Makhi nudges the gun to my temple, tryna persuade me to act right.
“So you ain't going to say sorry then?” Makhi asks, looking like a GQ Thug in premium jeans and a thermal that hugged on tatts, rips and cuts of muscle. The diamonds at his ears, throat and neck gleamed. His fade is on point and the muthafucka is so damn fine that I forget my worth fucking with him…
“Makhi, son stop with the bullshit,” Mimz says sitting across from the bloody mess of Makhi’s ex and her dead brother or lover or whatever the bitch called that nigga. Mimz is in a tailored three piece suit, he glances at his Rolex as if time is money and there are better things to do.
Mimz has always been like an uncle to me. Even when I didn't think his son was worthy enough to be a Mack, I loved Mimz Mack like a dad, because he rolled with my dad. They took bullets for each other. Then I met this selfish ass muthafucka. Me and Makhi have held each other down, but to betray me over some pussy?
“Nah, Nine needs to learn her lesson,” Makhi says.
“Remember what I told you?” Mimz asks in a fatherly tone.
The music from their club upstairs is getting louder. So did I just hear what I thought? What did Mimz tell Makhi about me? I wonder what Mimz is talking about but then don't give a damn since there’s a Glock at my forehead. Finally I speak, “Makhi look I'm sorry you didn't want me to take out your bitch but I'm ain’t sorry for busting on that silly hoe.”
My nigga chuckles all smooth wine. He reaches out a hand.
I slap at it and stand up.
“Come ‘er girl!” He orders. With strong ropy arms, Makhi pulls my back to him. This nigga’s dick is on swole nudging my ass as he kisses my neck. They say I’m the crazy bipolar one?
Mimz nods at us both, mumbles about getting somebody to clean up this mess and walks toward the basement exit.
It takes work, but I pry this nigga’s buff arms from around me and he stops kissing my neck.
Still smiling like this is fun and games, Makhi says, “Damn, girl, all I wanted was some respect and for you to apologize for acting without orders.”
He tries to pull me closer and then this nigga tries to pinch my cheeks, calling me his baby. I shout, “Nah, go find you another hoe because I'm going back to Louisiana right now!”
There's death in my dude eyes even harder than it was when he had me get on my knees a minute ago.
The sexy cologne he’s wearing meets me first again. Then he grabs my chin and glares at me, “Nine, ma, I get it, I get it. We had a miscommunication. You copped an attitude after acting on feelings when you know you’re priorities are to react when I say so. But I know you ain’t taking your meds, so I’ma be easy.”
I struggle from his hard grasp. Makhi’s hand hurts my cheeks but my glare is still hard. He continues, “I've already told you that you staying. You brought your little funky attitude having ass out to Los Angeles over some shit that didn’t even fucking concern you. You my wife–”
“Muthafucka, I ain’t never marrying you. I will shoot myself in the fucking head before I marry you, Makhi.”
“Stop all that suicidal shit and go take your damn pill.”
“Okay,” I smirked knowing good and well that I'm not taking those bipolar meds. Not if I really am pregnant... positive over-the counter test I took earlier flashes before my eyes, dashing my hopes. Damn, if I truly am pregnant, Makhi never needs to know…
Makhi
Damn, I look back at Marlo lying in a puddle of her own blood. Then that black ass muthafucka next to her before my crew begins to clean up. They already know the deal. Exit the back alley and dump these muthafuckas in a desert ditch.
“Good looking out, beautiful,” I say to the bitch that just handed me a shot of Patron. I glimpse that fat ass as the waitress ascends the basement steps. The Cabo music is still active and the DJ just made the last call for alcohol. I take the double shot to my head, and sigh. My little Halle Berry, the woman that I love more than anything had to know I wasn’t going to take her ass out. Nine gets so damn sensitive sometimes.
The basement doors open again. The music amplifies, one of August Alsina joints got all these second-rate niggas that are still in my club upstairs tryna get a bitch to take home. Fuck, I sigh as Mimz steps back inside. My dad is supposed to be retired. He already gave me keys to the throne, but if this ain’t some micromanagement then…
“Pops, I handled that already,” I reply. These two dead bodies don’t even have shit to do with our business. Besides, Mimz had escorted Nine to one of our Benz’s a while back. I knew he had a pep talk with my girl so I expected him to grab a few of the hoes on the dance floor and mash out too.
“Nah, Makhi, I've told you once. You too smart for me to have to repeat myself but I see that over some bitch,” he begins, looking at the spot where my ex’s body once lay, “for the first time in your life, son, you have me repeating myself–”
“Nah, pops. I got this. Man I grew up with that example. Get shit handled. Fuck any hoe I want. Speaking of getting shit handled, and fucking hoes, all my illegitimate bros and sisters should be on their way,” I say, changing the subject. Mimz usually stays on one of his private islands in the Caribbean. Last week he came home, when I came home from my usual stay in New Orleans with Nine. Now he wanted me to gather up all my siblings for some reason or the other. “United Airlines is making a killing off us this week with all your hoes in different area codes.”
“Good our family reunion will be the best.” Mimz rubs his hands. “Now where the fuck you going?”
“Back to the crib. I ain't stupid. I know you tried to get Nine a driver. But I’m sure her crazy ass took the keys from the chauffeur. I can see her now, speeding down Beverly Hills Blvd figuring out what’s already in the six-car garage that she can use to burn my place down before she tries to leave.” I chuckle. My main bitch always tryna leave but I love Nine to death.
“Be good to her.”
I nod. “No doubt. I treat lil mama the best.”
~~~
Nine tried to leave this morning, which was almost twenty hours ago. I had called her with an assignment before she could get on the plane. The assignment was just to bring my old bitch’s brother to the club. Lil’ mama shoulda just took her ass home instead of staying. Nine had got all up in her feelings when she decided to take out my ex, without my orders. Now, its three am. The sky is still a pitch black when I pull up. Bane is asking her to put down the jug of gasoline. I navigate around one of my pop’s Mercedes S500 is in the middle of the damn street.
“Eat a dick,” Nine shouts, struggling with both hands as she begins to pour the heavy can. At the rate she’s going, it would take hours to douse down the perimeter of my mansion. And I’m just that type of nigga to watch and see if this bitch would. But we’re in Beverly Hills, she ain’t finna have the police over here for some bullshit. It’s a good think that these homes take up half a block, so our closest neighbors most likely can’t even hear the hype.
“Makhi ain't gon like it.” He replies as I swoop up the curb. This muthafucka is my second. He's the only nigga I trust to be around my girl. Besides Gio. This dude is hard. But he’s scared of her.
“Nine!” I shout.
“Oh so look who brought his ass home?” She doesn't smoke but pulled out a lighter. There's liquid all on her hands. My bitch will fucking murk herself tryna fuck me over.
“Nine. Listen ma.”
“Nah, I don't need to listen.” She starts to light it. The lighter flicks but goes out with the wind.
“Nine.” Damn I can see in her eyes. She is pissed beyond reason. “Lil mama, I'm sorry.”
“No. Wasn't I the sorry one; the sorry hoe for falling for you?”
“Nah. You my baby. I love you,” I say, looking into those sparkling hazel eyes as she cries. And damn I said baby, Nine doesn’t like when I call her that, because no matter how bad she is, those cheeks give her a baby face.
She rolls her eyes. “Love? Sure you love me. But what�
�s love,” she shrugs. “You were going to kill me just like you killed our baby, Navaeh.”
“I killed Navaeh?” I ask, pointing at myself. My lady has me on pause, head cocked to the side I ask again. “Nine… Paula. Paula Dubois. I killed our baby?”
She continues to hold out the lighter, but says, “Because I stressed. You made me stress.”
Man I know that's some bullshit her bro Perce told her. Nine has three older brothers. That nigga Perce and her are the closest. He’s crazier than she is.
“No, Nine,” I tell her softly, “I love you and our baby. Nevaeh is in heaven? I’ma need you to put that lighter down. You got gasoline all over. On your hands, jeans, shoes. You feel me?”
“No, nigga. I don't wanna feel,” she holds a hand to her chest. “Nigga I don't want to feel shit no more. Not for you. You’re a grimy, dirty, cheating ass–”
I quickly step close to Nine, swat the lighter from her hand and pull her into a hug. Damn my baby feels good. She tries to be bad, so hard. But no matter how many muthafuckas she body, Nine is still sensitive. I didn't think about that earlier, I was treating her like one of my goons and not my baby.
“I'm sorry ma,” I tell her again.
When I let her go, Nines face is twisted up in anger. But my girl’s spoiled. Her cheeks are all puffed out and too cute as she commands, “I want Coco!”
“Damn, you spoiled. How I'ma get Coco?” I ask, rubbing her honey brown hair. “How the hell I’m supposed to get your alligator here? Bae, what else you want? Anything else…”
“Nope,” she says. “You figure it out.”
I sigh. Nine tongues me down real good. Got me ready to fuck her on this lawn, but still she looks at me with this evil glare, saying, “And step outta line Makhi. I double dare your ass to cross that line; Coco won't just be dining on expensive ass Kobe beef and Chilean bass.”
I almost laugh as my bae threatens me. Nine storms off with that fat ass swaying left to right. She steps off the grass and her heels click on the fragmented stone pathway. She opens the front door and slams it shut. I look over. Bane is standing there.
“She’s a little beast.” He shakes his head as if he really wanna just call my bitch crazy.
“Yeah. I’ma need you to figure out how to get Coco here though. Whatever little mama wants, she gets.” I reply thinking about our daughter. Damn, that shit hurts me to my heart. My girl has been different since Nevaeh. I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to get Nine to go to couples counseling over the death of our daughter but she refuses.
Perce
Sitting up in my bed, my eyes adjust to the sunlight streaming in through the cheap linen hanging over the windows. I knock over the plate of chicken bones and a few French fries that was late last night’s hot wing meal. With a yawn, I rub my face then notice in my dresser mirror that one of my hoes must've cornrowed my hair last night. I was blowed of that diamond kush so I don’t even really remember all that happened or how I got home.
In just a wife beater and some sweats, I climb out the bed to see a note from my main bitch, Tatiana, on the dresser. She always tryna keep me posted when really, I don't give a fuck where she goes and who she with as long as that wide mouth and fat ass know how to get back when I need to nut.
In the hallway, I kick over a few beer bottles and one goes rolling on the wood flooring and under my bed.
“Man these muthafuckas is dirty,” I say, shaking my head noticing the hallway and leading into the living room is all a big mess. I'm so glad that Nine ass is coming back home. She needs to leave the lame for good.
Then the thought hits me, Paula had said she had something else to do for Makhi. Instantly I'm pissed the fuck off. My niece didn't have a chance to survive with all the stress that nigga put Nine through while she was pregnant. Paula never really got to see the way a queen should be treated, hell, I barely did. Pops cared for moms like she was everything, before she went voodoo crazy. So Paula doesn’t know Makhi ain't a good look. Paul Junior straight-beasting off that nigga dick. Prado? Man, he always stays neutral about everything.
Damn I wonder where my brothers are. There's no YG blazing through the house. No pakalolo burning like incense. And far as I know, it was pops day off from the garage since his old ass still liked tinkering with classics. Grabbing the knob, I notice that pops door is locked like usual when he's gone.
“I know these niggas didn’t...” Sighing, I pull out my cell phone to see what's up and where my fam is but there's a text from pops.
“Son, we’re on our way to handle that in LA. Be easy.” –Paul Senior
I'm heated. I've always been the closest to Nine. Guess I'm the only muthafucka checking on her. They know that soon as I look at Makhi, he will catch my fade if his eyes hesitate. I can tell when that nigga ain’t keeping Nine straight.
We were always cool on the account of Mimz. That nigga is more than an uncle. More than blood. But Makhi? I know he doesn't treat Nine right no matter what she's woofing about saying he bought her this or took her there. Paula ain't about that.
I dial pops right back.
“Son,” Paul Senior answers soon as the call connects. “We got this.”
“Pops that's bullshit. You think I’ma let my baby sister–”
“Nigga, who do you think you’re talking to? I'm in the middle of the got damn airport!” Paul Senior lowers his voice. “Paula is my child, Percival. I'm going to go chill with an old friend and make sure everything is–”
“Good? Yeah I'm sure,” I cut in. “Matter fact, I'm finna come chill with an old friend in L.A. too,” I say stalking into my bedroom and to the bottom drawer. Because Mimz is the old friend. Makhi just so happens to be that muthafucka son. Paula ain't just any bitch. “You told me Mimz treated his old lady as well as you treated moms. That ain’t how his bitch ass son been treating Paula.”
“Yes, Perce. But you recall that one time we spoke to Paula’s psychiatrist. No added, unneeded stress. Now–“
“I got my funds for a ticket so I’ma see you really soon.” I hang up. The fuck they think they're going to just leave me?
I snatch up the shoebox from my drawer and pull out two bands of cash when the doorbell rings.
I toss the box on my bed and grab my burner from the dresser, and then head to the front door. From the frosted glass shadow I can tell it’s a female. Good if it’s Tatiana, she can cook me breakfast and bless me before I go. Soon as I snatch open the door, I shout, “Who the fuck is you?”
The little breezy before me has green eyes, crinkly long hair and sexy ass pink lips, but I’m not in the mood. Besides, this girl looks bougie as fuck with a designer romper that barely covers a fat, fatty, and red bottom shoes.
Then this Oreo speaks like a white girl, “I’m Val... Valentine McDowall. I mean Valentine Mack. … I-I am one of Mimz’s daughters.”
“You a Mack?” I shout not sure what her scary ass just said with all that stuttering.
“Yes, wait, Percival, your black ass met me last night!” She puts her hands on her hips.
My brain begins to fuzz as I try to remember the shawty in front of me. Nah, wait, maybe just barely I recall tryna holler at her at Mimz nightclub right off the bayou.
“I came to you because my brother is not home. There was a miscommunication about some type of family reunion.”
“Yeah, you the dumb ass little girl that came all the way down from Manhattan to see Makhi and them?” I chuckle, remembering that she was tryna get in the club when the bitch shoulda been in LA with the rest of them. No matter how fine a bitch is, there are twenty more just like her that aren’t jail bait. She didn’t have a 21+ ID. The bouncer said she was wolfing about being a Mack since her ID had a different last name. Yeah, I knew she could be. Mimz has bitches all around the states. A rainbow of Hoes, in all different shades, and she looked familiar. But too muthafucking fine so I didn’t need to be tempted. Last night I had walked on past, without vouching for her.
Now, I chuckle at
her saying, “So your young ass came for that family function?”
“Yeah all my fucking bastard ass brothers and sisters,” Valentine begins, rolling her eyes like she really didn’t want to see her family no way. Then the little half-breed tries to buck up on me. Getting hood, she says, “But that ain’t any of your business, Perce. So don’t fucking go there with me. Lemme remind you of what you good for,” Val begins to wag her shiny, sharp red fingernail saying, “see y’all fucking Dubois’s work for my family! So, I’ma need yo’ ass to get to work–chop, chop. I’m hungry as hell and tired as fuck. Nigga let me in before my daddy hears all about this. And don’t try to pull the moves you did last night,” she adds cutting those emerald eyes at me.
Damn, I guess it’s a new day. The little breezy just got hard. I was faded before 10 pm last night. I did go back outside to see if lil mama was still waiting in line tryna get in. Yeah, I tried to cut. Valentine little sadity ass tried to nut up on me then. But she didn’t go hard last night.
I rub my goatee. “Aight, ma. My bad, I was drunk.” Hand down at my sides, I cross my fingers and chuckle, “A nigga ain’t finna treat you no type of way like I did last night.”
“Thank you, Perce,” Valentine sighs.
Yeah, bitch, I’ma turn you the fuck out…
Valentine
1 day ago...
“Val, what do you wanna do with this?” My step father Elson McDowall asked. His normal perfect pronunciation was slurred. The whiskey on his breath made me gag or it might have been the way he rubbed on that shrimp dick that my mom had to pretend to enjoy. He was all of five foot three. Blond hair. Blue eyes. But the height factor would always and forever have him on one. Short men needed to feel tall, so that meant a man like him was extra flashy, loud, and bossy. He took off his Italian tailor-made suit jacket and sat on the edge of my bed. I chose not to answer him.
“Val... Val... Will you be my Valentine?” He chuckled.
I went for my iPhone six and headphones. The bitch that had given birth to me would probably be home late since this was one of her liposuction spa days. That meant I had to deal with Elson’s attempt at a strip tease.
Loving a Colombian Cartel Thug 2 (Loving a Columbian Cartel Thug) Page 28