by Tiana Laveen
Dominic shrugged, not wanting to discuss a woman that he knew would be gone in a matter of months, if that long. No one would ever remember her name or face once Stacks kicked her to the curb. Life was a revolving door of women who either stayed during a jail or prison term, left, and then were replaced by prisoner groupies, vulnerable ladies, or lonely women looking for love. They’d visit. Put money on their books and if the prison was set up right and the guards fraudulent enough, these girls would let them get in a quick fuck, fill them full of cum then send them on their way.
“That shouldn’t be a problem. The whole change of address to your mother’s…” He pulled on the cigar as he shook away the wayward thoughts. “If it is, let me know.”
Stacks ran his hand over his spiky buzz cut.
“So how’s it been livin’ out this way, Viper? Out in Boca Raton? Jesus, man. You fancy now, huh?” he teased.
Dominic shook his head.
“Just tryna resist temptation, man.” He sucked his teeth. “I’m less than 50 miles from Miami, but close enough to get there whenever I want. Same with Pequeña Habana.”
“Little Havana has been changing a lot. I got out and was shocked… All the new construction. Too many fucking tourists now. It’s not how it used to be.”
“It’s okay. Bound to happen,” Dominic said. “Not just in Havana, but all over the city. More people from up north are movin’ here lately. My boy up there in Yonkers said the jobs are sparse, some restructuring and urban flight did a lot of damage to smaller businesses. Didn’t help that they had a rough winter.” Stacks nodded. “Everybody wants to move to Miami now. We’ve got the nice weather, the jobs, the beaches, the nightclubs, the food, the sexy women… We’ve got it all.” He leaned back and reflected on his own words, stroking his chin as a nice, sweet breeze bathed his face. “You know I’ve got a lot of family in Chicago, some in New York, Pennsylvania, and Jersey, too. Been all over the country. I will always come right back here, though. Miami. Where I was born and raised. This is home.”
“I feel you on that, Viper. Miami is where it’s at. I wish I could travel more though, like you did. Now that I’m on probation, I can’t go any fuckin’ where for a while.”
“Just relax. It’ll come your way. Opportunity always knocks, sooner or later.”
Stacks seemed unconvinced. “So, how have you been doing here? One minute you’re in Havana, then the next, King Torque tells me that you moved way out here, almost an hour away. Nobody is sayin’ much. It’s like you’re under a protective order.” The guy chuckled nervously.
“I’m tryna make moves, Pedro, this time more discreetly.”
“You were always discreet.”
Dominic tapped his cigar, letting ash fall into the tray.
“Apparently not enough. The FBI had been on my ass, right before my last stint in Coleman.”
“Man, Sumterville can eat a dick!” They both laughed at that.
“Yeah… It was fuckin’ ridiculous. Anyway, I’m always on top of my shit, makin’ money. I don’t have to report or anything, no tether. Ankles free. I decided that uh…” he ran his hand along his jaw, choosing his words wisely, “that I needed some different scenery. To get out of the element for a bit until things simmered down. I can’t give the police or anyone else anything to make it easier. Just tryna get paid and laid without an FBI raid and being made.”
“King Golden Boy just went in, Viper. They got him for bein’ a lookout. Then he got tossed with tampering with evidence charges on top of that. Trumped up bullshit.”
“Yeah, I heard. He got five, right?”
“Yeah. He got into it with a couple MS 13s, too. Lost a lotta blood and a tooth. Shit’s been bad.”
The dogs made their way back to him from the open patio door, roaming the yard before settling back down around them. Pedro reached down and rubbed Chance’s head. They continued to talk about some of the fam that was locked up or dead. Everything from the corrupt prison guards who were bringing in cartons of cigarettes and selling them for three hundred bucks, the cellphones being bought and sold like candy, and the guys going crazy from living in a cage for so long, including the lifers. The kings pushing up daisies now lived on in their graffitied names gracing the back walls of abandoned buildings or inked along brokenhearted women’s breasts and thighs. Such was life. The graffiti and ink would fade, regardless how everyone promised they’d never be forgotten.
“Ma told me she doesn’t want me going back to prison, Viper. Said if I go back in, it’ll kill her. Said she needs me. I gotta make some money though, man. This’ll only last me so long.” He patted his pocket.
Dominic got ready to respond, when he heard a sudden crash.
“Bitch!” someone screamed out.
“Awww, damn, man.”
He and Stacks got to their feet and looked in the direction of the house. King Torpedo squeezed his head out the open patio doors, a look of frustration on his tattooed face. “Ashley is in here wildin’ out. Control your bitch, Stacks.” He flipped his thumb towards the back, then disappeared quickly out of view.
Dominic grabbed Chance, Sarge, and Belleza when they jumped to their feet barking and snarling, ready to tear inside and sink their jaws into someone fast. As he and Stacks entered, he heard Marie yelling at Ashley, as well as some of the other women, all clad in their gold and black attire, glossy lips and long dark hair in various styles.
“Take your woman home!” Aleja yelled. Aleja was like a little sister to him, and was known to pull a knife faster than lightning. Ashley was on the ground writhing about, moaning after the number she’d done to her. Her right eye was red, swelling fast and angry like pasta sauce bubbling from a pot. She’d been punched so hard, some of the vessels and capillaries were broken.
“Get ’er up and take her home. Let Pedro stay,” Viper demanded.
“Oh naw, man. Viper, I’ll take her home,” Stacks offered, obviously feeling sorry for the lady who’d come in there drunk on courage. Now she was molly-whopped and brought back to reality. Aleja dog walked the fuck out of her. Viper shook his head.
“No. You stay here. It’s your party.” He turned back to the crowd.
“Aleja. Drive her straight home and don’t do any silly shit.” Two women, including Aleja, reluctantly dropped down on their knees, hoisted the woman up, and dragged her to the front door like they would soggy trash that had been left out in the rain.
“I should take her home, Viper.” Anger and what Viper perceived as pure, unadulterated disappointment flashed in Stack’s eyes.
“No, you shouldn’t. She’s drunk and that knockout will wear off, and then she’ll be combative again. Aleja took it easy on her. What if she tries to provoke you? Worse yet, hits you with something, maybe shoots you because she’s not thinkin’ clearly. What if you get a DV charge, huh? You don’t need that kind of problem.”
“Aleja and I used to have a thing, though. This isn’t going to be good. You know how women get, and I’m fresh out. Aleja and her guy broke up… She’s been wanting to spend some time with me.”
If Viper didn’t know any better, he’d think Stacks was entertaining it.
“She’ll be fine.” He patted the man’s shoulder. “Bianca and Marisa will make sure of it.” Stacks nodded, and a few moments later, everyone was back to partying and drinking. Later in the evening as he caught up with some of his brothers and sisters he hadn’t seen in months, he noticed the lights on in the house across the street. It had been dark for weeks.
What’s going on over there? Is it up for rent again?
The house had been vacant twice during the ten months he’d been living there. A large white truck was parked in the driveway now, the kind used for storage and deliveries. He leaned in closer, trying to figure out what was going on. The last thing he needed was nosy neighbors, people in his business. After a few moments, he observed three Black men dressed in jeans and oversized white T-shirts getting out of the truck, two of them hoisting cumbersome furniture
from the back of the vehicle into the sprawling ranch home while the other dawdled, a cell phone to his ear. A little boy sporting a bright red Transformers shirt appeared from the house’s front door, bursting free, running down the slightly sloped front lawn, laughing and barreling back towards the guy on the phone.
I guess that old White guy rented it out again. Maybe he sold it this time. Who knows? I like to know who’s around me… I’ll get their names eventually. He turned away, walked over to the stereo, and turned it up. Trick Daddy feat. Lil Jon & Twista’s, ‘Let’s Go’ boomed throughout the house, causing a ruckus as the crowd got hyped. Once the song ended and he’d gotten in on the action, dancing, drinking and yelling out the lyrics so loud, his throat burned, he made his way back into the kitchen to toss a beer bottle away. Marie was in there wrapping up a few pieces of leftover cake in cellophane. They’d eaten all the rest.
“Nice party for Pedro,” she said with a proud smile.
“Yeah, besides his girlfriend, it’s been good. You did a great job.” Her cheeks plumped up and grew rosy. He made his way over to the kitchen window once again to dump some melted ice from one of the coolers into the sink. As he casually looked back out the frame, he paused. There in the yard, holding a cardboard box in her arms, was a gorgeous woman with long, wavy black hair parted down the middle, skin-tight mesh black leggings that hugged a ridiculously round and high ass, and a black crop top. Her silver and white sneakers practically glowed under the streetlight, as did her large silver and diamond hoop earrings. Who the hell is that? The stranger walked to the house after talking to one of the men. Look at that ass… Mmmm, mmmm, good… Damn. Not too many Black people on this street. Hell, in the entire neighborhood. I bet the stuck up neighbors are gonna flip out when they see this shit. He chuckled to himself. The woman came back out, bent down, and retrieved a box. She moved leisurely, as if in slow motion, and he found himself swallowing hard and enjoying the show…
He practically growled at the sight of her. Cleavage gleamed and shined like buttery biscuits. Her tits were practically leaping out, inviting him for a look. Women came in and out of Dominic’s life as if he were a revolving door of a department store having a half-off everything twenty-four-hour sale. He’d had his share of gorgeous girlfriends since age thirteen, and had some decent relationships too along the way that just didn’t work out for one reason or another. In a couple of rare cases it was because the fucking woman was wacky. He tried to steer clear of chicks like that. But surprisingly, the nutjobs were always the ones with the best pussy. A catch 22. Perhaps that’s why Stacks couldn’t let Ashley go just yet? Regardless, he was certain that he was hard to deal with at times, too.
He supposed he was too ambitious, always put stacking his cash above everything else. If he was earning money and performing his duties as a Warlord, then he couldn’t be with a woman all damn day. Sacrifices had to be made. It was at times difficult to balance that with his voracious sexual appetite, but his self-discipline allowed him to accomplish the feat nevertheless. Women were like art to him, but sometimes, they were far too worrisome to deal with. Better left hanging on a wall and admired from afar.
The sound of the dripping faucet on the unwashed dishes, playing an out-of-tune song, interrupted his thoughts. He turned the cold water handle, putting a stop to it, then returned to his thoughts. Sometimes, he couldn’t keep women off his mind despite his best efforts. I don’t need the aggravation right now… I really don’t. And though he was able to handle staying away from relationships, he found himself changing. He used to be indifferent. Now, he wanted companionship, but his life was complicated. Even dating one of his own didn’t seem to scratch the itch.
If he dated a Latin Queen, they usually understood his circumstances, his frequent absences, but then there’d be inner-circle fights, jealousy, rumors in order to cause a rift. If he dated just a girl from around town, one who was not gang affiliated as they’d say, it was rare that it ended well. Sometimes he surmised these women were only with him for the thrill of it. Some chicks just dug gangbangers. He was a fetish in some circles, and he knew it. These type of women liked to fuck them, flaunt them, use them as threats – a flesh weapon walking on two legs with a big dick to drill their mouths and pussies behind closed doors. He got tired of that shit, too. It wasn’t as fun and exciting as it used to be. Now that he’d was in his thirties, he wasn’t in the mood for any more bullshit.
“Viper… Yo, Viper!”
He quickly turned and found himself looking into Jose’s pink, hooded eyes. The man was high as the moon and stars.
“I’ve been calling you for like ten seconds. You all right?”
“Yeah… yeah.” He wiped his hands on the dish towel and faced his friend. “What’s up?”
“Wanna play dominoes? We’re starting a game.”
“Yeah, I’ll be in.”
Jose nodded and left. When he resumed looking out the kitchen window, the truck was taking off from the house across the street. The lights remained on, and out of a front window, the blinds moved. The same little boy that had been running around appeared at the window. Seconds later, a taller shadow stood behind him, ushering the child away. This was followed by the blinds being completely closed, one window after another. He pulled out a kitchen drawer, reached for a fresh cigar, lit it, and made his way into the living room. It was time to win a game of dominoes, and take all of these bastards’ money…
CHAPTER TWO
Music to my Ears
“What is all of that thumpin’?” Destiny asked her through the speaker phone.
“The motherfuckers across the street. They play that shit all night. It’s usually reggaetón, rap, or some Latin music. Between that and the dogs barking sometimes, it’s crazy… Damn! Where did I put that box of Troy’s socks?” Majesty tossed her phone onto the new couch still covered in shipping plastic, hunkered down onto the white tile floor of the new house she’d moved into, and tore away at yet another box, hopeful her nine-year-old son’s socks were inside.
“Just my costume jewelry. Shit. This isn’t it, either.” She pushed the box against the couch, her frustration reaching a higher level than she imagined possible. This is what I get for not labeling everything. The last few days had been hectic, and she was running on fumes. She’d enrolled Troy in school, which took hours. She still needed to get his room set up, too. There was simply too much on her agenda. Work, school online at night, and then unpack and try to turn that house into a home. But she’d gotten them out of Allapattah, and that was all that mattered.
“Majesty, the music is so loud I can recognize the song!”
“You can? What are they playing?” she asked absently, not really caring about the answer as she pulled open another box.
“It’s ‘Mentirosa’ by Mellow Man Ace. It’s old. They must be some older Latinos or somethin’. How can you stand it?”
“I can’t stand it, but every time I make plans to go over there and pay whoever lives there a visit and ask them to turn it down, I get sidetracked. There’s just too much to do… I’ll take care of it. Eventually.” She’d taken a half day off at work just to get caught up on getting her house in order.
“This weekend me and Trisha can come by to help you. Just like we said. It doesn’t all have to be done at once,” her friend urged, no doubt picking up on her anxiety.
“You know I can’t let this house stay like this, Destiny. It’ll drive me crazy… boxes up to the rafters.”
“Why doesn’t Anthony’s lazy ass come by and help?” Majesty sucked her teeth and got to her feet. That box was yet another dead end, full of magazines and old books from her youth. She dusted off her knees, removing bits of grime and debris that clung to her jeggings.
“Anthony is not tryna fool with me. Since I told him I don’t want to be with him like that, he pretty much has left me alone. I was lucky he and his brothers helped me move, considering he was pissed off about it.” She marched into the kitchen, grabbed a freshly unboxe
d and washed glass from the dishrack, and filled it to the rim. She took long, deep gulps, needing to cure her thirst in the worst way.
“You still never told me why you don’t want him?”
“Didn’t you just call him lazy? That’s why!” Destiny burst out laughing. “Besides, Anthony isn’t really my type, like I told you. He’s cool and all, but he doesn’t have a lot of ambition. He acts like life just happens. Plus, he was cool with Kevin, and that makes me uncomfortable.” Her friend was quiet on the phone for a bit. Kevin was Troy’s father. Before the woman delved deeper into a conversation she didn’t wish to have, she broke the silence, exit strategy style. “Destiny, let me call you back. I have to pick up Troy from school in a little bit, but before I go, I wanted to make sure at least the rest of his underwear and pajamas are in his drawers for tonight.”
“Okay, call me back tonight, okay? I still need to tell you what happened to my other cellphone.”
“All right. I will.” She disconnected the call and shook her head. Destiny was notorious for losing her phones, or having them stolen. She stood at the sink and finished the glass of water, then made her way back into the living room, her feet in only socks patting against the floor. She crossed her arms, feeling the vibration of the music from across the way. How can someone have their music that loud? I mean, shit, I like loud music, too, but that has to be painful! I wonder why no one has called the police on these people?! I thought I had gotten Troy and me away from this kind of shit. It was one of the few houses that had a lot of land around it on the street – a corner lot. She’d often see nice big trucks in the driveway, shiny black and gold motorcycles, and Hispanic men and women coming and going like a damn parade. She could see dogs at times, too, beyond a white fence. Whatever family lived there played music from the afternoon onward like they were getting paid for it. They were loud and obnoxious with it. She approached her front window and looked out. A Cuban flag waved in the slight breeze above the back patio, as well as another one that was yellow and black.