by Cash
“I wanna call a lawyer,” cried Shan. But by then, she had already said too much.
As a result of Shan’s ill-advised disclosures, the detectives were able to obtain a warrant to search Poochie’s apartment, Shan’s and Youngblood’s stated place of residence.
Initially the only evidence po-po had to connect Youngblood to the armed robbery was the bling that Shan had been wearing, both pieces had William’s lady’s initials engraved on the clasps.
But during the search of Poochie’s apartment, police found $47,630 hidden in Shan’s bedroom, two Glock’s, three black ninja-like outfits, two black ski masks and several rolls of duct tape.
Inside Poochie’s bedroom they found a crack pipe and numerous razors smudged with crack residue. They arrested her, too, and placed her three sons in a temporary foster home.
When Lonnie caught wind of what happened, he came through for his tightman and his tightman’s peeps.
He bonded them all out of jail and Poochie got her sons back.
While awaiting trial, Youngblood continued jacking dope boys, tryna stack some cheddar in case he had to go do a bid.
For a minute he was salty with Shan for letting po-po trick her into saying too much, but he soon forgave her. She wasn’t built for the life, like he was because when the detectives had tried to play good cop, bad cop with him, he had told ‘em to suck his dick.
As fall turned into winter, the hard-hitting attorney that Youngblood hired worked out a plea bargain with the D.A. If Youngblood would plead guilty to robbery by intimidation, he’d be sentenced to a hard nickel—no parole. And all charges against Shan and Poochie would be dismissed.
“Fuck it. Tell them crackers to come on wit’ it, I’ll take the five years,” he informed his attorney, though he knew the only evidence the state had against him was circumstantial.
William and his lady couldn’t say that they’d seen any of the robber’s faces. They’d all worn ski masks.
“We’ll take it to trial if you want to,” said the attorney. “But if you want my advice, I think you should accept the plea.” He knew that the Georgia courts were quick to railroad a young black man.
“I’ma take the plea,” Youngblood decided, just so his baby’s mama and Poochie didn’t get caught up in his troubles.
Fuck it, I can do a bid, he thought.
Later that day, they had rented a room at the Comfort Inn. Poochie was babysitting Lil’ T for them. Tomorrow Youngblood would have to turn himself in and begin serving the nickel he agreed to, so he’d figured they spend one last night together.
They had been blowing weed and drinking Henny and Coke the whole time. But now they were lying naked across the bed.
Shan kissed her way down her man’s body, caressing his balls along the journey. When she got to his dick, she licked pre-cum from the head of it and then let the head slide into her mouth.
“Do that shit, shawdy.” Youngblood encouraged with his toes beginning to curl.
Shan was definitely Poochie’s daughter. She could suck hella dick, too.
She turned onto her back and cooed, “Fuck me in the mouth.”
Youngblood straddled her head and slid his hard dick back into her mouth. He pumped in and out, watching her as she practically swallowed the dick.
Shan was looking up at him from under fluttering eyelashes, making it hard for him to hold his nut. Her warm mouth felt like he was up in some pussy.
“I want you to cum all over my face,” Shan mumbled with a mouthful of dick.
Youngblood didn’t wanna bust yet. Tonight would be his last piece of pussy for five long years. He was gonna savor this night, instead. He pulled his hips all the way back and his dick left Shan’s mouth with a plop.
“Un-uh! Give it back,” she whined.
Ignoring her, Youngblood kissed his way down her neck, nibbling on that spot that always made her squirm and shiver.
“Ahhh!” moaned Shan, stroking his dick.
Youngblood put one of her taut chocolate nipples into his mouth, curling his tongue around it and then sucked it. Shan arched her back and pushed down on his head, anxious for him to go downtown.
When they had first hooked up Youngblood had virgin head. Shan, being the more sexually experienced of the two, had been the first to turn him out to eating pussy. Still, she was the only shawdy to have gotten head from him. She had taught him how to take his time licking and sucking the pussy, stimulating the clit. Now, he was adding his own moves, making her climb the headboard.
Youngblood rubbed her clit while sucking on her wet inner folds.
When he felt her knees squeeze the sides of his head, he eased a finger into her backdoor and slowly stroked it in and out.
“Ahhh—nigga! I’m—cumming!” Shan cried out. “Goddam!” she exhaled after a long, intense orgasm. Youngblood came up and stuck his tongue in her mouth. “You—
“You feel like riding?” he asked, fingering the pussy and nibbling on her bottom lip.
“Any way you want it.”
Youngblood laid back and let her hop up on the dick. Shan slid down it only part of the way, moving up and down, sensually.
“Whose dick is this, huh?” Looking into his eyes as she let the full length of him slide up into her.
“Do dat shit, girl!” Youngblood moaned. Her pussy was soaking wet. Hot and gripping.
“Is this my dick?” she repeated.
“You know what it is, shawdy,” keeping it G. “I ask the questions,” throwing dick up at her.
“Mmmm.”
“Reverse dat shit for me, boo.” Shan turned around and straddled the dick reverse cowgirl. “That’s what I’m talkin’ bout,” Youngblood said, gripping her ass and watching his dick go in and out. “Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours, baby.”
“For how long?”
“For—ever,” replied Shan, speeding up.
“You gon’ hold me down while I’m gone?”
“Ahhh—Ummmm! Yesss!”
“Word is bond?”
“Uh-huh,” she was bouncing up and down on the dick now.
Youngblood reached around her and messaged her clit while she rode him as if this would be the last time. After Shan came again, he flipped her over on her back and put in work.
They sucked and fucked all night.
Morning brought with it the painful reality that today Youngblood would have to turn himself in and begin serving the bid.
Deep down, he wasn’t feelin’ that move. But he knew that if he went on the run, it would mean not seeing his son again. He had grown up without a pops and wasn’t tryna leave Lil’ T ass’d out like that. So he had to do what he had to do.
“Peep this, Shan. Now you know a nigga ‘bout to go behind them walls for a minute. What you gon’ do, shawdy?” he asked as they drove to Poochie’s apartment.
“What you mean?”
“Are you gon’ hold me down?”
“Yeah. You ain’t gotta ask me that,” she replied with indignation.
“Fa real, girl. If you ain’t gon’ do this bid with me, let me know now, and I won’t even be mad. But if you wait until I get into my bid and then turn your back on me, I swear I ain’t fuckin’ with you when I get out. You feel me?”
“Yeah.”
“Fa real, shawdy,” he repeated, reaching over and holding her hand as he drove. “I’ma be gone for a nickel so I ain’t gon’ even try to fool myself that you ain’t gon’ fuck somebody else.”
“I’m not,” Shan declared.
“Kill dat,” retorted Youngblood, knowing better. “Just don’t be all out there like a ho. Don’t fuck niggaz I’m s’pose to be cool with and don’t have no damn babies while I’m gone.”
“Tsssk! I ain’t gon’ be doing nothing to have no babies.”
“Whatevea, shawdy, just don’t have no babies,” he restated. “And don’t leave a nigga hangin’. I’m leaving you my ride and my stash. Don’t cross me.”
“I won’t,” promised Shan.
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Poochie, Shan, Lil’ T, Lonnie and Shotgun Pete were present with Youngblood in court as he pled guilty to one count of robbery by intimidation and was sentenced to five years.
Shan cried as her baby’s daddy was led from the courtroom in cuffs.
“Can I kiss my shawdy and my son goodbye?” Youngblood asked the bailiff.
“Escort the prisoner out of my courtroom!” barked the judge. “He should’ve said his goodbyes before now.”
“I wasn’t even talking to you!” Youngblood barked back to the judge. “Cracker!”
Youngblood was then quickly removed from the courtroom.
CHAPTER 6
Youngblood had spent eighteen months in a Youth Detention Center before, which was akin to serving a bid. So it wasn’t anythang for him to adjust to serving this five-year bid at Alto, a notoriously violent state prison for males between the ages fifteen to twenty-one.
It took him nearly eight months to get the streets out of his system and settle into his bid. So far, Shan was holding him down, sort of. She was bringing his son to visit him at least twice a month. But she had moved from her mom’s spot into her own apartment and was hardly ever at home when Youngblood tried to call.
Rumors made its way to Youngblood that his baby’s mama was sleeping with different homies of his from Englewood, a violation Shan had promised not to ever commit.
Youngblood finally caught up with her on a three-way with Toi. When he confronted Shan with what he had heard, she straight up denied it, copping attitude.
“I might as well fuck them Englewood niggaz since you accusing me of it!”
“I tell you what, shawdy,” Youngblood replied, “fuck whoever you want just take my dough to my sister and my ride, too.”
“Nigga, please!” she screamed in his ear and slammed down the phone.
Toi said, “That bitch ain’t no good.”
But Youngblood wasn’t ready to see that.
Shan hadn’t been to visit him in months. He’d written letters to her but they went unanswered. Lonnie told him that po-po had snatched the BMW. Apparently, Shan had allowed some Grady Homes hustlers to use his ride during a drug deal that turned out to be with undercovers, posing as dope boys. The Beamer was seized when the Grady Homes boys were arrested.
“I’ma kick that bitch ass!” Youngblood fumed.
When Shan was acting up, not visiting him or sending money for commissary, Youngblood got so vexed that he stayed getting into trouble. Him and some homies from Southeast Atlanta jacked white boys for their commissary and stayed getting into fights with country niggaz from small towns in Georgia.
Kyree, the twins, Rafael and Rufus, Tony and Youngblood had each other’s backs inside The Toe.
Youngblood was also vexed about his estrangement from his mother. Three months ago she had come to visit him with her husband in tow, like it was all good.
Youngblood disliked the monkey-ass nigga, so he refused to sit there and fake it. As soon as he saw that his mother had brought Raymond with her to visit him, Youngblood turned around and walked out. Ann hadn’t been back to visit her son since.
Youngblood was stressing in the worst way. He was shooting dice with a group of Down South boys when a dispute began over Youngblood’s point. When the fader refused to concede the bet, Youngblood punched him in the mouth. Blood spurted from the boy’s grill as he fell back against a bunk. Kyree, Tony and the twins stood close by, ready for whatever. Like Youngblood, they had shanks hidden in their pockets.
“I’ma kill you, fuck ass nigga!” the country boy cried, running off to his bunk to get his shank.
Youngblood and his crew caught up to the country nigga before the boy could reach his bunk. They stabbed the country boy repeatedly in the back and shoulders, wetting him up.
When the boy crumpled to the floor, two of his homeboys ran up to try to save him from getting bodied.
Youngblood and his crew attacked, screaming, “Y’all hos want some?”
When it was all over, they had wet up all three boys. They were placed in the hole where all five remained for six months.
To pass time on lockdown, Youngblood wrote rap songs and perfected his rap skills.
Rapping was something he hadn’t had an interest in until he fell on this bid and started kickin’ it with the twins and them. All of his crew in The Toe was nice on the mic. But Youngblood, they agreed was a natural lyricist, with a Dirty South flow.
Also while in the hole, Youngblood wrote Shan a letter, trying to patch things up with her.
Dear Shan,
Shawdy, I really don’t know where to begin so let me first say that I still love you. I know that shit has been messed up between us, and I’ve said a lot of foul shit to you. But we both were wrong, ‘cause you did some things that really hurt a nigga. I hear so many rumors about how you’re out there disrespecting, not only me, but yourself as well by fuckin’ with a whole lot of different niggas. I gotta believe what mafuckaz telling me, ‘cause you’ve damn sho’ turned your back on me. But dig this, Shan, I still want you in my life. See, I can accept anything you do as long as you be real with me about it and as long as you don’t fuck with anybody I’m s’pose to be a’ight with. And don’t have no babies by whoeva you kick it with. Damn, shawdy, is that too much to ask of you?
I ain’t even salty about you fucking up my money and getting my car took. Fuck it! I’ll get all that shit again when I touch down. Just come back to a nigga, girl. Hold me down like you promised. Bring my son to visit me once in a while, and drop me a letter every now and then, just so a nigga don’t feel like you don’t give a fuck. Feel me?
Anyway, write back ASAP. And send me your new phone number so I can hit you on a three-way.
I love you, Shan, but I ain’t gonna beg. If you still love me start showing it. Tell Lil’ T that daddy loves him. I miss y’all like crazy.
Love,
Yo’ baby’s daddy.
Months after swallowing his thug pride and pouring his heart out to Shan in the letter, Youngblood still hadn’t heard from her.
Stressing, he called Lonnie to see if his dawg had the 411 on Shan.
Lonnie gave it to him straight up. “Dawg, Shan fuckin’ with Shotgun Pete.”
“What?”
“Yeah, shawdy, and that’s some foul shit. I stepped to ‘em both about it, but you know how that shit went. Shotgun Pete told me that it ain’t none of my business. Said he would deal with you when you hit the bricks if you got a problem with it.”
“That bitch nigga said that?” Youngblood was heated. “What Shan say?”
“Shid, she was like fuck you. Said something about you fucked her mother. But that shit don’t justify what she’s doing, ‘cause the bitch was already fuckin’ with Pete before she heard about you and Poochie.”
“Who told her?” asked Youngblood, his face twitching from anger.
He knew that Shotgun Pete had to have dropped the dime because Lonnie and him were the only two Youngblood had told about him boning Shan’s mama.
“You already know who told it, dawg,” confirmed Lonnie, his one thorough partna. “That’s why I don’t fuck with that nigga no more. Feel me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Shan got that nigga fucked up, and he got her snorting that dust with him. Both of ‘em ain’t shit.”
When Youngblood got off the phone, he had already made up his mind not to ever fuck with Shan again. As for Shotgun Pete, the love Youngblood had for him was gone, too.
For the remaining three years left on his bid, Youngblood harbored bitterness for all those who had crossed him. The only thing that helped him maintain while he marked off the three calendars was the love Lonnie and Toi showed. Also, his homie Kyree had hooked him up with his sister, Brenda, who was a thirty-four-year-old, bi-sexual ex-stripper.
At first Brenda didn’t take Youngblood seriously, due to his youth and wildness. But after a few letters back and forth, and a couple of visits, Youngblood managed to get past all of that.<
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She began visiting him once a month and she sent money orders consistently.
On lock, Youngblood got mad props ‘cause he had snagged a fly, older chick.
But he never bragged about it, ‘cause that would’ve been disrespecting Kyree, and Youngblood didn’t roll like that. Besides, Brenda had made it clear that she wasn’t looking for a man. They were only friends, but she held him down much realer than lowdown Shan.
Despite having Brenda in his life to help ease the last three years of his bid, the bitterness Youngblood held against his baby’s mama, Shotgun Pete, his mother,and everyone else who he felt had betrayed him festered like an infection. So when he walked out the prison gates after completing his bid, he walked out an angry young G screaming, Mafuckaz gon’ feel me or kill me!
CHAPTER 7
Lonnie’s spot was a two-bedroom townhouse in Roswell, Georgia, a quiet, little suburb north of Atlanta. Youngblood sat on the couch with a box of hot wings balanced on his lap. He licked the spicy sauce off his fingers. “That weed made me hungry as a mafucka,” he said to Lonnie, who laughed.
“It’s been five years since you smoked a blunt, lil’ nigga. How it feels to be home?”
“Gooder than a mafucka! Shit seems strange, though. A lot of shit done changed. Like you not living in the hood no more.”
Lonnie said, “I still roll through Englewood every day, but I got too many enemies to lay my head down there. You know how I get my loot, off the muscle, as always. Those bitch-ass dope boys be puttin’ out contracts on a nigga now, or they take a warrant out on stickup kids. Like dude did to get you sent away.” Youngblood shook his head. “That shit is foul!” he said in disgust. “Them niggaz livin’ illegal, too. How they gon’ run to po-po for help? That’s some real bitch shit. Real niggaz settle they beefs in the street.”
Lonnie rolled another blunt, ran the cigarette lighter flame across it to dry the spliff and then passed it to Youngblood.
“Well, niggaz don’t play it like that no more. They get the stickup kids out the way however they can. Anyway, I know today is your first day home but what you gon’ do? You out the game or what?”