Mafioso [Part 3] Page 16

  Her son was sleeping on the bed, and Wacka was sleeping on the couch. Lately, that’s all he’d been doing—sleeping. The last thing Tarsha wanted to see was her baby’s father withering away slowly and dying.

  She kicked the couch and stirred him awake. “Nigga, wake up. We need to talk,” she said to him.

  He picked himself up from the couch and looked at her. Damn, that fire he had in his eyes, it was burnt out—extinguished! He needed to get it back, and she felt she had a way. There was a way to get back at Maxine, and it would make them rich.

  “Let me get a cigarette,” he said.

  Wacka sat on the couch, slouching. The doctors were working on getting him some prosthetic fingers. It was expensive, but he needed some dexterity in his hand again. He needed to grip a gun—being handicapped wasn’t an option.

  Tarsha gave him a cigarette and he needed help to light it. He did his best. He took a few pulls and sat back. “What you wanna talk about?”

  “This bitch Maxine,” she said.

  Tarsha wanted to know everything about Maxine. She wanted to blackmail that bitch. If everything Wacka told her was true, then they had an advantage.

  Wacka knew quite a bit about Maxine. He had information that stood between her and her fiancé, Scott. Her life was perfect now, because Scott made it perfect. But what if a little birdie suddenly told him something he would want to know about the death of his kids and who the real culprit behind it all was? It would destroy Maxine. It would ruin her life. But Wacka had to be careful too. Even though Maxine gave the order, Wacka was still the one who pulled the trigger and killed those kids. Also, Maxine was a conniving bitch with a lot to lose, so it would be easier to have Wacka killed than to shut him up.

  “We just need to be careful wit’ this bitch,” Tarsha said. “She’s smart, and we need to be smarter. We need to find a way to get to her.”

  Wacka needed to be feared by Maxine and everyone else. If the streets knew that Wacka was weak and injured, there would be no mercy for him, and his power would be nil.

  “I’m ready to do whatever—fuck that bitch,” Wacka grumbled. “I’ll find a way.”

  Tarsha saw that fire in his eyes again. This was the nigga she loved and got pregnant by. It just took that one spark of a plan, and there he was, looking like a pit bull ready to be released from its leash.

  “Now that’s my nigga,” she said.

  Wacka knew that Maxine was capable of anything. If this psycho bitch had him kill her fiancé’s kids for revenge and caused a car accident to escape from him, there was no telling what else she was capable of if backed into a corner and threatened. So they had to expect the unexpected when dealing with an evil like Maxine. They could trust nothing this ho would tell them.

  Tarsha stared at Wacka with empathy and said to him, “I don’t want you dying out there.”

  Wacka looked at her and replied, “I’m good, Tarsha. Best believe that. We gonna hunt that bitch down and do what we need to do—kill that bitch and get paid too.”

  She smiled. It was somewhat turning her on to see him speak that thug shit and get things popping again. She kissed him and he returned her kiss. She undid his pants and removed her clothes and quickly straddled his lap on the couch, facing him and feeling his hard erection sinking inside of her. They both moaned, as she bounced up and down on his dick, her knees sinking into the cushion and her body pressed against his.

  “Fuck me!” she cooed.

  He teased her nipples with his lips and tongue and she moaned.

  She arched her back, placed her hands on his knees, closed her eyes, and relished the moment between them. It felt good to have Wacka somewhat back. When he made her come, she gripped him tightly, and she knew that she loved Wacka.

  32

  Bugsy did his best to hide his wound from Alicia. Lucky for him, she was doing extra shifts at the hospital, and it gave him some time alone to come up with a plan to smoke out the rats once and for all.

  He spent some time in the bathtub—in the dark, soaking in hot water and pondering. But he wasn’t thinking about the streets, or Whistler, or Deuce. He was thinking about Alicia. He thought about her night and day. It felt like she couldn’t do any wrong. When he was down, she was there to lift him up. Love, it was a beautiful thing. The funny thing was, Bugsy saw that same love more with his father and Maxine than he ever had with his parents together. Bugsy was happy for his father. Maxine did something to him.

  Maxine reminded him of Alicia, and he’d caught that love bug. Lingering in the tub for a long time, he said to himself, Fuck it, just do it! He smiled at the idea.

  Finished bathing, he removed himself from the tub and toweled off. He glanced at himself in the mirror and went to get dressed in the bedroom. It was then he made the call. Maxine picked up, and he asked her for a favor. He didn’t ask too many people for favors, but this was important.

  Maxine agreed. She liked Bugsy; he was there for her at the hospital, and she would be there for him when he needed her. The man had class, but there was more than meets the eye. He was an intriguing guy.

  Bugsy didn’t choose this life; it chose him. So much was expected from him and his siblings. But Bugsy immediately stood out from the other children because of his smarts. He was educated—a high school graduate. Meyer wanted to be the chip off the old block—become just like his hardcore father and rule the streets. Bugsy was a voracious reader, and he finished one year in college. He liked to box, and he loved sports. He even thought about getting his masters degree in business and dabbling in politics.

  But when his father came home after doing a bid, things drastically changed for Bugsy. His parents encouraged the street life on him, and he simply adapted to it.

  His first murder was committed at the behest of his mother. It was a young local drug dealer named Mitch. He was a man with a lot of pride, attitude and mouth. Mitch wanted to intrude his business on family territory. He’d been warned plenty of times but still insisted on selling drugs in areas where he didn’t belong. Mitch had big dreams of becoming the next Nino Brown of Brooklyn. He thought he was a gangster—a hardcore thug who could step on toes and not get touched back, but Layla wanted to show him there was severe penalty for not listening.

  Bugsy was only sixteen years old when Layla put the gun in his hand and told him what to do. “Don’t let me down, Bugsy . . . make your bones tonight,” she’d said to him.

  He’d nodded. There was a tinge of nervousness inside of him, but he knew he had to go through with it. This was the family business—and everyone got their hands dirty.

  Bugsy set out with a crew of five to have his back—tonight, he was the trigger man. The location on Mitch had been received. He was predictable. He loved his whores and his weed. LG’s in Flatbush was the spot to go for pussy and a good time. Mitch frequented the place almost every other day. The trap had been set. A girl got his attention. Mitch liked them young and light skinned with that pretty, long hair and pretty eyes. She was down—for the right price.

  She took Mitch to the VIP room of the club, off limits for many. The right people got Bugsy inside and led him to the room, and from there, he was on his own. The gun he gripped was a silver Beretta with a silencer at the end. The door was unlocked, the club music blared, and Bugsy crept calmly toward his victim. He could see Mitch in action, fucking the young girl from the back with his pants down and his back to Bugsy, completely oblivious to the threat. Mitch was a muscular dude, and if it came to hand-to-hand combat, it would be a challenge for Bugsy, so he had to be accurate and fast.

  Bugsy didn’t want to shoot the man in the back. He felt it was a cowardly thing to do. So he said to get Mitch’s attention, “Ay yo!”

  Mitch spun around and glimpsed his killer, and then Bugsy shot twice—Phewt—Phewt!

  Mitch went down with two bullets to his chest. The girl stood there, her eyes displaying a hint o
f concern. Would he kill her too? She didn’t scream. She stood there frozen and exposed.

  Bugsy wasn’t there for her. He vanished quickly from her sight.

  He wasn’t sure what he felt when he killed that man—it was quick and it was a rush, but he was uneasy for a moment. His first murder . . . he would always remember. He had made his bones—popped his cherry—and the veterans in the game told him it would come easier after that.

  The next day, Layla had scolded him for leaving behind a witness to the murder. Bugsy felt he did nothing wrong, but she’d schooled him that leaving the stripper behind was a mistake. She could prove that he was there. A week later, they found the girl’s body in a park. She had been shot in the head.

  ***

  Bugsy climbed into his Escalade and left the suburban neighborhood. Today was a special day for him. He called Maxine to confirm their meeting. Since her release from the hospital, she had been doing well. Scott provided her with the best care that money could buy, and she was a strong woman.

  He pulled up to the swanky, thirty-story building in Midtown Manhattan, and Maxine was already waiting for him downstairs with security. Where she went, two bodyguards went for her protection. Maxine got into his truck, and security got into their vehicle and carefully followed them. Bugsy wanted to talk to Maxine privately—no prying ears around.

  “What’s this about, Bugsy?” she said.

  “I wanna marry Alicia. I love her, and I want things to be perfect. I want the perfect ring, and I need a woman’s advice,” he said.

  She smiled. “Wow, that is beautiful,” she said. “She’s gonna be so happy.”

  “I hope so.”

  “She will. A wonderful and handsome man like yourself, what woman wouldn’t be happy?”

  “I’m nervous about this, though. I’m never nervous about much.”

  “When I think about love—true love that can survive almost anything,” she began, “I think about this movie I saw, The Notebook. Great film. That’s the love I know you’re going to give her.”

  Bugsy smiled. He’d never seen the movie. He noted to himself to check it out with Alicia when they got the chance. They enjoyed watching movies together.

  “I’ve seen the two of you together, and y’all are perfect. The chemistry between you and her, it’s real. And everybody wants real.”

  He nodded. It was real, and he’d felt nothing like it before. He thought about his woman night and day, and he couldn’t imagine life without her.

  The conversation with Maxine felt natural. He liked her. He knew that he couldn’t have this conversation with Layla. His mother was different. She didn’t say the right things, and sometimes it felt like Layla threw her kids into the lion’s den. She was about her business, not much about family, but she loved them in her own way. Maxine seemed more family oriented. The look in Maxine’s eyes showed him she cared more about his relationship with Alicia than Layla ever had.

  He continued to fight the midtown traffic. Their security was right behind them, playing them close and making sure not to lose them.

  “She’s simple, you know. She doesn’t like flashy things, so I want this ring to be perfect.”

  “It will be, no matter what, Bugsy, because it came from you. She’ll like it, believe me,” she said.

  They finally arrived at Tiffany & Co. on the corner of 5th Avenue and 57th Street. The flagship store with its polished granite exterior was an iconic sight representing wealth, jewelry, and longevity. They say that only the elite shop at Tiffany’s, and an engagement ring from there speaks volumes to the fiancée. Bugsy wanted to give Alicia only the best, so it had to come from a place like Tiffany’s.

  Inside was a grand display of opulence and riches and some of the finest and stylish jewelry in the world. Upon entry, they received help from a female employee who greeted Bugsy and Maxine with a polite smile and asked if she could assist them with anything.

  “I’m looking for an engagement ring for my girlfriend,” Bugsy said.

  “Congratulations! Is there a particular ring you’re looking for? Cut, setting?”

  “Just a beautiful ring,” he said.

  “I’m happy to assist you,” she said.

  He and Maxine went through numerous choices. Bugsy wanted the perfect ring, even though they all seemed perfect and expensive—but money wasn’t an issue for him. He wanted a ring that would fit his girl’s personality and style. He noticed Maxine’s engagement ring, and it stood out brighter than the North Star. Maxine felt proud to wear it. She loved Scott, and her huge rock on her finger showed how much he loved her. But like Alicia, Maxine didn’t care for the big ring on her finger; it was more Scott’s taste. She’d told him she would have been happy with a gold band.

  Bugsy wasn’t looking to pay a million dollars for a ring; Alicia would probably curse him out if he spent that much.

  He finally saw the one. It caught his attention like Alicia had when they first met. It was a vintage one-carat diamond engagement ring. The price tag was seventy thousand dollars. He knew she would love it.

  Maxine loved the ring too. “That’s perfect.”

  “Yes, it is,” the saleswoman agreed.

  “I’ll take it,” he said.

  Everyone smiled.

  Bugsy was looking for the right moment to pop the question to Alicia. He would have loved to do it in front of family, but his family was a mess right now.

  33

  Layla’s business with Angel Morales was going well. Cocaine and heroin was moving night and day with no trouble, and word on the street was the purity of the product was high. Fiends couldn’t get enough.

  She invited her children for a mandatory dinner under the guise of keeping the family together. She stated that they could bring no one—no plus-ones. She wanted to talk business, and there was a lot to discuss.

  Sweet Basil Catering on West 77th Street prepared the large spread of food in the penthouse dining room. They specialized in seasonal cuisine with top-notch service and beautiful presentation. The dishes today included a creamy foie gras terrine with chilled quince marmalade and sweet concord grapes, sweetbread and lobster, sea scallops with an aromatic black truffle condiment, and roasted saddle of lamb.

  Lucky was the first to arrive at Layla’s penthouse suite. She came dressed in dark shades, jeans, and a sweater with her hair covered with a wig. She looked more like she was hanging out at a bar or on the streets than having a nice dinner with her family. She and Layla shared a secret—they’d killed Whistler. One problem was gone, but there were more problems out there.

  Meyer showed up next, looking like he was ready to attend a rap concert. Weighed down in jewelry and urban wear, his Yankees fitted was skewed atop his head, and he was carrying two guns. He looked like he didn’t want to be there, but Layla called and he came running.

  The last to show up was Bugsy. He arrived handsomely dressed in a long overcoat over a black three-piece suit and hard bottom shoes. Everything about him was meticulous—from head to toe, he shined. He wasn’t happy to see Layla, but no matter what she did, she was still his mother, and he respected her because of that. But if it was anyone else, God help them.

  He went straight to the point, knowing there had to be motive behind it all. “Why the special occasion—all the food and the get-together?”

  “What, I can’t do anything special for my children? It’s the reason why I only wanted y’all to come—no outsiders—so we can talk and catch up on lost time,” Layla replied.

  Bugsy knew his mother’s sudden hospitality was bullshit. “You did all this for us?” Bugsy questioned with a raised eyebrow.

  “No matter what is goin’ on between your father and me, I’m still your mother and I still love you, Bugsy. You’re my oldest.”

  “Only by ten minutes,” Meyer chimed.

  Bugsy glanced his brother’s way. The
y still had their differences, but tonight, it was peace and respect.

  “I know you love seafood; it’s why I got the lobster and the sea scallops.”

  Meyer went for the food, and with no manners or class he picked everything apart, chewing like a cow. Though he couldn’t pronounce some of the food correctly, he had a healthy appetite and shoved the good shit in his mouth.

  Lucky remained nonchalant toward everyone. Her life had been one big rollercoaster—up and down, up and down, and she didn’t know where she was going. Now that Whistler was dead, she felt no contrition—just some unneeded weight lifted off her shoulders. She didn’t think about him. She’d moved on and knew he was only a con artist.

  Layla pranced around the place in riding pants and some fuzzy slippers. She was in complete relax mode. She drank champagne heavily and put on this motherly show for her kids—smiles and kisses. Life was good. She was making lots of money, she had some good dick in her life, and all three of her kids had come tonight. For sure, she was a boss bitch in the game and becoming a powerful woman. Her only gripe was Scott and Maxine—the sooner they were dead, the happier she would be.

  Lucky joined Meyer at the large spread of food. Bugsy, however, still looked skeptical. His father would disapprove of him being there—Layla was enemy number-one.

  “You don’t trust me, Bugsy?” Layla said.

  “There’s just a lot going on,” he said.

  “Yeah, there is, and your father and that bitch are the cause of it.”

  “Pop’s got his life, and you got yours. You gotta move on and let it be.”

  “And what? Just forget about how they embarrassed me? Huh? How that bitch betrayed me and fucked your father behind my back, after everything I did for her?”

  Bugsy knew the story of Maxine and his mother in full detail. Maxine had broken it down to him to where there was no other way of seeing it. Layla had betrayed her, and Bugsy believed Maxine. But he didn’t bring it up. He knew mentioning the past would only add more fuel to the massive fire already raging out of control.