305 Lovin’
by
Diamond Johnson
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© 2015
Published by Leo Sullivan Presents
www.leolsullivan.com
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.
Chapter 1: Jaquan
I’m that nigga from the 305
To get to where I’m from, you had to pay yo tithes
When things were going wrong, I put my trust in God
Looking around this packed ass club as I performed on stage, I thought to myself that these mothafuckas didn’t love me. They loved my music. They loved the fame that I had that came along with the dope ass music that I made. They loved the beat of my music, the flow, the lyrics. With all that being said, they didn’t love the real Jaquan Hakeem Williams. My fans only knew what I portrayed and that was a fuckin thug ass rapper by the name of “Quan.” A thug ass rapper that rapped about all the money, cars, and hoes that I had for every day of the week.
But what about the broke ass Jaquan that I was two years ago before this rapping shit? Where the fuck was all the love at then? Where was all of the support then? We’re living in a world now where people only fuck with you because of who you are and what you have. Two years ago, when a nigga was passing out my mixtape to anybody I could find, I didn’t have that love then. Mothafuckas didn’t know me and they didn’t believe in me. I swear to you, life’s a bitch and it’s fuckin them hard because a nigga had finally made it out of the hood and I wasn’t trying to ever go back. I’m not trying to sound like a bitch and act like I don’t like my fans but I knew deep down that these bitches and niggas didn’t love me because of who I was. They loved me for what I had.
Jaquan Hakeem Turner is my name, but in this industry, I went by Quan. Rap had always been my thing. It kept me sane after all of the things that I’d had to experience as a child. Growing up in Liberty City, a neighborhood in North Miami, I had to have dreams if I ever wanted to make it out of that terrible ass, drug-infested neighborhood. Growing up, I looked up to rappers like Snoop Dogg, Tupac, and Biggie. Those same niggas had a fuckin dream and they went after it. See, the thing is, I don’t care about the famous part; a nigga would just rather to be rich. I ain’t never had shit, so to be able to finally have something, I was very appreciative of everything that I had.
I grew up in a two bedroom apartment that housed myself, my little sister Monae, and my mama. To this day, my mama had got to be the strongest fuckin person in the world that I knew. We were fuckin poor but my mom always made a way. She put my sister and me first before any and everything in her life. She worked her ass off as a hotel maid to make sure that my sister and I had food on the table and clothes on our backs, even if our shit did come from the damn Salvation Army. If that ain’t a strong black woman, then I don’t know what the fuck is.
Now as far as a daddy goes, I didn’t have one of those. I’d seen that nigga maybe two times in my life and I was okay with that. In my eyes, I figured that it was his lost because I turned out to be just fine. I’m not about to sit up here and talk a whole bunch of cash money shit about my so-called daddy because I don’t want to even waste my damn on that coward.
Two years ago, I was home, laying my ass on my mama’s couch, when I got a call from Sincere mothafuckin O’Neal. Sincere was that nigga in the music industry and for him to be calling me, it had to really be something big. Somehow, that nigga must have stumbled across my music that I had on YouTube and he gave me a call. I swear to God that that was the day that my life changed forever. I remember that day verbatim. A nigga didn’t have a car or nothing, so I took two damn busses just to get to his studio and I signed that damn contract in no fuckin time.
In my eyes, I didn’t need to question whether or not I should sign the contract because this was what I wanted. I wanted to be a fuckin rapper. I wanted my music to send messages to my fans on how the fuck a po’ boy like me got rich. I wanted my fans to know the shit I went through growing up as a kid. I wanted my fans to know how it felt to be broke and have to ask your damn mama for money. I wanted them to know the times I had to sneak into fuckin stores to steal pampers and shit for my daughter. I swear to God, the music industry fucked up signing my ass because I had a fuckin story to tell through my lyrics and I was going to do just that.
Back to the matter at hand, I had just finished up performing my new hit single, “That Nigga” at the K.O.D in Miami and the crowd was going fuckin crazy. I picked my shirt up off the stage that I had thrown off in the middle of me performing and made my way to the back. A nigga was sweating bullets right now from being on that damn mic. I’m not even going to lie, whenever I’m in Miami, the fans really showed love. This was my fuckin city so it was only right that I came and represented.
“Nigga, your ass had them bitches going fuckin crazy out there. You seen them hoes throw they damn panties on the stage?” my nigga Quay, short for Jaquavious asked me.
Quay was my nigga, point blank period; no questions asked. I had known this nigga damn near all my life and we would sit up late nights in my room and strategize when we were younger about how we were going to make it out of the hood. We knew that this would happen one day. No matter how much hard shit we went through in life, we just knew that one day we were going to make it out of the hood. Which is why when I became famous, I decided to make him my manager. I wasn’t the type of nigga that was going to forget where I came from or forget about the people that were with me when I didn’t have shit. I didn’t have to worry about Quay trying no slick shit with me or my money because I trusted his ass. This man had proved his loyalty to me time and time again and I loved his ass for that.
“Yeah, nigga, I seen that shit. Them hoes is straight wild,” I told him, making my way backstage to the room that they had given me for the night.
Walking into the room, we saw that my fuck buddy Chantel was sitting down on the black leather sofa with her phone glued to her hand, probably on fuckin social media or some shit like her ass always did. Now I referred to her as my fuck buddy because that’s exactly what the fuck we were to each other. I was fuckin the shit out of her and I had no feelings attached to her ass. I’m not going to lie. Chantel was a bad ass female but I was hip to her and I knew that this bitch thought that I was her meal ticket. I know for a fact that she wouldn’t have dared talked to my ass when I was down and out, trying to make a name for myself in the rapping world. Chantel was standing 5’6, and weighed about 145 pounds. She had everything, ass, titties, hips, the whole nine. She was caramel complexioned with big, beautiful, brown eyes. She always wore long ass expensive weave from fuckin China and Brazil and shit like that. She kind of puts you in the mindset of a mini Dime from Love & Hip Hop Atlanta. But a nigga like me was surrounded by shit like that all the fuckin time. Right now, I was looking for a bitch that had something going for herself and didn’t have her hand out asking for money every fuckin five minutes. I’m not saying that right now I was actually looking for somebody but shit, if she happens to come my way, I’m going to see what’s up.
A nigga was 25 years old and I’d only loved one other female besides my mama and my sister, and that’s my fine ass baby mama, Charlie. I know ya’ll might be thinking, “Well if you love your baby mama so much, why aren’t you with her?” You see, shit with Charlie was just complicated. I think it’s because we wer
e so much alike. I swear she was the female version of me. Charlie wasn’t your typical, nagging ass baby mama. That girl had been down for me since day one and when I say day one, I’m talking fuckin elementary school. I met Charlie when I was eleven years old in the fifth grade and she was eight in the third grade. I know, at that time, my little ass was way too young to be talking about love, but I knew that I loved that girl. I dead ass used to write corny rhymes for her and give her that shit at lunch. Of course, her ass didn’t pay me any attention at all. We ended up going to middle school together and she finally stopped acting shy with a nigga. I took Charlie’s virginity from her when she was only thirteen years old and I swear I fell deeper in love with that girl after that.
There was a time when Charlie used to be my everything. The reason I loved her so much was because of the simple fact that she didn’t love me because of what I had. Charlie loved me because of who the fuck I was and what the fuck I used to be. When a nigga was doing little performances at Club Coco’s, getting paid only fuckin fifty dollars to get on the mic, my baby mama was right there. When a nigga was standing on the streets passing out my mixtapes, Charlie was right there. Again, you might ask, “So why the fuck aren’t you with your baby mama if she been down for you?” Honestly, because I felt like I was scared of temptation. A nigga like me stayed on the road, doing tours, performances, shit like that and I just couldn’t afford to be fuckin up. Charlie understood that and she wasn’t bitching about it. If anything good came from of my relationship with my baby, it would be our spoiled ass six-year-old daughter China. I promise I love that little girl with everything that beats in me and ever since I got famous, I’d been trying my hardest to give her the world.
“So I guess Instagram and Twitter is way more important than the fact that I just did a performance out there, right?” I asked Chantel, going over to the mirror and taking myself in. I wasn’t a conceited ass nigga but I knew that I could have any bitch in this world that I wanted. Standing 6’3, I was 215 pounds of pure muscle. I wasn’t no big ass, cocky ass nigga but I was big enough. I had a caramel complexion and literally every part of my body was inked up, except my damn face. I even fucked around and tatted my baby mama’s name on my neck when she gave birth to our daughter. I’d always sported my two gold fangs in my mouth and I swear it drove the bitches crazy. I had deep ass dimples and I kept a low cut, with an only a little patch of hair on my chin. I had hazel eyes that I inherited from my mother and I can’t forget to mention that I was working with a ten-inch monster in my Versace boxers.
“No, it’s not more important, but you know I don’t like being around all them damn groupies, Quan,” Chantel said, putting her phone down on the table and walking over to me. She was wearing a white high waist skirt with a white and gold baby tee, showing off the piercings on her nipples. The jet back hair that she was wearing was parted down the middle and on her feet were a pair of nude Christian Louboutin pumps that she’d hustled me into buying for her the other day at the mall. “So, how was the show?” she asked me, wrapping her arms around me and I politely removed her hands.
“You would know if you were out there and paid less attention to your damn phone. You claim every day that you want to be my bitch but you not doing anything that shows me you’re worth being wifey material. A real bitch would be out there supporting her nigga, rapping every word to the fuckin song. Hell, you could have even stood your ass behind stage and watched from there. You didn’t even have the decency to do that, so how the fuck am I supposed to take your ass serious?” I asked, facing her. I really wanted to know her answer to that.
“Quan, baby, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. I promise I’ll be there to support you the next go round,” she said, smiling.
“Lil mama, don’t make me no bullshit ass promise because honestly, I could give two fucks whether or not you support me or not. I just find it real comical that you steady screaming how much you want me and you can’t even do simple shit like staying off of your fuckin phone and watching me perform on stage. I know one thing. You don’t have no problem with holding your hand out, asking for the latest shoes and handbags. Seems like that comes real easy for your ass to do,” I said, letting her know how I really felt.
“So what you saying? That I’m using you? Because that’s not the case at all, Quan. I love you and I want to be your girl,” she whined to me.
“Who said and anything about using me? Word of advice, little mama. I’ll use your ass before I let you use me. I’ll holla at you later, though. I’m about to go chill with my niggas and enjoy my fuckin night,” I said to her, walking out of the room.
I wasn’t about to let this bitch fuck up my night. I was in Miami, had just finished performing and I just wanted to get fuckin high, get my dicked sucked by one of these fine ass strippers and then take my ass home. I had to be up early in the morning because I’d promised my daughter that I would take her and her mother out. As far as Chantel went, she could find her own way home because I wasn’t fuckin with her ass like that no more. I just found it real disrespectful how she supposed to be here supporting me but she was too busy supporting that fuckin phone! I hope that same phone was able to drop her ass home tonight because I wasn’t taking her ass no fuckin where!
Chapter 2: Charlie
Before I start running my mouth, let me introduce myself to you guys. My name is Charlie Lashay Johnson and I was indeed the baddest bitch to ever walk these streets of Miami. I am the baby mother to the famous rap star Quan. You know what? I’m not even going to label myself as his baby mama. I am the love of his life. I don’t want to sound like a cocky bitch but I knew that Quan loved me just as much today as he did the very first time that he laid eyes on me. You want to know why I’m so sure. It’s because the fact that when Quan got famous, the very first thing he did was buy a property for me so that I could have my own clothing store. He didn’t have to do that, but he did and it’s because he loved me. I also know that he loves me due to the simple fact that he’s still walking around here with my name in bold letters on the side of his neck. Truth was, I loved Jaquan too but I wasn’t in the business of being a rapper’s girlfriend. I saw the shit that happens with that lifestyle on TV and I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t want to be laid up in the bed, away from him weeks at a time, wondering where the hell he was or who the fuck he was really with. I’m crazy ass fuck and I would do a pop up on his ass just how Faith Evans did Biggie in that hotel room. Jaquan knew I was crazy too and that I didn’t take no shit, which was why he didn’t want to be with me like that either.
Since being out of a relationship with Jaquan, I had yet to meet my Mr. Right. I wasn’t going to lie, I’d had my fair share of dates but it all came back down to the fact that none of these men were Jaquan. None of these men gave me that tingly feeling in my stomach whenever they were around me and none of them knew me in a way that I didn’t even know myself. Truth was, I was very much deeply in love with Jaquan but it hurt because I knew that if we did get together, it wouldn’t work out. I knew it would be constant arguing and I didn’t want that, especially in front of our daughter. I saw the bitch Chantel that Jaquan liked to run around with and honestly, I didn’t like her ass, but not just because of the fact that she was fuckin my baby daddy. I just didn’t trust her and I didn’t think that she was good enough for him. I felt like she was looking for a meal ticket but I wasn’t going to express that to Jaquan because I didn’t want to come off as a hating bitch who was trying to control his life.
I mean, I was fine and it wasn’t nothing for me to find a man; I just felt like I was very picky when it came to looking for a significant other. Standing at 5’2, and weighing 130 pounds, I had a body that was worth showing off. From my 38 C cup breasts to my slim waist and my not so big but enough to hold on to ass, I knew that I was the shit and then some. God blessed me because after having my daughter, I was able to stay free of any stretch marks or cellulite. I lived a healthy lifestyle, for the most part, and I kept my ass
in the gym faithfully. I was what you called high yellow and I had the prettiest set of gray eyes. I kept my hair styled in a fire red versatile sew in and made sure I hit the Dominicans up every week for a wash and set. Along with my light skin, I had a half a sleeve tattoo on my right arm filled with flowers. Red hair was something that I’d decided to try a few months back and I fell in love with the final look so I decided to keep it.
Growing up, I’d lived with just my mother. I was the only child and I was spoiled rotten. The reason my mom was forced to be a single parent was the fact that my daddy was murdered when I was only seven years old. From what my mom told me, my dad used to be heavy in the streets selling drugs and some niggas had robbed him. After they took his money, they killed him. Before my dad was taken away from us, I can remember him just being the perfect father to me and the perfect husband towards my mom. I’d loved my daddy because he was always there to help me with homework, read me bedtime stories and just simple things that I would never be able to experience again. Just like I’d met Jaquan at a young age, it was the same for my parents. In fact, while I was in middle school, my mom tried her best to get me to stay away from Jaquan but I just couldn’t, especially after he had popped my cherry. My mom swore up and down that he wasn’t any good for me and she thought that he was going to end up getting killed in the streets like my dad did. But I knew that Jaquan was going to be good, especially since he has this whole rapping thing going on now. I didn’t have to worry about him being in the streets up to no good. At the end of the day, he was my daughter’s father so his wellbeing was very important to me. I didn’t want my daughter to have to experience losing her dad at a young age like I had.
As far as friends, I swear to God I don’t fuck with females like that except for my two main ones, who were my best friend Toya, short for Latoya, and Jaquan’s little sister Monae who was only twenty years old but she swore she was my and Toya’s age. I promise that those were the only females I would air my dirty laundry to and I didn’t have to worry about them going and telling other people what I had said.
305 Lovin' Page 1
