Street Chronicles Girls in the Game (28 page)

“What the fuck?” he whispered as he looked around his room. “Lilac!” he yelled. “Delilah!”

The top and bottom sheets of his bed were on the floor, and empty liquor bottles were littered about. As he walked to the bed he stepped into a pool of vomit, then threw himself onto the bed, unsure what to think. He bowed his head for a moment, then looked up at the television, which was on. The screen was filled with snow, and the lights on the DVD player indicated it was on.

Suddenly an uneasy feeling overtook him and he ran to the safe that was inside his closet.

“They fuckin’ got me!” he yelled. “Yo! Delilah!” He grabbed
his cell phone and dialed her cell phone number, but it went straight to voice mail.

Instinct pulled him toward the DVD player. He pushed the play button, only to view his wife listless and blindfolded, with her hands tied to the top of the bed and a black ass ramming inside of her. As disgusted and angry as he was, he couldn't tear his eyes away. He zeroed in on the kinky balls of hair on the man's ass. Angry energy filled his body, and he began to breathe heavily as he made notice of how dark his ass was in comparison to the rest of his body. He played back the DVD several times and listened to his wife's slurring pleas for him to stop over and over again. Then his next thought hit him so hard he was winded.

Entice!
He gasped.
They probably sicced her ass on me and my dumb ass fell straight in. But who set me up?

He savagely ripped through his wallet for her card. “Fuck!” he yelled harshly as he realized he had shredded it mere minutes ago. He fell on the edge of the bed and yelled loud and hard. He scrolled through his call list, searching for her number, but Delilah called him so many times the night before that Entice's number had been bumped. He dialed Delilah's phone again, only to hear her sweet voice on the voice mail. As he ended the call the house phone rang. He picked it up slowly and was quiet.

“One hundred grand, nigga,” he heard a male voice say. “You have until a quarter past noon to put that together. There's a white Maxima parked on the corner of St. James Place and Fulton Street in Brooklyn. Place the cash in the trunk. Come alone or your wife is dead. Call the cops and your wife is dead. Bring heat and your wife is dead.”

Guy looked at the phone for fifteen minutes after the call had ended. He didn't know where to begin.

Who? Why? Who? What? What the fuck am I going to do?
Guy
thought as he let another hour pass, trying to figure out what jealous nigga would do this to him. He looked at the clock on the DVD player and it read 11:15 a.m. He shot up and his head pounded like the police kicking down a door at a drug raid. He dragged his body outside to his car, picked up his cell, and dialed.

“Jay,” Guy said into the phone. I need some fuckin’ paper. How much you got in the crib, son?”

“Why?” Jay asked.

“They got Delilah, man. Niggas ran up into my crib, fucked her, and kidnapped her ass. I need sixty grand. I got forty grand at my grandmother's house.”

Jay was too shocked to respond.

“Dude, did you hear me? They got my muthafuckin’ wife!”

“I got about twenty grand here.”

“Get that and meet me in a half hour at Jamaine's. Call that nigga and fill him in. I'm running out of time.”

Guy frantically scrolled through his call list and placed another call. “Rome? I need forty grand in thirty minutes.”

Although Rome could hear the desperation in his voice, his curiosity still prompted him to ask, “For what?”

“I know you got it!” Guy shouted, then paused in an attempt to calm himself down. “Meet me at Jamaine's in thirty minutes with the paper. Call Jay and he will fill you in.”

How the fuck am I going to make it by my grandmother's and over to St. James Place? I ain't going to make it,
Guy thought. He stomped on the gas pedal and sped through the tolls at the George Washington Bridge. He made it to his grandmother's by twelve on the nose. He got his money and left her house, then sped up, running the red light at the corner of her block.

He picked up his cell phone, dialed, and listened to the phone ring over and over again as he thought of Delilah. He pictured the thick, dark body on top of his wife. He could hear her begging
him to stop. He could hear the bed going up and down; then he heard sirens, and that pulled him out of his dreary thoughts. He looked into the rearview mirror, only to see the flashing lights of a police car.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed as he banged the wheel. And then it happened. The first tear came tumbling down his cheek. He pulled over to the curb, nervously went through his wallet, and retrieved his information.

“Driver's license and registration,” the officer said as he approached Guy's window.

Guy handed them over without hesitation.

“You are aware of why I pulled you over?” the officer asked.

Guy's throat was extremely dry, and his voice was raspy and hoarse. He was barely audible as the tears poured down his face.

“Using my cell without an earpiece,” he answered.

“Yes, and you just ran through two stop signs and a traffic light. Have you been drinking?”

“No.”

The officer walked back to his patrol car and Guy started to pray, “Please don't let there be anything wrong with my license.”

It seemed as if the cop took a lifetime to come back. Guy turned toward the policeman, his face drenched with a combination of sweat and tears. Guy was issued three tickets and some verbal warnings, and the officer hopped into his patrol car and drove off. Guy checked the time. It was twelve fifteen.

A half hour later he was three blocks away from Jamaine's house when his cell phone rang and pulled him out of his trance. When he flipped his phone he could hear loud yelling and screaming on the phone. The yelling became more and more pronounced, and before the phone reached his ear, he knew who it was.

“Jamaine?” he said hoarsely, trying to talk over Jamaine's hysterical yelling.

“You need to come over here right now, son!” Jamaine yelled. “I don't know what to make of this shit! Get over here!”

“Don't say anything else on this phone. I'll be there in a second,” Guy said as he ended the call.
Pull it together, nigga. You have to save Delilah.

He picked his cell phone up and called Jay again.

“Is everyone there yet?” Guy asked Jay.

Jay replied softly, “Rome and I just got here. Guy, have you spoken to Jamaine? Some foul shit is going down over here. Brace yourself, nigga.”

“Yeah, I am on my way over there now. Have all of the paper together.”

“No doubt.”

Guy pulled up in front of Jamaine's house to find his boys standing outside on the lawn. He got out of the car, not knowing what to expect. He closed the car door behind him and slowly began walking toward the lawn. As he approached the house, Jamaine stopped him and pointed to the mailbox. Guy walked toward it and inhaled deeply.

“Reach inside of it,” Jamaine said.

Guy looked back at his longtime friends before he stuck his arm inside, only to feel what he thought was a small and wet furry animal. He yanked his arm out of the mailbox clutching whatever it was in his grasp, and dropped it onto the ground. His eyes opened wide as he viewed a bloody mane on the ground. He didn't know what to make out of it for a few seconds, and then it hit him: It was his beloved Delilah's hair. He could see pieces of scalp and flesh attached to some of it. As he knelt down and scooped up her hair, a DVD disc and a piece of paper fell to the ground. He could smell his Lilac, but her usual Saturday-morning sweet Dominican doobie scent was entwined with a strong-smelling sulfur, which was unfamiliar to him.

He picked the paper up off the ground and read it.

1:30 SAME BAT TIME
, SAME BAT CHANNEL OR
YOUR WIFE IS DEAD
.

He walked over to his boys holding on to all that he had left of his wife and stopped in front of Jay.

“These niggas have to pay” Jamaine said solemnly.

“I don't give a fuck about that right now! I need my wife, Jay,” Guy said as he lifted up her hair and showed it to Jamaine, trying to make a point.

Jay stepped up in front of Guy and gave him a strong bear hug. Guy closed his eyes and prayed silently,
God, please. Don't let her be dead.
Guy went into Jamaine's bedroom, put the disc into his player, and pushed play.

Delilah was seated and bound with twine, and her mouth was covered with duct tape. There was thick white lotion from her forehead down to the ends of her hair. Ten tubes of Nair that looked as if they were squeezed empty surrounded her. Some were on her lap and others dropped to the ground as she made attempts to move her bound body around. He watched the effects of the white cream on her hair. As she violently shook her head, globs of her hair started to fall out. He could feel her muffled screams in his heart. Teary-eyed, Guy clicked off the DVD player. He walked out of the room and fell to the ground.

Delilah's body tingled painfully all over. Her head oozed a juicy, pimplelike puss and felt as if it were bubbling over like a boiling stew. She desperately wanted to touch it, but the tightly bound
duct tape restricted her movements. She moaned, shifted, and stretched her neck to the side.

She continued to moan loudly as she wallowed in self-pity.
What is my Guy going to think when he sees my hair?
she thought. “Ahhhhh,” she moaned.
My body is killing me. Dear Lord, please get me out of this
—

“Shut the fuck up with all that moaning, bitch,” Bobby yelled. “Looks like your man doesn't care too much about you after all. He hasn't made that drop yet. I'm going to give him one more chance to come through for you. Why don't you give your hubby a call yourself? If you start yellin’ once I take this tape off of your mouth, I will make sure you never see your husband again.”

Bobby scrolled through Delilah's call list for Guy's cell phone number and laughed when he saw she had his number saved under “My Guy.”

“Your Guy really don't give a fuck about you or he would have had that money in the trunk already. See, if your pretty little ass would have fucked with me in the first place, I would have never had you in this predicament. I would never give niggas a chance to kidnap my piece. But you wanted to play hard to get.”

Even thinking became painful for Delilah as she tried to pull together what was going on.
Does he know me or something? Who the fuck is this?
she thought.

Suddenly she felt a rough pain travel across her face as the duct tape was pulled off without prior warning. It tore off a small piece of skin next to her mouth. Now her mouth chimed in with the agonizing pains in her vagina and the excruciating tingling in her head, making a painful drumming throughout her entire body.

Bobby put the phone to her ear. Her eyes were tightly bound with tape, so she waited in complete darkness to hear her husband's
voice. She could imagine him whispering sweet nothings in her ear and playing with her hair.

“Delilah?” Guy said. His boys hovered around him and watched him talk.

“Yes, baby,” she whispered painfully.

“You're okay? Where are you? Who did this?”

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you t—”

Bobby snatched the phone and yelled into it, “No money, no more honey. You're late. I'm giving you a half hour to get my paper together or your wife is dead.” With that he snapped the phone shut.

“Do I know you?” Delilah asked timidly.

“We've met a couple of times before,” Bobby said as he strapped fresh duct tape to her lips and walked out of the room to answer his own ringing cell phone.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“You got that paper yet?” Teesa whispered.

“Nah. Not yet.”

“Bobby, I am out of here. I am going out of town to get married,” she said in a frightened tone.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, bitch,” Bobby said. “You know you'll be back. But I'm a nigga of my word. As long as I don't get caught for this shit, we are even.”

“Teesa, get out of the fuckin’ bathroom already! I wanted to get an early start on the road,” Trey called from downstairs.

“Bye, Bobby.” Teesa hung up her cell and smiled. She strapped onto her wrists the Chanel bracelet and watch that she had removed from Delilah's jewelry box and smiled.

“That bitch won't need them anymore.” She laughed as she walked down the steps and kissed Trey.

“What's so funny?” he asked.

Teesa produced a sweet smile as she looked at her huge, sparkling engagement ring. “I'm just happy to be with you. I love you, Trey,” she said.

“I love you, too, Teesa,” he replied.

“You like my new watch and bracelet? Delilah picked these out for me last week when we went to the mall.”

D
elilah listened as Bobby's footsteps grew distant and tried to piece her twisted fate together, but she couldn't. She didn't have a clue who had snatched her yesterday, or how she got to where she was now. She didn't have a clue who she had fucked over and over again the previous night, when she felt pleasure only her husband had given her in the past.

If I could only figure out how I got here,
she thought, and huffed in frustration.
I barely remember anything that happened after Teesa left. We drank and talked for a couple of hours, and then I got really sleepy. She got a call and left. The next thing I know I am fuckin some nigga I don't even know. I had to be drugged.

Oh, my dear Lord,
she silently exclaimed after several minutes of thought.

I have something that will help you sleep. I’ll call you in a few to make sure they kicked in.

After that, Delilah started having flashes of rolling around in her bed with the mysterious man. She concentrated and thought back to the wild sex she had had, and she broke down in tears as she pictured his face. She faintly remembered him pulling off her blindfold momentarily so he could stare in her eyes as she gave him head, and once again to place a gun into the barrel of her mouth. In her dark silence she went back three years in her thoughts to the mall and placed the face.