“Triple H? You know, three Hs? Honey the homie humper. That’s her MO, her title. She went from me, to my boy, to my other boy. Need to get her some embroidered panties wit’ a big-ass H on them shits like a . . . a damn super she-ho.” I slapped the dashboard, cracking up.
I could see Honey’s little ass bustin’ up in bedrooms. Her hands on her hips, wearing one of her barely there lace pieces from the Hot Spot and some knee-high boots. That image sent me through a slideshow of forgotten memories. Memories that I thought died the day Michelle turned her back on me and walked out of that prison. Smiles, steak sauce, hotel rooms, Trey’s first word, and—
“What about your boy Big though? You needs to let me get Dirty Moe or Bad Apple Sims to handle him,” Angelo pressed impatiently, pulling me from my somber thoughts.
“Angelo, man, I know y’all probably talk about us wit’ our nicknames but, what is it with these names Bad Apple Sims, my dude? What the hell?”
Frustrated, Angelo jabbed his fingers through his hair. “Honey used to say the sa . . . They’re twins. We kept getting them mixed up. Then one of ’em pushes his own grandmother down the stairs. It was over like twenty bucks or somethin’. Pennies really. He did hard time behind it, too. Came out tatted up and we could look at him and see he was different. But, when he went in it was just so absurd. Like, kid, your own grandmother though, really? Everyone kept saying, ‘that’s one bad apple.’ So now we have Sims and Bad Apple Sims, and he can handle Big Baby for half of what anyone else would cost. And he can do it just as good.”
I definitely didn’t need TV or the Internet with Angelo around.
“Ah, man, Big, he ain’t know better. He thinks I’m dead like everybody else. It’s guy code. Man law. I’m out the picture. I mean, who could blame him? She cute, probably called him ‘daddy’ wit’ the baby voice. Y’all gave her that fame power. She still got that fat ass?”
“Shut the fuck up already! It ain’t power it’s quicksand. Had she stayed in line, she’d have floated. She acted up and started moving around, trying to creep and be a sneaky whore. She stirred up the muck and now she’s gettin’ pulled under by her own actions.”
Angelo swerved across the lane and I let it go. Ain’t nobody tell him to go pull that whole bended-knee routine. All it did was made him feel worse when the real deal came to light. I’d been in that boat myself. My baby momma found out and stole my paddles, life jacket, and she drilled holes in it, knowing my ass couldn’t swim. In my little black book payback was definitely a bitch, and her name was Michelle.
They put niggas in prison not realizing it’s concentrated criminology, gangland, and law school combined. You learn who’s who, how to do what better, smarter, and more efficiently, because if there’s one thing we all have down to a science it’s how to get caught.. When I found out Honey was mixed up with the Miami Italians, I heard an easy way out. There was so much talk about Angelo bein’ nothing but a pussy-whipped shadow of his father. They called his ass “the joke wit’ good coke in Miami.” Shit, it ain’t take me long to realize the perfect storm would knock his boat right out the water and into my dry dock of a jail cell.
I planted small seeds, sent him a letter telling him about Honey and how she was messing with my master at arms. He was like second in command of my team and my best friend, Derrick. Mind you I was just lookin’ to earn his trust so I could push product inside. Imagine my shock and awe when I found out Honey was on a vigilante mission to get me out. So I did the unthinkable. I let old boy know if I escaped, his first mate Honey would jump ship. It was a no-brainer to a calculatin’ nigga like myself. I got Angelo on the phone and flat-out told him what the dudes inside thought about his cartel, his fam, shit, kids he ain’t even had yet. Dead ass, I even put a couple of Guidos on the phone for validation. He was probably heartbroken, hugged his pillow, cried, I don’t know.
But, if there’s one thing I did know, you never dead-end a man’s ego without offering him a road to redemption. In return for my freedom, I’d be Angelo’s redeemer, his savior, so to speak.
He got the official braggin’ rights for murkin’ my ass; it was a start. It only cost me a few teeth and a burnt-up body. Now all we needed to do was erase the Angel of Death’s shadow and handle business. Yeah, payback’s a bitch all right, but I was about to play her and everybody else so hard for this paper. My new fake ID needed to say Parker & Parker. The game I was about to run would put the Parker Brothers to shame and make me five times richer. No more living hand to mouth, hustling to get rich. Angelo’s people rolled in that old-world money that got inherited and trust-funded.
I met a few dudes on the inside who told me how some of the biggest movie production companies began with startup money from Angelo’s pops. This kid didn’t even have a row of the Rubik’s Cube figured out. In my book he wasn’t anything more than a glorified distributor.
“Get your head together. The best way to get over a ho is to get under a better one. You need to throw a party. Invite only, password to get in is ‘wet dream.’”
He started to protest but I kept going; this was my show. “Make sure all the somebodies who push product are there, including your pops. I don’t care if you pay him to show up; just make sure he’s there. I’ll handle the rest. Drop me off at the barber shop. I need to get cleaned up for this shit.”
Back home I could walk in any shop from Campostella to Five Points, E.O.V. to Berkley Commons, sit down and they’d do a nigga right. Out here was a different story. I went in the shop looking for the dude who hooked me up last week and he done bounced, phone cut off and everything. The new cat looked sketchy as hell but we had that party so I tested it out.
Sitting in the barber chair I planned and ran through every way all the roads could intersect. The record in my head kept skipping and my first order of business quickly became finding a new barber. This nigga kept fuckin’ up my train of thought by putting his stank pinky on my upper lip to balance the clippers. When he wasn’t doing that he was completely disregarding all the personal-space boundaries every man is supposed to abide by no matter what. He was straddling my legs or pressing his meat up against my forearm. My head was on my shoulders; how hard was it to reach across and cut? I shifted so many times it was a wonder my shit wasn’t fucked up by the time he was done. I’d go back inside the joint to get a trim or edge-up before I’d go back to this dude. The only reason he even got a tip was because I didn’t fuck with a working man’s paper. I told any and every one that. You always take care of the working man.
I still managed to walk up out that barber shop feeling clean as hell. Violated yes, but I was still ready to get my Denzel on. Know you can’t tell a dude nothing when he got a fresh cut and edge-up hair smelling like Motions oil sheen.
I had Angelo run me past a flower shop. I wanted to get real flowers, not the ones from the grocery store that come in them flimsy bags like some penny goldfish. Twenty minutes and $135 later I climbed back in the car with a damn bush of purple orchids.
“Aww, Rah, you got me flowers.” Angelo batted his eyes at me, laughing.
“Shut the hell up, and take me to the crib.”
I’d been put up in a condo not far from his. His family owned the building so most of the tenants were connected or they came from stupid money. I kept to myself and they assumed I was a rapper or a basketball player, paying me no mind.
“Hey man, you look out and get me lots of cheerleader’s numbers right?” The door man Ernesto grinned up at me. I just chuckled at him and shook my head as I walked past him into the building. Looking down at the flawless black marble flooring I checked my reflection outside the door. I could smell baked chicken with gravy and yams coming all up out the condo and my stomach growled.
“Oh, Rasheed, these are beautiful, baby!” Shiree gasped, her eyes brightening up at my gift.
I puffed out my chest and smiled. “I picked ’em out myself.”
She closed her eyes and buried her nose in them and I let her have her moment
before taking them out of her hand and pulling her in close.
She put her hands underneath my shirt and raked her nails along the skin on my sides. I loved that shit. My boxers and jeans were getting more uncomfortable by the second. Shiree had a way of looking at me. Her eyes would turn into these deep, loving pools of chocolate syrup. I know I ain’t the most emotionally expressive person in the world but that look would make a nigga chest tight. I’d have to look away or drown on dry land from staring.
Shiree came to see me and apologized months after Michelle’s confession. They’d thought Big gave her an STD so on some revenge shit they set her up with my pistol. Truth is, his dick game was wack and on top of that he was playin’ her. She just went along for the money. She felt like shit for takin’ part in it and even used some of her paper to get me a lawyer to help appeal my case. He did what all them legal liars do and took her money, but I appreciated her effort. She’d sat there goin’ to pieces over me, and what they’d all done. Now, I’d tear through anyone with nothing but my bare hands if they fucked with her.
I nibbled her bottom lip and let it go. “I missed you.”
She ran the tip of her tongue across mine. “You didn’t miss me. You missed big Shirley.” She rolled her eyes. “You betta tell her how much you missed her.”
I hoped whatever she had in the oven was off or had a ways to go. As soon as she got that aggressive tone I got rock solid. There’s nothing wrong with being a soft, yielding woman but nobody wants to be playin’ keep-away with your grown ass all the time.
“Dick me down now, daddy.” Go ahead, say it. I’ll give you time to practice. Now, ask any man out there what the most beautiful sound to the human ear is. Remember you’re asking a man, so it ain’t a symphony in whatever minor or any of that other foolishness. Those words are it and the “daddy” at the end is optional.
I kissed her, sucking on her bottom lip hard. She tasted like Riesling and pineapples. I reached down and lifted her sundress, laughing when she ain’t even have on panties.
“You think you slick, huh.”
She shrugged in response and bit her bottom lip, waiting for me to continue. She was already slippery wet and ready. I parted her lips and watched her eyes barely flutter closed while my finger hovered over her clit, barely touching her.
“Go get me some peppermint tea and daddy’ll take care of you.”
She squealed and took off for the kitchen, clothes and ass cheeks flying everywhere.
I’d gotten off my shoes, pants, and boxers. My shirt was barely over my head when my eyes crossed and toes curled. Shiree dragged her nails across my bare ass with one hand and cupped my balls with the other. She had a mouthful of me and hot tea, as she slurped, tightening her lips around my dick, pulling me farther down her throat. I yanked my shirt over my head and watched her work. Knowing Shiree, she’d already had that shit on standby and it was beautiful.
I growled, pulling her up, bending her over the couch. Looking back at me with her head down on the back of the couch and her thumbnail in her mouth she gave me a little evil grin. She knew she was in trouble and loved it. I drank some of the tea, letting it warm the inside of my mouth before swallowing it. I didn’t swallow the next sip. I leaned over her back so my dick was rock solid right in the crack of her ass and I slid a hot kiss down her spine. She moaned and pressed back into me. I took another sip, spread her ass open, and ran my tongue from her tailbone down to her asshole and dove in. She moaned like she was possessed, locking her ankles behind my back locking me in. Peppermint tea and ass eatin’, be careful how and when you use that shit. If you’ve ever wondered what makes perfectly normal women turn into crazy, “kill your ass if you try to leave” psychos, there’s your answer.
When the tea got down to room temperature that meant it was time to handle business. Shiree grabbed the back of the couch for leverage and threw all that ass back at me. I tensed and started thinking about how many grams it takes to make an ounce. How many ounces mak—
“You fuckin’ me or am I fuckin’ you huh?” she shot back at me, sounding all breathless.
I exhaled. My body back under control, I leaned down and pressed my chest against her back so she could feel my skin against hers. Grabbing her hips for leverage I pulled out and went in so slow and so deep she looked like she’d stopped breathing.
“I’m fuckin’ you, baby,” I told her quietly.
See, Shiree always fucked with these short-stroke, “no dick game” niggas she could out sex in the bedroom. All she needed was to sense a weak moment, and I’d have to remind her who was in charge less she go trying to pull a damn plastic dick out on a nigga. I have to admit, every now and again that shit did get to feeling good as all hell. But, I never slipped up though, to hell with that. I’d just pull some fuck-crobatics on her. Flip that ass over, give her one of them deep “I love you” kisses and go-go gadget drill-her until she’d tap out. Literally.
Chapter 16
All Over a Wet Pigeon
The spot Angelo found for the party was on some next-level shit. It looked like a meatpacking plant from the street view. But once you got inside it was perfect. Four themed levels broke up into smaller areas. It had pool tables, two areas that we were gonna use as dance floors, and a bar. I saw an investment opportunity. The place would make a killing as an after-hours spot. I made a note to check into the property owner.
I wasn’t exactly sure what kind of turnout we’d have so I got there mad early to get everything set up. If Angelo did his homework like he was supposed to, we shouldn’t have a problem. I kept it simple, balancing some black leather Giuseppe Zanottis with a blazer and some Balmain jeans. Shiree was all over me when I tried to get out the door so I know I looked good and smelled even better. She refused to not work and I loved that about her. Shiree wasn’t the type to take handouts or live off a nigga. I refused to let her get back on a stage. We compromised and she found work doing hair and makeup for a major modeling agency. She had to be at a shoot tonight out at the beach with some dude who wore more makeup than she did. I let her do her thing, get that money.
Everybody who goes inside the way I did, usually come out broke. Not your boy. One day out in the yard I seen this dude scaring the hell out of a cat. He was a big, ugly somebody with one of those crazy brashes. A brash is a beard so long it could brush his ass. “Trying to collect cat piss,” was what he said when he saw me staring him down. It was prison; people did all kinds of weird shit so I ain’t ask why. The cat he was scaring to death was one I’d been feedin’ scraps to. Since she liked me I knew what spots she liked to mark. I helped him set up bottle caps to collect piss with and he asked if I wanted to get high as his way of saying thanks. Me and this crazy white dude, who went by the name Scorpion, was tight after that.
Lo and behold him and his boys were making their own versions of powder by cuttin’ down and refining the stuff that came in off the street. Cat piss was only one of the additives they used to tweak and mix shit down. They had a makeshift lab rigged up with butane lighter Bunsen burners, and soda bottles for beakers. I’d never seen anything like it. You walk up to a dude to buy an eight ball or whatever and then he turns around and asks you what you wanna feel? I remember standing there like, “Um, high.”
There’s levels to that shit like the levels to medicinal marijuana. There’s clean high, which is your normal coke. Then there was the extreme left-field stuff like face melter, mind warp, wormhole, chest expander, and body rock. None of those were for amateurs. I’d sent some samples out to test the water and let’s just say I’ma leave all that to the dudes inside. We don’t need no more zombie apocalypse scares. Then you have lines like the phantom limb, where random body parts go numb or magically manifest. One cat swore up and down he had a damn tail. It was funny as hell but, I’m sorry prison is not the place to run around thinking you gotta ghost appendage attached to your ass. Heaven’s gate was on some “so beautiful I’d never do it again” type shit. Have you seeing angels and talking
to God.
Scorpion helped me tweak the fuck out of this one line though. I called my new baby Indican wet dream and she wasn’t nothing but the truth.
“Rah, yous already here. Lookin’ Ginsu sharp.” Angelo walked in with a smug smile on his face. He was boasting like a boxer before the big fight, walking around the ring with his arms spread out yelling at the empty room.
“What you think, it’s like Kitchen Stadium up in here or what? We’s gonna flambé these bitches tonight Bobby Flay style.”
The smile instantly fell off my face. “We gonna what? No. Don’t ever say that again. Where the couches and them chaise things I asked for? We only got a couple of hours.”
“My bad, dude. Honey used to keep me watching the damn Food Network . . .”
I glared, and looked for something, anything to throw at this kid.
“Okay, chaise lounges, I’m on it. Password wet dream.”
Four hours later we were all set up and every major anybody who did anything started making their way in.
“Yo, what’s up with me telling them a password and then you don’t even make ’em use it?”
I didn’t tell Angelo everything because just like a woman he’d ask too many inconsequential questions. I’d end up pissed off and not answering anyway, and we’d still end with the same outcome. I just sipped my Henny and Coke waiting for the crowd to peak, hoping Don Cerzulo would actually put in an appearance. Some of the finest women in Miami showed up fighting with each other to get our attention. I ain’t gonna say I settled, but I could look at every last one of them and know they weren’t worth half of my Shiree. She came to me when I was dirty, broke down, and hopeless. Stayed with me, gave me hope, and I refused to mess that up. I decided to text her to pass the time.
Hey, you. I stared at the screen. Secretly I was waiting to see exactly how long she’d take to respond.
Hey, baby. Is everything going okay?
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