Graveyard Love

by T. C. Littles

  He collared me up by the back of my jacket and force-walked me to the car. Smacking the back of my head real quick, he shoved me into the backseat of the truck, then made his way to the driver’s side. I wanted to jump out of the car and run up the block screaming that he was abusing me, but I knew he’d catch me and kill me if he didn’t lock me away for punishment. Spade spoke so much ill will against me that he mentally controlled me. He slid in to smack me another three quick times from the front.

  “That’s so you’d have a reminder that I don’t play no games.”

  “I’ve got it. Trust me, I do.” Chill bumps ran up and down my spine.

  “Make sure you do, Jakia. My word is bond. I will put you six feet under.”

  One day, you probably will. I sat still and scared, praying that I would one day get strong enough to make a break for it.

  Spade

  Don’t judge me—flat-out, period. A nigga gotta do exactly what a nigga gotta do to survive. It wasn’t a sunrise or sunset that I, Spencer Spade Johnson, wasn’t about making money.

  If you were a hustler and my first cousin Rocko, or I knew about it, we’d rob your pockets dry and leave you digging for lint. Jakia, my beautiful woman and companion, was the pawn in my game, and I used her whenever necessary.

  She’d replaced Tiff in my tricks ’cause her pussy was better, and her bloodline already proved to be of a loyal-type pedigree. A nigga of my caliber never thought twice when it came to doing dirt. I wanted everything the next man had, and, yes, I felt entitled to it.

  I wasn’t from money, so I hated those who had it and flossed it. I didn’t have the luxury of being a spoiled brat, rocking Jordans on the release date or official store-purchased name brand fits.

  People didn’t jock me or want to copycat my style ’cause everything about me represented the gutter. Low breed and never the popular kid, I was nicknamed “Doodie” as my mother graciously accepted all of the old clothes, shoes, pantry items, and freezer-burned food as a means of our survival from our surrounding neighbors.

  Rocko stayed fighting for me when he and auntie came over. They had a pot to piss in, but still just as bottom level as us.

  Being a grown man looking back on it, I couldn’t blame my moms for being crippled and welfare bound, but, damn, she could’ve gotten on her back a few times for her only son to jump fresh.

  I hated being poor and every person that reminded me of my moms and my pitiful situation. You could trust that I saw what dinero could do at a young age; it was then I developed an insatiable love and desire for it.

  My first targets were those same bullies I watched get new bikes, Chuck-E-Cheese trips, and always had a dollar for the ice-cream truck.

  Working for minimum wage and paying Uncle Sam was only beneficial during income tax refund time, and that petty change was nothing compared to the number of stacks my cousin and I were bringing in.

  We’d clock major hours searching for cats with low security, flashy behavior, and deep pockets. Easy targets were easy money, but I used young Jakia to my full advantage to reach the more untouchable marked hits.

  Her body was irresistible, and the downfall of many hustlers. My rare breed wasn’t weak to be her prey.

  Juan was right for wanting to protect his baby sister. She proved early on to be young, dumb, and naïve—allowing me to use her so dangerously. But I’d notice the same glint of hunger in her eyes on more than one occasion, making me question her loyalty to our team and my right hand for being her saving grace from Phoebe.

  I’d created a monster within her, making her hungry for the better things in life. The more setups we executed, the more courage she attained. The thought of my moneymaker leaving me caused me to erupt with rage.

  Leaving me wasn’t going to be an easy feat, even if it was an easy thought to her. Every time she made hints to wanting out of the game, I went in extra hard to make sure my point was proven clear—biding out wasn’t an option until I made it one.

  She sat in the backseat quiet as a church mouse, and that was how I liked it. Pulling up to Rocko’s crib, I barely stopped the truck before he hopped in and was talking business.

  He and I were blood family and partners in the game. Our mothers were twin sisters, which made us genetically inclined to fuck shit all the way up.

  “What up, baby girl?” Rocko turned around to acknowledge her. “You looking salty enough to give a nigga high blood pressure.” He called himself cracking a joke that made me take notice of Jakia through the rearview mirror.

  “Naw, I’m good.” She rushed to fix her tore up mug once she peeped my menacing grime.

  “Y’all two always on some back and forth love-and-hate shit.” He shook his head, looking from her to me while low-key laughing. “I ain’t never getting serious with no broad!”

  “Yeah, whatever, nigga. You know what’s up if you do. By any means necessary—keep these hoes in check.”

  4

  Robert

  “Yeah, I’ll take those too,” I graciously accepted the double stacks of one hundred-dollar-valued chips from the dealer as she nodded and smiled. I was tearing this table up each time I blazed the dice, and my winnings were stacking high.

  The late-night crowd and party scene had died down. I loved the early-late-morning vibe.

  “Bets are open.” She stood back from the table but watched our every move.

  Each hand I played was worth a stack. I had money to blow, and there was more in the room if I bet too big for my pockets. But it would be a cold day in hell to have that happen. Each bet doubled me up, and the Patrón drinks the house kept sending made my blood hot with my tempo even higher.

  “Bets are now closed.” The dealer waved her hand across the table, signaling us gamblers to stop.

  I blew on the dice, rolling them around in my hands, waiting until I felt like it was my lucky moment to throw them. I needed to hit the jackpot. I gripped them like a pair of perky nipples, then tossed them across the table so they’d pop off the backside and land back on the felt table, hopefully on the numbers four and five, or six and three, or whichever combination as long as it was nine. Shooting dice was a skill, and I was the nerdy brother in a Brooks Brothers suit whose pockets were fat off the addicting habit.

  “Yeah, pass my money over, sweet lady. I’ll take those,” I winked, smiling widely. By now, I’d hung my suit jacket over a chair and loosened up my silk tie. My business meeting wasn’t for a few more hours, and I was ready to hit Motor City Casino deeply.

  “Yes, sir, of course. But we have to shut the table down momentarily for shift change. It’s been a pleasure being your dealer tonight. Good luck,” she smiled.

  “Oh, I hate that you have to go. You’ve been so kind.” I winked again. It wasn’t a flirt, but I considered myself a ladies’ man. Women loved when men put that extra touch into a conversation.

  “Please enjoy a round on the house,” the dealer smiled and winked, referencing for me to turn around as her replacement and banker arrived to break her table and bank down.

  “Anything you like, sir. What will you have?” The waitress’s innocent doe eyes were adorable and cute.

  “I’ll take a Patrón, straight up.”

  “Okay. If you are hungry, I can take you over to the restaurant. Specials are going, not like you need them,” she suggested, looking over toward my winnings.

  “That you are right. But whatever the case, I am starved and could use a refill. Besides, my flow just got rudely interrupted.” I was ready to get into something dirty. “Cash me out,” I told them, turning my attention back to the waitress.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt your flow.” She looked down, unsure of her presence.

  “No apologies necessary and look up when we’re talking. You’re too pretty to look down.” I tried to build her ego. This young girl was cute and young, and legal. “Lead the way.” I smiled and pointed for her to walk ahead as I grabbed my coat and cashed out chips following behind closely.

  He
r uniform was skimpy and left little to the imagination. Mixing the Patrón shots I’d taken in the last few hours on the gaming floor had me looking at her like a mad dog in heat. I was starting to feel a thump in my Ralph Lauren boxers.

  “Do you want to dine in with me as your waitress or build your order to sit down in that section? Either way, the Patrón is still on the house, boss’s orders.”

  “I’m just trying to grab something quick and head back to the money,” I replied, rubbing at my stomach. “I’m starving for food, but I’m hungry for money, ya understand?”

  “I guess I understand,” she innocently replied, leaning over to one side. She was now casually holding her serving tray to the side, relaxed and taken aback by my question. “I’m at work on a paper chase, waiting on people and all that. I guess I do.”

  My cell phone vibrated, and I pulled it out of my pants pocket, noticing it was my assistant. I couldn’t send the call to voicemail even if I wanted to. There was too much on my itinerary, meaning money was on the floor to be made.

  “Hold on. I’ve gotta take this call. Here, take this,” I said, pulling out a wad of cash and peeling off five one hundred-dollar bills.

  “Really? Damn, this is very nice of you,” she smiled, reaching to accept my generosity. It was nothing for me and obviously, everything for her. “Well, thanks a lot. Trust and believe it’s appreciated. Let me get that drink.” She excused herself.

  I watched her as she glided away. Damn, she was a fine young piece of ass that I wouldn’t mind hitting before this trip was over. Hopefully, those bills could help her troubles or help my nut out later on.

  “Hey, how’s it going, Lezlee?” I spoke into my headset.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Taylor. I’m sorry if I’m interrupting you, but I was just calling to inform you that the driver will be in front of the hotel’s entrance in exactly two hours. I can accompany you to today’s meetings if you’d like.”

  My assistant always made sure my day was efficiently planned, especially when I was traveling. She was truly a gem, and had I not been giving her an allowance for sticking my rod in her from time to time, a raise would’ve been in order.

  “Sure, sweetheart. I’m certain you’ll be more than helpful. You’ve never steered me wrong in the past, so I trust you with business decisions,” I spoke, giving her the upmost respect.

  “Thank you, sir. I aim to please. That is my job,” she replied, showing her sincerity.

  “Okay, look, I’m grabbing a bite to eat, throwing a few rounds at the craps table, and having a shot or two. Make sure you’ve glanced at the paperwork and are prepared. See you in a few hours.”

  I hung up the phone relaxed, knowing I had a longer time to play now. Since I was a married man, these business trips were more than a breath of fresh air, but it was my time to dangle my meat in whatever clean-looking trick made herself available.

  The waitress was taking a little longer than anticipated, so I found my way to the buffet, loading my plate up. All the gambling and drinking I’d been doing all morning was starting to catch up quickly. After smashing this, I’d bypass going back to the table to catch a catnap in my room.

  “Here’s your drink, sir. Is there anything else I can do?”

  “Yes, baby girl. As a matter of fact, you can meet me in my room around 8:00 p.m. for drinks. Is that possible?” I couldn’t help myself. I was like a kid in a candy store when it came to women.

  “How about nine thirty? I don’t get off till eight, and I want to go home first to get cute for you,” she shyly spoke to me but looked at me dead-on.

  “Nine thirty it is. I can’t wait to see your pretty face.” I knew she was hooked. Every girl I smiled at was hooked once my hazel eyes connected with theirs, and they thought my kind words and sweet-nothings were genuine. Naw, never that. I gambled women like I gambled money—high and frequently.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” She slid the bill over which had her name and number scribbled on the back.

  I paid her with an additional twenty and shook my head no. Her managers were watching from afar, so she had to play it cool. It was no problem for me as long as I got to have my way with her and that cat later tonight.

  “You’ve been more than helpful, Iesha.” I looked down at the receipt noting her name. “There’s no need for me to call you this evening. Just show up once your shift is over. I’m staying in room 1253.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there. And I plan to be even more helpful once I arrive,” she flirted.

  She just didn’t know—I’ll tear that li’l kitty cat out of the frame.

  “Damn, I’m glad her pesky ass is gone. I’ve been watching and waiting on my chance to introduce myself.”

  “Is that so? Well, who might you be?” I sipped my drink and traced the curves of the inviting body that seemed to appear out of thin air. The slight hard-on I felt from the waitress was starting to pulsate even more at the sight of this bombshell.

  “Jakia. And, yes, I’d like a drink.”

  “Well, nice meeting you, Jakia, I’m Robert,” I said, extending my hand. Her soft fingers massaged it softly before shaking it back. I was turned all the way on from her sexiness and boldness. Tossing the Patrón down my throat, feeling the instant burn, my confidence increased even more.

  “It’s so very nice to meet you, Robert.” Her voice was soft and seductive as she stared into my eyes. My grip on her hand was starting to loosen, but she didn’t move away. “How about drinks?”

  “The private pleasure would be all mine, sweet lady. But you’d have to accompany me to my room because that’s where I was on my way to. The room service here is impeccable.” I held my arm out for her to lock in. Since she was straight forward, I didn’t see the need for me not to be. Jakia approached me like a trick, and I had money to burn. I liked a woman that wasn’t about games.

  “Lead the way,” her words reassured my every thought.

  The waitress watched with an evil eye as I disappeared from her view. I made sure to wink and nod—There was enough dick in my drawers to stroke her too.

  Rocko

  “Don’t be on no slow-moving shit tonight, fam. Take it easy on them pills,” I preached to Spade as he got down with his usual prescription pill popping.

  You couldn’t pay me not to believe he didn’t pick that habit up from my strung-out auntie. The arthritis pains that shot throughout her body daily kept her doped up on the strongest opiates the rheumatologist could prescribe.

  He used to sneak some back in the day to nod out from getting bullied . . . and must’ve never stopped.

  “Ole dude’s assistant said he is a straight perv, so we gotta be on our toes.”

  “Yeah, cuz, but cool it with all that preaching. I ain’t trying to hear that right about now,” Spade slurred, and then swallowed his drug followed by a large gulp of Red Bull. “Besides, that’s my moneymaker in there. If something happens to her, all three of us suffer big time. I wouldn’t jeopardize that for nothing in the world.”

  “A’ight, nigga, whatever.”

  I swigged on a bottle of water, then pushed my earbuds back in. I didn’t want to miss one word of the conversation being exchanged between Jakia and this mark buster. Spade might not have treated her like fam all the time, but I tried to.

  “I love the way your ass looks right now. It’s got my dick getting hard. Can you tell, pretty girl?” Robert’s voice over the headphones was snaky and made my skin crawl.

  “As a matter of fact, I can.” Jakia’s voice was sexy and seductive. “It looks quite big.”

  “Come over here. Would you like to touch it, pretty girl? Aaah, yea, you just keep your hand right there. Feels big too, right?”

  I wanted to go in and shoot the mark buster in between his eyes myself for having her like that, but if Spade allowed his woman to be degraded, then who was I to call otherwise?

  He and I might’ve been blood cousins, but I swear to God he must’ve had his daddy’s genes of psych
otic crazy.

  “I can’t wait until you get me up to this room and show me just how big it actually is,” Jakia whispered, right before I heard her gasp.

  “Sweet, pretty girl, I’ve got so much money I can let my dick out to hang.”

  “Hey, I think it’s about that time we start putting this plan into motion. And from how Kia’s playing it, this nigga has more cash than we anticipated.”

  “A’ight, I’m on it,” Spade replied, replacing his Red Bull for water. “I’m about to scope out downstairs and security. Gotta make sure we can get up out of here with no problems.”

  “Bet.” I continued listening to the conversation while loading my pistols in preparation for killing a nigga. I knew it would be inevitable. And when Spade got back to hear the way this ole nasty nigga was on his girl—shit was really gonna turn south.

  After concealing my weapons on each side of my hip, I pulled out the cleaning supplies Spade’s little girlfriend brought in her “luggage” when she checked in. Tiff looked out big-time with Lysol, bleach, and disinfectant. That nigga was taking a huge risk by involving his ex, but for some reason, chicks loved staying loyal to his nutty ass.

  I wiped the entire room down for prints, then gathered any empty water bottles or paraphernalia that was lying around. I didn’t care what plans Spade might’ve had of coming back with Tiff later on, but my fingerprints weren’t going to be swiped by forensics.

  5

  Jakia

  “Damn, you are so sexy, pretty girl. Take your clothes off. Let me see more of you. Let me feel your skin.”

  His hazel eyes locked into mine as I stepped out of my heels, then dropped my Chanel purse and walked toward him. I was in rare form working my role tonight, but I’m sure Spade was going to find something wrong with my performance.

  “You should take off yours first. Show me more of that big dick you had me feeling in the elevator,” I slurred, feeling a head rush from the shots we’d just taken at the wet bar.