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
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. Weed 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.