“That was… interesting. Your friend Tony must’ve forgotten his filter at home.”
“Yeah, well you didn’t seem to mind, the way you was flirting and shit.”
“Flirting? I was not flirting with him.”
“Giggling and smiling at all that disrespectful shit he said like you wanna fuck him or something!”
“I was being nice! And you really wanna come for me when it’s obvious you didn’t tell them niggas you were married!” When I got silent, she added, “Yeah, exactly. You think I’m dumb? Them niggas were like deer in headlights when you said I was your wife!”
“Baby—”
“No, don’t baby me.” She laughed to herself, shaking her head. “To think I tried to overlook it, only for you to accuse me of flirting. Something told me you were out here playing single.”
“I wasn’t playing anything, Amara. I just never said shit. We work and nothing else. We don’t talk about relationships.” She didn’t respond which worried me. “Amara.” I pulled over. “Baby, you think I would have brought you tonight if I was trying to keep you a secret?”
“You tried to keep me from coming.”
“No, I just didn’t want Ahmira there.” I grabbed her hand. “Baby, I love you, and I swear my focus is on this music shit, not anything else. I didn’t feel the need to divulge my business to these niggas. But they met you and now they know. Okay?” My heart was beating fast as fuck. “Amara, don’t leave me.”
She was staring straight ahead.
“Rahim, you have a very limited amount of time to prove to me that what I’m thinking right now isn’t the case.” She turned to face me after speaking. “I have sacrificed a lot for you, and if I find out you’ve betrayed me, even by texting another bitch, there will be nothing you can say, buy, or do.”
“You have sacrificed a lot, and that’s why I would never do you wrong. I promise. You gon’ see.”
She didn’t reply; she just turned to face the windshield again.
Amara had me shook, but I would do everything in my power to keep me fucking Shanece’s and Phoebe’s asses under wraps. I would kill before I lost my wife.
Tony Wacko
Some odd days later…
The homie had sent me a screenshot of an article reporting that, that brick face hoe Sosie had signed with Stallion. Even though I didn’t like her stupid ass, I was low-key hot. She was definitely gon’ bring in a lot of cash if she was presented to the world right. This was all the more reason Holli needed to get her ass out of jail. If they didn’t release her after this court hearing, I was paying one of them jail bird ass hoes to murk her.
“How did you like the food?” Camarih walked into the bedroom. Her ass was in there doing the fucking dishes. She could never let that shit sit.
“Was perfect. I ain’t know you knew how to make Caribbean food.” I welcomed her into my lap.
“Yeah. I can pretty much make anything.” She started kissing all over my face.
“You stay on the corny shit. You supposed to roll through here and start sucking my dick, not start kissing on me and shit while I rub yo’ belly.”
“You like it.” She laughed, getting even more comfortable in my lap as I rubbed her stomach. “You okay?” she asked as I lay back, letting my hands caress her hips.
“You so fucking sexy. This shit is crazy.” I lifted her gown to be just up under her breasts and let my eyes take in the bottom part of her body. “Even with this shit right here.” I touched her stomach before leaning up temporarily to kiss it. “Santa Claus ass.”
“Houston!” She slapped my chest.
“I like that shit, especially the reason behind it.” I looked up at her blushing and shit for a nigga.
“Answer me. You look bothered.” After leaning down to peck me, she rose back up, “And because we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, we have to—”
“Tell each other things. You always in my fucking business, Buttascotch.”
“I’m supposed to be. Now…”
“I’m good. Just that busted ass hoe Sosie decided to sign with Stallion.”
“You were rude to her.”
“That bitch was rude to me first, mad ’cause I wouldn’t let her suck my dick. All I did was be honest about her bad ass skin and smelly pussy.”
Camarih laughed.
“I can’t say too much, because anybody trying to fuck my nigga is an enemy of mine. But you don’t need her.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“No.” Camarih shook her head, eyes closed. Shit was funny to see, making me chuckle. “She made a big mistake not signing to you.”
“You just saying that ’cause I eat you out.”
“No I am not! I’m serious. She’s gonna regret it. Stallion is slimy and nowhere near as smart as you. If she really wanted to be somebody, she would have been more professional, and she would have signed to you.” Camarih hovered over me, pecking me gently as fuck as I rubbed on her ass. “Everybody who can sing, rap, hell, even juggle is going to want to be a part of your team. And when she comes crawling back, you better not sign her, or we’re gonna have a problem.”
I licked my lips, groping her.
“You know I like when you talk to me like I won’t fuck you up.” I let her feel how hard my dick was. “You believe that shit you talking though, huh?”
“Yep. And I’m pretty smart.”
“You are.” I touched her nose. “Don’t tell nobody I said this shit, but a nigga is lucky as fuck to have you here with me.”
Again, Camarih blushed, moving her hair from her face before grinning unintentionally.
It may have seemed small as fuck, but it meant a lot to a nigga to have his girl talk that type of shit. Even more so because she really felt that shit. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel better.
“I won’t tell a soul,” she cheesed. “Now see, I can tell your mood has improved.” She gave a satisfying smile.
“Shut yo’ ass up.” I flipped her onto her back quickly as fuck. “Making me sound like I’m in love with yo’ ass or some shit.”
“You shut up.” She grinned before we started kissing. “You do love me.” She spoke lowly in between kisses.
Like clockwork, I started pulling her panties right off. Pregnant pussy was some addictive shit.
I had a meeting later today, but before that shit, I decided to take my sister Jilly to lunch. She was still mad as fuck about me beating her nigga’s ass, like I hadn’t done the shit hundreds of times.
“Is this an apology?” Jilly drank some of her wine as she looked at me from across the table.
“Fuck would I apologize for? I’m not sorry. Step yo’ pussy up and get a real nigga.”
“Fuck you. I don’t get why you asked me to come then.” She scowled, folding her arms.
“To talk to yo’ ass. I’m never gon’ like that nigga, and every time you bring his ass around, he getting fucked up. And if he say some stupid shit, I’m popping his ass.” I let that shit marinate before I continued. “He ain’t about shit, and you know it. Nigga can’t even defend himself good enough, yet you think he gon’ protect yo’ ass.”
Jilly stared down into her lap.
“He’s just not like you; doesn’t mean he’s a punk or not about shit.”
“Plenty of muthafuckas ain’t like me, and I’m cool with them. He a snake, and when yo’ ass get bit, I don’t wanna hear about the shit.”
“Yeah right. If he fucks me over, you’d shoot him.”
A moment of silence lingered before we both laughed.
“Yeah, I will, but I won’t let you cry on my shoulder or no bullshit like that.”
“I’ll just cry on Camarih’s. She likes me.”
“She like everybody.” I shook my head, sipping my drink as Jilly cackled.
“Y’all are so different but match somehow. She’s so nice and welcoming, yet you hate everyone.” She grinned widely, finding comedy in her statement. “I can’t wait to see how my niece or nephew will
be.”
“A real bitch or nigga either way.”
“Lord, please pray for my brother so he won’t ruin Auntie’s baby at a young age.”
“Fuck out of here. Nigga’s gon’ respect my kid same way they do me. Soon as they see that stroller hit the corner, they gon’ straighten the fuck up.”
Jilly almost spit out her drink, before she burst into laughter.
“I can’t stand you.” She paused to let the waiter deliver our plates. “I don’t think Brielle likes Camarih. Have they met?”
“Not really, just in passing. Why you say that?” I frowned. If Brielle had been running her fucking mouth, I was gon’ bust her in it.
“Just things she said. Like everything good I mentioned regarding Camarih, she would refute it or attempt to.”
“Example.”
“Like when I said Camarih’s body was nice, she said it was probably surgery or something along those lines. And when I said she was pretty, Brielle mentioned how any woman could be pretty wearing makeup.”
I chuckled at Brielle’s hating ass.
“Sound like some dumb shit.” I brushed it off.
“Yeah… but I don’t know. You ever felt like Brielle likes you?”
“Fuck would she like me for? You sound stupid as fuck.”
“No, I know it’s nasty considering… but she was a bit over the top with her statements. And now that you say they’ve never met, it makes it stranger.”
“Brielle is a strange ass female. Let me know if she say anything else about my bitch though.”
Jilly nodded, covering her mouth as she chewed.
“I guess for now I won’t bring Vernon around. He refuses to anyway, because his nose is broken for the fifth time.”
“Good.”
Jilly and I finished the food and then I took her ass straight home despite her requesting to go the fucking mall. Her spoiled ass stayed with her hand out but had a broke ass, bitch ass nigga for her boyfriend.
As soon as Jilly and I entered the house, Miranda’s hoe ass emerged from the kitchen. I could smell the hair spray from one of them shops, so I guess she’d gotten that fucking mop on her head fixed. Miranda was nothing special at fucking all. She favored her daughter, Brielle, but light skinned and more basic.
“I’m going to shower.” Jilly headed to the back, so I turned to leave the house.
“Hey, I was thinking you could invite your girlfriend over here for dinner. Jilly told me you two are serious.” Miranda put a blueberry in her mouth.
“Nah. I doubt she wants to meet my stepmoms that tried to fuck me.” I gripped the doorknob.
“Wait, Tony. I want to apologize for my behavior that night. I’d had a little too much to drink and…”
I turned to face her ass and smirked.
“Why you trying to play me like I’m stupid?”
Shaking her head in fear, she replied, “No. I swear I’m not, honey. I just, I was a bit tipsy and I got carried away.”
“Oh, so you not trying to fuck?” I looked right down into her face, watching her damn near lose her fucking breath.
“Not… no. I made a mistake. Ever since your father died, I admit that I have been feeling lonely, so coupled with alcohol, I had a lapse in judgment.”
Miranda could explain all fucking day, but I didn’t believe shit she said. She always gave me weird ass vibes, ever since my pops met her ass, always asking about the bitches I fucked and shit. I assumed she was just nosier than usual, but after she just tried to get dicked down, it all made sense.
“Don’t let the bullshit happen again. It’s nothing for me to knock you the fuck around like I do the rest of these hoes. Old bitches don’t get a pass with me.” I started to leave.
“I said I was sorry! And don’t talk me like I didn’t halfway raise you! I did more for you than your mother ever di—”
WHAM!
Before that hoe could even finish, I slapped the fuck out of her ass for speaking on my mama. She flew back, clearing the end table nearby as she fell to the floor.
As she cupped her face, seated on the ground in shock, I clenched my teeth. “Bitch, don’t you ever in yo’ life speak on my mama again. You ain’t do a muthafuckin’ thing for me but make my pops weaker than he was by putting that old spoiled ass pussy on him.”
“I can’t believe you hit me.” She sobbed, still holding her face.
“Believe it, bitch. I got more for yo’ ass if you pull some more bullshit.”
“What’s going on?” Jilly came from the bathroom in one of them puffy ass robes.
“Ya step mammy is trying to suck my dick.” I left right out, slamming the door behind me.
My next move would be getting Jilly’s ass up out of there. We needed to cut Brielle and her mama off for good, but I couldn’t do that shit with my baby sister up under that roof.
After pulling myself together in my car by smoking a blunt, I took my ass home to change clothes for this fucking meeting.
It was a little bit before 5 p.m. when I got to this big ass glass building downtown. I had to meet with the CEO of Paramount Recording Company or PRC, Victor Fairchild. They were a huge ass label with a gang of fucking artists who had gone on to win Grammys, get multiple number one hits, and anything else a muthafucka with dreams of being a musician could wish for.
However, I wasn’t meeting with him to get Eitan or Nala a deal, I wanted to get their company to sign mine as a subsidiary so it could back us with distribution and other expenses. Yeah, I could pay for the shit on my own, but fuck that. I was gon’ stack my shit while using these white folks’ money to get richer.
They did the shit all the time. I planned to take the money they invested into my shit, flip it for way more, all the while they paid for distribution. The money my label Make a Killing would bring in would be so much in the end that paying them back would be chump change. I was about to use these muthafuckas like a rich ass uncle, but first I had to prove being worthy of the shit.
I entered the building and saw a bitch at the front desk. She was on the phone talking, but I needed information.
“Excuse you!” she exclaimed when I reached over and pressed the receiver to hang that shit up.
“I’m looking for Victor Fairchild’s office.”
“That was a very important call you just hung up!” The frazzled ass white hoe damn near shouted. She looked to be pretty young.
“Bitch, give me the information I asked for and quit yapping ’fore I rob yo’ ass and snatch you the fuck up by that stringy ass dog hair on yo’ head.”
Scared as fuck like I knew her ass would be, she frantically began flipping through a stack of papers.
“He—he’s on fl—oor ten, suite twenty… so, so, umm, number ten twenty.”
I nodded and started to walk off but paused.
“You got twenty dollars?”
“Umm… for what?” Her voice was shaking.
“Answer the muthafuckin’ question, Marcia Brady.”
“Y-yes, I do.”
“It took me a long ass time to get over here from where I was. And you was rude as fuck, so I feel like you should be the muthafucka to reimburse me for gas. And hurry the fuck up ’fore you make a nigga late.”
She reached under her desk, dropping her purse accidentally from being so damn skittish, and then gave me $20 from her wallet. I snatched it, shoved it down into my pocket, and then hopped on the elevator.
As soon as I entered the suite, I signed in and was told to have a seat. About ten minutes later, Victor came from the back.
“Mr. Terranova?” He smiled, reaching his hand out as I rose up.
“Yeah.” I shook it.
“Great. Follow me.”
We treaded through his suite until we reached the office in the back and took a seat at the big ass wooden table. This shit was plush, and I couldn’t wait to have something like it.
“I must say, Mr. Terranova, I was delighted that you finally agreed to meet with me.” Victor sat back. “
I’ve been watching your company and artists for a while.”
“I had to weigh my options,” I responded honestly.
It wasn’t easy getting noticed by the right muthafuckas. It took a lot of money, elbow grease, and presenting the right opportunities to my artists. Granted, I only had two—shit, mainly one since Nala was still being groomed—but Eitan had done a lot and finally gotten noticed.
A few labels were interested in backing Make A Killing for distribution, but after doing some research, PRC was the best in my opinion. They were the wealthiest, had the most impressive roster, never had any money issues in the past, and most importantly, I would be their only subsidiary; at least for now. The latter was important to a nigga because I wasn’t interested in sharing the wealth with a bunch of other up and coming labels and shit.
“Understandable. Now, I was thinking that we at PRC would happily provide distribution outlets and funding for areas needed, for a percentage of your label.”
“Yeah? Nah, that shit is not gon’ work for me. I can give you a percentage of the profits but not a share in my company. That’s my shit.”
“How can you be sure that your artists will return a big enough profit for me to feel like spending all this money is worth it?”
“Because I know. In fact, I’m so confident that if they don’t, I will pay you back in cash what you’ve put out. Now you can take this deal and make what you give back, plus interest, or lose out.”
Victor leaned back in his chair as he stared at me while thinking.
“Okay, you got a deal. However, I have one stipulation, which I mentioned in our emails back and forth; I need you to increase your roster. So in the next five months, I need a total of five artists. If you sign a group, that counts as one. That cool?”
“I can do that. I just need to obviously generate buzz for my first two, then people will be more willing to sign.”
Nodding, he responded, “Makes sense. So I will send over the contract via email. Once that is signed, send me your plans, and we can start signing some checks.”
“Fasho.” I played it cool even though I was happier than a muthafucka. “Get ready to make some money, nigga.” I rose up along with him to shake his head.
She Gave Her All to the Hood’s Finest 2 Page 16