by Noire
Slick couldn’t see it, but on the other end of the line Whitey’s eyes narrowed and glinted dangerously.
“Oh, that shit? Yeah, now I remember.” The crafty white man shook his head. “I don’t know what the fuck was in there, Slick. You told me to go make the drop and that’s what I did. Why you asking?”
Slick’s stomach clenched. “Because that nigga Goody was up on that Fulton Street hit, yo. He knew about it. Somebody got him thinking there was a five-million dollar diamond involved with it. Goody thinks I yanked that shit, and that’s why he wants me to steal him another one. But this one is worth damn near ten times as much.”
“Damn,” Whitey said as he deliberately steered the convo in a different direction. “This could be problematic, my man. I just don’t know if we have the kind of resources it takes to pull off something of that magnitude, Slick. I thought the Goode Brothers were primarily running things on the drug scene? What kind of dope-boy takes a sick woman hostage in exchange for a world-class diamond?”
“A sick woman?” Slick froze. “Fuck you talkin ’bout, son? Jewelz is sick? Sick from what?”
For a long moment Whitey went silent. And then he said slowly, “Man, Jewelz is sick, Slick. Real sick. She has cancer. You didn’t know? She didn’t tell you about it?”
Slick felt the universe shift. It felt like the whole Earth had suddenly flown off its axis and he was plummeting into a deep black hole.
“Cancer?” he whispered. His gut rose up in his throat and his knees got weak. “Stop fuckin with me, Whitey! You serious?”
“Yeah,” Whitey said quietly. “I’m fucking serious.”
Slick’s mind went on rewind as he thought about the last couple of times he had seen Jewelz. Yeah, she had lost some weight and she looked kinda tired, but that’s because she was fuckin around in the club with that nigga Goody all night long!
And that no-appetite thing she had going on…all that picking over her grub when they went out to eat…even though her eyes stayed red from puffing that sticky and she shoulda been starving…
Plus he remembered seeing the back of her head looking smooth as fuck under her scarf one day…Nah, that wasn’t no donation to needy kids type a shit. Every strand of her hair had been gone…. He shoulda known something was up. He shoulda fuckin known!
Whitey drew in a deep breath. “Look, my friend,” he said, “If I remember correctly the news report I saw said the Pink Lady diamond is coming into the country from Brazil and they’re gonna auction it off at the Sotheby Museum on Staten Island.”
“So?” Slick couldn’t hardly track with his boy because he couldn’t stop hearing the word cancer and seeing the back of Jewelz’s bald head in his mind.
“So…” Whitey’s voice trailed off as he tapped his finger on the table and calculated that shit out. He had been in on that secret meeting with Don Benny’s crew during his son’s bar mitzvah. It had been decided that they would block up the streets and cause a distraction, and then snatch the Pink Lady diamond just before the courier tried to deliver it to the Sotheby. But hearing this new shit coming out of Slick’s mouth was like a godsend to Whitey. Why split the cut with Don Benny and a bunch of other idiots when he could let Slick steal that shit, dirt-nap him real quick, and then keep all the profits for himself?
“So,” Whitey continued, “that means they gotta be flying the diamond into an airport somewhere close by, and then transporting it to the Sotheby Museum. I say we hit ’em as soon as the diamond is outta range of the airport, my friend. That’s how we save Jewelz’s life! We pick it off and hit that shit right after it leaves the airport, and way before it gets dropped off at the Sotheby.”
“We hit what, nigga?” Slick growled impatiently.
“The truck, my dude,” Whitey said. “We hit the fucking Brinks truck!”
$$$$$
Whitey walked through the doors of the neighborhood community center with his eyes on scan. There were colorful posters taped up everywhere to advertise the major Black Hair and Fashion Show that had just kicked off and was going strong.
In less than ten seconds his dick bricked up. He felt like a fat kid in a donut shop because some of the sexiest black women in the city were packed inside the joint. Just the scent of these gorgeous chocolate bunnies made Whitey wanna fuck. Tall, short, light-skinned, dark-skinned, tits and ass of all shapes and sizes were on display and they sported the most outrageous hairstyles and skimpiest outfits that he had ever seen.
The expensive business suit he wore looked real out of place in the midst of such flamboyance, but Whitey didn’t give a fuck. He was all about scoping out a new ally who could potentially turn into a major threat: Honore.
With Slick about to run down on the Pink Lady diamond, Whitey didn’t trust that bitch Honore as far as he could throw her. The meeting at the Jewish Center had been an eye-opening experience for him in more ways than one.
Seeing the same chick that they had kidnapped from the Brooklyn jewelry store standing there in Westchester getting down with Benny and Avi had been surprising as shit. But it told Whitey a couple of very important things: One, Slick was stupid as fuck and way off his game, and two, Honore hadn’t been in that Fulton Street jewelry store studying for a biology test like she had claimed.
Hell no, she wasn’t no student. The girl was a jewelry thief. A scheming get-money monkey. She had her sights set on living the champagne life, and Whitey would have put his last dollar on the fact that she was the one who had been dropping off the red briefcase that night, and not the old man whose face they had shattered.
As Whitey walked around the hair show he knew Honore was somewhere in the building right now because he had trailed her car and watched her and her friends come inside.
Whitey had a hunch that Noodles might have been hot on Honore’s heels before he got dirt-napped too. Knowing his old friend, Noodles had probably been tracking her 24/7, which was probably why he was nosing around up in Westchester in the first place.
This new theory gave Whitey a lot of relief because it meant that more than likely Noodles hadn’t been up there stalking him like he’d always believed.
The crowded building was packed out and Whitey walked through the noisy throngs of black women getting bumped and jostled by sharp elbows and soft asses. The music was rocking and there were vendors set up on both sides of the hallway selling fake hair and outlandish beauty items and delicious-smelling food.
Whitey’s eagle eyes scanned from left to right like a wide-lens camera. Every now and then he stopped at the vendor tables to check out some of the items that were up for sale. He saw the type of silly shit that was popular in ghetto black culture like faux dreadlocks, nappy green pony-puffs, and spiky blonde Chinese hair weaves.
Whitey had just stopped at a booth and picked up a rainbow-colored curly Afro wig when somebody yanked hard on his sleeve.
“What the fuck are you doing?” a sexy young woman with a jet-black curly weave demanded as she dug her fingers deep into his bicep. “You can’t be walking up in here looking all like that!”
Whitey frowned down at the pissed-off chocolate-skinned beauty. “Looking all like what?”
“Looking all white! You can’t be coming up in here frontin like you tryna buy no damn weave!” She snatched the wig outta his hand then rolled her eyes and shoved him toward the door.
“Mothafucka you sticking out like a piece of lint on a black sweater, boy! Walk yo ass back outside and meet me in the parking lot.”
Whitey was completely caught off guard. He had noticed the stylish chick when she got out of the car with Honore, but he had no clue who she was or what the fuck she was talking about.
For a second he thought she was sending him outside so she could set him up to get cooked, but that look of fear and annoyance on her face, and the way she was whispering, said otherwise. Something told him to roll with it, so he nodded at her then turned around and walked back outside.
A few minutes later Whitey was leaning coolly a
gainst his ride when the chick busted outta the doors and stormed toward the parking lot. She was switching her ass like a champ and moving super-fast as her feet clomped loudly across the concrete in a pair of bright pink high-heel boots.
Whitey couldn’t help but stare. Her hips were working the hell outta her tight denim mini-skirt and her large, but pert titties bounced up and down under her fitted white tank top.
She spotted him standing there and flicked her hand toward his car. “Get in, stupid!” she demanded with her face all frowned up. “What you standing out here looking like a goddamn FBI billboard for? Are you tryna get me erased, asshole?”
She climbed in on the passenger side of his whip and slammed the door as she continued to bitch.
“Who told you to come looking for me? I told y’all dumb-asses that I would name the time and place! I said I would meet y’all after the hair show was over! Y’all alphabet boys think y’all can just show up anywhere and do whatever the hell you wanna do? Well, not with Cucci Momma, homey! Now before I say another damn word I wanna know w’sup with my damn reward money?”
Whitey was trapped off-guard, but he caught on fast as fuck. This girl thought he was a federal agent and she was ready to drop a dime! He chuckled coldly inside as he got ready to play the role. Just how stupid could this beautiful idiot be? He was about to find out!
“Listen, you contacted us, right?” Whitey said as he swelled up big with a white man’s authority. “Then before we talk about any type of reward I need to know exactly what information you have that’s relevant to this case.”
“Uh-uh. This ain’t the time or the place for me to be doing no more talking!” Cucci hissed. Her neck was on a swivel as she looked back and forth over her shoulder toward the community center like she was paranoid as hell.
“I already said enough and you putting me in a trick bag just by showing up here! I can’t let nobody see me blabbing with you! Snitches get stiches and ditches, baby! That’s why I said I was gonna meet y’all after the damn hair show! Niggas out here can smell a cop a mile away.”
“If you want my help then I need to know everything you know,” Whitey stated firmly. “The sooner you spit it out, the faster I can be out of here.”
Cucci tossed her hair and smirked. “I already told y’all everything on the phone! I got some information on my cousin. They call her the Queen of Diamonds. Her real name is Honore Morales though, and she’s the one who set our boss up to get robbed and killed so she could snatch his diamond and his money!”
The Queen of Diamonds???
Whitey couldn’t fuckin believe it. He felt like he had just hit the jackpot and he was happy as shit that he had decided to track Honore’s sweet ass today!
“So you suspect your cousin Honore is the Queen of Diamonds?” he clarified.
“That’s what I just said, ain’t it? She’s the damn diamond diva! She’s the Queen!”
Whitey fought to keep himself from laughing out loud as he thought about that failed hit on the beauty parlor in Queens. Honore was one greasy-ass chick! She had ass-fucked every last one of them! She was the monkey with the red briefcase and the Queen of Diamonds too!
Whitey found himself admiring Honore for her cunning and scheming ways. He couldn’t believe how loose her cousin’s lips were, though. Just hearing the word “diamonds” falling outta her big mouth was blissful to his ears. On the real, with friends like this beautiful ghetto princess Honore didn’t need a single fuckin enemy!
“And you believe your cousin is not only stealing diamonds, but she’s arranging murders too? Well, that’s a very serious allegation you’re making and I’m going to need you to tell me everything you know right away.”
“Sheeeiiit,” Cucci drawled and shook her head. “See now, y’all scum bags already tried to play me once already so I gotta have everything in writing this time. I ain’t giving up none a’ my info unless I’m assured on paper that I’ma get my reward money, ya dig?”
“In that case,” Whitey answered agreeably, “you’ll just need to come down to the office with me. I’ll take your written statement and videotape your interview for the official record. If you’d just put on your seatbelt I can drive you over there and we can get the process started right now.”
“Oh no the hell we can’t!” Cucci bucked and slid closer to the door with her lip poked out. “Fuck outta here with that, Mister Man! I ain’t going no damn where with you!”
Whitey gazed into her pretty face and then let his eyes drop down to her bulging cleavage. Those were some pretty chocolate titties she had on her and suddenly he had himself a craving.
“Okay, listen,” he said with his tone softening. “How about you and I make a little deal, just between us?”
Cucci smirked as his eyeballs rolled hungrily over her nipples. “What kinda deal, white boy? If it ain’t involving my reward money then I ain’t wit’ it!”
“Oh, there’s a reward involved,” Whitey said as he pushed the driver’s seat back and unbuttoned his suit jacket. “The reward is going to be your freedom.”
“My freedom?” The smirk dropped off Cucci’s face and her glamorous eyes narrowed. “I ain’t do shit to get locked up so how you figure?”
“The way I figure is, you said you called into our office, so that means we have your voice recorded where you admit to having information about a jewelry heist and a cold-blooded murder. That makes you an accomplice and a co-conspirator. On an obstruction of justice charge you’d be looking at the same lengthy prison sentence as whoever actually committed the crimes. That is, if you aren’t actually the Queen yourself. But I suspect you are.”
Fear was all over Cucci’s mug. “Uh-uh! Hold up, Mister! Don’t you start no funny shit with me! I didn’t kill nobody and I didn’t steal a goddamn thing, so keep my name out of it! I ain’t the Queen of Diamonds so don’t even play like that!”
Cucci lunged for her door handle but Whitey was much quicker on the cap. He clicked the lock button, trapping her inside.
He was calm as fuck as they eyed each other warily. Then he said, “You know, there’s an easy way to prove whether you’re the Queen or not. But I’m afraid I’ll have to arrest you and take you in for fingerprinting. Let’s see if you can convince a magistrate judge that I didn’t just bag the mysterious diamond thief that everyone is after. Yeah, I’ll have to take you in and let the judge decide. Unless we can come to some sort of other agreement. Right here and right now. Just between us.”
Cucci sat there eyeing him like he was a snake. She could see how hard his dick was getting through the rising print in his pants leg. White men were some slimy mothafuckas when it came to black pussy! But she knew the drill because she had been caught in this position many times before. It was a trade-off game, and it wouldn’t be the first time that she had gotten hooked like a fish while swimming out there in deep water. It was go hard or go down time, and Cucci Momma wasn’t about to go down.
“How you want it?” she twisted her lips and asked dryly, cutting through the bullshit and going straight to the bottom line. She shifted her meaty ass toward him and lifted up the bottom hem of her skirt so he could hit it from the back. “You got a glove?”
Whitey grinned and reached out for her neck. He ran his fingers up over the glued-in tracks of her silky weave and cupped the back of her head.
“We don’t need a glove,” he said, eyeing her pretty lips. With a white man’s authority he pulled her head down toward his crotch as he unbuckled his belt and freed his hard dick.
“That pretty little mouth of yours is going to do all the work, sweetie. First you’re going to tell me everything you know about that diamond, and then you’re going to give me a nice wet reward for hearing you out.”
Cucci knew when she was beat. With her lip poked out she took his pale dick in her fist and started stroking that shit real hard. She was surprised he was holding so heavy for a white boy, but she still wasn’t beat for that shit.
The white man moaned like he
was digging her rhythm, and Cucci poked her lip out some more as she dug down in his silk drawers and got a handful of his balls. She squeezed and jacked and juggled until he started gasping and bucking his hips in the air.
“Lick it,” he urged her as he palmed the back of her head and pushed her face down closer to his groin. “Suck that shit!”
“Hold up!” Cucci froze in place and cut her eyes up at him angrily. “Don’t touch the fuckin hair, a’ight?”
Rolling her eyes and giving him big-time attitude, she opened her mouth and got to waxing his dick. The whole time she was bobbing up and down in his lap she was thinking to herself, “Bite this muthafucka, Cucci! Bite his pink-ass dick off!”
But of course she didn’t bite him. She was mad, but she wasn’t stupid. This federal mothafucka held all the cards in his hand and he had way too much dirt on her for her to be flexing. With her voice recording on the FBI hotline and his threat to make it look like she was the Queen of Diamonds….sheiiit…Cucci was ghetto-boojie and too damn prissy to even think about going to jail. So instead of acting up, she submitted to the madness and did exactly what was required of her. She sucked his dick meat down to the bone.
CHAPTER 5
The Grimy Niggas Live a Long Time
Slick was pretty sure that no criminal in the modern world had a mind that was more brilliant and calculating than his ace Whitey Reynolds. So when it came to getting his hands on that Pink Lady diamond Slick was glad to have his boy down on his team.
“Yeah, I’m rolling with you to the end, but we gotta go at this thing the right way,” Whitey cautioned him as they plotted their next move.
They were laying low in a tucky spot that Slick had rented as a temporary office and they had the doors locked and the shades pulled down as they sorted shit out.
“We should run up on that museum and crush them guards as soon as they deliver the diamond,” Slick said. “Or better yet, we can lay low outside that bitch and jump on whoever buys it as soon as they try to leave. Then we can toss it off to Goody and get Jewelz back.”