Tale of the Murda Mamas

Chapter Twelve

(Miamor)

Benjamin Wilkes aka Benny Dough was our first hit. I could never forget his name, because he was getting paper, and being flashy was what he lived to do. All of Brooklyn knew who he was. A big time party promoter in the city, he wasn’t hard to find. We couldn’t have asked for an easier mark. Like clockwork, on Sunday nights he frequented Tenders, a local strip joint. It was ballers’ night, which attracted all the get-money niggas in the ‘hood.

Anisa and I came out shining that night, whipping my Benz up to the club’s valet as if we belonged amongst the ‘hood’s rich and infamous list. Rocking Gucci, diamonds, and Prada, to the naked eye we fit right in with Brooklyn’s elite, but we knew the deal. We were fronting and dead broke, but we were about to put in work. Legs greased, body right, and hair and makeup on point, we slid into the club. Weed smoke was in the air and liquor flowed freely as we found a booth in the corner of the room. The small burner I had purchased from Murder’s gun connect was underneath my dress, strapped to my inner thigh. We didn’t have time to purchase another one, so we rolled with a single pistol, figuring that it would be all the muscle we would need to take care of the job.

Benny Dough was in the VIP section, popping bottles as he and his entourage made the club rain. They were being entertained by three strippers, and even I had to admit that they were some bad bitches. They each looked like they had been ripped straight from the pages of King Magazine. They were the type of bitches that regular chicks loved to hate, and they had his full attention as they danced seductively in front of him.

“We might have some competition,” Anisa whispered in my ear.

I shook my head. “We’re not trying to juice the nigga’s pockets. We’re here for a completely different reason. He’s drunk, and they are the perfect distraction. Let them do what they do, and we’ll do what we do,” I replied. “Let’s go to the bar. We can see better from over there.”

Anisa and I made our way through the darkened club. Our hips commanding the attention of the patrons, the two of us together gained more interest than some of the dancers, but we kept it pushing. It was our first job, and neither of us wanted to fuck it up. Fifty thousand dollars was at stake, and we were about nothing but our paper that night.

“Can I get an apple martini?” I asked the bartender. I never took a sip from the drink, but I held it for good measure. I didn’t want to be the only person at the bar without a glass in my hand. I wanted to blend in while I discreetly watched every move that Benny made. I watched Anisa kill her drink, and I could see that she was nervous, but the liquid courage she’d just consumed would be more than enough to get her through the night. We both prayed that everything went perfectly. We were a far cry from the seasoned killer that Murder was, but we were stepping into his shoes. I crossed my fingers and hoped that things played out right.

I was so focused that I didn’t even notice the dude that had slid into the seat next to me. He turned the swivel stool I was sitting in around so that I was facing him. I frowned, and was about to say something until he leaned into my ear.

“You and yo girl about to rob that nigga or something?” he asked.

His question caught me completely off guard, and my heartbeat began to speed up. Are we that obvious? I thought as I gave him the evil eye and stood to leave.

Dude grabbed my arm gently and pulled me near him. “I respect your hustle, ma. It’s sexy as long as I don’t come into your crosshairs, nah mean?” his BK accent was strong, and his Usher cologne invaded my space while his dark bedroom eyes scanned me from head to toe.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I responded shortly as I titled my head to the side and looked up at him. He smiled; I didn’t.

Any other day I might have listened to what he was kicking. The presidential on his wrist indicated that he was worth my time, but I wasn’t there for all that. I really wished the nigga would get out of my space so that I could re-focus, but he wasn’t moving. I looked over at Anisa, who was still on point. Benny Dough had never left her eyesight. I turned back around to the man in front of me. “Did you want something?” I asked him.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Nigga, what’s your name?” I countered.

He laughed and rubbed the hairs of his full beard. “Joell,” he responded. “I own this club.”

I clapped my hands sarcastically and said, “Congratulations! That must impress a lot of women.” I rolled my eyes, hoping that the nigga would take a hint and get lost, but again, he didn’t.

“I just thought I’d tip your hand a little bit and let you know that all eyes are on you. You walk into my strip joint looking good, smelling good… got these niggas watching you more than they watching my dancers, but you got your sights on one nigga. He looks like a mark to me. Somebody like you shouldn’t have to rob and steal to eat, Ms. Lady. You could be very well taken care of,” he said.

“I’m not putting on no show, and I don’t know nothing about all that you talking. We’re just here for the entertainment,” I replied without looking at him. My eyes found Benny Dough, and noticed that he was preparing to leave. He wasn’t sloppy drunk, but I could tell that he was tipsy. I nudged Anisa and grabbed my clutch. “It was nice to meet you, Joell. You have a good evening,” I said with a curt smile.

He leaned back against the bar and watched me walk away. I put an extra switch in my hips just to show him something that he would never get, and walked right past Benny Dough out of the club.

As soon as Anisa and I claimed our car from valet parking, we changed clothes inside, removed our makeup and put on jeans and sneakers. Arab scarves were tied around our necks. We waited patiently, and minutes later, Benny Dough came out of the club with the stripper chicks and two other men following behind him. We were silent and breathing hard in anticipation as we followed him and his entourage to a cheap motel. They were two cars deep, so we made sure that we didn’t tail them too closely. The last thing we needed was for them to get suspicious.

“There are six of them and two of us. You know all of them niggas is strapped. How are we gon’ pull this off now?” Anisa asked.

“We wait,” I said. I wasn’t exactly sure how we would pull it off either. We were outnumbered and outgunned, but we really didn’t have a choice. We were already paid half up front. We had to come through on our end, so it was all or nothing. We watched the room for a half an hour, and suddenly the door opened. One of the guys came out. Anisa went to get out of the car.

“What are you doing?” I whispered harshly as she got out and waved the dude over.

“Hey! I’m sorry to bother you,” she said as she walked toward the guy. “Me and my girl are having some car trouble. It won’t start. Can you help us please?” she asked.

This was not a part of the plan, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. What is she doing? Now this nigga done seen her face and everything! I thought heatedly.

The nigga was a sucker for a pretty face, because he came right over without question and tapped the front of the car. “Open the hood,” he instructed. I did as I was told and then hit the release button for the trunk as well. I saw him lean over to check out the engine, so I grabbed the gun, and got out of the car.

“Show me your hands,” I said as I raised the gun to his head. Surprise swept over his face and he opened his mouth to speak. “If you want to live to see tomorrow, then you’ll shut the fuck up,” I said calmly. The look on his face told me that he was fuming. “Yeah, you fell for the okey doke,” I commented, further pissing him off.

Anisa reached into his waistline and relieved him of his cell phone, the hotel room key, and a black.45. “Thank you,” she sang as she released the safety and cocked it back.

With steel pressed to both sides of his head, the dude became much more humble. “I got a daughter, man!” he pleaded. “I don’t know what y’all bitches want, but you can have it. My whip, money, whatever.”

We didn’t respond, but we took that nigga for a walk to the back of the car. I lifted the trunk. We were moving in sync as if we had been doing this for years. She was the Thelma to my Louise. “Get in,” Anisa ordered.

The dude reluctantly climbed inside, and we closed the trunk. After making sure that he was locked inside, I turned to her with big eyes and whispered, “What the fuck was that, Nis? You’ve got to warn me before you make a play like that! The nigga saw our faces and everything,” I fussed.

“So, we’ll pop his ass so that he ain’t telling nothing,” she responded as she pulled her scarf over her face. I did the same. The only thing that could be seen was our hair and our eyes as we made our way to the door. I put