City Lights

by George Sherman Hudson

  “What’s up with all the special attention tonight?” Constance inquired as Real sat down and started eating.

  “You know, sometimes a man got to show his woman how much she is loved and appreciated,” Real answered, devouring his favorite meal.

  “Oh, for real, Real!” Constance joked as she poked at a green bean, moving it around on the plate with her fork.

  “Yeah for real!” Real shot back laughing.

  After finishing off dinner, they retired to the bedroom. While Constance took her shower, Real flipped the channels back and forth between ESPN and BET.

  As Constance stepped out of the bathroom, she grabbed her silk robe from the chair and put it on, neglecting to tie it up. After all the time they had been together, Real was still mesmerized by Constance’s perfect body and beautiful features. Constance walked over to the bed and slid in next to Real.

  “Hey, get your wet self off me,” Real joked, sliding away from her.

  “Boy, shut up and get over here,” Constance barked as she quickly removed her robe and climbed on top of him. Real wiggled out of his boxers as Constance kissed on his chest.

  Feeling his dick grow hard, Constance slowly reached back and stroked it. When it was hard as a brick, she leaned up and slowly guided it into her waiting, dripping wet pussy. “Ohh shiiit!” Constance moaned as she grinded up and down on Real’s dick.

  “Yeah baby! Yeah!” Real uttered as Constance looked into his eyes and rode him slowly.

  Picking up the pace, Real had Constance screaming for more. Real gripped her ass and spread it as he raised up off the bed, meeting her every stroke.

  “Oh, give it to me, Daddy! Oh shit, baby!” Constance screamed, digging her nails into his chest.

  Slowing down the pace, Real pulled out, flipped her around, and positioned Constance on her knees. He grabbed her ass and lifted her cheeks and then slid in slowly.

  Constance held onto the headboard as Real pounded her roughly from behind. “Oh yes! Don’t stop! Fuck this pussy!” Constance screamed passionately as she looked back at him.

  “Hell, yeah! Ah, shit! YES!” Real shouted, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her to him, making her challenge every stroke. Real buried his dick deep inside of Constance’s wet pussy time and time again.

  “Baby I’m…I’m…I…I’m about to…Oh shit, I’m cumming!” Constance screamed as her whole body shook and shivered.

  After Constance spewed all of her body fluids all over Real’s dick, Real laid Constance down on her back and climbed between her legs. Pinning her legs back as far as they would go, he wasted no time sticking his hard dick back into Constance’s warm center.

  “Oooh! Ah, damn!” Constance screamed as Real proceeded to reach his climax.

  “Damn, baby! Oh yeah! Right there, boo! Ah! Ah! It’s coming, baby! Yeahhh!” Real moaned as Constance locked her legs around his back. She smiled and held him tight as he filled her with his juices.

  They were much too busy in the heat of their passion to notice the federal agent outside of the house snapping pictures.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, Cash was curled up on the cold steel bench when the hulking federal agent entered the room

  “Corey Fields, let’s go!” the federal agent yelled, startling Cash out of his sleep.

  “I need to call my lawyer,” Cash uttered as he rolled over, placing his feet flat on the cold cement floor.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard it before, but right now you’re coming with me,” the agent said firmly.

  Cash didn’t resist as he followed the sunburned agent down the hall into a conference room where two other agents dressed in suits and ties sat at a table covered with files.

  “Take a seat,” the hulking agent said, pointing to the small wooden chair at the table with the other agents.

  “Corey Fields…my man! What up, brother?” the middle-aged, overweight Black agent called out as Cash took a seat at the table.

  “Naw man, that’s Cash!” the young White agent sitting behind the table called out.

  Cash sat at the table, staring at the two men, not saying a word.

  “Mr. Cash let’s—”

  “I need to call my lawyer,” Cash demanded, cutting the agent off.

  “Okay, Mr. Fields, but first I think you should hear us out. Oh, by the way, I’m Agent Ross, this is Agent Kincaide, and your escort is Agent Spencer. Kincaide and I are assigned to your file,” the overweight Ross said.

  “Yeah, we’ve been checking you out for a minute, Cash. Really, all in all, you’re not the one we’re hunting. We need your boss, Richard Walker, aka the infamous Real,” Kincaide said and then paused to see how Cash would react.

  “I don’t know no ‘Real’ or ‘Richard’. I need to call my lawyer,” Cash insisted.

  “Oh you know him alright,” Agent Ross spat while pulling a stack of photos out of the folders scattered out over the table.

  “Can’t say I do,” Cash said with sarcasm.

  “Who the fuck is this then?” Ross asked, sliding the pictures down to Cash.

  They had pictures of him and Real in Vegas at the MGM Grand, some of them at the BET Awards in Atlanta, a couple of them at the stash house, and some of them at the club. They even had pictures of Real and Constance lounging out in their back yard by the pool.

  “Now let me ask you again. Do you know Richard Walker?” Agent Kincaide asked, reaching to take the photos back.

  “Nope,” Cash said, sticking to his lie.

  “Well, let’s put it like this. We talked to the prosecutor this morning before Agent Spencer came and got you. She’s looking to lock you away for over 100 years. Now, you and I know you wouldn’t live that long, but before we left her office we made a deal with her. The only way she’ll agree to our deal is if you cooperate 100 percent. She’s willing to sweep your charges under the rug, but only if you help us bring down Richard Walker,” Ross said as an eerie quietness settled over the room.

  “Help you? Man, I told you, I don’t know no Richard or Real. Ya’ll get me a phone so I can call my lawyer. I ain’t got shit to say!” Cash snapped as he sat upright in the small wooden chair.

  “Look here, Cash, you’re going to help us, or we are going to make sure you never walk a free man again. We got twenty kilos, weed, a gun, and all kinds of illegal shit—enough for us to bury your ass,” Agent Kincaide said forcefully.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cash quivered.

  Seeing Cash about to give in, Ross spoke. “Look, Cash we can really help you, but you got to help us. You help us bring down Richard Walker, and the prosecutor will agree to drop your charges and hide you out in the witness protection program. Richard is a smart man. He’s evaded us completely, not giving us anything solid for some time now, but with you, we can change all that. Cash if you decide not to help us, we will just run you to trial for the twenty kilos and all the other stuff we found. There’s no doubt we will find you guilty and let you rot away in prison. You’ll be sharing bunks with some con who wants to make you his boyfriend while Richard is still out living the good life,” Ross said firmly.

  “Man…” Cash said, thinking about the twenty kilos and solid evidence against him. He knew he would most definitely lose in trial. Cash dropped his head and thought about everything. He was totally against snitching and being an informant, but now, being in this situation had him thinking twice. He knew it was his life or the man’s that saved it. After a few minutes, Cash lifted his head and looked at both the federal agents. “What do I got to do?” he asked softly, dropping his head back down.

  “This is what we need you to do…” Agent Ross began, looking over at Agent Kincaide with an accomplished, satisfied grin.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning, Constance left Real in bed as she hurried out of the house to meet with a potential buyer for one of her prime properties. “This house is one of my favorites. It’s only two years old and practically unlived in,” Constance told the ta
ll, lanky, expensively dressed Italian man as they walked through the $1.7 million mansion in Fayetteville.

  “Nice. Are there any golf courses nearby?” the man asked, waiting for the right time to make his move.

  “Yeah. There’re some real nice courses just ten minutes up the road,” Constance told him. In the midst of their conversation, she had not heard another man enter the house from downstairs.

  The potential client looked at his watch and saw that it was time. “Well, everything looks nice. What’s in there?” he asked, pointing to a closed door.

  Constance stepped in front of him to open the upstairs wine cellar door. “This? Oh, well, this is a—” The blow from behind cut Constance off mid sentence, knocking her out cold.

  After checking to make sure Constance was out, the Italian ran down the stairs two at a time with his long, lanky legs and motioned for the other man to come upstairs.

  “Where is she?” the heavyset Italian asked in a thick accent as they climbed the steps.

  “In that room, out cold. I’ll open the garage and pull the car in. We can take her out that way,” the tall man said as he pointed the fat man to the room where Constance was. He then turned and hurried off to pull the car in the garage.

  The big Italian tied Constance up and carried her down to the garage, where his partner waited in the old beat-up burgundy Delta 88. They secured her in the back seat and sped off.

  “Uncle Rossi is not going to like this,” the fat Italian said as they rode through downtown, en route to the old abandoned warehouse that they occasionally used as a hangout.

  “Look, Saul, Uncle Rossi is getting soft and weak in his old age. He is letting this young punk Moretti push him around. I remember a time when Uncle Rossi would have sent him swimming with the fishes. Saul, we got to stand for the family honor,” Milo explained.

  “Milo, we are clearly going against Uncle Rossi and the other families. Eliminating this Real character might get us killed. I think we should rethink this,” Saul said as he navigated the Delta 88 down the one-way street that led to the abandoned warehouse.

  “Look, Saul, like I said, we have to save the family. This man Real is making Moretti stronger, and if we just sit around and let him get stronger and stronger, he will start controlling the cartel. He’ll eventually put us all out of business,” Milo explained as he peeped back at Constance, who was starting to come to.

  “We will have to make it look like he has other enemies, and this has to be done really quickly. Moretti has reached out to other families, and they stand firm against Uncle Rossi’s actions. They also made it clear that if Uncle eliminates Moretti’s runner Real, they would strike out against us in every way. What we are doing now could clearly get uncle Rossi killed, so this has got to be done discreetly,” Milo continued explaining as Saul pulled the car up to the warehouse entrance.

  “I hope you’re sure about all this,” Saul mumbled as he got out and opened the back door of the car.

  The old warehouse was hidden between other old buildings that the big corporations had abandoned years ago when automation put the need for big factories out of business. Just as Saul reached in to grab Constance, she woke up.

  “What’s going on? Where the fuck am I?” Constance screamed, still dazed as she tried to wiggle free from the cord wrapped around her wrists and ankles.

  “Hey, just calm down, and everything will be okay,” Saul said faintly.

  “Why are you doing this?” Constance yelled as the tall, lanky Milo walked over to the back door of the car. Looking up at Milo, it hit her all at once. That’s the Italian from the club!

  “We have to send your man Real a message,” Milo barked as he snatched Constance out of the car and carried her into the warehouse kicking and screaming.

  Up until the cartel grew weak and things slowed down for them, Milo and his cousin Saul had used the abandoned warehouse as a drug distribution center, but now it was just their hangout. Looking at the drab warehouse from the outside, you would never know it was modestly furnished, including a full bathroom.

  Milo and Saul were entertained by hookers at the warehouse from time to time. The warehouse had no windows and only one working exit. Bearing this in mind, the men knew this would be a good place to hold Constance hostage. They planned to use her as bait to draw Real out so they could do away with him.

  “You just do as we say, and you will be okay, but if you go against our wishes, you will be killed,” Milo said in a menacing tone as he pushed Constance into a dimly lit room with an old steel chair and a mildewed old stained mattress in the middle of the floor.

  Constance pleaded with him as he closed the door and locked it. She knew these men were out to get rid of Real. She thought Real’s friend Moretti had handled this problem, but obviously he hadn’t, and as she realized this, she could do nothing but take a seat on the cold steel chair and cry.

  Chapter 11

  As Cash exited the federal building, he stared at the official-looking business card Agent Kincaide had given him. The card had Agent Kincaide’s number displayed under a government seal and Agent Ross’s number scribbled on the back.

  “Bullshit,” Cash cursed under his breath as he looked for his car in the area Ross said it was parked. Spotting his car, he hurried over, trying his best not to be seen coming out of the federal building. As he opened the car door and got in, he noticed that everything was still in place. The twenty kilos were still in the duffle bag on the back seat, and his gun was still in the glove compartment, along with his weed and ecstasy pills.

  The DA had agreed to work with Cash if he worked with her office in bringing down the multi-city drug operation that they knew—but hadn’t yet been able to prove—Real was running. Part of the deal consisted of Cash wearing a wire and turning over all information he had on Real and his illegal activities. By the time Cash left the federal building, Ross and Kincaide had added two more full file folders to what they knew about Real.

  As Cash pulled out of the federal building parking lot, his phone began to ring from where it was still positioned on the passenger’s seat, right where he had tossed it when he made a run for it. “Yeah?” Cash answered, not recognizing the phone number displayed on the screen.

  “Say, playa, what happened to you yesterday?’ Reg, the dealer from Decatur, asked.

  “Oh damn, bro, my bad. Shit got real crazy around my way yesterday, but I ain’t forgot about you. I got your pack in the back seat right now. Give me about an hour,” Cash told Reg while looking down at his wrinkled clothes he was still wearing from the day before.

  “A’ight. Just waiting on you,” Reg replied and hung up.

  Cash did a quick detour to his house to grab a shower and a change of clothes. As he pulled up at his half-a-million-dollar home, he noticed a white van in the driveway. He pulled up beside the van and focused in on the White man with shades on sitting behind the wheel. Cash jumped out of the car and aggressively approached the van, pistol in hand. “Who the fuck are you?” Cash screamed, pointing the pistol at the van driver.

  “You can put that gun away, Mr. Fields. I’m Agent Trevor Blakely. I’ll be monitoring your wire. I’ve been waiting on you to show up so I could run a test and activate the wire.”

  “What? They said I would only have to wear the wire when a deal goes down! Why the hell you out here at my house and shit?” Cash screamed as he tucked his gun in his waistband.

  “Look, Mr. Fields, you agreed and signed papers. Don’t forget that we still can pin you with that stuff you’re riding around with in your car!” the agent snapped.

  “Fuck this shit, man! This wasn’t the fucking deal!” Cash yelled, looking around rubbing his head.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll just call Ross and let him know you’ve changed your mind and that the deal is off,” the agent said calmly as he leaned back in his seat and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

  “Look here, man…I ain’t got no problem wearing no wire, but ya’ll don’t need to be all
at my house and shit!” Cash screamed, hating the position he was in.

  Without replying, the man reached over and pushed open the door so Cash could get in. Cash reluctantly climbed in and took notes on how the wire worked. They placed it under his shirt and did a test run. Cash was totally uncomfortable wearing the wire. All he could think about was if he was ever caught wearing it and how his life would end. After going over the procedures for the third time, Cash had it down pat and regretted every minute of it. Seeing that everything was in line, the agent commended Cash on his cooperation and patted him on the back as Cash opened up the van door and got out.

  Cash wasn’t used to this part of the game, and he hated it. He was now forced to bring down a man that was like a brother to him. Backing out of the deal was not an option; he loved Real, but he loved his freedom more.

  As Cash stood under the warm shower, he thought about the situation he was in and closed his eyes when the water tumbled down over his head. Ten minutes later, he was leaving the house on the way out to Decatur to meet with Reg and Thad.

  He exited at Glenwood and turned right and then made another quick right. Cash peered up at the Old English Inn, where Reg and Thad had set up shop. He made a left up into the inn parking lot and took in the scene. The walking zombies who were once productive citizens were out full blast, on the prowl for drugs. The Old English was home to the black sheep of society, the people who just so happened to keep Cash and Real in business.

  As Cash pulled around to the back of the inn, he saw Thad sitting out on his SUV with a group of young dealers. He pulled up beside them. “What up, nigga?” Cash screamed as he opened his car door and got out.

  “What it is, playboy?” Thad fired back as he jumped off of his Denali and gave Cash five.

  As they greeted each other, Cash couldn’t help thinking about the wire taped to his chest.

  “Everything good?” Where that boy Reg at?” Cash asked, looking around and keeping an eye on the group of young hustlers. Cash didn’t trust nobody.

  “That nigga up in the spot waiting on you,” Thad said, nodding in the direction of the room.