Trust in No Man 3

by Cash

  Twenty minutes later, I was lying in bed in my boxers and I called Kamora.

  “Hey, bae,” she answered her cell phone in a soft whisper.

  “Where you at?”

  “In a room with ol’ girl, drinking champagne.”

  “Where is she?”

  “In the bathroom.”

  “So, y’ all about to cut something?” I probed.

  “It’s only business and if you wanna call it off, we can. But don’t you want her to lead us to her man?”

  “True, but still…”

  “Aww, that’s cute, you’re jealous,” teased Kamora, but she was right. I knew the only thing another chick could do was give her some head, but I still felt some kinda way. From the first day we hooked up I believed she had been totally faithful. That was definitely true in regards to myself. “You want me to come home, bae?”

  I swallowed my jealousy. It wasn’t like some nigga was about to run up in my girl. “Nawl, you good, but I wanna listen. Put your phone on speaker.”

  “You’re freak. Hold on.” She laughed.

  “Are you gonna do it?”

  “Yeah. Shhh! Here she comes.”

  I pressed the mute button on my phone and listened to real life erotica.

  “Damn! You got some pretty titties. Can I just taste them?” I heard the bitch remark in a voice thick with lust.

  “You don’t have to ask, just help yourself,” Kamora cooed.

  “Mmm. I wanna lick you from head to toe. You are perfect and your tummy is so flat. You must work out.”

  “I do.” She was lying. We had been together twenty-six months and she had yet to do a sit up. Her washboard stomach was due to genetics.

  “Spread your legs, baby. Let me play in that honey pot. It’s so plump and juicy, and I’ve been dying to suck your pussy ever since I laid eyes on you.”

  For a few seconds the phone got quiet. As I was about to hang up, I heard Kamora moan. And I wondered if she was faking it or if she was really turned on. I knew she had been dating women primarily, until she got with me, so the cries of pleasure I heard could be real.

  “Take your time and lick it real slow. Yes, just like that,” she coached.

  I closed my eyes and imagined the chick eating her pussy and my dick sprung to life. Before I knew it, I was stroking myself, turned the fuck on by the fuck noises the were making.

  “Eat this wet, young pussy. Make it pour honey down your mouth,” murmured Kamora.

  “Yes, cum in my mouth while I fuck you with my tongue. Oooh, baby, your pussy taste so good. You’re going to fuck around and have a bitch sprung.”

  “Mmm, that’s what I want.”

  “No you don’t. ‘Cause I’m telling you, I’ll be stalking your ass.”

  “You won’t have to stalk me. The way you’re makin’ me feel, I’ll do the stalking,” she panted.

  Then the slurping became loud and I could imagine her pussy dripping with wetness. The talking ceased and the moans became louder. My hand slid up and down my dick, unconsciously.

  “Ahhh, Sharena, I’m about to cum! Ahh!” Kamora screamed out and I shot a wad of cum clear across the room.

  I was stretched out across the bed sweating like a field slave, afterwards.

  “What do you think you’re about to do with that?” I heard Kamora ask, sounding out of breath.

  Sharena responded confidently, “I’m going to strap it on and fuck you like no man ever will.”

  “Oh no, boo boo! Ain’t no dick— real or fake— going up in this unless it’s my man’s! You can give me head all night, but absolutely no penetration.” Kamora shut her down.

  “Okay, I can respect that. But you don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “Maybe some other time.”

  “I sure hope so. But I need some dick now! Will you strap on and fuck me real good?”

  “I won’t say no,” replied Kamora.

  I sparked another blunt, laid back and listened to Kamora beat that pussy up. She had ol’ girl screaming her name. I was laughing my ass off imagining what my shawdy was doing to her.

  Once I heard shawdy cry out in ecstasy, I disconnected. About twenty minutes later, Kamora called me on her cell phone on the way home from her little rendezvous.

  “Have that dick ready for me when I get home. And you betta make me scream like I had that bitch yellin’ and hollerin’! Did you hear her, bae?”

  “Yeah, shawdy, I heard her.” I laughed.

  “I fucked the shit outta her, huh?”

  “Girl, you a fool!”

  “Yeah, a fool for you. Do I get some of that gangsta shit? Ass in the air, long stroking it from the back, pulling my hair— good fucking tonight?”

  “Slappin’ that ass, too,” I promised.

  “Hush, bae. I’m already doing sixty in thirty-five miles per hour zone, tryna hurry home to you.”

  “Do eighty,” I urged.

  CHAPTER 6

  For the next week or so, all Kamora and I did was chill at the crib and fuck. I guess she was tryna prove to me that what she did with Sharena was strictly business and that I remained her only desire. I already knew that, but I enjoyed letting her convince me. But soon play time was over, and it was time to put my gangsta down on a nigga who refused to respect this shit.

  When shawdy saw me gettin’ strapped up, I didn’t have to say a word. She knew what the mission was because we had been discussing it for days.

  Kamora found a tight-fitting T-shirt and pulled it on over her head. Shaking her long hair back into place. She next stuffed a pillow under the T-shirt and then put on a maternity top. “How do I look?” she asked.

  “About seven months pregnant.”

  “Good. That’s what we want, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  I watched her grab her banger off of the nightstand near the bed. She checked it carefully to make sure it was locked and loaded and then placed it inside of her Prada bag.

  We checked one another’s appearance. It was time to roll out.

  It took us an half hour to reach our destination. Driving up Panola Road, I was reminded that this was the neighborhood where my pop slayed five muthafuckas inside of a house. Those murders had ultimately led to him being executed by lethal injection. He should’ve killed seven, I mused, then Lonnie and Delina wouldn’t have been able to snitch on him.

  “You okay, bae?” whispered Kamora.

  “I’m good.” I choked up a bit. Pop, I miss you like crazy, man.

  In the snap of a finger, my mind was back on our mission. I parked down the street from the target’s crib and searched for my throw away phone. Once I retrieved it, I found Zeke’s number and hit him up. The phone rang twice before he answered.

  “You ready to pay your taxes or you’re still not convinced that I go hard for mine?” I threatened.

  “Fuck you, nigga! I got shoes older than yo lil’ young, reckless ass. You betta recognize you outta your league.”

  “Say no more!” I snarled and hung up. I looked over at Kamora and turned the dome light on in the car. “Shawdy, that nigga still think it’s a game. Tell me the truth, baby. Do I look soft or something?”

  “Of course not.” She leaned over and pressed her lips to mine. “In a minute, he’ll recognize that you’re a G to the core. Let him keep underestimating you. He’ll find out that there’s two things for sure—death and taxes.”

  “No doubt.” I flicked off the dome light and drove up the street. Now it was show time.

  Kamora put the tiny earbud into her ear and I did the same with mine. We made sure our two-way handless radios were working. Then she got out of the car, and stepped out into the darkening night, looking like a woman well into her pregnancy.

  From the car, I heard her knock on the door. When a woman’s voice answered, she went into her act. “Is BoBo home?”

  “No he’s not,” the woman replied from behind the door.

  “Well, you tell that lying muthafucka that he was supposed to co
me and take me to my prenatal appointment today and he stood me up again! Tell him that if he doesn’t come over to my house by tomorrow, he’ll never get to see his baby when it’s born.” Kamora had the ghetto girl stance going, neck rolling, hands on her hips, as she was getting her shit off.

  “Who are you?” the woman inquired.

  “His side bitch, but I’m tired of him hiding me from you. That nigga got me fucked up!”

  I saw the woman crack open the door. Then Kamora pushed her way inside of the house like she lived there. “Excuse me! Did I invite you into my home?” protested ol’ girl.

  “No, boo boo, you didn’t. But I’m not leaving until you call our man and ask him to come home and straighten this shit out.”

  “Oh, you’sa bold ass bitch, huh? If you wasn’t pregnant, I would put this size eight in your ass,” threatened the woman.

  I listened as Kamora talked the dumb broad into calling her man. She was shouting so loud I could hear every syllable.

  “Muthafucka, why is some pregnant ho sitting in my living room claiming that the baby is yours? I don’t know the bitch’s name, but you betta get here fast and check this bitch, or me and lil’ BoBo going back to Savannah— now try me!”

  Things were silent for a minute and then I heard her tell Kamora that BoBo was on his way home. Then I heard the woman gasp. I knew that Kamora had the toolie in her face.

  “Bae, I have everything under control. I’m about to unlock the back door for you,” she spoke into the earpiece.

  “I’m on my way,” I quickly replied.

  I hurried up the street and found the back door unlocked just as Kamora had promised. All lights were off inside of the house except for a lone light that came from a lamp in the living room. That’s where I found Kamora and her prey. The woman was seated on the couch shivering with fear. Kamora stood over her glaring down at her with no compassion. I smiled, acknowledging her gangsta.

  “Please don’t hurt us,” the woman pleaded, wrapping her arms protectively around a small child.

  “Is that BoBo’s son?” I asked.

  “Yes. Why?” she answered nervously.

  “No real reason, I’m just one of those curious type niggas.” My tone was much more ominous than my reply.

  She recoiled away from me and held on to her son even tighter, rocking back and forth. I could almost smell her fear. Perspiration ran down her face.

  I hummed the tune of one of my pop’s songs as we waited for her man to arrive.

  Thirty minutes later, Bobo walked into a nightmare. My nine was pressed to his head as soon as he stepped through the door.

  Kamora was seated on the sofa next to his woman with her glock to their little boy’s head. “Say hello to daddy,” she cooed to the infant.

  “Yo, what the fuck?” spat BoBo.

  I patted his waist. The fool wasn’t even strapped, but even if he had been, I had the drop on him. He looked at his woman and I could see in her eyes that she was trying to apologize.

  “Don’t blame her. Blame your brother, Zeke. All he had to do was share the wealth and I wouldn’t be up in your spot like the boogie man,” I taunted.

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Blood relations,” I answered unmercifully. “Now take me to your stash, and you bet not take me on a wild goose chase.” I pointed the banger at his woman. “You! Come tape his hands so I don’t have to push his hairline back.”

  Bobo’s wife complied. And once his hands were taped, I made him lead me upstairs to his safe and give up the combination.

  With gloves on my hands, I opened the safe and emptied its contents into a pillowcase that I’d snatched off of the bed. I estimated that there was almost a hundred stacks.

  “Death and taxes,” I said before blasting away half of BoBo’s head.

  I ran back downstairs where Kamora was having an unusually difficult time silencing BoBo’s bitch. I got right up in the broad’s grill, placing the banger against her forehead.

  “Shut the fuck up or I’ma send you and your son where I just sent his daddy!” I threatened.

  Her loud cries quickly lowered to soft sniffling. “Please don’t hurt me and my baby,” she pleaded while cutting her eyes toward Kamora in hopes of gaining her compassion. But Kamora wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but we have no other choice. If we let you live, you’ll end up pointing us out in court one day,” replied Kamora with a softness that I couldn’t understand. She was not new to this.

  “Oh no. I promise if you don’t harm me and my child I’ll never identify you to anyone. I don’t care about BoBo. I was about to leave him anyway,” the woman exclaimed.

  Whether or not Kamora bought that, it didn’t even matter. The weight from the urn hanging from my chain around my neck reminded me of the consequences of leaving witnesses.

  I looked ol’ girl in the eyes and said, “I’m gonna allow you a few seconds to get yourself right with your Maker before I send you home to meet him.”

  Her mouth flew open and she bolted for the door screaming. I reached out and snatched her back by her long, slightly tinted hair.

  To Kamora I instructed, “Shawdy, wig call this ho and let’s be out.” Kamora didn’t move, I frowned. “Fall the fuck back, I got this!” I jerked my head back in ol’ girl’s direction.

  “Say a quick prayer, then I’ma let you hug and kiss your baby one last time before you depart. If you go ahead and do this, I’ll spare your son’s life. But if you don’t woman up, I’m crushin’ ya baby, too.”

  She shook her head back and forth as if she could not do it. I placed the tip of the nine against her son’s head, hoping that she wasn’t gonna call my bluff. “Okay!” she cried out and then mumbled out a prayer.

  Kamora rocked the baby in her arms as he began to stir.

  “…and protect him from all evil. Amen.” Her body trembled as she stepped forward to take her baby out of Kamora’s arms. Their eyes locked and Kamora looked away. A few seconds passed and she handed the chick the child without looking up.

  The woman accepted her baby and hugged him to her chest. “Pooka, Mama loves you,” she cried. Tears dripped from her eyes onto his face as she kissed his tiny lips. “Grow up to be a good, God—fearing boy. And remember that your mama loved you and so did your father.” I shook my head. Didn’t she just tell me that she didn’t care about his father?

  “A’ight shawdy, ya time is up.” I cut her words short.

  She turned once again to Kamora and again Kamora could not look her in the eyes. “Please don’t let him kill me. Whatever problem he had with BoBo or BoBo’s brother does not involve me and my child. That’s men’s business.” Her whole body trembled.

  “I’m sorry,” said Kamora. The regret was real. I could hear it in her tone. Nevertheless, she wrestled the infant away from the mother.

  “Both of you will burn in hell for this!” she cursed.

  I snickered. “You’ll burn long before we will, bitch!”

  The nine popped off. Three loud claps and the whole left side of her face was obliterated. Her body dropped to the floor and I put two more shot in it. I looked up at Kamora and snarled. “What the fuck! You getting soft on a nigga or what?”

  “No,” she replied, but I was not convinced.

  “Hand me the baby,” I demanded.

  “No, bae.”

  I raised my arm, the one in which my hand gripped the nine.

  “Please, bae!” shrieked Kamora, shielding the baby with her body.

  I used the back of my hand to wipe away the sweat from my brow. “Chill, shawdy, I’m not gonna kill lil’ dude. I’m a beast, but I’m not heartless.”

  I could see relief come over her face. This was a side of her that she had not displayed until now, and it made me wonder whether she was truly built for this shit. I decided I’d confront her about it at a later time. In the meantime, she was on some retarded shit.

  “I want to keep him and ra
ise him as our own. Look at him, bae. Ain’t he cute? And now because of us he doesn’t have a mommy or daddy,” said Kamora.

  “Girl, stop with the dumb shit! I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, but you need to get your mind right before you cause us to get knocked. I don’t give a fuck how cute he is, he had to go. Now let’s get the hell up out of here.” I slung the pillowcase full of money that I had taken from BoBo over my shoulder and walked out of the house looking like a duffel bag boy. And if Kamora wasn’t behind me, I was gonna leave her ass. No bullshitting.

  By the time I cranked up the whip, she was sliding into the passenger seat still cuddling the baby. “You were supposed to leave him in the house!” I snapped at her. She was really pissing me the fuck off now.

  “Bae, I couldn’t. Just the thought of him being in that house alone with the bodies of his parents was too much for me. Don’t be mad.”

  Li’l dude began wailing as I drove off. “You better hush him up before I do,” I warned.

  “Hush, little bitty baby. It’s gonna be all right. Give auntie kissy kiss,” she cooed.

  I shook my head and let out a sigh. Kamora had to be losing her mind. Didn’t she realize this was not some fucking game? We had just left two bodies behind.

  Two blocks away from the murder scene, I made a right turn onto a quiet residential street and stopped in front of the first house I saw that had lights on.

  “Take him up on the porch and leave him.” My tone was no fucking nonsense.

  Kamora wrapped the baby up in a blanket that she must’ve grabbed before following me out of the house, then she looked to me for one last appeal. The look I returned convinced her that if she didn’t take the baby up on the porch and leave him, I wouldn’t hesitate to enforce the alternative. And that option was not pretty at all.

  Slowly, she got out of the car and carried the baby up on the porch. I watched her gently lay the baby down, ring the doorbell and then dash back to the car. As soon as her door shut, I pulled off.

  At home, I tossed the money on the sofa and whirled around to check Kamora who was behind me. “What the fuck is your problem? The way you acted tonight could’ve gotten us popped! I taught you to go up top on a muthafucka if they don’t follow your command.” Spit flew out of my mouth.