by Jason Poole
“Okay, Lal, whatever you say. It sounds good. Three weeks for an extra five mil. I can’t argue with you on that. When you say you copping again?”
“I got these two suitcases full of money. I’m taking ’em to my carriers today. My shit should be here first thing in the morning.”
“I need to take a shower, Lal.”
“You ain’t take no shower over that girl’s house?”
“Yeah, but I really wasn’t washing up. I was laying down the pipe.”
“You a trip, Jay. Use the shower upstairs. It got a Jacuzzi in it too.”
“Naw, I don’t need all that, but I can use a razor.”
“Just look in the cabinet. There’s some brand new razors in there.”
After Jovan took his shower, he shaved off his goatee and mustache, put on his clothes, and headed for Trinidad. Before he left, he paged Sonya, and she called right back. Jovan thought, Damn, I musta really put it on her, but little did she know she put it on me also. Sonya was the baddest and sexiest female he’d ever had, and to be honest, she had the best pussy ever.
“Hello.”
“Baby, what’s up, sweetheart?”
“You,” Sonya said.
“Is that right?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Price.”
“Hey, look, what time you gonna go up Wisconsin Avenue to Chevy Chase Pavillion?”
“What time is it now?”
“Almost twelve thirty.”
“We should be finished by two o’clock. You wanna meet me somewhere?”
“If you want you can tell Germain to drop you off at the gym. I’ll be finished working out by then.”
“Which gym are you going to be at?”
“Finley’s boxing gym on Tenth Street.”
“Oh, I know were that’s at. My li’l brother Tony used to box for Mr. Finley.”
“Okay, boo. I’ll see you then.”
“Oh, Jovan.”
“What’s up, baby?”
“Don’t be letting anybody mess your handsome face up.”
“Boo, you must not be hip to my work. I’m like Mike Tyson when it comes down to that,” Jovan said, laughing.
It was one fifteen when Jovan got around Trinidad. He pulled his van around the corner at the top of Sixteenth Street and looked around for a second to scope out the scenery. After he saw that there were no spectators around, mainly because it was still early in the day, he jumped in the back seat of the van, pulled out the binoculars he previously had from when he killed Fat Mike, and focused them perfectly.
As Jovan looked down Sixteenth Street, he spotted Chicken Wing’s car. He looked over to the left and saw two guys standing in front of their stash house. Chicken Wing was nowhere in sight. A gold four-door Acura Legend pulled up and the driver rolled down the window to talk to the two guys out front. One guy yelled toward the house, and Chicken Wing came out front.
The dudes in the Acura got out. They looked familiar, and as Jovan beamed in closer he could see that it was Big Poo and Fats. They were talking to Chicken Wing. Poo reached in his car, pulled out a bag, and gave it to Chicken Wing. It was obvious this was a drug transaction taking place.
After Poo and Fats left, Chicken Wing stayed out front and sat with the other two guys. Jovan assumed that Chicken Wing had gotten everything Petey left behind and was selling the remaining bricks before he put his lick down on Bilal.
As they sat out front, Jovan was changing his clothes in the back of the van. He put on the DKNY spandex suit he had bought from Up Against the Wall, and he put on the ass pads and fake tittie bra he had bought from the sex store. Jovan then put on the ponytail wig he got from the costume shop in Georgetown, and the matching DKNY baseball cap, pulling the ponytail through the hole in the back of the cap. He looked in the mirror at his disguise and wasn’t satisfied, so he put on Meeka’s bright red lipstick that he had taken from the cabinet when he took a shower at Bilal’s. Jovan then put on the big shades that covered most of his face and looked in the mirror again. This time he was satisfied with what he saw.
It was 1:45, and for the next ten minutes, Jovan was going be a certified hood rat. He popped his stash spot and retrieved the 9 mm and screwed the silencer on it. He placed it in Meeka’s Coach bag that he had also taken from Bilal’s house.
Jovan got out of his van and walked around Bladensburg Road, came through the cut on Sixteenth Street, and walked by Chicken Wing and his crew. Jovan knew Chicken Wing was on hood rats hard as hell, and this butt pad made his ass look like Mary J. Blige’s. Although he felt humiliated wearing this costume, he knew it would serve its purpose, so he did what was necessary.
As he walked past Chicken Wing, he started switching and Chicken Wing came off the porch and fell right into his trap.
“Damn, she phat as shit. Girl, come here!” Chicken Wing yelled.
As Jovan walked faster up the street, Chicken Wing began to follow. Jovan put his hand into his bag and held onto the gun like glue. As Chicken Wing got closer, Jovan looked around and saw three little girls playing jump rope. This was his chance, and he couldn’t blow it. He needed to get this nigga. As the little girls were playing, Jovan started walking faster to get them out of reach.
Chicken Wing started a light jog, saying, “Hey, hold up for a minute. Let me holla at you.”
Jovan slowed down, and when he heard Chicken Wing’s footsteps getting closer, he waited for a second until Chicken Wing was about two feet away. Jovan didn’t panic. He was going to give it to a nigga who truly deserved it. When Jovan felt Chicken Wing’s breath damn near on the back of his neck, he turned around and shot Chicken Wing four times in the solar plexus. Pat-pat-pat-pat. That way Chicken Wing would instantly lose his breath and wouldn’t be able to holla for help.
As Chicken Wing clutched his stomach on the way down to the pavement, Jovan shot him once in the forehead and quickly put his gun back in the bag. He didn’t run from the scene. He just began to walk away fast.
As Jovan was walking away, he could hear the little girls laughing. “Ooh! You see that? He tried to touch that girl’s butt and she turned around and punched him in his stomach. That’s what he get!”
As Chicken Wing was curled up on the sidewalk dead, those little girls thought he was punched in the stomach for touching Jovan’s ass. This came out better than Jovan had planned. He headed back to his van, and no one saw him get in. As he drove off, he could see Chicken Wing’s crew walking toward him, laughing, not knowing he was through, finished, done like a hot turkey on Thanksgiving.
It was just turning two o’clock, and Jovan pulled up on Ninth Street, took off his costume, wiped the lipstick off of his lips, wiped down the gun, placed everything in Meeka’s big Coach bag, and placed the bag in the dumpster.
Jovan walked in the gym through the back way on the Ninth Street side and came out front on the Tenth Street side. Sonya and Germain were just pulling up when he came out on Tenth Street, and when Sonya got outta the car, instantly Jovan was aroused and pleased at what he saw.
She had on a pair of tight Moschino jeans and a T-shirt with some open-toed sandals. She had her long hair in a ponytail. Sonya looked good even in regular gear. Her beauty was natural. She didn’t need makeup or nothing. She was a natural queen, ready to claim her spot.
“Hi, Jovan,” Germain said.
“Hi, Germain,” Jovan said.
“How you doing?”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s good. How’d you like the party last night?” Germain asked.
“It was cool.”
“What about the after party?” She started laughing.
“What after party?” Jovan asked, even though he knew she was insinuating about the explosive sex that Sonya and Jovan had.
“The one on Connecticut Avenue,” she said, still laughing.
“Bye, Germain. You talk too much. Open the trunk so I can get my bags,” Sonya said as she tried to hide her embarrassment.
Sonya got her bags, and Germain and she
said their good-byes.
“Bye, Jovan.”
“See you later, Germain. Sonya, let me get them bags for you.” Getting her bags out of Germain’s truck, he joked, “Damn, girl, you got a lot of shit.”
“Wait ’til you see what I got.”
As they walked to Jovan’s van, Sonya started looking at him funny.
“Jovan, you look different, boo,” she said.
“What you mean? I don’t appeal to you no more?”
“No, silly, it’s just something different about you. You’re still fine, but I’m sure you know that already.”
“Naw, I only know what you tell me. Now, what’s different about me?”
“You look younger.”
“Younger?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, I know what you’re talking about.”
“What?”
“My goatee is gone.”
“Yeah, that’s it. What you do, shave it off?”
“Naw, I went to a different barber shop this morning and they fucked my shit up, so I told him to shave it off. Don’t worry. It’ll grow back in two days.”
“I didn’t say anything was wrong with it. You’re still handsome, but—” Then she laughed.
“But what?”
“You look so young.”
“Okay, so now you calling me a youngin’?”
“No, baby, you still look nice. I’m just playin’. You ain’t mad at me, are you?”
“Naw, I ain’t mad.”
“’Cause if you were then I got something to cheer you up, but we gotta go to my house to get it,” she said with a sly grin on her face.
“Well, in that case, I’m mad as hell,” Jovan said, laughing.
“I bet you are, Jovan.”
Sonya kissed him once they got in the van. “I missed you all day.”
“Me too, but before we go over to your house, I gotta go down the street to my grandma’s first.”
“Okay, baby.”
Jovan’s grandma only lived a few blocks down the street from the gym. He still had the three million in the suitcases Bilal had told him to put up. When they got to his grandma’s house, he pulled out the suitcases and began to take them in the house.
“What’s up, Jovan? You packing up and moving out?”
“Naw, Sonya, this is just some old things I had in storage while I was in school,” Jovan said, lying.
Jovan went upstairs and put the suitcases in his room. When he came back downstairs, Sonya and Grandma were kicking it like old friends. Grandma liked Sonya, which was cool, because Grandma usually didn’t bond with just anybody. Jovan kissed Grandma, told her he’d be back later, and they left.
On the way to Sonya’s, they stopped at a 7-Eleven and Sonya went inside and got a few things. When they got to Sonya’s condo, Jovan cooked dinner, which was baked fish and baked potatoes and a tossed salad. They ate, cuddled, and watched TV, but after a while, they went right back to what they were doing the night before.
This time Jovan was less aggressive and more gentle as they made love in the living room first, then the kitchen, the bathroom, and finally they found ourselves on the bedroom floor, dripping from sweat and lovemaking.
Jovan held Sonya against his chest as she gave him little kisses and rubbed her hands over his chest.
“Jovan, you’re a king. You know that?” Sonya said.
“If I’m a king, then what that make you?” Jovan asked.
“I don’t know if I want you to say it,” Sonya said as she playfully pulled the hairs on his chest.
“I rather not say it. I’ll just show you.”
“You already have, baby. You already have. You treated me like a queen from day one.”
“Vice versa,” he said.
Sonya then got up, and Jovan loved watching her walk around in the nude with her ass jiggling and titties bouncing. She went into the living room and came back with her shopping bags. She gave Jovan one and said, “Here.”
“What’s this?”
“It’s yours. Open it.”
Jovan reached in the bag and pulled out a black-and-silver Giovanni Versace sports jacket. First thing he did was look at the tag, which was $2,750.
“Sonya, this is nice, but where you get the money to buy this?” Jovan asked her.
“Jovan, stop playin’ with me.”
“Okay, then how you know I don’t have this jacket already?”
“That jacket was just brought in today. They didn’t even have it on the rack, and Arthur, the faggot that works in there, said that it wasn’t going to be on sale until two weeks from now. You were at the gym all day. It would have been impossible for you to go all the way up Wisconsin Avenue and meet me back at the gym by two o’clock. Shit, Jovan, I damn near had to pitch a bitch for him to sell it to me.”
“Well, boo, thank you very much. I like it. Come here and give me a kiss,” Jovan said, pulling Sonya into his arms.
Sonya got back on the floor with Jovan and they kissed and made love all night long.
CHAPTER 21
“Against All Odds”
Bilal sent his carriers down to Mexico by plane, and he was to get a call from them as soon as they landed. At 8:30 p.m., Bilal’s connect called and told him that no one had exited the plane with the briefcases. Bilal then called the airport to see if there was a delay in the flight. He was told there was no delay, but another flight was to land at 2:00 a.m. Bilal called his connect back and told them that another flight was to land at 2:00 a.m. and that his carriers, which were Meeka’s and Carlos’s female cousins, probably missed the flight. The connect said that he would call when they arrived.
Bilal was at home wondering what the hell had happened to the carriers, but he didn’t panic even though he was going through a lot. Carlos had been killed, Meeka was pregnant, and his pager was blowing up from niggas who was try’na spend money. Bilal had to keep calling niggas, telling them to hold fast because that shit would be ready soon.
At twelve o’clock, Jovan called Bilal from Sonya’s.
Ring, Ring, Ring.
“Hello,” Bilal said.
“Damn, Lal, you picking shit up on the first ring.”
“Oh, hey, what’s up, Jay?”
“I’m just trippin’ right now,” Bilal said.
“What’s up?” Jovan asked.
“You know my people ain’t get there yet,” Bilal said, worried as shit.
“What time was they supposed to be there?”
“Around eight thirty,” he said.
“Well, they mighta had a delay. You call the airport?”
“Yeah, I called. There wasn’t any delay, but another flight is due to land around two a.m.”
“Cool, then they’re probably on that joint.”
“Jay, where you at?”
“Over Sonya’s.”
“You over there again?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn, nigga, that pussy must be good. Don’t let me find out you fallin’ in love, nigga,” Bilal said, laughing.
“Go ’head wit’ that shit, Lal.”
“Jay, did you handle that?” Bilal said, referring to Chicken Wing.
“Most definitely. Like a pro.”
“Yeah.”
“My smoothest one so far. I’ll give it to you raw when I see you.”
“Okay, slim. You coming by in the morning?”
“Naw, tomorrow’s Monday. You know I gotta work in the morning, man.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot you a big-show lawyer,” Bilal said, once again jokingly.
“Not yet, Lal, but soon,” Jovan said.
“I see you later, Jay.”
“Okay, Lal,” Jovan said as he was about to hang up the phone.
“Oh, Jay.”
“What’s up, Lal?”
“I love you, nigga”
“I love you too, Lal.”
It felt good talking to his best friend. Even though he had been through a lot lately, he sounded better, like everything was goin
g as planned. Jovan would be glad when Bilal got that shit and dumped it off fast so they could get the fuck away from there and do their thing legally. He could finish school in Atlanta, start his own law firm, and have a few other businesses on the side.
While Sonya was still asleep, Jovan tried on his new jacket. This joint was tight as fuck. Jovan was going to wear it the next day with his black Versace slacks and white Versace mock neck shirt.
Jovan knew Cindy wanted a nigga to slam meat up in her, ’cause every time he came in, she was always looking at him, complimenting him and shit. Jovan wasn’t gonna go at her, though. Shit, Sonya was enough, and right now she was all a nigga needed.
As Jovan went to get a glass of juice outta Sonya’s refrigerator, he didn’t hear her creep up on him.
“So you couldn’t wait to try it on, huh?” Sonya said, smiling.
Jovan turned around fast, butt-ass naked with his jacket on, and said, “So how does it look on me, boo?”
She laughed and said, “It would look better if you had on a pair of pants to go with it.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but right now since you’re up, let me do something that’ll make you smile.”
“What’s that?”
Jovan took off his jacket, blindfolded Sonya, fed her some fruit, then smothered her body with chocolate and licked it all off, not missing a spot. He could tell Sonya loved every bit of his lovemaking, because no matter how he gave it to her, she accepted it with multiple orgasms.
Jovan woke up the next morning around 8:00 a.m. Shit, he had to go to work, and his pager was blowing up, but he was in too much of a rush to look at it. Sonya was taking the day off, so she cooked breakfast while he showered.
After Jovan got out of the shower and looked at his pager, he saw it was Bilal hitting him up with 911. Jovan immediately called back.
Ring, Ring, Ring.
“Hello,” Bilal said.
“Lal, it’s me,” Jovan said.
“Yeah, Jay. Look, you gotta get over here fast.”
“What’s up, Lal? You sound worried.”
“I can’t talk on the phone. Shit’s looking fucked up.”