Read Obsession Online

Authors: Treasure Hernandez

Obsession (9 page)

Tiffany just remained quiet as she listened to what the detective had to say. After two hours of listening to that bullshit, she was taken back to the cell, where she waited a few more hours until it was time for her to see a judge.
Tiffany almost passed out when she heard the judge set her bail at $200,000. After the court officer escorted her back to her holding cell, all she could do was wait and see what the next step in the process was.
Two hours later a CO called her name.
“Get your shit. You just made bail,” he announced as he led her toward the front desk to fill out her paperwork.
This has to be some kind of mistake,
she thought to herself as she nervously filled out her release papers. She knew nobody in her family didn't even have close to one hundred dollars, let alone twenty-thousand. She filled out the papers and quickly walked out of the station before they realized that the system was making a mistake.
When Tiffany stepped outside, she saw Quick leaning on the hood of a Dodge Charger. “You bailed me out?” she asked, walking up to him.
“Yeah,” Quick answered as he walked around to the driver's side of the car and hopped in.
Tiffany followed his lead and slid in the passenger seat. “Why did you bail me out?”
“Jail ain't no place for no one,” Quick said, pulling away from the curb.
“I appreciate it, but I can't afford to pay you back.”
“I didn't ask you to pay me back,” Quick said, as the sound of Jay-Z hummed through the speakers at a low level. “What's going on with you and that nigga Blake?”
“Nothing,” Tiffany answered quickly. “I tried to kill his ass. That's why the cops came to get me.”
“You shot him?”
“No. Stabbed him up.” Tiffany wasn't proud of what she had done, but she just felt she did what she had to do.
Quick smirked. “Damn! I guess I better stay on your good side.” He laughed out loud.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Wherever you want to go,” Quick answered. “Where do you live?”
“Live?” Tiffany laughed. “Wherever I can at the moment, until I get my shit together.”
“I just got a new apartment. You're welcome to stay there with me, if you like.”
“I don't know,” Tiffany said, putting up a weak protest. “You've already done too much for me, don't you think?”
“Trust me, you won't even know I'm there when I am there, 'cause most of the time I'm out.”
“Okay, I'll stay with you until I get back on my feet. Deal?”
“Deal,” Quick said, and the two shook hands.
Thirty minutes later, Quick pulled up in front of his new apartment and shut off the engine. “Sorry, but I don't have any furniture yet.” He popped the trunk and removed a box containing an air mattress inside. “I hope you don't mind sleeping on this,” he said, holding up the box.
“No. That will be perfectly fine,” Tiffany said with a smile as the two stepped inside the empty apartment.
Immediately Quick plugged in the air pump and blew up the bed. Then he went and grabbed some sheets and made the bed.
“I have to step out for a few. You need anything?”
“Just some sleep,” Tiffany said, laying down on the air mattress.
Just as Quick was about to head out the door, she called his name, stopping him dead in his tracks.
“Thank you for everything.”
Quick smiled and winked as he headed out the door. He hopped back in his car and headed down toward the church.
When Quick pulled up to the back of the church, he saw Turf and Goliath coming out the back door.
“Look at this nigga,” Turf said with a smirk on his face. “Glad to see you still alive.”
“Glad to still be alive.” Quick smiled. “I saw the police got to Wolf. Did Major Pain make out all right?”
“Yeah, he's fine,” Turf said, as him and Goliath slid in the awaiting Range Rover. The passenger window immediately rolled down. “This spot is dead from now on,” Turf added. “I'll have Goliath text you the new meeting spot tomorrow. Go home and get you some rest,” he said, and the Range Rover pulled off.
“I like how that kid moves,” Turf said to Goliath. He could tell that Quick was hungry, and on top of that, he was loyal. Turf also liked the fact that Quick used his head before he reacted. That was something that couldn't be taught. Either you had it, or you didn't. A few more months up under Turf's wing, and Quick was going to be heading toward the top fast.
“We got some company,” Goliath said when he noticed flashing lights in his rearview mirror.
“Pull this muthafucka over,” Turf said in a calm voice. He removed his P89 from his waistband and handed it to Goliath, who placed both Turf's gun along with his own gun inside the secret compartment in the dashboard.
Goliath pulled over and placed the Range Rover in park. He watched the cops' every move from his side mirror.
“He fuckin' with us for no reason. I ain't did shit wrong,” Goliath said as the detective made his way to the driver's window.
Detective Davis tapped on the driver's window with his flashlight. “Roll this muthafucka down,” he ordered, shining the bright light directly in Goliath's eyes.
“What seems to be the problem?” Goliath asked, an angry look on his face. If the man standing in front of his window wasn't a cop, he would've gladly killed the man with his bare hands.
“I'll ask the questions around here,” Detective Davis told the giant that sat behind the wheel. “License and registration.” He watched the big man reach over to the glove compartment and remove the items he had requested.
“Here you go, sir.” Goliath handed him his license and registration, and through his side mirror he watched the detective walk back to his car.
Goliath huffed, anger all in his tone. “Bitch-ass nigga fuckin' with us for no reason.”
“Just be cool. We clean, so he can't do shit to us anyway,” Turf said calmly. He was already used to the harassment by the police; it was all a part of the game. You had to take the bad along with the good, and to be the boss, you definitely had to pay the cost.
Detective Davis walked back up to the driver's window and tossed Goliath's license and paperwork at him. “I want you two drug-dealing scumbags to stay the fuck off my streets!” he spat. “The next time I catch you two punk muthafuckas on my streets, I'ma make sure y'all have hell to pay.” Detective Davis looked over at Turf and saw a smirk on his face. “Something funny?”
“Only thing funny I see is you,” Turf shot back.
“Tough guy, huh.” Detective Davis smiled as he walked to the passenger side of the Range Rover. He called for backup right before he reached the passenger side window. “You got a problem over here, boy?”
“The problem is, you fuckin' with us for no reason,” Turf replied. “You ain't got nothing else better to do with your life?”
Turf and Goliath burst out laughing.
“Tell you what,” Turf said, looking in the detective's eyes. “When you ready to stop working for the man and start working for a real man, holla at me, and I might give you a job.”
“You a funny muthafucka.” Detective Davis laughed as he noticed his backup pulling up to the scene. “Step out the car.”
“For what?” Turf asked.
“I said step out the car!” Detective Davis yelled as he opened the passenger side door and snatched Turf out the passenger seat.
Turf's feet hit the pavement, and from there on out, it was on. He turned and punched the detective in his face as the two broke out into a scuffle right on the side of the road.
The other officer quickly ran over and jumped into the brawl, striking Turf repeatedly with his nightstick.
Goliath hopped out the driver's seat and laid the officer out with one punch. Then he made his way over to Detective Davis and wrapped his hands around his neck and applied pressure.
“Look at you now, muthafucka,” Turf said as he punched the detective in his face.
Detective Davis tried his best to pry the big man's hands from around his throat, but it was no use. Goliath's grip was too deadly.
When Turf saw Detective Davis's eyes start to roll in the back of his head he stepped in. “That's enough,” he said, and immediately Goliath let go of the detective's neck.
Detective Davis's body hit the ground, and Turf and Goliath busted out laughing.
Seconds later cop cars swarmed the area. Turf and Goliath laid down on the ground in surrender. They knew the NYPD was going to put a beating on them, but they definitely didn't plan on going out without a fight.
“Shit Is Fucked Up”
Sosa hopped in the awaiting limousine with his lawyer Mr. Goldberg by his side. Inside the limo sat Lucky and Hawk.
The first thing Sosa did was pour himself a glass of straight vodka. He took a sip. “What it's looking like?” he said, looking over at his lawyer. He knew he was in some deep shit and possibly might end up doing some jail time.
“Well, the cops say they just want to question you, but they are going to arrest you once you get there,” Mr. Goldberg told him. “I called the police station and told them you were on your way.” Then he added, “You going missing for a week doesn't make it look too good.”
“Fuck they want me to do?” Sosa huffed. “Go running to go sit up in a jail cell? Fuck outta here! Them crackers can kiss my ass!”
“The house that the shooting took place in is not in your name, so therefore you are responsible for what took place in there,” Mr. Goldberg told him straight up. He knew that wasn't what Sosa wanted to hear, but he was always straight up with his clients, whether they liked it or not. “We can't even come up with a story, because they have a few witnesses who were at the party that place you as not only being at the party, but also as being the host.”
Sosa just sipped on his drink as he continued to listen to what his lawyer was telling him. From what he was hearing, it looked like jail time was definitely going to be in his future.
“If these muthafuckas talking about giving me a lot of time, then I'm just going to bail out and take my chances on the run. Fuck it!” He shrugged.
“A lot of people got killed inside of your home, and the DA is going to try to make you responsible for all of them. They can't do that, but they damn sure are going to try.”
“So what do you think I should do?” Sosa asked, leaning back in his seat. “Or, better yet, how much is it going to cost to make this go away?”
“It's not that simple. Either you're going to fight it, or you're going to run.”
Sosa sat back and started to think about his future. He was willing to take anything under five years. Anything more than that, he was just going to be on the run. He knew the DA was going to try and make him look like some heartless animal, but he didn't care.
“Fuck it! It is what it is,” Sosa said out loud. He didn't have time to just be sitting around and worrying about this shit all day.
The limousine pulled up in front of police station, and there were people and reporters all over the place waiting for Sosa to turn himself in.
Sosa looked over at Lucky and Hawk. “This shit ain't over. I want y'all to go pay that punk muthafucka Turf a visit.” Then he said to Lucky, “I like how you took out your homeboy's girlfriend. If he ain't with us, then he's against us.”
“That shit was an accident. I didn't mean to kill that girl.”
“Ain't no such thing as an accident, when it comes to murder.” Sosa finished his drink. “Y'all hold it down for me while I'm up in here,” he said, as him his lawyer hopped out the limo and faced the large crowd.
Two police officers pushed their way through the large crowd of people and grabbed Sosa's arms.
As Sosa made his way through the crowd, he heard a few people supporting him, a few people hating, some chanting racial slurs. He ignored all as he made his way inside the police station.
 
 
Blake woke up in the hospital not knowing where he was. The last thing he could remember was Tiffany getting fly at the mouth with him, and him putting her in her place.
He tried to move his arm. That's when he quickly found out he was handcuffed to the bed. “What the fuck?” he said out loud. His mouth was dry, and his tongue felt like sandpaper. He desperately need a drink of water.
“Nurse!” he yelled. He didn't know what was going on, but he was about to get some answers from somewhere. “Nurse!” he called again.
“Stop all that muthafuckin' yelling!” Detective Davis said, stepping inside of Blake's room.
“Why am I handcuffed?” Blake asked, panic in his voice.
Detective Davis furrowed his brow. “Maybe because you're under arrest.”
“For what?” Blake barked. “I'm the one laying up in the fuckin' hospital.”
“For possession of a firearm.” Detective Davis smiled. “I should be taking your ass to jail for beating on that poor girlfriend of yours,” he said, standing over Blake. “While you're sitting up in jail, I hope them big strong muthafuckas beat you up every day the way you did that poor girl.”
“I don't know what you talking about,” Blake said, feigning ignorance. “I'm a ladies' man. I don't have no reason to hit a woman.”
“Hmm.” Detective Davis huffed. “That's bullshit. You been whipping that girl's ass, and she finally got tired of it and stabbed your dumb ass. Don't lie to me. I saw the bruises on the poor girl's face.”
“Whatever.”
Detective Davis smiled. “I'll be back next week when you're a little better, to tell you where you'll be going for the next three and a half years.” He shook his head. “I hope they don't beat on you like you a woman.” Detective Davis walked out the room laughing.
“Bitch-ass nigga,” Blake mumbled as he watched the detective stroll out the room. He was pissed. Not only was he laying up in a hospital bed in pain, but now he'd just found out that the next three and a half years of his life would be spent in a cell.
He wasn't too much worried about the jail time. He was more angry that Tiffany had stabbed him and tried to take his life. If she didn't stab him, he wouldn't be laid up in the hospital, nor would he be on his way to jail. The more he thought about the situation, the more he thought about killing her. He was definitely going to make her pay for the chaos she had caused, just by being defiant.
He said to himself, “As good as I was to that bitch . . . and she gon' do me like this?” Ways to hurt Tiffany flowed through his mind. She had won this round, but he was definitely in it for twelve rounds.
After the officers finished fucking Turf and Goliath up for putting their hands on Detective Davis and the other officer, they tossed them in different holding cells. Turf wiped his bloody nose with the bottom of his shirt. He needed to sit down for a second, but when he looked up, he saw that both benches were filled with other inmates.
He walked up to the end of the bench and snatched up the last man sitting down. “Get the fuck up!” he barked, roughly shoving the man to the middle of the cell. The man popped shit, but he didn't do nothing but have a seat on the floor.
“Fuck!” Turf yelled loudly, drawing crazy stares from the rest of the inmates. His body was in tremendous pain, and he so badly wanted to kill each and every one of the officers who helped partake in his ass-whipping.
He spat blood on the floor. Then he closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall, waiting for one of his women to come and bail him out.
Turf rested his eyes until he heard the cell door open. He opened up one eye and saw a CO shove Sosa inside the cell. At first he thought he was dreaming, until he saw Sosa sitting over at the end of the bench.
Turf immediately stood to his feet, and the two men met in the middle of the cell and, without thinking twice, went blow for blow right there. The other inmates yelled and chanted as they watched the action-packed fight.
Sosa and Turf went at it like two professional fighters, neither man backing down, each one taking it just as good as they gave it. The fight spilled over to the back of the cell by the toilet. The more the two fought, the louder the other inmates became.
Seconds later several COs ran into the cell and broke up the fight. The officers placed Turf and Sosa in two different cells.
“Put that bitch in here with me!” Goliath yelled as he clung to the bars, watching the officer escort Sosa to the cell directly across from him. “I'ma kill you when I catch you, muthafucka.”
“You ain't gon' do shit!” Sosa yelled back. “Better hope I don't catch y'all on the streets.”
“You a dead man walking!” Goliath yelled, wishing he could get a hold of Sosa and rip him apart.
“You on borrowed time, muthafucka!” Sosa huffed as he walked over and took a seat on the bench, and waited until it was time for him to see the judge.
 
 
Lucky and Hawk stormed up in the church with about fifteen goons behind them. The looks on their faces said they meant business. Before Lucky could make his way up the steps to where Turf usually held his meetings, the pastor stopped him.
“Can I help you gentlemen with something?” the pastor asked humbly.
“Yeah, you actually can,” Lucky said, and he quickly stole on the pastor, knocking him out with one punch. Him and Hawk then quickly pulled out their weapons as they made their way up the steps.
Lucky kicked open the door as him, Hawk, and the rest of the crew busted inside the room. “Fuck!” Lucky saw that the room was completely empty. He figured Turf would move his meeting spot once he'd sent his goons out to go and try to kill Sosa.
Lucky was no dummy, so he knew that, more than likely, Turf would switch up spots. Until they found out where Turf and his crew relocated to, he would just have to be patient.
“Come on, let's be out,” Lucky said, leading the pack out the church the same way they had come in.
Lucky watched as the rest of the goons hopped back in the van they rode in. A few members from the church came outside to see who had assaulted their pastor. They yelled angry words, but nobody did anything.
Lucky rudely spat on the ground just before he hopped in the passenger side of the Lexus that awaited him. The Lexus pulled out of the church's parking lot and bent the corner to the sound of Fabolous pumping through the car's speakers.
“You know Sosa going to have to do time, right?” Hawk said, keeping his eyes on the road as he spoke.
“You think so?” Lucky replied.
“More than likely. So that means me and you going to be the ones running the empire now,” Hawk told him. “You up for that?”
“You already know.”
Lucky was born to be a boss but could be a soldier if need be, or whatever, to get the job done. With the information Hawk had just laid on him, he knew that soon the big bucks would come rolling in. But he also knew, more money just meant bigger decisions to be made.
“We going to play this shit by ear,” Hawk said, as the two continued to cruise the city.

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