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

  There was nothing angelic about her though. The only thing she was sweet on was me and my dick; and even when we would fuck, I wondered what made her tick. She was so mysterious. I would find myself trying to concentrate on fucking her, and my mind would drift off into if she would kill me if she had the chance. All she did was “work,” which consisted of taking clean up jobs niggas contracted her for. She was a paid, trained, killer! She also danced at The Stadium Club to keep what she really did under wraps. Hell, she probably would have preferred it if I didn’t know about any of the shit she did. Had I not been on the scene when she finished a job for YaSheema before she died, I might not have ever known what she really did for a living. She only pulled about two hits a month; and she would chill, shaking her ass, smoking weed and riding on her motorcycle the rest of the time.

  Our shit was good though. She ain’t want too much from me; and I ain’t want anything from her. We vibed like that. I didn’t ask her too many questions and she didn’t ask me shit either. I liked it that way because I didn’t want to get too attached to anyone else and have them turn up missing or dead.

  Sometimes, when I didn’t hear from Pinky for a few days, I would find myself worrying about her, and then like a light switch, I would turn off my feelings. I guess I really was my father’s son. I kept Pinky around in case I needed to employ her in the event I ever found out the niggas who did that shit to my family. I would gladly pay her to handle their asses; and I knew she would charge me for it whether we were sexing or not. I couldn’t blame her though. Business is business. I expected the service, and she would expect to be paid. Fair is fair! I wasn’t going to knock baby girl’s hustle!

  I have been trying to keep my mind focused on making money. I used to see NiQue all the time until she and that nigga Dread moved out of the city. We talk, but not often because I don’t like the fact that she is all up in that dude’s face. I felt betrayed when she told me she was pregnant with his baby, and then she dropped a bombshell on me by telling me they were getting married. I couldn’t believe she even wanted me to give her away. I thought she had lost her fucking mind!

  There was no way I was giving her away in a wedding I didn’t approve of, let alone that she was marrying a nigga I suspected of foul play against my sister. She would have to find someone else to do the honors because I didn’t even know if I was gonna go to the wedding or not. They definitely didn’t have my blessings, and I damn sure wasn’t going to pretend I was happy about their union.

  Chapter Three

  Backyard Band (BYB)

  “Everyone Falls in Love”

  Detective Gatsby

  I could barely see the old worn desk that sat beneath piles of paper, stacks of folders and evidence I had been studying that I hadn’t returned to the evidence room. Containers of partially consumed food and bottles of soft drinks that I didn’t bother to toss into the trash cluttered the room. I had begun to live in my little match box of an office; running from my own nightmares and trying not to let the “what-ifs” clog my already fucked up mind. Too many cases of my cases were falling by the wayside and the chief wasn’t too pleased with my work performance lately. I was obsessed with catching a killer who couldn’t be caught. The last time I felt that way about a case, I ended up in mental hospital; only to get out and murder my own mother and father. There was no way I was trying to see inside of the booby hatch again.

  The Clayton-Reynolds case had grown cold long ago, but I wouldn’t let it go. I kept running into dead ends and I was running out of leads. I knew there was something I was missing, but I could not put my finger on it. There was one piece to the puzzle and I swore the piece missing was Ronald Dread Evans. I knew I was borderline obsessed; but I couldn’t help it! Thoughts of breaking the case wide open consumed me. I couldn’t shake the guilt I felt for not keeping YaSheema alive. Had I done just a little more, had I held Ms. Clayton for questioning when I started to bring her in, maybe she would be alive.

  I took a sip of my coffee from earlier in the day. It was cold, and rather disgusting, but it was the only thing I trusted to drink that was on my desk. Everything else was suspect. I pulled out the pictures of YaSheema Clayton from the folder that sat on top of the enormous pile of stuff on my desk. This is how it started every time. I would pull out the pictures and stare at them, vowing to catch the killer or killers that seemed rather elusive.

  A whole year had gone by since YaSheema’s body turned up in Blue Plaines, and there had been no break in the case. The shit had grown cold and I was still trying to play a never-ending game of “who done it.” I knew I had better either let it go, or fuck around and lose my job trying to chase down the bastards who had sliced, diced, and gunned down her whole family with the exception of her brother, her best friend and the boyfriend.

  When the bodies started dropping in the young girl’s circle I thought she was the one behind the hits, until she turned up missing. I didn’t know who was telling the truth and who was covering for whom. I knew one thing; whoever took out almost everyone close to her was playing for keeps; and the fact that they were still out there was playing on my sanity. I needed closure on the case; not just for YaSheema, but also for the people she left behind that cared about her. She deserved justice for all the shit she had been taken through before she died. Maybe I was more involved in her case than I should be simply because I felt guilty for not being able to save my own family. I didn’t give a rat’s ass how many new cases were dropped on my desk; I always made the Clayton-Reynolds case a high priority.

  Chapter Four

  Junkyard Band (JYB)

  “Sardines”

  Dread

  I was so excited that we were finally bringing our baby girl home. I wasn’t so sure NiQue was happy about it though. Don’t get me wrong, she seemed happy to be coming home, but she was acting like if she could have left our daughter in the hospital she would have. No questions asked. I had read about that post-partum depression shit in some of the baby books I had bought her. She barely read the titles of those mutha fuckers. They were taking up space on coffee tables, being used as coasters, or discarded altogether. It seemed like once she found out she was pregnant she started to change. I didn’t know who the fuck she was half the time, and she was nowhere to be found the other half of the time. NiQue was always real moody and she acted like she didn’t want me around. She seemed happiest when I was out on tour and she wasn’t thrilled about having to be a parent. Some days I would catch her mumbling to herself.

  I thought once she moved out of the city and away from the stares of the people accusing us of some shit we ain’t do, maybe she would return to normal. She was the one who suggested we move to Laurel. I told her I didn’t think it was a good idea if we spent that kind of money on a house so far from my studio in the city, but she insisted we leave. She even gave up more than half of the down payment on the million-dollar home. I didn’t question her behavior. I just went along with her moves to make her comfortable. I felt like I owed her that for keeping that Fed, Detective Gatsby, off my back. Bad publicity was something I didn’t need.

  All I wanted to do was the same old shit I was doing before meeting her or YaSheema. I wanted to make my music. That was the decision I was fighting before YaYa turned up missing. For me, all a nigga wanted to do was smoke and do the music thing. Those were my only priorities. I keep blaming myself for not just telling YaYa I would go with her when she asked. Had I just told her what I was thinking when I had the chance, she might be alive today. I regret not just being straight up with her off the break. Now she and the baby are gone.

  I felt like I was being given a second chance. I thought it was a sign from God to make my wrongs right. I wasn’t chasing females and trying to fuck anything moving that wanted to give me some pussy. I was trying to be different from what I had been in my past. That shit was easier said than done. In the beginning, I felt like fucking with NiQue would always give me a small piece of YaSheema to remember. I’m starting to think t
hat is the furthest thing from the truth. My career is going great, as far as my home life, not so much.

  Chapter Five

  Lil Benny and the Masters

  “Cat in the Hat”

  Neko

  I was just closing up the shop for the night. We always made a killing on the first and the fithteenth of the month. Paydays always gave us the best benefits. This first was no exception to the norm. All that good government money from all the “baby mommas”—doing their baby daddies a solid by hooking up their rides—was much appreciated by me. All day long we were packed and the money on the first stayed flowing.

  I was sitting in my office that was housed in the back of the shop. I was smoking a blunt and kicking it with my man Shadow. The NBA Play-offs were on and I had my money on OKC to take home the ring.

  “Nigga, I don’t give a fuck who wins this shit. The Lakers ain’t make it to the play-offs.” Shadow said.

  He knew I had money on the game with a few niggas in the shop, and the way it was looking I was going to lose my money. It was some short shit, but a nigga hates to lose money.

  “You know that ole, soggy pamper-wearing, LeBron is going to cry his way to a ring.” He laughed.

  “Man, you know the Refs were paid to make sure that nigga put a ring on it. Ole, Beyonce-song singing-ass nigga.” I added cracking up laughing.

  The weed had us high as shit, and we couldn’t figure out if we were coming or going. As we tried to decide if we should make a move or not, there was a knock on my office door and Natalie, my receptionist, stuck her head in to announce I had a visitor. I nodded my head to let her know to let my guest in. She stepped aside, and in walked NiQue. Damn she looked good too! The baby weight went to all the right places. I knew I wasn’t crazy either because I heard Shadow gulp hard. Natalie gave NiQue a once over again, wrinkled her lips as if to say, “whatever” and asked me in a vicious tone was there anything else she could do for me before she left for the night.

  I knew Natalie would react like that because that crazy Jamaican bitch was stuck on a young nigga. I fuck her every now and again off the late night, and she has been acting like she is my girl. I always kept baby girl on reserve for those times when Pinky had jobs to do out of town or when she was on her period. Natalie would speak that Patois shit, and find her thick ass hips and healthy thighs on my dick when I couldn’t get any pussy from Pinky.

  “Naw, baby I’m good.” I said to Natalie while never taking my eyes off of NiQue.

  Natalie slammed the door behind her and I eyed NiQue from head to toe. She looked different. She was almost pulsating with sexiness. I had never looked at her like that before, but something about the way her ass sat up in her painted-on jeans made my dick jump.

  “Damn, Neko! Where have you been hiding her?” Shadow said, standing to get a formal introduction.

  “Nigga fall back…this is NiQue. She is like family.” I said, trying to recover from staring at her too long. I knew it was obvious that I had been caught off guard by her appearance.

  NiQue always looked good; that was a given, but the way she looked after dropping that baby put me in the mind of Faith after Biggie got her pregnant. NiQue was thick in all the right places, but not “too thick.” Her thickness was in her hips, and her breasts were full and inviting.

  “I am trying to make her a part of my family too! She can be my next baby momma!” Shadow said laughing, but meaning every word he said. That nigga already had five kids and three baby mommas. He was a Maury Show waiting to happen.

  “Let me holla’ at my folks.” I said ushering Shadow out the door.

  NiQue stood by the desk and there was an awkward silence between us. I hadn’t talked to her much since I found out about the baby and the wedding. I still had my suspicions about her man. She sashayed over to where I stood and hugged me.

  “How have you been Neko?”

  “I’ve been coolin’.” I said trying not to look at her lustfully.

  “That’s good. I haven’t heard from you. I got to thinking about you and I thought I would pay you a visit,” she said.

  “I’ve been trying to stay focused on making this shop work.” I said trying to refocus my attention on anything other than her cleavage which was spilling out of her tight blouse. I felt almost dirty looking at NiQue with lustful eyes, and I didn’t want her to see that she was making me feel uneasy. She had taken a seat in the spot where Shadow had once been. I could feel her waiting on me to say something else.

  “I had the baby,” she said breaking the silence.

  “I kind of figured that. You ain’t walking around looking like you swallowed a watermelon whole.” I said jokingly. “I would have thought you would bring here to meet her uncle Neko.”

  “She is with her father. That is where she is most of the time. I am trying to get adjusted to having a baby. You know, it’s a lot to deal with, although I am trying.” she said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself more than me.

  “Well, they say babies are a lot of work. I guess that is why I don’t have any yet, and it may be a long time before I jump out there and have any.”

  “You know, you never responded to the wedding invitation. I know you said you didn’t think you could commit to giving me away at the wedding, but are you going to at least come?” she asked.

  I took a seat across from her behind my desk and stared at her like she had lost her mind. Every time we spoke it was about the fucking wedding and what part I would be playing in it.

  “NiQue, I already told you, I don’t approve of you marrying that nigga. After all that has happened, I just can’t see myself being there, joining in on your wedded bliss when I ain’t even sure if that nigga should be walking the streets a free man, let alone down an aisle with my family. I fight the urge to put a slug through his dome every night.”

  I had gone too far. I hadn’t meant to let that last part slip out, but it did. We really didn’t have any proof that Dread was connected in YaYa’s death, so I should have kept that part to myself. There was just something tugging at me, telling me there was more than meets the eye when it came to Dread.

  I looked at NiQue and she looked a little sad that I had not changed my mind about even attending the wedding. Her eyes were filled with disappointment. I wanted to be there to support the last person on earth that I had some kind of connection too, but I couldn’t condone her marrying Dread. I couldn’t see handing her over to the devil with no regard.

  “I understand. I know in time you will see that he didn’t have anything to do with what happened to YaYa. I was with him when he found out she was pregnant. I don’t know why you don’t believe him. As a matter of fact, I don’t know why you don’t believe me,” she said sadly.

  I don’t know why I felt like everything out of her mouth was all an act for my benefit, but I was unmoved by it all.

  “NiQue, I will make it to the wedding. Giving you away…I am not sure about that part. Let me think on it. I will let you know,” I said.

  NiQue smiled at the idea of me hopefully walking her down the aisle. I couldn’t front. I did want to have a relationship with NiQue and the baby, but all that socializing with Dread was out!

  She stood to leave and I made my way around the desk so I could walk her out to the front of the shop.

  “Oh, there was another reason for my visit. I almost forgot. I am looking to get into some business ventures. I have been kind of strapped for cash since we bought the house and had the baby. I was wondering if you knew anything about where I could get my hands on some powder and pills at wholesale prices.” She asked like she was asking if she could borrow five dollars.

  “Naw, I don’t know anything about any of that. You know that was all of Pop and YaYa’s arena. I try to stay away from shit like that.” I said. I had my shit with me, but I wasn’t going to involve her or anyone else in it. I tried to keep my street business quiet. The less people who knew anything about it, the better off I would be.

  “Is
there anything I can get for you? I can give you some money if you need it. I thought with your man being on tour, you should have plenty of paper stacked.” I said.

  I was concerned that Dread was keeping her around, but not taking care of her the way she needed to be taken care of.

  “I have a little something put away, but I like watching my money grow you know!” she said.

  She winked at me and left out of the building. I watched her as she got into her brand new Mercedes Benz SLS AMG. I couldn’t help but wonder where she would put a baby in that car being that it was a two seater. I admired the paint job. It was money green with flecks of gold. I guess her man wasn’t doing too badly if he had her pushing that Benz. I closed and locked the door to the shop and turned the sign to read, “CLOSED.”

  When I started to head towards the back of the shop where my office was located, Shadow popped out of the waiting area, snacking on chips from the vending machine.

  “Damn nigga, announce yourself!” I said. I was startled because I had forgotten that he was still in the building.

  “What? I thought we were going out or something. Maybe hit up the strip club. You never know, you might find the future Mrs.” he said, laughing while stuffing his mouth full of chips.

  “Aight let me finish closing up and maybe we can hit up Proud Mary’s on the waterfront.” I said chuckling. I shouldn’t have had to close up my own shop, but Natalie had a serious case of the ass and a major attitude. Just to spite me, she most likely left right after NiQue walked in.

  A couple hours later, Shadow and I found ourselves on the waterfront in Fort Washington, listening to the sounds of the female go-go band, Bella Donna. Proud Mary’s was a quaint little spot right on the waterfront. It featured different bands every night of the week. The bar was small, but the food was good and the drinks were even better. The entertainment wasn’t bad either. Shadow had found a table out on the deck, which was by pure luck because normally the place was standing room only. We were doing 1800 slammers, talking shit, and watching the bitches prance around in next to nothing.