Memphis Streets 4: Skeletons

Chapter 31- Lucifer

Jaqorya Hampton has one hell of a right hook.

That's abundantly clear after watching her spar with one bitch after another in Mike's Gym for a couple of hours. "C'mon, baby. Keep your chin up. You got her on the run now," Jaqorya's coach shouted from the sidelines.

The girls' boxing gloves pound against each other, coupled up with a few wild swings. The third time Jaqorya's sparring partner misses her chin by a mile, Jaqorya leans in and goes to work on the girl's ribs.

The amateur backs away only to find her ass is trapped in a corner. "Ooooh."

Everyone around the ring winces collectively as their faces twist with pity and fascination. Jaqorya shows no mercy. By the time the sorry-ass referee steps forward to untangle the ladies, the woman's opponent pitches forward head first onto the mat.

Jaqorya throws up her hands in victory as her small team rushes to surround and pump her head with praise. I'm no more impressed than I would be watching a pit bull maul a teacup Yorkie. Exiting the gym, I head straight to the ladies' locker room. As I go in, one chick is coming out. She is so absorbed with wrapping up her hand that she doesn't even notice me.

I walk past the lockers and then two bathrooms stalls, and a double sink vanity with a wall-length mirror. Around the corner, there are three shower stalls separated by tiled walls. The locker room door swishes open and I reflexively withdraw my Browning knife and slip behind one of the stalls.

"Fuck, girl. You're gonna be unstoppable at the fight Monday night," an excited woman exclaims.

"We'll see," Jaqorya replies, cryptically. I can barely hear them.

"Damn, bitch. Why aren't you juiced up about this shit? We're talking about an easy fifty K to whoop on some knock-kneed bitch with a glass jaw. Yo! You know that shit beats slinging candy any damn day of the week."

"Yeah. Well, there might not be a fight Monday." Locker doors are being opened and slammed closed, and I have to lean my head out of the stall in order to hear them better.

"What do you mean, there might not be a fight? You know something that I don't know?"

"I might have to go out of town for a little while. Lay low."

"Lay low? Are you shitting me? After all this training?"

"Look. It can't be helped. The girls got ourselves in a little situation and we might have to bounce. No big deal."

"What kind of situation?"

"You don't want to know." There's a long silence before Jaqorya's friend goes in again.

"Please tell me this isn't any of that gang bullshit. I told you not to go down that fuckin' road."

"Nikki, don't start."

"At least tell me that it doesn't have anything to do with what happened to Crunk." More silence.

I step from behind the tiled wall. "That—and some other shit."

"Damn, girl. You were a part of that? I heard Lynch and them found his ass chopped up like horsemeat. What the fuck happened?"

"Some bullshit." Jaqorya sighs. "Shariffa got the girls into hitting Da Club a couple of weeks back." Nikki gasps.

"That was y'all too? Have y'all lost your minds?"

"Look. Shit didn't go down the way we'd planned. We were supposed to be in and out. We were just going to jack a high-stakes poker game going on in the back room. Brika and Shariffa went around the back, murked the nigga guarding the door, while me and Shacardi closed in from the front. Shots were fired and we went in. Fuck. I can't even tell you who shot who. The shit went down so fast."

While the locker room goes silent again, I picture Nikki with her mouth wide open. Jaqorya's voice lowers with worry.

"We didn't plan to kill that nigga Bishop. At least I didn't, but the shit happened and now we got his crazy-ass sister pissed the fuck off. What she did to Crunk . . . girl, I ain't never seen no shit like that. What kind of bitch beheads and dismembers muthafuckas? Shit. She even painted the walls with his blood."

"Fuuuuccckk," Nikki whispers. "What are y'all going to do?"

"I don't know about those bitches, but I'm bouncing."

"To where?"

"I don't know. Maybe Cali or Vegas. They got a good women's boxing circuit. Maybe I can go and get something started out there."

I shake my head at her pathetic dream. The bitch killed that shit the night she and her road dawgs murked my brother.

"Well . . . I'll hate to see you go," Nikki says. "Have you told coach yet?"

"No. I have to do what I have to do. But, hey, don't say nothing. I haven't made up my mind yet when I'm leaving. I have to see where the other girls' heads are at."

"My lips are sealed. Are you gonna be all right?"

"Yeah. I just hate I ever got involved with that fake bitch Shariffa."

"Shit. If it's anybody's fault, it's Lynch's. His wife is bad news."

"Well. Now she done started a war with the wrong bitch. Fuck. Now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn't say shit and just jet. Memphis is played out anyway."

"All right. Keep your head up. I hope I see you Thursday, but if not, I'll understand."

"Thanks, girl. I'm gonna knock off some of this funk and head out."

"Cool. See ya." The locker room door opens and closes.

When I hear Jaqorya's rustling around, I move back behind one of the tiled walls and wait. A minute later, a naked Jaqorya heads toward the showers. I don't have much time to do this and it's incredibly risky since someone could walk in at any moment.

Jaqorya selects the stall to my left. The shower cuts on while my knife twitches at my side. Seconds later, she sings while she lathers up. Quietly, I move from my stall and creep to the other side.

"JUST LET ME RIDE," she belts at the top of her lungs—off key. "SEX YOU BACK TO—"

I round the corner and a startled Jaqorya jumps. "Hi, champ." My blade slices across her throat before she remembers to scream. Her hand clamps over her open throat as if that will be enough to keep her head attached. It's not. Blood shoots from her neck, mixing with the water, swirling down the drain. And I'm just getting started.