by K'wan
“Ah, you’re just now figuring out what we’ve been trying to tell you for the longest. Cano told you not to fuck with him, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“Liz, I don’t need another lecture. I get enough of that shit from Cano.”
“How is that sexy-ass brother of yours?”
“He’s still in South America. He should be back in another two weeks though, so I’m handling things while he’s gone.”
“Cano let you into the family business, huh?” Lizzie asked surprised.
“Hardly, when he left I stole two bricks from one of his apartments.”
“Girl, you must’ve fell and bumped ya head! Cano is gonna fuck you up when he finds out,” Lizzie said seriously. “Marisol, I don’t understand you. Cano spoils you rotten, and you go and steal from him. What the hell were you thinking about?”
Marisol banged her fist against the steering wheel. “I don’t know, Liz. This was my father’s business and Cano acts like he’s king shit. He says he keeps me away to protect me, but that’s just an excuse for him to try and run my life. I’m twenty-one years old, and he still treats me like a kid. I just wanted to show him that I can handle it.”
“Marisol,” Lizzie began, flashing a hint of accent. “You’re my girl, so you know I’m gonna keep it gangsta with you. I know you came up around that shit all your life, but drugs are a very serious business, especially heroin. You’re playing with fire, and you’re gonna fuck around and get burnt.”
“You don’t think I know that?” Marisol said with an edge to her voice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. Look, what’s done is done, and I can’t change that. All I can do now is hope that Cano doesn’t get too mad about the money I lost.”
“And you lost money?” Lizzie asked in disbelief. “How did you manage to fuck that up?”
“I didn’t fuck anything up, that asshole Felix did.”
Lizzie slapped herself on the forehead. “Marisol, tell me you didn’t give that man your brother’s drugs?”
“He works for him, so it seemed like the logical thing,” she reasoned.
“Yes, as a soldier. Cano kept him at that level because he’s a fuck-up, Marisol. Everyone knows that.”
“Felix is not a fuck-up!” Marisol defended.
“If it walks like a duck.”
Marisol sighed. “I figured he could flip the work and make us some money. Then when Cano came back, I’d have his money and prove to him that I knew how to handle myself and that Felix wasn’t a fuck-up, as you call him.”
Lizzie just shook her head. Marisol had done some dumb things since they’d known each other but never this dumb. Instead of running how wrong she was into the ground, she decided to try and figure out how to help Marisol out of it. “Okay, how much does he owe so far?”
Marisol thought on it for a minute. “Well, so far I’ve given him about a half a kilo at eighty grand, street value. For a whole one, you do the math.”
“Jesus, Marisol, he’s into Cano for at least forty grand! Cano is gonna shit a brick. What are you gonna do?”
“Honestly, I don’t know, but I’ve got two weeks to figure it out.”
CHAPTER 9
O ver the next few days, the heat seemed to increase, if that was at all possible. There had even been a report of a young kid falling out from trying to drink liquor in the swelter. Prince slouched on the benches closest to 865 wearing a tank top and denim shorts. A thin film of sweat had formed over his muscular arms, adding sheen to his almost perfectly dark complexion. Though he was polishing off his second bottle of water in ten minutes, his blood still felt like it was boiling.
“Fuck it’s hot!” Daddy-O said, running a hand towel over his sweat-soaked face. His white T-shirt was so saturated that he had to hang it on the gate to dry.
“They said it’s gonna be like this all week,” Danny said. He was dressed in an oversized Los Angeles Lakers basketball jersey and the throw-back purple and yellow Converse. “Shit, once I finish up these last few packs, I’m going up to the crib to get up in some pussy.”
“Pussy, nigga it’s too hot to fuck!” Daddy-O said.
“It ain’t never too hot to fuck,” Danny shot back.
“Speaking of fucking,” Daddy-O turned to Prince. “Son, whatever happened with you and that chick Marisol?”
“Oh, we cool,” Prince said as if that should’ve been enough.
“Cool? Nigga, you ain’t try to punch them guts in yet?”
Prince just shook his head, not wanting the whole projects in his business. Actually they had been getting more acquainted than he let on. While Daddy-O slept his hangover off the other morning, he was on the phone with Marisol. He claimed that he was just calling to see if she had made it home okay, but in all actuality he just needed to hear her voice. They had chatted on the phone for hours and only hung up with the promise of meeting up the same evening. Under the cover of darkness and without either of their friends knowing, Prince and Marisol shared a romantic evening consisting of dinner and a movie, but no sex.
“Man, you better quit playing and tap that ass before someone else beats you to the punch,” Daddy-O said.
“That ain’t my girl. She can do what she wants, kid,” Prince said.
“Speaking of do, what does that chick do?” Danny asked. “That BMW was fly as hell!”
“Her family owns some fancy Spanish restaurant in Queens, so she works there when she doesn’t have classes,” Prince informed him.
“That must be some fucking restaurant for her to be pushing a beamer,” Danny said.
Prince had actually thought about it. Marisol had told him that it was a gift from her brother, but he wasn’t sure if he believed it. The night he met Marisol, he peeped her style. Her gear was on point, and he knew the Louis sandals she had on had cost a grip because he had been with Diego when he had copped a pair for one of his chicks. Maybe she had a sugar daddy somewhere, or maybe she was selling ass to keep up her high-end lifestyle, but one thing he was sure of was that she wasn’t getting it like that from working part-time in a restaurant.
“Nigga, you hear me talking to you?” Daddy-O asked, snapping Prince out of his daze.
“Huh?”
“I said Danny and them niggaz is almost finished with the fifty grams, and we need to re-up,” Daddy-O repeated. “Son, where is your head at?”
“My fault, kid, I was caught up in the moment.”
“Probably caught up thinking about Marisol,” Daddy-O teased him.
He was half right. True, Prince had thought of Marisol often, but she wasn’t what had him distracted. Ever since he had spoken with Scatter, he couldn’t help but to think about the advantages of dealing heroin. The sweet poison would help him kill two birds with one stone. Setting up a dope shop would allow him to get out from under Diego’s thumb, without interfering with his crack money so it could be an amicable split. But the problem still remained that he didn’t have a heroin connect. There were cats he could holla at and probably score some, but it would be the same watered down bullshit that Scatter was talking about. He needed that head-banger.
“So what you wanna do? You gonna go see Diego or you want me to do it?” Daddy-O asked, still oblivious as to what was on his partner’s mind.
Prince thought on it for a minute. The show had to go on, but he didn’t feel like seeing Diego’s face at the moment. “Nah, you go see him. I got a move to make right quick,” Prince said, heading out of the projects. He valued the company of his team, but at the moment he needed to be away from the game so he could sort some things out in his head.
CHAPTER 10
“Y ou know I was surprised to hear from you,” Marisol said, running her finger along the line of Prince’s chest.
“Shit, I was surprised I called. I ain’t want you getting gassed up thinking I was all on your shit.” He kissed her fore head.
“And what would’ve given me that idea?” she teased.
Marisol knew that she was going to give Prince some pussy fr
om the moment she met him, but hadn’t planned on doing it so soon. She was pleasantly surprised when Prince had called her that afternoon. He asked if they could hang out, but she told him she had to study. Both of them felt the urge to see each other, so they compromised and she invited him over for an early dinner.
He showed up on her doorstep with a bottle of champagne, rocking a crisp white T-shirt, and an LA Dodgers fitted. The way he wore his hat cocked on his head gave him an air of confidence that made her moist in her secret places. After they devoured the fried chicken and rice that she had whipped up, the two lovers sipped champagne and blew trees while they watched the first season of The Wire on DVD, which as it turned out was both their favorite show. Prince related to it because the characters went through the same shit that he did on the day-to-day basis. Marisol listened intently as he philosophized about what it meant to be truly married to the game. Not only was this man ruggedly handsome but he had a brilliant mind, which only had her more open.
By about the third episode, they had engaged in a lip lock that had them both gasping for air. His strong, yet gentle hands explored her body, sending chills all the way down to her toes. Her mouth tried to say no, but her body wouldn’t listen as she shuddered under his touch. In record time, Marisol had stripped down to nothing but her thong. Prince ran his tongue down the center of her breasts, flicking across her hardened nipples. He continued his oral exploration across her belly, stopping briefly around her navel. Marisol got so wet that it would be a wrap for her thong even if they didn’t fuck.
When he got down near her pussy, he teased it through her thong with his tongue. She tried to force his head down, but he slapped her hands away. It was clear that it was his show, and she was just a spectator. Pulling her thong to the side, he began to lap at her clit, causing her to hiss. Prince’s cell phone rang, but Marisol tossed it across the room before he could even think about answering it. There was no way in the hell one of his boys or another bitch was gonna fuck this up for her. Prince’s tongue danced over and around her pussy before he dipped it inside her. The tip of it felt like a hot spear stabbing against her walls. Marisol was so grossed with Prince’s tongue lashing that she tore his T-shirt clean off his back. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, he flipped her on her stomach and repeated the process in her ass. It was the first time a man had ever tossed her salad, and she was damn near climbing the walls.
Marisol was on her stomach with her ass cocked in the air, flexing her cheeks in time with his tongue. Cum soaked her inner thighs and his chin, but he didn’t seem to mind as he munched her like a $2.99 buffet. When Prince balanced himself on his arms and entered her from behind, Marisol saw flashes of light. Prince started off with slow strokes, bringing the light flashes every time he pumped. In record time Marisol had cum, lubricating her pussy and allowing him to dig deeper into her guts.
Prince knew that he had a big dick, and from the way Marisol tensed up so did she. She was wet as hell already, but he still had a hard time getting in. Once Marisol had cum, it was easier for Prince to get in and do his thing. He hit her with long strokes at first then rapid short ones. He switched speeds on her back and forth until she didn’t know whether she was coming or going. To say that Marisol had some good pussy would’ve been an understatement. They say that there are seven wonders in the world, but Marisol’s pussy surely had to be the eighth.
Tired of being the passenger, Marisol decided to take the wheel. She climbed out from under Prince and pushed him on his back. Her large breasts clapped softly together as she threw her leg across Prince to straddle him. The moment his dick slipped in she regretted it. It felt like if she slid any further down it would burst from her mouth. After a few attempts she was able to find a comfortable position and began to ride Prince. She started off slow at first, but once the pain turned to pleasure, she went for broke. After about forty minutes, Prince finally came, and they lay in the middle of her living room carpet reflecting on what had just happened.
“So, where’s your boy?” Diego asked Daddy-O, who was standing in the kitchen of the armory.
Daddy-O shrugged. “Said he had something to do, so he sent me to pick up the work.”
The look on Diego’s face said that he didn’t believe him, but it was the truth as Daddy-O knew it. “Yeah, I ain’t seen a lot of Prince since the night Manny whipped E’s punk ass. He ain’t even taking my phone calls. Is he still stunting what happened to his man?”
“Nah, you know Prince understands the business,” Daddy-O said.
“Does he? Anyhow, what’s going on in the hood? I heard somebody got dropped in the parking lot. You know anything about that?”
“Nah, I heard about it, but it wasn’t us,” Daddy-O lied. Diego clasped his hands behind his back and moved slowly toward Daddy-O. Daddy-O’s heart began to pound in his chest, but he held fast.
“You know,” Diego leaned in to whisper, “when niggaz die in my hood, especially without my say so, it brings heat. And when the hood is hot I lose money. Whoever was behind that body cost me a grip, and I’m not happy about it. Now, I know you say you don’t know nothing about it, but being that you’re out there I’m sure you’re gonna hear something about it.”
“Yo, D…”
Diego raised his hand for silence. “Daddy-O, I don’t even wanna hear it. You niggaz is supposed to be minding my candy shop, so how the fuck you gonna tell me that you don’t know what’s going on at all times? You know what, I don’t even know why I’m talking to you. Tell that little mutha fucka Prince to get with me ASAP. If he don’t get with me, Manny is gonna get with him,” he motioned to the killer. “We clear on that, fam?”
“Crystal.”
Prince had finally managed to gather the strength to go over and recover his cell phone. There was a message from a chick he had met the week before on the block. She was a chicken head from 110th with a mean head game and a shot of so-so pussy. He glanced over at Marisol, who was lying on the floor with one thick thigh slung on the couch. He chuckled ironically as he deleted the message. There were two on there from Daddy-O telling him that Diego was looking for him, and he wasn’t a happy camper. The last and most intense one was from Diego himself.
Though Diego didn’t say on the phone, Prince knew why he was so anxious to speak with him. Prince had allowed his men to murder someone on Diego’s turf without permission. Jimmy and Vince had violated and Prince made a judgment call. Had he ran it past Diego there was no doubt that he would’ve OK’d the hit, but Prince hadn’t asked and that bruised Diego’s ego. What was done was done and there was no undoing it, and if given the choice he would’ve done it again. Diego wasn’t in the trenches, so he could go fuck himself if he didn’t like how Prince did things.
“Fuck you too,” Prince said as he deleted the message.
“Who was that, ya girl?” Marisol called from behind him. She had flipped over onto her stomach as her chin was resting on the backs of her hands.
“Nah, that was just some hood bullshit. I’ll figure out how to deal with it when I get back to the block,” Prince told her. She could tell from the look on his face that something was troubling him.
“Anything I can do to help?” she asked, sincerely.
“Not unless you’ve got a good connect,” he joked. Something flashed across Marisol’s eyes that made him think he had offended her. “Sorry, it was a bad joke.”
Marisol scooted closer to Prince and rested her head in his lap. Just having her that close to him drained some of the tension that had built in his gut. He looked down at her and she was more beautiful to him, as if it was even possible. I’m gonna have to stop fucking with this bitch before I find myself sprung, he thought to himself.
“Prince,” she said, reaching behind her head to stroke his dick through his boxers. “Why don’t you stop bullshitting me and tell me what’s going down?”
The look Marisol was giving Prince told him that she read more into him than he would’ve liked. “You don’t
miss much, do you?”
“Not really,” she said seriously. “But listen, if I’m over-stepping my bounds I understand, and we ain’t gotta talk about it.”
Marisol kept her face innocent, but little did Prince know she already had the 411 on him. Using some of her family’s contacts, she had done some research on Mr. Prince Jones. She found out that he was more than just the small-time hustler that he made himself out to be. According to her people he was the right arm of a greedy coke baron named Diego on the Westside. This was part of the reason that she had slept with him. Sure, she dug the hell out of Prince, but she also saw him as a potential solution to her problem. Being seasoned to the game since she was a kid, she knew better than to expose her hand before it was time.
Prince looked at her beautiful face and felt totally at ease. He wasn’t stupid enough to tell Marisol too much, but he was comfortable sharing a little of what ailed him. He went on to tell her about his tenure under this cat, whom he refused to mention by name. He expressed to Marisol his yearning to become more than just the next man’s lieutenant, but Diego stunted his growth. Marisol kept her face neutral and tried to look surprised on cue, and Prince was none the wiser.
“Damn,” was all she said after his story was done.
“Damn is right. I mean, I feel like I owe this nigga, but at the same time I wanna do me. I got a few niggaz that love me like I love them, but love don’t get good coke. Diego got that shit on smash.”
Marisol thought on it for a minute. She knew it was a gamble, but she needed to get out of the shit she was in. “Well, what if you didn’t sell coke?”
Prince gave her a crazy look. “Marisol, no disrespect to you, but if you’re about to give me one of those square-up and get a job speeches then save it, cause I don’t wanna hear it. On the real, I’m married to the game and I’m gonna be buried with it. That’s just how it is.”