by Mazaradi Fox
“To keep it tall, I want to go over there and give them somethin to call the police for.”
“Fuck it, DeMarco, I’m wit it.”
They were both strapped up as Sholomy crept across the street. DeMarco went to the back door and walked quietly up the stairs.
He peeped a fiend lookin to cop. “Stacy, wassup?”
“Ain’t shit, DeMarco. I was just gettin ready to walk across the street to see your boys. Your people out?”
“No, we done for the night. What you could do is take this $20, go by building four and tell me who’s on the fifth floor.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
Stacy copped from them and came back to give DeMarco the scoop.
DeMarco tiptoed upstairs. As he got closer, he could hear niggas playing the song “Ten Crack Commandments.”
“Yeah, pussies, don’t move! First nigga even flinches gonna be the nigga headed to the hospital!”
Niggas thought they was seein a ghost.
“Y’all thought it was over?” DeMarco pulled his gun out, stripped them butt-ass naked, and threw their clothes out the window. He pistol-whipped one of the biggest niggas so bad he’s still probably seeing stars. The other punks downstairs—Sholomy robbed and pistol-whipped them too.
“Damn, DeMarco, I thought it was raining. All I saw was niggas’ shit flying out the window!”
“Shit, they lucky I didn’t pop one of them in the head for calling the police and shit.”
“Well, we got our bail money back.”
“You ain’t never lie.”
They went right to Sholomy’s grandma’s house and rebagged the work to put it back on the streets.
* * *
DeMarco jumped into his car and drove to the gas station to get a calling card. He wanted to call India since he hadn’t spoken to her in a while.
The phone rang four times before she picked it up.
“Hello. May I help you?”
“Yeah, this your young stallion.”
“Oh, hey, baby, how you been doing? It’s funny, I was just tellin your grandmother I want to come up to see you. Will you let me know, so we can make it happen?”
“So what’s been goin on down there?”
“Oh, you ain’t hear what happened?”
“No, put me on.”
“The feds locked up your man Killer C.”
“What?!”
“Yeah, baby, you left just in time. The feds locked up a lot of people down here.”
“A’ight, well, I guess I’ll see you when you decide to come up here.”
“Okay, big man, take care of yourself.”
“Okay, baby.”
DeMarco hopped back into his car and started rolling up immediately. He was sick hearing about what happened to his man, knowing he could be there for the rest of his life. Pull after pull, DeMarco kept thinking about his right-hand man. His phone started ringing, it was Lefty. He paused for a moment not sure if he should answer, he gave in, “Yeah wassup?”
“Ain’t shit. Just called to say we good, we still fam. Tonight I’m havin a get-together for my birthday. I want you to come through.”
“Where at?”
“By my building in the park.”
“Okay, cool, what time is shit gonna start?”
“Like 12.”
DeMarco didn’t really want to go because of the shooting incident, but decided to show his cousin some support. He called his peoples Murder and Capone, who were already back on the streets and they headed over. Bitches were all over the place and they were happy to see DeMarco. He and Sholomy had brought twenty bottles of Moët for Lefty. Niggas were getting twisted. DeMarco even took one of his old chicks between two parked cars and started fucking the shit out of her from the front, back, all kinds of crazy shit.
Afterwards, he noticed some dude across the street walking toward the park. He was saying to himself, I have to watch these niggas. Right then, the nigga pulled out and started shooting at everything in sight. Shit was like a movie. Niggas and bitches were shooting. DeMarco grabbed his two niggas, a bottle, and got the fuck out of there. He wasn’t trying to sit around to ask any questions either.
They went back to the block where he double-parked his car.
“Y’all niggas good?”
“Hell yeah,” they answered.
Capone said, “If you ask me, that shit was a setup.” He sat on the curb sipping on a bottle of Moët.
DeMarco’s phone rang. Man, I ain’t with it tonight. I’m going home, he said to himself and didn’t pick up. He dropped Murder and Capone off then went into his crib and called it a night.
* * *
Waking up early, DeMarco grabbed the remote off the nightstand and turned on the news.
“Last night, around 11 p.m., a shoot-out occurred at the Baisley projects in South Jamaica. One man was left dead and four others injured. At this time, there is a person of interest wanted for questioning. Police are not releasing any names yet. Once we get more information, we will have an update. Now back to you, Kim.”
Damn! DeMarco thought as he replayed the night before in his head. There were too many people shooting to blame just one person.
Ring, ring.
“Who dis?”
“I know you saw the news,” Capone said.
“Hell yeah, I was just watchin it.”
“So, what’chu think?”
“I think I’m comin to get you. Where you at?” DeMarco asked.
“Same place you dropped me off at.”
“A’ight, give me a half. I’ll be there.”
LaLa took the kids out, while DeMarco threw on some sweats, a t-shirt, and was out the door. Forty-five minutes later he pulled in front of the crib and blew the horn. Capone got in and they pulled off.
“So wassup, you think the boys talkin about us?” Capone asked.
“I don’t know, but we gotta lay low anyway,” DeMarco said. As he made the left turn off of 134th Avenue onto Farmers Boulevard, he didn’t notice that a blue sedan was tailing him.
Ring, ring.
“Yo, who dis?”
“Baby, where are you?” LaLa shouted.
“I’m wit Capone, ma. Why you yelling?”
“Listen, baby, get off the streets now. The cops just left your aunt’s house lookin for you, and Money told me they were showin your picture around the projects. They even went to my mom’s house.”
DeMarco immediately pulled over and parked behind a black truck. “A’ight, baby, I’ll meet you at the house.”
Unfortunately, the police were the least of DeMarco’s worries. As he shifted his car into reverse, he failed to notice the shadow that loomed over him. DeMarco and Capone had both been too distracted by LaLa’s phone call to notice the blue sedan that had blocked them in from behind, until it was too late. With quickness, the shadow shifted. DeMarco immediately recognized the blinding light and deafening boom for exactly what it was: payback. The smell of gunpowder hung in the air as Capone’s head exploded and he slumped against the passenger’s-side window.
DeMarco had no time to mourn his friend. He pulled the door handle, hopped out of his car, and instinctively reached for his waistband. The nines that usually accompanied him were not there. He turned in the direction of the shadow that held his fate in its hands.
DeMarco stared directly into the hate-filled eyes peering from behind the black mask, but he had no fear. He was Jamaica, Queens, to the bone; the hood had raised a soldier. DeMarco steeled himself for what he knew was next. Time stood still. He said a silent prayer, hoping that LaLa, Tammy, and the kids knew how much he loved them, and that they wouldn’t suffer from any of the decisions he had made with his life.
DeMarco smirked, then whispered to himself, Damn, it’s true, the game don’t change, as the familiar sound of death ripped through the air toward him.
Jamal Green, a.k.a. Mazaradi Fox, wrote this fictional story in 2013 during his incarceration at the Orleans Correctional Facility in Al
bion, New York. The harsh realities he experienced inspired this work. During the last years of his life, his mind, body, and spirit began to change as he reaffirmed his faith in God. His renewed focus was on the future for all of those around him, especially the youth. He wanted more for them than he had given himself; it was his goal for the next generation to learn from his mistakes instead of being doomed to repeat them. May his untimely death be a lesson to us all, and may he rest in eternal peace as his legacy lives on.
The White House
by JaQuavis Coleman
One house . . . one robbery . . . one mistake . . . sexual intrigue and violence intermingle in this tense urban thriller.
“The White House is a fast-paced thriller that doesn’t disappoint.” —Urban Reviews
“The White House by JaQuavis Coleman starts with a bang and will leave you wanting more.”—Book Referees
“Kidnapping, murder, and mayhem lead [Draya]—and the reader—through a harrowing and twisting plot to an explosive ending that no one sees coming.”—Reading in Black & White
The White House is based on true events, reimagining the dark chronicles of a notorious drug kingpin’s death, and the unfortunate events that followed.
The young heroine Draya lives paycheck to paycheck, laboring as a maid in a luxurious white house. One day, in the course of performing her duties, she is presented with an irresistible opportunity for a quick—and risky—payday. What unfolds in the white house changes the course of her life. Kidnapping, murder, and mayhem lead her—and the reader—through a harrowing and twisting plot to an explosive ending that no one sees coming. Look through the eyes of this young woman and glimpse how a life can forever be altered due to an unfortunate series of events—all touched off in a legendary white house.
JaQUAVIS COLEMAN, the New York Times best-selling author of Dopeman’s Trilogy, first burst onto the scene at the age of eighteen and quickly became a nationwide literary phenomenon. He and his wife Ashley Antoinette have coauthored numerous “street fiction” classics. With the birth of the Cartel series, the “Ashley and JaQuavis” brand took off. In 2013, twenty-seven-year-old Coleman was honored by Ebony magazine as being one of the Top 100 most influential African Americans in the country.
The White House is available in hardcover and paperback from our website and in bookstores everywhere. The e-book edition is available wherever e-books are sold.
Black Lotus
by K'Wan
Finding the Black Lotus murderer is Detective Wolf’s chance to avoid an Internal Affairs investigation. That’s when things get personal.
Selected for the Library Services for Youth in Custody 2015 In The Margins List
One of Library Journal‘s Best African American Fiction Books of 2014
“[A] heart-thumping thriller . . . K’wan does a masterful job of keeping readers on their toes right up to the very last page.” —Publishers Weekly
“Fans expecting another thug-in-the-street story will be pleasantly surprised at this rough police procedural.” —Library Journal
“One of hip-hop fiction’s hottest authors.” —King
“K’wan steadily builds to a frantic, movie-worthy climax.”—Entertainment Weekly
“The legacies of Iceberg Slim and Donald Goines are forever preserved.”—Upscale
Detective James Wolf earned the nickname Lone Wolf from his inability to work with a partner. He’s a hard cop who doesn’t mind bending the rules to the point of breaking them to make a case, which is why Internal Affairs is digging in his backyard, looking for buried bones. People are starting to wonder: Which side of the law is the Lone Wolf really hunting for? His career hanging on by a thread, he needs a major show of good faith to keep employed and out of prison. That’s when he gets the call.
From the moment he arrives at the crime scene, Detective Wolf knows that he’s in over his head. He’s a narcotics detective, called in to consult on a homicide, but this is no ordinary homicide—a priest was butchered and left for dead inside his own church, with the promise of more bodies to follow. The only lead is the killer’s calling card: a black lotus flower left at the crime scene. Detective Wolf now has the opportunity to quietly track and stop the Black Lotus before the next victim is claimed, in exchange for wiping his service record clean.
Accepting this case started as Detective Wolf’s attempt to get Internal Affairs off his back. But when his hunt for the Black Lotus leads him to a cold case from his past, it becomes personal.
K’WAN is a best-selling, award-winning author of over a dozen titles, including The Fix, Gangsta, Road Dawgz, Street Dreams, Hoodlum, Hood Rat, Section 8, Animal, and Animal II. He has been featured in Vibe, King, Entertainment Weekly, and Time magazine. K’wan was the recipient of the 2012 and 2013 Street Lit Book Award Medals (SLBAM) in adult fiction for Eviction Notice and Animal. His credits also include featured commentary in the documentary Iceberg Slim: Portrait of a Pimp (produced by Ice-T) as well as a recurring role as an analyst on TV One’s Celebrity Crime Files. K’wan currently resides in New Jersey where he is working on his next novel.
Black Lotus is available in hardcover and paperback from our website and in bookstores everywhere. The e-book edition is available wherever e-books are sold.
Swing
by Miasha
An erotic drama about four sexy couples and one swingers’ club where their fantasies and nightmares collide.
“This newest offering from Miasha packs quite a punch . . . This erotic thriller keeps the drama and the sex coming from start to finish.” —Library Journal
“Miasha is a writer to watch.” —Publishers Weekly
“Miasha writes with the fatal stroke of a butcher knife.”—Omar Tyree, author of Insanity
“She’s the crème de la crème.”—Vickie M. Stringer, author of Dirty Red
“Miasha writes with fire.” —Crystal Lacey Winslow, author of Life, Love & Loneliness
Lyssa and Jacob, owners of the swingers’ club Puss and Boots, have been living an active swingers lifestyle ever since their two children moved out of the house. Every couple months they hire a “live-in,” a girl who in exchange for room, board, and a paycheck provides sex on demand.
Danielle and Stewart met each other at a swingers’ club eight years ago. They fell in love and married, soon becoming regulars at Puss and Boots before obtaining their own private room in the club.
JuJu and Ferrari are the epitome of opposites attract. She’s fifty, he’s thirty. She is wild and outgoing and he is reserved and laid-back. She’s a millionaire former model; he’s a college dropout wannabe model. They’ve been going to Puss and Boots since the club opened two years ago.
Tori and Kevin always talked about experimenting with threesomes and group sex but never made time to act on their thoughts and wishes. Well, it’s Kevin’s thirtieth birthday, and what better gift than a surprise visit to Puss and Boots?
Swing is the story of the treacherous and steamy collisions in the lives of these four couples. Roped with sultry scandals and lustful lies, this novella will propel readers to their highest highs and drop them to their lowest lows.
MIASHA is the author of several best-selling novels, including Secret Society and Diary of a Mistress. Her books have received rave reviews in national media such as BET, CBS, CN8, The Wendy Williams Experience, Essence, Vibe, Jet, and Elle. She lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband and two sons.
Swing is available in hardcover and paperback from our website and in bookstores everywhere. The e-book edition is available wherever e-books are sold.
H.N.I.C.
by Albert "Prodigy" Johson
with Steven Savile
Prodigy, from the legendary hip-hop group Mobb Deep, launches Akashic’s new Infamous Books imprint with a story of loyalty, vengeance, and greed.
“After reading this can’t-take-my-eyes-from-the-pages hardened street novella, I’m thinking less is much more. The authors’ writing rarely misses a beat with characters caug
ht in a violent criminal world with no escape. The work is a breath of fresh air from lengthy, trying-too-hard-to-shock street lit and is an excellent choice for all metropolitan collections.” —Library Journal (starred review, Pick of the Month)
“The urban setting is unnamed but familiar in this brief, bloody tale of wasted lives lived short and hard.” —Publishers Weekly
“Simultaneously a fast-paced crime drama and an engrossing, unsentimental moral tale, H.N.I.C. peers into the dark heart that underpins the codes of loyalty and friendship, betrayal and vengeance.” —Brooklyn Daily Eagle
“In a genre that too often places incorrect ebonics in the mouths of black characters and fails to cross the empathy gap to get into their heads, Savile and Prodigy arrive at a seamless voice that is a refreshing take on crime fiction tropes . . . if tone and texture are what you’re looking for in your hardcore literature . . . H.N.I.C. delivers the goods.” —Okayplayer
“H.N.I.C. is written by Prodigy himself and shows the extent to which good rappers can make good storytellers.” —Brooklyn Based
“If you don’t have this novella in your library collection already, please be on the lookout for this 2013 release, H.N.I.C., penned by Hip Hop artist Prodigy of the group, Mobb Deep.” —StreetLiterature.com
“The strength of this novella, in addition to its straightforward prose and rapid pacing, rests on the universal theme at its center: loyalty. Loyalty and the bullshit our friends put us through . . . Like any good work of crime, H.N.I.C. is grounded in such common experiences and, like any good work of crime, it speaks to all of us, despite the fact that very few of us can bypass an alarm system through some computer trickery.” —Nerds of a Feather, Flock Together
“It tells the…urban tale of deceit, greed and questioned loyalty with just enough drama to keep you turning the pages.” —Literary Jewels
“A brutal and quick read . . . custom-made for the big screen.” —Charles Tatum’s Review Archive