Hood Misfits, Volume 1

by Brick

  Gina put a molly in both my and her drinks. I was scared to take the pill and drink the liquor, but she told me to go ahead so I could just get through it.

  Dame got off on watching Gina eat my pussy and watching her show me how to suck his dick.

  I was pretty good at it, he told me. He also told me I couldn’t suck another’s dick or give another nigga pussy, saying my pussy belonged to him.

  “That’s good he told you that, Ray-Ray,” Gina said to me as we showered together. “You ain’t gotta worry about no random niggas fuckin’ you. That means that bitch Sasha ’bout to be dead to him too. He ain’t ever tell one of us no shit like that. He made us give up pussy from the door.” She stood up and kissed my lips.

  I was used to her kissing me now. I’d started to kiss her back. I got used to her touching me too and had started to do the same to her. Her body fascinated me just like mine fascinated her.

  The water flowing around us, Gina giggled when she touched my titties like always.

  Dame was in his room yelling on his phone for Trigga to cap some nigga from another block. Me and Gina got lost in our own world, until we heard him tearing up his room. That meant he was pissed.

  Gina and I quickly got out of the shower, dried off, dressed, and then cleaned up after ourselves. That nigga flipped when shit was outta place. We both made sure to dress in red everything then rushed from the bathroom.

  We came out to find him pacing the floor. He was back to old dapper Dame, dressed to the nines in a Brooks Brothers suit, expensive shoes on his feet. His hair and face were back to neat perfection. Only thing new was the cane in his hand.

  He looked at Gina. “Get her dressed.”

  She asked no questions, just scurried out to go get whatever it was she was going to dress me in.

  I made the mistake of asking, “Where’re we going?”

  “You think you got the right to ask me my business now?”

  I shook my head quickly. “No. I’m sorry.”

  “You gon’ see just how much if you get in my fuckin’ business again. Here,” he said, handing me a smartphone.

  I took it and didn’t ask what I was supposed to do with it.

  “Any time that phone rings you need to answer it. Understand?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “If I ever call that muthafucka and you don’t answer, I’ma fuck you up.” He walked over and lifted my chin, so I could look into his face.

  Over the past few days, I’d often questioned how a man so beautiful could be so evil.

  He stroked my cheek with his thumb. “Don’t make me kill you, Diamond.”

  He called me by my real name, and for some reason, it angered me. How dare he take the name my parents gave me and use it?

  “You belong to me now. Ask Gina about loyalty and what happens to bitches who forget who the fuck I am. Don’t ever not answer that phone.” He brought his plush soft lips down to mine.

  I thought I would flinch, but I didn’t.

  Gina came back a few minutes later with my clothes, a red catsuit and spiked golden heels. She got me dressed so quickly, it was like I was never naked. She pulled my hair back into a high ponytail and glossed my lips.

  Gina kept laughing. I didn’t know why, until Dame walked me through the house. When I walked to the staircase to take his arm, the whole house was waiting at the end of the grand staircase. I could see that some old niggas were gone because there were a lot of new ones.

  Pookie was still there, scowling at me. The stiches on the side of his face had to tell him I wasn’t to be fucked with or taken lightly.

  A few new and old girls were there too. The old ones looked as if they wanted to kill me. Especially Sasha. Her eyes were red with tears. From the bruises on her face, I figured she had fucked around and said the wrong shit to Dame again.

  Dough Boy was there. His eyes were locked on my titties. He looked at me, smirked, and then licked his lips. Big Jake was standing at the door in a black getup that made him look like the bodyguard he was.

  They all watched quietly as Dame walked down the marble grand staircase with me on his arms. For a minute I felt like a queen. Felt like nobody could touch me. Those same niggas and bitches that tried to get at me when I first got to the house looked as if they were scared to make eye contact with me now because I was on Dame’s arms.

  Then Trigga appeared from around the corner. He was in his usual attire, a black hoodie with sleeves pulled up, designer jeans, Tims on his feet, and brand new tee-shirt. This one had the death skulls on it.

  I stared at those slave shackles or chains or whatever the fuck they were on his wrists again. I looked down at the floor quickly when we made eye contact. I never could read the look on his face, but I just didn’t like him looking at me. Felt like he was looking through me, reading me, and I didn’t like that shit.

  Once Dame made it to the bottom of the stairs, he stopped, hooked the cane in the crease of his arms where my hand lay, and cleared his throat.

  “As you can see, a lot of shit has changed around this muthafucka. More changes to come. Sometimes a nigga gotta lose his mind to gain clarity. Loyalty is a big deal to a nigga like me. I don’t trust easily. Even the niggas I trust, I don’t trust. Get me?”

  Dame cast a glance at Dough Boy, who started to look uncomfortable, fidgeting and looking around the room at others.

  Then he looked at Trigga. “Lotta y’all niggas need to learn to be quiet and watch like that nigga over there. The one y’all think slow because he don’t talk much. My daddy always said, ‘Be quick to listen and slow to speak.’ That’s a sign of a true OG. That’s why Trigga rolling with me to this meeting of the bosses tonight. That nigga got my back whether he like me or not. He shows loyalty ’cuz he knows who putting that paper in his pocket. He knows who the fuck gon’ kill for him just like he gon’ kill for me.”

  I watched Dough Boy. He looked more uncomfortable now than he did before. Big Jake grunted as he stood at the door. Strangely enough, his eyes were on Dough Boy too.

  “My nigga Big Jake gon’ always ride for me too. There ain’t another family out there that can take Big Jake’s and Trigga’s loyalty away from a nigga.”

  Dame removed his cane from his arm and told me to hold it before he stepped forward. Most of the women in the room flinched. A lot of the niggas were sweating.

  Dame clapped his big hands twice then rubbed them together. “Trigga, Big Jake, Gina, Dough Boy make a move this way,” he ordered.

  Once they all moved, the room fell deadly silent. I was twitching because Trigga was standing right behind me. I don’t know why that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It could have been because Gina said he had sliced Janky’s and Slammer’s throats.

  “Now, I want all you niggas and bitches to look to the right of you,” Dame said, and everyone did. “Now look to the left of you.”

  Everyone did that too.

  “When you wake up in the morning, some of these muthafuckas won’t be here.”

  Pookie was sweating like he had popped a molly.

  As soon as Dame said that, the cooks started coming from the kitchen with so much food, it looked like a feast.

  “Niggas and bitches enjoy your last meal on me.” Dame laughed.

  Dough Boy chuckled too, which made me turn to look at him. But what was most interesting was the way Trigga’s eye twitched as he watched Dough Boy. I had a feeling something was about to go down at the bosses’ meeting.

  Trigga

  Niggas were eating like it was the Olympics. Music thumped as Ace Hood spat about his Bugatti. Chicken, meatloaf, pork chops, greens, mashed potatoes, and other dishes filled the table. Dame had some bomb cooks, each one able to cook whatever he wanted—soul food, Chinese, French cuisine, whatever.

  I stood next to Big Jake, behind Bossman, just watching. The cooks tried to feed us, but Big Jake and I were on the same wavelength, not trusting
anything sitting on this table, not with the way Dame’s mental had been changing. I’d learned in some books that, back in the medieval time, warlords/kings always had taste-testers, when people was running around poisoning others back then. Watching these fools at the table right now, there was no fuckin’ way I’d touch anything from that table.

  Dough Boy ol’ hating ass yelled at me, “Ey, little nigga, Trig, you think you’re the shit, huh? Here. Eat a fuckin’ pork chop, man, You scared that shit is poisoned?” Nigga threw a pork chop at me.

  People started laughing hard.

  I stepped forward ready to put a knife in his throat, but Dame’s low cough stopped me. I stepped back to where I was and crossed my arms over my chest, keeping my eyes on that fool. That nigga was on some other shit, and it looked like he was high as fuck too, forgetting Bossman was sitting at the front of the table drinking his Rémy.

  “Naw, I’m good,” I told him. “Had a king’s meal beforehand, nigga.”

  Dame laughed hard at my comment. He leaned back and gestured with his hand for me to lean in to him. I kept my eyes locked on Dough Boy, just to fuck with him, nodding as Dame told me to go let our guests in.

  Walking out, my eyes glanced over at Big Jake. He knew what I was about too but kept his face neutral. I noticed that he positioned himself closer to Gina, who sat on Dame’s right with li’l shawty people in the house were calling Ray-Ray. I never understood why the fuck she got such a nigga name, but it was whatever.

  She looked different than before, and I checked that she was playing the game. I knew the moment she stepped down the stairs in that red catsuit, which showed off a bare back and hips I never noticed she had before, with a set of tits that were sitting high and so swollen that my head almost tilted to the side, that her cherry was long gone. She walked like a woman who knew the world was hers, in a pair of gold stilettos that made her legs look like Bria Myles’, and an ass to match. No lie, she walked differently and had this vibe around her that said she was Dame’s property. She was kinda cute, I guess. I mean, yeah, I guess she was kinda sexy. Like Brittney Skye type of sexy.

  I had heard Dame mutter to li’l shawty as they walked past me, “Do you value your eyes right now? Because I will rip each one from you.”

  I didn’t know or care what that shit was about. Nigga was on some crazy shit sometimes. Not my business or problem.

  Anyway, while I watched every female in the house hiss in jealousy, shawty kept her game on lock. Holding Dame’s arm, her eyes shined brightly, but they were a little off. Why? ’Cuz in her eyes, I saw a killer ready to be born. Never a good thing with someone like her, because the broad was wild. If she wasn’t schooled right, her bloodlust to get even might fuck up her world even more. Only reason I was taking note of that was because if she flipped, then she would mess up my money. So I stored that to memory and kept it buckin’.

  I headed to the front of the mansion and came back with a team of guests. Additional chairs with gold plates had been sat out all around the table, in four points. Voices of various street kings sounded behind me.

  Big Jake handed Dame a gold cigar, a signal to let him know that his guests had arrived.

  Dame pushed back to stand, turn around, and hold his hands out. “Welcome, family. Have a seat and break bread with your good friend,” he greeted with a wide smile.

  Looking to the left and right of me, Armando, the Latin Kings’ leader, stepped to Dame to shake his hand and took a cigar from him, as Gina stood in her bubblegum-pink catsuit, her two pigtails bubbly swinging around her body as she escorted him to his chair.

  Next up was the Russian and Italian cartel leaders, Nicola and Valentio, who were led by Gina to their chairs. Following that, bosses from various Asian and East Indian mobs walked in. But what had the table quiet was the Nigerian Queens’ leader Anika. Her bodyguards were mainly broads, but she also had some niggas she controlled. She was right there at the top with the LKs, Jamaican Kings, Dame, the Dragons, and the Italian cartel.

  Speaking of the JKs, on Boss Anika’s arm was their leader, Jamaican King Rasta J. Which was why the table got mad quiet.

  Armando stood, walked up to Anika, and kissed her hand, a public show that the three were linking up.

  Anika wore an all-black dress that was cut out on the side and held together by a gold braided rope on her hips. And she sported gold bangles that went up her arms. Her curly thick natural hair sat up in a high bun and was sexy on her. As she slowly walked, I caught a glimpse of her plump ass and bare back that had tattoos on her chocolate skin that looked like something tribal. This chick—I couldn’t even call her a bitch—she was bad, and if I thought I could, I would definitely hit.

  Gina led the JK boss to his seat. Nigga came in with a Jamaican flag tucked in the handkerchief pocket of his all-black, silver-lined Marc Jacobs suit and a pair of black diamond shades. Only reason I knew that was because I was close enough to see nigga’s tag. Some niggas got money and didn’t know how to act like. Oh, well. I stayed in my lane watching everything.

  Boss Anika’s black-lined almond eyes drew my attention away when they locked on me. I wasn’t stupid. Dame had told me to take care of her, so I did.

  Standing tall, I took a bold move and rested my hand on the small of her back and led her to her chair, pulling it out to let her sit next to the JK boss. I stepped back and swore I saw her lick her plum-colored lips when she looked up at me before I went back to stand by Dame.

  While I moved to position myself next to Dame, I saw Ray-Ray looking at Anika’s attire. I could see she was impressed and wasn’t able to hide that fact fast enough. She still had some learning to do. Gina was telling her on the low to chill with that, ’cuz I saw her pinch Ray-Ray’s arms as she walked by to take her seat.

  Shit was too funny to me. I so wanted to laugh, but I didn’t have time for that shit. My attention was on the bosses in front of me.

  I saw Sasha sitting next to Dough Boy. Her face was so red with hate, her eyes were dark like marbles. Shit kind of had me ready to put a bullet between those eyes because of the hatred steaming for her crazy ass. She stared hard at Ray-Ray; I knew it had to be on some female shit. She was officially no longer HBIC just that fast, which was also kinda funny to a nigga. If her pussy game was that good, then Ray-Ray coming in wouldn’t have changed shit. But, yo, what can I say? Pussy was like that sometimes, especially if it was new, gushy, and tight.

  “Thank you, Trigga.” Dame stood again.

  I gave a quick nod and muttered, “It’s straight,” before turning my gaze back on the table.

  A smile almost crept over my face as I saw Dough Boy sitting up straight. Nigga was sweatin’ bullets. I knew he had to be shitting himself. Sitting next to Armando, he didn’t know what the fuck was going on. I just stood back enjoying this moment. Hated fuckin’ lame-ass, unfaithful niggas.

  Dame said, “Libation for all my good friends and associates.” Then he said to the house cook, “Make sure their guards eat well too, Fredrick.”

  Dame rubbed his hands as staff poured into the room.

  One of the bosses playfully asked, “Will you be lavishing us with your pretty treats? Especially that new ruby by your side?”

  Out the corner of my eye, I saw Ray-Ray cringe, but she quickly played it off, taking a sip of water.

  Dame growled low, “She’s off-limits. It’s good to have people around me, who say they got my back, got me covered, because business can’t be done unless you know who you working with. Ain’t that right, fam?” He paced back and forth with his glass of Rémy in his hand as he spoke.

  Gina ordered a couple of girls to pour drinks for everyone at the table and light up gold cigars that lay across their plates. Each girl played their part by sitting on a boss’s lap, stroking his chest.

  For the women, Dame already knew their choices, so some had men lighting up their cigars, and others had women bending over and pressing their titties close to the female bosses’ faces while lighting their cigars. Dame
observed everything, as if he was in his mind moving chess pieces around.

  None of the bosses said a thing, but they lifted their glasses to show support, some opting for water.

  “Good. Because it’s never a good look to have a man’s reputation muddled in the streets, right? That’s the utmost disrespect to a man and his work, and I wanted to address that with this dinner.”

  Dame paused to finish his drink. He sat the cup down and returned to his chair to steeple his hands and look over everyone. He sat like a man who was supreme ruler and the people around him were his subjects. His facial expression stayed calm, and no one could read his body language from what I could tell, except for the NQ’s leader, who sat with a knowing smile on her face.

  “I know you all are hearing rumors about me in the streets, that Dame and his crew are weak right now, not able to handle his territory anymore. Which has had some of you becoming bold enough to get disrespectful to me and mine. Some of you have even taken it upon yourselves to confront my crew behind my back.”

  Dame’s voice had suddenly shifted in tone to become callous and cold. His elbow on the arm of his chair, he held his hand out for his cigar.

  I watched Ray-Ray reach into Dame’s jacket. She pulled out his cigar, prepped it, and put it between his fingers before lighting it.

  The sound of someone sucking their teeth echoed in the room. I knew it had to be Sasha.

  Bad move, I thought.

  Dame twirled the cigar between his fingers, keeping his eyes on everyone before him. He took a deep hit of his cigar then added, “You must all know how that affects me deeply, how hurtful such disrespect can be toward the relationships we have going on here, not only with you all, but within my own house as well. Loyalty is everything, and I have been consistent in this for a very long time. Since I was just a kid running the streets, raised up by OGs in the hood, I have crossed the path of many of your old leaders, many of whom I’ve helped you all take down. Have I not?” Dame’s eyes locked on Armando and several others around the table.

  Armando cleared his throat and leaned forward, tenting his fingers. “Mi amigo, these things you have done, none of us here question your loyalty or our faith in you. So you are correct to state your voice in this.”