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  Chapter Eleven

  Miamor

  “What are we going to do?” Anisa asked as she paced back and forth and stared at Murder’s arrest on the TV.

  “I don’t know,” I replied, clueless.

  The police had Murder in handcuffs, and had confiscated the money he had on him; all the money he had to his name. His head hung low, and he tried to avoid the flash of the media cameras.

  My stomach was doing somersaults as I watched in disbelief, and my foot tapped anxiously against the floor. I was pissed at Anisa, but I would never tell her. If she had not gone off on her ridiculous tangent, then none of this would have ever happened. No words needed to be spoken to establish guilt. We were both there, we knew how it had gone down, and she knew that it was her fault. In a zombie like state I walked past her. I was still covered in blood and needed to take a shower.

  The eyes of the man that I had killed haunted me. I put the soiled clothing in a plastic bag and stepped under the hot stream of water. It was almost too hot to bear, but I needed it to cleanse myself. I was desperate for the shower to wash away the sins that I had committed that night. The blood ran down my body and turned pink as it swirled down the drain.

  Why did this have to happen? I asked myself as my tears kicked in. I cried silently for all that I had lost. After everything that I had been through when I came out of lockup, my life finally felt normal. I had felt like I found a family in Murder and Anisa, but my disillusioned view of safety had come crashing down around me the moment I pulled my second trigger. Two lives had gone extinct behind my actions, and although I would never regret killing Perry, my second murder was weighing heavily on my heart. It was then that I realized I was not normal. I never had been, and after tonight, I never would be.

  Scrubbing my skin until it was raw, I washed my body until the water ran cold. I was grateful for the film of steam that covered the bathroom mirror. I wasn’t ready to face myself. I didn’t want to look into my eyes, because I was sure that I would not recognize the girl who stared back at me.

  Knock! Knock!

  “Miamor, are you okay?” Anisa called through the door.

  My hands shook as I picked up the plastic bag filled with my blood-soaked clothes, and I opened the door to let her in. “I’m fine,” I answered. “I need to take these clothes to the incinerator.”

  She took my hand, reminding me of how she used to take care of me when we were little, then led me out of the apartment. We entered the room where the incinerator was and I tossed the bag inside. Anisa rubbed my hair and put her arms around me as we both watched it burn.

  “Everything is going to be okay, Miamor. We have to move on, and you have to forget that tonight ever happened,” Anisa said.

  I looked at her with a blank expression. “What about Murder?”

  Anisa didn’t look at me. Instead, she stared into the fire. “Murder knew the risks of the game he was playing. I knew one day something would go down and he wouldn’t come home. Today is that day.”

  I wanted to tell her that today would not have been “the day” if it hadn’t been for her, but I had to take responsibility in the situation too, because I could have stopped it. “We have to help him get out of this, Nis,” I protested.

  “There is no getting out of this, Miamor. He got caught. I’m not going to risk you going away again. I can let him go, but I will never forgive myself if I have to see them take you away again. Murder is gone . . . it is what it is,” she said coldly.

  * * *

  Murder ended up taking a plea. He got five to seven years on a weapons and tax evasion charge. They couldn’t connect the body to him, because I had disposed of the gun, so that case went unsolved. I wanted to visit Murder, but Anisa thought it was best if we cut our ties and start fresh. Living life without Murder was easier said than done, however. Gone were the days of shopping sprees and lounging. Without him bringing in the paper, things got real tight for us. Anisa and I used up the money we’d gotten for her car in a matter of a couple months. Rent, groceries and bills ate that cash up quick. Murder’s absence was felt almost immediately, because we realized all that he did for us, and now that he was gone. The ringing of the house phone was our only reminder that he was ever really there. We resulted to petty hustles; boosting clothes and petty credit card schemes just to get by, but still at the end of the month, dollars was short and we were on the verge of being thrown out on our asses.

  “I’m not for being broke,” Anisa stated seriously. “You might have to sell your car, Miamor.”

  I raised my eyebrows and looked at her like she was crazy. “Bitch, I’m not selling my whip. I’ll sell some ass before I get rid of my car,” I said adamantly.

  Anisa burst into laughter as the ringing of the phone interrupted our conversation. “Well, we are going to have to think of something, because rent is due in a few days,” she reminded me, the stress written all over her face.

  The phone stopped ringing, and we sat in silence as we each searched for resolutions to our problems, but it wasn’t long before it started again blaring in our ears.

  “Fuck! I can’t even think from that mu’fucka ringing all the damn time!” Anisa shouted.

  “Why don’t they just stop calling? I know they saw Murder’s arrest in the papers and shit,” I replied.

  Anisa shook her head. “Nobody knew who Murder really was. To the rest of the world, he’s just another nigga lost to the system. I’m the only person who knew about what he did. To everybody else, he was just a voice on the phone.”

  “How’d he collect his money?” I asked curiously.

  “They’d wire the money to a Cayman account. Half up front, half after the job is done. Murder didn’t trust anybody though. He always cleared the account after every job and stashed his dough in the safe.”

  Ring! Ring!

  “Do you have access to the account?” I asked curiously.

  “I had access to all of Murder’s money, whether he knew it or not,” Anisa smirked.

  I shook my head and smirked. “Yo’ slick ass!” I commented.

  Ring! Ring!

  My mind was spinning. My pockets were on empty and I was in desperate need of a dollar. My sister and I were three days off of being put out in the street. “Why don’t we just answer it?” I asked.

  “What?” Anisa said skeptically. She lowered her voice to a whisper as if we weren’t in the apartment alone. “Miamor, I told you what type of business Murder was into . . .” Anisa said, but she stopped mid-sentence when she saw the look on my face. “Miamor, what the fuck are you thinking?” she asked, reading my mind.

  “I’m just saying; we need money, and there is cash money on the other end of that receiver. All we got to do is pick it up,” I said unsurely as I stood up and walked over to the phone.

  Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!

  Anisa and I stared intensely at one another. We both knew that once I answered that line, there would be no turning back. She looked back at the table full of bills and then up at me. She nodded her head, and I lifted the phone to my ear. It was the day we accepted our first job, and the day the Murder Mamas was born.

  Chapter Twelve

  Miamor

  Benjamin Wilkes aka Benny Dough was our first hit. I could never forget his name, because he was getting paper, and being flashy was what he lived to do. All of Brooklyn knew who he was. A big time party promoter in the city, he wasn’t hard to find. We couldn’t have asked for an easier mark. Like clockwork, on Sunday nights he frequented Tenders, a local strip joint. It was ballers’ night, which attracted all the get-money niggas in the ’hood.

  Anisa and I came out shining that night, whipping my Benz up to the club’s valet as if we belonged amongst the ’hood’s rich and infamous list. Rocking Gucci, diamonds, and Prada, to the naked eye we fit right in with Brooklyn’s elite, but we knew the deal. We were fronting and dead broke, but we were about to put in work. Legs greased, body right, and hair and makeup on point, we slid into the club. W
eed smoke was in the air and liquor flowed freely as we found a booth in the corner of the room. The small burner I had purchased from Murder’s gun connect was underneath my dress, strapped to my inner thigh. We didn’t have time to purchase another one, so we rolled with a single pistol, figuring that it would be all the muscle we would need to take care of the job.

  Benny Dough was in the VIP section, popping bottles as he and his entourage made the club rain. They were being entertained by three strippers, and even I had to admit that they were some bad bitches. They each looked like they had been ripped straight from the pages of King Magazine. They were the type of bitches that regular chicks loved to hate, and they had his full attention as they danced seductively in front of him.

  “We might have some competition,” Anisa whispered in my ear.

  I shook my head. “We’re not trying to juice the nigga’s pockets. We’re here for a completely different reason. He’s drunk, and they are the perfect distraction. Let them do what they do, and we’ll do what we do,” I replied. “Let’s go to the bar. We can see better from over there.”

  Anisa and I made our way through the darkened club. Our hips commanding the attention of the patrons, the two of us together gained more interest than some of the dancers, but we kept it pushing. It was our first job, and neither of us wanted to fuck it up. Fifty thousand dollars was at stake, and we were about nothing but our paper that night.

  “Can I get an apple martini?” I asked the bartender. I never took a sip from the drink, but I held it for good measure. I didn’t want to be the only person at the bar without a glass in my hand. I wanted to blend in while I discreetly watched every move that Benny made. I watched Anisa kill her drink, and I could see that she was nervous, but the liquid courage she’d just consumed would be more than enough to get her through the night. We both prayed that everything went perfectly. We were a far cry from the seasoned killer that Murder was, but we were stepping into his shoes. I crossed my fingers and hoped that things played out right.

  I was so focused that I didn’t even notice the dude that had slid into the seat next to me. He turned the swivel stool I was sitting in around so that I was facing him. I frowned, and was about to say something until he leaned into my ear.

  “You and yo’ girl about to rob that nigga or something?” he asked.

  His question caught me completely off guard, and my heartbeat began to speed up. Are we that obvious? I thought as I gave him the evil eye and stood to leave.

  Dude grabbed my arm gently and pulled me near him. “I respect your hustle, ma. It’s sexy as long as I don’t come into your crosshairs, nah mean?” his BK accent was strong, and his Usher cologne invaded my space while his dark bedroom eyes scanned me from head to toe.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I responded shortly as I titled my head to the side and looked up at him. He smiled; I didn’t.

  Any other day I might have listened to what he was kicking. The presidential on his wrist indicated that he was worth my time, but I wasn’t there for all that. I really wished the nigga would get out of my space so that I could re-focus, but he wasn’t moving. I looked over at Anisa, who was still on point. Benny Dough had never left her eyesight. I turned back around to the man in front of me. “Did you want something?” I asked him.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Nigga, what’s your name?” I countered.

  He laughed and rubbed the hairs of his full beard. “Joell,” he responded. “I own this club.”

  I clapped my hands sarcastically and said, “Congratulations! That must impress a lot of women.” I rolled my eyes, hoping that the nigga would take a hint and get lost, but again, he didn’t.

  “I just thought I’d tip your hand a little bit and let you know that all eyes are on you. You walk into my strip joint looking good, smelling good . . . got these niggas watching you more than they watching my dancers, but you got your sights on one nigga. He looks like a mark to me. Somebody like you shouldn’t have to rob and steal to eat, Ms. Lady. You could be very well taken care of,” he said.

  “I’m not putting on no show, and I don’t know nothing about all that you talking. We’re just here for the entertainment,” I replied without looking at him. My eyes found Benny Dough, and noticed that he was preparing to leave. He wasn’t sloppy drunk, but I could tell that he was tipsy. I nudged Anisa and grabbed my clutch. “It was nice to meet you, Joell. You have a good evening,” I said with a curt smile.

  He leaned back against the bar and watched me walk away. I put an extra switch in my hips just to show him something that he would never get, and walked right past Benny Dough out of the club.

  As soon as Anisa and I claimed our car from valet parking, we changed clothes inside, removed our makeup and put on jeans and sneakers. Arab scarves were tied around our necks. We waited patiently, and minutes later, Benny Dough came out of the club with the stripper chicks and two other men following behind him. We were silent and breathing hard in anticipation as we followed him and his entourage to a cheap motel. They were two cars deep, so we made sure that we didn’t tail them too closely. The last thing we needed was for them to get suspicious.

  “There are six of them and two of us. You know all of them niggas is strapped. How are we gon’ pull this off now?” Anisa asked.

  “We wait,” I said. I wasn’t exactly sure how we would pull it off either. We were outnumbered and outgunned, but we really didn’t have a choice. We were already paid half up front. We had to come through on our end, so it was all or nothing. We watched the room for a half an hour, and suddenly the door opened. One of the guys came out. Anisa went to get out of the car.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered harshly as she got out and waved the dude over.

  “Hey! I’m sorry to bother you,” she said as she walked toward the guy. “Me and my girl are having some car trouble. It won’t start. Can you help us please?” she asked.

  This was not a part of the plan, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. What is she doing? Now this nigga done seen her face and everything! I thought heatedly.

  The nigga was a sucker for a pretty face, because he came right over without question and tapped the front of the car. “Open the hood,” he instructed. I did as I was told and then hit the release button for the trunk as well. I saw him lean over to check out the engine, so I grabbed the gun, and got out of the car.

  “Show me your hands,” I said as I raised the gun to his head. Surprise swept over his face and he opened his mouth to speak. “If you want to live to see tomorrow, then you’ll shut the fuck up,” I said calmly. The look on his face told me that he was fuming. “Yeah, you fell for the okey doke,” I commented, further pissing him off.

  Anisa reached into his waistline and relieved him of his cell phone, the hotel room key, and a black .45. “Thank you,” she sang as she released the safety and cocked it back.

  With steel pressed to both sides of his head, the dude became much more humble. “I got a daughter, man!” he pleaded. “I don’t know what y’all bitches want, but you can have it. My whip, money, whatever.”

  We didn’t respond, but we took that nigga for a walk to the back of the car. I lifted the trunk. We were moving in sync as if we had been doing this for years. She was the Thelma to my Louise. “Get in,” Anisa ordered.

  The dude reluctantly climbed inside, and we closed the trunk. After making sure that he was locked inside, I turned to her with big eyes and whispered, “What the fuck was that, Nis? You’ve got to warn me before you make a play like that! The nigga saw our faces and everything,” I fussed.

  “So, we’ll pop his ass so that he ain’t telling nothing,” she responded as she pulled her scarf over her face. I did the same. The only thing that could be seen was our hair and our eyes as we made our way to the door. I put my finger to my lips and then put my ear to the door. The sounds of music could be heard.

  Anisa inserted the key slowly, and when the locked released, I rushed in
side. “Everybody on the floor! If I have to say it more than once, I’ma leave you stinkin’ in this bitch!” I yelled as Anisa and I pointed our guns around the room.

  “What the fuck? Do you bitches know who the fuck you’re fucking with?” one of the guys asked.

  Boom!

  He fell dead where he stood. I was surprised that Anisa had shot him, but I didn’t show it. I barely even flinched, because I knew in order to stay in control, I’d have to keep my composure. “Now, does anybody else have any more questions?” I asked. “Sit on your hands!” I demanded.

  “There’s a nigga—” one of the girls began to speak, but I smacked the shit out of her with the gun.

  “Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” I asked. I could see the larceny in her eyes, but I didn’t come there for her, so I kept it moving.

  We took the zip ties out of our pockets and began to bind everybody by their hands and feet, but before we could get to the last girl, a nigga came bursting out of the bathroom. He rushed me and at the exact same moment Benny Dough tackled Anisa.

  Boom! Boom!

  I heard two gunshots go off, and then heard Anisa groaning as I struggled against the dude as we both tried to get a good hold on the gun. He was using his weight as an advantage and had me pinned to the floor, but I was holding on to the gun for dear life. I couldn’t get to the trigger. He smacked fire from my ass, causing the entire right side of my face to burn and stars to appear before my eyes. I knew it was over when I found myself looking down the barrel of the gun.

  “Yeah, bitch! Where’s all that mouth now?” he asked.

  I closed my eyes and prepared for the worst. I didn’t want to see the bullets that ended my life. I inhaled deeply, gulping in the last bit of air that my lungs would ever taste.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The gunshots deafened my ears, but when I didn’t feel any pain, I opened my eyes. I scrambled backwards until my back hit the wall as I watched the dude fall to his knees as three bloodstains began to spread through the front of his shirt. I expected to see Anisa holding the smoking gun, but instead, one of the strippers had shot him.