“What the fuck is goin’ on?” Papa John said.
“We can’t let this shake us up,” The Kid said.
“Nigga, he blew up a fuckin’ project building! What kind of crazy shit is that?”
The Kid sighed. Yeah, what kind of crazy shit was that? They had never seen anything like this. Muthafuckas were really crazy. Even Kip wouldn’t have been ready for this shit.
Devon had no words. There was some trepidation inside of him, too, but the anger he felt was even stronger. He gripped the .50 cal tighter while seated behind the steering wheel. He kept his eyes fixed on the entrance to the courtroom. Today’s date would be etched on Jessica’s tombstone!
***
Jessica came trudging out of Central Booking at a little after ten that morning. The sun was bright and the day warm, but her mood was dreary. It had been a long morning, and she looked like hell. Her dress was gone, replaced by the atrocious set of prison scrubs, and she still had on her high heels. Everything about her was unmatched and a mess. She had broken a few nails, her hair felt dirty, and she had the stench of jail all over her.
Standing at the top of the long court stairs, Jessica looked around cautiously. No Maserati Meek—nobody was there to greet her. Her cousin Jalissa hadn’t relayed the message to her man. She’d thought she could trust her, but it was obvious that Jessica was on her own. No Meek—also, no Kid, she assumed. So far no trouble. The area was busy with people and traffic.
The first thing she thought about was going home, then yearning to see Meek. She had no idea what had happened just a few hours ago—that there was no more home for her. Her entire family was dead.
With her cell phone in hand, she jogged down the stairs and stopped on the sidewalk. She looked at her phone and cursed. “Fuck!” It went dead. She had no way of contacting anyone. What a mess. What to do? she thought. It was a long way back to Harlem from downtown. She had little cash on her. Pay phone, yes—a pay phone would help her out. Although they were obsolete in the age of the cell phone, Jessica was sure she could find at least one still around. She started to walk and looked around for the nearest one.
Following her from a distance and trying to fight the morning traffic were The Kid and his crew. They watched Jessica’s every move, including her cursing her dead phone.
“Follow that bitch,” The Kid said.
“Not a problem,” Devon said.
Jessica stood out from the downtown crowd in her prison scrubs and high heels. She received fleeting looks and probing gazes while roaming with the white-collared pedestrians in the downtown district. Despite her rough-looking appearance, her strut was still fierce. Muthafuckas could look at her any way they wanted, but she knew that with one phone call, her world would be back right—girl on top loving a boss nigga.
Devon rode at a snail’s pace three cars back as he rounded the corner toward Jessica. They couldn’t snatch that bitch right in front of the court building; there were too many witnesses around and not much room for an escape. They had to wait unti
l the perfect moment presented itself. With the morning crowd everywhere, the right moment was looking almost impossible. But they were determined. If they lost sight of her and let her get away, then there was no telling the ripple effect that could come.
The waiting was the difficult and nervous part. She walked two blocks, then three—and finally, she turned left from the busy street onto a side street. Beekman Street was a narrow block, a one-way with few people and little traffic. Jessica fumbled with her cell phone a bit and looked around for a pay phone and became unaware of her surroundings. A bad mistake. She continued to walk while cursing her situation while Devon slowed the van down almost to a crawl, riding parallel to the curb.
Papa John slowly slid the door back with his eyes on the prize. The foot traffic was sparse, and it gave him a window of opportunity. When they were close to her, Papa John leaped out from the back and grabbed her from behind. His hand covered her mouth to prevent her from screaming for help. There was a struggle. Jessica wasn’t going down without a fight. She elbowed Papa John in his stomach. It was a hard enough blow for him to loosen his grip around her. She attempted to run, but Papa John maintained his hold on her.
“Get the fuck off me! Help! Help!”
He grabbed her in a chokehold. She resisted by biting his flesh and squirming madly while in his clutches. She was feisty. The Kid had to intervene. He leaped from the van and smashed the butt of his pistol against her head. The blow hard enough to make her dizzy and her knees buckle. They quickly dragged her into the van and closed the door. Finally, they had that bitch in their possession again.
“Drive, nigga!” The Kid instructed Devon.
Devon drove away as quickly as he could, but downtown Manhattan wasn’t the perfect place to execute the Indy 500. The blocks were inundated with traffic, construction, and people walking. He did the best he could, at the same time trying to remain inconspicuous. Jessica was on the floor of the van in pain with blood on the side of her forehead. Her blurry vision was coming back. The Kid held her hostage at gunpoint. He smirked when she looked up at him.
“Your boyfriend can’t save you, and there’s no miracle escapes for you anymore, bitch. We on point now,” The Kid said.
Once again, Jessica found herself in a sticky situation. How had she gotten here again? How could she have been so sloppy? This time, there was definitely no escape. Her fate was sealed. All she could do was lock eyes with Kid and frown. The Kid wouldn’t try to kill her while they were in the city. He’d have to wait until they were someplace secure and remote—and then she would try to make yet another escape.
Twenty-five miles away from New York City, on a remote and shrouded road called Helmetta Boulevard in East Brunswick, New Jersey, Devon pulled the van onto the shoulder of the road and put the vehicle in park. Now was the time. Jessica stared at Kid, trying to keep her cool, but on the inside she was falling apart with fear. The Kid pointed a .9mm with a silencer on the end at her dome. He glared at her with pure hatred. He’d been waiting for this moment.
“All your family is dead,” he said to her.
“You’re lying!”
The Kid smiled. “You’ll see the truth shortly.”
He put the gun to her head and she looked at him with a fierce look. She refused to close her eyes—so be it. Her luck had run out A few tears trickled from her eyes. The Kid squeezed the trigger—Bak! Her blood splattered, and Jessica’s body crumbled backwards to the floor, her blood pooling underneath her. They removed the prison scrubs and red bottoms, leaving her stripped down to her bra and panties. They’d destroy her clothes and shoes later. The van door opened, and her body was dumped on the side of the road. Let the wildlife have at it.
“Y’all niggas hungry?” The Kid asked.