Coca Kola - The Baddest Chick (10 page)

The two sat in his office and talked for a moment while drinking Hennessy. They talked mostly about business. Chico wanted to know, if the streets got ugly, would Jack have his back in a time of war. Jack confirmed his loyalty to Chico, and the two men toasted.

Chico exited Jack’s office with a smile on his face, and pussy on his mind. A young woman standing by the bar had caught his interest from earlier, and with Apple lying in the hospital, he needed to relieve some tension. He approached the petite, young woman with her long, flowing hair and said a few kind words to her. He offered to buy her a drink, and she accepted.

“What’s your name?” Chico asked.

“Melissa,” she replied with a smile.

“Melissa, you wanna go somewhere private and talk?”

She smiled, knowing who Chico was already. He was making her blush with his smooth talk and thuggish mannerism.

“Sure.”

After telling Dante he would be back in a moment, Chico took the woman by her hand and exited the bar.

***

Melissa slipped her full, silky lips back up to the top of Chico’s dripping wet shaft and wedged her teeth gently underneath the swollen mushroom tip, causing him to groan and whimper.

“Ooooooh shit!” Chico’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. Melissa’s tongue and soft lips had him weak.

The windows in the car began to fog up from their breaths of passion.

Melissa removed her panties, lifted her skirt to her hips, and slowly straddled Chico in the backseat of the Impala, drowning him in her juices as she slid down on his ready-to-burst organ. She clutched him tightly, groaning and howling in his ear as their bodies came together, sweat pouring from her skin.

Chico was fucking Melissa raw, and when he came, he made no effort to pull out, exploding inside the woman.

Melissa rested her head against him like a girlfriend, and they both took in the moment. Until he felt the urge to throw up.

Chico shoved Melissa off his lap, opened the door, and began hurling out chunks on the sidewalk.

“You OK?” Melissa asked.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!”

She scowled at him.

“I’ll kill ’em all! I’ll kill ’em all!” Chico kept chanting,

Melissa looked at him strangely and figured it was time for her to leave. She didn’t do cuckoo.

Chapter 9

D
r. Changer examined Apple’s face closely and felt that her burns would take more time to heal. He thought it was time for her to go home and rest after enduring weeks of intensive care. With the money Chico was spending on her care, Apple had the medical attention that money could buy, and it was costly—almost totaling two hundred thousand dollars. The doctors had done reconstructive surgery and countless skin grafts, mostly removing skin from her butt cheeks and surgically grafting it onto the site of her injury. Although the process improved her scars a great deal, she was still disfigured, emotionally drained, and distraught.

Dante sat in the Impala while Chico went up to the hospital room to help with Apple’s discharge. He caught fleeting looks from the female staff members as he sauntered down the hallway with his long chain swinging and gleaming, and dressed in his urban attire straight out of the
XXL
fashion section.

The doctor had a short conversation with Chico, advising him about Apple’s condition and the continuing treatment she would need over time.

“She’s going to need a lot more rest, and I’m prescribing a cream that she needs to apply to her burns every night, along with wearing a mask,” Dr. Changer stated.

“A mask?” Chico questioned with a raised brow.

“Yes. It’s a clear plastic mask that she needs to wear twenty-three hours a day for a few months. It’s to help ward off any infections and to ensure her skin continues to heal properly without any keloids developing and her having to take a load of antibiotics.”

Chico nodded. “I got you, doc.”

“She also needs to eat more and to drink plenty of fluids.”

Chico nodded again.

“Thanks for everything you’ve done, doc.”

Chico liked Dr. Changer, a Jewish doctor in his early fifties with countless degrees and a highly regarded reputation. Dr. Changer shook hands with Chico and then walked away to tend to his other patients.

Chico walked into Apple’s hospital room and saw her sitting in a wheelchair with fresh bandages on her face. She was already dressed in a pair of jeans, white Nikes, and a sweater, and her hair was pulled back into a long ponytail and tied with a gray ribbon.

He tried to smile, but his mood wouldn’t let him. He sighed as he walked up to Apple. “C’mon, baby, it’s about time you leave this fuckin’ place and go home.”

Apple didn’t respond to him. She had her good moments and a lot of bad moments, and today was one of her worst.

After gathering her things, Chico pushed her out into the hallway and toward the elevators, having signed her out earlier. He stepped off the elevator and wheeled her through the main lobby. She was quiet the entire time. Chico could hear Jay-Z blaring from inside the Impala as he approached the car.

Dante stepped out of the car when he noticed Chico with Apple. It would be his first time meeting his cousin’s girl. He couldn’t help staring at Apple’s scarred face.

Apple noticed him looking. “What the fuck you lookin’ at?” she shouted.

Dante glanced at Chico. Out of respect for his cousin, he kept his cool. “I’m just here to help, that’s all.”

Apple sighed. “I just wanna get the fuck outta here.”

Once Chico helped her into the front seat of the car, they peeled off in the dusk. Apple slumped in her seat and peered out the window. It had been a while since she had seen outside, and it was eating her up inside that she had to walk around with a plastic mask over her face like some awful creature in a horror film.

***

A few hours later, Apple sat in her quiet bedroom staring at the walls, while Chico and Dante were downstairs drinking and smoking. She had a lot on her mind. The rage inside of her was growing stronger and stronger every time she looked at her scarred image in the mirror.

She got out of bed and walked over to the dresser mirror. She pulled off the clear, plastic mask and gazed at herself for the umpteenth time. Apple hated what she was looking at, but she didn’t wish she could miraculously change back into her old self or turn away from her reflection like she usually did.

She moved her face closer to the mirror and slowly touched her scars, examining her burns like they were alien to her. She gently touched the disfigured side of her face and held her eyes on the wounds.

She closed her eyes, experiencing a quick flashback of the incident, and then reopened them.
Make ’em pay,
she heard a voice shout in her head.

Apple thought she was going crazy for a moment, but she heard the voice again even louder.
They did this to you. Make ’em pay. Show ’em how ugly you can really become.
She looked around the room and realized she was alone. She thought hearing voices was one of the side effects of her medication. She turned to stare at herself in the mirror again, hate and anger showing clearly in her eyes. She knew the voice screaming in her head was right.
Make them all pay
.

She went over to the drawer and pulled out a pen and some paper. She sat on the edge of her bed and began to write up a list—a list of all of her enemies. Thinking about revenge excited her. Apple wrote down the names of those she thought responsible. At the top of her list was Kola, then her mother, Denise, along with Mesha and Cross. She then tore up the paper, tearing each individual name apart.

She walked to the bedroom door and called out for Chico, who rushed up the stairs and into the bedroom.

“What up, baby?” Chico stared at Apple seated on the bed, holding one of his Yankees fitted cap in her hand. He walked over to her and noticed the torn paper on the floor.

“What’s this about?” he asked.

Apple gazed at her man with a sinister smirk. “I’m gonna pick a name, baby.”

“For what?”

“Who I want dead next.”

Chico smiled. “I like the way you think.”

Apple shook the cap with the names like it was a raffle. Chico stood close by her side. Whatever name she picked, he was ready to kill. He was a heartless thug who wanted to take joy in murdering his foes.

Apple reached into the cap and pulled out a name. She smiled as she stared at the name written on the small piece of paper. She felt good. She felt she had the power of life and death in her hands. She handed the name to Chico.

He nodded. “Mesha, it is. She’s the first to go,” he said after reading the name.

“Kill ’em all for me, baby.”

“It will be my pleasure.”

Chapter 10

M
esha was partying hard in the downtown Manhattan nightclub called Swags, grinding her thick hips and phat ass against the tall, handsome stranger she had come to know as Tabs. He had thick, long, shoulder-length dreads that looked like a lion’s mane around his chiseled features and a complexion like brown sugar. Mesha fell in love with him at first sight. She threw back a cup of Grey Goose and pulled down her tight miniskirt to keep from exposing too much of her precious goodies. Mesha loved the way Tabs’ body pressed and rubbed against her to Keri Hilson’s “Knock You Down.” It felt like they were having dry sex in the middle of the dance floor.

The night continued with her flirting and dancing with Tabs, and downing drink after drink. Tabs made it obvious that he was enjoying her company but wanted a little something extra on the side. He rubbed against Mesha, taking advantage of her inebriated condition, one hand massaging her breast, his other hand sliding between her smooth thighs, and Mesha didn’t mind at all.

She exited the club at three in the morning with her two girlfriends, Sammy and Jacqueline, and Tabs. Tabs and Mesha chatted near Sammy’s Escalade for a moment. They quickly exchanged numbers, and then Tabs went on his way.

“He’s cute,” Jacqueline said.

“I know. I think I just found my husband.”

***

Mesha stepped out of her friend’s Escalade on the corner of 135th Street and Fifth Avenue, the Goose still fresh in her system. “I’ll see y’all bitches later,” Mesha said joyfully.

“Later, ho!” Sammy returned from the driver’s seat.

Mesha shut the door and strutted down 135th Street as her friend peeled down Fifth Avenue. The block was quiet and the traffic sparse. She walked down the lighted street covered in her brown, crinkled leather jacket. It was a windy, but clear night. Her mind was on sleep and Tabs. She couldn’t wait to call him.

Mesha didn’t notice the black Impala approaching her from behind in a slow creep, with the passenger window rolled down.

“Hey, beautiful,” Chico said with a feigned smile.

Mesha glanced at him, quickly turned her head, and kept on walking.

“I just wanna talk to you for a moment.”

Mesha continued to ignore him. She knew who he was and wanted no dealings with him. He was bad news.

Chico told her, “If you’re worried about Apple, I’m not fuckin’ wit’ that bitch anymore.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause I ain’t. But I like what I see right now. I just want to holla at you for a moment. I ain’t gonna bite.”

Mesha slowed her steps and looked over at Chico. He smiled. She didn’t. Nervousness quickly overcame her. Her instincts were telling her to keep walking. She watched him park his Impala and step out.

“Leave me alone, Chico.”

“I just wanna talk, Mesha, that’s all,” he said, a little roughness in his voice.

Mesha turned around to walk in the opposite direction. She wanted to get away from him, but Chico followed behind her. She glanced over her shoulders and saw him coming. She had the urge to run and scream out for help.

Chico marched quickly toward Mesha, and before she could do anything, she noticed the gun aimed at her side and his menacing stare.

“Like I said, I just wanna talk to you.”

Suddenly, Mesha was flanked by Chico and Dante.

“What you want from me, Chico?” she asked, her voice shaky, panic in her eyes.

“Just walk wit’ us, and we’ll pull your coat to it.”

Reluctantly, Mesha followed both men into one of the nearby buildings. They pushed her into the lobby and then into an elevator. Chico pressed for the top floor, and the elevator took them thirteen floors up. Chico grabbed and pulled Mesha out of the elevator by her jacket collar, and they continued down the narrow hallway and entered the stairway leading to the rooftop.

Chico pushed Mesha out onto the rooftop, and Dante wedged the door with a rock, so they wouldn’t be locked out. She stood uneasily on the gravel rooftop, clutching her small purse, her eyes on Chico. There was nowhere to run. Mesha was so scared, she struggled to not pee herself.