Madam Cocaina:A Queen Pin's Story 3By: Fatima Munroe
“Si usted no come, entonces te salga la mierda de este restaurante y ver que el dueño no tiene un centavo hasta que lo. Ahora come su comida CHULO! (If you don’t eat, then I’ll walk the fuck out of this restaurant and see to it that the owner doesn’t make a dime until you do. Now eat your food, CHULO)!” I roared. The hostess and the bartender suddenly turned in our direction as my voice bounced off the furniture of the empty restaurant. One look from Flavio and they turned their heads back towards the bar in fear of their lives.
Chulo picked up the fork and began picking at the food. “Que estás haciendo mal, me deja alimentarte (You’re doing it wrong, let me feed you),” I lectured as I picked up the spoon next to the plate and loaded it with a helping of rice. “Ahora abre tu boca (Now open your mouth),” I soothed as he shook his head ferociously from side to side, lips pursed so tight he couldn’t spit without pulling a muscle.
Manuel stuck a Bersa Thunder .380 pistol in his side. “Abra la boca puta como la reina de Colombia ordenó a usted pequeña perra (Open your fucking mouth like the Queen of Colombia ordered you to do, you little bitch),” Manuel growled in his ear. Tears fell from his eyes as he opened his mouth and I shoved the food in. Manuel put the gun to his temple and ordered him to chew, while Flavio hit him in his throat to encourage him to swallow.
I smiled sweetly. “Buena. Eres una buena perra pequeña. La confesión es buena para el alma, sabes. ¿Cualquier cosa que gustaría saber? (Good. You’re a good little bitch. Confession is good for the soul, you know. Anything you’d like for me to know?)”
The waiter shook his head. “Él me mato si hablo (He’ll kill me if I talk)!”
“¿Cómo puede matar a un cadáver? Ya estás muerto, ¿no? (How can you kill a corpse? You’re already dead, aren’t you?)” I growled in his ear as tears spilled from his eyes.
Chulo seemed to finally accept his fate. I knew there was a small window of time before the poison hit his stomach and eased into his bloodstream, so he needed to hurry up and talk. “Reina, Matheus Rodríguez me mandó a matar, dijo.... (Queen, Matheus Rodriguez sent me to kill you. He said...),” Chulo managed to get out before his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Manuel picked me up and rushed me out of the restaurant as foam sputtered from Chulo’s lips, and he began to go into convulsions.
“No te preocupes Reina, esto va terminar. ¿Te mandaré algunos de los hombres con vosotros, por lo que puede hacer lo que tienes que hacer, ok? (Don’t worry Queen, we’ll wrap this up. I’ll send a few of the men with you so you can do what you have to do, ok?)” Manuel assured me as he made a familiar signal in the air. I knew that signal well; it was the one that I normally gave when I didn’t want any survivors left.
“Quiero este hecho rápidamente. Tenemos otros problemas de (I want this done swiftly. We have other problems to take care of),” I advised as I flagged down a cab. Manuel nodded his head as I heard screams from inside the restaurant. Who the fuck was Matheus Rodriguez? I thought to myself.
As my team took care of the situation back at the restaurant, I took the other half of my squad and headed back to the house. My phone rang as I was lost in thought. One glance at the screen, and I put my game face back on before answering.
“¿Qué sabe usted sobre un Matheus Rodriguez? (What do you know about a Matheus Rodriguez?)” I asked Thiago, head of the Moreno cartel. Thiago proved to be very beneficial when my mother snatched my son Montrell Jr. while I was locked up for her own personal gain. Still, I hoped for his sake he continued to provide me with the truth, or he’d be in a grave right next to her ass.
“Matheus ha puesto el ojo en su Josefina corona, que siempre tiene. Su padre es Eduardo Contreras jefe del cártel del toro en Chile. El consenso entre los cárteles es que no debería tener tanto poder como lo hace en una edad tan joven. Pusieron para arriba con usted porque tienen que, pero también están planeando su desaparición (Matheus has his eye on your crown, Josefina; he always has. His father is Eduardo Contreras, head of The Bull cartel in Chile. The consensus among the cartels is that you should not have as much power as you do at such a young age. They put up with you because they have to, but they are also plotting your demise).” Thiago warned.
For some reason, I wasn’t surprised. The day I called the meeting at my home in Colombia, each of the men at the table stared at me with a look of pure hate; and the fact that Thiago was snitching on his comrades made me question his motives as well. “Gracias por la información de Thiago. ¿Qué puedo hacer por usted? (Thanks for the information, Thiago. What can I do for you?)”
“Nada de la reina. ¿Pero en el futuro, si necesito un favor, confío en que puedo dependo de que recuerde nuestra conversación? (Nothing Queen. But in the future, if I need a favor I trust that I can depend on you to remember our conversation?)”