Mafioso

by Nisa Santiago

  30

  Each day alive and above ground was a promising day for Meyer. He took a deep breath and started to walk slowly, taking his road to recovery one step at a time. On his first attempt to walk again, his legs felt like jelly. His strength wore out so quickly, he wanted to collapse and give up. His legs ached with every movement, and he didn’t think he would ever get back to his old self again. His physical therapist pushed him to his limit and encouraged him. He was the best, supposedly, and he was very expensive. It was helping significantly, but it was still one long road ahead. The bullets had done major damage to his system and shattered not only his flesh, but his quality of life. If he couldn’t be 100% healthy and strong, what good would he be to the streets—to his sister and their organization? Meyer accepted that though he carried the West name, what made him useful and respected was that he was feared. His reputation preceded him.

  Meyer made a vow to himself, that if—no, when—he got completely healthy that there would be no more fucking remorse. He made one mistake, and that mistake came back and nearly killed him. He trusted Luna. They were like brothers, but they weren’t blood. Luna made a mistake by attacking Bugsy, and Layla wanted him dead. She wanted to send that message that no one messes with her sons. But Meyer felt Luna deserved a second chance, so he lied to his mother and allowed Luna to live. Now, if he was supposed to kill someone, then he was going to pull that fucking trigger. Luna had betrayed him—gunned him down when Meyer spared his life. Meyer knew he would never be that weak or ignorant again.

  So, he took his first steps in physical therapy, and they were his hardest and longest. But each day he progressed forward. He needed to make himself useful again. So long in a coma, drowned by medication, and his body severely damaged, Meyer was angry with himself. Everything seemed to be crumbling.

  Meyer was desperate to get back to normal before the summer. The weather was becoming warmer, the clothing outside was changing, and the greenery on the trees started to develop little by little. Each day he would gaze out the window and observe the transformation happening around him.

  Another thing that was bothering Meyer was Zoe. Not once did she visit him in the hospital. Where was she? Why wasn’t she around when he needed her? He really liked her, but he felt that her absence from his side was a sign of betrayal. He made another vow to find her and see what she was hiding. They spoke often once he was well enough, and he explained that he didn’t show up for their trip because he had gotten shot. Zoe told him she knew all about his shooting; it was all over the news.

  “My parents don’t think it’s safe to visit you,” she said. “My dad doesn’t want me connected to that life.”

  “And what type of life is that?”

  “You know . . .” her voice trailed off.

  “The same life your family is into?”

  “I told you that I didn’t want to date someone in the pharmaceutical business. I told you that.”

  Meyer repeated his same cover story. “And I told you that’s not me. I’m a businessman, Zoe. Why can’t you believe that? I get shot and I’m the villain? I thought you loved me.”

  “I do.”

  “Then come see me.”

  She exhaled. “I will—I’ll try. . . soon.”

  In the meantime, he would play therapist to his sister and sometimes his twin brother. Lucky visited him frequently and told him about Layla and her foul proposition. But today she came by to tell him that she was pregnant and it was Angel Morales’s baby. Meyer didn’t like it one bit. How was his little sister knocked up by the head of the Juarez cartel? He felt that she was stupid to get pregnant by him. But the part that infuriated him was Angel threatening Lucky.

  “He wants you to get what? An abortion?” he spat.

  “I’m keeping the baby,” she said.

  “Yeah, that’s your choice, sis—not his. Fuck that nigga! I swear, when I get better, I’m gonna see that muthafucka,” Meyer exclaimed.

  “You gonna go up against an entire cartel, Meyer? That’s foolish!”

  “He threatens you and my unborn niece or nephew, then fuck yeah, I will,” Meyer replied.

  It’s what Lucky loved about him, his tenacity and boldness. He didn’t fear anyone or anything, and that was the reason Lucky needed him completely healthy and killing again. She smiled at him. Meyer gave her assurance. It felt good to know he had her back all the way in this. Meyer understood her drive and determination. She was a hothead, just like he was. But in his feeble state, he was worried. Until he was out of the hospital and able to protect his family, he was vulnerable to anything.

  “How’s the therapy coming along?” she asked.

  “It’s good. This dude is on point. I be wanting to kill him sometimes, because he aggravates me wit’ these fuckin’ exercises, but he got me mobile again. I can’t get mad at that,” he said.

  Lucky smiled. “You do what you need to do so we can be strong together. I need you out here, Meyer.”

  “I’m here.”

  “I’m gonna let you get some rest. I love you.” She kissed him on the cheek.

  “I love you too, sis. You just be careful out there. I’ll be out soon.”

  ***

  Lucky stepped out of the hospital into the spring air with her two armed guards. She took a deep breath and felt her baby moving around inside her stomach. It felt surreal. She was going to be a mother. It was becoming difficult for her to hide her pregnancy. She was in her second trimester and her stomach protruded more. She didn’t want her underlings to know about her pregnancy, so she made herself scarce and trusted her lieutenants to overlook production and supervise incoming product shipments and the streets. The last thing Lucky wanted was for word to get back to Angel that she was still pregnant. What she needed was a buffer between herself and the streets and organization, and it had to be someone she could trust completely. Meyer would have been perfect for the job. She needed him healthy and she needed him by her side ASAP—like yesterday.

  31

  Bugsy took a deep breath and exhaled. He had been drinking, but he wasn’t sloppy drunk. He was a bit tipsy, and he had some things to think about and get off his chest. What he suddenly felt for Maxine, it was surreal. The feelings for her came out of nowhere and he couldn’t shake them off.

  He lingered by her door and made sure his appearance was up to par before he knocked. The cold air faded as spring blessed the city. And it wasn’t just the weather changing; it was his relationship with Maxine. He continued to visit her on certain nights to “check in” on her, as his father wanted him to do. But what was developing between them was happening fast, and it was unexpected. They didn’t have sex—not yet—but the sexual tension continued to build between them. Maxine took great pleasure in teasing him with her sexual innuendos. It was nothing overt; just subtle exchanges between the two of them, and it was becoming hard to overlook.

  The other night when he was over there, her robe opened suddenly, as if it was inadvertent, and her naked body peeked out at him. Bugsy kept his cool and remained expressionless at the sight of her nakedness, but he took in an eyeful and it was a glorious sight. Maxine was a forty-something with the body of a twenty-something. She kept herself in great shape. She was a cougar at its finest.

  She would answer the door in a towel or in a cotton bathrobe before running into the room to get dressed and later coming out fully clothed with her hair soaking wet. She cooked for him and talked to him like an equal. She listened intently to him and became like a therapist or sounding board for Bugsy. She showed him patience, empathy, and support.

  At first, Bugsy wondered what her ploy was. What did she have to gain by seducing him? She belonged to his father. Scott loved her—but damn-it, Bugsy couldn’t ignore the attraction. The enticement continuously taunted Bugsy; even the way she ate her king crab legs one day when they had lunch, stuffing the meat into her mouth with the hot b
utter sauce running down her chin. It was all driving him crazy.

  So tonight, he stood in front of her door, waiting for it to open and yearning to see Maxine again. Tonight, he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want her to listen or cook for him. He came there for one thing only, and that was to have sex. The sexual urges he felt for her couldn’t be contained any longer.

  The door opened and there she was, dressed in her short cotton robe with a smile aimed his way. “Hey,” she greeted.

  Bugsy immediately took charge. He marched into the apartment, closed the door, and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately. She didn’t resist, and their kiss deepened. She wanted his body on top of her and to feel him inside her. He continued to press her fondly into his arms and undid her robe.

  “Bugsy, I . . .”

  He lifted her into his arms and she straddled his waist. Their minds drowned in waves of lust for each other. He carried her to the couch and dropped her against it. Maxine stared up at him, and he was the finest thing around. He started to undress himself, removing his jacket and unbuckling his pants, and she opened her legs for him.

  He sank between her legs and his dick throbbed as she teased the head with her pussy’s wet lips, which seemed to pulse around it. It was commanding him. He wanted to feel her completely. It was sexual torment just lingering near the pussy. He aggressively pushed forward. He didn’t want to be teased anymore. She could feel the head of his dick slowly pushing against the opening of her pussy. He was finally inside of her and there was no turning back. This was it! Maxine shuddered and moaned from the feel of him pushing inside. He continued to press the mushroom tip past her taut lips and soon was completely inside of her. The movement of him against her and his large erection sent bolts of pleasure through her abdomen and down to her wet, pulsating pussy.

  She moaned into his ear, her legs straddling him and tightening around him. He quickly found his rhythm with her and they fucked hard and long on the couch.

  “Oh shit . . . fuck me, Bugsy. Damn, you feel so fuckin’ good,” she whispered to him, her warm breath flowing across his ear as her sweet nectar coated his erection.

  Her hands slid up and down his back, her manicured nails decorating his skin with scratches. Her body writhed beneath him. Her suction pulled him deeper and deeper into her, and his strokes grew faster and faster.

  From the couch, to against the wall, to the bed, and to the carpeted floor, their tryst continued. Bugsy continued to show off his stamina—his strong back and sturdy legs twisted Maxine into different sexual positions. His dick was repetitively buried into the tightest, but softest, pussy he had ever been inside. He groaned as her body kept his dick firm within her soft walls. She purred in his ear like a cougar as he bestowed her with multiple orgasms, and she granted him a mind-blowing orgasm of his own. He released deep inside of her, and she moaned into his mouth and gripped him tighter. In the end, she didn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

  ***

  The next morning, Bugsy was already dressed and sitting in the chair near the bed watching Maxine sleep. He was consumed with guilt. What had he done? He was supposed to check in on her and make sure there wasn’t another man in her bed. Ironically, the man in her bed was him.

  Maxine awoke to find Bugsy staring at her. She sat up and said, “Is everything okay? Why are you dressed? Are you leaving?”

  “Soon,” he said.

  “You want me to make you some breakfast?”

  “No, I’m fine. I apologize for last night. I’m sorry for my behavior. I shouldn’t have come on to you like that. I took advantage of you, and I don’t want my father to find out. He would never forgive me for this.”

  “What? No, I’m fine. You didn’t take advantage of me; we both wanted it, Bugsy. And I’m not going to tell him anything. What happened between you and I will stay between us. I can promise you that.”

  He was relieved to hear her say that. Maxine knew how tense it was between them. If Scott found out about her and his son, he would certainly have her killed. No question about it. As if she wasn’t in hot water already, she had journeyed on to risky grounds by having sex with Bugsy.

  Bugsy stood up from the chair. His presence in her bedroom was stimulating. There was something about him that Maxine really liked. She wanted to do it again, but he was dressed to leave.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said.

  He left the room and she remained in bed naked and thankful for the satisfying night he gave her. Maxine’s mind started to spin with ideas, and she wondered how she could use this situation to her advantage. She still had a major problem out there, and that was Wacka. She needed him dead, and Maxine figured out that Bugsy was just the man to do it. It was going to take some finesse and pussy, but it could be done—and finally, no more Wacka and his whore to deal with. The extortion and blackmailing was taking its toll on her.

  Maxine smiled widely at the idea. It had to work. She didn’t have any other options.

  32

  Money, money, money. Wacka and Tarsha couldn’t get enough of it. Three brand new Range Rovers sat parked outside their rented home in a rundown neighborhood of B-more. The third Rover was a mini Range Rover, a toy car for Junior. He had the best toys and video games money could buy. They also bought themselves matching Rolex watches, jewelry, and they splurged in the nightclubs, popping champagne bottles, partying, and laughing it up while dripping in designer duds. Tarsha repped herself like a diva. She wore nothing but the best and wasn’t shy to show off her newfound wealth in even the most dangerous places in B-more. She felt that Wacka’s fierce and murderous reputation still ran deep in the streets, although he hadn’t been active in a while. He still got the respect when they were out and about. Not too many folks knew about his accident. They tried their hardest to keep it hidden.

  The party music would blare, and Tarsha would step out onto the dance floor and live it up, dancing like she was in a 1970’s disco—twirling and spinning, twerking and grinding. She drank liquor like it was water, and people were watching—even some of the wrong people.

  Tonight was no different. Tarsha finished off a bottle of peach Cîroc and giggled against Wacka in the VIP area of Club Maroon in West Baltimore. She was dressed in a short Fendi skirt that showed off her long legs, the most expensive shoes in the club, and her tits were spilling out of her low-cut shirt. Her diamonds sparkled inside the dark nightclub. Yes, she definitely stood out and she was having a good time. She didn’t want the night to end.

  It was two hours before daylight when Tarsha and Wacka finally left the nightclub. They both had a good time and wanted to continue their fun, but the club was closing and the last call for alcohol at the bar was an hour ago. Tarsha was tipsy and bubbly. She staggered against Wacka and giggled continuously as they walked toward the Range Rover parked a block away on the dim Baltimore street.

  The liquor in Tarsha’s system was making her horny. She wanted some dick tonight, and her baby’s father was the only viable option. His hands may have been fucked up, but at least his dick still got hard and it worked.

  “You wanna fuck me tonight, baby?” she slurred.

  Wacka chuckled. “Yeah, baby, I want you tonight.”

  Her body squeezed against his and they walked closely together toward the Range.

  “I’m driving,” said Wacka.

  Tarsha didn’t argue with him. She stumbled into the passenger seat and leaned her head against the headrest. Wacka started the ignition and pulled away from the curb. Their black Range Rover was one of the nicest vehicles in the area. He sat high up while driving and was proud of it. Their home wasn’t too far away. He was getting used to dealing with his handicap, but he still had some ways to go.

  They weren’t a mile away from the club when he noticed that Tarsha was fast asleep. She was slumped in the seat, snoring with the side of her face propped against the window. He frowned at h
er condition. She’d made his dick hard tonight with her wild dancing and promises of pussy, and now the bitch had fallen asleep on him.

  Wacka made it home and helped his woman from the truck and into the house. She tripped and stumbled, but managed to make her way inside. Tarsha just wanted to flop on her bed and sleep straight through the next day. The babysitter was sleeping on the couch and their son was asleep in his bedroom. Wacka woke up the young girl and told her she could leave. He gave her a hundred dollars for her services and she was happy with it. She collected her things and made her way out of the house.

  Tarsha wasn’t in the house one minute before she made a beeline to the bathroom, dropped to her knees, and threw up into the toilet. It sounded like she was puking her guts out. It echoed throughout the house, and it was disgusting. Wacka stared at her and shook his head. Drunk bitch.

  After fifteen minutes of spilling out everything she previously ate and drank, she finally stood up from her knees and sloppily wiped her mouth. Tarsha looked at her man with a drunken smile and said, “You still wanna fuck me, baby?”

  She was all over the place, her outfit and long hair in disarray. Wacka stared at her with disgust. He wasn’t in the mood anymore.

  “Just take your fuckin’ ass to bed,” he barked at her.

  Tarsha sucked her teeth and stumbled to her bedroom. “Fine, nigga. I was gonna give you some, but your loss.”

  The door closed. If Wacka had all his fingers, he could jerk off, but it was frustrating to not be able to please himself correctly. He was still a man with needs, and lately he felt he wasn’t getting what he needed from his bitch. He was providing Tarsha with everything she needed and more. They were seeing more money now than when he was a notorious stick-up kid and cold-blooded killer. They were overdosing on the money coming from Maxine. More than nine hundred thousand dollars in one day was more money than he could dream of.