by Elliott, K.
her ass.
She bit down on the pillow and yelled, “Harder!”
They went at it for twenty minutes. She’d ridden him. He’d sexed
her from the spoon position to the missionary position. She had tears streaming down her face now.
JoJo stood and put on his boxers.
Nia looked at his body and smiled. He had a basketball player’s frame—tall, lean, abs as solid as steel. She loved the way he made her feel. He stimulated her physically as well as mentally.
He turned and smiled at her.
She just lay there, unwilling to move, the sheet half covering her naked body.
He walked over and yanked it away.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Why are you just lying there? What are you thinking about?”
“I was just thinking that maybe me and you should run away; you know, blow this spot. I mean I hate this life of being a hustler’s wife. I feel like one of those chicks in a Vickie Stringer or Danielle Santiago novel. There has to be more to life than this.”
He looked toward the window. “I know. This shit has gotten old to me, too.”
She licked her lips. “I want you, JoJo. I want you all to myself.”
He contemplated something before saying, “You know that can’t be possible. I mean, you have a man—my best friend at that.”
“Come on. Get off that best friend bull shit. If he was really your best friend you wouldn’t be fuckin me.”
“I don’t like this shit.” He put his shirt on and buttoned it. “I can’t go on like this, and I feel bad every time we have sex. And now you done went and caught feelings and shit … I thought this was just supposed to be a fuck thing and nothing more.”
Nia rose from the bed and picked up her undergarments from the floor, shoving them in her overnight bag. “I know I’m not supposed to catch feelings, but I enjoy being with you, and the dick is good.” She smiled.
“I know I got skills. Right?”
“I’ve had better.” She blushed and revealed her dimples.
“Yeah, right. That’s why your ass is talking about running away with me.”
She stepped into the bathroom, still completely naked.
JoJo’s eyes zeroed in on her ass.
“JoJo, come and take a shower with me,” she teased.
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause I’m going to wanna hit that ass again.”
“As if that would be a bad thing.”
JoJo kicked his boots off and stepped into the bathroom.
Nia was on her knees, her mouth open, waiting on him.
Chapter 6
“Listen, Tommy…” Alicia glanced over her shoulder. “I have to
be going.”
“Can I call you?” He leaned against the glass door of the nail shop. “Sure, that’s why I gave you the number. But at this point, I can
only see us being friends.”
“Why?”
“I think you’re a drug dealer.”
“How do you figure?”
She looked over at his Escalade but didn’t say anything. “The truck, huh?”
“I’ve dated hustlers before.”
“What happened?”
“They usually go to jail or get killed by rival drug dealers.” “I’ll call you, Alicia. Maybe you can help me rewrite that ending.” “Call me, Tommy. It was nice meeting you.”
***** Tommy and Nia sat on the sofa, counting money, putting it in thousand-dollar stacks—hundred-dollar bills on top then the twenties, tens and fives ... After they finished counting the money they stuffed it into Samsonite briefcases. The money totaled about two hundred thousand dollars. Nia got up and peered out the window. A peaceful street in suburbia, with SUV’s and European cars in every driveway. Nothing eventful ever happened on this street.
Tommy watched Nia carefully. “What’s wrong?” She shrugged. “I don’t know, Tommy; I guess all this money in here is making me nervous. Somebody has to know about you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Tommy, you just got robbed a week ago. You know the old saying in the street: If the niggas know, the police know.”
Tommy walked over and hugged Nia.
“Tommy, I don’t know if I can go on like this anymore. I was telling my friend the other day that I feel like I’m in one of those street lit books.”
“What books?”
“You know … A Hustler’s Wife, Little Ghetto Girl…”
“Listen, baby, this ain’t no book. This is real life.”
Her eyes had expanded. “I know, but I can’t help the fact that I’m scared.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. You, of all people, don’t have anything to worry about. I would never involve you in my life. I remember what happened to Jamal and how he had his girl on the run with him and shit. I ain’t that kind of nigga.”
Their eyes met and held.
“Listen, I have a goal. As soon as I make my goal, I’m out of this shit; I’m finished with this lifestyle forever. I promise, babe.”
Nia walked over and grabbed the briefcase. “Tommy, two hundred thousand dollars is in here; why ain’t this enough? You have no kids and you are not married. Why ain’t that enough?”
Tommy considered it. He did have a lot of money, and he could probably do a lot with it. He’d thought about a legitimate profession, like running car lots, and investing in real estate, but he hadn’t pursued it.
“Tommy, I know we aren’t the ideal couple. I mean, our sex is horrible … but, Tommy, you have such a big heart and you are such a good person … I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me. See, a lot of people go outside their crews and that’s when shit gets ugly for them. Me, Twin, and JoJo have been knowing each other since the sandbox. I know those are my niggas.”
Nia sat down while Tommy went in the room and got another bag full of money. They continued to count.
When they finished, there was a total of four hundred thousand dollars in the house.
***** When Tommy and Twin got off the plane at the Miami International Airport, two men in plain clothes met them.
“Tommy and Brandon?” the taller of the two men called out. Tommy stared without saying a word.
Twin looked at the two men then said, “Who the fuck are you?” The shorter of the two agents flashed his badge. “I’m agent Rawls
and this is my partner. We’re with DEA, Miami division.”
“Yeah? And what do you want with us?” Tommy asked nervously. “We just want to talk.”
“About what?”
“Follow us. We’ll go somewhere private. Do you boys drink coffee?” “Are we under arrest?”
“No. Just want to ask some questions.”
“We don’t know shit about drugs. All I know is they’re bad for
you,” Twin said. The tall agent laughed. “It’s funny you would say that, Brandon, because according to our information, you’ve done time for drugs already. Remember that possession case when the police raided your girlfriend’s apartment and found those five ounces of coke?”
“Yeah, but I’ve done my time for that. We need to get our bags and head to the beach. We’re on vacation.”
“From what? You don’t have jobs.”
“We have to be going.” Tommy said, sidestepping the two officers.
“Listen, I want you to take heed to this warning: You have to be lucky all your life, but we only have to be lucky once. Drug dealers always slip up.”
“Have a good day officers.”
***** Manny met Tommy in the lobby of his hotel. They greeted one another with a hug.
“Let’s go somewhere for drinks,” Manny said.
“Not right now.”
Manny looked confused. “We always go for drinks. What’s wrong?”
“The feds approached us when we got off the plane.”
Manny la
ughed. “And you are worried, huh?”
“Hell yeah, man. I don’t want no part of those mothafuckas.”
“You know how many times I’ve been approached by the feds? I don’t give a damn about them. If they lock me up, I’m going to get out. If they charge me, I’ll have the best attorneys money can buy. If I go to jail, my family will still be taken care of,” Manny said confidently. “I have my lawyer’s number on speed dial.”
Tommy relaxed. He’d known Manny for quite some time, and he admired his knowledge of the drug trade. He knew Manny would advise him wisely. Manny and his family had been in the business for years, and they were all very wealthy. Tommy wanted to get where Manny was—living in the mansions, driving the Ferraris and Bentleys. He knew that if he ever stocked a few million dollars, he would get out of the drug game in a hurry.
Manny put his arm around Tommy. “Come on, man. Let’s go to the bar and talk. We can’t let the feds stop our show. I don’t know about you, but I got a lot of people depending on me.”
Outside, Manny gave fifty dollars to the valet, who quickly retrieved the Ferrari.
The beach wasn’t crowded. Manny sped down Collins Avenue until he got to Lincoln, where they found the Moon Room, a private restaurant. The guy at the door smiled at Manny and led him to a room in the back. Young Latino women with their breasts exposed and tight skirts waited the tables while salsa music played in the background
“What the hell is this place?” Tommy asked, amazed.
“This is my favorite restaurant. All the girls in here are hookers, so if you see one you like you can take her upstairs and screw her.”
Tommy had seen several attractive women as soon as he’d walked in the door. However, it would be downright shameful if he couldn’t get an erection for some pussy that he would have to pay for. “I just want something to drink.”
The waitress appeared in a black skirt with red pasties over her nipples. “Hey, Manny.” She smiled. “Do you want the usual?”
“Hey, Anna, this is my friend Tommy. Get him what he wants.”
Anna walked over to Tommy’s side of the table, pressing her 36 D’s against his shoulders. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Vodka and cranberry juice.”
“Grey goose okay?”
“Fine,” Tommy told Anna.
“I’ll take a glass of wine, Anna. Give me your finest white wine,” Manny said.
Salsa music continued to play in the background, and Tommy thought about the movie Scarface. Here he was—a boy from North Carolina, in a restaurant with beautiful, topless waitresses and talking to a man with cartel connections.
“So, Tommy… are we going to do business or what?”
Tommy thought hard. He knew that the feds were onto him. He knew that he couldn’t send the product back on the plane. “I have no way of getting my product back.”
“For five thousand dollars extra, I will have my people bring it to you,” Manny said. “Like I said, nothing is going to stop this show. I have inventory and it has to be moved.”
Tommy’s eyes lit up. “You could get that done?”
“Come on, Tommy, we’re family. This is what family is for.”
Anna brought their drinks and two complimentary Cuban cigars.
Manny passed Tommy a cigar. “You smoke cigars, don’t you?”
“No.”
“You’re a big boy now. Smoke … or at least pretend you’re smoking it.”
Tommy put the cigar in his mouth. He really felt like he was a part of a cartel. But he knew, at this level it was deep involvement. He knew he just couldn’t up and quit if he wanted to. He would have to disappear.
Manny smiled then slapped Anna on her ass.
***** “Twin, I think we should chill,” Fatboy said, speaking into his cell phone. He glanced at the Charlotte Coliseum as he drove by in his Escalade.
“Why?” “Your girl told you they were on to us. And that little confrontation in the airport...”
“Nigga, don’t worry about that shit. That’s just probably some security type shit. Remember 9-11, nigga? Ain’t nobody safe at the airports.”
“That was the DEA that stopped us, nigga; that wasn’t security.”
“We’re okay, man. Don’t worry about that shit.”
“Take it easy on these phones.”
“The phones are okay. We just got them. Remember?”
“Well, you can never be too sure.”
“I don’t want to chill; I need to make money.”
“I need money, too.”
“Nigga, you got to have at least a million dollars.”
“I wish, Twin.”
“But you got money for the best lawyers, just in case some shit goes down.”
“I don’t put my trust in lawyers. That’s how niggas go to the pen.”
“Fatboy, let’s make one more run.”
“One more?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess we can since Manny seems to think it’s going to be okay.”
“Manny said it was okay then its okay. He’s been doing this shit a whole lot longer than we have.”
“You think so?”
“I know so, man. Relax and let’s get this money as long as we can.”
Chapter 7
Tommy’s phone record indicated that he’d recently talked to Manny Alvarez. Mark made a call to DEA, Miami division, and ran Alvarez’s name by the agent-in-charge, Mario Santiallas.
Santiallas had forwarded the call to Matthew Donahue, the agent that had been investigating Manny for the past three years.
“Alvarez is supplying North Carolina?” Mark asked.
“Actually, Alvarez isn’t his real name, but it’s been his name for the past six months. His real name is Manny Gomez, but Alvarez is his alias. We’re watching him, and we’re watching your guys when they come into town.”
“Really?” Mark said. Then he turned Manny’s picture over.
“Yes. Gomez is major. He’s supplying Tennessee, Georgia, Louisiana, and Virginia, New York, and New Jersey.”
“Yes, that’s serious.”
“Does he talk on phones?”
“He has several phones, and he rarely says anything except suggesting a meeting for drinks.”
“I guess he’s gonna be a tough one, huh?”
“Actually, I think we’re onto something. We’ve just pinched his Louisiana guy with ten kilos, and he’s being helpful.”
“Singing, huh?”
“The next American Idol.”
Mark laughed. “So if you set Manny up, what do you think he’ll do?”
“I don’t know. These situations can be tough when it’s a family organization. I don’t think he’ll rat on his family as long as he can still make moves from inside.”
“Will he be able to do that?”
“Manny is powerful; we estimate he’s moving at least five thousand kilos a week.”
“Yeah, your guy is major. Keep me posted on his status.” “You bet,” Donahue said. Mark terminated the call.
***** Alicia and Tommy met in front of Gold’s gym. She wore Nike running shoes, no socks, and tight nylon shorts that revealed her muscular legs. Tommy couldn’t help but stare, and he couldn’t wait for her to turn around so he could see her backside. He got an erection just looking at Alicia, something he hadn’t been able to do in a while.
They walked to the desk together, and she told the attendant that Tommy was her guest for the day.
First they went to the bench. She worked out with a hundred pounds. Her objective was noy to bulk up but remain toned and defined.
Tommy walked around the gym. He felt out of place. Not that he hadn’t been accustomed to working out, but he just wasn’t in shape. He scanned the gym. Most of the patrons were white, and they came in all sizes—thin, fat, short, and even pudgy like him. By far, out of all the women, Alicia had the best body. He went to the water fountain twice, trying to kill some time, and hoped Alicia wasn’t going to ask him to g
et on the bench press. But it happened on his fourth trip from the water fountain.
“Tommy, I hope you ain’t just planning on watching me.”
“Actually, I was just planning on watching today.”
“Wrong. If you’re going to be in my presence, you’re going to have to get yourself in some kind of shape.” She walked over to him and nudged his belly.
“I got a stomach of steel.” He laughed then rubbed his belly.
“That’s really sad that you’re proud of that gut. You act like a redneck trucker or something.”
Tommy put another hundred pounds on the bench. The total was now two hundred pounds.
“Since you haven’t worked out in a while, you might want to go light.”
Tommy laughed then added ten more pounds to each side of the bar. “I ain’t no weakling, baby. I’m almost 250 pounds. You don’t think I can lift two hundred pounds?”
“I’m going to spot you,” Alicia said.
Tommy lay on the bench then started rubbing his belly. She laughed then asked, “What are you doing?”
“Rubbing my good luck charm. This is where I get my strength.” He took the bar off the rack and pumped out three quick repetitions. But on his fourth rep, he struggled a little, barely managing to finish. The fifth rep was a little different. He was terribly hang gliding before Alicia helped him put the weight back on the rack.
Tommy stood, completely out of breath. “You shouldn’t have helped me. I had it,” he managed to say.
Alicia laughed aloud. “Yeah, right. If I hadn’t stepped in, you would’ve killed yourself.”
Tommy walked over to the water fountain again, gulped some more water, and then walked back over to the bench. He didn’t attempt any more chest exercises. Instead he watched Alicia for the remainder of her workout.
“So, Tommy… you gonna run with me?”
“Hell no. I can’t even run a mile.”
“If you want to go out on a date with me, you’re gonna have to run with me.” Alicia smiled.
Tommy thought long and hard. He knew he wasn’t in shape and he thought about all the water he’d had. He would probably throw up if he tried to run. He looked at Alicia again, who was smiling brightly. Then he looked at her legs. Damn, this woman is fine. He could feel his erection coming on again. Damned if he knew why she could easily arouse him. No woman had ever gotten him hard just by looking at him. For a brief instance, he imagined himself between those muscular legs, humping away.