Criminal Minded

by Tracy Brown

  About five minutes later a Grand Am passed us doing at least eighty miles per hour. “Follow him,” I told Olivia. She looked at me and started to protest, but she must have thought twice about it. She followed the Pontiac.

  “Stay on his tail and just go a little slower than him,” I said. “That way, if the boys are around, he’ll be the one they pull over and not us.” She listened, and every time he switched lanes, I made her do the same. When we got to the Verrazano Bridge, I told her to relax and reduce her speed. We crossed the bridge and I let her drive the rest of the way to my house at a normal speed. When we got there I showed her the art of parallel parking in New York City, and Lesson Number One was complete. When she took the key out of the ignition she looked relieved. She laid her head on the steering wheel and sighed.

  “Welcome to Hustling 101,” I told her. I got out of the car and headed to my house. Olivia followed.

  Olivia

  Zion made me sick! Actin’ like he’s the king of all hustlers. I was pissed! Every time I stepped on the gas, my heart raced faster and faster. When Zion made me switch lanes, I felt my life slippin’ away from me. I was scared to death. But as we entered Zion’s house, I was starting to feel better.

  Zion went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I plopped down on the sofa and my mind went back to the night we spent together after Lamin was shot. I hoped that we could do a replay of that night. He came out of the kitchen with a forty-ounce in his hand. His Karl Kani jeans hung low on his waist and he looked so sexy.

  “So what’s the next step?” I asked him. “I know how to drive a getaway car, I know all your police terminology, and I cook like Betty Crocker. Now what?”

  Zion shrugged. “Now we get on the grind. I’m gonna bring you with me to Maryland this weekend to do some business. Until then, you just need to stay out of trouble and practice drivin’.”

  The phone rang and Zion went to answer it. From what I could hear of his conversation, it sounded like he was talking to a female. I wasn’t sure, but his tone had softened and his voice was low, as if he didn’t want me to hear what he was saying. When he took the phone into the kitchen, I followed, undetected.

  “I told you I got company, Donna. I’ll call you later on when I’m not so busy …”

  Donna? Who the fuck was Donna?

  “Come on, ma. Don’t be like that,” Zion was saying. “I got my hands full right now, but you still my baby.”

  That was all I had to hear. I stormed into the kitchen and snatched the phone out of Zion’s hand before he even knew what happened.

  “Bitch, who the fuck are you?” I screamed into the receiver. “Don’t be fuckin’ callin’ Zion—”

  Zion snatched the phone back from me and yelled, “What the fuck are you doin’?”

  I ripped the whole phone out the wall and turned around to see him looking shocked. “Who the fuck is Donna, Zion?”

  Zion laughed as if he was amazed by my boldness. He still seemed pissed off, though. “Olivia, that shit is none of your business. You can’t come in my house and start hangin’ up on people—”

  “Why can’t I? You’re disrespectin’ me! Talkin’ to a bitch on the phone while I’m sittin’ here …”

  “How is that disrespectin’ you, Olivia? You ain’t my girl!”

  “Well what am I then, Zion?” I hated him and loved him at the same time at that very moment.

  Zion seemed to be lost for words. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples as if he suddenly had a headache. “Olivia, come on, baby girl. Don’t put a nigga under pressure like that …”

  “Tell me what I am, Zion!” I was inches away from his face and I could feel his breath as we stood eye to eye.

  “Olivia—”

  “What?” I demanded, my voice echoing off the walls of his spacious kitchen. “What, Zion?”

  Zion grabbed me by the back of my head and pulled me close to him. His mouth engulfed mine, and I felt liberated and turned on by his roughness. He tore off my shirt, ripping a few buttons off in the process, and I matched his intensity as we kissed. Soon, we were headed for his bedroom leaving a trail of clothes and buttons, sneakers and Timbs behind us. The minute we entered the room, Zion picked me up—scooped me in his arms like I was as light as a feather—and threw me on the bed. My head hit the pillows and before I knew what hit me, Zion was on top of me. Zion’s lips were inches from mine and he smiled. “This is what you want, right?” he asked me.

  I smiled back at him. “Hell, yeah,” I said and kissed him. His mouth felt like paradise, and I massaged his dick as I tongued him. Zion and I were like fire. He rolled over on his back, pulling me on top of him. Now the tables were turned, and I straddled him. Zion put his hands behind his head and grinned.

  “Let’s see whatchu all about,” he said. I showed him. I rode Zion like a pony, and he couldn’t help but love it. His body was exquisite, and his light skin looked so good against my dark-chocolate hue. Damn, he was fine! He licked his lips and enjoyed the ride. The more I looked at his six-pack and his muscle-bound chest, the harder I rode him. The phone on the bedside table kept ringin’, and I knew it must be that bitch Donna. I reached over and picked it up. Zion didn’t stop me. Instead, he smiled as I pressed the talk button. “Hello?” I answered, breathless.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Donna asked. But from my point of view she was in no position to be asking questions. I continued ridin’ Zion, and his moans were very audible. I smiled and spoke into the receiver. “I’m the bitch makin’ him cum right now, Donna. That’s who the fuck I am!” I put the phone down on the table, allowing her to hear what I was doing to Zion. I continued my rodeo routine, windin’ my hips and grinding my shit into him so good that he couldn’t help tellin’ me how good it was. I thought he was gonna bust at least twice but he didn’t. Instead, he turned me over on my side and spooned me, holding on to my nipples and telling me how good my pussy was. I came immediately, and that’s what he was waiting for. Zion came as well, and we were drained, laying breathless with our bodies intertwined.

  Neither of us spoke. We lay there, neither of us wanting to break the silence that was awkward and perfect at the same time. Zion touched a strand of my hair, wrapped it around his finger gently, and just looked at me. I looked in his eyes then, and swore I saw my future. But he looked away and continued to play with my hair. I reached up and touched his face, tracing the outline of his goatee and his thin mustache. My fingers came to rest on his lips and he kissed them—each of my fingers one by one. I knew then that I would always love Zion. There were no words, yet it was the most intimate conversation we had ever had. He kissed my neck and then licked down toward my breasts. And just when I thought Zion couldn’t take me higher, he did. Over and over.

  By the time I fell asleep that night in Zion’s arms, he had given me three orgasms and I had given him two. We slept, both of us feeling safer with each other than we’d ever felt before.

  Zion

  I was feelin’ so much shit all at once. It was crazy, ’cause I couldn’t help but care about Olivia. Until Lamin and I got close, I had never been familiar with belonging. I never belonged anywhere. I never knew what friendship was because it had never been mine. In all the group homes, foster homes, juvenile detention centers, and jails I had been in, there had never been anyone worthy of my trust. Then I met Lamin and for the first time in my life I knew what it felt like to be comfortable enough with another human being that you could let down your guard and begin to trust. Olivia was his sister, and from day one he had told me she was off-limits. I had already played myself by violating that boundary of his. Now I was hooked. Olivia had the best pussy on the planet. Plus a bangin’ body and a sexy walk, lips that tasted like honey, and I couldn’t make her mine because of who her brother was. That shit was frustratin’ like a muthafucka. But I respected Lamin, and I knew that if he found out I was fuckin’ his sister he would lose trust and respect for me. I didn’t want that to happen.

  But now, I was put i
n a position where I was forced to interact with Olivia on a regular basis. I had to hustle with her, travel out of state with her, count money with her, drive with her, and how could I do all of that without fuckin’ her, too?

  Olivia and I got a routine going. She became my partner and my lover on the down low. She soaked up all the things I told her like a sponge. I no longer had to coach her to drive like she knew what the fuck she was doing. She really had that shit down pat in no time. The same girl who I had to beg to drive eighty miles per hour, was now a lead-footed speed demon breezing down the Interstate at a hundred miles per hour. We stopped riding in the same car—just in case one of us got bagged, the other would get away We came close to having learned that lesson the hard way.

  We were driving back home to New York from Virginia. There was enough cocaine in the glove compartment and under the passenger seat to put both of us away for life. I was driving with Olivia riding shotgun. Suddenly, the police cruiser that was trailing three cars behind me sped up and rode alongside me. Their siren sounded, and they ordered me to pull over. Neither me or Olivia spoke as I pulled over to the shoulder of the highway and watched the policeman approach through my rearview mirror. Olivia looked calm, but I could hear her breathing. She was nervous.

  I noticed that the cop was riding alone. No way was I going to jail with the cop outnumbered two to one. I guess Olivia had the same thought, since I saw her look back at the police car. The officer asked for my license and registration, and I handed it to him. I knew that I couldn’t reach for the gun on my ankle without arousing suspicion, so I glanced at Olivia. I knew that she always carried her gun in her bra, and I saw her reaching ever so slyly toward her chest.

  The cop saw it, too. He pulled his gun. “Please keep your hands at your sides, ma’am!” he barked. “Step out of the car!”

  Olivia slid a tube of lipstick out of her bra and frowned. “What?” she yelled. “I was reaching for this! What, you gonna shoot me for putting on lipstick?”

  The cop seemed embarrassed and he returned his gun to his holster. Olivia continued ranting.

  “What the hell did we get pulled over for in the first place? DWB? Driving while black? This ain’t right!”

  “No, ma’am. We got a report of suspicious persons in this area—”

  “So ‘suspicious’ means black? What did we do to get pulled over? We have a license. The car ain’t stolen. So what now?” She kept her tirade going until the cop stood red faced and let us go.

  As we pulled away, she let out a sigh of relief, and I smiled. This girl was no joke. I was impressed, and I knew that she was a ride-or-die chick for real. From that day on, she was always two cars behind me, zippin’ down the freeway with some Gucci shades on. Olivia was that bitch. The only drawback to the shit was that she cockblocked like crazy!

  Both me and Lamin had bitches state to state. Lucky was always his number-one wifey, but Lamin had a shorty he checked for whenever we traveled to Baltimore, Virginia, and Philly. Bad bitches. So did I Except I also had one in Atlanta and one in Patterson, New Jersey. And they all loved me. Whenever I was in town I would call up my shorty in that city and we would get it poppin’. Me and Lamin had the tightest game. But with Olivia traveling with me, there was no way I was gonna get any pussy but hers. That was cool with me to an extent because her shit was the bomb—like Sunshine in that movie Harlem Nights. But, I wasn’t sprung. Or if I was, I would never let her see it. Sexin’ Olivia was like a natural high. But me being the man that I am, I had to try to have my cake and eat it, too. That’s where I fucked up.

  One night, while we were in Baltimore, I told Olivia that instead of staying for the night as we planned, I was driving back to New York. She was free to stay if she wanted, but I had to go home. She was suspicious at first, but I calmed her down with a quickie. I told her that I had to get home real quick to go check my homie. I didn’t tell her that my “homie” was this bad Puerto Rican mami from Canarsie named Pilar. Pilar was my ultimate fantasy. She was a pretty Spanish girl with a small waist, small titties, and a big ass. I wanted to get with her for the longest, but she never gave me the time of day until she found out who I was. I remember meeting her after one of my workers introduced us, and she said, “You’re Zion? I’ve heard a lot about you.” I could see dollar signs in her eyes, but I was determined to hit it anyway. I spent the night diggin’ Pilar’s back out and then fell asleep, drained. She lived up to all my expectations. I woke up early and left a couple hundred-dollar bills on her dresser before I broke out. I knew that the money was what she really wanted. I never called her after that. But when she called me and invited me over for some head, I was on the highway faster than a speeding bullet. I drove back to New York with Olivia driving behind me as usual. When we got to Staten Island, I followed Olivia to her exit on the expressway and then I honked my horn as I continued past her toward the Verrazano Bridge. I knew Olivia was pissed that I cut our trip short, but I didn’t care. Her sex was the bomb, but to a man, variety is the spice of life. I wanted to spice my sex life up with Pilar that night.

  When I got there, she greeted me at the door with nothin’ on but a thong and some stilettos. Damn! I sat on the couch and Pilar tongued me down for a while. Then she went to work suckin’ me off like a true professional. I was in ecstasy. Then loud as hell I heard somebody bangin’ on the door like 5/0. It sounded like they were hittin’ the door with one of them batons and I panicked. How the fuck was I gonna get out of there with my car parked right outside her house? She got up off her knees and grabbed a short silk bathrobe off the arm of the couch. I pulled out my .45 and stood behind the door while she prepared to open it. If I was going down I was takin’ at least one of them pigs with me. I stood there with my gun drawn and my adrenaline rushin’ and I nodded, signaling that she could open the door. I was ready.

  She cracked the door and peeked out and the next thing I knew someone had pushed their way inside and was fuckin’ Pilar up! It took me a moment to realize that it was Olivia! Olivia was kicking Pilar’s ass! She pistol-whipped her and I realized that it was not a police baton that was poundin’ on the door, interrupting the bomb head I was gettin’. It was Olivia bangin’ on the door with her heat drawn. This was not what I had in mind when I gave her the nickel-plated nine-millimeter for protection. She ripped the poor girl’s bathrobe to shreds, punching her in the face and pulling her long hair out in patches. I got over my shock and pulled Olivia off the girl. Olivia kicked and struggled to get free. She was no joke!

  “You fuckin’ bitch! You wanna fuck him now? You wanna fuck with mines, you gonna get fucked up instead!” Olivia was wildin’.

  “Calm down!” I barked to Olivia, and she continued to try and get free. I knew that Pilar’s life was in jeopardy if I let Olivia go, so I held her around her waist and bear-hugged her to me. “Come on, girl. Why you buggin’? You ain’t have to do this shit, Olivia.”

  Pilar got up off the floor, naked from the waist up. She still had her thong on, but the heel on one of her shoes was broke off, and Olivia had shattered her glass coffee table. I felt bad, as she limped around trying to find something to cover herself up. Olivia cocked her gun and I grabbed her hands.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I couldn’t believe baby girl was wildin’ like that! “You can’t come up in here shootin’ bitches, Olivia. You’re out of fuckin’ control right now!”

  By then, Pilar had sense enough to run into her room and lock the door. She could tell that Olivia was not playin’ games and would not hesitate to shoot the bitch in her own house! Now Olivia was cryin’.

  “Why you playin’ me, Zion?”

  I shook my head. “Ain’t nobody playin’ you, Olivia. I’m just hittin’ that. It ain’t nothin’. You actin’ like I got love for this bitch. You ain’t got no reason to come over here poundin’ on her door, beatin’ her ass, breakin’ up shit, pullin’ guns. That shit is just sex. It ain’t no more than that. Now let’s get the fuck up out of here before she call th
e fuckin’ cops.”

  Olivia stormed out ahead of me and got into her rental. I got in my car and shook my head in disbelief as she peeled off. I could not believe Olivia had done that shit! She drove to my house, and I followed her. As soon as we parked, I got a chance to confront her ass.

  “Yo, what the fuck is wrong witchu?”

  Silence.

  “Why you do that, Olivia? And how the fuck did you find out where I was anyway?”

  She looked so hurt. “I followed your muthafuckin’ car, that’s how I found out where you were!” Olivia had no shame in her game. “Was it worth it, Zion? Why you gotta fuck other bitches, like my pussy ain’t good enough for you?”

  I shook my head. Damn! I had slipped. How the fuck did I not notice Olivia following me? Maybe I taught her too well. “It ain’t about all that. You know you got the bomb shit, girl. But damn! You come bangin’ on a bitch’s door with your heat drawn ready for war like I’m your man …”

  “Zion, I ain’t tryin’ to hear you right now. I’m sure you got some ass and got your dick sucked, so fuck you! You don’t have to draw me pictures or spell it out for me. Just leave me alone. Let me get the shit I left at your house and I’m gone.”

  Olivia stormed off. I went after her and blocked her path. “You’re so pretty when you’re mad.” I smiled at her and she rolled her eyes at me. I knew she couldn’t resist me for long. “Stop actin’ like that. I can’t have you now?”

  Olivia shook her head. “Hell no.”

  I grinned. “She don’t put it on me like you do.”

  “Zion, I ain’t playin’ witchu! Why you messin’ with my mind like this?” Her eyes were all watery and I felt bad. I sure wasn’t lettin’ her go running to her brother all depressed and shit. Olivia was not good at hiding her emotions from Lamin, and he would want to know what was wrong.

  “Come on, beautiful,” I said, my tone all sugary and sweet. “I ain’t mean to fuck your head up like that. I told you it was only physical. It ain’t got nothin’ to do with you. Just ’cause I’m a little greedy sometimes don’t mean that you ain’t special. Stop actin’ like that.” Olivia wouldn’t let a tear fall. She was the toughest chick I’d ever seen and the sexiest as well. “Come spend the night with me at my apartment in Philly and we’ll come back to New York in the morning.” I was pulling out the big guns. Olivia loved Philadelphia. Every time we passed through the state, she wanted to stay longer than necessary. She loved to shop at the malls, or sit and eat some cheese steaks. I was hoping that mentioning her favorite city would melt her cold demeanor. I also wanted to get her out of town and away from Lamin until she felt better.