The Trophy Wife (16 page)

“Yeah,” Kalil said, standing firm, “I had a little problem, nah mean? I need a little more time to hit you back. My man tried to backdoor me.” Kalil pulled up his shirt, exposing the circled bruises. He didn't want to come with excuses, because he was a man and stood on his own two. He was ready for whatever. Hova was going to have to give him more time, or just make a move.

Hova glanced around at his disciples, all ready to kill Kalil at his request.

Kalil followed Hova's eyes and noticed that every disciple had their hand on their gun. He looked at the disciples, some of whom used to work for him, and yelled, “What the fuck is the problem?”

“The problem is that you owe me three hundred and sixty grand, and I want my money.” Hova put out his cigar and stared Kalil directly in the eyes.

“Hova, you know I'm good for it. I just need a while to bounce back. I've spent much more than that with you over the years. What? I ain't good for it?” Kalil put his hands up.

Hova sat back in his chair and slowly crossed his legs, disregarding Kalil's question. “Kalil, I love my wife.” He picked up the picture of his wife that sat on his desk.

Kalil wasn't trying to get into a crazy conversation with Hova.
What the fuck? I don't give a fuck,
he thought, wanting to get back on subject. Kalil knew Hova liked to play mind games and he had bigger fish to fry. He wanted to get hit with more bricks so he could repay his debt and get enough paper to move away with his daughter and the woman of his dreams.

“Yeah, but like I was saying, I need you to hit me,” Kalil said, cutting to the chase.

“Listen! I love my wife!” Hova said in a more harsh tone, his face turning apple red. He slowly turned around the picture of London, revealing his wife's identity to Kalil.

 

 

London squirmed and cringed as Lynch forced her legs open and began to eat her out, giving her rough and sloppy oral sex. She wanted to put up more of a fight, but Jada was next to her 'sleep and she didn't want to wake her and have the child witness the degrading act that was happening to her. Eventually London stopped squirming and let the tears flow as Lynch had his way with her.

When Lynch was fully erect and had gotten her “wound” wet to his satisfaction, he was ready to enter her. He stood up and began to unbutton his pants. He let his pants drop, and his uncircumcised penis hung from his boxers. He was about eleven inches long, and the sight alone terrified her. He bent down and ripped the duct tape from over her mouth. He wanted to hear her beg and scream, to heighten his experience.

“Please, please, stop!” London whispered between cries. She tried her hardest to plead with Lynch without waking Jada. And by the look of Lynch's erect, throbbing dick, she knew there was no stopping him.

“Shut up, bitch. You know you want it. Stop playin' yaself.” Lynch stroked his penis and stared at London's neatly trimmed vagina. Earlier he had ripped off all her clothes, leaving her butt naked. The only thing she had on was the ropes.

London came to the realization that Lynch wasn't concerned with her cries for help and she knew she was about to get raped. She reluctantly opened her legs. “Please, just do it away from her, please,” she begged as her dignity dropped to an all-time low.

Lynch disregarded her request and dropped to his knees, ready for entry.

The sound of the wooden stairs creaking could be heard, and Peanut came into view.

“What the fuck are you doing, fam?” Peanut rushed toward Lynch, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and pushed him off London. “Are you crazy, man?” Peanut looked at Lynch like he was insane. Peanut had been upstairs on the john and couldn't believe what was happening while he left them unattended.

Lynch inched back over to London, thinking only about a nut. “What's yo' fucking problem? You can have her next after me.”

Peanut grabbed him again and pulled him off her, this time more forcefully. He already was feeling guilty for kidnapping Kalil's people, so he wasn't going to sit there and allow Lynch to rape a woman. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at Lynch. “Get the fuck off of her, you sick mu'fucka!” he yelled, cocking the hammer back on the gun.

Lynch screwed up his face in disbelief. “Oh, you gon' shoot me over this sheisty bitch? She's dead anyway. Why you buggin'?” Lynch pulled up his pants.

“No, nigga,
you
buggin'. It's a little girl right here, and you got yo' joint all hanging out about to rape a female!” Peanut was extremely upset at that point. Lynch totally disgusted him. He didn't know that Lynch had a twisted side to him.

All the commotion woke up Jada, and she began to squirm in an attempt to release herself from the ropes. All of a sudden, Peanut felt Lynch's fist hit him square in the eye, causing him to drop the gun.

Lynch followed up with another punch. “You pulled a strap out on me, lil' nigga? Better use it next time.” Lynch hit Peanut again with an uppercut, causing him to land flat on his back.

London and Jada watched in terror as the scene unfolded.

While the two men wrestled for the gun, Lynch's phone rang, ceasing all movement. It was Hova.

 

 

Kalil looked at the picture of London and was at a loss for words. He couldn't believe it. He stared at a wedding picture of Hova and London, both of them in all white. He was totally shocked. He was having an affair with his man's wife. His trophy wife.
What the hell is going on? Hova is London's husband? I can't believe this. I can't fucking believe this, yo! Does he know?

“Yeah, I know you're fucking my wife,” Hova said, as if he could read Kalil's thoughts.

Kalil was speechless as he stared into the man's eyes across from him. All along, the monster that London was petrified of was the powerful white man the streets called Hova.

“Look, Hova, it's not even—”

Before Kalil could finish his statement, one of Hova's disciples hit him unexpectedly. And suddenly five guns were pointed at him.

Hova wanted to kill Kalil right then and there, but he wanted to torture him before he put him to sleep forever. “You know what . . . no explanation needed, Kalil. London is a beautiful woman, isn't she?” Hova stated calmly. He was comfortable in his plush leather chair as he sat back with his arms folded behind his head, glaring at Kalil. He sat up suddenly.

Silence filled the air as Kalil tried to prepare himself for the unexpected. He couldn't read the man who sat before him, but he knew he was in a bad position.

“You know what? I want you to hear something.” Hova pushed the speaker button on his desk phone and dialed a number.

Kalil froze, knowing he was outnumbered. He grabbed his bleeding head and winced as he waited for the throbbing pain to subside.

“Hello,” a man answered on the other end.

Hova coldly stared into Kalil's eyes. “Put the kid on the phone!”

As the words rolled off Hova's tongue, Kalil's heart began to race. He didn't want to believe that Hova was referring to Jada.

“Hello?” a shaky innocent voice said.

Kalil yelled, “Jada!” His knees became weak.

“Daddy! Help!”

“Don't worry, baby girl. Daddy is coming to get you, I promise!” Kalil yelled almost in tears. Although Kalil was as tough as they come, the sound of his daughter's frightened voice broke him down.

The sound of Jada's screaming for her father was in the background as Lynch came on the phone. “What do you want me to do with London?” he asked.

“I'll call you back in a couple hours.” Hova hung up the phone. He got a bright idea. He had no intentions of letting London, Kalil, or the little girl live, but first he wanted Kalil to suffer.

“Let them go, mu'fucka! If anything happens to them. I'ma kill you myself!” Kalil yelled. He tried to lunge at Hova, but before he could reach him, the disciple restrained him and gave him a couple of blows to the midsection.

“You're not in the position to be making threats, homeboy.” Hova laughed and lit his Cuban cigar. “We are about to play a little game. You see, you owe me a lot of money and you've been fucking my wife. I have a little problem with the Moretti family, and I need it handled. I'm giving you three hours to bring me back Frank Moretti's chain, or your daughter and that bitch are dead. I want Moretti dead! You either handle my business or have your daughter's blood on your hands,” Hova said, knowing that he was sending Kalil into a death trap.

The Italians had just sparked a war with his organization and were expecting Hova to strike back. He figured this was a creative way of killing Kalil as well as retaliating without losing any of his soldiers.

Hova gave one of disciples a signal, and immediately the disciple gave Kalil his loaded gun. Kalil looked at the gun that rested in his hand and wanted so badly to use it on Hova, but he knew he had his daughter's life in his hands.

“You have three hours.” Hova nonchalantly turned his back on Kalil and looked out the glass window that overlooked the club.

Kalil rushed out the club and into Quinn's car.

Quinn noticed the frantic look on Kalil's face and asked, “You all right?”

Kalil shook his head from side to side. “They got Jada.”

“What?” Quinn asked in confusion.

“Hova got Jada and London. I'ma kill that mu'fucka!” Kalil cocked back the gun, and he gripped the pistol so tightly, his hand began to shake.

Quinn was trying to understand the situation, but first he had to calm Kalil down to get the information. “Hold on, fam! Calm down. Why did he take Jada before you even told him about the bricks? What's going on?”

“Hova has my daughter.” Kalil put his face in his hands and shook his head in disbelief. “This ain't about the drugs. London is his wife. He found out about us, and he's playing some sort of game. He gave me three hours to hit Moretti, or he's going to kill them both,” Kalil said in a desperate tone.

“Word? You fuckin' Hova's wife? Fuck was you thinking, Kalil?” Quinn couldn't believe that Kalil was getting ready to beef out with the king of New York over a woman. He shook his head in frustration. “Fuck, Kalil!”

“I ain't know! She never told me her husband's name. He wasn't my concern. Now Jada's life is on the line.” Kalil's voice cracked from the pressure of the cries that he kept subdued in his throat. “What am I gon' do?”

“What he told you to do. We gon' get at them Italian mu'fuckas. We don't have a choice. We got to save your shorty. We done bodied plenty of niggas for less than that.”

By the sounds of things, Quinn knew that the situation was deep. He took a deep breath and pulled his pistol from his waist. He sat the gun on his lap, and without saying anything, he said a million words.

Kalil knew that his cousin was ready to go all out for his family. “I'm gon' murder that mu'fucka if he hurts my daughter. Word to my mother, if one hair on her head is out of place.” Kalil couldn't contain his anger as Quinn pulled away from the curb.

All conversation ceased as both men became lost in their own thoughts.

In a way, Kalil felt guilty for putting his daughter in harm's way. He did love London dearly, but now he was second-guessing his decision to get involved with a married woman. He and London deserved whatever was coming to them, but Jada was innocent in the situation. She didn't make the choice to get involved in the affair, she was pulled into it by association and was now reaping the consequences.
I have to get my daughter back. I can't let anything happen to my baby girl,
Kalil thought as he drove himself crazy with possibilities of how the situation could end.

As he rode shotgun through the city streets, he tried to shake the thoughts of Jada and London out of his mind. He knew that he would have to stay focused in order to pull off the impossible mission that Hova had sent him on. He closed his eyes, tried to calm his brain, and leaned his seat back as he prepared to face his old boss, Mr. Moretti. This was the beginning of the end, and nobody but God could save him now.

“Damn, Kalil, pick up the phone. You sure that Moretti is in there?” Quinn loaded his semiautomatic handgun and eyed the building suspiciously.

“Yeah. It's the same routine with these mu'fuckas, man. They in there.” Kalil loaded his own weapon and took a deep breath to calm his nerves.
Every time I try to get out of the game, something pulls me back in. This shit is gon' be the death of me, but I refuse to let it be the death of Jada.

Kalil and Quinn exited the car.

“Go around to the back.” Kalil crept up on the trailer that sat in the middle of the construction site and peeked through the window.

Frank Moretti and two other men were sitting at a table playing dominos, laughing and having a good time. Kalil knew that they would be there every Friday night for their domino game. He noticed that each man was strapped. Two guns were also on the table as they socialized and laughed amongst each other.

Quinn pulled the ski mask over his face and gave his cousin a pound. “All right, fam. Be careful. Let's do this shit quick and easy.”

Kalil also pulled his mask over his face and then cocked his banger. He crept again to the door and inconspicuously peeked into the trailer.

“Fuck!” he whispered. He crouched back against the trailer and shook his head in disbelief. He still couldn't believe he had gotten involved with Hova's wife. He loved London dearly, but he would have approached his relationship with her completely differently if he'd known who she was. Because of his carelessness, London and his daughter's lives were threatened.
Get your mind right, baby,
Kalil thought to himself.
You can't save them if your head ain't right. Focus on what you doing and stick to the script.

After reasoning with himself, Kalil knew there was no avoiding what he was about to do. He focused his attention on the Italian men inside of the trailer and listened closely as he overheard their conversation.

“That blond-hair faggot thinks he runs Manhattan. Fuck outta here! I'll run his ass uptown wit' the niggers. What type of man calls himself Hova anyways?” Frank Moretti puffed his cigar and smacked his domino onto the middle of the table.

The other men began to laugh at Moretti's comment and played their hands.

One man said, “I sent word through one of his goons that we want thirty percent like you asked.”

“Yeah, if that faggot knows what's good for him, he'll break bread! I want in!” Frank Moretti grabbed his crotch and blew out two smoke circles.

“Hey, Paulie, did you pick up the dough from the niggers uptown?” Moretti remembered it was that time of the month for his pickups. Extortion was the Moretti family's main hustle, and they had a hand in everyone's pot. Everyone except for Hova's.

“Yeah, I picked up fifty large this morning from the niggers in Harlem. They're making a pretty penny off those blocks. Maybe we need to demand a bigger percentage.”

Frank shook his head. “Nah, it's best to just play fair for now. What did you do with the money?”

Paulie threw his head in the direction of the back room. “It's in the safe in the back.”

That statement was music to Kalil's ears.
I might as well get that cash too,
he thought as he prepared to handle his business. He could use the cash, so he could kill two birds with one stone on this hit. Kalil gripped his gun tighter as he thought about the lives that were on the line. He knew that he was walking into a situation where the odds were against him, but he didn't care at that point. His only concern was killing Moretti.

Kalil heard his cue. Quinn was knocking on the back door to focus all of their attention toward the back. Kalil peeked in and watched as all their heads turned toward the back door.

“Who the fuck is that?” Moretti whispered.

His goons put their hands on their guns and stood up. Once they headed to the back, leaving Moretti in the front room alone, Kalil swiftly opened the door and crept up behind him while his head was turned.

Before Moretti could even react, Kalil's pressed his pistol to the back of his head. “You know what time it is! Lay the fuck down or I'ma pop off,” Kalil whispered menacingly in his ear as he lightly jabbed the back of Moretti's head with the gun.

“Fuck!” Moretti mumbled as he did what he was told.

By the time Moretti hit the floor, his goons were returning to the front. They didn't even notice the masked man until it was too late. They had already put their pistols on their waistlines.

“Put yo' hands the fuck up, or I'ma pop this mu'fucka!' Kalil poked the gun to the back of Moretti's head.

Paulie reached for his pistol, but before he even had it aimed well, Kalil fired a shot that went through the bottom of the trailer, inches away from Moretti's head.

“Goddammit! Son of a bitch!” Moretti yelled out in fear as his body involuntarily jumped from the sound of the gunshot.

“Next time I won't miss. You better tell your goons to fall back,” Kalil told Moretti.

“Do what he says,” Moretti mumbled.

The henchmen instantly put up their hands for fear that their boss would get shot. That's when Quinn came from the back entrance and pulled the guns off the goons. What they thought was a bird tapping on the window was the beginning stages of an ambush.

“Tie their asses up,” Kalil said as he pressed the gun to the back of Moretti's head.

Quinn hit one of the goons, causing him to collapse to the floor. He hit the other man soon after and tied them both up with the rope he had brought.

Kalil put his knee into Moretti's back. “Yo, where the dough at?”

“Do you know who the fuck you are fuckin' with?” Moretti had a slight grin on his face.

His smug arrogance was trying Kalil's patience. “Shut the fuck up!” Kalil hit him with a forceful blow to the back of the head with his gun. “I'ma ask you one more time—Where is the dough?”

Blood leaked out of Moretti's head as he winced in pain. “Fuck you!” he yelled.

Without hesitation, Kalil pointed his gun at one of the goons and let a round off into his head. It was all or nothing for Kalil, and he wasn't playing any games.

Moretti yelled, “Paulie!” as he watched his cousin gasp for air and hold his bloody wound.

“You bastard motherfucker! If I live through this I am going to hunt you down. You don't know who you are fucking with!”

Moretti spewed the words at him as if he was throwing fire, but it didn't make a difference to Kalil. He was already beefing with Hova, so he had no fear of starting beef with the Italians. At that point he didn't care about himself. He was only thinking of saving Jada and, if he could, saving London as well.

“Where the stash?” Kalil yelled again.

“It's in the back. The combo is seven, thirty-one, twenty-three,” one of the other men admitted, knowing that Moretti would die before he gave in.

Kalil nodded his head at Quinn, signaling him to get the cash, and Quinn hurried to the back while Kalil kept an eye on the two men.

Moretti was furious; he didn't care if he lived or died at that point. “You better kill me! I'm going to find you and gut you like a fuckin' fish!” he yelled.

Just then, Quinn came out of the back with four brown paper bags full of money. “Jackpot!” he said as he entered the room.

Kalil knew it was time to do what he came to do. He put the gun to Moretti's head and pulled the trigger.

“Hova sends his best regards,” Kalil said loud enough so the other men could hear him clearly. He wanted to let it be known that the hit was from Hova, so eventually the Moretti family would retaliate on him. Kalil's adrenaline began to pump as he saw Moretti's body lying there lifeless, but he knew it had to be done. He had to get London and Jada out of the bad situation.

He reached down and violently snatched the thin gold necklace from Moretti's neck. It was nothing extravagant, just a fourteen-karat gold chain with a small gold cross attached to it. It was sacred to Moretti and had been given to him when he was a young boy.

Kalil stuffed the chain into his pocket and left the scene, Quinn following close behind. Kalil purposely left the two men alive to be messengers. He was sure that Hova would get his, one way or another.