by Mercy B
Contents
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Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
A Mercy Message
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© 2018 Mercy B.
www.mercybcarutthers.com
Published by Royalty Publishing House
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Any unauthorized reprint or use of the material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage without express permission by the author or publisher. This is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Contains explicit language & adult themes suitable for ages 16+ only.
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Dedication
To any and everyone who has been a part of my writing journey, I’m blessed by your generosity.
I’m back.
Prologue
I stood six feet six, nearly touching the roof inside the safe that I’d buried inside of my basement. The construction on the addition to my home had cost me over $50,000, but I wasn’t complaining. The ceiling-to-floor steel cage held my life’s valuable possessions. Looking to my left, right, and then over my shoulder, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride, much like a father who’d raised his children in the admonition of the Lord, and they’d gone off to make him a proud papa.
Each bill that I’d struggled and strived to get felt like a child that I’d bore. Within the many years that I was in the game, I’d birthed millions of them—twelve and a possible to be exact. I gawked at the neatly arranged bills, ammunition, gold, and jewelry that littered the space. I’d always had a thing about banks.
For more reasons than one, I never trusted them. For that, not even one of my hard-earned dollars had been handed over to them for safekeeping. I felt that no one could better protect my fortune than I could. Besides, I’d have a lot of explaining to do when the government asked questions concerning my funds. Those were questions I’d never have the answer to.
“It’s been a long time coming.” I cracked a smile. Reaching behind my ear, I grabbed the pre-rolled gold foil and lit it with the lighter that I’d been holding in my hand. “A long motherfucking time.” I inhaled, nodding my head as I spoke.
The smoke filled my lungs as I pulled once more. Today wasn’t just any day for me. It was just as monumental as the day I’d placed my hand on my first brick. Over fifteen years of hustling had gotten me to the place I was today, standing in the midst of twelve million dollars with a blunt to my lips.
“And a nigga wouldn’t change a thing.” I exhaled.
A few more pulls, and I started to feel the effects of the orange kush that I’d rolled just an hour prior. My eyes became heavy as I stared down at the navy-blue duffle bag that I’d brought along with me. Bending down with the blunt still hanging from my lips, I unzipped the duffle and pulled it up by the handles.
The emptiness caused it to be light in weight, but the minute I began pulling stacks of money from my piles of cash, that changed. Stack after stack, I piled money into the huge duffle, stopping only to pull on my blunt a bit more. As I placed the stacks into the bag, I kept count in my head. I didn’t want to run the risk of giving away a penny more than I should of my hard-earned money.
“That about does it.” I finished off my blunt and threw it beside my feet.
Lifting up, I smashed the remainder of it with my size eleven Dirty Bred 13 Jordan sneakers. Turning on my heels, I shut off the lights to the safe and stepped outside of it. Reaching across my chest, I pulled the silver door closed before placing my hand on the pad beside it, locking the safe back. Once the light transformed from orange to green, I knew that I was in the clear.
Climbing the single set of stairs, I ended up on the actual basement level floor. Once my electronics and La-Z-Boy were in plain view, I reached behind me and slid the heavy door to the right. I tossed my bag onto the floor before pulling the ancient rug over the small indention that the lower basement door created. Soon after, I pulled the entertainment set back over the rug. Once all was well, I grabbed my duffle bag, along with the one that I’d placed at the basement door the previous day, and headed up to the first level of my home.
Checking my watch, I realized that I had nearly ten minutes to spare before it was go time. With that, I placed the bags at my back door before hiking up the stairs two by two. My long legs helped me to reach my bedroom much faster than the average. It only took seconds for me to lay eyes on my sleeping damsel.
Sprawled out, twisted inside of our covers, Millie slept; I couldn’t help but admire my very own sleeping beauty. It had probably taken nearly the entire night for her to find comfort, and though I hated to wake her, I felt as if I had no choice. Had I departed without a word, my beauty would quickly become a beast. To save face, I took the initiative.
Chuckling, I positioned myself at the edge of our bed, just before her. Examining Millie from top to bottom, I was tickled by her chosen stance for the night. Two fluffy pillows were placed between her legs and one under her back. The other one was underneath her long tresses. Had I been lying beside her, I would’ve been assed out, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was her comfort.
“Mi,” I called softly, acknowledging the pet name that I’d given her years prior. Reaching out, I placed my large hand on her growing belly. At six months, she was glowing in every sense of the word. I thought that she was beautiful before, but the pregnancy had given her a more somber-like beauty.
“Millie,” I leaned down and whispered in her ear.
She was usually a light sleeper, but times had been hard for her lately. With her bulging belly, it took hours for her to get comfortable enough to sleep the night away. Some nights were nearly impossible to rest. Our daughter was forever causing trouble.
However, Millie never complained a bit. She was happy in pregnancy and rolled with whatever punches our unborn child threw our way. In fact, she was fascinated by the changes her body was quickly adapting to. She was hopeful that she’d soon figure out how to rest easily. For now, she did what she
could.
“Yes… baby,” Millie whined. She nearly wanted to cry. The crackling of her voice tugged at my heartstrings, ones that were solely attached to her and the being that would be birthed in a few short months.
Sleep had just overcome her, and I was waking her already. “I hate to wake you, but it’s time for me to go.” I rubbed her stomach in circular motions. The feeling was so soothing that it was coaching Millie right back into the slumber she’d been in. This wasn’t helping much in my situation.
“You hear me, Mi?” I questioned, removing my hand from her stomach.
“Yes… baby,” she repeated.
“Open your eyes.”
Utterly helpless in the situation, I was tempted to let her be. But I knew that I’d be even more heavy-hearted if she wound up disappointed in my sudden departure. I wouldn’t hear or feel the end of her wrath for weeks. As mellow as baby girl was, she had a fierce mean streak that I steered clear of at all costs, even if that meant waking her after finally finding comfort to rest.
“I can’t.” Millie groaned, a single tear falling from her right eye though she’d never opened it.
I was regretting even coming up to bother her, but I didn’t want to hear the bickering later, so I did what I thought necessary. “I ain’t mean to wake you. Rest well, love. I’m out.” I stood from the bed.
With her eyes still closed, she replied, “I’m sorry. I’m just tired.” Her whimpers were like daggers through my chest.
“I understand.” Leaning back down, I kissed her forehead before kissing her lips. She was still with me. I could sense her appreciation as she puckered her lips for a second kiss. I obliged before hearing a heavy sigh emerge from her throat. It was necessary that I let her be, so I did. Lifting, again, I cleared my throat and straightened my posture.
“Come back to me,” she recited her favorite line whenever I went into the streets to handle my business.
“Where else I’m gone go?” I smiled. It may have been corny as shit, but it was our shit. We refused to expunge of each other’s presence without saying it.
Gazing at my wife, I knew that I was making the right decision. While the option was still on the table, I wanted to take advantage. Soon, my daughter would be born, and life as we knew it would never be the same.
“Nowhere,” she finalized.
“As long as you know.” With that, I gathered myself and headed for the stairs. It took every ounce of strength not to climb in the bed and coax Millie back to sleep before joining her.
“You sure about this shit?” Cayman asked the minute he planted his ass in the passenger seat.
I had come to scoop him just as always. We were due to make a drop in less than an hour. For me, it was my final payment to the commander in chief. I was done. My ship had sailed, and shit had come to the crossroads for me. There was a point in life when I’d rather be nowhere other than the streets, but shit was different now.
The game had changed drastically, and loyal motherfuckers were few and far apart. I couldn’t trust half the niggas on my team as far as I could throw them. On the other hand, niggas were making reckless decisions and getting popped left and right. As if that wasn’t enough, they were turning informant overnight. The first chance they got, they were singing like the bitches in the operas on Broadway.
I wanted no parts in the foolishness and decided that my departure was inevitable. If I didn’t remove myself from the game, either the law or my enemies would. Refusing to give either the satisfaction, I opted to leave myself. Now was a better time than ever.
“I’m positive. I’ve never been so sure about shit else in my life.”
“Well, shit… I’m with you no matter what. I appreciate you handing over your land and shit. I got a whole team of heavy hitters waiting to expand. This shit was right on time. I can’t lie though. A nigga gon’ miss getting this money with you.”
Cayman and I had been boys since shitty diapers and rubber duck baths. Our mothers had been the best of friends, and we fell right in line. Neither of us was anymore planted in the game than the other. In so many ways, we were on the same level. However, I was more of the brains, and Cayman was the mad machine. He’d let his choppa speak before him any day.
We were like night and day though, down to the appearance. I was as black as tar. The only thing light about me was the white around my eyes and my pearly teeth. If it weren’t for the two, you wouldn’t be able to distinguish me from the dark of the night.
Cayman stood just as tall as me. However, he was caramel in skin complexion. He wore a low cut as well, but his curls peeked out from the top of his dome. He was a pretty nigga, and motherfuckers were always mistaken by the fact. They thought that he was a pussy half of the time until he was hot on their trail or emptying his clip into their thick skull. Whereas Cayman would forever be a ladies’ man, I had put my player ways on the back burner when I’d set my sights on Millie’s fine ass. Immediately, I was smitten, and our thing blossomed like wildfire. Neither of us could control that shit if we wanted to.
“Same shit I was thinking. For old time’s sake…” I pulled another blunt from behind my ear. I stayed laced. You wouldn’t catch me dead without a pre-rolled blunt of the stickiest shit around the land.
Looking at his Rolex timepiece, compliments of me for his twenty-ninth birthday, Cayman saw that they had another thirty minutes before their drop-off was scheduled. We were always the first to make it on the scene. On both of our ends, we felt it necessary to case out the scene. It didn’t matter how many years we’d been doing this shit; we never got too comfortable, knowing that comfort could lead to our demise.
“Forever on your toes,” was what we’d always say about being careful and notable of your surroundings at all times.
“For old times sake…” Cayman reached into his pocket and handed me the lighter that he had on him.
Just as I blazed, Cayman’s cell phone rang. He frowned upon noticing that a restricted caller was attempting to reach him
“Watch out!” was all we heard through his speaker before the windows to my hummer shattered, and bullets rained through.
I dropped the blunt that was hanging from my mouth as the sound of the windows startled me. Before I could take cover, I felt myself losing consciousness. A burning sensation ripped through my body as I closed my eyes but not before the crimson blood leaked through my solid white tee.
“We out!” the assaulters yelled. Their deed had been done.
Gripping my pistol, it felt miles away even with it being curled up in my hand. My index finger released the trigger that it held hostage as I sighed and began rubbing the soreness from my eyes. The darkness paired with the softness that surrounded me assured me that I was home, in my bed, dreaming—again. At least once a week, the same dream haunted me in my sleep, and I’d considered it the warning before destruction. Not one to take threats to my freedom and safety lightly, I’d began planning for the unforeseeable future. Whatever was headed my way, I was ready for.
With my homie at my waist, I slid from the bed and dragged him into the kitchen. I ate with my piece, slept with my piece, and showered with my piece. There wasn’t a place I’d visit that she wasn’t permitted. We were an item, and one wouldn’t make its presence without the company of the other. It had been this way for years.
Descending my steps, I sluggishly entered my kitchen after taking them two by two. The lone glass in the center of the counter had been placed for this particular reason—a late-night sip. The coldness from the surface was due to the air conditioner that automatically cooled my home’s temperature to an even sixty-six degrees. A button or two were pressed to inform my fridge that I’d be needing both crushed ice and water to remove the clumps from my throat that had formed during the recurring dream.
While others considered nightmares to be full of demons and other theological shit that none of us quite understood, my fears being played out before my eyes each night was what I considered a nightmare. The fear of my
life or my freedom being snatched away had me thinking differently, moving differently, and feeling differently. I hadn’t been the same man since after the second night it came to visit me in my sleep. The blindfold I’d had over my eyes was removed, and I was seeing so much clearer now.
Chapter 1
Gauge
I couldn’t decide on which dress I’d be wearing on my date. On the one hand, I preferred the little black dress, but it completely covered my assets. And to be frank, I wanted to flaunt every God-given curve that I’d been blessed with. On the other hand, the cut of the burgundy bodycon dress made me feel heavenly, but I didn’t want to overdress for the occasion. As of yet, I wasn’t sure where he’d be taking me.
Unlike the three I’d entertained prior, I actually admired this candidate. He was more my speed, working class, youthful, conscious, and overly handsome. Twenty-four hours before he’d requested my number in the fresh soup section of Central Market, I’d sworn off men and dating all in the same sentence.
Brielle, my best friend since kindergarten, and I were having the dark discussion on the state of our men in this day, and neither of us was satisfied with our conclusions. I’d been enjoying the benefits of being single for far too long and was ready to entertain someone other than myself.
Brielle, unfortunately, had been on the receiving end of fresh bruises marked by the pain of her boyfriend, Marlo’s, infidelity. They’d been together for three years, yet he had yet to digest the fact that he was no longer a single man or wasn’t apart of a poly situation.
