Free Coca Kola - The Baddest Chick by Nisa Santiago Page A

dark blue Impala on Fifth Avenue, across the street from Lincoln Projects. His cousin Dante was a menacing figure in a pair of dark shades and a dark hoodie as he sat behind the wheel, both men watching everything that moved.
    Dante had arrived in New York via LaGuardia Airport twenty-four hours earlier and was ready to get back into business with Chico right away. He saw Chico in despair about Apple’s condition and wanted to make it right. He had in his possession a .50 Desert Eagle, his favorite gun. The weapon was intimidating like him, and once a man was shot with it, he wasn’t getting back up.
    It was late in the evening, the sun being a memory as night loomed over the city. The traffic was dying as the time ticked toward midnight.
    Chico wanted to find the crackhead named Joe, even if he had to tear Harlem apart looking for him. But he knew a crackhead wasn’t going to be that hard to find. He’d sent a few goons out on the streets, putting the buzz in a few people’s ears that he would pay a hundred dollars if they knew where to find Joe.
    Within a few hours, it had gotten back to Chico’s goons that Joe spent the majority of his time in the stairwell of the Lincoln Projects or at a hole-in-the-wall spot off Lenox Avenue. He wasn’t at the spot on Lenox, so Chico figured he was hiding in a stairwell of the building.
    Chico was eager to have a word with Joe in private, and then he would be ready to tear the man apart. He was burning inside thinking about the incident.
    “What’s on your mind, Chico?” Dante asked.
    “Nothin’ much. Just thinking.”
    “We gonna find this muthafucka, Chico . . . make the puta talk and then fuck his whole shit up.”
    “Muthafucka disrespected mines, Dante. You should see her. She’s a mess right now.”
    “And I’m here to make it right.”
    Chico took a pull from his cigarette and reclined in his seat. He felt untouchable with Dante back in town. He gripped the .45 in his hand and stared out the window, his mind wandering.
    Chico had learned that Cross had cut his price down to sixteen thousand a ki, and even though Chico was selling his birds cheaper at fifteen, his clients were choosing quality over his lower price.
    “How dare these muthafuckas! They come at my bitch, and now this nigga Cross tryin’ to move in on my shit. I want ’em dead. Fuckin’ dead!”
    “I’m gonna make it happen, cuzzo. Just be patient.”
    The two continued to sit and wait, knowing Joe would be found sooner or later. They had too much muscle and too many informants spread out everywhere in Harlem for him not to be spotted.
    Dante looked over at his cousin with a curious stare. “What’s up wit’ this bitch anyway? Why you so into her, Chico?”
    “She do her thang, yo. I mean, she’s smart, and when we met, she wasn’t looking for a handout like most of these bitches. She had her own thing going wit’ this loan-sharking, and she had her own soldiers too. I liked that, man.”
    Dante nodded. “A’ight.”
    “And, besides, she reminds me of Nikki.”
    “She do?”
    “Yeah, her style, and the way she carry herself, sometimes I confuse Apple with Nikki.”
    “She ain’t her, though, Chico. That was a long time ago. You gotta let that shit go, cuzzo. I know that shit is still eating away at you.”
    “I try, man, but I know it’s my fault. If I was only there, it wouldn’t have gone down like that.”
    “But you weren’t, and it did. You were locked up. What the fuck were you able to do? Nothing!”
    “Nah, I promised I would always be there for her and protect her. I loved her, and for niggas to violate her like that . . . Muthafuckas!”
    “I got two out of five, and believe me, Chico, the two I caught suffered like they were in the hands of the devil himself. I tried to get them to talk. Even had both their balls squeezed in a pair of vise grips and under a hot flame, but they were tough. They knew, after that, not to fuck wit’ you.”
    ***
    Chico thoughts went