“You know what you need, Chris?”
“Nah. What I need?”
“You need to be under an umbrella. So when that storm comes raining down, you ain’t gonna be caught up in it and washed up.”
“What you getting at, Maino?”
“Come work for me.”
“What?”
“I know ya in a bad situation. Your connect went MIA on you, and these streets are out there still testing you. You buy your weight from me, and I’ll put you under my umbrella, so no one won’t fuck wit’ you or your family. I like you, Chris. You a natural-born hustler. You still will be the boss of ya own shit, but buy your work from me, at a reasonable price of course. I need niggas like you around.”
“How much we talkin’ about?”
“Sixty-forty split.”
Chris remained silent for a moment. The offer was reasonable. Maino had a solid point. Once word got out that Chris was under Maino’s protection, the risk of the wolves coming to take a bite out of what was his would greatly diminish. He would be a fool to turn the proposal down. He looked at Maino and nodded silently.
“My nigga. I knew you were fuckin’ smart,” Maino said excitedly.
Chris and Maino hugged each other. For Chris, it felt like he had a father figure around him once more. It was a good feeling.
Donny stood on the sidelines watching everything. He smoked and smirked at Chris. The fool was getting in bed with the man who’d murdered his father. Donny had to respect Maino’s intelligence, though. It was a ballsy move.
“Anything you need, you come to me. Remember that.”
Chris nodded. He turned from Maino and walked out the office.
Donny watched him leave and shook his head. When the door shut, Donny asked Maino, “Yo, you sure it was smart to bring that little nigga onboard like that?”
“Yeah, it was. Keeping my friends close and my enemies closer.”
Donny took a drag from the cigarette, nodding. “Right, right.”
“Anyway, he’s smart, and he knows me and trusts me. It’s gonna be good to have a nigga of his intelligence and motivation on the team. He knows how to make money, and I’m in this shit to get rich,” Maino said. “He ever leaps, then we just knock his ass back down.”
Donny smiled.
Maino now had Chris in his pocket, moving weight for him, and he was fuckin’ Citi and had her open like a good book.
23
Citi stepped out of the Hummer H2 at Penn Station in Midtown Manhattan dressed like a young college student. She carried a small backpack, wore glasses, and moved toward the busy station like she wasn’t concealing five kilos of cocaine on her person. It was early afternoon, and the traffic was like a parking lot. The summer months were approaching gradually, and the warm spring air was comforting to Citi. The warm sun on her face and the gentle spring breeze against her skin was like a high for her.
She was ready to get on the Amtrak to meet with ruthless drug dealers out of state. Her trip today was to Maryland. The butterflies in her stomach came in droves. Security at Penn Station was high, with cops and the National Guard everywhere keeping a sharp eye out for terrorism and anything out of place.
It was crazy for anyone to try attempting any illegal activity with so many law enforcement officers about, but Maino had the gift of gab and had talked Citi into becoming a drug mule for him, carrying ki’s from state to state. The out-of-town dealers were paying an extra five grand for the door-to-door service.
Citi was in love with him, and she was willing to do anything for her man. The sex was amazing, and spending time with him in his plush, Brooklyn home made her yearn to have her own someday—the stylish home, the trendy décor, and money longer than a Hail Mary pass.
Maino had made her plenty of promises. Despite her young age, he gave off the impression that he was ready to make her his ride-or-die bitch. They would get money together and become the dominant couple in the hood, but they had to keep their relationship on the low for the moment. It was too risky to reveal their feelings for each other, so Citi spent numerous nights at his Dyker Heights home. They were rarely seen together in Queens or anywhere else.
Most evenings at his home were spent with Citi fucking or sucking him off for hours. Maino would bust her pussy wide open, fucking her from the back in a fervent manner, grabbing her neck from behind, pulling her hair and smacking her ass. It was the way Citi liked it—rough and crazy.
As the weeks turned into months, Citi saw less and less of her brothers, her hood, neighbors, and friends. She had forgotten about Lola, Big Kev, and L completely. Maino had captured her time and undivided attention. She was wearing the finest clothes and driving his drop-top Benz through the New York streets.
Before long, Maino became abusive and controlling towards Citi. No matter how hard she tried to please him, he still treated her like a little girl at times, berating her whenever she failed to please him and talking down to her.
“You a young dumb bitch, Citi, fo’ real,” he would say to her.
Citi put up with the abuse, verbally and physically, hoping to prove that she really loved him. She wanted to prove that she was built for the game and didn’t want to look dainty in Maino’s eyes. Citi figured that if she kept close to a man like Maino, then the world would be hers.
Citi walked into Penn Station coolly, with nerves of steel. With several kilos of cocaine in her backpack, she couldn’t look nervous. She carried a deadpan expression, moving with the crowd, walking by several police officers and making her way toward the Amtrak station. She also carried a few hundred dollars on her and a 9mm. She walked up to the window clerk and paid for a roundtrip ticket to Baltimore. With the train ticket in her hand, Citi had an hour before her train departed. She carried her junior’s license for ID and directions for her to meet with Silo, the man Maino was doing business with in B-more.
Citi couldn’t drive without restrictions, and a young girl traveling alone on I-95 would raise red flags for the state troopers. So the train was the best option to move any weight for her man. It was crowded and fast, and she was able to blend in with other passengers of all ages. She just had to keep her cool and play her cards right to avoid any suspicion. She didn’t want any employees to alert the drug dogs
Maino was already on the highway back to Brooklyn by the time Citi sat in the food court munching on a turkey sandwich, her backpack close. Penn Station was known for pickpockets, so she watched everything and stayed on high alert for police and thieves. By three p.m., she was on the Amtrak to Baltimore, her backpack close to her like it was her own heartbeat.
****
The train pulled into the Baltimore’s Penn Station on North Charles Street before six p.m. Citi exited the station behind the thick crowd of passengers and emerged onto the city street. Baltimore was a strange city to her. She didn’t know a soul there, but Maino assured her that no dealer would harm her because they feared his reputation, and it would be bad for business if any harm came to her. In any case, Citi had her own insurance concealed in her backpack. The 9mm was loaded, and she knew how to use it.
Citi walked around with the backpack slung over her shoulder. She tried to remain sharp, keeping her eyes on everyone and everything. Numerous cabs were lined up outside the station, and everyone was in a rush to get to their destination. The only thing she knew about Silo was that he was a black man with cornrows and in his late twenties. He would be the one to pick her up in a black Escalade at the train station.
It was supposed to be a simple transaction. They would meet, exchange product for money, and Citi would stay the night in a motel and leave for New York in the morning.
Citi waited outside the station for fifteen minutes, becoming more impatient by the minute. If caught with that many kilos, she would be looking at a twenty-year sentence at best. She paced outside of the train
station with a scowl, her temper flaring up.
Twenty minutes after her arrival, a black Escalade slowly turned into the train station. With the dark tints and 22-inch chrome rims, it screamed drug dealer loud and clear like church bells on Sunday morning. Citi sighed. She thought, if Silo was the one driving, he was a fool to show up in such a showy vehicle. The SUV came to a stop not too far from where she stood, the tinted windows started to roll down, and the passenger door opened up.
Silo climbed out in all his glory—jewelry gleaming, cornrows freshly braided, dark shades over his eyes, and clad in name-brand attire. “What up, baby?” he called out to Citi like they’d known each other for a long time.
Citi went along with the program. She smiled at him. “It took you long enough to come get me,” she exclaimed with attitude.
“Traffic was a muthafucka.” He walked over to Citi and gave her a passionate hug. He scooped Citi into his arms with strength, and they fabricated the role of boyfriend and girlfriend. They even kissed for a moment to throw off anyone watching them.
Silo was a handsome thug. He stood six-one and was well built.
They shared a few words, and Citi trailed behind him and climbed into the backseat of the truck. She greeted the driver, a heavyset thug with a small fro and a hard gaze. Silo got into the passenger seat, and the truck fused itself into the city traffic coming from the train station.
The driver got onto the expressway, and the ride to the motel was mostly silent. Citi just wanted to get the transaction over with, get some sleep, and get back on the afternoon train to New York. Being alone in Baltimore with two strangers was a risk. She could easily be raped, robbed, or murdered. The five kilos in her bag was enough to lure anyone to beat her down and snatch it from her. The only protection she had on her side was the 9mm in her backpack, but it didn’t feel like it was enough. If they were to suddenly attack her, she knew there wasn’t enough time to reach for the weapon.
The radio was on 92Q, and a Nicki Minaj song was playing. Citi stared out the window, taking in all of Baltimore and mostly paying attention to the roads and where they were taking her. They went to the 695, the Baltimore Beltway, and headed south into Randallstown. Twenty-five minutes later, the Escalade was pulling into the parking lot of a cheap motel off Liberty Road, the sun slowly drifting behind the horizon and night creeping onto the city.
Silo already had a room reserved. He and his partner jumped out the truck, and Citi was the last to make her exit. She followed the two men in the direction of the Motel 6, a two-level structure with outdoor rooms. She entered behind Silo, walking into the basic room design with twin beds, a TV, a shaky table, and two chairs.
Silo closed the curtains, blocking out the view to the parking lot. This was the moment she had been waiting for. Silo stood by the twin bed, and his driver carried the bag filled with cash. Citi played the door close and kept a sharp eye on both men.
“You ain’t gotta be nervous, shorty. We ain’t settin’ you up. I known Maino for too long now. He good peoples,” Silo said.
He nodded at his driver, and the man moved closer to the bed, unzipped the bag, and dumped bundles of money onto the made bed.
“We showed your ours. Now show us yours,” Silo said calmly.
Citi walked toward the bed and bit-by-bit removed each kilo from her backpack. She placed it on the bed next to the money.
Silo nodded. “That’s so fuckin’ sexy right there,” he said, smiling.
He picked up a ki and inspected it. Five ki’s at twenty thousand a ki, and Silo paid for five birds. He began stuffing the birds into the bag he carried, and Citi started to collect the money in her hands.
“You gonna count that?” Silo asked.
Citi nodded.
“Smart girl.” He smiled.
Citi made sure to count every dime of the cash. If she came back short, it would upset Maino, and he would take it out of her small cut. Maino was paying her five thousand for each trip she made out of town.
Silo tossed her the room key. “It’s your room for the night. Enjoy.” He and his driver made their exit.
Once the truck left the parking lot, Citi collected her things and went to the front desk office to get a different room. She didn’t trust anyone. What was to stop Silo or one of his men from coming back, kicking in the room door, then robbing and assaulting her? She asked for a room far away from the old one. She couldn’t wait to get back into New York.
****
The following afternoon, Citi was back in New York with a hundred thousand dollars in her backpack. She moved through the bustling Penn Station beaming inwardly at the accomplishment. Maino would be so proud of her. When she saw his gleaming Hummer H2 idling outside amongst the city traffic, a large smile appeared on her face.
She quickly climbed into the front seat of the truck and kissed her man. “Hey, baby!” She handed him the backpack.
Maino smiled. “You did good, baby. Real damn good. I’m proud of you.”
Citi lit up. It was a good feeling to hear the compliment coming from him.
After Maino pulled into the driveway of his Brooklyn home, he handed Citi an envelope containing five thousand dollars and rushed inside to handle his business. Citi went behind him. It was a trying day for her. She wanted to shower, eat, and roll up a joint and smoke in the yard.
Citi peeled away her clothing in the bathroom and stepped into the warm, running shower. The soothing lukewarm water cascaded off her soft brown skin. She lowered her head underneath the wall-mounted showerhead, closed her eyes, and relished the feeling of all the dirt and grime being washed from her body. As she cleansed herself in the shower, tears started to fall from her eyes. Memories of her father began to bombard her thoughts. It had been over a year since his murder, and the killers still roamed free. Citi didn’t know why she started to think about her father’s killers, but she couldn’t escape the thought. She lingered underneath the showerhead, head lowered and eyes closed.
She was in the shower for a moment when the glass shower door was pulled open and Maino stepped into the steamy mist. She turned to see her man naked and swinging like a vine.
“You need some company?”
Citi didn’t respond to him. Her eyes stayed fixed on his stocky frame. The tattoos and battle scars exhibited across his skin were a clear indication of his gangster way of life. He reminded her of Ving Rhames; sexy and rough all wrapped into one package.
Maino took Citi by her wrist and pulled her into his arms. “You my number one bitch. You know that, right?” he said into her ear, his lips touching her lobe.
Citi smiled.
His hands began to wander across her body. His touch went from the small of her back to her juicy backside. He squeezed her ass and then lifted her off her feet, suspending her in the air. His strength was exhilarating to Citi. Even though she didn’t weigh much, it still excited her how easily he could scoop her off her feet and swing her in the air like she was some doll.
Citi laughed. She was back on her feet and sandwiched between his beefy arms. She wanted to fuck.
Maino twisted her around, her back against his scarred chest and his arms still wrapped around her curvaceous body. He caressed her stomach and then the top of her pussy.
Each caress kept Citi aroused, but the arms and body behind her kept her supported as she felt like her legs could barely hold her up. Maino kissed the side of her neck and slid his fingers into her creamy hole, making her moan under the streaming showerhead.
“I want you to make another run for me,” he whispered in her ear, his fingers dipping in and out of her.
“Where to, baby?” she faintly replied.
Her hardened nipples were like small points. Her eyes closed and her body became limp beside him. Her legs trembled from being finger-fucked.
“Philly. I got peoples down the
re. Same thing like before.”
Citi nodded.
“That’s my bitch.”
“Fuck me, daddy!”
Maino curved Citi over, her hands pressed flat against the walls of the shower. He spread her legs into an upside-down V, parted her succulent ass cheeks, and sank his growing erection deep between her wet, pink lips. They fucked vigorously under the shower waterfall.
Maino enjoyed Citi’s glorious inner walls stimulating every inch of him. His dick sank deeper into her, and she started humming another tune, her moans bouncing off the shower walls. His breath escaped from him in a small cry and whimper that indicated Citi had some good pussy. Soon Maino’s orgasm rushed from his balls and escaped into her. His dick remained hard and deep inside her warm, pulsating center.
****
Two weeks later, Citi was on the Amtrak to Philadelphia. She had four bricks in her backpack and instructions on where to meet with Mills, a local hood who had North Philly locked down with his violent crew. It was another smooth transaction for her.
After Philadelphia, it was D.C., then Albany, then Delaware. Maino had set up a pipeline for narcotics, and he had a string of mules to transport the drugs for him. Dozens and dozens of kilos were being trafficked from city to city, either on I-95 or the railroads. Maino’s name was heavy from north to south on I-95, and his organization was expanding. Citi felt proud to be part of such growth.
24
The sun was bright, and the summer day was hot. Chris cruised down Merrick Boulevard in his new drop-top BMW listening to R&B and enjoying the fruits of his hard labor. The gleaming black Beamer was fresh off the car lot of a Hillside Avenue dealership. He’d walked into the high-end dealership with a book bag filled with cash, his sights set on the 650i coupe. The dealer took one look at him in his stylish hip-hop attire, jewelry, and the book bag he carried, and knew he was a drug dealer. On numerous occasions, the middle-aged dealer had to deal with drug dealers looking to buy a flashy car. He knew how to maneuver around the cash transaction. He greeted Chris with a smile, and the two quickly went into negotiations for the coupe.
Guard the Throne Page 20
