Memphis Streets 3: Revenge

Chapter 30- Le'Shelle

Never let bitches see you sweat. I learned that shit the hard way-even now when I'm surrounded by my family but they're all acting strange.

These bitches haven't turned on me, have they? My mind races through a catalog of bad deeds and at the top of the list is my fear of Snake finding out I struck a deal with a Cartier's to murk one of his baby mommas. I'm sure he didn't give a fuck about her, but he would care about killing the seed that was in her belly.

"Where the fuck is that bag-or are y'all gonna keep me with my ass hanging out in this muthafucka?" Pit Bull cheeses up as she shoves the black, leather duffle bag my way.

"Your nigga picked your shit out," she tells me, envy lacing her voice.

"Everything is set." Kookie shifts her attention to the window.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I ask.

She glances back at me to see who I was spitting to. "Who-me?"

"Yeah, you. What's with the long face? I thought you were glad to see me out?"

"Of course. You know that you're my girl." Kookie flashes me a big smile, but the shit doesn't reach her eyes.

"We'll talk about it another time," she adds before I can interrogate her further.

Whatever the fuck she gotta tell me everybody else must already know because they all go as silent as the grave. Avonte ain't playing behind the wheel because she floats our ass out of Memphis in no time flat. In the meantime, I change out of the ugly hospital gown into the packed clothes in the bag: black lacy underwear, short white mini-skirt and a white, crop cami-accompanied by a pair of breathtaking silver Louboutin pumps.

If this is an apology for him not personally busting my ass out, apology accepted. I rush through the toiletries and then put my hair in some kind of order. No sense in looking like Whodunit and what for when I step out of this bitch.

"How do I look?" I ask, turning to Kookie.

"Like a muthafuckin' queen." Heads nod in agreement all around me, but that doesn't stop a few butterflies from tickling my belly when the car rolls to a stop.

I can't help but twist up my mug shot at seeing where we are. "A church?" I take in the old, red-brick building with paint-chipped columns and wonder whether this shit is some kind of a joke.

"C'mon. We better hurry up," Pit Bull says, hopping out of the car. "Our asses is already late."

Everybody scrambles out like fuckin' roaches, but my ass is still stuck on stupid on why the fuck Snake's ass is hanging out at a dilapidated church with a graveyard out back.

"Girl, are you comin'?" Kookie snaps.

Swallowing my list of questions, I climb out of the car. My ass was already wobbly before the fuckin' heels. Now I feel like a toddler tryna walk for the first time.

Kookie and Pit Bull flank my sides. "It's all right, girl. We got you." Never let bitches see you sweat.

"That's all right. I got it." I shake them off and they fall back a step.

I start to head round back, thinking that's where we need to enter, but once again, Kookie grasps hold of my wrist and leads me toward the front door.

"This way." I give her a look.

The last thing I need right now is for the man upstairs to strike my ass down for rolling up in his house. For most of my life the Lord and I had an understanding: I stay out of his business and he stays out of mine. When I glance at the girls again, my nerves knot in my gut. These bitches are up to something.