Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick(35)
“Is it her? Just f*ckin’ tell me! Is it Nichols? Is it my little sister?” she ranted.
Two well-dressed detectives walked up to Apple and allowed her to pass through to where they stood near the covered body. From the missing person’s report and picture given to them, they knew it was Nichols.
One quickly consoled Apple and said, “I’m sorry. It’s her.”
Apple let out a piercing scream that echoed throughout the projects and made the hair on everyone’s skin rise. She collapsed into the detective’s arms, hysterical with grief, and then dropped to her knees while still in his hold.
The detective held her for a short moment and then nodded to a uniformed officer for his help. “Take care of her,” he said to the cop.
The cop nodded and took Apple into his grasp, relieving Detective Johnson of the grieving young woman. The onlookers stood close by and watched everything unfold. A few were teary-eyed, while others were outraged by the murder, but most were just lost and couldn’t understand it. What kind of monster could do such a thing?
It was a long while before Apple stopped crying. Then the detectives decided to tell her mother the disturbing news that her youngest daughter was dead.
When the detectives came to her apartment door, Denise was awakened from her sleep by the loud knocking. She woke up with an empty vodka bottle lying next to her and a troubling attitude. She answered the door scantily clad in a long, soiled house robe that was untied and open, exposing her nakedness to the two men. Her bushy pu-ssy hairs and perky tits were in full view, stunning the two detectives.
“Ma’am, do you mind putting some clothes on?” Detective Rice said politely.
“What the f-uck ya’ll want?”
“Can we come in?” Detective Johnson asked.
Denise stepped back from the doorway and allowed the two men inside. They walked into the cluttered room, where they stood in the center with a casual attitude. They knew the news of her daughter’s death would be hard on her.
Denise walked into the room, tying her robe to satisfy the detectives, and waited to hear what they had to say.
Detective Rice looked her square in her eyes. There was never any easy way to relay the news to someone that a loved one was brutally murdered. “I’m sorry to say, but we found your daughter this morning. She was murdered. I know it’s hard, but we will find the people that did this,” he told her.
Denise just stood in the center of the room and didn’t react to the news right away. Surprisingly, she chuckled, and the two detectives looked at her with confusion. But then, right after, the tears followed, and next came the violent outburst. Denise screamed out with such intensity, she almost startled the detectives. She then quickly trashed a few things in the living room and fell out into the tattered couch headfirst, where she coiled up—the news of her daughter’s murder finally sinking in.
Detective Johnson went over to her and tried to calm her down a bit. He then gave her his card and told her to call his number if she needed him.
There wasn’t anything more the two men could do. They let the mother grieve on her own and nonchalantly walked out of the apartment. When the door shut, they could still hear Denise sobbing loudly.
*****
The news of Nichols’ murder hit Kola like a ton of bricks. She raced home to where the chaos was happening and couldn’t believe it was true.
From the passenger seat of a Chevy Tahoe, she told the driver, “Hurry the f-uck up!”
The Tahoe raced north up the FDR Drive, swerving in and out of traffic like it was the police.
Kola had tried to fight back the tears when a close friend made the phone call about Nichols earlier that morning. She didn’t want to believe it, but more calls came, and all of them were telling her the same thing: “Yo, someone murdered Nichols.”
Kola wanted to get her crew together and turn Harlem out. She was ready to shoot her gun off and kill everyone responsible for her sister’s death. The first person she called was Mike-Mike. She hit his phone and stated that she needed him, and Mike-Mike told her that he was on his way.
Kola felt a tightening in her chest, and her eyes were red and teary behind the dark shades she wore. She couldn’t believe Nichols was dead. She couldn’t believe someone had the audacity to disrespect her like that. She wanted to wake up from the nightmare, but she knew it was all too real. She stared out the passenger window, watching the cars pass by in a blur. She tried to hide her pain from the driver, Danny, who happened to be Mike-Mike’s cousin. They had just come from Brooklyn, where she had stayed the night with a stripper.
Kola couldn’t help but think that she should have done more once Apple told her that she’d borrowed money from Supreme. She and Mike-Mike tore Harlem upside down for two days looking for Supreme, but no one had seen him. He was ghost. What else could I have done? Kola temporarily shrugged off her feelings of guilt. If anyone was to blame, it was Apple.
*****
It was late morning when Kola woke up with the young blonde-haired stripper in her arms. Both of them were naked and entwined under wrinkled white sheets, the four walls in the room being the only witness to their sin. Kola was still doing her business, in and out of different strip clubs every night, and linking up with the freakiest, sexiest chicks to get her parties popping before summer’s end.
Kola had the gift of gab, and within a few short weeks, she had a nice-size stable of the baddest chicks to join her business. She talked about money, prosperity, and good dick to the young girls, who were willing to try whatever to come up.