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Charlie got on her cell phone to talk to Ahbou. They had their fun last night, but now it was time to get back to business.
“Did you find that bitch’s address yet?” she asked him.
“I’m still on it,” he replied. “But that acid incident was stupid, Charlie. I meant to say something last night, but we were having too much fun.”
“It wasn’t meant for Wanda. It was meant for my sister. She thinks she pretty now and can fuck niggas on my level. I wanted to teach her pretty ass a lesson and scar her fuckin’ face.”
“You’d do that to your sister?”
“I said we ain’t close, right?”
“Just be smart out here, Charlie. You become too reckless and we won’t be able to protect you,” Ahbou warned her.
“I hear you.”
“Charlie, listen. I got your back, boo. I love you, and I don’t want you lying to me about anything ever again. You feel me? Because I got my ways of finding out shit. You scratch my back and I scratch your back.”
Charlie rolled her eyes. “Find that address, detective.”
His odd statement baffled Charlie for a moment, but she didn’t think anything of it. It was just him talking tough and foolish.
“I will. I’ll do anything for you, baby—even kill a nigga,” he said recklessly through the phone.
Claire was glaring at her sister. “Damn, Charlie, just when I thought you couldn’t get any colder. You just can’t leave shit alone. You’re going after Chanel now?” Claire fussed.
“Not your business,” Charlie snapped.
“You think just because you’re fuckin’ a cop that
you’re untouchable? This shit ain’t gonna end well, Charlie. I can feel it. Stop while you’re ahead!” Claire shouted.
“You know what, Claire? As much as I do for you, you still wanna judge me and take everyone’s side except mine. I’m the only one who has always had your back. Not Butch, Bacardi, and especially not Chanel. When she got put on by Mateo what did she do for you? That bitch ain’t give you a crumb. She walked around sporting new shit, driving an expensive whip. Did she ever toss you the keys? Or buy you a pair of kicks?”
“This ain’t about money!”
They argued with Ahbou still on the phone.
“I’m sick of your shit!” Claire continued to rant. “You are the worst!”
Charlie ignored her sister’s ranting and continued to stay on the phone with Ahbou, who heard Claire’s rants too.
“What’s wrong with your sister?” he asked her.
“She’s being a bitch right now,” said Charlie.
“Oh, I’m the one being a bitch!” Claire shouted.
Claire continued to fuss, and Charlie remained on the phone with Ahbou until she reached her block and saw KB’s Beamer parked in front of her place. She smiled. It was unexpected, but she was glad he was there. Ahbou was fun to be around, but KB was the nigga she loved and the nigga who rocked her world, made her toes curl, and put a genuine smile on her face. It had been over a week since he was in New York. She knew that he was here for both business and pleasure.
“Ahbou, I’m gonna call you back.”
Charlie ended their call, double parked, and got out of her Benz with Claire following her to KB’s BMW. From her position, she could see his silhouette behind the steering wheel. Claire continued to fuss at Charlie, but Charlie had her mind on KB. Claire threatened that if Charlie touched Chanel again that they were going to have a problem. Enough was enough. Claire was standing up for her little sister. Chanel had been through enough, and she was determined not to let Charlie put her through any more pain.
Charlie eagerly approached the Beamer and knocked on the driver’s side window, but KB didn’t open the door. The car windows had a light tint, so it was difficult to see what was happening inside. She reached for the door handle and swung it open. Right away, she got the shock of her life. KB had been shot in the head and was slumped in the seat. His blood was spilled across the dashboard and the leather seats.
Charlie’s eyes grew wide with shock and she cried out, “What the fuck!”
Claire shrieked when she saw the body inside the car and slowly backed away from the crime scene. She was utterly shocked at what she saw. Though she didn’t see the murder or know the guy, another dead body was troubling enough. Her life had become a continuous reel of monumental lows.
