Gangsta Divas

by De'nesha Diamond

  Smack.

  “In that case, I’ll go get the baby oil.” I wink and then slide out of his arms so that we can begin my punishment. There’s no end to what a bitch got to do in order to get some dick around here.

  35

  Ta′Shara

  1:30 A.M.

  “Where in the hell is he?”

  The sun has long set and I’m completely going out of my mind. Profit should have called or rolled by here by now. During the slow torturous event called dinner tonight, my gaze kept drifting toward Reggie’s car keys setting on the foyer’s bombé with the urge to snatch them and make a run for it. Hours later, I’m lying in bed, staring at the red, glowing numbers on the clock and thinking about those damn keys again.

  It’s not like I don’t have any experience of sneaking out of the house and stealing his car. The last time I did it, I fucked up his shit and got myself involved in a hospital shoot-out. I thought the blowback would land my ass back into foster care.

  It didn’t—which is why my ass is weighing whether it’s worth the risk to float out to Ruby Cove to find out what’s up. All I want to know is whether my baby survived whatever the fuck went down last night. The main hiccup in that plan is whether niggas over that way is gonna shoot first and ask questions later. With all that’s gone down, I can’t imagine that I would be welcome in the Vice Lords’ neck of the woods.

  What about Tracee and Reggie? How much more am I going to put them through before they finally give up?

  2:00 A.M.

  Wide-eyed, I can’t stop twitching beneath the sheets. Unless I pop another one of those pills, sleep is going to pass me by. Profit, where are you? I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath. The image of Profit’s bullet-riddled body flashes in my mind and fear puts my heart in a death grip and refuses to let go.

  I rake the sheets off of me and bolt out of bed. At the window, I stare up at the full moon. “If LeShelle has harmed a strand on my man’s head, I’ll hunt her down and kill her with my bare hands.” A tear trickles down my face. “I’ll do it. I swear, I’ll do it.” My throat tightens to the point that I can’t breathe. I open the window for some fresh air and then catch sight of Profit’s new muscular frame jogging across the front yard.

  I gasp as if a shot of adrenaline has been jabbed into my chest while more tears rush over my lashes. Like a black Spider-man, he climbs up the trellis and onto the roof. He grins up at me like a big, goofy kid and once he’s in reach, I grab him by his black T-shirt and drag him into the house.

  He laughs as we tumble onto the floor. If I hadn’t spent most of the day scared out of my mind I’d beat him senseless. As it is, I keep washing his face with tears and kisses.

  “Oh, thank God you’re all right.” I kiss his eyes, his nose—his ears. I don’t give a shit. I’m just thankful to have him back in my arms again.

  “Damn, baby. I love how you welcome your man back.” He relaxes in my arms and basks in the shower of my love. Once the reality of him being safe sinks in, I punch him on the shoulder.

  “Oww,” he whines, but flashes me with his beautiful dimples. “What was that for?”

  “Why didn’t you call me?” I punch him again. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I thought you were hurt or dead.” I’m crying so hard that I can’t see.

  Profit’s broad smile collapses into a genuine mask of concern. “Oh, baby. Don’t cry. I don’t like it when you cry.” He pulls me into his arms before I can take another swing at his shoulder.

  I melt against his chest and inhale his scent like a cokehead. “I love you so much. Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

  “I won’t. I promise,” he says, brushing kisses atop my head.

  Did you do it? Is she dead? I don’t know why I can’t get the question from my head to my mouth all of a sudden, but I can’t. Maybe there’s a part of me that’s ashamed of the hope blossoming in my heart. Once I hear the words will it change things? Will shame and regret haunt me for the rest of my life? After all, once upon a time, LeShelle was my protector. Then she became your worst nightmare.

  Profit tilts up my chin and stares into my eyes. “I love you, Shara. It was never my intention to scare you. Believe that, ma. From this day on nothing and no one will ever harm you again as long as I’m around.”

  And there it is. She’s dead.

  One last tear trickles down my face.

  “You believe me, don’t you?” Profit asks.

  Sniffing, I wipe away the tear tracks from my face and nod. “Yes.” I wait for the shame and guilt, but it doesn’t come.

  Profit’s beautiful dimples wink at me again as his smile eases back across his lips. “From now on, I only want to see you smile.” Profit tilts my head higher so that he can plant his soft lips against mine. “It’s me and you from now on.You cool with that?”

  I nod and answer at the same time. “Yes.”

  “Then come with me.”

  “What?”

  “Tonight. Right now.” He traps my head between his hands. “Come with me.”

  My heart stops.

  “I mean it. I’m tired of this sneaking through the window bullshit. We’re not kids anymore. We belong together . . . on Ruby Cove.”

  I open my mouth but no words come.

  “I love you . . . and I want to marry you.” His smile inches higher as if his words are a revelation to him. “I don’t have a ring for you or anything right now but . . . say yes.”

  My tears flow again like a broken faucet. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You . . . want to marry me?”

  “I want to be your man.”

  “You are my man,” I choke over the huge lump in my throat.

  “Then say yes,” Profit urges.

  “Your love is going to turn your gangster into Prince Charming and you’ll ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.Ain’t that the fairy-tale bullshit that you keep telling yourself?”

  “Y-yes.” My answer is rewarded with a sudden deep, sensual kiss. I throw my arms around his neck and pour all the love that I am feeling into him. What choice do I have? He’s my world now.

  I moan before I’m able to stop myself and in just a couple of heartbeats we tear off our clothes.The need to be with him is so strong. Gone is the sadistic vision of that awful rape that has terrified me for months. I need Profit. Right here. Right now.

  We fall to the bed, a tangle of arms and legs, each tugging at the other’s clothes until we’re lying exposed to one another. Slowly his hands roam my body. I quiver with anticipation.

  I didn’t think that I would ever be able to have this reaction to a man’s touch again—even my man. Profit knows my body. His gentle strokes leave me breathless, and yearning for more.

  His soft lips abandon mine to sweep toward my ear while his hand slides up my thigh. By the time his strong fingers glide into me, I’m melting like liquid candy. “Oh, baby.You’re so wet.” He pulls my lower lip between his teeth. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” My back arches in a way that allows his fingers to slip in deeper. My body feels like one large G-spot and my first orgasm detonates in less than one minute—then the second one, just thirty seconds later.

  “Oh. Look at you. You’re so beautiful when you come, baby.” He sucks on my ears during a few more strokes and then he begins to inch down my body.

  I toss and turn and then his mouth drifts south across my bellybutton. Before I know it he’s gently peeling open my legs. I come up off the bed when his tongue caresses my clit.

  “Profit, baaaaaabby.” I slide my hand over his bobbing head with the intent to slow him down, but instead I press his face in deeper. I can’t breathe, but I don’t give a damn.

  The next orgasm begins to build in my toes and then rumbles up toward the back of my knees and then the wave reaches tsunami levels as it zooms toward my clit.

  “Ahhhhhhhh.” With my hands still locked on the sides of Profit’s head, I twist and then bite into
my pillow in an effort to quiet my cries. The last thing I want is for Reggie or Tracee to walk in and disturb this groove. Finally the wave hits at precisely a delicious moment when Profit’s tongue tunnels in deeper. As a result, every cell in my body implodes. By the time I return to earth, Profit is still mopping up my juices from every nook and cranny of my pussy.

  “How do you feel now, baby?” Profit asks, climbing back up my body.

  “I feel . . . loved.” I loop my arms around his neck.

  Profit’s wide smile is breathtaking in the moonlight. “You are loved—to my last breath and even beyond. I love you so much, Ta’Shara.”

  Our lips lock with my essence still on his tongue and it’s a taste that gets us high on our own love. At the same time, I can feel him positioning himself between my legs. His cock is as hard as steel yet satiny smooth as it pokes the corner of my thighs and then rubs against my creaming pussy. I arch my back as a growing ache begins to throb at my core.

  I need him inside me more than I need air to breathe—but he’s in no hurry to ease the ache. I can only take his dick seesawing over my clit for so long before I start begging for him to put me out of my misery. “Profit . . . please.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he asks, sounding like he can hardly stand his own resistance. “I don’t want to stir any bad . . . memories.”

  The sweet sincerity in his voice tugs at my heart. I cradle his head between my hands, forcing our eyes to connect. “What bad memories?”

  For a few heartbeats, he searches my face—then he moves his hips just so and enters me in one long, fluid stroke. What makes it even more special is that we never lose eye contact, even when the strokes go deeper.

  And deeper.

  And deeper.

  My legs tighten around Profit’s waist while the arch in my back inches higher.

  “You feel good,” he praises, through gritted teeth. “So fuckin’ good.”

  Beads of sweat roll down from his hairline. At the same time, my skin becomes dewy, my belly flutters with butterflies, and I start to burn with an orgasmic fever.

  “I love you,” Profit repeats over and over again as his thrust quickens. Soon we’re both on that magical ride that leaves us oblivious to our surroundings.

  My mouth stretches into a wordless scream and Profit buries his head into the crook of my neck while his own release fires off inside me.

  “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN HERE?”

  Profit and I jump up as Reggie storms into the room with Tracee meekly creeping behind him, clutching her satin house robe. Her quarter-sized eyes are now half dollars.

  Horrified, I reach over to the bed and snatch off the top sheet in order to cover myself. When my gaze returns to my foster parents, I wither beneath their looks of hurt and disappointment.

  Profit jumps between me and the Douglases. “Mr. Douglas—”

  “COVER YOUR DAMN SELF. DON’T YOU SEE MY WIFE STANDING HERE?” Reggie’s nostrils flare while his hands ball at his sides. “You have some nerve showing your face here.”

  Profit’s face twists from being barked at. A couple of muscles twitch along his jaw and biceps.

  I grab his arm as a preemptive move. “Baby, please,” I urge softly.The last thing I want is to make this situation worse between the people I care about the most.

  Understanding my plea, Profit forces himself to relax and then snatches up his boxers from the floor. Once he’s covered, Profit tries again. “Look, Mr. Douglas, I know you’re angry right now—and I understand that—but you gotta understand that I love Ta’Shara. It ain’t right how you two been tryna keep us apart.”

  As each word floats out of Profit’s mouth, Reggie’s face turns a deeper shade of purple. When he takes a step forward, it’s Tracee who grabs Reggie’s hand and tries to pull him back. “You are going to preach to me? Where the fuck do you get off?”

  Profit licks his lips and rolls his eyes skyward. His patience is thin. “Look, man. I ain’t tryna get in it with you.You got it in your head on what you think went down and there’s not a damn thing I can do to change your mind on that shit. But one thing that you can’t change is how me and Ta’Shara feel about each other.We’re going to be together whether you like it or not.”

  “Oh. Is that right?” Reggie snatches his arm out of Tracee’s grip.

  “Yeah. That right.” Profit snatches his arm out of my grip to square off.

  “Profit, please,” I beg.

  “Reggie, don’t do this,”Tracee pleads.

  Reggie ain’t tryna hear none of this shit. “The way I see this, son, is you crawling back out that window or I’m gonna toss you out of it.” He chest-bumps Profit.

  Profit takes a step back and chuckles. “Look, old man. I ain’t tryna hurt you in your own crib.”

  “Old man, huh?” Reggie challenges and before Profit can respond again, Reggie swings.

  Quick as lightning, Profit ducks but then tackles Reggie on his right flank.The men tumble to the floor and then crash into my dresser.

  “Profit!”

  “Reggie!”

  Tracee and I dive into the scuffle and try to pull the men apart. Instead of exchanging body blows, the men are locked in a violent wrestling match. It seems that no matter how long we scream or how hard we struggle to tug them apart, we get nowhere with them.

  At last,Tracee jumps up and races out of the room.

  I’m sure that she’s gone to call the police and I get more desperate with my pleas—that is until she returns with a gun and shoots that muthafucka straight into the ceiling. “ENOUGH!”

  The men spring apart, huffing and puffing while chips of plaster rain on them.

  I blink at the odd image of her mean-muggin’ us with a gat pointed up to the ceiling. Has the whole damn world gone crazy?

  After chugging in deep, angry breaths, Tracee lowers the weapon. “Now if we can all calm down, I’m sure that we can talk about this.”

  “Fuck that.” Reggie climbs off the floor and deftly takes the gun out of Tracee’s hand. “I want you out of this house right now.”

  My heart drops but then I realize that he’s not talking to me.

  Profit jumps up and wraps an arm around my waist.“Sorry, Mr. Douglas, but I’m not leaving here without Ta’Shara.”

  Reggie takes a threatening step forward and my eyes fall to the gun he’s clutching at his side. To prevent the worst, I move to stand in front of Profit. However, he drags me back to his side, determined to show that he’s not afraid of a damn thing.

  “Ta’Shara is not going anywhere,” Reggie growls.

  “Is that right?” Profit grins. “Why don’t you ask her about that?”

  Everyone’s eyes shift to me and I step back from Reggie and Tracee’s expectant gazes. This isn’t how I wanted this to go down. After all they’ve done, they deserve better than this.

  “Ta’Shara,”Tracee rasps with her large eyes begging me to make the right choice. “Tell your friend to leave.”

  “I—I—can’t.” I swallow and then lick my dry lips. “I’m sorry.” Anger, betrayal, and humiliation ripple across their faces. I’ve seen it before—only on LeShelle’s face when I chose the Douglases over her. I need to explain my decision better, but are there really any words that can fix this situation?

  The silence stretches for forever in my small, pink, princess room until Reggie finally backs up, nodding his head. “All right then. I want both of you out of this house. Now!”

  Tracee gasps. “Reggie!” She grabs for his arm, but he snatches it out of her reach, turns, and storms out of the room.

  I watch him go with his broad shoulders still stiff with anger. I turn my pleading gaze toward Tracee’s tear-streaked face, but her gaze drifts to the floor. “Better grab your things and go.”Without looking back, she follows Reggie out.

  Tears rush my eyes. “Oh, God. What did I do?”

  “It’s going to be all right,” Profit says, pulling me into his arms so that I can wash the crook o
f his neck with my tears. “We’re going to be all right. I promise.”

  36

  LeShelle

  “Good morning, Mrs. Terrell Carver.”

  A huge smile spreads across my face as Python’s thick lips brush across the back of my neck. I let my new last name loop inside my head and I feel something that I’ve rarely felt my entire life: joy. Rolling over onto my back, I beam up at him. “Good morning yourself, Mr. Carver.”

  Python chisels a smile onto his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. What the fuck? Didn’t he want to marry me?

  I stamp back a surge of panic and remember all the shit he’d been through. After catching me up on Momma Peaches’ disappearance, the massacre at the Pink Monkey and the construction site, and his own near death, there’s really no wonder his shoulders are weighed down.

  Pushing him onto his back, I climb up and straddle his hips. “Let me help you relax.”

  “I am relaxed, Mrs. Carver.”

  I can’t help but smile. “We really did it.”

  “We sure did. I’m a man of my word.” He folds his arms behind his head and sweeps his gaze over ugly gashes and keloids scattered across my chest. The new battle scars Ta’Shara left behind.Watching him, I try to gauge what he’s thinking.

  The silence between us stretches for so long that my eyes burn like they’re sitting in battery acid. When I can’t hold the tears back any longer, Python sits up and starts kissing each one of my scars. “I love you so much, girl.”

  I throw my arms around him as the dam finally breaks and that battery acid pours down my face. “I fuckin’ love you, nigga. Don’t ever forget it.” I cling to him as if my life depends on it. Now that we’re back together, shit is going to be all right. We’re going to get the streets back in order and get our asses back onto our throne on Shotgun Row. I’ll make sure of it.

  But first there are a few debts to pay. Ta’Shara flashes in my head, and then her boyfriend, too. Fantasy images of those two lying dead in a joint grave get my clit thumping so hard that I reach back for Python’s cock and position it so I can ease back onto it. It’s never easy easing his fat, mushroom head into my back door.