by Mikal Malone
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WWW.THECARTELPUBLICATIONS.COM
Pitbulls In A Skirt
By Mikal Malone
Copyright © 2008 by The Cartel Publications. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author, except by reviewer who may quote passages to be printed in a newspaper or magazine.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE:
This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places,
events and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally.
Any resemblance of actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2007940747
ISBN: 0-9794931-2-9
ISBN 13: 978-0-9794931-2-6
Cover Design: Davida Baldwin www.oddballdsgn.com
Editor: Hightower Editorial Services
Graphics: Davida Baldwin
Typesetting: Hightower Editorial Services
www.thecartelpublications.com
First Edition
Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
What’s Up Babies,
Wow, I’m not gonna lie, the publishing game is a lot of fuckin’ work! The funny part about it is, I self published my first novel “Rainbow Heart” way before I got with Triple Crown and wrote, “A Hustler’s Son” and “Black & Ugly”. But for some reason, I don’t remember so many steps being involved. Roll with me through my journey right quick.
First I hire one of the hottest graphic artists in the game for my covers. And I must tell you, Davida Baldwin is a graphic artist genius! The moment I saw the covers for our first titles, “Shyt List” and “Pitbulls In A Skirt”, I like to have lost my mind! They were exactly what I was looking for and we couldn’t wait to make the announcement that, The Cartel Publications was ready to GO!!!! Wrong!!!!
After weeks of our covers floating around the net, a gentle angel pointed out that one of our covers had a terrible error. I had the word “Thrown” instead of “Throne” on the front of such amazing artwork. How embarrassing and I must add this was all my fault! I must have thanked Virgo a thousand times because she saved me a lot of heartache by letting me know before print. Sure many people saw the oversight, but only one person took the time to let me know. Others told me casually while talking about something totally unrelated. “Toy, what’s up girl? And by the way, your cover is fucked up.” Funny right? I know but it’s true I swear it! These same people were individuals I considered friends. Anyway, I took the casual exclusion of information as a welcome to the cold, cold world of urban literature. And those same people can kiss my ass and watch my dust as I scratch, crawl and pull my way to the top!
Everybody not being out for you is just one of the lessons I’ve learned by diving into the publishing game. And you know what? After all the drama, I’m still here and could honestly say that there’s no place I’d rather be. I smile in the face of adversity and push myself even harder now.
Pushing myself even harder brings me to my next order of business. Like Charisse Washington, Vice President of my company mentioned in her letter in our first title Shyt List, with each book we drop, we’ll pay homage to an author who has opened doors. With that said, I’d like to show some love to,
“Nikki Turner”
Nikki murdered them with her first hit “A Hustler’s Wife” and continues to blaze trails. Thanks for keepin’ it hot Nikki! We love what you do.
Also special recognitions goes out to the ladies who help spread the word around about our titles.
“The Cartel Publications Pep Squad”
Jessica aka ”Lyric” (Squad Captain), Ms. Toya Daniels, Erica
Taylor, Shawntress, Kim Gamble, Victoria “Tori” Johnson,
Crystal, Lisa aka JSQueen625, Kariymah, Kendell and Chauntice.
So…sit back and chill, and enjoy Pitbulls In A Skirt. It’s one of my personal favorites and I know you’ll love it too. These ladies look good on the “Throne”. **smile**
Until I hug you later….
T. Styles
President & CEO, The Cartel Publications
www.thecartelpublications.com
Dedication
This is dedicated to the brothers behind the wall. It’s easy for people to forget about you if you’re hidden from view. Let’s rise up, make a positive impact, and be seen for the men we are and not who we use to be.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank my better half, and the best part of me. You’ve never left my side, even when I wasn’t there for you. Boo-boo, I know I did you proud on this one.
To Mom Dukes, thanks for giving birth to me. Don’t worry, we gonna get our relationship where it needs to be, one visit at a time.
To my seed, stay in school and keep it together. You see where bein’ a knucklehead gets ya, don’t walk in my shoes. Walk around them.
To all the authors who books get me through my time. Thanks. You inspired me more than you realize. Stay up, and keep puttin’ out them hits.
If you make it through the gates that house “Emerald City”, one of Southeast D.C.’s deadliest housing projects, you’ll run into four females with colorful ski coats and designer jeans. And if you don’t belong, you’ll quickly find out what they have hidden in the Marc Jacob or Louis Vuitton purses they hold closely to them, because these females aren’t just pretty faces. They are the women taken out of their beds and placed on the throne by the hustlers they loved.
This is their story…
Chapter 1
The Hustler’s Ball
December
, Friday, 10:30 p.m.
Mercedes
It had been an hour since I hung up with my mother and I was still pissed.
I couldn’t believe she waited until the last minute to tell me she couldn’t watch her own grandkids! Tonight was the wrong night for her to pull this bullshit on me. Mr. Melvin’s anual Christmas party, which we call the Hustler’s Ball, was in an hour and it was obvious I wasn’t gonna make it.
Mr. Melvin, the property manager, started having the parties at the community center in Emerald City to try to stop the violence. However, what he didn’t realize was all he did was breed every hustler in the game in D.C.. It was the only time we allowed the security guards to open the gates for outsiders, but not without checking the list we provided for them first. We owned Emerald City and everybody in it. Nobody made a move without clearing it with us first. Even though the D.C. government paid the guards, they received their real orders and real money from us.
With five buildings and twelve floors in every one of them, Emerald City was one of the largest projects in the city. Originally named the Frederick Douglas Housing Projects, the project acquired the nickname Emerald City because all the buildings had emerald green awnings.
Tucked behind the gates of Emerald City was a barbershop, a beauty salon, Murry’s food store and an arcade, everything you needed, including every kind of drug you could imagine.
“Ma, are you sure you can’t watch them for me?” By now, I was begging my mother, something I normally didn’t do. But for the Hustler’s Ball, it was warranted.
“I’m positive. Bye, Mercedes!” Click!
She hung up on me! I cannot believe she hung up on me! Man! I can’t stand her sometimes!
I opened my bedroom door and walked into the living room. I started contemplating whether I should ask my son, who was sitting on the couch playing a video game, to watch his sisters for me. Asking Cameron Jr. was almost as bad as asking my mother. He had his own mind now and that was somewhat scary. He was growing up so fast and I knew it was just a matter of time before he wanted in on the game and in on the life he’d been raised around.
Big Cameron already had him counting the cash we collected from the runners at the end of the week. And as long as he learned the ropes from his father, I had no problem with him dealing when he was ready, but he had to be ready. I loved this life and everything about it. Between the power, the money, and the look on my man’s face when he came through the gates and saw shit was still intact, this life excited me. There was no other feeling that could compare, outside of the way Cameron made me feel when we made love.
“Lil C, you sure you don’t wanna make $200 tonight?” I asked him while he was playing Madden 2008 on our 50-inch plasma screen TV. “It’ll help your momma out a lot.”
I sat down and put my arm around him. He looked irritated and I could tell he knew I was trying to butter him up.
“Doing what, Ma?” he asked, never taking his eyes off the game.
“Watching your sisters,” I responded, playing with his hair.
He looked at me with his big eyes and that beautiful curly hair like I had just asked him to do the worst thing in the world. Letting me know he wasn’t going for it.
Cameron Jr. was 13 years old and helped me out a lot with 8-year-old Chante and 4-year-old Baby Crystal but lately Chante was becoming too much for anyone to handle. And I made a promise not to force him to watch his sisters unless I was handling business, and I always kept my promises.
“Come on, Ma! All Chante gonna do is get on my nerves when you leave! She makes me sick sometimes! She cries the moment you go. Plus, she don’t listen.”
“Calm down, boy. I ain’t gonna make you do anything. But you know the Ball’s tonight, and your Aunt Stacia and Dex gonna be here in a minute to pick me up.”
Truthfully, I could’ve paid anybody to watch them, but I liked them to be around their own things and in their own place. Plus I didn’t trust just anybody in my apartment. And most of the mothafuckas I knew who would have jumped at the opportunity to earn $200 for 4 hours were fucking with that shit. So sending my kids with them or letting them watch them at my place was out of the question.
Between all of our clothes and our expensive furniture from overseas, I had over $200,000 worth of shit in my apartment. We did real well with the money the drug life gave us, so I didn’t need anybody taking it from me because I messed around and let someone in my apartment who could later plot to rob us.
“If I say no, you gonna be mad?” he asked.
“How can I be mad at you?” I rebutted. Looking into my son’s eyes, it never ceased to amaze me how much he looked like his father. “I’m just gonna be upset that’s all.” I continued, hoping he’d change his mind.
“Well…I don’t wanna do it,” he said continuing to play his game and avoiding my stare.
“Alright then,” I said walking slowly to my room. My tired attempt to give him time to change his mind. “Let me go tell your aunts the bad news.”
I walked to my closet, which held Cameron’s and my clothes. It was so packed that I could hardly find anything when I wanted it. Looking at the packed closet, I let out a frustrated sigh. I would be so happy when Cameron became a lieutenant, so we could finally move out of Emerald City. The bottom line was this, no matter how much money we had, we were still living in the projects. I knew it even if people around me chose to forget.
I grabbed my white Eddie Bauer ski jacket and zipped it up all the way to the top. I was just about to leave my room, until I remembered to grab my Marc Jacobs bag with My Bitch tucked inside it. My Bitch was the name I gave to the 9 milli I never left my house without. I hadn’t had to use her yet, but I was willing to if need be.
I walked toward the elevators and as always, the stench that met my nose reminded me of how nasty my neighbors were. I could immediately smell the dirty apartments and trash, which sat behind their doors for far too long.
While waiting on the elevator, Derrick, one of the grimiest niggas on my squad, walked up to me. Derrick was a hard worker, but he had a tendency to try me from time to time, so I was constantly putting him in his place. At first, I used to tell Cameron when he got me wrong but Cam started getting mad, saying that they’d never respect me if I kept running to him over everything they did. So I started handling stuff on my own, and I only came to him about the big shit.
“What up, Mercedes!” he asked as we both waited on the elevator.
“Nothing.” I did my best to keep my tone even, reminding him that we weren’t friends.
“You going to the ball tonight?” he asked, still trying to spark up a convo.
We stepped into the elevator and I met his stare with one of my own.
“Look.” I paused. “You know I’m not with the small talk and shit. So unless we talking ‘bout business, we ain’t talking.”
“Yeah...uh…I know,” he said as we walked off the elevator looking all salty and shit. “I’m just trying to be cool with the female I report to, that’s all.”
I didn’t respond. I let him walk ahead of me because I hated people walking behind me, especially somebody as grimy as Derrick. When we approached the exit to the building, I saw my girls on the steps. Shit! They gonna be blown like shit with me.
Before he walked outside, I remembered I didn’t find out the status of the dope fiend who gave him $50.00 in counterfeit cash in exchange for some of the purest heroin in Southeast.
“Derrick!” I yelled before he pushed open the building’s door. The cold air hit my face quickly before the door slammed shut again.
He turned around and walked over to me. “Yeah.”
“What happened with that head? You handle it?”
“Yeah,” he smiled as he smoothed the side of his face with his right hand and grabbed his chin. “We handled that shit. I think his funeral was last week.”
“Aight but next time get back with me.”
“Yeah…Okay.” He paused, clearly still upset that he had to
take orders from me instead of Cameron even though it had been over three years now. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“You will remember.”
He nodded his head and turned toward the door. When he walked through it, the night air hit me hard. It wasn’t a match for my Eddie Bauer jacket, but it was hell on my jean-clad legs. You’d think by now I’d be used to the cold air since I had to man my post for twelve hours a day for the past three years.
The first thing I saw when I opened the door were tight ass cars driving through the gates. Damn! Rashawn from NY really did get the Lamborghini! She’s a lucky mothafucka!
There were all types of high-end cars navigating the streets. Mercedes, which happened to be my favorite, BMWs, Range Rovers, Bentleys and Acuras flooded Emerald City’s gates headed to the ball. Some playas went all out, showing up in chauffeured Navigator and Hummer limousines. Seeing the cars got me horny and now I was even madder at my mother. For a second I even contemplated making Lil C watch his sisters. But like I said, I never broke my promise.
I saw my girls handling business as usual in designer dresses and fur coats while waiting for Stacia and Dex to scoop us up. The community center was a ten minute walk because EC was so big, so we were better off driving, which only took about two minutes.
I laughed when I saw them dressed up while handing out orders in front of the building. And as always, Yvette was the loudest.
“Look, don’t tell me you got it if you don’t, Dramon! If shit ain’t right when we get back, you might as well leave town. I’m not fucking around with you!”
“I got it, Yvette,” he said with his hands in his pockets while shaking his head with confidence. “Ya’ll ain’t got shit to be worried about tonight. Me and my soldiers holding shit down.”