The Cocaine Princess Part 5 (Cocaine Princess Series #5)(64)

“How about you focus on losing some weight, fat ass,” Alexus snapped at Bella. “Just because I’m not as ruthless as our grandmother was doesn’t mean I’m not smart enough to run this cartel. And I am not going to continue to be disrespected by you or anybody else in this family.”

“Take it how you wanna take it,” Bella said, “but snitching is a trait that is only possessed by the weak. Granny Costilla never went to the police on anyone.”

“Yeah, but she never had to deal with a raving lunatic who could wipe out an entire city with the push of a button,” Alexus reasoned.

Flako raised his hands to stop the bickering. “Nobody’s snitching, okay? We’re going to find my sister and…do away with her.”

“And how exactly do you plan on finding her?” Alexus asked.

“We won’t have to find Jenny,” said Flako. “She’ll find us.”

*****

The Gulfstream descended into O’Hare at 8:40 p.m. central time. The Phantom limo was waiting, and thirty minutes later, they pulled into the front entrance of Blake’s Highland Park mansion. Alexus immediately noticed the emptiness of the vast circular driveway, which was usually congested with foreign sports cars and tour buses. Now there was only one car, a red Aston Martin, parked near the front door.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to come here,” Alexus said as she gazed out at the looming mansion. “T-Walk and Blake are bitter enemies. Things could quickly go bad if they bump into each other.”

“I’m going to Tasia’s book release party,” T-Walk said, wrapping an arm around her lower back and kissing her on the temple. “I’ll get a room at the Trump tonight. Just make sure you stay the f*ck away from him. I want you on the phone with me until you go to sleep.”

As they were all getting out of the limo, Papi said, “No place is safer than here. Half the world knows that you and Trintino are a couple. Jenny would never expect you to be anywhere near Blake. Plus, it’s going to be pretty difficult for her to make it all the way up here to Illinois without being spotted by a cop, and I’m sure every state and federal police agency in the country’s looking for her.”

“I’ll have our guys fan out around the neighborhood,” Flako said.

Alexus didn’t argue. She lifted her sleeping son out of the limo and cradled his head against here shoulder.

“Hurry up and get my nephew out of this cold air,” Mercedes said. “Right after the concert, I’m picking up my kids and driving straight back here.”

“I’m coming back too,” Cereniti added, flicking a nervous glance around the dark estate.

An ominous feeling of fear washed over Alexus as she envisioned a nuclear explosion like the one that had decimated Hiroshima decades ago. Holding her son tightly against her bosom, she hurried into the mansion, and for the first time in a long time, she prayed.





Chapter 40

‘I’m just another rich gang memba, like Tunechi and Game, nigga

Vice Lord in my veins, nigga, no mercy on lame niggas

I’m f*ckin’ niggas’ bitches, go run and tell Cheatas

I got alotta cheese, call me Mr. Velveeta

Hit her from the back, make her spine tingle

Married to the da game, but tonight a nigga single

Stacked chips, got a pocket full of Pringles

Make it rain, hun’ed thousand worth of singles…’

Of the twenty thousand Bulletface fans packed inside the United Center, more than half knew the lyrics to every one of his songs, and they were rapping along with him as he moved from one side of the stage to the other, flailing his Louis Vuitton bandana in the air and gripping his diamond encrusted microphone.

The flashing cameras, the screaming fans, the money-hungry groupies who were shouting “I love you Bulletface!” at the top of their lungs—it was all the motivation Blake needed to keep his gangster rap career in motion. He loved his fans just as much as they loved him. The fact that millions of people loved him after all the dirt he’d done in the past made these long days and nights he and his MBM recording artists spent in the studio all the more worth it.

When Gucci Mane, Yo Gotti, and French Montana joined him onstage to perform “Real Niggas Don’t Snitch,” the crowd went wild, and they became even more frenzied when Ross came out and hit them with “Hold me Back.”

Blake wasn’t wearing his white Trukfit hoody; he was shirtless wearing the Louis Vuitton bulletproof vest and five white diamond necklaces, and his baggy Trukfit sweatpants were sagging down around his Louis boxer-briefs.

It was a few minutes past 10:00 p.m., and Blake was performing a slow song for the ladies with Mocha, his R&B superstar, when he looked back and saw Mercedes, Cereniti, and Porsche. The three girls were standing with MBM’s production manager, a few other MBM staff members, and Kenny-Lord. Blake sent a blinging smile their way, then turned back to the crowd and finished the song.

The concert ended with a bevy of local artists—Twista, Chief Keef, Shawnna, Freddie Gibbs, Kaos, and Will Scrill—joining Bulletface onstage for a song off his album titled “Gangland.” And as always, Bulletface spoke to his fans before leaving the stage.

“I just want y’all to know how much I love my fans,” he said. “A couple of years ago, I was sittin’ in crack houses wit’ my niggas, sellin’ dope and dodgin’ indictments. I remember writin’ raps and sayin’ to myself, ‘Man, ain’t nobody gon’ buy this shit. The industry don’t even f*ck wit’ the Midwest like that.’ But now look at me. Like my nigga Lil Wayne said, ‘I’m sittin’ on these motherf*ckin’ millions like a bean bag,’ sellin’ more albums than any other rap nigga in the country, and it’s all because of my fans. Y’all don’t know how much I appreciate that shit. I hit the studio every day to put on for each and every last one of y’all. Have a safe drive home, everybody. Dub Life or no life, Money Bagz Management. One hun’ed.”