Chapter Twenty
Diamond
“Babe, where did you say you were going again?” Ken asked from the shower. He’d been home all day, and I was a little irritated. Normally, I loved having my man around, but today I had to shoot some moves. His ass was holding me up.
“I called Lyric. We’re going shopping for a few hours.” It was a bald-faced lie, but it bought me some time to do what I needed to do.
“Don’t spend all my money.” Ken laughed.
“Don’t worry, I will,” I yelled through the closed door.
“I got a few dollars in my sock drawer. Take all of it.”
“Thanks, boo.” I walked over to the drawer and began rummaging. Right away, I spotted a white envelope with several hundred dollars inside. The outside of the envelope had the amount $17,000 written on it. I was about to close the drawer when I noticed a checkbook. As soon as I grabbed it, Ken’s voice boomed from the bathroom.
“I can’t wait to show you off to my family. I know my country-ass cousins have never seen a chick like you.”
“Shit.” I clutched my heart. He’d scared me to death. “I can’t either, boo.” Without delay, I snatched a blank check from the back of his checkbook and tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans. I hated to steal from Ken, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Besides, I knew Ken was a multimillionaire. He would hardly miss anything I withdrew from his account.
“Be back in a few,” I yelled before closing the drawer and making a mad dash to the door. Once inside of my car, I called my brother.
“Hello.”
“Dexter, I’m on my way over to your friend’s crib now. Are you sure he’s legit?”
“Yeah, Omar is a cool dude. I told him you had the goods. He said he would give you twelve thousand.” He spoke close into the receiver of his phone.
When I called Dexter the other day to see how I could get rid of the heroin, he told me about Omar, a big-time dope boy he did business with every now and then. “Twelve? I need at least twenty.”
“Girl, ain’t nobody gon’ pay you top dollar for a hookup because then it wouldn’t be a hookup.” Dex laughed. “Besides, niggas like Omar don’t even fuck with people he don’t know. He’s only doing business with you because you’re my sister.”
“I guess it’ll have to do. I’m on my way over there now.”
“Diamond, please be careful. This shit isn’t pretend. These are real niggas you’re about to encounter,” Dexter warned. My brother had been in the dope game all my life. By now, he should’ve known I was used to drugs, guns, police, and killers.
“I’m a big girl. I can handle my own.” Without another word, I ended the call, then headed over to see Omar.
During the ride, I could see Duck’s Charger tailing me from two cars behind. Completely annoyed, I pulled up into a gas station and waited for him to do the same. As soon as he pulled into the parking space beside me, I rolled down my window and let him have it. “I told you to quit fucking following me. You’re blowing my cover.”
“And I told you that I keep close watch on my money.” Duck grimaced.
“When I get it, I’ll be in touch. Until then, back the fuck off.” I rolled up the window, released my foot from the brake, and peeled out of there on two wheels. Duck tried to catch up, but it was useless. By the time he was back on the street, he couldn’t see shit but the dust my car had left behind.
Nearly twenty minutes after losing him, I pulled up to a nice home on a decent street. There was a flower bed, the grass was mowed, and the hedges were trimmed. A nice Cadillac rested in the driveway as well as a few toys. Thinking I had the wrong address, I checked the paper I’d written it down on against what I’d put in the GPS. Surprisingly, this was the correct address. Hastily, I grabbed my bag and approached the door. Before I could knock, it swung open.
“Yes.” The nose of a 9 mm handgun greeted me.
“Is Omar here?”
“Who wants to know?” The assassin brandishing the weapon was a mixed woman with curly hair and a strong bone structure.
“My name is Diamond.” I stared her down, letting her know I wasn’t intimidated by her ice grill or pistol.
“Come on in.” She stepped aside, allowing me to enter. “My name is Isis. Omar left an hour ago, but he did say you were coming by.” She placed the gun behind her back and tucked it into her jeans. “You got the shit?”
“Yeah, right here.” I patted my bag. “You got the money?”
“It’s all here.” After she grabbed a large manila envelope from the coffee table, I reached into my purse and handed her the vials still in the Ziploc bag. I watched as Isis peered into the bag and nodded her approval. “It looks good, but if it’s not, Omar will want all of his money back.”
“That shit is fire. Got the dopefiends going crazy in the city.” One thing I knew how to do was bluff.
“It better be fire because Omar don’t take kindly to con artists,” Isis warned. “The last nigga who tried to pass off some wack shit came up missing, and he hasn’t been found since.”
I wanted to check her for using the word “nigga,” but then I remembered she was the bitch holding the gun. “Try it if you don’t believe me,” I urged, fully praying and hoping the stolen dope was good.
“If need be, we’ll be in touch.” Isis nodded toward the door. That was my cue to put it in gear and get the hell out of there.