Ghetto Girls 3

Mid afternoon the following day, found Lil’ Long along with Ernesto and his cronies, Mannie and Carlos, sitting in a van parked at seventy-second street. They waited across the street from the gleaming York Ave headquarters of Sotheby’s, the world famous auction house, listening to the lyrics of Big Pun.

…Yeah and you don’t stop…

Twenty shot Glock with the cop killer filled up to the top

Yeah and you don’t stop…

Joey Crack’s the rock and Big Pun keeps the guns cocked…

The group watched and waited for the right vehicle to exit. They knew this particular vehicle would be manned by armed uniformed and plainclothes guards.

“That’s fucking crazy, dogs. They got two of the same type of vans we looking for,” Lil’ Long observed.

“They want us to split in pairs of two,” Ernesto told Lil’ Long and the others. “Carlos you stay with this van. We’ll meet up later. Mannie come with Nesto.”

Ernesto gave the orders. Lil’ Long exited the van and got into another rented car driven by Geo. They proceeded behind the armored vehicles.

Before traffic could enter the highway one car wedged between the armored vehicles. There was a stalled construction truck ahead that cut them off from the armored vehicles carrying the loot. The tires of both vehicles were blown out caused by a belt of nails on the roadway. The vehicles pulled over. The drivers exited the armored vehicles to check the tires.

Cars were slamming into each other while horrified drivers attempted to avoid running into the construction truck. Sand suddenly filled the exit ramp caused from a car slamming into the truck. During the resulting confusion, Lil’ Long along with Geo donned their ski masks and raced over to the armored vehicle. They invaded the vehicle with their guns blazing.

“Ahight dogs, I hear you. We good. C’mon we gotta get to the other spot.” Lil’ Long encouraged after shooting a couple of the guards.

“Si, si, I’m on my way.” Geo said and threw the bags inside the car. He readied himself to jump into the driver’s seat when Lil’ Long shouted.

“In order for me to be immortal all bitch ass muthafuckas must die…” Lil’ Long said while pumping rounds. Geo leaned closer to hear.

“Huh? What you…? Oh shit!” Geo’s eyes widened when the heat of the bullets greeted him. He clutched the car door and struggled for a minute. He let go when death gripped his body. It left him on the asphalt bloodied and trembling.

Lil’ Long hurriedly left and drove to a secluded spot. He pulled over and checked all the bags. There was a glow from the large amount of diamond rocks that played against the sunlight. Lil’ Long packed all the ice in one bag, gathered his belongings then set the car on fire.

Over the next week, Lil’ Long laid low under an alias at the Day’s Inn. He had food brought to him by ladies of an escort service that he trusted. Every now and then, he would glance at the diamonds until his visions blurred from the glare.

He was sitting in his room watching television when he glimpsed the news of the jewel heist. He smiled when he heard that the diamond that he had taken was worth sixty million dollars. The other item stolen was a vase containing nine Faberge eggs valued over ninety million dollars. The eggs belonged to a Russian billionaire Viktor Vekeselberg. He learned that at the same time they were robbing the trucks, there was also a million dollar jewelry heist. The robbers spoke with thick Russian accents according to witnesses.

At a downtown recording studio, Coco and Eric sat amongst a group listening to music she had recorded. Amidst her vocals, she could hear her voice falter behind the steady drum bass of Hip-Hop. Coco mentally recorded all the people she knew present, including Josephine, Deedee, her friend and fan, Chuck the studio engineer and most importantly, one of music top producers sat next to her and listened intently.

“Rewind that right there, Chuck,” Eric said. Coco heard the mistake again, only this time it was very clear.

“We can cover some of those types of errors with ad-libs or we will have to do the whole verse over again until it’s right. At different points on the track, I can hear your voice fading. It sounds as if you’re waiting for someone else to pick up the slack. You were the only one with the microphone. Your skills are there, you’ve got to believe in yourself. The listener wants to hear what you have,” the producer interjected.

“I hear you, I understand all that you were saying and could hear where my voice is failing, like I ran out of breath.” Coco said.

“Don’t get it twisted, Coco it’s still hot for first time and I know you’ll keep improving. Chuck run a copy of the last song on a CD and give that to Coco,” Eric said.

“You’re doing well. But it’s a long way to go. I want you to listen to yourself. Listen close for any other mistakes you feel you made. Then come back in here tomorrow, and turn the place out.”