Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 1

“Fuck his racist ass!” chimed Bacardi.

Claire was the only one who didn’t celebrate the cop’s death. “We need to think undoubtedly about this and not look too inept and assertive, y’all. It’s gonna get crazy. Let’s not gloat too much right now,” she proclaimed, trying to start with her articulate talk.

Bacardi cut her eyes at her daughter and shouted, “Claire, shut the fuck up! I’m not in the mood to hear any of your reasoning. That muthafucka got what he deserved.”

“I’m just sayin’—”

God quickly interrupted them, glancing through his rearview mirror. “Yo, I think we’re being followed.”

The girls all turned around to look out the back window to see a black Crown Vic behind them.

“Shit!” God muttered.

“You clean, right?” asked Charlie.

“Yeah! I ain’t no fuckin’ fool. I knew these muthafuckas was gonna be on us,” he said. “Y’all got ya seatbelts on, right?”

They did.

“Is this car clean?” Bacardi asked him.

“Yeah. We good.”

As they predicted, the police lights started to flash behind them, and a loud whoop-whoop blared from the Crown Vic, indicating for them to pull the vehicle over and stop.

“Here we go wit’ this bullshit,” God griped.

He slowly pulled the Ford to the side of the road and put it in park but kept the engine on. Not to take any chances, everyone inside the car placed their hands outside the window. Claire, thinking quickly, made sure God turned on his cell phone to record the entire incident. He left the phone hidden in the seat.

Two Caucasian plainclothes detectives climbed out of the Vic and cautiously approached the Ford. They flanked the car on both sides, with their hands on their holstered weapons.

“Turn off the car!” said the detective by the driver’s side.

God did so slowly. “What’s the problem, officer? Why did you pull us over?”

“We ask the questions, you understand? License and registration.”

Both detectives looked inside the vehicle, fixing their eyes on the three females who’d just left lockup. Everyone inside the car remained silent.

God handed them the information they requested and said, “This is a friend’s car.”

“Everyone slowly step out of the vehicle, and do so calmly,” the detective demanded.

“Seriously?” Charlie protested.

“You wanna make this difficult?” said the detective on the passenger side.

Both of them were ready to be assholes and exercise their authority to the fullest. Not having a choice, all four occupants slowly climbed out of the car and were forced to stand by the trunk. One detective started to thoroughly search the vehicle while his partner did an impromptu interrogation in public.

“Godfrey Williams, huh?” he stated while looking at God’s identification.

God stood there deadpan. He didn’t respond. What he wanted to do was kill that pig right where he stood, but it would be suicide.

“Where are y’all coming from?” asked the detective.

God frowned. “You know where we’re coming from.”

“Don’t get cute, Godfrey. I can make this a good stop or a bad stop for you. Your choice.”