by Wahida Clark
“You're going to get in trouble looking that good.” Atwater spun her in a circle, but he was ready to get away from the prison to make it all official. “Let's get out of here.”
Once they got inside the car, he didn't know whose car it was because she drove an Escalade.
“Whose car is this?”
“Yours.” She kissed him and they drove off, heading for DC, where they went to a restaurant and ate soul food. From there they went stepping at a small club in Adams Morgan. The DJ played old school R. Kelly, Maxwell, and Sade.
“This reminds me of when we were young,” Shonda said as Atwater spun her.
“We still are young.” They laughed.
“I'm going to show you in a minute. You just wait.” He winked his eye, and he was ready to go to their Marriott Suite on Connecticut Avenue and get it on.
They were all over one another once they were in the elevator going to the suite. They couldn't even walk because they were kissing and fondling each other. Atwater took off each item of his clothes, until he was clad in only boxers. By the time they made it to their suite, a trail of their discarded clothes led to their room. Shonda laughed because it was indecent that they were damn near naked, but after eighteen years, she couldn’t care less! Once he opened the door, he carried her across the threshold and took her straight to the king-sized bed and flung her down.
“Hold up, baby, just give me five minutes to look at you,” Atwater said, trying to stop his heart from pounding so hard with lust-pumping adrenaline.
Shonda was beautiful under the dim-lit room that made her skin look golden. Her body was better than how he had remembered, because now she had the right thickness in all the right places; when they were younger, she was a lot thinner, but now she was well-proportioned in all the right places. And Atwater cherished the moment thinking that. But because of Shonda, he never had unprotected sex with Butterfly. Shonda wasn’t only his children’s mother; she was his best friend throughout the past eighteen years of his life. The thought he cherished most about her shot him in the chest with instant guilt. Damn, he had been fucking a boy and loving it!
At that moment he just wanted to curl up with Shonda and feel the heat of her body, hear her heart beat against his ears, and cherish the softness of a woman that nobody would ever be able to replace. But those thoughts were instantly gone as Shonda crawled on him and took his dick into her hands. He felt her small and soft hands running over the shaft of his penis. He smiled for having been so hard on himself.
Shit, eighteen years left a lot of room for trial and error, and growth and development. As Shonda kissed the tip of his erect dick, he made a mature and final peace with himself that he’d accept the past for the past and the future for the future. But for that moment in time and space, there was only one person aching in his heart, body, and soul . . . Shonda!
Atwater went straight to tasting her wet pussy, and he dragged his tongue from her toes to her thighs. She tried to get away from the impending stimulation, but he had a vice-grip on her, and he feasted till she gushed out rivulets of an explosive orgasm.
He climbed atop of her and slammed his dick into her; she was as tight as a virgin would be.
“My god, Mace!” she cried out as he went deep inside.
He kissed her passionately, and they made love until the moon withered in the midnight sky beyond. And his incessant days with Butterfly…. Would have to be revisited—he knew. But tonight was all about his lovely Shonda.
Back To Business…
When Monday had come, they headed to St. Louis. The city was nothing like how he remembered, and he knew it would take him some time to get used to it. But he had bigger things to focus on. Atwater had plans, and he was focused. He couldn't let anything keep him from accomplishing them.
He went to his house in Baden, where Mason and Macy, his mother, his best friend Tyler, his sisters and brothers; his whole family were. They threw him a welcome home party, and he caught up on old times with everybody.
After the party had ended, he had taken Mason and Tyler for a spin in his new car.
“Thank you all for everything. This was good to come home to family and friends.”
“Good to have you back, my nigga,” Tyler said, who sat in the front seat. “I know you're about to do something big.”
“That's right, and I'm going to need y’alls help. I got some big plans, and I'm trying to hit these streets running, if you understand what I mean.”
“Dad, you're not going to sell drugs again, are you?”
Atwater had to look at his son in the rearview mirror.
“No, fool. I have bigger plans, and I'm going to need you especially. You remember telling me about your friend Liam Val, who you said has an inside scoop on different people in politics and the gossip about them.”
“Yes, I remember telling you. But why?”
“Wait till we get to a bar and all sit down and talk.”
They went to a sports bar, and Atwater checked out the scene. Everybody was chatting and telling jokes and it was peaceful. He remembered all the days that he wished he was out and about and chilling with his family and now he had that. He didn't have to worry about the jail stuff anymore, and it made him feel good.
“What were you talking about, Dad?” Mason brought him out of his not-so distant reverie.
Atwater studied his son and Tyler. Tyler looked like the average dope dealer, and his son looked like he was being groomed to be a politician or something. But Atwater knew he had to take the reins on every one in his inner-circle, and he would have to let them in on his plans.
“I got something big I'm putting together, and your friend is going to be critical for me putting it together. Tell me more about him?”
“What do you want to know?”
Atwater had to take it slow with his son. His son was game conscious, but at the same time, going to all those private schools made him a little soft, or at least that's what he led one to believe.
“Is he for game?”
Mason couldn't believe that after his father had done all that time, he would come back to the streets and want to sell drugs! It was contrary to all the stuff he spoke about strategizing success, and although Mason loved his fake uncle, Tyler, he always thought people could make money in all types of ways that didn't include selling drugs.
“Pops, you're talking about selling that stuff again?”
Even Tyler was shocked by Mason’s insistence that Atwater wanted to sell drugs, but it was as if Atwater expected it.
“I'm not going to even entertain that question again. But I'm about to break it all down to y’all. We're going to use your friend to gather information on politicians, entertainers, law enforcement officials, you name it. We're going to use this information to barter power.”
Tyler laughed. “Fool, you done lost your mind in there. You're trying to get a nigga killed!”
Atwater smirked, and his son saw that it was truly dangerous. “Pops, you tripping.”
“Mason and Tyler, you muthafuckas betta not ever doubt me! I work off of trust and loyalty, and I don't need nobody under me who’s scared or fearful. I'm about to get super rich and powerful and if you two are shortsighted and fearful, you can get up from this table right now.
“In this age of information, I want to be the one who, not only barters and sells it. I want to be the one who's manufacturing the shit.”
Neither of them had left the table, and they sat feeling chastised. Tyler saw it then. Atwater still was the leader he had remembered, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he would gather a mob together that was stronger than the first one they had, had. Plus, Atwater didn't want anybody to question his judgment. He wasn't a weak ass follower, a flunky, a yes-man.
“How can you manufacture information?” Tyler asked.
“Now you're ready . . .” Atwater looked at Tyler. “What did you do with the letter I sent you?”
Tyler took the letter out of his front pocket. “It’s
right here.”
“Did you get me a crew that ain’t tied into no drug shit, because that’s the worst thing that could happen is for me to get on some ongoing investigation.”
Tyler chuckled. “No, these fools ain’t no hustlers like that. They street niggas though, that need plenty direction. They good niggas though.”
Atwater looked over at his son. Fuck the food and the drinks, it was time to go. “Let’s wrap this up. I want to meet them right now, and I want you to call Liam Val and tell him I want to meet him asap.”
“Dad, we haven’t eaten yet.” Mason and Tyler looked at one another with confusion.
“Come on. Fuck that shit. I have catching up to do.”
As soon as they got in the car both Mason and Tyler were making calls as Atwater had ordered them to do. They went to a nearby park where Atwater was supposed to meet his new crew. By now, the sun was setting, and it set a tangerine colored glow that enveloped the city. It was the first time since Atwater left that he finally felt at home.
He still felt messed up, realizing that so much had changed and he just wanted to keep himself busy with building his empire, so he wouldn’t have to cry over all the years he had lost for a mistake Tyler had made.
When they drove up to the park, Atwater noticed about eight cars at the parking area. All the cars were painted nice and had expensive rims. When Atwater, Tyler, and Mason got out the car all the other guys exited their cars. There were eight cars and twelve people. Atwater only needed four or five.
Tyler greeted them by pounding their fist and giving them dap, as Atwater studied them calmly. Tyler came back and he began to introduce them. “That’s Lil Rogg, Big Rogg’s middle son—”
Atwater held up his hand, because he didn’t need to know them all. He looked for something else that an introduction couldn’t fully determine. He studied their eyes. When he looked into eyes that were too ambitious, he looked them over. If he saw envy or conceit, he looked them over. When he saw admiration with a hint of camaraderie, he knew he had his men.
“Let’s go,” Atwater said as everybody looked puzzled.
Tyler was tripping by now. He thought jail had messed up Atwater’s head. He looked over at the crew he had assembled and told them he’d holler at them later. When Tyler got back into the car, Atwater pulled off. “You all right, Atwater?” Tyler asked, knowing Mason was quietly thinking the same thing.
“I only saw three I could use. I need the cat with the Saint Louis baseball cap, the cat with the Jesus cross chain, and the biggest one that was there.”
“That’s Biggie, Q, and Tre,” Tyler said as he laughed. Atwater was still sharp.
“What’s up with Liam?” Atwater asked.
“We can go over to his apartment right now,” Mason said as he guided Atwater to the apartment complex.
Liam was Hawaiian with the red complexion of a Native American. His long hair was matted in dreadlocks. His body, although short, was chiseled with rock hard muscles that needed to be on display. When Atwater, Tyler, and Mason went into his apartment, Liam had on a wife beater, cargo pants, and sandals. He looked like he was dressed for far warmer climates than the muggy spring day that was approaching summer.
“Y’all smoke weed?” Liam asked, after they greeted each other.
“What you got?” Atwater asked.
“I got some granddad-purp.”
“Blaze it up,” Atwater said.
It was just what was needed to let the tension out of everybody. After being gone so long, people become a bit estranged, and it’s only so much a visit and phone calls can do to compensate for being in person. Liam was playing Bob Marley over the sound system. He had Popular Mechanics, Hacking, Scientific American, and Popular Science magazines scattered on the coffee table in a stack in front of body building books.
“Mason tells me you have something I can make some money from,” Liam said. He needed to pay his college tuition, and if he had anything left over, he wanted to buy a motorcycle.
Atwater felt so relaxed after the weed hit his system that he almost forgot all the pending business at hand.
“I need to find out certain information about people in high places,” Atwater said.
Liam looked at Mason, and they both laughed.
“What kind of information?” Liam asked as Tyler studied Atwater cautiously.
“I need any information on anybody who’s a sexual deviant.”
“Dad, that’s impossible to find out,” Mason said, who was on the edge of having a bout of giggles. But the more he looked at Liam, he wasn’t so sure about that.
“I don’t know. There may be a way.” When Liam said that, everybody scooted to the edge of their seats as Liam went over to turn the sound system down. “Look, all the major companies in the world gather tons of information on people based on their buying habits, the things they read, and the websites they visit on the computer. Basically, it has a lot to do—”
“Edward Snowden, the WikiLeaks guy. All the stuff with the NSA,” Mason interrupted.
“That’s my boy,” Liam added. “Basically, what I’m saying is that I could tap into certain porn industry databases, and get a profile on anybody they have a file on.” Atwater and Tyler were tripping about what they were hearing.
If what Liam was saying was right, and he could do what he was proposing, Atwater could make a fortune far beyond anything he had ever expected. With a little ingenuity, he could lock himself in a monarch of, not only wealth, but power and influence. And power and influence were prized far more than wealth.
“So all I’d have to do is give you a list of the people in high places, and you could give me any info as to if they are sexual deviants?” Atwater asked, amazed at the power this kid, who was not even twenty-one years old, was about to give him.
“Pops,” Liam said, “I’m not only going to be able to give you a ‘yes or no’ answer as to if they are sexual deevs, I’m going to be able to tell you exactly what gets them off, as if you were in their heads.”
“That’s bullshit!” Tyler said. Of course he couldn’t understand why Atwater wanted to know that type of info, but he didn’t believe info like that was held on people.
Atwater was already writing down names on the back of a sheet of paper that was on the coffee table. He already knew the names by memory from what he had planned from day one. He handed the paper to Liam, and Liam laughed at the twenty-six names he saw. “Fuck!”
“Watch your mouth,” Atwater said to Liam. “We’re going to make each other filthy rich.”
“Yeah, and very dead in the process.” Contrary to Liam’s statement, he had sparkles of excitement in his eyes. This cloak and dagger shit was right up his alley—living on the edge with no brakes.
* * * * * *
After they left, Atwater drove home. Shonda and Macy had cleaned everything up, and they were waiting Atwater’s arrival. Regardless of Atwater’s excitement, he made it a point to spend time with his daughter. Around 8:30 p.m., he and Shonda got dressed and went to an elegant restaurant. When they returned home they had passionate sex.
Not too long after, he was glad to find out that Shonda was pregnant. It was the best news yet, because he'd get a chance to take part in raising his seed. But he had a more pressing matter; which was, building an empire, and the drama that lay ahead in doing it.
Chapter Forty-One
Together Again
After Atwater left the jail, Butterfly had went through a deep depression. She knew she'd be with him in under a month, but the thought of him being away was killing her.
On more than one occasion, Kathy had tried to rekindle their lust-fun, but it could never be rekindled. Butterfly was just strictly-dickly, and the thought that she had been with Kathy disgusted her. But she kept it as friendly as possible.
Atwater had her head fucked up. He had all these dreams and goals of being wealthy and powerful, and she just didn't believe that she fit into any of it. She didn't believe she had what it took. She t
old Britney and Buffy the details and they laughed like crazy, but it did make sense.
Her release-date came like a blink of an eye, and she had an emotional farewell hug with Britney and Buffy and she knew she'd miss her support team. She was then processed through the slow and agitating release procedures, and she dressed out in her clothes.
Atwater had sent her a banging Akris gown that had a split on the side and Manolo Blahnik shoes, and she thought the shit was too fucking elegant to have to drive home in.
But after she dressed out, she felt a hundred times better, and when the COs saw her, they laughed. “Where the fuck you think you're going? To the Grammy's?”
“To none of your fucking business!” Butterfly was like that! She had a little attitude, and she wasn't the scaredy cat she had come to jail as. Buffy and Britney had rubbed off on her. She didn't care what people thought of her, and she wouldn't be scared of getting her ass kicked anymore.
Butterfly was no longer the girl that Peyton had set up, or the detectives had frightened to snitch on Glen, or the girl that needed protection from Sosa, Black, or otherwise. She remembered how frightened she felt when Black had shoved her face into the wall and snatched down her pants, and she just believed that after being with Britney, who knew how to fight, and Buffy, who knew how to talk shit, she was a mix of the two.
Her true confidence told her that she could stand up to her father and tell his hateful ass to go fuck himself and take her brother with him. And she’d be woman enough to take the ass whipping that would probably come with it. But she felt the strongest confidence knowing that she had made her peace with her mother, Sandra, had a man that truly loved her for her, and that she’d told her uncle Kevin she never wanted to see him again.