Queen Bitch: Part 4 (Bitch Series) (16 page)

I eyed the clock, and I knew Mike would make his appearance
at any moment. We were on some sort of set schedule now.
I already had breakfast and he would give me a snack an
hour or so before lunch. With this new arrangement, Mike
was becoming more lax with each passing day. He wasn't
allowing me to walk the house freely yet, but I had a
feeling it would be happening soon.

"Come in," I said when I heard Mike knocking at the
door, looking forward to the treat of the day. That was
something I never thought would happen. But being
dead in the center of this shit I see now how hostages
become brainwashed by their captors. You seriously
start appreciating whatever kind gesture they show you.
Technically you know it's some bullshit, but your head be so fucked up, you'll take the shit anyway you can get it.

"Where's my snack?" I asked, feeling an instant letdown
when Mike came in the room with nothing in his hand,
not even a glass of water.

"I thought maybe today you would like to come in the
kitchen and eat your snack."

"Seriously, or are you gonna change your mind again?
Yesterday you invited me to come watch a movie then
backtracked when I took you up on the offer. Is this
round-two of the teasing?"

"No teasing, come with me and see for yourself."

I let my leg dangle from the bed for a few seconds giving
Mike a chance to say "Sony, the jokes on you, you ain't going
anywhere", but when he didn't, I got the fuck up ready to bolt.
Any chance I got to step away from the depression of being
stuck in a room, I jumped at.

"So this is where you whip up all my meals," I said,
looking around the hi-tech kitchen.

"This is it. Now have a seat." Mike went to the stainless
steel refrigerator and pulled out a fruit platter. "Do you
like Jamaican fruit punch?" he asked getting a couple of
glasses out of the cabinet.

"I never had any."

"Today will be your first time then. I think you'll enjoy."

I didn't care to drink or eat anybody's shit, but hell, the
worst thing that could happen was Mike would poison
me and I'd die. And the odds were stacked against me in
that favor anyway.

I nibbled on the sweet melon and sipped on my punch,
sizing up Mike's every move. "Mike, you seem to be in an
awfully good mood today. What's up?"

"Maybe knowing that soon I'll be out of LA a free man
and a lot richer is making these last few months being on
the run worthwhile."

"You know, I've been meaning to ask you how you
pulled that off."

"Pulled what off?"

"Breaking out of Clinton Correctional Facility. That ain't
no low-level prison. They pretty tight with security, so
how in the fuck did you pull it off?"

Mike stopped in the middle of spreading Miracle Whip
on a sandwich he was making and glanced up at me
with a devilish smirk. "I don't know if I really need to be
discussing that with you."

"Back to that again. Like I said before, who the fuck can I
tell?" I said, discreetly scanning the room to see if I could spot
a phone anyplace, but no luck. Besides the knife Mike was
holding to spread his dressing, I didn't see any useable objects
that could stand in as a weapon.

"True, but some things are best left not being discussed."

"Come on, Mike, stop being so secretive and share the
inside scoop," I smiled, trying to soften him up.

"Real talk, it wasn't that complicated."

"Okay, so spill."

"When Maya was setting this shit in motion she brought
Devon on board. She showed him a picture of me, and
Devon said this dude he used to run with could damn
near pass for my twin. Of course I didn't believe that shit
and neither did Maya."

"I bet yah did when you got a look at that nigga. Because
when I laid eyes on the dude, I was a believer."

"Fo real! Yo, when Maya showed me his pic all I could do was say `Damn!'. Luckily he was down for the switch
too for the right price."

"He was willing to do the whole bid for you? I can't
imagine no price being right for that."

"Nah, he wasn't supposed to be in there that long. Just
enough time for me to get the fuck out the country, but
of course you fucked that shit up when you came to the
prison and busted him."

"Don't even go there. Let's get back to your story. You
say dude wasn't supposed to be there that long. How was
yah gonna get him out?"

"Now you know I had inside help. How else do you
think I was able to pull the shit off in the first place? Big
time dealer I used to do business with had a brother that
was a security guard at the prison. When the imposter
came to see me for a visit he was dressed incognito. The
guard let him go to the bathroom first and I went in after.
He tossed me his street clothes in exchange for my prison
attire. After that, there was no looking back."

"That shit sound simple as hell."

"Shit is simple when you got money and know
motherfuckers in the right places. It's too bad that you busted
dude, because when the security guard got word, he was
supposed to get homeboy the fuck outta there. Now that
nigga stuck doing his own bid behind the shit."

"Why you looking at me like I'm the cause of that shit?
Didn't nobody tell yah to orchestrate a prison break. I
was tryna get my daughter back, that's all."

"I know, but still..."

"Still nothing. Shit, when you got the fuck out of that
prison, I doubt you was bit more thinking about when and if that imposter was going to get caught or when he
would be freed."

"You right. When I tasted freedom, I said they would have
to kill me before I ever got caged up like an animal again."

"I bet you did." Right when I was about to throw some
more questions Mike's way I heard the doorbell.

"He can't be here this early," Mike said, looking down at
his watch.

"Who can't be here?"

"The money man I'm closing out my dealings with.
Listen, I need you to go back to the bedroom. You can
come back out when I'm done."

"I can stay in here. You don't have to worry about me
blowing up your spot."

"I ain't worried about that. This is my man. We've made
a lot of paper together. He wouldn't turn on me no matter
what you said to him."

"So then why can't I stay right where I'm at?"

"Because I'm handling business and don't need no
interruptions. So would you go back to your room, please?"

The doorbell started ringing again and Mike was rushing
me off. I headed to the bedroom knowing damn well that
I would be listening my ass off.

I closed the door shut extra loud so Mike would think I
was safely stashed in the bedroom. I tried to peep around
the hallway corner to get a look at the man as he walked
towards the living room with Mike, but all I could see was
his shoes-a slick pair of smoke gray Gucci loafers.

"Quentin, my man! I appreciate you coming all the way
from New York to bring me this paper."

"Not a problem. I needed a change of scenery anyway. All work and no play is never any good, especially for a player."

"And no doubt you are definitely a player." The two
men both gave a slight laugh. "Can I get you a drink or
anything?" Mike offered.

"Just a glass of water for me. I have some more business
to handle with a new connect named Genesis when I
leave here, so I want to keep a clear mind."

"Always on your job, Quentin."

"Got to. How else do you think I continue to be the
boss of these streets for over twenty years?"

"I feel you, man. When I grow up I want to be just like
Quentin Jacobs."

"You on your way."

"Nah, this is it for me. I'm officially out the game. I got
the cash I need, and now it's time for me to get the hell
outta LA-shit, make that the US."

"I hate shit got to end like this for you. Not able to
show your face, on the run, that ain't no kinda life."

"It's better than being locked up in a prison wit' some
punk ass guards telling me what the fuck to do twentyfour-seven. It may not be the freedom I want, but it's
damn sure the freedom I need to get by day after day.
Now with all this loot, I'm good."

"What is Maya going to do now? Who is going to look
after her?"

"Maya is a survivor, she'll be fine."

"She's a young girl. I know she needs help."

"You always concerned about Maya and you ain't neva
met her but what, twice? Let me find out you gotta thing for
my sister. You know I have much respect for you, Quentin,
but you a little too old to be sniffing after Maya." Both men laughed in unison again.

"It's nothing like that. I remember you mentioning that
she wasn't close to her mother and you were the only
family she had. Now that you'll be gone, I know things
might be somewhat difficult for her. I was offering my
help if she needs it."

"That's good lookin' out, and it means a lot to me."

This Quentin character had me curious. I wanted to
get a close-up on this man who seemed to be a crooked
nigga with a heart of gold. I mean why else would he
give a fuck about Maya's reckless ass. I knew Mike would
be pissed the fuck off, but I had to match a face with the
deep baritone smooth voice. I tip-toed closer to the male
voices coming from the living room and not making my
presence felt until I walked right up on them.

"Mike, sorry to bother you but I need to use the restroom."
Mike and Quentin both stared in my direction.

"Then go. You know where the bathroom is," Mike
said, with annoyance in his voice.

"I just wanted you to know that's where I would be in
case you came looking for me."

"Thanks," Mike replied, turning his face back towards
Quentin.

"Do I know you?" Quentin asked, brushing past Mike
and coming towards me. He reached out his arm and we
shook hands. He was ridiculously handsome, especially
for a man with some age on him. He appeared to be a
well preserved, in the upper 40ish age range. If you went
by his wheat brown chiseled face and tall lean body, he
could've easily passed for mid-thirties, but he maintained
an old school aura with a sophisticated flare that only age and living could bring you.

"No, you don't."

"You look awfully familiar. What's your name?"

"Precious Mills."

"Mills ...I don't know any Mills."

"Like I said, you don't know me. Well, I need to go to
the bathroom. Excuse me," I said, breaking free from the
strong grasp he had on my hand.

"She reminds me of a woman I used to know a long
time ago," I heard Quentin say as I walked down the
hallway towards the bathroom.

When I got to the bathroom, I closed the door and turned
on the sink faucet. I sat down on a chair pushed against the
wall, getting my aggravation under control. I had so many
emotions running around inside. I didn't know if it was Mike
or Quentin that had me infuriated, or maybe both. But it
had to be Quentin. I had already been through the I HateMike
phase twenty million times. What about Quentin had gotten
so under my skin? He hadn't been rude to me, in fact he was
no doubt a charismatic cat. But when he shook my hand,
the vibe was off. Maybe I was pissed that he was concerned
about Maya, but then it wasn't like he knew that trifling
heifer was doing her best to steal my life, the life I busted
my ass to get. It was something else, but I couldn't put my
finger on it.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Precious, you can come out the bathroom now," Mike
said through the door.

"I'll be out in a minute."

"No, come out now, and I hope you ain't up to
nothing stupid."

"Oh please! Ain't nobody hatching shit up," I said,
turning off the water. Shit, I learned my lesson from my
first attempt at freedom. Unless I had a gun or a big fuckin'
knife, my odds of overpowering Mike were nil. I opened
the door and there was Mike standing in front with his
own gun in hand.

"We back to that again?" I questioned, looking down at
his weapon and then rolling my eyes.

"I couldn't take any chances."

"Mike, please. You can put the gun away. You promised
that you would get my daughter for me, so I'm not gonna
do nothing to fuck that up."

"Then why did you come out the room and interrupt
my business meeting?"

"It didn't sound like no meeting to me. Ya sounded
more like old friends."

"That's not the point. I told you to stay in the bedroom
until I was done."

"I had to use the bathroom. What was I supposed to
do, wet my pants?"

"Whatever! Your mother must've never taught you that
a hard head make for a soft ass."

"Nah, I didn't have those types of conversations with
my moms. But seriously, Mike, you can put that gun
away. It ain't called for."

"Cool, but stop being difficult. You had been playing
your position with ease, then the minute company show
up you wanna show your ass."

"Speaking of company, how you know that Quentin
dude? He seem a bit old to be a lil' nigga you was kicking
it with on the playground."

"Funny, but he was the man that put me on."

"Put you on in the drug game?"

"Yeah."

"How did that happen?" I questioned, following Mike
back into the kitchen.

"Damn, that was so many years ago, I couldn't have been no
more than fourteen or fifteen years old. My moms had just had
Maya and we were struggling. With no man around I had to
step up to the plate and put some food on the table."

"What about Maya's father? Where was he ate"

"I told you, my moms never told me who Maya's father was.
But I knew it wasn't my dad because he had been out the picture
long before Maya was even conceived."

"True. So how did you meet Quentin?"

"Everybody on the streets of New York had heard of
Quentin Jacobs. This was the first man we knew of that was
not only moving major drugs, but pimping women too. We
all worshipped that nigga. So one day when I was standing
on the corner in front of the bodega with my dudes, Quentin
pulled up in a spankin' new Benz. He rolled down his window
and signaled for me to come over. For a minute I didn't move
because I couldn't believe he was asking for me. Then he called
out my name and I leaped to the car. You didn't keep a nigga
like Quentin Jacobs waiting."