Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick by Nisa Santiago Page A

reached out to gently rub the small of her back, Apple moved away from him. The elevator doors opened, and she quickly got in. As the doors closed, she stood there with Supreme watching her from the lobby with an eerie smile. She shook her head and knew he might be a problem soon.

CHAPTER 6
    K ola got into the backseat of the waiting cab, wearing a brown tight-fitting khaki dress and a pair of stilettos. She oozed with sex appeal and beauty, with all her curves showing perfectly. The men on the corner couldn’t take their eyes off of her as they watched her get in the cab.
    “Damn!” one male shouted.
    Kola smiled, knowing she had those thirsty-ass wannabes drooling. They could look, but they couldn’t touch.
    It was late night, with midnight creeping up on the hour, and Kola had business to attend to. She was off to a strip club in Brooklyn to check out a dancer that was supposed to be so sexy and fine, she was packing the club to capacity any night she worked.
    Kola was willing to travel into Brooklyn alone and talk business. She was from the streets and knew how to handle herself very well. Mike-Mike, usually her backup, was making an out-of-town run for Cross, but Kola felt secure enough to travel alone. She was used to it. Her name was known in Harlem, and nobody fucked with her. She was an uptown girl—a Harlem chick—and her name had weight because of the dudes she rolled with. But Brooklyn was a different story. Out there, she was just an average pretty bitch with an attitude.
    She told the driver, “Take me to Sunset Park.”
    Without traffic, it was a thirty-minute drive through any of the bridges or tunnels that traveled into Brooklyn. Once Kola reached her destination, she handed the driver a crisp hundred-dollar bill to cover the fifty-dollar fare, leaving a generous tip.
    The strip club, located off Fourth Avenue on a back street in Brooklyn, was in a second-floor loft, with tight security at the entrance. Kola strutted to the place in all her glory, looking twice her age and feeling confident about the night.
    She approached the two beefy security guards and asked, “What’s the cover charge?”
    The men looked at her, knowing she was a new face.
    “You dancing?” one of them asked.
    “Why you askin’?”
    “Tip in is twenty-five,” the other stated.
    Kola reached into her bag and gave the man two twenties. “You can keep that,” she said with a smirk.
    “Oh, you a baller, huh?”
    “I get mines.”
    He chuckled and said, “A’ight, just watch your back out here.”
    Kola smiled as he waved the wand across her body and searched through her purse for any illegal weapons.
    When she was cleared, he said, “You good. Just go upstairs, second floor.”
    Kola walked up the stairway in her steep heels and entered the dimmed room with rap music blaring and a crowd of patrons. She was impressed. The loft was huge and full of life, with a doorway that exited out into an open, elevated area that overlooked Brooklyn.
    The raised stage had two naked big-booty strippers on it working hard for their dollars and was surrounded by men tossing money, that thirsty look on their faces. And the strippers had no shame in their game. They were working hard for their money.
    Kola needed a drink. She looked around. The crowd and strippers were predominantly black, with a sprinkling of Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, and whites.
    One dude gently grabbed her by the arm and asked, “You dancing, love? I never saw you here before.”
    Kola looked at him and wasn’t impressed. She’d been feeling men watching her the minute she’d stepped into the place, but this one looked like he needed to pay to get pussy. Black and overweight, he had no style to him with his shapeless jeans and scruffy appearance, and his breath reeked. He had a Heineken in his hand and gazed at Kola as if longing for what he couldn’t have.
    “No, thank you,” she politely replied, quickly moving herself away from him and walking closer to the