Nude Awakening (21 page)

THIRTY-TWO

Yaffa had managed to persuade Swagga over the cell phone to pull over. The two met up at a closed grocery store parking lot on 62nd Street. Yaffa was tired of the bullshit and how Swagga was keeping him in the blind.

“What the fuck is up wit’ you?” Yaffa slammed the door on the Audi.

Swagga waited in front of his Bentley in the middle of the parking lot with the parking lights on. Behind them, even at 11:10 p.m. there was a constant flow of traffic heading up and down 62nd Street.

“Tell me what the fuck is up?” Yaffa demanded, standing in Swagga’s face. “You ‘pose to trust me wit’ your life, but lately you been on some real live bullshit!”

“I can handle my own!”

“Handle what, huh! You ‘bout to go body somebody? You hard now?”

“Ain’t got time fo’ dis shit!”

“Make time, nigga! Now tell me what got you runnin’ out da crib wit’ some fucking heat?”

Swagga balled up his fist and pressed his palms against his forehead. “Some bullshit!”

“Run it to me!”

Swagga dropped his arms to his sides then took a deep breath. He had to trust Yaffa. I’ll just tell him the truth. But not all of it. Shit, Yaffa is my nigga. He’ll feel how I was fooled. Hell, he still think Chyna a bitch anyway. “I’m . . . being . . . Chyna and somebody else is blackmailing me.”

“Chyna! Blackmailing you for what? If that bitch on some rape shit you can relax ‘cause I got a clip of her breakin’ you off in your bed.”

Swagga hid his anger. “Thanks, but that ain’t the case.”

“Well, what the fuck is it?”

Swagga sighed, rubbing his face. “Dawg, Chyna—is a dude.”

“What the fuck you just say?” Yaffa grabbed Swagga’s arm. “We ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the Asian bitch, Chyna, are we?”

“Yeah man!” Swagga yanked his arm free. “The muthafucka is a transsexual or a transvestite or whatever! All I know for sure is that the faggot got a dick ‘tween his legs!”

“What! Nigga, you fo’ real!” Yaffa’s temper shot upward. His mind went back to the night in the park with Chyna.

“The muthafucka is a he-she, she-he—I don’t fuckin’ know!”

“Did you know this fuckin’ shit before you had that muthafucka up in your bed?”

“Fuck no! Nigga, I ain’t gay! Hell, you thought it was a bitch, too!”

Yaffa swallowed his secret about Chyna. He just hoped that Chyna had not told ANYONE about that night in the park. “What the fuck are you being blackmailed for?”

Swagga sat down on the hood of the Bentley. His shoulders were slumped. “Umm, they got a film of me with Chyna.”

“A film? A film doin’ what? Suckin’ your dick?”

Swagga had to tell the truth. “That, and me doing something else to Chyna.”

“Nigga, you got to tell me ‘cause I ain’t about to try to picture you—”

“I fucked Chyna in the ass, okay! There, I said it! Now the bitch said I better give up two mil’ or the film hits the social networks and that shit!”

Yaffa took a step backward, rubbing his face. “Tell me you bullshittin’, my nigga!”

“Shit is real.”

“Fuck!” Yaffa swung at the air. “You got the money?”

“Hell no! I was on my way to Chyna’s crib to beat that ho ass!”

“We can’t let that film leak.”

“No need to tell me that.”

“Look, as for why you went and fucked the muthafucka. That’s on you, dawg. But if you wanna end dis shit tonight you gotta be down to go hard!”

“I’m down for whateva, yo!”

Chyna was in her den watching TV on the sofa. Cindy and Stan were in the kitchen talking. Chyna was daydreaming about the operation and how life would be to be fully a woman. I’m going to be a ho for a while and then settle down with one man. If I can find a balling ass nigga with a big dick, I’ll be in LOVE! Shit, I know I’m wifey material. Hell, I got Swagga open and I still got a dick. I know how to put it down! I know I have to look Trevon up. I wanted that dick bad, like Michael Jackson! Chyna looked down at his tiny feet. I need to get my toes done tomorrow.

Chyna was about to lie out on the sofa when the doorbell rang.

“I got it!” Chyna got up and went to the door.

Yaffa stood on the other side of the door with a black ski mask over his face. Swagga stood behind him gripping a Glock 19 at his side.

Yaffa took a deep breath and shouldered a custom made 12-gauge pump fitted with a silencer. He had it pointed at the doorknob. He waited. Tense.

“Who—”

Yaffa heard Chyna’s voice through the door. Clenching his jaw, he pulled the trigger. The sharp clap did not match the destruction the slug did to the door. Yaffa kicked the door in and found Chyna on the floor screaming. A jagged piece of framework from the door was stuck in his thigh. He stepped over Chyna.

“Drag that faggot in the den!” Yaffa told Swagga as he rushed inside.

Yaffa ran inside like a SWAT Team Officer with the intimidating silenced shotgun hiked up in his meaty shoulder. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, he caught Cindy. She backed up against the stove with fear painted over her face. She screamed as Yaffa ran up on her with the shotgun.

“Shut up, bitch!” he shouted, pressing the warm tip of the silencer against her forehead.

“Please!” She cowered with her hands trembling over her face.

Yaffa grabbed a handful of her dreads. Cindy screamed and kicked as Yaffa drug her into the den.

“Please!” she screamed, kicking wildly.

Yaffa released his grip of her hair, then punched her solidly in the face. She moaned, curling up on her side.

“Where the film at!” Yaffa stood over Cindy with the shotgun pointed at her head. “We ain’t fo’ no bullshit!” He pulled the mask up knowing it was pointless.

Cindy was too shocked to speak. She had not factored in Yaffa, and what he would do to keep Swagga’s actions a secret.

Yaffa reared back, kicking Cindy in her stomach. The forceful kick even made Swagga take a step back. He looked down at Chyna moaning at his feet.

“You blackmailed the wrong niggas, you dumb bitch!” Yaffa looked around the living room. “Where the fuckin’ film at?”

Cindy was having trouble breathing. She looked up at Yaffa and saw no compassion in his face. A glimmer of hope sparked when she realized that Stan was missing. He had been quicker with his escape to the back of the house. Cindy would try to delay Yaffa. She moaned, curling back up in a ball.

“Please, Yaffa!” Cindy pleaded. “This isn’t what you think.”

“Oh yeah!” Yaffa raised the silencer tipped shotgun up to her head. “I think you betta tell me where dat film at ‘fore I bust your fuckin’ head open! Now talk!”

Swagga nervously stood over Chyna with his Glock 19. Yaffa’s actions were a surprise to him. Swagga’s intentions were just to scare Cindy and Chyna, not kill them.

“Swagga, please don’t.”

“Shut up, bitch!” Swagga roared at Chyna. “Don’t say shit else to me!”

Yaffa turned with hate in his eyes. Chyna was on the floor grimacing from the bleeding leg wound. Yaffa wanted to see the truth for himself.

“Cover dis bitch ova here!” Yaffa said to Swagga. The two switched places.

“Swagga, I’m sorry, baby!” Cindy sobbed, pulling at Swagga’s pants.

“Get the fuck off me, bitch!” he spat, kicking her hands away.

Yaffa towered over Chyna with the shotgun. “Who got tha film?”

Chyna started to cry. This was too much for him to take.

“Who got that film, ho?” Yaffa’s voice filled the room.

“I don’t know!” Chyna screamed. “This—it was all Cindy’s idea! I swear to you. Please! Please don’t hurt me!”

Yaffa jacked a slug into the chamber. Chyna winced. “Lift your skirt up!”

“Yaffa, no.” Chyna looked up. “Don’t make me do—”

“Lift the gotdamn skirt up!”

Chyna tried to crawl away, leaving a trail of blood on the rug. Yaffa moved slowly along, gripping the shotgun.

“FIVE!” Yaffa started his countdown.

“Swagga, stop him!” Cindy screamed. “Please! DO SOMETHING!”

“Fo’!”

“Please, Yaffa! I’m sorry.” Chyna sobbed..

“THREE!”

“Yo, Yaffa!” Swagga felt that things were going too far. “Chill bruh!”

“TWO!”

Swagga was about to grab Yaffa, but stopped when Chyna rolled over.

“Lift it up!” Yaffa ordered.

Chyna reached down and grabbed the hem of the silver and black miniskirt. Yaffa’s rage was jacked up when he saw the shape of Chyna’s cuffed male organ. His stomach turned. A quick flashback of Chyna giving him the sweetest head kicked into his mind. It was a game of deception that he was willing to kill for. Yaffa harbored no homosexual tendencies and was one to stand behind being homophobic. Chyna played his manhood, and for it, Yaffa had to bring some closure.

Behind them, Swagga saw the change in Yaffa’s posture. Yaffa shouldered the shotgun, taking a few steps back from Chyna.

“Yaffa wait! Don’t—”

Swagga’s plea fell on deaf ears as Yaffa pulled the trigger. The slug punched Chyna in the stomach, gruesomely shoveling out bloody entrails and guts. Cindy began to scream hysterically crawling backward until she bumped into the sofa.

Swagga lowered his gun. Chyna lay twisted on the floor with blood pooling out like an overflowing toilet.

“Shut that bitch up!” Yaffa shook Swagga by his shoulder then shoved him toward Cindy.

Swagga was numb. Shaking his head slowly, he backed up to the wall. His eyes were focused on Chyna’s lifeless body. The first he had ever seen.

“Bitch ass nigga!” Yaffa muttered in disgust at Swagga. Stepping over the pooling blood, he yanked Cindy up by her dreads. “Wanna be next, ho! Where the fuck that film at?”

Cindy was paralyzed with fear. She knew she was going to die tonight. Tears skated down her face as Yaffa kicked her in the ribs. She howled, weeping loudly.

“Please don’t kill me!”

“Where is the film? I won’t ask you again!” Yaffa pressed the warm tip of the silencer against her forehead.

“In—”

“Talk bitch!” He jacked the black plastic pump, staring over the barrel.

“In the bedroom. The video camera.”

“Which room?”

“One on the left.” She pointed.

Yaffa glared at Swagga. “Go get it!”

Swagga was frozen.

“Go get the gotdamn film, nigga!”

Swagga snapped out of his daze, breathing heavily. His steps were unsteady as he slid sideways against the wall. Reaching the hallway, he stumbled over his own feet falling to the floor. The Glock slid from his hand coming to a rest against a door.

Inside the dark hallway closet, Stan jumped in fear. He felt helpless. Terrified. He had heard the countdown and Chyna’s pleas. He heard the soft clap from the silencer, and then the screaming from Cindy. Tears filled his eyes. Stan was not built for this.

Swagga regained his footing. Picking up the Glock he paused. He had heard something move behind the door.

“Hurry the fuck up! Get the gotdamn film!” Yaffa shouted from the living room. Swagga assumed his mind was tripping. He moved off, gripping the Glock at his side.

Yaffa was still towering over Cindy when Swagga ran back in with the small palm-size camera.

“Is it up there?”

“Yeah!” Swagga replied, looking at the footage of him and Chyna.

“Please don’t kill me.” Cindy weeped. “Please . . .”

“Bitch, it’s ova for you!” Yaffa stated.

“We got the film, Yaffa!” Swagga stepped in front of Yaffa.

“So what! You think I’ma leave dis bitch alive to take the stand on me!”

Swagga squeezed the Glock. “We—shit is over!”

“Nigga!” Yaffa raised the black silencer up to Swagga’s face. “We ain’t doin’ a gotdamn thang! I’m the one that bodied Chyna. Now you either wit’ me or I’ma lay your bitch ass down, too!”

Swagga twitched when the barrel touched his chin. He was not going to challenge Yaffa. “Okay, chill. Let’s just get the fuck outta here.”

“Toss your gun ova on the sofa!”

“What?”

“Nigga, come up off it! You heard me!”

Swagga tossed the Glock on the sofa. “Happy now!”

Yaffa shoved Swagga aside. He would deal with him later. “Who else got a copy of that film?” Yaffa shouted at Cindy.

Swagga waited for her to answer. He had not thought of Cindy giving out a copy.

Cindy closed her eyes. There would be no help for her. All of her troubles were based on her fear of losing Swagga to Kandi. She had overheard Swagga telling Chyna that he in fact was setting up Trevon just to get back with Kandi. Kandi . . . Cindy hated her. Hated her enough to plant another seed of deception.

“Kandi,” Cindy replied. “She has a copy.”

Swagga felt blood rushing to his head.

“See!” Yaffa sneered at him. “I told you the bitch wasn’t shit!”

“How the fuck she got a copy?” Swagga’s voice squeaked.

“We sent it to her cell phone,” Cindy lied. “She was getting a cut of the money, too.”

“Fuck!” Swagga flopped down on the loveseat then averted his eyes from the body on the floor. Something was not adding up, but Swagga could not place what it was. He just could not believe Kandi was down with this shit.

“I won’t go to the police,” Cindy cried. “Just get Kandi’s cell phone. There are no more.”

“Your case is ova, bitch!” Yaffa raised the shotgun.

“Yaffa, don’t kill—” Cindy’s words were suddenly ended.

SPLAT!

Cindy’s head exploded into a mush of blood and brain matter. Swagga threw up on Chyna’s ankle and stumbled toward the kitchen holding his stomach.

Yaffa lowered the shotgun as blood pumped spasmodically from the headless body leaning up against the wall. Stepping over Chyna’s body, he picked up the Glock then joined Swagga in the kitchen. He was bent over the sink dry heaving. Yaffa slammed the Glock on the counter.

“Kandi gotta get it too! Ain’t no need to spare that ho! Or do you want your secret to get out?” Yaffa waited for Swagga to respond.

“Fuck—fuck that bitch!” Swagga turned the water on to rinse his foul mouth out.

“What’s done is done. Let’s drop in on the ho and handle this tonight!”

Swagga picked the Glock up. “I wanna go see my seed first.”

“Nigga, we gotta—”

“I’m going to go see Carmelita!”

Yaffa nodded. “Okay. We go see her. Then we go see Kandi. She gotta get it!”