The Family Is Made (Part 1) (Thuggin In Miami)

by R. A. Robinson

  Welcoming the shift in subject, Skinny turned to Lil’ B. “We gone do that thing I was telling you ‘bout at the hospital.”

  Nodding in understanding, Lil’ B asked, “You went and hollered at E?”

  “Yeah. Just came from over there.” Lil’ B raised an eyebrow in question. He hadn’t been so sure that E would go along with the plan. Skinny answered his inquisitive look with her own look of smugness. “He down with it.”

  Hearing of E’s willingness to participate, Lil’ B’s skepticism faded into excitement. “When we starting?”

  “In three days,” Skinny replied. “I got to make sho’ I’m off them pills the doctor got me taking first.”

  Suddenly remembering everything Skinny had just gone through, both physically and emotionally, Lil’ B gave Skinny a look of concern.” You sure you ready for some shit like this? Me and E could do it ourselves if not.”

  Skinny shook her head and pulled out the twin 45s. “Look here Lil’ one. You think I’m playing?” A sinister grin played on her lips as she watched Lil’ B’s surprised but jealous reaction.

  “I told that nigga hold them down for me!”

  Skinny shook her head, but maintained her smile. “Ain’t nothing! These my bitches now.” She raised one of the guns to eye level and acted as though she were inspecting it. “Besides, I just shot a nigga with this one.” She wiped some blood from the handle with her thumb.

  Again, Lil’ B raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “What you mean? You shot somebody already?”

  Skinny chuckled as she placed the guns back in her jacket. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you bout that. I shot some nigga name John at E house before I came over here.” Her tone, expression and demeanor spoke of shooting John as though shooting someone were a normal, everyday occurrence, much like washing the laundry or going to work.

  “You killed some nigga at E house today?” Lil’ B’s voice lifted in shock.

  Shaking her head, Skinny replied, “Naw, I just shot him and slapped his bitch ass with the gun.”

  “Why you just let E handle that?” He knew Skinny had always been able to handle her own, but she’d just left the hospital. Shouldn’t she be resting or something? And here she was, shooting people.

  “Cause I got to get the feel of using my bitches, that’s why,” she replied, matter-of-factly.

  Still a little unsure as to whether or not Skinny was okay, health-wise, but certain that he’d never be able to convince her to go home and rest, Lil’ B decided to change the subject, yet again. “Ay ma, I want one of these,” he said as he examined the Charger’s interior.

  Skinny nodded and smiled in understanding. Tenderly, motherly, she replied, “Just chill Lil’ one. I’m gone make this hoe I fuck with get two more, one for you and one for E.”

  Lil’ B grinned, ecstatic that he was going to own one a car just like the one he was sitting in, but his elation was interrupted by a remembered thought. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that I beat Dwayne like two months ago,” adding angrily, “old pussy ass nigga.”

  The news morphed Skinny’s loving motherly tone into one of correction. “Boy, you bet not let Alicia find out you did it.” Her expression was stern and commanding.

  “What you mean?” Lil’ B asked innocently, looking at Skinny with confusion. “I ain’t done nothing wrong. And why you looking like that?”

  “Alicia made us promise we wasn’t going to do nothing to him,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

  Lil’ B lifted his hands in a full shrug. “Well, I don’t know nothing ‘bout that there, but what time you want me to call you?”

  A loud sigh escaped Skinny’s lips. “Like five, but look, don’t tell nobody you told me ‘bout Dwayne. If Alicia finds out, she gone think I told you to do it.”

  “A’ight, I got you.” Lil’ B pulled the door handle and opened the passenger door. “I’m gone call you at five. You want the money for that car?” He suddenly remembered that Skinny was going to get another Charger for him.

  “Boy! Get the fuck out!” Skinny pushed Lil’ B towards the door jokingly. “Talking ‘bout do I want the money.”

  Lil’ B laughed as he pretended to tumble out of the car. “See, that’s why I love you, ma.”

  “A’ight, see you later,” she said through the still open passenger door as she quickly drove off. The force of her takeoff slammed the door closed.

  Now standing on the street corner, Lil’ B watched her drive off, thinking of how lucky he was to have been adopted by Richard and Skinny. They were the family he’d never really had but had always wanted.

  ***

  Cloaked in darkness, Skinny and Lil’ B sat at the bus stop across from King’s Hotel waiting for just the right moment. Entering the hotel would be easy; the whinos, crackheads and prostitutes coming and going with their clientele were unlikely to notice them going in. Leaving, however, might be a bit of a different story.

  “You ready, ma?” Lil’ B asked, noticing the calculating gaze on Skinny’s face.

  “I just want to make sure nobody run to Biscayne. I got this nigga,” she replied, putting her hands back into her black hoodie. She let the fingers on each of her hands tighten around one of the 45s. At that exact moment, a light in the hotel room they were watching filled the window.

  “Unc, get the car started,” Lil’ B spoke into his cell phone, using the walkie talkie feature. “The lights just came on.”

  Down the street, E lifted the cell phone to his lips and pressed the button to respond. “I got this. Y’all do your thing.”

  In one fluid motion, Skinny stood up and started towards the lit hotel room. “Come on, let’s go,” she called back, already halfway across the street.

  “Not yet, ma!” But Lil’ B was already following behind her.

  Now on the other side of the street, the two of them ducked behind a parked car, watching the hotel window for movement. They didn’t have to wait long. A figure crossed the room, hidden only by the cheap curtains.

  “Damn, Brandy!” Pulling his pants on, White Boy gazed lustfully at the still naked stripper on the hotel bed. “I didn’t know it was like that.”

  “I told you I got that sniper,” she said as she pulled a lighter to the cigarette between her lips.

  “I’m gone come pick you up from the club tomorrow night,” he said as he threw his shirt on. “When you get off?”

  “Why can’t we just go out tomorrow, then do our thing at your house the rest of the night?” Brandy pouted as White Boy pushed his gun into the worn belt loop of his pants.

  “I told you it ain’t serious like that, lil’ mama. We just gone be fuck friends.” He turned to look at her, gauging her response. “You can handle that, right?”

  “Yeah, I can handle that,” she smiled. Secretly, she was devising a plan that would make him hers.

  “A’ight, don’t forget to call me tomorrow night,” he said, still looking at Brandy as he pulled the door open.

  “Had fun, White Boy?”

  White Boy’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, “What the…?” but he was already too late. Skinny had already pulled the trigger.

  Brandy’s screams of terror filled the room. The high-pitched sound rangin Skinny’s ears. “Shut the fuck up bitch!” She aimed and pulled the trigger again, silencing the sound.

  Lil’ B stood in shock. It wasn’t the killing that had stupefied him, it was the fact that it had been Skinny who had done the killing. He had never seen her that way. He wondered if seeing her like this might make his Paw proud. The thought almost made him smile.

  “Check that nigga’s pockets, boy! What you waiting for?” Skinny yelled, ripping Lil’ B from his thoughts. She walked over to the bed where Brandy lay, still clinging to life, convulsing from the gunshot wound in her shoulder. Pointing the gun directly at her head, Skinny pulled the trigger once more, taking Brandy out of her pain and misery in the blink of an eye.

  “Ma, let’s go!” Lil’ B yelled, standing between the ope
n door and walkway outside.

  “What he had in his pockets?” Skinny asked, crossing the room.

  Lil’ B’s eyes bounced from Skinny to the outside. Nervously, he scanned the area for any sign of witnesses or flashing lights. “I ain’t go through his pockets,” he responded, irritated. “Let’s go!”

  “Hold up, boy.” Skinny bent down, shoved her hand into White Boy’s jean pocket and retrieved his car keys. Before standing, she grabbed his Desert Eagle handgun.

  Already waiting out front, E revved the Honda’s engine. Skinny and Lil’ B pulled their hoods up and ran out of the room, trying to make sure their faces couldn’t be seen by anyone passing by. Lil’ B made his way over to the back door on the driver’s side without looking back, but as he turned opened the door, he noticed Skinny walking past their stolen car towards the street. “Ma! Come on!” he yelled. He wondered what the hell had gotten into her. They needed to get away!

  “Get in nigga!” E yelled, turning towards Lil’ B who was still standing at the back door. Lil’ B climbed in, but continued to look around for Skinny. E pulled the car away before Lil’ B had even had a chance to close the door.

  “Unc, you leaving her?” Lil’ B’s hand closed around the handle of his gun. His arm muscles tensed, ready to shoot E if he so much as acted like he had planned to leave Skinny behind. E may have been family, but family never left family behind.

  “Here she come behind us. You tripping,” E said, looking in the rearview mirror. Even without seeing Skinny climb into the truck now following them, E knew she’d be right behind them. That girl had a plan. E had been able to tell that by the look on her face when she’d exited the hotel room.

  Turning around to look out the back window, Lil B’ wondered aloud. “What the fuck we gone do with that truck?”

  E wondered the same thing himself, but knew it was probably pointless to wonder. They would just have to wait and see. “Only person can tell you that is Skinny or Rich, ‘cause she got his ways.”

  Shaking his head, Lil’ B continued to watch the speeding truck follow them under the I-95 into Liberty City. “Unc! My Paw done got my old girl gooned out!” Unable to suppress his curiosity any longer, he flipped open his cell phone.

  “Hello?” Skinny answered, turning down the Tupac song playing on the radio so she could hear.

  “Ma? You good back there?”

  “Boy! You know I am,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Ay! Tell E to turn right on Sixth Ave and get behind me.”

  “A’ight,” he answered, flipping his phone shut. “Ay E, Skinny wants you to turn right up here on Sixth and then get behind her.”

  “A’ight,” E replied, pulling the steering wheel to the right. Once he rounded the corner, he slowed down so that Skinny could pull around in front of him. He followed her all the way up to the 12th Street bridge.

  Skinny pulled the truck right up against the shoulder. Right across the street from her, E and Lil’ B stepped out of the car just in time to see her duck behind a set of bushes. In just a few seconds, she emerged with a large towel and a gas can.

  Not seeming to understand what she was doing, Lil B’ asked, “Ma? What you gone do? Steal the rims and music?”

  Skinny shot Lil’ B a look that resembled the Really? thought going through her head before returning to the task at hand. She poured gasoline onto the towel in her hand, careful not to drip any on herself. “Boy! Get yo’ ass over here and pour this gas in the truck, “she said, handing the gas can over. Now turning to E, she asked, “E, can you pull the car up some?”

  Without thought, question or doubt, E walked over to the still running car and hopped in, pulled it up a few notches and waited inside.

  With E now in position and the gas can now filled, Skinny walked over to the truck and inserted the towel into the gas tank, letting the end of the towel hit the ground. “Lil’ one, give me a trail from here to the car,” she said, walking back towards the car. As Lil’ B drew nearer to the car with his gas trail, Skinny pulled a lighter from her pocket.

  Click! She lit the lighter and brought the flame down to the gas trail. As the blaze sped across the street and towards the truck, Skinny and Lil’ B scrambled into the car. E slammed on the gas pedal and sped away. The shriek of tires quickly gave way to an earth-shattering explosion.

  Looking behind them out of the back window, Skinny watched the truck go up in flames as a maniacal grin pulled at her lips. “Bye-bye White Boy.”

  Chapter 13

  An annoying ringing sound pulled Skinny from her sleep. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she tried to determine where the sound was coming from.

  My phone!

  She jumped out of bed and snatched the phone from her dresser. As soon as her fingers wrapped around it, she flipped it open and answered. “Hello?” Her heart fluttered with hope and expectancy.

  “You have a collect call from…” without even waiting to hear the rest of the recording, Skinny pressed the number five on her keypad, smiling as she pulled the phone back up to her ear.

  “Wuz good, baby girl,” Richard’s voice came through on the other end of the line.

  “Nothing. Just thinking ‘bout you,” she answered seductively.

  “So how you been out there?” he asked, not really noticing the hint of desire in Skinny’s voice.

  “I been getting out a lot lately,” she replied nonchalantly. “What about you?”

  “Just chilling. You miss me?” Richard produced a cocky smile that Skinny couldn’t see.

  “You know I do,” she purred in his ear. “And this pussy been thinking ‘bout you a lot, cause every time I hear your voice, she start wetting my panties up Like now, I can’t even calm this pussy down.”

  Richard grinned on the other side of the line.” Well, I tell you what. Take them off and I’ll show you how she like’s to be treated.” He shoved his hand down the front of his pants and wrapped it around his already stiff shaft. “But you gotta do everything I say.”

  “What you want me to do Daddy?” she asked, already lying on the bed, naked, legs spread open.

  “First, I want you to wet your fingers with spit.” He slowly stroked his shaft, pulling his hands all the way up to the swollen tip. “Rub each one of your nipples until they rock hard.”

  Skinny moaned into the receiver as she followed Richard’s instructions. “Mmm, daddy, I love you.”

  “Now rub your body until you get to that magic spot. Don’t go in yet, just let your fingers run across your hairs down there.” He listened for her gasp of pleasure as he stroked his bulging flesh faster, harder. “Now I want you to wet your fingers again and rub down there.”

  “Daddy, please fuck me, please,” she begged, her fingers already dripping wet with juices.

  Richard, on the edge of pleasure himself, slowed his strokes back down to keep up with her. “Now take your wet fingers and rub the lips of your pussy until your clit gets as hard as your nipples.”

  “Yes, daddy! I’m ‘bout to cum,” she gasped into the phone.

  “Slow down,” he ordered, wanting to push her into an orgasm that would rock her for the rest of the week. “Rub your pearl real slow until you can’t take it.” He listened to Skinny’s moans come louder, closer together as he stroked his cock a little faster now. “Now push one finger in. Do it slow.”

  “Richy! I’m cumming daddy,” she screamed over the phone as Richard exploded into his pants.

  “Baby girl, I got to go clean myself up.” Richard put the phone down and walked towards the bathroom, his pants tented in the crotch from his still hard shaft.

  “You one lil’ freaky something,” Ms. Jackson smirked, as Richard walked by her on the way to the bathroom.

  “Ms. Jackson, you mind ya’ business now.” He grinned back at her.

  Now wiped down and wearing a clean pair of pants, Richard headed towards the bathroom exit. As he made his way into the door, he could hear Bam yelling. “Nigga! Fuck that! Get in there!”

  Walkin
g down the hallway, he could then hear Ms. Jackson trying to calm the argument. “Y’all bet’ stop ‘cause you know them cameras in here.”

  Walking straight into the line of fire, Richard looked at Bam. “What’s good, Fool?”

  Bam turned away from the other inmate to face Richard. “This fuck nigga tried to take yo’ phone. And then he walked off talking shit like he ‘bout that.”

  Richard turned his gaze towards the other inmate. He was a gangly guy, not much taller than Richard. “Ay, buddy.” He kept his voice even and cool. “You want that?”he asked, nodding towards the phone.

  “Naw, man,” the inmate replied, dropping his gaze to the ground, fidgeting with his fingers. “I’m good, man. I don’t want no problems.”

  “Well, I tell you what – “ Richard waited to finish his response until the inmate brought his gaze back up. “Until you do, you don’t use no phones in here.”

  As the man hurried away, Ms. Jackson gave Richard an inquisitive stare. She placed hands on her hips accusingly. “Why you doing that to that boy?”

  “Fuck that nigga,” Richard responded, swatting his arm in the direction of the now retreating inmate. “Bitch niggas don’t need to use phones. They snitch too much.” He sat back down and picked up the receiver again and ignored Ms. Jackson’s continued stare. “Ay baby.”

  “Richy, what you doing?” She’d heard most of the conversation, but some of it was muffled. What she had heard sounded like arguing.

  “Pffft. Some bitch ass nigga tried to get my phone,” Richard replied.

  “Baby, you done been chilling for like three months not getting in trouble. So just let that bitch go.” Her voice practically pleaded with him. Trouble could mean more time in jail. More time in jail would mean not seeing him even longer. “Fuck him. He ain’t got the phone.”

  Richard shook his head, “Baby girl, I ain’t no bitch and ain’t never gone be one. I let it go,” he said, reassuring her that he would try to avoid any trouble, as long as it didn’t compromise his reputation. He raised his voice so the other inmate could hear the last part of his reply. “But I catch this nigga on the phone anytime, I’m gone give him the business like he ‘pose to got today.”