Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick(43)
*****
Kola gripped the .380 that Danny had given to her as the two rode around Harlem looking for J-Dogg with an obsession. They asked around for him relentlessly, but no one had seen their target. Danny pushed his truck up and down Fifth, Seventh, and Eighth Avenues from 110th Street to 145th Street, but there wasn’t any sign of him. Kola was becoming frustrated but didn’t want to give up the search. She ached in every part of her body to find him before the police or anyone else did.
However, as the evening progressed, and the search proved fruitless, the two grew tired. The frustration clearly showed on Kola’s face. She didn’t want to go home without someone paying for their sins against her family, but it seemed like J-Dogg had probably gotten wind that he was being hunted and skipped town. It was one in the morning when they finally called it quits and went their separate ways until the following day.
Kola walked into the apartment and went straight to her bedroom, closing her door. She removed the .380 from her Prada bag and placed it on the dresser. She looked at the gun for a moment, fantasizing about putting it to good use, spilling out the blood of her sister’s killer and watching his life drain from him with pleasure. Every day since Nichols’ murder, Kola found herself becoming angrier. She was becoming mad at herself and at the world, seething with disgust at the betrayal. She was ready to react, but it seemed like everyone was vanishing from her sights.
She hadn’t seen Apple in a day or two, but she didn’t care about her twin sister. In her eyes, Apple was the one responsible for Nichols’ death also, and Kola wanted to make her sister pay for her stupidity too.
Kola slowly undressed and took a seat on her bed butt naked. She looked around her room and suddenly felt an uncontrollable rage. She started to destroy a few things in her bedroom, turning over her bed, shredding the bed sheets, and snatching the clothes out of her closet and tossing them wildly. She then smashed her mirror with the butt of the gun and kicked holes in the wall with the heel of her foot. Her frantic screams caused her mother to enter the bedroom to see what the commotion was about.
With a sharp glare, Kola turned toward her mother, gun still in her hand, and shouted, “Get the f-uck outta my room!” She raised the .380 and pointed it at her mother’s head.
Visibly startled, Denise stood there wide-eyed. She dared not challenge her daughter, because the look in Kola’s eyes said that she was crazy. It was Denise’s home, but at that moment, her daughter had the authority.
“Bitch, you done lost your f*ckin’ mind.” Denise slowly turned toward the direction of her bedroom to get away from her daughter.
Kola stood there for a moment before finally lowering the gun. She then plopped down on the bed and felt the urge to just shoot off the .380. She wanted to empty the clip and release her aggravation on something close. She gripped the weapon tightly and looked down at it, and for that fraction of a second, thought about suicide. But she quickly rid her mind of such idiotic feelings and vowed to make things right.
Kola put the gun in the bottom of the drawer and then went to her bedroom window. She peered outside at the dark. Though it was quiet outside, her heart was raging and disturbed, and she couldn’t sleep.
*****
J-Dogg sat behind the wheel of a dark blue Durango waiting for Supreme to return his phone call. Parked on the Bronx side of the 207th Street bridge near Fordham Road, close to the overpass on the Major Deegan Expressway that connected Washington Heights to the Bronx, he watched the light traffic pass by on the three-lane highway at two o’clock in the morning, his .45 within reach and a keen eye on his surroundings.
He had gotten word that Kola and a male stranger were looking for him and knew that someone probably had snitched on him about Nichols’ murder. Now, the word was out on the streets that he was one of the men responsible for the murder. He was nervous and ready to leave town as soon as possible, knowing it wouldn’t be long before the police started sniffing around for him. J-Dogg refused to go back to prison and would die before they put him back in a cell. This time, he knew he would be sentenced to life or put on death row for Nichols’ murder.
J-Dogg sat impatiently in his ride, jumping at everything that moved in the dark. Earlier, he had hollered at Supreme, who’d promised him a ride out of town, a place to stay, and the much-needed cash that was owed to him. Things were too hot to stick around Harlem, and he knew someone could come gunning for him at anytime. J-Dogg felt if Supreme crossed him by not helping or paying the money he had asked for, he wasn’t going to rest until Supreme got a bullet in his head, but Supreme had given J-Dogg his word.
J-Dogg trusted Supreme because he had worked for him before. Supreme had sounded really assuring over the phone that he would come through with the support. J-Dogg knew Supreme couldn’t risk his capture, because he knew too much about everything on this high-profile rape and murder case, Nichols’ death having been aired on every news station in the city.
J-Dogg’s cell phone rang, and he quickly picked up. “Yeah.”
“You at the location?” Supreme asked.
J-Dogg was relieved to hear Supreme’s voice. “Yeah, I been here for at least fifteen minutes. Where you at?”
“I’ll be there in ten. Just hang tight. I got you.”
“Just hurry the f-uck up, Supreme. I ain’t got all night.”
The call ended, and J-Dogg continued to wait. Ten minutes later, he noticed headlights heading in his direction. He rose up and grabbed his gun, cocking it back and readying himself for anything. He kept an intense eye on the car approaching him in the short distance and took a deep breath.