by Shan
"Nigga, who the fuck is it?"
"When yuh found me and my ol’ lady at deh Applebee’s dat day, how did yuh know? I’m not going for dat Facebook shit. Somebody had tuh say something," Hova tossed the duffle inside of the car and walked around to the driver’s side.
"Facebook. Created a fake profile and added Samantha and a few of her friends. You know that social media will always catch a nigga slipping if they let it," Marco lied. He would never give up Ashley and anyone else that helped him out for that matter. That was the difference between him and many of niggas. He would never snitch on anyone, not even his worst enemy.
"Latifah got a lil’ mouth piece on her. She and my lil’ jump off Jazz are cousins. She’s always calling up Jazz and letting her know what the play is. Jazz calls me every time she gets some news I can use," Hova told them and inwardly laughed as he watched the grimace that appeared on both Marco and Quasym’s face.
"So, who told you about Dan-D?" Quasym asked.
"Yuh, told me when yuh attacked me at Jazz’s spot. I was only guessing," Hova lied. Just like Marco, he would keep some things to himself in case he needed to use it later. There was no way he would show all his cards on the first play. He had to hold on to the few he had left. "A’ight, I’ll holla at yuh youngn’s later. Be easy."
"Take me to my car and handle that bitch Latifah before sunrise," Quasym ordered as the two of them got into the car.
***
The rain was falling heavily by now. It was hard to see out of the windows as Marco maneuvered his way through the city streets. He looked over at Latifah in the passenger’s seat of his car and watched how nervously she shifted. She was young and dumb and just didn’t know any better. He didn’t know if she had maliciously given Jazz the info that was given or if she was that dumb that she didn’t realize the damage that she was doing. Either way, Latifah had to go. She had caused them a lot of money and even caused the life of her friend.
"Where the hell are we going?" Latifah asked. "We done passed up like twenty damn hotels, Marco."
"I know, but you know how I am. I like my privacy. When I’m chilling with a chick, I like to be away from all of the world so we can enjoy ourselves with no problems."
"Yea whatever. I know you ain’t feeling me like that. You just want some quick pussy and head. I could’ve did that shit in the car. I got business to take care of in the morning. Sym supposed to be helping me get a new place to stay ‘cause I can’t stay with my aunt for too much longer, she getting on my damn nerves."
Latifah removed a blunt and a lighter from her purse and fired it up. She was surprised that Marco stepped to her on the level that he had, but she always knew that Marco wanted to fuck her. They all did. No matter how much they played hard to get, everybody wanted a piece of Latifah. Her little chocolate body was just too irresistible to refuse. She gave some of the best head in the hood, and she had name for having some of the wettest pussy on the side of West Dallas. Latifah was the shit, and she knew it.
"I don’t like fucking in the car. That’s the point of having a bed. I wanna see that tight little body, butt naked, laid out across my bed, with your legs wide open so I can eat that pussy up. Can’t handle you like I want to in the car," Marco said and then grabbed a handful of Latifah’s breast.
"What happened to that chick you was fuckin’ with? Ol’ girl Rakwon used to always say you were with."
"I don’t fuck with her anymore," Marco sighed. He reached for the knob on the stereo and turned the volume up. He was sick of people asking him about Cherie. She was a thirsty broad that was out to get him for his money. It damn near worked every time he tried it on a female and unfortunately for him, Cherie had been no different. Females always got impatient when he didn’t spend money on them, or when he made them believe that he didn’t have his own place.
They always let their egos get the best of them and had them feeling like they could do better than Marco, and he would always let them. It was cool for him because he wanted to make sure his next woman was the best woman for him. He didn’t want any chick coming at him for what he had. He wanted someone that could vibe with him for him. Someone who enjoyed spending time with him, talking to him late nights, and dealing with his crazy attitudes. He needed the right woman on his team, and he hated that that right woman hadn’t been Cherie-he was really feeling her. He hoped that he would eventually stop missing her especially after what Quasym told him that she’d said about him earlier that day.
Marco had never been the type to sweat a woman after she showed her true colors. This time with Cherie should have been no different, but it was. He thought about the statement she made all damn day, and it picked at his soul slowly. He really wanted her to be different. He’d imagined that the two of them had a future together. He thought that maybe she would finally be the one that he would settle down with and give a life to, but her gold digging ways had gotten in the middle of that. It was too bad because they would have made a cute couple and had some pretty ass babies. Fuck it. She was a shallow bitch, and it was her loss, not his.
He drove quietly down the darkened rainy streets as he made his way to the far end of East Dallas. He bobbed his trying to figure out how he was going to kill Latifah. He didn’t know if he wanted to make her suffer or just get it done quickly. His plan was to kill her and then dump her body near one of the strip clubs so that the police would assume she was killed by a John. He looked over at Latifah, who was damn near naked in a pair of khaki high waist knit shorts and a blue swing crop top. She looked the part and could be mistaken for a woman in the streets. Yea that will work perfectly. Marco thought as he focused back on the road.
"You wanna hit the weed, Marco?" Latifah asked over the music. She handed the blunt to Marco and tried to look out the window when he made a sudden right turn. The rain just made it too hard for her to see, and she couldn’t really place where they were at.
"Preciate it ma’," Marco said as he accepted the blunt. He pulled his car into a subdivision and drove until he found a spot where it was fairly dark. He reached and turned the music down and then took a tug of the blunt. He passed it back to Latifah. "You wanna hit this one last time?"
"That’s a whole blunt nigga. What you mean one last time?" Latifah snatched the weed from him and took a huge toke from it. She tried once again to look out the window, but the rain was so heavy that it was hard. She didn’t even know how Marco was able to manage the way he was.
"So, why you never told anyone that your cousin was Jazz?"
"Huh-Jazz?" Latifah shifted nervously as she blew out the smoke that she was holding on to. "The fuck is you talking about?"
"I’m talking about Jazz. The bitch that stay over there in the fucking Butter Beans. You know what the fuck I’m talking about."
"Okay, so what? She’s my cousin on my daddy’s side, and nigga? You saying that to say what?"
"You been running your mouth to your punk ass cousin and you know damn well she fuck with that nigga Hova. She the one who gave him the info on our little spots that ‘caused us some muthafuckin’ money! My nigga Ju Ju looking at some real hard ass time for this shit, bitch!"
"Marco let me out this muthafucka! You tripping right now! I ain’t told Jazz shit! I knew that was Hova little side piece, but I would never tell her shit! Y’all the ones that was fattening my pockets, why would I do that?" Latifah tried to open the door, but every time she pulled on the handle; Marco would press the button to the lock the door back. "Let me out! Let me out!"
"I’m a let you out in just a minute," Marco told her.
"This what this is? You tricked me into making me think you wanted to fuck me so you could kill me?"
"Bitch, I told your dirty ass before that I didn’t want to fuck you. Type of nigga do you think I am?"
Latifah reached over the seat and tried to burn Marco with the tip of the blunt when he caught her with a backhand. She flew into the seat, and Marco brought the car to an abrupt stop. He placed the car in park, removed his seat belt
, reached over and grabbed Latifah before she could get out of the car.
The sky roared with thunder as a bolt of lightning temporarily lit up the murky sky. Latifah screamed at the top of her lungs, "Let me go! Let me go! Let me go! Somebody hel-"
POW!
Marco quickly silenced Latifah by putting one into her head. This wasn’t how he planned to do it, but it was good enough. The thunder would drown out her yells, and the shot that he fired and the rain would wash her blood away and any trace of him ever being there. He tucked his pistol into his pants, got back into his car, and rushed away from the scene, leaving Latifah’s lifeless body behind.
***
Marco ran up the stairs to Rakwon’s house two at a time. His whole body was soaked from the rain, and he couldn’t wait to shower and get into some dry clothes. As he hit the last step at the very top, he noticed someone sitting by Rakwon’s door with their head down. He reached for his heat, but brought his hands back to the front when he noticed who it was.
"Fuck is you doing here?" Marco asked Cherie as he removed his keys from his pocket.
"I need to talk to you, Marco," Cherie stood to her feet and removed her hoodie from her head.
"For what? I’m just a broke ass nigga."
Cherie sighed.
"What you didn’t think Sym was gonna let me know what you said about me?"
"I said it out of anger, Marco. I don’t think that about you. I was just stressed out, and I took my anger out on everyone that didn’t deserve it."
"Is that an apology?"
"I’m sorry, Marco. I really am."
"Man, Sym told me all about you though Cherie and I gotta say that I’m not impressed ma’. I thought you were cute, and I was rocking with you for a minute but you really showed out on me. I just ain’t fuckin’ with it. I usually run from your type; you feel me?"
"What’s my type, Marco? Wasn’t you the one getting on me about stereotype shit?"
"Yea, I was getting on you about prejudging me when you didn’t even fuckin’ know me, but I know who you are and what you all about."
"What am I all about, Marco?" she asked. She stepped in front of him and made him look her in the face. Tears welled up in her eyes and this time they were real unlike the tears that she forced out when she was with Kareem just this morning.
"Hell nah, gone on with them tears ma’. Don’t try to play me with that shit."
"Marco these are real tears. My life is so fucked up, and it’s all because of my mama. She made me like this. I don’t know who else to be, but this woman she turned me into," Cherie was using the same excuse with Marco that she used with Kareem.
Marco sighed, "Well you need to take your ass somewhere and figure out how to be the woman you need to be and get the hell away from me."
"I’m pregnant Marco," Cherie lied and instantly regretted saying it the minute she let it leave her lips. She had Kareem back; she didn’t need Marco, but she wanted him. She didn’t want him to be with another woman and make them feel the way that she felt should only be meant for her. The selfish part of her wanted her cake and to eat it too. She would be with Kareem and string Marco along on the side until she figured out just what she wanted to do.
"When did you find this out?" Marco asked.
"This morning. I been thinking about getting an abortion all day, but I figured it was best that I at least talked with you before making that decision. That’s why I went off on Sym, I didn’t mean none of that shit I said. My mood swings have been crazy and I can see why."
"It’s my baby?"
"Yes it’s your baby, Marco. Who else’s baby would it be?"
Marco pulled Cherie toward him and covered her lips with his. He then wrapped his arms around Cherie, squeezing her tightly into a hug. He kissed on her neck and then her ear.
"I want the opportunity to take care of my seed. I’m not that type of nigga to run from my responsibility," Marco sincerely told her.
"I want to give you that chance. I remember what you said before about you would be with your baby mama-you would make the mother of your child your wife. That’s what I want. I want us to be together."
Marco nodded feeling all kind of ways right now. This was news that he had least expected to hear, and he didn’t know how to take it. Part of him wanted to push Cherie away and tell her that he would be there for their child, but he wouldn’t be there for her gold digging ass. The other part of him wanted exactly what she wanted. He groped Cherie’s ass into his hands and led her inside of Rakwon’s empty apartment. The two of them kissed until they made it to the spare bedroom that Marco used whenever he felt like it. He closed the door to the room and locked it, and then quickly removed his shirt revealing his tight abs.
Cherie placed her hands onto Marco’s chest and then looked up into his eyes. This thug just did it for her. No Ivy League nigga could make her feel the way that Marco made her feel. Never in a million years had she thought she would be feeling this way for any man, but Marco made her realize what true love really was. She thought that she knew when Kareem had broken up, but she had no idea. Marco made her heart skip a beat and speed up all in one setting. There was no way she could let him go-this feeling go. It just felt too good to lose. She had to figure out a way to hang on to Kareem to make her mama happy and then hang on to Marco to make herself happy.
Chapter 27: Family Tree
A few months later…..
"I gotta tell you that you have made me a very proud man," Andres said to Quasym as he lined his pool stick with the ball in the center of the table.
"You have made me a very rich man. In a short amount of time at that. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you, Andres for real. You took a chance on me when my own people didn’t want to."
"Well, like I told you, I chose you and I knew that you would be something. You are going to be far greater than you are now. This is only the beginning."
Andres surveyed the balls on the table wondering if he wanted to make his next move or not. Each time he thought about going for the yellow ball that was closest to the corner pocket he changed his mind and thought about going for a green and blue ball, getting two in at once.
"Yea, about that. We never really got a chance to talk about that. You told me a while back that you chose me, but you said you would explain. Why did you choose me? What made you pick me out of all the hungry muthafuckas out there?"
"Because all the hungry motherfuckers out there don’t share the same blood as I do."
Quasym damn near choked on his drink. He placed his cup down on the edge of the pool table and allowed his stick to fall to the floor. He looked at Andres for some indication that he was joking, but when one never came, he backed himself against the wall and stared at him wearily.
He started to look at Andres a little differently-no-way differently than he had before. He looked for something in his face that he would recognize besides the man that he’d grown to know over time. He didn’t see anything that explained what Andres was talking about.
"I knew that being you and I had the same blood running through our veins that you would amount to nothing, but greatness and I wasn’t wrong. My father-our father is a great man and he didn’t produce anything less than what he was."
"I’m confused as hell right now. I need to step outside and get my mind right," Quasym snatched his glass from the table and rushed out of Andres’ game room. He found his way to the back of the house and exited out of the back door. He pulled the piece of the blunt that he had sitting behind his ear and reached into his pocket for a lighter.
He fired up the Kush and inhaled the strong smoke into his lungs. He wanted to leave, not knowing where the fuck Andres was going with this conversation. Quasym didn’t know his father and was made to believe that his father was killed by the Venezuelan police like his mama always told him. He always knew it sounded crazy, but it was what it was. He never looked for the man or any info on him, feeling as if his father wanted to know him, then he would make
the effort to find him.
"His name is Franco Botticelli. He and my mother have been together since they were teens and when they got married that’s when my father got into the drug business. He had a lot of success over in Venezuela and decided to expand his business to the states. He started to see more money than he ever had and quickly his empire triumphed any that ever existed.
He and my mother had me six years into their marriage, about five years later they
got pregnant with my little sister, Giselle. While she was pregnant with Giselle that’s when he started dating your mother, Beverly. They were seeing each other on and off for years before she got pregnant with you. I had to be six or seven at the time and I remember my parents having all these problems, but didn’t really know what the cause of their problems were.
Apparently he cut your mom off because he was too embarrassed that he’d gotten a black woman pregnant. He never told anyone about you or her. From what he told me, he really loved her, but knew that his family would shun him for dating someone like her," Andres explained as he stepped beside Quasym.
"So he just left my mother and me to struggle?"
"Unfortunately yes. He kept you a secret from everyone until just last year."
"So he isn’t dead? He didn’t get shot by the Venezuelan police?"
Andres cleared his throat, "There was a time he’d gotten shot by the Venezuelan police. It was a family vacation. He took us to see my grandfather and grandmother and hang out with the rest of our family. He and my uncle got into some mess out there and there was a shootout. He was shot in the arm, but it was a simple flesh wound."
"Wow," Quasym sighed. He took a pull off of the weed as everything that Andres told him began to set in. To say that he was in shock would be purely an understatement. His mother had told him part of the truth, and he figured that maybe she had lied to him to keep from hurting him. His father had wanted nothing to do with him and was solely because the color of his skin. At least he knew now what his makeup truly was. He always wondered, and now he knew. "Man I gotta go. I wasn’t expecting to come here for this."