The Hood Life

by Meesha Mink

  WHAP-BAP!

  The tears fall as I feel him bend down to take my dick into his mouth. This big muscular motherfucker moanin’ and hummin’ like a bitch while I wish I could die to keep this big fag motherfucker off me.

  Vomit fills my throat and some spills out the sides of his hand as I tremble against that cold wall and pray that he stops. I feel nauseous from the wet feel of him slurpin’ on my dick. I don’t give a fuck, my dick ain’t gettin’ hard.

  Eventually he caught the fuck on and took one last suck to my tip. Slurp!

  “Dick won’t get up,” he whispers in my ear when he jerks my body back close to his big sweaty body. He turns me around until my back is pressed to his front. He grinds his hard dick against my buttocks. “That’s all right, mine is, fish.”

  My heart beatin’ so hard and I feel like my ass gone pass out. I close my eyes and struggle against him but my strength ain’t shit up against his. He bends our bodies as he kneels on the floor and presses me down across my bunk. I squeal against his hand as he slaps my bare ass before he squeezes and rubs it like it’s a tittie or some shit.

  I squeal like a bitch again when he spreads my ass cheeks and hawk spits on my hole.

  “Oh God, please…no…please. I swear I don’t deserve this. Please God…please.” I pray and I pray as I cry and I cry.

  Just as I feel him workin’ the tip of his dick into my ass I see an image of Shaterica cryin’ so pitifully on the stand.

  Damn.

  28

  The Killer

  K-I-L-L-E-R

  I can’t pull my eyes from the black ink scrawled across my chest. My curse. My brand. My fate.

  It’s been four and a half months since I walked out of Jesup Federal and it’s time for me to accept the hard-ass truth: I’m a fuckin’ killer. Killing comes natural for me. It’s easy. And truth be told: that last time I fucked my parole officer and squeezed the life out of her, it was the best fuckin’ orgasm I ever had.

  “Baby, you a’ight in there?” Zoey’s voice drifts through the bathroom door.

  I open it and flash a smile. “Never better, baby.” I walk out of the bathroom, plant a kiss on her full lips, and give her a good whack on the ass.

  She jumps with a hard laugh and then follows me to the bedroom as I get dressed.

  When I pull out my new all-black gear, she crawls up onto the bed and crosses her legs Indian-style. “Tonight’s the night?”

  “Yeah.” I pull a thin, black turtleneck over my head.

  “Is it a drug drop?”

  “Zoey.” My eyes flash a warning.

  “Sorry.” She drops her head. “I’m just nervous.” To prove it, she crosses and uncrosses her arms. “I’m just trying to figure out what kind of job pays fifty Gs off the tip.”

  See. I shouldn’t have told her about the other half of the money comin’. “Don’t worry about it. Whatcha don’t know can’t hurt you.”

  “Still…”

  “Zoey. Let it be.”

  She bobs her head and flashes a nervous smile. In the past coupla weeks, we’ve put the advance money to good use. We paid off bills and even set Tonya’s ass straight for a little while. When I finish this job and pick up the last fifty G, ends will be meeting like a motherfucker. Hell, we can even go ahead and roll up out of this dirty-ass complex.

  For the past week, Zoey has brought home a stack of apartment-hunting guides and has found a nice little apartment complex out in the suburbs; we can pay the lease for a full year and then just start livin’ like regular people.

  I move over to the bed and pull on my black combat boots. I really do feel like I’m about to head out to war. All that’s missing is a pair of dog tags and a helmet.

  “I don’t know,” Zoey says, drawing in a deep breath. “I’m startin’ to have a bad feelin’ about all of this.”

  I close my eyes and exhale a long breath. I was afraid of this. I clap my hands together and lean them against my lips as if in prayer. “Baby, trust me. This is easy money. After tonight, there won’t be no duckin’ and dodgin’ bill collectors, smellin’ pissy-ass hallways and battlin’ cockroaches for leftovers. We’re finally goin’ to do this shit—get the fuck up out of here and never look back.”

  She looks like she’s afraid to believe me. I pull her into my arms and draw in a deep whiff of her Wind Song perfume. At last, her arms slide around me. For the first time in four and a half months, I truly feel like her man again. I’m handlin’ shit. I’m runnin’ this show and it’s about time I get paid for doin’ what comes naturally to me.

  I stand up and walk to the closet and remove the hot piece I picked up down off Langford Parkway last week.

  Zoey sucks in another breath. She knows if I’m even pulled over for a traffic violation with this motherfucker, I ain’t comin’ back home anytime soon.

  “Do you really need that?” she asks.

  “Protection,” I lie and give her another kiss.

  She smiles up at me like a beam of sunshine. “You be careful, baby.”

  “You can count on it.”

  We walk out of the bedroom together and into the living room where the local news is on.

  Police authorities are still looking into the disappearance of Atlanta parole officer, Marsha Harding. It’s been nearly three weeks since anyone has seen her. Her abandoned 2002 white Ford Explorer was discovered at Hollywood Courts apartment complex west of Atlanta…

  I hit the power button as I pass by and then stop at the door to give Zoey another kiss and a reassuring smile. “I love you, baby. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  She nods. “I love you, too. I’ll wait up for you.”

  Seems like she’s always waiting for me. We kiss again and then I disappear into the night.

  I’ve cased this million-dollar Buckhead Lake home more than a few times in the past few weeks. If this is how Tavon treated his bottom bitch, then his wife must really be livin’ large. Maybe I should’ve gone into the pussy business.

  I find a nice spot about a mile down from Lake Oconee and hiked my way through the dense trees in the dark and up to the house. What makes this job even easier is that my employer has even managed to get me a key to the bottom back door.

  Yep. This is the easiest hundred Gs I’ve ever made in my life. As I make my way from the bottom floor, which is apparently some kind of entertainment room, up to the main floor, I’m as silent as a cat and calm, cool, and collected for what I’m about to do.

  The fuse box takes a little work gettin’ to, but I manage it and plunge the entire house into darkness. Now there’s nothing left for me to do but to sit tight and wait.

  Time seems to stretch on forever while my ears strain to hear the slightest sound: the winding moan of the settling foundation, the soft whirl of the heating system, and even the steady pound of my heart.

  Twenty minutes feels like an hour and an hour feels like eternity. I nod off a coupla times and when I jerk awake I’m momentarily confused as to where I am. This might be an easy job, but it’s also one boring-ass job as well.

  Another hour passes and I give serious thoughts to whether this chick is even comin’ home. What if she decides to crash somewhere else tonight? I’ll have to trek my ass all the way up here again tomorrow.

  “Fuck,” I mumble under my breath. Just thinking about having to go through all this shit again tomorrow night makes my temples throb.

  At long last, I hear a car pulling up the drive.

  I smile into the darkness. “Showtime.” I reach for my gun and crack open the closet.

  “Aww, hell. What the hell happened to the lights?” A female’s voice whines in irritation. Then, “Shit,” when she bumps into something.

  The front door slams and then I hear the click of heels against the hardwood floor.

  “This is just great,” I hear her say, a second before she passes by my hiding space.

  That familiar calm settles over me and I feel as if I’m in my element. I lift the gun to my lips for
a kiss before I ease open the door wider. One advantage, my eyes have already adjusted to the darkness and I can see what my target can’t while she continues to bump into furniture.

  “Goddammit,” she swears.

  I extend my arm and take aim. “Sorry, lady,” I say and watch her whirl around to the sound of my voice. “Rest in peace.”

  I fire two shots.

  She’s dead before she hits the floor.

  I step out of the closet, remove the flashlight from my back pocket, and quickly stroll over to the body to double check for a pulse. As I approach, I’m amazed at how small she is.

  I kneel and roll her over. When the beam of the flashlight hits her face, I suck in a stunned breath. “What the fuck?” This chick is a kid. She can’t be more than fourteen or fifteen. Studying her face, I’m hit with a sense of déjà vu. I know this face.

  The front door opens again.

  “Goddamn, Corrine. What the hell is goin’ on with the lights in here?”

  I jump up as another figure storms into the living room and sees me holding the flashlight.

  The feminine voice drops into a deep bass. “What the fuck?” She drops her bags, but before she can do much else, I lift the gun and fire off two more shots.

  This time, the body jumps back and hits the wall, slides down, and then crumples onto the floor.

  Amazingly, I’m still calm as I head over to the second dead body. This time when my flashlight settles on the victim’s face, I feel a rush of relief.

  I’ve completed my job.

  I smile. Now all I have to do is blaze this mutherfucka up and collect my other fifty Gs.

  29

  The Pimp

  “That’s right, nigga! I erased your bottom bitch!” Renee spats into my face. “I told you I’d always be number one up in this mutherfucker and I meant that shit.”

  Rage, fear, and whole lot of other fucked-up emotions boiled in my veins while my mind races with all the possibilities her words implied. “You’ve gone too far,” I growl, digging my fingers into her arms.

  “What? You gonna start cryin’ about losin’ your pet freak?” She tries to snatch herself out my grasp, but her ass ain’t goin’ no fuckin’ where. “Aww. C’mere and let Momma kiss it and make it all better.”

  Fuck it. I crash my fist back across her jaw and send her sprawling into the carpet. “Whatever the fuck you did, you fuckin’ call it off. RIGHT. FUCKIN’. NOW.”

  Renee just starts laughin’ and stretches across the carpet like she’s perfectly happy to lay her ass there all night.

  I walk over and snatch her head up by her hair. “I mean it, Renee. Call it off.”

  “Fuck you,” she spits back at me. “I ain’t doin’ a mutherfuckin’ thing but lay my ass up in my house and call me over a real man to fuckin’ satisfy me.”

  This fuckin’ bitch wants me to kill her. That shit is clear. If she’s done what I think she’s done, she might just get her wish. I reach over and grab her red nightgown from off the floor, snatch Renee’s drunk ass up, and then proceed to drag her across the living room kicking and screaming.

  “Let me go, motherfucker! Let me go!”

  When we bust out of the house and into the night, I see Anderson walking across the lawn toward the service quarter.

  “Anderson, get the fuckin’ car!”

  He jumps and races back across the lawn.

  Renee kicks and thrashes on the front steps of the house. “Let me go, you weak-ass-dirty-Superfly son of a bitch!”

  She finally gets a good clamp on my arm and sinks her teeth deep until it feels like she’d hit bone.

  “Aaargh!” I, in turn, kick the shit out of her.

  I can’t explain my emotions. Yes, Destiny and I are a wrap and yes, I’d come close to killing her myself, but don’t none of that mean that I can erase our history. What Destiny meant to me.

  Bottom line: This is all fucked up.

  Anderson whips the Bentley up to the front of the house like he’s the getaway driver of a bank heist and I’m still pulling and tugging Renee’s naked ass across the front porch. Finally, I bend down and wrestle to pick her up.

  “Fuck you, motherfucker! I’ll kill you, too, goddammit!”

  Anderson opens the back door with his eyes wide as fuck. “D-do you need any, uhm, help with that-er-her, sir?”

  “Grab her legs and help me get her in the car.”

  Anderson rushes to do what he’s been told; but when he goes to scoop up Renee’s feet, she delivers a swift kick across his jaw.

  “Get the fuck away from me,” she screams; her hands grab hold of the side of the door in a late attempt not to get into the car, but it just takes another backhand for her to tumble inside.

  I throw the red gown in after her. “Cover yourself.” I look up to Anderson, who is still cradling his jaw. “Take us to the lake house.”

  “Yes, sir.” He races to the driver’s seat.

  I climb into the car, pushing and shoving Renee to the other side of the seat.

  Renee isn’t done fighting. She launches toward me with fists flying. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” She actually lands a few solid blows and I struggle to ward off the rest of them while simultaneously ducking my head down near her bouncing titties.

  One punch she lands across my face was powerful enough to jerk my head back into a red rage. The blow I land this time sends her head smacking into the passenger window.

  She slumps down, panting and clearly jarred.

  I touch my lips and see that I’m bleeding. If it was any other woman, the back of this expensive-ass car would have become a homicide crime scene.

  Suddenly, she breaks down crying and I can’t say I’m unaffected. I had a feeling this love triangle would come to a head one day, but I’d never envisioned this shit.

  Panting, I flip through a few compartments and find some tissue to dab the blood on my face. This whole damn thing is just bullshit. I scoop out my cell phone and start calling every number I have for Destiny. I have to tell him what my dumb-ass wife has done.

  “Why?” she croaked, crying. “Why do you fuckin’ love him so much?” She draws in a ragged breath. “Why can’t I be enough for you?”

  I turn away from her while a recorded message tells me that all circuits were busy and to try my call later.

  “Please. Just tell me why,” she sobbed.

  I wish I had an answer for her.

  About two miles out, the cell phone lines musta cleared because my phone suddenly rings, saving me from Renee’s continued pity party. I glance at the screen, not recognizing the phone number.

  “Yeah, who is this?”

  “I thought you were supposed to be watching our daughter?” Tracy snaps.

  I roll my eyes. I really don’t have time for this. “What? Is she with you?”

  “Who the fuck is that crying?”

  “Mind your business. Look, I can’t talk right now. If Corrine is with you, keep her there ’til the morning. I’ll be by to pick her up.”

  “That’s just it, Daddy Dearest. She’s not here with me. I just got some message on my phone telling me that she’s movin’ in with some guy named Destin.”

  My heart drops. Corrine is at Destin’s with a damn killer on his way there. I disconnect the call with Tracy still throwin’ a hissy fit and reach down to the compartment where I keep my 9.

  Renee finally shuts the fuck up and manages to move farther away from me. “What the fuck are you about to do?”

  I glance up at Anderson and see he’s equally nervous. “Corrine is at Destin’s tonight,” I tell Renee more calmly than I feel.

  It’s soft, but I hear her gasp.

  Slowly, I turn toward her again. “If something happens to my daughter, you’re a marked-ass bitch.”

  I keep callin’ Corrine and Destiny’s cell phone numbers the rest of the way to the house. Every time I was transferred to voice mail. The car is quiet; Renee has definitely sobered. Once she learned Corrine’s life was stak
e, she spilled her gut about hiring Demarcus Jones out of Bentley Manor for a hundred Gs. I know Demarcus even though we never socialized in the same circles, but I remember hearing that he was a cold motherfucker back in the day.

  And to think I offered that nigga a job.

  The lake house finally comes into view and I know shit ain’t right from the jump because there’s not a single light on in the place. I open the door before Anderson comes to a complete stop.

  “Tavon, maybe you shouldn’t go in there,” Renee calls out behind me.

  I couldn’t turn back now. I have one moment of panic before I kick in the door. I mean, I’m a pimp not a gangbanger. I’m not cut out for arm-to-arm combat and the last time I checked I didn’t have an S branded on my shirt to signify I was Superpimp. Right now, more than anything, I wanted my daughter back.

  More than I wanted Destiny to be safe and sound.

  Even more than I wanted to be able to walk out of here alive.

  She’s fifteen, dammit.

  The same age my brother was when he was killed.

  With one swift kick, the door explodes open and I race into the darkness with my heart in my throat and the scent of gasoline filling my nostrils.

  “Corrine!”

  A small beam of light swings toward me and I swear to God that I hear my brother’s voice, telling me to duck and shoot in its direction. I do so without hesitation. I hear an “Aaagh” a second before something hot blazes into my arm and rockets me back into the wall.

  “Shit,” I gasp. The motherfucker shot me.

  I hear a heavy thud and then a beam of light spins on the floor.

  Shit.

  I grunt and groan as I roll forward and then struggle to my feet, my grip still tight on my 9. “Corrine!” Weak, I nearly fall back onto the floor. “Corrine!”

  I walk deeper into the living room and closer to the spinning flashlight. I hear a strange wheezing and know that it’s Demarcus struggling for his last few seconds of life.