I Use To Love You: A Hood Chick's Revenge (13 page)

I was gripping the nine milli about ready to squeeze a shot off into traffic for the hell of it. I was feeling violent. I wanted vengeance. My thirst for blood to spill was starting to feel uncontrollable. Until I saw a way to find Don the Barber. I let the passenger side window down.

“Charlotte! Charlotte, come here!” I had to yell over the sound of the traffic. And the bass rumbling out of their speakers.

Charlotte bent down and squinted into the Charger from where she was standing on the sidewalk. You would think the bitch could afford some contacts or glasses after all of those years of selling pussy.

“Charlotte! It’s Phat Kat, bitch!”

“Hey girl!” She walked over and leaned into the window. “Shit Phat Kat.” She took a couple steps back when she saw the nine milli in my hand.

I pushed the passenger side door open. “Get yo ass in bitch.” I waved a Benjamin at her. “I’ll pay you for yo time.”

She had a stank look on her face.

“I don’t turn lesbo tricks.”

I aimed the nine milli at her ass. “You wanna turn tricks in yo grave.”

That bitch hopped in and closed the door. She took the hundred dollar bill out of my hand.

“When did you turn carpet muncher?”

“Shut the fuck up, Charlotte. I need to know where Don lives.”

“Okay.” The bitch tried to play the role. Charlotte tried to adjust her little ass jean shorts that must’ve been riding up in her crack. Her sunshine yellow halter top matched the cheap Payless pumps on her feet. The entire outfit probably cost no more than thirty dollars. I was still impressed that she could even rock the fit in her early forties.

“This is not the day to fuck with me Charlotte. Don is a stone cold freak, he’s sampled a little of everything in the hood.”

“I can’t just run my mouth about my customers, I’ll lose a lot of business.” She was still fucking with those tiny ass shorts. She had a tattoo of a black panther on her inner left thigh. And there was a tattoo of paw prints on her inner right thigh. It appeared as if the panther had went into her pussy on the right side and came out of the left side.

“You wanna lose yo business or yo life?”

“His crib is on Sixty-Fifth. You make a right off Center and —“

“You’re gonna show me.” I turned the ignition over and made a U-turn during the first break in traffic. I peeled away from the curb like a NASCAR driver.

Charlotte braced herself against the dashboard. If I wasn’t so fucking angry I would’ve laughed at her ass. I hoped I made it to her age gracefully as she did. What I didn’t want was all of the miles she had on that pussy. I circled Don’s block after she showed me his crib.

“Get out.”

“Damn Phat Kat, you on one today girl.” She swung the door open. She’d barely gotten her ass off the seat when I kicked her right in it and slammed the door.

I circled back around to Don’s block and parked in back of his Cadillac Ext. He lived just across the city of Wauwatosa line. Another suburb in Milwaukee County with virtually no crime. I looked around at the middle class ranch style houses.
It’s going to get violent around these parts today muthafuckas
. I was just about to get out of the Charger when it hit me. I’d lost my muthafucking mind. A group of kids ran to an ice cream truck at the end of the block. A father and son were playing catch in their front yard across the street. If I thought I was going to get away with murder in the land of fresh cut green grass and desperate housewives, I’d better be pretty smooth about it.

Meka and Jahlil were dead. And I was on my way to joining them, if I didn’t kill the fuck the world shit. I stashed the nine milli underneath my seat. That way I wouldn’t be tempted to air the fake bitch’s ass out. Because I definitely wasn’t going to leave any witnesses. I casually got out of the Charger and made my way across the street. An older white lady got all in my business when she heard the car door slam. She was reading a book on one of those porch swings until she saw me. When I waved at her ass she smiled and waved back.

Sometimes all you needed to do was be friendly for people not to suspect you of anything. I boldly walked up to Don’s front door and acted as if I was ringing the doorbell. But really I was just chilling, waiting until I felt nobody was paying me any attention.

I waited a few minutes before I dipped around to the side of the house. I knew getting the fuck out of there would’ve been the smart thing to do. Killing Don’s ass was too risky. The chances of me getting jammed up were high than a muthafucka. If I was going to keep shit all the way real, I had a lot to do with Meka losing her life. But my punishment was having to live with that guilt for the rest of my life. His ass had to die. There was just no way around it.

Meka didn’t deserve to go out the way she did and Don didn’t deserve to live after the rat move he pulled. I just had to be smart about how I went about it. I decided I would wait until he left with the fake bitch until I found a way to get inside his crib. He would be greeted with a bullet to the head whenever he brought his ass back home. I calmly checked out each window I passed on the way to his backyard. They all were protected with black steel bars. And I noticed a sticker in one, with the logo of his security alarm company on it. The nigga Don wasn’t taking any chances. Even in a middle to upper middle class suburb like Wauwatosa he still had the hood mentality. Where you don’t trust a muthafuckin soul or take shit for granted.

In the back of the house there was a window much bigger than the other ones. It had the same black steel bars on the outside. But the blinds were slightly raised at the bottom. At least enough for me to see inside if I squatted down. I looked in both of his neighbor’s backyards to see if anyone was on some neighborhood watch shit. After all of the dirt I’d gotten away with, it would’ve been real fucked up for me to go to jail for peeping into windows. I got to acting like I dropped something on his grass. I squatted down and snuck looks into the window.

Don had Ms. Fake Bitch lying on her stomach and her face buried in a pillow, while he was murdering her pussy from the back. I kept acting like I was really interested in finding something in that grass for a little bit. But I got tired of that shit. All of the action was on the inside. It was a waste to have such a snake ass nigga with a big ass horse dick. He long dicked her for about thirty more seconds before he pulled out. Ms. Fake Bitch hopped her ass up and caught every drop in her mouth.

Nasty ass freak bitch. Her ass probably did all of that for a free haircut for her son. I eased my ass away from the window and wiped some sweat off my forehead. The hot ass sun had been beaming right on my neck. I was hoping my shit hadn’t turned all black and crispy. I looked around at Don’s small backyard before I crept back to the Charger. His grass was freshly cut, there were bushes lined up against the low wired fence that separated his yard from both of his neighbors, and the nigga even had some kind of tree next to his garage.

I waved at the old white nosy bitch on her porch before I climbed back in the Charger. Her ass waved back as if we knew each other by first names. I wasn’t sure but she didn’t act like she saw me sneak around to the back of Don’s crib. I wondered how long I could chill before she would start treating me like a stranger again. My iPhone was vibrating just as Don and Ms. Fake Bitch came out of his crib. Her ass was walking like Don knocked something loose. I grabbed the nine milli from underneath the seat. Don was lucky it was broad daylight and there were too many eyes out.

“Hello?” I answered my phone with an attitude.

“Jahlil wants you to meet me as soon as possible.”

I sat up in my seat. “Jahlil? Who the fuck is this?”

There was a long pause. “Hello?”

“This is Jahlil’s accountant.”

I watched Don pull off in his Cadillac Ext without actually really paying any attention. If that makes any muthafuckin sense.

“Do you know who I am now?” she said, in her snotty ass voice.

“What the fuck do you mean Jahlil wants you to meet me?”

“I’ll be at the Fire Pit in Potawatomi for the next hour. Be there if you want to see Jahlil.”

“Who the fuck is this?” She responded by ending the call. I sat there staring at my iPhone as if it had some answers for me.
No bitch. Siri can’t help yo ass with this one.

She sure sounded like the same snobby ass bitch that was with Jahlil in the parking structure.
Ms. Professional Bitch
, the one Jahlil claimed was his accountant. I didn’t believe that shit at the time and I wasn’t sure if I believed it coming out of her mouth. I turned the ignition over and peeled away from the curb. I scared the nosy old white bitch so bad she fumbled the book and dropped it down the four or five steps that led to her porch. I waved at her in the rearview mirror and laughed. Maybe she’ll learn it’s safer for her old ass to read inside of her crib and mind her own business.

I walked into the Potawatomi Gaming Casino with my Marc Jacob shades on and my Marc Jacob bag swinging in my hand. It was Milwaukee’s only casino and one of the biggest in the state. I wasn’t sure if it was them or Ho Chunk who held that title. Both were doing numbers and were hitting their people’s hands with plenty of per cap money. Made me wish I was cut with some Native American.

The Fire Pit was a sports bar/restaurant located all the way in the back of the casino. You had to walk past the other five or six restaurants and sports bars, a bunch of muthafuckin slot machines, a big wheel, and some black jack and crap tables. I hated leaving the nine milli in the Charger, and now if some drama popped off I would have a long way to go to the front entrance. Ms. Professional Bitch was sitting at the bar with her hands folded in her lap. She was rocking a royal blue Italian silk blouse, some kind of designer snow white slacks, royal blue Jimmy Choo heels, and a royal blue and white silk scarf around her neck.

No matter what I thought of the bitch, I had to admit that she knew how to put together a muthafuckin outfit. Her navy blue alligator skin Hermés bag on the bar was probably more expensive than some of the cars in the parking lot. She was sitting at the bar with her back straight as the wall and her arms in tight like she was too scared to touch anything. I hated her boogie ass. It’s one thing to have swag and know you’re a bad bitch, but it’s something else to be thinking you’re better than everybody else. I sat down next to her hoping I wasn’t just hating on her. I was still a little jealous of whatever her and Jahlil’s relationship was.

“Welcome to happy hour. Would you like anything?” the bartender with the complexion of peanut butter asked. He reminded me of the singer Jeremiah and I wouldn’t have minded trying a little of him.

I shook my head even though I was hungry. Everybody in that muthafucka was stuffing their face with burgers, chicken strips, wings, onion rings, and anything else you can think of while they stared at the flat screen TVs. Ms. Professional Bitch had me feeling all self-conscious. Her prissy ass didn’t have nothing but a water with a lemon sitting on the bar in front of her.

“Alright. Let me know.”

I waited until he walked far enough away.

“Jahlil’s alive?” I asked a little too anxious.

“First, let me be clear, I don’t like you at all,” she responded.

“I don’t like you either bitch. But I’m here because of Jahlil. So none of that shit matters.” I damn near smacked the shit out of her.

The skinny yellow bitch sighed as if I said the most boring shit she ever heard.

“Everything I originally thought about you ended up being true and that’s why my brother got hurt,” she said with one of those rich people’s sneers on her face.

There was so much a bitch had to take in before I responded. The most important thing was that Jahlil was alive. Even though he was related to this punk ass bitch but I wouldn’t hold that against him. I definitely wasn’t going to let her get away with the disrespect.

“Yes bitch, I’m dangerous and violence follows me every fuckin’ where I go. That’s what comes with the life when you’re a street bitch.”

A couple of cats started cheering over something that happened during a Milwaukee Brewer’s game.

“Jahlil knows what I’m about, and he made a big boy choice to fuck with me anyway.”

Ms. Professional Bitch smiled at me. It only made me want to crack her in the face even more.

“Well Ms. Phat Kat. That is your name, isn’t it? Phat Kat.” She chuckled a little bit.

“What the hell is your name?” I asked snaking my neck and rolling my eyes.

“Yvonne. Yvonne Walker.” She smirked at me and batted her eyes. Now that I was really able to study her up close I could see how much they resembled each other. She had a lighter complexion but everything else was the same in their faces. The bitch even had Jahlil’s pretty brown eyes and soft lips. She had natural long butters that I wanted to grab a handful of and slam her face first into the bar. Yvonne Walker was a bad bitch with a fucked up attitude that made me want to put her in her place.

“We agree on one thing. Jahlil is a grown man and he makes his own decisions. A lot of them I don’t agree with. But if anything else happens to him because of his association with you, I promise you’ll die a very horrible death.” She had this serious expression on her face that was funny as hell to me.

I covered my mouth and laughed in that bitch’s face.

“Jahlil’s life was dangerous enough before you came along,” the bitch continued.

“Bitch, if you’re threatening my life then you need to join a list. It’s a few muthafuckas that want me dead.”

She grabbed her Hermés bag off the bar and stoop up. “You ready to see Jahlil? Or you want to keep trying to prove you don’t like me anymore than I like you?” She placed a dub on the bar for a tip.

“You’re the one who told me to meet you here.” I stood up.

“We had to make sure you didn’t bring any more trouble with you. Whether on purpose or accidentally.” She hissed like a got damn snake and walked off.

I stared through the back of that bitch’s head as we left out of the Fire Pit. The casino wasn’t packed but there were a lot of muthafuckas there for it to just be making five o’clock. The crowd would only get thicker as time passed. Some would just come to have a good time as they spent a few dollars. The others would blow everything they had while chasing those dreams of the high roller life. They are the reason the casino stayed open twenty-four hours. Playing on people’s dreams and fantasies was a cold lick that I wished I could get in on. Everything inside of the casino looked like it cost some major cash. Even the red velvet cushion, steel, and brass inside of the elevator looked expensive than a muthafucka. Ivan taught me a long time ago that it took money to beat others out of theirs.

We got off on the second level where the bingo hall, non-smoking slot machines, the high roller bar/club Solstice, and a skywalk that led to the hotel owned by the casino were. I followed her over the carpeting in the skywalk and looked out over the city. The muthafucka appeared so much more beautiful on the outside looking in. I was far from the grimey streets and the sheisty cats and bitches that ran them. When we got to the other side there were some double doors that led to a hall. The signs in the hall pointed us around a couple of corners and past the dining area.

The hall eventually opened up into a big ass lobby with burgundy carpeting and huge pane windows. Ms. Professional Bitch dismissed the hostess before she even had a chance to get a word out. We walked past the recreation desk to get to the elevators. I took another look around as we waited. We were surrounded by nothing but muthafucking money. The Potawatomi had come up big time off that casino and pumped some of it into this hotel they’d just opened months before.

We rode the elevator up to the fourth floor in silence. There wasn’t anything for us to say and as much as I despised the bitch, I respected her for how real she was keeping it. She didn’t try to cover up the fact she couldn’t stand me with a bunch of useless chit chat. The bitch hated my guts and she didn’t attempt to sugarcoat it. That shit was gangsta to me. I was on her heels as soon as the elevator doors parted. When she made it to the suite I assumed Jahlil was in, she looked over her shoulder at me and paused just long enough for me to know that she was considering changing her mind.
Too late now bitch. I’m going to see Jahlil one way or the other
.

Ms. Professional Bitch, whose real name was Yvonne Walker, and who claimed to be Jahlil’s accountant and sister, slid the key card in the door of the suite and held it open for me. We locked eyes briefly before I tried to walk past her and she grabbed my arm.

“Do not forget what I said,” she hissed and then pursed her lips.

“Don’t forget to join the list.” I snatched my arm away and locked eyes with the bitch. A white man with his hair slicked back and a dark complexion like he lived in a damn tanning salon, came rushing by. He nodded to Ms. Professional Bitch and they walked off quietly conversing amongst themselves. I stuck my head out of the door and watched those two sneaky muthafuckas. I’m looking at this white cat in his gray and black Jordan suit, carrying a black leather bag, wondering how the hell did he fit into this puzzle.

“Close the door Phat Kat.”

Jahlil’s voice caught me off guard. He was leaning on some crutches with an air cast on his left leg. He had on dark red satin pajamas. I was so happy to see his ass tears came to my eyes. He had a gauze pad taped to the left side of his forehead and a splint on his right thumb. His ass looked like he’d been through a war but the nigga was alive.

“I’m in bad shape but the doctor said its okay for me to get hugs.”

“You think I’m just about to run into your arms nigga? After you played dead on a bitch?”

He carefully used the crutches to balance himself as he hobbled over to the love seat in the small lounge area.

“Yes. That’s what exactly what I expect you to do.”

I couldn’t help but to laugh. “Nigga you had me worried sick.” I sat on the love seat and wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head on his chest. “I thought you were dead.”

“Ivan gave it his all. But I’m stubborn like that.”

I lifted my head and stared into his brown eyes. His smile was the best thing I’d seen in a while.

“What happened when we were on the phone?”

He dipped his head down and then threw his head back and all of his dreads with it.

“He caught me coming out of the parking structure and crashed into me. He hopped out and emptied his clip into the Benz. But somehow he didn’t hit me once.” He laughed.

“Maybe Suge Knight really didn’t set Tupac up.” He laughed again.

“I managed to let off a few shots just to get him off my ass,” he said.

I sat back to take a good look at him.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m good. My doctor is one call away.”

Now I knew who the slick looking white dude was. He moved the crutches so that they weren’t leaning against the sofa between us and rested them on the side.

“It’s time for our masks to come off Phat Kat.”

I shifted uncomfortably, not quite understanding what he meant. I noticed his suite came with a little kitchenette. The carpeting was some sort of aqua color and made his king sized bed with its cream colored comforter and throw pillows look like an island on tropical waters. I was checking out everything to avoid his eyes at that moment.

“I want you to check this out Phat Kat.” Jahlil pulled out his Samsung Galaxy Note and tapped the local Fox Six News App. He scrolled until he found the date and a small pic of the news story he was looking for and tapped it. My eyes almost fell out of my muthafuckin head when I saw the news reporter chick with the stiff ass hair standing in front of Pido’s auto body shop.

I looked into Jahlil’s eyes with my best poker face on. He stared back confidently and then began scrolling through the app again. He tapped on another news story and sat the phone on my lap.

“Did you see this one yet? It’s pretty recent.”

I picked up the phone and watched a news story about the brutal murders of a couple of Cuban immigrant brothers who owned a cellphone store on the south side of Milwaukee. The same cellphone store I bought my iPhone from when I made it back from Vegas. It was also the same store where I traded in the one I stole from the Mexican cat.

“No more secrets Phat Kat.” He put his hand on my thigh. I swallowed hard. “I know who you are. I know what you did. What I don’t know is why.”

I started to panic a little. I didn’t know what this nigga knew but it was obvious he knew something. And it was also obvious he had some type of affiliation with those muthafuckas who were on my ass. They killed Pido and the Cubans. The LMF tracked me down through the Escalade and the phone. The nine milli was in the Charger. I tried to bolt up from the love seat but he grabbed my wrist before I could get anywhere.

“Let me go nigga!” I shouted as I tried to twist my wrist free.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Sit your ass down.” He reached out and grabbed my forearm with his other hand. He pulled me down to the love seat and wrapped his arms around me. “Phat Kat please chill. I’m too fucked up to be wrestling with you.

“Then don’t nigga. Let me the fuck go.”

“Not until you listen. Just listen. And if you’re still not feeling me then you can go.”

I took a deep breath and stopped struggling.

“My LMF business associates are close to finding you. Pido sung like a bird before they wacked him. They know your name and everything else about you Pido could tell.”