by Carl Weber
“You think he was really out gettin’ pussy, Daddy?” Tyler asked as we walked outside.
“The truck was delivered on time. What the fuck else was he gonna do, go to the feds? But you keep your eye on that motherfucker the entire time he’s on the road this time. I want somebody checking that GPS every hour on the hour,” I said.
“Yes, sir.” Tyler nodded. “I guess your meeting with Duncan didn’t go so well?”
“That son of a bitch is trying to run us outta business,” I grumbled. “He’s talking about getting out of marijuana and forcing me to take a buyout. Some-bitch thinks he’s doing me a favor.”
“That’s not good. The trucking company is at the center of all our plans, Daddy,” Tyler said with a frown. “And we need his drugs to cover up everything else we plan on doing.”
“Don’t you think I know that, son? I knew that uppity nigger was gonna give me a hard time, but I didn’t think his ass was gonna go this far.”
“Maybe me and the boys should go up and have a talk with him,” Tyler suggested.
“Nah, that ain’t gonna work. You boys go up there to New York and they might send you home in a box,” I said. “You see, there’s one thing LC Duncan told me while I was there that’s correct. This thing is about money and power.”
I turned to face the boys so they could see the seriousness on my face. “We may have been going about this whole thing wrong. This has got to be handled in a way that reminds people just who KD Shrugs is and what I represent.”
Roman
8
I signed the bill with a big-ass R, handing it back to the room service attendant. His eyes almost burst out of his head when he saw that I’d added an extra hundred dollars to the bill as a tip.
“Thank you so much, sir,” he replied, giddy like a little kid. “Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?”
“No, I think we’re good, brother.” I tightened the plush robe the hotel had provided, then picked up a few grapes from the tray he’d just delivered. “Oh, there is one thing. Can you recommend a place I can take my girl dancing tonight?”
He gave me a confused look, then chuckled like I’d asked a trick question. “Sir, there’s only one club that anyone on our staff would recommend, and that, of course, is Wet Dream.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“My pleasure,” he replied and slipped out the door.
I popped the cork off the three hundred–dollar bottle of champagne he’d brought up with the grapes and cheese Kandace had ordered. I would have preferred some Hennessy, but I grabbed the bottle by the neck and took a long swig.
“Ahhh.” I lowered the bottle, impressed. That was the first time I’d ever had super expensive champagne, and that shit was smooth as hell. I guess there really was something to living the good life. I took another swig, then picked up a glass, heading into the bedroom of the hotel suite, where I found Kandace completely naked, with her ass in the air, bent over and rubbing lotion on her ankles.
“Damn,” I yelled, raising the bottle to my lips as I took in the sight. I’m sorry, but I’m an ass man. The bigger the better, and Kandace’s ass was fucking huge! No exaggeration, it looked like two halves of a watermelon. Just looking at it made me so excited my dick jumped out from between the flaps of my robe.
“Like what you see?” she teased, twerking and clapping her ass cheeks like we were in the strip club.
“Hell yeah!” I was mesmerized by her bouncing ass.
“Then why don’t you come over here and show me?” she said, slapping those damn ass cheeks together even louder.
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I took a long swig of the bubbly, placed the bottle and the glass on the dresser, and let the robe fall to the ground. Following my pointed dick, I eased my way over to her and placed a hand on each of her bouncing hips. I let my dick slide up and down from the top of her ass to the tip of her clit.
“Come on, daddy. Stop teasing me and put it in,” Kandace almost whined, taking hold of the nightstand and backing that thing up into me. It didn’t take much maneuvering to slide my dick up in her soaking wet pussy.
That was one of the things I loved about Kandace. She didn’t mind foreplay—hell, she loved when I ate her pussy—but dick was her thang. All I had to do was mention I wanted to fuck, and her pussy was dripping wet. I slammed my shit into her for a few minutes, and the moans and groans she made were like a crowd at an NBA game urging the home team on to victory. The louder she moaned, the harder I fucked. The harder I fucked, the louder she moaned. Kandace and I had sexual chemistry like nothing I’d ever seen, and that chemistry always led to one thing: an explosion.
“Oh shit, daddy, I’m about to cum!” she wailed.
“I know, baby. Hold on. I’m almost there,” I pleaded as I continued to plow into her.
“Fuck, I don’t know if I can.” She shuddered.
“Fuck it, then. Let it go, baby. Let that shit go!” I screamed, and that she did.
“I’m cummmmming!” she shrieked with intensity, dropping to her knees. “I’m fucking cumming so good!”
I held onto her sweat-soaked body, going down to the carpeted floor with her and trying to keep pace so I could release my own orgasm, which I did within seconds. “Me too, boo!”
“Oh, yeah. Give it to me, daddy,” she purred, clamping her ass cheeks down on my dick like a vise grip.
I collapsed on top of her, spent, but she didn’t seem to mind. She was enjoying the afterglow of her own sexual high. A few minutes later, we were both cuddled up, asleep on the floor.
* * *
Three hours later, we pulled into the crowded parking lot of Wet Dream. The long line to get in was wrapped around the building. The night air was hot and muggy, and I didn’t really feel like waiting in a long-ass line, but as soon as I put the car in park, Kandace was ready to hop out.
I glanced at the other people waiting as we walked past. It seemed to be a mixed crowd in their twenties and thirties. Most were casually dressed, but there were a few people who looked like they were about to go to a job interview instead of a nightclub. When we finally made it to the end of the line and took our spot, Kandace wrapped her arms in mine. I wasn’t really into PDA, but we were on vacation, a long way from home, so I let it slide. Besides, after the way she put it on me earlier, I was seriously thinking about making her my girl.
Kandace was a stripper at a club in Hunts Point, not far from where I lived. I’d been eyeing her for a while, but she’d been dating this local drug dealer who she was faithful as hell to. He didn’t know what he had and started fucking some other broad and got caught—same old story. Once I found that out, I started sending flowers and shit to her job, and eventually I wore her down and she finally gave me some ass. Like I said before, our sexual chemistry was amazing, and after that night, she started sneaking off and calling me. I’d been tapping that ass ever since, and to be honest, it wasn’t just the pussy. I liked her company too.
The line slowly began to move, and after a few minutes, a large Cuban-looking guy wearing a black suit stopped by us. “What are you doing back here?” he said in a thick accent.
I didn’t react, but then Kandace said, “Rome, I think he’s talking to you.”
Fuck, please don’t tell me I look like somebody this big motherfucker has beef with, because he looks like he eats niggas my size for lunch, and I’m a long way from home and don’t have a strap.
I exhaled, putting on a fake smile. “Standing in line to get in the club, brother. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”
“You? Standing in line to get in? Yeah, that’s a problem.” The man began to laugh.
I looked over at Kandace, who looked just as confused as I felt.
A few more of his buddies in black suits walked over, and they were even bigger than him.
“What is he doing in your line?” he asked one of the other men, pointing at me.
I worried that this was about to get ugly.
> “I don’t know.” The man shrugged.
“The boss is gonna have your head for this,” the Cuban man replied, removing the velvet rope from its post. “Why don’t you folks follow me.”
“Where are we going?” Kandace asked.
“To the VIP line, where you should have been to start with,” he said.
Kandace and I glanced at each other, then happily went along with the guy. He led us past the crowded line, around the corner, and through a door marked VIP into a small, dim hallway. Loud music came through the walls, and we passed an office and a small stairwell, then finally he opened a door and we were standing directly behind the DJ booth. Bright neon lights flickered to the beat, illuminating the venue. It was a nice size, with a bar that spanned one wall, high-top tables and booths on the other, and a large dance floor in the center. It was crowded, and as I scanned the room, trying to figure out where my date and I would go, the guy snapped his fingers at one of the cocktail waitresses walking by.
“Take him and his guest to VIP and take care of them for the rest of the night,” he shouted over the music.
Again, Kandace and I exchanged glances as we followed the waitress through the crowd. We got to a large booth protected by a velvet rope.
As she unhooked it, she said, “Welcome back. I’ll be right back with your usual.”
“Uh, thank you. I appreciate that,” I said as I reached for Kandace and helped her to her seat.
“I thought you said someone told you about this place. You ain’t tell me you were a regular. How often you come here?” Kandace asked.
“I don’t. This is my first time here,” I leaned over and whispered. “I’m guessing they think I’m someone else. Mistaken identity.”
“What? Don’t you think you’d better say something?” Kandace’s eyes widened.
“Hell no! I’m going along with it. All this damn royal treatment they giving us? We ’bout to enjoy this shit,” I told her, adjusting my chain. “They probably think I’m a rapper. You see my swag. Plus, I’m with a bad bitch.”
“Bitch?” Kandace frowned and stiffened.
“I meant it as a compliment, babe. Chill.” I leaned over and kissed her, and she relaxed. Seconds later, she was bouncing in her seat to the music and looking around.
“Here you are.” The waitress returned with a tray holding two glasses and an ice bucket cradling a bottle. As she set it on the table in front of us, I was tempted to send it back.
“Ace of Spade!” Kandace gasped.
“Is something wrong?” the waitress asked as she opened the bottle and began pouring. “This is your usual.”
“Um, how much is this a bottle?” I asked.
“It’s usually a thousand dollars a bottle, with service,” she replied.
“I guess we living that life tonight,” I said to Kandace, all the while thinking about how fast my thirty grand was going. I reached in my pocket for my debit card. “You might as well run a tab wit’ this.”
“Tab? You trying to get me fired?” The waitress shook her head, pouring us each a glass of the champagne. “You know your money’s no good here. My boss would kick my ass if I tried to run a tab for you.”
“I am allowed to tip you, though, right?” I took a hundred-dollar bill off my roll.
“It’s customary.” She smiled, taking it from my hand. “Oh, and he’ll be here in an hour. You might wanna get rid of your beard.” She picked up the tray and left.
“What was that supposed to mean?” Kandace asked.
I ran my hand across my goatee and shrugged. “Beats the hell outta me.”
My cell phone rang, and I checked the caller ID. It was Mr. Worth, my mama’s next-door neighbor.
“Shit!” I was alarmed, not only because he rarely called me, but it was damn near one in the morning.
“What’s wrong?” Kandace could see the concern on my face.
“I’m not sure. I’ll be right back. I gotta take this,” I said, jumping up and heading back to the hallway we’d come down so I could hear. “Hello?”
“Roman, it’s Bob Worth from next door,” he told me.
“What’s up, Mr. Worth?”
“Son, they just rushed your mama to the hospital. I think it’s a heart attack. You need to get over there and check on her.”
“Damn! Okay, I’m on my way.” I hung up without saying another word and ran back into VIP. I grabbed Kandace’s arm and shouted, “Put that shit down. We gotta go now.”
Kandace guzzled the rest of her drink. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“My mama had a heart attack.”
We rushed out of the club. My heart was beating so fast I could hardly see straight as I thought about the woman who’d given me life, now fighting for hers. I had to get home fast.
KD
9
At 6:37 p.m., the blue Cadillac pulled out of Morningstar Recycling and Scrap then headed south toward the 7-11 and stopped. The driver of the car was a middle-aged, balding white man dressed in plaid blazer and khaki pants, the kind of guy you would barely notice if he walked by. He stepped out of his car and went inside, returning a few minutes later with a plastic bag that probably contained milk or eggs his wife had asked him to pick up on his way home. In his free hand, he had a six pack of Bud Light, which he most likely planned on drinking as he watched preseason football. He got back in his car and didn’t even notice that he was being followed, or probably didn’t care. Men like him didn’t worry about things like that, although perhaps they should.
He drove out of the city limits for about two miles, and we hung back a few cars—just enough to see him, but not enough to raise any suspicions. Like in a movie, when he passed a big old billboard off to the side of the road, a highway patrol car pulled out behind with flashing lights. I had to laugh because I was sure he was confused as hell, considering he was driving at least ten miles under the speed limit. Like the upstanding citizen he was, he pulled over right away. The patrol car pulled in directly behind him and parked.
Peter Wildman stepped out and adjusted the hat that matched his state-issued Highway Patrol uniform. Tyler, who was driving the car that I was in, did the same. They slowly approached the Caddie, Tyler on the driver’s side, David on the other.
Tyler spoke to the driver, who eventually opened the door and stepped out. I couldn’t hear what was said, but his expression told me he was not happy. All three men walked toward the car I was in, then Tyler opened the back door and ordered the driver to get in.
“How you doin’, Herman?” I greeted him with a grin.
“KD, what the hell is going on?” Herman Cooke looked relieved, confused, and slightly pissed all at the same time. Being the president of Morningstar Recycling and Scrap and also on the board of several Fortune 500 companies, he was accustomed to being the one in control of a situation.
“Sorry for the theatrics, but I just wanted to give you a personal invite to a little gathering out at the ranch next Friday night,” I said.
“Well, damn it, why the hell didn’t you just pick up the phone and call me instead of doing this shit?” Herman laughed nervously.
“See, that’s the thing.” I gave him a knowing glance. “I tried calling, but it seems like you ain’t answering your cell phone, and your secretary always seems to disconnect the call when she hears my voice for some strange reason.”
“Uh, well, sorry ’bout that, but we just can’t—” Herman cleared his throat.
“Can’t what, Herman? Talk to me.” I looked in his eyes and could see what he wanted to say, but he just didn’t have the balls to say it. That was okay, though. I probably would have smacked the shit out of his spineless ass if he had said it. “Now, is it me, or have you just said fuck old KD like the rest of them?”
“It’s not like that. You know I’ve always appreciated everything you’ve done for me. We’re friends.” He tried to smile, but it just looked fake.
“Then how is it?” I asked skeptically. “Because I’m not feeling the
love anymore. Not like I used to.”
Herman began to shift in his seat uncomfortably. I could see beads of sweat pop up on his bald head, but he remained silent.
“Before I got arrested, we’d go huntin’ and fishin’ together, and you’d ask me for favors, and in the spirit of friendship, I’d do them. Remember the time I helped you get rid a them fellas from up north who were trying to put you outta business? I covered that shit up real good, didn’t I?” I leaned over a little closer to him. “I swear, it sure would be a shame if someone found those boys’ remains on your property.”
“Bodies on my property?” Herman’s eyes went wide, and he swallowed hard.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you I buried those bodies on your property, didn’t I? I mean, it’s no biggie. Nobody knows where they are but me.”
Poor Herman looked like he was going to shit on himself. “KD, if I’ve hurt your feelings in any way, I apologize. I’ve just been a little busy. Is there any way I can make it up to you? Why don’t we go fishin’ on Sunday?”
“I’d like that . . . but what I’d like most is for you to go to my get together next Friday. I think you’ll find it fun.”
“I wouldn’t miss a party of yours. You know that, old buddy.” He sounded like he was struggling to breathe.
“Good to hear that you’ll be there, old buddy. I’ll see you Friday night.” I leaned past him to tap on the window to signal Tyler, who was standing outside the door. He opened it, and Herman stepped out, stumbling slightly.
Tyler and David escorted Herman back to his truck. He’d barely closed the door before he stepped on the gas, burning rubber as he sped away.
“Well, that looked like it went well,” Tyler said when he returned to the driver’s seat.
“It did,” I agreed. “But let this be a lesson to you, son. Always plan ahead and leave yourself a way out because you can’t trust anybody in this world. Except your daddy.”
Rio
10
Paris and Sasha had talked me into joining them at this club I’d never heard of before, and when we pulled up, I was skeptical as hell. From the lack of a line outside, I was afraid it was one of those locals-only joints. I felt a lot better when I recognized Pierre, one of the guys on the door, and he gave me the rundown on the club. He said it was ladies’ night, so there was no need to discriminate at the door. He also told me one of my good friends, Matt, and his partner were the owners. That was a good sign because Matt never did anything half-assed. The club business was like that—very incestuous. Everybody knew everybody else, from the cocktail waitresses to the bouncers to the owners.