Introduction
The dangerous streets of
Azia Elliston wasn’t your typical gold digger. She just happened to be sleeping her way through college. Tired of struggling to make ends meet, she was always on the hunt for sponsors, also known as men who could take good care of a sistah financially. Armed with the sexual attitude of a nigga, her motto was: Use what you got to get what you want. Hailing from South Philly, Azia dealt with her share of dope boys. She was known in the hood as a gutter bitch, but she was good at what she did and strutted hard doing it. Living the life of a schoolgirl by day and a freak by night, getting paid was her motivation—by any means necessary.
Azia had no problem swapping sex for money. She would take any form of compensation for her services, as long as it was of monetary value. In her mind, one hand washed the other so if you couldn’t be used you were useless. Having a model-like figure and being half Black, half Asian made it easy for her to be successful at her craft. Azia was 21 years old with black, chinky eyes; fair skin; long, curly black hair; and she stood five feet seven inches tall. Presently a junior residing on campus at
CHAPTER 1
What Feels Good Ain’t Always Good For You
“It’s hard to turn a ho into a housewife.”
-Mike
Azia was skimming through some shirts on a rack in Neiman Marcus down at the King of Prussia mall when, out of nowhere, walked in one of the finest niggas she’d ever seen. She got momentarily sidetracked giving this stranger her undivided attention. He was tall, dark and handsome. Even with the oversized white t-shirt on, Azia could still make out his rock-hard body. He sported freshly done braids, a beautiful yet intricate design made popular by NBA players. As a matter of fact, he looked like an athlete—a baller or thug straight off the pages of XXL magazine. She just had to have him. In the back of her mind, she wondered if he could fuck as good as he looked. Azia was definitely willing to find out.
This was one opportunity Azia couldn’t let pass by. Normally, she was the object of a man’s desire, but today the tables had turned. Azia didn’t know if the guy had noticed her staring at him, but she was determined to attract his attention one way or another. Thinking fast, she put the shirt in her hand back on the rack and watched as he stood in line at the cashier. The skintight miniskirt she had on would surely attract his attention. Timing it perfectly, she slowly made her way to the exit just as he was about to leave the store. They met up at the doorway at the same time, and he generously held it open for her to exit first.
Azia watched his eyes rove up and down her flawless body, undressing her. She knew he was feeling her.
“Thank you,” smiled Azia. “You’re a real gentleman.”
He smiled back. “Ya welcome, Ms… ”
She extended her hand. “Azia. And you are?”
“Mike. What a pretty girl like you doing out here alone?”
“You were busy,” she flirted.
Right then Mike knew what it was hitting for. Not one to turn down a possible shot at some new pussy, he stepped his game up.
“Well, I won’t be busy too much longer. We can exchange numbers and get up a little later if you ain’t doing nothing.”
“Yeah, we can do that.”
Mike produced a cell phone from his hip, which was hidden by his shirt. Flipping it open, he careful punched her digits into his phone. He double-checked with her to make sure the number was correct. In the past, he had lost a chance with a bad broad by not putting in the right numbers. He was not about to let that happen again. He had a good feeling about this chick in front of him. He thought maybe, just maybe, he could hit it today.
“You gonna call me tonight?” she asked.
“Am I?” Mike sighed. “Is that a question I need to answer?”
Azia smiled. “You better if you know what’s good for you.”
They both fell silent as Azia’s statement hung in the air. It seemed to have a sexual overtone to it. Still smiling and batting her eyes, Azia was in no rush to clean it up either. She let Mike draw his own conclusions.
Mike picked up on her sexual insinuation immediately. Now that the ball was in his court, he had to try his hand. He had to see how far and how fast this could go. Was Azia merely talking the talk or would she walk the walk? Mike didn’t know how she got down but he didn’t hesitate to find out.
“Where you headed? Are you driving?”
“Nah, I ain’t driving,” came her reply. “Hopefully I’m headed to the car wit’ you.”
“That’s wassup!” He quickly responded. “That’s what I’m talking ‘bout! Follow me.”
Azia’s eyes lit up at the sight of Mike’s blue, 2007, BMW 750i. There definitely had to be more money where that came from. But at the present moment, there was only one thing on her mind, and that was getting some.
Mike hit the automatic unlock button on his keychain making the yellow lights flash. Azia walked to the passenger side and climbed in. Lyfe Jennings was playing when the engine came to life. His song S.E.X. escaped softly through the speakers. She leaned across to the driver’s side once Mike was seated and said, “I hope the first stop isn’t my house.”
That was all Mike needed to hear. He knew it was destined that he got a taste of her sweetness before she exited his car. “If you ain’t in a rush, I got a spot we can chill at for a minute.”
“I’m in a rush. But not to get home.”
That was all she wrote. The sun had already set and Mike had the perfect place in mind. They ended up at Lover’s Lane, a well-known park by the
Mike turned to her with a condom in hand. Azia took the condom and put it to the side. She began to unzip his jeans, anxious to wrap her lips around every inch of his pure thickness. Intensely doing the job she was sent down to do, she felt Mike explode in the back of her throat. She swallowed every bit, rose back up into an upright position, and cocked one leg up on the dash, revealing all her goods. After licking two fingers, she placed them inside of her and went to work. Mike listened as her moans and juices made their own music. She dried all the pussy juice that ran down her hand with her tongue. The look on Mike’s face read, I’m gonna tear that ass up.
It didn’t take long for Mike to rise back to attention. Azia asked, “You ready to give me this?” gently enveloping him in her soft hands. “Fuck me on the hood.”
Before he could respond, she was stepping out of the car and walking to the front. Mike slid the condom on and obeyed her command. Azia welcomed him by spreading herself over the hood with her ass in the air. They were in plain sight of the other cars that were around, slightly hidden by surrounding trees. This excited her more. “You better fuck me good.”
Her aggression wasn’t something Mike was used to, but there was a first time for everything. “Damn, baby! Harder!” she continuously growled.
“THISPUSSYSOFUCKINGOOD,” he couldn’t help but admit it. He hadn’t had this good of a time in a while. All the chicks he’d been dealing with lately were dead fucks, just flat out lame all around the board. Azia was someone he could get used to.
“Say it’s the best. Tell me you love this pussy and you’ll do anything for this pussy.”
“Whatever you want, you got it,” he whimpered, drilling his manhood inside, at every angle possible.
Minutes later, Azia climaxed all over him and abruptly fell flat on the hood. Mike took that as his cue to get his nut and call it quits. He jammed every inch inside of her, doggy style, before filling the Magnum that was tightly gripping his dick. Between breaths, he suggested, “We gotta do this more often.”
Azia responded with her signature smile. Mike swiftly pulled his pants and boxers up from the dirt as Azia slid her tiny jean skirt back into place and re-entered the car with a smile. Love for him would be more costly in the long run. But for now, all she saw were dollar signs.
Back on campus, Azia’s final thought before leaving Mike’s side was that he would definitely be back for more. The show she put on wasn’t for nothing. But the next time he decided to get at her, he had better be ready to spend some change.
Azia skated through the door of the three-bedroom apartment that she shared with two other females. One was Tonya, and she, too, was naughty by nature. The saying: The darker the berry, the sweeter the juice fit her to the T. The other female was Mal. She was the more settled type, and she didn’t care for Azia and Tonya. Mal knew what they were about and didn’t want any parts of it. Overwhelmed with jealousy, it was just a matter of time before she acted on her malicious intent to exploit them.
Tonya came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel to greet Azia who was wearing a big grin. “What’s up, heffa? What you grinning so hard for? I know you ain’t wearing that raggedy-ass smile for nothing, ho.”
“You so damn nosy,” smiled Azia, keeping her friend in suspense.
“Stop holding out on me, ‘cause I know ya ass been up to no good.”
Just as Azia began to spill the beans, in walked Mal. Azia and Tonya began to speak in hushed tones. They always tried to keep their business on the down low from Mal because she didn’t approve of their whorish ways. Mal slammed the front door and walked past both girls as if they were statues.
Tonya turned her nose up at Mal and asked, “Do you have to make it known when you come in?”
“Don’t fuck wit’ me right now, I got too much shit on my mind,” Mal warned. She rolled her eyes and went into her room, again slamming the door behind her.
“That chick is crazy,” mumbled Azia, heading to her room to get undressed and give Tonya the details of her latest sexual conquest.
“Ya freak-ass is crazy,” exclaimed Tonya.
Azia smacked Tonya gently. “Shut the hell up wit’ ya loud ass.”
“Fuck that ho,” Tonya flagged in the direction of Mal’s room. “Oh, listen to this shit. That nigga Rashaud is crazy. I don’t know why you still messing wit’ that fool. He came by here twice looking for you. He got offended when I answered the door the second time calling him a stalker,” she chuckled.
“I don’t know why you enjoy clowning him, but you know he’s a few cans short of a six pack, so you better leave him alone before he hurt you.” Azia finished undressing and walked across the hall to the bathroom. Tonya followed. Azia went straight for the bathtub to set the water temperature to her liking and stepped into the shower. Tonya was still blabbing on about how she disliked Rashaud.
Rashaud was another one of Azia’s men. She had been dealing with him for close to four months. What turned Azia off about Rashaud were his possessive ways. He wanted to know where she was, what she was doing, and who she was doing it with at all times. Azia was a bad bitch; the kind Rashaud had never had. He made sure he kept up his hustle so he could continue to lavish her with all the nice things money could buy, and his always being in the streets on the grind gave Azia time to maneuver with other guys. Aside from his threats and the ass-whippings he laid upon her every so often, the money was good. That was the main reason Azia hadn’t given him the boot.
“Dayum! Can I take a shower in peace? You sound like a damn robot, talking my head off.”
“You never wanna hear what I got to say when it comes to him. But I don’t care ‘cause I’m still gonna say it anyway. He needs to stop putting his hands on you. I don’t know why you be taking that bullshit.”
“Tonya!” Azia yelled from behind the colorful shower curtain. That was the last word she had to say about it, letting her friend know it was none of her business.
“Alright, dayum! I’m just tryna look out for you.” Tonya sighed. “I’m ‘bout to go get something to eat before we head out to Fiso’s. I’ll bring you something back.”
Once Tonya closed the door, Azia closed her eyes and allowed the soapy bubbles and hot water travel down her backside. Thoughts of her on Mike’s hood giving him her all ran through her mind and brought a smile to her face. Minutes later, she was out of the shower trying to locate her ringing phone through the steam circling in the small room. Her disposition changed after she saw who was calling. “What you want?”
The voice on the other end was heavy and aggressive. “You need to find a better way to answer when I call. Do you need me to hang up and call back so you can try again?”
“I’m not tryna hear that shit, Mudda,” Azia sneered. “When you bringing me my money?”
“That’s all you ever think about. You eat, sleep and shit money don’t you?” He snickered then continued. “Ya ass need to stop being all saditty and get a real job instead of counting on me.”
Mudda was what Azia defined as a sponsor—nothing more, nothing less. She released a soft sigh, letting what he said go in one ear and out the other. She was tired of his ass and how stingy he’d become. She cut off the shower and headed across the hall, back to her room. Finally she spoke, “Mudda, it’s been a week now. You know I had to pay off the balance for this semester,” she lied. Rashaud had already taken care of the payment weeks ago.
Tired of him stringing her along, Azia spazzed out on him. “I’m tired of you thinking I’m your fucking trophy! You just wanna walk around wit’ me on ya hip to make ya ugly ass look good!”
She wasn’t lying and he knew it. Mudda looked like the King of mouse-men. Azia wasn’t physically attracted to him but, just like a lot of other females, she put up with it for the money. He arrogantly replied, “You tryna stunt on a nigga?”
“Fuck stuntin’! I’m not the one to put up wit’ the bullshit. Let me tell you this—You’re gonna wish you ain’t never fuck wit’ a bitch like me.” He snickered. “Laugh now, ‘cause ya ass will be crying later.”
“You call yourself threatening me, ho?”
“I got your ho alright. Make this your last time dialing my number or your wife will find out exactly what you do wit’ your spare time.”
Azia ended the call, making sure she got in the last word. She knew cutting Mudda loose was a drastic move but she was his loss. It was time to find another bank. A chick like her never had problems finding a money maker that was willing to spend, and Mike was surely looking like a good candidate. After dropping her towel, she stretched across the bed, clicked on her 27-inch television, and fell asleep to MTV Jams.
The next three days flew by and Saturday night came. Rashaud had everything mapped out, hoping things would go as planned. He met up with Busta outside the Wilson Projects alongside the
Rashaud sat patiently behind the tinted windows of a burgundy ‘94 Impala. His eyes were glued on Mudda’s shadow walking from room to room inside his stash house. Korman Suites on
Maskless, Rashaud and Busta retrieved their heat and headed for their target. Rashaud stood guard on the left side of the front door while Busta took the right. Both men stood silently, anticipating their next move. Seconds later, on cue, the upstairs light was shut off. After another two minutes, the downstairs light went out. Then the front door lock clicked and the doorknob turned, all in one motion. As soon as the door had the tiniest crack in it, they wrestled their way inside with their guns raised to their chests.
“Get the fuck on the floor! Get the fuck down now!”
Mudda was stunned. He got caught slipping. He was smart enough not to let anyone know where his stash was, but dumb in thinking his ass couldn’t be followed. Caught up in all the pretty girls and living the life of a high roller, he lost sight of the greed in niggas. Anybody getting money on the streets in the City of
Using what little light was shining in from the street light outside, Busta shoved Mudda down and kneeled on top of him. “Pass that shit over or I’ll take ya fuckin’ dome off,” he threatened. “And where the fuck is the money?”
Mudda said nothing. He passed over the bag in his hand, which contained over fifty-thousand dollars worth of cocaine and marijuana. He knew either way he was dead, so why give up the money, too?
With hard eyes, Rashaud repeated the question. “You heard ‘im. Where the fuck is the money?” The thought of Azia fucking Mudda’s ugly ass made him chuckle. “Yo, how the hell you be getting these bitches to love you? What the fuck you be doing to them? ‘Cause you ugly as shit, dawg.” He chuckled again. “Get ya ass up.” Rashaud gripped Mudda from the floor as if he were racing the speed of light.
“Fuck ya’ll niggas. Kill me now, ‘cause I ain’t telling you shit.” Mudda hawked and spit in the face of the man closest to him, which was Busta. The butt of Busta’s gun slammed against Mudda’s two front teeth and knocked him back to the floor. Blood oozed from Mudda’s lip. Even in pain, he wouldn’t back down. “Fuck you! Either take that shit and roll out, or kill me now, muthafuckas!”
Busta, wiping the saliva from his face with his shirt, said, “It’ll be ma pleasure—”
But Rashaud held up one hand, gesturing for Busta to stop. As bad as Busta wanted to send him to meet his maker, he had to follow Rashaud’s lead. Still calm and cool Rashaud spoke. “This is your last chance to tell me where the fucking money is.” His gun shifted from side to side as he spoke each word.
Mudda wanted to keep playing the tough guy, but he was in no position to do so. He continued to spit blood on the floor every time it accumulated in his jaws. “Ya’ll niggas gonna kill my ass either way. You expect me to—”
Rashaud cut him short. “Do yourself a favor and have a fucking seat.” He grabbed Mudda up from the floor and tossed him aside. Mudda landed crooked on the sectional; one leg across the arm of the sofa, the other foot on the floor, and his head between the oversized pillows. Rashaud pulled Mudda’s cell phone out of his pocket and started calling out the names of his most recent flings. “Desiree … Shaniya … Kesha … I’ma kill every last one of these bitches if you don’t stop fucking around wit’ me.”
“I don’t give a fuck about them hos.”
Rashaud jammed the barrel of his gun down Mudda’s throat. “But you give a fuck about this one!” Rashaud turned the phone around so Mudda could see his wife’s name on the small screen. “I’ma get her to tell me where ya momma live so I can kill her. Then I’ma make her watch me kill ya daughter before I blow her fucking brains out! Keep testing me, muthafucka!”
Mudda’s eyes watered instantly. He hadn’t always been committed to his wife but was always loyal to his family. He hoped that, maybe—just maybe—if he gave up what they were asking for, no harm would come to his loved ones. “A’ight…a’ight…I’ll tell you where the money is. Just please don’t hurt my family.”
“So you do know how to be a good boy,” smiled Rashaud. “Give that fucking money up, pussy!” Rashaud gripped Mudda by the back of his head, palming it like a basketball, and forced him back to the floor.
Mudda led them to a medium-sized safe he had planted in the floor. He pulled back the artistic rug and punched in the seven digits to the combination. The door slowly opened. Jackpot! The safe revealed over two-hundred thousand dollars, more to add to what they already had. Under the safe was a hidden compartment in the floor that had more coke and weed in it. Both Rashaud’s and Busta’s eyes lit up. They knew Mudda was loaded but not to that extent.
“Now I see why they be giving the pussy up,” teased Rashaud. Busta began to scoop out everything in the safe into a duffle bag. Rashaud let him handle that so he could jump to a more personal level. He stood in front of Mudda who was slumped over on his knees. “Before I let you go, I just need you to know one thing.” He dropped a wallet-sized photo that landed at his feet and slid it over with his foot for Mudda to pick up. Mudda looked at the face in the photo like he’d seen ghost. It was Azia. “You took some pussy that didn’t belong to you. And for that it’s time to die, my nigga.”
In the blink of an eye, Busta came out of nowhere with a hunter’s knife and slit Mudda’s throat from ear to ear. The sight of the blood gushing out sickened them both. Busta completed the job he had started while Rashaud made sure there was no more money or drugs laying around.
Busta wondered why his friend had held back that sensitive information. If the hit was all about Azia, then there was a strong possibility that Rashaud was getting too caught up. Him mixing business with pleasure could one day be the downfall for them both. “Why you ain’t tell me he was fucking your girl?”
Rashaud stood there, expressionless. “We were on a need to know basis. Everything you needed to know I told you. That, you didn’t need to know.”
Busta looked disgusted. “I don’t like that trick. I don’t like nothing about her gold-digging ass. You need to leave her alone before she ends up being the death of you.”
This dude better be glad I got love for him, thought Rashaud shaking his head. Anyone else coming at him like that would have been feeling the next round from his gun.
When Azia and Rashaud first met, Busta had tried to convince him to cut her off. He knew a lot more about Azia and how she was living. She was supposed to have been a “hit it and quit it,” but Rashaud kept going back for more and his feelings began to magnify. Busta continued, “I’m just telling you to be careful. You don’t need to get caught up in no dumb shit over no pussy. It can’t be that good. Shit, if it is, you need to let your boy over here get a little taste of that, ‘cause I ain’t never had no snapper like that before!”
The tension in the room eased up as both guys shared a laugh. They swept the house one last time before leaving. Busta exited first. He powered up the Impala and waited for Rashaud to join him. And just like that their mission was complete, leaving nothing behind except for Mudda’s headless body.
▀ ▀ ▀
Tonya and Azia were speeding up
Both girls were eagerly trying to reach their destination. All four windows were down on the Honda. The wind blew through their hair as they sang the words to “Freakum Dress” like it had been written by no one other than them. They were heading to the Eagle’s Bar to meet up with a couple guys they’d met at Fiso’s last week. It was just after eight and already a crowd was forming around Broad and
“Fuck that. I ain’t standing in here all night. Where these niggas at, Tonya?”
Tonya got out her cell to make the call. “Yo, where ya’ll at?” She paused. “Make a run where?” Azia rolled her eyes and made a quick u-turn toward the door. “We ain’t waiting here. I’ll catch up wit’ you next time.” Tonya ended the call and went to find her friend. “You wanna stay here or what?”
Azia didn’t have the patience for a stuffy, crowded, smoky atmosphere. Her eyes were locked on a guy standing beside the bar pissing on the wall. “I ain’t staying over here wit’ these ghetto-ass people.” If it wasn’t for all her expenses, her time would be well-spent snuggled up with one man, popping some popcorn, and making it a BlockBuster night.
The girls were heading back to their ride when a familiar voice yelled out Azia’s name. She looked in every direction trying to place where the voice had come from. A car backing down the block, weaving in and out of oncoming traffic, captured her attention.
“Who the hell could this be?”
When the tinted window came down on the Dodge Charger, a familiar face appeared. His name was Brian. He was an acquaintance of hers from a couple classes they shared together. It was surprising to see him out that late, especially in that neighborhood. He was cute but weird; someone she could never see herself with, or so she thought. Every time they’d conversed in the past, it had been about schoolwork, nothing more. He didn’t seem like the roughneck type at all, that’s why she had never propositioned him. But tonight she would get a chance to see just how much looks could be deceiving. He dragged on the end of his blunt before crushing it in the ashtray. “Where ya’ll ladies headed?” he asked, slowly releasing the smoke. The girls shrugged their shoulders and walked over to the car in unison. “C’mon and chill out with us.”
That was music to Azia’s ears. She was happy to get off her feet and hop in the car with him. Both girls climbed in, got introduced to his friend, and they were off.
“It’s jam-packed up in the Eagles’s bar. I hope that’s not where ya’ll going,” Azia said.
“Nah,” Brian responded, “we going to Dream’s to get some crabs and a few drinks.”
Dream’s Lounge was a hangout a little further down. The crowd was usually older and more mature. As long as there was somewhere to sit down, Azia was all for it. She intended to learn a lot more about Brian. Maybe he was worth pulling up under her wing.
With a smirk etched across his face, Brian stared Azia down as they sat at the horseshoe-shaped bar tearing up some Dungeness crabs. He was amazed by her beauty. Aside from the outside, her inner beauty and conversation was a grabber. After sitting and listening longer, he knew why men fell on their faces for her. Afraid he would become a statistic, he tried his best to keep things civil. “What are you getting into when you leave here?”
Azia smiled. Not knowing whether to come at him strong or bite the bullet, she went with her gut. “I’ma hang out wit’ ma girl for a little while longer, then probably call it a night.” Please ask me to come with you, she thought. After hearing about his plans to start his own company once he graduated in June, Azia wanted the chance to sink her claws deep into him and make sure he never forgot her name.
“Well, I’ll catch you next time. You know school is almost over; I hope I can see you again outside of class.”
Shit! Fuck my gut! I should have come at him full throttle. A minute after thinking that, Azia was wishing she hadn’t run into Brian at all. She felt herself get yanked from the barstool she was sitting on and dragged out of the bar backwards by her shirt collar. Unable to see who had strong-armed her, the annoyed look on Tonya’s face spoke a thousand words. Since her friend didn’t get up to say or do anything, it was safe to assume it could only be one person: Rashaud.
Tonya drank the rest of her watermelon martini and slid the glass back onto the bar top. “I can’t believe he just embarrassed her like that. I can’t believe she let him. It never ceases to amaze me.” She took her time heading outside.
Brian opted to mind his business. He asked no questions, just shook his head in disbelief. Of course, he and his friend would have plenty to say once Tonya wasn’t around, but he chose to stay quiet for the moment. Tonya apologized for them being so rudely interrupted and said her good-byes to the guys. She grabbed Azia’s purse, which she’d left behind on the bar, and chucked for the exit. Neither Azia nor Rashaud were in sight. Now, even more upset that she had to walk all the way back to the car alone, she cursed them both all the way.
Rashaud was flying through the streets of North Philly, running red lights and stop signs like he was a city official. Azia was panicking. She had seen him act crazy in the past, but never really considered that it was true. She tried to plead her case but he couldn’t care less. That night, she was going to find out that when you play with fire, someone’s bound to get burned.
“Rashaud!” She repeated his name over and over, trying to get his attention. His body was there but his mind was elsewhere. Azia stared at him from the passenger seat to see if he was blinking and he wasn’t. He was completely zoned out. Although he hadn’t wanted to hear what Busta was saying, it was the truth. He got a whole, twenty-minute lecture after they left Mudda’s stash house about all the negative things about being involved with Azia. Quick to come to her defense, Rashaud would only let him say so much. With every negative Busta came out with, he came back with a positive. Then, to make matters worse, he received a phone call about her sitting up in a spot having drinks with some other niggas, after he just finished killing one over her.
“I got a present for you,” he finally spoke.
Aww man, please don’t let this fool kill me, she silently prayed, too afraid to respond.
Taking her silence as disrespect, Rashaud whipped the car over to the side of the road down by the
Azia looked to the left and the right, trying to find an escape. Rashaud sensed it and became offended. He grabbed her by her shirt so tightly it ripped, revealing both breasts.
“This is how the fuck you come out dressed?” He struck her in the side and knocked the wind out of her. Slowly, she slid down the car onto the ground. “You better tell me something good, baby. And you better tell me now, Azia. I swear I’m ‘bout to kill your narrow ass out here.”
She couldn’t utter a word. Seeing that she couldn’t move, he took the opportunity to bend over into the car from the passenger side and pop the trunk open. He walked to the back of the car to grab the duffle bag out the trunk. Gasping the slightest bit of air, she tried crawling away on her knees. Rashaud saw this but wasn’t worried, knowing she wouldn’t get far as hard as he’d hit her. He dropped the bag in front of her. Still on her hands and knees she looked up at him, her eyes questioning what was in the bag.
“Open it and find out,” he ordered.
Azia slowly unzipped the bag. She stared down into it but couldn’t see anything. Again, she looked up at him, and again, he urged her on. Putting one hand into the bag, she was horrified to touch what felt like a human nose. Finding some strength, she jumped to her feet and tried to run away. Rashaud stopped her. “What is in that bag?!” she screamed, crying uncontrollably now. “Let me go, you sick fuck!”
Rashaud gripped her wrist tightly and reached into the bag with his free hand, pulling out Mudda’s head by his hair. Azia was hysterical. She tried punching Rashaud to get away from him but wasn’t strong enough to do any damage. “You like fucking around on me wit’ niggas like this?! I will do you the same way I did him! Do you believe me now?! Huh?! Is a nigga like this worth losing your mutherfuckin’ life over?!” Azia didn’t say anything. “Answer me!!”
“NO!” she yelled, drenched in tears. “I wanna go home! Please let me go home!”
He released her wrist and backed up toward the river. As if Mudda’s head was a football, Rashaud took a three step drop-back and launched it like he was Eli Manning throwing his Super Bowl winning touchdown. It landed a ways out into the water. Azia couldn’t run, scream, yell, kick or anything else for that matter. She felt like her feet were pinned to the ground. She didn’t want to be moved or touched. She froze, scared to think, speak or breathe. If she made the wrong move, her head could be the next to go.
Rashaud came back over to where she was standing and wrapped his arms around her frail body. “All I wanna do is love you. That’s all I want to do. Is that asking for too much?”
A fit of crying overwhelmed her. She allowed Rashaud to take her into his arms, afraid to turn away from him. She saw the bloody remains of Mudda every time she blinked. This frightened her even more. She was willing to accept and say anything that would get her out of the predicament she was currently in. “I’m sorry. I love you. I need you,” were just a few of those things. This was a lesson for them both. Her heart was beating like she had just finished a sixty-minute aerobic workout. “Your secret is safe wit’ me, Rashaud. I promise I won’t say anything.” She meant every word. Her imagination was running wild with visions of his crazy ass with her head in his hand, dribbling it down the street like a basketball. It didn’t matter who tried to convince her to rat him out, her lips were sealed. Rashaud was sinking back in, slowly but surely. Everything he and Busta had spoken about was dead and out the window. He was deeply in love and didn’t want to lose the feeling. He wanted to be the Will to Azia’s Jada, the