A Project Chick (33 page)

Nobody counted how many cigarettes they had in an opened pack, so this was her chance to finally take a drag.

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Wiggles, not even thinking twice, took three cigarettes out of the pack and took a long walk around the block and smoked the cigarettes. They tasted a little funny, but she wrote it off as nothing unusual because she hadn't had a cigarette since she found out she was carrying Taj's baby. Before going back into the barbershop, she stopped in the Bath and Body Works store and put some lotion on her arms and sprayed some of the tester body mist on her to cover up the scent of the cigarettes. She knew if Tressa smelled any indication of cigarettes on her, she'd have to deal with her and Taj.

On her way back into the barbershop, she kept losing vision, but she too wrote this off as having the three cigarettes back to back, so she didn't want to mention it to any of the fellas in the shop. Instead, she sat quietly in the back of the shop carrying on general conversation with Indie. Then all of a sudden, diarrhea set in. While Wiggles headed to the bathroom, she began vomiting. No one in the barbershop thought much of it because they ruled it out to be the curry goat she had gobbled down earlier. A few minutes later, Gator walked to the bathroom door to check on Wiggles because he didn't hear any sounds coming from the bathroom.

"You a'ight in there?" Gator asked.

There wasn't any response as he knocked and knocked. So he shook the cheap lock on the door. With a few aggressive shakes, the lock on the door automatically popped undone. Gator opened the door, only to see Wiggles lying on the floor. He felt her pulse, it was weak and thin, rapidly alternating. Wiggles lay there, her muscle power weak, which prevented her from moving, as her muscle strength completely deteriorated. Her sight was gone completely, but her mind remained clear until she took her last breath. Fighting with all her might, while trying to tell them, "tell Tressa I am sorry. I smoked three cigarettes." All she could think about the last minutes of her life was letting Tressa down. As the ambulance arrived, and barged through the door of the barbershop, Wiggles took her last breath. The paramedics pronounced her dead at the scene.

The coroner arrived, but with the sight of the police, he knew they'd want to ask questions. As much as he wanted to, but taking into consideration the police's 222

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knowledge of Indie's checkered past, Indie wasn't hanging around. Indie snuck out quietly through the back entrance. Indie called Tressa to try to redirect her route away from the barbershop, this was a scene Tressa did not need to see. However, Indie was too late. As Tressa turned onto the street where the barbershop is located, she saw all the police cars and yellow tape surrounding the barbershop.

She didn't even bother to park correctly and sprinted over to the barbershop. Once she approached the scene, one officer reminded her it was a crime scene and that nobody was allowed to go in. She spotted Gator heading over to her, and just then her cell phone rang. Relieved to see Gator, she answered the phone and all she heard was Lucky's voice singing the Boys To Men song, "It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday."

Lucky burst into laughter. "This is the song that you better get somebody to sing at your boyfriend's funeral.

I told you that anybody you love I'm going to zap them right out of your life, by any means! Sorry, I didn't let you say goodbye to that sucker! Oh, by the way, didn't you always say, tobacco kills!"

When Lucky went into his chant again, "
It's so

hard to say goodbye to yesterday,"
for the last time, Tressa just hung up on him before he could finish. She looked across the street only to see Lucky sitting in his car blowing smoke.

Tressa was sure that Lucky didn't know what he was talking about, because she had just talked to Indie only five minutes ago. Gator broke the news to her that it was Wiggles who had died. Tressa broke down screaming, fighting and crying hysterically.

Tressa loved Wiggles like the sister she never had.

Wiggles had been her backbone, her support, and her inspiration. Wiggles gave Tressa the will to keep her head up, to keep striving, to keep rising to the top and the person she leaned on most, the woman who would bear her brother's first child was gone! Dead and never to return, she couldn't be brought back. She had survived a severe addiction, but with death, there was no taking back.

Tressa felt like she was having a nervous breakdown, but she held her composure to make it through the funeral, with the support of Missy, Gator and Indie.

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She felt she had no choice, but to be strong for her brother, who had lost the love of his life and the unborn child that he had been anticipating. The state allowed Taj to attend the funeral since he had done almost the majority of his time. He was still in shackles and handcuffs, and accompanied by two prison guards with loaded shotguns.

It took everything in Tressa to bite her tongue when she observed Wiggles' family members obscene and phony behavior. They were falling out, sobbing, hollering and screaming like they were really sad she was gone. When in reality, Wiggles had been dead to them long before now.

None of them had even seen her in years since they disowned her when she started using drugs.

Tressa sat at the burial ground watching Wiggles'

family put on a show, and she thought to herself,
I wonder
why they are carrying on like that? Is it because they feel
guilty within their own selves? So, them coming here with the
drama makes them feel better. Well, the motherfuckers need
to feel rotten! Now they want to cry when she is in the
ground, when they should have been crying tears of pain
when she was out there on drugs, or should've been crying
tears of joy when she was delivered from her addiction. It's
so funny how we all make a big deal when somebody dies.

Why do we do that? When people are here on earth with us,
we shouldn't spend so much time being negative, bickering
back and forth or just taking somebody we truly love for
granted. We should always remember that none of us are
promised tomorrow.

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-26-

From Bad to Worse

Through an autopsy performed on Wiggles' body, the Medical Examiner's Office concluded that she was poisoned with hemlock. Hemlock is a poisonous plant, but the stem and leaves, when dried and ground up, are its deadliest form. Quail are the only living objects that are immune to hemlock, but the flesh of a quail, which has eaten hemlock, can cause death if eaten by someone else.

Putting hemlock in a cigarette is something only a smart, desperate jackass like Lucky will do. Killing with hemlock was a plan that he had indeed put a lot of thought into. As far as Lucky knew, he had succeeded, nobody told him different. There was not even a second thought of regret when he saw the body, covered with a white sheet, come out of the barbershop.

Just in coincidence, the same night that Wiggles was killed, an unidentified man's body was found in the same area of town. These things combined, confirmed that his mission to kill Indie was accomplished. With Indie out of the way, Lucky balled out of control and continued the routine of his everyday life.

Indie knew that the poisonous cigarettes were meant for him and not Wiggles. Indie laid low until he decided when and how he wanted to deal with Lucky. He never made his presence known. Instead, he studied Lucky's 225

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every move. The most amusing part was Lucky never realized he was being watched.

Lucky's hangout was the "Red Light Club", which was the only strip club Richmond had for blacks. Mostly all the ballers hung out there, and Lucky was a regular. He had done a lot of his transactions there. This particular night was packed to capacity. The club's owner had brought in some out of town girls. With new faces, and much booty to be viewed, the men flocked in from every section of town, Northside, Southside, West end, Church Hill and Jackson Ward. Lucky made so much money that night, selling his weight like it was no tomorrow. Things were booming for him. There were so many ballers running over to Lucky, coming from the front, the back, left and right. Some only paid admission to get in, to handle business with Lucky. The night was almost over, and all he had was two ounces of heroine on him. He wanted to get rid of them before the night was over, which should not have been too hard, with all the people he was having interactions with.

Lucky was always a big spender, and he and his boys always fought over who would pay for the Moet that night. Moet, at that time, was the most expensive champagne that was sold in the clubs in Richmond.

A light skinned, petite waitress, wearing nothing but some red fur thongs, walked over to Lucky's table and placed the bucket of Moet on the table. "Compliments of the gentleman over there in the black suit." Lucky smiled and looked over in the direction, and he choked up the champagne, because he thought, no he was certain, he saw a ghost. It was Indie holding his glass up for a toast, and on his face, was a big-pasted Joker smile. Lucky shook his head to make sure he wasn't seeing things. When he realized that it was Indie in the flesh, Lucky drunk his drink, and started snatching his homeboys drinks to gulp down too. Lucky begin to sweat, of all nights, he didn't have his pistol on him. It was a different security guard searching everybody, and he couldn't tip him to let him in with his gun.

Lucky didn't know what to think or how to play his cards at this time. How the hell is this nigga sitting over there
? SHIT, what the fuck I am gonna do? Damn I know
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how this nigga roll. I know one of us gotta go, and shit it ain't
going to be me. This nigga gotta die tonight. To fucking
night!!
Lucky took a deep breath, and wiped the balls of sweat off of his face, when one thing dawned on him.
This
nigga can't know that hemlock shit was for him. Shit, I know
if I knew a nigga was trying to poison me, I wouldn't spend
nay dime on no damn champagne. Hell no, so he can't know
what time it is. Let me go over here and feel this joker out. I
mean ain't neither one of us got no guns, so what the fuck, I
got twenty niggas in here deep. What the worst that can
happen? Me and this nigga get the rumbling? Twenty to one,
this nigga is a dead man. We will stampede his ass in here.

Half of these niggas in here can't stand New York niggas
either?
Please I'm going over here to pop some shit to this
joker.

Lucky went over to Indie's table. "Well, well, well, you the last nigga I expected to be sending me some Mo." Indie smiled. "I'm sure you're surprised to find out your chemical skull missle missed me, huh?" Lucky's heart dropped for a minute. "Man what you talking 'bout? I know you ain't beefing with me over no bitch."

Ignoring Lucky's comment, although he wanted to murder Lucky right there on the spot. He knew he couldn't lose his cool, not inside of the club with all the witnesses.

"You Sudaam Husseim himself, too bad your missle hit innocent bystanders. You a big ole' man."

"Oh, you talking shit ma'fucka." Lucky said, pointing to Indie.

Indie's smile never left his face. "Just letting you know you've made a war, by missing your target, civilians got killed by friendly fire. You a Big Man, Big Ole' Lucky."
I'm not fucking up my new suit beating the brakes off
of this joker ass nigga. We just gonna shoot this shit outside.

Shit, the nigga gotta get to his car to get to his gun.

"Ok nigga, since you done declared war, make me know we at war, sucker?"

"Don't worry, I got you. Believe that. I give you my word on that." Indie didn't blink, or show one ounce of emotion, only continued to sip on his drink.

Lucky hopped up from the table, hoping that Indie would follow him outside where they could shoot it out.

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While Lucky was heading to the door, he was approached by a dude he had dealt with earlier that night. Lucky, without hesitation, reached down in his Versace slung shot briefs under his balls, grabbed the bag, and in a matter of seconds, the exchange was made. Continuing his stride to exit the club he looked back and he saw Indie and the new security guard, walking behind him laughing. He could tell by the body language between them, that the dude wasn't just a bouncer, he was indeed Indie's man.