by L. Brown
That was the exact case with Ghost on this particular evening. He was dumb-high, but felt that everything was normal and that he was sober. However, he was far from it. If Lindell, the crack head who ran the pill spot, hadn’t run out of xanies, he’d have had more than the eight already circulating through his system.
Ghost, Donnie, and Reem, along with several stragglers, stood on the block, grinding. It was another typical evening on Boyer and Locust Streets. The sun was just past setting. The orange lining illuminating the skyline was visible as the sun crept below the horizon. The late spring air created a warm breeze.
More stragglers were in the liter-infested alleyway, shooting dice. There was a rush on the block, so Ghost and his boys weren’t attending to the overcrowded crap game. Instead, they were serving the fiends scrambling up and down the two one-way streets that intersected where they stood.
They took turns serving the fiends to keep things organized, rather than racing up to crack heads on some scrambling shit. Most of the time, they’d serve fiends in sync. They all maintained their own personal clientele that only they served unless they weren’t out there at the time when the others could serve them.
“Yo! What’s good? Y’all wanna hit Onyx tonight?” Reem asked. “Y’all know it’s Two Dollar Tuesday tonight.”
“Yeah, I’m sliding down there later on. I know the bitches are gonna be out tonight,” Donnie responded. “You going down there, Ghost?”
“Naw, you know I don’t do the strip club like that. Wifey would have a fit.”
“Pussy-whipped-ass nigga!” Reem commented, and he and Donnie shared a chuckle.
Ghost didn’t find the remark amusing.
“Whatever!” he snapped with an angry slur.
“Nigga, you on an emotional roller coaster. Get outta ya feelings,” Reem said with a dismissive hand wave.
“What?”
The two of them went through these types of arguments all the time. Sometimes, the arguments lasted for hours at a time. This was one of those instances, but Donnie interrupted them.
“Yo! Is that Reese up there, talking to Aunt Lisa?” he said, using his chin to point up the street in Reese’s direction.
Aunt Lisa was a local fiend and one of the best customers in the hood. She owned a rundown red brick on Sprague Street. Looking straight down Locust Avenue, one could see where the two blocks met.
Lisa could run traffic like a Manhattan rush hour, keeping the crumbled bills pouring in. Her two-story brick hole stayed packed with reeking smokers, chasing the feeling of their first hit.
They never found it.
Reem and Ghost stopped their petty arguing and turned their heads as they gazed up the street.
“Yeah, that’s that nigga,” Reem said, biting his lip.
Reem and Donnie were already treading up the sidewalk before Ghost could move an inch. Just days before, Ghost and Reem had had a heated argument with Reese about cut-throating. Reese thought, because Lindell was his mom, he could stand out on Locust Street, hustling, but Ghost and his goons weren’t going for that.
Reese would disrespectfully stand at the top of Locust and persuade smokers to cop off him, rather than them. Most fiends remained loyal to not only Ghost and them, but the better work, while others opted not to walk the stretch. So, they’d buy off Reese instead.
Reese observed them, heading in his direction, and could tell, by their demeanors, that they were heated.
“Here we go again,” he mumbled to himself.
“Yo! Didn’t we tell you a couple of days ago to stay off the block!” Reem snapped. It was more of a statement than a question.
“I know, Reem, but, shit, it’s enough paper out here for all of us to eat. Plus, it’s the first of the month,” he pled, hoping they’d understand. “She only wanted five for $40 anyway.”
Aunt Lisa was gone. She had peeped the twisted-faced men heading up the block and hastily stuck the bags in her mouth. Then, she took off with her famous speed racer bop. She knew she’d hear about her copping off someone else later, but, shit, money was money, so it wasn’t like they would stop serving her.
“Besides, she said the trick at her house wanted my shit anyway,” Reese blurted arrogantly.
“Look out, Reem!” Ghost said, slightly shoving Reem to the side with his arm stretched out. The glare of the shiny, chrome 9mm clasped in Ghost’s hand caught the attention of Reese, and he reluctantly stepped back.
“What? You gonna shoot me, you bitch ass?”
The haughty words coming out of Reese’s mouth were cut short by the thumping strike of the pistol against his furrowed eyebrow. He let out a squeal as he abruptly crashed to the ground. Blood gushed from a gash over his brow, covering the pavement with a crimson puddle.
“Didn’t I tell you...”
Cluck! Another vicious blow and the sound of metal against flesh, while Ghost snapped.
“Not to come back around...”
Cluck!
“Here again?” Ghost exclaimed viciously.
There was a roaring echo throughout the block. The impact from the last strike had made the gun explode. Ghost ignored the sound and started kicking the balled-up figure on the ground.
Ghost wore a devilish grin, and beads of sweat escaped his glands as they trickled down his face. He had zoned out, like a mad man. Reem and Donnie both stood there, watching motionlessly like they were suffering from paresis. Ghost was usually humble, but hotheaded. Once ticked off, this was usually the outcome.
Ghost stood straight up, aimed the weapon at Reese’s defenseless body and fired a shot.
Pow! The sound echoed off the brick row homes and traveled down the street.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Reese screamed from the excruciating pain the bullet sent through his body.
“Please don’t kill me!” Reese pleaded openly for his life, waving his hands in front of his face.
“Ghost! Don’t hurt my baby!” Lindell, who had heard the shots, shouted and headed toward the corner. Ghost ignored her and her son’s pleas.
Pow! Pow! Two more explosions ripped through before there were a few clicking sounds. The slide of the gun had stuck in position, as if the gun was de-cocked. Ghost pulled the trigger several more times, but there was a series of rebellious clicks. The gun jammed on him.
If it hadn’t, Reese would have been a dead man.
CHAPTER 2
GHOST WAS SNAPPED OUT of the reverie by a noisy sound. He opened his eyes to find the chubby sergeant tapping his keys against the Plexiglas and guessed that was his cue to roll.
The release process took a mere five minutes after a tedious ninety-minute wait inside the holding cell of the receiving and discharge department.
All of that was behind him now—nothing more than a memory. He was now taking the “walk of fame,” a term used by inmates when someone was being let out of the concrete jungle.
Once outside, Ghost took a deep breath, giving his lungs a taste of fresh air. The air smelled and felt fresher. Smelled like freedom—whatever that smelled like. It was better than the ventilated air circulating throughout the rusty HVAC system installed on the other side of the walls.
Despite the late fall weather, the temperature was well in the mid-fifties. Not bad for an early morning in November. The sky was partly cloudy. You could see the sun wrestling to burst through the stingy clouds.
With the drugs out of his system and the established eating intake, Ghost’s skin was glowing. It was a bit paler than usual from the lack of sun, but the sun’s rays would tone it in no time. Whoever said prison preserved a person wasn’t lying. Ghost’s jet-black hair was shining from the African Pride hair grease. It complemented the deep waves circulating his head.
Kia, Ghost’s girl, sat behind the wheel of the Park Avenue. It was the same car he had obtained the pistol from on the day he had crushed and nearly killed Reese. The vehicle was glossy beige with a cream ragtop.
He could make out her figure through the twenty percent tint sla
pped on the windows.
“There goes my baaaby!” he crooned, quoting the Usher song, which had come blasting through his earbuds on countless nights. Kia, doing some singing of her own, was bobbing her head in the car and had not yet seen him approaching.
Finally, she turned her head and saw her king heading toward the car. Butterflies flew through her curvaceous frame, giving her the heebie-jeebies. A rapid shudder shot through her body like she had been tased. After four years of being together, he still gave her that amazing feeling.
She hopped out the car and ran into his warm embrace. The bosom was tight as he clutched her in his arms. He felt like he never wanted to let her go again. They shared a long, intimate kiss, and he buried his face in her neck. He could smell the luscious fragrance vaporizing from her. He couldn’t place the scent, but it was familiar, something from her massive collection.
Ghost and Kia had two different body shapes, but were roughly the same weight. However, her 150 pounds were crammed in a five foot five figure. Her skin was tawny. Her jet-black hair fell over her right shoulder, resting on her breast.
“Hey, baby. Look at you,” he said as he slid his hands from her shoulders and down her arms, taking her hands into his.
She blushed and smiled, revealing perfect teeth.
“Stop, boy!” she said, slapping his arm. “You got me all blushing and shit.”
Her looks were what had initially attracted him to her several years ago. She put men in a state of awe on her worst days. However, over the years, Ghost learned to really appreciate her for more than just her physical appearance. She was an ambitious individual, who had goals, and the number one characteristic she possessed was loyalty.
She had demonstrated her loyalty extensively over the last few months. She was always one of the first visitors at the jail on scheduled visiting days. She accepted every call, anticipating his calls more than he anticipated calling home. That was a lot of anticipation, to be more anxious than someone calling his wife from jail. She flooded him with mail: letters, cards, poems, and photo album-filling amounts of flicks.
“You been in there working out?” she asked with a seductive facial expression as she felt on his chest and arms.
“Girl, you gonna molest me out here?” he joked. “I’ll take you right here on top of this car if you keep playing.”
“Umm, let’s go,” she joked back.
Ghost was wearing standard prison clothes and was dying to get out of them. Navy blue khakis lazily drooped over some classic black and white Chuck Taylors. An off-white thermal top hugged his frame, revealing his toned upper body.
As they were getting in the car, two female visitors were strutting pass, toward the institution’s entrance. Ghost could hear loud clanking sounds vibrating from the rectangular window above. The banging clamored through the facility’s parking lot.
The sound was a louder version of a woodpecker beating at the back of a tree. Ghost was instantly familiar with the noise. It was the inmates trapped on the other side of the window banging on them with their brushes. They were seeking the attention of the women walking by in hopes of getting a peep show. Occasionally, a rider would walk by and flash them. Ghost knew firsthand because, less than twenty-four hours ago, he had been on the other side with his brush in his hand.
The ride home took close to half an hour. During his downtime, Ghost and Kia had agreed that he’d move in with her and her son. She didn’t want Ghost back at the brick house that he and Donnie rented from a smoker.
Kia had a nice, little spot out in the purlieu of Philly in a section called Manayunk. There, he could escape the madness of
the hood and spend time with wifey and her six-year-old son, Khashan.
After riding by several fast-food joints, Ghost was starving, so he said, “Let’s stop and get something to eat, baby.”
“Boy, now you know I’m gonna make you something to eat,” she responded. “Plus, I need some of that dick.” She reached and planted her hand in his lap. “You kept me waiting long enough,” she said, continuing to grope his manhood. “And I hope you know you’re spending the whole day with me. I know you want to see your friends, but they’re gonna have to wait. I wish you would leave those nothing-ass niggas alone anyway.”
“Here we go again.”
“I know we’ve been through this a million times, but I don’t know what it will take for you to see who really cares about you. Besides Donnie, the rest of them don’t give a shit about you, Ghost!” She pouted, after speaking truthful words.
But Ghost never listened.
“I know, baby.” He leaned over the center console and kissed her on the cheek, trying to defuse the situation. “I’m gonna get my shit together this time around.”
She glanced at him with an unsure look. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard the promises about how he was a changed man and how he would get his life together; she really hoped his words were sincere this time because she couldn’t stand another heartbreak.
“You still didn’t say you were gonna spend the day with me!” she snapped. “And Kha’s really looking forward to seeing you when he gets home from school this afternoon.”
“Babe, come on. It goes without saying.”
There was a moment of silence for the next several minutes. Kia’s words were sinking in his head like a favorite song. They went in one ear, but didn’t make it out the other as he thought about how things could have been worse. If it wasn’t for the cheap-ass Bryco nine-millimeter jamming, Reese would have been a corpse and locked up with a life-sentence.
Donnie was the only one of his homies who had held him down. The others had abandoned him, neglecting to send money or even a letter. All of this weighed heavily on his mind. He had goals, and he really wanted to leave the game alone. It was never that simple, but living outside the hood was a start.
Silence was broken once they arrived in front of the luxury apartments. They had silently agreed to drop the subject because neither mentioned another word about it.
As soon as the front door cracked, the intimacy began. They were all over each other like it was their first time having sex together. She threw her arms around his neck, and he invited the embrace. He cupped her ass cheeks in his hands, and they kissed passionately. The front door creaked closed as they maneuvered inside the living room.
Kia put one hand on his chest, shoving him onto the cream leather couch. He submitted to her aggressiveness and let her take control. She slowly slid her index finger up his lips.
She hushed him and demanded, “Don’t move.”
He watched with lustful eyes as she disappeared down the hallway. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was up to as he stripped out of his clothes. She didn’t mean don’t move literally, did she? Moments later, she appeared back in the living room, undressed, but concealing her beauty under a pink bathrobe. The robe wasn’t much help because her dynamic curves were busting through the lining.
She peeped that he was stripped down to his boxers. “Didn’t I tell you not to move?”
“I know.”
“Shhh.” His sentence was cut off by that powerful finger again. Once again, she pushed it up against his mouth. She took him by the hand and pulled him from the couch down the hallway. Her aggressiveness was turning him on; she glanced down at his dick, bulging out his boxers, and took it into her hand, gently pulling him by his shaft into the bathroom.
The water in the bathtub was running, creating a cloud of steam. The moisture in the air was soothing against their skin.
“Drop ‘em!” she demanded with authority.
He was used to those words from prison guards, but those words, coming from his girl, were mind-blowing. He’d never heard her talk like this, but he was definitely digging it.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, playing along, as he stepped out of his boxers.
“Now, step in and take a seat.”
He lowered himself into the bubble-filled tub. He couldn’t help but think he was supp
osed to be the one doing this for her. This was definitely different.
She untied the bow and let the robe swivel down her body into a pile around her beautiful feet. She had on a sexy two-piece lingerie set. The two pieces were see-through, so Ghost stared in awe. Her body resembled the curvy vixens he had looked at in magazines over the last several months: 36D chest, twenty-six-inch waist with a little-to-no fat hugging her abdomen, and a nice ass.
She seductively removed the lingerie one piece at a time. He stared at her, looking up and down, from her hazelnut eyes to her precious little feet. She bent over the tub and washed him with a lathered loofah.
Finally, she stepped into the tub with him. He was memorized by the effect she was having on him. Her body disappeared under the foamy bubbles stationed above the water as she lowered herself into it.
After a period of washing, kissing, and massaging, they made their way to the bedroom.
Ghost was startled when she opened the bedroom door. The shades were drawn closed to block the sunlight. Several candles were burning, dimly lighting the room. The entire room was resplendent. The floor and bed were mottled with various colored rose petals. The air was filled with a vanilla almond aroma. The mood was relaxed, and things were just right.
He was shocked by her creativeness. She snatched a remote from the dresser and aimed it at the Bose stereo system. Trey Songz’s, Love Faces, came soothing through the speakers.
Oh, she definitely put this together, he thought as she backed to the edge of the bed and slowly laid down. It was obvious that she now wanted him to take control, so he did. He inched toward her and caressed her feet. He lightly ran his fingers along her body, as if he were strumming a guitar. Her body fluttered from the sensual touching.
He lay on top of her, passionately nibbling on her neck and earlobes. He let his fingers swim through her strands of hair. She let out a series of moans and cries.
“Please,” she said, begging him to go inside her.