Money-Makin' Mamas 2

by Silk Smooth

  Feeling as if I were moving in slow motion, I could barely hear the music. Everything was a blur, even when some disrespectful fool grabbed a chunk of my ass and squeezed it. I ignored him, because he was not a part of my mission. Honey was the only one in my sight, and all I could see was the royal blue, button-down shirt he rocked, and his blinding diamond and gold necklace that rested on his chest. I could see the black jeans he wore, as well as the leather belt he used to spank my ass with earlier. His locs looked fresh, and while some were tied back, most of them hung past his shoulders. His pearly whites were in full effect, until he looked up and locked his eyes with mine. After that, his smile vanished, and he eased his hand away from the chick who sat next to him.

  Honey’s friends followed the direction of his eyes, and they turned their heads to look at me. I saw one of the niggas reach behind his back, ready to pull something on me in case I tripped. Honey whispered something to him, and the nigga dropped his hands by his side. The chick next to him, as well as the others, glared at me from head to toe. When I reached the table, all of their eyes were glued to me.

  “I need a seat,” I said, looking directly at Honey. “It looks like the seats next to you are taken, so I guess you had better make room for me to sit on your lap.”

  Honey stood up and told the bitches next to him to move. They took their sweet little time, and every last ho at the table was rolling her eyes. Honey told everyone he would be right back, and he nudged his head for me to follow him. I surely didn’t want to make a scene, but my blood was boiling.

  “Looks like I’ve interrupted the party, huh?” I asked.

  “You haven’t interrupted nothing yet, but what’s up? Why are you here?”

  Shocked by his comment, I cocked my head back. “Nigga, I’m here because you invited me to come here.”

  “I invited you, but you declined. With that, I made some other arrangements.”

  “Really? Other arrangements like what? Are you sayin’ that you invited someone else to come here with you?”

  Honey licked his lips and sighed. “Yeah, I did. So check this out. You gon’ need to make a move and check out of here. I’ll be home no later than three, and if I go beyond that time, I’ll do my best to call you.”

  I was straight-up in disbelief from what this nigga was saying. I knew he had been smoking that shit, but it normally didn’t have him tripping like this. This couldn’t have been the same Honey who had stood before me hours ago, telling me how much he loved me, licking my ass, and sharing how much I meant to him. Was this motherfucker serious? I actually laughed a little, thinking this nigga was joking. Honey, however, had a blank expression on his face, like he didn’t see shit funny.

  “Let me get this straight,” I said. “You want me to leave, go back home, and wait for you to get there? I mean, like, where they do that shit at? Please tell me where?”

  “I’m not doing this with you tonight, Karrine. If you got a problem with what I said, we’ll talk about it when I get home. Just not right now.”

  He turned to walk away, but his ass didn’t get too far. I could see everyone who was at the table watching us, and for him to turn away from me was hella embarrassing. I figured that if I put my hands on him he would probably fuck me up, so I had to think fast before I acted. I looked at the round, thick chocolate birthday cake sitting on a table next to me, so I picked it up. When I called Honey’s name, he turned around and I tossed the cake at him, aiming it right at his face. Cake splattered everywhere. Mostly on his face, but much of it got on his clothes too.

  “Daaaaamn,” one dude shouted and laughed. “She fucked him up!”

  Honey wiped down his face with his hand and reached for my arm, yanking it. “Bitch, is yo’ ass crazy?” he yelled and pulled me toward the stairs. By then, his friendly bodyguards had shown up and they held me by my arms too.

  “Let me go,” I shouted and tussled to get away from them. But as I resisted, Honey grabbed my waist and tried to carry me over to the stairs. Everybody was looking at us, shaking their heads and laughing. Unable to get control of me like he wanted to, Honey slammed me on a nearby table.

  “Hold her ass down,” he said to the two goons who were helping him. They both held my arms while Honey popped the cap on a bottle of champagne and drenched my face with it.

  “So, you wanna come in here and fuck up my whole night, huh? This here is for the cake, and there is more where that shit came from.”

  He opened another bottle and poured it all over my clothes and face again. I closed my eyes, hoping that shit wouldn’t burn. I gagged as some of the champagne rushed into my nose, and I couldn’t do shit, because those goons were still holding me down. The fat neck bouncer who had been at the end of the stairs came to help Honey.

  “Get her the fuck out of here,” Honey said. “And don’t let her back in, because her ass is a troublemaker.”

  “You ain’t seen trouble yet, nigga, just wait!”

  The bouncer picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder. He carried me down the stairs, and I acted like a madwoman as I pounded the shit out of his back with my fists. All eyes were on me, and to say that shit was embarrassing would be an understatement.

  When we reached the door, the bouncer threw me off of him. I landed on the hard concrete pavement. Honey had the nerve to stand there and watch. I was so damn mad at him that I rushed up from the ground and charged at him. The bouncer blocked me from getting to Honey, but when I took off my shoe and flung it at him, it didn’t miss. It hit him right in the head, even though he tried to duck.

  Being hit by the shoe caused Honey to come further outside and shove me.

  “Take yo’ ass home, ma, and quit trippin’. You up in here making a damn fool of yourself, and all you had to do was listen to me when I told you to go home.”

  I honestly could have gone to my car to get my gun and shot that nigga. I hated that he saw me near tears, so before I started to show my emotions I turned to walk away. With one shoe on and one shoe off, I limped down the street. Honey followed behind me, telling me to put on my shoe.

  “You gon’ cut yo’ feet or get blisters on yo’ damn feet,” he said. “Take this shoe before I throw it.”

  I ignored Honey and kept on walking. By the time I reached my car and opened the door, he grabbed my waist and pushed the door shut. Since everybody was out of the nigga’s sight, now he was singing a new tune.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt yo’ feelings, but it ain’t my fault that you said you weren’t coming. Had I known you were, I never would’ve invited somebody else to come with me. Either way, I’ll be home in an hour or so. Whatever you want to do or say to me, you can do it when I get there. Just not here, all right?”

  I didn’t say one word to Honey. He kissed my cheek and opened the car door for me. When I got inside, he closed the door. He started to walk toward the club, and I watched as he removed his cake stained shirt and wiped his face with it. A slow tear escaped from the corner of my eye, only because I hated how much I loved his ass. I could tell shit between us was spiraling out of control and we were on a downhill path. I felt so fucking stupid for allowing this shit to go on. This just wasn’t me.

  I was deep in thought, but I noticed two dudes walk by my car. One had his hands in his pockets, and the other looked at me from the corner of his eye. Both of them appeared real sneaky, and all kinds of vibes were going off. I quickly reached underneath my seat and rushed to open the car door. I could see the two niggas rushing up to get closer to Honey, who was not paying attention. He was several feet away from the club entrance, and as soon as I saw one of the dudes reach for a gun that was tucked in his pants, I aimed my Glock 9 at his head and fired. The first bullet whistled through the air and landed in back of the dude’s neck. He dropped the gun and fell to his knees. He grabbed the wound, and couldn’t even turn around to see where the bullet was fired from. The second bullet I fired missed the other dude, who had already broken out running. By then, though, Honey was coming m
y way, and he rushed up to me, yelling and screaming.

  “Go get the muthafuckin’ car!”

  He reached for my Glock, but I didn’t let him have it. I hurried to my car and he followed. He ordered me to get in on the passenger’s side so he could drive. I barely closed the door before he sped off. The screeching tires burned rubber on the pavement, and several people were outside looking, trying to see what the hell was going on. Honey drove like a bat out of hell, trying to find the other nigga who had fled.

  “Why were they tryin’ to kill you?” I yelled.

  Honey didn’t answer my question. He cased several streets, but almost thirty minutes later, he gave up. He slammed his hand on the steering wheel and hurried back to the club. By then, the police were there, and gangs of people were crowded near the body on the ground that was covered by a white sheet. Instead of stopping, Honey just drove by and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He called someone, but I didn’t know who it was. The only thing he said was, “Meet me in about an hour. We got trouble.”

  After that, he ended the call and looked over at me. “Thanks for having my back,” he said. “I owe you.”

  “I owe you, too.” I reached over and slapped the shit out of him. “Nigga, I always got yo’ back. But you damn sure better start havin’ mine.”

  Honey wiggled his jaw and rubbed it. He didn’t say shit else, but I could tell that motherfucker knew he had fucked up.

  HONEY

  7

  Hell, yes, I knew who the niggas were who tried to kill me. Right before Karrine had gotten to the club, I had a few words with those fools. One of the niggas hesitated to pay me the money he owed me. I’d given that fool almost a month to pay up, and if he thought he could take my product and not pay for it, he was sadly mistaken.

  What most motherfuckers didn’t understand was that when one man came up short, we were all short. When they failed to pay me, I had to pay out of my own pockets or risk the possibility of heat swinging my way. So this shit was real serious, as well as personal. More than anything, some niggas had to learn to treat this shit like a real business. For those who didn’t, unfortunately, they had to be dealt with. Killing me would never solve their problems, and just because I had a slick mouth and was in control of things, that didn’t mean shit. Niggas still had to pay up, and the thorough logs that I kept let my connections know who was handling their business the right way and who wasn’t.

  So as for today, I had one dead, stupid motherfucker who lost his life over a lousy five thousand dollars, and his friend, who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  “I swear to God that I didn’t have nothin’ to do with Jamal’s plan to shoot you. I didn’t even know that nigga had a gun on him, that’s why I ran.”

  My boys Juan and Maurice circled the young punk who was tied to a chair, unable to get loose. Sweat beads dotted his entire face, and the nigga had already pissed on himself because Juan made him suck on the tip of his Glock, as if it were a dick.

  We were in the basement of a rental property I owned and used to handle this kind of business. Many niggas had lost their lives and taken their last breaths right here in the same chair this fool sat in.

  I leaned against a table with my arms folded. My eyes were focused on the teary-eyed nigga who begged me to spare his life.

  “If yo’ ass was so innocent,” I said. “Then why did you run? Had it been me, I would have hung around to defend myself.”

  “Me too,” Juan said. “’Cause when you run, that means yo’ ass guilty of somethin’.”

  Juan pushed the swinging light bulb that hung over the nigga’s head. It was the only source of light that shined in the dim, concrete basement. Water from a leaking faucet dripped, and as everything fell silent, the water was all any of us could hear.

  “I . . . the only reason I ran was because I was scared. You gotta believe me, Honey, and I ain’t have no reason whatsoever to want to do you like that. That beef we had earlier was squashed. I figured that nigga Jamal was gon’ get you ya money and we’d be done with it.”

  I tilted my head from left to right, trying to ease the tension in my neck. When the phone rang, I hit the intercom button, knowing exactly who it was, because I had been waiting on her to call.

  “Speak,” I said, letting her know I was on the other end.

  “I will,” Mama said. “But tell me who all is in the room.”

  “Me, Maurice, Juan, and the stupid muthafucka I told you about. He says he didn’t have shit to do with the attempt on my life, and even if I do believe him, I’m still short five grand.”

  “According to your monthly total, you’re down about thirty grand. You need to get those niggas to pay up. I don’t like it that money has to keep coming out of our pockets and the losses are starting to sting.”

  “I feel you on that, and I’m sending some of my collectors out today to minimize the financial damage. I’ll let you know how that goes, but my question to you is what do you want me to do with this nigga I got here? You know I don’t get down with shit like this, unless I get the word from you.”

  Mama paused for a few seconds before saying anything. “You always want to hurt somebody and you need to stop that shit, Honey. Can that nigga hear me?”

  I looked at the frightened dude who nodded his head. “Yeah, he can hear you. Loud and clear.”

  “What’s your name?” Mama asked.

  “Quincy Bailey,” he said.

  “Quincy, you really didn’t try to kill my Honey, did you?”

  “No . . . no ma’am, I didn’t. That shit wasn’t on me, I swear.”

  “That’s good to know, because can you imagine how devastated I would’ve been, if somebody had to call and tell me my son had been killed?”

  “I . . . I can’t even imagine it, and I know it would’ve been hard for you to swallow.”

  “Right. Real hard, and no mother should have to go through that. Do you have a decent relationship with your mother?”

  “Yep, yes, ma’am, we good, and it would break her heart if anything ever happened to me.”

  “I’m sure it would, but we all got to go sooner or later. I wouldn’t want to put her in a situation like that, because our kids are real special to us, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do,” ole boy rushed to say. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  “That’s good. Now, how many kids do you have, Q? I can call you Q, can’t I?”

  “Yes, ma’am, and I have about three . . . no, four of them. I just had a son about two months ago.”

  “Awww, congrats. You say you got four kids—what are their names?”

  “Uh, Q Junior, Vonzell . . .” he paused and looked up at the ceiling. “Portia and, uh, Wesley.”

  “Damn, you got four kids and it took you that long to name them? Sounds like you’re a deadbeat daddy, Q, are you?”

  “No, I wouldn’t say all of that. I will say that I do what I can, when I can do it.”

  Mama laughed. “Yeah, you sound like a deadbeat. And you know what, Quincy? I don’t like deadbeat niggas. I think they take up too much space and they fuck up too many lives. If I was there, I would blow yo’ goddamn brains out myself. But since I’m not, Juan or Honey will have the pleasure of doing it. Honey, rock-a-bye that piece-of-shit-ass nigga. I gotta go see about my grandbaby, so I’ll call you later.”

  Mama ended the call, and I looked at Juan. He raised his gun and placed it on the side of the scary nigga’s temple.

  “Please,” he begged with tears streaming down his face and turning his head to look at Juan. “Don’t do it.”

  “I’m not,” Juan said, looking at Maurice. The code was, if Mama didn’t mention your name, then the deed was yours to do. With pleasure, while Quincy had his head turned, begging Juan not to do it, Maurice put two bullets in the back of his head. Blood splattered, and the chair crashed to the concrete floor with the dead nigga in it.

  I shrugged and looked at Juan. “I thought Mama liked him. T
hat nigga should’ve kept his mouth shut about them kids, and didn’t he know where she was going with that shit?”

  We all laughed, and I let Juan and Maurice clean up. I made my way upstairs, and when I checked my cell phone, Karrine had called twice, but she didn’t leave a message. I was about to hit her back, but I’d gotten a text message from Kita, the chick I was at the club with, asking if I was still coming over. Since we didn’t get a chance to get our fuck on after the party, I told her earlier I would stop by. But the truth was, I wasn’t feeling up to that shit. I kind of felt bad about how things went down with me and Karrine. I seriously wasn’t trying to diss her, but she was the one who said she didn’t want to go to the party with me. It wasn’t my fault that she didn’t want to go, and just because she had changed plans, it didn’t mean that I had to. My plans were locked in, and Karrine had to learn how to play by my rules, not hers.

  While I loved so much about her, the problem was that she had become boring as hell. All we did was fuck all the time, and a nigga needed a little bit more excitement in his life. Since Shania had been born, Karrine had changed. I understood that she was trying to do the motherly thing, but it didn’t mean that she had to stop living.

  Every time I suggested that we do something together, she made excuses. I didn’t appreciate that shit, so I kept on doing me, and was doing me quite well. I was, however, glad that she had shown her ass up that night. And I would for damn sure take cake in my face instead of a bullet in my back. I had to do something real sweet for her saving my life, but for now I had to go see what was up with Kita. She had just sent me a naked photo of her playing with her fat pussy, and it was looking real sweet to me. If anything, I’d rather be dipping into that shit, instead of going home and listening to Karrine gripe about bullshit that she couldn’t do nothing about. A nigga needed a little relaxation sometimes, so it was possible that I wouldn’t see Karrine until tomorrow.

  KARRINE

  8

  I hadn’t said much to Honey about what had happened the other night, and he was waiting on me to get my clown on when he came through the door on Saturday morning, right before seven.