“Judge Morales, is that you? But—”
“Shhh, let’s go inside in, Mr. Clarke,” she cut me off.
I followed the woman in the house, although I was kind of confused about why I was there.
“Thank you, Stewart.” She winked at the driver.
“You do know that this is kidnapping, right?”
“Who’s the victim? The great Hassan Clarke?” she chuckled.
There was always something about the way she carried herself. She was never afraid to go after what she wanted.
“So, I take it that you signed my bond?”
“You know I could never do such a thing. Let’s just say a Good Samaritan paid cash for you to be bonded out.”
“Well, in that case, please tell this special person that I said thank you,” I said sarcastically.
I was caught off guard when she pushed me into the corner and started kissing me. I didn’t have a choice but to return the favor. I picked her up and tried to take her to the edge of the stairs, but she stopped me. “Not so fast. You need to take a shower and wash those sweaty balls of yours. You know I’m a lady. I don’t do musty nuts.”
“Yes, sure.” I then followed her up the stairs and into the bathroom.
“I already ran your bathwater. A washcloth and towel are sitting by the side of the tub.”
It felt real good to be taking a proper bath. That hard-ass water that they had in prison was rough on a nigga’s skin. As I washed, I took a long exhale as I thought about the pussy I was about to punish. It had been a minute since I’ve been close to a woman, let alone fucked one.
I hurried and washed off. After I dried off, I walked out of the bathroom with my dick hanging low. I stopped in my tracks when I noticed that she was naked in the bed, lying on her back, playing with her pussy.
“What are you looking at? Come taste this pussy,” she teased and then took her finger out and licked it off.
That shit fucked up my head. I dove onto the bed, and without hesitation, I took her legs and spread them apart. I hungrily slid my tongue inside of her already moist pussy.
“Aah, aah,” she moaned as I latched on to her clit. Her moans made me suck harder, as if her pussy was my last meal.
“Baby, please fuck me,” she pleaded.
She didn’t have to say it twice. I jumped up and slid my rock-hard dick into her pussy.
I knew by the way she was behaving that she wasn’t aware that I had the bug. Which was a good thing because that pussy was looking good, and there was no way I was going to wear a damn condom. I wanted to feel that pussy gripping my dick. Shit, that’s her problem. She should’ve been more careful.
“Damn, lady. Your pussy’s still tight,” I mumbled as I pushed farther in.
“Oh, Hassan. Oh, I love your dick,” she whispered in my ear.
I continued pounding her walls. The pussy felt so damn good to be in. Saying it felt like heaven would be an understatement. It didn’t take me long to bust. I fell back on the bed, feeling drained. Either I was getting old, or her pussy was that good. I finally got up and washed off. She followed suit.
“Are you hungry?”
“You have no idea. A nigga is starving.” She left the room, and twenty minutes later, returned with a plate fit only for a king. Steak, shrimp, mashed potatoes, and broccoli with a glass of lemonade. This is the bitch that I should’ve married. If only I’d met her before her husband. I wondered what happened to that old fool anyway. From what I remembered her telling me, he was a wealthy, controlling fool.
“So, are you going to tell me how I ended up in your courtroom?”
“To be honest, it was pure coincidence. I was assigned the case, and when I saw your name, I remembered hearing some rumors about you going to prison. I looked through the files, and there was your mug shot.”
“I guess it was my lucky day, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say it was luck. I think it’s that you are blessed with that big ole dick.”
“Ha-ha. You ain’t changed a bit. Lemme ask you, whatever happened with your husband? Y’all divorced?”
“Yeah, I divorced that old fool. The bastard’s dick couldn’t get hard. He even tried using Viagra and still couldn’t satisfy me. I had to get the hell on. I love to fuck, and any man that I marry has got to be able to satisfy this pussy.”
“I hear you, Miss Judge. So, how is it looking for me?”
“Well, I think that with a good attorney, you can beat these charges. I won’t be your trial judge, so your fate will be in the hands of someone else. I went through the evidence, and honestly, there’s a lot that your lawyer can bring up in your new trial.”
“Yeah, I’ma be working on my retrial.”
“Don’t be a fool, Hassan. I know a lawyer. He’s one of the best in the business, and he’s a close friend of mine.”
“I’m dead-ass broke. I can’t afford to pay no lawyer.”
“Don’t worry about paying him. He’ll be doing a favor that he owed me. You better keep your mouth shut about all of this. If this gets out, I could lose my job and face criminal charges. Trust, a prison uniform won’t look good on me.”
“I know that. Trust me. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me. When this is all over with, I promise I will repay you.”
“Hmm. I do have one question, though. Did you kill that woman?”
“Nah, I ain’t killed that bitch. I swear to you, right hand on the Bible. My ex set me up.”
“Really? What would she gain by doing that?”
“Her rival was dead. I was in prison. She got the money from the firm and half of everything I earned. That bitch is money hungry and crazy.”
“Wow! Well, you know that you can’t go anywhere near her, or I will be forced to revoke your bond.” I wanted to tell that bitch fuck her when she said that, but I was no fool. That bitch was beneficial to me at that point.
“You’re right. I ain’t stuttin’ that bitch. I got a trial to get ready for.”
Destiny Clarke
The police investigated Josiah’s death. They took all of our statements and decided that the shooting was justifiable. After the shooting, I put Amaiya in counseling. She spent most days in her room without eating or showering. While I had compassion for what she was going through, I was mad as hell at her. I later found out that she let that boy in the house while I slept. I wasn’t going to lie. I felt betrayed and hurt. As much as I did for my child, and she would betray my trust like that over a nigga that almost killed us. . . .
We spent a few days at a hotel, and then I called a professional cleaning crew to clean my room. I also had the carpet replaced. I thought about moving, but that would be too much strain since the wedding was coming up. Besides, I didn’t have any attachment to the little bastard, so it was like it never happened.
Spencer wanted to put the wedding off after Josiah got killed in the house, but I disagreed. I reasoned that we had been through so much already, but we needed to get it over with. Every time that I thought things were going good and I could live a little, something popped and rained on my parade.
* * *
It was two weeks before my wedding, and my stomach was doing flips. My best friend, Amiya, was at the house. It felt so good to have her back in my life. I loved her ass so much. She was who I named Amaiya after. I just changed the spelling a little. When I was with Hassan, I distanced myself from her. That was a big mistake because she was the only one, other than my mama, that I could confide in.
“So, how are you feeling?” she asked as we sat in the living room.
“Girl... What can I say? Your girl is still standing. I’ve been to hell and back, but I’m still here. The doctor said I now have AIDS.”
“No! I thought you were doing better.”
“I thought so too, girl. You know, never in a million years would I think I would be sitting here talking about I have AIDS. That nigga fucked up my life, Amiya.”
“Girl, I can’t imagine going through what you’re g
oing through now, and I know it’s not easy for you. I admire your strength. You are one strong, black woman.” She reached over and rubbed my hand. I squeezed her hand in return. Tears welled up in my eyes. I saw the tears rolling down her face.
“We had so many plans. Retirement, traveling. Lying on the beach in Jamaica, drinking red wine. This nigga deserves to die,” she cried. I got up and sat closer to her.
“You’re my friend, and no matter what, please know that I love you. I hope I am here ’til we are old and gray, but the reality is, God has the final say. All I can do is take my medicines, eat healthily, and pray. I just need you to promise me that if anything happens to me, you will help my mama raise my baby girl.” I looked into her eyes.
“Des, stop talking like that. You ain’t going nowhere.”
“I’m serious, Amiya. Promise me.”
“I promise you. I will be there for my godchild. I love you, chica,” she managed to say in between sobs.
“Good. ’Cause I love your crazy ass too. Now, dry them tears, and let’s order some food. I’m starved.”
After waiting for our food, we ate, laughed, and cried some more. It was definitely a minibreak from all of the drama that was unfolding in my life lately.
Hassan Clarke
Everything was cool for the next few days. I ate good, shitted, and fucked whenever I wanted to. That shit wasn’t what I wanted, though. The bitch wanted to cuff my ass. She had the right idea for the wrong nigga. The only thing on my mind was to get the fuck on. I had some important business to handle, and lying up all damn day wasn’t gonna get me anywhere.
I waited until she was up, getting ready for work. I sat up in the bed and tried to come up with the perfect lie. I didn’t want to crush her feelings because that bitch had done a lot for a nigga.
“Aye, love, I’ma go to the city today. Want to go visit my mama and the rest of the fam, you know.”
“Oh.” She turned around to face me. “What time you coming back? I told you, you need to lie low because we can’t risk anyone finding out about our relationship.”
“I understand all that, but I’ve been locked up in this house for days. It ain’t like my mama can come here to visit. I really want to see my family.”
“Okay, then. Stewart can take you wherever you need to be. He can sit and wait so that he can bring you back here. There’s a cell phone on the dresser. It’s prepaid, and here are a few dollars for you to spend.”
I was gonna respond, but instead, I cracked a fake-ass smile.
“All right, babe. I’ve got to go. See you later.”
“See you,” I said sarcastically.
I sat on the bed until I heard the garage door going up. Then I got up and walked over to the window. I watched as her 2015 Lexus ES pulled out and drove away.
I jumped in the shower and did a quick wash off, then got dressed in no time and grabbed the envelope that had all of my letters that I’d received while I was incarcerated. I flipped through the letters until I found one with the address that I was searching for. Before I left, I went into the good judge’s drawers and grabbed the gun that I saw in there a few days ago. I will definitely need this, I thought as I walked down the stairs.
“Aye, Stew. Did the lady of the house tell you that I need you to take me to the city?”
“She mentioned it.”
“Good, so let’s go, nigga.”
He looked at me like I disrespected him or something.
“Nigga, I said, let’s go. I got things to do.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he just got up and snatched his keys up off the table. I walked out the door with him in pursuit, humming some old bullshit.
“Where in the city are we heading?”
I looked down at the envelope and gave him the address, then looked out the window and took in the scenery. It was funny how I hadn’t been gone that long, but it seemed like it had been forever. The streets of the Bronx seemed the same. Niggas were still lined up on the blocks, either selling dope or gambling. I sure missed my home on some real shit.
He stopped in front of an apartment building. “Here you go, sir. The lady told me that I needed to sit and wait for you. So, I’m goin’ park over on the other side.”
“Yo, I don’t care what she told you. Get yo’ old ass outta here. I’m a grown-ass nigga. I ’ont need no babysitter.” I stepped out of the car and slammed the door.
I heard him pull off, and then he yelled some shit, but I was too far gone to understand him.
A few niggas were hanging on the side of the building. I nodded my head at them as I walked past them with my head hung down. Luckily for me, a boy ran out the door, and I ran in before the door closed. I took the stairs instead of the elevator to apartment 4G. My blood pressure was rising the closer I got to the last steps. My steps were slowing down as if something were holding me back.
I used the doorknocker to bang on the door.
As I waited, I heard voices coming from inside. I knocked again.
“Who the hell is banging on my door like that?” Tanya popped the door open.
She stared at me like she’d seen a ghost. Her eyes seemed like they would pop out of her head.
“Don’t just stand there and stare. You not goin’ welcome your nigga home?”
“I-I-when did you get out, and what are you doing here?” She stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
“What the hell you doing? Let’s go inside,” I said as I pushed her to the side and stepped in the door.
“You can’t go in there.”
“Why not? My motherfucking son and my bitch live here, so that means I can. Why are you acting funny?”
“Nigga, you heard what the lady said. Get the fuck outta her shit.”
I looked at that fuck nigga and sized him up real quickly. His eyes seemed glossy, and he kept on scratching like he had bugs.
“Fuck, nigga. Who the fuck are you?” I inched closer to him.
“Hassan, you have no right coming up in here like this.”
Blap! Blap! Blap!
I openhanded slapped that bitch over and over until she fell to the ground, screaming.
“What the fuck you do that for?” that nigga said and lunged toward me.
I two-pieced that old, frail nigga, knocking his ass into the wall. Then I walked over and snatched up that bitch. “Where is my motherfucking son, bitch?”
“Get off me. He’s not your motherfucking son. He’s Randy’s son.”
Lights flicked in front of me as I had flashbacks at what Imani once told my ass years ago.
“What the fuck did you say to me, bitch? He’s my motherfucking son. Now, where the fuck is he?” I was spitting fire.
“Say what the hell you want to say. My son only knows Randy as his daddy. He don’t fucking know you. Now, you can get the fuck out of my life for good. I thought yo’ ass would’ve got the memo. I don’t fucking want yo’ ass anymore. See, you thought I was stupid because I’m fucking white, but, boo, I’m far from stupid. Actually, your black bitches were the stupid ones. They were fighting over yo’ HIV-infested ass. Ha-ha. You didn’t think I knew about that, huh? Well, boo, I’ve been HIV-positive for over twenty years, and, yes, I fucked and sucked you every day. I bet you, your black bitches’ pussies are on fire now. See, y’all thought, y’all had me fooled. Hell nah, I had y’all fooled,” she smirked.
I blacked out, pulling out the gun that I had taken from the judge’s drawer earlier and fired three shots in that bitch’s head. Her brains splattered all over the dingy-ass carpet they had on the floor.
“Noooo! Noooo!” That nigga finally came to and ran over to her.
I turned to him and fired two shots in his chest. He fell on top of the dead bitch.
I tucked the gun in my waist and was about to leave, but I heard someone moving around in the back. I snatched the gun out and tiptoed toward the sound. I leaned against the wall and then peeped my head in the room. I saw the little bastard stooping down between load
s of clothing.
“Ha-ha. Little man, it’s your daddy. Come here.”
My first instinct was to kill the bastard. After all, I didn’t want to leave a witness behind. He walked over to me, and I held his hand. I raised the gun and pointed it at his little head, but I couldn’t pull the trigger. Instead, I grabbed him up and ran to the door. Quickly, I peeped out. Nobody was outside of the door. I ran out, closing the door behind me.
I snuck out of the apartment building, through the back door, without incident, then walked away in the opposite direction of the building. I wasn’t sure if anyone had heard the gunshots. The boy started crying. I threw him over my shoulder and kept patting his back so he would shut the fuck up. I was tempted to turn around and leave his ass on the steps, but truthfully, I felt like he was my seed. Shit, I thought he looked like me when I was younger. I had a hundred dollars that the judge had put on the table for me earlier, so I decided to walk farther up the block and then look for a cab.
I finally got to 214th and White Plains Road. I jumped in a cab and gave the driver the address. I was going home. I paid the driver and got out of the cab.
I walked to the door and rang the doorbell. This little nigga had fallen asleep and was weighing down on my shoulder.
“Who the hell is it, ringing my damn bell like that?” My mama yelled, as usual.
“It’s me, Mama. Open the door.”
Damn, that lady hadn’t changed a bit. She’d been yelling like that since I was a kid. She opened the door. When she saw that it was me, she quickly opened the screen door.
“Boy, what the hell you doing here? Did they finally come to their senses and let my baby come home? And who the hell is this little boy?”
“Damn, Ma. You’re killing me already. Gimme a chance to sit down and tell you.”
“All right, all right. You know yo’ mama just happy to see her baby boy. You hungry?”
“Nah, I ain’t hungry, Ma. Yeah, they granted me an appeal and ordered a new trial. So, yeah, I’m free for now, and this is your grandson.”
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