Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 1

Pyro sat parked outside the hospital in heartache over his friend. He sat behind the wheel of his car in total disbelief. It all had to be a bad dream. What the fuck happened? Who did this to his friend and his fiancée? He seethed like never before. And he cried. He was all over the place with emotions. In a few days, they all were supposed to be in Hawaii to witness a beautiful union on the beach. He, his best friend, his fiancée, and Mecca, they were supposed to see glory. And Pyro was looking forward to the wedding and the escape to paradise.

He sat inside the car, deep in thought. He was not able to move. He was not able to go inside the hospital to see his friend. He couldn’t see Mateo in his condition, comatose from a bullet to his head. He strongly felt he should have been there to watch Mateo’s back.

“Fuck!” he cursed. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuuccck!” he screamed madly while repeatedly banging his fist against the dashboard.

What he really wanted to do was take the 9mm Berretta that was by his side and blow someone’s brains out. He wanted to avenge his friend.

Pyro already had his suspicions on who was behind the violent attack. He knew it wasn’t random. It was carefully planned. Mateo and his fiancée had been targeted and stalked.

Mateo had told him that Chanel had invited her sisters, Charlie and Claire, to the apartment a few days before the home invasion. Mateo had always been extra careful who he brought to his home. He deduced that Charlie gave her man the intel he needed to execute the attack. He knew it had to be them.

Pyro sat there inside his Benz until he noticed Charlie’s dirty looking man, God, leaving the hospital lobby. The sight of that nigga enraged him—especially seeing him at the hospital where Mateo and Chanel were. He glared at God with the urge to pick up his gun and march over there and murder that nigga in cold blood. Mateo was a nigga who’d bust his gun if he had to, but Pyro was a nigga who’d bust his gun when he wanted to.

Pyro climbed out of his Benz, wanting to start some shit with God. He continued his hard stare at God. He wanted to make it obvious that he was looking directly at him. And God soon noticed. God looked back at Pyro like, What the fuck you looking at, nigga? Both men exchanged menacing stares, and neither was intimidated by the other.

Pyro kept his eyes fixed on God until he climbed into Fingers’ car and it drove away.

“I’m gonna see you around, nigga. Believe that shit,” Pyro said.

He changed his mind and decided to go into the hospital to visit his friend. He owed Mateo that, to still be by his side no matter what. But he had the seed of revenge planted in his mind and heart. They weren’t going to get away with what they did to Chanel and Mateo.

Chapter Thirty

God slammed the bedroom door behind him and immediately started in on Charlie, shouting, “What the fuck you been telling people?”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about, God?”

“Did you open ya big fuckin’ mouth?”

“No!” she shouted, still baffled as to what was going on.

“You sure, bitch?”

“I’m sure!” she shouted.

“Then why this nigga’s friend was looking at me sideways and shit at the hospital? Like he knew some shit—sneering at me all funny style and whatnot. I don’t like that nigga, and I swear, he gonna get got too. He wanna fuckin’ size me up, I’ll kill that nigga Pyro! I swear, I’ll fuckin’ murder that nigga. I don’t give a fuck, you hear me? I don’t give a fuck!” God ranted in front of Charlie.

“God, just relax and chill. You’re paranoid,” she told him.

God cut his eyes at Charlie with a hard glare and unexpectedly slapped the shit out of her. Charlie spun around and stumbled backwards. The slap caught her off guard. He was becoming more and more violent toward her—utterly disrespectful.

“I ain’t fuckin’ paranoid, bitch,” he barked.

Charlie stood there holding the side of her face in bewilderment. The look in God’s eyes was demonic.

God seethed and stormed out of the bedroom. He refused to sleep there that night.

Charlie soaked up the wound. It wasn’t the slap that hurt her physically, but mentally, she felt everything was falling apart. Going after her sister and her man, was it a bad sign? Was this an omen? Controlled by greed and jealousy, she couldn’t tolerate Chanel having a bigger and a better life than her. So, she did what she knew best—steal and have people killed.

But she didn’t want this to be their downfall. No way. Charlie wasn’t about to be beaten by her little sister. She needed to do something before the situation grew out of control and came barreling down on her like a runaway locomotive and destroyed everything in its way.

***

Bacardi wiped away the few tears that trickled down her face. She didn’t know exactly what it was, but seeing Chanel’s condition and knowing she had been brutally raped and her virginity had been violently taken from her, it did something to Bacardi. Her youngest daughter was truly innocent and pure. The only thing she wanted from everyone was to be loved.

Bacardi knew that she was eighteen years too late to become a mother to Chanel now, but she wanted to try. The grudge she held against her daughter because of a broken heart wasn’t fair.

Chanel suffered some trauma and the tragedy affected her heavily. Being raped and seeing your fiancé shot was too much of a nightmare for anyone to endure. Bacardi could only imagine what that girl was going through right now. The doctors informed Bacardi that her daughter would most likely need some counseling.