Still Sheisty
Page 11
“Well, I’ll be with him for a couple of days,” answered Epiphany.
“I hear that. Have fun. I got me a date tonight too,” boasted Keisha.
“Get out! You mean to tell me that you finally decided to move on? With who?”
“With this guy I met at Kinko’s yesterday with Shana.”
“He works in Kinko’s?” Epiphany said, not even trying to hide her disgust.
“No, he repairs computers for Kinko’s. Anyway, I don’t care where he works, just as long as he works, because I think I’m done with drug dealers.”
“I hear that. To each his own. Anyway, what’s his name?”
“His name is Rob. He’s a cutie.”
“Well, good for you, Keish. You need to get out and have some fun, make sure that nigga spends his paycheck. Let me go shower before Wild gets here.” Epiphany was happy for her friend but abruptly ended their conversation, running to the bathroom to freshen up.
Wild pulled in front of Epiphany’s parents’ crib and phoned her to come outside. When she reached the front door, she fell in love with his sparkling silver Hummer—not the affordable Hummer H2. This was the real deal.
“What’s up, sexy? Don’t I get a kiss?” asked Wild as he held the car door open for her.
“Nah, I don’t kiss on the first date.” Epiphany laughed.
“I respect that.”
“Good.” Epiphany played it cool, but in her mind she was screaming, Fuck a kiss! I’m gonna fuck the shit out of this nigga.
Once they crossed over the George Washington Bridge heading toward Route 4, Wild phoned his cook and told him to start preparing breakfast for two.
“You like omelets?” he asked.
“Yeah, they’re all right,” Epiphany answered.
“Well, my chef Idris makes some banging-ass omelets. You’ll love ’em.”
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to a tall black gate that Wild opened with a little remote. Epiphany was still trying to get over the fact that he had a chef when he pulled into a four car garage next to a convertible black Bentley.
This is so beautiful, she thought as she looked around the grounds. He got out of the driver’s side and rushed over to open the car door for her again. He was being the perfect gentleman. His $2.5 million, eight-bedroom house was located in ultra chic Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, and came equipped with an in-ground swimming pool, sauna, a huge patio, and a basketball court. Indoors were a gym, a small movie theater, a recording studio, and a game room.
Epiphany had to admit that this was far more impressive than any nice car or house she’d ever seen in her life. This was the type of lifestyle she felt she was born to live. She was tired of dealing with the small-time hustlers in the hood, who were satisfied with the minimum—a little bit of jewelry, a hot ride, fifty grand stashed in an old sneaker box, and a laced-out apartment in the projects, thinking life is sweet. She wanted to live like a celebrity, and if she played her cards right, Mr. Producer Man could be her ticket out of the ghetto.
He escorted her straight to the kitchen for the best breakfast she had ever had. After breakfast, Wild gave Epiphany a personal tour.
This house is definitely made for MTV Cribs, she thought as they entered the master bedroom. It had a brick fireplace, a king size bed with plush feathered pillows, and a matching cream-colored comforter. The bathroom was all marble, with an oval-shaped Jacuzzi and attached shower. His walk-in closet was bigger than the bedroom in Epiphany’s old apartment, and being the fashion fanatic that she was, she couldn’t help but take a look inside. According to her, you could tell a lot about a person from his or her style of dress.
One side of his closet had at least two hundred pairs of jeans and button-up shirts from every designer neatly hanging up, stacks of Starter hats on the shelves, velour sweat suits, about fifty pairs of white-on-white Air Force Ones, five pairs of Jordans, a couple of S. Carters, and too many pairs of Timbs to count. Epiphany could tell judging by the amount of suits and shoes he owned that he wasn’t big on dressing up, but when he did, at least he did his thing by rocking designer names like Armani, Salvatore Ferragamo, Ralph Lauren, and Gucci. Last but not least, she glided her hands up and down his mink jackets and butter-soft leathers.
She couldn’t help but hum the tune “Why Don’t We Fall in Love” by Amerie. Why not? He had everything she wanted.
CHAPTER 31
Ness, Smitty, and K.C. were doing the damn thing, making money in the hood. Since other niggas had no real weight in the streets, it was easy. Lately, however, problems were occurring in their own circle.
Smitty had started to feel like Ness was getting beside himself on some real control shit. He kept quiet for a minute, letting the nigga run wild with it, and assumed that maybe it was just a power trip. Ness had never been in a position to call the shots. Smitty decided to let him have his fun before he’d pump his brakes—only Ness was on some Nino Brown–type shit. All of a sudden, the streets were his. He made all the decisions, gave the orders, handled most of the money, and was reckless with his mouth and his decisions.
Now a real troublemaker, he created unnecessary drama with this kid named Righteous from Lefrak City. Ness had an altercation with him at a traffic light one day, ’cause he felt dude disrespected him by cutting in front of him without using his signal.
The truth was, Righteous had shit locked down on his side of Queens, selling top quality cocaine for fifty bucks a pop. The cokeheads loved him, and the crackheads preferred to buy his shit and cook it up themselves, because they got more for their money. Word was spreading around Queens about dude’s product and price, and Ness wasn’t happy about that. He ain’t want nobody getting money in Southside Jamaica, but him. Eventually, Righteous would be a problem.
Ness arranged to meet up with Smitty and K.C. in Ajax Park to discuss how they should handle their competition. When Smitty and K.C. arrived, Ness was on the empty court with his shirt off, shooting hoops.
“Yo, what up, my niggas?” Ness greeted them with a pound.
“Ain’t shit,” Smitty responded.
“Chilling,” answered K.C.
“Yo, Smit, how’s shit moving over there by you?” Ness asked.
“Yo, son, shit’s been a’ight. Why? What up?”
“Word. What about by you, K?” Ness questioned.
“Everything’s straight where I’m at, dawg,” K.C. answered.
“Yo, what’s up with that kid Righteous? Y’all heard of that nigga?” Ness was still shooting the ball around.
“Yeah, I met dude when I was up north. He’s a cool nigga,” K.C. said.
“Um, what he do time for?” Ness inquired.
“He caught a one-to-three for some bullshit,” K.C. said.
“Well, that nigga should’ve stayed locked the fuck up, ’cause I don’t like him.”
“Come on, man. Ain’t no need to get caught up in no bullshit over some nonsense. We don’t need that type of heat right now,” said Smitty.
“Smit, man, what’s up with you? You been on some real sucker shit lately.”
“’Cause, man, you be on some bullshit. You getting real loose with the words I and my. This shit ain’t yours alone, nigga. You need to leave all that unnecessary drama alone and try to stay focused on what we doing, dawg.”
Smitty couldn’t believe that Ness was coming at them like that.
“Unnecessary drama? What the fuck you talking about? That muthafucka just came home and already he trying to interfere with my fucking money. Shit ain’t going down like that. I ain’t gon’ let a muthafucka move in on me. Just like I did with that nigga C, niggas gon’ know that I ain’t that dude. I’ma make an example out of any nigga that tries to step up.” Ness sounded like a madman.
“Yo, dawg, just leave that shit alone.” K.C. just wanted to drop it already.
“Quite naturally you gon’ say that. Nigga, you just fucking stood here and said you was cool with dude, so I ain’t even fucking with you right now!”
“Well, I still ain’t feeling kid, yo, and I ain’t gonna wait until he become a problem. You’se Smitty’s man, dawg, so why is you even talking to me anyway, huh?” K.C. didn’t feed into Ness’s cocky-ass bullshit. He just shook his head, thinking, This nigga done really bugged the fuck out.
“Yo, I’m out,” Ness said, throwing his shirt back on as he headed toward his Range Rover.
“Fuck y’all pussy-ass niggas,” he mumbled, hopping inside his truck. He sat there for a moment, sparked up some haze, then pumped up the sounds of B.I.G.’s “What’s Beef” and skidded off like a maniac.
Everything Smitty and K.C. had said went in one ear and out the other, as he bopped his head to the lyrics: Beef is when you make ya enemies start ya jeep/Beef is when you roll no less than thirty deep/Beef is when I see you guaranteed to be in ICU.
The high from the purple haze made him feel like the baddest nigga alive, with murder on the brain. He turned down his radio and slowly crept down the streets of Lefrak housing, approaching the area where Righteous usually hung out.
Ness didn’t really know the nigga’s description, as far as his height and weight. Their beef took place while they both were driving, and he vaguely remembered his facial features, but that wasn’t going to stop his plans. He parked his truck and waited.
“Yo, shorty, c’mere,” Ness called out to a young boy around sixteen as he walked past. Ness noticed the kid’s hesitation. “C’mere. I ain’t gon’ do shit to you. For real, I just wanna ask you something.”
Not sure whether he could trust Ness’s word, the boy slowly walked over toward the truck. His palms started to sweat, and his heart pounded rapidly.
“Yo, li’l man, you scared? I told you I ain’t gon’ fuck with you. I just want you to do something for me, a’ight?” asked Ness.
The boy slowly nodded his head.
“You talk, little nigga?” Ness asked sarcastically.
This time, the boy answered, “Yeah.”
“A’ight, good. That’s better. Yo, you know Righteous?”
The boy nodded his head again instead of opening his mouth, making Ness so angry that he started to yell at the kid.
“Yo, man, I thought you said you could fucking talk?”
“I c–can,” stuttered the frightened boy.
“Then answer me, nigga, and stop shaking your fucking head. Now yes or no, do you know him?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is he out here right now?”
“Yeah.”
“A’ight then, without pointing, where?”
“He across the street in front of the bodega on the corner.”
“A’ight, what he got on?” Ness asked.
“I think he got on a green-and-white shirt and some jeans,” said the boy.
“You think, or you sure?”
“I’m sure,” answered the boy.
“A’ight, good lookin’ out. Here.” Ness handed the boy five twenty-dollar bills and left him with words of advice, “Toughen up, shorty. Learn how to open your fucking mouth and speak, a’ight?”
The boy didn’t answer. He just clutched the bills and took off running, wanting no part of any mess that Ness was up to.
Slowly, Ness drove up to the bodega, and sure enough, he spotted Righteous wearing a green-and-white Celtics jersey, standing in front of the store, hugged up on some chick.
Ness got out of his truck and walked up on him. “Yo, what up, nigga?”
“What up? I know you, dawg?” Righteous slightly pushed his girl to the side. It didn’t dawn on him that Ness was the guy from the traffic light. That was some minor bullshit he had brushed off, but Ness didn’t look at it that way.
“Nah, son, you don’t know me, but we bumped heads a few days ago. I came to tell you that you can’t pump that shit you selling around here no more.”
“What? Who the fuck is you, dawg? This me over here, nigga. I own Lefrak. I gotta give it to you, you a bold-ass bastard.” Righteous was taking Ness for some little clown-ass nigga.
“Oh, word. I’m funny, huh?” Ness quickly pulled out his .38 and unloaded four bullets into dude’s chest.
Since their conversation never got loud, no one anticipated any kind of beef, so when the shots rang, the few cats that was around scattered instead of coming to Righteous’ defense.
“Yeah, nigga. I’ll be funny, but how ’bout that was your last laugh?” asked Ness, calmly pointing his smoking gun at the frantic girl who had been with Righteous.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” He silenced her with one to the head and hopped back in his truck, speeding off.
CHAPTER 32
Keisha kept watching the clock, anticipating her date with Rob. It seemed like time moved extra slow, just because she looked forward to finally moving on.
It had been almost two weeks since Tucker kicked her out, and he hadn’t even tried to contact her yet. However, he had managed to call Loretta at least two times a day to check up on their son. Keisha started to get jealous when Loretta would say he called, so her calls slowly started to decrease. She hated the fact that Tucker cared about their son more than he cared about her, when for seven years she was his number one. Now she felt invisible. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her son, because she did with all her heart, but she felt the three of them were supposed to be a family.
Keisha wanted a reason to hate Tucker. She started to blame him for what she felt she missed out on—her teenage years. That didn’t work. Regardless of how bad she tried to paint the picture, she couldn’t ignore the fact that Tucker never put restrictions on her and was only guilty of taking care of her and providing a comfortable life for both of them. She had a good man, and she hated herself more and more for cheating.
Out of spite, Keisha felt it would be best if her son stayed in Atlanta with her mother. If Tucker can’t find it in his heart to forgive me, so we could raise our son together, then he’ll never see him again.
Rob was in front of the house beeping his horn at exactly eight o’clock on the dot. Mrs. Wright rushed over to the window to see who was in front of her house, blowing his horn like a darn fool, when Keisha came running toward the door.
“Is that for you, Keisha?” she asked.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“I should hope not, ’cause a real man would get out the car and ring the bell,” Mrs. Wright said.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. T. Maybe he isn’t sure which house to come to,” Keisha said as she went out the door.
“Hey, Rob.” Keisha was wearing a big smile once she got in his car.
“What’s up, baby?” he responded.
She giggled and then answered, “Nothing.”
“So, where you wanna go?”
“Wherever you wanna go.”
“Well, I was thinking we could make this a Blockbuster night.”
“Blockbuster night, huh? Well, I haven’t been out in a long time, so what kind of date is that?” she asked.
“That’s you, me, and a movie from Blockbuster at my crib.”
That ain’t no real date, she thought, but if his company could help take her mind off Tucker, then why not?
“Okay,” she replied.
Rob’s studio apartment looked like a real bachelor’s pad—no sense of style, everything was black or gray, and he didn’t appear to be a neat person, especially, since he had to push a pile of dirty clothes off the bed for Keisha to have a seat.
“Okay, which movie do you want to see: The Italian Job or Unfaithful?”
There was no way Keisha was gonna sit and watch a movie about a woman cheating on her man, so she selected The Italian Job. Rob popped in the DVD, pressed play, and before the previews could finish, he was all over Keisha. H
e started to kiss on her neck as he ran his hand slowly between her closed thighs.
Keisha let out a soft moan and slightly opened her legs, giving him the okay to continue. Rob climbed on top of her and started to rubbed the erection that bulged from his jeans up against her as their tongues intertwined.
Winding her hips in a circular motion, Keisha moaned louder as her panties started to get wet. Rob unfastened her bra and encircled her perky B cups into his hand as he softly sucked and gently bit her nipples.
“Oooh, yes,” she moaned as her pussy throbbed for his dick.
Rob raised up for a moment to take off his pants, and Keisha removed hers also. He turned off the TV, putting them in complete darkness, and slid inside of her raw.
“Yeah, baby, you feel that? Damn, your pussy good,” Rob said as he fucked her.
Keisha lay there in silence. She didn’t feel a thing. It had felt better when they had their clothes on. Out of curiosity, she reached her hand down between her legs to see if he was really inside her.
“Uh-huh, baby, what you doing? I’m about to cum,” he said as his breathing got heavy.
“Wait a minute. You don’t have a condom on. Unh-uh, get off of me!” she yelled, pushing him off just as his body started to jerk and his thick cream erupted all over her pubic hair.
“Damn.” He took a deep breath, and his little dick slowly started to go limp.
Damn, was right, Keisha thought. Disappointed and dissatisfied, what was she gonna do? She couldn’t take the pussy back, so she decided to make the best of it and at least try to get some rest next to a warm body for the rest of the night. She snuggled up close to Rob and closed her eyes.
Minutes later, he nudged her shoulder. “Come on. You ready? Let me take you home.”
CHAPTER 33
Shana was experiencing a burning and itching sensation in her pussy. It was the worst kind of discomfort that she had ever felt in her Iife. I swear if K.C. gave me something, I’ll kill his ass, she thought.
Even though she had started making him wear condoms ever since he admitted to sleeping around on her, all types of disgusting thoughts crossed her mind.