “
Range Rover.”

“This nigga aint here.” Lincoln said. “Let’s check inside, case he rode with his homeboy or somthin', back in the parking spot close to the back door.”

They paid the hundred each it took to bypass the endless line. Once inside the packed club they posted up at a table in the corner. They took turns going to the bar and the bathroom so they could case the joint from two angles. It only took a few minutes for them to realize their mark was not in attendance that night.

The Draft

      I pulled up to the small arena and valet parked my Cherokee. I stepped out and handed the young brother a 20. He thanked me with big eyes and jumped in my front seat. Once inside the arena I found my place ringside and relaxed. I was sitting next to a loud-mouthed Italian dude. He was leaning over talking to a girl half his age.

“Watch this baby; you see that nigger in the red trunks? He’s gonna put that other nigger on his fuckin’ back!” He shouted in her ear over the crowd noise.

As he talked he gestured wildly with his hand. I peeped the big diamond and gold rings that squeezed each of his sausage fingers. The flossy Italian was dressed in a five hundred dollar silk shirt and two thousand dollar slacks. He must of weighed at least two hundred and eighty pounds. The black slacks wrapped around his upper thigh, revealed a knot in his left pocket.

I grinned to myself and nudged him in his mushy

shoulder.

“Yo, seem like you know your shit!” I yelled over the crowd noise.

“Yeah, I knocked a few motherfuckers out in

my day…still will if I have to.” he responded looking me up and down. 

“I bet you will!” I said appearing to be impressed. “I didn’t mean to ear hustle, I’m jus’ trying to get some info on these boxers. I wanted to place a bet but I got here too late.” I baited.

“Oh yeah…who’d you wanna bet on?” He leaned in.

“I was thinkin’ the dude in tha black trunks. He seems like he can bang a lil’ bit. I was about to put ten G's on him but the fuckin’ window closed on me, damn LA traffic!” I complained.

Out comes a sweaty wad from Italian Jonnies pocket and his barely legal date begins dancing in her chair anticipating him winning some money.

“How ‘bout we make a little wager boy?”

I paused for a second then turned to the couple seated next me. I explained the situation and asked the man if I can borrow the services of his girlfriend to hold the cash. Obliged and intrigued the couple both agreed. I whipped out my money and handed it to the cute girl; Italian Jonnie did the same. Our new accountant placed it under her ass,

      “I’ll keep it warm right her boys!”

With the money secured, I relaxed and enjoyed the fight. As the fight began, the two warriors eyed and circled around each other in a smooth bouncing rhythm. They measured each other with straight jabs and faints. My newfound friend jumped to his feet when his guy landed a solid body punch.

"Yeahhh!" He screamed.

My man danced back and smiled at his opponent, thanking him for giving him more of a reason to knock is ass out. He began to break down the defense of his opponent by timing his punches and countering with right hooks. By the end of the first round, my less enthusiastic friend was sitting down. He saw what I already knew...my ten thousand was bet on a superior boxer. The opening of the second round brought both fighters to the middle of the ring. My dude began to use heavy body blows to make his opponent drop his hands and set him up for a brutal head shot. His plan worked perfectly as he connected with a left hook that staggered the man. He pushed off his opponent as he attempted to hug him in an effort to regain his focus. Now with some distance to work with he hit him with a stiff jab and rocked him with a right hand lead. The ropes dug into his skin as he stumbled backward. The ropes pushed him forward just in time to meet an uppercut that almost decapitated him. His legs melted and he literally went to sleep standing up! The crowd erupted as the fighter hit the canvass and the ref began to count. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten thousand dollars, YOU’RE OUT!!