Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick(38)
Lil’ Meek, aka Dominquez, was in his late twenties and known throughout the hood as the one who knew everybody’s business. He’d attended NYU for a few semesters, but after his fourth semester, he started a relationship with a bad girlfriend. He soon started partying all night then going to class late. Slowly but surely, he stopped showing up for his classes’ altogether. He was arrested a few times for public drunkenness, and then came the drugs—weed laced with cocaine in the beginning—compliments of his girlfriend.
A year later, Lil’ Meek, with his slim five-six frame and ashy, pale, bronze skin, was hooked on crack cocaine, his life withered away to nothing. He’d become a has-been who’d thrown away his future chasing pu-ssy and a high.
Despite Lil’ Meek’s shabby appearance, he still was smart and sometimes easy to talk to. But with his foul odor, he was known to clear out rooms and make people retch. Apple, wanting to avoid his stench, was ready to rush for the stairway.
“Hey, Apple, can I borrow a dollar?”
Apple was almost into the stairway when she heard him shout out, “I heard you lookin’ for Supreme! I know where he’s at.”
She stopped and turned to face Meek. “What you talking about?” she asked with a quizzical look.
Meek approached her, and Apple cringed from his smell. Yet, she was ready to endure it for the information he was about to give her.
“I heard what happened to your sister, Apple. I’m sorry to hear that, but you got a dollar? I just need to hold somethin’ real fast. I need a trip, but I got you, Apple.” Lil’ Meek fidgeted with himself, glancing around the lobby nervously as he waited for Apple to loan him what he needed.
Apple sucked her teeth as she reached into her pocket and passed him a wrinkled dollar bill. She then stepped back from him, her stomach churning just by the sight and smell of him. She had known Lil’ Meek since she was a child in her early days of grade school, and actually used to think of him as being cute. It somewhat troubled her to see the drastic change in him.
“A’ight, tell me what you know,” Apple demanded.
Lil’ Meek smiled. “Yeah, like I was saying, Supreme still in Harlem, but I be everywhere in this town and watch everything. He chillin’ up on the West Side, Apple, keeping low and shit over by Riverside Drive.”
“How do I know this shit is accurate?”
“’Cause, Apple . . . I cop from his cousin out there all the time. I travel blocks to get some of the best shit his cousin be selling out the apartment. I copped yesterday and seen Supreme chillin’ in his cut. He don’t know me, but I know him.”
Meek passed on more information, and Apple took a mental note of it. Lil’ Meek then nodded and walked out the back exit.
Apple went into her apartment, which was quiet. Kola was gone, and her mother was in her room. She went straight into her bedroom and refused to turn on the lights. She undressed in the dark and slid under the covers. She peered at the bed her sister used to lie in and closed her eyes. It was hard to look at the empty bed without thoughts of Nichols rushing to her mind. She remembered her sister looking to her for advice many times, and the many late-night talks they’d had.
Apple sighed heavily, turned over, and tried to block out the memories, which were bringing tears to her eyes. She cried most of the night and couldn’t wait to confront Supreme the next day. She wanted to see him suffer greatly.
*****
The next morning, Apple took the bus to the location Lil’ Meek had given her. She looked stunning in her short denim skirt and high heels. She wore a tight camisole top, and her beautiful black hair was styled into one long ponytail. She walked down 149th Street and got a lot of unwanted attention from male passersby and drivers blowing their horns. They must’ve been admiring her gleaming, long, defined legs, and beauty that could take your breath away. But Apple, focused only on finding Supreme and confronting him, ignored the catcalls.
She approached a slate gray, seven-story brick building right off 149th Street and Riverside Drive. The quiet location offered the residents a fantastic view of New Jersey across the Hudson. She wondered how Lil’ Meek even entered the building without drawing attention to himself. It wasn’t the projects, where crackheads were always about. She thought he had to be lying. Though he’d said that Supreme’s cousin was running drugs out of his apartment, the surrounding streets were clean, the place had security cameras, and it looked like doctors and lawyers lived there.
Still, she was willing to take the chance to investigate. She’d concealed a small blade in the lining of her panties, wanting to walk up close to Supreme and cut his throat open when she got the chance.
She walked into the building’s atrium and glanced around. It was a magnificent structure, with its aging but elegant concrete construction, gray marble flooring, and glass wall that lined the lobby. Apple rarely came to the West Side, where classy stone buildings and tree-lined streets were the norm.
Since there wasn’t a doorman or security on hand at the moment, Apple just proceeded toward the elevators. Lil’ Meek had told her that Supreme could be found on the fourth floor, Apartment 4B. She entered the elevator, pressed 4, and waited in the silence, her heart beating like African drums.
The elevator soon reached the fourth floor, and she moved down the pristine hallway searching for the apartment, adjusting the blade in the lining of her panties when she found Apartment 4B. She hesitated to knock. Not having a plan, she just looked at the door.