by J-Blunt
“So, you comin’ to the telly wit’ me later, or what?” he asked.
“You cute, but I’m chasin’ a check, not a date.”
“You can do both at the same time.”
She spun to face him. “I ain’t one of these thoty-ass bitches that fuck for twenty dollas. You gotta pay to play.”
“Stop playin’. I’m C-Note. Every time you say my name, you talkin’ money.”
She laughed, liking the line. “Okay. Me and my bitch M-n-M get off at two. Meet us in the parking lot. What chu in?”
“Black F-150 on sixes.”
She frowned. “Nothin’ foreign?”
C-Note felt some type of way about her comment, but didn’t let it show. “Not yet. Only been out two days. Stay tuned.”
A group entering the club broke up their conversation. The niggas wore ice that shined in the dark. The strippers who danced for C-Note and his boys started easing away.
“Who the fuck is that?”
“You don’t know who that is?” Skittlez asked as she stood.
C-Note looked confused. “Nah.”
“That’s ABLE Team. They movin’ and shakin’ all over D-Town. And they got money. Sorry, boo-boo.”
“Hold on. I thought you was leavin’ wit’ me?”
“You drive a truck. They got Benzes and Bentleys. I chase a check, not a date.”
“Weak-ass bitch.”
Skittlez turned to smirk at him, patting her big-ass booty as she walked away.
“Who the fuck is them niggas?” C-Note asked, watching jealously as the strippers flocked to ABLE Team.
“That’s Franco an’ ‘em. Niggas gettin’ money now,” Lucci said.
“You talkin’ ‘bout li’l bitch-ass Franco? The nigga Radar used to rob and beat?”
“Yeah. His baby mama got, like, five hunnit thou from some lottery shit, like, a year ago. Niggas ain’t looked back. And that’s Radar in all-black. He one of they shooters now.”
C-Note sipped his bottle and sulked. ABLE Team partied and threw money like it was confetti. “You think he’d fuck wit’ me?”
“Nah. Them niggas is day-ones and family. Circle tight.”
“But we need a real plug. I thought you niggas was out here eatin’ while I was locked up. Fuck you niggas was doin’?”
“We was out here livin’, nigga. We got money. You trippin’,” Lucci said.
“This ain’t no money, bruh. You niggas got a few pounds of weed and a couple bands. Ain’t even got lawyer money. Takin’ penitentiary chances for a few racks ain’t gon’ get it. My nigga, it’s white boys in the feds for money launderin’ and insider tradin’. Seein’ millions! They get five years for twenty mill! We out here gettin’ fifty years for twenty pounds of loud. That ain’t money, my nigga. We just in the way and fillin’ up cells.”
“Well, I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout pill schemes and tradin’ inside. All I know how to do is trap,” Artie said.
“I see you was in them books, huh?” Lucci asked.
“Hell yeah, I wanna see some real paper. T just did two years for dope. That shit was hell. I can’t go back for chasin’ a couple thousand.”
“But you coulda got slammed, nigga. They caught you on the highway. Two years state was love.”
“That ain’t the point. What matter is gettin’ it like them white boys.”
“So what you wanna do?” Lucci asked. “You the one that read all the books an’ shit. How we gon’ see real money?”
“I think we should start throwin’ club parties.”
Lucci and Artie burst out laughing.
“Fuck you niggas laughin’ at?”
“You, nigga! Talkin’ ‘bout throwin’ parties. Fuck you gon’ make money off that?” Artie laughed.
“That’s why you niggas gon’ always be workers. Niggas is stupid. Listen. This how we do it. We pay a rapper or singer who kinda washed up to do a show at a club. Charge 75 at the door, 150 for VIP. Clubs can fit a couple hunnit people. We talkin’ forty or fifty Gs in one night. Not to mention what we make off the bar and you niggas movin’ product. We sow up everything. Liquor, weed, and pills. We do that ‘til we get our money up and start buyin’ tons of weed and dope. We in Texas, so everythang cheap. Take that shit up north and double our money. Invest in our own clubs and parties to clean our money.”
Artie and Lucci wore surprised looks. “Damn, nigga. Yo’ ass really was in there gettin’ smart an’ shit,” Artie said.
“What it take to get started?” Lucci asked.
“About twenty or twenty-five racks.”
“I got five,” Artie said.
“I got three,” Lucci said.
C-Note looked disappointed. “That’s it?”
“Yeah, nigga,” Lucci spoke up. “We got you right, and we been spendin’ money for two days.”
C-Note was quiet. The wheels churned in his mind as he watched ABLE Team. “Lemme get five hunnit dollas.”
“My nigga, we just gave you twenty-five hunnit yesterday,” Artie said.
“I went shoppin’ and spent my last on them bottles. Just gimme the money, nigga. Trust me.”
Artie reluctantly gave him the money. C-Note went to the bar and bought another bottle of Moet before going over to ABLE Team. They were in the champagne room. A bodyguard who looked like D-Bo stopped him at the door.
“What up, li’l man?”
“I wanna holla at Franco.”
“Nah. You ain’t wit’ the team.”
“C’mon, bruh. That’s my nigga from way back. I just bought him a bottle.”
The bodyguard looked him over. “Wait right here.” He walked in the VIP room and said a couple words to Franco. Franco looked towards C-Note and nodded. The bodyguard waved him in.
“What’s good, C-Note? I see you back out here,” Franco smiled as they hugged.
“Yeah. I got out yesterday. Here you go. I bought chu a bottle, my nigga.”
Franco smirked at the bottle of Moet. “That’s so 2017, my nigga. Only champagne I drink is Aces. I use Moet to gargle after I brush my teeth. Give that shit to one of them hos.”
The insult burned, but C-Note didn’t let it show. “Yeah, sho’. You know a nigga just touched down, so I’m a li’l behind. Tryin’a catch up.”
“Yeah. I know what dat’s like. Er’body can’t start at the top. Need niggas on the bottom to keep niggas like me on top. Feel me?”
C-Note took the jab on the chin. Franco was clowning him. What made it worse was Franco was a bitch. Radar used to torture him, and now he was his shooter. That was a real bitch move. But C-Note needed a favor, and if being embarrassed would get him what he needed, so be it.
“Yeah, I hear you. But check it out, I wanna talk to you about this business plan. I wanna hire some entertainers to throw parties. Shit real lucrative. I need a partner. What up?”
Franco laughed. “Ludacris? What the fuck you just say?”
“Nah, lucrative. It means you can make money.”
“Oh. Okay. I see you was in them books, huh? Check it out, I got my own plans. Me and the team finna hit up New York and talk to some crackers about investin’ in a NBA team. I know we go back to them high school days, but ain’t no room on the team for new niggas. ABLE Team all about day-ones.”
Franco’s words crushed C-Note’s soul and spirit. Not only did he get rejected, but also humiliated. He left the champagne room with his head down, pride wounded.
“Damn, nigga. You look like he took yo’ bitch,” Lucci joked.
“Not now, bruh. Let’s hit it. I need to figure out how to put us on.”
***
“What’s wrong, baby?” Star asked, plopping down on the couch. C-Note took his eyes off the basketball game and looked at her. She was the only female who stood by him during his bid, visiting faithfully every week. She brought seven grams of loud every trip. If it wasn’t for her, he would’ve starved.
And as much as he appreciated her for holding him down, he wasn’t feeling her. She wanted
a man, and he wasn’t trying to be that. Plus she had three kids and three baby daddies. On top of that, she was chubby and a rock toss away from tying ugly. She looked like Serena Williams without makeup. The only reason he noticed her was her big lips, big titties, and big booty, but the big gut fucked her body up and gave her a ‘booty do’ – a term for when her stomach sticks out more than her booty do.
“I’m just thinkin’ ‘bout how to get this paper. Shit ain’t workin’ out how I planned.”
“You gotta give it some time, baby. You just got out. You always said the Great Wall of China wasn’t built overnight. I believe in you. You the smartest nigga I ever met. Just give it some time. You figure it out.”
Her words brought a smile to his face. “Damn, gurl. You cold wit’ them words, you know that?”
“Yeah, Daddy, I’m cold wit’ my mouth, too. Wanna see?” She was unzipping his pants before he could respond. After she freed his dick, she deep-throated him, her big lips feeling like a vacuum as she sucked him. She massaged his balls, even taking them in her mouth and humming. When he busted his nut. She swallowed it all, and when his dick went limp, she sucked him back hard.
“Now come in the room and fuck me in all my holes. I told you I’ma be yo’ porn star.”
In the bedroom there was no romancing or foreplay. They got naked and C-Note pinned her knees to her chest and fucked her, drilling her pussy. Her stomach and titties jiggled in unison as she called his name. When he got tired of her ugly fuck-faces, he flipped her over. After sliding on a condom, he got behind her and fucked her in the ass. Star loved it, fingering her pussy as he pounded her asshole. He came hard.
When C-Note was about to bust, he snatched off the rubber and started jagging off.
“Come get it, bitch.”
Star spun around and started sucking his dick again, tugging at his balls. When he busted again, she swallowed every drop.
Chapter 3
The phone vibrating on the table woke C-Note from his sleep. He checked the screen. It was a call from someone in prison. He pressed one. “Yeah?”
“C-Note, what’s good, nigga?”
“What up, Pop Somethin’? I was wonderin’ when you was gon’ call, nigga.”
“I was trynna let you settle in. Niggas be movin’ fast when they first get out. Plus I’m still in the hole. You know we can’t use the phones every day in the box.”
“Damn, I forgot about that. Did you get them flicks and money receipt?”
“Yeah. Good lookin’, bruh. That five hunnit was right on time. I thought you was anotha one of them jackin’-ass niggas, but chu showin’ and provin’.”
“I don’t do no jackin’, bruh. My word is solid.”
“That’s one hunnit. Who these hos in these flicks? I need a bitch.”
“Just some thots on Facebook and Instagram. Bitches flexin’ for likes.”
“Well, like them hos for me. Damn, they bad. I can’t stop jaggin’ off.”
“C’mon, bruh! I don’t need to know all that,” C-Note laughed
“I’m just keepin’ that shit real. But on some other shit, I need you to do me a favor. I ain’t heard from my li’l cousin, Shanice, in a minute. Can you find her for me? I got her old address and phone number. Can you do somethin’ with that? See if she need anything and let her know I’m gettin’ out in a couple months.”
“Don’t trip, my nigga. Gimme the info. I’ma have Star look her up. She good on them computers.”
After talking to Pop Somethin’ for fifteen minutes and getting his cousin’s info, C-Note made calls to Lucci and Artie. Tonight was a big night, and he needed his niggas ready.
***
“Man, I don’t know about this,” Lucci warned.
“Get off that scaredy-ass shit. We need this money. How else we gon’ get it?” C-Note asked.
“I feel what Lucci sayin’. I ain’t trynna end up in jail for this shit,” Artie added.
“You niggas takin’ penitentiary chances every day when y’all hustle. We finna get it all in one shot. Quit trippin’.”
“Damn, nigga!” Lucci fussed. “If we get shot or go to jail, I’m whoopin’ yo’ ass!”
“You sure the nigga outta town?” Artie asked.
“Yeah. He in New York. I already got all the info. She come here to work out every other day. We gon make her give us the money.”
***
C-Note kept a half a block of distance between the stolen truck he drove and the red Porsche. He had already made the drive twice. When he was sure the car wouldn’t detour from the normal path, he sped ahead. They were waiting on the side of the garage when the Porsche pulled in. Before the door was able to close, they were in the garage.
C-Note pointed a gun at the driver. “Don’t scream. Get outta the car slow. How many people in the house?”
She moved slowly, letting him see her every move. She was terrified, and her body shook as she spoke. “Just my kids and my sister. If you lookin’ for Franco, he out of town. I don’t know when he comin’ back.”
“Take us in the house. Don’t scream. We ain’t gon’ hurt nobody. We just want the money.”
“He don’t keep no money here.”
C-Note knew she was lying. “We will see.”
In the house they found the sister in the kitchen, cooking. Three toddlers sat at the table, eating. An infant was asleep in a car seat that sat on the counter.
“We ain’t trynna hurt nobody. Give us the safe and we gone.”
Franco’s wife spoke up. “I just told y’all we don’t keep no money in the house. He out of town. We don’t know nothin’.”
Lucci mugged C-Note, upset he had put them on a bogus mission. C-Note ignored the look. There was money in the house. He knew it. Franco bragged too much and talked too much shit. A nigga like that kept money around. There was a safe in the house. He knew it.
He looked at the baby. The sister grabbed it out of the car seat. “Is that yo’ baby?”
She nodded. “Please don’t hurt my baby.”
“I won’t. Just gimme the money. I know it’s some money in this house. Let me get it.”
The females were scared and on the verge of tears, but Franco’s girl stayed true to her words. “I told you we don’t have no money.”
C-Note pointed the gun at her sister. “Gimme the baby!”
“No! Please. Don’t take my baby!”
He snatched the baby from her arms roughly and walked over to the microwave. The baby began to cry loudly. “I’ma cook yo’ baby if yo’ sister don’t tell me where the money at.”
“Michelle, tell him! Franco got some more money. They gon’ leave. Just give it to them.”
Franco’s wife hesitated. C-Note put the baby in the microwave and closed the door.
“Okay! Okay!” Michelle shouted. “It’s upstairs.”
***
“Damn! That shit got me geeked. I feel like I just snorted a eight ball,” Lucci laughed.
Artie’s eyes were wide with fear. “Man, I was scared as fuck. I ain’t neva doin’ that shit no more.”
“Fuck that shit, nigga. How much money we got?” C-Note asked, looking back and forth from the road to Lucci.
“A li’l bit over fifty racks.”
Artie looked amazed. “Damn! Fifty Gs that quick? We might have to do that shit again.”
C-Note spoke up. “Ain’t no need. We got what we came for. I’ma turn that fifty into one hunnit. This petty hustlin’ shit is over. Them Able Team niggas think they seein’ money, but we gon’ pass them niggas up. Watch.”
***
“I found some information on that girl you wanted. She pretty. Who is she?”
C-Note held his finger in the air, signaling Star to hold on. He was taking an important call. “Yeah, I’m at Club Geek in Dallas. I want him to come to a party I’m throwin’.” He paused to listen. “Couple songs. Yeah. Club can fit about five hunnit people. Liquor and a few other amenities is on the house.” He listened again. “Thirty days
from today. We need time to market. Tell Waka to call me personally. Everything set on my end. Thanks for yo’ time.”
“How did it go?” Star asked after he hung up.
“Shit lookin’ good. I gotta holla at the nigga that own the club again, get the fliers, and holla at Waka, but the foundation is set.”
“I knew you could do it,” Star exclaimed, leaning forward to kiss him. C-Note turned his head aside, accepting her kiss on the cheek. Star noticed the dis, but didn’t say anything. “I gotta take the kids to they doctor appointments. Do you need me to do anything while I’m out?”
“Nah. I’ma be out and about. I got some moves to make.”
“Okay. I found that girl on Facebook. Who is she?”
“That’s my nigga li’l cousin. He still locked up and wanted me to find her for him. Good lookin’ out. What’s her info?”
“Imsoshanice. She pretty. You sure she yo’ friend cousin?”
He looked up from his phone. “Seriously? We finna do this?”
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m feelin’ a li’l insecure. You don’t talk about us no more. Ever since you got out, you been distant. I’m just wonderin’ how you feel about me. About us.”
He took a deep breath. “Listen, how about we talk about this later? I got a lotta shit on my plate, and you need to get the kids to the doctor. But I never lied to you, and I ain’t about to start now. I don’t know her. She my nigga cousin. He asked me to find her. That’s it.”
A grin crept onto her face. “Okay. I believe you. I trust you. See you later.”
When she leaned in for another kiss, C-Note accepted it on the lips. Star’s smile got bigger. She gathered the kids and left.
As soon as the door closed, he looked up Shanice on Facebook. She was beyond fine. Redbone, long hair, slanted eyes, nice lips. After sending her a friend request, he went to shit and shower.
He had just stepped out of the water when the doorbell rang. He wrapped a towel around his waist and went to answer. It was the neighbor, Deidra. She ogled C-Note’s wet body. He was five-foot-seven and 160 pounds, but Deidra looked at him like he was LeBron James.
