Fell For The Plug Next Door

by Candi B

  I met Drizzy a few hours ago, in the Gucci store. He was in the store all alone, running up a few bands when he noticed me. I was taken back by his straightforwardness, and his approach, but I liked it. He stepped to me and got straight to the point. My first thought was to turn down his offer for dinner, but it was a free meal, and it wasn’t a crime to go to dinner with a guy you just met. Drizzy was ugly, but he was cute, and I don’t know if that made sense, but I guess you had to look at him from a certain angle to see the cuteness. He was 5’10, caramel complexion, and his teeth were a little crooked. His arms were covered in tattoos, and he had the signature tear drop under his right eye. He didn’t have a lot of weight on his bones for me, but he looked as if he could hold his own in a fight. He smelled good as fuck, and I loved the Merceds G-Wagon he drove off in.

  “I mean it, Ivy, call or text me to let me know where you at.” Sunaji told me, as I walked out the door.

  “Ok, Pud, I got you. I’ll be back in two hours at the most.” I assured her. We gave each other a hug, and I had valet bring the car around. I pulled off and went down the street to the restaurant Drizzy suggested.

  I know I dropped a few bombs on y’all that I have yet to explain, especially my backstabbing ass cousin, Sharaya. But out of all the shit I’ve been through in life, seeing Sharaya pregnant by my husband hurt me to my core, and it’s something I just don’t talk about. I gave my keys to valet, and walked inside the five-star restaurant. Drizzy was seated at the bar, and when he spotted me, he stood and walked towards me.

  “I don’t think I can ever get tired of seeing your face, you look beautiful.” He complimented me.

  When he saw me earlier, I had on a pair of ripped jeans, a red crop top, with a pair of red Vapormax. I was simple and average, but I’d soak up any compliment he was giving right now. I used to try to dress it up for Xavier and switch my hair or change my nail polish, but he never took the time to notice, or appreciate the effort, so I stopped doing it. Drizzy moved from the bar and we sat in a more secluded area. We had our own private waiter and he wrote down our drink order.

  “You just gon’ leave me hanging on my compliment?” He asked, with a grin.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m starving, and I got lost in the menu.” I lied. “Thank you, you look nice too.”

  I watched the corner of his lips turn, and he smiled like I was the first woman who ever told him he looked good. That was far from the truth, but my stomach was growling, and if feeding his ego would get me the big juicy steak I saw the waiter carrying to a table across from us, I would tell this nigga he look like Michael B Jordan.

  “I try.” He said, a little to cocky for me. “So, Ivy, how are you liking LA?”

  I was so glad I decided not to drink the glass of water when I did, or else it would have been spit out all over his Gucci T-shirt. Drizzy had smoothed over his shirt, and flexed his skinny ass arms.

  “LA has been good so far. Tomorrow is my last night here, so I plan on making the best of it. Me and my girl will probably hit the beach, and do some more sight-seeing. How long have you been in LA?”

  “For about six years now.”

  Now I could have sworn when I met him, he told me he was lived here his whole life. Jesus, he’s not my type, and he’s a damn liar. Just for that, I was about to run up this bill on his lying ass.

  “Oh, ok, so what do you do for a living?” I asked, not really caring. Our waiter came back with our drinks and took our order. I made sure to order the highest thing on the menu, even if I didn’t know what the hell I was eating. I even threw in an appetizer and ordered a bottle of wine.

  “Damn, you must be hungry as fuck, but I got you, baby. What if I told you I wasn’t a rapper, music producer, model, or all the other things people come to LA to aspire to be? Would you still stay for dinner?”

  Duh, I know damn well you aren’t a model, I said to myself. “I don’t know if I would, because you haven’t told me anything yet, except you’re not all the things you just named.”

  He chuckled. “I run these LA streets. I feel like I can trust you, and since you’ll be leaving tomorrow, I probably won’t ever see you again. I’m a drug lord.”

  Now my first thought was, who in their right fucking mind would tell a person they just met they sold drugs? And secondly, what black person uses the word drug lord? In my hood, you were that nigga, or the boss, the plug, shit, you were the nigga with that work, but not a drug lord. Since I’ve been in LA, I’ve seen niggas that look harder than Drizzy.

  “That’s what you do for a living? Here I was thinking you were a painter, or some weak ass shit.” We laughed. “A drug lord, huh? What kind of weight you pushing?”

  “The big shit.” Was his response.

  This nigga was a straight goof ball. He couldn’t even make eye contact with me when he spoke, which let me know he was lying, and for him to be a drug lord, where the fuck was his security? This nigga was telling me his whole life story, and he didn’t even know me from a can of paint.

  “Just when I thought I was done with the dope boys.”

  He sat straight up. “So, you’ve dated a drug lord before?”

  I blew out a breathe of air. “Stop saying drug lord, you make it sound like you the police or an FBI agent. Look, you don’t have to act like a macho man around me, ok? However you get your money is how you get your money, I could care less.”

  “Yeah, I got to get you on my team, I like the way you read people, Ivy. I wanted to see where your head was at. I can tell you a real down ass bitch, who will have a nigga back. What happened with you and your ex?”

  Drizzy was about to make me get a headache. Even the way he tried to switch his gangsta was annoying the crap out of me. I rolled my eyes, and if he saw me, oh well, I didn’t care. When the waiter came back, I was going to tell him to pack my food to go.

  “I don’t want to talk about my ex, and he’s the reason why I’m in LA in the first place. I just want to eat and have a friendly conversation, without discussing him.”

  “Ok, I can dig that. So, what do you do for a living to be riding around in a Rolls Royce? Did your ex buy you that car?”

  “Didn’t I just tell you I don’t want to talk about my ex?”

  He threw up his hands in defense. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to start up a friendly conversation. I’m just trying to get to know you, that’s all.”

  I took a deep breath and calmed down a little. Drizzy was being nice, and usually when you are trying to get to know the opposite sex, your past relationships is bound to come up. “I’m sorry for snapping on you, but my ex makes me so mad just thinking about his no good ass. But no, he didn’t buy me the car, it’s a rental.”

  “Apology accepted, and it’s a nice car. So, I take it he hurt you and you came down here to get over his punk ass.”

  I giggled at the punk ass part. “You would be right. He did hurt me, but I’m over it now.”

  “No, you are not. You’ve rolled your eyes six times since I’ve mentioned anything about your past, and your shoulders went from sitting up straight, and now they’re in a slumped position. You’ve lied a few times since we’ve been at this table actually. I’m may not be what a typical thug looks like, or sounds like, but that’s what I like about it. You’ll never see a nigga like me coming, and that’s the joy I love about it. You see ol girl over there sitting catty corner to us? If I give her one signal, your motherfucking head will be off your shoulders. I can tell from the ring mark on your ring finger, there was once a ring there, which tells me you were married. I bet you and your friend are out here celebrating your divorce. Now, you can get your meal to go, or you can spend this time in the presence of a real nigga, but don’t get shit confused, ma, I’m far from a sucka ass nigga.”

  I looked back, and sure enough, me and the woman he was talking to made eye contact. I turned to look back at Drizzy, and he swirled the shit in the glass and turned it up. Here I was the whole time reading him, when he was already up on game.
Instead of responding, I took the shot that was in front of him and downed it. I wasn’t expecting Drizzy to come out the gates on my ass, and honestly, it turned me on.

  “So, tell me what he did to put a mug on that pretty face of yours?”

  “What all niggas do, he cheated on me.”

  “No, baby girl, he didn’t cheat on you, he cheated himself. I can see that you have some street smarts about you. My bad for making you even think about that nigga again, I can make you think about something else.” He said, rubbing my thighs under the table.

  I knew I should have listened to Sunjai and wore my favorite shorts, but my hot ass just had to put on a dress. I ain’t tripping, because it’s been a while since I felt the touch of any man, and although Drizzy wasn’t my type, he made my pussy feel something it hadn’t in a while. I was feening to do something wild and crazy, and if Drizzy was good at reading people, then he would know my eyes were giving him the go ahead.

  “What are you doing?” I asked him.

  “You can tell me to stop, but I just want you to release some of that anxiety you’ve been holding in. Give me five minutes, and then you can go back home and tell your friends how Drizzy ate that pussy out, and made you forget about that hoe ass nigga.”

  Drizzy got under the table, and pulled my legs towards him. He went under my skirt, and removed the thong I was wearing. He placed my thick thighs on his shoulders, and parted my lips with his tongue. This came from left field bit Drizzy was hitting a home run the way he was sucking on my clit. If he wanted me not to think about Xavier’s trifling ass, his mouth and tongue was doing the trick. I covered my mouth with my hand, because I didn’t want anyone thinking I was being murdered. I saw the waiter approaching with our food, but I wasn’t hungry anymore. Drizzy was feeding life into my body, one suck and lick at a time. At this point, Cali didn’t owe me nothing. I went shopping, ate some good ass food, and was currently getting some bomb ass head.

  Zane

  “What’s up, Z? You got me, man?” Ol school asked me.

  I sucked my teeth. “Hell no, nigga, I don’t know what the fuck you talking about, old head.” I bypassed him and walked inside the corner store.

  The fiends around here just didn’t give a fuck. I know that nigga saw them blue boys sitting in their car a few feet down from the store. Not that I had anything on me, but the old me would have blew his cap back for the shit he tried to pull. I had been out the game for almost a year now, but niggas swore up and down I was still selling. I got in the game, did what I was supposed to do, and got the fuck out. When my money was stacked, I purchased an old warehouse, and turned it into a detail shop. Niggas swore I was using it as a cover up, but I was out of the game, and an official business owner. The concept of how niggas thought always amazed me. It was like a nigga couldn’t dream, like my life was supposed to be nothing more than slanging rocks.

  Building engines and restoring old school cars has been a passion of mine ever since I got my first set of race cars. I was blessed to be able to walk around in Detroit at the age of twenty-six. Most of the niggas I grew up with, are either dead or in jail. My mama hadn’t felt the pain yet of losing one of her children, and I had to think God for that. I was the second born of four children, and I was the only the boy. In today’s world, I guess I was one of the lucky ones, to have a father that was still around and active in my life. Him and my mama never were married, he just gave her a bunch of children, but that nigga never abandoned us, or left my mama hanging. My daddy drove eighteen wheelers, and was always on the road.

  “Get the fuck off my car, nigga, I just washed my shit.” I told Berg.

  “Nigga, shut the fuck up, ain’t nobody gon’ fuck your car up. You need to sell this motherfucker anyway.”

  We pounded hands, and I got in my ride and he got in on the passenger side. My 84’ Mercedes 380SL was my baby. I had a passion for old school cars, and when I found her at the junkyard, I had to have her. I fixed her up and put a new engine in her. Her body was a shiny, shimmering red, with cream colored leather interior, and to complete the look, I had custom matching rims. She was a prize, so I rarely drove her, but to keep her legs in shape, I took her out from time to time. Today was a hot ass day in Detroit, so it was a perfect day to take my lady out.

  “Where the hell you coming from anyway?” I looked over at Zane.

  He smirked. “Nikki’s.”

  I shook my head. “You gon’ catch crabs, nigga.” Nikki was the hood tramp, and for the right amount of bread, she’d do anything, with anyone.

  “Why, nigga, because I got to fuck her first? You a hater, nigga, I know you wanted to tap that.”

  I chuckled. “Nigga, how you know I haven’t? I’ll never hate behind pussy, my nigga. I’ll pass on her any day. I heard she was fucking with that nigga, Dexter, and you know that nigga itching.”

  Berg got uncomfortable, and let the window down. “Stop lying! Man, fuck! Watch me kill that hoe, I used a rubber, so I’m good.”

  Berg’s ass was lying. He always shifted to a different stance or position, when he was unsure about something. Whatever he did with these hoes was his business, and I kept my nose out of it. “Nigga, you better go get checked, before you end up with something you can’t get rid of, and why you not at work?”

  “The same reason you ain’t at work. I make my own schedule, nigga.”

  Berg was my nigga, but he had a poor work ethic, and he was always on colored people time. Me and him had went into business together, and it was a good look, because as a team, we were a dynamic duo. Berg was just as good as I was with cars, but he was lazy. He could break down a motor and put it back together within hours. Berg was my first cousin, and I was five years older than him, and his mama was my mama’s older sister. Berg’s mama was strung out on dope when we were kids, and when the state threatened to take him, my mama went and got him to leave with us. Aunt Londa eventually got her shit together, and she’s been clean for years now.

  “I needed you to drop a transmission for me today, and nigga, where is your car?”

  “I can tell you on some bitch shit today. I dropped that shit already, Zane, and damn, can’t a nigga go out for a walk?”

  Berg wasn’t fooling me, and I bet everything I had in my pocket, he let his baby mama use his car, but again, that wasn’t none of my business. He swore up and down he wasn’t fucking with her, and he only went around her because of their son. I had my own problems, dealing with Timeka’s ass. Timeka was my daughter’s mother, and a pain in my ass. Me, Berg, Timeka, and his baby mama, Lauren, all went to the same high school. Timeka and I should have never gotten together, because it was her best friend, Lala, who I was after. I wanted Lala’s pretty brown ass so bad, but she was liking some nigga on the basketball team. To get close to Lala, I hooked up with Timeka, but that shit backfired, because I started liking Timeka’s ass.

  Everything was going good with us, until her sister, Lynn, told me she was fucking her best friend’s man. Lynn had a thing for me, so I thought her ass was on some lying shit, but when she told me the time and hour that it was going down, I told Lala, and we met up. Lynn’s ass was right, because we caught them fucking in the gym showers. Lala was heartbroken, but I really didn’t give a fuck. I felt something for Timeka, but it wasn’t what I felt for Lala, and this was just what I needed to swoop in and get the girl I really wanted. Lala ended up beating Timeka’s ass, and Timeka thought she could get back a Lala by sleeping with her man, but the joke ended up being on my ass. Lala wasn’t feeling me, I kept knocking Timeka down, and when the results came back, it was proven that Zanaya was mine. Those result turned a boy into a man, because there was no way I was going to fail my daughter. I started hustling, but I made sure I got my diploma too.

  “Good, Big Rick will be by later to see the progress we’ve been making. You know that is one impatient ass nigga.”

  “Fuck Big Rick, that nigga still owe me money.”

  “Nigga, he let us grind on his corners, and h
elp put food on the table. He don’t owe us shit.” Berg’s ass was about to make me steal off on his ass.

  We used to work for Big Rick when we hustled. We made him a lot of cash flow, and he tried to pay us triple when we told him we wanted out. Big Rick showed me he was a real nigga when he said, “Go and be something besides a drug dealer, lil niggas.” He didn’t give us our cut for the week, but I was smart enough to know he was giving us something he never gave any nigga. Berg knew that shit too, but he just wanted to be a hard ass.

  “Speak for yourself, I ain’t tripping though, watch me charge him extra though, nigga, I’m getting my money.” We laughed.

  I pulled up to the shop, and business was booming as usual. I parked in the garage where I kept my car. There was two things I wanted in life. My daughter to grow up and be a successful woman, so she didn’t have to depend on any of these niggas, and my shop to take over the upholstery business.

  “Zane!”

  Fuck, man. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Timeka. That bitch had to of had something planted inside my head, because every time I was in a good mood, her ass popped up to ruin my day. I ignored her ass and walked directly to my office. Within seconds, she barged through the door, talking her normal shit.

  “What’s the point of you having a phone, if you not going to answer it? I’m getting really tired of your shit, Zane. Anything could have happened to me, or Zanaya, and you wouldn’t know.”

  In order to keep from spazzing on her, I just started at her like she was stupid. I kicked back in the chair, and put my feet up on my desk. I put my hands above my head and just stared at her. I looked at her dumb ass and just thought to myself, what possessed her to think I would be worried about her? Timeka wasn’t a bad looking girl, she was pretty, and if she wasn’t so crazy, I still might fuck her ass. She wasn’t tall, but wasn’t short either. Her hips weren’t wide, but just enough to fill out the dress she was wearing. Her caramel complexion was a little redder from the mad look on her face, and her hands rested on the side of her small, but meaty, butt. Somewhere I went from staring at her, to thinking about chopping her up and hiding her body.