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Shorty Fell for a Miami Savage - Kyoshi
1
Essence
I mean no disrespect when I say this, but you may want to change your clothes.
I looked at Carl and laughed a little.
Why would I want to change my clothes? I think I look pretty fly,
I told him and smiled.
Nobody could tell me nothing because, in my mind, I was fly as hell and dressed to the nines. I had on a black Tom Ford suit with no shirt or bra underneath. My breasts sat up nice and perky, putting them on full display for whatever nigga wanted to look my way. A pair of black Tom Ford ankle strap pumps adorned my pretty, pedicured toes, completing my outfit. My hair was in a sleek high ponytail. Whenever handling business, having my face out in the open was a must. It was hard being in this game without these pigs coming down on you, but it was harder when people didn’t take you seriously because of your gender. The only way for a female to get respect in this game was to command it, and I couldn’t command the respect I deserved by hiding behind inches of hair.
What are you trying to say, Carl, that I can’t dress?
I quizzed.
No, I’m not saying that. When it comes to fashion, you know you got it. All I’m saying is the way you handle things isn’t always the cleanest, and there are three of them down there.
I looked at Carl and shook my head because this was our normal routine. He would always suggest I change my clothes to something more appropriate.
Carl, how many times do I have to tell you this is what I do? It doesn’t matter if I handle our business in six-inch heels or jays. The outcome is still going to be the same,
I explained.
I’m just saying, it’s okay to be a little less dramatic when it comes to handling business.
What’s the point in doing anything if we can’t be a little dramatic?
I laughed, giving Carl a slight pat on the shoulder then exited the car.
I adjusted my suit jacket, making sure I didn’t have a nip slip, and then I walked toward the house, ready to get this over with. I waltzed through the door like I owned the place because, in a way, I did.
Is the basement ready for me?
I asked the guard standing by the door.
Yes.
Thank you.
I walked down the stairs toward the basement without saying anything, pulled the door open, and walked in. I took in everyone in the room, let out a deep breath, and prepared myself to get to work.
Hello, gentlemen,
I greeted the four men who stood in each corner of the room.
None of them were armed because murking people wasn’t their job. Their job was to clean up whatever mess I made; if a body ever came back to me, then that was their life.
Essence,
they said in unison and nodded.
I pulled out a pair of black gloves from my back pocket and slipped them on. Going over to the table that was to my right, I pulled out a chair and placed it in front of the three guys who were tied up. They were all tied to chairs with bags over their heads. Before sitting down, I went back over to the table to grab a push dagger and a BC-41. Both were combat knives that were known for doing damage, and damage was exactly what I had in mind for this situation. I set both knives on the chair then pulled off the bags that were on the guys’ heads. Each one of them wore a look of surprise when they locked eyes with me.
From the look on your faces, I can guess the questions that you are asking yourself. What am I doing here? Who am I? What did I do wrong? Etcetera.
I picked up the dagger knife and toyed with it while pacing in front of them.
The questions the three of you have will be answered, so we don’t have to play the guessing game. My name is Essence, but in the streets, I’m known as Blaze. I run everything in Florida. We’re all here because it has gotten back to me that the three of you decided to put your hands in the honey pot. Now, the issue with that is the honey pot doesn’t belong to you. That honey pot belongs to me. Since you touched what doesn’t belong to you, the three of you must suffer the consequences. All I need from one of you is an explanation.
I paced the floor, waiting for one of them to answer me. After a couple of minutes went by, I stopped moving to look at them and find out why no one was answering my question.
Oh, wait. You can’t answer because there’s tape on your mouths. Let me fix that for the three of you.
Using the dagger, I cut a slit between their lips. If I happened to cut one of their lips, then that was on them.
Now, start talking,
I demanded.
I’m not saying shit, and neither are my boys. You ain’t no fucking Blaze, so you can tell that nigga if he wants to come and see us then he know where we be. Ain’t no respect when he sends a bitch to do his dirty work.
A bitch?
I repeated more to myself than to anyone else.
I walked up close to the smart mouth one and straddled his lap.
The nigga ain’t show up because Blaze is already the fuck here. You can choose not to believe me, but let me put you up on game. I go by the name Blaze because if niggas knew it was a female running shit, there wouldn’t be no niggas left in the state of Florida. So, to avoid all that killing and my cute ass from going to jail, I go by the name Blaze.
Is that supposed to do something for me? Was that supposed to put fear in my heart? ’Cause the only effect you have on me is making my dick hard. The way you straddling my shit, I know you know how to ride a di—
My dagger went from right below his left ear, down his jaw, across his throat, up his right jaw, and all the way under his right ear then across his right cheek. My dagger kept going until my ending point connected with my starting point. His blood splattered all over me as I moved off his lap. I stood in front of the other two with blood on my suit and face, waiting for them to speak.
I’m not hearing nothing, but I’ma need one of you muthafuckas to tell me something,
I gritted.
I… I… we… we…
The dude who sat in the middle stuttered.
Nigga, I’ma need you to use your big boy words, ’cause that stuttering shit ain’t working for me. Now it’s going to take me all of three seconds to get that other knife and end your life. All I need is for one of you stupid muthafuckas to explain to me why y’all felt it was okay to touch my shit!
We just needed the money! We didn’t want to, but we didn’t have no other…
Just like the first one, the dude in the middle’s words were silenced by my BC-41 being dunked in and out of his chest. He started coughing up blood, and I moved over to the dude who was left.
You got anything to say for yourself?
I asked.
The nigga didn’t say anything; all I heard was the sound of piss. I thought I was tripping because who really would be able to hear piss? When I looked down, his light blue jeans were no longer fully light blue. I shook my head and didn’t even waste my time saying anything else to him.
This is for touching shit that doesn’t belong to you!
Taking the knife, I untied one of his hands and cut off his fingers then stuffed them in his mouth, causing him to choke. Not wanting to waste any more time, I grabbed my gun off the table and put two in his head and one in his chest.
Clean this shit up, and make sure nothing leads back to us. If anything, set up someone in their family to take the fall for this shit.
The guys nodded at me, then got to work. I dropped the knife, pulled my gloves off, and stripped out of my suit, panties, and shoes. I was serious about nothing being traced back to me. I headed to the basement stairs and climbed them two at a time. I went straight to the room that held some of my things. I didn’t live there, but I kept clothes there for when I handled business.
As soon as I walked into my bedroom, I grabbed a towel then headed for the shower. I needed to cleanse my body and mind after what I had just done. Killing wasn’t something I loved to do, it was something I had to do. When someone got out of line, I had to make sure they were handled, or others would feel that they could do the same.
To the streets, I was Blaze, someone who gave zero fucks and had zero chill. The only thing Blaze cared about was money. If it wasn’t green, it didn’t mean a thing. Not once was it said that Blaze was a man; the streets came up with that theory on their own. I guess they thought a female could never be as ruthless as a man. I didn’t have a problem with it because if people knew the truth, it would be like what I told ole boy. All the hood niggas, thugs, and these so-called savages would be nonexistent. Men couldn’t deal with women being at the head of an operation. Their egos wouldn’t allow it. My ego, on the other hand, wouldn’t allow anyone to disrespect my family or me.
The people in the streets crowned Blaze as the muthafuckin’ king, and that’s how I liked it. Everyone else in the streets saw me as a kept bitch, never once thinking that I was the one doing the keeping.
2
Caution
Y ou not leaving, Caution!
Katia cried as she stood in front of the door.
I ran my hand over my face, trying to calm myself down because I was two seconds away from slapping this bitch.
Tell me why, and I’ll let you leave,
she said, swiping at her tears.
First and foremost, you don’t give me no muthafuckin’ ultimatums. I’m a grown ass man, and I do what the fuck I wanna do. You knew what the fuck this was from the beginning, and you said you was cool wit’ it. Now, all of a sudden, you wanna throw a fuckin’ tantrum ’cause you found out I’m fuckin’ somebody else? Newsflash, muthafucka, CAUTION DOES WHAT THE FUCK CAUTION WANTS! If I want to fuck ten bitches a day, I could ’cause I ain’t tied to a got damn soul! Now, your best bet would be to remove yourself from the door before you piss me off,
I calmly told her.
I saw the sadness in her eyes, but frankly, I really didn’t give a fuck. I was a ruthless ass nigga and didn’t have a soft spot for no bitch. Shit, the only women who even got respect from me were my mama and my sister.
If you walk out that door, don’t think about coming back,
she softly said.
Shaking my head, I chuckled lightly and stared at her for a minute. I met Katia about three years ago. Lil mama was fine as fuck, which made me approach her. As soon as I stepped to her, I saw the lust in her eyes. Bitches all around Florida wanted me, and that ain’t me being arrogant, that’s me being real. Not to sound like a dickhead, but I was that nigga. Bitches wanted me, and niggas wanted to be like me. I didn’t even have to take her out; she was bussin’ it open for me the very next