by Kareem
“I love you too, Keisha.”
“I wanna have your baby.”
“You do? A little boy or little girl?”
“A little Korey Jr.” She snuggled closer to me and kissed me on the lips, smiling. She was really tipsy. Her whole bedroom reeked of alcohol, plus I could taste it on her lips.
“We’re gonna have to work on that then, aren’t we?”
“Can we start now?”
“Not now, cutie,” I replied softly. “Maybe in the morning. For now, get some rest so you can sober up. Okay?” I kissed her on her sexy, narrow nose.
“Mm-hmm.”
Chapter 25
I Want to Have Your Baby
The following day after Hammer and I handled that dire situation with Fat Rah’s rat ass, I awoke to Keisha giving me a killa blowjob in her bed, where I slept with her overnight.
“Damn, thank you, baby,” I said to her softly as her head went up and down on my erect pole of pleasure, making me feel like I had awakened in heaven itself. “Thank you so much!” I couldn’t thank her enough for the wonderful feeling that her moist mouth was delivering over my jimmy.
“My pleasure,” she said, smiling. Then she slapped her face with it, got over me, and lifted her bra, which freed her tits. She put them where she felt they belonged: directly in my face where my mouth was. “Suck my titties. I love it when you do that.”
I licked and gently sucked on her nipples while squeezing her tits like I was begging for milk. While I was doing so, Keisha reached and pulled her panties to the side, gripped my throbbing hard dick, and eased down on it. She gently and slowly rode up and down what little she could before she was completely wet enough to take it all up inside her.
She rode me in upright fashion, with her hands resting on my chest. Her tits bounced as I gripped her ever-so-soft ass cheeks to assist her up and down on my pole. Every time this dick hit her bottom, she let out a deep, soft, “Uhhh,” and pressed her nails in the flesh of my chest.
“Cum inside me, Korey. I wanna have your baby. Cum in me,” she freaked, looking me in the eyes the whole ride to let me know that she wasn’t kidding me. To ensure that I watered her garden of pleasure and sheer delight, she began twirling her pussy down on this dick, and she turned up the volume on her moans. “Sss, uhhh.”
Kolanda fucked around and peeped inside the room, being that Keisha’s door was cracked and the sound of us having sex was loud. Kolanda saw my tree of life planted deeply in her sister’s soil of love. She shook her head, smiling at us getting it in early. She shut the door quietly, leaving Keisha and me in the boxing ring of love and lust to duke it out sexually until we had enough.
* * *
I knew that Shamika and Olivia would be at church being that it was Sunday morning, so I drove out to Mint Hill to love on them for a while. I also had to put away some cash at a safe I had at Shamika’s place. I had damn near $2 million as my cut from what Hammer and I took last night from that rat Fat Rah. Hammer and his wife stayed up counting it. $3.9 million it was in all. I took the $1.9 million that Hammer put to the side for me in one of the suitcases. But here in my Vette, I was travelling with only 150 stacks. I gave Keisha fifty stacks just for taking $300,000 to her condo and hiding it in a safe that I had over there full of loot already. I left the rest over at the crib, in my bedroom closet, stacked away neatly in five of my Air Jordan sneaker boxes. I was finally a rich-ass young nigga, just like I always dreamt of being.
When I got to Shamika’s, I didn’t see her electric-blue BMW minivan that I gave her money to buy. She’d always wanted one, so I told her to trade her used Honda Civic in on it and I gave her the rest of the down payment. I could have had her pay the whole nearly $30,000 that the dealership wanted, but doing that would have only raised eyebrows. I didn’t need muthafuckas checking all into my baby mother’s financial status and whatnot. I’d have rather she made payments. After all, she owns a salon that’s bound to be successful. This would allow her to account for being able to afford what she was riding in, not to mention that just because I was getting mad loot with my ace, Hammer, that didn’t give me a license to spend recklessly. I learned in the business course I took that a fool and his money would soon part. I wasn’t going to be that fool!
I put my $150,000 up in the safe in the closet of Shamika’s bedroom. It was after 1:00 p.m., so I put one of Shamika’s Smokie Norful CDs in and pressed play. “I Need You Now” began playing, not too loudly, through the speakers of her entertainment system of her bedroom. While I was in the joint, I used to listen to this song a lot on the Christian radio station. I couldn’t count the times I heard it and prayed to God for Him to bless me out of prison early because I needed to be with Shamika, raising our daughter. Looking back on those moments of praying to God in the joint, while listening to Smokie Norful’s heavenly voice, brought tears to my eyes as I considered the fact that God had indeed answered my prayers.
I was not a person who was deeply religious, but I did believe in God. My mother always went to church just like Shamika went now. In fact, my mother used to write me in the joint and tell me to get me a nice churchgoing woman and settle down with her when I did get out. I missed my mother tremendously. With her, it was all about God and not about the gangsta life I elected to be a part of to earn my daily bread.
I silently thanked God for answering my prayers. I thought He was the reason I got an early release from the joint. Me and Hammer both, as well as so many others who benefitted from the change in the crack law. Since I was silently thanking God for my freedom, I humbly asked Him to forgive Hammer and me for our sins and to bear with us because old habits and ways were hard as hell to break.
As I was pacing Shamika’s bedroom floor, silently praying, which really felt good and peaceful being that no one was around, I heard keys jingling and Olivia’s voice. “My daddy must be here because his car is in our driveway,” she said loud enough for me to hear her.
I walked out of Shamika’s bedroom into her living room and saw them coming in. “Told you, Mama, my daddy was over here,” Olivia said, smiling and quickly walking over to me, arms open wide.
“Hey, baby girl.” I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a kiss.
“How long have you been over here, Korey?” Shamika asked, placing her purse and keys on her coffee table. Her mother was behind her, but she took a seat saying that her feet were killing her.
“About an hour,” I replied, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How you doing, Mrs. Washington?” I greeted Shamika’s mother.
“Tired, honey, and my feet hurt. This here is a nice place, ah, Mika got here. She say you bought it for her. You must be doing real good now that you’re out of prison.”
“I can’t complain.”
“Daddy, I’ll be back. I gotta use the bathroom,” Olivia interrupted, walking toward the bathroom.
“So what’chu doing for a living now, ah, Korey?” Shamika’s mother asked.
“I invest in real estate. I’m doing pretty good with that right now.”
“Really?” she hissed, looking at me like, “Who do you think you’re fooling?” For as long as she’d known me, I’d been a drug dealer and street cat, but I didn’t give a damn what she thought of me. I wasn’t obligated to tell her the truth of what I did to earn my daily bread and a better living for myself, Shamika, and our baby Olivia.
Before I could say anything further, Shamika cut in and said, “Mama, you gon’ help me fix this chicken I got thawing in the kitchen?”
“Don’t I every Sunday?”
“Well, we might need to be getting to it, don’t you think?”
“Go on and get the flour and seasonings out and whatnot. I’ll be in there. Told you my feet hurting. Been ushering in these o’ tight heels,” she said, picking one of the heels up and looking at it. Shamika’s mom was like 280! Everybody who knew her called her big mama!
I knew by Shamika cutting in what she was trying to do. She was interrupting her mother’s
attempt to ask me questions that Shamika knew I didn’t have the patience and temper to answer and put up with. Her mother was a nosey and somewhat miserable woman. She wanted Shamika to so badly meet a doctor or a lawyer or a pastor of a big church and be the wife of one of those types. I mean, like someone with one of those titles in front of their name made them better than a man with real love for Shamika, a man like me.
Now, her father, who ended up losing his life on the battlefields of Iraq, he was cool. Before I went off to the joint, he used to tell me that as long as I didn’t mistreat Shamika by beating on her and stuff like that, and as long as I had true love for her, it was all good with him. Pops was a real cool dude. May God rest his soul in peace. I never put my hands on his daughter other than to love her with them or to stop her from slapping the hell out of me for doing or saying something she felt I shouldn’t have.
“So, ah, Korey,” Shamika’s mother said, focusing back on me. I knew she would. She just couldn’t help herself. My phone started going off while she was talking. “Are you going to keep yourself out them streets?”
“I haven’t been in the streets since I been home. I’m definitely through with the streets,” I answered her while checking my phone. It was Hammer. “Excuse me a moment,” I said to Shamika’s mom, putting my hand up. I spoke to Hammer briefly. He was just checking up on me.
When Shamika’s mother saw me put my phone away, she said, “You and Shamika plan on marrying each other?”
I looked over at Shamika, who was standing not too far behind her mother. She shook her head, saying no quietly, indicating that was how she wanted me to answer her mother.
“We haven’t talked about it in detail, but I do love your daughter very much.”
“The pastor at our church thinks that Mika would make a good wife.”
When she said that, Shamika closed her eyes and shook her head and walked off into the kitchen like she didn’t want that coming from her mother’s mouth.
“Does the pastor have a wife?” I asked, picking up on the fact that he must have had a thing for my girl.
“No. He’s a young thirty-five-year-old God-fearing man. Comes from a good family and he has no kids. He always be saying that Mika would make a good wife. I reckon he likes her.”
“Mama, are you coming?” Shamika yelled.
“Let me get in there, ’fore this girl worry me to death about getting that chicken fried.” She got up and went off into the kitchen. “You keep yourself out of trouble,” she said on the way.
I walked into Olivia’s bedroom, wondering why Shamika hadn’t told me about this preacher fella who liked her. Olivia had changed out of her Sunday clothes into one of her short outfits and sandals. “I was just on my way back out there, Daddy.”
“You wanna go get some ice cream?”
“Sure. I love ice cream.”
“I know.” I placed my arm around her neck. We walked to my car.
Shamika met us on the way out. “Are you having dinner over here, Korey?”
“If I’m still wanted.”
“What’s with the attitude all of a sudden?”
“Wait for me in the car, O.”
Olivia walked to my Vette and got inside, leaving her mother and me alone a moment.
“Were you ever going to tell me about this pastor cat who thinks you would make a good wife, Shamika? What’s up with that? Are y’all two kicking it on the fuckin’ low?”
“My mother talks too much.”
“Maybe so, but was she right?”
“He’s nothing to worry about, Korey. Trust me. I am not interested in him at all. You trippin’.”
“Trippin’? Let me tell you something, Mika,” I shot back, looking her squarely in her eyes with my serious face and pointing my finger in her face. “You better not be kicking it with this cat on the low, leading him on and, shit, flirting! If y’all got anything going on, you better be cutting it off now! And I’m dead serious!”
“Korey, you trippin’.”
“Yeah, well, let me find out!”
“Whateva, Korey.” She sucked her teeth, rolled her eyes, and went inside.
I hopped inside my car with my baby girl and burned rubber. One thing I didn’t play was sharing Shamika. That wasn’t going to happen! There was only going to be one bull in her pasture. Me!
Chapter 26
Partnerz in Crime
Olivia and I went to Dairy Queen and copped us some ice cream. She ordered a banana split. I had a chocolate sundae with a big red cherry on top. After leaving Dairy Queen, I took O shopping at Foot Locker. Like me, she had a fetish for sneaks. I bought her two pairs of Jordans and matching Chicago Bulls jersey skirts. I really didn’t want to buy her the jersey skirts because, at fourteen years old now, my baby girl’s jewels were noticeably visible. I mean, her breasts were like li’l well-ripened oranges, her waist was small, her little booty was plump, and her thighs and legs were semi-thick and muscular from her running track for her school. I would have hated for a guy to see her in one of these jersey skirts and say the wrong thing to her. But being that she wanted them, I paid for them. I just could not look her in her pretty light-skinned face, with those pretty hazel-green eyes looking back at me, and tell her no to anything she wanted.
When we were done, I took her over to Hammer’s. Him, Kolanda, and Keisha were all there and showed my baby girl mad love.
“Ms. Keisha, is she your twin sister?” O asked her, pointing at Kolanda as we all chilled in Hammer and his wife’s bedroom at the bar.
“Mm-hmm,” Keisha replied, smiling. “But, tell me the truth, Olivia, who looks the best? Her or me?” Keisha stood up from sitting on the barstool and placed her hand on her hip with a pose, trying to look sexier than she already was naturally.
Olivia looked over at Kolanda, who was sitting at the bar, looking as beautiful and as sexy as Keisha, but poking her lips and shaking her head at Keisha daring to ask O that question.
“I can’t tell the difference. Both of you are very pretty,” she said, then looked at me. “What do you think, Daddy?” she asked me as if looking for me to bail her out of this one. Keisha had truly put her on the spot.
“Well,” I said, “you supposed to pick Ms. Keisha. Don’t you see that fifty dollar bill in her hand?”
“No, no, no, no, no,” Hammer interjected while gently pulling his wife close to him by her waist and pointing at her as he stood next to her. “You’re supposed to pick this one. Besides, what’s a fifty dollar bill compared to this, Olivia?” Hammer reached inside his pocket and pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills. He held it up for Olivia to see clearly.
“Okay, she wins,” O said, pointing at Kolanda. “She’s the prettiest.” We all began laughing, seeing that the offering of more money motivated and persuaded her final decision.
“Baby girl, never let any amount of money offered to you stop you from speaking the truth! You got me?” I lifted my hand for a high five.
“I got you, Daddy.”
“Your dad’s right, O,” Hammer walked up to her and slid her a one hundred dollar bill like he would slide someone a drug package on the low. “However,” he said low, “you made a good final decision to pick my wife.”
“Oh, whateva!” Keisha said. She handed my daughter the fifty dollar bill that she had in her hand anyway. “Here’s for telling the truth from the start. Sometimes it’s always good to go with your first mind.”
“Thank you, both,” O said, smiling and looking at me like, “You need to bring me over here often. Your friends are nice!”
“You know, Olivia,” Hammer said while taking a seat next to his wife at the bar, “you are a very pretty girl yourself.” He reached for O’s hand and gently pulled her to himself.
“Thank you.”
“You must get your looks from your mother because your old man right there, well, he’s not so good-looking.”
“My dad’s good-looking. In fact, everybody says that we look so much alike that he couldn’t den
y me even if his life depended on it!” She began laughing.
“That much is true,” I heard Keisha chime in.
“There you go, baby girl. Defend the man who loves you beyond measure,” I said, walking over and giving her a kiss on the cheek. Hammer still had her hand in his. He waved me off with the other one.
“I was just kidding, baby girl, about your dad. That’s a good man right there. When we were inside the joint, all he did was talk about how much he missed his daughter. You mean the world to that guy right there. Which means you mean the world to me, to that woman, and that one,” Hammer said, pointing at Keisha and Kolanda. “You know who all of us in this room here are together, O?” he carried on with a question for baby girl. He answered it before she could. “We’re all Partnerz in Crime.”
“Partnerz in Crime?” she repeated, with an inquisitive look suddenly blanketing her pretty face. She turned from looking at him and looked over at me. She was looking for an explanation.
Hammer wasn’t going to leave her hanging, so he continued what he started. “Yeah, O. Partnerz in Crime. That mean we’re family. We stick together. We don’t let anyone or nothing come between the unity, love, and loyalty we all have for each other.”
“Oh, I see. So y’all are like a gang?”
“Mmm,” Hammer said with a pause, thinking on how to respond to that. “We prefer the term ‘family,’ O. Your dad is my family, as is Keisha and her sister here, Kolanda, who is my wife. Now, we’re not blood related. Keisha and Kolanda obviously are, but we’re all bond related. Our common bond is our love and loyalty toward one another. When your dad hurts, we all hurt, and vice versa. If Keisha here needs a helping hand with something, she has all of us, and all of us have her.”
“Oh, okay,” O said. “I understand.”
“That’s how those of us in this room here roll. And, look, O, this here is how we shake hands to show that we are of one family, which is the family of love and loyalty for each other. Stick out your index finger.”
Olivia stuck her index finger out like she was pointing, giving directions. Me, Keisha, and Kolanda all looked on as Hammer schooled my daughter on who we were to each other and how we did things. At fourteen years old and very intelligent, Olivia was catching on to everything he was sharing. He pointed his finger out along with hers.