Bitch Reloaded # 2 Read online

  "What is it?" I yelled before opening the door.

  "Precious, it's me, Nathan. The police are here to speak to you.

  "Tell them to come back later."

  "They need to speak to you now. Precious, you have to do this for Supreme," Nathan said, sounding choked up. He was right. I didn't like to fuck with the police, but anything to help bring down my husband's killer.

  "Okay, tell them I'll be down in a few minutes." I wanted to get myself together before I spoke to the officers. I knew Supreme would want me to be strong. I grasped the diamond heart around my neck, and found strength in that. After changing my clothes and washing my face I went downstairs.

  A couple police officers and a few bodyguards were in the dining area of the kitchen, surrounding the plasma television and listening to the news.

  "Early this afternoon, superstar rapper, Supreme, born Xavier Mills, was gunned down in front of The Valley Hospital in Ridgewood, New Jersey as he exited the facility with his wife, Precious Mills, who was being released after suffering her own brush with death last month. Doctors pronounced the twenty-four-year-old dead at the scene. Police are still looking for suspects, who witnesses say drove off in a black van with New York license plates."

  "Cut that off," I said calmly. Everyone turned around and looked at me with pity in their eyes. The more pity I saw, the straighter I stood. One thing I detested more than weakness was pity, because pity was a sign of seeing weakness in someone else. I never considered myself to be weak and didn't want others to see me that way either.

  "Mrs. Mills, I'm sorry for your loss," the pudgy white male detective said as he walked towards me. I just nodded my head in acknowledgement. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"

  "Sure, just a moment. Anna, please bring me a Hennessy and coke; I'll be out back," I instructed the maid. "Would you officers like anything?"

  "No, we're fine."

  I knew I had no business drinking in front of the police, since I was not of the legal age, but I didn't give a fuck. This was my house and my husband was dead. If I wanted to pull out a vial and snort a line of coke it wouldn't be any of their business. Luckily, drugs weren't my thing.

  As I sipped my second drink, I caught myself yawning as the officers did more idle talking than revealing any new facts. "So it seems you all are no closer to tracking down Nico Carter," I said, growing increasingly tired of their bullshit.

  "We're not a hundred percent sure that Nico Carter is responsible for the death of your husband."

  "Excuse me? The motherfucker pumped one in my chest a month ago, leaving me for dead and he came back today to try to finish where he left off. But instead, he killed Supreme. You tryna say there is no connection? Well, I have a hole in my chest that says otherwise."

  "We're just saying we need to look at all the facts. There haven't been any sightings of Mr. Carter, and your husband was a very successful rapper. We want to make sure this wasn't a hit from one of his rivals."

  "You have to be fuckin' kiddin' me. I know you two yenta-cops ain't tryna turn this into some rap war. Y'all ain't `bout to spin my husband's death into Tupac and Biggie Part 2. This ain't got nothin' to do wit' rap. This is about an ex-boyfriend stuck on revenge, period. Don't be wasting time investigating niggas that ain't got nothin' to do wit' this. Go find Nico Carter, and you'll have your killa."

  Just like that, I went from victim and widow to coldblooded bitch from Brooklyn. The lady I spent the last two years trying to become took a back seat to the ride 'til I die bitch that was still in me.

  "Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Mills." Closing their notepads and rising from their seats, the detectives didn't know how to react. "We will continue to investigate and keep you abreast of any new developments. Once again, we're sorry for your loss."

  "Hum hmm, I'm sure you boys can see yourselves out," I said, sitting back in my chair, admiring the landscaping of the acres in our backyard. I looked at the pool, remembering the time Supreme and I went skinny-dipping in the middle of the night. It was the first time I ever had sex under water. I stared at the basketball court where he faithfully played Sunday afternoon games with his friends.

  I clasped my hands over my mouth as I went into deep thought. I had to figure out a solution to this problem. There was a trail of dead bodies left behind due to me and Nico, and it had to stop. The only way to make that happen was to finish Nico off once and for all. If only it was as easy as it sounded. I had been away from the streets for so long that I didn't know who was making what moves. But one thing that never changed in this game: Money always talks and the bullshit always walks. I had access to endless amounts of cash and I would use that to get all the information I needed.

  I went upstairs and retrieved my cell. I flipped it open and went to contacts. I found my man, Smokey's number and dialed him up.

  After four rings he finally answered, "What up?"

  "Smokey, what up? This Precious."

  "The Precious?"

  "Yeah, nigga, what's good?"

  "Damn, from what I hear, nuttin' for you."

  "I tell you what, why don't you come see me so you can tell me all about it?"

  "Where you live?"

  "In New Jersey. I know it's a little far for you, but under the circumstances I can't leave my house. But I promise I'll make it worth your while."

  "When do you want me to come?"

  "Now. This can't wait."

  "I'm on my way."

  I gave Smokey the address and let the security know to expect him. When I lived in BK, Smoky was a small-time dude who I used to cop weed and my heat from. He also kept his ears to the streets and knew everything that was going on in the hood, for a price, of course. Normally I didn't like to bring my street dealings to where I lay my head, but at this point in time my home was the safest and only place to conduct business.

  Wanting to look as relaxed and as in control as possible, I let my hair down and put on some lip gloss and a knee-length white linen shirtdress. When I went back downstairs, Anna had finished preparing the meal I requested. The table was set outside and everyone knew not to disturb me unless they heard me screaming bloody murder. I wasn't too concerned, since Smokey would be tripled-searched before he even gained entrance through the gate, and guards would be posted at every entrance.

  "Precious, your guest has arrived," Nathan said as I sat outside.

  "Thank you, escort him back here. Also tell Anna she can bring dinner out."

  When Nathan brought Smokey out, he still looked the same, except for having put on an extra ten pounds or so. Since he was a lil' nigga an extra ten pounds on him actually looked like twenty. His eyes were still glassy, so I knew he smoked a blunt before he came in. That's where he got the name Smokey from, because the nigga stayed lit up.

  "What up, Precious? It's good to see you," he said giving me a hug.

  "It's nice to see you too. Have a seat."

  "Damn, Ma, you done real good for yourself. Word is bond, you living like straight royalty."

  "Except I no longer have my king."

  "Yeah, I'm sorry about that, Precious," Smokey said as he looked down, shaking his head. "That's why I was surprised you called me. That shit just happened today and you already on top of yo' game. I don't know how you holding it together."

  "Smokey, that's why I'm in this fucked up position now, because I let shit slip. I took it for granted that other people would make sure Supreme and I would be protected instead of being on top of shit myself. Now my husband is dead and I'm a widow, make that the black widow, `cause I fucked up. I'll never make that mistake again."

  "So how can I help?" Smokey asked.

  "First, you can tell me what the streets is saying."

  "Word is bond, everybody was initially hollering about Nico putting a bullet in you. They couldn't believe that nigga just got out the dusty and came knocking at your door. His lawyer got him off on that Ritchie shit, but he was definitely going down over you. We was like that nigga is slippin', lea
ving witnesses and shit."

  "I don't know if he's slippin' or if he caught a case of bad luck. He definitely didn't expect for me to survive or for Supreme and his bodyguards to show up and ID him. So what else?"

  "Everybody is wigging out over Supreme's death. That nigga was a legend. He was a young cat, but already dropped like six CD's. The whole hood ready to take Nico out. But they also saying he couldn't have done that shit alone."

  "You got any names for me?"

  "Nah, this shit just happened not even twelve hours ago. You got to let the dust settle. But I will tell you this, while you were in the hospital, people were saying Nico left the country, that he was in Trinidad, Jamaica, or the Dominican Republic. He was ghost out this bitch, so that's why everybody was buggin' out about Supreme's death. We're trying to figure out when Nico got back or if he ever left."

  "Smokey, I want you to get word out on the streets that there's a million dollar hit out for Nico. But I want the body delivered to me, either dead or alive."

  Smokey nearly fell out his chair when the words dropped out my mouth. "Did you say a million dollars?"

  "That's right."

  "Damn, I might have to kill that nigga myself."

  "I don't care who does it, but I want it done. Or they can bring Nico to me, nice and bound and I can finish him off. How it's done is irrelevant to me, as long as Nico is dealt with." I pulled out an envelope containing twenty-five thousand dollars and handed it to Smokey.

  "What's this for?" he asked, not knowing what was inside.

  "It's a little something for your time. I want to make sure my message reaches the streets ASAP. Also, keep me informed of any new information that comes your way. Now let's eat." Long after Smokey left, I lay across our bed starring at the painting of me and Supreme. We were so happy and in love. Our life together was just beginning and in an instant it was over. Here I was living in a fourteen million dollar Jersey mansion, far away from the gritty streets of Brooklyn, and I still wasn't safe. The streets had followed me home or maybe I was the streets, and there was no escaping them.

  anv

  It took all my strength to get out of bed the next morning. I had been making Supreme's funeral arrangements and finally, was D-Day. Supreme wasn't even six feet deep yet and attorneys, family members and all sorts of other motherfuckers were coming out the woodworks. See, Supreme didn't leave a will, and since I was his wife, everything was coming to me. I knew he would want to make sure his parents were financially straight, so I had no problem lacing their pockets. But then bitches were stepping to me with kids in all shades, sizes and ages saying they were Supreme's. One chick even managed to get my cell number.

  When she called I said, "Listen here, if that's Supreme's seed then he'll be taken care of, no question. But see I don't do DNA tests. So get your blood work together and call my attorney. If your shit is legit then he'll make all the financial arrangements for your little one. But on the real, don't call me no more, cause, I'm not interested in knowing you or your kid."

  I don't know if hood rats think that DNA test can't be done on the deceased but they were coming at me hard. But I shut all that shit down. I'm not saying Supreme was a saint but he didn't strike me as the type of dude that wouldn't claim what was his. These trick-ass bitches weren't stepping to me when he was alive, but now they wanted to degrade his name in death. Not on my watch.

  I stood in front of the full length mirror scrutinizing myself in the black St. John suit and black crocodile Jimmy Choo pumps. That bid in the hospital really did my body in. My ass only had a slight curve unlike its normal round bump. I couldn't stress it, after a few more weeks of Anna's cooking I would be back on point.

  "Precious, the car is waiting for you," Nathan said through the door.

  "Okay, I'll be there shortly." I grabbed my black hat with the sheer veil. I pinned it in right above the tight bun in my hair. I held my necklace firmly and said, "Supreme, please give me the strength to get through today."

  When I got downstairs, the bulletproof limo was waiting for me and two bulletproof trucks were in front and in back of me. Security was of the most importance because I didn't want another assassination on my life, especially on the same day I was burying my husband. The promise of seeing Nico die was giving me the strength I needed to get through this. In fact, that was the only reason I had to live.

  "Nathan, did you make sure Supreme's parents had bodyguards with them?"

  "Yes, I sent Andre and Paul to escort them."

  "Good, and the security is extra tight at the church?"

  "Yes, we have our own security and Atomic Records has also provided extra protection. The police are also going to be out. They want to make sure it doesn't get out of hand."

  We headed towards Queens for the funeral. His parents wanted to have the service at the church Supreme was baptized in. It was only right especially since that was where he was from. When we pulled up to the church it was like reliving the chaos of Biggie's funeral. I remember how Brooklyn was shut down that day with all his fans coming out to show love. At first I wanted a private ceremony, but I knew his fans loved him almost as much as I did. The news crews swarmed me when I stepped out the car.

  "Precious Mills, how do you feel about the death of your husband?" One dizzy-ass reporter asked me.

  "Yo, Nathan, get these cameras out my face," I screamed about to punch the bitch in her mouth.

  "Everybody out the way," Nathan belted using all 250 pounds of muscle to move the crowd.

  When I entered the church, it looked like a hip hop industry convention. Every black rapper, actor, athlete and sprinkles of white associates filled the benches. As I walked towards the front, all eyes were on me. The glares made me hot and I held on to Nathan so I wouldn't pass out. I sat down next to his parents and his mother was already crying a river. This is going to be a long memorial service I thought to myself.

  After the reverend spoke, Supreme's father went to speak, but had to be carried down when he fell out at the podium. I already made it clear that I wasn't standing up there and saying anything, so a few of Supreme's friends and colleagues stood up for him. One of the hardest parts for me was not being able to see his face lying in the coffin. Because of the injuries he sustained his parents and I agreed that Supreme should have a closed coffin. We wanted the world to remember him for how he looked when he was alive, not in death

  "I'm so sorry for your lost," I heard a familiar male voice say from behind me. When I turned around to see his face I was disgusted.

  "What are you doing here?" I said, with venom in my voice. I couldn't believe that Pretty Boy Mike had the nerves to show his face at Supreme's funeral. True to form he still had the most perfect, unblemished caramel skin I had ever seen on a man and most women. With his silky jet black hair and long eye lashes you could easily forget how wicked he was.

  "Precious, I came to pay my respects. Like everyone else here, I had a lot of admiration for Supreme," Mike said calmly.

  "How dare you!" I whispered, not trying to make a scene in the church. "Mike, because of you, Rhonda is dead, my unborn child died, and I almost died. Now, you standing here giving me your condolences when your boy Nico is the reason why Supreme is in that coffin. I don't want your respect or admiration."

  "Precious, I know how upset you are, and you have every right to be. But I didn't know Nico was going to kill Rhonda or try to kill you. When he got out, he said all he wanted was to talk to you and find out why you turned on him. He said he finally forgave you and only wanted to wish you the best. Nico mislead me and when I found out about what happened to you and Rhonda I was shocked."

  "You're so full of shit. But this isn't the place to discuss this," I said but before I could complete my thought, we were interrupted.

  "I'm sorry to interrupt but hello, Precious." I stared at the tall reddish-skinned man. His eyes told a familiar story but I couldn't place them. I didn't know how I could forget a face so handsome but I kept drawing a blank.
/>   "Hi, do I know you?" I said still trying to place his face.

  "Actually you do. But first I wanted to give you my condolences."

  "Thank you. Did you know Supreme well?"

  "Actually I only met him a few times when I would intern at Atomic Records in the summer. But he was always humble and down-to-earth when he spoke to me. He was a very talented man."

  "Yes he was, but you still haven't told me your name."

  "Jamal."

  "Jamal Crawford?" I asked in shock. I hadn't seen Jamal in five years. We grew up in the projects of Brooklyn together. But Jamal was always different. He was a bonafide genius. He was also the boy I lost my virginity to.

  "Yep, that Jamal," he said with a smile.

  "What are you doing here? I didn't know you interned at Atomic Records." Seeing an old friend brought a ray of light to an otherwise dim day.

  "How would you? One day you just moved away."

  "Aren't you the new president of Atomic Records?" Mike asked, trying to squeeze in the conversation.

  "That's me, and you are?" Jamal asked, extending his hand towards Mike.

  "Pretty Boy Mike, the owner of Pristine Records."

  "That's right. I've heard a lot of positive things about you. It's a pleasure to meet you."

  "Likewise. I had no idea you were so young. How old are you, nineteen?" Mike said sizing Jamal up.

  "Actually, I just celebrated my birthday my twenty-first birthday last week," Jamal said, laughing off Mike's dis.

  "Wow. You're the president of Atomic Records?" I asked. Jamal was a few months older than me. I couldn't believe that the geeky nerd I used to look at sideways was now running one of the top hip hop labels in the world. Then again, who would've thought I'd be married, better yet alive, at my age.

  "Yes I am. After I graduated high school at sixteen," Jamal cut his eyes over at Mike, "I attended Harvard Business School. Each summer and winter break, I interned at Atomic Records. During my last semester the president offered me a job as his apprentice. Then, when he got a more lucrative offer from another label, Atomic's owners asked me to take over. At first everyone was a little reluctant because of my age, but my work ethics speak for itself."