“This is Kings County Hospital,” a woman’s voice said on the other end. “Can I speak to a Cash Combs?”
Cash had no idea why Kings County Hospital was calling him, but he knew it couldn’t be good news.
“Yeah, this is Cash.”
“I’m calling on behalf of your father, Mr. Ray-Ray Combs,” she said.
Cash clenched his cell phone tightly and braced himself for the bad news. “What about my father?” he asked, his voice cracking with worry.
Pearla listened in on the conversation and perked up, knowing something had happened. The look Cash had on his face made her move closer to him and be by his side.
“He was admitted this morning due to a heart attack, and he listed you as his next of kin,” the woman explained.
“Heart attack?”
“Baby, is your father okay?” Pearla asked, concerned about Ray-Ray’s well-being.
“Listen, I’m on my way.”
Cash hung up and quickly got dressed, and he and Pearla were out the door in a heartbeat.
***
Cash and Pearla charged into Kings County Hospital with worry and grief written all over their faces. Cash didn’t know if his father was alive or dead. He headed to the emergency room and bombarded every hospital employee with questions about the whereabouts of his father. He was pointed to a back room and hurried to be with his old man.
Cash pushed open the door and saw his father lying on the gurney in a hospital gown, plugged to several machines, looking like a character straight out of The Matrix. He almost broke down seeing his father in that condition.
“What the fuck, Pop!” he hollered. Seeing Ray-Ray out of commission immediately brought tears to Cash’s eyes. He loved his father, and not hearing the jokes, and not seeing the dancing and entertaining, made it feel like the world had stopped spinning.
Pearla was right with him, looking worried about the man too.
Ray-Ray was asleep, and Cash decided he was going to remain by his bedside until he woke up and saw a familiar, loving face in the room.
***
The next day, Cash was relieved to hear that his father had only had a minor heart attack, but due to his heavy drug use and drinking, he was in very bad shape. Doctors warned Cash that if his father continued with the drug use and reckless lifestyle he would be dead within a year.
When Ray-Ray woke up, the first thing Cash said to him was, “You tryin’ to kill yourself, old man? Die on me and leave me here alone?”
Ray-Ray smiled. “Hey, if you gotta go, go with what you love doing.”
Cash became serious. “Listen, doctors said you need to slow down or you’ll die. I’m not arguing wit’ you about this, Pop. When you get discharged, ya comin’ to stay wit’ me—I’m not having a debate about this. We got a new place and plenty of room.”
Ray-Ray saw the look his son had in his eyes. “It’s not like I have a choice, right?”
“You damn sure don’t,” Cash said.
“Okay, I just hope you have a small bar,” Ray-Ray joked.
Cash knew his pops was impossible to get through to, and despite the doctor’s warning, he wasn’t going to ever quit drinking or using. He felt that if his father was closer to home, then he could be easily monitored.
As Cash talked to his father, his cell phone vibrated against his hip. He looked at the number and didn’t recognize it. “Pop, I’ll be right back.”
Cash hurried out of the room and went into the street to answer the call. After he picked up, he heard Perez say, “Nigga, time’s been up. You ignore me, so now you’re a full-blown problem.”
Click.
Cash stood there silently and motionless. There was no other way around it—He had to do the unthinkable. He’d killed before and was certain he could do it again.
***
Cash chain-smoked while seated behind the wheel of a dusty, beat-up stolen Ford that would be set on fire later on. He was lurking and watching Perez’s chop shop like a hawk, the 9mm with the extended clip sitting in his lap.
His heart beat rapidly, and he was extremely nervous. Killing Perez was certain to come with repercussions because he was a connected man in the underworld.
But Cash’s life was in danger. No question, Perez was going to kill him if he didn’t act first, and there was no way he was about to share his Miami profits with anyone but Pablo. Cash thought he had been fair giving Perez what was owed to him, plus his Porsche. There was no way he was going to allow the nigga to keep digging into his pockets. He had to eat too.
Cash flicked his cigarette out of the window. He was ready. It was dark, and the street was quiet and still, and nobody was around. Adrenaline was pumping through him like gasoline. Once he did this, it would certainly create a domino effect.
Cash knew there were about five guys inside the place. Would he have to murder them too? Probably so, if they got in his way. He pushed the door open and stepped out of the car, which was parked a half block away. He was hyped. He wore dark clothing, black boots, and he wore gloves to cover his prints.
He began marching toward the shop with the gun in his hand. If he died tonight, then at least he went out trying. He didn’t want to think about Pearla or his father. He kept his mind blank. He didn’t want to back out of it, knowing if he did, he was a dead man anyway.
He marched closer ready to play the Terminator—Kill anything moving. As he moved closer, all of a sudden flashing blue and red lights came out of nowhere and rained down on the shop like a heavy thunderstorm.
Cash froze up as marked and unmarked police cars raced by him and came to a screeching halt in front of Perez’s chop shop. Then a swarm of police officers and detectives raided the place.
“Oh shit!” Cash looked on in shock at the action.
The cops kicked in the door and charged inside like a swarm of bees attacking.
Cash kept his cool and little by little backed away from the area. Slowly, he went back to the Ford and got back inside. “That was close,” he said to himself. If he had gone in a few minutes earlier, he would have been fucked. Fate was definitely on his side.
Cash sat slumped behind the wheel and observed the authorities haul off Perez and his crew in handcuffs. Perez could be seen cursing and shouting. He didn’t look too pleased with his sudden arrest. Cash smirked. It was a miracle. Tonight, Perez met with an arrest instead of death. Cash felt like he could continue his life in peace without having to worry about any interruptions.
Twenty-Four
Pearla stepped out of her baby-blue Bentley and stared at her mother’s place. She was a changed woman—a whole new bad bitch. She had grown a lot since her mother had kicked her out. Pearla didn’t harbor any hard feelings toward Poochie. What’s done was done. All her mother did was harden her. If it wasn’t for Poochie, then she probably wouldn’t have been the sharp, calculating edgy bitch she had become.
Poochie had reached out to her a few days earlier, claiming she wanted to make amends and let bygones be bygones. The real truth was, Poochie had lost her job as a corrections officer for having an inappropriate affair with one of the male inmates. Word had gotten out via an inmate snitching, and the department did a thorough investigation on Poochie. She lost her job, her pension, everything. Down and out, she had no choice but to reach out to her daughter looking for forgiveness, especially since she had heard good things about Pearla.
Dressed for the cold wearing designer jeans, a short mink coat, and her Manolo Blahnik boots, Pearla looked like she was ready to star in a movie. She walked up the steps to the front porch and rang the bell. Pearla didn’t really want to be at her mother’s place, but she came anyway.
A short moment later, she heard Poochie ask, “Who?”
“It’s me, Poochie. Pearla.”
She heard the door being unlocked and opened up. Poochie came into her view and smile
d. Poochie rarely smiled.
Life must be beating down hard on her, Pearla thought.
“Come inside,” Poochie said, sounding humble.
Pearla walked inside and the place was a mess—a fucking pigsty. There was a week of dirty dishes in the sink, clothes were everywhere, the trash hadn’t been taken out, and remnants of fast food, weed, and liquor were everywhere.
“Damn! Don’t you clean?”
“I haven’t had the time,” Poochie responded civilly for once.
Pearla didn’t understand how a woman with no job didn’t have the time to clean her own place, but she didn’t gripe because she didn’t live there anymore.
Poochie was never the one to beat around the bush, so she pushed some clothes aside on the couch and took a seat in front of her daughter.
Pearla chose to stand, since she wasn’t staying long.
“I need a favor.”
“Of course,” Pearla replied, looking at her mother smugly. “How much do you need?”
“Just a few thousand, something to get me back on my feet while I look for a new job.”
“A few thousand? I need a number, Poochie.”
“Ten thousand should do.”
“Ten thousand?” Pearla chuckled at the request. “You want to borrow money from me, but not give me so much as a fuckin’ apology for all the shit you put me through?”
Poochie looked like she wanted to put her head in the dirt and hide. Everything was coming back on her. She looked Pearla directly in the eyes and said reflectively, “I’m sorry.”
Pearla didn’t give a fuck about her mother’s apology. It was the past. Her sole focus was the present and toward the future. She planned on giving Poochie the ten grand, but her mother was going to owe her. She figured her mother could be very useful in an area she was weak at.
Pearla reached into her mink coat pocket, pulled out a wad of money, and tossed her mother five thousand dollars. “That’s all I have on me for now. I’ll give you the rest later.”
With the cash in her hands, Poochie smiled.
“You owe me, Poochie. And I want you to come work for me.”
“Doing what?”
“Never mind the questions,” Pearla said sternly. “At ten thousand, I run the show.”
Poochie couldn’t say a word. She could only sit in her messy home and allow her daughter to talk to her a certain way. The shoe was now on the other foot, and she had to swallow anything arrogant that wanted to come out of her mouth.
Pearla pivoted on her boots and made her exit with a heavy smirk on her face. Her mother definitely could be put to good use in her organization, from the prostitution ring to being a strong voice for her with the bitches she ran.
Pearla climbed into her Bentley and drove away, feeling the heavens smiling down on her.
Twenty-Five
To business, Cash,” Marc toasted with a smile.
“To business,” Cash repeated, his flute glass filled with champagne and raised Marc’s way.
They were in the VIP section of Club Klutch on Collins Avenue. It was a City Tower Entertainment club, a scenic 26,000-square-foot nightclub with vibrant colors and a large dance floor along with many VIP nooks.
Cash loved Miami. He had gotten used to the city, the nightlife, the money, and definitely the women. It’d been months since he started boosting cars from the dealerships and then it grew into other areas, different ventures he undertook with Marc. Together, it felt like they could take over Miami. When he stayed in Miami, he lived in five-star hotels and drove around in high-end cars, flaunting a wad of cash. With Marc treating him like a brother, his name started ringing out, and he enjoyed the perks that came with being good friends with Marc.
“Business is good,” Cash said.
“It is,” Marc replied.
The music was blaring, and the club was packed with revelers. Nights in Miami felt like paradise with exotic-looking women and luxury cars. Cash planted his eyes on every beautiful woman in the club. He easily had his pick of any bitch. Every trip he took there, he enjoyed the company of a beautiful woman in his hotel suite, sometimes indulging in threesomes, and even a foursome. He loved Pearla, but his money and power was fueling his appetite for sex.
The more money Pearla and Cash made, the more they wanted. They were becoming greedy, mixing business with pleasure and venturing out into uncharted territory. Their illicit businesses were growing rapidly. They had a nice home, no kids and were under twenty-five, and they had lots of money, but weren’t saving any money for a rainy day. All they did was make money and spend it.
Cash continued talking to Marc.
“Cash, when you get the chance, I want to pull your coat to something,” said Marc.
“What is it?” Cash asked.
“Not now, sometime later. Tonight, we party and we have some fun.”
“You know I ain’t got a problem with that.” Cash grinned. He poured more champagne and downed it like it was water. He trusted Marc. Cash felt there wasn’t anything that could go wrong.
They had the best stuff on their table: Cristal, Rosé, and Moët.
The DJ continually shouted them out inside the club, making the ladies look their way with their flirtatious smiles and come-fuck-me look shimmering in their eyes. Cash was ready to make his pick for the night. He wanted the best bitch in the club to suck his dick and throw her legs back. He was ready to fuck all night.
He poured another glass into his flute and looked around the club. He looked mature and distinguished in his silk shirt and black slacks, platinum cuff links, and diamond-encrusted pinky ring. In Miami, he felt like a different man every time.
“I’ll be in the bathroom. This champagne feels like it’s going right through me,” Marc said.
Marc walked away, leaving Cash alone, looking around, and prowling for something or someone to get into. Then he saw her, standing five four, with skin the color of bronze and almond-shaped eyes that danced with the light. She was so beautiful.
“Shit!”
Her beauty, captivated by the sexy pout and the shiny lipgloss that accentuated the most perfect smile he’d ever seen, hypnotized Cash. She wore a sexy, tight top that showed off her voluptuous cleavage and a long skirt that went to the floor and hugged her undeniably round bottom and full hips. She was just blessed with the curves in all the right places.
Cash immediately had to meet this woman and get to know her. She happened to look his way, and they quickly exchanged glances. He didn’t hesitate to introduce himself to her. She walked to the bar, and Cash followed her.
Before she could order her drink, Cash intervened, saying, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Whatever you’re drinking, it’s on my tab.”
She smiled. Then her full, sensual lips parted to respond with, “Oh really?”
“Yes.”
“I’m an expensive girl.”
“I have very expensive taste,” he countered.
She smiled and laughed.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Alisha.”
“Lovely name for a lovely-looking lady.”
She smiled again.
He quickly got acquainted with Alisha. She was from Miami, was 22, and a college student. She had no boyfriend, but Cash didn’t care if she had one anyway. She had to be his.
***
Cash’s entire head slipped between the tight opening of her nether lips, and the gripping walls of silky smooth muscles, moistened with her juices, instantly surrounded his dick. Alisha had that good, gushy pussy, and after three hours of meeting, he was stroking himself deep inside of her as her arms and legs gripped him tighter.
“Yes,” she grunted, “Fuck me!” feeling Cash’s dick sink into her.
Her pussy started sucking as the walls inside rubbed him in a way he’d ne
ver felt before. They pulsated like they were trying to pull his dick farther in.
Cash cooed and grunted, fucking Alisha missionary, loving every second he was inside of her. With such pleasures coursing along his dick, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He tried to pull back, but the opening of her pussy gripped his hard shaft so tight, his mushroom dick head was hard to pull out.
“Ooooh shit!” he howled out.
Her walls were milking his dick crazily. Her lips began kissing and sucking on his neck, her teeth nibbling on his neck. Her pussy gripping and trying to pull Cash in deeper was impossible for him to resist.
He glided his hard dick deeper into the warm wet heat of Alisha’s sex. When he came, it was so intense, it felt like his explosion ripped through the condom and splashed inside of her. But it didn’t.
Cash rolled off Alisha’s sweaty body and collapsed on his back. He was in a zone. He huffed and puffed, collecting himself.
It was official. Cash had found his new side-bitch down in Miami. She had some of the best pussy he’d ever had, and there was no way he wasn’t about to come back for more. If they could put a price on pussy, her shit would be priceless.
Alisha started to kiss Cash all over, seducing him again, and then she whispered into his ear, “I hear you do big things, Cash.”
“Yeah, I do. Why?”
Alisha didn’t answer him. She simply smiled and relaxed in his well-defined arms.
***
Pearla stepped out of the shower and quickly toweled off. It was a cold January night, and Cash was away in sunny Miami. She sighed with envy. Though she grew up in the cold weather, she hated it.
She had to let go of her boosting business and credit card scams. They were becoming too risky, and the risk was no longer worth the reward. She only concentrated on the green card marriages, and that had steadily transitioned into a profitable escort service, called Pink & Neat. It was catching on discreetly via the Internet and word of mouth. She operated it like it was a modeling agency. Pearla had beautiful women lined up for men willing to pay handsomely for her ladies’ time—two thousand dollars an hour.
The House that Hustle Built, Part 1 Page 18
