by J-Blunt
Shanice grabbed the pan of meatloaf and sat it on the table. “Can’t we just kick it and chill? I got some wine.”
“You know I don’t drink.”
“I do,” Queenie spoke up.
Shanice got up to pour her and Queenie glasses of white wine. “So, what you finna do, Pop? Where are you living?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m s’posed to fuck wit’ C-Note in Dallas. You heard from him lately?”
“Yeah. He texted me the other day. He cool.”
“Do that nigga be puttin’ his hands on you?” Pop asked, taking half the pan of meatloaf on his plate.
Shanice frowned. “You talkin’ ‘bout C-Note?”
Pop Somethin’ mugged hers “Stop playin’. You know who I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”
“Sometimes, yeah. We fight like everybody else. Don’t eat all the meatloaf. Save some for Nitty. I don’t wanna hear his mouth.”
“Fuck that nigga.”
“C’mon, Pop. Don’t –”
The front door opening made everybody pause. Shanice looked nervous. Pop Somethin’ smiled.
“Shanice! Shanice! Who’s truck is that parked in front of the house?” Nitty screamed.
“It’s my cousin’s. We in the kitchen.”
When Nitty stumbled into the kitchen, he immediately noticed Pop Somethin’. The street legend looked like a giant sitting next to Shawntale. When they locked eyes, Pop smiled. “’Sup, nigga?
Nitty looked at Shanice. “Who dis nigga?”
“This my cousin, Pop Somethin’. He just got out.”
Nitty’s eyes lit up. “Oh shit! You the nigga I been hearin’ all that shit about.”
Pop sneered. “Funny thang is, I never heard shit about you. But cho girl can cook the fuck outta some meatloaf,” he said, digging into the pan and putting another big piece of meatloaf on his plate. The tiny piece he left behind was barely enough to satisfy Shawntale.
Nitty looked at the small portion, and then at Shanice. “Where my plate?”
Shanice looked at the almost empty pan of meat and then back to Nitty. A scared look flashed across her face. “I told him not to eat it all. I’m sorry, baby. Pop Somethin’, why you do that?”
Pop eyed Nitty as he put a big chunk of meat in his mouth and chewed like he was on a food commercial. “I was hungry. Shit is fine as a muthafucka. You need to taste this shit, bruh.”
Queenie sat her fork down and reached for her clutch.
Nitty clenched his fist, his face scrunched. “Nigga, I know you just didn’t eat all my food!”
Pop sat the fork down and rubbed his stomach. “Damn. I guess I did. I prolly shouldn’ta did that, huh?”
“Bitch-ass nigga! I’ma fuck you up!” Nitty screamed.
Queenie reacted quickly, pulling the revolver from her purse. Before she could point it at Nitty, Pop Somethin’ was on his feet. He moved with the speed and power of a lion about to kill. Nitty was a big man, six-foot-two and 220 pounds, but Pop Somethin’ was bigger and faster. His left hand was a blur, tapping Nitty on the nose and making his neck snap back. The right that followed crashed into his jaw.
Nitty’s feet flew from under him like he stepped on a wet spot. Blood flowed from his nose as he stared up at the ceiling. Shawntale and Shanice cried in the background.
Pop Somethin’ knelt over Nitty, slapping him a couple times to wake him up. “Nitty! Aye, Nitty! Can you hear me? If you put cho hands on my cousin again, I’ma kill you. This yo’ only warning.”
Chapter 8
“Damn, nigga! I forgot how big yo’ ass was,” C-Note said as he hugged Pop Somethin’.
“What’s good, li’l nigga? I see you eatin’ good out here. You wasn’t jackin’, huh?”
“I told you I was about to run it up out here. These my niggas Artie and Lucci, the one that can’t handle his liquor.”
Pop Somethin’ acknowledged them with a nod. They were gathered at Spin City, the strip club C-Note had come to know as his second home.
“Fuck you, nigga. I can handle my liquor,” Lucci said, falling into his chair.
“Who is yo’ girl?” C-Note asked, eyeing Queenie. The chocolate beauty had let her hair down, the gold and red dreads flowing down her back. The black body suit flexed around her killer curves, and the red bottoms made her ass sit in the air like a bubble.
“Don’t look at her like that, dawg. You can’t handle her,” Pop joked. “This my bitch, Queenie. She move wit’ me on all levels.”
“What up, baby?” Queenie smiled, licking her lips.
C-Note nodded. “Y’all have a seat. Want a drink?” he asked, gesturing to the table filled with bottles of top-shelf liquor.
“I don’t drink,” Pop said.
Queenie reached for the bottle of Hennessy. “I want some dark tonight.”
“You don’t drink, bruh?” Lucci asked, looking at Pop like he was from a different planet.
“Nah. That shit be havin’ niggas slippin’. Like you.”
“I ain’t slippin’, nigga. I’m turnt!” Lucci laughed, smacking a nearby stripper on the ass.
Pop Somethin’ shook his head, blowing Lucci off and turning to C-Note. “So, what chu doin’ out here, li’l bruh? What kinda shit you trynna get me into?”
“Basically, my nigga, I want you to be my security. Be my shooter. I got fifty Gs for you. Do whatever you wanna do wit’ it. I’m out here eatin’ and niggas be hatin’. I want you to watch my ass. put in work when it need to be done.”
“That’s it? For real?”
“Yeah.”
“So what, this s’posed to be a contract? I ain’t never had a nigga approach me wit’ no shit like this before. I normally just take a nigga shit. And for my niggas, I put in work for free. Outta love.”
“This different. Ain’t no contracts. Just be wit’ the squad. Fuck wit’ us. Too many niggas locked up for lookin’ out. It’s ‘bout that paper. I got clean heats If you need ‘em. That fifty is for you to get on yo’ feet. Let me know if you need more. I’m still throwin’ parties and runnin’ it up on the highways. Big risks equal big rewards. We also renovating a building to turn it into a strip club. Want it to open in a couple months. It would be nice if she could open it up,” he explained, looking at Queenie.
“Cool wit’ me,” Pop said.
“If I can be the featured dancer, I’m in,” Queenie said.
C-Note agreed. “Say no more.”
“We need to get her, too,” Artie said, nodding toward the main stage. Skittlez was entertaining the crowd, twerking while doing a handstand.
“She good. And she bad,” Queenie said, noticing how Skittlez worked the crowd.
“That nigga Franco be havin’ that bitch,” C-Note said.
Lucci nodded toward the door. “Speakin’ of a bitch-nigga.”
ABLE Team mobbed into the strip club twenty deep. Franco led the pack, Radar by his side. They walked through the club like red carpet had been laid out. Security escorted them to a champagne room. During the walk, C-Note and Franco exchanged hostile looks.
“’Sup wit’ them niggas?” Pop Somethin’ asked.
“That’s the competition, ABLE Team. I’m puttin’ a dent in them niggas’ pockets, and they hatin’. Plus, that nigga runnin’ ‘round sayin’ I robbed him.”
“Did you?”
C-Note laughed. “Yeah. When that nigga was outta town. We ran in on his bitch. Ain’t looked back since.”
Pop Somethin’ smiled like a proud father. “Damn, li’l nigga. I had you all wrong. I see you get down for yours.”
“When it comes to checkin’ a bag, I get it. That shit you niggas was on in the pen was too much for me. But out here, I go hard in the paint.”
“I respect that. But back to these ABLE Team niggas. Y’all wore masks when y’all did the hit?”
“Nah. We was in and out quick.”
“You know that shit can come back and bite you in the ass? Leavin’ witnesses gets a lot of niggas fucked. I’m doin’ ‘em all in. Short
ies, too.”
“It’s been a minute since that shit happened. Them hos was too scared to remember us.”
Pop Somethin’ gave him a look. “A’ight.”
“Excuse me, baby. I’ma go have a word wit’ the DJ,” Queenie said, standing to her feet. Skittlez had just come off the stage, and Queenie was eyeing her.
“What you on?” Pop asked, noticing the mischievous look on his bitch’s face.
“It ain’t safe. It ain’t safe. It ain’t safe. It ain’t safe,” she sang.
The deep voice on the microphone got everybody in the club’s attention. “Check this out! Check this out! I neva had this happen before. I need to get everybody attention. I got a special, fine, and sexy thang next to me that say she wanna put on a show. I neva seen her before, but as y’all can see, she bad. And she ain’t shy. And the most important thang is she want, our girl Skittlez to help her do the show. I’m tellin’ y’all this ‘cause I need y’all to dig in y’all pockets and make it thunderstorm in this bitch!”
After the DJ made the announcement, all eyes in the club flocked to Skittlez and Queenie. Skittlez’s light skin and Queenie’s dark skin looked like they could make magic happen if they blended. Dollar signs flashed in Skittlez eyes as she turned to Franco. Whenever he was in the club, she gave him all of her attention, but not tonight.
“Lemme catch a check real quick, baby.”
Franco wanted to protest the show. He knew Queenie was at the table with C-Note, and he didn’t want nobody connected to him to make moves with his competition, but the one thing he knew he couldn’t do was try to get between a stripper and her money, so he told her, “Shut it down, gurl.”
Skittlez wore a red bra, orange lace panties, and green heels. Her ensemble, along with her yellow skin, pink hair, and purple nails had her looking like a bag of candy. “C-mon, Zane,” she said, turning to the DJ. “Give her a bottle of that oil.”
The DJ handed Queenie a bottle of baby oil as she walked up on the stage. She was still dressed in the black cat suit, but she didn’t need to be naked for everybody to know she was strapped. Queenie and Skittlez stood face-to-face, eyeing each other sexually. Cardi B’s Bodak Yellow brought their bodies to life. Queenie walked to the edge of the stage and showed the crowd she could bounce one ass cheek at a time. When they made noise, she dropped to her knees and shook it all around.
Skittlez joined her, pressing their asses together and bouncing them to the same rhythm.
The baby oil was used on Skittlez first. Queenie sprayed it all over her body and rubbed it into her light-skinned flesh. When she was good and oiled up, Skittlez made her glistening backside clap for the crowd. Queenie slapped her ass cheeks as they bounced.
When the song changed, so did the main attraction. Queenie was stark naked underneath the cat suit. Colorful tattoos covered her dark skin from head to toe. Big, perky breasts, dark chocolate areolas, and thick thighs had the crowd in a trance. She danced to Nikki Minaj and Yo Gotti’s Rake it Up. Skittlez sprayed the dark-skinned beauty with baby oil as they re-enacted the infamous Tip Drill video.
The women slipped around on the stage for ten minutes, and niggas made it rain to show their appreciation. When they were done, so much money was on the stage they gathered it in two garbage bags. While they were in the back showering, Queenie took her shot at Skittlez.
“I like the way you put on a show. That shit was hot as fuck.”
“That was all you, baby. Yo’ thick, chocolate ass had them niggas goin’ crazy,” Skittlez laughed.
“It’s all about a check, gurl. I knew me and yo’ bad ass would have niggas cashin’ out. When I see somethin’ I like, I make my move.”
Skittlez quoted BeyoRee. “‘A diva is a female version of a hustla.’”
“Preach, bitch!” Queenie laughed, giving a little bounce.
“So, what chu doin’ for the rest of the night? I got a place we can chill.”
Skittlez thought about Franco. When he came to the club, most nights she left with him. He paid well. But there was something about her new dark-skinned friend that made her mind wonder. She had fucked, danced with, and got money with plenty of women, but Queenie’s look and vibe was making Skittlez rethink where she would spend the night. “Who is the tall nigga you with? I never seen him with C-Note before.”
“That’s my nigga, Pop Somethin’. We new in the city. We from H-Town. We stayin’ in a suite ‘til we find a place to settle down at.”
“Did you know C-Note and ABLE Team wasn’t seein’ eye-to-eye? If I leave witcha all, Franco might feel some type of way.”
“I say throw the cards in the air and let ‘em fall. Franco ain’t cho man, is he? We young, bad, and got money. Sometimes you gotta do what make you feel good.”
***
Franco eyed Skittlez and Queenie as they walked out of the back dressing room in street clothes. He expected Skittlez to walk over to him, but she didn’t. She followed Queenie over toward C-Note’s table.
“Skittlez! What’s good, shawty?” he asked, raising his arms.
Skittlez spun around and gave him a smile and two-finger salute before leaving the club with Pop Somethin’ and Queenie.
The women drank and freaked in the back of the Infinity. Pop Somethin’ watched them in the rearview mirror, barely able to keep his eyes on the road. When they got to the hotel, he grabbed the duffle bag from the back of the truck. Inside was the eighty thousand they took from Scrap and the murder weapons. Tomorrow he would dispose of the guns and get new ones from C-Note. Tonight it was party time!
When they got in the room, they wasted no time getting naked. Drinks flowed, the women popped pills, and Pop Somethin’ fired up the weed. He lay back on the bed, blowing smoke rings at the ceiling while Skittlez and Queenie kissed and took turns sucking his dick.
“Let me see this,” Skittlez said, taking the blunt from Pop Somethin’. “Wanna see a trick?”
Pop Somethin’ smiled. “Impress me.”
Skittlez lay back on the bed and took a big puff on the blunt. After blowing out a cloud of smoke, she stuck the blunt between her legs, into her pussy. The cherry brightened as she used her vaginal muscles to puff the blunt.
Queenie crawled between her legs. “Gimme a shotgun.”
Skittlez moaned as Queenie sucked the smoke out of her pussy. Then she lifted her head and blew out a cloud of smoke.
Pop Somethin’ clapped his hands like he was watching a live play. “That shit was sexy as fuck,” he grinned
“And her pussy taste so sweet, baby,” Queenie said. “Come taste it.”
Pop moved between Skittlez’s legs and began licking her pearl. She grabbed ahold of his dreads, loving the feel of his tongue. Queenie watched them for a little while before getting in on the action. She crawled up Skittlez’s body and sat on her face. Skittlez didn’t waste time attacking Queenie’s fat pussy. Curse words, moans, and screams of passion filled the air as the ménage à trois took off. Skittlez came first. Pop got up and went to Queenie, standing before her with his dick in her face. She took him into her mouth, sucking him hard as she continued to ride Skittlez’s face. After Queenie came, they switched positions. Pop lay on his back, Queenie rode his dick, and Skittlez rode his face in reverse, tongue-kissing Queenie as they freaked. When Pop busted, they switched positions again: Skittlez face down, ass up and Queenie on her back with Skittlez’s tongue in her pussy. Pop watched Skittlez eat Queenie for a few moments before putting on a rubber and sliding into Skittlez. Her yellow ass cheeks bounced violently as he beat the pussy up. When he was about to bust again, he snatched off the condom and began jacking off.
“Y’all come get this shit,” he told the women.
They crawled over to him, waiting with their tongues out to catch his seed. When his nut finally came, he spread fluid back and forth in their open mouths, then used his dick to spread his seed across their faces.
“You bitches is bad,” Pop laughed, watching them kiss and swap his sperm.
***
“Damn, nigga. You been in town one day and you already stole my bitch,” C-Note cracked.
“Bitches chase a good time and a check. I prolly did you a favor, nigga. Skittlez is a wild one.”
“I’m fuckin’ wit’ chu, my nigga. That club is like my second home. I know how Skittlez get down. But fuck that bitch. I got them heaters for you in the bag on the back seat.”
Pop looked over his shoulder and seen a duffel bag on the floor. He opened it and found two black, 50 caliber Desert Eagles with red beams, two Glocks with extended clips, an AK-47 with a fifty-round clip, and a bulletproof vest. He had gotten rid of all of his murder weapons earlier that morning, so the bag of guns was right on time.
“Damn. These muthafuckas makin’ my dick hard,” Pop admitted.
“You freak-ass nigga, dawg!” C-Note laughed. “I know a nice spot y’all can rent in a low-key neighborhood. My nigga Tank own some property. I’ma have him call you so y’all can get out that hotel.”
“Bet. Bet. And what up wit’ that fifty racks? I need to drop that in a safety deposit box before the bank close.”
“We gon’ grab it right after I make this run. This weak-ass bitch say she pregnant wit’ my baby, and I need to stop by her sister house.”
“Is it yours?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. She just somethin’ I was fuckin’ on the side, but I hit it raw a couple times. I really been trynna duck the bitch, but since it’s a possibility the shorty mine, I hit her wit’ some paper every now and then.”
“That shit sound messy, li’l bruh.”
“It is what it is. I’ma be in and out real quick.”
“A’ight. Lemme chill in the truck. Don’t go in there and get no pussy and leave me out here for thirty minutes, nigga.”
“I’m in and out, bruh,” C-Note laughed.
C-Note parked the Audi truck in front of an apartment building that looked like a trap house, peeling paint, busted-out windows, and balding grass out front. When C-Note got out, Pop Somethin’ began checking the guns. The DEs had four extra clips. The Glocks had thirty-shot extenders and a pair of twenty-one shot clips. He had just picked up the AK when he seen three niggas leave the apartment building across the street and go into the building C-Note went in. Pop Somethin’ smiled as he grabbed the Desert Eagles. Before leaving the truck, he slipped on the bulletproof vest.
