She Got It Bad for a Heartless Gangsta 4

by Shvonne Latrice

  “Well I can do all that shit you just said,” he replied immediately, making it obvious what I’d said went in one ear and out the other. It didn’t matter to me though, honestly. He wasn’t my man, and he wasn’t my problem.

  “Even if you could, I’ve moved on.”

  “To that Kito nigga?” Qamar waved me off. “That ain’t gon’ last.”

  “Okay, well have a good night, Qamar.” I was anxious to get that shower and get back to the hospital where Kito was. I didn’t want him to wake up and I not be there. Only reason I left was because I needed a shower and because his mama showed up.

  “How about we go on one more date and—”

  “Qamar, I told you, it is too late.”

  “Bia, it’s never too late to—”

  “Qamar, I love Kito and I’m having his baby.” I swear I didn’t want to tell him, but it seemed like the only way to attempt to get him to give up. I hadn’t even told Kito that I loved him yet… I actually didn’t even realize I did until right now, and how all I could think about was ending this conversation with Qamar so that I could get back to him.

  “You fucked that nigga raw?” Qamar roared. “You sucked his dick too, huh? You ain’t never sucked my dick!”

  “Goodnight.” I tried to move around Qamar, but he grabbed me up by my neck, halting my steps. “Qamar, let me go!” I screamed.

  “You gon’ let him fuck and not me!” he barked, forcing me over my trunk, and forcefully lifting the back of my skirt. “If he gets to fuck, then I get to fuck too!”

  “Qamar, stop!” I hollered through tears when I felt his hands on my underwear.

  “Ah!” Qamar wailed. I’d tried my luck and lifted my foot forcefully, hitting his balls and dick with the heel of my shoe.

  When he backed up, holding his privates with his jeans at his ankles, I turned to face him, fixed my skirt, and then whacked him across the face with my purse. For the next five minutes, I whooped his ass like he’d stolen government cheese. I kicked and punched on him, not caring where I’d landed them.

  “You stay the fuck away from me, Qamar Hampton,” I seethed before turning to walk towards my house.

  “Bia! Bia, baby, I’m sorry! Aye, come here!”

  I ignored his ass as I went into my house to take a hot shower and pack a bag. Once finished, I talked with my mom and Taya for a little bit, updating them on why I hadn’t been home since yesterday morning, and then I left back to the hospital.

  When I got to Kito’s room, he was awake, which pissed me off. Fucking around with Qamar, I wasn’t here when he’d first opened his eyes.

  “Hi, baby, don’t you feel better?” Kito’s mother Katrina smiled as she stood up to hug me. I liked her, even though she didn’t play about her son. She didn’t baby him, though; she loved him just enough to where he was vulnerable when he needed to be.

  “Yes, you were right about that shower.” I chuckled.

  “Well, I’m going to the cafeteria to get something to snack on; would you like anything?”

  “A sandwich of some sort, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not.” She kissed my cheek, before pecking Kito’s forehead and leaving out.

  Sitting down in the chair next to his bed, I just stared at him. A weak smirk covered his face before he put his hand out for me to put mine in.

  “I thought you’d hate me when you woke up.”

  “Why?” His brows furrowed.

  “Because this is my fault. Had you not met a girl who used to date a drug addict, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  Kito chuckled at me and winced in pain as he adjusted his body. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it slowly.

  “Bia, for one, I’ve been shot before. My old work brought me a lot of problems, and getting shot at was one of them. Secondly, that shit ain’t ya fault. That nigga shot me because I hit his ass, not because of you or Qamar. I’m actually mad at myself because I knew he’d come back at me, so I should have been prepared. He just took so long, and I guess that was because we hadn’t stayed late at work in a minute, so he couldn’t catch me. I kind of relaxed and forgot about him for a hot second. I guess being legit changes ya mindset and shit. Back in the day, I would have been on alert 24/7.” He kissed my hand again. “But never blame yaself for what another nigga is doing, aight?”

  I nodded.

  “Did you miss me?” I scooted closer so I could kiss his lips.

  “Maybe a little bit. But after you eat, you need to get some sleep or something. Now that you’re carrying my kid, I gotta watch yo’ ass.”

  “Yes, sir.” I chuckled.

  Chapter Seven: Ricky AK

  I had a bunch of shit to handle today, but before I left, I made sure to put in some time with Lily and the twins. My career and this label, as well as all this other shit I had going on, was important to me, but being a father took precedence over all that shit. None of this shit would matter to me at the end of the day if I didn’t have my girl, my kids, and even my maddening ass grandma in my life.

  I placed my daughter, Camellia, down to cover my son up with his blanket, and like always, she started to have a fit. Draylah picked her up as Lily watched, but that didn’t cut it. Frederick Jr. was more easygoing and laid back, so it didn’t matter who held him out of Draylah and I; he’d be cool. Camellia, on the other hand, was picky as fuck, and according to her doctor, she preferred her daddy to hold her because of my height.

  “You gotta relax, baby girl, I gotta go.” I kissed her plump cheek. Already, she was pretty as hell, and I knew I was gon’ have to keep my shotgun close for them raggedy ass, smelly dick ass niggas that was gon’ be chasing her.

  Draylah and Lily followed me out of Frederick Jr.’s room and into Camellia’s, where she’d finally calmed down enough for me to lie her down. After placing her in her crib, I was out the door and on my way to my studio.

  While driving, I was listening to the radio, and I noticed only my old single had gotten played. My latest shit had gotten sent out a week ago, and not once had I heard the shit.

  Once I got in the parking lot of my studio, I dialed up the local station that I was familiar with, just to see if I could find out what the fuck was wrong. I knew if stations didn’t like ya shit, they wouldn’t play it, but I highly doubted that was the muthafuckin’ case.

  I waited as the line trilled, and once this nigga named Porter picked up, I got to interrogating.

  “Aye, man, this is Ricky AK,” I let him know.

  “Oh, what’s good, AK? When you gon’ come down here and visit us?”

  “Shit, as soon as I get some time. But I wanted to ask you about my latest track that got sent to y’all. I ain’t heard the shit once, and I’ve been listening all fucking week.”

  “Latest song?”

  “Yeah. ‘Rich Rollin’.’”

  “That was one of my favorites from the album, but nah, AK, we ain’t get that song for radio.”

  “What you mean you ain’t get it? It got sent out a week ago.”

  “You sure we were on the list? I mean, I’d love to play it, but we need that edited version, and I promise we don’t have it.”

  “Porter, you—you know what, let me call you back. But look out for the track, aight?”

  “Will do.”

  I hung up with Porter and cranked my car back up before speeding out of the parking lot. On two wheels damn near, I headed straight towards the Bankroll Records building. This shit had never happened before, and I knew exactly why it was happening right fucking now. I warned Greezy’s bitch ass not to fuck with my money, and although radio play wasn’t a paid thing, it was an indirect way to gain income. If muthafuckas didn’t hear the song, how could they go out and buy the shit?

  I parked all the way fucked up when I made it to Bankroll, and went right up inside. I opted for the fucking stairs because as mad as I was, I couldn’t wait for no damn elevator to take me up.

  “Good afternoon, Ricky—”

  “Wh
ere the fuck is Greezy?” I cut off the receptionist, not in the mood for her greetings and fake ass smiles.

  “Oh, uh, he’s in his office, but I believe he’s on a— Ricky!”

  I ignored her ass and darted towards the back, and down the long ass hallway to that nigga’s office. He may have been able to fuck with these other niggas he had signed to him, but I was a different muthafucka.

  Busting off into his office, I walked right up to his desk and hit the receiver to hang up on whomever the fuck his bitch ass was talking to. The shock on his face did nothing for me, because the only thing I gave a fuck about was my damn song being on the fucking radio.

  “Ricky, what the hell is wrong with you?”

  “You got ten muthafuckin’ seconds to explain why ‘Rich Rollin’’ didn’t get sent to radio.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Nigga, you think I’m fucking playing!” I hollered, clearing off all the shit on his desk and prompting him to stand up. “Get my fucking song to the radio, and I mean right fucking now, nigga! You got me fucked up!”

  “What you fail to realize—”

  “No, what you fail to realize is that I’m not some fake ass muthafucka pretending to be street for this rap shit! I will break ya fat ass neck, nigga, and without blinking twice! These other niggas is weak mark ass bitches, but I’m the real McCoy, muthafucka, don’t test me!”

  Greezy rounded his desk at full speed towards me like he was ready to throw down.

  WHAM!

  I decked his ass right in the face and we began going at it, bumping into shit all over his office. Delivering a few more punches to his face, I finally had his big ass stumbling back, until he hit the wall and slid down it.

  “The police have been called!” His receptionist ran in frantically.

  “You big for no damn reason, with ya bitch ass. Have my fucking single on the radio by tomorrow, or I swear to God you won’t make it forty-eight hours from now,” I warned Greezy as he groaned with a bloody nose and mouth. Turning to his stupid ass receptionist that was standing there with her eyes bucked, I hissed, “Get yo’ ugly, frail ass out my damn way. Granny ass bitch.”

  She jumped back before I even finished, and I moved around her, tapping my ear for blood because Greezy had gotten me good in it. I hurriedly got down to my car to leave, because the last thing I needed was the police on my ass. I’d planned to take a damn lieutenant out, so best believe being locked up would hinder that fucking plan.

  I got back to my studio, and when I pulled in to park, I saw Dakota’s car along with another. Today, I was meeting with the artist Dakota had shown me videos of and shit. She was a rapper bitch named Tana Black or something, and unlike the girl group I’d signed, she already had a little bit of buzz going for herself. Her songs were pretty cool, but after listening to them, it was kind of obvious why she hadn’t made it yet. If I liked her, I planned to spruce up her fucking catalogue, which would do the trick, because she definitely had the talent.

  “My bad, I was dealing with some shit.” I walked into the studio room, prompting both Dakota and Tana to stand up.

  “No worries, boss. This is Tana Black, and Tana, I’m sure you know this is Ricky AK.” Dakota introduced us.

  “Yes, I know, and thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me, Ricky. When I saw Dakota at one of my shows and she told me she’d be showing my material to you, I was so nervous.”

  “Oh word?” I looked her over, nodding my head at her body. She for sure wasn’t ugly in the face, and her body had a nice build to it. “Have a seat.” I gestured, and then sat down at the soundboard.

  She and Dakota sat in the two vacant seats to the right of me, so I turned to face them both.

  “I explained to Tana that you’d liked some of what you saw, but if you signed her, then a few things would change.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m going to get something to drink, give you guys time to talk. I’ll be right back.” Dakota stood up and left the room.

  “Ya lyrics are dope as fuck, but ya beats are trash to be perfectly honest with you. I think the only reason you got somewhat of a fan base is because you can spit. The songs I heard, I would never play in my whip or even rock with at the club,” I stated bluntly. If she was gon’ be signed to my fucking label, then she’d have to know the real.

  “Oh… okay, yeah, I trust your opinion.”

  “Cool. And ya outfits… you dress like a bum on purpose?”

  “Huh? No, I just… it’s a part of my style.” She looked herself over briefly.

  “Aight, well we gon’ have to switch that shit up too.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “You got a lot of fucking talent and shit, so I honestly think it won’t take much but a few tweaks for you to make shit shake. But that’s only if you’re willing to do what the fuck you gotta do and listen.”

  “Oh, I’m willing to listen.” I watched her eyes glide over me, just before a lustful smirk spread across her face.

  “Oh, and by the way, I’m not gon’ ever fuck you, so get that shit out of ya mind right now.”

  “So you don’t think I’m cute?” She rolled her neck a little like she was offended. She was probably used to muthafuckas falling at her feet, but she was about to be in for a rude awakening if she expected that shit from me.

  “It ain’t about that. I got a crazy ass fiancée, and a family that I love and care about more than I care about having to go to jail for hurting you.”

  “I think you’re just used to girls who don’t know their place. Every man in your position has a side chick, she just knows her place.”

  Nodding, I said, “Yeah, you are side chick material. But my girl is fine as hell, and I think my side chick would need to match her fly. You don’t, especially in them bum ass fits you be rocking.” Her mouth fell open as she scanned her clothes. Standing up, I added, “Look, you can either be about ya business and make this fucking money, or you can spend the rest of ya life putting ya face in the pillows of rich rappers.”

  “You’re right. This is my dream, and I want to do it. I apologize for being disrespectful; I just think you’re handsome.”

  “I’ll have one of my producers contact you in about two days with a couple beats. You pick one, and I’ll have you lay it down with him. I want you to perform it at this venue in Hollywood, and if that goes well, I’ll have a contract with me, to sign you right then.”

  “Okay, that sounds great! I know I won’t disappoint you!”

  “So how did everything go?” Dakota walked in with a bottle of water. “I hope you like her.”

  “We gon’ see. Long as she stops trying to throw that bum status pussy at me, we’ll be fine.” I shook my head. “Does ya pussy beg for change as much as it begs for dick?”

  “Ricky!” Dakota covered her mouth to keep from laughing, before looking to Tana. Dakota knew damn muthafuckin’ well I didn’t give a fuck about Tana’s ass hearing me. Had her ass not tried to bust it open for me, shit would have gone smoother.

  “No, it’s fine. I’m getting used to his personality.” Tana giggled as I left the studio room.

  “Lock my shit up, Dakota.”

  “Will do, boss!” she called after me.

  It was dusk by the time I left the studio, and although I didn’t fuck with Tana’s approach, I saw dollar signs when I looked at baby girl. I knew her and the girl group would be exactly what I needed to get my label off the ground. By saying that, I wasn’t gon’ completely give up on her hoe ass.

  As soon as I got in my car, my phone began ringing, and I saw it was Qamar calling me. Exhaling, I tapped the green button to answer his ass.

  “What’s up?”

  “Aye, I need you to do something for me. Have Draylah invite Bia over, and then when she gets there, let me know, and I’m gon’ pop up on her ass.”

  “Or, I can invite ya mama and ya son over and you can pop up on them.”

  “See, you on that bullshit, Ricky. I gotta go.”r />
  “I bet you do, nigga.” I hung up.

  After leaving my studio, I drove a little ways away to just pass by my recreational center to make sure everything looked well. This was the time where stupid ass niggas would try to tag buildings and shit, and if I caught their asses, it was gon’ be some shit.

  I took a couple back streets and shortcuts, and on the very last street I pulled onto, I spotted a familiar bitch ass nigga walking. I swooped over into an empty park in front of a dingy blue house, and then hopped out. I darted across the street, and then ran up on his ass.

  “What’s good, nigga?” I called out from behind Malou’s boyfriend, Kell. He turned to me, and his frown disappeared immediately. “Oh, you thought you could shoot me and keep it pushing, nigga?” I quizzed, feeling the frown in my face.

  Kell looked around in a frantic manner, as if he was gon’ be able to call on somebody.

  “Look, I told you it was an accident, aight? Get yo’ crazy ass on somewhere, man.” His voice was shaken the fuck up as he continued to walk backwards with me walking towards him.

  When he looked around again, I said, “This my hood, so don’t even think you can call for help on me.” I grinned, seeing that me taking so long to pop his ass was making it worse for him.

  PHEW! PHEW!

  Finally, he got the courage to try and make a run for it, but before he could turn his body all the way, I popped his ass with my gun that had the silencer attached to it already. His body dropped down, right under a streetlight, and I knelt down by his body since it was a like ghost town on this street at the moment. He was still alive, but losing blood like crazy right here on the sidewalk.

  “Somebody should have told yo’ ass to never start some shit you ain’t ready for, especially over a thot bitch.”

  “I—”

  I put one through his head just for good measure, cutting off whatever the fuck he was about to say, and then I coolly made my way back to my whip, pushing it to the recreational center like it was a regular day.

  Micah