Trust in No Man 3

by Cash

  She peeled the wrapper off of the lollipop and ran her tongue all around it as if it was the head of my dick. Then the lollipop disappeared into her mouth and she sucked that muthafucka so erotically I promised myself I was gonna buy a whole case of them.

  She brought the lollipop out of her mouth and rubbed it down her neck, down to her perky titties, then she slowly circled her nipples with the candy— one nipple, then the other, never breaking eyes contact.

  You own my heart and mind/I truly adore you.

  With pretty, little hands, she trailed the lollipop down across her flat tummy and then between her thighs. She let her thighs part and bent her knees just a tad. I pulled hard on the blunt as she glided the lollipop up and down the length of her pussy, still staring into my eyes. She had my attention and that of the fat iron rod between my legs.

  Ava pushed the lollipop inside of her pussy and moved it in and out while rotating her hips. A strand of hair fell over her eyes, adding even more sexy to her performance.

  “Umm,” she moaned as she worked that lollipop deep inside. I sat up in my king-sized bed and placed my back against the black leather and lacquered headboard. My grown man was pointed up at the ceiling.

  Now the lollipop was doing its thing on Ava’s clit. “Sssss,” she moaned, making sticky circles around that sweet sensitive button that was the key to a woman’s pleasure.

  “Put it in your mouth,” I said.

  Ava smiled at me sexy as fuck and followed my command. “Yeah, baby girl, suck your juices off that muthafucka.” My voice was gruff because my dick was jumping.

  I loved it when a shawdy enjoyed tasting herself.

  Ava crooked a finger at me, calling me to her in a way reminiscent of that strip tease scene in New Jack City.

  But my gangsta was more official that Nino Brown’s. I shook my head first and then I shook nine hard inches with a mushroom top at her—and crooked my finger.

  Ava walked to the bed with a glint in her eyes like she was about to devour my ass.

  She crawled between my knees and whispered, “Hey daddy,” speaking to what was about to stretch her jaws. He tapped against her forehead.

  I sat the blunt down in an ashtray on the nightstand near the bed and took the lollipop from Ava and put it in my mouth.

  “I need something to suck on,” she whined and looked up at me and batted her eyes. I guided her mouth to the answer to her dilemma and she took a nigga to paradise.

  Twenty minutes later, she found out that my lollipop had cream inside and she swallowed it like warm milk.

  Then I laid her down and showed her how I could turn my tongue into a butterfly and make it flap its wings back and forth across her clit.

  In less than ten minutes, I was smacking my lips, savoring the taste of her cream.

  “Make me cum again,” she pleaded, gripping my head with both hands and both knees.

  I did what I do like I do it until Ava cried out, “Oh shit! Oh shit! Ssss!”

  I came up and stuck my tongue in her mouth. She sucked on it like it was a cherry drop. I had to pull back before she sucked it clear out of my mouth because my fingers in her pussy had her going through some thangs.

  “Dick,” she uttered.

  “Huh?” I was fucking with her.

  “Dick, nigga!”

  “Beg for it,” I demanded as I continued to play in sopping wet pussy.

  “Please fuck me, Trouble. Pleaassse.”

  “I’ma hook you up.”

  And my word was bond.

  CHAPTER 33

  Hadiya invited us to a birthday party she had put together for Criminal. I never liked going out to clubs, but I agreed to go, partly to show love to my nigga, but mostly because I wanted to do something with my shawdy to let her know she was my one and only.

  When we stepped out, Ava was killing ‘em in a Jessica McIntyre strapless satin dress decorated with zebra print and teal blue trimming. That shit was showing her thighs, which were sexy as hell, and the dress accentuated her shapely figure. She wore teal blue Prada pumps with all of the jewels I blessed her with.

  I had just copped a pair of tear drop diamond earrings that blinged in her ears just as brightly as her diamond pendant.

  Shawdy was indeed a five-star chick. Her naturally long hair was swooped up into a donut on top of her head, with her edges slicked with baby hair. My shawdy knew how to show out, fa sho!

  I slapped her round ass, mainly to see how it would bounce in that dress, but also to remind her that she was all mines.

  I decided to rock a pair of Evisu jeans with the matching shirt decked in grey, black and royal blue. A pair of Roc Nation gray and royal blue sneakers set my outfit, and of course, I wore my platinum chain and diamond urn. We arrived at the spot, and as I walked toward the entrance, my chain swung from side to side with every step I took.

  Criminal’s team was stuntin’ hard up in the club, popping bottles, passing blunts and being the center of attention. Wiz Khalifa’s Black and Yellow anthem blared through the speakers, and the GF squad put on. All I could hear was niggas yelling Black and Yellow, and all I could see were strips of crime scene tape being waved back and forth. Those niggas weren’t just making it rain, they made it pour. They tossed stupid stacks up in the air. And shawdies were pulling out each other’s weaves trying to get to that money.

  In the middle of the excitement, Criminal stood and bellowed over the music, “Who put this shit together? I did! Who wiped out more Mexicans than Immigration? I did, that’s who!” he clowned, mimicking Tony Montana in the movie Scarface.

  His dudes went nuts.

  “When niggas oppose us, what they get?” he egged them on.

  “Black and Yellow, black and yellow!” the clique sang in response and waved crime scene tape over their heads.

  “Muthafuckas don’t pay us? What they get?”

  “Black and yellow, black and yellow,” everybody chanted.

  “Bitch niggas snitch, they get?”

  “Black and yellow, black and yellow!”

  “Mob shit—beyatch!” shouted Criminal.

  Two of his crewmembers wheeled a huge cake onto the stage where he stood. A voluptuous stripper popped out of the cake wearing nothing but a strip of crime scene tape.

  “Black and yellow, black and yellow!” roared through the club.

  The stripper put her arms around Criminal’s neck and started grinding against him. He poured champagne down her cleavage and then licked her breasts.

  “Hadiya is about to catch a case!” Ava whispered.

  “Bruh just clowning.” I defended my dude, but it did seem disrespectful. “As far as I know, Criminal keeps it funky with shawdy,” I told Ava.

  “I hope he’s not starting to get the big head,” Ava stated.

  I was wondering the same thing, but I didn’t speak on it. My eyes searched for Hadiya and found her with a scowl on her face like stone. I left Ava and pulled up on Hadiya.

  “What’s up, shawdy? Look it’s all fun. You know where Criminal’s heart is,” I said.

  She took a minute to weigh my words and then she replied, “You’re right.” I saw the anger disappear from her face.

  When I got back to Ava, some drunk ass nigga was all over her. He wasn’t simply all up in her face, he was all touchy feely and shit.

  I saw that she was trying to push dude away, but dude wouldn’t fall back. And being the G that I was, I stepped up in his shit aggressive as a mofo.

  “Dude, what the fuck is your problem?” I shoved him hard.

  The nigga took a wild swing at me and caught me in the eye. As I staggered back, I saw a GF chain dangling around from his neck. Within seconds, I was surrounded by a mob of GF niggas.

  “Yo, everybody chill the fuck out!” Criminal’s command saved some lives, because I was reaching for my banger.

  “Sup, fam’?” he asked.

  “I’m gucci. Happy Birthday, my nigga. I’m out.” I grabbed Ava’s hand and we headed for the exit, steam ris
ing off of my head.

  Minutes later, Criminal caught up with us in the parking lot. Somebody must’ve explained what went down because he had ol’ boy with him.

  “Apologize to my peep,” he ordered.

  The dude uttered a drunken apology to us.

  “You good with that, fam?” Criminal asked me.

  “I’ma holla later,” I said. I didn’t need another man to straighten my business.

  I took Ava home, changed into all black and headed back to the club in a different whip.

  I followed dude that disrespected us to some apartments on Cascade Road. How that drunk nigga made it home without wrecking his whip was unbelievable. They say God watches over fools and babies. But I guess dude wasn’t either of the two, because his luck vanished the moment he stepped out of his car and staggered up the walkway to the building. I took aim with the yoppa and opened up his back.

  “Black and yellow, black and yellow.”

  The next day, my phone was vibrating off of the dresser with back to back calls from Criminal. I sent him to voice mail a time or two, until it became obvious that he wasn’t gonna give up.

  “Fam, I asked you last night if my people’s apology was good enough,” he roared when I answered.

  “And I didn’t answer, did I?” the line went quiet.

  After about thirty seconds, he said, “So you just get at my people without clearing it with me first, huh?”

  I kind of laughed. “Would you have told me it was okay to smash your comrade?”

  “Hell no! The nigga was drunk when he did that stupid shit last night.”

  “It’s all good now. Maybe in his next life, he’ll know better,” I replied.

  “It’s like that? Dayum, fam, I thought we were better than that.”

  “That wasn’t about you, bruh. But I understand if you feel obligated to ride for one of yours. I’m not saying I want beef with you, ‘cause it’s not like that. You know I got mad respect and love for you, and I know you do real nigga shit. To be a young general, you the best that ever done it— I tip my hat to you. But at that same time, I’m not no peon. Ya man violated the wrong nigga and he paid for it.”

  We debated back and forth until the verbal altercation became intense. “Yo, this ain’t what you want,” said Criminal.

  “Fam, I’m not about to pack up and move,” I declared.

  The phone went dead. My battery wasn’t low and the call hadn’t dropped, so I understood what that meant.

  Ava was wide-awake at this point.

  “Trouble, can I say something without making you feel that I’m taking Criminal’s side against you?”

  “Ain’t nothing to say.”

  “Now you’re letting your arrogance take over. I’m calling Inez,” she said in frustration.

  “Shawdy, you can call President Obama if you want to. It ain’t gonna change shit,” I huffed.

  A lesser nigga than myself might’ve been shook with all the beefs coming my way, but not the eldest son of Youngblood. It didn’t matter to me how long or formidable my list of adversaries became. The way I saw it, we all were living on borrowed time.

  Criminal was my nigga, but if he chose to take it there, I would have blood on every GF medallion in the A.

  CHAPTER 34

  I continued to move around the city without fear. Taxes still had to be collected and mouths still had to be fed. I ran up in a d-boy’s spot and touched him for fifteen bricks and thirty bands. I did him dirty, but not filthy, leaving twenty bands in his safe for his family to bury him with.

  I was stacking so many bodies and creating so many enemies, paranoia began to set in. Every car that pulled up close to mine almost got sprayed with my yoppa.

  Ava sensed I was a ticking time bomb. To ease the rumbling volcano threatening to erupt from within me, she hurriedly arranged a week’s vacation in the Bahamas.

  I sensed she was up to some slick shit, too, by the way she was acting. She was whispering to someone on the phone and pressing me very hard to take the vacation.

  “What you up to, shawdy?” I questioned her.

  She feigned innocence.

  I guessed whatever it was, Inez was in on it, but I never would’ve expected the surprise that awaited me when we arrived at the resort in the Bahamas: Vacationing on the same resort where Criminal and Hadiya were.

  Hadiya had duped her man, too. I saw the surprise on his face when we encountered each other at the pool. Neither of us spoke, but our shawdies’ conniving asses greeted each other with a warm hug. I frowned at Ava and went back to the bungalow and began packing. Ava blocked the doorway, to prevent me from leaving out.

  “Move, shawdy. I’m not bullshittin’!” I said.

  “Hhmph and neither and am I! Yo ass is staying!” she shot back. Her arms were folded across her chest in defense. “The only way you’re leaving is to go through me!”

  I grilled her for a second or two and then I dropped my luggage on the floor and sat down on the bed. To relax my mind, I fired up one of the blunts Ava had smuggled on the plane inside a balloon that was tucked inside of her kitty.

  I ignored her as she left out of the bungalow. A few minutes later, she returned with Hadiya and Criminal. The look on his face told me his girl either dragged him to our bungalow or threatened to put a padlock on the goodies if he refused to come.

  “Hi, Trouble,” Hadiya spoke with that sister-girl attitude. Shawdy was fine as hell, and just like my shawdy, her attitude was not to be fucked with. She stood with one hand on her hip and flung the other around as she spoke. I found it amusing.

  “Me and Ava are going to leave you and this stubborn man of mines to talk like men. Whatever you all’s disagreement is, it can be worked out.” She turned to my girl. “Come on, Ava, let’s go back to the pool.” Hadiya eyeballed Criminal and then walked out of the bungalow.

  Ava bent down toward my lips for a kiss. I turned my head and it landed on my cheek. “Swallow a little bit of your pride, baby. Do it for me,” she whispered in my ear and then exited behind Criminal’s woman.

  I hit the blunt again and then offered it to bruh. He accepted it. “So where do we go from here, fam?” I spoke first, attempting to feel him out.

  He sat on the silk covered chair, across from where I sat. Criminal crossed his leg over the other and made a steeple under his chin with his hands. A young Don, I thought to myself.

  “Before I answer that, let me tell you something about the nigga you killed. He put in a lot of work for the team when we beefed with the esses. Fam really couldn’t hold his liquor but when sober, he was a good nigga. My dudes wanna ride for their brother, but I won’t let them. And I haven’t told any of them that you killed him, but they suspect it.”

  “I ain’t never scared,” I retorted.

  “Don’t you think I know that? Nigga, we’re cut from the same cloth. But, bruh, you was wrong. Dead ass.” I saw a tear trickle down his face.

  Yep gangstas do cry, I was reminded.

  The raw hurt he displayed did not lessen my respect for him. The tears were for the frustration it caused him to let the murder of one of his comrades go unpunished.

  “Man, you put me in a fucked up position. But my word is law with my team, and I already told them they can’t come after you. I’ma just charge that one to my heart,” he stated, letting out a sigh. “I’ma tell you something that only a few people know. I get my work from your people now.”

  “My people? Who you talkin’ about?” I asked, confused and wondering what it had to do with anything.

  “Swag. That’s who supplies me now. I know that you’re like a son to him, so that’s another reason besides the hood respect I have for you, that I don’t want no drama.”

  I smirked. “You lying! Damn, I didn’t know Swag still fucked with the streets.”

  “You still don’t know it,” said Criminal. He didn’t have to spell it out. My lips were sealed.

  Understanding that we had another bond, we made peace between us with a
gangsta hug. With the discord between Criminal and I squashed, we both were looking forward to enjoying the Islands with our girls and with each other. But the lives he and I lived seemed not to allow a moment of peace for too long .

  Lounging in my hotel suite, smoking sticks of loud while Ava and Hadiya went shopping, spending bands of our blood money, I listened to Criminal tell me about his ongoing war with the esses.

  “I thought they had folded their hands,” I cut in.

  “Nawl, bruh, those muthafuckas are like roaches— you kill ten and there’s a hundred more. Madda fact, I don’t feel right lamping in the Bahamas while shit is still going down back in the A.”

  “Understood.”

  “Hold up, bruh, let me hit my niggas up and make sure everything is gucci.” He had been calling back checking on his crew a dozen times a day for the past two days.

  “Mob shit,” he said, greeting whoever answered on the other end. He held the phone to his ear and listened for about ten minutes and didn’t utter another word until he said, “I’m on my way back. Y’ all stand down until I get there. One.”

  All of a sudden Criminal hurled the cell phone against the wall. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he howled. Pain like no other was etched on his face.

  “What happened, bruh?”

  “Some wetbacks snatched up Doom, Shyne and Shyne’s baby mama!”

  I knew what that meant because esses didn’t snatch muthafuckas up to talk. But I had to ask anyway. “Did they kill them?”

  Criminal’s head dropped. “Yeah, bruh, and they tortured them,” he said in a voice that cracked.

  “You know I’m on deck, if you need me.”

  Criminal was too distraught to reply. I knew what he was feeling. The game of money and murder was a cold ass bitch when it was time to bury one of yours.

  The flight back home was somber and quiet.

  CHAPTER 35

  Back in the A, the temperatures was hot. And so were the streets. Criminal buried his fallen soldiers and then he made whoever got paid to ship dead Mexicans back home for burials rich. Mob shit had the city turned up. The streets said the Feds had been called in, so that quieted down everybody’s guns for a minute.