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“No doubt . . . by who?”
“This bitch named Charlie Brown—redhead bitch with freckles. She ruined my life, Uncle Pete, and I want her dead,” she declared.
“Oh word?” he grumbled, agitated by what he was hearing. “Just tell me everything you know about this bitch.”
There was no way he could refuse his niece’s request. Murder wasn’t anything new to him. He had several open homicide investigations on him, and he wasn’t afraid to commit another one—especially for his niece.
“She needs to pay.”
“And she will fo’ fuckin’ wit’ my niece,” he said with a clenched jaw. “But I’m on it. Don’t even fret ’bout it, a’ight?”
She nodded. Hearing those words gave her some comfort. The look in her uncle’s eyes said he wasn’t going to rest until the bitch was got.
“Yo, go home and get some rest. I got this.”
She exhaled and replied, “Thank you, Uncle Pete.”
“They fuck wit’ family, then they fuck wit’ me.”
***
It didn’t take long for Pete to get a beat on Charlie Brown AKA Red Charlie. The more he investigated her, the more shocked he was by her notorious reputation. She was the real deal. She had allegedly done dirt that most niggas wouldn’t do. She was well-known on the streets, and she was a pretty bitch, with her reddish hair and attractive features. He was impressed, and he would have gotten with her—had she not done his niece dirty.
He called Kym and told her to leave town for a while, maybe go see some friends out of state. He wanted her to have a solid alibi. He was ready to make his move and take out the infamous Red Charlie.
Chapter Forty-Five
Pyro was sleeping like a baby. He looked so peaceful, like he didn’t have a care in the world. But Mecca couldn’t sleep. She had been up most of the night thinking. No matter how much she tried to brush it off, the same question kept popping back up into her head.
Why the sudden tension between Pyro and Chanel? At the ceremony, they barely said anything to each other. Bizarre. And why did Pyro ask her to marry him after keeping his distance for so long? His proposal came right after Mateo’s release from the rehabilitation center.
Mecca didn’t want to think the unthinkable.
Would Chanel, sweet Chanel, fuck her man and Mateo’s best friend? Did she and Pyro have something going on? And did it happen right under her nose? Mecca wrestled with the disturbing thought. Lying next to Pyro, she propped herself against the headboard and looked down at the huge rock on her finger and exhaled most of her doubts.
This man loves me, she said to herself. He had to. She was pretty and would soon become a Colombia University graduate. She was ambitious and smart, and she was going places.
Mecca mentally compared herself to Chanel. Chanel was her friend, but she came with issues. She was very pretty, but her life had been stalled. Mecca felt that Chanel couldn’t hold a candle to her and her accomplishments. She wasn’t in college. Her family was dysfunctional, and to Mecca, Chanel’s DNA was tainted. Charlie was a sociopath, Claire was crazy and committed suicide, Bacardi was uncouth and ghetto, and Butch was a drunk.
Mecca felt she was clearly the better of the two. She had her shit together, and there was no way Pyro would be with someone like Chanel.
But there were signs. They lived together for a few months. Chanel knew a lot of things about him, and at one point, the two of them seemed inseparable.
She sat upright in the bed and stared at Pyro again. If only she could read his thoughts or know what he was dreaming about. But she was too afraid to ask him. Her stomach started to churn with emotions just thinking about her man fucking her best friend—and if so, was it a one-night stand, or was it an ongoing thing with them?
Mecca wanted to wake him up and ask him, but what if he told her he did fuck Chanel, and it happened on more than one occasion? Even worse, what if Pyro confessed his love for Chanel? The thought was sickening. Would she be able to walk away from him? Mecca knew she would have to gather her strength and move on from him and end their engagement. The truth would tear her apart, and she knew that she would never forgive Pyro or Chanel if her worst nightmare came true. She continued to wrestle with the upsetting thoughts and heaved a deep sigh. The mere thought of it made a few tears trickle from her eyes.
They say don’t ask questions that you don’t want to know the answers to, so Mecca decided to remain quiet and keep her suspicion to herself.
Chapter Forty-Six
Pete sat behind the wheel of a Chevy dressed in dark clothing and smoking his cigarette. His attention was fixed on Red Charlie climbing out of her red convertible Benz. He was parked across the street, his dark blue Malibu blending in with the other vehicles on the Brooklyn street. It was dark and her quaint Brooklyn neighborhood was quiet. He had been watching Charlie for two weeks now—her comings and goings. He was ready to make his move.
He extinguished his cigarette and donned a pair of black latex gloves. He secured his 9mm Beretta with a suppressor in his hoodie pocket. He wasn’t nervous. What he was about to do was nothing new to him. He was relaxed and sure of himself.
Seeing Charlie enter her building, Pete quickly removed himself from the car and hurriedly walked across the street, trying to remain discreet. He glided toward her building and slipped inside. He followed her up the stairwell and onto her floor.
She traveled down the hallway and approached her apartment. Pete, with his gun in his hand, eagerly crept behind her just as she was placing her key in the lock. The plan was to push her inside the apartment and kill her there. He also planned on robbing the bitch to make some extra cash off the hit.
