by Kareem
“You like how soft my breasts are, Korey?” she asked, looking into my eyes and continuing to guide my hand farther down.
“What man wouldn’t like how soft your tits are?”
“I know it’s your first day home, playboy. But relax. Relax and finger this pussy,” she said, gapping her legs and placing my hand between her soft, smooth thighs.
I thought before I dared to react. The guy who taught me “hate destroys the hater” also taught me that men leaving prison have got to stop wanting to fuck the first woman we meet. He taught me that you should take your time and get to know a woman first, and let her get to know you, so that something other than a “fleshy” relationship can surface, something everlasting like love. Having practiced and practiced and practiced self-control, I reluctantly removed my hand from between Keisha’s warm, soft thighs.
“I’m a’ight right now, Keisha,” I told her.
She cocked her head, surprised. “Dayum. You sure?” She gave me one of those “you’re not gay, are you?” type of looks.
“Yeah, I’m straight. Just wanna take it slow right now. That’s all.”
“Your brother seemed to think that this is what you wanted.”
“There’s a lot about me that my brother don’t know. People change. You are a very beautiful woman, though. What do you do for a living?”
“Well, thank you.” She blushed. “I’m an attorney. I’m sure your brother will tell you all about me.” She pulled out of the bus station’s lot and hit the road. “One thing’s for sure: he’s got an ass kicking coming to his crazy ass!”
“Why is that?” I looked over at her pretty face and smiled.
“’Cause his ass knows I could have been doing something else. Instead, he coerced me to come pick you up, dressed like this! That’s why!”
“Yeah, that’s him. Still crazy.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” she shot back, then turned the volume up on the Stevie Wonder CD.
After riding for about twenty minutes and vibing to that Stevie, we pulled into this nice-ass middle-class neighborhood and drove up to the driveway of this big two-story brick home. Parked outside was a milky white Corvette with chrome rims, a gray BMW, and a black Range Rover.
“Well, Korey. We’re here,” Keisha said, shutting the engine off.
We both stepped out. She popped the trunk and retrieved my belongings.
“I’ll take those, Keisha,” I said, reaching for my property.
She dodged my attempt. “Told you, your brother sent me to take care of you. So I got this.”
“Take care of me?” I chuckled. “What am I? A kid?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, looking down at my crotch area. “Your brother sent a real woman, and you didn’t respond. Not like most men would, anyway.”
She walked inside, smiling, with me following close behind.
Chapter 3
I Got a Surprise for You
“Killa muthafuckin’ Korey! My nig is home. Oh, shit! What’s up, dawg?” Hammer greeted me with open arms the moment I walked through the door behind Keisha.
“What is up, bruh?” I embraced him. I had never seen him smile as hard as he was smiling. Keisha walked past us, shaking her head and smiling at us carrying on.
“Man, it’s good to see my dawg,” he said, justifying his reason for cheesing so hard, and he hugged me again.
“Good to see you too, bruh. I didn’t think we were ever gonna get out of the joint.”
“Me either, dawg. Guess them crackas felt sorry for a mu’fucka.”
“They should have. How you gon’ give out twenty, thirty, forty years, and in some cases life, to cats who were petty-ass coke dealers? C’mon, bruh, you know they were wrong from the start. We weren’t mu’fuckin’ kingpins!”
“Well, fuck them.” Hammer waved that subject off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “We’re home now. And, dawg, it’s on. I’m telling you!”
“Word, bruh?”
“That’s on my solid, my nig. Check this out, though,” Hammer said out the side of his mouth, not too loud. “Did KeKe take care of you?”
I looked around for signs of Keisha, but I didn’t see her. She had disappeared into another room in this huge, spacious house. “In what way you mean that?”
“You know what way I mean.” He poked my chest with his index finger, smiling. “Did she give you some of that wet, wet?”
“Nah, bruh.” I shook my head. “I’m straight.”
“What? What’chu mean, you straight?” Hammer looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
“I just got out, man. Plus, I don’t know shorty like that!”
“Killa. Killa Korey, man. Stop it!”
“I’m serious, yo. I gotta take my time—”
“Take your time?” Hammer interrupted, locking eyes with me. “Are you kidding me? My nig, we took our time when that judge dropped twenty on us! It’s time now to take our throne! And what’s a king without a fine-ass queen helping him do that, my nig?”
“All of that will come, bruh. Once I get me a job and feel how shit moving out here.”
“Once you get a job?” Hammer backhanded the side of my head, cutting me off like I said something totally stupid! “Look around, my nig. Does it look like I work for somebody? If I don’t work for nobody, there is no way my partner in fucking crime and brother is gonna work for somebody out here! Are you kidding me or what, K?”
“So what’chu saying? Apparently you know something I don’t.”
“I do, trust me. But first, I need for you to meet somebody.”
“Who?”
“You’ll see.” Hammer placed his arm around my shoulder and walked me upstairs to a huge master bedroom, where I saw a fine redbone who looked just like KeKe. She was sitting on the edge of a queen-sized bed, touching buttons on a remote she had pointing in the direction of a huge wide-screen television mounted on a wall directly in front of the foot of the bed. On the screen was Kings of New York, which was Hammer’s favorite movie back in the day. He and his girl must’ve been watching it together before KeKe and I pulled up.
“Kolanda, sweetheart. C’mere a minute.” Hammer motioned with his head to the beauty sitting on the bed. “Sweetheart, you know who this green-eyed cat is?” he asked her, smiling and pointing at me.
“Of course. That’s your brother, Killa Korey,” she replied, revealing a healthy smile. She was wearing an all-white skin-tight full-body suit. It revealed every single curve God gave her body. It didn’t take me having twenty-twenty vision to see and know that she and Keisha were twins. The only visible difference was the way they were wearing their hair. Keisha’s was long and hanging down to the middle of her back. Kolanda had hers high up in a ponytail that came down to her buttocks. My dawg Hammer had really scored a beauty with this one. “How could I not know who this guy is after you have shown me countless pictures of the two of you in prison together?” Kolanda said further after looking me over.
“I know, right, sweetheart?” Hammer shot back, still cheesing from ear to ear. He was just glad to see me out of the joint and home with him.
“Right.” She nodded. “Korey, you are all my husband talks about.”
“Husband?” I interrupted her, surprised. “What’chu mean, husband? You married?” I looked at Hammer and asked.
“I was gonna wait to tie the knot until you came home, dawg, but my baby insisted that we marry without delay. I married her my first day home. We went straight to the courthouse and handled our business.”
“Sure did. I wasn’t taking any chances with this one here, Korey!” Kolanda locked her arm with Hammer’s in an intimate fashion and blushed.
“Hey, it is what it is. Congratulations, though, bruh. I’m happy for the two of you. And, Kolanda, it’s a pleasure meeting you. I know you’re making my brother real happy!”
“Well, thank you, Korey. And I bet you made my sister reeeal happy!” she said with her eyes checking out my crotch area. “Where is KeKe anyway
?”
“She’s downstairs,” Hammer told her.
Kolanda left us to go find her. Hammer placed his arm around my shoulder and walked me over to a bar that was also inside this huge master bedroom. “I got a surprise for you, my nig,” he whispered.
“What kind of surprise?”
“Just have a seat and, tell me, what will it be? Brown or white?” He went behind the bar where there was nothing but bottles of liquor. All kinds.
“I’m good on the liquor. Just give me some OJ on ice.”
“OJ? On ice?” Hammer folded his eyebrows and looked at me strangely. “My nig, it’s your first day home. You better take a drink wit’cha dawg. Now, what will it be, Killa? Brown or white?” He held up two bottles.
“I don’t drink anymore, bruh.”
“I didn’t ask you to get drunk, Killa! All I’m asking you to do is sip on one with your dawg. Besides, you’re gonna need a drink after I show you what that surprise is. Now, what will it be, playa?”
“OJ on ice. That’s my final.”
“You trippin’.” He grabbed me a clear glass, put some ice cubes inside it, and poured me what he had that was nonalcoholic. “How about this grapefruit juice?”
“That’ll do.”
“Here’s to you being home, my nig. I love you!” We touched glasses then downed our drinks. I saw him look past me all of a sudden, a sign that someone was approaching. I turned around and, lo and behold, it was KeKe wearing a full-body black silk spandex pantsuit with black leather knee-high stiletto boots. Lord, have mercy! I said silently. This woman drop-dead gorgeous! I then silently began praying for strength!
“Excuse me a second, Korey. I need to speak with Hammer,” KeKe said, stepping behind the bar and interrupting our moment of toasting to my freedom.
“No problem.”
She stepped to Hammer and began whispering something in his ear. As she was doing so, he looked at me and smiled, then looked back down, then at me again. He whispered something in her ear after a few seconds of her speaking in his. I knew they were talking about me. I felt it. She then walked away without looking at me. I turned my head to see what that booty looked like in that outfit of hers. That thang was wiggling and jiggling profusely! She had to be wearing a thong!
“My nig, my nig, my nig! What in the hell has gotten into you?” Hammer said, hitting his fist in his palm. “Did you see all of that?”
“I saw it,” I replied. “Who am I, Stevie Wonder?”
“Nah, but you act like you don’t have a dick between your legs, Killa!”
“You trippin’, yo.” I waved him off with my hand.
“I’m dead serious, my nig! Keisha was gonna give you the pussy!”
“Told you I don’t know shorty like that.”
“Don’t matter, dawg! I sent her to you. You my dawg, my partner in crime, my brother! You know I wouldn’t send any chick at you knowing you just got out fresh and clean. Do you know what I had to do to even get her to come at you like she did?” Hammer said then paused to look me in the eyes.
“What’chu do, pay her?” I took a guess.
“Pay her? Keisha and my wife got cake, dawg! They don’t need money! I had to make a deal with her.”
“You had to make a deal with her?”
“Yeah, my nigga. I had to make a deal with her. But I’ll share that with you later. Listen, though, Killa. Keisha grade A, my nig. She’s not like them hood hoes we used to holla at back in the day, chicks who’ll fuck for nothing! Her pussy hasn’t been tatted with all type of niggas’ dicks! Feel me? She has only had one lover, my nig. He was a white cat who recently broke her heart and shit when she found out he had an affair on her ass! You know how us men do, dawg, be cheating and shit, not realizing we got a good thing ’til it’s gone! Now, she’s feeling like a slut because she normally doesn’t expose herself like she did to you. I’m disappointed with you on this one, Killa!”
“Hey, Ham, like I said, I don’t know her, and she doesn’t know me. Not like that, anyhow. Maybe we’ll get to know each other later. I mean, what’s the rush?”
“No rush. She’s just a little embarrassed, that’s all. Anyways, put this up.” Hammer changed the subject, turning from me to do something.
“Put what up?” I shot back, seeing him looking into a drawer attached to the bar.
“This. Put this up.” He handed me a white envelope.
“What’s this, bruh?” I asked.
“DPs, what’chu think? Now get to counting because that ain’t shit. I got something else to show you.”
I knew from Hammer saying that DPs were in this envelope that he was speaking in code like we used to do when we were street hustling prior to our incarceration. DPs stood for Dead Presidents, as in a lot of cash! I opened the envelope and couldn’t believe my damn eyes. “Man, how much bread is this?”
“Twenty.”
“Whut?” I looked at him like “where in the hell you get this kind of cake from?”
“Killa, dawg, that ain’t shit!” He picked up on my facial expression. “I told you, for the surprise I have for you, your ass shoulda took a drink. I know it’s your first day home, but your brother been working, baby. And, you right on time. Now put that little bit of cake away and follow me.”
“Little bit of cake?” I repeated to my brother. “Man, you know how long it’s been since I had this much bread in my hands?”
“Dawg, that ain’t shit but something for you to go shopping with tonight. Trust me.”
Chapter 4
I’m Not Trying to Go Back to the Joint
I placed the twenty Gs that Hammer had given me inside my front pocket and followed Hammer to a room right across from the one we were in. This room was nearly vacant except for having a well-made queen-sized bed, a ceiling fan, and a large-screen floor-model television and entertainment system. Hammer shut the door behind us and led me to a huge walk-in closet where there was a very large safe.
Hammer spun the combination lock to open it. “Take a peep at this shit, Killa Korey.”
I squatted to look inside. “Damn! What’s that? Keys of coke?”
“Nah, dawg. That’s her big brother, heroin! The same shit that made Nicky Barnes and Frank Lucas and them cats filthy rich back in the day. My nigga, we about to make a whole lot of cash! Matter fact, as you can see, I’ve already started! And, Korey, yo, business is booming like fuck! Why you think I couldn’t wait for you to come home, yo?”
“Hammer. Hold on, bruh. What do you mean, ‘we’? I’m not going back to the joint, Hammer! I can’t fucking do that place for the rest of my life. I can’t, yo.” I shook my head and put on my serious face.
“Neither can I. We just gotta play our cards right, K—”
“There’s no such thing anymore,” I cut in. “The Feds got it on lock out here! It ain’t the same. Cats telling on their own mothers to avoid going to the joint, Hammer. Are you kidding me?”
“You ain’t telling. I’m not telling. So we straight. Fuck the Feds!”
“Nah, bruh. Fuck going back to the joint!” I locked eyes with my brother to show my seriousness.
“Killa Korey, you killing me with this ‘I ain’t trying to go back to the joint’ crap! Listen, man. You know what I’m not trying to go back to? I’m not trying to go back to hustling on a block for chump change! Shit, I went to the joint broke. We both did after them lawyers drained what little we had! And, K, I damn sure ain’t trying to work for white folks who don’t give a damn about a nigga who just came home from the joint with a felony on his record. Man, fuck that!”
“We don’t give a damn about our people either, bruh, if we gon’ sell this shit to them and throw rocks back at the penitentiary!” I countered, trying to get my dawg to think.
“Korey, when we were selling drugs, which one of us ever put a gun to a buyer’s head and demanded that he or she purchase our work? Which one of us ever did some shit like that, huh?”
“I know where you’re going with this, but—
”
“Nah, keep it real, dawg,” Hammer cut me off. “What I’m saying is, babies are not buying this shit. Grown folk are, Korey! Grown folk make their own got’damn decisions, playa! If they want that work, it’s their own choice. We just happen to have what mu’fuckas want out here to make them feel good. And I’m trying to get it to them!” Hammer shut his safe. “You in or out?”
“I’m through with the streets, bruh. And you can call me soft, stupid, whatever. But next to me not going back, I can’t leave my little daughter hanging again to grow up without her father.”
Knock, knock, knock! Someone interrupted, banging on the door. “Ham, telephone. It’s important!” Hammer’s wife yelled.
“I’m on my way right now, sweetheart!” he shouted back before standing directly in front of me and placing his hands on my shoulders. “Killa Korey,” he said, not too loud, “you are my brother, for whom I would run through hell with gasoline drawers on if need be and burn like a mu’fucka. I trust you. And, dawg, I love you. I’m not asking you to get knee-deep back into the streets like we were before doing time. All I’m asking you to do is honor those nine words we took our Partnerz in Crime oath on. Remember those nine words, my nigga? ‘I will back my brother’s play, come what may.’” Hammer reminded me, counting the words on his fingers as he uttered them. “We promised one another back in the days, you and me, that we would never go back on those words. I’m just asking you to be there for me. Who the hell else am I supposed to trust out here?” Hammer said, then walked away to open the door where his wife was waiting with the telephone in her hand. He took it and walked into their bedroom.
“Sorry to disturb what the two of you were discussing, but Hammer was expecting this call.”
“Oh, no problem. I’m cool. By the way . . . ahh, Kolanda, right?”