© 2019
Published by Leo Sullivan Presents
www.leolsullivan.com
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.
Contents
1. Cortez “Belly” Khalil
Ozbert “Ozzy” Wilkes II
Blaise Cansino
Manuel “Manny” Ortiz
2. Isabella “Izzy” Carriage
Belly
Alivia Farms
Nichole Carriage
3. Blaise
Manny
Isabella
Priscilla Dimitri
4. Belly
Blaise
Alivia
Willem “Will” Dade
5. Nichole
Blaise
Manny
Isabella
6. Priscilla
Belly
Tiana Strauss
Alivia
7. Nichole
Will
Blaise
Belly
8. Blaise
Manny
Isabella
Priscilla
9. Belly
Alivia
Nichole
Will
10. Isabella
Blaise
Belly
Epilogue
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1
Cortez “Belly” Khalil
“Damn, did you leave a cake in the oven?” Victor inquired, making me laugh.
“Nah. I just wanna get home to my girl and my kids. My son is new and shit. I ain’t trying to have him walking while I’m busy up here.”
“He’s got a while before all of that, but I understand.” Victor patted my back. “You went hard today, so go home and enjoy your family.”
“Oh, I will, especially Blaise.”
Smiling, Victor added, “And ignore the shit with Strauss.”
“I’m good; I ain’t tripping,” I half lied.
I ain’t really give a fuck, but a small part of me hated that some people were calling me a fucking killer. I knew they were just his die-hard fans, but the shit was annoying. Yes, I planned to kill his ass anyway, but that murder would’ve been a secret. This public shit was aggravating.
“Okay, good.”
Victor and I dapped one another up.
As I turned to leave, two men entered the building, one in a suit, the other in a police uniform.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” Victor stepped in front of me. He was always acting like a damn father. I guess because he’d been training me since I was a kid, he felt like he was.
“Cortez Khalil.” The one in the suit ignored Victor and stared right at me.
“What y’all need me for?” I asked.
“Cuff him,” the suit told his officer buddy.
“Cuff him? For what?” Victor shouted.
“What the fuck is going on?” I barked as my bag dropped, and the officer in uniform pulled my hands behind my back. If I weren’t a public figure, I would beat his ass.
“Cortez Khalil, you’re under arrest for the sexual assault of Tiana Strauss.”
Huh?
“I barely even know that bitch!” I barked as they walked me outside. A bunch of niggas from the hood were doing their usual block hugging, while staring us down with their eyes wide as fuck.
“Aye Belly, what’s going on?… Belly!… Fuck happened?” They rambled off randomly, but I ignored them, mad as a muthafucka and confused.
Last time I saw Tiana’s ass was at the club that night I sent her on her fucking way. I’d done a lot of criminal shit, but raping a bitch wasn’t one of them muthafuckas. The only explanation was that her ass had lied on me, but I ain’t know why. Even though she pressed me to fuck, Tiana ain’t have no reputation for being a thirsty ass female that would take shit this far over some dick. But then again, neither did Megyn’s ass, yet she’d lied on a nigga too.
After them bitch niggas stuffed me into the back seat of the little ass police vehicle, I shut my eyes to calm myself down. I had too much to lose and couldn’t act a fucking fool on their asses like I used to do when arrested.
The one in the suit hopped into the driver’s side then looked over his shoulder at me to laugh.
“Looking cramped back there, champ. You would think you’d stop committing crimes, knowing how tight the back seat of a patrol car is for someone your size.” He continued to chuckle as his uniformed partner got in on the passenger side.
“LAPD just needs to hire some real niggas who grow all the way, then get some bigger cars. Y’all muthafuckas be five feet four, 120 pounds, thinking y’all scaring somebody.” I shook my head.
The suit cranked the car and pulled off, just as the uniformed officer replied. “I guess because you killed Strauss, you think you’re tough, huh?”
“You wanna find out?”
He stared me down through the right-side mirror but didn’t say shit back to me.
The rest of the drive was quiet; well, for me. Them niggas talked the whole way about dumb shit while munching on food that looked and smelled disgusting as fuck.
By the time we got to the police station, I couldn’t wait to get out of this little ass car. I stayed quiet as they took me out then escorted me inside to a somewhat dark room. It smelled like old ass oil and pipes, reminding me of the days when I stayed in some shit.
This was the wrong time for me to be getting caught up on some fucking charges. I had a damn family, and I’d just won the belt of all belts. If I lost any of that shit over this right here, Tiana was a dead bitch, on my son.
“Khalil, I’m Detective Edgar.” A light-skinned nigga entered the room introducing himself. “And as you know, this is Detective Wendell.” He gestured toward the suit who drove me here.
“Nah, he ain’t tell me who he was.”
Detective Edgar gave the Wendell nigga a look, before nodding for him to leave the room. He then came and sat across from me, holding a folder in his hand.
Adjusting his suit jacket, he sighed. “Cortez Khalil. I rooted for you in the Strauss fight, but now I’m regretting that decision.”
“I don’t give a fuck about what you regret, nigga. At the end of the day, I took home that title.” I smirked. “But quit wasting my time, and explain to me what the fuck I’m here for. I ain’t rape nobody.”
Edgar stared me in the eyes for a second, making it obvious he didn’t like what I’d said, and I just stared back at his ass.
“Then who did, Mr. Khalil?”
“Ain’t that yo’ damn job to find out? I don’t fuck with that hoe like that. And maybe you need to go around raping bitches, but I don’t. I get the pussy for free. Shit, every time I look up, I’m getting an offer for some pussy. Bitches throw that shit at me like the cheddar biscuits at Red Lobster, nigga.
Wake up, there’s an offer for some pussy. Walk to my car, my neighbor is offering up some pussy. Pull up to a red light, there’s a bitch in the whip next to me offering some pussy. Walk in yo’ house, and I bet yo’ wife’ll throw me the pussy.”
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“Nah. I’m dead serious.”
And I was.
“While you’re worried about my wife, shouldn’t you stay focused on your fiancée?”
“I ain
’t worried about yo’ fucking wife. I said yo’ wife would let me fuck, big difference. And my fiancée is good, bruh. Don’t mention her no more, or I might get upset and beat yo’ ass, cuffs on.” I spoke calmly because I wasn’t playing with this nigga. “Focus on why the fuck I’m here before you get yaself hurt out here.”
Blaise was off limits, and I didn’t give a fuck who it was that had her name in their mouth, I was swinging on their asses. Don’t fuck with Blaise, Island, Baby Cortez, my bread, or my career.
“You wouldn’t dare touch a detective in a police department.”
“You don’t sleep here though, do you? You gotta go home, right?”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m asking a question.” I sat back. “Go get me some water; I’m thirsty.”
“Wendell!” he shouted, and when that nerdy muthafucka peeked in, he said, “Get this asshole some water.” Once Wendell left, Edgar turned back to me and exhaled. “Someone raped Mrs. Strauss, and she’s saying it was you.”
“’Cause I ain’t dick her down, muthafucka. Learn the game. Bitches lie on you when they know you don’t wanna fuck.” I looked to see Wendell walking over with the water pitcher and a glass. “I want a bottle.”
I waited until Edgar directed him to do as I’d asked. Fuck I look like putting my lips on these dirty ass glasses?
“Are you saying she did this to herself?” Edgar opened the folder to show me photos of Tiana with a black eye, busted lip, and a small patch of hair ripped from her head. If she did that shit to herself, she was a fucking octopus. Someone had definitely fucked her up.
“Maybe she paid someone to beat her ass in order to make it seem legit. Hoes is crazy.” I kept it nonchalant, even though I was now wondering what the fuck was going on. That surely didn’t look like her doing.
“No.” Edgar shook his head. “We had her examined at the hospital, and she was definitely raped, Mr. Khalil. She had bruises and vaginal injuries that coincided with rape.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. I ain’t rape that girl.”
“Khalil! Admit it!” he roared. “Just admit the shit, and we can give you a good deal that’ll have you back home with your family in a few years.”
“I’m not admitting shit, because I ain’t do it!”
“You broke into her house! You did this shit!” He shoved the photos in my face.
“I don’t even know that bitch! How the fuck am I gon’ know where her ass lives?”
“Oh no, you do know her.” He took another photo from the folder, making me drop my head and sigh. It was a printout of a post by one of them gossip pages. They’d screenshot my story, which was a picture of Tiana and I, and that caption I put.
“Look. I met her that night, officially, and I took the picture, but that’s it.”
“Judging by your own words, ‘You niggas’ bitches be my biggest fans’.” He read what I’d typed in his uppity ass voice. “Sounds like you knew her well.”
“I was fucking with her nigga, her husband.”
“How would you do that when he was in the hospital at the time this photo was taken?” Edgar frowned.
“I knew it’d get to him. You see they posted the shit everywhere. I was sure once he got out, he’d catch the shit.”
“You’re a bad liar, Khalil. Anybody ever tell you that?”
“I need a phone call.” I ain’t even acknowledge his stupid ass comment, because I was panicking on the low. I didn’t know what the fuck had happened to Tiana or who’d done the shit, but I felt like I’d been set up. And her nigga was dead, so it couldn’t have been him, especially since the date on her injury photos was after his death.
“Get up.” Edgar directed me, then whistled for Wendell to come in.
They walked me, while I was still wearing the cuffs, over to a phone. Wendell removed one of the handcuffs, and they both stood off some, watching me as I picked it up from the receiver.
I quickly dialed Blaise, closing my eyes and hoping she answered.
“Hello?” She spoke into the phone skeptically.
“Hi, baby,” was all I could get out as I leaned my forehead on the phone base, eyes still shut.
“Cortez? Did you lose your phone?”
“Nah, I ain’t lose my phone.”
“Oh, when will you be home? You said 8 p.m., but it’s a little past 9 p.m.”
Licking my lips, I turned my back to the phone to lean up against the wall next to it, as Wendell and Edgar watched me like a hawk.
“Tonight I won’t be there. I got arrested for some bullshit, and they’re about to book me.”
“What? Arrested for what? You haven’t done anything! Is this about Mason? I thought—”
“Nah, this ain’t about Mason. I can’t be arrested or charged for that.” I exhaled heavily. “It’s a rape charge—”
“Rape charge! What the fuck? Who are they saying you raped?”
“Hurry up, Khalil!” Edgar barked, making me clench my teeth out of anger.
“Tiana Strauss. But baby, look, I need a lawyer. I don’t have one. In the past when I got arrested, I was nobody and used a public defender, so my ass always got locked up. I need—”
“Of course, Cortez. Tomorrow morning, I will have someone for you. I promise, okay?” Her voice was soft, so I could tell she was about to cry.
“Blaise, please don’t cry with me on the phone,” I begged.
“I—”
“Mommy! Daddy come now and we play?” I heard Island ask in her small voice.
“Give me a second, Island, okay?” Blaise replied, just before I heard my son begin to cry.
“I’m sorry, baby,” was all I could say, listening to this shit over the phone.
“Don’t be, Cortez. You didn’t do anything. And I can handle all of this. I will be okay.”
“Alright, come on.” Wendell slid over by me.
“Aight. Just let me say bye,” I told him.
“You’ve said enough.” He attempted to grab the phone. “Ah!” He grunted loudly when I hemmed him up against the wall, my forearm pressing down onto his skinny ass neck.
“Calm yo’ punk ass down, bruh. Let me say my last muthafuckin’ words.” I glared into his scrunched-up face as Edgar tried to pull my arm from his co-worker’s neck.
“Cortez?” I heard Blaise, so I stepped back to put the phone to my ear.
“I’m here. I love you, baby, and I have to go.”
“Okay. I love you too.”
As soon as I put the phone down on the receiver, Edgar and Wendell roughly cuffed me, making me laugh. It was comical as a muthafucka how they thought a few shoves and shit from their miniature asses was roughing a big nigga like me up. Island had more strength than these two angel food cake ass niggas.
“Glad you think this is funny.” Wendell forced me down into the chair as Edgar closed the door to the same room we’d been in prior.
“It is. Y’all muthafuckas need to get in the gym ASAP.” I chuckled, sinking down into the chair a little bit for more comfort.
Edgar and Wendell both sat down at the table but across from me. Wendell was scowling hard as fuck, still upset about how I’d handled his ass outside by the phone. Seeing him up in arms, so to speak, made me smirk at him.
“Look, Khalil. Cut the bullshit and admit what you did. The more you drag this shit out, the worse the outcome.” Edgar stared me down.
“Not admitting shit, and I don’t wanna talk no fucking more until my lawyer comes. Tell ya partner to stop mean mugging me ’fore I beat his ass. That little hem up outside wasn’t shit.”
“Hey, fuck you!” Wendell hopped up from his chair so fast that it fell backwards.
“Wendall, go.” Edgar got up and gestured toward the door. Wendell glared at me for a little longer before doing as he was told. Turning to lean down on the desk, Edgar said, “We have Tiana’s very detailed confession, Khalil. She told us everything, even down to the very cologne you were wearing the night you raped her. We�
��ll be searching your home for it, as well as your bank statements, to see if it was purchased.”
“Like I said, I’m done talking.”
“Okay.” Edgar nodded. “Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue.” He read the name of the cologne from the file then gave me a knowing smirk as if he’d caught me.
I paid him no mind as he started escorting me out to get booked, but then it hit me.
Some odd days later…
These muthafuckin’ guards in here couldn’t stand me, typical hating ass niggas, so I was barely able to get my damn calls. I needed a damn cell phone, and I’d figured out just how to get the get the shit.
There was this female guard that came in on the evenings, and for the past two days, all she did was tell me how she loved watching me box and shit. I’d been giving her dry ass responses and pretending to fall asleep so her thirsty ass could leave me the fuck alone, but tonight, I was using the shit to my advantage.
When I heard her footsteps coming down the hall, I sat up, waiting for her ass because I knew she’d stop by my cell.
“Doing okay?” She smiled, wrapping her ashy ass hand around the bar. Bitch’s knuckles looked like she punched concrete on her breaks.
“I am. Thank you. I appreciate you checking on me and shit… Elise.” I had to look at her nametag. I paid the bitch no mind, so even though she’d been sniffing under my balls since I got here, I ain’t know her fucking name.
“No problem. I told you, you’re my favorite boxer, even though I didn’t start watching until you debuted professionally.” She looked down the hall of cells and then turned back to me. “And between you and me, I don’t believe that Strauss bitch.”
Nobody Can Love You Like Them Roughnecks Do 4 Page 1