The Versace League (11 page)

   
             
  "This hoe gonna make me shoot this muthafucka up. Fuck she got to hide?" Yamin blew out a ragged breath and placed both hands on his hips. He stared down at the ground for a few seconds before he reached for his pistol.

   
             
   "Hold up Ya, let me do it mane," Manny pulled his nine off his side and cocked it back. He was ready for some action, any kind of action. Ever since the day them niggas came through shooting up Yamin's house he'd been itching to get at somebody. He didn't have any problems that he knew of with Patrice, but if boss man had a problem with her she could definitely get it.

        Just as Manny pointed the pistol at the door knob, they could hear the locks clinking in the background.

The door came open and Patrice stuck her head outside. She excessively blinked her eyes and let out an exaggerated yawn. Rolling her eyes, she looked at Manny and then at Yamin. The look on their faces said a lot, but she didn’t comprehend what called for a visit at this time of night. She had done all she could to avoid them and have them go away but when she heard the two of them talking about shooting her place up, she couldn’t allow that to happen.

The neighborhood she lived in wasn’t one that everyday people were welcome in. The minimum price on an apartment started at $1,500, so you had to have money in order to live here. She didn’t want to take the chance of being kicked out and figured opening the door and pretending she had been sleep was the best idea.

             
“What the hell are y’all doing? Are you trying to get me kicked out Yamin?” Patrice asked.

             
“I don’t give a fuck about you getting kicked out. I need to come in and talk to you,” Yamin answered and tried to look over her head, but was unable to see anything.

             
“What do you need to talk about? I don’t have any clothes on. Can y’all come back in the morning please?” Patrice suggested.

             
Yamin wrinkled his forehead and without saying a word, he pushed his way inside knocking Patrice backwards where she stumbled and fell to the floor. She was only wearing a huge oversized button up shirt that flew open once she fell. Her breast flopped out of the shirt and her underwear was visible. She huffed and climbed to her feet. She couldn’t believe that Yamin had pushed his way inside. Why was he always so angry with her? She just didn’t get it. He’d always been that way with her even before Cortez found out she had been stealing. She would always brush it off because as long as Cortez loved her it didn’t matter. Now she didn’t know how to feel.

             
“What was going on with you and Cortez? Did you have my youngn’ killed?” Yamin asked flat out.

             
“What the hell? No, you need to go and question that bitch Donica. I loved Cort and I would have never done anything to him!” Patrice yelled, her accent deep and full of emotion.

             
“No, stop with the accusations Trice! We all know you was stealing Cort’s money! He told me and Aasir about it and I saw you was still doing the shit right before he died!”

             
“Yea so-but I promised him that I would pay him back. We were over that! I didn’t have him killed! Who does that?”

             
“But you know something about it though right?”

             
“No! I don’t know anything. We were good.”

             
“So, why is all of your stuff gone from Cort’s place?”

             
“Because of the money issues,” Patrice sighed. “He felt that it was best that he visited me at my place for now on. He said that he could no longer trust me and I understood that. I moved my stuff out over a month before he died, but I was working hard to gain his trust back. I loved Cort and nothing would’ve changed that.” Patrice wiped the flow of tears that slid from her face and took in a deep breath.

             
Yamin didn’t know what to believe. Patrice was grimy and nothing but a gold digger to him, but he wasn’t sure if that made her a killer. He brought his hands up to his face and let out a deep breath feeling like he was a chicken with its head cut off. He didn’t know what was what anymore and was completely turned off by his inabilities to get it together. He’d never been this far off his square and he didn’t like it one bit. The Versace League was one of the strongest entities in the world, yet he couldn’t find his niece or his brother’s killer. That spoke volumes.

Although he could feel that the perpetrator was right under his nose, he couldn’t even tell his left from his right. At the moment, he believed Patrice was trying to pull a wool over his eyes, but in the next he wondered if Donica had pulled a scorned woman’s move. Had his brother been killed over some fatal attraction bullshit or was some niggas out there really trying to test his gangsta?

             
Yamin pulled his phone from his belt clip and scrolled through his messages. He needed some fucking help to try and figure this shit out. His brother Aasir still hadn’t responded to his text message and he was starting to worry. He almost didn’t want his siblings out of his sight in fear that he would lose one of them.

             
“A’ight Trice. I’m a get up with you later. I’m a get to the bottom of this shit, best believe I ain’t playing. Don’t fuck around and be on the end of this shit when it’s all said and done. You won’t want to feel my wrath,” Yamin said and pressed down on Aasir’s name. He placed the phone to his ear and he and Manny turned to walk toward the door.

I got money habits, I got money habits. Every time I see some money, yeah I gotta grab it. I got money habits.
The Gucci Mane tone resonated throughout the apartment causing Yamin to freeze just as he reached for the handle of the door. He wrinkled his brow in confusion once the ringtone stopped and his brother’s voicemail played in his ear. He knew that tone. He knew that his brother loved him some Gucci Mane and thought that he was the best rapper alive.

             
Yamin turned around and pulled the phone away from his ear. He pressed down on his brother’s name again and the phone displayed a screen that said AASIR CALLING MOBILE…. and he watched as Patrice began to slowly crumble right before him. The Gucci Mane ring tone chimed once again, but quickly shut off with the voice mail instantly picking up.

Yamin handed his phone to Manny and rushed to the back of Patrice’s apartment, causing the walls to rumble as he moved. He pushed the bedroom door opened and there on the floor, shirtless with his phone in his hand was Aasir. Aasir stood to his feet, but didn’t move. He was busted.

             
Yamin felt a ton of emotion running through him.
Was this why Patrice moved out? Did Cortez know that Patrice was sleeping with their brother? Had Aasir known that Patrice was stealing from Cortez, before Cortez ever mentioned it? Did they plan to get rid of Cortez so they could be together and live happily ever after?
Every thought was coming at him so fast that he just couldn’t rationalize any of them. He and Aasir stared at each other for a few moments, but neither of them said a word. The amount of betrayal Yamin was experiencing was brutal. It wasn’t even his woman that Aasir was screwing, but it was like he felt the pain for his baby brother Cortez. He could only wonder if this is how Cortez had been feeling before he died.

             
Did he die thinking that the people closest to him was a bunch of grimy ass snakes?
Yamin thought as the reality of it caused him to heave. He was heated as he charged at his brother Aasir and knocked him to the floor. He pounded his fist into him over and over again. Aasir didn’t fight back. He knew that he was in the wrong, but Yamin couldn’t understand his reasoning.

             
“Oh my God Manny! Do something!” Patrice yelled from the doorway.

             
“I’m not getting into that shit. You break it up, it’s your mess,” Manny suggested. He placed his pistol on his hip and then pulled out a cigarette. He would watch and make sure the two of them wouldn’t kill each other, but this was a sibling rivalry that needed to work itself out. He fired up his square and leaned against the wall, watching his boss throw violent haymakers at his good friend.

             
Yamin pounded and pounded on Aasir until he was out of breath. He needed that so badly. He had so much built up frustration, that it felt good to finally get some of it out. Unfortunately for him, it had to be someone that he loved that felt the repercussion. He stood to his feet and stepped back, away from Aasir, watching as he gasped for air. A huge chunk of blood flew out of his mouth and landed on the cream colored carpet.

             
“The fuck Aasir? When did we start doing shit like this?” Yamin asked once he caught his breath. Aasir only coughed and attempted to sit up from the floor. He was dizzy and his face felt like he’d been hit with a ton of bricks. “Man, what the fuck is going on? Cort dead & Ashley missing! You up in here sleeping with the damn enemy? What the fuck bruh?”

             
Patrice bolted in front of Yamin as he pulled his pistol from his waistband and cocked it back. This had gone too far and she didn’t want to be the cause of a mistake. Yamin shooting Aasir would only be a mistake that he would come to regret in the morning.

             
“Aye, boss man. Chill out!” Manny placed his hand on Yamin’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Ya! Come on, let’s calm down and revisit this shit another time.”

             
Yamin listened to Manny and his pulse rate slowed down just a little. He felt so blinded and dismayed by his brother’s actions and he had never been so disappointed in him. He put the gun away and stepped backward. He felt so defeated as he held his head down and exited the bedroom. On his way toward the front door, he spotted two shot glasses sitting on Patrice’s coffee table; one had a pink coating of lip gloss around the top. Quickly, he moved into the living room and picked the glass up using the bottom of his shirt. Cortez had been looking into Patrice for a reason and he needed to find out why. He and Manny left there and headed straight for Katrina’s.

SECRET IDENTITY

Katrina sat behind her desk with a flow of tears streaming from her eyes. She was so overwhelmed and frustrated with the feelings that coursed through her body. Last night, Yamin came through and she hoped that he would go into their convo from earlier that day.

She’d wanted to know why he felt that she was unable to think for herself. She was more than a free thinker, but she loved for her man to have control. She loved a man with boss attributes and nothing turned her on more than a man that set his standards and made his own moves. That was why she was so attracted to Yamin, he was a boss in every aspect of life. Somehow he’d taken her wanting that in a man the wrong way and she needed to explain herself, but when Yamin came he wasn’t trying to hear anything. He seemed so agitated and deep into his feelings that she was scared to even speak to him.

             
“I need to know who this bitch is, Katrina. Do whatever you can to find out what you can about her. I know I seen a mugshot on Cort’s computer,” Yamin told her as he handed her a shot glass.

             
She remembered how hard her heart pounded against her ribs when he handed her that glass. She knew how bad he needed to get his niece back and to find Cortez’s killer. It was important to her that she assisted him in some kind of way. The Bureau had done what they could to find little Ashley, but at this point they were no longer considering her as just a missing person. They’d followed all leads, checked with all family members and verified all alibis. They’d even checked with all the sex offenders that had lived within a 20-mile radius of Donica’s home. They just weren’t coming up with anything and at this point it was safe to say that she was most likely dead.

In most kidnapping cases, after 48 hours, it was unlikely that a missing child would still be alive. She hated to tell Yamin this, but eventually she would have to inform him on why their efforts had died down.

             
Katrina broke out of her trance when she heard the bell sound from her computer signifying that she had a new email. It was around 7:15 in the evening and she’d been sitting around her office patiently waiting on the fingerprint analysis that she’d sent off earlier that morning to come back. They were understaffed and sadly it had taken all day for them to process a simple set of fingerprints.

             
She pulled her chair closely behind her desk and grabbed a Kleenex, dabbing at the watery pain that lined her face. She took the mouse and opened up the latest email that had been forwarded to her. It was from the lab. They’d sent the results of the prints and gotten a hit. Katrina was surprised being that Yamin told her that nothing had been found on a previous background check.

             
Double clicking on the link in the email, Katrina watched as another window popped up on the screen. She was in pure shock as a gritty picture of Patrice appeared before her. She didn’t know this girl at all. Her hair was a nappy mess and she actually looked more like a black girl than the half-breed doll that Katrina remembered when they’d questioned her.