Authors: Treasure Hernandez
Working Girls (14 page)
Chapter Twenty
T
wo weeks passed by, and each day God answered Halleigh's prayers by gradually taking the pain away. Halleigh was no longer in unbearable pain, but she was still very weak. She honestly didn't know what it was that was causing her pain to be less severe; whether it was prayer, God, or if her body was just getting better on its own now that she wasn't feeding it heroin anymore.
wo weeks passed by, and each day God answered Halleigh's prayers by gradually taking the pain away. Halleigh was no longer in unbearable pain, but she was still very weak. She honestly didn't know what it was that was causing her pain to be less severe; whether it was prayer, God, or if her body was just getting better on its own now that she wasn't feeding it heroin anymore.
Also, to help ease her pain, Tasha had tricked with a doctor who gave her a prescription of methadone for Halleigh that made her body think it was getting a hit, but it really wasn't.
Now that she was getting better, Halleigh was tired of being locked up in the hotel room. Before, she could barely move, so staying in that hotel room wasn't an issue. But now she felt cooped up and nauseated all the time. She figured that her body was still trying to adjust.
She had polluted her body with drugs, and now that she wasn't on them anymore, she felt weird, but she was grateful to be alive. She realized what a stupid mistake she'd made. She didn't want to be addicted to drugs. For her entire life, she had tried to differentiate herself from her mother. She wanted to show people that she wouldn't follow in her mother's footsteps, but indeed, she had fallen victim to the trials and tribulations of the streets.
Halleigh knew that she was very lucky to have her life. She had been spared. For what reason? She didn't know, but she promised herself that she would never take her life for granted again. Not for Malek, not for anyone.
After Tasha told Halleigh how Malek had refused to help her, Halleigh had tried to wrap her mind around the fact that he didn't care anymore. That simply broke her heart. But she'd found a new friendship with Tasha, who really had become like a sister to her. Before, it was Mimi and Halleigh who had been the closest, but Mimi had been on a paper chase, putting the almighty dollar before everyone and everything. Tasha, too, was on the paper chase, but not because she was obsessed with money like Mimi was. She was doing it for the sake of Halleigh. Tasha and Halleigh talked together, laughed together, cried together, and dreamed big together. They also promised each other that they would always keep in contact, no matter where their lives took them.
Tasha promised Halleigh that she would still try to help her see Malek again, if that's what she really wanted, even if it was just for closure. But first things first, Tasha had to get her and Halleigh out of Manolo's clutch.
Halleigh knew that Tasha was trying to get her out of the game, but what she didn't know was that Tasha herself wanted out of the life as well.
“How do you feel?” Tasha asked Halleigh, who was sitting on the bed playing a game of solitaire with a deck of cards Tasha had bought her from the corner store, so she could focus her mind on something. Tasha had just finished up a long night of work.
“Better.” Halleigh continued her game, not looking up at Tasha. Not only was Halleigh ashamed that Tasha was out turning tricks because of her, but she was embarrassed by her own behavior.
Tasha noticed her disposition. “Ain't no need to feel no type of way around me. You're my sister. I did what I had to do to make sure you were okay, so don't look down on yourself. You know these past few weeks we've sort of switched places. Turning tricks will tear you down mentally and physically. I understand how it broke you, Hal, but you have to promise me that you are going to take care of yourself. You've got to stay strong from here on out. No more drugs. Having to cover for you and turn tricks to make sure that Manolo's money was consistent made me realize that this lifestyle ain't for me either. I realize now that it was never for you. We'll get away from Manolo. I don't know how yet, but we will. Just give me some time to figure it out, okay?”
Halleigh nodded her head. “Okay,” she stated, still not looking up.
“Now, you ready to get out of this hotel to get some fresh air? I know you have to be starving.”
Halleigh didn't think that she would be able to hold down any food. The way her stomach felt, the food would probably make her sick. She was also still having a hard time controlling her bowels. She stood up and looked at herself in the mirror, and what she saw disgusted her. She'd lost about twenty-five pounds, and her skin was sickly-looking. She barely recognized the person staring back at her.
“Yeah, from the looks of it, I need to eat,” she said, figuring she'd at least give it a try. If nothing else, she would at least enjoy some fresh air. She felt like a prisoner in solitary confinement, although she was the one who'd created her own prison.
“Then let me go get cleaned up real quick,” Tasha told her, “and then we'll head out.” Tasha headed over to the bathroom.
“Cool,” Halleigh replied.
At that exact moment, Mimi came banging on Tasha's door, stopping Tasha right in her tracks at the doorway. “Tasha, open up!” Mimi yelled. “I know you in here.”
Halleigh looked at Tasha nervously.
Tasha whispered, “Don't worry about it. I didn't tell her anything about what's been going on. She just thinks you've been sick.”
Halleigh breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't want her business to be out there like that, and was grateful that Tasha hadn't spread the news. Halleigh liked Mimi, but she knew Mimi's relationship with Benjamin Franklin took precedence over any friendship.
Tasha nodded at Halleigh to go ahead and open the door for Mimi, which she obliged.
When the door opened, Mimi practically knocked Halleigh down when she saw her. “Bitch, where the hell have you been?” she asked as she hugged her tightly.
“Ow, Mimi!” Halleigh whined, grimacing slightly from Mimi's tight grasp.
“Take it easy, Mimi,” Tasha said. “She's still a little under the weather.”
“Um, no offense,” Mimi said, looking Halleigh up and down, “but you do look bad.” She then walked over to Tasha to talk about the business at hand: the fresh gossip that had her anxious to spill.
“Girl! Keesha lying ass been spreading all types of rumors around this bitch about where Halleigh been. First, she was talking about Halleigh was pregnant, and I was like uh-uh, 'cause I knew you wouldn't have kept that from me.” Mimi turned to Halleigh. “Then she started talking about how Halleigh had caught something from one of her johns and gave it to Manolo. She said that he had her taken care of. I knew that shit was a lie too, though.”
Halleigh and Tasha were cracking up at Mimi, who couldn't stop talking. She was going on and on about how much drama Halleigh had missed and how much she hated Keesha.
“Tasha, will you please let me beat that bitch's ass for lying on my girl?” Mimi said, getting even more amped at the thought of fighting Keesha.
“No, let it go, Mi,” Tasha told her. “She ain't worth it. Anyway, I'm about to freshen up. Hal and I are about to go grab something to eat.”
Tasha continued into the bathroom, but before she closed the door, Mimi mocked, “Hal and I are about to go grab something to eat,” and threw Tasha a nasty look.
“You got a problem?” Tasha said, stepping to her.
“No, just that you are all of a sudden treating me like some stepchild, like I ain't a part of y'all's little clique.” She turned back to Halleigh and said, “I asked her a thousand times about what was going on with you, and she wouldn't tell me anything except that you were sick. Well, what kind of sick?”
“That's 'cause you didn't need to know nothing, bitch,” Tasha said playfully. “And don't get jealous, ho. You can come eat with us too if you want,” Tasha said, closing the bathroom door.
“You paying?” Mimi asked through the door, her hands on her hips.
“Yeah, it's on me.” Tasha shook her head from side to side at Mimi's cheap self.
A few minutes later, Tasha came out of the bathroom and grabbed her purse. “Y'all ready to eat or what? Come on, let's go celebrate.” Tasha winked at Halleigh.
“What are we celebrating?” Mimi asked, feeling like she was on the outside of an inside joke.
“We are celebrating that our Halleigh's health is coming back and that everything is good now.” She turned to Halleigh. “So where you want to eat, guest of honor?”
“It ain't got to be nothing all big. Let's just go to Atlas Coney Island,” she replied. “Hopefully I can get a hot dog down at least.”
Tasha smiled, and the girls headed out of the room, Mimi leading the way and Halleigh behind her.
“I'm proud of you,” Tasha whispered to Halleigh as she put her arm around her shoulders and they headed out. Tasha was also proud of herself for pulling Halleigh out of the gutter. Now all she had to do was make sure that they both kept their heads above water until they found rescue.
Chapter Twenty-one
J
amaica Joe, Tariq, and Malek loaded up the black Navigator with several duffle bags containing twenty kilos of pure cocaine. Joe had a buyer in Detroit who wanted to get hit off. Joe usually never made transactions face to face with his buyers, but because of the big order, he decided to make the trip himself. He couldn't afford to take any risk with some other cat fucking up his money.
amaica Joe, Tariq, and Malek loaded up the black Navigator with several duffle bags containing twenty kilos of pure cocaine. Joe had a buyer in Detroit who wanted to get hit off. Joe usually never made transactions face to face with his buyers, but because of the big order, he decided to make the trip himself. He couldn't afford to take any risk with some other cat fucking up his money.
Sweets' little caper had set Joe back, and he was trying to get his paper back up to par. He needed this flip desperately, and wasn't going to trust anyone else with that amount of money. He would make $350,000 on the transaction, and didn't want any funny business with one of his mules, or some nigga getting caught slippin' and getting robbed. He asked Malek and Tariq to come along for added security, and made sure they were prepared before they hit the road.
Joe loaded the last bag into the trunk. “Yo, you strapped up?” he asked Malek.
“You know it,” Malek said in a low tone as he patted his waist.
“You?” Joe asked Tariq as he looked over in his direction.
“Yep!” Tariq lifted his shirt and displayed his twin 9 millimeter pistols.
They all jumped into the truck and took off. Malek drove, and Tariq sat up front in the passenger's seat, while Joe sat in the back and lit up a blunt.
'Bout time this nigga chauffeured my ass around for a change, Tariq thought as he pulled out his Sidekick. Now, this shit is more like it. He leaned back and got comfortable, reclining his seat a little. He looked over at Malek. Although it's too little, too late, as far as I'm concerned. But still, I'ma milk this shit for all it's worth.
“Yo, let's stop at Atlas restaurant and grab something to eat before we hit the road. I'm hungry as hell,” Joe said as he leaned back in his chair and inhaled the weed smoke into his lungs.
They all bobbed their heads in unison to Jay-Z's Reasonable Doubt, which was pumping lightly out of the subwoofers in the trunk, as they headed toward the restaurant.
Malek kept noticing how Tariq was continuously typing on his Sidekick. He was wondering if Joe had peeped it, but then his question was answered when he heard Joe say, “Nigga, you always on that mu'fucka, sweet-talking them hoes.”
Tariq hurriedly put his Sidekick away. “Man, ain't nobody sweet-talking nobody.”
“Yeah right, nigga. You probably over there caking it, paying car notes and all,” Malek added.
“Yeah right,” Tariq responded, noticeably irritated. I'ma be caking, all right, nigga. Just wait and see.
“Please don't kill me, Sweets! Please. I got three kids at home. I'm sorry,” the man pleaded while on his knees. Sweets had found out that he was skimming off of the top and stepping on the dope to make more money. The man had been stealing from Sweets for years and had finally gotten caught.
“You stupid mu'fucka, why would you steal from me, huh?” Sweets slapped dude upside the head, like he was some young schoolboy getting popped by his mama for not cleaning up his room. “Don't I treat you good? When yo' bitch-ass ex-wife took yo' house, who helped you get on yo' feet? I gave you a job, and this is how you repay me. You stepping on my dope, having fiends run to the North Side because my product is weak. That's bad business, my nigga! You fuckin' with my money. Now you gotta pay. It ain't a game, fam!” Sweets grabbed his long machete from behind his desk.
The grown man began to cry like a little child, begging and pleading for his life. The sight of the long machete made his limbs shake uncontrollably. He knew something bad was about to happen to him, and he instantly began to regret skimming money from Sweets.
“Pick his ass up and turn him around!” Sweets ordered two of his soldiers, who stood in the room with him.
Lynch and another one of Sweets' henchmen grabbed the man and turned him around to face the wall.
“Don't move, mu'fucka!” Sweets said as he raised his machete.
The man knew that Sweets was about to cut his ass up. He'd heard stories about how crazy Sweets was. His body tensed up as he waited for his life to end. He kept visualizing Sweets chopping off his head with that long machete.
“Please, Sweets, don't kill me.” The man decided to plead one last time as he faced the wall, not knowing how he was about to die. He began to sweat profusely. All he could do was beg for his life. “Please, Sweets, please, man. I'll never steal another thing in my life.”
The sound of plastic being ripped filled the air as Sweets stood behind the man. He didn't know what it was, but he would soon find out. All of a sudden, the man heard the sound of the machete slicing through the air. The man closed his eyes, preparing himself to be decapitated. But when he didn't feel a knife pierce his skin, he slowly opened his eyes and saw that Sweets had other plans in mind. Sweets had cut the man's belt off, causing his pants to fall to his ankles. The man finally got the picture. He begged Sweets to stop, but the pleas fell on deaf ears. The ripping sound that he'd heard was Sweets opening a condom wrapper.
“You take my money, I take your manhood. If you move, I'm going to slice yo' mu'fuckin' throat.” Sweets pulled down the man's boxers and grabbed himself.
Lynch turned his back to avoid witnessing the scene. Sweets often degraded men who stole from him in that sort of way. I hate when he do this shit. This is some twisted gay shit, fam. Lynch walked out of the room.
Sweets bent the man over and rested his dick on the man's back. “If you move, I'ma slice yo' mu'fuckin' throat. You got that?” Sweets took the knife and slightly punctured the man's neck. Blood trickled from the crying man's flesh as Sweets prepared to force himself in.
Just before Sweets could enter, his phone began to vibrate on his hip. He smacked his lips, irritated with the interruption, and pulled the phone off his hip. He had a new text message that read:
ATLAS IN TEN MINUTESâ20 BRICKS IN DA TRUNK
.
ATLAS IN TEN MINUTESâ20 BRICKS IN DA TRUNK
.
“Oh shit!” Sweets said out loud gleefully. A huge smile covered his face as he immediately pulled up his pants and pushed the man forcefully to the ground. “You got lucky this time, mu'fucka. You steal from me again, though, and I guarantee you won't get off so easy the next time,” Sweets said as he grabbed his gun and jacket. He had someone to meet.
“Thank you, Sweets, thank you,” the man said while tears ran down his eyes. He'd just escaped an ass-thrashing, literally. “I promise it will never happen again. God bless you, Sweets. God bless you,” the man repeated as he pulled up his pants.
“Nigga, get the fuck out of here with all that crying,” Sweets said. He thought to himself, Damn! And I was gon' tear that ass up. But hell, money over dick. “Load up! Joe at Atlas. Let's get 'em!” Sweets yelled loud enough for his soldiers to hear him in the next room.
Lynch rushed into the room, not believing what he'd just heard. He was itching to get at Joe, to avenge the death of his little brother.
“His man just hit me up saying that they're going to be at Atlas in ten minutes. Let's roll.” Sweets zipped up his pants.
“What you going to do with ol' dude?” Lynch said, throwing his head in the thief's direction.
Sweets looked at the man and contemplated what to do with him. He knew he couldn't just let him get out of there scot-free, with no consequences whatsoever. That would be bad for business. Then every mu'fucka might think they could get away with stealing from Sweets. He finally said, “Give 'im a limp.” Sweets headed out the door.
“No doubt.” Lynch pulled out his gun, pointed it at the man's leg, and left two bullets in it.
Bang! Bang!
“Hope you wasn't an NBA prospect too.” Lynch chuckled.
Bang! Bang!
“Hope you wasn't an NBA prospect too.” Lynch chuckled.
The man screamed in agony while Sweets and the Shottah Boyz rushed over to Atlas restaurant to give Joe's crew a rude awakening.
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