by Cash
The body count was approaching a new high in ATL and the year wasn’t half over with yet. I had contributed to the statistics a great deal, but I was not the lone beast on the loose. Mexicans were dropping like flies, which told me that GF was putting in stupid work. Criminal had them all turned way up! Those niggas had the dope game in a chokehold, and not one of them were relinquishing it. Young broads rocked their nigga’s GF chains as a status symbol. Any nigga that got caught perpetrating—wearing fake GF chains—got dealt with.
Out of respect to Criminal, I never pressed any of his people. “Join up with me, Trouble. I’ll make you head of this shit along with me,” he’d offer every time we talked. But a d-boy I was not.
“Just holla at me when you need a nigga flat lined,” I told him. I knew that he didn’t really need me to exterminate muthafuckas for him, because he was a killa surrounded by more killas, but my offer stood. It was hard as hell to believe that their numbers had swelled so fast. And Criminal’s name was ringing loud. I wasn’t on his dick, I simply respected his accomplishments. In return, he respected how I got down for mine. A couple of weekends Ava and I hooked up with him and Hadiya, his new wifey who was from Miami. The four of us played Spades and got blunted.
When Ava wasn’t around, Criminal always brought up Kamora’s name. I hadn’t seen her in months, but he obviously had. Each time he mentioned her, I would change the subject. What I wanted to talk about was whether or not he had GF homies on lock who could do a major thing for me.
“We got GF all throughout the prison system,” said Criminal. “What you need done?” I told him and he let out a slow whistle.
“I’ll pay any price. Just name it,” I said.
He thought about it for a minute. Then he decided. “A’ight, bruh, let me work on it. It’s gonna have to be some real niggas to handle that. It can’t be none of those fake niggas who got down just for protection on lock.”
“Okay, see what you can set up. Bruh, it means everything to me.”
“I got you, fam’.”
I knew his word was platinum. I could hardly wait for Criminal to make it happen.
CHAPTER 32
“Oh it’s gonna happen no matter what I gotta do to make sure that it does. Even if I gotta get cased up myself and finagle my way to Macon State Prison where that bitch nigga is at,” I promised Inez.
We were standing over the barbeque grill in her backyard discussing my plans to get at Lonnie. We kept our voices low because people were walking by and milling about. Inez was having a cookout for Tamia and some friends of hers from school. What started out as a small thing had quickly turned into a block party. Several neighbors had wheeled their grills over to the backyard to help out. I sent one of the neighbors to the store to buy more meat.
“No pork!” said Inez, squinting her eye against the smoke rising up from the pit.
“What about beer?” the man asked.
“You might as well buy some because y’all have just taken over these children’s cookout anyway,” she replied, feigning an attitude.
I smiled and gave her neighbor money for beer.
“Now I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on these kids. I don’t want to send any of them home drunk. Shit, I need a blunt,” said Inez.
In a split second, I produced a sandwich bag of that goodness.
“When I get a chance we’ll sneak inside and blow one,” she remarked, so I shoved the Kush back in my pocket.
Ava came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. I caught Kamora squinting her eyes at us from across the yard. I felt mixed emotions, but what was a nigga to do? I couldn’t ask Ava not to show any affection in front of Kamora, but inside I didn’t wanna hurt shawdy. We were no longer together, but I still cared about her despite how it may have seemed.
Slyly, I removed Ava’s arms from around my waist and said, “Help Inez for a minute; let me go crank some music up.”
We had rented an entire DJ hookup, and surprisingly no one had gotten the party popping yet. I went behind the makeshift DJ booth and got it crunk. As soon as I played Swag’s recent single, Tamia’s friends started dancing and getting it in. Those little girls were poppin’ their asses like a bunch of grown ass strippers. I looked out onto the impromptu dance floor and saw Eryka doing her thing all up on some boy. Yep, I was gonna have to kill a lil nigga over Hot Mama.
People were playing spades at a card table and dominoes at another. “Muthafucka, you did renege! Why do bastards always have to cheat? Damn, it’s only a game,” a short, fat chick screamed across the spades table at one of her opponents. Her voice boomed over the music.
Another woman chased behind a toddler in a pissy pamper while trying not to drop the paper plate full of food that was in her hands. Her skirt rode up and gave a quick peek of her ass as she kept running behind the swift toddler and reaching down to snag him.
Meanwhile, Criminal showed up with two of his homies. He wore Rocawear jeans, a black T-shirt, and crisp Timbs. His platinum chain with the GF medallion hung down from his neck. The diamonds in the letters sparkled right along with the diamonds in his ears. His mans’ were shining just as bright.
I came from behind the turntables and greeted them. “’Sup, my niggas.” I dapped them one by one.
“We’re just fallin’ through. You know my peoples Shyne and Doom, don’t you?” asked Criminal, indicating his homies.
“Yeah, fam’, they pulled up on me in traffic one day. I thought some beef was about to cook, but they just wanted to recruit me into y’alls thing.”
Shyne, who was brown skinned and diesel, nodded in recollection. Then I recalled that he had gone on that Solo thing with us. Doom’s attention was on something else entirely. I followed his gaze and realized what had him stuck; better yet who.
“Don’t even think about it, bruh. That’s my lil sister and she ain’t legal yet.” I interrupted Doom’s lust.
I was gonna have to make Eryka sit her ass down somewhere. She was attracting too much attention poppin’ her fourteen-year-old ass.
Doom shook his head like, “Umph, umph, umph.”
I put my hand on his shoulder and warned, “It would get you killed, dog. So get your mind right.” I softened my words with a smile.
Doom nodded.
He and Shyne went behind the turntables and turned the party up another notch. I went and snatched Eryka away from her little dance partner, and roughly pulled her inside the house. “Do you always gotta act like your ass is on fire?” I yelled in her face. My forehead was creased.
Eryka threw her hands on her hot ass hips and shot back, “I was only dancing! And anyway, you’re not my daddy.”
I grabbed ahold of one of her arms and pointed a finger in her face. “Don’t get breezy or I’ll take that ass home.”
“Humph!”
Inez came to Eryka’s rescue because seriously I was two seconds away from going there.
“Lil T, let me talk to her,” said Inez gently.
I didn’t say shit; I just walked out the back door and entered the backyard.
I found my other sisters, Tamia and Chanté amongst a group of girls acting their age. That was a relief because Tamia could get some sizzle in her ass sometimes too. I shook my head in exasperation, wishing that I had all brothers.
Just then, Ava came up to me with a heaping plate of food. “Here you go, daddy. I know you’re hungry and this food is the shit,” she declared.
I accepted the plate from her; it was stacked with barbequed beef ribs, chicken, potato salad and coleslaw.
“Did they come back with the beer yet?” I asked as I bit into a beef rib.
“Yes, daddy. You want me to bring you a Heineken?”
“Yeah, and twist me up a fat stick of loud—it’s in my front pocket.”
Ava reached in my pocket and retrieved the ounce of good-good. I felt her hand rub my dick.
“Stop being fast before I take you in the house and put a permanent hump in my back,” I teased.
“Promises, promises.” She stuck her tongue out at me before doing a half pirouette and going to grab my Heineken. I watched her ass as she walked away—that muthafucka was shaped like an upside down heart. No lie.
Later, I slid up to Kamora while she was engaged in conversation with Criminal, who seemed to prefer me with Kamora over Ava---not that he had a say in the matter, but from time to time he would plead Kamora’s case. Today, Kamora was glowing; her face was a little fuller than normal, but her skin was radiant and she just looked pretty as hell. She wore a blue maternity top, blue pants and white and blue sandals. Her nails were long and beautifully painted and her new severely short hairstyle was banging.
“Let me leave y’all to talk,” said Criminal before I could say a word. He winked at Kamora like they had been plotting a conspiracy to get us back together.
Criminal bopped off with half the females with their eyes on his back.
“’Sup, shawdy? How you been?” I asked. “Is everything good with the baby?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what’s up. Well, do you need anything?”
“No, I’m good. Thank you.”
I looked Kamora in the eyes and then took a swig from the bottle of Heineken that was in my hand. I drained the bottle then tossed it across the fence into the yard next door. I gazed back into Kamora’s eyes and asked if she was feeling some kind of way.
“As a matter of fact, I am.” Her eyes narrowed and her arms folded across her chest.
“Speak your peace, shawdy,” I encouraged her.
“I’m just saying, bae. You just cut a bitch off. Now you’re bringing Ava around Inez and them like that’s not suppose to hurt my feelings. That shit is not right. I don’t care how you spin it. Let me come over here with the next nigga and you would have a real problem with it.” Kamora’s words spilled out like hot water that had boiled over.
Her eyes were misty, but I could not allow myself to be broken down by her tears. No matter what she or Criminal or Inez felt, I wasn’t being cold or unfair. When a person breaks their word on one thing they’ll break it on another.
“You chose this, shawdy. So don’t try to act like I cut you off for no reason. You know me better than anyone; you know how important a person’s word is to me.”
“I hate you!” she said and stormed off.
I stood there and measured the sincerity in which Kamora had slung those words at me. Did she really hate me? If so, how far would she go to make me feel her pain? That was something to seriously consider.
Now my mood was thrown off. I went and found Ava and we said a quick and unexpected goodbye to everyone.
Heading home, I smoked a blunt and thought about what Kamora had said. Because I believed that I knew her heart, and because she was carrying my seed, I decided not to kill her.
CHAPTER 33
“Lay down, daddy, and let me take that bitch off your mind,” said Ava in a sultry tone that made the python between my legs jerk its head up. We had just stepped out of the shower and dried each other off.
I lay back on the cool satin sheets while Ava lit vanilla scented candles and clicked on that old school slow song “Adore” by Prince. I sparked a blunt and watched Ava go over to the stripper’s pole that she had recently convinced me to have installed in my bedroom.
Light from the candles bounced off the ceiling and the walls and gave a soft background to the black and gold color scheme of the bedroom. Until the end of time . . . I’ll be there for you. Prince crooned as Ava grabbed the pole with both arms above her head and pressed her ass up against it, staring into my eyes.
I pulled on the sticky and licked my lips in anticipation that only heightened when I noticed a lollipop in her hand. Ava kept a big jar of them on the dresser. Ava slid her ass up and down the pole in rhythm with the song. Her firm titties gazed at me from five feet away. She peeled the wrapper off the lollipop and ran her tongue all around it as if it was the head of my dick. Then the lollipop disappeared into her mouth and she sucked that muthafucka so erotically I promised myself I was gonna buy a whole case of them.
She brought the lollipop out of her mouth and rubbed it down her neck, down to her perky titties, then she slowly circled her nipples with the candy—one nipple, then the other, never breaking eye contact.
You own my heart and mind . . . I truly adore you.
With pretty little hands she trailed the lollipop down across her flat tummy, and then between her thighs. She let her thighs part and bent her knees just a tad. I pulled hard on the blunt as she glided the lollipop up and down the length of her pussy, still staring into my eyes. She had my attention and that of the fat iron rod between my legs.
Ava pushed the lollipop inside her pussy and moved it in and out while rotating her hips. A strand of hair fell over her eyes adding even more sexy to her performance.
“Umm,” she moaned as she worked that lollipop deep inside. I sat up in my king size bed and placed my back against the black leather and lacquered headboard. My grown man was pointed at the ceiling.
Now the lollipop was doing its thing on Ava’s clit. “Sssss,” she moaned, making sticky circles around that sweet sensitive button that is the key to a woman’s pleasure.
“Put it in your mouth,” I said.
Ava smiled at me sexy as fuck and followed my command. “Yeah, babygirl suck your juices off that muthafucka.” My voice was gruff because my dick was jumping. I loved it when a shawdy enjoyed tasting herself. Ava crooked a finger at me, calling me to her in a way reminiscent of that strip tease scene in New Jack City.
But my gangsta was more official than Nino Brown’s. I shook my head first, and then I shook nine hard inches with a mushroom top at her—and crooked my finger.
Ava walked to the bed with a glint in her eyes like she was about to devour my ass. She crawled between my knees and whispered, “Hey daddy,” speaking to what was about to stretch her jaws. He tapped against her forehead.
I sat the blunt down in an ashtray on the nightstand near the bed and took the lollipop from Ava and put it in my mouth.
“I need something to suck on,” she whined and looked up at me and batted her eyes.
I guided her mouth to the answer to her dilemma and she took a nigga to paradise.
Twenty minutes later, she found out that my lollipop had cream inside and she swallowed it like warm milk. Then I laid her down and showed her how I can turn my tongue into a butterfly and make it flap its wings back and forth across her clit. In less than ten minutes I was smacking my lips, savoring the taste of her cream.
“Make me come again,” she pleaded, gripping my head with both hands and both knees.
I did what I do like I do it until Ava cried out, “Oh shit! Oh shit! Ssss!”
I came up and stuck my tongue in her mouth. She sucked on it like it was a cherry drop. I had to pull back before she sucked it clear out of my mouth because my fingers in her pussy had her going through some thangs.
“Dick,” she uttered.
“Huh?” I was fucking with her.
“Dick, nigga!”
“Beg for it,” I demanded as I continued to play in her sopping wet pussy.
“Please fuck me, Trouble. Pleaassse.”
“I’ma hook you up.”
And my word was bond.
CHAPTER 34
Hadiya invited us to a birthday party that she had put together for Criminal. I never liked going out to clubs, but I agreed to go partly to show love to my nigga, but mostly because I wanted to do something with my shawdy to let her know she was my one and only.
When we stepped out, Ava was killing ‘em in a Jessica McIntyre strapless satin dress decorated with zebra print and teal blue trimming. That shit was showing her thighs, which were sexy as hell, and the dress accentuated her shapely figure. She wore teal blue Prada pumps with all the jewels I blessed her with. I had just copped a pair of tear drop diamond earrings that blinged in her ears just as brightly as her diamond heart pendant. Shawdy
was indeed a five-star chick. Her naturally long hair was swooped up into a donut on top of her head, with her edges slicked with baby hair. My shawdy knew how to show out, fa sho! I slapped her round ass, mainly to see how it would bounce in that dress, but also to remind her that she was all mines.
I decided to rock a pair of Evisu jeans with the matching shirt decked in grey, black and royal blue. A pair of Roc Nation gray and royal blue sneakers set my outfit off, and of course, I wore my platinum chain and diamond urn. We arrived at the spot, and as I walked towards the entrance, my chain swung from side to side with every step I took.
Criminal’s team was stuntin’ hard up in the club, popping bottles, passing blunts and being the center of attention. Wiz Khalifa’s “Black and Yellow” anthem blared through the speakers, and the GF squad put on. All I could hear was niggas yelling “Black and Yellow,” and all I could see were strips of crime scene tape being waved back and forth. Those niggas weren’t just making it rain, they made it pour. They tossed stupid stacks up in the air. Shawdies were pulling out each other’s weaves trying to get to that money.
In the middle of the excitement, Criminal stood and bellowed over the music, “Who put this shit together? I did! Who wiped out more Mexicans than Immigration? I did, that’s who!” he clowned, mimicking Tony Montana in the movie Scarface.
His dudes went nuts.
“When niggas oppose us, what they get?” he egged them on.
“Black and yellow, black and yellow!” the clique sang in response and waved crime scene tape over their heads.
“Muthafuckas don’t pay us? What they get?”
“Black and yellow, black and yellow,” everybody chanted.
“Bitch niggas snitch, they get?”
“Black and yellow, black and yellow!”
“Mob shit . . . beyatch!” shouted Criminal.
Two of his crewmembers wheeled a huge cake onto the stage where he stood. A voluptuous stripper popped out of the cake wearing nothing but a strip of crime scene tape. “Black and yellow, black and yellow!” roared through the club. The stripper put her arms around Criminal’s neck and started grinding against him. He poured champagne down her cleavage, then licked her breasts.