Luxe (27 page)

“I don't think I'm as valuable to Iman as you think. Before tonight I had no idea who he even was. He was just another get-money nigga to me. I had no clue he was this large. He didn't let me in like that. You've got the wrong girl,” she replied.

“Nah, I've think I've got the right girl,” Cinco said, his tone turning menacing and his eyes turning dark.

She stood, feeling cornered as Cinco sat across from her, arms stretched over the back of his couch, legs cocked open arrogantly. “Sit down,” he ordered, his voice stern. Fear crept into her. She was high and he was higher. He wasn't in his right frame of mind. He was talking reckless. She just wanted to get out of there, but the only way she was leaving his house was with his permission. Her eyes darted around the room for an exit. She was scared. Distraught. She had to hold her hands in front of her body to stop them from shaking. She felt like a mouse in a maze and she didn't know which way to go in order to get out.

“I'm k-k-ind of tired,” she stuttered. “Can you just take me back?”

“You leave when I say you leave. Sit down,” he stated. He reached under the couch and pulled out a short glass pipe. The same type of pipe that her mother used to get high. Bleu was terrified. Seeing the crack pipe in his hands made what she had just done so real. It didn't matter how she had done it, what method she had used … it was all the same. She was no better than her mother. Bleu went for the door until she heard a loud whistle over her shoulder and then turned to find the two guard dogs blocking her path, growling menacingly.

“Sit down.” It wasn't a request and this time she slowly walked back to her seat obediently.

“You're gonna help me rob Iman,” Cinco stated. He placed the pipe on the table along with a lighter. “Smoke it.”

Her lip quivered as pictures of her mother flashed through her head. She had seen her mother do the worst for this drug. She had seen her suck dick in alleys, bring random dope boys into her bed while Bleu's father was at work. She had even watched men beat her mother and control her because of the monkey she had on her back. Bleu had witnessed the devil's work as a result of her mother's addiction, and now that it was in front of her, in its rawest form, she recognized it for what it was. Trouble. Tears welled up in her eyes. She had smoked crack. She was becoming the woman she had vowed never to be. “I can't,” she replied.

“Pssk pssk.” As soon as Cinco made the noise his dogs were at alert, snarling at her, waiting for the command to attack.

She wished that her will was stronger, but the truth was, her insides were screaming for a taste. The fact that he was threatening her into submission only gave her an excuse to do what she wanted to do anyway. The blunt was enough to make her crave more. She wanted that potent high, and as she reached for the pipe a tear slid down her face.

“Therrre you go,” he said, fascinated at the fact that he was turning her out.

The pressure he put on her head to smoke it, to set up Iman … the aching split she felt in her chest from finding out about the marriage … the thoughts of her mother rushing through her mind, it all made her hit the pipe, again and again. Life had suddenly overwhelmed her and the sudden blast of “feel good” that this high provided had her chasing it repeatedly just to keep her sadness at bay. She creamed in her panties almost instantly as the rush flooded her brain. The high was ten times better. Sliding her lips around that glass dick and feeling her body explode had her eyes rolling in the back of her head as she closed them slowly, savoring the moment. She was smoking crack. Even worse, she liked it.

“Shit,” she moaned. “Oh shit.”

Neither sex nor money ever felt this good.
This is fucking amazing,
she thought.

“Feel that shit,” Cinco coached as he moved next to her. He took the pipe from her hands and set up another hit before sparking and hitting the pipe himself. She melted backward into the leather, not caring that her legs were wide open as she sighed.

Cinco got on the floor between her legs and planted his hands on her thighs. She was so high that she was compliant as she slid down so that he was directly near her crotch. He reached beneath her dress, sliding his fingers underneath the thin fabric of her panties. Her love button was completely engorged. Endorphins were rushing her brain, making her hot, horny; she needed to be touched. It didn't matter that it was Cinco doing it. It could have been anyone at that moment. She was in the clouds and her mental was subdued, so she offered no protests. Her body was begging for the stimulation. He placed his thumb on her clitoris, rubbing it in a circular motion slowly. Cinco looked at her with a malice-laced stare. She was the only person who had ever denied him anything. She was too comfortable telling him no. No, he couldn't fuck her; no, she wouldn't help him with the setup. No. No. No.

“You think you're too good for a nigga like me. You're too good to get your pretty little hands dirty. You operating off loyalty to Iman, but Iman ain't operating off loyalty to you. A little smoke levels the playing field … it dirties you up. Brings you down to my level. Might make you reconsider some things. Giving the wrong answer wouldn't be good for you right now, so I'ma ask you again,” Cinco stated. Now that he had exposed his hand, he couldn't let her leave. She knew too much. If she wasn't in on his plot to take over then she would be a liability.

“Help me help you,” Cinco said. “You moving kilos across the border. Do you know how much time you will get if you're ever caught? As a matter of fact, you might not make it back to Cali this time. How easy do you think it would be to get you pinched? Put a quarter ki' in your luggage, you wouldn't even know it was there until it was too late.”

She knocked his hands away, suddenly sitting up so that she could look him in the eyes. Fear shone in; she felt transparent as she replied, “I think it's time you took me back. China and Bree are probably wondering where I am by now.”

Cinco stood to his feet and nodded his head. “Okay,” he replied as he walked around her to the mini-bar. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then chuckled slyly as he poured himself a shot of cognac. He approached her from behind as she leaned over to pick up the pipe. She discreetly scooped a couple rocks for herself for later. This was a high she wanted to experience again, but before she could even stand back up, Cinco attacked from behind.

“You should have said ‘yeah,' mama,” he stated as he quickly wrapped a wire tightly around her neck and pulled on it with all his might. Her oxygen flow immediately stopped and her eyes bulged out of her head as her hands clawed at the wire. “I can't let you leave up out of here. You think I'ma let you run back and tell Iman?” Cinco asked through gritted teeth. She flung her body backward as she struggled against him. She couldn't breathe and her lungs pleaded for air. She clawed at her neck so viciously that she drew blood. The pain was blinding, suffocating, unbearable. The high was not enough to dull her senses through this. He was killing her, squeezing the life out of her, and she felt every second of it. Her heart pounded, desperately beating out its last few beats, each thump growing less intense as the room became a blur.

If I close my eyes I'll never see this world again,
she thought. Her moments were fleeting. Each time she blinked her eyes she saw a different face. Iman's. Noah's. Sienna's. Wayne's. She still gripped the glass pipe in her hands, wishing that she could just hit it once to take this pain of dying away. Noah's face popped into her mind once more and she could hear him whispering to her,
FIGHT!

She grasped the crack pipe and then stabbed behind her, sticking it directly into Cinco's eye. His grip loosened slightly and she brought her head back full force, head butting him square in the nose and causing him to let go of her completely. “Aghh! You bitch!” he growled as he flailed wildly, afraid to pull the glass out of his eye.

She choked uncontrollably, gulping in air as she scrambled away from him. She grabbed the first thing that she saw, a porcelain vase that sat in the middle of the table. She swung it hard, crashing it over his head.

The dogs attacked. She felt teeth pierce her leg as the dogs attacked, and she swung her body frantically as she tried to shake them off. They were ripping her apart, biting into her as she tried her hardest to defend herself. “Aghh!” she screamed, her cries mixing with those of Cinco, who was bent over in pain, blood filling his hands as he cupped his face.

“I'm gonna kill you, bitch!” he shouted as he scrambled for the couch. She saw him lifting the couch cushions as the glint of a silver .45 caught her eye.
He's going to shoot me,
she thought. Fear seized her. With all of her might she swung her feet repeatedly, striking the dogs with her six-inch heels until one of them ran away whimpering. Bleu scrambled across the floor, picking up the lamp once again.

“Aghh!” she screamed as she hit Cinco over the back of the head. This time she didn't stop. She just kept swinging. Again and again. Fear and crack cocaine fueled her until she was standing over him, heaving as sweat poured into her eyes.

When she noticed that he was barely breathing she stopped, holding the lamp above her head as she panted heavily, winded from the struggle. He lay a bloodied mess at her feet.

“Call…”—he spat blood out of his mouth as his one good eye rolled into the back of his head—“for help.” He barely managed to get the words out of his mouth. They were a whisper. The desperate plea of a dying man. She thought to call Iman. She even went as far as to grab her cell out of her clutch. Her hands were so shaky that she could barely dial the numbers. She stopped before she pressed the green call button on her phone.
This is Tan's brother. Iman can't save me. They'll kill me,
she thought. Part of her paranoia was truth, some of it was the crack fucking up her reasoning and all of it scared her. There would be hell to pay for what she had done. Cinco was Mexican Cartel. He was a part of the most feared criminal enterprise in the world. All she could do was run. She looked down at Cinco. She didn't know if he was alive or dead. He was still, and there was so much blood that she couldn't tell if he was even breathing anymore. The dogs returned and began barking her way. Her back rigid, she backpedaled toward the front door. They jumped and she bolted, barely making it out without being bitten.

She ran full speed, hopping into Cinco's car. Her hands fumbled as she pulled down the visor. “Please, please, be in here,” she cried. She hit the steering wheel in despair. She gripped it at the top and leaned her head against her hands as she sobbed. She picked up her phone and dialed China's number.

“Hello?” she answered.

“I … I … I think I … He's not breathing, China! I think … oh my God, I killed … I think I killed him.”

“What? Killed who?” China responded in confusion, slightly panicked. Bleu was distraught. She wasn't even speaking in complete sentences.

“
Cinco!
” Bleu screamed. Her eyes danced around the exterior of the dark house. She half-expected Cinco's henchmen to show up at any minute. She was frantic. She could leave, but she had no idea exactly where she was. Her mind wasn't even in its right state, which made it harder to figure out an escape. She needed help.

“Where are you?” China responded.

“I don't know,” Bleu replied as she sniffed loudly while wiping the mixture of snot and tears from her face. She was bugging out. Completely high. “He brought me to his house. Just get me out of here. Please, please, you have to come get me. Tell Bree to come get me.”

The phone went silent as China muted the call.

“Hello?! Hello?!” Bleu whispered urgently.

Finally China came back on the line. “Okay, Bleu, calm down. You need to look at the location on your phone and text me the address, Bleu. Do it now. Don't move and don't call nobody else. We're on our way.”

CLICK.

 

22

The hour that it took for China to arrive was the longest hour of Bleu's life. As she emerged out of the crack-induced fog, terror crippled her. She sat cowering in the front seat of the car, hugging her knees to her chest as her tears caused black streaks of mascara to slide down her face. Her bloodied body hurt all over. Her legs had gashes down to the white meat from where the dogs had bitten her. A red mark marred the circumference of her throat. Cinco had applied so much pressure to her neck that the capillaries in her eyes had burst, making them bloodred. She was restless. Her high had died off over an hour ago and now she wished she had more to keep her sane while she waited for China to come. The ticklish feeling of apprehension in Bleu's gut had her looking over her shoulders every few minutes. She wanted more … she was craving it. When the headlights of an approaching car shone through the rear window she sat up eagerly. Popping open the door, she practically fell out of the car and began to run toward the lights.

The car stopped in front of her and she placed her hands on the hood, heaving, frantic, as Bree and China got out of the car.

“Please get me out of here; hurry up. Get in the car; let's go,” she panted.

“What happened to you?” China said, voice elevated in fear.

“He tried to kill me,” she stated. “Please … please … I can explain once we're far away from here; just get in and drive.” Bleu was so hysterical that she was shaking her hands and bouncing up and down as she begged them. Bree walked up to her, frowning slightly as he looked at her in concern. “Shh,” he said as he pulled her in for a hug, consoling her. “I need you to relax, Bleu. What are you on?” he asked. Her eyes were completely dilated, so he knew she wasn't sober. “You on meth?” he asked, completely oblivious to the fact that her taste in highs had escalated.