by Keon Smith
“Well, it’s somebody, and when I find out who he is, they’re gonna wish they were the one being placed in body bags instead of their victims,” Whitehead snapped.
“Okay, Daddy, I see you’re in your bag right now, as usual. So I’ll just get to the point. I didn’t call for another one of your interrogations. I called for the money that you were supposed to give me like two days ago.”
“Shabree, I’ll call you back. Bye,” he said, hanging up on her. Whitehead didn’t have time to keep track of all the promises he made. To him, his job was far more important. He was a devoted officer of the law. Work came first for him, even before family. The way he saw it, if the streets were protected from drug dealers, murderers, and rapists, his family would be safe.
Detective Lucca, on the other hand, was a different story. He used his badge to intimidate and oppress people wherever he went, whether they were guilty or innocent. He grew up an outcast with his peers, and all his life, he wanted payback. At first, he harassed people to make them feel what he felt growing up around a bunch of slick Italians. But after years on the force, his abuse became a source of entertainment.
Looking at his partner, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Kids. You gotta love ’em. Now c’mon. Let’s go make someone else’s life miserable.”
Mike sat on the green steel bench inside the outdoor basketball court with Jasmine, Ebo, and Amber. The girls had just come from Rita’s Water Ice and brought him back a strawberry Gelati. Mike had been sitting there all morning, watching the cops race up the block nonstop. E and J-Black walked into the gates and saw them chilling. They approached, shaking their heads. Mike thought it was about the cops, but truthfully, it had something to do with Amber and how fat her ass looked in a pair of army-green shorts that looked painted on.
“Police still up there parked,” J-Black said, holding his phone to his ear although there was no one on the line. “It’s hot as fish grease right now.”
“You still ain’t find out who it was that got rocked?” Mike asked before tossing the empty water ice container in the trash can. He sat back beside Jasmine and looked up at his enforcer.
“They said it was the bul Money from Locust,” E explained.
“Money?” Mike snapped.
“Yeah,” J-Black said with a chuckle. “They said he was trying to rob somebody and got his ass aired out.”
“That’s crazy. I just had Montega check that dude the other day. He must have felt some type of way and tried to rob the block. Who was out last night?”
Before E or Black could say anything, a blue Chevy Impala pulled up and stopped in front of the gate. Whitehead and Lucca got out, dressed in cheap suits but wore priceless smiles. The sound of sucking teeth and hisses followed amongst the guys. Mike looked over and hooded his eyes with pure irritation.
“Here we go.” He sighed.
“Well, well, look what we got here, Whitehead. Ain’t that Michael Harris, the big-time punk who thinks he’s the fucking Teflon Don?” Lucca asked with sarcasm.
Whitehead looked past him at his niece-in-law and said, “Jasmine, get out of here and take your friends with you, now.” He then pointed at E and J-Black. “You two, beat it.”
Everyone began to walk off except for Mike. Whitehead watched Jasmine walk away before he turned to look at him. “I don’t know what that girl sees in a scum like you, but it’s nothing good,” he said.
“You come to be her eye doctor, Whitehead, or you got something you want to say to me?” Mike asked calmly.
“Hey, watch your goddamn mouth, Harris,” Lucca warned. “Don’t think for a second that you got off scot-free because of that hot shot lawyer of yours. How about I let you in on a little something? I had a little talk with the United States district attorney, and they are pretty interested in your case. How about that? Whether you like it or not, you’re going to do time. Trust me.”
“Is that all? Because I have places to go and people to see,” Mike said, stretching before he stood.
Whitehead smirked. “Oh, you definitely have some place to go. Downtown for questioning.”
When Mike heard that, his cocky manor faded away altogether. He wanted to spit in the detective’s face and run, but he knew he wouldn’t get far, especially with a trigger-happy Lucca, who would just lie and say he thought he saw a gun. Instead, he followed them to the car. It was going to be a long ride to the Round House and an even longer waste of time and questioning.
Dead Cracked
“Send karma back around on somebody else.”
Lil’ Man
On a quiet summer evening in the heart of the Badlands of North Philadelphia, on the streets where the Hispanics flourished, a single row house stood amongst a line of abandoned houses. Inside, Lil’ Man sat on his mother’s brown, leather sofa, cleaning one of his AK-47s. Lil’ Man was probably one of the most dangerous Puerto Ricans ever to roam the streets of North Philly. Shorter than most with dark, short, spiked hair and no facial hair, the twenty-three-year-old was highly respected by his peers and feared throughout his community because of his hot temper.
On the opposite side of the coffee table, searching through the internet on her tablet, was his fine nineteen-year-old sister, Faith. She had dark hair like her brother, but hers was long and shiny. She sat with her legs crossed as the touch screen had her full attention. Faith was an exceptional young lady who enjoyed learning new things. If people looked past her innocence and beauty, they would see her need to be accepted by men as an equal. Faith would also downplay the female cause and often side with the men out of pure admiration.
It took a second for Montega to realize this and recognize her desire to win. All day, she played strategic games like Chess, Battleship, and Risk, carefully studying her opponent’s moves. She spent her whole life trying to fit in with her brothers, waiting to distance herself from her feminine side, which she felt was her biggest weakness.
Upstairs, a bed was squeaking from some extra-curricular activities. “Damn, I wish they hurry up with that bullshit,” Lil’ Man said, irritated with the sound of the bed thumping in tune with the moans and shouts of pleasure coming from upstairs.
Faith paid her brother no mind. She was too into her portable computer.
She secretly wished she could do the same as her girlfriend upstairs but knew that was impossible. She was trapped in her mother’s house with two over-protective brothers for prison guards. Lil’ Man’s reputation was so notorious; it was impossible for her to even have a study-buddy. If it wasn’t Lil’ Man scaring her boyfriends away, it was her powder-snorting, tall, lanky brother—Ski-Mask.
More thumping upstairs caused the ceiling to fume with dust. “What the fuck, yo? Could ya keep it down a little!” he shouted up the steps in Spanish, but the thumping continued.
Up inside the bedroom, Faith’s best friend, Montega, held Juicy by the waist, watching her soft, cushioned ass roll from the arch of her back into the direction of his pelvis in a reverse-cowgirl position. The headboard slammed against the walls with every thrust she delivered. Montega closed his eyes and bit down on his bottom lip to the warm, tight sensation of Latin pussy. His smooth hands squeezed her succulent ass cheeks while she looked back at him with lust. Her hair, long and wet, swooped to one side, and her face countered. She was a gorgeous half-Mexican, half-Puerto Rican redbone who had a thin nose that sported a stud nose ring, pouty lips, brown eyes, and a tattoo of red lips on the left side of her neck with Montega’s name above it.
Montega’s hands slid up her washboard stomach, cuffing up her breast. Juicy placed her hands over his as if guiding him to her sensitive places. He softly pinched her nipples then lightly tugged on them until they were rock solid.
“Owww, Kenny!” Juicy moaned to the stimulating feeling.
What Montega loved about her besides her pretty face and bangin’ body was the fact that she was a rider he molded from a young age. Juicy was only a year older than Faith, but she had more street smarts than the average hustler in his mid-twent
ies. Her youth fueled her spontaneity. Finding a husband, having babies, and being responsible weren’t the first things on her mind unless she saw Montega in the picture with her. She cared deeply about her first love. Even though he wasn’t committed to her, she preferred to stay on good terms with him. Aside from her big heart and healing nature, she had the unwanted gift of drawing men to her beauty even while appearing uninterested in them. Her love for Montega was dangerous. He had saved her life once, and for that, she was forever indebted to him.
Heavy breaths of passion continued to fill the room. Montega’s hands slid from her C-cup breasts up to her neck as he watched her apple-shaped ass grind. It was no wonder everywhere she went, car horns honked, and tires screeched to a halt for her. Juicy grabbed his wrist and brought his hands to her face. She took one of his fingers and sucked on it with a lustful hunger. She aggressively sighed from his penetration.
“Fuck me hard, papi. Matter fact, put it in my ass,” she demanded through clenched teeth before easing out his dick to slide it in her tight hole.
Juicy may have had only one partner in her entire life, but her sexual experience was extensive. Montega had corrupted her with porn videos and scandalous sex tapes that she studied and imitated. No one would have guessed that Montega was the only man she had ever been with. He held her by her curvaceous thighs, watching her drop down on his swollen shaft.
“Umm, yesss, uhhh, papi, do me dirty! You fucking animal!”
“You like fucking this animal, don’t you?” Montega asked through clenched teeth.
“No!”
“Yes you do. Stop lying, bitch, ’fore I bust this ass wide open. You want me to put all this dick up in you at once?”
“No, papi, don’t! I can’t take it all. You know I… uhh!”
Montega slammed his pelvis into her ass, burying his entire manhood into her. Juicy moaned with pain and pleasure.
“Shut up and take this dick while you got the chance,” he grunted.
“I am… I am taking it,” Juicy growled out while trying to throw it back.
Montega felt himself reaching the point of no return. He had been there so many times, and every time was just as good as the first. “I’m ’bout to nut,” he grunted while bouncing her up and down on his exploding erection.
“Oh, yes, papi, cum for me,” Juicy whined as she came instantly with a white discharge that oozed down her inner thighs.
“Yeah, mami, this is my ass, ain’t it?” Montega asked while still pounding her from the back while softening up.
“Yes! Yes, it’s all yours!” Juicy shrieked with a delightful smile, knowing that she satisfied him so much, as he did her, every time they fucked. “We make a damn good team, don’t we?” she asked after he finally pulled out her ass and lay on his back.
“Like Bonnie and Clyde,” he replied as she lay on top of him. That was Juicy’s favorite song. She had bought The Blue Print 2 just so she could play the song with Jay-z and Beyoncé, imagining that it was Montega and her instead. Montega, however, liked the 2pac version better. To him, the song explained both his gun and his girl, and there was no better feeling than bussing a shot off except bussing a nut. He ran his fingers through her long, silky, auburn hair, breathing fiercely.
Although they weren’t a couple, Juicy was Montega’s ride-or-die chick. She would do anything for him at any given moment. He was her first, and as she always told him, he would be her last. After the two got washed and dressed, they headed back downstairs where Lil’ Man and his sister were chilling in the living room.
“Y’all need a hotel for all that noise y’all was making,” Faith said with a giggle.
“Nah, fuck that,” Lil’ Man disagreed while assembling his gun. “They need a fucking habitat for all that shit. They sounded like two wild animals. Uh! Papi! Uh, put it in my ass,” he mimicked.
Juicy stuck her middle finger up at him as she walked over to the couch and sat next to her best friend. Ignoring her, Lil’ Man looked over at Montega as he took a seat in the corner to read the newspaper, and said, “Yo, you tryna roll with me tonight, cabrón? Me and Ski-Mask are goin’ out on a robbin’ spree… We’ll make mon-ey?” He did a poor imitation of Biggie Smalls. “Besides, I was doin’ some thinkin’, and if you need four and a half, this is your chance. I know you’re dead cracked after last night. That’s why we need to return the favor, nah-mean? Send karma back around on somebody else. You just gotta be ready for her when she come back around.” Lil’ Man cocked back the machine gun and placed it on the table before sitting back like a mastermind.
“Beto, why are you trying to get Kenny involved in your bullshit? He don’t need no detectives lookin’ for him the way they do you. Besides, y’all don’t bring back no real money anyway,” Faith said, looking away from her iPad.
“Look, bitch, these detectives ain’t got shit on me. Now mind your fuckin’ business. Montega, you comin’ with us, or are you gonna listen to this bitch, who never had to worry about money a day in her life? Fuck she know what real money look like anyway, she’s a dependent?”
“Where we going?” Montega asked calmly. He set the paper on his lap while looking at his deranged homie.
“I don’t know. I was thinking about some big-time projects that’s making a lot of money. You know how I do, something out of the ordinary. What do you think about Tasker projects?” Lil’ Man asked.
“Oh, hell no,” Juicy spat, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “You ain’t takin’ him back to no South Philly with that crap, Beto. Them guys don’t play around. My brother told me that—”
“Fuck ya brother, with his bitch-ass,” Lil’ Man stormed. “I rode up on that fool the other day on my Banshee while he was at the gas station, and the puta almost shit himself. Fuck he know about anything but fixin’ fuckin’ cars and plantin’ stash spots? When I need a new muffler or a fuckin’ tire change, I’ll ask him. Now, will y’all let Montega make his own decision? Damn!”
Montega gently rubbed his chin, contemplating the odds of making it out alive or having to sell bundles next week. “I got a question, and it’s not ’cause I’m bitchin’ or nothing, but why Tasker projects and not someplace else?”
“Because it’s the only place where they won’t expect a robbery. I mean, c’mon now. Who would be crazy enough to rob somebody from Tasker? Wait a minute… I’m crazy enough,” Lil’ Man said, pointing at himself.
Montega gave Lil’ Man the signature smile that Juicy and every other girl he came across loved so much and said, “So am I. In fact, I got an idea of how we can do this and get away clean without losing our lives or being identified. It’s all about the element of surprise and… I have the perfect disguise for the job.”
Take Money
TASKER PROJECTS, SOUTH PHILADELPHIA…
“Break bread or play dead…”
SKI-MASK
It was ten at night on Tasker Street. The weather was hot and humid, and the fiends rushed to cop from their favorite dealers. The half-moon was covered by dark clouds. The sound of thunder grumbled in the distance; then instantly, the clouds started to choke the sky and it started to rain. That, however, didn’t stop the activity on the block. In the words of a true hustler, ‘the block was poppin’, and the Avenue was full of drug transactions.
One guy in particular was Kev. He pulled up to the block in his white Infiniti FX45. His windshield wipers swung left to right as raindrops pelted his vehicle. Kev was Shug’s number-one lieutenant and was his best friend growing up. He had a dark-chocolate complexion and a close-cut beard, was tall, and always wore the finest designer jeans. Kev had just picked up the money to re-up with Shug, who was on his way back from a meeting he had with the Underworld in L.A. Not only was Kev getting money throughout South Philly, but he also had a rep in the Underworld as a potential boss.
As he pulled up to the corner, Kev gave his young bol TJ a nod before answering his phone. “What’s good, baby? I was waiting for you to hit me up,” he said smoothly.
“Don’t what’s up baby me, Kev. I thought you were going to come over and drop that money off you been promisin’ me for a week now,” Breezy shot back.
Kev smiled, knowing how spoiled he made her. He loved having a woman depend on him like Breezy did. “You know I got you, boo. Why you trippin’ like that?”
“C’mon, Kev. You know I have to get something to wear for your little party. You want me to represent you and look better than all those other bitches you gonna have there, don’t you?” she whined, stroking his ego.
“You damn right,” he said proudly.
“Well then, bring me the money and stop bullshittin’.”
“Aight, aight, boo. As soon as I holla at Shug, I’ma breeze through there. And tell your girlfriends they gotta roll because I’m tryna sample that before we go out tonight.”
“Boy, you know ain’t nobody over here. And what you tryna sample anyway?” she asked.
“You already know,” Kev replied, grabbing his dick as he thought about how good her pussy was and how wet she could get.
“You are so nasty, and for the record, once you get a sample of this, you ain’t got no choice but to take the rest that come with it—a full course meal. These walls tight, my ass fat, and this pussy stay wet!” she said with a lustful moan.
“That’s right. Talk that talk, sexy,” he said.
“Bye, boy.” Breezy hung up before she got too crazy on the phone.
When Kev ended the call, he zoned out, thinking about how he was going to wear Breezy’s sexy ass out tonight. From afar, he heard the sound of dual T5 pipes roaring around, which could only mean someone was riding a Banshee late at night. Nothing about that was surprising; guys rode four-wheelers and dirt-bikes every day, all day throughout the city.
Who would be riding at this time of night and in the rain? Kev thought as he adjusted his seat and leaned back. When the screaming Yamaha drew closer, the hustlers who were bunched together scattered as Ski-Mask emerged from out of nowhere, holding two black .45 caliber Glocks, one in each hand. Both were equipped with extended ladders. Seeing the man dressed in all black with a ski mask, the hustlers tried to flee.