Goodfellas

by Carl Weber

  East gave both his comrades five, then left the spot. He headed a few blocks away to an apartment he used as a stash house. Once inside, he put up the money he had collected. Minutes later, he was back in his car, on the move again, heading straight to Miami Gardens.

  Pulling into the parking lot of Miami Finga Licking, East parked next to a car with the engine running. He rolled his window down and simultaneously, the passenger-side window of the other car did as well.

  “What took you so long?” Shantelle said as she looked over at him.

  “I had to make a stop first.”

  “You act like somebody got all night to be waiting on you,” she sassed.

  “Why you ain’t leave then?” he said confidently, then flashed a charming smile. His pearly white teeth only enhanced his handsome face and made her smile back. “You got some food?” When she lifted the bag of takeout, he nodded for her to get in with him, and she did.

  As they pulled away, East stared in the rearview mirror back at the car she had gotten out of. There was a female in the driver’s seat. Shantelle saw the look on his face and tried to put his mind at ease. “Don’t worry. That’s my homegirl from school. She ain’t gonna run her mouth. She don’t know you or my brother,” she explained.

  East ran his hand over the light beard on his face. “What makes you think I’m worried?” Then they both laughed. “When you came home?” he asked her.

  “Yesterday,” she replied.

  “How long you here for?”

  “Two weeks,” she informed him.

  “How’s school? You like it up there?” he asked. “You meet any interesting people?”

  “Are you asking if I’ve met any guys?”

  “Nah, that ain’t none of my business,” he said. “But since you brought it up . . .”

  Shantelle laughed. “I’ve been on a date or two. Nothing serious,” she admitted. Although she was old enough to make her own decisions, she was his closest friend’s twin sister. Out of respect, they kept their thing a secret.

  They had grown up either next door to each other or under the same roof for most of their lives. East had been to all her family functions. Attended all her graduations since elementary school. He had driven her to college on her first day. Her own mother called him “nephew.” Shantelle knew if Angela or Screw found out about them, they would be highly upset. She didn’t care. He was too sexy to deny herself the pleasure.

  A girl has needs, she told herself. East knew exactly how to fulfil them. The sexual chemistry between them was unmatched.

  By the time they reached the hotel, the lust between them was on full display. East sat on the edge of the bed with no shirt and a pair of basketball shorts on. He had the build of an athlete, standing six foot four, solid without being overly muscular. His arms, neck, back, and chest were covered with tattoos that popped off his honey-dipped skin.

  Shantelle approached and stood between his legs, wearing nothing but a red bra and panties. She had a body that was out of this world. Superthick in all the right places. She was pretty and smart with a rough edge to her that was hidden beneath the surface. Her tattoos were only visible when she was nearly naked. East ran his hand over the tattoo on her thigh. It was a gun surrounded by bouquet of thorn-stemmed roses. The artwork was beautiful . . . and dangerous, sort of like her. East knew he was crossing the line every time he entered her body. He fought against their attraction at first, explaining to her how wrong it would be for them to hook up. He told her she should find someone at her school like a lawyer or a doctor, maybe even an athlete, anybody but him. He was a street nigga. That came with a lifestyle she didn’t have to subject herself to. She had options unlike him or her brother. She was attending Florida State University on a scholarship, studying sociology. None of what he said mattered to her, though. Shantelle wanted what she wanted.

  She had a smile on her face as she caressed his head, rubbing her hand over his waves. East’s naturally slanted eyes were even lower from the weed they were smoking. He took a pull off the blunt. Shantelle leaned in, and he blew the smoke into her mouth. Their lips met as he palmed her ass. She could feel the wetness between her thighs building as he slid her thong panties to the side and began rubbing her clit. He passed her the weed. She hit it, then passed it back. Shantelle got down on her knees, pulling East’s manhood out of his shorts. He had length and girth. His dick felt heavy in her hand as she began to stroke it. Looking seductively into his eyes, she circled her tongue around the mushroom-shaped tip, then slid his full erection into her warm, wet mouth. East hit the weed and watched as her head bobbed up and down, making his dick disappear, then reappear. His head fell back as she took him deeper into her throat, wet sounds and slurps filling the room. He blew a cloud of smoke from his lungs, then ashed the weed.

  “Damn, ma,” he grunted. He couldn’t take it any longer. When Shantelle came up for air, he pulled her up to her feet, then down on top of him aggressively. She straddled him, sliding down on him, letting out a soft moan as she took him deep inside her wetness. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as his thickness filled her insides completely.

  “Oh shit,” Shantelle moaned as she held on to his broad shoulders and bounced up and down. He gripped her ass cheeks, digging deep in her pussy with long strokes. She could feel the pressure in her stomach. They were both breathing heavily, kissing each other passionately as their bodies became one. “I missed you,” she called out as her mouth fell open in orgasmic bliss.

  “I missed you too,” he replied.

  “I fuckin’ love you,” she whispered softly.

  “You too,” he said.

  They were lying to each other, and they knew it, but the sex was so good and being high only enhanced the feeling. Their love was purely physical. He just wanted her pleasure, and she just wanted his pain. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement between friends.

  * * *

  Dos stood on the balcony of his luxury condo overlooking Biscayne Bay with his phone to his ear. From his high perch, he had a perfect view of the water and American Airlines Arena in the distance. His night had been going similar to his view—until it was interrupted by a phone call.

  “I ain’t tryin’a hear that shit right now, Jaz,” he barked into the phone. “It ain’t like I ain’t tell you from day one what it was. I told you I wasn’t shit. I told you not to fall in love with me. You chose not to listen. Now, here we are.”

  “That’s not fair,” Jasmine sobbed on the other end of the phone.

  “Life’s not always fair,” Dos said coldly.

  “What about our son?” She tried using the one thing she knew he cared about. She had given him what every man dreamed of: a male heir. Someone to carry on his legacy after he was gone. The only thing was, Dos was still building his legacy. In his mind, he had only just begun.

  “I love my son,” he proclaimed truthfully.

  “Just not me . . . right?” she asked as the phone went silent. She truly loved Dos, despite all the shit he had put her through. The different women. The constant cheating. She had stayed through it all. He was the father of her child, and she just wanted them to be a family.

  Dos was the sky to her, a respected dope boy with a dope dick and money to burn. She was hooked. There was only one problem. Dos wasn’t trying to be tied down to one woman, baby mother or not. He was the prince of the city, and he couldn’t wait to be king. He changed women like he did his underwear, and he showered twice a day. His heart was filled with ambition; that’s it. There wasn’t any room for love. By the time Jasmine realized it, she was already too deeply in love, with a baby on the way.

  “I ain’t tryin’a go back and forth about this all night. I got shit to do,” he declared.

  “I love you, Dos. Just come home so we can talk,” she pleaded with him.

  “Home?” He laughed into the phone, then hung up.

  Jasmine lay in bed, holding her son on her chest. She was a thousand miles away from her entire family back
in Queens. She felt more alone than ever. Her son was all she had left. She closed her eyes, feeling the tears escape out of the sides of them. Her heartbeat increased as she cried in silence, not wanting her son to hear her grief. She kissed him on the forehead as he slept peacefully in her arms. Jasmine made a promise to herself that she would raise him to be nothing like the man that had helped make him. She kissed him again, then placed him down on the bed next to her as tears continued to spill down her cheeks.

  She rose from the bed, grabbing the rolled up weed off the nightstand in one motion. Jasmine needed to smoke one to calm her nerves. She walked out on the balcony of her luxury apartment with nothing on but a small T-shirt and high-waist thong panties. Her brown, round ass cheeks hung out of the bottom of her panties as she strutted across the room.

  Dos had her living in the heart of the Brickell District in downtown Miami, surrounded by fine dining and boutiques, where she could shop as much as she wanted to. He had provided her with the best of everything, from fashion to jewelry. She could have anything her heart desired, but it didn’t matter. The material things meant nothing now. What her heart desired the most was him, the one thing she couldn’t have the way she wanted. She would trade all the luxuries afforded to her just to be with the man she loved. She would give anything to have Dos sleeping next to her every night. Making love to her body in the way only he could. The thought of Dos touching her body made Jasmine shut her eyes and briefly relive one of their nights of passionate sex. With her looks, she could bed any man she wanted, but she only wanted Dos and wouldn’t dare give his pussy away. Even if he didn’t believe her when she told him so. He would just laugh in her face. Instead of believing and appreciating her, Dos would keep his distance for weeks at a time, pop in to fuck, and then he would be gone again.

  As Jasmine stood overlooking downtown Miami, she felt like she was mourning death. That’s how much it hurt. She was devastated, heartbroken, and confused, unable to grasp any of her thoughts. Her heart was so heavy in her chest, she could barely breathe. The weight of her emotions seemed too much to bear on her body. She looked over her shoulder, back at her son lying on the bed. Her heart nearly broke in two. What was she supposed to do now? How did she go forward? Without Dos, she had no idea of what would become of her and her child. The thought alone caused her to lose what was left of her composure. Her heart wrenched. She began crying hysterically, snot and tears making a mess of her pretty face. Jasmine was in the midst of a storm. One she didn’t know if she could weather. “Everything is falling apart,” she whispered. “But that’s okay. I’m gonna be all right.... We’re gonna to be all right,” she told herself, looking back at her son who was the splitting image of Dos. She had to muster the strength to survive for him, even if she couldn’t do it for herself.

  Jasmine lit the backwood in her hand, took a long pull, then exhaled deeply. She began wiping away the tears on her face. Dos had committed one of the deadliest sins known to a woman: betrayal. There was nothing more dangerous than a woman scorned. “This nigga done broke my heart for the last time,” she seethed. Jasmine spoke out loud, trying to convince herself. Hatred burned in her soul. Suddenly, those watery eyes became steely ones, and her broken heart became black as it beat violently in her chest. She wanted Dos to hurt like she did.

  * * *

  Back inside Dos’s condo, a thick redbone stripper with blond hair was ass naked and hunched over the table sniffing lines of cocaine through a hundred-dollar bill. Coke wasn’t Dos’s thing. He only smoked weed, but he didn’t have a problem providing the party favors. Another badass Cubana stripper was lying across the couch ass naked as well. She was high off coke too and was feeling hot and horny. They had all just finished fucking, and she was ready for round two.

  “Ven aqui, papi,” she said with a cute Spanish accent. “Let me suck that big dick.” She licked her lips.

  Dos smiled and walked toward the couch. He was already hard. He stood in front of her as she slid to the edge of the couch and grabbed his dick aggressively. Dos rubbed his hand through her long, silky hair as she smacked herself in the face with his manhood. She began to suck on his balls as the redbone with the blond hair joined in, playing with the tip of his dick with her tongue. They alternated, one sucking his dick, the other licking his balls. Dos put both hands behind her head and leaned his head back with his eyes closed. All he could hear was wet and popping sounds as they went to work. Finally, the redbone looked up at him and said, “Fuck me, daddy.”

  “You want this dick, bitch?” he said, then bent her over the arm of the couch with her ass up in the air.

  “Fuck this pussy,” she purred, looking over her shoulder at him and licking her lips.

  Dos smacked her phat ass and grabbed her hips as he entered her from the back.

  “Oh shit,” she moaned, throwing her ass back at him. “Deeper, daddy, deeper.”

  Dos began punishing her, digging in her guts harder. Her ass jiggled and rippled like waves in the ocean as she received every thrust. “Oh my God,” she began to scream at the top of her lungs from the intense orgasm. Dos continued pounding until the other stripper became jealous.

  “Bring that dick over here, papi,” she moaned out to him. Her legs were spread open, up in the air like a peace sign, and she was rubbing her clit.

  Dos walked over and plunged his rock-hard manhood into her waiting wetness. She started to come instantly, biting down on her lip and caressing her own breasts. “Oh yes, like that. I feel it in my stomach,” she cried out from the pleasure.

  “I know you do,” he bragged.

  “Fuck that tight little pussy,” the redbone shouted instructions as she rubbed her clit and looked on.

  Dos’s stroke became more powerful and deliberate as he felt his climax nearing. He clenched his teeth and pumped harder and harder.

  “Yeah, baby, give me that nut,” the redbone called out to him.

  Dos pulled out of the Cuban stripper and released his seed all over the redbone beauty’s face. “Aaaahhhh,” he moaned, then collapsed on the couch breathing heavily.

  Chapter Nine

  Watching from the ground as his shooter fled on foot, Ricardo could feel the warmth of his own blood beneath him. He felt a searing pain in his body like he had never felt before. It had all happened so fast. The assassin appeared out of thin air. Ricardo hadn’t even heard the first shot, but he felt it and the slugs that followed. The fact that he was in so much pain was the only thing that let him know that he was still alive. But for how long? He needed medical attention immediately.

  Searching the parking lot, he couldn’t understand why his bodyguard hadn’t come to his aid yet. Then he spotted his dead body stretched out a few feet away. Ricardo tried to move, but he couldn’t find the strength to drag his body across the parking lot and into his gym. He lay there staring up at the cloudy grey sky, clinging to life with thoughts of his past playing in his mind. With every breath he took, another ghost would appear to him, friends and foes alike. There were so many faces that they started to blur together, and so did his vision.

  * * *

  The black Ford F150 pulled alongside the beat-up Honda in the secluded spot behind an abandoned church. Kev quickly jumped out and got into Rio’s truck.

  “Put the gun in there,” he said, immediately passing Kev a small, black lockbox. “I gotta make that shit disappear ASAP.”

  Kev placed the gun in the box. He still was breathing heavily from the rush of adrenaline.

  “You got him?” Rio asked.

  “Hell yeah,” Kev answered like he had been offended. “You ain’t deal wit’ a amateur,” he bragged. “I hit him, and the nigga with ’em four times each. Left ’em both slumped in the parking lot.”

  “So you sure he’s dead?” Rio pressed. He was dead serious. He turned his body to face Kev, wanting to see his eyes as he answered.

  “Yeah, nigga. He dead as shit,” Kev assured him. The fact the Rio was pressing him so hard made him a little annoye
d and anxious. Kev was ready to get paid and get gone.

  Rio could sense the urgency within the truck too. “The rest of your bread in the glove box,” he said, pointing.

  That’s all Kev wanted to hear. His eyes lit up as he reached for the glove compartment. His expression quickly changed when he didn’t see anything inside. “Ain’t shit in here—”

  With a noise no louder than a whisper, Rio filled Kev’s body with five shots from a gun with a silencer that he gripped in his hand. Kev’s body slowly leaned against the door of the truck. Rio reached across his body and opened it, letting Kev’s body fall to the ground. Rio had never planned on letting Kev live. He was just a means to an end. He knew too much, and Rio didn’t trust him enough to believe he could keep a secret. The less people that knew the truth about Ricardo’s murder, the better.

  The only thing was . . . Ricardo wasn’t dead, at least not yet.

  * * *

  The ambulance’s siren pierced the air like the wail of a woman in agony as it raced along the rain-slicked streets. Pedestrians and drivers alike watched as it whizzed by with looks of apprehension on their faces. It was like they could feel the impending drama building in the air, because many of them already knew who was inside. The shooting had only occurred a short time ago, but the streets were already abuzz with what had gone down. Ricardo Wheeler, the man among men, had been shot outside his boxing gym. His trusted bodyguard had been killed in the process. Talk was rampant in the streets about who was responsible. No one knew, but they knew the response would be swift and brutal. In the streets, some dudes were respected, some were feared, and some were loved. Ricardo was all three.

  Inside the ambulance, a female EMT worker sat beside him, gripping his hand. She held it tightly as if she were trying to will the life back into him. “Sir, can you hear me?” she questioned. “Just hold on, sir, we’re almost there.” Ricardo’s breathing was shallow. His eyes were closed, but he indeed heard her.

  “I think we might be losing him,” another male worker proclaimed. “The police said to see if he knows who did this to him,” he told his coworker.