Madam Cocaina:A Queen Pin's Story 3By: Fatima Munroe
Josefine and Jose joined them in the kitchen at the house in Villa Gesell, back from playing with DJ and Dayla. Deonte and Phoebe sent them to Argentina to spend the summers with my aunt for the past two years. “What’s for dinner?” Josefine asked as she crept under Valentina’s arm. “Shrimp and lulos? Yay!”
“There’s risotto too, Josefina,” Valentina smiled as she pinched my baby girl’s cheek.
“Tia Valentina, Mommy is Josefina. I’m Josefine,” she said as her little lip trembled and her big hazel eyes began to fill with tears. Valentina wiped her hands on her apron and swooped my baby up in her arms, giving her a big kiss as she wiped her face.
“You’re right baby girl, I’m sorry. But you’re just as beautiful as your mother, sometimes Tia Valentina forgets. Do you forgive me sweetheart?” I watched with longing as Josefine slowly nodded her head up and down. “Good. Now you children go outside and play while Tia finishes dinner, ok?”
The kids all jumped up and ran outside, except Josefine, who slowly dragged her feet out the room. Once she was sure the children were outside, Valentina broke down and cried; I watched as her body shook with sorrow. “Why? Why Josefina? Oh God,” she whispered to her hands cupped to her face.
Deonte and Phoebe sat in a board meeting and thanked my corporate team for yet another phenomenal year. Josef sold his interest in the company to Deonte when he moved into my position as El Serpientè, El Rey es Columbia. Niyah shared with him the chemical mix for Ju-Ju dust, and they continued to manufacture the drug and sold it to the cartels. After we deaded Roberto and put Manuel in place, the rest of South America was content with just getting money. For the first time since I’d been named Madam Cocaina, I didn’t have any enemies. Too bad I wasn’t around to enjoy the feeling.
I’m sure you’d like to know what happened that day at the house in California. Montrell shot me in the head and I died instantly. Josef got to my house two minutes too late; by the time he got there, Montrell was still crying and rocking my body with his pistol at his head, apologizing for his actions. Of course when Muerte saw that, he shot Montrell between the eyes. Once he got my babies and my aunt to his car and safely out of sight, he came back in the house with a machine gun and emptied 320 rounds in my husband’s dead body. The coroner’s report outlined each bullet plus the 55 stab wounds to his body. Of course, Josef got the fuck out of the US afterwards, and Monte had a closed casket funeral.
Me on the other hand, I was buried on the land of my ancestors; right between Papi and my Abuela, surrounded by Alejandro and Abuelo in Colombia. I would’ve preferred to be buried in Villa Gesell so my babies had more access to me, but with them being raised by my aunts and my brother, well I was ok with that too.
My baby was given an intimate ceremony, strictly for family only. And no, he wasn’t Montrell’s; I was pregnant with Terrance’s baby. I was initially upset about how he handled me in Philly, but you find out a lot of stuff after it’s too late. Montrell put the word out in Jersey that Tee was trying to kill me and put a price on his head. Tee was kidnapped by someone looking to collect the $1.5 million bounty, and when they called Montrell to collect, he didn’t answer the phone.
When we met up with him in Philly, he had just been released, but whoever his kidnappers were told him why he’d been snatched up. Tee wanted to be with me, especially with me being pregnant with his first child. He just wanted me to divorce Montrell so that we could live in peace, but he knew as long as Montrell was alive he’d never let me go. Tee went against his heart and did what he felt was best: let me go. His thinking was that if I came back, we could’ve been great. It tore him up when Josef called him and gave him the bad news, especially after he had a DNA test done on the fetus. He sat in the front row at the baby’s ceremony.
As I watched over my family from heaven, I felt a comforting presence behind me. I turned around and it was my Papi. “Ju-Ju, you can’t spend eternity torturing yourself like this,” his voice sang gently in my ear.
“I know. I just want to see them one more time.”
“I wish you would’ve listened to me,” he said as his voice moved away from me. As I watched my babies growing up from afar, Papi’s voice echoed in my ears:
As soon as you flip that first pack as soon as you start carrying that gun for protection, you’re putting your life at risk, You’re opening yourself up for every rival, crackhead, or hitman to potentially blow your head off like you’re a piece of shit.
Even though Papi never said that my husband could possibly be that person, I should’ve known. I should’ve listened.