Me and My Hittas

by Tranay Adams

  Pavielle journeyed back inside of his bedroom where he found a portrait of him and Vayda on his nighstand. Staring at the photo caused a smile to etch across his lips. A host of memories zapped through his mental, hitting him back to back. He knew in his heart that she was the one for him and he wanted her back in his life forever. He thought about what G-momma had said: Anything in life worth having is worth fighting for. Then he thought back toVayda, was she worth fighting for? Fucking right his baby was. She was worth fighting for. She was worth killing for. She was worth dying for. She was worth living for. And he was going to do whatever he had to do to get her back.

  Pavielle called Vayda every twenty minutes, when she didn’t answer he left messages. Once her voice mail filled up, he texted her. He then sent her countless messages through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and email. He waited an hour, but still no word from his boo. So he decided to take it to the streets and hit up every hotel, shopping mall, grocery store, and restaurant she may be. He was going to start at all of her favorite hangouts and work his way down.

  Pavielle took a quick shower, shaved, threw a stocking cap over his frizzy braids and got dressed. He hopped into his ‘96 Chevy Impala and hit the streets looking for his boo. He searched for his woman like the Terminator searched for Sarah Connor. He checked every spot he could think of but he came up with nothing.

  Pavielle didn’t get back home until 1:30 P.M that night. He lay in bed watching the ESPN sports channel, with Damu snuggled under him. The dog could tell his master was depressed and he wanted to comfort him. This was the best way he knew how; men’s best friend. G- momma had made her youngest grandson his favorite meal in hopes of cheering him up. Pavielle was too depressed to eat a single bite, so the fried catfish, cornbread, yellow rice, and broccoli went untouched. The only thing on his mind was Vayda. He wanted to be near her; to feel her body pressed against his; to run his fingers through her curly her; to kiss her full lips; to inhale her scent. It was like he had said the night at the pier when he had proposed, ‘She was his drug,’ and he needed his fix.

  After letting Damu loose inside of the patio, Pavielle rummaged through the few articles of clothing Vayda had left behind, trying to find one that still wore her scent. He came upon a beige satin bathrobe. Holding the robe to his nose, he closed his eyelids and inhaled deeply. Taking in her essence, he smiled and took another whiff.

  “Damn, babe, a nigga missed you so much,” he said just above a whisper. Using one hand to hold the robe to his nose, he used the other to unzip his Levi’s and pull out his meat. He huffed and puffed as he jerked off, pulling and tugging on his dick. Tears rolling down his face, he uttered his lover’s name over and over again as he neared his nut. “Vayda, Vayda, Vaydaaaa, ahhh, Vayda, I’ma ‘bout to…I’ma ‘bout to cum, boo,” His eyes rolled to the back of his head and his mouth stayed stuck open, making croaking noises. It was almost as if she was right there with him and he was fucking her up against the wall. He could have sworn that he heard her moan of passion and felt the grip of her pussy. Veins formed up his neck and became visible on his forehead, soon after he was shooting his load across the bedroom. Holding the robe down at his side, he continued to stoke his dick until he was empty. His entire form shuddered, feeling the aftershock of him busting a nut. Wiping his hands off on the robe, he then climbed into bed and balled up into a fetal position. Thoughts of his fiancé invaded his mind before the Sandman eventually arrived and carried him off to sleep.

  *** Pavielle was awoken the next morning by the crowing of his Mexican neighbors’ rooster. Slowly coming around, he felt a small hand reach inside of his jeans and take a hold of his morning wood. Instinctively, he went to reach for his .9mm on the nightstand. It was gone. Fuck, he thought and his head snapped over his shoulder. He found Vayda holding his own gun to his dick head, her finger curled around the trigger. Her eyelids were swollen and her eyes were pink and glassy. It was obvious to him that she’d been sobbing, probably ever since she’d left the house that night.

  Pavielle swallowed the ball of nervousness in his throat and prayed that she didn’t do what she had in mind. “I love you, Pavy,” She began , snorting snot back up her nose. Tears trickled from her eyes. “God knows I do, so my dumb ass is going to come back to you. But if you ever, ever put your mothafucking hands on me again, I’m going to blow your fucking dick head off,” she blinked and more tears jetted down her cheeks. “Do you understand me, nucca?” her voice cracked under her emotions, but she was dead ass serious. If he ever laid hands on her again, she was going to blow his dick off and empty a whole magazine into his chest, straight like that. Pavielle closed his eyelids and nodded in agreement.

  Slowly, Vayda took the burner from her man’s dick head and sat it down beside her thigh. The Creole vixen broke down and sobbed uncontrollably. Pavielle put up his meat and zipped his jeans back up. He then cupped her face and kissed her all over it, telling her how much he missed, loved, and needed her in his life.

  “I’ll never do anything to hurt chu ever again, ever. You hear me, baby? I love you too much to lose you, boo. You’re my queen. You’re my queen and I’m your king.” He kissed her on the lips and held her tightly as she sobbed into his chest. Tears ran down both their faces as they sat up wrapped in one another’s arms. They then fell asleep hugged up with dry white tears staining their cheeks.

  Love was a mothafucka.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Later that day

  A black Mercedes Benz pulled up outside of Thangz Aunt’s house. Avenue hopped out of the car and went around to the back passenger door. He pulled the door open and stood to the side as Pavielle made his exit. Stepping into full view the young kingpin saw Thangz coming out of the house with a big cardboard box, followed by Bully on crutches. Seeing what he had did to his big homie made Pavielle feel even worse than he did the night he had shot him.

  Bully saw Paville headed his way and he called Thangz over. The busty crack fiend loaded the last box into the back of the U-Haul, closed the shutter, and ran right over to her man. Keeping his eyes on the young kingpin, Bully whispered something in his lady’s ear and she looked over to where he was looking. She scowled at the man that had wounded her nigga then ducked off inside of the house to do as she was told. Pavielle saw the exchange and figured she was running off to retrieve his gun. And if that was so he couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t seen his big homie since the night he had shot him. He probably didn’t know what to expect from the unannounced visit.

  “What’s up with it, O.G?” Pavielle gave him a pound.

  “What’s up with chu, damu?” Bully replied in a not so pleasant exchange. “Ain’t shit, it’s been a minute. Just thought I’d swing by and chop it up with my nigga,” he told him. Looking over Bully’s shoulder, he saw Thangz standing in the doorway, with her hand behind her back. She was holding her man’s gun, no doubt.

  Thangz was strapped and paranoid. She and Bully had been up smoking crack from dusk ‘til dawn. The doctor had given the O.G some painkillers for his wound, but they weren’t as effective as the crack rocks he scored from his Mexican homie.

  “I see your ladyover there holding it down,” he nodded to Thangz in the doorway, and Bully glanced over his shoulder. “I’m not mad at her though. My girl would be doing the same thing if the shoe was on the other foot.” Pavielle cleared his throat with his fist to his mouth and continued. “Look, Bleed, I’m not really big on apologies, so…” he tossed him a bankroll of hundreds the size of a small roll of toilet paper. “Why don’t we just let bygone be bygones, so we can get back to getting this money.”

  Thangz licked her chops from the doorway at the sight of all that money her man was just given. All she could think about was how much crack they could score with it.

  Bully tossed the bankroll up and down in his palm as if it were a baseball. He paused for a minute as if he was thinking about something and then he tossed it back over into Pavielle’s possession. The young kingpin seemed to be taking aback
by his big homie forking the money back over. He thought for sure at the sight of a roll that thick he’d have no problem getting him back on the team, but he was mistaken.

  Thangz could have had a heart attack when she saw her man cough all of that money back up. A bankroll that size could have had them beaming up for at least the next couple of weeks.

  Damn , she thought, why my man gotta be so stupid? She twisted her lips and stomped her foot, throwing a fit like a big ass baby.

  “I’m good. Pockets still fat,” Bully patted the bulge in his pocket. “Besides, I’m leaving the hood. Don’t you see that big ass U-Haul van in the driveway? I’m outta here.”

  Pavielle looked to the U-Haul and frowned when he saw the big ass moving van. He didn’t know how in the hell he had missed it.

  “Leave? With all of this money in the hood, fuck you tryna leave for?” Pavielle looked at the muscle bound hoodlum like he was an Alien that had just landed on earth.

  Bully took a deep breath and massaged his chin, trying to find the right words. “Have you ever seen a western where there are two bad-ass gunslingers in town, and one tellsthe other, ‘This town ain’t big enough for the both of us?’ Well, this hood ain’t big enough for the both of us, and if I stay then one of us gotta die. The streets already talking, they are waiting for me to offyou. It’s in my jacket: Original Gangsta killer. I’m known out here for putting in that work, niggaz know my resume. These fools aren’t going to let me walk these streets if I don’t kill you. And if I do that it would break my best friend’s heart, as well as mine. I can’t do that to Gangsta, so I might as well save myself the embarrassment and shake the hood, you Griff me?”

  Pavielle nodded his understanding.What Bully was doing was best for the both of them. He didn’t know it but his little homie had a new found respect for him.

  “Alright, Blood, but at least take these ends,” he held up the bankroll. “If it will make you feel better,” Bully said, taking the bankroll and shoving it inside the pocket of his jacket. He then held out an arm to embrace Pavielle. The young kingpin stepped forward and they embraced in a gangsta hug.

  “I love you, Blood, and I’m sorry about all of this shit,” Pavielle spoke sincerely, breaking their embrace.His eyes held moisture. He was genuinely hurt that he’d let his jealousy get the best of him and placed a wedge between him and his homie. If only he could press rewind and take that bullet out of his homeboy’s leg and put it back into his gun and his gun back on his hip.

  Damn, all this shit is my fault, he thought to himself and shook his head. “I love you too, duce owe,” Bully replied, heading towards the U-haul van, where Thangz was waiting behind the wheel. Pavielle stood on the curb and watched the van drive away until it disappeared into the florescent rays of the sun.

  *** Avenue was laid back in the barber’s chair with his eyelids shut,in Ms. Turner’s Barber Shop on 22nd and Central. After dampening the exsinger’s facial hairs with a hot, wet towel, the slender Ms. Turner had began lathering his five o’clock shadow with shaving cream.“I really appreciate chu blessing me with the job and all those fly ass threads, young blood.”Avenue told Pavielle, who was sitting in the barber’s chair beside him. He was also getting prepped for a shave.

  “Think nothing of it, old school. If we don’t take care of our own, thenwho will?” he asked. “I hear you, bu t what I mean to say is...Thank you. Thank you for helping me get a lil’ taste of my life back. I really mean that.” He said seriously.

  “You wanna thank me? Thank me by knocking out this rehab program.” “Oh, no doubt, you got that, new school. It’s the least I could do.” Avenue responded. “I want chu to know that I’m a dedicate my life to this thing here we got going,” He pounded his fist to his chest. “And I’ll die for this shit.” he stated proudly.

  Pavielle flashed a slight grin.

  An hour later

  Pavielle made his way out of Ms. Turner’s Barber Shop eating a bag of Hot Cheetos. Avenue came out right behind him brushing down his fresh fade with a jeweled hand. His new hair style accompanied by his new gear made him look like a completely different man. In fact, if you were to lay eyes on him at this very moment, you would have never guessed that he had been smoking crack for the past thirty-five years. Looking to his right Avenue saw a beat up, old Monte Carlo with a missing headlight coasting up the block at fivemiles per hour. Avenue’s street sense, much like a Spider Sense, kicked in and an alarm sounded off inside ofhis head “Danger, danger, danger.”

  Suddenly a cell phone went off diverting Avenue’s attention from the suspicious car on the creep. He looked to Pavielle who had drawn his cell phone from his hip. The young kingpin sucked the Cheeto residue from his fingers as he stared at the screen of his cell phone. “Fuck this nigga won’t?” he frowned and raised an eyebrow. “Oh.” It dawned on him who it was that was hitting him up. He pressed talkand brought the cell to his ear. “What’s up with it?”

  Avenue turned back around and saw the MC barreling their way. The back passenger window rolled down and the murderous scowl of a coldblooded killer came into view. He had a blue bandana tied around his head 2pac style. Supacrip stuck something out of the window long, black and deadly. It looked like it could clear a block of fifty niggaz.

  “It’s murrrdaaa!” Spit flew from Supacrip’s big chapped lips as he chanted and held back the trigger of his automatic weapon. The assault rifle chattered laying down pedestrians, shattering the windows of parked cars and the window of Ms. Turner’s Barber Shop. Some of the patrons managed to take cover when the shooting started, but those who weren’t as quick on their feet ended up lying on their backs in a pool of their own blood. The barber shop’s walls and floor were splattered with their insides, pieces of their skulls, and brain fragments.

  With lightning fast reflexes, Avenue freed his .357 Magnum from his waist and swung it around, finger fucking its trigger. He let off four quick shots; two went wild and the other two married the back passenger door of the MC. Avenue continued to fire on the approaching hoopty. It wasn’t long before he heard the sound that all street niggaz dreaded in a shootout.

  Click!

  Click! The missile shaped bullets from Supacrip’s assault rifle chewed up Avenue’s face and chest, blowing chunks of bloody flesh out of his ass. He hastily stumbled backwards and fell over onto the sidewalk, resembling bloody hamburger meat. His life’s blood ran off of the curb and dripped down into the gutter.

  The MC came to a screeching halt at the center of the block outside of Ms. Turner’s Barber’s Shop. Supacrip looked over the sidewalk at all of the bodies he had laid down for his main target, O.G Booby Loc.

  “Cuz, did you get ‘em? You get that nigga Booby?” Nike asked from behind the wheel of the hoopty. “I’m not for sho, I laid a couple down though,” Supacrip spoke honestly, still looking over the bodies on the sidewalk.

  “Fuck, Cuz, I always gotta clean up yo’ mothafucking mess!” Nike sucked his teeth and grabbed the mini M-16 assault rifle resting in the passenger seat. He swung open the driver side door and hopped out. Approaching the sidewalk, he could hear police sirens approaching in the distance.

  “Hurry up, Cuz, onetime coming,” Supacrip yelled out from the backseat. Stepping upon the sidewalk, Nike fired rounds into the bodies of the pedestrians squirming about on the curb. Their blood splattered and specs of it clung to his pants legs. There was no way he was leaving any potential witnesses alive. He looked to his right and found Pavielle lying underneath Avenue. His eyes were staring out of their corners and his mouth was ajar. He was dead. Nike smiled wickedly and retreated back to the car. He slid in behind the wheel, threw it in drive, and floored it away from the murder scene.

  The next day

  With the competition now eliminated, Nightmare moved to find a new cocaine connection and severe ties with Omid. As predicted things didn’t go over too well with the big man; Omid was a notorious hothead who had to have it his way, or no way at all. So when Nightmare told him he was going t
o be taking his business elsewhere, he went ape shit on the phone and promised on his dead mother’s soul to have every member of his family tree murdered.

  Before Nightmare could get another word in edge wise, the dial tone was going off in his ear. The gangster crip knew he was a walking dead man; Omid had enough money and resources to wipe his entire hood off the map. So he’d have to get to the Arabic drug lord before he got to him.

  Nightmare had his little homeboys, Domino and Wacko, tail Omid for a week. During their investigation they learned that Omid didn’t have a daily routine, but he did have three vices he couldn’t live without: food, fine cigars, and black pussy. One of those three would be his downfall.

  “Ah! Ah!” Omid shouted in sensual bliss. His eyelids fluttering as he balled the sheets up into his meaty fists. His wide, fat hairy ass was bent over in the doggystyle position. Pumping the twelve inch clear purple, see through strap-on dildo in and out of his asshole was a curvaceous, busty, African American Dominatrix in a Cleopatra hairstyle wig and violet contact lenses. She was fucking the hefty easterner like a man would fuck his woman, and he was enjoying every minute of it.

  A film of sweat had formed on Cleopatra wig’s forehead, she wiped it away with the back of her hand, and continued to handle her business. She pushed and pulled the freakishly large fake cock from Omid’s rectum, smacking his bare ass as she did so.

  Smack! Smack! “Uh hh, faster, baby! Faster!” Omid cried out, his face a mask of pleasure. “Ah, right there, here daddy comes…” he trailed off as he approached his orgasm. His penis stiffened and oozed with semen right before he collapsed onto the bed. Cleopatra wig collapsed right beside him, panting out of breath. He lied on the bed sucking his thumb, something he always did after sex. He then crawled over to the dominatrix, grabbed her by the strap-on penis, and began sucking on it, sloppily. As he deep throated the rubber cock, he stared her dead in her eyes. She grabbed him by the back of the head as he bobbed up and down her strap-on.