“It ain’t gonna be me. My cousin is gonna handle everything,” he answered.
“Your cousin who?”
“Slug.”
“Slug?” She giggled. “And I’m supposed to get you a connect for some nigga named Slug?”
Freddie waved her off. “Naw, ma. He ain’t some nigga; he family.”
Gina looked at Freddie for a minute before telling him what she had already decided. “I already knew what you wanted so I talked to my uncle. Straight up, he doesn’t want to fuck wit’ you. He doesn’t know you, you’re on the run, and you’re desperate. So he ain’t doin’ it for you; he’s doin’ it for me. So these are my rules.” She paused to make sure she had his attention. “I don’t want to meet Slug, Thug, or whoever else you got on your team; that’s your problem. When we meet, you come alone every time. You violate that, your ass is cut off, point blank. Understood?”
He nodded to confirm.
“Second, I’m only comin’ once a month. Not twice, once. Whatever you say bring, I’ll bring, but not over five at a time.”
“Five? Gina, we can kill five in a week! You know how much money we can make in the Boro?” Freddie was ready to get rich or die trying, 50 style.
“I’m not doing this for the money, Freddie,” she stated.
“Then what are you doin’ it for?” he flirted, hoping he could change her mind. But she ignored the question.
“And I’m chargin’ you fifteen a brick.”
Freddie wasn’t that familiar with cocaine in large amounts, so he didn’t know the blessing he was getting. “Fifteen? Is that good?” he asked, partially oblivious to the whole drug game.
She laughed out loud. “Damn, Freddie! How you gonna be a drug dealer if you don’t know what it’s worth? Just ask Slug.”
He took that to mean she was looking out on the price. “I appreciate this, Gina.”
“I take that to mean you accept my rules, my way.”
He eyed her delicious thighs. “It’s an offer I can’t refuse.” He smirked, licking his lips.
Chapter Twenty-two
Freddie woke up the next morning with Gina shaking him vigorously. “Get up,” she ordered.
He blinked himself awake. The sun had barely risen but Gina was already fully dressed in a PINK sweat suit with her hair pulled up in a ponytail. “Come on, Freddie. I need you to drive me to the airport.”
Freddie sat up. He had slept in his clothes. “Airport? I thought you drove down here.”
Gina smiled like she knew something he didn’t. “You ask too many questions. Just get up and brush your teeth before you make me miss my flight.”
Gina seemed to have an entirely different attitude from the night before. Last night, she had been cold and distant, businesslike. She even got in the bed wearing a pair of oversized pajamas with footies, totally closing herself off from Freddie, telling him, “You’re welcome to stay, but you ain’t gettin’ no pussy.” He was too tired to argue and just cradled her.
But now she seemed lighter, her expression open and flirtatious. This always kept Freddie open on Gina because he could never figure her out. She seemed to always be one step ahead of him, and that one step kept him chasing.
He got up and went into the bathroom to use the complimentary hotel toothbrush. After getting himself together, he picked up Gina’s small carry-on case and garment bag. Gina threw on her Versace sunglasses and they were out.
They drove to Raleigh-Durham International in Gina’s CLK. She massaged the back of Freddie’s neck singing along to her Jill Scott CD. When they got to the airport, Gina looked at Freddie and said, “I’ma leave the car wit’ you because I am not feelin’ that bucket of yours. Leave it to rot.”
Freddie was like a kid on Christmas morning. A brand new CLK 430. He looked at the car in a completely new light: his.
“And,” Gina added, looking at her watch casually, “in the lining of the trunk is a little something to get on. After that, straight paper.”
Freddie’s game had nothing on Gina’s expertise and experience. Once again, she had come through like a trooper. He leaned over and kissed her like he really meant it. Gina felt herself slipping into a zone too explicit for an airport parking lot in broad daylight, so she pulled away.
“Stop, you gonna make me miss my flight,” she said, checking her lipstick in the mirror.
“We can make up for last night,” Freddie suggested.
She pecked him on the lips and replied, “Next time. I have some things I really need to take care of.”
Freddie took the key out of the ignition and they got out to enter the terminal. Once inside, the announcement for Gina’s flight echoed through the terminal. When they reached the gate, Gina threw her arms around Freddie’s neck and kissed him like she hadn’t eaten in days and he was her first meal.
“Oh, so you gonna tease me and just leave me wit’ a hard dick, huh?” Freddie chuckled.
She sucked his bottom lip and looked into his eyes. “Just givin’ you a little something to think about.”
“So when you comin’ back?”
“When you call.”
“That’s business. I’m talkin’ ’bout when you comin’ back?” Freddie emphasized, letting her know her kiss had made her point.
Her eyes became searching and serious. “You asked me why I’m doing this, remember?”
“I remember.”
“I’m doing this because I love you, Freddie. I love you and don’t say it back because you don’t love me back. But I’m cool with that. I’ll be here for you until I get you out of my system or you realize where you need to be. Until then, I’ll do whatever I can for you. All I ask is that you don’t forget who takes care of you, Freddie. Don’t ever forget that. Ever.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise me. Promise me you’ll never use my love against me!” Gina needed to hear him say it.
For the first time since he had known Gina, she let her vulnerability show, and it touched him in ways he didn’t understand. “I promise, ma,” he repeated solemnly.
She searched his eyes for a hint of deception, and whether she saw any she didn’t let on. She just kissed him hard and hugged him tight. “Call me,” she whispered as she backed away.
He watched her walk away, not looking back, head held high as she disappeared from sight. He looked at the keys to the Benz in his hand, felt Gina’s kiss still lingering on his lips, and wondered what he had promised and if he really could hold true to it.
* * *
I promised worse, he thought as his mind shifted elsewhere. This was cause for a celebration. He smiled as he whipped along I-40 feeling like the motherfuckin’ man. The Benz purred like a kitten but raced like a cheetah. It was a far cry from the clanks and clunks of the Accord he left in the hotel parking lot to rot, just like Gina had told him to do. He gripped the steering wheel in a gangsta lean, feeling like the Freddie he knew himself to be. Not the scrambling, block-hustling nigga he had been forced to become, but the player he was born to be.
Gina had held him down. Whatever was in the trunk, he knew it was his jump off, and he didn’t plan to look back. As he pulled up to a light in Smithfield, heads turned and admired his profile with praise and envy. This was the life he was meant to live. He was tired of pulling up to a light or taking Simone to the movies surrounded by sick whips and having to get out of the bucket, niggas smirking because their shit was still spinnin’ while his shit was still rattling, threatening to leave him right there in the middle of the road. Now it’s time to show these country jokers a true playa for real. Freddie’s ego emerged.
* * *
He opened the door to his and Simone’s apartment to find her sitting on the couch with her arms folded across her breasts. “Where have you been all night, Freddie?” she inquired with quiet intensity.
He wasn’t used to Simone questioning him, but he knew it was justified because he hadn’t called all night. Besides, he had a surprise, which was also his alibi. He kneeled
down in front of her and took her hands in his, then kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t be like that, boo. I made you a promise and I’ma keep it, okay? Your man been out makin’ shit happen for the three of us,” he explained, and caressed her stomach through her T-shirt. “Come outside. I got somethin’ to show you.” He gently lifted a skeptical Simone to her feet and walked her to the door.
“Naw, naw, wait. We gotta do this right. Close your eyes.”
Simone looked at him with building anticipation. “Freddie, what are you up to?”
“Just trust me. Close your eyes.”
Simone closed her eyes, but Freddie covered them with his hands anyway. “I got ’em closed,” she whined, her skepticism about his whereabouts melting away.
“Naw, yo, I know you. You might peek.” He chuckled.
He helped Simone out the door and down the steps, then stopped a few feet from the Benz. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful little girl named Simone and her dime-ass man, Frederick Von Da Bomb,” he joked, making her laugh before continuing. “They loved each other very much, but times got rough, and everything got dark. That’s why your eyes are closed,” he added, and parted his fingers just a tad to let the sunshine in. “But there’s light at the end of every tunnel, and the dark past gave way to a bright future.”
Freddie moved his hands. Simone gazed at the CLK in awe, slack-jawed. She gasped. “Freddie, where did you get—”
He kissed her to silence her. “I made a few calls and talked to some cats who owed me a favor. It’s on, ma. No more huggin’ the block and no more run-down-ass shacks. I told you we wouldn’t stop livin’ just because of our situation. Your man kept his word, like he always will.”
Simone felt her stomach leap even though it was too early for the baby to be kicking, and threw her arms around Freddie’s neck, feeling guilty for thinking what she’d been thinking about his whereabouts. “Oh, Freddie! I’m sorry I doubted you. I just didn’t hear from you, and I didn’t know what to think. I love you, baby!”
Freddie allowed Simone to cover his face with kisses and tears of relief. She started jumping around like a little girl. “I wanna drive!”
“You wanna drive?”
“Yeah, c’mon!”
He held the keys above her head but moved them when she reached for them. “What you gonna give me?” he asked mischievously.
Her eyes danced flirtatiously. “Come with me and find out,” she teased, taking him by the hand and damn near dragging him to the car.
Chapter Twenty-three
“Nigga, what bank you done robbed, and why you ain’t come get me?” Slug probed half jokingly when Freddie pulled up to Kiki’s apartment building. Slug had been sitting on the porch in his bed shorts smoking his wake-up Newport. His pockets were thirsty and he was thinking about going back to his stick-up bag when he saw the bright, shiny platinum Benz pull into the parking lot. He had never seen this car around before, and since it had Jersey plates, he thought it was another crew of out-of-town boys trying to trap off some of his sweet country paper.
Slug didn’t know it was Freddie until he got out grinning from ear to ear like the cat that swallowed the canary. Freddie left the door open and 50 Cent’s “In Da Club” flooded the parking lot. Freddie approached the porch with an exaggerated pimp and chanted, “What up, blood, what up, cuz, what up, Slug, what up, gangsta?”
That’s when Slug asked the question about what bank he’d robbed, to which Freddie replied, “Tony’s.”
“Who?”
Freddie lifted his Knicks throwback to reveal the kilo of cocaine stuck in his waistline next to his pearl-handled nine. He quoted a line from the classic movie Scarface, when Al Pacino aka Tony Montana burst out of his office with the assault weapon. His Spanish accent flowed naturally due to his half-Latin bloodline as he mimicked the talented actor.
Slug’s eyes got big as plates. He flicked the cigarette aside and stood up. “Connect?”
“Connected. You ready to get this paper?”
“Cuz, I been ready.”
Inside, Freddie explained the situation to Slug, leaving out the who and sticking only to the what: the details of the agreement. Slug had broken out the mayonnaise jar, wasting no time in rocking up a few ounces to test its potency. The results made him smile. He lit a cigarette and sat down across from Freddie at the kitchen table.
“Fuck meetin’ the connect. I don’t want them to know me either. But that five a month shit . . .” Slug shook his head. “Fuck? Them niggas don’t want no paper?”
“This is just the beginning,” Freddie assured him. “Once they see what we can do, them cats’ll come through.”
“But that eighteen . . .” Slug drawled.
Freddie had added three Gs to the real price. He figured an extra three in his pocket each month wouldn’t hurt, but he hoped he hadn’t gone too high. “What? That’s good, ain’t it?”
Slug looked at him in amazement. “Good? Nigga, you don’t know?”
Freddie shrugged. “I told you I ain’t fuck wit’ coke like that. That’s why movin’ the shit is all on you and we splittin’ it fifty-fifty. Gangsta?”
“Gangsta!” Slug echoed and gave his cousin dap. “Shit, that eighteen is a blessing! Cats ’round here chargin’ eighteen or better. We could kill ’em just in weight, but if we ain’t gettin’ but five a month, we might as well grind this shit and stretch it out.”
“We?” Freddie asked as if Slug was speaking French.
“I got you, cuz. We meanin’ any young’uns and such. You just keep this shit hot and I’ma show you how to trap off this paper.”
“Now that’s wassup.”
And trap it they did. All across the Boro, Slug’s young’uns were stopping cats’ paper with that hard white yayo. They were pitching chunks compared to other hustlers’ pieces. Hate filled their hearts, but fear kept them in check, because they all knew how Slug was about his paper. But Slug played fair. He had young’uns in every spot that was bubbling, but he called his team in every night at eight-thirty to give the other hustlers the late-night rush and a chance to get their paper up. It wasn’t only fair; it was smart, because Slug knew that some cats wouldn’t mind diming him out to the police.
Even the Miami boys came through to cop a deal. Slug cut them some slack because he felt like he owed them at least that and, besides, they turned out to be all right cats. They just had their people fucked up. Now that was straight real recognized real.
Slug flew through that package and stayed on Freddie about the five a month limit. Freddie, in turn, continued to try to convince Gina. He took a lesson from her first visit, and this time had an evening planned. He took her to Atlantic Beach to enjoy the scenery, walk barefoot along the beach, and take a moonlight cruise on the Atlantic. She wouldn’t relent, but along with the two he copped, she threw him a third.
Slug and Freddie were grinding their way to a lock on the Boro, even expanding to the small surrounding towns of Fremont and La Grange. And while they were making the money, Kiki and Simone were spending their share. No more did Simone hear the stifled giggles or get the condescending looks. Now, whenever she pulled up in Freddie’s Benz, the bitches turned green. Nina Simone still did her hair and whenever she was there, she could see the other chicks studying her shoes, wishing they were in them.
The newfound wealth and Freddie’s periodic absences no longer weighed as heavily on Simone. Her stomach was growing and her skin was glowing with the love of pregnancy. Freddie pampered her with all the luxuries she could want, along with the little things. He was thoughtful enough not to forget.
They spent many an evening with Freddie massaging her feet and spoon-feeding her Chinese takeout or Italian food, or listening to soft, mellow music while she read poems to him from one of her old school books from a literature class she had taken.
Her total trust for Freddie was slowly returning. She attributed her swollen condition to the fact that Freddie had truly realized where the love was, and she felt se
cure in his vow to devote his life to her. She knew her man was fine, and with the paper he was checking, she knew females would try their luck. She had seen it herself, over and over.
One night at the club, Simone decided to test Freddie. She saw the chick scoping him subtly all night, but she was constantly by his side. She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll be right back. I gotta go pee,” she lied. Freddie helped her out of the chair and then sat back down. But Simone didn’t stay in the bathroom. She doubled back and watched Freddie from a distance. The girl finally saw her opportunity to advance and approached Freddie. Simone was too far away and the club was too loud for her to hear what was being said, but she knew her man’s body language well enough to read the disinterest he displayed. It wasn’t long before the girl walked off and Simone returned to the table triumphantly. She draped herself around Freddie’s neck. When she caught the girl’s eye this time, she winked and smiled, making the girl roll her eyes and turn away.
Simone no longer mentally questioned the overnight trips and the smells of perfume she didn’t even own on Freddie. They say love is blind, which was why as Simone’s heart and belly blossomed, her eyes fluttered shut.
Chapter Twenty-four
Slug loved the way Kiki rode his dick: the way she worked her inner muscles, gripping and pulsing on the upstroke, then relaxing as he penetrated her to her deepest depths on the downstroke; the way her pretty, yellow titties jiggled in front of his face, peppered with soft red freckles, nipples like elevator buttons. Her grinding hips curled his toes and made him fight to hold back his nut with every 360 degrees she made.
He watched her face contort with different expressions of ecstasy, and all he could think about was how real she had always kept it with him. She was ghetto as hell, but she had always been there for him. When he was broke, she gave him her whole AFDC check to flip. Whenever he hit county jail, she bailed him out if she could, and if she couldn’t, she held him down. He never heard a word about her creeping on him, so even if she had, she respected him enough not to let it get out.
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