Thug-A-Licious

by Noire

  Chapter 28

  We ran drills on the morning of our big game, and I came back to the crib afterward to find Muddah waiting for me on the couch. I felt real guilty after handling sexy Saucy and her super-lips the night before, but I took a shower and cuddled with Muddah anyway.

  It felt so damn good laying next to her that I started playing a little bit. Mouthing her titties through her shirt and rubbing the low part of her belly cause I knew it put her in the mood. Superhead Saucy or no goddamn Saucy, my dick never failed to jump up for Muddah, and I heard her sigh as I unzipped her pants and wiggled them down her hips.

  I’d shown my baby three negative HIV tests in a row. And she was satisfied. I’d slid a phat-ass diamond on her finger a few weeks before I left for Los Angeles, and I felt good watching that rock shining on her hand. I was so happy Muddah was gonna marry me that I told her she could plan any kinda wedding ceremony she wanted and invite all of Harlem if that would make her happy.

  “Nah,” she’d said laughing. “Let’s do something kinda small. Just us, Mere’Maw, Smoove, all your baby mamas and their kids…hold up. Then that means we bout to do something kinda big!”

  I didn’t understand it, but Muddah was tight with almost all the mothers of my children. They looked up to her and hung out around her shop. She treated them real good and spent a lot of time with the kids who all called her Auntie.

  “They’re sistahs just like me, Andre,” she told me. “And those kids are yours. That kinda makes them mine too.”

  I’d shown her my list of names and birthdates, and she was real proud of me for taking that first step.

  “Now you gotta get bank accounts for all of them, Dre. For college and shit, you know. They young and you can afford it, so get hot on that right away. Don’t forget to put them on your royalty account with Ruthless Rap too. You just never know. You got life insurance, right?”

  I’d nodded and decided to fuck with her head a little bit. “I got the bank accounts in trust for them already, but the life insurance and everything else goes to Pimp. I had to put him down on everything since Noojie was gone and Smoove was in Iraq.”

  That part wasn’t really a lie. I had put Pimp down on all my shit, NBA policies, Ruthless Rap, the whole nine. But when Muddah agreed to marry me, I called my lawyer and had that shit changed. She didn’t know it, but her name was on the first line of everything now.

  “But you down on all my shit too,” I said real quick before she could beef. “As my secondary, though,” I lied. “Pimp is just my primary.” I saw the look on her face. “Chill, Muddah,” I laughed. “And pull that lip back in, girl. I ain’t going nowhere. And even if I did, Pimp knows how a niggah feels about you. He’d break bread with you. As soon as we get married, though, I’ll flip that shit.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “No, Dre. I don’t trust that crazy fuckin’ cousin of yours. Besides. We might not get married until the end of the summer. You flip that shit now.”

  I nodded and shrugged, knowing that shit was already done. Then I pulled her into my arms and spooned with her on the wide velvet couch in my living room and whispered in her ear, “I’ll flip it as soon as I can.”

  And that’s how we got in the position we were in. All that ass Muddah had on her pressing up into my dick and stomach was just too much to resist. I’d turned her over on her back and ran my lips over her titties through her shirt, and now that I had her pants down past her hips I opened her legs and eased myself between them.

  The first taste of her had to be close to crack. I spent the next thirty minutes trying to hit that high spot as much as possible. I slid my tongue in and out of her creamy pussy as her nails dug into my shoulders. Her clit was plump and throbbing, and I rolled it between my lips until she made the sounds I wanted to hear.

  I cupped her meaty ass in my hands and moved my mouth up and down her slit until my face was wet and sticky.

  “Yeah!” Muddah whispered. She was moving her ass in my hands and pushing my face deeper into her stuff. “Eat it, Dre. Eat it, baby. Yesss…eat it, baby…”

  I felt her stomach clenching tight, and I let her grind that ass anyway she wanted to. I kept licking on that honey bun, sopping up that sugar. I took one hand off her ass and massaged her lower stomach and that’s when she brought it and brought it hard.

  “Ohhh! Aggh! Dre! I’m cumming baby, oh yeah, lick this pussy, baby. Lick it for me, baby. Aggh!”

  My tongue was still moving inside of her, and she was still pumping my face. I waited until she slowed down her movements, then sat up partway and turned her over on her stomach.

  I didn’t wanna fuck Muddah. I wanted to love her.

  I started at the back of her right ankle. I kissed it and let my lips and tongue trail up the toned caramel of her calf until I reached the back of her knee. I sucked her there for a while, my hands massaging her thigh and ass as she squirmed.

  My kisses moved up further until I found the curve of her butt where she had that one little stretch mark that looked like lightning had struck her on the ass. I sucked every inch of it, swirling my tongue on it, over it, then parted her cheeks and licked in it too. Muddah was slippery and sweat rolled off her ass-cheeks as they jiggled with pleasure.

  I did the left side of her body the same way, loving the way her body smelled as she got hotter and hotter. I took my time and showed her how much I cared as I sucked and licked every bit of her flesh, bite by bite.

  She was moaning out loud by the time I spread her ass cheeks open and slid my dick up in her pussy, and I knew I had her. She came as soon as I pushed myself into her, and I held her close to me as she pumped her ass back, giving me access to every inch of her sweet wet pussy.

  I waited until she got her another one, and by this time we was doing some serious fucking. Muddah was on her hands and knees and every time I slammed my dick up in her I watched her ass shake and flow like a watery wave, and it freaked me more and more.

  I reached under her and grabbed her firm titties, flicking her nipples gently with my fingers and humping her ass even harder.

  “Yeah!” I hollered, gripping her hips and yanking her back as I slammed my dick forward. I stroked her deep and hard, throwing my head in the air, and a few seconds later I came, releasing my hot cum as deep inside of her as I could get it.

  Muddah collapsed beneath me, laying flat on her stomach. I laid down halfway on top of her and pulled her close to me. “I luh you, Carmiesha,” I said, slobber dripping from my mouth.

  I felt her inhale real deep, and finally she let me hear the noise I’d been needing to hear so damn bad all my life. “I love you too, Dre. Yeah. I love your crazy ass.”

  Madison Square Garden was live and full of bodies, and even from the locker rooms we could still hear the noise. Game time was still almost two hours away, and Coach Brown was taking care of last-minute details while everybody else just hung around trying to get their heads right for the battle.

  Somebody had set up some tables in a big old banquet room where we were supposed to sign souvenir booklets for special ticket holders. I was the only rookie requested to sign, so you know a niggah felt grand being the only youngster sitting in the midst of the vets. My game was just that live.

  Thirty minutes later a couple of the older cats were complaining about getting tired of signing, but I was loving it. I liked clowning with fans and seeing that look of awe and respect in their eyes when they realized they were actually talking to somebody they idolized. It was almost as good as the noise, ya know?

  A group of kids was coming through the line, and I was surprised when I looked up and saw Pimp standing in front of me.

  “Whassup!” I hollered, jumping to my feet to show him some public love.

  “Thug,” he grinned just like always. “Man, you doing the damn thang, and I love it. You was born for this, yo. You claimed it, and you did it. Now that’s some real shit!”

  “Who these little ballers, yo?” A group of kids were standing around him lo
oking at me with hope in their eyes. They looked just like me, Pimp, and Smoove used to look back in the day. Gangsta clothes, wannabe stances, and visions of getting paid chinging in their eyes.

  “These my little soldiers,” Pimp said nodding at them. “My cats from the youth center. I got me my own little groupies.”

  I sat back down and picked up my pen. “Well let’s do it then,” I said, taking the booklet that was being held out to me. “Let’s get this game rolling!”

  I signed about seven booklets for Pimp’s Harlem crew, and when I got to the last kid I reached for his booklet but he held it back.

  “Whassup?” I looked up at him. “You want your booklet autographed, little bruh?”

  His eyes was cold and steady. “Do you know who I am?”

  I reached for his booklet again. “Nah, you gotta tell me your name so I can make it out to you, man.”

  “You don’t recognize me?” he said, pleading like he needed me to say yeah.

  I glanced at Pimp, then looked at the kid real close. He was a handsome brown-skinned little son, and something about him did look familiar. Real familiar. But I couldn’t place him.

  Pimp laughed and said, “C’mon, Thug. You don’t know who this is? You sure you don’t know who this young cat is, man?”

  I shrugged. “Nah, I’on’t know…”

  The kid got swole like he didn’t believe me. “Oh, so you know everybody else but you don’t know me, right?”

  I shrugged again. “Nah, man. Can’t say that I do. But if you want me to sign your booklet just give it up, yo.”

  He stared down at me and for a second I could almost place him. But then it passed and he was just another tall, lanky street kid who could have been me, Pimp, or Smoove coming up in Harlem with hoop dreams on the brain.

  “Aiight, then,” I said when he grilled me hard and then walked away. This little niggah must didn’t know how many fans I saw at every game. Wasn’t no way possible for me to remember half of them. I looked at Pimp like, What the fuck was that about?

  But he just hunched his shoulders and shook his head. “All these l’il niggahs think they got some gansta in ’em, but we was ten times harder than them when we was coming up.”

  I gave Pimp some more dap and nodded. Then I turned to the next person in line and took his booklet and hit it with my pen.

  I couldn’t think of a whole lotta things in life that were more exciting than being a starter on a winning NBA team. Well, maybe being a chart-topping, havin’-the-number-one-video on 106th and Park, honey-magnet rap artist who was also a starter on a winning NBA team.

  I’d recently gotten with an investment-baller-turned-studio-owner, Knowledge Graham and recorded a fly little hook segment to go with my NBA player introduction. They was blasting that shit through the speaker system when it was my turn to run out on the court.

  Listen up

  You’re now under the in-flu-ence

  Of the Thug-A-Licous take-it-straight-to-ya-chin music

  Let’s do it!

  For the love of the game!

  I’m the best can’t you hear the way they calling my name? Know whatt’im sayin?

  The Garden was on fire! The fans were screaming and stomping their feet and hollering out the Thug-A-Licious song. And I was lovin it. I was stoked. I was on fire.

  So when I say, THUGGA…Y’all say, LICIOUS!

  Thugga…LICIOUS! Thugga…LICIOUS!

  I was on like a motherfucker. I was playing the best game of my life.

  We got behind in the second quarter, but the third quarter belonged to me. These motherfuckers was in a Thug-zone, and it was all about respecting me up in my house.

  The fans was on their feet. My latest cut was blasting outta the speakers. They was stomping and screaming and waving banners that sported my name in big bold letters. They wanted some more of me, yo! They adored me. Pumped a home-grown Harlem niggah up to the sky.

  I was running game in triple-double land, the ball like hot velvet in my hand. We were down by three, and I hit a three-pointer and got fouled. And one! Yeah, motherfuckers! What y’all know about that? That’s how ya get back on top!

  Thug-A-LICIOUS! Thug-A-LICIOUS! Thug-A-LICIOUS!

  Coach signaled me over and I dapped Marbury on my way to the bench. Somebody passed me a water jug. I swigged a mouthful, pushed my face into a towel, and suddenly blinding heat sliced into the back of my neck and I was falling. Falling…. FALLING!

  Thug-A-LICIOUS! Thug-A-LICIOUS! Thug-A-LICIOUS!

  The crowd was going crazy, and even as I slipped into the blackness I could still hear them screaming my name.

  When I say Thugg-A…y’all say ’Licious!

  “Dre! Yo, Andre! Can you hear me? Open your eyes! Oh, shit! Say something, man!”

  Thugg-A-LICIOUS! Thugg-A-LICIOUS! Thugg-A-LICIOUS! Thugg-A-LICIOUS! Thugg-A-LICIOUS!

  The noise was fading. I struggled to hear it as I moved into a foggy tunnel.

  Some half-naked freak with a killer ass ran over to the bench and threw her sexy black panties in my face. I took a deep sniff then tried to snatch them off.

  “It’s okay, Mr. Williams,” a voice above me said as my hand was restrained at my side. “We’re just giving you a little oxygen. Try and settle down, we’ll be arriving at the emergency room in less than a minute.”

  The noise, yo! What happened to the noise? Bring it back, man. Bring it back! Bring it fuckin’ back….

  Chapter 29

  Carmiesha was sitting right by his side when he opened his eyes. The nurses had told her to go home, and said they’d call her when he was conscious, but there was no way in hell she was leaving him. He’d started out in the intensive care unit, but after giving him several MRIs and running a bunch of other tests, they put him in a step-down unit where he was getting critical care.

  Every now and then a nurse would come in and ask Carmiesha if she wanted to go home and eat or something, and promise to call her if there was a change in his condition, but it woulda took about five big fat niggahs to drag her outta there by her feet because she wasn’t about to leave Dre until he opened his eyes.

  “Dre,” she whispered when she saw he was awake. “Baby, I’m here with you. I’m right here, boo.”

  She was holding his hands, squeezing his fingers but if the doctors were right, he probably didn’t even know it. Carmiesha rang the nurse’s button, her eyes never leaving his. He was confused, she could tell. Maybe scared too. He had to be wondering what the hell had happened to him.

  “It’s gonna be okay, Andre,” she said, hearing footsteps coming down the hall. The doctors had said he couldn’t breathe on his own and needed the help of a ventilator. She had wanted to be there when he woke up so that she could be the one to explain what had happened and how their world had gone so crazy and so wrong.

  The nursing staff came in and started adjusting some of the tubes running in and out of his body. Carmiesha could only stand there and watch as Dre lay still in the bed. His legs were so long that his feet were almost over the edge of the hospital mattress, and for a second she wondered if he was uncomfortable being like that, and then she remembered the doctors saying he wouldn’t be able to move or feel anything from the neck down.

  That ice pick had done some major damage. Dre’s spinal cord had been cut in a critical spot and he’d never be able to breathe on his own again. He’d never walk again neither. Never rap again. And never play ball again.

  The burden of knowing all that almost pressed Carmiesha down to the floor. She couldn’t stand knowing it herself and didn’t know how she would reveal it all to Dre. But he was her man, and he didn’t have nobody but her. She knew she would be there for him for the rest of her life.

  The nurses left the room, and it was silent except for the bleeping of the machines. Andre moved his eyes in her direction and Carmiesha smiled, hoping he wouldn’t see through her brave mask and worry any more than he already was.

  “You’ve been out of it for three days,” she
told him after the nurses left. “They had to put you unconscious to run a bunch of tests. Do you remember anything, Dre?”

  He moved his lips, trying to talk.

  “The game…,” he whispered. “We was at the game.”

  Carmiesha bit her bottom lip and tried not to cry. All kinds of hell had broken loose at Madison Square Garden. One minute Dre was coming off the court to sit on the bench, and the next second security was tackling someone to the ground and Dre was laying motionless on the floor bleeding from his neck.

  They had stopped the game and rushed both teams into the locker rooms for security. There hadn’t been shit Carmiesha could do as the medical staff surrounded Andre and put him on a stretcher. She’d followed the ambulance by taxi to the hospital and told them she was his wife.

  It seemed like hours passed before the doctors came out to talk to her, and she knew by the look on their faces that whatever they were gonna say, it wasn’t good.

  “He’s got a complete spinal cord injury,” a black female surgeon said. “I’m sorry, but in most cases like this the patient loses all mobility because those nerves are too badly damaged to rejuvenate.”

  “Lose all mobility?” Carmiesha had shrieked. She had heard what the sistah was saying, but she wasn’t trying to hear it. “You mean he won’t be able to walk no more?”

  The doctor nodded. “Unfortunately that’s correct. The term we use for these patients is quadriplegic. It means he’ll be unable to move his legs or his arms. I’m sorry. But there is some positive news.”

  Carmiesha had just stood there looking at her with tears running down her face. What the fuck could be positive about laying up in the bed for the rest of your life and not being able to move?

  “With excellent medical care and therapy he should be able to go on to live a relatively long life. I’ve got some literature for you that will explain his condition more fully and give you an idea of some of the treatment options that are available to him.”