“Ay, yo,” Flex called out.
The children went running to greet him. These days, anything different to break up the monotony of the day would excite them.
“We going to the store,” D.J. said to Flex.
“Great,” Flex said, not really paying attention to the little boy.
“Who are you?” Talisa asked the woman in skin-tight jeans, high heels, and a form-fitting top.
“My name’s Charisma, dear. What’s yours?” Charisma bent down to shake Talisa’s hand.
“Talisa. You want to play with my dolls?”
“Not now, dear. How ’bout later?”
“I’ll get some new ones at the store for us.” Talisa stared at Charisma with adoration. She hadn’t been around a female in a long time.
Flex and Charisma walked into the kitchen, where Scar had already dumped the water from the pot into the sink.
“Brought you some presents.” Flex smiled and emptied a duffel bag full of cash onto the kitchen table. “Business startin’a pick up again.”
“Okay, okay. My day is startin’ to look up.” Scar rubbed his hands together. He picked up some of the bills to see what denomination they were. Looked like mostly fifties and hundreds to Scar. He put the money back in the pile.
“What’s good, ma? Come here and give yo’ man some love,” Scar said to Charisma. She seductively walked over to Scar, wrapped her arms around his neck, and began kissing him. Scar grabbed her ass as they kissed and grinded their pelvises into one another. Scar’s dick was standing at attention. He broke their embrace.
“Get yo’ ass upstairs and be ready for me,” he said to her.
She composed herself, straightened her hair, and walked out of the room without saying a word.
“While I take care of my business upstairs, take them kids to the store and buy them whatever they want. They buggin’ me with their whining and shit, sayin’ they bored.” Scar reached into the pile of cash and handed a fistful of bills to Flex. “This should cover it. If not, fuck ’em. Oh, get ’em some food too.” He handed him a hundred dollar bill from the pile.
“D.J, Talisa, let’s go,” Flex called out.
The kids came running into the kitchen ready to head out the door. The minute Flex walked through the door, they had been prepared to leave. They couldn’t wait to get out of the house. Flex gathered them up and followed them out the front door.
Scar quickly got to his bedroom, where Charisma was already making herself comfortable on the bed.
“Your kids is cute,” Charisma said.
“They my niece and nephew. Why you ain’t naked yet?” Scar asked.
“It’s more fun when you take my clothes off for me,” she purred.
“A’ight.” Scar approached the bed, his smile broken up by the namesake scar that disfigured his face. He eased her back and lay on top of her. They started right where they had left off in the kitchen, grinding their pelvises and passionately kissing. Scar removed her top to reveal perfect, firm breasts, and started sucking her nipples.
“Mmmm. Yeah, Daddy,” she cooed. She reached down to unleash his manhood.
She stroked his erection. “Oh, Daddy, I want to give you your own baby. Fill me up. I’ll be your baby mama.”
Scar jerked back from her. “The fuck you just say?”
“Nothin’. I don’t know. I was just talkin’ dirty.” She tried to kiss him.
“Like hell you was talkin’ dirty.”
“Baby, come on. Make my pussy hurt. I need it.” She reached down for his dick.
“You tryin’a trap a nigga’? I oughta beat yo’ ass for thinkin’ that shit.” Scar was getting progressively angrier.
Just as he was about to haul off and hit Charisma to knock some sense into the bitch, there was a knock at the front door.
“Who the fuck?” Scar jumped to his feet and grabbed a gun from under his bed. As quietly as possible, he walked downstairs to the front door. There was another knock on the door, and then the doorbell rang. Scar cocked his gun. He couldn’t think of who could be at his door.
Goddamn, we need to get a security system up in here. Scar walked to the window in order to catch a glimpse of the motherfucker who was knocking on his door. As he peeked out the window, he looked directly into the eyes of his neighbor. Arnold waved when he saw Scar looking out the window.
“Hello, neighbor,” Arnold called out.
Fuck. He saw me. Why this white mu’fucka keep bothering me?
Scar begrudgingly opened the front door. “You need something?” he asked.
“Oh, no. Just stopping over to say hello. Cooking up some oxtails later. Trying something new to expand my palette. Wanted to invite you and the kids over for a little feast.”
“No. Can’t make it.”
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. A little getting to know your neighbors session.”
“Don’t think the kids like oxtail.”
“No worries. I can make them some grilled cheese sandwiches or whatever they prefer.”
“Maybe another night.”
“Oh, nonsense. I won’t take no for an answer. Let’s say seven o’clock?”
“Um ...” Scar didn’t trust this cat. He wasn’t buying this neighborly crap. There was some other reason this dude kept coming around. But just in case this dude was legit, Scar played it cool.
“Great,” Arnold said, not even waiting for an answer. “Seven o’clock. Say, before I get out of your hair, do you mind if I use your commode?”
“What?”
“Your bathroom. Do you mind if I use it? I don’t think I’ll be able to hold it in until I get through the woods to my home. Weak bladder.” In an attempt to make a joke, Arnold made a grimacing facial expression.
Scar sighed in exasperation. “Fine. Make it fast.” He stepped aside to let Arnold in.
“It’s around the corner.” Scar pointed in the direction of the bathroom.
Scar anxiously waited at the front door for Arnold to do his business.
Charisma came down from the bedroom. “Come back to bed, Daddy,” she said seductively.
“Get yo’ ass back upstairs,” Scar snarled.
“I’m lonely, Daddy.” She pouted and batted her eyes.
“I’ll be right up.”
Satisfied, she obediently turned and went back upstairs. Arnold came from around the corner.
“Was that your daughter?” he asked Scar.
“What?”
“Was that your daughter?” Arnold repeated.
“No. She ain’t my daughter.” Scar looked at Arnold like he was stupid.
“Oh. I heard her call you Daddy. I just assumed.”
“She a friend.”
“Well, invite her tonight. The more the merrier.” Arnold smiled.
Scar had no idea what to make of this crazy white dude. Was he for real? Were people in the country all this friendly, or was this dude playing an angle?
“Well, I’m off. The vegetables need tending. Got some real beauties to sell tomorrow at the farmers’ market.” Arnold walked toward the front door.
As he got about halfway to the door, he stopped and turned to Scar. “By the way, you might not want to leave so much cash laying around your house.”
“What you say?” Scar was instantly on guard.
“I happened to see the money on your kitchen table. You should put that into a bank. I’ll talk to my brother Erik. He’s a manager at the savings bank in town. He’s a good guy. He’ll set you up.”
“I don’t think so.” Scar reached behind him for his gun.
Just as Scar put his hand on the handle of the gun, Flex came barreling through the front door.
“Yo, Scar!” Flex yelled out, thinking that Scar would be in a distant part of the house. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Scar and Arnold standing directly in front of him.
“Oh shit. I thought you’d be upstairs.” Flex was holding a brick of cocaine.
Arnold saw the cocaine in his hand and start
ed sweating. He realized at that moment that he was in trouble. The piles of cash, the cocaine ... These men are drug dealers!
Scar pulled out his gun and smacked Arnold in the head, knocking him out cold.
“The fuck you doing back?” Scar yelled at Flex.
“I forgot I had this brick in the trunk. I didn’t want to be driving around all day with this shit. You know people around here be gettin’ pulled over for driving while black,” Flex said.
“Goddamn. Now what we do with this nosey mu’fucka?”
“We got to dispose of him,” Flex said matter-of-factly.
“Shit. Help me tie him up.” Scar shook his head slowly.
Flex went out to his car and got some rope from the trunk. They proceeded to gag and tie Arnold up, and then they put him in the basement.
“Take them kids to do their shit then come back here. We take care of this snooping nigga later tonight.”
Flex went out the front door, and Scar went upstairs to pound some pussy, while Arnold lay in the basement unconscious.
Chapter 7
My Own Private Crack Den
The cocaine had run out, and former mayor Mathias Steele was fiending for another bump. He had spent the last two days snorting coke, watching television, and pacing around his house. He had wanted to hatch a plan to exact revenge on Scar, the governor, and anyone else he felt had wronged him, but this didn’t happen. His mind was scattered and racing in a coke-fueled frenzy. He couldn’t keep focused on one thought long enough to follow it through. Whenever he would begin thinking about a plan, he would soon find his thoughts drifting back to cocaine.
Mathias had given up any hope of ever working in politics again. No one was taking his phone calls. He was an outsider now. All of his old government friends were ignoring him. He had lost his identity, his personality; he had lost the career he had worked so hard to build and wanted for so long. The only thing he wanted now was for the people responsible for his downfall to hurt as much as he did. Before he was going to make that happen, though, he needed more cocaine.
He wiped his index finger across the glass top of his coffee table, where he had been cutting his coke. Mathias was in luck. There was residue left on the table, and he swiftly rubbed it on his gums. With a renewed sense of energy, he put the gun in his coat pocket and stepped out the door. Mathias squinted and shielded his face as the bright sunlight hit his eyes like a lightning bolt.
“Damn.” He went back inside for his sunglasses.
With his eyes now protected, he was able to comfortably function outside. He rushed to his car and drove the Cadillac to his new favorite spot, the dope house where he was becoming a regular. On the ride over, he couldn’t decide on the music he was in the mood for, and switched between radio stations at hyper speed. He stopped on a news station that was replaying a speech by Governor Tillingham on the state of the city. Mathias couldn’t concentrate because he was so angry hearing the governor’s voice. He heard bits and pieces of the speech as he weaved in and out of traffic.
“Corrupt former mayor ... asleep at the wheel ... useless police force ...” were a few of the quotes he heard that sent him into a simmering rage.
He pulled up in front of the house and scanned the area to make sure no one was watching him or had followed him. The cocaine was making him extra paranoid. No one had any reason to be following him. No one even cared about him anymore.
Satisfied that he wasn’t being followed, he made his way to the house. He was getting anxious knowing that just beyond the door, he was going to get his hands on some coke. For Mathias, it couldn’t happen fast enough.
He gave three quick knocks on the door. His palms were sweating. He wiped them on his pants. The door opened slightly, and he heard a man’s voice.
“What you need?”
“An eight ball.” Mathias wiped his forehead with his palm.
The door opened to allow Mathias entry into the dark house. There were three men sitting around the living room in a haze of marijuana smoke. They were all staring at Mathias as he walked in. Mathias looked out of place next to the three men, all wearing the typical urban outfit—fitted baseball hat, oversized T-shirt, jeans hanging low on their hips, and brand new Nikes. Mathias, on the other hand, was wearing a blazer, a button-down shirt, slacks, and loafers. He might not be a politician anymore, but he still dressed the part.
“Gentlemen.” Mathias nodded to the men. They said nothing.
“You need a ball?” asked the man who had let Mathias in.
Mathias jumped as the man spoke. He was definitely on edge and had forgotten the other man was in the room when he saw the three others.
“Yes.” Mathias cleared his throat and swallowed.
The man went into another room and came back holding an eight ball of cocaine. Mathias’s eyes widened when he saw it. He pulled out his cash and exchanged it for the coke.
“Look, do you mind if I try it out before I leave?” Mathias asked.
“Feel free, my nigga.”
“Thank you. I didn’t get your name.”
“It’s Best, ’cause I got the best shit in town.” He laughed.
“Thank you, Best.” Mathias sat on the sofa, stuck his car key into the bag, scooped out a mini pile of coke, and snorted it.
“Ah, that’s nice.” Mathias fell back into the sofa with a smile on his face.
“Told you I got the best shit.”
“Yes, you do.”
The three other men had turned their attention to the NBA game on the television.
“Hey, Best, let me ask you something.” Mathias snorted another bump.
“What’s good?”
“If I’m looking for Scar Johnson, do you know where I could find him?” He scooped another bump and snorted it.
“Nah, dude. He ain’t been nowhere to be seen.” Best lit up a blunt, feeling relaxed. With the way this dude was snorting coke, there was no way he was a cop. “I might know somebody who know where he is, though.” He exhaled a big cloud of smoke.
“Oh yeah? Who?” The excitement in Mathias’s voice was obvious.
“How much it worth to you?”
“That depends.” Mathias was sensing he was about to get into a negotiation. This excited him. Besides all of the power, negotiating was his favorite part of being mayor. And he was good at it.
“Depends on what?” Best took a drag of the blunt.
“How close is this person to Scar?”
“Only like his right hand man.”
“Well then, that could be worth something. If it was true.” Mathias was grinding his jaw he was getting so high.
“Oh, it’s true, my nigga. Belie’dat.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you tell me who it is.”
“Bet. Let me see the money.”
Mathias chuckled. “Hold on, young buck. I’ll give you half now, and if you introduce me to him, I’ll give you the other half.” Mathias pulled out five hundred dollars from his pocket.
“A’ight.” Best grabbed the money. “Dude’s name is Flex. He come by to collect his cash, but it always be at different times. Never the same day or time, so I can’t tell you when to come back.”
“What does he look like?”
“He mad diesel. He always working out at the gym. He a young cat, too. Most times he wearin’ a Ravens cap on his head.”
“Well, you let me know when he comes around and I’ll give you the other half.” Mathias got up to leave and handed Best a slip of paper with his number written on it.
When Mathias got to his car, he didn’t start it. He sat in the passenger’s seat, going over the information he had just received. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to probably be able to identify Flex when he came by to collect. Mathias planned to stay in his car and stake out the house until Flex showed, then follow him to Scar.
He took out his coke, looked around, and then his paranoia kicked in again. He felt too exposed, sitting there in his car. He
started to get uncomfortable and started fidgeting. He did a bump and quickly put the coke away. This plan wasn’t going to work.
Mathias got out of the car and went back up to the house. Same as before, he gave three quick knocks on the door.
“You forget somethin’, nigga?” Best asked.
“I’ll give you a thousand dollars right now if you let me stay here and wait for Flex.”
“I don’t know, nigga. You lookin’ like five-o might scare my customers.”
Mathias showed Best the cash.
“A’ight. But you gotta stay in the back room the whole time. I don’t want to see your tight ass in the front room at all.”
“Just keep me supplied with coke and I’ll stay in whatever room you like.” Mathias clenched his jaw.
Best opened the door, took the money, and showed Mathias to his room. There was a small bed, a television, and a nightstand in the room.
The drugs were obviously affecting Mathias’s ability to negotiate, but he didn’t care. He talked himself into thinking he’d won the negotiation. As long as he was high, Mathias felt like a winner.
“Comfy,” Mathias said sarcastically. He sat down on the bed, placed his coke on the nightstand, and prepared to wait for his meeting with Flex.
Chapter 8
Chance Meeting
Tiphani slowly slid the key card into the slot on the door. The lock disengaged, and she quietly opened the door to her hotel room. She tiptoed to the bathroom, gently closed the bathroom door behind her, and turned on the light. She looked at herself in the mirror, pleased that she had gotten in once again without waking Cecil. Visions of the sex session she’d just had with the front desk clerk, Evan, flashed in her mind as she splashed warm water on her face.
For the past three days, she had gone to the lobby in the middle of the night to pay for their room and get some dick from the young clerk. She told herself that she was fucking the clerk so they could keep their room without any hassle. That might have been part of it, but she was really enjoying teaching the young man how to satisfy her. It was like an artist with a block of clay. She could mold him into whatever she wanted. She was making him into her perfect fuck machine. When her revenge on everyone was complete, she planned on keeping her new little toy around. Yes, she would have other men, but Evan would always be her boy on the side—until she got bored or he got too old for her liking. Then she would drop his ass and tell him to kick rocks.
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