Dirty DNA 2: 'Til Death Do Us Part (G Street Chronicles Presents) Read online

  G STREET CHRONICLES PRESENTS

  DIRTY DNA 2:

  ‘Til Death Do Us Part

  by

  BlaQue

  Copyright 2013 BlaQue

  Published by:

  G Street Chronicles, LLC

  P.O. Box 1822

  Jonesboro, GA 30237-1822

  www.gstreetchronicles.com

  [email protected]

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without prior written consent from both the author, and publisher G Street Chronicles, except brief quotes used in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to depict, portray or represent any particular real person. All the characters, incidents, and dialogues are the products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any references or similarities to actual events, entities, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, entities, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author/publisher.

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  Acknowledgments

  I am horrible with thank you’s because there are so many wonderful people in my life that I could not do this without! So IF I forgot anyone please blame my head and not my heart!

  First I MUST thank GOD for allowing me live my dream to write. THANK YOU LORD!

  Mommy and Daddy (R.I.P Daddy) ~ You created a literary monster. I love and thank you for telling me that I could do anything I want as long as I worked hard! That ain’t nothing but the TRUTH BABY! Your Pooh Bear is doing the damn thing!

  My son G, I love you. I am doing this for you! You are and will always be the best work of art I created!

  My Family ~ Yvette, Keena, Demorea, De’Marcus, Rachel, Aunt Tene, Aunt Marion, Antoinette, RaShanna, De’Marco, Adrian, Jackie, Demonn, Tieya, Jubria, Tierek, Dakari, Ericka, Terrell and my new grey eyed “YaYa” DeMore’a Amari, I love you! Without you all I would not have the strength to keep it moving or the joy in my heart to do as I have done.

  My Lifeline Bryan, we have travelled rocky roads, but we have done it together! Love you!

  Walter, Mimi, Charli, Tisha, Darnell, Nikki, Kimya, Donna, Shawnda Hamilton, Chuncky Dopeness, Shari Barnes, Rhina, Ianthe, Shamia and my Flats V. Brown, Chandra BG and Chanda Sunshine. Thank you for your friendship and above all your loyalty!

  The Groups who let me post away and join their discussions: BFSBC, The G Street Chronicles Exclusive CEO Group, Princesses Read Too, Tammy’s Readers, USBC, Just Read, New Swagga, Embellish, Fade2BlaQue, Nook Readers, Slyce, Bayou Divas, Sistah Reading Sistah, Jade Jones, True Glory, VBBA, The Takeover, and Readers R Us.

  My Cap Citi/ Kush Boys Fam/Team Thanks you know what it is!

  G Street Chronicles ~ G and Boss Ladi, Thank you for everything you do for me! Thank you for allowing me to live my dream! For the FAMILY behind the scenes I thank you as well!

  The G Street Authors~ V. Brown, Tya Love, Aaliyah Shalawn, Mz. Robinson, Katavious Ellis, Pinkey, Cachet, Amy Warren Patterson, Fire & Ice, Tnicyo, and Sabrina A. Eubanks 2013 is a complete TAKEOVER! Let’s Get it!

  Lastly I will say thank you to every reader, reviewer, mentor, hater and nay-sayer! Without you I would be nothing as well so here’s to you!

  ~BlaQue~

  Chapter One

  Chuck Brown and the Soul Searchers

  “Bustin’ Loose”

  NiQue

  “Push baby. You’re doing great!” Dread said. He was standing on the side of my hospital bed like a cheerleader who was serious about their role. The only things missing were the bull horn and the pom-poms. I could barely understand shit he was saying. I really wanted him to shut the fuck up and let me concentrate on getting the fucking baby out of me.

  We were in Washington Hospital Center, and I was giving birth to our daughter. Dread was amped up about the baby. That is the only reason I didn’t kill it in the first place when I found out I was pregnant. Having a baby was not on the agenda as far as I was concerned.

  The whole pregnancy has been a nightmare. I can’t believe people do this shit more than once. There was no way I was going to let this nigga get me pregnant again. As far as I was concerned, they could pull out my whole womb and give it to someone who wanted to have babies.

  There were nurses running in and out of the room and they were all starting to get on my damn nerves. White jackets and two pieced cotton uniforms make me uneasy. I hated being in the hospital. It didn’t matter why I was there; I just didn’t want to be there. I would rather have this kid on a park bench without all the hoopla, at least then I wouldn’t have to be near all those damn doctors. Having doctors around meant me running the risk of people finding out what was really up with me, and I didn’t want any of their asses all up in my business!

  “Ms. Watkins you are almost there,” the nurse said without taking her eyes off my chart.

  She was between my legs, looking at God knows what, and I wanted her to do something other than talk about, “almost being there.” I wanted this shit to be done and over with! The doctor walked in, and the nurse who had taken up residence between my legs moved over so he could move into her spot.

  “Ms. Watkins, are you ready to have your baby?” he asked.

  That was a stupid ass question. Of course I was ready! I was ready to have my body back. I was sick of a baby stealing all of my attention and invading my space. I nodded my head and hoped he wouldn’t ask any more dumb ass questions. The doctor started ordering me to bear down and push.

  It was about damn time too!

  I took a deep breath and pushed while Dread and one of the nurses held my legs up; damn near pinned to my chest. Not only was the baby an unexpected monkey wrench to my plans, but it was fucking with my comfort level as well. I screamed from the intense pain as the baby tore at my insides on its way out. It felt like the little bitch was tearing my insides apart.

  “Ms. Watkins, the baby’s head is almost out,” the doctor said.

  Fire was ripping through my pussy, at least that’s how it felt. I just don’t see how people could say giving birth is a beautiful thing. There was nothing beautiful about the experience at all for me. You get fat and wobble. People always want to touch your stomach—even strangers. You’re moody and emotional and you have to deal with nine months of being poked and prodded by doctors who constantly tell you what to do, eat, wear, and they even have the nerve to tell you how to sleep! What kind of shit is that? Then you have to go through the pain! And that shit ain’t no joke.

  I decided that I would pay—whoever I had to—to tie my tubes. Hell, they could not only tie them, but burn them and bury those bitches in a shallow grave as far as I was concerned. There was no way I was subjecting myself to that kind of excruciating pain ever aga
in; all that, “having babies” shit was for the birds.

  After four more minutes of pushing, little YaSheema Nicole Evans was born. She weighed eight pounds and nine ounces. She had a head full of curly reddish brown hair and was the spitting image of Dread. I was so exhausted from all the work I had put in that I didn’t even want to hold her. No bonding moment for us. I was just so damn happy the whole ordeal was over and I could move on to my next mission, my wedding.

  Since we found out we were having a baby, we had put the wedding plans on hold. Sure, I wanted to get married, but I didn’t want to walk down the aisle fat and out of shape. That shit ain’t cute no matter how you slice it. When I saw my baby’s face for the first time, I didn’t react like other new mothers who cooed and want to love up on their babies. I wanted her out of my sight and out of my way. Dread, on the other hand, was taking pictures and holding her every chance he got. I thought it was kind of sickening. No one was paying me any mind, and secretly that was pissing me off even more.

  The only thing good about the entire pregnancy was the fact that Dread catered to my every need. Not to mention, the sex was off the hook; when we had sex that is. I already had plans for when I got out of this hospital! I was going through withdrawals from not being able to smoke weed and drink, but the fact that I couldn’t pop a pill was killing me. I had been trying to keep my secret under wraps without self-medicating, and it took a lot of concentration, on my part, not to let on that Pajay was lurking around inside my head. It was easy to keep her under control as long as I had Xtasy coursing through my system. Some days were tougher than others in making sure she stayed in check.

  I was grateful that Dread had been on the road promoting his upcoming album, so I was free to let Pajay do her own thing. No one knew I was fighting a never ending battle with her and I was doing my best to keep her from getting us killed. Dread had insisted that he come back to DC for the last month of the pregnancy so he wouldn’t miss the birth. Before he had left, we had purchased a home in Laurel, Maryland. Neither one of us wanted to live in the city any more after all that had happened. Plus, with his growing success, we would have people in our business 24/7 if we hadn’t moved.

  I tell you one thing though; I was getting sick of Detective Gatsby on my ass about YaYa. I knew that if he kept pressing us out, I was going to have Pajay end his life fast, just so we could have some peace of mind. He was hell-bent on finding out who had killed that selfish bitch YaYa, and I was sick of everything being about her! Even in death, it was all about her!

  I had to act like I was normal for two more days until they released us from the hospital and then I could call my man Tye, who always hooked me up with the triple stack Xtasy pills for a cheap price. Once I could get my hands on what I needed, I could try and deal with being a mother. There was no way I could be a mother, soon-to-be wife, and deal with Pajay, all while being sober. That shit was damn near impossible without having my pills to keep Pajay in check and keep people from finding out how fucked up I really could be.

  Chapter Two

  DJ Flexx

  “Southeast Anthem”

  Neko

  It has been a year since my sister, YaYa, was murdered. Even though she and I hadn’t known each other very long, I loved her unconditionally; flaws and all. She had more flaws than I cared to count, but she had a special place in my heart.

  Since the day my mother, Christa, introduced us, YaYa was my heart. She had taken me into her home and welcomed me into the family with open arms. She gave me the family I always dreamed of having; rich and powerful. My father, Darnell, was a notorious drug dealer in DC and he had it all. I had come up big time by connecting with my birth father and my sister. I had gone from literally living on the streets with my crack head mother, to living in the lap of luxury with my father and sister; virtually overnight.

  So much shit had happened after the day YaYa and I met that I knew our meeting was both a gift and a curse. From the disappearance of our mother, to the death of everyone who seemed to come in contact with her, YaYa seemed marked. The more time that passes, the more I suspect YaYa had something to do with my mother’s disappearance. If my sister knew about what happened to my mother, she never let on about it.

  It was like death followed my sister. It didn’t matter to me though. She always treated me good; and all I wanted was for us to make it out of the city alive. Funny thing is, after YaYa died the killing seemed to stop. Whoever was hunting her and the rest of my family got who they were after and then they just ceased. They targeted their prey and then they went away quietly. Pajay, the mystery person who had supposedly stalked my father and sister, just seemed to disappear off the map. Hell, she was never really on the map because I didn’t know who she was or what she looked like. There were no records of her, so the police didn’t look into her being a suspect. It was like none of it ever happened. I couldn’t be sure if she even existed.

  The police had found my mother’s body a few months back. She was found by a bunch of patrons who were enjoying a cruise up the Potomac River on the Spirit of Washington. When they found Christa’s body, I really felt lost. I was hoping against all odds that she was out there somewhere alive; even if she was never really a mother in the first place. It was like I was the parent and she was the child. Now I was all alone trying to cope with the shit I had witnessed in the short period of time I had been united with my long-lost family.

  After YaSheema died, the money my father left her was then left to me since I was the last surviving relative to come forward. Some people thought that the money would make me happy. In all actuality it just made me bitter. I knew that money was a part of the reason my sister was dead. Had we not been waiting around for that money, we could have left town. Whoever the mystery person was who was haunting her would have never caught up to her and she would still be alive.

  Although I didn’t mention it to anyone, I had the sinking feeling that NiQue knew more than she was letting on too. I think she was afraid to tell what she knew. Right after they found YaYa’s body, she started fucking with that nigga, Dread. I felt like that shit was tacky and dangerous. He had come between NiQue and YaYa and that caused some obvious friction between the two of them. Now that nigga Dread was a different matter! I think that nigga knew what happened to my sister. It was too fucking convenient that as soon as he found out my sister was knocked up with his baby, that’s when she went missing.

  He kept claiming that he didn’t have anything to do with it. NiQue came with some bullshit story about being with him when he found the letter that YaSheema supposedly left at his house. It’s all just too suspect to me. They are sticking to their story that they had found out YaYa was pregnant via the letter. Since NiQue and YaSheema were like family, the police believed NiQue. They said Dread’s alibi was air-tight. I didn’t know who was more foolish, NiQue for sticking by that dude, or the police for believing that lame ass story!

  Only one person believed that there was more to it than we could see with the naked eye. That detective, the one who hunted me for the death of my father and the first attempt on Oscar’s life, believed that Dread had something to do with it. He and I had called a truce so that we could catch whoever was responsible for turning my world upside down. I guess Detective Gatsby felt like he could have done more to protect YaSheema. He was always two steps behind whoever committed the crimes.

  I tried to put what I could of my life together again little by little. I was always left behind to pick up the pieces. I am just grateful that life has finally returned to normal for me; or at least as normal as it could be after all of the shit that went down. For a long time I wondered if I was destined for a lifetime of tragic shit going on. I have been trying to keep my nose clean and stay out of trouble. I don’t want any static. I have been laying low and waiting until someone talks. Someone is bound to run their mouth about the shit. The murders were too high profiled for niggas to keep quiet. When niggas get comfortable, they get sloppy.

  I do
n’t know what made me stay in DC after I buried my sister. I then had to cremate what was left of my mother. A nigga could never catch a fucking break except for the fact that a young nigga was rich! I took the money Pops left me and YaYa and opened up a detailing shop and started flipping that shit. I remembered one of the last conversations YaYa and I had before she died. We discussed what we would do with the money so we could try and fly right and not have to do what our father did to survive. I even have a little thing going with that broad Pinky. I am sure if YaYa were here she would not have approved of it, but shorty is thorough. Pinky got a lot of shit with her, but she holds her own, and don’t be trying to involve a nigga in her shit. I know her line of work ain’t what you would call, “normal,” but it was no different than any of my family members who formerly employed her.

  Pinky knew how to treat a nigga. She knew how to cook, clean, and fuck! She kept to herself and stayed out of a nigga’s way when he ain’t want to be bothered. She made her own ends and I had to admit I felt safe around her. She was good with her hands and she was mean with her Nina. She proved that the first day I met shorty over a year ago. My introduction to Pinky was wild, but her lifestyle is much wilder. I ran into Pinky at YaYa’s funeral. She stayed in the back of the funeral home. I noticed her when we were filing out to head to the cemetery. I could never forget her and those hot pink dread locks. She was the only person at the funeral who was daring enough to wear hot pink to a funeral. You had no choice but to take notice of her. The whole suit hugged her womanly curves just right.

  Pinky was the kind of woman that was etched in a nigga’s mind forever. That bitch was built like Nicki Minaj without all that surgery shit. She is 100% natural! Someone in the heavens was rooting for us fellas, because she was bad as shit. She has the perkiest titties and the juiciest round ass. Her face was sweet and as angelic as a teenager. She was pushing thirty and had big, brown doe eyes, and cute little freckles that made her look harmless and youthful. Her looks were only for show. They were meant to throw a nigga off his guard.