Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 1

“What I said, nigga!”

Fingers wanted to go to blows with God, but he decided against it. Never had they raped anyone, and the last person God should have raped was Chanel, his girlfriend’s virgin sister. So why couldn’t he get a turn? Everyone noticed how beautiful, sweet, and pure Chanel was. And Fingers never fucked a good girl virgin before. And why hadn’t Mateo fucked her yet? There were so many questions, but he didn’t care for the answers. It was time to get down to business.

Meanwhile, Mateo was tucked in the corner nearby, still bound with duct tape and powerless to aid the woman he loved. He was completely destroyed and devastated, especially after overhearing the two goons’ conversation. He knew what they had done to his fiancée—the horrors Chanel had endured. He cried and cried, suffering greatly.

God walked over to the grief-stricken man and placed a pillow over his head to muffle the sound of the gunshot. He didn’t hesitate to squeeze the trigger and put a bullet into Mateo’s head.

Poot!

Mateo’s body fell over, and from the bedroom, a terrified Chanel heard the muffled gunshot and she knew her fiancé’s fate. She figured they were coming to kill her next.

However, God and Fingers picked up their blood money and the loot they’d picked from the place and made their exit, leaving behind a nightmare of a scene.

Chanel heard the door slam. She assumed the masked men had left. Still shaken-up and terrified from being assaulted and raped, and not knowing what she was going to find in the next room, she mustered the strength to remove the duct tape from her mouth and hurried to call the police and help for Mateo. She raced from the bedroom and into the living room and her worst nightmare became reality. She saw Mateo sprawled across the hardwood floor motionless. He had been shot in the head and his blood was pooling thickly on the floor.

She rushed to apply pressure to his critical head wound and tried to comfort him with loving words. She clutched his limp body in her arms and begged Mateo to fight for his life. She cried as she tried to be strong for him.

“C’mon, baby, don’t do this to me. Please don’t leave me. Please, Mateo, please. I love you too much to lose you now. I can’t live without you,” she cried out.

Chanel couldn’t believe it. She was supposed to get married in four days, but now it looked like she would be planning a funeral instead.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was two in the morning when Bacardi’s cell phone rang and rang. Lying next to Butch in the dark bedroom, Bacardi didn’t want to move at all to answer her phone. She was a bit tipsy from drinking earlier. The only thing she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep—become catatonic to the world. But her ringing cell phone wouldn’t allow that. It became infuriating.

Finally, she removed herself from the bed and angrily snatched the phone from the night stand beside her. Whoever was calling her this late was about to get a tongue lashing and a curse-out so strong that it would leave marks through the phone.

“Who the fuck is this calling me so got-damn late?”

She heard Chanel’s voice roar with tragedy from the other end. Her daughter screamed frantically into the phone, “I think he’s dead! Ohmygod, I think they killed him!”

Chanel’s unexpected devastation now had Bacardi fully awake and worried. “Chanel, what the fuck is goin’ on?”

“They shot Mateo!”

“What? Who shot Mateo? What the fuck happened?”

Chanel was mostly incoherent and upset. Bacardi could barely make out what Chanel was saying to her. She heard her repeat that Mateo had been shot.

“Chanel, calm down . . .just calm down and talk to me,” Bacardi said.

But it was hard for Chanel to calm down. She had just gone through a terrifying ordeal. She was scared, angry, and filled with so many emotions that she couldn’t think straight. She didn’t know what to do.

“Chanel, what’s goin’ on? Fuckin’ talk to me. What happened to Mateo? Who fuckin’ shot him?” Bacardi wanted to know.

“They . . . they . . .”

“Chanel, where are you right now?”

“I’m . . . I’m at the hospital . . . in the Bronx.”

“What hospital?”

“Umm, I think . . . I think Jacobi,” she stammered.

“We’ll be right there,” Bacardi uttered with rush in her tone.

Bacardi woke up Butch and then she informed Claire that something was going on with Chanel. It was a new day for them, and although they had their differences with Chanel, she was still one of their own, and Mateo had been nice to them. Chanel had now become their golden child.