Dream Weaver

by Nene Capri

  “I need you to have her meet me in Atlanta, at the hotel I first took her to. She will know what to do from there.”

  “I got you,” Leena said.

  “This is the last favor I will ever ask you for. The money will be in your account in an hour, and the rest when she gets here. Thank you,” he spoke with conviction.

  “No problem,” Leena hung up. Her heart filled with guilt and regret but, hey, this was the game they were playing. And the winners were the people with the best hand, and she was trumping these muthafuckas.

  Leena walked back into the living room and could see heat coming from Kenyatta’s and Jocelyn’s heads.

  “That punk-ass nigga ain’t shit,” Kenyatta took another sip of her drink. “I gotta go. I will catch up with y’all later.” She stood up and grabbed her purse.

  “Why are you leaving?” Leena asked.

  “You did that dirty shit on purpose,” Kenyatta said, snatching the door open.

  “What happened?” Leena asked.

  “I’m outta this bitch too,” Jocelyn said, getting up and grabbing her bag as well. “I don’t know what sneaky shit you got going on with that greasy-ass nigga, but I hope it’s worth it. Because me? I’m not watching no more backs, I’m done. So y’all can have it. I hope Dream catch up with all y’all two fake-ass niggas,” she raised her voice, moving to the door.

  “Jocelyn I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Leena came behind her.

  “I bet you didn’t, but it’s all good. Jocelyn got some tricks in her bag too.” She turned to go down the steps.

  “Jocelyn! Jocelyn!” Leena yelled. She heard the door slam. She slammed her apartment door, and a huge smile crossed her face. She was getting ready to get all those niggas back. She dialed Dream and gave him the whole game plan.

  * * * * *

  Jocelyn moved around her apartment, trying to organize some things in a suitcase. Dream was on the move. Him and his team had hit Derrick’s people in Georgia, hard, and sent word that they were coming strong for anyone connected to the bitch-ass nigga. Derrick was on the run like a hunted animal. He had already sent word for everyone to move the money around. The houses were getting hit, and the nigga running the last house had rattled off several addresses, and hers was on the list.

  Jocelyn moved back and forth from one bedroom to the next. She gathered her jewelry and a few pairs of shoes and stuffed them into a small tote. Her clothes went in one bag, and the stacks of money went into another. Once everything was sealed in neatly, she headed for the door.

  Jocelyn hadn’t heard from Derrick since that phone call at Leena’s house, and the words that left his lips had filled her spirit with rage. Questions popped up in her mind. Had Derrick or the girls turned on her? She wasn’t going to take any chances. She placed her bags against the wall and took one last run through, checking each room with a thorough eye.

  “It’s been real,” she said, bidding her goodbyes.

  Jocelyn opened the door and froze when her eyes met with Derrick’s cold, black stare. “You on your way out?” he asked, looking into her eyes as if he could pierce the back of her skull.

  “Why are you here? I have been trying to call you for day,” she said, gripping the knob hard with her palm.

  “Don’t ask me shit, watch out,” He said, brushing past her and bumping her shoulder, pushing her to the side.

  “Look, I don’t have time for all this extra shit you come with. You made your choices, and now I gotta make mine. So if you don’t mind, I need you to leave.” She held the door open wide.

  “Let me holla at you, then you can bounce,” Derrick said, pulling his hoodie over his head.

  Jocelyn held the door open. She looked down at her bags and back up at him. She twisted her lips while battling with the thought to just run out of the door.

  “Please,” Derrick’s eyes connected with hers, and he put out his hand.

  Jocelyn searched her heart for what little feelings she still had for him. They were faint but still there. She closed the door and folded her arms over her chest. “Talk, and keep it brief.” She quickly built a mental wall between her love and his betrayal.

  “We gonna stand in the middle of the room like we haven’t shared feelings for each other?” Derrick went right into survival mode.

  “You only have feelings for you. I don’t mean shit to you. Wasn’t those your words?”

  “Baby, you know what this is. I don’t know who I can trust. You see where I’m standing, you all I got.”

  “Well, I guess you don’t have much,” she said, and her forehead creased as her mind went back to the phone call.

  “Jocelyn, please,” he asked, still holding his hand out to her.

  Jocelyn moved a little closer to where he stood. She had a thought to just walk into his arms, but his forced sympathetic gaze reminded her of his chilling words.

  “I’ll stay right here.” She walked over to the bar stool and leaned against it.

  “Okay. Just listen, baby girl.” He moved toward her. “I need you. I’m sorry you had to hear that, but I had to get her off your trail.”

  “Yes, and I guess telling her I am an ugly piece of shit really drove the point home,” she stated as water pushed to her eyes. She fought with all she had to keep the tears at bay. She did not want to give him any more of her emotions.

  “I’m sorry.” He moved a little closer. “Please forgive me,” he said in little more than a whisper, moving forward until he was standing right between her legs.

  “Derrick, please. This thing between us is over. There is no need to pretend with me. I know what it is, and I have accepted it. Excuse me, I have to go.” She tried to stand, but he pushed her back to her seat.

  Derrick grabbed at her pants, pulling them off her butt.

  “No. Stop, let me go, Derrick.” She pushed at his hands.

  “It’s not mine anymore?” he asked, leaning in and biting at her neck.

  “No, you lost that privilege. Now let me go.” She resisted his strong hands, but his lips and teeth were connecting with the tender spots on her neck and altering her thoughts.

  “Please. Let me make it up to you,” he asked, lightly releasing warm air across her ear lobe.

  “Derrick!” she cried out as his fingers tore at the side of her panties, finding their way between her lips.

  “You know I’m not stopping now.” He bit into the tender flesh above her nipple and pulled out his pulsating rod.

  Jocelyn gripped his arm as he slid inside her. “Derrick don’t,” she pleaded as he began to stroke slowly.

  “Don’t what? Don’t this?” He hit it on an angle that caused her hips to rotate into his push.

  “I can’t stand you,” she panted, enjoying those inches as they tickled her inner pleasure.

  “I can’t stand you either,” he mumbled in her ear, pulling her butt to the edge of the stool so he could hit that daddy-it’s-yours spot.

  When Derrick saw her breath quicken and her fingers pull at the bottom of his back, he moved his hands from her waist to her throat and applied pressure after each time she inhaled. Jocelyn reached up and grabbed at his fingers. Every time she pulled, he squeezed. Each breath was a struggle as he stole the very pulse from her veins.

  “You thought it was good to cross me?” he asked as her body surrendered to ecstasy and her spirit surrendered to the light. His voice was faint but firm.

  “No,” she whispered as she faded to black.

  “I could have blown your head off when I came through the door, but I wanted to get up close to you. I needed to look you in your hateful eyes and fuck you one last time.” He squeezed tighter on her throat.

  Jocelyn’s feet slid on the rail as her grip lessened. A tingling sensation moved through her as consciousness fled her body. Derrick squeezed and pumped, watching the whites of her eyes turn back into her head as she gasped for her last breath.

  “Greasy bitch. You crossed the wrong muthafucka.” He growled and stroked faster as the
urge to release took over. Liquid oozed into her womb as life seeped from her lungs. He inhaled the last of her air and filled his soul with wretched intentions.

  Jocelyn went limp in his arms, and her head fell back to the wall. Derrick grabbed a paper towel from the counter, wiped his dick, and stuffed it in her mouth. He put his self together, walked over to her bags, located the money, and thumbed through it. A wicked smile widened across his face. Killing Jocelyn wasn’t necessary, but it was worth it.

  Chapter 15 - You’re the One

  Derrick headed right to Kenyatta’s house with the money and was met with much resistance. It took him over an hour to get her to calm down and realize that he was just spitting game on the phone. After his usual begging and mind games, he fucked her good and then gave her the instructions on how to move the money. It was all a game to Derrick. Sell people false hopes and fake ass percentages, and once they were locked in, he robbed them blind. Always the snake in the background, whispering and sowing evil seeds.

  “You know you’re all I have.” He looked up at Kenyatta’s pretty face as she rocked back and forth on his dick.

  “I love you so much, but I fucking hate you,” she whined as she moved to her pleasure.

  “You know I love you, baby. I told you. It’s just me and you.”

  “I want to believe you, Derrick,”

  “You can believe me, baby. I got you.” He held her in place and let her get hers.

  Kenyatta rode and came until her sticky essence dripped down between his balls. She rested her head on his chest to hear the beat from his empty heart.

  Derick picked up on her mood and gave her some reassurance. “Don’t worry, nothing will come between us, I love you,” he said, holding her firm to his chest. “Nothing will come before you and my son.” He kissed her forehead and just held her close.

  Just like that Kenyatta was back in the game. She had bought and sold his fantasy one more time.

  Living Nightmare

  “Don’t say shit,” Dream whispered with his sharp, paring knife pointing at his soon-to-be next victim.

  Kenyatta’s eyes grew wide as she tried to breathe through Dream’s hand that was pressing down on her mouth and noise.

  “Don’t make this shit harder than it need to be. Where is Derrick?” he lifted his hand slightly for her to speak.

  “I don’t know,” she sniffled, careful not to anger him.

  “I know you’re the bitch holding his shit. Don’t fucking play with me,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

  “I swear. I don’t know, he said he was coming through tonight. Please, I didn’t do anything,” she pleaded.

  “Please don’t beg. That shit sets me the fuck off.”

  Kenyatta pulled her lips together and tried not to cry.

  Dream rose up with his legs straddling her pelvis. “What you see in that nigga?” Dream asked, inching his knife down her breast line.

  “I don’t know,” she whimpered.

  “I see what he likes,” Dream said, lifting her shirt.

  Kenyatta closed her eyes.

  “Nah, you like fucking Chyna’s man. Do I get some too?” he asked, pulling at the side of her panties.

  Kenyatta squirmed beneath him, her skin crawled at each touch of his hand.

  “Yeah, I see why he chose you. You like to sneak and snake around. Slithering through life, creeping with the next bitch’s man.” He lifted her gown up a little further.

  “It’s not like that, he loves me.”

  “That’s what he told you?” Dream laughed in her face. Kenyatta shook with anger. “Don’t worry, as tempting as it may be, I don’t take pussy that doesn’t belong to me.” He moved back and stood at the end of her bed. “Call him and get that nigga over here now. Tell him it’s an emergency.”

  Kenyatta sat up, pulling her sheet along as she went to grab her cellphone from the dresser. With shaky hands she dialed Derrick and waited for him to pick up.

  “Hello,” he answered.

  “Hey, babe, what’s going on?” she asked, trying to perk up. “I need you,” she spoke softly into the phone.

  “You okay?” he asked, hearing the difference in her voice.

  “Yes. I just need to see you,” she said into the phone, praying he would pick up on what was going on.

  “A’ight, I’ll be there in a little while,” he said, knowing something wasn’t right.

  “Okay, see you when you get here,” she hung up and set the phone on the dresser.

  “Go sit your ass down until he gets here,” Dream ordered Kenyatta.

  She took a seat on the bed, and he leaned up against the dresser. Two hours ticked by really slowly, and then a knock rang out on the door. Dream pointed toward the door, and Kenyatta jumped up to go answer. She perched up on her tip-toes and looked out of the peephole. She shook her head, took the chain off, and clicked the locks. Kenyatta eased the door open and stepped back. Money looked at the sweat on her brow and her wild hair and knew something wasn’t right.

  “Where’s Derrick?” she looked past Money.

  “He left. He sent me over here to check on you. You okay?”

  “Not really, come inside,”

  “Nah, I’m good.” He looked past her into the darkness. “Look, Derrick is outta town. He said you should be straight with the money he gave you, so you won’t need to call him,” he said, moving away from the door.

  “Okay. But tell him I really need to see him.” She widened her eyes.

  “A’ight,” he turned and double timed it back to his car. When he pulled off and hit the corner, Trigga was right behind him.

  Kenyatta closed the door and turned around slowly.

  Dream stepped out of the shadow and noticed the sickened look on Kenyatta’s face. “See? That nigga don’t give a fuck about you. You need to stop protecting that nigga and give him up.”

  “I swear I don’t know where he is,” she calmly stated, trying to keep her bladder under control. She looked down at the sharp object in Dream’s hand, and vomit rose into her mouth. She cringed at the taste but swallowed it down.

  “You good for now, ma, but I’m watching you. If you help that nigga, then you get what he got coming,” he said as he moved past her, staring down on her intensely.

  The hair on her arm stood up as she felt the tip of his blade go across her hand.

  “Lock up, I wouldn’t want anybody to get you,” Dream teased, pulling the door open and slamming it hard on his way out.

  Kenyatta turned and locked the doors, put on the chain, pressed her back against the door, slid to the floor, and cried. She held her face in her hands and tried to catch her breath. After a few deep breaths, she cleared her mind and then went into survival mode. She ran to her room and packed a bag. She pulled Li’l Derrick from his bed, dressed him, and grabbed a few of his things.

  She waited until the sun broke through the sky, and then she grabbed her things and her son and was out the door. Kenyatta looked back and forth like a confused bird as she loaded her things in the car. She strapped the baby in and was on her way.

  * * * * *

  Money pulled up to a house in a Virginia suburb and put his car into park. He sat for a minute, watching the early morning dew on the grass as he tried to collect his thoughts. He leaned over and grabbed his overnight bag from the passenger’s-side floor. When he came up, Trigga had a long, black barrel pointed at the front window of his car. His eyes darted to the mirrors and then back at Trigga, who was moving in closer.

  “What the fuck?” Money said out loud as he sifted through the bag for his gun.

  Trigga saw the movement and pumped one through the front window, hitting Money in the chest. Money grabbed his chest struggling for each breath he took. He tried to reach over and click the locks, but Trigga snatched the door open before he could reach the button.

  “Absolutely not.” Trigga pointed the gun at Money’s head. “I don’t know why y’all protect this bitch-ass nigga. But hey, it’s your life, and now
I have to take it.” He blew the top of Money’s head all over the roof of the car.

  He stepped back and then jogged to his car. Nearby doors began to open as he pulled past Money’s car. Trigga turned the first corner and headed back to 95.

  Chapter 16 - The Chase

  Kenyatta made several calls while waiting for the Greyhound, setting shit into motion. Dream and Derrick were both playing games, and she was about to play one too. She boarded the bus with her son and bags and sat back, breathing a huge sigh of relief. She had made it out.

  When the bus pulled into the Atlanta bus terminal, Kenyatta woke Li’l Derrick and put him on one shoulder. She put the Gucci bag with a little under a quarter million over the other. She hailed a cab and asked to be taken to the hotel. Kenyatta admired how beautiful the city was at night. The crack in the window let in a warm breeze as the driver switched from one lane to the other.

  Once she was booked in for the week and settled into her room, she bathed Li’l Derrick, fed him, and rocked him to sleep. Time seemed to move in slow motion as she picked up the clothes and shoes from the bedroom floor and loaded them into a bag. She closed the door lightly and headed to the bathroom to clean up the other half of the mess.

  Once everything was tidy. Kenyatta stood in the middle of the room and flashed back to all the things that Derrick had promised her and the false life she’d pretended to have with him, like she was different from the rest. A thousand tears couldn’t quench the thirst of her sprit after the hole he left behind. Kenyatta turned to the tub and ran herself a hot bath.

  While the water ran she moved to the room, laid out some pajamas, and poured herself a drink from the minibar. Kenyatta stripped down to her bra and panties, grabbed her glass and the bag of money, and went to the in-room safe. She punched in the combination and placed the money bag inside. She sifted through the bills, and when she got to the bottom of the bag there was a note. She reached inside, unfolded it, and began to read.