Tyson's Treasure

Chapter One

Chapter One

“Bulletproof loveeeee…they can’t break it, there’s no mistaking/bulletproof loveeeee…it can’t be faded, baby, we gone make it…”

Treasure Gold crooned the lyrics to one of her most memorable songs to her audience at her sold out concert in Madison Square Garden. She sung the vocals with so much passion that she had to have experienced a love that strong some time ago. She held her microphone out to the audience for them to finish the lyrics to the song, and they did. The audience was a sea of tear stained faces of women of different ages and ethnicities. They felt the words of the song; they were heartfelt, thought provoking and powerful like a sermon from a pastor.

Keith nodded his head to Treasure’s infectious singing over the tantalizing track. He was a tall, caramel complexion man with hazel eyes, about fifty years old. He rocked a thin goatee and gold loop earrings. His attire was a gray suit and a black turtleneck. He was Treasure and Showtime’s armed bodyguard.

“Haa! Haa!”

Showtime fogged the huge diamond of his platinum pinky ring and brushing it off on his shirt. He had a brown hue and a baldhead that shined like a polished bowling ball. His muscular toned body fitted a violet suit which he wore a black silk shirt underneath that was unbuttoned to show his chiseled chest and the platinum and diamond crucifix that rested upon it. In his suit and Italian Mauri gators he looked every bit of the C.E.O of the multimillion dollar recording label, Big Willie records, but outside of business he was what gangster rappers often claimed to be on their album.

The beat of Bulletproof Love was cut and all that could be heard was the beat patterned clapping of the audience as they sung Treasure’s song along with her. She wailed like a young Patty Labelle. Her eyes brimmed with tears that threatened to trickle as she thought about her late boyfriend, Trip, who was murdered in a drive by a few years ago at a friend’s barbeque. His death brought her both great sadness and pain.

Treasure finished her performance and a little boy sitting on his father’s shoulders passed her a bouquet of red roses.

“Hear you go, Treasure.” He smiled.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” She kissed the seven year old boy on the cheek and he blushed.

“Dad, dad, she kissed me!” he blushed and held his cheek, not able to believe his crush had kissed him.

Treasure stood erect, cradling the bouquet of beautiful long stemmed roses. She gave her audience a breathtaking pearly white smile and bowed.

“Treasure, you’re so pretty!” one woman yelled.

“I’m your biggest fan.” Another one yelled.

“I have all of your albums!” a third said after that one.

“I love you, Treasure!” a fourth declared.

“I love you, too!” She kissed her palm and blew a kiss to the teenage boy out in the audience. He caught the kiss and beamed brightly. She then bowed at the waist and waved as she headed off of the stage. It was then that she let herself go a little, allowing the tears to roll down her cheeks. Coming down the small staircase that was connected to the stage, she wiped her wet face with the back of her hand.

“You okay?” Showtime frowned, seeing her damp cheeks.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little tired.” She lied, but he wasn’t going to press it.

“Well, your set is finished, we can roll out. I will have the driver pull around out back.” He pulled his cell phone from within his suit.

“Alright, let me use the rest room before we leave. Hold these for me.” She handed him the bouquet of roses and sauntered off with a little pep in her step as she hurried away; her black high heel Christian Louboutin’s clicking on the floor loudly.

Tawk! Tawk! Tawk! Tawk!

Showtime watched the sway of his multiplatinum artist’s bodacious ass as she made her way to the women’s restroom. He smiled and showcased his gold capped fangs, shaking his head like it was a damn shame that a woman like her had such a nice butt.

“Umm uh, Lord have mercy.” He narrowed his eyes and bit down on his bottom lip. He then turned to Keith, placing his jeweled hand on his shoulder. “Hold lil’ momma down.”

Keith was staring at Treasure’s apple bottom, too. He crossed his heart and kissed his fingers before following her. Oh, booty is a beautiful thing!

Treasure bent the corner into the women’s restroom with Keith right on her heels. She spun around putting her hand on his chest.

“Hold up,” her brows furrowed. “Where you think you’re going, n***o?”

“Show told me to watch your back, and since I gotta piss anyway, I figured…” He smiled as he trailed off, looking her up and down like he was a hungry dog and she was a raw T-bone steak.

“Keith,” Treasure began. “You done lost yo’ damn mind if you think yo’ perverted ass is walking into this restroom with me. You got me f****d up nigga, you know betta.”

“But I’m in a tight,” he lied, eyeing her seductively. He always cracked for the ass and she always shot him down. She wasn’t f*****g with him but he never seemed to get the point.

Treasure looked him up and down with an expression that read as Do you really think I’m falling for that s**t?

“Nigga, please. I’m surprised some broad let you pump five kids in her with that tired ass game.” She shook her head and twisted her lips. “I told you, Keith, you’re an old man. You wouldn’t know how to act if I were to let you taste this punanny.” She patted that slice of heaven between her legs and smiled, sliding her tongue over her top row of teeth.

He shrugged and said, “Gimmie a taste and find out.”

She laughed. “Pig,” she called him before shoving him aside and disappearing inside of the restroom.

He leaned up against the side of the women’s restroom door, daydreaming about how sweet Treasure’s p***y must taste as he stared up at the ceiling smiling.

In the restroom, Treasure laid the paper seat-protector over the toilet seat. She hurriedly pulled down her spandex leggings and sat down, relieving her bladder. “Whew.” She relaxed, slumping her shoulders and lowering her eyes. She’d been in a tight since she was on stage. Treasure looked around at the stall’s walls which were decorated with graffiti. She pulled out an ink pen and was about to add her own insignia. That’s when she heard the door locking and saw someone walk past the opening of the stall door.

Her brows crinkled and she narrowed her eyes. “Keith, I’m not playing with you, get cho ass outta here!” She yelled. Hearing shuffling around in the neighboring stall, her head snapped to it. “Keith, on my momma, I’ma f**k you up and have Showtime fire your country ass!”

The wall of the neighboring stall rattled violently, scaring her. She hopped up, wiping herself and flushing the commode. She ran from out of the stall and a strong hand grabbed her by the arm, slinging her to the floor. Treasure hit the tiled surface and bumped the back of her skull. Grimacing, she touched the back of her head and withdrew bloody finger tips. Through her blurry vision she saw a distorted image of what she believed was a man advancing toward her. Her 20/20 came into focus and she saw him clearly. He was a stocky, dark skinned cat with a shaved head and salt & pepper chin stubble. Alongside his face was a tattoo he’d done himself while on lock in big sloppy cursive letters Treasure. He had toned arms, and rock hard pecks and abs. The nigga was built like The Rock. His attire was a black T-shirt with an image of Treasure Gold singing on stage. Over that he wore a necklace that held onto a thin, clear framed picture of him and her at an autograph signing.

“You’z a cold b***h, Treas’,” he began. “A nigga just did fifteen months for a strap I was using to protect your mu’f*****g ass! And you don’t visit, accept my calls, write me back, or none of that s**t!”

He paced the floor, smacking his forehead with his palms.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“What?” Treasure frowned, backpedaling on her hands and the heels of her shoes. “Who the f**k are you?”

“I’m willing to work things out for lil’ man’s sake, but we’re going to have to go to couples counseling or something.” He spoke seriously, looking like every bit of the f*****g nut case that he was.

“Oh, my God, this nigga is crazy.” Her eyes widen with terror and her jaw dropped. “Keith! Help me!” she screamed, backpedaling faster and bumping up against the wall.

The restroom door rattled violently from powerful kicks as Keith attempted to get in.

“f**k is going on in there?” She heard Keith’s voice boom from the opposite side of the door.

“What’s going on?” Showtime asked.

“Treasure’s in trouble, man,” Keith told him. “Someone’s in there with her.”

“Shit.” The door rattled some more, but the combined efforts of Keith and Showtime just wasn’t enough to get the goddamn thing open.

“We need more man power! Y’all niggaz come on!” Showtime told the rest of his entourage.

“Oh, so it’s like that?” the stalker asked Treasure, disappointedly. In his mind his crazy ass thought they were really in a relationship. “You gon’ act like you don’t even know a brotha now, huh? That’s f****d up.” He pulled her to her feet by her arm, with an iron grip. “I know what it is! You’ve been f*****g somebody else since I’ve been gone, haven’t chu? Keep that s**t a hunnit. You been giving up my p***y?” he screamed on her with madness in his eyes, breath smelling like cigarettes and something with onions. This nigga had Treasure shook to the core. She was damn near trembling. “It may be on you but this is mine!” he smacked his calloused hand against her t**t and squeezed.

“Get the f**k off of me!” she yelled and punched him in the eye, causing him to stagger back and clutch his s**t. His head slowly rose and he laughed hard and manically.

“Hahahahahaha!”

This caused Treasure to quiver with fear; she was literally trembling all over.

Her stalker looked into terrified eyes and said, “Uhh huh, that’s what I’m tom ‘bout, that’s that thug passion right there!” his hand slid down his chiseled six pack and slipped into his jeans. He stroked his meat to hardness as he licked his lips, approaching her. “You always were a sucker for rough sex.”

Crack!

Treasure spun around in a 180 degree turn and hit the floor, landing on her knees and hands. She blinked her eyes as if she didn’t know where she was. She was dizzy and her nose and mouth were trickling blood, making a small puddle below her chin.

“Aaaahh.” She moaned. She tried to get up but kept on falling back down before she could plant her heel firmly on the linoleum.

“This is gon’ be good.” The whack job unbuckled his belt. “A nigga just came home and I need some p***y to get my mind right.” His jeans dropped to the floor and he pulled down his briefs, exposing his long, thick donkey like d**k.

Treasure looked over her shoulder at him, seeing that he was now nude, she screamed, “Help! Helppp! Somebody help me, pleeeease!”

The crazy nigga straddled her and as he held down both her wrists, he began to place hickeys on her neck. “Mmmm.”

Sloshing and sucking filled her ears as he sucked on her neck like a wet leech, nibbling on her flesh. His body odor was a combination of must and cheap cologne that assaulted her nasal passages and made her gag. Her eyebrows arched and her nose scrunched up.

“Ahhhh!” she screamed at the top of her lungs with her head pressed back against the floor, with him still feasting on her neck. She whipped her head from left to right and thrashed her legs, the heels of her shoes leaving several black streaks on the floor. Desperately, she tried to shake off his advances, but her efforts were futile.

“’Nough of this foreplay s**t, a nigga want some ass!” With a grunt, he ripped open her blouse, sending buttons flying everywhere and exposing her melon like breasts. Schhhrippp! He stripped the Victoria Secret bra from her with a strong yank, tossing it aside. Treasure scratched and clawed at his eyes, leaving crimson streaks over his face.

Bwap!

A right to the jaw left her groaning and barely conscious.

“Aaaaa.” She groaned, her head bobbling about loosely.

“Mmmmm.” The man sucked on her breasts like a starving baby. He pulled down her spandex leggings and panties. He spat in his palm and used the saliva to lubricate his manhood, gliding his hand up and down his member.

“This s**t isn’t working,” Showtime said from behind the restroom door. “You gon’ have to blast it open.”

“Alright, step aside.” Keith ordered.

Choot! Choot! Choot! Choot! Choot!

A ring of bullet holes spat out the wood surrounding the door handle of the restroom door. The chunk of wood dropped to the floor. Boom! Keith kicked that b***h wide open, his hand gripping a smoking, silenced .45. He and the rest of the entourage poured inside over the threshold.

“Get offa her, get cho ass up!” One of them shouted, as they snatched the stalker up from Treasure just as he was about to penetrate her. They drug him to the corner where they proceeded to stomp and kick him.

Whack! Crack! Wop! Boop!

Treasure ran into Showtime’s arms, sobbing into the breast of his suit. He rubbed her back soothingly, consoling her.

“Shhh, it’s gonna be all right, we’re here now.”

Over her shoulder he watched as his crew administered a brutal beating that left smears of blood on the floor. He didn’t even cringe seeing his crew give Treasure’s stalker that act right.

“Hoe ass nigga!” one of the entourage member’s stomped Treasure’s stalker on the temple.

“Y’all niggaz get the f**k outta the way!” Keith ordered the crew with a sway of his gun. He was heated and ready to introduce dude to the afterlife.

The men gave him a wide berth, leaving the deranged stalker bloody faced and lumped up like The Elephant Man. He had what was called a pumpkin head when your dome had swollen after a severe beat down. Both that nigga’z eyes were swollen shut and his left cheek was swelling. He was f****d up. Showtime’s people really gave homie that work. His own mother wouldn’t recognize him.

“I—I—I love her,” he croaked, reaching out. “We’re married.”

Keith stuck his silenced .45 into the stalker’s mouth causing him to gag. “Gahhh!”

“Til’ death do you part,” his eyebrows lowered and his eyes darkened. He squared his jaws and they throbbed, before pulling the trigger.

Choot!

The gun jumped in his hand as it fired, smoke billowed out of the crazy man’s grill. His head jerked violently as blood, brain fragments, and pieces of skull splattered over the walls, floor, and the leg of the killer’s pants.

Keith rose to his feet, straightening his suit and admiring his handiwork.

“Damn, Keith, I wish you wouldn’t have done the nigga in here.” Showtime stepped forth, looking over the fresh cadaver who had a large hole at the back of his noodle. “We’re in Madison Square Garden; there’s security and surveillance cameras everywhere, baby.”

The killer shrugged and holstered his head bussa. “Well, fix this how you fix everything else, nigga.”

Showtime shot Keith a dirty look. He mumbled something under his breath as he pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. The device rang twice before someone answered.

“Hey, what’s up, fam? This Show.” He spoke into his cellular. “I gotta lil’ mess I need cleaned up. Yeah, I know y’all quote, nigga. How long we been doing business? I’m at Madison Square Garden. Mannnn, y’all just get your asses over here. One hundred.” He disconnected the call and deposited it inside of his suit. He pulled out a bankroll and turned to the refrigerator size man in his entourage.

“Jumbo, I want you to find out who’s watching the monitors for the security cameras. Lay this paper on them and get that surveillance tape. Without it, Keith is looking at a murder rap and we’ll be going down as accessories.” He tossed the man the bankroll of dead presidents. “The rest of y’all watch the door and make sure no one comes in here. I’m gonna put Treasure in the car and send her to the house. Scrub and Bubbles should be here in a sec to dispose of our friend there.” He threw his head toward the dead ass nigga sprawled on the linoleum. He then turned to Keith, holding out his hand. “Gimmie yo’ strap.”

“For what?” Keith frowned and coiled his neck.

“Do you really wanna be caught out here with the murder weapon if Jake gets here before Scrub and his brother do?” He looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“s**t, man, this is my favorite gun,” Keith complained, stomping his Fennix leather shoe. He pulled his burner from its holster and handed it to Showtime who tucked it into the small of his back.

“Come on, Treasure,” Showtime took her under his arm and headed out of the restroom.

***

Showtime opened the backdoor of the stretched Mercedes Benz and deposited Treasure into the backseat. Removing his handkerchief, he wiped the head bussa clean of finger prints and stashed it into a secret compartment.

“You okay, kid?” he asked Treasure, who was now behind big Chanel shades that covered most of her face. She nodded yes. “Alright, I’m gon’call this doctor friend of mine and have ‘em come to the house to check you out.”

“Nah, I’m good. No doctors.” She told him, pouring up a drink.

“You sure, didn’t he?”

Her head snapped in his direction, with attitude. Her forehead wrinkled. “No!”

“Alright, then,” He slammed the door shut and went about his business. The limousine resurrected and pulled away with the songstress drinking like a fish. This had been one of the scariest nights of her life and she wanted to become numb to it.

***

Back at Showtime’s mansion, inside Treasure’s bathroom, hot water sprayed from the shower nozzle creating steam that fogged the bathroom mirror. She wiped the mirror with her hand, revealing her reflection in it. She gave herself the once over, seeing her eye had blackened and swelled. She poked at it and winced.

“Ouch.” Staring at her reflection, her eyes pooled with tears and cascaded down her face. She lay in a fetal position on the floor, cradling her naked body and sobbing. Finally alone, she was free to breakdown.

“Haa! Haa! Haa!” her body shuddered as she hugged her knees to her chest, making an ugly face, head bobbing. “Ah, haa, haa, haa!”