B-More Careful

by Shannon Holmes

  There was nothing Black loved more than getting some brain. Michelle was really into it too, licking and sucking on him, determined to make him cum in her mouth. But, Black didn’t want to, and he quickly pulled away before he did. He wasn’t ready. Instead, he positioned Michelle on her back as she pulled him down on top of her.

  “Nard ain’t got nothing on you. You fuck me way better than him,” she said, seductively licking his ears.

  “I ain’t trying to hear that shit, yo. Shut up and let me fuck you.”

  This was a scandalous and forbidden relationship. One that began quite innocently. It started months ago, when Black and Michelle kept coming in constant contact with each other due to the delivery of Nard’s share of the dough. Michelle had always been attracted to Black, but even more so now that he was the biggest drug dealer in Baltimore. He had power, he had money, and most importantly, he was on the streets. She intentionally set out to seduce him.

  Often, when she knew he was coming over to drop off some money, she’d let him in her townhouse while she was wearing something tight or revealing sexy lingerie or skimpy T-shirts. She’d find a way to purposely brush up against him with her breasts. At first, he ignored her merely looking without touching.

  However, one night, she opened the door wearing an oversized T-shirt. After making sure she was in Black’s full view, she bent over wearing no panties, just enough to reveal her pussy to him. He was tempted to tell Nard, but who would Nard believe? Her version or his? Black didn’t know how to approach him about this. They’d never discussed this part of the game or took a long ride about in the S500. All he knew was Nard was crazy about Michelle and had been with her since she was young. So young that he could have been charged with statutory rape. Eventually, Michelle’s antics wore down his defenses. Her lust and desire overruled his loyalty to Nard. Neither one of them ever stopped to think about the consequences of their actions; nature just took its course.

  Somewhat inexperienced in the sex department, Black only slept with young girls who were just discovering sex like him. On the side, he would get his dick sucked by fiends. Black never knew what good pussy was. He was so used to blowjobs and quickies, capitalizing on Michelle, turned him out. She went all out using every sex trick in the book. She was a freak performing unspeakable sexual acts in unimaginable positions. She made love to him and with him, teaching him how to prolong his ejaculation in order for her to get her shit off first. He was open; he never had sex like this. When Black mastered the art of Michelle, she had one more thing she wanted him to master: snorting dope.

  “If you really wanna fuck all night long, you gotta try this. Do it for me,” she stated, as they both lay naked in bed one night. From underneath her pillow she pulled out a small folded-up piece of aluminum foil. After unwrapping it she revealed the dope.

  “I don’t know about this, Chelle. I don’t fuck around, yo,” Black said skeptically. Black was more than a little reluctant to go down that path and try dope. He’d seen the harmful effects of drugs all his life. Not to mention, he hated junkies and certainly didn’t want to become one. At the same time though, Michelle was pressuring him. She was an older broad and he didn’t want to seem like the kid that he was in her eyes.

  “Nigga, stop being a pussy, yo. Are you a man or a mouse? Don’t you know this shit will make your dick stay hard all night?” she asked, trying to encourage him by taunting him. “All the big-time niggas toot a little dope every now and then. Oh, but I forgot, you’re just a lil’ boy, with big boy cars, big boy jewelry and big boy dough.”

  Black was swayed by her reverse psychology and by her verbal attack on his manhood. When Michelle mentioned the enhanced sexual powers dope gave a man, that sealed the deal for Black. Wanting to prove to her that he was a man in every sense of the word, Black went along with it.

  “All right, yo, I’ll try it. If it ain’t what you say it is, don’t ask me no motherfuckin’ more, yo,” he said like he meant it.

  “Yeah, okay,” she said, mockingly applauding his bravery. She passed him the dope.

  Black took it from her and stared at it for a moment. He was having second thoughts, even though he knew he couldn’t back out now that he’d given his word. Michelle would never let him forget what a punk he was if he chickened out. At this angle, the beige powder looked strange to him. Black never had any drug this close to his face before. Michelle noticed he was hesitating, so she scooped up some dope with her long pinky fingernail. She put it up to his face, so he could see it. Practically feeding it to him, she put it up his nose. He sniffed that pile in one nostril and another pile in the other. Sniffing and holding his head back, trying to get air, he felt a sneeze coming.

  “Don’t sneeze. You’ll just waste the blast. You got to hold it,” she warned.

  After Black succeeded in not sneezing, she shoveled some more huge mounds of dope up his nose, like she was feeding a baby. Michelle got a kick out of being the first one to turn him on. She joyfully watched waiting for the dope to take effect.

  This ain’t so bad. This is what I been afraid of, he thought, not feeling a thing, yet.

  They began taking turns getting high. Passing the dope back and forth between them, Black took his own little hits with the edge of a match cover. In the midst, it suddenly hit him like a baseball bat to the stomach. The dope caused Black to double over in pain. He was feeling nauseous and ill. His stomach acids were rising up his esophagus and willingly would come up his throat. Unconcerned about him, Michelle kept on sniffing. Black realized nothing was gonna help him, short of throwing up. He jumped out of the bed, naked, and raced down the hall to the bathroom. Not able to reach the toilet bowl in time, he made it only to the sink, vomiting the contents of his stomach. Collapsing between gasps of air, and still feeling sick, Black crawled over to the toilet bowl, raising the lid and seat. He rested his forearms on the side of the toilet bowl. His head began to spin, and he felt sick again.

  Michelle made her way moseying her fat ass down the hall to the bathroom. She stood over top of him, dope in hand, still sniffing. With a smirk on her face, she calmly said, “You’ll live. Don’t worry, it happens to everybody the first time around. After you throw up, you’ll be ready to fuck all night long! I promise you.”

  Between his coughs, chokes and sickness plaguing him for the time being, he barely acknowledged her presence, merely holding up his middle finger at her. But once the pain subsided, pleasure began to take hold of him. Oh, yes, the joys of temporary pleasure enhanced by the most powerful drug known to man, heroin. He stood up, gathered himself and wiped up. He rinsed his mouth and washed his face with cold water trying to revive himself. He was beginning to feel dizzy. His eyelids were heavy, and it was difficult to keep them open. He began to nod, right there at the bathroom sink. Still with his hand under the water, thoughts of fucking Michelle ran rapid in his mind. His dick was rock hard as his head began to nod backwards. Black glanced over in the doorway at a naked Michelle, playing with herself as she watched him.

  I’m going to wear this bitch out, he thought, as a grin appeared on his face.

  Michelle just looked at him. I got him right where I want him, she thought, as she walked away knowing he’d follow.

  Chapter 13

  Downtown at Lexington Market, Black mingled in with the crowd of office workers and students who were stopping through to shop and get a bite to eat on their lunch hour. While he was eating a fast food meal of chicken wings and French fries, his eye wandered about until he suddenly spotted an old teammate. Ty was fresh out of the joint and Black hadn’t seen him in years. Though Ty had heard plenty about Black terrorizing the streets while he was in prison, he never thought in a million years Black would alter his future.

  “Yo, Ty!” Black yelled out to him.

  Ty looked around as if he were lost. He heard someone calling him but was unable to determine the direction the voice traveled from.

  “Yo, Ty, Up here!” Black yelled again as he leaned over the ra
iling.

  Ty looked up and squinted his eyes.

  “Who dat?” he questioned unknowingly.

  “Nigga, bring ya ass up here and see,” Black replied.

  Curiously, Ty walked up a flight of steps to find out just who this stranger was. A million faces flashed through his mind until he got upstairs, and Black came into full view.

  “Oh, shit, my nigga,” Ty shouted as he got close enough to see him.

  They hugged each other, and both remembered how tight they were when they played ball together. That was years ago. Black was the hotshot point guard with the deadly jump shot. As they broke their embrace, Black stepped back to get a good look at Ty. He still looked the same, except he had packed some muscle on his tall wiry frame.

  “What’s up?” Black asked, giving him a pound. “Long time no see. Where the fuck you been, yo? I ain’t seen ya ass since y’all moved out to Woodlawn, yo.”

  “I know, my mother did that dumb shit. She said I was getting in too much trouble in East Baltimore, but I found trouble out there too,” Ty said.

  Black nodded his head understandingly. “What type of shit you into now, you hustlin’, yo?”

  “I been biddin’ lately, yo. Matter of fact, I just came home about a week ago. I’m tryin’ to do my thing. You know what I’m saying?” he added.

  “I heard that,” said Black.

  “Wasn’t you in Hagerstown on the farm?” asked Ty.

  “Uh huh,” responded Black.

  Quietly, Black thought of his own fascination with jail. It was a survival thing. He felt that anybody who could survive that and come home unbroken still down to do dirt was a soldier.

  “Ya name is ringing bells up there, yo,” Ty said, informing him.

  It seemed like every time a new inmate came upstate on the Bluebird Prison Bus, new stories about Black’s exploits or extravagance in the streets of East B-More came up with them.

  Unimpressed, Black simply ignored the comment. It only affirmed what he already knew. He was that nigga, duh! Bow down in the presence of a true boss playa.

  “They still slinging that knife up there, yo?” Black asked.

  “You better know it. They check the guns in at the door, not the knives. I kept me a big Rambo knife, you never know when one of them wild ass coons gone get outta line,” Ty said, for sure.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m hip. The East Side and West Side still beefin’ up there, yo?”

  “Naw, yo, it ain’t happenin’ like it used to. It’s more of a B-More versus D.C. thing. We up there going to war with them niggas.”

  Black was done feeling him out. He cut straight to the chase. “Yo, you getting money or what?”

  The reason why he asked was, from the looks of his gear, Ty wasn’t doin’ too well. He was wearing an old linty blue Russell sweat suit that looked like he purchased it before he went to jail. Black already knew the deal. He sympathized with all the brothers coming home into society with nothing. Often, he’d hit them off with some dough so that they could buy some new clothes. Still, he wanted to know Ty’s mindset before he extended a helping hand to him.

  “I’m fucked up right now, yo. I’m tryin’ to flip this lil’ half-ounce of ready rock that my lil’ cousin hit me off wit’ a couple days ago. My block is kinda dead right now. It ain’t pumping like it used to. I’m trying to build up my clientele, but it’s slow money. Slow money is better than no money though,” he added.

  As he spoke, Black looked him directly in his eyes, trying to detect any signs of insincerity. He saw none. Ty was keeping it real. Inside him was the same hunger and determination that made Black so successful. Black knew the look and he knew what it was like to be fucked up in the game. It was the worst feeling in the world, next to death, that any so-called hustler could have. After listening to him talk, Black decided to put him on.

  “You wanna get money wit’ me, yo? There’s always room on my team for a good man,” Black said.

  “Do I? Nigga, what kind of question is that? Hell yeah!”

  “Okay, starting tomorrow you gonna get money with me, no more nickel and dime shit. This is major. I’m making you my lieutenant. You ain’t got to be on the front lines, you just got to direct traffic. I got faith in you, yo. Don’t let me down ‘cause this is a one-shot deal,” Black said, as he scribbled down his cellular phone and beeper number.

  “Yo, I’ll never let you down. I promise you, Black. I’m ready for whatever,” Ty insisted, taking the piece of paper from Black and stuffing it in his pants pockets. Unbeknownst to Ty, he had just jumped out the frying pan and into the fire.

  The very next day, Ty called Black bright and early. Black came over and picked him up in a new convertible black Jaguar and took him shopping for some new clothes. Ty needed a new wardrobe, bad. If he was gonna play the part of Black’s lieutenant, it was mandatory that he dress the part. All Black’s workers had a reputation that they had to live up to. Dressing nice and being well-groomed was a part of it.

  He took Ty downtown to Gage’s and splurged on him. Black bought him gator boots, shoes, dress slacks, silk shirts and sweaters. They spent half the day shopping in downtown Baltimore and Georgetown in Washington, D.C. When they were finished, Ty had tons of new clothes, from hustling gear to club wear. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever expect to be blessed like this. He would have been happy with a couple pair of jeans, a few multicolored hoodies and a pair of Timberland boots. With all the clothes he had in the trunk, he was straight now. Just when Ty thought the party was over, Black had something else in store for him.

  Last, but not least, as they left D.C., Black jumped on the interstate. Instead of heading north to Baltimore, he drove south on I-95. Ty didn’t even realize it until he saw the big sign that read “Welcome to Virginia.” Black, just as Nard had in the past, took Ty to the same crooked car dealer Black got his first car from. Ty drove off the lot in a red Chevy Blazer. He was sitting on top of the world.

  Having never played the game on this level, Ty had to be groomed into his position in order to play his part. Like a baby learning how to walk, Black held Ty’s hand as he learned the ropes. He had to be shown how to run a stash house and how to manage the workers and runners.

  Everything, from handling money to bagging up dope, he had to be shown the proper way, Black’s way. For two months, they were inseparable. They did everything together except re-up.

  Never under any circumstances did Black ever let his workers meet his connect. It was a matter of security and longevity. His connect told him pointblank, “I don’t want to meet no fucking body. You come? You come alone!”

  Besides, if any of his workers or lieutenants knew whom or where he copped from, then he would eventually become expendable. They could go directly to the source instead of getting it from him, the middle man. Black liked to treat his workers like kids in this sense. He always wanted to keep them dependent on him for everything. No Black, no dope, no dough.

  Chapter 14

  Over the phone, Nard and his sister Pam were engrossed in a deep conversation. She was hurling one accusation after another about his girlfriend, Michelle. Supposedly, she was cheating on him or at least that was Pam’s word. Nard was already stressed over his case. He certainly didn’t need to hear anything like this, even though this was something his sister felt had to be heard. She didn’t want to see her brother invest anymore of his time and money on bitch ass Michelle. Nor was she about to sit back and watch her brother get played by some hoe. Nard didn’t quite see it that way, though. He knew that the two never cared for one another. They were both jealous of each other’s position. He was always caught in a tug-of-war between them. Nard felt that the information was over exaggerated until Pam told him who she was cheating with.

  “They fuckin’. Nard, I’m tellin’ you they fuckin’. I saw Black’s car parked outside her crib just last night and the night before that too. I know she takin’ care of business for you, but ain’t that much business in the world and he spending the ni
ght all up in your spot. I already done stepped to her simple ass and she caught a fake ass attitude with me like I’m wrong. Nard, you know I was about to drop that bitch. I swear we was ‘bout to fight,” Pam said, waiting for Nard to say “sic’ her” and she would be out the door.

  Though this was his sister, Nard didn’t want to believe what he was hearing. Not my man. Why’d she have to say Black? This shit can’t be true. Black would never cross me, not after all I’ve done for him. Nard was seriously trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “You sure about this, yo? Did you actually see him coming out the house? I mean Michelle could have just switched up cars with him or something,” he said, trying to comfort his aching heart.

  “What! Switchin’ up cars my ass. Nard, I’ll die for you before I lie to you. As sure as there is a God in heaven, they fuckin’. Ain’t no two ways about this shit. Don’t no female be drivin’ no nigga’s car unless they family or fuckin’. You know that shit, Nard. Don’t act like jail done made you confused, nigga!” she firmly replied.

  Since she put it that way, Nard had no choice but to face the truth. He was being played. He suddenly became furious at the thought of the two people he held close to his heart stabbing him in the back. Now everything was starting to add up and this explained why Michelle’s visits and letters had suddenly slacked up.

  “Go ‘head, ask her ignorant ass. The bitch will probably tell on herself as arrogant as she is. You can get it out of her, just question her long enough,” his sister said.

  That’s exactly what he did as soon as their conversation ended. He wanted to get the story straight from the horse’s mouth.

  Briing! Brinngg! The phone rang for the sixth time before a sleepy Michelle answered it. She groggily picked up the receiver and spoke into the handset before looking at the caller ID. Hearing the recorded message, she realized it was a collect call and it could only be Nard. She cursed herself for not unplugging the phone last night. She was too tired to be bothered with him this morning.